fe_male | memeboxing

[ He puts everything he's got into the kiss, as he can. He's not allowed to move, that much is clear, and he's staying blindfolded so it's likely inadvisable to move. So he stays here, and takes the kiss she'll give him, give it right back to her in kind.

But she pulls away with another question and the kiss was far too short and completely not enough, and he adjusts, he really adjusts, because she's still right there and he could get her back if he cooperated. If he did. ]

I'm still here.

[ And there's another exceptionally useful aspect to the blindfold, because she's darker eyed and red lipped when she pulls away, that he had an effect on her clear visibly if she keeps her breathing even and her hand steady. ]

That's not an answer. [ Not a real one. Not enough to warrant more contact. In fact it's going to lose him some, her hands sliding down to rake across his shoulders for a moment, nails digging in before she pulls them away entirely. ]

How were they stopped, that time?

[ Too short. It was just too short, and now she's pulling back with a physical hiss, and that's more or less the extremely muffled noise he makes when she does it. It was beautiful, it feels like little strings of heat now as it reacts, and he rolls his shoulders and acquiesces. A little. ]

Found the back wall of the closet was thin. Got through it, into the next room. Happened to be empty, so I called Ja- [ Oh. ] I called Jarvis. Edwin Jarvis, he was a, .. guy. Police told me to sit tight be quiet and they came and got them and took me home to mom.

[ God, she loves that noise. She loves all variations on that noise, and if before she was more interested in the answers she was getting out of him, the forcing him to bend to what she wanted, now there's a shiver in her shoulders for a moment. She could do with getting that noise out of him again.

And that answer gives her the excuse, fingers tracing the red lines on his skin that her nails left as her other hand trails down the center of his chest, pulling the waistband of his pants down just a little bit before she works at the button. ] Why do you need this from me for you to answer questions?

[ But the mention of a Jarvis - that's getting filed away for returning to. There's so much about him she wants to know, wants to understand, and maybe it's not fair of her to demand it (it's definitely not fair of her to demand it) but she wants everything he'll give her. ]

[ The heat from her hands does little to make them feel any less inflamed, but he's working hard to not lean back into that hand, or forward into the other, and concentrating on them both at the same time is a really nice way of splitting his attention away from the newest question and the direction her hand is going.

It's actually a pretty good question though, and he starts to answer before he realizes he doesn't actually have anything to say yet, abbreviating it to half a word and cutting off abruptly as he considers. Is it instant gratification, some sort of counterbalance to feeling like he's giving something away, to get something immediately back in return? Or maybe it's closer to justifying the sense of vulnerability, both confirming it and confirming that there's no reason to be worried about it just now. Or maybe he just felt like having sex and it seemed like a decent bargaining chip. Maybe laziness, and he just can't be bothered to dredge up personal history without some sort of encouragement pushing him along the path. Potentially he's just sort of dysfunctional and broken and there isn't a reason, it's faulty coding that he still doesn't know how to fix.

The quiet this time is still for a few seconds, but doesn't feel like he's just stalling because he's being difficult. From whatever is visible around the blindfold, it's fairly obvious he's actually thinking about what to say. When he finally does answer, it's a far less smug or defiant tone of voice than his other stalling answers, less clipped, and closer to when he's being less of an intentional ass about things. ]

I don't know.

[ She can tell, in a wide variety of ways, when he's dodging a question and when he's actually just thinking of it, trying to determine the right answer. So right now she's waiting, her fingers slowing until they're barely moving but not pulled away yet.

It's a question that confuses her, because even in the event she did want to be dominated (and she can understand the appeal of it to a certain extent, thinks here and there it would probably be a good release, even if in practice it's difficult for her to actually even consider going through with it) it would be the exact opposite thing to make her want to answer any questions. Being required to give someone answers is guaranteed to make her stop giving any of them, at all, no matter how harmless they are. So what makes this work for him - she's curious about it.

