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Acceptance	By : ScereyahaDreamweaver Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Avengers, The Views: 3928 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel (nor the avengers, nor science boyfrinds), It's fandom, nor theses characters, just this interpretation of their relationship, I make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 9
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“So this… is all for the experiment?” The coy smile he used to hold things back, and the pleading look, back in place.

Anthony’s fingers paused in their trail back down his side. He felt himself turn red but tried to ignore it as he tilted his head slightly to one side in consideration. He could not say he was not enjoying it. Certainly, he would be ready to admit deriving plenty of satisfaction from it; he just had not worked out if it was as a friend and scientist, or if it had to do more directly with causing the man to feel pleasure. He had long wanted to prove to him that he could have a relationship, even an intimate one, without it being a disaster, not because he had ever considered being personally involved with him, but because he thought one of them being lonely and isolated was already too much. Watching him strain slightly against the restraints and give him that coy pleading look was enough to cause an unexpected shiver. He realized suddenly that it was only fair to sort out his own feelings before leading him on.

Upon actually thinking about it, Anthony found himself getting excited by Bruce’s reactions. At first, he had just felt satisfied and amused that Bruce was finally getting to enjoy some positive attention, but then he realized that he also felt particularly satisfied at being the cause of it, the one doing it to him, his own involvement becoming less objective in his own mind. That progressed to realizing, abruptly feeling like the room was too warm, that he was also very much enjoying the sounds and expressions that he was dragging out of him. He was suddenly nervous about how his friend would feel about this, he did not think he had any qualms about it himself, but he wondered about Bruce.

Bruce watched him tilt his head slightly and pause, as if in thought, flushing slightly. A smirk seemed to ghost across his features before he seemed to take on a much more serious disposition, and blush deeply.

“That depends.” Anthony said, relieved on some level that they had some sort of dialogue about it, finally.

“On?” Bruce asked, breathing deeply as the fingers moved again, in an incidental way.

“You, mostly… and the experiment.” His tone was shifting back to his noncommittal playful, yet almost defensively pointed, mannerisms.

“The… experiment?” He raised his brow again, torn between bashful nervousness, and incredulity at even having this conversation.

“I see." he said, the well-worn look of patience with his lips pressed together, again.

Anthony enjoyed watching that expression drop away when he moved his hand again. He was waiting for some sort of answer now, he supposed, but he did not want to let him answer yet; nor think about it too much, as he was sure doubts of every kind would be quickly breaking through the pleasant haze his friend was experiencing. He wanted to prove his point before letting his head clear enough to make a decision. He reached up to turn up the oxytocin, just to the kind of levels he would expect to see in the first week of a relationship in this context.

Bruce watched him reach towards the digital dial. The thought that Anthony was doing that with the express intent of causing him pleasure made his nerves crawl more, enough that he fought back a shiver. However, he felt like he was being ripped off.

“That’s cheating.” Bruce surprised him by saying this, with his voice so rough, it sounded like an invitation.

Anthony's point would be invalidated if the only way chemistry could keep his biology in check were with a machine, he knew, at least the point he wanted to make now. They had both witnessed -of course- how the levels increased on their own from contact, like they were supposed to, but did not know if it was enough and he wanted to make damned sure nothing went wrong; the first time especially, or Bruce would not cooperate at all anymore. Bruce was also telling him not to use the machine, that if he wanted him seduced, he had better be willing to do it properly himself; that he had better not be lying about his intentions, because he would be able to tell. He felt a stab of both guilt and annoyance at his lack of trust.

“Let me turn off the adrenalin then." he said, and Bruce could not argue the fact that it was a good idea.

Bruce was trying not to think about having just implied he should touch him more. Everything felt so good at the moment; the coolness of the table, the pressure from the restraints, the clothing against his skin, Anthony’s hand. He thought, in part, it had to be the dosage he was given, but then also having comforting pleasing contact from someone he trusted, in a situation where he felt safe, that had to have been enough on its own. He was frustrated now that he could not separate the two. He was determined to figure out how much of this was the drugs and how much was actual chemistry. If Anthony was right, and he could have a relationship, an intimate one, safely, he had to know. He craved the closeness and the contact, in ways about which he could not normally let himself even think. They both did, he knew.

