ATouch of Smith and Jones: All Of It 1/2

[atouchofsmithandjones]

Title: All Of It
Ficverse: A Touch of Smith and Jones
Author: dragonwrangler
Illustrator: laurazel
Warnings: Slash, Adult content
Summary: Tony decides to help Bruce out with his problem, but Bruce isn't sure it's quite the help that he wants.
Author's note: Inspired by the included drawing by laurazel. Set in my "A Touch of Smith and Jones" ficverse. In this series, Tony does admit that he is Iron Man at the press conference, but Rhodey immediately follows that comment with some serious spin control so that the press currently believes Tony built the suit, but is not the one flying it into combat situations.
Disclaimers: Iron Man and The Incredible Hulk are the property of MVL LLC. This story was created for entertainment purposes only and no profit is being made.


Chapter One

BELLA COOLA, BRITISH COLUMBIA
DAYS WITHOUT INCIDENT-24

“I think this is a really bad idea.”

“Yeah, well, wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had one of those.”

Bruce Banner was hardly surprised by the utter lack of concern in Tony Stark’s voice as he watched the man unpack some first aid supplies and set them on the couch. How did the saying go? There’s a fine line between genius and madness? Bruce was sure Stark was unaware of the fact there was supposed to be a line between the two.

Settling into a kneeling position in the center of the room, Bruce took several deep breaths to ease the tension twisting his stomach before taking the pulse monitor Stark held out to him. It looked like any other monitor he’d worn over the last few years, but Bruce suspected this one was far from ordinary. After tightening the strap around his wrists, he looked up and found himself the focus of a thoughtful, dark eyed gaze.

It was a little intimidating to be under such scrutiny-- he could almost see the gears turning in Stark‘s head-- and he was surprised at how young Stark looked right at that moment. Stark met his gaze and held it for a moment, and then he nodded and turned to the laptop he had set up on the coffee table they had shoved out of the way.

Bruce was still a little bemused by the fact he had even let Stark in to his cabin in the first place; however having the famous Tony Stark turn that mind of his to Bruce’s problem was not an opportunity he was about to pass up. The idea he had proposed was simple enough-- plot the exact point that Bruce’s body changed into something else, and extrapolate an appropriate response based on that data. When he pointed out the one major flaw in that plan, Stark had simply shrugged and said, “Life wouldn’t be worth living if there weren’t risks involved.” Bruce still wasn’t sure if that comment was supposed to be reassuring or not.

“That should do it,” Stark said as he tapped the keyboard one more time as he stood up. The man was still dressed in the three piece business suit he had arrived in, making Bruce feeling oddly underdressed, but when Stark started pulling off his silk tie, Bruce was almost tempted to call the whole thing off.

Almost.

There was a good chance this was all a trap-- Stark Industries had close ties to the military-- but Bruce had not been that cut off from the outside world to have missed hearing about Stark’s kidnapping and subsequent change of heart when he had returned. Besides, if this was a trap, it wasn’t Bruce who needed to worry.

Still…

Bruce closed his eyes. “Okay, explain to me why I’m letting you do this?” he asked, his voice tight with unease as Stark crouched down behind him, the tie slick and cool against his wrist. He was aware of a mix of citrus and sandalwood and other exotic scents in the air as he cautiously opened his eyes and found the CEO of Stark Industries was a little too close for comfort.

The lopsided grin and the amusement in Stark’s eyes seemed entirely inappropriate for the situation. “If you don’t know the answer to that question,” he said, “then I seriously doubt I can explain it to you.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and looked away. “Fine.” Bruce tried to ignore the tightening pressure around his wrists and Stark’s proximity. “Then at least explain to me why you’re doing all of this.”

Giving the tie a final tug, Stark rose to his feet and stepped around Bruce. Stopping in front of him, Stark’s demeanor switched over to a more appropriate professional seriousness as he crossed his arms and said in a quick practical voice, “I design weapons. It’s what I do and I’m damn good at it. When the Army decided to take another crack at the Super Solider program, they came to me first. I already knew there were several inherent flaws in the program so I told them not interested and that they should just scrap the whole project.

