[ Tony swallows as she does, because that was delicious, and he's not sure what she's doing now but that was nice even if he does have to look at her again, but then she's doing that and okay. He lets her, playing back when it's right but for the most part being claimed and controlled, trying to follow her when she pulls away and stops touching him entirely. He wants to protest this loss, but her words. He decides that his best course of action here is to stay where he is and continue looking at her, no moves made to speak or lean towards her again for more. Message received. ]
[ She nods just a little, because there you go, that's the right response. Perhaps easier than she'd been expecting. ] Good. [ She presses her lips to the corner of his mouth for a moment before ducking down to return to his neck, one hand wandering down his chest again, searching for reactions, for ways to make him want to talk. She knows how to press him, wants to see what he'll do when she's given him an order that goes against his normal actions. ]
[ If anything, he's going to give up the juvenile reason before he gives up the other one, because he's Tony Stark and Tony Stark doesn't show that sort of effect the past can have on him. Not to mention he just thinks they're both dumb reasons, probably, from an outsider's point-of-view. They're good enough for him, but other people? He's used to other people and himself not really being on the same page, regardless of whichever one of them was actually ahead in the book.
Some of those areas are just sensitive, some of them are ticklish, some of them have no feeling at all, but whichever way they go, it's enough to make him squirmy. Trying not to say anything, but you've created both a void and a stimulus, and he does all he can to avoid or react to both, so it's hard. Pretty obviously hard, since more of the effort's going into suppressing the reaction itself, over suppressing the signs of the reaction.
Mostly though, what he does is make noise and let the handcuffs bear the brunt of his venting, muscles in his arms and chest tensing with the reaction, abdomen with the shift in breathing she accrues. It doesn't take particularly long for Tony to fill in a gap when he's not concentrating on anything, and right now the only significant thing he has to concentrate on is her. ]
[ She'd like to think he knows better than that by now, knows that she knows precisely the effect the past can have on people and wants to be there for him, but if she knows the effect the past can have on someone she knows equally well how hard it is to tell others about it, the idea that no one else will really understand. It's a peculiar sense of isolation, and one she wants to strip from him.
But she can see and feel those muscles tensing, the abdomen under her hand, and she smiles and presses herself closer against him, skin on skin for a little while, her heartbeat against his chest. ] What am I going to do with you?
[ Low and quiet, and she pulls away so that she can trail kisses down his chest, nipping at the spots she knows are most sensitive, hand sliding slower around his hipbone. ]
[ That's actually almost worse than when she was giving him stern looks. Disappointment, irritation, negative attention; he can handle all that. Intimacy, of the sort that isn't vapid and fleeting - that's a different story altogether. In respect, talking when that happens is really more a defense mechanism than anything else. ] Well I feel better knowing there's a solid plan in place here. Knee-jerk disciplining always turns out so well.
[ Basically just reverting back into being an asshole, whoops. He doesn't mean it though, honest, and that's even not all that difficult to figure out based on his reactions in every area except his mouth. Just trying to make some more distance there. ]
[ But talking is also the thing that's strictly not on the menu, and she nips a little harder when he does before pulling thoroughly away to look at him again, stern. Really, already? That took a grand total of no time at all. ] What did I say about talking?
[ Because seriously here, flouncing the rules this early in is not calculated to make her pleased here. Her free hand slides into his hair and tugs a little so he can't avoid her eyes, frowning down a little in resigned disapproval. She can't say she wasn't expecting it, really. But still. ]
[ The sudden loss almost makes him gasp but he manages to restrain himself from an out and out gasp. The hand in his hair, the direction - he does have to look her in the eyes now, and face the emotion in her face, and indeed in his own that he'll see mirrored in her own.
He gives it a couple of seconds - that tug in his hair, he likes that - before reacting. ] Not to do it. [ How's that. Still toeing the line, just a little one way, and then a little the other. ]
[ She can see his eyes, really see them for more than a few moments before they flick away. It's the first time since she came upstairs, and she takes a moment just to study the expression in them, her own shifting mildly in response. She doesn't think she likes what she's seeing there. There's something going on here she's not sure of, somewhere among the things he won't tell her.
