fe_male | memeboxing

[ Good, she wants him to stay still right now. Stay still and let her get him closer and closer to what he wants and what she wants. Her fingers on her chest she leaves still, but she leans in to press her mouth to the skin around the reactor. When she speaks her breath out is right against his skin. ]

Is it? How sensitive is genius, precisely? [ Which she actually makes sound quite sincere. ]

[ Oh god, it's hard to remember the words - any words - when she starts off like that. He breathes semi-heavily for a few seconds before he can say anything anyway. ] How would you take a lie, right now? [ He says, all tensed and coiled as much as would be possible while he's all stretched out along for her like this. ]

[ She lets her teeth press against his skin for a moment, absently returns to brushing her mouth along the spots she knows are sensitive. Her fingers flex again against his torso, slide lower with a slight rake of fingernails. ] Not very well. [ Just in case the message from her touch wasn't clear enough, there. She should probably put that in words too, even if it interrupts her mouth against his skin momentarily. ]

[ No, she shouldn't do anything that interrupts her mouth on his skin, actually, he's pretty sure of it. This time if he's moving at all, it's into the scratch of her nails, the heat of her so close to him. He shifts up a little bit again, takes a deep breath and lets it back out as he settles once more. ] Very. You know.

[ She leans a little closer towards him, hand pressed between them as she pushes up on tiptoes so that she can reach his throat in her exploration of his skin, pushing forward so that he has to tilt his head back to allow her access or risk her stopping. ] How very?

[ He gives in to that with marginal pushback, making her push a little harder, but not resisting so much as to dissuade her from continuing. He wants her at his neck, wants her teeth to scrap across it and the warmth of her to never dissipate from where she is now. ] Name me one way to quantify 'very'. [ He's still perhaps able to think linearly, scientifically, technically, if not in most other aspects. He does so love to be difficult. ]

[ She makes a soft noise of amusement against his throat, works on leaving what is going to be a very fascinating bruise on his throat tomorrow, right where she can feel his heartbeat best, the blood just under his skin that keeps him warm and pushing and moving under her hands. Speaking of which, that's a definite cessation to the handjob she was giving him, both her hands settling firmly on his hips as she presses closer but does absolutely nothing else. ] You should work a little harder on figuring it out for yourself. [ He can have her mouth on his skin, but he's not getting anything else but warmth for the moment. Go ahead, Tony. Be difficult. See how far that gets you. ]

[ Come on, she was amused by that, that was an okay comment to make, now it's just kind of cold even though she's fire up against him, leaves him leaning towards her and getting a good stretch going in his arms in the process. She's more than welcome to leave interesting bruises on his throat, he's okay with that. Less okay with everything else though. ] Very very. I don't know how to explain 'very', it's already a qualifier. It's like asking how red something is. Very red. That was a bad example, red's got a measuring stick for 'very' already. Enough to be distracting at inopportune times. I usually can't - we're only talking about skin here too, for the record. No other sensitivity.

[ Her mouth curves up in a smile against his skin, meeting his push forward with the wall of her body as she pulls his hips closer against hers, gives him some friction to work with at least. ] What other sensitivity would we be talking about, Tony?

I just said there wasn't another one. [ He says it, but he says it quickly, just after he presses against her to get the benefit of the friction and pressure, because he knows what the response to stalling is most likely going to be, but he's not about to get into the specifics of 'artistic' and 'emotional' sensitivity when it comes to intellectuals and artists. Which he assumes 'genius' naturally falls under, because it's both stereotypes he seems to be accused of in almost equal amounts, as far as he can tell. Among others, clearly, but still. ]

Then I suppose I'll just have to take you at your word. [ She brushes her lips across the mark she's made on him again, steps away completely and circles him slowly, letting her feet scuff across the floor so that he doesn't have to strain to try to figure out where she is. ] What do you want, Tony?

[ If he actually mutters 'god dammit' when she steps back, she'll consider that as a compliment, right? ]

Is that not obvious? Keep asking intensely personal and private questions and stop going away. That's what I want.

[ Totally, totally will. She brushes her hand across the span of his shoulders, down the curve of his spine and over his ass, and then circles back around to his front, close enough that he can feel the warmth off her body but not quite touching. ] You want me to ask about whether you have residual emotional trauma from being kidnapped as a child? Or how your parents handled it? Or would you rather I ask if you've ever thought about doing this?

[ ahh shit that backfired horribly one day he will learn to keep his mouth shut

or at least put some kind of filter on it

or something he probably won't but he can at least curse himself for the lack of forethought anyway. he gets all tense again for a moment but just as quickly it fades out, because he's super good at controlling his reactions to things - usually - but it's difficult to extend that to your whole body when you're already on alert ] This specifically? There are elements here that I can't truthfully say I had fantasized about to such a degree.

[ one day he probably should because once he starts using his mouth she starts specifically looking for ways to go against what he says. well, unless he's using his mouth in a very specific way. if he's talking with it she is all for not letting him have what he asks for unless he asks for it right. ]

Which parts had you thought about? [ A thoughtful hmmm almost against his chest, mouth against the edge of the reactor, and her fingers drift down to trace the insides of his thighs. ] You didn't answer the other questions.

Thought it was a multiple choice. Pick one then move on. [ As to why he ignored the other questions. Either way - not really, not really, and answered. [ Whatever. Answering questions - if she wants him to answer anything, she's gotta be clear about it. No wiggle room. ]

Mostly the tying. The restraint. Not quite so much with all this back and forth, but whatever. Pull me higher, watch me really flail for you. [ No he's not at all attempting to distract or compel you with things you didn't mention wanting. Shhh. ]

[ But messing with him is so much fun, it really is. She takes so much pleasure out of the push and pull. ] Mmm. We'll come back to that later then. [ In just a little bit, because this avenue is - more interesting. The 'for you' part of that sentence jolted somewhere inside her, started something burning that she'd been mostly managing to avoid. Now there's a significant part of her that just wants to see what he'll do for her, how far she can push him. ]

You like how little control you have, right now? [ One hand slides down to behind his knee, pulls it up a little so that that foot can no longer touch the ground, leaving him only the other as stability. ] Is that what you want? To flail for me? [ She runs her hand up and down a little against the back of his knee, lets it back down. ] You're going to have to ask better.

