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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
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Bruce breathed deeply out in the cold air, wearing the robe he had grabbed on his way out. At first he was practically panicking, trying to think of how to defend his actions when Anthony came storming out onto the balcony; but then Anthony did not, he did not come out at all. Then he thought that it must have just been taking some time for Anthony to find him, before realizing the security system would tell him in an instant where he was. Then he started to worry.

His worry led him back into the suite, then out into the hall, and then slowly wandering around, not wanting to look like he was searching for him, despite that that was what he was doing. Just as he started to worry that he had spent too much time avoiding him on the balcony, he found Anthony in the living room. He stood there, wearing a robe like a smoking jacket, facing the fireplace, sombre and still. For the first time since the deal they had made, he had a full glass in his hand, having not even bothered with ice. The detached look in his eyes gave him chills. He knew at that moment the cold emotional wall that Anthony was attempting to build, staring into the flame and wrapping his heart in a metal shell, trying to defend himself against being hurt, trying to deaden his nerves with alcohol to steel them against feeling. Bruce also knew it was because of him, because Anthony had it all wrong. The scene in front of him was an eerie clashing of fire and ice, a perfect painting of his friend's pain and doubts, a perfect tableau; Bruce wanted to shatter it.

“Anthony I…” Bruce said, approaching him, though Anthony saved him from figuring out what to say by interrupting him.

“No, It’s okay, I get it. You needed this. Apparently I needed it… We’ve both been a bit affection starved, we get along, we‘re open-minded people, it was only a matter of time before we tried that. You thought it was what you wanted and now…I’m the one who started to whole experiment. That‘s all it was.” Anthony took another mouthful of his drink.

His words might have sounded understanding if he was not so obviously angry, and hurt. The way he was speaking it sounded more like an attack.

“Tony, put the glass down.” said Bruce, trying not to get angry.

“The experiment’s over with, isn’t it? So now I can drink if I want.” Anthony retorted pointedly.

Bruce stepped forward, took his glass and threw it into the fireplace, where it shattered, and the alcohol exploded into flame with a rolling roar. Anthony looked surprised, but -thankfully- not scared. The tone in the room was suddenly foreboding, everything except the flame was quiet as a prey animal trying to avoid death, and the fire itself was bright and angry.

“For a genius you really are a complete idiot.” Bruce said, stepping aggressively forward.

Anthony could have broken his heart in that moment by stepping back or reacting with any kind of fear, but he did nothing. Bruce stepped forward again and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him, still quite aggressively, into a hug. In that moment the air seemed to relax, the fire’s glow becoming warm again, rather than harsh. The moment of anger had passed in a flash of exploding alcohol and glass.

“Anthony, I love you. Not just for the past week, not just romantically. You’ve been my best friend for years, stuck by me through long absences and everything else we’ve ever dealt with. You’ve always cared, always had faith in me, even when I lost my faith in you. Of course I love you, I feel like I always have. And I want to stay with you, I want more than anything to be close to you, but I can’t risk hurting you.” Bruce said, holding him tightly.

Bruce felt like an idiot for not having realized what was going on sooner, and for being angry with Anthony. He, of course, realized that his own self-destructive tendencies were worse, and -when he saw how much Anthony needed him- it made him glad he had never been successful. It was probably the only thing that could make him truly relieved that he was still alive.

Anthony had tightly wrapped his arms above Bruce’s in the most need-filled hug yet. He was so quiet though, that Bruce did not know what to think. He was also shaking just enough that he wondered whether he was crying. He realized, then, that he was hurting him. If he stayed, he might be putting him in danger, but if he left -again- it might actually kill him.

“Anthony." he said warmly, either asking if he was okay, trying to apologize, or begging him not to cry, even Bruce was not sure.

He wrapped his fingers into Anthony’s hair and held him against the top of his shoulder.

“Don’t leave. Don’t you dare leave me again.” Anthony spoke harshly, but quietly, squeezing him almost too hard against his chest.

He buried his nose in the space between Bruce’s neck and shoulder- where he could smell his hair, skin, shampoo, soap and shaving cream- and it brought him comfort; even whatever laundry detergent their clothing was getting washed in, that it smelled the same as his, as though he belonged there.

Bruce’s heart melted and broke at the same time. He had not quite realized how much it must have hurt Anthony when he had left. They had so quickly become such good friends that it had felt like something outside of his own life, at the time. When he went back to running, it seemed like a forgotten dream to him. For Anthony it had been different. Anthony had finally found someone who he could really connect with, who understood him, who he could care about, someone who he felt needed him just as much, who was also an intellectual peer, who could stand as his equal; but then Bruce had left, even tried to kill himself, and to Anthony it must have seemed as if he did not matter to him enough to stay. He had only left, and done what he had for the very reason of keeping Anthony, and everyone else, safe from him.

