It's those three words followed by the fourth, layered together with how close they're pressed up against each other. Urging a shiver out of him as he leans a little more heavily against Steve. They're almost more important than the other three words they share, I love you. Maybe sometimes they mean the same thing, but right now there isn't anything more perfect to drag him away from his mental mess than this. Knowing so deeply that Steve does have him. In all the ways that matters. Despite the flare of emotions getting the better of him, always driving him to somehow make the worst decisions- like trying to cut Steve off early- Steve still has him.

Didn't back down for a second. Saw right through him. And now they're here.

With a warm noise of surprise leaking out from the back of his throat when Steve lifts him so effortlessly, sending that comfortable thrill through him like always. Being toted around, manhandled, possessed so thoroughly by Steve is everything he's ever needed. Especially right now. And while he tries to wind himself around Steve while he's walking, not really letting up in their kisses when Steve seeks his lips out again, he's just as easy to get onto the bed.

Steve above him, laying slightly atop him with that heavy weight anchors him all the more and it gets a little quick, heated spill of breath from him, eyes closed tight for a few seconds so he can just bask. His hands shift up the length of Steve's bare back, and he feels himself saying something to Steve but it disappears entirely when Steve bites down into his neck. His fingers press in harder against Steve's skin, nails following quickly almost entreating him to stay there for as long as he'd like.

The groan that leaves him is something deep, wordless until another inhale and then he lets it out shakily in a single word, "Fuck." Practically writhing against Steve then, his hands dropping to grab a hold of Steve's hips. Not that he needs to hold him there with that weight, but he clutches to him while he rocks up against him. Impatient and needy as always. This is it. It always is. All it takes to get him away from himself. Handing himself so thoroughly over to Steve in just a bare few moments. Everything else is gone underneath the weight of him, the feel of his lips and teeth against his neck and suddenly nothing else matters but this. Just him. The two of them together.

"I'd out of my clothes for you but it doesn't seem like you wanna move," the words exit him in a rush, teasing though they are, needing to bound forward to the next thing and that's the two of them pressed against each other skin to skin. His hands flex at Steve's hips, shifting back to grab two handfuls of his ass, squeezing him hard and then hauling him forward as he rocks upwards again.

The sparks that light up his skin, that delicious sizzle of pain blurred with pleasure, almost having him melting completely underneath Steve. About at the same time that he's holding on hard to him because he doesn't want him to move away. Wants him to stay right where he is and make a mess of him. Stake his claim. Do whatever he wants. But somehow he finds it in him to huff out a little amused noise, looking up at Steve with one of those wry smirks. "Oh. Right. All me," teasing him.

Falling into it with him so easily. This is what he wants. And when they're like this he never wants it to stop. It makes it easier, too, because he's always in good company. That Steve only ever seems to want him and to want to lose himself in return. How can he ever want for anything else?

And where he was once maybe a little self conscious of the patchwork of scars sitting at the center of his chest, any errant ones he's accumulated in battle, now he settles so sweetly beneath Steve, his hands curving up the length of Steve's back again, fingers digging in when he drags them back the other way. A breath hitches in the back of his throat in the middle of all that attention and he arches so very shamelessly, body begging Steve for more. "I don't want you to help yourself," it comes out of him in a rush, truthful and strong.

Without a thought he lifts his hips to help Steve get him undressed faster. Always sprinting ahead to the next best thing. Which would be the two of them naked. But he's a little bit in the lead. That's when he paws at Steve's shoulders with a firm insistent grip. "Want you to just take whatever you want. Then tell me what you need, too. But. Before all that. I need you to get naked." He grins down at him, mussing up Steve's hair as he sweeps a hand back through it and then pulls it forward, leaving some over his eyes. "You're a little overdressed for the occasion, gorgeous."