Anthony looked him over, dropping his hand away from the screen. His skin -the same soft, smooth skin that had always fascinated him a little- looked more youthful than anyone would expect, reminding him that the man was healthy and physically young, despite stress having made him look older than his slowed aging should have allowed. Bruce had some small amount of grey hair and deep worry lines, he often looked rugged and unkempt, but he was not by any means unattractive. He had not actually considered what physical traits he should find desirable in men, having not put much thought into men at all, but he thought he was attractive, at least from an objective perspective, if his perspective could be considered objective anymore. He seemed as though he would have looked almost disturbingly young for his age, if it had not been for the stress. His skin was pleasing to touch, and forcing reactions out of him was enticing and satisfying in a way he had not expected, even when circling the table plotting his approach. It had always been seduction of a sort, he supposed, whether or not he intended to be personally involved, he had slowly been hacking away at the man’s resolve against risking intimacy; seducing him.

Now though, it was suddenly personal. It had suddenly come to cross the boundary he normally avoided so strongly. He had become so wrapped up in breaking down Bruce’s barriers that he let his own fall away. Now he was suddenly certain he wanted the man for himself, wanted to be the cause of the pleasure he kept saying he should experience. He had a taste for it now. He often lived by the belief that if he was going to be too particular about something, he should do it himself. At least then he would know his friend was in good hands -at least as good as his hands tended to be- and that he would be handled properly. He looked at his hands. It now seemed that his earlier teasing was getting a bit ahead of things, though it had seemed the thing to do at the time.

He brought his hand to Bruce’s neck, gently, his thumb brushing over where his pulse was, feeling its shallow fast beating for himself. His breathing was shallow and slowed suddenly.

Anthony’s hand was rough and warm. His touch was firm, almost a light grip, rather than the teasing strokes of earlier. It felt grounding. He fought with himself to bring his eyes up to meet his friend’s, but he could not help but close them, leaning into his hand. It felt like home, he thought, if anything ever had, this did. The thumb moved down to his collarbone before the whole hand slid upwards into his hair, the thumb rubbing upwards behind his ear. He exhaled and it sounded louder than he thought it should have. He watched, hardly breathing, as Anthony dipped down tentatively over the edge of the table beside him. He closed his eyes and waited. First, the bow of his top lip nudged at his. He tilted his chin up to meet him, his eyes opening slightly out of curiosity. Tony Stark, billionaire, playboy philanthropist, kissed with his eyes closed. His own eyes fluttered shut again as his lips were pressed against. Anthony’s lips were firm and felt strong as they kneaded into his, no doubt a product of how much the man talked. It felt intensely good. He creased his eyebrows not just for that, but also trying to figure out whether or not it was weird that it was Anthony making him feel this. He was considering whether the feel of facial hair was strange or exciting, when the feel of teeth gripping his lower lip flooded his mind with certainty and he felt himself begin to pant against the other’s upper lip. He gripped the part of Anthony’s shirt that he could reach over the edge of the table unconsciously. He suddenly felt like he could not catch his breath.

Anthony felt the tentativeness melt out of the way he kissed, before he pulled away and licked his own lip. He had not quite meant to bite him, but the reaction he got for it was a pleasant surprise. Apparently, the coy scientist enjoyed being nibbled on. He felt his fingers kneed into the muscles of his stomach through his shirt. He saw his pupils dilated almost alarmingly when his eyes fluttered back open.

“Anthony, I…” A thumb on his lip cut him off.

Anthony was fairly certain he knew what was going through his head. At least it was not more protests.

“Don’t. The oxytocin we’ve dosed you with…" he began, trailing off, though he alone knew it was only one minute dose.

“I’m not saying that what you’re feeling isn’t valid. I’m asking you to wait ‘till your head clears." he said, in response to the look he was getting.

