Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/672240.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Iron_Man_(Movies), Marvel_Cinematic_Universe
  Relationship:
      James_"Rhodey"_Rhodes/Tony_Stark
  Character:
      James_"Rhodey"_Rhodes, Tony_Stark
  Additional Tags:
      POV_Character_of_Color, OrgASM_Piece, Kink_Bingo_Square, PWP, Shaving,
      BDSM_themes, Intercrural_Sex, Tony_Stark_is_a_dork, Pre-Canon,
      Interracial_Relationship, MIT_Era
  Series:
      Part 5 of Just_As_They_Wished_It_To_Be
  Collections:
      AvengerKink
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-02-05 Words: 4517
****** Shining Steel and the Scent of Limes ******
by PhoenixFalls
Summary
     Tony returns from winter break with a new skill he's determined to
     teach Rhodey. As always with them, sex ensues.
Notes
     According to my timeline, Tony is 15 1/2 and Rhodey is 20 in this
     fic, hence the underage tag. (It's over a year after "A Lonely, Lost
     Thing.") They are both enthusiastically consenting, however!
     This fic fulfills three things: first, it marks the successful
     completion of my part of the OrgASM challenge; second, it fills my
     Kink Bingo "Shaving/Depilation" square; third it fills this prompt on
     Avenger Kink asking for a Rhodey/Tony PWP.
     Also, in case anyone's curious, the aftershave is this_one. It's
     completely irrelevant to the fic, but I spent half an hour reading
     shaving message boards trying to figure out what Jarvis might have
     given Tony to use, and so I pass that knowledge on to you. :)
     WARNING: If you are coming to this fic from "A_Lonely,_Lost_Thing"
     and "The_Tender_Solemn_Dawn-Time", you should know that there are
     several fics that fit in between them and this one that I have not
     finished yet. During that time, Rhodey and Tony enter into a loving,
     sexual relationship. If, after reading "A Lonely, Lost Thing," you
     don't believe that sort of relationship is a possibility between
     these characters, I encourage you not to read any further. This fic
     is simply happy, established relationship porn. It takes place after
     the issues brought up in "A Lonely, Lost Thing" have been dealt with.
     It is a major shift in tone from "A Lonely, Lost Thing," and I have
     done nothing in the fics themselves to manage that transition,
     because I do plan for there to be several fics in between.
With all the madness attendant on the start of a new semester, crashing the
core classes he still needed to graduate and tracking down the cheapest used
copies of his textbooks, it was nearly a week before Rhodey noticed something
different about Tony.
Tony ambushed him with a makeout session in their room on Friday morning (late
Friday morning, and one of these days Rhodey was determined to figure out how
Tony managed to avoid having to take any class that started before 12:30) and
Rhodey’s pants were reaching uncomfortable levels of tightness when the message
got passed from his fingertips to his brain that something wasn’t right. He
opened his eyes and looked, really looked for the first time since they parted
before Christmas break, at Tony’s face.
“Dude. Did you start shaving?”
Tony grinned that grin of honest delight that Rhodey never saw him give anyone
else. “Yeah. I’m catching up to you, old man — I only have to grow two more
inches to have you and Howard beat, and now Jarvis has me on this shaving
regimen, taught me how as soon as I got home, said my scruffiness was a
disgrace to his table. I’m better at it than you too. Feel this—“ he lifted
Rhodey’s hand back to his cheek— “smooth as a baby’s bottom, not that I’d know
what that feels like, babies are loud and dirty and gross, and I don’t know why
anyone would ever want to touch them down there. . .”
Rhodey stroked Tony’s cheek — it was indeed quite smooth — then pinched it.
“Fuck you, Tony. Your skin’s that smooth because you just got the training
wheels taken off your bike last year.”
Tony pouted. “Now that is just cruel, honeybear. I told you that in confidence,
and you swore you wouldn’t use it against me. . .”
Rhodey kissed Tony again to shut him up.
                                      ~I~
The next morning (really the morning this time, a little after 7am) Rhodey was
shaving in the communal bathroom down the hall from their room when Tony
appeared in the mirror next to him. Tony was clearly just coming in after a
night of partying, probably still drunk and wearing an enormous pair of
sunglasses against the rising sun. He leaned against the counter just closer
than Rhodey felt comfortable with, and Rhodey shifted away quickly, unable to
stop himself from looking around to see if there were any observers.
