8.
The following week was very successful and Tony would normally be happy. He had managed to sort out the decorations for the Christmas party and didn’t offend anyone so much that they backed out of the job, as had happened last year; he had got a chocolate fountain; finally finished all the renovations in Rogers' apartment - cut back on technology, kept Jarvis' volume to a minimum, and had a painting easel and canvases moved in; signed the contract he and Pepper had been working on for almost a year; and bought five hundred and sixty Iron Man mugs. Simply a successful week for which he should congratulate and reward himself accordingly. But there was one small problem.
Well, the problem wasn't really that small. It - ok, he - was almost six feet tall and seemed even bigger when he was angry. Which he had been almost all the time lately, and Tony liked to keep him that way. Truth be told, he pissed him off whenever he could.
He liked seeing Steve angry. A vein always pulsed on his forehead and his chest heaved with powerful breaths. He tried to calm down, but Tony knew where to pinch to get him fired up for good. And he succeeded every time. They barked like two dogs, whereupon they both went to their rooms and didn't speak for about an hour. He had no idea what Rogers had been doing during that time, but Tony'd been sprawled mostly in bed, torturing himself with hot fantasies involving Rogers' muscular arms and firm ass; and masturbated. Every time. Not that it did any good. Soon he was half-erect again whenever he thought of Steve, and he was beginning to lose patience.
"That's enough, damn it," he growled to himself on Friday night. He was getting tired of it. After all, he, Tony Stark, couldn't be this out of it for one super soldier. A man! Not a chance. It's just some confusion that sets in sometimes in middle age and can be quickly shaken off. In all his life, Tony has never thought of a man in an erotic way. There's no way that could change overnight.
He needed a distraction, to get out of the tower and not be in Captain Perfect's presence for a while. And he knew exactly how to do it. It would be best in the arms of a few beautiful ladies. After a few drinks and maybe some gambling, he'd take one, if not more, home and be the old Tony Stark again in the morning. A playboy. That sounded like a good plan.
"Jarve, I'm going out," he announced in the elevator. He was already washed, changed and groomed. The perfect Tony Stark, the way it was meant to be.
"Of course, sir. Have fun."
"I'm going to have fun, my friend, believe it," he grinned, climbing into the car and heading out into the nighttime New York that never sleeps.
The next few hours were spent in a whirlwind of music, alcohol and women. He kissed countless of them, enjoyed their attention, and never once thought about the super soldier. Which was great. He was proud of himself for how swiftly he'd set about solving his problem. He could be his own doctor!
Mr Stark, I'll prescribe you two bottles of whiskey, countless beautiful women and wild sex in Stark Tower at the end. You'll be cured of your gay confusion by morning.
He ended up in the casino, not even remembering how he got there. He had one woman on each side of him. On his left, a beautiful African-American woman with long straightened hair and a huge behind that his hand rested on constantly and she didn't mind. On the contrary, she squirmed and pressed herself more and more into his palm. To his right, a short, slender blonde with blue eyes who he paid more attention to. She was mysterious, seductive, and reminded him of someone. He couldn't remember who and it didn't bother him.
"Bet on the pass line, Mr Stark," she whispered in his ear in a low seductive voice that sent chills down Tony's spine. One woman would be enough tonight, and it would be this one.
"Of course, darling. Blow," he put his clenched fist in front of her mouth. She batted her long lashes at him, gently grasped his fist in her long fingers and blew. He couldn't take his eyes off her lips, such lips would be a shame not to kiss.
Tony smiled, turned back to the craps and threw the dice on the board. They bounced off the sides several times, coming to rest on a five and a two. The audience he'd won over in those few minutes erupted into a huge cheer. Tony just smiled smugly. Of course it would be a winning throw, how could it not be?
"Fortune is on your side today, Mr. Stark," came that seductive whisper again in his ear. He gave a satisfied smile and pulled the blonde closer to him.
"It's you who is on my side, beautiful mystery." He kissed the back of her hand and let the other women go. He'd already lost interest in her, this beauty intrigued him more. Who did she remind him of? Not Pepper, certainly not her. "Can you tell me your name?"
"Bettany," she smiled. They looked into each other's eyes, she pressed against him and Tony immediately lost interest in the game. And his money. He got what he came for. For this long-haired, luscious beauty who would make him forget… ah, he didn’t remember who he wanted to forget.
"Bettany, hmmm. Beautiful name. Listen, Bettany, why don't we get out of here? I'll give you a ride in the car and take you to the Tower. Maybe I'll let you touch Iron Man, too, if you're nice."
"Sounds good, Mr. Stark."
Tony loved how affectionately she said his name. Stark. He'd never liked his last name better in his life. His pants were getting tight. It was time to leave.
"Excuse me for a moment, dear."
He let go of her and turned to the African-American woman, who looked offended. He pulled her into his arms again and whispered those few magic words in her ear. He knew from the start what she was up to and it wasn't his cock. His wallet was more to her liking.
"All the chips are yours, dear. Handle them wisely."
He let go of her and assessed her enthusiastic smile with his gaze. Great, after all, he'd manage to satisfy two women tonight. He was satisfied, Tony Starkscored again.
He returned to Bettany, put his arm around her waist and led her out. She pressed against him, whispering such lewd suggestions in his ear that it sent waves of arousal straight to his crotch. Bettany was the consummate seductress. Nothing amazing worth more than a one-night stand, but that was all Tony needed.
