bakerstreet | I Need You.

I Need You.

"I Need You."

Maybe it's desperation. Maybe it's just the right time. Maybe you're in the heat of the moment, body-to-body, and you don't even think about it. Maybe you're scared, or angry, or maybe you're so overcome with love that you can't help but say it. Whatever the reason, you've found yourself with someone important: your partner, your family, your rival, your lover, the person of your dreams--and the words have fallen from your lips.

"I need you."

How do they react? How do you react if they've said it to you?

HOW TO PLAY

→ Post with your character! Put their name and canon in the header, and any preferences you might have!
→Tag other people! Either your character is saying they need the other person, or they just heard that character say the words!
→Have fun!! (don't be a dick)

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There's no way that Tony could last for long enough to allow Bruce to keep up his onslaught for so long. At least not without a break, or a worse, slow, agonising stop-start tactic.

It also happens that there is no room for thought in Tony's usually frantic brain. It's very simple. Bruce and his ministrations take the top spot, closely followed by the desire to at least try to control the sounds he's well aware he's making if only on account of how it'll likely be held over him later.

As soon as fingers brush over his ass for the first time he chokes a sound that rises in surprise he had no right to feel. As soon as it's there it's gone, and back again as if he had no time to respond.

His loss when Bruce moves away from him completely is instant and perhaps far more dramatic than it ought to be. A loud gasp and a slow grumble escapes him as he lifts his head off the couch, eyes unfocused initially until he takes the time to force himself to do.

Another long groan escapes him just at the concept, and he shifts underneath Bruce, moving away until he can catch both of Bruce's cheeks in his hand, pulling him in for a kiss. It's awkward from this angle, but not impossible - of course. It's hard, intense, but brief.

"If you don't take me, right here, right now on this couch I think I might die."

The power Bruce holds over Tony is slightly overwhelming. The scientist is surprised at how well he's holding himself together, all things considered; he supposes it has to do with the deep-seated need he has to take care of Tony, to make sure his needs are met, to make him happy. Seeing Tony fall apart in the best possible way because of him is one of the greatest feelings Bruce has ever experienced.

The kiss makes him groan quietly, his eyebrows knitting together as he absorbs the intensity of it. When Tony breaks away (all too soon, in Bruce's opinion), he's left glassy-eyed and flushed, reminded of the prowess that his friend possesses. The declaration of Tony's desire makes Bruce let out a strangled moan, and he leans in to steal another burning kiss before nodding shakily.

How many times had he imagined this? How many times had it been Tony doing the taking? He was the obvious choice, after all; he was aggressive where Bruce was passive. Somehow, though, this seemed right. Bruce had more control, after all. He was perhaps the person best suited to care for Tony in this way. Besides, this didn't mean they couldn't switch later on.

Swallowing, he does his best to pull himself together before asking, "Lube - where?" He's not picky about condoms - he's practically immune to everything, and he can't pass anything to Tony this way - but he does want it to be a comfortable experience.

He's so glad that Bruce chooses to follow him for another kiss, he tries hard to make it known by slipping his fingers into the man's hair, gripping enough to keep him there even after he's questioned about lube. It can wait, right?

His brain whirrs and kissing isn't helpful - but he can't bring himself to stop. Where ever the nearest receptacle of lube is, he doesn't know. Trying to work out a suitable substitute is difficult too, except.

It's a shock to realise how out of breath he is when he finally pulls away - too much to speak right away.

His fingers slip loose from Bruce's hair, and he smooths his hands through it, down his back. He can't remember the last time he wanted to have sex with someone so badly.

"Kitchen?"

The press of Tony's hands in his hair and along his back is enough to keep Bruce there, trapped by the vortex of emotions whirling in his chest, thoughts of lube and prep forgotten momentarily as he just stares at Tony, at Tony's face and expression and the way he's flushed and his lips are swollen and -

"Sir, I believe there is a small container of lubricant located in the lower-left drawer of the entertainment console."

JARVIS' voice is the same as always, polite and crisp, but Bruce's cheeks immediately burn with embarrassment anyway. He'd forgotten that JARVIS was always there, always awake, and though he knows it's just an AI system it still feels strange - like Tony has a physical butler watching them or something.