And there. Not entirely following the rules, but she'd asked a question with the expectation of response this time. She waits a little bit, still watching him, weighing up what he'd said and letting him stay right there, pinned under her gaze. ] That's right. [ Now she leans closer again, shifts her hips to add a little pressure as she brushes her lips across his jawline, the hollow behind his ear. ] That's your only warning. Don't talk again.
[ It takes a lot to keep looking at her under the weight of that gaze, knowing that she's looking further than the surface by the minute changes in her expression, totally aware of how well and intuitively she understands people, and especially in the absence of any other communication - just one long, heavy moment between them. Instinctively, he pulls up blankets around whatever he might be broadcasting, not quite good enough to actually qualify as shields owing to a lack of training and his present distraction, but enough to muffle whatever he wasn't trying to show her in the first place. And it's not to be mean; it's not even something he does on purpose, just another defense mechanism. Tony is effectively built out of a series of defense mechanisms. It's one of the reasons he's so good at making bombs.
At the instruction, the contact, he swallows once, taking the moment where she's beside his face to vent a little more reaction through it before she straightens back. There's got to be a give somewhere, if he can't talk and she's going to keep shifting like that, because soon there's going to be a filled out response to it and then he knows he'll be in far less a state to control himself. Better to get some of it out now. ]
[ She can understand those blankets, as frustrating as they are, so she doesn't comment on them or try to go any further. In fact she's holding off on looking very closely with her mind at all, because she'd prefer that if he talks he talks without any Sentinel or Guide instincts pushing it out of him, that he talks because he wants to. Because he believes she'll listen. She's willing to wait for that, willing to watch him and study the shifts in his expression. That he keeps looking at her is a good step at least, less of the turning away that had bothered her so much at first. She wants him to look at her, to see that there might be frustration in her expression but there's sincere concern too, that she wants to help.
She is going to keep shifting like that a little bit at a time, meanwhile turning her attention back to his neck and where it runs into his collarbone, the hollow of it, the side, at first scattered and brief before starting to put more thorough effort into it, nothing particularly gentle about her motions or her free hand still in his hair. ]
[ His eyes eventually close against the pressure, reacting physiologically and distracted by everything she's doing to his neck. While she's doing this to him, he has nothing to dwell on but the way it feels, and the look in her eyes beforehand. The look on her face. He can't. Tony can't handle that kind of affection, that level of help to be offered.
What he wants out of this, he doesn't know. What does he need from this? That's something entirely different. But he reacts to her, melting underneath her, a little, tension draining away, He wants to touch her, to feel her skin, warm behind his own, drops his shoulders a little and turns his head against her pull to give her more room to touch him instead, since that's all the halfway meeting he's capable of right now. ]
[ He's going to have to handle it, because that's all he's going to have to think about for a little while. How it feels and the look on her face and the intent behind her actions, nothing about her own reactions because if there are any she will do her best to keep them well hidden, nothing about what he's doing because there's very little he can do. She'll just keep offering and offering, giving him what she can even if he won't accept it because she wants to, not because she's trying to fix him but because she wants to give him a means of release.
That release of tension, even just a little bit, she can feel it through his skin, softens her actions for a moment but not entirely. That slight give is perfect. Her fingers on his hip dig in as she turns her attention to the space he's exposed further, teeth and lips and tongue and just a little bit a broadcast of the sincerity of what she's offering. Just let her help. ]
[ Seriously not helping. At least, not in the way he was wanting. You're supposed to get angry and irritated with him - that much he was expecting, eventually. Even hoping for, because anger is easy. Compassion? Like, basically the exact opposite. Compassion is hard, and not nearly so easy to understand, much less the level she's reaching here.
Pressing back into the bed doesn't really do much for him either, because he physically can't, but because he also doesn't entirely want to. He wants to push up, meeting her more fully and getting more out of all this, but he knows that doing so is going to result in less, so maybe if he tries for less he'll get a little more. It's all he's got right now, and he needs to do something. All of that offering, all that generosity and caring - he's got to do something about it somehow. ]
Why? [ It comes out a bit later, not immediately linked to the intensity but really more a matter of when he decided he couldn't be quiet anymore. It's almost a statement too, less expecting an answer than it is expecting some sort of punishment for talking again, because that too, makes more sense than the sheer level of giving she's putting out. ]
[ She's not very good at pure anger, not really. When there's so much to be angry at you start reserving it for the things that are truly worth being furious about, not for the people you care about. And care is a light word for how she feels about him. So there's irritation sure, and frustration, but ultimately she just wants to understand.
