revivalproject | Trimming

Entry tags:

Trimming

WHO: Everyone! It's a mingle, get into it, bring your own winter traditions
WHERE: The diner
WHAT: A little winter celebration
WHEN: The solstice/end of the year
WARNINGS: Mark it if you get weird. I assume we're all a little busy, so if you want to use this to handwave some cordial introductions or a quick lore dump from Tony, just let me know.

There wasn't any official invitation or forewarning. In fact, Tony hadn't exactly planned to spend his day like this. Arriving at the diner, though, it would be difficult to ignore the acrid smell of burning, or the waft of coffee trying vainly to cover it. The scorched scent could have come from the brazier crackling outside of the diner door, spreading a ring of warmth that left a patch of the walkway cleared of snow, though the effect of that fire was more cozy, inviting anyone in the square near the fountain closer, with a sweet, woody smoke and an extra sharp, green scent from the lurid red and weirdly purple, piney boughs hung around the doorway. The burnt smell was stronger inside, anyway, clearly from a mishap in the kitchen, with another stack of those prickly branches on the diner counter not doing a convincing job of covering a black mark scorched into the surface. The rest of the room might have been distracting enough, though; red, white and pink glitter was dusted throughout the space, spreading from where it had been intended to be contained in clusters of flowers on tables, and colourful glass was hung from the ceiling in icicles or gathered into balls that all winked in the flicker of warm light. Where there weren't lumpy, grey-ish candles, hurriedly disguised with more glitter or brass bowls, there were small, woody shells like chestnuts dotted around the room, filled to teetering brim with a viscous sap that gave off a yellowish glow and left the whole diner shimmering.

Nestled in doorframes and above the counter where a spread of food that might be alluring to the particularly brave, were more lovingly crafted decorations: clusters of small, gold leaves in bouquets tied with red ribbons that chimed softly like bells if someone stood underneath them. The food on display did not give a great hint of what the disaster might have been. Rather, it was difficult to discern which dish would be the main culprit. There was a large bowl of a creamy, yellow liquid, with suspicious lumps and blackened flecks floating in it, with a stack of mismatched cups next to it for serving. The coffee pot next to it was probably safer. The foods that weren't cooked, per se, but sliced and piled onto plates were likely innocent, too, though it was entirely possible that some of those fruits should have been cooked to be edible. A tray of what kind of looked like pancakes looked trustworthy enough, assuming the worst of them didn't make it to the serving stage. In general, the decorations were clearly handled more competently.

The days had been dark and cold, and the diner was warm, bright, and ready to leave everyone full of dubiously edible cheer. If you stayed long enough, maybe Tony would even offer you one of those strange bundles he was fastidiously working on at a table, where an occasional crack sent a puff of smoke swirling up among the gently tinkling glass ornaments.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

While Tony leaned automatically into the warmth of Jon's hand with a scratch of his cheek into Jon's palm, he followed the seduction only reluctantly at first, wanting to resist for some reassuring control, and wanting to keep watching the way Jon's muscles flexed with every shift and breath in his thin chest. The kiss was a potent proposal, though, and a welcome alternative to watching his hand curl around Jon's waist once Tony tipped far enough into its orbit, chuckling at Jon's rare flash of ego and hoping some encouragement would bring it out more. "What an honour," he murmured as he settled back onto his elbow, tucking his hand under Jon's shoulder where he could tease a finger along his neck as he finally found his kiss that wasn't interrupted by insuppressible smiles and he could fall into the warmth of it with a long, slow breath that had him pulling Jon up against his chest and trying to press closer with a cant of his hips. "I don't expect any special treatment, boss," he teased into the breath between them, "It is purely for my own pleasure that I am on my knees and worshipping every day. Twice on Sundays."

"That's a lot of worshipping." Jon notes while gladly wrapping his arm around Tony again to stay as close as possible. He breathes a chuckle against Tony's lips before nuzzling his nose affectionately. "I wouldn't wish to deny you your pleasure, of course." Not merely because it's often tied to his own. Which Jon doesn't mind, naturally. "Also you should know by now that I will gladly give you any special treatment you desire. If I can't spoil my future husband, my options become limited to the mothcats." Who get spoiled regardless, but in very different ways.

