#i know the pictures disrupt the flow of the story but they're necessary ok??

[therollingstonys]

Last Stop Before Malibu

A very happy birthday to my best friend and co-mod, Tina!! Hope you enjoy love!! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve leans against the side of the building, watching as cars flow by, the stench of diesel heavy in the air and thick in the back of his throat. For many the travel day is ending as the sun fades, but for Steve, his day is just beginning. 

 He’s had a few customers already, nothing too fancy, just bathroom blow jobs and handies—nothing that will pay the bills though. He’s hungry and there’s not much left in his fridge, or his bank account, and the fifty bucks in his back pocket won’t do much to pay the rent at the shitty motel he calls home. 

 Shoving a hand under the rim of his ballcap he runs a hand through his sweat damp hair, nose wrinkling at the sensation—he could use a shower despite the short time he’s been out here. It’s August in the desert and that means sneakers melting on hot asphalt and two showers a day—not that he can afford to use that much water a day. 

 So he’s hot, and sweaty and maybe a little dehydrated, but he can’t waste his hard earned cash on a drink—not till he’s made at least two hundred bucks. 

 An eighteen wheeler rolls in and Steve looks up, brows lifting when a woman with red hair and curves for miles hops out. She gases up the rig and is joined a few moments later by a man with dark hair and the oddest looking prosthetic arm Steve’s ever seen—he didn’t know they came in metal. 

 The man eyes him hungrily when he strides past into the gas station and when he comes back a few minutes later he smirks at Steve on his way past. The couple stands by the rig, shooting him looks before they approach and it’s the woman who does the talking, head tilted at an angle as she studies him. 

 “How much for us both?” she asks softly, gaze trailing down his body. 

 “Two hundred.”

 It’s said fast, greedily—he’s had others ask for a threesome before and most don’t mind shelling out a little more, so he hopes that holds true for these two. They look well dressed and clean, a lot better than he’s dealt with in the past. 

 The woman nods and smirks, “Two hundred it is.” She glances around and her gaze lands on the nearby motel, “There,” she murmurs, jerking her chin toward it, “Get a room and we’ll meet you.”

 Steve nods and waits till they start to walk away to hurry over to the motel. He pushes the reception door open and is engulfed in cool air that smells like coolant from the machine vibrating under the window. 

 He smiles at Wanda and baby Peter, “Hey guys,” he says with a finger wave to the little boy, grinning when he laughs and claps happily. “Can I get a room?” he asks Wanda, sliding her a twenty when she hands over a key wordlessly. 

 She knows how he makes his money and doesn’t judge—her dead husband was the one who found her on the street, strung out and beat up by a bad john. He brought her home, gave her a new life and a baby and then died a month after Peter was born—heart attack. 

 Steve nods his thanks and waves goodbye to Peter, his laughter bright as the door swings shut behind him. Hot air engulfs him like a furnace and he shifts uncomfortably as the fabric of his shirt sticks to the small of his back. 

 He unlocks the room door and steps inside just as the eighteen wheeler pulls up. He makes eye contact with the couple and nods before closing the door, pulse skipping faster as he debates stripping and prepping himself. 

 Some clients like to do it themselves, others prefer it to be done already—and he’s not sure which these two will be. 

 The door swings open behind him and he turns, jeans half undone and hanging from his hips, to find the couple watching him hungrily. The woman saunters forward and circles him, slides a hand over his back and down to grab his ass and he shivers at the touch, pushes back into it a little.

His gaze is locked with the man’s, dark and hungry and watchful and it makes his gut clench with need. There’s a soft laugh from behind him and then a tongue swipes up the side of his neck, a hum of pleasure following it and then soft lips and softer words brush his ear.

 “Oh honey, we’re gonna have such a good time.”

 Steve emerges from the hotel room hours later, stiff, sore and tired. He shuffles down to his room and pushes inside, swaying with how exhausted he is. Stripping his sweaty clothes off takes more energy than it should and he almost cries when his shirt gets stuck on his ear for a minute and his hip bangs into the shitty Formica countertop of the bathroom sink, but then he’s free and naked and stumbling into the shower. 

 He stays in longer than he normally would, letting the water get fully hot instead of just the chilly blast he spends too little time under in the mornings. Leaning against the wall of the shower, he closes his eyes and lets the heat sink into his skin and ease away the aches.

 The woman—Natasha she’d called herself—and her partner James had used his body for hours before none of them could go anymore and his body feels every inch the used and wrung out thing it now is. 

 He’d lost count of how many times he came—the last two had left him sobbing, his cock raw feeling and his prostate so sensitive it hurt. He’s covered in hickies and scratches and his ass aches and it all feels so damn good that if he wasn’t half asleep and wrung dry, he’d be hard. 