Tony huffed and straightened up. “It’s an ungodly hour on a Saturday morning,
everyone but you and your flyboys is either in bed or heading there, preferably
with company. Chill.”
Rhodey rolled his eyes and raised the razor back to his face. He had just
started to drag up from his jaw when Tony grabbed his hand.
“No no no no no. This is why you always have razor bumps. You can’t shave
against the grain with this piece of crap. What even is this? Gillette? Fuck,
Rhodey, this is a crime, I can’t believe you let your mother kiss that cheek
and, quite frankly, I think it might just qualify as a disgrace to your
otherwise smokingly immaculate uniform—“
“With the grain doesn’t get close enough, Tones.”
“Well no, of course not, which is why no one should ever shave with a razor
made of cheap pot-metal and plastic. Plastic!”
Rhodey grabbed the razor back. “I’ve been shaving like this since high school,
Tony. Since I was your age, even. It’s fine. And you’re going to make me late
for Honor Guard.”
“Always with the low blows about my age. All right, I’ll leave you to your
travesty of personal hygiene. For now. But we will be revisiting this subject.
Soon. After I sleep, alone. Which, you know, is a hint, but one I’ve gotten
used to you ignoring, so whatever. Enjoy your flag-twirling, I’ll probably be
beating off.”
And then Tony was gone.
                                      ~I~
Thus far this semester Rhodey’s Sundays were free, so he let Tony talk him into
going out that night. Kappa Sig was holding their annual Heaven & Hell party,
and between the malt liquor in the basement, the jello shots on the ground
floor, and the truly awful champagne on the top levels, all Rhodey remembered
of that night was moist heat from wet wool spread over radiators and the press
of too many bodies in not enough space and the low thrum of frustrated desire
that was the natural consequence of watching Tony dance and flirt and just
generally be Tony. Bruises on his knuckles and his ribs would later testify
that he got into some sort of fight, probably helping Tony fend off someone who
hadn’t yet gotten the message that Tony wasn’t the campus bicycle any longer,
and his jeans were stained with alcohol and vomit and who knew what other
bodily fluids. So all in all, a pretty typical Saturday night.
When they had moved into this dorm Tony had taken one look at the flimsy white
miniblinds and recoiled in horror. Four hours later workmen were installing
dark, heavy curtains over the two windows, and ever since then their room had
been a virtual cave, lit only by desk lamps and Tony’s computer screen. So when
Rhodey finally woke Sunday morning he was not surprised that the clock read
nearly three in the afternoon. He was surprised to find Tony already awake,
slurping coffee and hunched over his computer, with a shaving kit spread out
beside him on his bed.
“That’s not the way to get those two inches you want, Tones.”
Tony flipped him off, entered a few last lines of code, then turned around and
draped his arms across the back of the chair to look at Rhodey.
“Coffee is ambrosia, that is blasphemy Rhodey, I’m just going to pretend you
didn’t say that and pray the arabica gods don’t smite you for your insolence.
I’ll pray especially hard that they don’t smite you in the next hour or so,
because that would end badly for me, what with the steel I will shortly be
holding at your throat.”
Rhodey blinked through the hangover fog. Apparently Tony had been up long
enough to have several mugs of coffee.
“I’ve given up on the coffee thing. I just meant the hunchback you’re working
on over there.”
Tony looked like he was considering flipping Rhodey off again, then opted to
blow a raspberry instead.
“Very mature.” Rhodey rolled his eyes and sat up gingerly. Then Tony’s rambling
caught up with him. “Wait. Why will you be holding steel at my throat?”
“Because I’m going to teach you how to shave. Properly. C’mon Rhodey, at least
try to keep up with me! You usually do better than this.”
Rhodey groaned and flopped back down into his pillow. It never failed — Jarvis
and Tony got some bonding time and Tony came back to school ready to inflict it
on fatherless Rhodey. This was just like that time Tony insisted on teaching
Rhodey the difference between a stout and a porter. “I shave fine, Tony.”
“But you really don’t! Jarvis would not approve!”
“Well I don’t have a Jarvis to approve or not, now do I?” Rhodey snapped, then
knew immediately that it came out wrong. Sure enough, Tony flinched. Rhodey
rubbed his hands over his face. He could never decide which of them was more
sensitive on the issue of family — Tony with two absentee parents but a loving
Jarvis, or himself with the entire lack of a father figure but a surplus of
women (mother, grandmother, aunts, sisters, cousins). Usually he was better at
not taking that out on Tony though.