That is playing the system, right there, but she does press just a little bit closer, smiles against his skin. Except then he asks why, and she pauses for a long moment. For one, she's not sure how to answer a question like that. For two, she'd told him not to talk and there he goes again. She pulls up to face him again, cups his face in her hands and leans to kiss him, bruisingly hard and deep, because kissing is going to be out of the question in a minute it looks like. ] You're the genius. Figure it out. [ And she gets up and off the bed entirely. ] I said not to talk.
[ Unfortunately, understanding is among one of the things he's least willing to give up. It's too intimate, understanding. Lets people in too closely, even without trying.
Tony'd consider being apologetic, but there's too much stimulus, way too much stimulus, and then there's too little, what even, she just got up and left. His eyes open, wide and more than a little blown, blinking a couple of times because really, you can't kiss someone like that a second time and not have them react, and then she's gone completely, and he can't talk again, he hadn't even really meant to ask in the first place but apparently he couldn't help himself, and now all he can do is watch her carefully, mouth pressed tightly shut against the impulse and muffling his own noises of protest.
Sort of. There's some heavy exhaling through his nose, since opening his mouth at all at this point is just asking to make the hole deeper. The effect she was having on him is fairly obvious, especially now that she's stepped away, him being half hard and waiting by this point, aside from the look on his face: frustrated and possibly even angry, but mostly just open, incredibly open, in all the ways he normally isn't, despite his efforts to mask it under arousal and irritation. After a couple of seconds he gets this close to saying something and actually bites his lip to stop himself, because she's on the other side of the room now, and that's the opposite of what he wants, the strain against the handcuffs adding to the obviousness. ]
[ She is capable of great patience when she thinks it's necessary. And this - this definitely counts as necessary.
She's pointedly not looking at him right now, except that she can catch glimpses through his mirror or the corner of her eyes as she looks for something she could use as a gag if she needs to, and what she can see of his expression, him straining against the restraints she put him in, teeth on his lip to keep himself silent - to some extent it seems he needs this, this whole thing, and she hadn't particularly expected to find it quite this much of a turn on but it is now that she's past the initial visceral reaction of worry at him being restrained. It's more complicated than just wanting to help him, because she also wants him. There's a great deal she wants, and somehow it still manages to surprise her when she can get it.
Slowly and deliberately she slides her pants off, leaves them on the other side of the room as she picks up a tie and comes back to sit on the bed beside him, still not touching. For a long moment she simply sits there, watching him, keeping her appreciation buried under her still firm expression. ] Choice. [ One hand lands lightly on his thigh, not firm enough to really do anything but tease. ] Either I gag you, or you keep up with the self control you're exhibiting so well and if you talk you get a repeat performance of no touching for a little bit. Up to you. [ Still studying his expression, the openness on it and the clear emotion. ] You can talk to answer.
[ However much he wasn't looking at her earlier, he's certainly making up for it now. Not so much in meeting her eyes, per se, but while she's across the room, moving around and apparently not paying him much attention, he's taking in every little motion, attempting to calm down again to some degree. When she steps out of her pants and starts to move back towards him though, that process grinds to a halt pretty quickly.
Staying calm and not fidgety while she sits right next to him and just watches is pretty much... not going to happen, and it doesn't take that long for his eyes to start looking around the room for safer things to light upon. But, when she starts talking, they flick back to her pretty quickly, bouncing to the tie and the hand on his thigh as the options he has to choose from are given successively.
The question then becomes how long or well he thinks he can keep up not actually talking. He weighs all the effort currently going into that endeavor and comes up with his answer pretty quickly. ]
[ It's not an answer that particularly surprises her. He knows himself, she knows him, talking is one of those things he just does, easy and natural as breathing. She's going to miss the opportunity to kiss him, but she has plenty of chances to do that at other times. This is about something different. ] Right.