Still, he's grateful for the help, so he mumbles out a quick "thanks" before sliding clumsily off of the couch and making his way over to the entertainment console. It takes him all of ten seconds to locate the lube - half-empty, which makes him raise an eyebrow - and another two to return to Tony, whereupon he does his best to forget about JARVIS by pressing kisses all along the engineer's lean, beautiful body.

Eager to get on with things, Bruce uncaps the lube and pours a generous amount on his fingers, then positions himself back between Tony's legs and slips his hand between the other man's legs, pressing gently at his hole and the surrounding area. It's hard to concentrate on going slow when he wants this so badly, but Bruce contents himself with watching Tony's face and seeing how his expression changes.

"JARVIS, I could kiss you."

Are the first words out of his mouth as soon as his very trusty A.I gives them both the information they need. Yes, need. There's no wanting about this anymore, and he's happy to embrace it as long as Bruce will.

Tony's oblivious to the way that Bruce stares before he moves, but not to the look that so clearly questions when he's used it before. He doesn't acknowledge any unasked questions, but he does take this opportunity, whilst Bruce is away to readjust his position on the couch. To shift his weight, angle his heels better into the couch cushions, and most of all - shove a cushion between his back and the arm of the chair because it was actually starting to dig in a bit more than he liked.

Bruce could dream up whatever conclusions he liked about the half-full lube, but the truth is probably a far cry from those images he might have conjured up for himself. Or, maybe Bruce Banner would like to get off on the knowledge that sometimes, occasionally, Tony Stark liked to spend time get re-acquainted with his body. Here. In front of a good movie and an amazing view of the New York skyline.

This is a far more enjoyable scenario, anyway.

His hands reach up as soon as Bruce is there for the taking, and with both hands on his face he drags him down for a kiss. It's slow, steady until there's a finger pressing against him and that's when he breaks away on a huff a breath - sucking another in as if he'd been holding it far too long for comfort.

"Okay, you got this."

Tony's eagerness for kisses makes Bruce chuckle, his heart swelling with happiness at how things have turned out. He knows Tony likes sex, knows about his reputation, knows that there's a decent chance his eagerness for this has little to do with Bruce - but at the same time he knows it has everything to do with him, with the fact that they've finally broken down the ridiculous wall between them and gotten around to doing this.

He hums softly as he continues to massage the outer ring of muscle, taking his time with it and watching Tony's face. The words make him laugh again, and he leans down to press a kiss to the inside of Tony's thigh, nosing against the skin there affectionately. "Are you saying that to me, or to yourself?" A mischievous grin crosses his face and he glances up, eyes sparkling. "It might surprise you to know that I'm not completely new to this."

With that he begins to slip his finger inside, going slow and making sure to keep his fingers coated with lube. He's suddenly overcome with the desire to torture Tony like this, to spread him open slowly, to leave him breathless and begging for it. The idea draws a moan from Bruce's throat and he leans forward to catch Tony's lips again, entirely sure that he could never, ever get sick of kissing him.

It's definitely Bruce, and not the sex that has him this riled up. He could have anyone, at any time, and he used to. It definitely isn't the same any more, and it likely never would be, especially not the way things are going right here, right now, with Bruce.

A choked laugh escapes him in response to Bruce's teasing, and it's a sound made worse by the fact that there are lips against his thigh. He wants to think more on the fact that Bruce has done this before, but all he can hope for is the notion that it'll make this experience all the better for it.

Tony stops needing to hope exactly five seconds later. The slow pace, coupled with the kiss is more than enough to draw a desperate moan from him. His fingers slide high into Bruce's hair a moment later, gripping tight to hold him there only seconds later he's pulling away, struggling to keep his voice even as he speaks.

"If you -- take forever, you are never going to hear the end of it I promise you."

Hearing Tony like this, all breathless and demanding despite his rather compromised position, makes Bruce laugh and press kisses all over the engineer's face. He feels free suddenly, like it's okay for him to do all the things he's been thinking of doing for far too long. Now that he's got Tony spread out beneath him he figures it's alright to let loose a little.

He continues to tease Tony, amused by the other man's apparent desire for him to hurry up and get on with it. He won't torture him like this forever - he has needs too, and no matter how collected he might appear, there's a throbbing between his own legs that's betraying him - but it's too fun not to drag it out.