“Tony, I‘m not..." he began consolingly.

“Was I really not worth sticking around for?” Anthony asked, because he had to, and had never been able to; the double entendre making it easier to get the words out.

“I’m the one who wasn’t worth it. My being happy wasn’t worth endangering everyone. You, Betty… the others… I couldn’t stand the thought that I’d hurt you.” Bruce said sombrely.

“I still can’t." he said his voice pinching.

“I keep telling you; you won’t hurt me.” said Anthony, pulling back to look at him.

“…You keep telling me.” Bruce said, trying very hard not to point out that he had hurt Anthony plenty already.

It pained Anthony more than the thought that Bruce might not love him, that the man seemed incapable of loving himself.

“Do you know what it’s like knowing that your best friend, who you love, thinks they’re better off dead?” His voice was quiet, forced to monotone to keep it from breaking.

“Anthony…” It was a whisper.

Anthony would have felt bad for making Bruce feel guilty -would have preferred if Bruce found good reason to love himself and his own life for himself, not for others- but in the absence if that, he would take what he could get. What he was capable of -for now- was causing Bruce to find some reason to want to hold on in the meantime, even if that reason was not perfect, so he would have time to work out how to make it better for him. Besides that, he was being honest. The only reason he was professing any of this, admitting to these emotions aloud specifically, may have been some kind of manipulation that he was compelled to, but those feelings were not invented. He never had to lie in order to express love and attachment to Bruce; or to express any number of other things where he was concerned.

“Do you know what it’s like knowing that you’re out there, alone, being chased, hunted, used, manipulated, pushed to insanity, hating yourself and not being able to make it stop? Of course, you‘re the one who has to live through it, so I can‘t blame you for not knowing what it‘s like watching, and not being able to do anything; usually because you won‘t let me. Do you know what it‘s like constantly being afraid that you might find a way? That I won‘t be able to stop you, or that, even worse, I‘ll have somehow…” Anthony was interrupted.

“Stop.” Bruce could not bear to hear any more.

His voice sounded pathetic even in his own ears. His heart was already crushed, he could not stand another syllable, or another second knowing how badly he was hurting Anthony, how much he always had. He was crying and now he was the one clinging desperately to Anthony.

“Please, just tell me how to make it stop.” Bruce begged him.

“Just stay with me. Have me. Let me keep you. I need you... to be safe, to be happy. I want...” Anthony said, trailing off as he tipped Bruce’s chin upwards.

Their eyes met, vision blurry, and Anthony kissed him, kept kissing him. There was nothing tentative or teasing now. Each kiss and touch between them was demanding and desperate, tears forgotten for sheer need in this moment of emotional release. Bruce backed him into the couch, knocking him slowly over, being pulled down with him and pinning him to it. Anthony’s legs seemed to instinctively find their new favourite spot over his hips.

“I’ll stay." he said, when he finally stopped kissing him, before he moved to kissing his neck quickly and tenderly, not wanting to break this sudden momentum.

“And I can keep you?” Anthony asked, running his fingers up into his hair, his tone as close as it could get to playful at the moment.

“Yes.” Bruce answered between kisses.

“And you’ll have me?” Anthony asked him, looking down to give Bruce the chance to look at him.

Bruce blinked slowly and nodded subtly.

“Good." he said, voice fading as Bruce began to tug at his robe.

In moments they were naked again, Anthony’s robe left under him and Bruce’s fallen next to the couch; or, rather, thrown there by Anthony, who hoped he would remember to pick them up before someone saw them. They kissed deeply, sweetly, slowly.

It was Anthony, this time, who wiggled his hips forward enough that Bruce’s erection shifted from his taint to pressing lightly against his entrance. Bruce surprised him again with a light growl and by taking his bottom in his hands and pulling him forward lightly. Anthony pulled him closer with his legs and wiggled against him more.

“If you don’t relax, this could really hurt.” This time it was concern that held hands with the amusement, and arousal, in Bruce’s voice.

“I can take it.” Anthony assured him quickly, he was relaxing, after all, where it mattered, and Bruce was as wet as usual.

“I don’t want to risk hurting you.” Bruce responded, feeling a little silly saying that overused line in this context, though it was true.

“What can I do to put you at ease?” Anthony asked, eager for him to get over his hesitation.

Bruce gave a glance to the angle they were at; where he could not quite see what he was doing, and where he had no real access to the sensitive nerves down his backside.