[ She leans forward, snatches one last brief kiss before she gags him, making sure nothing's obstructed and the knot's tight enough but she can release it quickly if necessary. It feels more than a little strange, because ordinarily she loves to hear him talk, particularly when it comes to sex, but right now she doesn't want to. Shifts she hadn't expected at all, even temporarily. She lets her hand trail across his cheek, still studying him. ] You know I can't really hurt you. [ Slowly leaning down, mouth against the sensitive skin around the reactor. She knows it well by now.
The silence is strange. She wants to fill it, but for the moment she won't, just see if she can't get him further along the road to fully hard, slow and thorough, hand back to stationary on his thigh. ]
[ Tony moves his jaw a little, his lips, to stop them being caught between the fabric and his teeth, settles into it probably a little easier than he should, because it's actually kind of a relief, not having to worry about whether he's going to talk again or not without meaning to. Right now all his words are doing is push away, and while he apparently doesn't have the self-control to curb his impressively sized id and cut it out, even he's aware that you can't just keep doing that consistently.
And see, there's more of that contradiction, the rough and the gentle right after each other, and you'd think that they wouldn't both be so inordinately necessary at the same time, but there they are. If she's been trying to find ways to catch Tony Stark off guard, she's hit on one of a handful of jackpots. His eyes just keep tracking her, and after the words he wouldn't have known what to say anyway, so it's really just as well that he's devoid of the choice right now. But there's more movement, and fuck, she has such a great memory, it's kind of amazing and a little not fair, really, for someone to have such a good memory, to know precisely where to put their mouths like that. The hand though, that's just a tease, and he'd really like her to do something a little more about it, even if as it stands right now it's a pretty good source of motivation. ]
[ Not even with her. Sometimes people just need to stop talking and listen for a little bit, or find release some other way than pushing people around them away. He's wound too tight, right now, and she's just looking for the buttons to push to release that.
She doesn't know what to do with the expression on his face, really, other than what she's already doing. There had been anger, before, to some extent. She wants to empty that out, replace it with anything else. For now, want will do. Want and her quiet persistence in being here, and whatever she can offer to prove she has no intentions of leaving this unfinished or going anywhere. She keeps up her actions, slowly turning up the intensity, her free hand sliding up his arm and over the handcuff to lace her fingers through his for a little bit.
And as for that hand on his thigh, he'll get at least part of his wish. It is a tease, purposely so, but that doesn't mean it can't be a slightly more active tease as it travels lightly up sensitive skin, closer and closer. ]
[ You know, sort of particularly not with her. She's impressively good at not tolerating his bullshit most of the time. Basically all of the time when it matters. It's an unnerving quality of hers he's never really been able to attribute to innate skill or guide instincts one way or the other.
A fair bit of it's been replaced by this point, yes. Anger is still easily recalled, but it isn't really showing as much as the want, or the peculiar look that evasion springs forth, the one that tries to look like eight different things at once and ineffably becomes unavoidably itself in the process. A certain level of having been caught - guilt, really - because she didn't deserve the treatment he exposed her to and while he wouldn't have changed his actions he's still moderately apologetic for them, or will be, after the fact. Tony's very expressive, very emotional, feels a lot of things when he doesn't want to, and as a result, tends to be overwhelmed and overwhelming.
Holding onto her hand in return is little more than instinctual, although he wouldn't have stopped it if he'd noticed beforehand anyway. It's more contact, and he'll do with any amount of it he can get right now, eyes sliding shut again with nothing to look at and too much to feel - squeezing shut, even, as her hand moves closer. At this rate by the time she gets there, he'll be solid as a rock. ]
[ Life's too short to put up with that shit, and she's spent most of her life understanding how the inside of people's heads work. At some point you reach the stage the understanding becomes instinctual, even without empathy.
