[Subtle, broad strokes, he says? Angela takes that as an instructional hint, setting a slow, wide pace with her hand. No fancy twist at the top, no generous gripping. Just a languid fondling from root to tip.]
I see. I guess I was mistaken on how you work. So what do you do? Just throw money at a problem and accept the accolades or do you actually put in some work sometimes?
[As if she really gives a shit. She just wants to keep him talking, moving, under her teasing touch like nothing is going on in the dark.]
[ That's not actually what he meant at all, but it still works. He'd prefer the pressure, the thumb over the top, but this is good. This is fantastic. ]
Something like that. Unless I take a vested interest. That was kind of combative, I think. I'm not going to be all that confrontational when you're so close to me, baby. Wouldn't want to risk your wrath.
[ Which is, in itself, still just talking. He'll keep talking up unto the point where he's very close and then he'll become oddly quiet, most likely. ]
[In the end, it doesn't matter what he really meant. She'll give him whatever she chooses to give him, what she decides he deserves. He hasn't done anything for her to break out the bag of tricks in public just yet. The pace remains maddeningly slow for now, almost too casual and lazy.]
I didn't take that as combative. [Yet.] But you're being vague. What would it take for you to have a vested interest? Robots? Cars? Cotton candy?
[At least with the last option, she could allow him to eat it off of her. One day, Tony, one day.]
[ No he meant what you said sounded mildly combative. But no worries.
He's shifting in his seat a little, as much as he can without attracting too much attention, because yeah, that is frustratingly slow, and if they're gonna do this at all, they can at least set up something that's a little less conducive to his eventual insanity. However much he can push up into her hand without actually appearing to move, he's attempting it. ] I can be interested in helping somewhere without there being robots involved. Although cars and cotton candy are high incentives.
[You're really asking her to pay attention while she's just saying any and everything to get through this godawful video presentation while giving her date (or whatever they call each other these days) a handjob under the table, and continue looking publicly presentable? A person can only multitask but so much.
They could, but where's the fun in that when no one is driving Tony Stark insane? Every time he pushes up, she pushes back, slowing down even more. It's her hand on him, not the other way around. The faster he remembers who's in control here, the faster he'll get exactly what he wants.]
So if I wanted something done, some monetary funding, I'll have to make sure and have cotton candy making cars.
[ No he's not really paying that much attention to anything either, by this point. Just bent on keeping up the waist-high charade and trying to get the most out of the show waist-down.
But it doesn't take that long to figure out the rules here, and he settles back down all at once, just letting her work and taking a swig of water from his glass to disguise the mild huff of irritation at not being allowed to participate. Not even much of a huff - half of it might be due to simply venting, she's giving him a lot of stimulation to handle. ]
Or cars made out of cotton candy, sure. Either'd work.
[SCIENCE! ...or something like that. Who gives a shit? The video's over and the lights come back on just in time. He's learned his place, even if he's huffy about it, and Angela presses into him, increasing her grip and sliding that oh so wanted thumb. Her hand is faster, not too much that it shows above the table, but enough that he feels it and hopefully, it'll give her a nice visual reaction to relish in above the table.]
[ The lights come back on and the back of Tony's neck is flushed and his eyes are darker but really no one who didn't know what was happening under the table - or hadn't had sex with him at some point before - would notice a difference. ]
Probably, yeah. Biodegradable to say the least. [ But oh, god, the increase, the slide, the speed - a moment after her thumb it just becomes a little too much and she's rewarded with first a slackening of the jaw, the eyes slightly flutter closed, and then the jaw goes tense, clenches, eyes blink back open, a small turn of the head, a smile to the next speaker as she steps up on stage, and then he returns to pretending like he's actually going to eat whatever it is on this plate put in front of him. When he finally speaks, his voice is a little forced. ] Seems like it. Hopefully there'll be another movie later. Less speechy.
Doesn't seem like it. Your people like the sound of their own voice.
[Perfect. She doesn't even have to look at him straight on to know that down at the nape of his neck, the hair there is sweaty (it's her favorite section to wind her fingertips in when they're really into it) and that his pupils are practically blown. She rewards him for that--what a good boy--going faster and letting the twist creep in every so often.
