Navigating up the thighs, slick with industrial lubricant, was no easy task. The ladder kept slipping. Tony Stark hauled himself up over the lip of the cockpit and dropped into the pilot cradle. The interfaces locked into place around his limbs and cock, flooding him with haptic feedback.

Rhodey stood below the crotch, arms folded, side-stepping a fresh drip of lubricant.

"You proud of yourself, Tony?"

"The superstructure wasn't my idea," Tony protested. "I built it to protect Pepper while she's pregnant."

"Overreacting much?"

"Yeah, that's what she said," Tony sighed. "But the engineering is sound. You could be looking at the next Hulkbuster Mark Two, with a few modifications. What do you think?"

Rhodey eyed the narrow clearance between the suit's outsides and the pilot's insides warily. "I think Banner's gonna use you for a fleshlight. I don't know what he's packing in those purple shorts but it can't be good."

Stark scoffed. "Relax. I welded the two exit hatches up tight. You'd need a battering ram to get through them."