Had it been the sort of hot and heavy, frantically desperate fucking that Tony still expected to occur the next time they happened to be at the same social function together, he probably wouldn’t have bothered to ask so many questions. Of course, even then he wouldn’t have been careless about it, but he certainly wouldn’t have felt the need to make damn sure Justin was fine with the pace he was going. He felt it now, though, and was just starting to open his mouth to ask if he was sure he wanted him to keep going when Justin pushed back against him.

The question died in his throat, its death knell a low groan as his head fell forward, needing to close his eyes against the added friction. There wasn’t any thought to stopping now, and unless Justin told him to, there wouldn’t be. He pushed forward until he felt Justin’s ass press back against his pelvis, until his dick was fully sheathed inside him. And goddamn it felt good.

“Okay.” Tony’s breath came a little heavier, not quite panting, as he shook his head, trying to get a few errant pieces of hair off of his forehead. He was already starting to sweat; he didn’t want his hair plastered to his face. “That’s—Tell me when you want me to move.”