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I maded another thing
sitr ot3
Chapter 2 (kind of?) of With the Punches. Incorporates another kinkmeme prompt about Bruce's glasses.

Rating: E for Explicit Fun for Everyone! (NC-17, to clarify.)

Tony/Bruce, Clint Barton cameo

"Jesus, you need to stop doing that."

"Doing what?" Bruce took his glasses off again to look quizzically across the lab at Tony.

Tony groaned. "That."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Let me know when you start making sense again." He put his glasses back on and tried to pick up where he left off in ACS Biochemistry.

That is, until Tony tugged the journal away and slung himself into Bruce's lap.

"What," Bruce said, "no miniature cattle prod this time?"

"I know you can handle a slow build," Tony said, muffled by the skin of Bruce's neck, where he was laying open-mouthed kisses. "Let's see what you do with," quick drag of teeth against Bruce's pulse point, "something a little faster."

Then he disappeared from Bruce's lap, dropped to his knees, unzipped Bruce's pants, and licked Bruce to hardness in under a minute, give or take a few gobsmacked seconds.

"Fuck." Bruce ran a shaking hand through his hair. "Warn a guy, will you?"

"Have I mentioned," Tony mumbled from the underside of his cock, "how hot it is when you go commando-- no, wait, keep your glasses on."

The quick puffs of his breath on Bruce's skin were pretty distracting. "What?"

In lieu of an answer, Tony swallowed him down and Bruce's hands fell away to clench hard against the sides of the chair. Tony had him in the back of his throat already, squeezing him mercilessly, and Bruce had to go away to concentrate on breathing for a while - in three seconds, out three seconds, in three seconds, out three seconds, in--

A groan tore through his careful breathing pattern when Tony finally pulled back, replacing mouth with hand, jerking him off with efficient rhythm. "Let go, big guy. Come on. You can handle it."

Bruce hauled his head back up to look at Tony with some effort. The glasses threw Tony's face into sharp detail - sheen of sweat on his face, saliva slicking his lower lip and chin. Naked hunger that appeared in his eyes when Bruce looked at him.

"You're good at this," Bruce choked out.

Tony's mouth went wryly crooked. "You're still talking, so not good enough," he said and bent down to do something obscene with his tongue in Bruce's slit.

"Fuck--" and then Bruce's eyes rolled back at the brutal pace Tony dove into, heat and wet and suction and blood pounding in his ears and lightning up his spine and unbearable tension winding tight in his belly, holy Christ, Tony was really pushing the envelope here.

The other guy roared in the distance.

And there it was, the edge of anger seeping through the storm. Tony knew what he could do to Bruce, what Bruce could do when he lost control, but Tony kept pushing anyway - just for curiosity's sake, just another experiment. He glanced down at the sound of Tony's moan. The other man now looked totally wrecked, probably a lot like how Bruce looked, probably because Bruce had started thrusting into his mouth.

His heart rate was still going crazy, but…he could do this. Anger sharpened the pleasure, made it sweeter, and he used it to control his thrusts, to time them just right to make Tony's eyes roll back in his head. Bruce's nerves were sparking wildly now, tension coiling low in his gut and it wasn't going to be long, just--one--more--


Bruce Banner slumped over, dazed. He looked down at the inordinately pleased man between his knees. "So…" He stopped, coughed, tried again. "So the takeaway here is that you have a glasses fetish."

The corner of Tony's mouth quirked up. "You know it's not just the glasses, genius."

Bruce scrubbed a distracted hand through his hair. The other guy stayed quiet. "I guess I should be glad Pepper made you take it slow last week."

"Pepper's good at knowing how not to make someone run screaming for the hills."

"Then what do you call--" The lab door whooshed open. Their heads snapped around.

"…Hey, Stark?" Oh no.

Tony looked Bruce straight in the eye. "Down here, Clint," he said, smirking and not moving from his knees while Bruce scrabbled to get his pants back up.

"Hey Banner, um…wow. Nice." And that was not an identical smirk appearing on Clint's face, please god. The archer leaned a casual hip on their table. "Got any left for the rest of the class?"

"Sorry," Tony said over the sound of Bruce sighing. "We're fresh out. Come back in ten minutes, we'll see what we can do for you."

"Whatever else you think gamma radiation does," Bruce said, piqued, "it does not give you a refractory period of ten minutes."

Unfortunately, Tony and Clint's expressions did not change. "Wanna bet?"

Bruce looked at them both, incredulous. Then he remembered that Tony also hadn't gotten to come yet.

"…I'm not going to get anything done today, am I?"


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