He feels so flush and warm, not missing a single thing about the way Steve claims him as all he needs. It's a dizzying thing, to be somebody's anchor point. To try and give them everything and love them so wholly that they give themselves over completely in return. But that's the reciprocal affection he finds himself in with Steve. Extreme give and take. As much as Steve has found something deeply rewarding, gratifying, and something he needs in Tony, Tony finds just as much meaning in Steve. And giving that over to somebody is terrifying.

But it's Steve. Steve who has only done right by him as much as possible and put him first when it's possible. The world calls to them for greater things and protection and they both know that that comes first. But when it's quiet, when it's just the two of them and no one else needs to be saved... he knows he has everything with Steve. And wants to give him everything in turn.

It's that exact swirl of thoughts in his hazy lust driven mind that has him gazing up at Steve with reverence and a deep well of love. But... he can't help the way he spins out towards lust-blown half-lidded eyes and a sudden deep flush that runs throughout his entire body when Steve's so very obviously putting on a show. He has a hard time keeping his hands to himself, even seeing this for what it is. Steve's getting undressed- for him. Slowly. And-

"Fuck you are so hot," words exiting in a shivering exhale. The rest of him seems to physically agree, unable to hide the way his cock throbs with eagerness at every new inch of skin revealed. Even when Steve gets to the less fluid final parts of getting undressed all Tony can think about then is, "I want you so bad." Almost whining it, but then being immediately rewarded when Steve finally gets completely nude and just slides right back atop him like that where he belongs.

His hands drop low, curving over Steve's ass with a hard appreciative squeeze and then drift up, palms and fingertips pressing in as he tilts up to catch Steve in a deep, heated kiss. He touches over Steve's hips, and up the length of his back again, almost like he's holding Steve to him. Further still up towards the back of his head until he tangles his fingers in Steve's hair, grasping at the strands. The problems they were having, Tony's head full of grief and rage and anger, all of it has completely disintegrated underneath the very real weight of Steve, the way Tony needs him.

It's that promise, almost more than anything, that settles something deep inside him. That roiling pressure, the learned impetus behind mistrust and shying away from personal connections. When Steve promises things like this, that he's got Tony, that he'll take care of him- Tony believes it. Both because he so desperately wants to and because Steve makes it easy. This, more than anything else, has him sinking into this so much easier, giving in or up or both. Just giving all of himself to Steve come what may.

They've barely even started so he tries not to present as the shivering wreck he already is, but that's just what Steve does to him. He watches with stilted breaths and dark half-lidded eyes, almost hypnotized by the sight of Steve between his legs. The way he directs him, seems keen to take what he wants. Even if that just Tony's personal pleasure. He swallows hard, reaching, sinking his fingers back through Steve's hair in a few long, slow, passes. Tries not to tighten his grip at the back of Steve's head when he sinks into it. Takes him into the wet heat of his mouth in a way that renders Tony into a useless puddle on the bed.

A groan spills out from him, pushed up from his lungs and for a few moments his eyes roll back and closed focused on the intense feel of Steve's mouth around him. He immediately tries to separate his focus on that while also trying not to ride Steve's mouth, to not buck his hips up or grab him. He devolves the way he always does, into curses and warm murmurs of praise that he doesn't even really hear. "Fuck," almost sighed out on a pleased exhale, eyes flickering open again to catch the sight of Steve looking at him and that alone gets a harder throb from his cock while Steve's sinking down again. "Fuck your mouth is so fucking- ...perfect," words lost to him for a second as he trembles beneath him. And perfect doesn't even begin to come close.

Steve might not be as learned as Tony is, but it's the eagerness, the fact that he seems to always want Tony as badly as Tony wants him, that's all that matters. He feels dazed and incredibly needy all at once, remnants of those drinks hitting him all at once while he's there underneath Steve's devoted attention. Everything else, all the very intense troubles they're facing, seem to have completely vanished as he lets himself go, lets himself exist in this space they've crafted so carefully for each other. "God I want you so bad," he groans out like Steve's mouth isn't currently on his cock. "Every way I can have you, every way you'll take me- all of it- fuck-" Maybe none of it makes sense, he barely even hears himself. But it makes sense to him.