Bruce would have been offended at not being trusted to be properly in touch with his own emotional state, but the pained look on Anthony’s face stopped him. He understood. His friend did not know for sure whether what Bruce was feeling was real, and if it turned out to just be the experiment, he would be heart broken. This was an experiment on every level. A test; figure out how they feel, figure out how it feels to feel it, figure out how they feel about it later. He also noticed something else.

“You mean that you dosed me with?" he asked, raising his brow.

He felt a little guilty the moment he finished saying it, mostly because Anthony had a guilty look to match.

“That you let me dose you with.” Anthony spoke quietly, and slowly, but his words were filled with heavy implications, making Bruce swallow nervously.

Anthony could not complain, of course, if Bruce’s feelings were being compromised -chemically- right now, since he had talked him into it, and been the sole cause of it all. He usually was the direct or indirect cause of his own suffering. He was the one manipulating and seducing, so he felt he had no right to be touchy about it working.

“You want me to feel good. That’s nothing to feel bad for.” Though Bruce felt a bit awkward saying this with his arms strapped to the table at his sides, not least of all because one of his hands was still gripping at the front of the man’s shirt.

Anthony watched for a moment, mildly disbelieving, as Bruce’s eyes flickered at him as though he was asking to be kissed again. He dipped over the table again and kissed his bottom lip first this time, before trailing his own lips against the top one, to feel their shape with his. He felt him try to press upwards, not quite understanding the purpose in the strange almost-kiss, and pulled back. He remembered then that what he was doing was said to be particularly arousing in a kiss. He had not done it for that reason, of course. He just wanted to feel his lips, get a measure of them, what they felt like, how much he enjoyed pressing against them. He had to resort to moving his hand into the back of his hair and keeping a firm grip on the wavy curls, so he could have control of the kiss.

It had been frustrating and arousing when Anthony had kept pulling away after almost kissing him, even more so when he was held back by his hair only to have his lips teased. He had to wonder if his friend was not pushing his limits on purpose. The computer even issued the warning beep that meant that his heart rate was increasing quickly. He tried to slow it down consciously and ended up feeling dizzy in short order. When Anthony finally settled into kissing him again properly, he felt like he was melting against the table. A warm hand came to rest on his own stomach as he tugged at the other’s shirt. He wanted to feel more closeness, but it was all he could do, strapped down as he was.

Anthony was feeling almost equally overwhelmed. His friend’s newfound eagerness was flattering, but it left him unsure of how to proceed. It also left him wondering, vaguely, if he had made the right choice in seducing him in this way. There was always the possibility that Bruce’s shifting into wanton behaviour would only make him feel embarrassed later, possibly enough so to damage their friendship. Anthony was not about to let that happen. He also was not about to stop what he was doing; not now that he had a chance to show his friend that he was too hard on himself, that he could have nice things and did not have to worry about breaking them.

He was also making a number of careful considerations. He had to push just the right buttons at just the right time to keep his friend excited enough to work towards some kind of conclusion, without pushing anything too far. Bruce had to stay relaxed and as much at ease with the situation as possible. Kissing was a good place to start, it seemed to have him excited enough; but it was also an emotionally intimate gesture, which would add the right context, and keep his brain turning out more of the right things. The monitoring systems he had him hooked up to really helped. His lips were soft, not quite the plush softness he had come to expect from women, but very full and still more than enough to compel him to hold them between his, or between his teeth, trying to get some measure of exactly how soft they were.

Bruce thought vaguely that it was odd. Over the years he felt as though he had completely forgotten how to say yes, always saying no to everything; and now, in some strange reversal, his brain seemed to have forgotten every word except yes. As he was kissed more, Bruce found himself pressing into the hand, now rubbing soothingly over his stomach, and lifting his hips in futility. He was relieved to be restrained the way he was. He could tug at them, strain against them with his -only human- strength, and they would hold him back. It was comforting that he knew he was not currently capable of accidentally causing harm, comforting, but also frustrating. He was beyond worrying about things like doubt, or words, or thinking at the moment, brain swimming as it was, but he wanted to communicate that he wanted more. He trusted that he was in capable hands, that Anthony knew what he was doing, that the restraints would hold, and that they both would know when to stop.