Time for damage control.
“All right. Just. . . just lemme pee, get some water, and you can do whatever
you want, all right?”
Tony was still watching him warily, so Rhodey levered up and across the room to
drop a kiss on the top of his head. “C’mon Tones. You know that if you try and
talk to me before I’m properly awake I’ll bite your head off. Forgive me?”
Tony leaned into his chest for a moment, then pushed him back. “Ew, gross, get
your morning breath away from me, you crankypants.”
Rhodey ruffled Tony’s hair and gave him a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, making
sure to exhale in his face. Tony spluttered and swirled the rest of his coffee
around his mouth pointedly as Rhodey grabbed his basket of toiletries and a
(relatively) clean plastic tumbler. “Be back in a bit.”
                                      ~I~
The bathroom was really too bright and too crowded for the state of Rhodey’s
head, so he didn’t linger. When he got back to the room, Tony had set up a
whole shaving station — the curtains were pulled to let in the light, water was
boiling in the electric kettle, a stack of snowy white towels and washcloths
had appeared out of nowhere, Rhodey’s desk chair was positioned in the center
of the room, and Tony himself was doing something slightly terrifying with a
straight razor and a band of leather he had attached to the bed post.
Tony grinned his most manic grin and said, sing-song: “How about a shave? Come
and visit your good friend Sweeney! I can guarantee the closest shave you’ll
ever know!”
Slightly terrifying and more than slightly hot, even though Rhodey knew there
was a reference there he wasn’t getting.
Rhodey shook off his unexpected bolt of lust and raised a sardonic eyebrow. “So
how do you want me?”
Tony leered, because Tony always leered. “Naked and spread-eagled, of course.
But for this, shirtless should be fine. Shirtless and still and underneath me.
. . that really sounded dirtier in my head, lemme take that one back and try
again. Shirtless and pinned underneath me? But I’m not pinning you here, I need
my hands free. Topless and—“
“Tony! I need at least a couple hours today to do my problem sets — you think
we can get down to it sometime soon?”
“Rhodey! This is serious business, the business of respecting your mother and
your country, I thought we went over this? Surely that takes precedence over
homework, and why you bother to do your homework when it’s only like 10% of
your grade I don’t know—“
“Twenty percent.” Rhodey broke in, then stripped his shirt and sat down.
“Whatever. The point is. . .” Tony’s eyes were on his chest. “Dude, did you put
on more muscle over break?”
Rhodey stretched a little, just to show off. “Maybe. Midwest cooking, y’know.
Puts meat on your bones.”
Tony dropped the leather strap to trail a hand across Rhodey’s chest, eyes
dark. Rhodey shivered at the contact, then grabbed Tony’s hand to still it.
“C’mon Tony. I thought we were on a mission here?”
Tony’s eyes were far away. “Yeah. . . right. Right. Mission: Teach Rhodey to
shave like a true gentleman. We’re totally doing that.” He put the razor down
on the bed and started fussing with the towels, dousing one of them in the
boiling water.
“So. Step one. You gotta soften your stubble and open up your pores, and you do
that by wrapping your face in a hot, wet towel.” He matched actions to words,
and Rhodey hissed a little at the heat and the sudden obscuring of his vision.
“You wanna leave the towel on until its cool, then repeat for maximum
effectiveness.”
The world shrank rapidly to the blinding white of the late afternoon sunlight
through the towel and the muffled sounds of Tony moving through the room.
Rhodey strained his ears, and was able to conclude that Tony was pouring more
of the boiling water into a mug.
“Next you have to soak your brush — badger hair, not boar, Jarvis was very
insistent.”
Tony yanked the towel away, and Rhodey blinked up at him. Before his eyes had
adjusted the towel was back, just as hot as before, but Rhodey’s sharp intake
of breath was due more to feeling off-balance at Tony’s abruptness than the
bite of heat. He focused on his hearing again, as Tony opened the window and
tossed the water out it, then quickly shut the window against the freezing air.
“After you’ve soaked the brush, put your shaving soap in the bottom of the cup
and work up a good lather.”
He pulled the towel away again and thrust the mug under Rhodey’s nose for
inspection. It was indeed a good lather, and Rhodey told him so. Possibly
sarcastically.