“Obviously, they didn’t listen to me. When I saw the footage of that little showdown at Culver University, I had a pretty good idea of what was going on. After some creative hacking, I knew exactly what the Army had done to you.

“They took advantage of your scientific curiosity, purposely left you in the dark about what you were working on, and then they completely screwed you over when it all hit the fan. Someone should be held accountable for what happened, but it shouldn’t be you. I can’t undo what they did, but I can at least help you get it under control.”

Bruce frowned and shook his head. “That still doesn’t explain why you specifically want to help me.”

There was a shift in Stark‘s stance, almost as if he were bracing himself for a fight. “Let‘s just say you‘re my responsibility. The Super Solider program was a project that ran under the Stark Industries banner during the war. It work once, it worked well, it saved a lot of lives. What they did to you tarnishes that legacy, and I intend to fix that.”

There was more to it than that, Bruce was sure of it. Frowning, he asked, “So you’re just doing this to protect your company’s image?”

“Of course.” Stark shrugged, then another grin wiped the professional away and left behind the playboy the tabloids loved so much. “Well, that and Betty asked me to. Not like I’m going to say no to a beautiful woman like her.” Tony laughed, relaxed and unconcerned as Bruce’s wrist monitor suddenly beeped a warning that his pulse was on the rise. Toeing off his shoes as he unbuttoning his jacket, Stark said, “Hey, you of all people know Betty’s too smart to go out with an asshole like me.”

Realizing that pursuing that topic any further would only get them both in trouble, Bruce shifted his weight to relieve some of the pressure on his knees and asked, “Why aren’t you wearing the Iron Man suit? You know what will happen if this doesn‘t work.”

Stark paused and raised an eyebrow, the grin still curling his lips. “You believe I’m Iron Man?”

Bruce gave him a look. “A really cool suit that can fire off rockets and fly. How could you not be?”

Stark laughed. “Good point. And to answer your question, yes I do know what will happen if this doesn’t work and it’s a show of trust.” Stark hooked his jacket on a chair and began undoing his cuff links. “Though if you ask my friend Rhodey, he’d tell you I’m not wearing it because I’m an adrenaline junky. Considering some of the stuff I’ve been doing lately, he might be right.

“If I had the suit on, there‘d be no reason for you to hold back. Hell, you could whale away on it all day and it wouldn’t make a difference. Well, it’d make a difference to me-- I’d be black, blue and unconscious by the time you were done-- but, you get the picture.”

A thoughtful expression crossed Stark’s face. “However, if this doesn’t work we could try it from the other end; see if wearing you down after you’ve turned into the Hulk gives you a chance to regain control. Of course, if this doesn’t work I won’t be in any condition to try that but it‘s something to keep in mind.”

The thought that maybe he should start panicking settled into the back of Bruce‘s mind as he listened to Stark. “You’re babbling, aren‘t you?” he finally asked.

“Yep. It’s how I think, though usually I don’t do it out loud. Consider yourself honored” Kneeling down in front of Bruce, Stark yanked Bruce’s shirt up, then ran his fingers lightly over Bruce’s exposed chest and abdomen, his attention once again entirely focused on Bruce.

Startled by the contact and the attention, Bruce tried to lean away from Stark. Unfortunately for him, Stark still had a firm grip on his shirt.

“Wait,” Bruce asked, “what…what are you doing?”

“I’m pretty sure pissing you off is a bad idea,” Stark shifted closer, and Bruce was breathing in the scent of oranges and sandalwood again, “so I thought I’d try this approach to get your heart rate up into the target range instead.”

“What?” The beeping from the wrist monitor began cycling faster as Stark’s fingers traced a slow line down the center of Bruce‘s chest. His head was bowed as he watched his fingers touch Bruce‘s body, his lips parting slightly as he breathed. When Stark’s fingers brushed over his belly, Bruce let out a shaky breath as muscle contracted at the contact. Stark glanced up, and there was something more than curiosity now in his gaze.

Bruce attempted to pull away, a little confused by how good the attention was making him feel, but Stark had one leg wedged between his and he still had a good grip on Bruce’s shirt, limiting his movements.

