Slowly, telegraphing his every move, Steve reached out and clasped his hand to Tony’s shoulder. After waiting a bit, during which time Tony just looked curiously at him (but still guarded, too guarded), Steve moved his hand: slid it across Tony’s collarbone, cupped his jaw with it. Tony’s eyes widened with every inch Steve’s hand moved over his body.
“Gonna tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, Tony?”
“You really don’t want to know,” Tony breathed.
“Worried it might upset my delicate, nineteen-forties sensibilities?”
Tony snorted. His eyes dropped to the ground, then flickered back up. “Now that you mention it…”