Bucky thought the Avengers tower was strange. He wasn’t sure how much of it was living with a team of superheroes, how much was the fact that he’d spent the last seventy years in the hands of an organization that was brainwashing and wiping him, and how much was something else entirely. The Dom knew he didn’t exactly have a full understanding of how this new world he’d been thrust into, or any world really, worked but something just seemed…off. It nagged at him, pulled at his attention like a splinter in his finger that was too small to find.
The thing is, Tony doesn’t exactly consider himself a kinky person. He’s had a lot of sex in his life, and that includes some pretty kinky things, some of it he hasn’t enjoyed, some of it he has—the thing with the wine bottle still makes him hard and that was almost twenty years ago. But, and here’s the important part, he’d been just as happy having plain old vanilla sex with Pepper as he’d been when Rumiko had tied him up in sparkly ropes and fucked him with the biggest strap-on he’d ever seen, and when he’s by himself, his brain is just as likely to go to the basic fantasies as it is to go to complicated scenes with toys and ropes and paddles. So he doesn’t really consider himself a kinky person.
He’s still thinking that right up until Bucky hauls the dead, fried Iron Man suit with Tony still inside up off the ground and throws him twenty feet out of the way of a falling spaceship like it’s nothing.
//
Tony discovers he might have a teensy weensy, itty bitty, little bit of a strength kink.
He startled at the sound of Steve’s voice, nearly dropping his tablet. Tony looked around and bit back a curse. He hadn’t been paying attention to where he was walking and had wandered into a part of the Wakandan palace he really didn’t want to be in. He quickly looked back over his shoulder. There was Steve with Barnes and Sam right behind him. Steve took a step forward. Tony did the only sensible thing he could think of at the moment. He ran.