“Hey! I am being serious here! I will have none of your lip while I’m attending
to your lips!”
“Oh my God, that was awful, Tones,” Rhodey groaned.
“You know, you’re usually more appreciative of my wit. Are you still hungover,
grumpybear? Do you need more of your water? If you’re still hungover, then
you’ve lost your touch, and we clearly need to go out partying more often,
because you really did not have that much to drink last night.”
“I’m fine, Tony, and I have way too much work to go out partying like that more
often.”
“All work and no play makes Rhodey a dull boy. . .”
“Right. So. We’ve worked up a good lather. What next?”
Tony picked up the brush and jabbed Rhodey in the cheek with it. “Next we
lather up your cheek, of course.” Rhodey rolled his eyes. “You want to swirl
the foam around, making sure you get under every single hair.” Tony matched
words to action, all his attention on Rhodey’s cheek and jaw, and Rhodey just
watched him. So much of their relationship Rhodey had taken the lead — he was
older, of course, and a year ahead of Tony to boot, and Tony was allergic to
any sort of responsibility. But somehow the role of teacher sat well on Tony,
brought out a solemnity that was surprisingly attractive.
Tony finished lathering up Rhodey’s face and put the mug and brush down on the
bed, then picked up the razor. It caught the light, bright silver and obviously
very sharp, and Rhodey swallowed around an unexpected bolt of arousal. He told
himself it was perfectly natural trepidation sending a bit of adrenaline
through his system, but he was pretty sure he was lying.
Tony pushed Rhodey all the way back in the chair and tilted his chin up,
studying his face for a moment. “You need to stretch the skin taut—“ Tony
twisted his off-hand around so he could place his fingertips on the top of
Rhodey’s cheekbones and pull up— “and then angle the razor twenty to thirty
degrees off your skin, shaving with the grain in long, smooth strokes.”
The scrape of steel across skin was hypnotic, Tony’s hands steady as a
surgeon’s — or as steady as the genius engineer he was. Rhodey wasn’t sure
where to look, focusing first on the ceiling, then a spot over Tony’s shoulder,
but kept being drawn back to Tony’s face, its study in contrasts. Winter-pale
skin interrupted with eyes like dark pools. Straight lines of brow and jaw
against the still-round cheeks of youth. And his mouth, that fell so naturally
into a deliberate smirk or pout, now pressed thin in concentration and crooked
just a little to the side, all the more endearing for being obviously
unrehearsed, unstudied. It was so rare that Rhodey could catch Tony like that —
he was so often in front of an audience, playing to the crowd.
Tony switched to Rhodey’s other cheek and had to straddle Rhodey’s leg to avoid
blocking the light. Rhodey shifted his feet outward, giving Tony more room to
maneuver, enjoying the bleed of body heat through his and Tony’s sweats.
Then Tony lifted Rhodey’s chin even further, to shave his jaw and neck, and
Rhodey was suddenly deeply aware of the boy (man) looming over him, the blade
pressed against the pulse of blood through his jugular. His mouth went dry and
he fought the urge to swallow, afraid that any movement might be enough to
change the benign scrape into a lethal slice.
And Rhodey was abruptly, achingly hard.
Tony finished shaving Rhodey’s neck and wiped the razor clean, then held out a
bowl of warm water for Rhodey to splash his face. When Rhodey looked back at
him, he caught a flash of surprise on Tony’s face, then immediately a knowing
smirk. Rhodey felt his cheeks heat, and he found himself dropping his eyes to
his lap. Which was, of course, obscenely tented. He felt, obscurely, that he
ought to apologize, and that seemed so out of character for him that he gave
himself a mental shake and deliberately met Tony’s eyes again.
“So that’s it?” He lifted a hand to feel his cheek. “I mean, I guess it’s close
enough, but it really doesn’t seem like that big of an improvement.”
Tony’s grin broadened. “But it got that close shaving with the grain, which
reduces the risk of skin irritation — and besides, I never said I was done.”
Rhodey couldn’t stop himself from swallowing this time. His voice came out
hoarse. “No?”
“Nope. That was just pass number one.”