“Relax, this is supposed to be fun,” Stark said.

“Fun?” Bruce stared at Stark as he pulled against the restraints around his wrist. “You think this is fun?”

The annoying grin flashed again. “It is from where I’m sitting,” Stark said in a low amused voice.

Bruce had to squash the sudden urge to wipe that grin off Stark’s face. Oh yeah, insane. Definitely insane. He sucked in a breath and then snapped, “You‘re not exactly my type!”

“Okay, a little lesson I learned over the years,” Stark held his gaze as he brushed a thumb whisper light over a nipple. Bruce gasped in surprise as a shudder of pleasure ran through him. Leaning even closer, his breath warm against Bruce’s lips, Stark said, “The body could care less who’s jerking it off, as long as it gets jerked off.”

Oh shit. “This is your plan?” Bruce panted, his pulse already beginning to pound in his ears as Stark’s hand drifted even lower.

Stark gave him a deep chuckle. “Pretty much.”

The tone from the monitor mixed with the beat of Bruce‘s heart as he asked desperately, “Then the wrist monitor is your failsafe?”

“That?” Amusement continued to color Stark’s voice. “Nope, picked that thing up for a hundred bucks at a Canadian Tire on my way in.”

Apprehension clutched at Bruce’s throat. “Wait, you don‘t have some device…”

“Too risky. The shift in your mental pattern would be too sudden and extreme for mechanical intervention to have any effect. Might even make things worse.” The sudden matter-of-fact tone Stark spoke with clashed against what his fingers were doing as they moved down Bruce‘s body with a familiarity Bruce was having serious trouble dealing with. Squeezing his eyes shut, Bruce shook his head as his mind scrambled to understand why he was reacting so strongly to what Stark was doing as the beeping from the wrist monitor continued to cycle faster and faster.

Stark’s hand abruptly stopped moving, resting warm and supportive against Bruce‘s waist. The pause gave Bruce a chance to catch his breath and get his heartbeat back under control. When he opened his eyes, he found Stark watching him with an inquisitive look on his face.

“I’m sure this will work,” Stark said softly, “but, if you want to stop and discuss things further, Bruce, now’s the time.”

As he stared at Stark, Bruce realized one important thing about Tony Stark-- when Stark looked at you with that much conviction in those expressive brown eyes of his, it was hard to turn him down.

“If I lose control--” he whispered.

“Exactly,” Stark said in a low and compelling voice, his gaze holding Bruce in place. “If you lose control. When you get down to it, you’re the one calling the shots here.”

Breaking his gaze with a shake of his head, Bruce said, “That’s not how…”

“Do you want to beat the crap out of me?” Bruce glared at Stark. He got an apologetic smile in response. “Yeah, that‘s probably not a good question to ask you right now,” Stark said. “How about this-- do you want to turn into the Hulk again?”

“No,” Bruce breathed.

“Then don’t.” Fingers tracing over a hip then lower to sweep over a leg. Bruce stared at Stark’s face but his attention was locked on the feel of Stark’s thumb as it pressed against his thigh and slowly moved up, the touch burning through cloth as it reached the inner crease between body and leg. When he paused, his thumb rubbing a slow circle, Bruce shifted, spreading his stance slightly. A soft smile appeared on Stark’s lips as he dropped his head and pressed his hand against Bruce’s crotch, Stark’s gently cupping his growing arousal. Bruce had to close his eyes as a moan slipped out.

“Trust me,” Tony said, his lips brushing against Bruce’s throat, his touch sure and confidence.

Bruce clenched back a sob as Stark began moving his hand slowly up and down, the heat and pressure from his hand, the friction of fabric against flesh and the warm breath washing over the hollow of his throat almost more than Bruce could take. It had been so long…

“I can’t.” Bruce gasped even as his body said I can.

There was a pause, then a murmured, “Why not?”

“I…” The beat of the monitor spiraled up again and Bruce lost his ability to speak as desire fought to take over coherent thought. There was danger here, he could feel it in the pounding of his heart, and he closed his eyes and doubled over, his head pressed against Stark‘s shoulder.