 He stumbles out of the shower when the water turns cold and wipes a towel over his skin before flopping onto the bed, groaning as his aching body protests. The red numbers on his alarm read 12:53am and he stares at them till his lids droop and he sinks into dreamless slumber, drooling into his lumpy pillow. 

 A wad of cash lays on the bedside table, thick and smelling faintly of strawberry lube—$350–a night well spent and money hard earned.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Steve’s fridge is full, his phone paid up for another month and his room is paid up for two weeks and he still has ten dollars left over so he puts it in the safe he’d bought when he first landed here eight months ago and sighs when he sees the measly amount he’s managed to accrue in that time. 

 He has plans to go to Los Angeles and get an apartment and work on his art, but it never seems like he’s saved enough. Every month that passes brings a new expense—he still hasn’t managed to finish repairs on his motorcycle, and with every week that passes he’s not sure he’ll ever have enough to get it back to working order.

 He’s only earned two hundred dollars in the last three days—a slow week for him. He pays for yet another test at the local clinic to make sure he’s still clean and takes the PREP they give him—most clients are willing to use condoms but he’s been stealthed a few times and he’d rather deal with the side effects than have HIV. 

 He’s dusty and dirty, coated in grease and sweat as he works on his bike, cursing the wrench as it slips for the third time and his knuckles smack into the sharp edge of the carburetor. 

 “Shit! Fuck! Fucking piece of shit!” 

 He rises to his feet and sucks the blood from his knuckles, pulse thrumming as he restrained himself from kicking the damn thing over. 

 A low chuckle has him spinning to find a man more handsome than a movie star smiling at him, beard trimmed to perfection and eyes bright with amusement from behind tinted sunglasses. 

 “That’s a thing of beauty, what did she do to you?” 

 Steve huffs and laughs softly, shaking his head, “Damn bolt won’t loosen,” he says with a wave of his hand toward the bike. 

 The man nods and then grins, “Mind if I take a look?” he asks taking a half step forward. 

 Steve looks him over incredulously—his suit looks more expensive than all of Steve’s possessions and cash combined; “You’re gonna ruin your suit,” he points out, waving a hand at himself to make his point. 

 The man just shrugs and starts taking off his jacket, tosses it over the handlebars and goes to work on his crisp white sleeves. “I’ll buy another,” he says carelessly and then holds his hand out for the wrench dangling uselessly from Steve’s fingers.

 Steve hands it over and watches as the man crouches down and starts working the bolt loose by inches, sweet talking to it the whole time in a way that makes Steve’s blood heat in a way that has nothing to do with the sun pounding down on them. 

 There you go darling, loosen up for me, just like that. 

 Yea you just need a gentle touch, huh? 

 Ahhh that’s my good girl, let go for me 

 Steve turns away, flushed and thirsty, though the water he gulps down seems to do little to actually quench his thirst. 

 “There we go,” the man says and Steve turns to find him smiling brightly, a pleased look on his face as he holds out the bolt in question. His shirt and forearms are smeared with grease and Steve frowns—he’d warned the man. 

 “Uh, thanks,” he murmurs, reaching out so the man can drop it into his palm. 

 The man grins and waves a hand at the bike, “I haven’t seen a 76 Triumph since I was a kid,” he says excitedly, “Where did you find it?”

 Steve pockets the bolt and grabs the hem of his tank top, pulling it up to wipe the sweat and grease off his face as he replies, “It was my dad’s. He was a Vietnam vet,” he explains, straightening out his shirt and looking up at the other man in time to see a familiar look of lust pass over his face before it’s replaced with something polite and urbane. 

“Very nice,” the man murmurs with a nod, “well, I uh, I should let you get back to it,” he says, hesitating for a second before extending his hand to Steve, “Tony, and uh, thanks for letting me tinker with it.”

 Steve takes the proffered hand and is surprised by the calluses—this man seems more like the type to have manicured nails than work roughened palms. 

 “Uh yea sure, anytime,” Steve murmurs, smiling softly, some soft longing in his gut as the older man starts to walk away, jacket tucked over one arm. He doesn’t want him to leave, and before he can stop himself he steps forward and calls out. 

 “There’s a great diner about a mile away, has the best shakes and fries,” he blurts, “you wanna grab a bite?” 

 Tony stares at him for a long moment and then cracks a grin, “I could eat.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 They talk over burgers and fries and it’s around the time that Tony’s telling him a funny story about his best friend James that Steve realizes he hasn’t smiled and laughed this much in years. 