Tony picked up the mug again, swirling the brush around to bring back the
lather, then he again covered Rhodey’s face in foam. His voice took on the very
slightest bit of pomposity, as it always did when he quoted Jarvis. “A proper
gentleman of the sort Air Force officers are meant to be must make three passes
with the razor — one pass with the grain, one pass perpendicular to the grain,
and a final pass against the grain. This ensures that his face will remain
acceptably smooth to the touch all day without irritating his skin and causing
those unsightly bumps along the jawline.” Finished with the brush, Tony put the
mug back on the bed and again picked up the razor. Rhodey’s eyes followed it
until he felt them cross, and then he let them fall closed to concentrate
better on Tony’s fingertips pressed into his cheek and the sweep of steel
across his over-warm skin.
He was still so very hard, having to watch Tony giving him the full force of
his attention might have been the end of Rhodey.
The second pass went slower than the first. Tony kept having to move the hand
he was using to pull Rhodey’s skin taut, and he had to do more maneuvering
around Rhodey’s legs. Rhodey also couldn’t help but shift in his seat a couple
times, trying to find some position where his cotton sweats weren’t teasing the
head of his cock with every breath. Finally Tony was pressing the bowl of water
into Rhodey’s chest again, expression thoughtful.
Rhodey licked his lips, eyes on his hands. His voice felt tight. “So, one more
time, right?”
“Yeah.” Tony’s voice was just a little breathless. Rhodey closed his eyes again
as Tony grabbed the mug.
Strong fingers gripped Rhodey’s chin, lifting it. “Look at me.”
Rhodey’s eyes flew open again, met Tony’s just inches from his face. He was
very much afraid he whined.
Tony straightened and started lathering Rhodey’s face for the third time. There
was a tension in his movements, a leashed power that Rhodey had never seen
before. His jaw was hard, highlighting the line that would be fully revealed
only when Tony lost his baby fat, and his eyes were hot. Rhodey nearly whined
again, and he knew if he looked down he’d see a wet spot where his cock was
leaking through his pants.
Each pass of the razor across Rhodey’s sensitized skin was delicious torture,
and Tony seemed determined to draw it out. Rhodey could feel himself trembling
as Tony scraped up his throat. He kept his eyes locked on Tony’s, though Tony
was focused on the razor, and the rest of the world disappeared. He was
distantly aware of the sounds of traffic outside the window, of voices raised
out in the hall, but everything was muffled and distorted by the rush of blood
in his ears. All that mattered was keeping his eyes where Tony had told him to
and staying still.
And then Tony was setting the razor down, and instead of handing the bowl of
(now tepid) water to Rhodey to splash his face clean Tony was wiping Rhodey’s
face himself, his hands gentle through the washcloth. Rhodey reeled, missing
the grounding of Tony’s fingers and the blade on his skin. His trembling
intensified.
Tony pulled out a square glass bottle and poured some of the electric yellow
liquid into his palms, then slapped them gently against Rhodey’s cheeks. There
was a split second of just cool and wet, then a sudden sparking burn and the
scent of limes. Rhodey couldn’t help himself — he groaned deep in his chest and
shut his eyes against the sensation. His hands, locked at his side throughout
the shave, lifted of their own volition and buried themselves in his lap,
squeezing in a way he wasn’t sure was to stave off orgasm or bring one on.
And then finally, finally Tony was there, was everywhere, planted on Rhodey’s
lap, chest pinning Rhodey’s arms at his sides, hands rubbing up his back and
neck, his lips absolutely frantic all over Rhodey’s face, mixing kisses and
panted breaths and muttered imprecations.
“Fuck— Rhodey, just— fuck, you are so insanely, so ridiculously hot, do you
know— you have to know what that did to me, your eyes following my every move
just ‘cause I told you to, god—“
Rhodey whined again, bucking up against Tony’s ass, his weight providing
pressure and their clothes providing friction, but neither providing enough.
“Tony— please—“
“Yeah, just let me—“ Tony pulled back just enough to strip off his shirt and
then they were skin to skin, and Rhodey realized he had been cold because Tony
felt so hot against him. A full-body shudder rippled through him and Rhodey
sucked in a deep breath, feeling the tension bleed out, that mix of fear and
lust and bizarre desire-to-please drain into simple desire. He felt light,
scoured clean.
And he had a lapful of Tony, who he really had missed desperately over break.
Rhodey kept up the kissing a few more minutes, now fully engaged and able to
turn Tony’s frenzy into more focused open-mouthed making out. Then he untangled
his arms from within Tony’s and grabbed a couple handfuls of Tony’s ass.