Her dinner remains untouched, though her napkin is draped across her lap; she can always use the excuse of not liking her steak done rare to avoid the questions. Anyway, there are other things she'd prefer being in her mouth. Maybe one day while he's on a conference call. That's an nice idea.]
[ Mmmm jesus, the reward just makes it harder to look normal, at least with a movie the lights are dimmer and people are all looking in the same direction - that is to say, they're far less likely to be glancing around the room and spot a man who is either in a bit of distress or a bit of a bit too much pleasure. He takes a bite of food, which gives his mouth something to do. Takes another sip of wine, because he can scrunch his eyes shut for a moment behind the distorted rim of the glass. The breathing is a little harder to control, but if he does it mostly with his stomach and diaphragm, it should be mostly hidden by the table, from anyone who isn't sitting right next to him.
Oh that would be fun. He does have such a problem with talking properly in such situations. ]
[It's better this way, with the lights on and eyes all around. It kicks up the risk and the excitement a little. The only thing that would make it better was if somebody else came up to start a conversation with Tony and he had to talk business.]
Should and do are two different animals, honey.
[As in she should stop these sexual shenanigans, but instead all she does is concentrate the movement on the head, thumb and fingers working overtime.]
[ It certainly does. Also no he's pretty sure that would be horrible, he doesn't want to talk business with anyone. He's starting to have a hard time keeping up with this conversation, let alone one with anyone who isn't privy to all the circumstances involved. ]
Very different, I noticed. [ It's kind of awkward sitting at the table and trying to lean forward on his elbow, which doesn't stop him actually trying but it does abort the movement, instead moving the other way and leaning further back into the chair. ]
[As innocent as she pleases, she turns her head towards him, eyebrows all furrowed in mock confusion as he shifts around in his seat. She's concerned about him, if anybody else at the table manages to look around. Concerned, yet, not even enough to hold back from rolling her thumb over the tip again, exactly how he likes it, exactly the way she always does when she wants him to talk after ordering him to shut up.]
Are you okay? [Casual. So casual. Watch her as she slickly moves her napkin off her lap and onto his with her free hand.] You look like you're finding this event a little hard to handle.
[It's a terrible pun, the kind that makes people groan. And that's her goal. Give her what she wants and she just might give him a nice reach down to his testicles.]
[ Right, a little hard to handle, exactly. He huffs out a chuckle, half begrudging amusement and half just venting out some of the overload coming on from keeping all of his reactions so tightly internalized. He's turned just slightly towards her a little bit, enough to try leaning on the table again, because he can rest his face in his hand then and cover up some of whatever expressions are getting past his control. ]
It's v-, ah, yes, very difficult. To handle. You, on the other hand, though. Handling it very well.
[That venting is as close as she's going to get to a groan out of him, at least in this trumped up ballroom. Angela's softhearted enough to give in when she can. He'll soon find fingernails gently scratching across the skin pf his testicles as she cups them in her fingers, thumb still wrapped around his cock's base.]
Well, you know me, the social butterfly. But I haven't had a lot of practice doing this, admittedly.
[ Well, it was as close as she was going to get before she dragged the tips of her fingernails across his balls, because that earned her a poorly muffled, slightly high-pitched noise from the back of his throat. His voice is rougher when he replies. ]
Wouldn't have noticed. You seem like a seasoned expert at it all.
I'm familiar with the area. That helps a lot, I think.
[She licks her lips when he whimpers or whines, whatever that sound was. Delicious. Angela could almost taste it in the back of her own throat and the fact that the woman sitting on the other side of Tony turns to look in his general direction for the source of the sound just heightens her own arousal. Managing to keep her cool is a long practiced skill, probably helped by not getting played with under the table herself, but details schmetails. Back to Tony.]
Do you think we're getting close to the end of this?
[Not that she wants him to come. In fact, if she can help it, she might even play around with denying him what he wants right here. Angela just needs to know if she needs to bring the napkin around closer.]
[ He barely even notices the woman turning to look at him - he's already been keeping his face as impassive as possible, hiding it with his hand a little, and when he can feel new eyes on him, he calmly as possible takes another bite of food to occupy himself instead of talking or smiling. It works okay, usually.
As for the question, he was already happy when she moved the napkin over to his lap, and he isn't even considering that she might drag things out, because the public aspect of it seems like enough for him. He takes a couple of steadying breaths before replying. ] I think it's not too far away.