The thrill at the mere concept wasn't fading any time soon, 'future husband' enough to bring Tony's grin back and leave him sounding delighted as he corrected, "Not spoiled. In my tax bracket, we call it 'accustomed to a certain lifestyle'." They had to settle for nuzzling a little longer in place of the kisses that Tony moved to spread across Jon's cheek, because he made himself giggle then with the realization that 'future husband' meant Jon was buying into all of those luxuries, too, and not just Tony's baggage. Maybe this wasn't such a bad deal for him. Once Tony had nosed his way under Jon's chin, he risked sucking a hickey against his throat, faint yet but far too high to hide under any collar, then hesitated with a tease of his teeth against the skin as he offered, "You don't have to be weird anymore. You're marrying into eccentric, beloved." The margins between the satisfaction of leaving his mark where anyone could see it, and the guilt of it, were too thin for Tony to calculate against this development, and he erred into his comfort zone with an apologetic kiss to the bruise and retreat to press another to Jon's lips, nudging Jon's elbow as he did to blindly trace his arm like he meant to tangle their hands again. He stopped when he found Jon's wrist, though, arcing up to make enough space between them and bring Jon's gently guiding hand against his collar with a grin as he encouraged Jon's fingers to close around his throat and make those calculations for him.

Jon hums softly and leans his head back just enough to allow Tony the access to his neck he seeks. "Eccentric, huh? I believe I can live with that." He will admit that he already can be pretty eccentric under certain circumstances. But at the same time he also remains aware that many people have considered him to be a difficult person to deal with.

Tony leaving his mark on Jon's neck is a circumstance Jon remains unaware of for the most part, but he can anticipate the end result. Which only makes him smirk a little since he now can wear Tony's claim with pride. Though he gladly accepts the kiss as well and allows Tony to direct his hand where he deems its place to be. That this place would be on Tony's throat is- Somewhat unexpected and causes a raised brow to be directed at Tony in response. The hold his fingers have on Tony's throat isn't a strong one and neither does it tighten. Instead, his hand slides around Tony's neck and to the back of his head where his fingers can tangle into Tony's hair and give it a gentle little tug. A promise that Jon will make sure to leave his own marks and claims for Tony to wear. But in his own time.

And while one of his hands is toying with Tony's hair, Jon has come to tangle their legs together in a way to hold Tony close and maintain an acceptable amount of physical contact.

Jon made his impression on Tony by being a difficult weirdo, and he would probably keep thinking that of Jon at both his most frustrated and his most fond and was only unlikely to tolerate the designation from someone else. Having a ready alternative, like very particular eccentric, was this proposal business paying off early, as long as Tony could keep convincing people that his other bank account was a Bugatti.

Jon's hesitation and raised eyebrow were met with a smiling, fleeting kiss of encouragement to his lips and the tip of his nose, and Tony kept a loose hold on Jon's arm where he could feel the flex in his wrist as well as the tug, eyes closed like he was listening closely. The continued petting couldn't mean he wanted Tony to stop, so maybe that pull was always a warning, and Tony gave a bare nod to this understanding, sure, he was supposed to be careful, and nudged his chin up again to press another apology to his throat where Tony's attention remained a gentle tickle and the burr of his beard until he had kissed his way far down enough to nip at the jut of Jon's collarbone.

A soft chuckle, a sigh of approval and the hand Tony doesn't have a hold on sliding down Tony's side to slide a hand under his shirt so he can press his palm and fingers to the warm skin underneath is the primary response Tony receives. There is also a small gasp at some point during the travel of Tony's mouth down Jon's throat. One that is followed by a soft little moan and Jon pulling his leg tighter around Tony's. This man certainly enjoys seizing control where he can and Jon won't deny that Tony is terribly good at it.

His own means to achieve this have for the most part centered around being aggressive, harsh and demanding. Which may be approaches Tony would appreciate, Jon is aware of that as well, but he finds it hard to summon the necessary frustration to direct a properly harsh tone at Tony when his mouth is doing these delightful things to him.

