They worked well together, something that people have always said about them since they first came together as a team. They managed to balance each other out and push each other forward and-- well, in cases like this, they were just able to push each other. Because that was what they were doing, they were pushing and toing the line as best they could in public, and Steve gave as good as he got.

It was more than a little admirable because Tony was-- well he wasn't exactly going easy. Not that the thought of Steve pressing him against the desk in his new office, shoulders wrapped in the blue of his Commander uniform, was something that left him completely unaffected, but he had played that fantasy in his mind more than once, it didn't make him want quite as much as it might Steve.

And it did affect the Commander. Tony moans lightly around the salty burst of butter against his tongue, eyes still on Steve. He watches, just as entranced, as Steve's mouth opens and no real sound comes out and, fuck, the fact that he could make the other man look like that, look at a loss, was heady. The following noise, something hitched in his chest, is less for the show of things and more because he can't quite believe his luck.

"Mmm, it is delicious lobster, would you like some, Commander?" There is a flash of teasing there, a taunt, but it doesn't really hold out against the look Steve gives him, the way he grips his arm and fuckfuckfuck, Steve really could play just as well if not better than him. The nails against his skin, the sound of Steve's breath catching makes Tony consider public indecency charges, and not being let back into this place. Just for a moment.

Thankfully (or unfortunately) he reigns himself in, just a bit, though it is clear he is fraying at the edges. "Car. Why-- Why do you ask?"