[The woman shrugs off the sound, not seeing anything too out of the ordinary except for Tony Stark looking bored as a charity event and his date not paying attention to anything but him either.]
Then I should go powder my nose. There'll be photo ops, right? [One thing might be enough for him. Another might be enough for her. He's going find that out right now as she removes her hand from his lap, patting him like a good boy and leaning into his ear when she stands.] Stay there. Or else.
[ What. What. He looks over at her, slightly wide-eyed, nothing out of the ordinary range should anyone else catch the look on his face - all they'll see is something saying that he vaguely doesn't want her to get up and leave and that's precisely what she's doing anyway. Surely that's something that can be empathized with from either side. But either way, he makes sure to lean over the table, trying to obscure his lap, both elbows resting near the edge of it this time as he manufactures a nonchalance he doesn't currently possess. ] Yeah, photo ops. Where would I go?
[It's evil and cruel and oh well, he'll actually live for the eight minutes it takes Angela to stroll causally into the ladies' room and back again. Her nose doesn't actually seem like it was powdered, her hair hasn't been fixed in any way, but her right hand forms a loose fist on the path back. It's something nobody would notice except for her. And him when she settles back into her seat and creeps along his lap along to pick up right where she left off, only now the stroke is a lot smoother. Silkier. With a hint of gardenia.
Yeah - [ and some throat clearing, because that didn't come out a little shaky at all ] - yeah, they're gonna do that. Keep talking. That'll last for a while. [ If he's lucky, anyway. ]
[ That'll work. That'll get her the desired reaction, yes. Possibly even a shiver through his shoulders, down his back a little bit because he's putting much more effort into maintaining his facial expression and not shifting in his seat. ]
[She smirks, eyes dark with obvious arousal on her part, a look familiar to him, running her thumb across the head of his cock again, pressing right there as she moves against him. There's an obvious purpose behind her pace now; Angela wants him to come. Enough public torture already. Plus she wants to enjoy herself watching him orgasm surrounded by people with the lights on. How will Tony Stark be able to play that one off?]
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I see. I guess I was mistaken on how you work. So what do you do? Just throw money at a problem and accept the accolades or do you actually put in some work sometimes?
[As if she really gives a shit. She just wants to keep him talking, moving, under her teasing touch like nothing is going on in the dark.]
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Something like that. Unless I take a vested interest. That was kind of combative, I think. I'm not going to be all that confrontational when you're so close to me, baby. Wouldn't want to risk your wrath.
[ Which is, in itself, still just talking. He'll keep talking up unto the point where he's very close and then he'll become oddly quiet, most likely. ]
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I didn't take that as combative. [Yet.] But you're being vague. What would it take for you to have a vested interest? Robots? Cars? Cotton candy?
[At least with the last option, she could allow him to eat it off of her. One day, Tony, one day.]
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He's shifting in his seat a little, as much as he can without attracting too much attention, because yeah, that is frustratingly slow, and if they're gonna do this at all, they can at least set up something that's a little less conducive to his eventual insanity. However much he can push up into her hand without actually appearing to move, he's attempting it. ] I can be interested in helping somewhere without there being robots involved. Although cars and cotton candy are high incentives.
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They could, but where's the fun in that when no one is driving Tony Stark insane? Every time he pushes up, she pushes back, slowing down even more. It's her hand on him, not the other way around. The faster he remembers who's in control here, the faster he'll get exactly what he wants.]
So if I wanted something done, some monetary funding, I'll have to make sure and have cotton candy making cars.
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But it doesn't take that long to figure out the rules here, and he settles back down all at once, just letting her work and taking a swig of water from his glass to disguise the mild huff of irritation at not being allowed to participate. Not even much of a huff - half of it might be due to simply venting, she's giving him a lot of stimulation to handle. ]
Or cars made out of cotton candy, sure. Either'd work.
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[SCIENCE! ...or something like that. Who gives a shit? The video's over and the lights come back on just in time. He's learned his place, even if he's huffy about it, and Angela presses into him, increasing her grip and sliding that oh so wanted thumb. Her hand is faster, not too much that it shows above the table, but enough that he feels it and hopefully, it'll give her a nice visual reaction to relish in above the table.]
Oh, movie's done. Another speech?