 He likes Tony, a lot more than he should, and more than that, he wants him. The way Tony’s hands move is distracting, enticing thoughts of them on his body and he flushes, trying to pull his attention back to what Tony’s saying. 

 When he does focus in he realizes that Tony’s smiling at him knowingly, twirling a fry in his fingers. 

 “So, I hate to be presumptuous, but if I offered to take you back to my hotel to spend the night, would that be more or less expensive than this meal?”

 Steve flushes and ducks his chin; there’s something about Tony that makes him weak and hot, desperate feeling. “It uh, it wouldn’t cost anything,” he murmurs, looking up at Tony through his lashes. 

 Tony’s brows rise for a moment before he smirks and shuffles out of the booth and pulls his wallet out, throws a handful of bills on the table and then cocks his head, “You coming sweetheart?” he asks. 

 Steve scrambles to his feet without hesitation, limbs feeling gawky and too large for the space they occupy. He follows Tony out to the flashy Audi he’d drove them here in and slides into the seat, pulse fluttering as Tony winks at him and revs the engine before pulling out. 

 They whip through the night till the town appears on the horizon and then minutes later screech into the parking lot below the building, the cheap fluorescent lights making his skin look golden as they pass beneath them. 

 It’s quiet on the elevator ride up, tense and heavy with expectation, want building between them like an electric charge. Tony’s hand weighs heavy at the small of his back, guiding him toward the oncoming door. 

 When it shuts behind them Tony presses him up against the door in a move that leaves his head spinning and guy clenching with need. Dark eyes stare up at him, smiling and hungry, the hand at the base of his throat pinning him in place. 

 “You know what safewords are?” he demands of Steve, fingers pressing into the skin of his throat, lips curving upward. Steve nods breathlessly, breaths harsh and excited between them, the heat of Tony’s hand searing into him. 

 “Good, tell me yours then get undressed,” Tony commands and steps back, dark eyes glinting. 

 “Shield,” Steve gasps, hands shaking as he works the buttons of his shirt open, heart pounding beneath his ribs as Tony walks to the bar and pours himself a drink, gaze never leaving Steve. 

 It’s a heavy thing, Tony’s gaze, like a warm, heavy blanket and he shivers under it, shoving his worn jeans down after kicking off his boots. He’s naked, exposed, and Tony’s smirking as he moves to sit on the couch, legs spread wide and an arm thrown over the back of the couch.

 He’s the picture of indolent pleasure, gaze hooded as he beckons Steve over with a lazy wave of his wrist. It feels like there’s a tug beneath his ribs, a lure pulling him closer, connected to the hand that Tony holds out to him. 

 He’s aware of every inch of his body from the cool marble beneath his bare feet to the hot heavy weight of his cock between his legs, the hot pool of arousal in his gut making him twitchy and desperate for touch. 

 He pauses between Tony’s legs and swallows hard, fighting the urge to squirm as Tony sips his scotch and smirks up at him. “My my aren’t you a big boy,” he teases, lifting a brow and giving Steve’s cock a pointed look. 

 Steve flushes a deeper shade of crimson and ducks his head, shoulders bowing forward as Tony chuckles. “You look so pretty like that darling,” he murmurs, “but why don’t you come here,” he says, motioning toward his lap. 

 Steve hesitates for a moment and then moves to straddle Tony’s lap, gasping softly when his cock drags over the silk, hips rocking forward into the sensation. Tony’s free hand falls to his hip and steadies him, grinning when Steve whines at the loss of stimulation.

 “Now darling, be patient,” Tony murmurs with a soft tutting sound, “I want to play with your pretty cock, you just sit still and be quiet,” he orders. Steve swallows hard and nods, though he can’t hold back his gasp when Tony’s hand closes around his cock. 

 Tony hushes him again and strokes him just once before stopping to play with the head of his cock peeking out from his foreskin. Steve shudders and bites his lip, holding in his gasps as Tony strokes his thumb over the head of his cock, the pleasure like electric shocks, surging under his skin and up his spine. 

 Tony watches his face as he pulls back his foreskin slowly, thumb pressing into the tender skin just below the fat head of his cock, and Steve can’t help the gasp that rises from his chest, head falling back at the rush of pleasure in his veins. 

 It stops abruptly and Steve whines, head sloping back down to find Tony has stopped touching him in favor of sipping his scotch, a smirk playing around his lips. “Wh-why?” he gasps and Tony chuckles, sips his scotch. 

 “I told you to hush darling, if you can’t do that maybe we should stop,” Tony murmurs, rueful amusement in his voice. Steve shakes his head, desperation roaring through his veins, hips arching in search of pleasure. 