There's a long pause when he answers, stillness from her in turn, and then she pulls his zipper down and slides her hand into his pants, presses the heel of her hand against his cock. ] Why do you think?

[ There's completely conflicting things happening here that both oddly result in similar reactions. The zipper, the pressure: both make the slight switch from breathing through his nose to breathing through his mouth, falling open a little bit at first and then slightly more as she presses against him. The puff of air that might have come from that winds up getting tangled in a huff of irritation as she asks him the same thing he just answered, in his opinion. He's not fond of 'I don't know', but that doesn't mean it's not a legitimate answer. It's a pretty good one, actually, and she should be moderately proud to have pulled it from him.

Conflicting natures in mind, it's hard to tell whether he wants to lean towards her or sit back a little (and isn't that starting to be rather the little broken record of an issue). Either way, the annoyance at the repetition helps knock out some of his obedience, turn on a little more stubbornness, even though he's sure it's going to lose him this newest point of contact. ] I'm a little fucked up, in case you hadn't noticed.

[ I don't know was an acceptable answer, but that doesn't mean she's not still curious and it's not really any insight at all. She wants to know if he has any idea, a guess. But she didn't have high expectations for that, so that just gets a soft snort out of her, no shift in her hands position at all.

It's too hard to reach him like this, but she doesn't really want him on a bed either. Lying down leaves only one side of him open. Too confining. She has a little bit of consideration to do, trying to remember if there's anything in here that would let her suspend him safely, give her full and complete angles of access to his body. ] I noticed. Did you get out by yourself most of the time?

[ He's slightly surprised by her reaction, but it's not as though he's going to actually let that show. It's a good reaction. It's good enough that he feels a little better, feels less like moving back is a potential positive, which results in a little lean forward. It's weird having her hand just... Sit there, anyway.

I am willing to bet she could potentially figure out a way to do that. Alternately, suggest another room - he didn't have a particular affinity for the bedroom, it was just the easiest way to convey the thought he did have in mind. Walking through the house in a blindfold would be... Actually potentially a thing, but it's his house and they're the only ones who live there and nothing would happen. There'd be no need to count the steps. ] More often as I got older. Maybe half by this point.

[ She waits long enough that it's not a punishment to pull her hand away, both of them back up to his face for a moment. ] Stand up.

[ She can totally figure out a way to do that, somewhere. The easiest way would probably be the workshop, actually, but there are robots there who might take issue with it and or just be a general mood killer. She's not sure she can trust the light fixture in this room but the one in the room down the hall would work in its design and sturdiness. ] We're going to move rooms. [ Shifting his hand up so that it rests on her shoulder, back to him. ] Just follow me.

[ He appreciates that. And stands up pretty quickly - there's no reason not to right now.

Although that one's not bad. ] We're going to what? [ There's no actual resistance - it's kind of disorienting even following behind someone, so the steps are a little more shuffley on his end than they would be otherwise, but he's not trying to slow her down. It's just a thing. By the time they get there he's walking fairly normally, although his other hand is holding up his pants, since with the button and zipper down they were sliding down as he walked. ] Which room are we going to?

[ She doesn't expect him to be able to move really quickly, so her own steps are even and predictable and she does her best to telegraph to him what's happening next as she can with him blindfolded and their only contact through his hand, reaching up to push his hand back off once they've arrived. ] Not sure what it's called. Some kind of - general room, I think. I need you to stay here while I go get something. Don't move. [ Just a couple things, she's going to be gone like - a minute tops, she knows what she's looking for and where to find it. ]

[ A general room. He's got tons of those. ] Okay. [ Because he can totally resist the urge to peek around the blindfold and figure out what room they're in. He totally can. He'll just sort of put his hands in his pockets and stand here blindfolded in what could be his own living room like an idiot and wait on her to come back, because apparently that's what he's agreed to do. ]