Anthony felt a couple fingers stroke down against his stomach and hook into the top of his belt, tugging him against the edge of the table. He pulled out of the kiss so that when he breathed deeply it was with his forehead having dropped to Bruce’s shoulder, breathing against his throat. He lifted one knee onto the table, placing it between Bruce’s knees, before swinging the other over the table’s edge, his other hand holding his weight on the other side of the table. He kissed him more, in part as an excuse to not make eye contact while settling against him. This time the breath on his upper lip was a moan. His hips jerked forward impulsively at the sound.

Bruce breathed in sharply and pulled away from the kiss long enough to shoot a paranoid look at the monitor. Everything he saw there was a confusing mess, full of higher than normal levels that would have been a cause for much more concern if the monitoring equipment was not still assuring them both that he was keeping himself together. The oxytocin levels were also holding steadily higher than what the next dose would have brought them to, and he felt too abashed to even consider the other readings.

“Look at that.” It would have been the usual smart tone of his quips, but he sounded too breathless.

Bruce blushed at the roughness in his friend’s voice, but he could not bring himself to answer. In fact he was pretty certain he was done being able to find words for the moment. The man had been directly and indirectly promising him -guilt and worry free- pleasure all week, at least -not to mention all the times they had argued about it before, over the years- now he was finally allowing for it and he wanted him to stop teasing and get down to it. On the other hand, he had never been very aggressive as a person, at least not as himself, so the idea of voicing any such thing made him squirm inside and made his mouth feel dry. He felt overwhelmed already by the suddenness of it all, besides.

He felt Anthony move, just enough to remind him that he was now firmly pressed into the soft dip to the inside of his hip. He had no choice left, but to admit to himself that what he was feeling now was entirely genuine lust. He had not much thought about it before either, but his friend had a tightly muscled body, and was just trim enough physically to not always seem entirely dominating, not to mention his -often flirty- demeanour. He had always just held it as a fact in his mind that his friend had pretty features for a man, especially his eyes. He had thought it a more objective opinion, but now coupled with his arousal and all that he was feeling towards him, it felt more like a long-standing crush he had never consciously recognized. He could feel the contrast between Anthony’s skin, and the roughness of the shirt between them, he could feel the hard edge of the reactor against his own chest, and he could feel Anthony’s buckle pressing in just above his own belt. He could feel the strength in the body pressing down on him and the friction of denim rubbing slightly against the rough material of his own pants. It made him want to hold him, pull him even closer.

“I want…” Bruce surprised himself by managing to say that much, but the lips pressed to his made it clear he was not allowed to talk right now anyways.

He would have to make sure he made himself very clear later, after his friend could be assured that he was thinking straight, that he was certain of how he felt. He was not ready to say he was in love, despite that he felt like he could be, he knew the effects of oxytocin and vasopressin, but it was definitely true to say he cared deeply about Anthony, and that the arousal he was feeling, now, was very much more complicated and involved than just having been dosed with something. He hoped Anthony had figured that much out at least. He tried to convey his feelings in the way he kissed him, but that was hard to do, being unable to move very much. The more he tried to kiss him possessively, the more Anthony pulled back. He felt a sound almost like a growl of frustration in his own throat and surprised himself again by boldly pressing his hips upwards, rocking the other man forward and forcing their mouths together. He felt the vibration of a, somewhat surprised sounding, moan-like hum against his lip. He strained against the restraints, and the pulling on his hair, as Anthony pulled back even further.

Anthony looked down at his friend; Again being genuinely surprised by the sudden lusty behaviour. It was encouraging; it helped to make him more certain that there was something real and substantial at work here. He had not quite dared to let himself hope that he would be getting anything out of this. He was taking advantage of Bruce’s emotional vulnerability, to show his friend that there could be love and lust and things worth having in his life, if he let there be. He had not really considered that he himself should dare aspire for the same, but with the way Bruce was looking at him, he could not help but hope.