 Tony chuckles again and sets aside his scotch glass, condensation from the ice shining on the sides of it and then Steve’s gasping and arching as Tony runs a cool, wet finger down his cock. 

 It’s like ice against his too hot skin and he gasps, shuddering at the sensation. Tony hums softly and does it again, gathers more wetness and trails it over Steve’s cock, watching him writhe with dark hungry eyes. 

 Steve’s never experienced anything like it; the cool pearls of water drag over his skin, teasing against his heated skin, Tony’s fingers follow behind, scaldingly hot and he’s trapped between wanting to get away from it and wanting more. 

 He’s not sure how long it continues, all he knows is that it burns and aches, and every time he whines or cries out Tony stops and waits till he’s under control once more to start touching him again.

 He’s slick with sweat and harder than he’s ever been before and Tony, Tony is hard in his slacks and watching him eagerly, but makes no move to let him come or touch him further. 

 Tears blur his vision and he’s panting, chest aching when Tony smirks and pushes him away, off his lap and down onto his knees. 

 “Stay,” he orders, pausing to smirk at Steve before striding away. Steve listens to him move about in the other room, cock throbbing and aching with every breath he takes. 

 Tony’s back a moment later with no shirt on, torso bare, trousers riding low on his hips and a bottle of lube in one hand. He motions for Steve to rise and sits back down, “C’mere,” he orders, motioning once more to his lap. 

 Steve can barely contain the eager noise he makes as he crawls back into Tony’s lap, shaking with the need to be touched. Tony chuckles and wraps a hand around the nape of his neck, “Kissing ok?” he murmurs, pulling Steve down till all that separates their lips is a breath.

 He nods eagerly and gasps when Tony closes the distance, kisses him so thoroughly it seems to steal the air from his lungs. He’s dizzy when Tony pulls back, panting as the other man grabs the bottle of lube and slicks his fingers. 

 The cold touch at his hole makes him shiver and gasp, the sound sharpening into a keen as one finger slides in easily. Tony watches him as he fingers him slowly, slicking the way before he comes back with a second finger and slides it in alongside the first. 

 Steve keens and gasps as Tony scissors his fingers, opening him up in slow, aching movements. “That’s it sweetheart, open up for me,” Tony murmurs softly, eyes bright and avid on his face. 

 He finds Steve’s prostate with unerring accuracy and focuses on it, stroking it relentlessly as Steve whines and arches, cock twitching against his belly, leaking pre cum heavily. 

 “That’s it sweetie, look how nice your cock leaks for me baby,” Tony croons, pressing harder on Steve’s prostate till he’s all but sobbing and can feel the pleasure in his gut growing like a burning ember given oxygen. 

 Tony is relentless, crooning praise in his ear as his fingers move within Steve with slick movements that drive him slowly crazy. He sobs, the desperation within him to come building to a frenzy, his cock twitching and leaking as it grows relentlessly within him. 

 “There you go baby, lets make you come from that pretty ass,” Tony croons, his stroking growing harder, faster. Steve sobs and arches, the pleasure growing into an inferno in his gut. He wails, the pleasure crashing into him, hips grinding down into Tony’s fingers as he comes. 

 He sobs Tony’s name as he writhes, Tony’s fingers still moving inside him, the pleasure sharpening in his gut till it’s like a knife. Tony relents and slows, fingers stilling inside him as he pants and sobs, lashes wet with tears. 

 His heart thunders in his chest and he barely registers the hand on his face for a few minutes as he gasps, breath hitching in his chest. When he can manage opening his eyes he finds Tony staring at him in wonder, breathing unevenly, hand on his face gentle. 

 “You are so lovely,” Tony murmurs pulling him down for a kiss that robs him of his remaining breath. He tastes like scotch and heat and Steve sinks into it, buries his hands in Tony’s hair and hangs on as the older man grips his hips tight enough to bruise.

 When they break apart neither of them are steady; he can feel Tony’s fingers tremble against his ribs. They tighten and Tony smiles up at him, softer than before, “C’mon big guy, lets go to bed,” he urges, pushing and guiding till Steve’s on his feet, cock still hard between his legs as he’s led to the bedroom. 

 Tony pushes him back into the bed and he goes willingly, knees falling open, watching with hungry eyes as Tony stares at him, entranced for a moment before he shoves hastily at his trousers and briefs, shucking them off before crawling into the bed and hovering over him. 

 He kisses Steve greedily, moaning low in his throat, fingers twining through his hair, tugging till Steve moans and arches into him. Steve's panting when they part, moaning when his cock slides alongside Tony’s. 

 The older man grins and pulls back, leans over and grabs a condom from the bedside, pausing when Steve grabs his wrist. “I...you don’t have to use one,” he murmurs, averting his gaze when Tony looks at him, curious.