"Admit it." He manages with another soft chuckle. "You enjoy making a mess out of me."

Those sounds that Jon was making were already intoxicating enough, making Tony grind eagerly into the tangle of their bodies that Jon kept pulling him tighter into, with a bloom of warmth from Jon's hand pressed to his back melting through him like it was the sweat gathering between them. His search back up Jon's throat for that gasp was less focused, a damp trail of his parted lips and his blindly stroked down Jon's side to pull at his hip, and he was unprepared for how affected he was by Jon's laugh in his ear as he went to hum his acknowledgement and it came out as a hungry whimper. His fingers pressed into where he gripped Jon's side to help him regain enough control to properly answer, lifting his head to defend, "You are exceptionally beautiful when you're glowing," with a kiss to Jon's flushed cheek, "and relaxed," and the corner of his mouth not marred by his familiar scowl, "and happy," and his lips, where Tony lingered with a smile for Jon to draw them into a deeper kiss. That was how he told Tony he showed his happiness, after all, with his arms wrapped around him, so maybe that explained why he wasn't nearly as eager to get Tony off--though, 'not as eager as Tony' was not a difficult standard to meet. Maybe he thought Tony would spend so long tangled with him like this if he wasn't hard and--okay, maybe, he could be the slightest bit restless, he could work on that, he could focus--some other time. Or maybe it was that mess itself that didn't exactly endear Jon as much as it did Tony, who was sure he couldn't properly explain how much a tug at his hair had him craving the taste of Jon on his tongue again already, so he found a breath and offered, "And it might be almost as fun as cleaning you up." With a slow smile, he added, "If you don't actually have some mysterious cleaning tactic to rely on." Jon said he had been convinced, after all, but still hadn't shown his hand, so Tony was starting to have his doubts, and clearly it had been an effective enough tactic to get him alone.

It's hardly that Jon doesn't want to return the pleasure Tony has showered him with - And still keeps providing. He merely finds it harder to figure out his path back to that earlier momentum. Especially now that he feels a lot less inclined to give up any of the present contact between them. Tony has managed to distract him in a way no one has before. And that's a skill only Tony seems to possess: Pulling the attention of a person that has been forged into a being meant to observe everything at every time away from everything that isn't Tony himself. Tony asking him to marry him and telling him in too many ways that he loves him.

Jon grinds his hips up against Tony's with another small gasp and a chuckle. At this point it's nearly inevitable for him to not get hard all over again, but that's just another thing he can blame on Tony. "It's called a wet washcloth, Tony." He disenchants any expectations. Because just like chocolate, Jon will not allow any potentially unsettling, reality-affecting magic into the metaphorical bed sheets. He punctuates that information with a slow, deep kiss and the hand on Tony's back slips to his side, fingers dancing along the skin there in a gently rhythm.

"It's not fair, you know." Jon utters in teasing complaint after breaking the kiss, face still hot. "You're still in your pants and shirt and I want those gone. I want to see you. Touch you. I want you on your back, but- I also want to keep holding you." And that's the real dilemma here, isn't it. He presses another kiss to Tony's lips, almost apologetic but not necessarily so. "What do you think?"

Tony was having a much more difficult time finding his focus, continually spiralling through these equations to ensure Jon's happiness and possible pitfalls until effectively distracted by something like that roll of Jon's hips. It muted all of those subprograms down to a pleasant white noise, enough that he was returning the kiss by instinct, and with a ticklish shiver for the touch teasing up his side, more than any higher thought that he had to reboot into to give Jon's hip a pinch of punishment for his deft deflection. Jon definitely didn't have an actual solution, then.