“Get on your stomach.” Bruce surprised himself a little with how much that had come out sounding like a command, rather than a suggestion.

Anthony did what he was told, wondering vaguely himself when exactly he had become so willing to take orders. So long as he was getting what he wanted though, he did not mind so much. He hugged a throw cushion to his upper chest to make himself comfortable and straightened his legs. He blushed when Bruce kneed one of his legs off the couch so that he could lie down between them. A warm torso covered his back, soft lips kissing his cheek and then his neck.

Bruce supported himself with a hand to either side, to lift himself enough to kneel behind him. He ran his hands over his back and felt him relax. He did not want Anthony tensing up to cause him any more reminders that he could hurt him, it would hurt Anthony’s feelings too much if he could not -for any reason- give him what he wanted. He did not want him to be in any kind of pain, especially not where his nerves were so sensitive and his flesh so delicate. Bruce also wanted -very- much to enjoy this, as he had been consciously and unconsciously anticipating this for a long time now. He would have a hard time if Anthony were not thoroughly enjoying it for any reason. He began massaging his back, working out any of the tension there, kneading along muscles in long strokes and pressing very low contented sounds out of him. He ran his hands up and down his back periodically too; right up into black hair, which was a soft warm-toned black, rather than raven, and down over the backs of his hips and sensitive, rounded muscles. He stroked and massaged until the only signs that he was not actually asleep were the growling, humming sounds and the light arching of his lower back that happened whenever his hands trailed low enough. He gently parted the muscles in his hands and stroked a thumb gently down between them. Anthony turned his head to face directly into the cushion, but did not tense up. He kneaded gently at the muscle with his thumb; Anthony still stayed relaxed.

“Don’t bother with that, just go slowly.” Anthony said roughly and half muffled.

The idea of Bruce fingering him there made him feel a bit emasculated, though he knew it did not really make sense. Besides that, his fingers were not as nicely naturally lubricated as other parts of him were.

“Are you sure?” Bruce asked, pressing in lightly.

Anthony moved back against him, equally lightly, without tensing to prove that he was ready for what he was asking for.

Bruce blushed at the forward and inviting motion, at the heat that plucked at him, and ran his hands over his back lightly, taking a minute to breathe slowly. He lay back over top of him, angled towards the back of the couch so that his weight was mostly off him, and he had one hand free to help get the positioning right. He felt the moisture from his own body spread out wetly between them as he rubbed himself against the muscle gently. Anthony angled his hips back against him.

“I don’t want you pushing things either.” Bruce told him, not having a free hand with which to hold him down.

Anthony breathed patiently and held still.

Bruce pressed forward again gently, rolling his hips to knead lightly at the muscle, coax it open a bit at a time. At first, he was just pressing in and out of the dip, causing pressure but not penetrating, but this progressed smoothly to him dipping in and out shallowly. He would not have noticed much difference, for how gradual it was, except that Anthony was hot inside and incredibly tight. He stopped on an inwards stroke and pressed just a little bit further, pushing the head past the tight muscle carefully, and paused.

“Don’t you dare pull out again.” Anthony said, his voice surprising Bruce who had expected him to remain quiet.

His voice was a muffled growl and his face seemed red. The way he seemed to be clenching his teeth and grasping at the cushion made Bruce think he was trying very hard to hold his reactions in, trying very hard to hold still, and not entirely comfortable. He knew it could not be, and also that Anthony was tolerating it, silently and patiently as he was, purely to avoid causing him any trepidation. It was incredibly sweet. Bruce did not want to keep trying him and so pushed slowly and steadily forward. Then he moved back and forth periodically, but only enough to help spread the clear slippery fluid he was leaking, not wanting the skin to catch and hurt him. Finally, he was deep enough to move his hand away and lay against him properly. He knew he was already putting pressure in the right spot because Anthony was squirming forward and making high gasping sounds, but still not tensing up. He held his hips in place and moved himself up further on top of him to slowly slide in the rest of the way. He paused for a bit, relishing the heat and a satisfied sigh from Anthony, before moving gently outwards and back in a few times. He felt Anthony relax even more at the stimulation, but the angle was mildly awkward for Bruce to thrust very much. He pulled back again to get a better angle and watch what he was doing. The ring of muscle hugged around him tightly and dipped gently in and out with his gentle shallow thrusts, but did not seem to be straining or uncomfortable in any way. The skin slid easily and felt slippery to him.