The frank boldness of his actions, especially considering his usual shy demeanour, was also very affecting. He watched his eyes take up one of his more pleading looks, because he had pulled away and was not kissing him anymore, it made him feel warm. He finally had unabashed eye contact from the other and impulsively wanted to push his limits again. He held his look and pressed down against him, rolling his hips. He watched his eyes flutter shut, as his head tossed to the side and he moaned again. He wondered if just pressing against him was not exactly the slow pace he should be keeping up, but a glance to the monitors indicated that in the absence of the extra adrenalin his life signs were well into the range of safe; maybe too well.

Anthony moved to lift himself up, removing his one knee from between the other’s legs, and bringing them both to either side of his hips. He would have felt odd, straddled across his lap, but currently it was giving him the best physical advantage. With one last playful tug at his friend’s hair, he ran both hands downward to his belt, and sat up properly. He watched Bruce raise both eyebrows at him, once his eyes had managed to flutter back open, that is. He tugged at the belt with confidence, almost entirely to watch the other close his eyes and look away. As he actually put pressure on the belt buckle, he watched him begin to breathe heavily. He continued at a deliberately slow pace, in part to keep a close eye on his readings, and in part to watch his friend squirm about the frankness of the gesture. Let his mind stew a bit in the knowledge that he intended to cause him pleasure.

He pulled the leather of the belt out of a couple loops, then back against the pin of the buckle, tugging on it to get his friend’s attention, punctuate what he was doing. He slid the belt open and brought his hands down to either side of the button underneath. Bruce still was not looking at him; he was biting his lip and tensing his eyebrows. Anthony wanted to make him look it him. He wanted him to watch what he was doing. He leaned down and kissed him, one hand moving back to his hair. He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to his, keeping their mouths close together, but making it so that Bruce had little choice but to watch his other hand if he opened his eyes. He trailed his finger back and forth across the top of his pants until he did. He made a game of making progress only when Bruce opened his eyes. He undid the button slowly, and not just because he had to use one hand as the other was still busy firmly grasping the other’s neck. He toyed with the tag of the zipper until he heard Bruce whisper his name, acknowledging what he was doing and that he wanted it to continue.

The zipper sounded too loud in the quiet room. The feel of it making a slow path downward, taking pressure off him little by little, combined with Anthony’s sudden exhibitionist-like behaviour was making him feel like he was loosing his mind. He also felt entirely lulled, drugged, hazed and too relaxed to worry about it. Everything felt still, quiet and clam, except what Anthony’s hand was doing. Fingers trailed slowly upwards, but stopped when he closed his eyes. Something about watching his friend touching him, even through thin cloth, for the first time was overwhelming. He caught his breath and looked up to meet his eyes rather than watching what he was doing, but that turned out to be even more potent, since Anthony seemed all too willing to hold his gaze and keep stroking his fingers upwards towards the elastic band. He looked back to what he was doing, as his fingers hooked over the top, and tried not to close his eyes, but they felt like they were tearing, everything he was feeling, physically, was far too intense and he did not want to let that shatter the emotional feeling of seduced calmness. He lay there, holding very still and gasping quietly to catch his breath.

Anthony pulled the fabric away from him and downward, relishing the hissing sound it dragged out of him. He did pause after pulling all the clothing out of his way, to make sure that Bruce had a handle on his state before he pushed anything further.

Bruce felt rather flustered, tied down and exposed as he was. He would have felt downright awkward if things had not so suddenly become flamingly passionate, and with the way Anthony was intently watching him, his lower lashes too full and thick to not be called pretty, and his expression lusty but also openly curious. A warm hand slowly flattened against him, pressing down. He inhaled sharply and shivered. On one hand, this was sudden enough to almost seem indecent; on the other hand, he had been anticipating just that contact for the past half hour. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to concentrate on breathing slowly, tried to hold back the low groan in his throat, as he felt the hand wrap around him.

Anthony released his hair with a gentle twist and let his head lower back to the table as another moaning sound was coaxed out of him. He used the clear fluid already leaking out to slick down the skin without causing too much friction and pressed his thumb against the tip.

Bruce could not help the quiet moaning sounds that were being dragged out of him. It was as though making those sounds was releasing some sort of pressure, some building tension, and helping him keep calm. Anthony seemed to be enjoying it enough.