She keeps glancing up for tiny moments to catch the expressions on his face because whether he intends it or not his face is fairly telling right now, gives her a frame of reference to keep working from. So far, so good, she thinks, and besides even that she's cataloguing his feelings in this moment, keeping them for future consideration. Her grip on his hand is firm as she keeps on, offering an anchor against everything else she's doing to him, her hand and it's purposefully slow trail, her mouth looking for nerve she knows to exploit, her knee sliding between his and nudging his legs open further. She's going for reactions, now, for whatever she can do to tip him over that edge of balanced control. ]
Just let it go, Tony. [ A quiet warm murmur against the edge of his jaw for a moment. ] Just let go. [ Her hand finishes it's trail, touches raw nerves as her mind reiterates the message. Just let go. ]
[ Just let it go. The first time she says it and the first time he hears it, he's not sure what to do with it. He's still overstimulated and underinteracted with, and he's not sure what do with this instruction. Let it go. Let what go? Let everything go? He doesn't have that much to let go, and what he does have, he's fiercely holding on to. He doesn't want to let it go. His hand grips hers harder because he doesn't have another out, and handholding is always a good thing, right? Her lips around the reactor pulling muffled grounds from him, around the gag. He doesn't remember anyone else paying such special attention to it, and that in itself is sort of significant, isn't it?
Legs easily nudged wider and again told to just let it go, and he's a little more pliable but still not entirely sure what it is he's supposed to be letting go. What? Let go of what? His stress? His reasons for acting this way? His fears, his desperate attempts to keep things hidden, even badly. He doesn't know. But there's a little more tenseness bleeding out of him as she continues, the blood instead moving into his cock and hardening it further.
He swallows instinctively with the last one, 'Just let it go', and seriously, he isn't sure what this means. Just let it go. But he doesn't have any reaction available to him except a hardening further, like he hadn't thought he'd be able to, a squint and then a look, right at her, because she's saying this and maybe there's more direction on her face or something - no, she just seems content on the 'it' he doesn't know about - and he makes noncommittal noises against the gag, because he can. ]
[ Let go of everything. Just be, for a little bit, unhampered and unobstructed by the worries and fears and stress and whatever it is that's been biting at him. Let them fade away into this whole moment, because it's not necessary to carry things with you always. Because you can't, it's too dangerous and she knows that well. But she's content to leave it nonspecific right now, to let him read into it what he wants or what he needs or just what he thinks she means. Whatever way, it's all right. She squeezes his hand back briefly, because handholding is nice, but then slowly slips it from his grip. She needs that back so she can use her hands to balance on his hips as she moves to straddle him, still staying just out of reach.
His look at her she meets with a calm and steady one of her own for a long moment before she leans to kiss the side of his neck, his cheek, feathery light, hands wandering up his chest now that her knees are supporting her. ] Patience. [ Gentle against his ear as her hands follow the path her mouth had been taking. ]
[ Of... Everything. He doesn't think he can do that. He's actually pretty sure he can't do that. Like, at all. That's like, so far outside his comfort zone, it's actually still in the states of being demilitarized. His eyes open a little bit as she takes her hand away - he was enjoying that perhaps a little more than he thought he was - and glances at her for a moment or two again, basically in the time between removal and straddling, which just makes his eyes shut all the faster.
As a result of that, he doesn't see when her hands are about to hit his chest, the skin twitching with the initial contact. Patience, she says, and his eyes open again to look at her, and he's not sure to whom that's directed, but it sure can't be him. It can't be Tony, because there's no way she's actually expecting him to be patient with all this crap happening. He makes a few muffled sounds into the gag, because continuing to be all stimulative despite the mixed signals likely still means 'shut up', even as unlikely as that is to be achieved. Muffling into the muffler is about the best he can do right now. ]
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Some of those areas are just sensitive, some of them are ticklish, some of them have no feeling at all, but whichever way they go, it's enough to make him squirmy. Trying not to say anything, but you've created both a void and a stimulus, and he does all he can to avoid or react to both, so it's hard. Pretty obviously hard, since more of the effort's going into suppressing the reaction itself, over suppressing the signs of the reaction.
Mostly though, what he does is make noise and let the handcuffs bear the brunt of his venting, muscles in his arms and chest tensing with the reaction, abdomen with the shift in breathing she accrues. It doesn't take particularly long for Tony to fill in a gap when he's not concentrating on anything, and right now the only significant thing he has to concentrate on is her. ]
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But she can see and feel those muscles tensing, the abdomen under her hand, and she smiles and presses herself closer against him, skin on skin for a little while, her heartbeat against his chest. ] What am I going to do with you?
