[ It's not hard to feel through the thin fabric of the dress pants that his undergarments are starting to get a little confining with the movement and placement of her hands. ]
You're allowed to be the judge of that. In fact I think you have to be, given that I'll be prone to unfair bias. [ Ooh, look, more wine. Excellent. ]
[Well, that's just fantastic. Exactly the reaction Angela was going for. Time for her to skip ahead a few steps and inches and cup him through said pants, squeezing lightly. Her visual attention isn't on him, but on the male speaker now, the one with his arms waving around like one of those wacky waving inflatable arm-flailing tubemen and saying something about a presentation.]
I'm always the judge. Jury and executioner too if we really want to lay it on the table.
[ Oh, see, actual sort of contact puts this on a whole new level. His face is more controlled now, easy smiles more practiced, and the grip he has on his cutlery - oh right, food - or glass seems to be oddly correlated to the pressure of her fingers. ]
I don't mind leaving it under the table for now. Do we need lawyers in the metaphor now?
[The center's lights dim suddenly, dark enough that everything becomes a shadow but the exit signs and any cell phone screens from somebody who isn't paying attention can still be seen. It's the perfect moment for Angela to make her move, something that would definitely give her away if anybody was watching, but in the dark, no one can see her tugging on his zipper.]
I wasn't aware you wanted to make this a group thing.
Metaphor. [ Oh, excellent - he'd not been paying enough attention to the speakers to realize that was the last one prior to the actual demonstration video. What fortunate timing, because then he doesn't have to work so hard to disguise the look on his face at the added pressure her pulling at his zipper from his angle is producing. ] Lawyers in the metaphor. This part is clearly for private consumption.
Too bad. I was hoping you were being literal. [Private consumption in a public arena. The math doesn't quite add up here, but it's probably a classic Tony Stark formula with a sum of Angela Montenegro. With his zipper down, she can easily slide between the fly of his pants and the outside of his boxer briefs, the heel of her hand pressing and rubbing.] There you go, ruining some of the fun already.
Who's ruining the fun? This is fun. I'm having a ball. [ That whole private vs. public and when is either one actually not the other eventually thing is something he's quite familiar with, in general. He's not too bothered one way or the other, beyond where there are thrills to be had in one direction and not so much vice versa. ] I mean, I guess we could go around the table, everybody's got a helping hand, it is a charity event after all.
Oh, I see, I see. So you want the chubby hands of Walden to help you out. Very giving of you, Tony. There's the philanthropist I know.
[Angela's one hundred percent sure Tony doesn't want Eric Walden, some pharmaceutical engineering rep who seems to be out of place here at the event and across from them at the table, with his hands on him. Especially replacing hers with the soft skin and the gentle touch that knows exactly how he likes it. Certainly, he's not going to trade her to untucking him from cage of his underpants for that guy.]
Mm, no, not particularly. I'd have to rearrange the table seating charts. [ There's no doubt he's a little free and liberated in his ideas about sex as a whole, but sometimes there's just a certain person you don't want to find near your own person. Eric Walden happens to be one of those people. Tony just gets vibes from the guy. Bad vibes. ] My philanthropy comes across in more subtle, broad strokes.
[ But no, he wouldn't have traded her for him at all. Not before she did that, and definitely not after, fully hard by this point and having a somewhat more difficult time stifling his reaction. As it is, he's got both hands on the table, they were trying to cut up food on the plate, idly moving just for the sake of it, but now they're still, sitting almost on the edge. ]
[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.
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You're allowed to be the judge of that. In fact I think you have to be, given that I'll be prone to unfair bias. [ Ooh, look, more wine. Excellent. ]
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I'm always the judge. Jury and executioner too if we really want to lay it on the table.
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I don't mind leaving it under the table for now. Do we need lawyers in the metaphor now?
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I wasn't aware you wanted to make this a group thing.
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[Angela's one hundred percent sure Tony doesn't want Eric Walden, some pharmaceutical engineering rep who seems to be out of place here at the event and across from them at the table, with his hands on him. Especially replacing hers with the soft skin and the gentle touch that knows exactly how he likes it. Certainly, he's not going to trade her to untucking him from cage of his underpants for that guy.]
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[ But no, he wouldn't have traded her for him at all. Not before she did that, and definitely not after, fully hard by this point and having a somewhat more difficult time stifling his reaction. As it is, he's got both hands on the table, they were trying to cut up food on the plate, idly moving just for the sake of it, but now they're still, sitting almost on the edge. ]
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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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