 “I think I do,” Tony replies, “unless you’ve got proof you’re clean?” he questions. 

 Steve nods and waves a hand towards the other room, “My phone, I have my test results for the last six months there,” he tells the other man. Tony stares at him for a moment before pulling away, striding into the other room, his ass tight and round, flexing as he goes.

 Steve sits up and contemplates his cock—he’s never come like that before, solely from his prostate, and the force of it had left him breathless and aching. Tony seems to know how to play his body, teasing out pleasures he’s never known before.

 “Heads up.”

 He looks up in time and lifts a hand to catch his cell phone, thumbing at the screen for a few moments before he turns it and shows Tony the test results. The older man studies it and then grabs it, flings it away and presses him into the mattress before he can protest the damage to his phone.

 Tony’s hands are firm behind his knees, pushing them up to his chest as he kisses him, desperate and hungry. Steve feels something at his hole and then gasps into Tony’s mouth as he pushes in, hole fluttering as Tony’s cock stretches him open. 

 It’s thick and hard and hot and he clings to Tony, gasping against his lips, dizzy as he’s taken slowly, Tony’s cock pressing into him, firm and unyielding against his soft insides. 

 It’s overwhelming, the thick length relentless, until finally Tony’s hips are flush against his and the older man is cursing and panting. Tony kisses him, inelegant and demanding, “Fuck, baby, you’re so good,” he pants, “so tight, fuck.”

 He starts rolling his hips, the drag of him over Steve’s prostate sending pleasure firing through his neurons, sparks lighting up in his brain as Tony fucks him. 

 “That’s it baby, so good,” Tony pants in his ear, “god you’re fucking perfect.”

 Tony sucks a mark beneath his jaw and then another and another, one of his hands sliding through the slick sweat on Steve’s chest to toy with his nipples. 

 Sharp pain shoots through him as Tony pinches and pulls on them, pleasure shuddering through him as Tony fucks him, cock slick and hot between them. 

 He’s unable to silence the cries that fall from between parted lips, bitten and swollen and slick from Tony’s kisses. Tony seems determined to make him scream, hands traveling over his body, teasing and torturing. 

 The cock inside him is relentless, driving deep with bruising thrusts that leave him aching and sobbing, begging for more. Tony fucks him harder, teeth closing on his throat as he wraps his fingers around Steve’s cock, stroking hard and fast.

 Steve shouts, spine pulled taut like a marionette as pleasure wraps around him, slicing into him like a razor wire embrace. 

 “That's it baby, come on my cock,” Tony growls in his ear, “god, you’re fuckin perfect,” he pants, thrusts growing wild and harsh. 

 Steve sobs, “Please, please,” he begs, writhing beneath Tony, more desperate to come than he’s ever been. 

 “Fuck wish I could stay inside you forever,” Tony says breathlessly, “so hot and tight.” Steve keens as Tony’s hand on his cock tightens, the ache enough to tip him over. 

 Cum falls in stripes across his chest as he screams and then chokes on the sound, body twitching as Tony pounds into him, hole spasming around his cock. 

 He barely registers Tony coming, hears his shout and then feels the heat of him as he spills deep inside Steve, hips pumping it deeper till finally the older man collapses onto him, breathing heavily.

 Steve floats for awhile, limbs tangled with Tony’s while the sweat on his skin cools. Eventually Tony stirs and kisses his throat, peels himself away and disappears through the door to the bathroom. 

 He’s back moments later with a warm damp cloth, wipes Steve down before tucking the sheets in around them and pulling them close together. Steve nuzzles into his throat and sighs happily, the warm rush of hormones in his veins making him soft and sweet. 

 Lips press to his temple and he smiles, falling asleep in gradients, shades of red behind his lids as he sinks deeper into the haze of sleep. 

 When he wakes the next morning it’s to an empty bed and a note on the bedside table. He picks it up and frowns at the check that slides out and into his lap. 

 His fingers feel numb as he picks it up and stares at the exorbitant amount of zeros on the paper. 

 Hands shaking, he picks up the note once more. 

 Steve, 

 I know you said it wouldn’t cost me anything, but I want you to have this anyway. Use it to get out of here if you want, fix that bike of yours, go see the world. 

 Maybe I’ll see you in Malibu sometime.

 Tony Stark 

 Steve sits for a very long time, a little numb, as his brain races. 

 He’d slept with Tony Stark. 

 Billionaire, playboy, philanthropist…

 And that man had just paid his way out of this shitty little town. 

 Tapping the check against his lips, Steve grins slowly.

 He’s always wanted to see Malibu.