[ It is totally what he agreed to, but she is back really quickly, and though she moves as quietly as she can it's pretty obvious by the time she's tugging his hands out of his pockets and holding them together in front of him. ] Hold your hands like this. I'm going to suspend you now, but you're still going to be able to touch the floor. [ Not flat footed, maybe, but suspension without the ability to touch the floor gets quite dangerous very quickly and she needs time with him, right now, not to need to take him down again in a little bit. The cuffs are in her hands already, her fingers still lingering on one of his wrists, but she's waiting for him to respond to do anything further. ]

[ There's also where she covered up one of his senses, making the others more prominent, and he wouldn't be able to not hear her coming back right now if he wanted to with the hum of anticipation and vulnerability buzzing through him right now. He lets her move his hands easily enough, although there's a shift in his posture when she explains what she's about to do. He's not worried, it's just... new. It's more vulnerable - to an extent - than tying him to the bed, and the fact isn't escaping him.

But he keeps his hands where they are and nods a little bit, replies with a little more bravado than matches his expression around the blindfold. ] Sounds like fun. What are you waiting for?

[ Mostly there she was aiming for touch to get more prominent, but yeah, the others are going to be too and she can't really stop that. The downside of living with a Sentinel, you can never fucking sneak up on them. She's still sad about that.

And yeah, this is new. It's taken her a while, over the course of their relationship, both to become more certain of what she's allowed to do with and to him and to become more comfortable with varying aspects of bondage, to come to terms with the idea that things that she's only seen used to hurt people can be used for pleasure as well. It's a slow process, but she likes the results more and more as time goes on. She snorts at his comment, snaps the cuffs she'd retrieved on his hands without any further wait and snags a chair with her foot so that she can stand on it and lift his hands up, work on securing them to the light fixture sturdily enough. ] And how often did someone else save you? [ Casually, just picking back up the thread of the conversation from where she left off. ]

[ He's waiting on her to get going with it, but he doesn't expect the question before she's even got him in the air. He was still adjusting to the idea of being in the air, and switching so quickly to answering questions again is kind of jarring. It takes him a moment to switch mental gears like that, forgetting whatever she's doing to his hands in the process as he thinks about the question. It takes him a while to tally them all up. ]

Maybe four or five.

[ Which is a little bit what she was aiming for, there. Looking to keep him from getting too caught up either in thinking about this, what she's doing to him, or from overthinking answering the question. Hopefully with both going on at once she'll just get an honest answer. She judges the height carefully, makes sure that he can support himself on the floor pretty easily, that the weight seems to be centered well enough and not straining his arms or shoulders. And then she gets off the chair and pushes his pants down the rest of the way, bends to pull them off his legs, staying down long enough to press a trail of kisses up the inside of his right thigh to where his boxers start before she comes back up, fingers trailing a circle around the arc reactor. ] Tell me the one you remember best before Afghanistan.

[ It's definitely a new thing. The distraction was a nice idea, probably a good one, but it means that when she steps back to remove the chair, there's a moment where it hits like it hadn't initially. He's mostly comfortable, sort of not entirely standing on his feet but it's not difficult to keep his balance at all - really the biggest thing is that with his arms up like this and his own weight pulling down, it's a little harder to breathe. Nothing dangerous, because she's not stupid and he can stand on his toes or pull himself up with his arms and it's really just something else he hadn't considered beforehand.

He steps out of the pants easily enough, since that was a thing that was going to happen at some point or another, even if the kisses on his thigh weren't as expected. He's fairly proud of how little he reacts to the trails of her mouth and fingers. Although he does wind up wanting to stall again. The ones best remembered tended to have reasons for being so. ]

I thought we were going chronologically.

