It was true, it was the domestic stuff that had sank into Tony's bones first and it was the stuff he thought of most fondly. Even before he'd broken, snapped sharp and biting in the middle of the night and given Steve every word he'd been holding back for years now, there'd been a fondness cultivating in him that had to do with Steve bringing him coffee, food, whatever else he needed and didn't bother thinking about. And those nights, when there'd been two beds, and they'd lain there in comfortable silence, because sometimes talking wasn't worth the energy.
"The other--oh." Something sort of short circuited in his brain for a second there, when Steve pushed his legs further apart, when it occurred to him only now and quite suddenly that this was what Steve had been asking for in the first place, and it was only Tony's strangely timed sentimentality that had him promising forever and possession instead of just speaking filthy words.
Not that those filthy words were without their own sense of gravity. Tony tightened his grip and then looked up at him, head tilted back against pillows and expression sincere. "Fuck me. Please." Because it never hurt to be polite when one really wanted something. Not that he thought Steve wasn't going to, not even a little.