With the kiss broken and the noise returning, Tony was half way to nosing his way back under Jon's chin and resuming his equations when Jon stopped him short with his heady litany of I want, I want, I want. Tony purred, smiling into Jon's kiss with his eyes closed like he was still savouring the words, honey slow to answer, "I think we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement." Most likely, Jon did not mean for Tony to be scooping him up off of the couch again, where he could keep Jon wrapped around him while he teetered to his feet this time, and they could still kiss through Tony's snickering as he came to realize one quick pass through the room, and his pants falling down his hips did not prepare him for such a blind trip to the bed. They did make it, barely, in time for Tony to practically throw Jon down onto the blankets instead of dropping him onto the floor so he could manage the final hop out of his falling pants, one hand keeping hold of Jon's leg to pull his clothes away at the same time. One of them ended up stripped, anyway, that was kind of in the list, Tony wasn't doing too terribly when he was already distracted by the inviting expanse of Jon's thigh to kiss his way up, kneeling on the end of the bed with one foot still on the floor so he could bury his face into the soft hollow of Jon's hip. This, right here, this velvety patch of skin was what Tony was marrying, the rest of Jon was just an incredible bonus. He was going to find a new part of Jon to bestow that honour on until he ran out of parts.

Jon gives a short laugh in response to the pinch, but is quickly back to letting Tony's pleased sounds affect the very core of his being. He knows there is a certain danger in those purrs, but it's the sort of danger Jon has come to be willing to invite these days. The way he can't really anticipate any of Tony's actions leaves Jon with this pleasant feeling of not knowing. This little thrill of a mystery he can't possibly solve.

It's in this very vein that Tony suddenly picking him up falls in for certain, but the yelp Tony gains in return isn't one of shock necessarily. Rather it falls in the category of delighted surprise. Jon holds on, naturally, happy to resume any kisses and making a noise of adequate indignation in response to being dropped on the bed. This position, with himself being propped up on his hands, allows Jon a moment of being able to look at Tony again. Tony finally free of his pants, even. Jon is left with but a moment to appreciate the man before Tony was back on him and the renewed kisses to his thigh make Jon do a sharp inhale of breath and lean his head back with a soft utter of Tony's name when Tony decided to press his face into Jon's hip.

After recovering somewhat from these sensations, Jon shifts his weight to one arm and reaches out with his other hand, starting by running his fingers through Tony's hair and down his neck and from there to his shoulder. A wordless attempt to coax Tony fully onto the bed with him.

The stroke through his hair had Tony tipping his head against Jon's thigh like he might stay exactly where he was, willing to settle half off of the bed for the attention, but he did at least figure out at Jon's coaxing that he might actually get more attention if he crawled up into the touch, and could spread his adoration up Jon's body as he went. By the time he had kissed his way up Jon's chest, he had tucked his knees under Jon's thighs to tangle them back together, and murmured a quick apology for leaning away again and not complying with the final item on Jon's list for so long when he had been very generously clear about the answers to those equations Tony had been struggling with. He just had to finally tug his shirt off over his head first, shoulders dropping with another apology as he tossed it carelessly away, one hand clawing briefly over the ugly scar in his chest, though not quite as self-conscious about the row of pink punctures on his shoulder. Maybe he could get it fixed before they got any further with this marriage thing, and he could be beautiful for Jon. For now, he gathered Jon up again into his lap, where he could finally satisfy that last desire and let Jon's warmth replaced his stripped armour.

While Tony may feel self-conscious about the loss of his shirt, Jon gives a small noise of approval and happily wraps himself around the other man again once given the chance. Though before he lets himself melt fully into the warmth that is Tony, he bends down to place a gentle kiss to the scar that bothers Tony so much. They both wear their marks and each mark has its own history and that history is part of each of them. There is no reason for Jon not to love the marks on Tony's body just as much as the unblemished areas. And he will make sure Tony knows this.

"Thanks." He murmurs after making his way back up to brush his nose against Tony's and before pressing another kiss to his lips.

There was a part of Tony that was sure this attention would hurt and made him tense and freeze, the part that still occasionally woke up gasping around a tight chest or made him withdraw with a protective hand over his heart when it felt like someone was getting too close to seeing how fragile he really was. He was more logically prepared for how gentle Jon was with him, less prepared for how sensitive he was after not letting anyone else touch him like that or the relief of pressure that he didn't realize he had been carrying around behind his sternum and felt like it was melting out through his ribs with one touch as Tony gladly gathered Jon close. He needed the kiss to gather himself again, smoothing one hand after the other up between Jon's shoulders until he had built up the hook of his smirk again to ask, "Did I miss anything important?"