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Probably, yeah. Biodegradable to say the least. [ But oh, god, the increase, the slide, the speed - a moment after her thumb it just becomes a little too much and she's rewarded with first a slackening of the jaw, the eyes slightly flutter closed, and then the jaw goes tense, clenches, eyes blink back open, a small turn of the head, a smile to the next speaker as she steps up on stage, and then he returns to pretending like he's actually going to eat whatever it is on this plate put in front of him. When he finally speaks, his voice is a little forced. ] Seems like it. Hopefully there'll be another movie later. Less speechy.
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[Perfect. She doesn't even have to look at him straight on to know that down at the nape of his neck, the hair there is sweaty (it's her favorite section to wind her fingertips in when they're really into it) and that his pupils are practically blown. She rewards him for that--what a good boy--going faster and letting the twist creep in every so often.
Her dinner remains untouched, though her napkin is draped across her lap; she can always use the excuse of not liking her steak done rare to avoid the questions. Anyway, there are other things she'd prefer being in her mouth. Maybe one day while he's on a conference call. That's an nice idea.]
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Oh that would be fun. He does have such a problem with talking properly in such situations. ]
My voice is lovely. People should like it.
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Should and do are two different animals, honey.
[As in she should stop these sexual shenanigans, but instead all she does is concentrate the movement on the head, thumb and fingers working overtime.]
/laaaaaaate sorry
Very different, I noticed. [ It's kind of awkward sitting at the table and trying to lean forward on his elbow, which doesn't stop him actually trying but it does abort the movement, instead moving the other way and leaning further back into the chair. ]
UNFORGIVEN!!! /rains fire and thunder and such
Are you okay? [Casual. So casual. Watch her as she slickly moves her napkin off her lap and onto his with her free hand.] You look like you're finding this event a little hard to handle.
[It's a terrible pun, the kind that makes people groan. And that's her goal. Give her what she wants and she just might give him a nice reach down to his testicles.]
;_______;
It's v-, ah, yes, very difficult. To handle. You, on the other hand, though. Handling it very well.
Re: ;_______;
Well, you know me, the social butterfly. But I haven't had a lot of practice doing this, admittedly.
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Wouldn't have noticed. You seem like a seasoned expert at it all.
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[She licks her lips when he whimpers or whines, whatever that sound was. Delicious. Angela could almost taste it in the back of her own throat and the fact that the woman sitting on the other side of Tony turns to look in his general direction for the source of the sound just heightens her own arousal. Managing to keep her cool is a long practiced skill, probably helped by not getting played with under the table herself, but details schmetails. Back to Tony.]
Do you think we're getting close to the end of this?
[Not that she wants him to come. In fact, if she can help it, she might even play around with denying him what he wants right here. Angela just needs to know if she needs to bring the napkin around closer.]
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As for the question, he was already happy when she moved the napkin over to his lap, and he isn't even considering that she might drag things out, because the public aspect of it seems like enough for him. He takes a couple of steadying breaths before replying. ] I think it's not too far away.
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Then I should go powder my nose. There'll be photo ops, right? [One thing might be enough for him. Another might be enough for her. He's going find that out right now as she removes her hand from his lap, patting him like a good boy and leaning into his ear when she stands.] Stay there. Or else.
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[It's evil and cruel and oh well, he'll actually live for the eight minutes it takes Angela to stroll causally into the ladies' room and back again. Her nose doesn't actually seem like it was powdered, her hair hasn't been fixed in any way, but her right hand forms a loose fist on the path back. It's something nobody would notice except for her. And him when she settles back into her seat and creeps along his lap along to pick up right where she left off, only now the stroke is a lot smoother. Silkier. With a hint of gardenia.
Lotion.]
They're still talking.
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Yeah - [ and some throat clearing, because that didn't come out a little shaky at all ] - yeah, they're gonna do that. Keep talking. That'll last for a while. [ If he's lucky, anyway. ]
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I don't think I can say the same for you.
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Can't argue with that. Excellent point.
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[She smirks, eyes dark with obvious arousal on her part, a look familiar to him, running her thumb across the head of his cock again, pressing right there as she moves against him. There's an obvious purpose behind her pace now; Angela wants him to come. Enough public torture already. Plus she wants to enjoy herself watching him orgasm surrounded by people with the lights on. How will Tony Stark be able to play that one off?]
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