Anthony bent down to kiss his friend, seeming to surprise him, as the man’s eyes were closed. He took his turn to covertly watch the other while kissing him. The sounds Bruce was making did not die down; rather, they seemed even more undignified being moaned into kisses. He pushed his tongue into his mouth, licking at Bruce’s, to feel the vibration of the sound around him. There was something unexpectedly erotic about it, the feel of his mouth, hot and wet. The sounds his friend was making seemed to get louder, even if he could not really tell with his own tongue in the way. He pulled back so the other could breathe deeply, but let his teeth stray to his bottom lip again, maintaining some contact while he let him breathe. He found he was getting quite fond of the feeling of hot breath being gasped against his upper lip. He continued kissing him, and stroking firmly with his hand for many long moments, before the quality of the sound he was hearing changed. The sound began to get higher, more strained, and his friend seemed to be getting too distracted to kiss back properly. He pulled back to watch him squirm against what he was doing.

Bruce was on the edge of something, though he could not tell whether it was good or bad. It felt good, but he was starting to get nervous again. The machine was beeping here and there, but it was not the warning alarm that meant anything was actually wrong. He tried to look towards it to make sure, but Anthony took his chin in hand and turned him to face him, rather than the machine.

Anthony did not want his friend getting distracted with worry at this point, not when he seemed so close. He kissed him again, deeply, feeling his breathing quicken again. He kept him gasping and straining against him for some time longer, as long as he thought could be advisable, but his friend was still holding back too much to let himself finish. Anthony decided the best solution was to push a few more of his buttons. He gripped the back of his neck again and teased him with more kisses, before angling his chin down and pulling back as he had before, leaving Bruce -again- with a good view of what he was doing. He stopped moving his hand and waited again for his friend to open his eyes. Even though this seemed to put him on the edge of dangerous readings, seemed to make him squirm inside, made his thigh shake, it still was not pushing him over the edge. Anthony tried an even bolder move.

“I want to know what it's like to make you let go... Please, Bruce.” he said, dipping his lips down to his ear, and giving him an extra squeeze.

The hot voice on his neck may as well have just told him -directly- to let himself come; and it had about that effect. His resistance seemed to crumble in that instant and his eyes rolled back and fluttered shut again. The sound Bruce made, as the first throb of orgasm hit him, was decidedly un-masculine. He had expected it to come on slowly and be gentle, because he had felt so lulled and dazed, and yet had been resisting it so, but it gripped at his whole lower abdomen, felt like the pleasure was being forcibly dragged out of him. The whole world disappeared for a moment, all except the warm, rough hand and the idea of who it belonged to; and what was happening. He moaned loudly. Even as the pleasure ebbed, he could feel himself twitching involuntarily in his hand as the last waves of orgasm took their sweet time about subsiding.

Anthony released his neck and watched him toss around and moan, his own expression about as satisfied as he felt at having caused the scene. He kneaded the flesh in his hand as he watched the other begin to still. This earned him a sudden jerking motion.

“Tony!” Bruce yelled at the unexpected, intense and not entirely un-ticklish sensation.

It was then that he saw the look of smug satisfaction plastered across Anthony’s features.

“Oh, god." he said, letting his head drop back to the table.

“Been a while?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

The mess in his hand and across the other’s stomach was thick and smelled strongly, not to mention there being a nearly inappropriate amount of it.

Bruce did not dignify that with a response. He just watched his friend try to make light of things while he tried to catch his breath. He was trying not to give Anthony the wrong idea by smiling, but it was hard to keep the corners of his mouth from twisting upwards. He was relieved, in more ways than one. Anthony had gotten what he was after, without it triggering an episode; not to mention it was the first orgasm he had dared to risk having in a long time, he still felt like his brain was swimming. The monitor revealed that his readings had only spiked into the danger zone for a fraction of a second, and that there was nothing to worry about now.

“You, ah… mind un-restraining me?” asked Bruce.

