Against Steve's hand, Tony continued to snort a laugh, the cut of his irrepressible grin trapped in Steve's palm with the few weak attempts at his taunting groans that fought through his giggling. As soon as Steve bowled him over, Tony's hands had flown up to grasp at Steve's wrist as he cut off Tony's yelp, squeezing rather than embarrassing them both with an attempt to pull him off while Tony barely had the air to squirm out from under the bulk of Steve's weight. After riling himself up, though, with the theatrics, one of Tony's teasing whines wasn't so dramatic; quiet and from his throat, between the squirming against Steve's stomach, his giggling and the heat of Steve's body. The long last sigh from his fit washed over his own knuckles as his hands moved up to cover Steve's, thumbs pressing in like he struggled again over pulling Steve away.