[ Low and quiet, and she pulls away so that she can trail kisses down his chest, nipping at the spots she knows are most sensitive, hand sliding slower around his hipbone. ]
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[ Basically just reverting back into being an asshole, whoops. He doesn't mean it though, honest, and that's even not all that difficult to figure out based on his reactions in every area except his mouth. Just trying to make some more distance there. ]
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[ Because seriously here, flouncing the rules this early in is not calculated to make her pleased here. Her free hand slides into his hair and tugs a little so he can't avoid her eyes, frowning down a little in resigned disapproval. She can't say she wasn't expecting it, really. But still. ]
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He gives it a couple of seconds - that tug in his hair, he likes that - before reacting. ] Not to do it. [ How's that. Still toeing the line, just a little one way, and then a little the other. ]
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And there. Not entirely following the rules, but she'd asked a question with the expectation of response this time. She waits a little bit, still watching him, weighing up what he'd said and letting him stay right there, pinned under her gaze. ] That's right. [ Now she leans closer again, shifts her hips to add a little pressure as she brushes her lips across his jawline, the hollow behind his ear. ] That's your only warning. Don't talk again.
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At the instruction, the contact, he swallows once, taking the moment where she's beside his face to vent a little more reaction through it before she straightens back. There's got to be a give somewhere, if he can't talk and she's going to keep shifting like that, because soon there's going to be a filled out response to it and then he knows he'll be in far less a state to control himself. Better to get some of it out now. ]
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She is going to keep shifting like that a little bit at a time, meanwhile turning her attention back to his neck and where it runs into his collarbone, the hollow of it, the side, at first scattered and brief before starting to put more thorough effort into it, nothing particularly gentle about her motions or her free hand still in his hair. ]
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What he wants out of this, he doesn't know. What does he need from this? That's something entirely different. But he reacts to her, melting underneath her, a little, tension draining away, He wants to touch her, to feel her skin, warm behind his own, drops his shoulders a little and turns his head against her pull to give her more room to touch him instead, since that's all the halfway meeting he's capable of right now. ]
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That release of tension, even just a little bit, she can feel it through his skin, softens her actions for a moment but not entirely. That slight give is perfect. Her fingers on his hip dig in as she turns her attention to the space he's exposed further, teeth and lips and tongue and just a little bit a broadcast of the sincerity of what she's offering. Just let her help. ]
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Pressing back into the bed doesn't really do much for him either, because he physically can't, but because he also doesn't entirely want to. He wants to push up, meeting her more fully and getting more out of all this, but he knows that doing so is going to result in less, so maybe if he tries for less he'll get a little more. It's all he's got right now, and he needs to do something. All of that offering, all that generosity and caring - he's got to do something about it somehow. ]
Why? [ It comes out a bit later, not immediately linked to the intensity but really more a matter of when he decided he couldn't be quiet anymore. It's almost a statement too, less expecting an answer than it is expecting some sort of punishment for talking again, because that too, makes more sense than the sheer level of giving she's putting out. ]
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That is playing the system, right there, but she does press just a little bit closer, smiles against his skin. Except then he asks why, and she pauses for a long moment. For one, she's not sure how to answer a question like that. For two, she'd told him not to talk and there he goes again. She pulls up to face him again, cups his face in her hands and leans to kiss him, bruisingly hard and deep, because kissing is going to be out of the question in a minute it looks like. ] You're the genius. Figure it out. [ And she gets up and off the bed entirely. ] I said not to talk.
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Tony'd consider being apologetic, but there's too much stimulus, way too much stimulus, and then there's too little, what even, she just got up and left. His eyes open, wide and more than a little blown, blinking a couple of times because really, you can't kiss someone like that a second time and not have them react, and then she's gone completely, and he can't talk again, he hadn't even really meant to ask in the first place but apparently he couldn't help himself, and now all he can do is watch her carefully, mouth pressed tightly shut against the impulse and muffling his own noises of protest.