He normally would have erred on the side of caution, but he was at this point convinced he was out of the woods. Experience also told him that now would be about the time that Anthony started trying to put walls back up, and he was not about to be tied up for that. Besides that, if the dopamine and oxytocin had been enough before, the rush in his system from his orgasm would be plenty for a while. He was not about to say anything yet, rather, he bid his time until the restraints would come off.

The smug look on Anthony’s face expanded; apparently, he considered this experiment to have proven his every point beyond argument. He undid the restraints on his arms from where he was sitting.

He did not know what he had expected from Bruce after the man’s needs had been met, but it was not the two firm hands on the back of his hips, nor the attempt to tug him forward.

As Bruce expected, Anthony was now suddenly the one seeming to hesitate. He had tugged at his hips in a way intended to tip him off-balance, forward, so he could kiss him; but ended up just tugging him against his own hips, as the man’s hand suddenly came up to push back against his shoulder and he had rocked his weight back in resistance. He was not about to let him away with that. He ran his hands up his sides and tried again, pulling him more slowly downward.

“You don’t have to.” Anthony said, blushing and no longer making eye contact.

“The hell I don’t." he responded, tipping his chin forward again.

Anthony suddenly did feel awkward sitting on the other man’s hips, now that he no longer had complete control of the situation. His friend’s enthusiasm had come as a relief earlier, after Bruce’s initial reaction had filled him with doubt, but now it seemed sudden for him. With Bruce, they had the excuse that it was for the sake of the experiment, they could blame his reaction on the drugs, but he did not have that. If he let his friend reciprocate the attention, he would not be able to deny personal interest any longer. It was bad enough already that he was still hard from earlier, and that he had shown so much obvious enjoyment in pushing his friend over the edge, despite mild protests; that he had kissed and teased him as though he wanted every breath of it. Suddenly he was fearful of how his actions would be judged once the hormones -synthetic and otherwise- did wear off.

Bruce did not miss the sudden look of worry. He realized then, that Anthony still intended to let him pretend this did not happen, if that was what he wanted. Just keep showing up for tests whenever he wanted a fix, and never give anything back. All just to have some fleeting moments of intimacy with a man he cared so much about. It was heart breaking, really, in a way that was so frustrating it made him wonder if the restraints were not safer left on. Nevertheless, he had a hold on him, and he was not about to let him go. He slid his hands back to his hips, where his grip could be firmer, and sat up, shifting his friend enough to let him do so. Anthony’s hand now gripped his shoulder lightly in mild alarm.

“Are you that damaged?” Bruce asked him in annoyance.

Anthony looked like he had been slapped, which was not an entirely uncommon look for him, and tried to pull back. The uncompromising hold on his hips stopped him. He did not seem to have the words to answer, but Bruce did not care. He slid his hands around to his back and hugged him close, his chin coming to rest somewhere near the man’s temple. He felt Anthony’s arms wrap around his shoulders; he had stopped resisting.

Bruce was his best friend; of course, he was not going to allow him to compromise himself that way. Even if he did come to regret what happened in that lab, he would not stop being his friend. He understood better than anyone the emotional position he was in. He had demanded all this time that Bruce put himself in his hands and trust him, he owed it to him to do the same; even if that was as terrifying to him as risking an episode was to Bruce.

One of Bruce’s hands moved up to his hair, and massaged lightly at the muscles in his neck. He let himself lean back against it. The other held his lower back firmly, so that he remained pressed against him. The hand at his neck slid to his chin long enough to tip it towards him, before it went back to trailing fingers into his hair, as lips pressed against his. His own hands went straight into Bruce’s hair in response.

~*~

A note from the author:
Here's another chapter for you. I'd make apologies about my lack of anything funny or interesting to say... but I finally got down to the smut, so I imagine that's what you were all here for anyway... Plenty more where that came from. Actually about 8 more slashy scenes, not counting the second half of this one. Anyone up for a little reciprocation?
OH! and before I forget, if you like this story, rate it, please! That way all the potential readers can see how well received it was by other readers, and so I can know how much you like it ^^
Thanks to Izzygirl for my first review! I'm glad you like it, and I hope you like the internal dialogue just as well in the slahy-ness to come ^^
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Acceptance