He sped down the still-full roads at high speed, Bettany sipping champagne and stroking her palm high up his thigh. Tony junior responded positively and big Tony was looking forward to a really nice wild night.
"Let's go to the bedroom now," she growled in his ear as the door closed behind them. Tony pushed her against the wall of the elevator, wrapping her leg around his and showering her neck with kisses and soft bites. Tony held her ass, kneading it in his palm, pressing her against him, his cock hard.
"Up, Jarvis," he murmured, kissing her on her lips. On those full beautiful lips that now tasted of champagne. She kissed him back, surrendering to him, her body on fire. Tony grabbed her under her ass and picked her up, her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck. He carried her into the bedroom, still kissing her, his beard scratching her neck. He could hear her ragged breathing, feel her nails in his shoulders, and her scent tickled his nose. Yet he had the impression that something was missing.
He collapsed into bed with her, lips locked together. He didn't remember when he'd taken off her dress, but he remembered the pink lace lingerie very well. She was beautiful, her curves soft and her panties wet.
He ended up on his back, Bettany on top of him trying to get into his pants as if nothing existed for her but Tony's hard cock. He helped her up, lifting his hips, and the next moment his pants ended up on the floor. He watched her, strands of blond hair flowing down around her shoulders, her bottom lip a between her white teeth. He cocked his head, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the moist warmth that closed around his erection. He exhaled. It was good, so fucking good.
Still, the feeling that something was wrong only grew. She was too small. Her hair was too long. Her eyes were too dark. Body too soft. Everything was wrong with her, she wasn't who he wanted to be with right now.
"Steve..."
The single word hit like a cold shower. He jerked, opened his eyes and sat up quickly. He met the gaze of blue eyes. Bettany was kneeling between his spread legs, looking like a winner. Tony breathed quickly, never taking his eyes off her. He couldn't believe he'd said that out loud. He couldn't believe the word had even crossed his mind and in such a situation!
"So it's true..." She whispered. He didn't answer, he continued to watch her, sizing her up. He figured it out too late. She wasn't all about getting into his bed, well, at least she wasn't all about that. He couldn't believe he was such a fool. Hiding all his feelings behind an arrogant smile, he put his cock back in his boxer briefs and moved away from her a little.
"I could have thought of that sooner. So where from, sweetheart? The New York Times? No, at least they pretend to write serious stuff. Their reporters don't come into my bed. You'll be from the tabloids. The New York Post? The Village voice? Or some Internet blog that was dead before it was created?" He grinned superiorly. Bettany, however, did not look offended. She smiled.
"Daily News," she informed him casually. "Our readers would like to know the details of the relationship between Iron Man and Captain America. I wanted to find out more."
"Well darling, your parents must be so proud of you!" he barked mockingly, pinching her cheek. "You're crawling into the bed of billionaires to write a good article. Really, the kid of the year."
"What would your parents say about your current relationship? I'm sure Howard Stark wouldn't give you his blessing," she snapped back at him a little too harshly.
Tony's smile froze and his gaze hardened. If excitement had been coursing through his body a moment ago, it was now replaced by sheer rage. His stomach tightened at the mention of Howard. He stared into her face and was pleased to find that she had moved away from him, her face pale.
"Get dressed and get out. Jarvis, call her a cab."
"Certainly, sir."
"Our readers deserve to know the truth!" she repeated, her voice skipping as she struggled into her dress. "They should know if their two favorite superheroes are faggots!"
"And you know what? Then tell them they are!" He grinned. "The hottest faggots far and wide. And they thoroughly enjoy it," he threw his arms out into space. "Sucking each other's dicks and fucking each other in the ass. Tell them all about it. Just let the whole world know!"
Tony wasn't thinking when he said it. He was angry and didn't think about the consequences. He watched as Bettany grabbed her shoes and ran out the door. Fucking stupid bitch! He jumped to his feet, kicked off his own shoes and pulled a bottle of scotch from the cabinet. He took a big swig.
"Is she gone?" he growled at Jarvis.
"He's just getting into the elevator, sir."
"She took her time. What did she do, stole something?"
"If you believe the Indian saying that pictures steal souls, then she stole Captain Rogers' soul."
Tony looked at the camera, uncomprehending, and it took a moment for Jarvis' words to sink in. "She took a picture of him?"
"Yes, sir. Captain Rogers came into the kitchen after his workout for a glass of orange juice and your guest ran into him. She took a picture of him, walked into the elevator, and is now exiting the building."
"Bitch," he snorted, took another sip and headed straight for the workshop. He took the stairs, it would be a while before Jarvis would take the elevator back up. He caught a glimpse of Steve out of the corner of his eye when he passed the kitchen.
"Tony, is everything all right?" Steve asked in that annoyingly concerned voice of his. Fucking Rogers! He fucked everything up!
"Leave me the fuck alone, Rogers!" He roared at him angrily and disappeared down the stairs. He'd get drunk, break something, and curse himself in the morning. That sounded like the best plan. But first he'd jerk off. And already he knew he was going to be thinking about those ridiculously full lips of the supersoldier again.
Fucking Rogers! Fucking stupid Rogers! It was all his fault. Tony hated him. He hated him. And at the same time, he wanted to go back up, get him on his knees and feel those lips around his hard cock again.
Tony slumped back in his chair, sighed in frustration, and drove his hand into his boxers. And the night was starting out so well….