Sort of. There's some heavy exhaling through his nose, since opening his mouth at all at this point is just asking to make the hole deeper. The effect she was having on him is fairly obvious, especially now that she's stepped away, him being half hard and waiting by this point, aside from the look on his face: frustrated and possibly even angry, but mostly just open, incredibly open, in all the ways he normally isn't, despite his efforts to mask it under arousal and irritation. After a couple of seconds he gets this close to saying something and actually bites his lip to stop himself, because she's on the other side of the room now, and that's the opposite of what he wants, the strain against the handcuffs adding to the obviousness. ]
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She's pointedly not looking at him right now, except that she can catch glimpses through his mirror or the corner of her eyes as she looks for something she could use as a gag if she needs to, and what she can see of his expression, him straining against the restraints she put him in, teeth on his lip to keep himself silent - to some extent it seems he needs this, this whole thing, and she hadn't particularly expected to find it quite this much of a turn on but it is now that she's past the initial visceral reaction of worry at him being restrained. It's more complicated than just wanting to help him, because she also wants him. There's a great deal she wants, and somehow it still manages to surprise her when she can get it.
Slowly and deliberately she slides her pants off, leaves them on the other side of the room as she picks up a tie and comes back to sit on the bed beside him, still not touching. For a long moment she simply sits there, watching him, keeping her appreciation buried under her still firm expression. ] Choice. [ One hand lands lightly on his thigh, not firm enough to really do anything but tease. ] Either I gag you, or you keep up with the self control you're exhibiting so well and if you talk you get a repeat performance of no touching for a little bit. Up to you. [ Still studying his expression, the openness on it and the clear emotion. ] You can talk to answer.
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Staying calm and not fidgety while she sits right next to him and just watches is pretty much... not going to happen, and it doesn't take that long for his eyes to start looking around the room for safer things to light upon. But, when she starts talking, they flick back to her pretty quickly, bouncing to the tie and the hand on his thigh as the options he has to choose from are given successively.
The question then becomes how long or well he thinks he can keep up not actually talking. He weighs all the effort currently going into that endeavor and comes up with his answer pretty quickly. ]
Tie.
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[ She leans forward, snatches one last brief kiss before she gags him, making sure nothing's obstructed and the knot's tight enough but she can release it quickly if necessary. It feels more than a little strange, because ordinarily she loves to hear him talk, particularly when it comes to sex, but right now she doesn't want to. Shifts she hadn't expected at all, even temporarily. She lets her hand trail across his cheek, still studying him. ] You know I can't really hurt you. [ Slowly leaning down, mouth against the sensitive skin around the reactor. She knows it well by now.
The silence is strange. She wants to fill it, but for the moment she won't, just see if she can't get him further along the road to fully hard, slow and thorough, hand back to stationary on his thigh. ]
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And see, there's more of that contradiction, the rough and the gentle right after each other, and you'd think that they wouldn't both be so inordinately necessary at the same time, but there they are. If she's been trying to find ways to catch Tony Stark off guard, she's hit on one of a handful of jackpots. His eyes just keep tracking her, and after the words he wouldn't have known what to say anyway, so it's really just as well that he's devoid of the choice right now. But there's more movement, and fuck, she has such a great memory, it's kind of amazing and a little not fair, really, for someone to have such a good memory, to know precisely where to put their mouths like that. The hand though, that's just a tease, and he'd really like her to do something a little more about it, even if as it stands right now it's a pretty good source of motivation. ]
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She doesn't know what to do with the expression on his face, really, other than what she's already doing. There had been anger, before, to some extent. She wants to empty that out, replace it with anything else. For now, want will do. Want and her quiet persistence in being here, and whatever she can offer to prove she has no intentions of leaving this unfinished or going anywhere. She keeps up her actions, slowly turning up the intensity, her free hand sliding up his arm and over the handcuff to lace her fingers through his for a little bit.
And as for that hand on his thigh, he'll get at least part of his wish. It is a tease, purposely so, but that doesn't mean it can't be a slightly more active tease as it travels lightly up sensitive skin, closer and closer. ]
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A fair bit of it's been replaced by this point, yes. Anger is still easily recalled, but it isn't really showing as much as the want, or the peculiar look that evasion springs forth, the one that tries to look like eight different things at once and ineffably becomes unavoidably itself in the process. A certain level of having been caught - guilt, really - because she didn't deserve the treatment he exposed her to and while he wouldn't have changed his actions he's still moderately apologetic for them, or will be, after the fact. Tony's very expressive, very emotional, feels a lot of things when he doesn't want to, and as a result, tends to be overwhelmed and overwhelming.