"But you look so nice like this," he counters, trying and failing to keep his own amusement out of his voice. "I've been imagining it for so long, I want to enjoy the moment."

He ducks his head then, ostensibly to focus on preparing Tony, but in truth his cheeks have reddened at the admission and he suddenly feels nervous for some reason. To distract himself he leans in and takes Tony's cock back into his mouth, humming pleasantly at the return of the taste to his tongue. He doesn't want to think too hard (pun definitely intended) about any of this just yet.

It's been a very long time since he was shown affection quite like this, and he hates to admit that the feeling is almost suffocating. Staying calm is out of the question, definitely and maybe it's the reason he's mouthing off more than someone in his position really ought to be.

"You're a monster." It's said with a level tone-- until he reaches that last syllable and he bursts into a brief laughter that only dies because Bruce had taken it upon himself to shut him up. Pride ought to dictate that he rise above it all, fight the heat of the moment, keep his head in the game and give as good as he gets but there really is only so much one man can take - even if that man is Tony Stark himself.

"ah--"

It's a soft sound followed in many like it - giving in is the only way forward surely, when he's faced with Bruce's onslaught. He can only hope that it will encourage him to stop delaying in the face of his own needs. Tony can barely bring himself to lift his hands away, using them to press Bruce's head down as his own hips arch up.

It's not hard for Bruce to forget about those pesky emotions filling up his brain when Tony's making such nice sounds. He allows Tony to control his movements for a little while, taking as much of him into his mouth and throat as possible, before he finally pulls off to breathe. He grins and allows his mouth to travel further south, biting and sucking at the skin on Tony's inner thighs.

"I do what I can," he replies, the words coming smooth and easy and amused, ignoring his instinctual reaction to that particular word. Deciding his patience has been worn thin enough, Bruce slides a second finger into Tony, working him open with a little more vigour. He has to stop and stare for a second because holy shit Tony looks good like his, his legs spread open, his ass practically begging Bruce to -

He takes a long, deep breath and holds it, then releases it through his nose. He doesn't want to get too worked up just yet. Still, he gives in to temptation and reaches beneath his own body to palm at himself, a groan escaping his chest.

There are approximately one and a half million things he wants to say, but he doesn't trust himself not to sound like a complete idiot saying them. Nonetheless, his brain is, has always been, a traitor, and he ends up speaking anyway, his voice hushed and warm and almost reverent.

"I can't wait to be inside of you." The thought of it is overwhelming. He's imagined it coutnless times, how hot and tight Tony would be, how he'd sound, how he'd look, all of it. "Fuck, Tony..."

Edited 2016-06-05 20:26 (UTC)

Even as Bruce pulls away, he finds himself consumed by feeling. It's not just a physical thing, but those are the sensations he'll definitely be focusing on. Teeth and lips along his thighs, breath against his skin. Bruce is doing a wonderful job of helping him forget that there were two of them in this.

Another low groan escapes him in response to those words, followed by a chuckle - that he hopes will let him off the other meaning of his words, but he has a very distinct feeling that he doesn't need to make his true feelings known. He was laying out all his cards face up on the table for Bruce now. Clearly.

"You are too far away." He hisses as soon as Bruce's fingers shift in their intent - his own fingers gripping that much tighter into Bruce's hair - the only grip on him he could manage. His hips shift again, down this time - so he can look down, right into those eyes and he wishes he knew what to say in response to that but his only thoughts are for more.

"Bruce, come on." Seconds later he's reaching down between them, taking a hold of Bruce's hand - shifting his hold, sucking in a breath as the gesture shifts the fingers inside him awkwardly. "If you make me wait, I'm gonna have to take matter into my own hands."

Another laugh rises in Bruce's throat at Tony's insistence, but it dies when he catches the other man's eyes. There's something there that's stronger than he expected, and he really has no other choice than to move up along the length of Tony's body, leaning in to kiss him again - deep, hungry, every second of it communicating how much he wants this.

"Don't want to hurt you," he mumbles against Tony's lips, but it's a useless sentiment. Tony probably doesn't give a fuck at this point and, frankly, neither does Bruce. He doesn't want to wait any longer; he can't wait any longer. So, as tempting a sthe thought of seeing Tony work himself open might be, Bruce decides to just get on with it.