[ Yes, well. That's mean.

As is that, and he winds up being all the more taut for the way he's got to balance now with his arms and the other foot as the points of contact. It's kind of an interesting -- he's not totally sure he doesn't want that, but he's always got a bigger mouth than he does anything else and while it's happy to get him into things, it frequently doesn't know how to finish them. He's got no idea how to ask for that. (The couple of reservations he might have about it probably don't help, but they'll likely fall in the face of the possibility anyway.)

Asking how he should ask didn't really go badly last time per se, but he wouldn't say that it actually worked. ] I thought you were the one with all the asking power here?

[ It's her job, right now.

It's going to have to start figuring out stuff here for him pretty fast if this is actually what he wants, because Max isn't inclined to give him anything he wants right now without a slightly better request than that. She's not even really inclined to touch him beyond her palms feather light on his thighs, because he's still being difficult. ]

I don't ask. I say things, and you do them. You have to ask.

[ That's totally not a low, high pitched, whatever-it-actually-is from the back of his throat. Just brushing against him, leaving him so tense and alternating between being blissfully free of thoughts and trying furiously to figure out what it is he wants his irritating mouth to actually get out.

At least by now he's being difficult because he's stalling, rather than just being difficult? ]

I ask for you to do things. For you to tell me to do things I can do. I'm pretty sure there's residual trauma, and they handled it poorly, in my opinion, and those of everyone around us if the looks they turned our way were anything to go by. Please touch me. Come on. Anything but this breezy, gentle, bullshit. It's too much, not enough, it's just --

[ Mildly better. Not all that much, but she guesses she prefers the stalling over the being difficult for the sake of being difficult.

There's silence and absence for a moment after he finishes speaking, but it's because she's pulling the chair back over, using it to adjust him just a little higher, not quite touching the floor anymore. The chair she leaves there, because she's going to need to let him down again quite soon for safety reasons, but also because she can use it for a convenient location to give her support as she leans in and slides her mouth over him, a long slow glide before she pulls away again just long enough to say something. ] You don't come unless you've been given permission. Tell me how they handled it. [ Because that's obviously something he's going to be totally capable of with her mouth back on him, insistent and firm as she keeps one hand on his hip to steady him, make sure he's not swaying too much. ]

[ He listens to whatever it is that she's doing now, just aware that she's pulled away completely again and is moving things, and then - oh, okay, yes, that's definitely. That's a thing. He's okay with that thing. His body sort of does that thing that cats do when they just get longer and longer as you pick them up, but she had mostly gotten that length to appear anyway (wow could that sentence have sounded worse jfc), so there's not a whole lot of difference. It's just more obvious now, more difficult to let his muscles lose their tension, if only because they disagree when he tells them that they should.

She is, of course, also not helping. He can feel her proximity and the heat of her even before she tastes him, but it doesn't do a whole lot more than mitigate the jump in his reaction, the hitch in his breath. It's been more difficult to use part of his lungs with his arms up, is difficult sometimes anyway, and even more effort now, so it's predominately his diaphragm and lower lobes doing all the work, which makes it look sort of like he's trying to breathe through his stomach. Or maybe his liver. That would be hilarious. He's been trying to breathe with his liver for years now. Either way. She asked him a question, right? Sort of. She told him to do something, anyway. He ought to get started. ]

First it was fine. [ In his opinion. Ransom paid, he went back home, he doesn't actually remember too much about it, which in his mind means that there wasn't anything important to remember. ] Less impressed as it kept happening. More negative.

[ She runs one hand down his side as he stretches and settles, just getting a feel for the tension in it and the way his body is trying to reach the floor she's temporarily denied it.

She's very rarely helping, in this particular setting. She rarely wants to, and in fact generally actively wants to make things more difficult for him. It's the way he moves and talks when things are made more difficult for him, she just really enjoys it. And yes, she did ask him a question, and when he answers she rewards it with her free hand joining her mouth, working on a rhythm and making sure she can reach all of him. Though she does have to come away again for a moment to ask her next question, her voice thick with arousal and needing a little more breath beneath it itself, something she's not trying to hide. He can't see her, so he gets this. ]

How negative? [ The question is brief and simple, direct as she can make it because she's a little occupied in getting back to hollowing her mouth around him, giving pressure and waiting for his answer. ]

[ He hangs, and he doesn't move very much, if only to appreciate the sensation of hanging. He kind of likes the stretch it pulls out from him, the tension all along him. And her mouth, jesus, if she wants him to answer questions. ]

How negative? [ He says, stalling, because god, she's magnificent and knows exactly what she's doing and yet-- ] Depennds on which one you cared about. Most cared about dad. Me and something else drove him to drinking, where he tended to be angry. Mom was just happy to see me home, but her anger was within. Never in front of me. Had to put two and two together and come up with one and one on my own.

[ She wants him to answer questions. She just also wants him to make other noises and reward him for answering the questions, and this is how she's doing that.

She listens, pulls her mouth away and then returns with just her tongue for now inbetween speaking, slowly and carefully ensuring that she's reached all of him and made sure it received some attention. ] Which one did you care about?

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dammit my coding

pets gently it's okay it happens to us all

|:-|

it's going to be okay i promise

uh huh

just trust me

well okay then mistress

i like the sound of that word