Holding onto her hand in return is little more than instinctual, although he wouldn't have stopped it if he'd noticed beforehand anyway. It's more contact, and he'll do with any amount of it he can get right now, eyes sliding shut again with nothing to look at and too much to feel - squeezing shut, even, as her hand moves closer. At this rate by the time she gets there, he'll be solid as a rock. ]
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She keeps glancing up for tiny moments to catch the expressions on his face because whether he intends it or not his face is fairly telling right now, gives her a frame of reference to keep working from. So far, so good, she thinks, and besides even that she's cataloguing his feelings in this moment, keeping them for future consideration. Her grip on his hand is firm as she keeps on, offering an anchor against everything else she's doing to him, her hand and it's purposefully slow trail, her mouth looking for nerve she knows to exploit, her knee sliding between his and nudging his legs open further. She's going for reactions, now, for whatever she can do to tip him over that edge of balanced control. ]
Just let it go, Tony. [ A quiet warm murmur against the edge of his jaw for a moment. ] Just let go. [ Her hand finishes it's trail, touches raw nerves as her mind reiterates the message. Just let go. ]
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Legs easily nudged wider and again told to just let it go, and he's a little more pliable but still not entirely sure what it is he's supposed to be letting go. What? Let go of what? His stress? His reasons for acting this way? His fears, his desperate attempts to keep things hidden, even badly. He doesn't know. But there's a little more tenseness bleeding out of him as she continues, the blood instead moving into his cock and hardening it further.
He swallows instinctively with the last one, 'Just let it go', and seriously, he isn't sure what this means. Just let it go. But he doesn't have any reaction available to him except a hardening further, like he hadn't thought he'd be able to, a squint and then a look, right at her, because she's saying this and maybe there's more direction on her face or something - no, she just seems content on the 'it' he doesn't know about - and he makes noncommittal noises against the gag, because he can. ]
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His look at her she meets with a calm and steady one of her own for a long moment before she leans to kiss the side of his neck, his cheek, feathery light, hands wandering up his chest now that her knees are supporting her. ] Patience. [ Gentle against his ear as her hands follow the path her mouth had been taking. ]
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As a result of that, he doesn't see when her hands are about to hit his chest, the skin twitching with the initial contact. Patience, she says, and his eyes open again to look at her, and he's not sure to whom that's directed, but it sure can't be him. It can't be Tony, because there's no way she's actually expecting him to be patient with all this crap happening. He makes a few muffled sounds into the gag, because continuing to be all stimulative despite the mixed signals likely still means 'shut up', even as unlikely as that is to be achieved. Muffling into the muffler is about the best he can do right now. ]
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oh btw i gave him a slightly more substantial secondary reason hope you don't mind
i do not mind at all in fact i welcome it
do you need to know what it was or do you want it amorphous?
knowing would probably be good
i was about to run this by you and then you had to go to german class sooooo
/curls up with
who is the little spoon
idk man you're smaller but i sleep curled up
i do not. so i am the big spoon! \o/
i'm cool with this /shakes fist at distance
yeah we need to fix that part
we're going to fix it so much it ceases to exist
that sounds quite... threatening
it is only threatening to the space between us
okay true i'll go with that
i wouldn't threaten you promise
can't tell if that's actually reassuring or somewhat disappointing
kdhfd would you like me to threaten your honor i could do that
what honor
... good point. i got nothing. nothing but looove
you're going to threaten my /love/ now that's just mean
no i will threaten you with love. somehow. i'm still not clear on details.
that sounds kind of emotional blackmaily, js
i think i will just stick to never threatening you at all i like it better
okay that sounds better
see? totally reassuring instead of disappointing
'totally'
yes totally. /for sure/
uh huh
;; someday you will believe me when i say things
somedaaaaaaaaaaaay, over the raaaaainbowww
just you waaaait
i have to go back further for the subject line conversation than the actual tags to get context now
lakhdf 8D look at these great life choices we make
i question the words 'great', 'life', and 'choices' in that sentence
that's like the entire point of the sentence you're questioning there
oops?
oops is for accidents you totally didn't disagree on accident
what. wait, what.
i'm no longer sure
i'm glad that makes two of us
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idek man
shhh ily it's fine
;;
/wraps up
/clings to
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