Slipping his fingers out, he shoves at his pants just enough to free his cock, hanging hard and heavy between his legs. He pulls back for a moment to coat himself with the lube, determined to at least be prepared in this way, before he crawls back on top of Tony and kisses him again. It's becoming an addiction, those lips, and Bruce doesn't think he'll be able to break this particular habit anytime soon.

"Tell me if it hurts," he mumbles, before finally pressing forward and slowly, agonizingly slowly, burying himself inside of Tony. The first couple of inches makes him gasp and grit his teeth; it's so tight, so hot, he thinks he might explode. He hangs on, though, until he's managed to seat himself fully inside the other man. "Fuck -"

"Shut up."

Tony's pretty sure that Bruce is going to stop stalling, stop teasing, stop pressing at him until he'd be forced to beg - and that's the only reason why his hands slide back into Bruce's hair, fingers taking hold there to keep him in place - at least until those fingers slip away from him and he has to pull away from his insistent kisses to groan quietly and once more as soon as Bruce is out of arms-length again.

Just watching him is excitement enough for one evening. Their day hadn't been great, he knew this had to be better but there's something about watching Bruce rush in the business of pulling himself free of his pants that he finds terribly easy. As he bends in again his whole body shifts to accommodate, one leg sliding up against Bruce's side as his hands ghost up the sides of his arms, losing himself briefly in the kiss - at least until Bruce mumbles that at him and he can't help but laugh.

It's mis-timed, and the gasp that escapes him a second later is broken as a result - a hard breath leaves him a second later, followed by a groan. When his hands had encircled Bruce's waist he didn't know, it's the moment that he feels him impossibly deep that his fingers dig into his lower back.

"Yes."

Tony's laugh leaves Bruce flushing with embarrassment, but he's grinning, too, overwhelmed by both the physical and emotional sensations clouding his brain. He leans over Tony again, wanting the intimacy, wanting as much skin contact as he can get. The motion presses him deeper, shifts the angle, and he groans again, his head dropping to rest against the other man's shoulder.

He has to take a minute, because he's pretty sure he's about to explode. After a couple of breaths he starts to move in a measured pace, but it's clear that he's holding back; he's shaking with the effort of it. He doesn't want to rush, doesn't want it to be over before it's started, no matter how sure he is that this won't be their last time together.

The fingers on his back ground him and his lips find Tony's again, kissing him hard and deep and hungry. A growl rumbles up from his chest and he finally allows himself to move a little faster, to thrust a little more powerfully. "God, you feel so good," he murmurs, his voice deeper than usual. He wants to praise Tony for some reason, wants to fill his head and heart with all the good things about him, with all the things Bruce loves about him.

It's too good. Everything, just feels good. It's better than good, but he can't find the words to describe just what it is that it feels. Whatever it is, even if he can't work out what the words are, he knows that Bruce is feeling it too and maybe that's what makes all of this much easier.

Tony's glad for the brief reprieve, taking the time to slide his fingers into Bruce's hair, holding his head down against his shoulder whilst he adjusts to the weight inside him. Bruce's hips shift and he lets out a sharp breath, chuckling against the other man's ear. He's happy for the slow pace of those hips, and even more for the lips that find his again.

He pulls back in the moment that Bruce thrusts, just in time to gasp his name. He shoves his head back against the couch, lips parting on a sigh. It means that when he pulls again, on the back of Bruce's head he's shoving him face first into his chest.

"Couldn't-- do it without you." The laugh that leaves him this time is broken, makes his chest shift all the same, has him opening his eyes to stare up at the ceiling.

This is perfect. He might just be having a moment.

Bruce meets Tony's laugh with a shaky chuckle of his own. He's glad that Tony's shoved his face down against his chest because that means he won't see the wetness that's gathered in Bruce's eyes, won't see the way he's trying to hide this sudden urge to cry. He doesn't like being emotional - for the obvious reasons, of course, but also because it reminds him of his father and he definitely doesn't want to think about his father right now.

Besides, he doesn't want to give Tony a reason to feel bad, even if they're happy tears. So instead Bruce concentrates on the act of thrusting, tries to focus on how amazing Tony feels wrapped around him like this. The heat is greater than Bruce ever imagined; he feels like he's burning up, like he could burst into flames at any moment.