Anthony felt a hot hand on the inside of the back of his thigh, which was used as leverage to pull out further before thrusting back in again. He got the sense that he was being closely observed, despite his efforts to keep his face hidden against the couch, and resolved to make sure he was on his back the next time, so that he could watch Bruce in return, whether or not that made either of them feel abashed. Bruce, apparently, wanted Anthony closer, without giving up his advantage, because an arm wrapped under the front of his hips and pulled him up to his knees, the one that had been on the floor being allowed to find purchase on the couch again. Bruce’s other hand held his opposite shoulder, both of them being used to pull him harder against him. He was being pressed into, shallowly but very firmly, wet unyielding flesh slipping hard through the sensitive nerves at his opening, against his insides and over the spot that made his brain feel numb. He wanted Bruce to move faster, but he was sure that if he did the stimulation would be too much for him, and he wanted this to last longer.

Bruce was moving very deliberately slowly. He could not help but press hard, he could not stop himself from that, but he did not want to push that by also moving quickly. Anthony was a virgin here, to this -as far as he knew- after all, and the last thing he wanted to do was damage him in any way. He was concerned enough at the force it was taking to push forward, but then -with his own legs shaking- he could not be too certain how hard he was pressing. Anthony seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it though, judging by the gasping sounds he was still making.

Anthony groaned, it felt so good, but he needed to finish so badly that it was starting to ache. Bruce did not show any sign of speeding up anytime soon though. He lifted his hands from the couch and pressed backward, pushing Bruce into a kneeling position under him, still holding his hips and shoulder. Anthony lifted himself off him and lowered again, gaining in speed, beginning to feel like he was melting, getting closer. Then, suddenly, he heard a low growling sound and he was forcibly pushed back forward, barely having time to catch himself. Bruce was pushing him forward with his hips, a hand on the back of his neck pushed him down to the couch, again hugging the cushion, and told him to stay there with a light shove. Now he was getting what he wanted. Bruce was riding him harder now, and finally making the sounds Anthony had come to associate with him enjoying himself.

Bruce, without conscious thought, dragged his nails lightly down his back. He, before he could even wonder about it himself, was immediately rewarded with a loud, seduced groan from Anthony.

“You… like that?” Bruce asked him.

“God, yes.” At least was what he thought he heard, with Anthony speaking into a cushion as he was.

Anthony liked the surface sensation. He was not any more a fan of pain than the next person was, but this did not hurt. The bits of roughness against his skin were only enough to make his nerves feel sensitive. He found it incredibly, pleasantly, stimulating.

This was what Bruce needed. He could be forceful, even a bit rough, and it only brought enjoyment and pleasure to his friend. His aggression was not being misplaced, or being suppressed until it wanted to burst forth, rather it was appropriate to the situation. He did not have to guard against himself; just do whatever came naturally to him. The sounds Anthony was making felt like a constant pleasant stroking, soothing everything that normally worried or upset him. He allowed himself to let go a little, thrusting forward into delicious tight heat.

“Harder.” Anthony said, not just wanting more stimulation, but also curious to see if he would listen.

He did. Anthony said it again, and he obeyed him again.

“Harder." he said, one last time, before he was pushed forward against the couch again by the slamming pressure.

Bruce had to do something to make Anthony stop talking. His words, shamelessly begging for more, were not helping him keep his cool. He pushed him back down to the couch and lifted his arms -still wrapped around the cushion- to the arm of the couch so he could wrap one hand over his mouth -silencing him- and bite the back of his neck. He was not even sure why he had done it, except that Anthony seemed to like the rougher treatment and obviously enjoyed it, having parted his lips to suck and nibble at his fingers. He reached beneath him to grasp him tightly, letting his own thrusts do the work for him, feeling his own release approaching. It only took a handful of thrusts like this before Bruce could feel all the tight muscles clenching and relaxing around him as Anthony yelled, muffled by his fingers, and spilled across the robe on the couch. He moved his wet hand back to his hips, giving him the grip to thrust harder a last handful of times.

“Oh fuck.” was all Bruce could manage to say before he too called out against his back, arm still pulling his hips forcefully against him.

A flash of something dangerous feeling seemed to lick across his mind, but waves of orgasmic pleasure quelled it and it sank away again. Suddenly he felt too tired to be awake and collapsed gently against Anthony.

He woke some unknown amount of time later to Anthony shifting underneath him.

“Sorry." he said sleepily as he quickly pulled his weight off him and sat up.

“Are you okay?" he asked him when Anthony looked back at him.

“Better than okay." he said, stretching and smiling in a satisfied way.

“What am I going to do with you?” Bruce asked him, certain that Anthony was bound to end up getting in over his head.

“Hold me down and f…” Anthony was interrupted with a cushion to the face.

“Anthony!” Bruce groaned in a tone that demanded to know what his mental damage was.

“What if I turn? What if the other guy takes over when we‘re…” He could not say it; he did not even want to think it.