[ There's a very careful balance between overwhelming and distracting enough that he doesn't overthink his answers, and she's not entirely sure she's hitting it right but she's doing her best to go not past it. If that means she drops under, oh well. It can be adjusted in the future, there's time. Stalling, though, that's not allowed. She thought she'd made that pretty clear by now, and she drops her hands entirely and circles, voice coming from behind him when she speaks again. ]

I changed order. Answer the question. [ The words are hard and sharp, not impressed with him trying to put off answering. ]

[ If it helps at all, he appreciates her erring on the side of underwhelming. It means things will take longer, but it's less likely to require a lot of de-stress work afterward. There's a little twisting to try and follow the sound of her before he halts, because there's probably a reason she got behind him, and he doesn't want to look like he's bothered by it. Because he's not. ]

Fifteen. MIT. I got myself back home. Got read the riot act. Got drunk, went back to school. Waste of fall break.

[ That is good to know. She'd like to do things right, for him, so to know that he thinks that's a good method is a good thing. She does note that little bit of twisting, presses two fingers into his shoulder to still him and keep him looking forward but removes her hand almost immediately until he's answered. Then she touches him again, hand sliding across his hipbone and under his boxers as she pushes them down a little bit, dragging a nail of her free hand slowly up his spine. ] Why is it specifically memorable?

[ She's just teasing him, teasing with the path to potential pleasure, teasing with the idea of more pain, or at least more ignoring. Tony can't even handle being ignored. He looked for praise, for acceptance and affection all his early life, and when life taught him those things weren't coming, he substituted them for awe, attention, and - well, the affection part more or less simply evolved into something a little more adult.

And that was how it was. That was what he was doing at that age, between fifteen and sixteen, he was switching over. Realizing he'd never get what he wanted from whom he wanted it from the most, he switched, getting it from anyone and anywhere and claiming it was the same. Nay, even better! He didn't need anyone!

He's so mired down in emotions and thoughts and memories that he doesn't really think about what he's saying. ] First time they ever kidnapped me without the intention of getting at my father. [ He grins, a little bit, but it's there. ] They wanted me.

[ Teasing is one of the things she does with him almost professionally. He reacts so beautifully to it, is the problem. If watching him react to her teasing wasn't so much fun she wouldn't do it nearly as much. She pushes his boxers down further as he starts speaking, has them off completely by the time he's done and her other hand down to the base of his spine. For a long moment her hands still, trying to figure out how she even wants to respond to that.

She's not really sure how to feel about that at all, just knows that she doesn't like the tone in his voice.

After a long moment she drops her hand on his back lower, the other staying curled on his hipbone as she slides her finger slowly around the muscles of his asshole, pushes his legs apart a little bit. ] What did they want from you?

[ That is so rude. There are like - he can get you whole pamphlets on why teasing is a bad thing. It damages children. Teasing is one of the world's great evils.

It's also apparently one of the world's great secrets, and he swings back and forth from realizing in that moment of silence that he's actually sharing a little bit more than simple information, to (almost) not even thinking about his words anymore. It pulls him a little tauter, pushing his legs apart, loses him some height, but he doesn't actually find it in himself to care too much. He would have been a little tauter with muscle tension anyway regardless. ]

To fix something. [ They'd started using that as a reason instead of money about two kidnappings prior to that, when magazine articles had started running in earnest and he didn't look like such a baby anymore. No one wants a seven year old fixing things regardless of how good they are at it. They're too much work otherwise. It's a few seconds before he continues and it's hard to tell from his point of view if it's distraction or just because he's not sure whether or not he feels like volunteering the information. 'Dad' as a topic is a relative quagmire - it's not as bad as it could be made out to be, as bad as some people probably think it is, because he loved his dad, really, but there's aspects of the entire relationship he still doesn't understand and now never will, and it's immeasurably frustrating for a man who's supposed to have all the answers. ] Of his.

c: c: c: c: c:

nope

8D

:|!!

lalalala

not remotely convincing at all

http://images.plurk.com/zfKB-3JO8i5dyc099TzEdxWxKHH.gif

n o p e

but but but

not gonna change my mind

well damn

i don't believe you thought it would work

not really no

good i'm glad you have accurate expectations

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how about shamelessly using that fanfic problem i have because it was hilariously good/plausible

lmao yes okay that works well

thank you

of course

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