"Just my adoration for you." Jon offers with a playfully raised brow. "But I will gladly repeat myself." He makes his point by letting one hand slide down Tony's back and move around his waist to slide between them, easily finding that long neglected hardness and teasing his fingers along it while pressing his lips against Tony with a whisper. "Please try to pay attention, my love."

Tony grinned in response, nose wrinkled and sure he got that message somewhere between the music of Jon's laugh and his breathless moans under Tony's hands, and just as ready to tell Jon that he might need to repeat himself a few times, maybe raise his voice, only to gasp and jerk to very dutiful attention at what should have been a gentle touch. He dropped one hand as well to touch to Jon's elbow in warning; he might actually die if this was another aborted tease, hypersensitive in built up anticipation, then traced up Jon's arm to cup under his jaw with a restless stroke of a thumb along his cheek. The perilous journey to the expansive bed was supposed to offer them greater manoeuvrability, but they would have fit just as neatly in an armchair, Tony realized, with how tightly tangled in each other they wanted to be, christ, he wanted to be inside him, and had to settle for the messy slide of his tongue into the heat of Jon's mouth.

Jon's first response is to invite the kiss and return it eagerly, his hand, again, taking a firm hold of Tony. His first movement still isn't a rushed one but rather just his thumb moving slowly up Tony's length with a decent amount of pressure. In fact, he wouldn't mind entirely melting into Tony, ever so often already feeling as if that is exactly what the touch of Tony's hands is doing to him. Of course this effect is also easily, if not easier achieved by Tony's very excellent use of his lips and tongue. And Jon doesn't doubt Tony is well aware of this himself.

His thumb does one path up and lingers there, pressed gently into the sensitive skin at the underside of the head of Tony's arousal. Were his mouth not currently occupied with Tony's lips, he'd be inclined to kiss a different part of the man.

The grip and massage of Jon's thumb was a good start, slowing Tony's restless petting to a more absent curl of his hand through Jon's hair, but the teasing pause had him dropping his head to Jon's shoulder with an impetuous, "Jooo-n--" At least he could bite his frustration there, dragging his teeth over the skin as his attempt to push up into Jon's hand only left them wavering, and Tony gripping Jon's elbow and holding tight around his back with his fingers splayed between Jon's shoulderblades like Jon was the one holding them up. Maybe he wasn't supposed to show that impatience, that was what Jon meant by 'pay attention', or maybe he was waiting for Tony to touch him more and make him gasp again, maybe, maybe, maybe...

Tony whining his name, the scrape of his teeth, the clinging of his hands and the twitch of his hips, it all registered clearly for Jon and he won't deny feeling a certain heat rise in him, knowing that these reactions are caused by his actions. That he has this power over Tony if he wants to. That he can do this and enjoys this sweaty intimacy between them regardless how messy it leaves them.

Jon leans his head against Tony's and kisses the man's neck with a soothing whisper of his name in return. He knows Tony is past a slow rhythm already, so the motions of his hand skip a repeat of the earlier build-up and settle on a more decided one.

...maybe he had done something right, though it was much harder to commit to that frantic calculation, because Tony was melting into Jon's more merciful rhythm that was not going to keep him pining for much longer. He was already making wanton noises of encouragement in his throat with every heady stroke of Jon's hand, shameless and only burying his face in Jon's neck as they took on a pained note that he tried to bite back, then bite into Jon with a shiver for a too sensitive jolt a brush of Jon's thumb or squeeze would send through Tony. His grip eased enough for Tony to drop his hold on Jon's arm and follow the curve of his thigh, where he hesitated only briefly before he was wracked by another needy moan and risked a greedy handful of Jon's ass to lift him impossibly closer. Both hands travelled carefully in the more palpable rhythm, Tony's fingertips seeking along Jon's skin like he was tracing droplets of sweat, the other finding its way up over Jon's shoulder to hold until he was progressively kneading at Jon's muscles with every shiver. His next complaint was an incongruous, "Wait, wait--" panted into Jon's neck, for once wanting to stop, slow down at least, as he was slammed into the future he had been rushing toward this whole time, a crest like time he couldn't actually fight against to stay just like this for as long as possible.

