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The harsh clang of metal against metal resonated throughout the training room as two friends battled each other. Everyone within a mile radius knew when the two werr clashing from the sheer cacophony of sound alone: whining repulsors giving way to explosions so thunderous it made Thor jealous; echoing rockets as they took flight, and laughs so boisterous they gave Falstaff a run for his money.
It couldn't then be said honestly that Steve did not know they were there, the din may have quieted, but neither had emerged. He had gone there to find them, he just hadn't planned on catching them in the middle of divesting themselves of their clothing. Lips attached. Muffled moans of pleasure erupting as they marked each others bodies. Well honed bodies slick and shiny with sweat, creating a different orchestra as bodied slapped and popped with each thrusting motion. While he was incapable of looking away Steve at least reddened with embarassment at the sight before him, no not at that, for the raw passion before him him was beatiful; the flush of his cheeks was for himself and his hubris at thinking he deserved such sights. The sharp pain of his hardened member focused his thoughts on his more carnal reaction to what he saw before him. He stared at it confused, as if it were an alien part of his body. No erection had ever felt so insistent, so demanding, and dazed he ghosted along it at first, before taking it firmly in hand. Deft, arrogant strokes, matched the tattoo of thrusts emanating from the room, as he squeezed, pumped and thrusted biting his lips raw to quiet the cries that threatened to escape from his mouth. Finally a whimper joins the trumpet of orgasm ringing through the room as all three reach their joyous conclusion.