“Ah.” Stark stopped and wrapped a hand around the back of Bruce’s neck. The touch had a calming effect, and they were both still as the beeps dropped back down to a slower, less dangerous beat. Opening his eyes, Bruce found that Stark was hardly unaffected by what was happening, but before he could think about that, he was distracted by something glowing under Stark’s dress shirt.

What?

Feeling a slight tug, Bruce dragged his gaze away from whatever it was Stark was hiding under his shirt and looked up. He was prepared to see pity in Stark‘s eyes; he found a look of understanding there instead.

“It’s been that long, huh?” Stark said gently, his hand cupping Bruce‘s face.

There was no use denying the truth, Stark could see for himself the answer to that. “Five years,” Bruce said, surprised by the lump of pain admitting that produced.

Stark didn’t say a word. He simply studied Bruce, his thumb gently stroking Bruce’s cheek. Bruce closed his eyes and began leaning into the touch, but Stark dropped his hand to pull his shirttails out from his pants before unbuttoning the front of his shirt.

“Why are you taking your shirt off?” Bruce asked as his eyes locked on Stark’s fingers as they worked the buttons loose.

Without looking up Tony answered, “My assistant Pepper gets pissed whenever I get blood on my dress shirts.”

Bruce took a deep uneasy breath. “I thought you were sure about this?”

“I am.” Stark glanced up as he pulled the shirt opened and grinned. “But then again, this isn’t exactly my area of expertise.”

Bruce’s heart rate jumped again, both at Stark’s state of undress and the statement. At the sudden rapid beeping, Stark paused-- the shirt hanging off one shoulder-- and reached out to touch Bruce’s face again. “Okay,” he said, “one of the problems you have is that you panic when you feel things slipping out of your control. That only compounds the problem. You need to stop doing that.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Bruce snapped.

Stark frowned. “Then I suggest you do something about it,” Stark snapped back, dark eyes suddenly hard and uncompromising.

Bruce scowled at Stark. “Don‘t you think I‘ve tried?”

“Obviously you haven’t tried hard enough.”

Anger stirred in Bruce’s chest. “How can you say that? I didn’t ask--”

“You did this to yourself, Banner.”

As Bruce sucked in a breath to snap, ‘you fucking bastard’ Stark’s free hand reached down again, the heel of his hand rubbing against Bruce’s cock-- rough and demanding-- and Bruce groaned as muscles contracted and his body curled into the touch.

“That change that you’re so afraid of? You did that to yourself. You’re the one who decided to hit yourself with a dose of gamma radiation. You’re the one who thought you could control this, Banner.

“It’s time you started taking control.”

Stark’s voice was a compelling hiss, and everything he said was the truth, Bruce knew that. As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew it was the truth.



Stark held his head as his other stroked Bruce’s erection. “You’re the one who decides what happens next, Bruce.”

Closing his eyes, Bruce let his head fall back as the brief flare of anger turned inward and faded away. Bruce leaned into Stark’s touch. His pulse throbbed in his throat and he opened his mouth when he felt Stark’s thumb brush over his lips.

There was a rising and relentless electronic beat that only seemed to feed the desire growing in Bruce. The need that had been awakened overwhelmed his mind. He turned his head, sucking on Stark’s thumb as he rose up on his knees and bucked against the hand pleasuring him.

The beat continued to speed up, until it began to merge into a continuous tone. Bruce struggled to ignore it as he felt Stark sucking on the tight skin of his throat. The scent of oranges and sandalwood and the musky smell of sex swirled around them, as Bruce twisted his head and brushed his lips against Stark’s; but some part of Bruce remembered what the sound meant and that it had to be stopped.

Bruce’s eyes snapped open and he desperately locked gazes with Stark, silently pleading for him to stop even as his body pressed harder against Stark‘s willing body.

“Visualizing it will only make it happen, Bruce,” Stark breathed, even as his hand urged Bruce on.

What?

Something in Stark’s words struck a cord deep inside Bruce.

Visualizing it will only make it happen.

Visualizing it.

Visualize.

Bruce gasped as everything flashed green and something clicked in the back of his mind.