Jon has taken to kiss, bite and suck his own little marks into Tony's neck and shoulder, spurned on by those delightful noises, the closeness, scent and Tony's hands on him. Of course he knows this won't last forever, that eventually Tony will tip over and treat Jon to yet another delightful, unrestrained noise.

He will figure out how to properly unravel Tony at some point as well, but for now Jon will enjoy this symphony.

The moan and the sudden grasp interrupt Jon's biting with a sudden gasp and a clear forward motion of his own hips signaling that that the impulse to be closer is a shared one. Hearing Tony request that he waits is unexpected, to say the least, but it does slow down the pumping of his hand, even though he doesn't fully let go, tilting his head to glance at Tony, curiously. "Hm?" An eloquent response as usual and Jon takes the chance to place a kiss behind Tony's ear. "What do you desire?"

The first slowed slide of Jon's hand was accompanied by a shuddering gasp as Tony wanted to whine that this was not what he meant, the last thing he wanted was for Jon to stop, just the rest of the universe. The interruption to the sweet attention to his neck was almost worse, and as Tony found his next breath he nosed insistently against Jon's, leaving a damp trail of half-formed kisses up to his hair. He thought this was a crash, sure they had to build back up to that perfect crest again, so it knocked the breath out of him when Jon whispered in his ear and he was spilling over Jon's fingers anyway.

That reaction certainly counts as an answer for itself, and while Jon is surprised for a moment, he buries his face gladly back in Tony’s neck while picking up some firm strokes again to massage Tony through his climax. He doesn’t question whether his voice has been what had this effect, or these particular words or the combination of both… A matter to research at another day.

Jon presses another lighter kiss to Tony’s shoulder before eventually muttering in a fond voice. “Next time I will only use my voice.”

Tony's hold around him already drooped weakly, hand hanging from Jon's shoulder instead of bracing across his back, the other sliding slowly up his hip to loop around him in a boneless hug, and there was a trembling tension in Tony's core to keep himself from dropping his weight against Jon and toppling them over. The continued stroke over his sensitive skin only sent that shiver buzzing up his spine, but also might have been the only thing still holding them up as Tony hummed his pleasure for every painful jolt. It was his tired chuckle that made them waver, leaning into Jon as his stomach jumped with the laugh and he lost the hastily knit together control he was trying to hold there. "We might have to work up to that," he mumbled. "You might have to whisper filthy things in my ear for a very long time, just to make sure you get it right."

"We will have to work on the details." Jon muses and lets go of Tony to wrap both his arms around the man's body and gently pull him towards himself, clearly aiming to have them both drop on top of the bed so neither has to remain upright. Which of course means for him to drop backwards and drag Ton with him. Which is perfectly fine with him. It'll allow them to properly entangle one another again and find a ridiculous posture to curl around the other. That's always worth a little crash.

While Tony murmured a complaint for the loss of Jon's torturous hand, it did help him gather himself together enough to take a deep breath and sigh his reluctance to follow Jon's pull, his hold around Jon's hips tightening possessively. It was okay, Jon wasn't going anywhere, he wasn't regretting the proposal already, and it probably wasn't even yet a glimmer in his eye if Tony risked drawing away enough to meet his gaze. Maybe.

Tony wasn't doing a great job convincing himself, but he was going to have to let go eventually, so he finally relented with one hand dropping to the mattress to keep from dropping his weight onto Jon as he tipped him onto his back, and he had to squirm to unstick them where the sweat between Jon's thighs and the heat of Tony's hips seemed to leave them fused before he could let himself fall carelessly to the side. He didn't want to trap Jon's knee under his weight, and instead wanted to wiggle his underneath Jon where he could cocoon him in a more secure hold despite the heat between them still making it harder to breathe. All the while, his gaze was half-lidded and darted restlessly down between them, until he was on his side and raised an impulsive hand to help brush Jon's hair back from his face, and had to smile at his warm cheeks and kiss bitten lips, and shifted closer to kiss his brow.

Trimming

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