“C’mon. We need more room than this.” He stood, lifting Tony at the same time,
and Tony wrapped his legs around Rhodey’s waist. Tony’s bed was still covered
with the shaving paraphernalia, and Rhodey’s bed was a tangled mess of sheets
and clothes and what looked like the Kappa Sig address plate (giving an
entirely different picture of how Rhodey acquired his bruises), so Rhodey took
three steps forward, set Tony on the ground, spun him around and pressed him
forward against the wall next to the closet door.
A couple quick tugs stripped them both of their pants — thank god for elastic
waistbands! — and then Rhodey was pushing his cock between Tony’s legs. The
first thrust, his cock sliding in between Tony’s tight cheeks then down to
where his tip just rubbed against Tony's lightly-haired balls, already drawn up
tight, made Rhodey’s eyes roll back in his head with pleasure. Tony moaned
pornographically and took one hand off the wall to reach down and stroke
himself.
“Oooh my fucking god, Rhodey, you’re. . . genius. . .”
Rhodey reached around to wrap his hand around Tony’s, stroking in time with his
thrusts and wresting another groan from Tony’s throat. That two inches he still
had on Tony came in handy, letting Rhodey completely cover him, legs spread
outside Tony’s, cock nestled just under Tony’s ass, chest pressed firmly to
Tony’s back, and free arm stretched up to press Tony’s harder into the wall,
fingers tangled together. The nape of Tony’s neck was temptingly bare, pale
under the messy shock of Tony’s dark hair, and Rhodey tilted forward to lock
his lips on it, sucking a deep red mark on the knob at the top of Tony’s spine.
Tony cursed again, and increased the pace of their hands on his cock. “Shit,
Rhodey, I’m so close. . .” He trailed off into a breathless whine as Rhodey
slammed into him harder, the slick head of his cock brushing by Tony’s asshole
on its way down the cleft. Rhodey moved his mouth to the sensitive spot where
Tony’s shoulder met his neck and bit down and Tony came, muscles clenching as
he shot all over their hands and the cheaply-carpeted floor.
It was almost enough to send Rhodey over the edge too, but Tony started to
collapse, his body loose and boneless, and only Rhodey’s grip on his hand and
around his hip kept him upright. He leaned back to press a sloppy kiss near
Rhodey’s mouth, his eyes still closed and his whole face projecting a beatific
lassitude.
Then, without changing expression, he slipped his hand out from under Rhodey’s
and let himself fall gracefully to the floor, twisting as he went so that
before Rhodey could feel the loss of that warm body beneath him he was
presented with his favorite sight: Tony, on his knees, mouth open and waiting
for Rhodey’s cock.
Tony opened his eyes, electric sharp, and slid Rhodey’s cock effortlessly down
his throat. Everything was hot/wet/pressure/Tony and before he could slide back
up even once Rhodey was gone, shooting down Tony’s throat, his strangled shout
of warning too late. Tony swallowed around him anyway, fighting a grin, his
come-covered hand pulling Rhodey close through the aftershocks and just past
into over-sensitivity.
They separated and Tony grabbed one of the towels from Rhodey’s shave to clean
himself off. Rhodey was still panting up against the wall, enjoying the feel of
his overheated skin with its three spots of cool — his shrinking cock, Tony’s
messy handprint on his ass, and his still slightly-stinging face.
He got one more blissed-out moment, then his eyes fell on Tony’s puddle by the
wall and he groaned. “You’re gonna make me clean this up, aren’t you?”
Tony jumped into his bed and sprawled contentedly, still naked, not caring that
he spilled all his shaving supplies onto the floor. “C’mon honeybear, I shave
you, I let you push me into the wall and rut against me, then I give you a
blowjob so fantastic you come instantly, and you expect me to clean for you
too? No, no, it’s time for you to start pulling your weight around this dorm
room. I will even let you clean up all this mess over here, too!”
Rhodey banged his head against the wall, then turned back to survey the damage.
Something else occurred to him, and he groaned again.
Tony raised an eyebrow inquisitively.
Rhodey rubbed his hands over his (yes, very smooth) face, breathing in the mix
of sex and shaving soap and lime that filled the air of their room. Finally he
looked Tony dead in the eye. “With this association I am never going to be able
to shave in a common bathroom again!”
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