He knew what his other personality could be like angry, he did not want to think about or test what he would be like aroused.

“Then I guess things would get really kinky.” Anthony shrugged.

“How can you even joke about that?” Bruce asked looking mortified.

“You really don’t remember what you’re like, do you, big guy?”

Bruce looked at him, as if to criticize yet another attempt to sway his mind about his alter ego.

“After you saved me, at Stark tower.” He looked for some sign of recognition in the flat stare he was getting.

“Guess not.” Anthony let it go, and sighed, surprising Bruce.

Bruce shot him a quizzical look, as if to ask what he was going to say. He could not help but wonder, given what the context of their conversation had just been.

“You, well, when you’re not angry and rampaging, or saving knights in armour from deaths befitting Disney villains, get kind of... preoccupied… “He watched Bruce closely for a reaction.

He stared blankly.

“Mostly with finding a dark, quiet corner to rest. It’s really sort of… cute.” Anthony said it as if he was being smart with him, but Bruce knew he actually meant it.

“Cute?” He gave him an amused incredulous look, one of his looks that always made him want to kiss him.

“You don’t seem to mind company either, if it’s someone you like.” Anthony was just watching him now, not quite being smart, nor plying, just watching.

Bruce had heard this before. Apparently, his alter ego was perfectly comfortable with having a close friend curl up to him, or just sit next to him in quiet company. That did not always mean they were entirely safe, especially considering the trouble, and gunfire, his other persona tended to attract. He shook his head, but he did not seem discontent.

“Is that so?" he said, not really a question.

Anthony remembered what happened after the battle all those years ago. Even when he was barely focused and had to be helped to his feet and practically carried, Bruce’s other self watched closely looking somewhere between concerned, and just angry about the situation. It was so much like seeing Bruce lost and angry about not knowing what to do, worried about his new friend, only large and green. After they landed, his heart had stopped and his senses were fading, but hearing a loud vibrating roar of frustration had jerked him awake, and that -or just the sheer vibration- had done something to kick-start the arc reactor in his chest, after its brief trip into space had interrupted it. He recognized in that instant who had saved him, and he had tried to tell Bruce about it ever since, with limited luck. Bruce never seemed to want to listen, but he did not seem as resistant just now.

“After you saved me, and gave me a good telling off for not looking alive enough, you stayed with me. When Captain awesome and Robin Hood left me to get out of my armour, you stayed. Made sure I was all right. You probably only remember the part where you woke up in the corner of one of my hangers mostly naked.” Anthony went on, his tone even, trying to keep from jarring Bruce into realizing he was finally listening.

“I remember the part where you were standing there holding pants out for me, and demanding I eat shwarma.” Bruce offered, and it was not quite the request to drop the topic the way it usually was.

Bruce tried not to think of all the times, over the years, that Anthony had seen him unconscious and naked, and had probably though it cute, even when he was large and green.

“You should have seen it. You looked so worried. After the desperate crashing down buildings trying to save me, you acted like I was made of glass, like if you touched me I’d break.” Anthony thought he might be pushing it at this point, and never spoke this sincerely, but pressed on anyways.

“Tony…” Bruce started to sound like he was getting tired, again, of someone trying to make him out to be a gentle giant.

“I’m not saying you’re not dangerous. I’m saying that you’re angry, sometimes irrational -often irrational- and stronger than gods, but you’re not a bad person. You were big and green and angry, and worried about me.” It was clear by his tone how much he meant it, and how much it meant to him.

Bruce kissed him, tenderly, lovingly and sincerely.

“Thank you." he said, meaning each syllable of it.

“Now drop it.” Bruce continued, equally sincerely.

“Bruce?”

“Yes?" he said patiently.

“I love you too.”

~*~

A note form the author:
As I keep saying, plenty more to come, lots of slash... Hope you liked this chapter, I'm never sure how much emotional context is preferred, if you like the angst as much as people seem to, or even if the amount of internal-dialogue I use is over-kill. Let me know. Please.
I would expect that my lack of reviews might be because I write such very adult content, except that then I see all the stories that do get tons of reviews and can tell by their summaries that they too are rather adult, and generally more harshly explicit. So I'm still not sure why I only have one review... but in light of 900 views, I have to assume that someone is reading it and enjoying it, so I'm updating an extra chapter today.
But really, if the excess of thoughts from the characters or anything else strikes you as over-done, pretentious, or bothers you for any other reason, please let me know so that I can learn better. My life goal is to be able to write impeccable smut, so that I may write original stories and sell them. If I'm missing any spelling or grammar errors, keeping in mind a British-English dictionary, please let me know.
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Acceptance