His lips find the scars radiating out from the center of Tony's chest and kiss along them, soothing away the hurt and replacing it with these new memories. He reaches up with one hand to brush a thumb gently over Tony's nipple, testing, his eyes flicking up to glance at the other man's face.

He's beautiful. Radiant, even. He looks good when he's happy. It's too much to say, Bruce knows he wouldn't be able to get the words out right, so he keeps that feeling locked away inside his chest and just grins, looking for all the world like a love-drunk idiot.

"Fuck--"

Bruce's efforts do not go unnoticed or unappreciated. The heat is something he feels in himself too, and something he concerns himself with in Bruce. He's seen his friend on the precipice of a code green meltdown, and although this has none of the triggers buried between them, he has to admit there's some familiarity in it.

But there are lips against his sensitive skin that have him gasping, fingers around his nipple and impossibly well-timed thrusts of hips that have him half-moaning, half-laughing by the time he's aware that Bruce is looking his way. Hunting for approval no doubt, and he'll find it in the quirk on Tony's mouth. Keeping himself regulated and calm lasts only another moments, and it's broken with more dissolved moans, as he drives his hips up to meet Bruce's in the very next age-long moment.

Fingers grapple desperately, searching for something solid to keep him grounded rather than soaring - but all his has is soft hair to the touch and the only way is up, it seems, from there. "Ah-- Bruce." It won't be the last call of his name either, but they'll come quickly and suddenly over barely seconds because it's been too long, this is too good, it's too intimate and too perfect and he's close - muttering it under his breath as he drags the other toward him for a kiss.

Every time Tony says his name Bruce feels the knot around his heart grow tighter. He's been infatuated with the man for so long that it's a familiar feeling, yet it feels stronger every time it happens. Now, together like this, he thinks that maybe the way his heart is being squeezed is a good thing. He wonders absently if Tony feels it too.

His conscious brain is too busy to comprehend anything other than the sheer pleasure racing through his body, though. His hips lose their rhythm as Tony rocks up against him, and Bruce knows it's no use trying to hold out any longer. It's been too long since he first let himself imagine this, too long since he began to wonder if it would ever happen.

"Tony," he breathes out, seconds before his lips meet the other man's in a sloppy kiss. His hands move downwards to take hold of Tony's hips, grasping at what little control he has left. There's something building within him, something stronger and more terrifying than he's ever experienced, and for a split second he feels his skin tighten in that familiar way -

- and then he's coming, hard and hot, pressed as deep as he can get inside of Tony's body, a keening cry issuing from his throat. Wave after wave of the most incredible feelings wash over him as he rides it out. After what seems like forever he slumps bonelessly against the man beneath him, jaw slack and eyes hazy. He can't even speak.

The keening sound that escapes him in that first moment as Bruce's hips drop their tempo and bounce back into something else is so unlike him that he's not sure it's a sound he made himself. It's a testament to how taken by all of it is that he doesn't care to question.

There's a mouth against his, and usually he'd protest such eager kisses but this, with Bruce is different from anything he'd had the pleasure of experiencing before. He'd complain that it ended too soon if he weren't otherwise occupied with thoughts of Bruce's onslaught on his senses. This was never meant to happen, but there is nothing he wants to replace this moment with than this, right now.

Oblivious to Bruce's inner awareness of a different kind of release, he's free to enjoy the moment, fingers digging in at the base of Bruce's neck into his hair, hips jerking up and against the body over him, sensing that edge, trying to comprehend it, and tumbling over it in only seconds as a direct result of the way Bruce comes inside him and if he weren't so very happily sated his usually active mind would have chosen right now to supply him with the embarrassment of coming without being touched. At least directly.

Instead, he is fingers slip free of Bruce's hair, trailing down his back where one elbow drops to the couch, allowing his fingers to drift idly up and down along one of Bruce's sides as the other catches against the back of it, keeping his hand settled in the small of his back. He's happy here, like this, satisfied and undone. Words feel appropriate, but even Tony Stark can't deny the perfection of this quiet moment enough to fill it with a smart remark.

Instead, he lifts his head enough to push his lips against Bruce's face, where ever the nearest part of him might be.

Had he even an ounce of energy left in his body or brain, Bruce would spend it lamenting the fact that he'd finished so quickly. As it stands, however, he's completely wrung out. He can barely process the fact that Tony came, too, apparently without any assistance. Later on he'll tuck that fact away inside himself, keep it as something to be cherished and proud of, but for now he can't do much more than accept Tony's kisses and weakly nuzzle against his chest.

He shifts a little, groaning, but he doesn't pull out just yet. It still feels too good. Even though he knows there's a fair chance they'll be doing this again very soon, he isn't willing to give up what he's got. When he moves, however, he realizes something: the odd itching that had been present all across his skin - the sensation of the shrapnel digging into his epidermis - had disappeared.

He looks down and a soft, surprised sound escapes him. Chuckling, he turns his attention back to Tony. "Looks like you got it all out of me after all," he murmurs, his voice rough and sleepy.

The shrapnel had been pushed out of his skin and now lay scattered on the floor and the edge of the couch. Though he's not entirely sure Bruce has a sneaking suspicion that when he came he'd transformed just enough for the other guy to get the offending bits of metal out of him. It was scary to think he'd been so close to going green, but knowing he hadn't buoyed Bruce's confidence and brought a proud grin to his face.

Right now, there is nothing he wants. Nothing he needs, nothing he's thinking. There's just the weight over him that is Bruce, a man he feels more connected to than anyone else right now. It's blissful in a way he hasn't experienced in a long time, or ever - he isn't entirely sure and thinking about the past will only dredge up memories of it so he shelves them, happy to brush his hands over Bruce's body where he can, allowing himself the chance to catch his breath.

A gentle hum escapes him as soon as he speaks up, however - shifting his body to be able to look at him, to look at what Bruce sees and as the awareness of what must have happened sinks in his eyes widen.

Bruce might be happy, that he didn't hulk out - that the shrapnel is gone. Tony is feeling another thing altogether. His hands still their touch, and he lets out a quiet grunt as he pushes at both of Bruce's shoulders in an attempt to get him to give him room and more important, to pull out of him because there are some things in life that are sacred and he has a feeling that he almost killed his sex life for good.

Bruce is so happy that he doesn't immediately recognize what's happening with Tony's expression. The push at his shoulders is unexpected, but he figures he's probably crushing Tony, so he goes along with it. As he slips out and pulls away, though, he slowly begins to realize that something's not quite right.

His eyebrows knit together and a knot forms in his stomach as thoughts of what could have possibly gone wrong flit through his head. He shouldn't have mentioned the shrapnel - what was wrong with him? That was the source of their problems, a reminder of what had happened to both of them only hours beforehand.

"Tony," he says, because he doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to fix things. They'd been so good, so happy, and he'd fucked it up again. "Are you okay?" He doesn't look away from Tony's face, doesn't pay attention to anything other than the man beneath him. He's a breath away from apologizing and running away.

As soon as he realises the knock on effect of his own freak out, he forces his eyes closed - squeezing them shut and taking a moment to breathe, deep and slow and-- calm isn't working out very well for him right now.

"Fine. I'm-- fine." Another soft grumble escapes him as he reaches down to slip out from under Bruce, pulling himself up to sit instead, half-melted against the arm of the chair before he lets out the laugh he needs to release some of the nervous tension built up inside him.

He can't quite bring himself to look, too aware that he's the focus of Bruce's attention. He does reach out though, brushing a hand up Bruce's arm where he knew for certain there had been pieces of not Bruce lodged into his skin.

"It's gone."

Sometimes it's difficult for Bruce to stop cursing himself long enough to focus on others. He hates himself most of the time, and whenever anything good happens to him he somehow goes and messes it up. What he and Tony had gone through just now had been amazing, and yet he'd managed to screw things up. Typical Bruce.

He forces himself out of his own self-loathing because Tony needs him. It doesn't matter what the engineer says - it's clear that he is very definitely not fine. The chuckle is encouraging, but he's not looking at Bruce and that makes Bruce feel worse.

"Yeah." He keeps his distance, knowing that crowding someone who's panicking and anxious is about the worst thing for them. He can't help but settle a hand on the back of Tony's, though, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm okay, Tony. I'm here with you." Then, because he's weak and he can't stop himself, he adds: "Will you look at me?"

He's still trying to level out his breathing, both from the sex and from being on the precipice of a panic attack. How he manages to stave it off is beyond him, but he's here - listening and eventually, lifting his head up enough to look at Bruce when he asks it of him.

"Just how close was that?"

I Need You.

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