revivalproject

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Mesh

WHO: You, your favourite person, your least favourite person, and someone you've never met. Open!
WHERE: The library garden, Temba
WHAT: Putting the plants in order, for fun and...fun. Tony's been building a hedge maze.
WHEN: A lovely summer evening.
WARNINGS: Mark it if you get nasty. This is an open invitation function, and the sheriff can't stop all of you at once.

NETWORK // un: ironman // TEXT
Come to the library. Try to find your way out.
It's better with a hand to hold.

What was supposed to be a much more gradual project had rapidly become unmanageable. After being released back into the sunlight, Tony was sure he was going to return to a yard that was parched and languishing without care. He had never been much of a botanist, if he could help it. What he found instead was a snarl of plants that were threatening to take over any progress he had made on this project, while he transformed the room in the library basement into his workshop and repurposed the gutted parts, and beating the stems and petals back was only getting him so far. The ring he had been carrying around, telling himself he needed just the right place to reveal it, might have still been missing, but this garden was not going to tolerate being tamed for long.

Even on the terrace wrapping the back of the library, the greenery broke through the flagstones in wild tufts of grass and thorny weeds that had to be hacked back. Much of it now was burning sweetly in the firepit, ringed by the last of the intact stone benches that were found here. Maybe sitting under them was more comfortable, though, like the few, cuddling mothcats that could be found there, because the benches were clearly Agrii design. The yard back here was braced in by a few tall trees along the edges of the property, obscuring most of the road beyond and sending fluttering seedpods skipping across the stones with every summer breeze.

Dominating the space now was a maze. It was imposing, particularly in low light, after the sun had set and Tony had sent his cryptic message. Not much could be seen peering into the structure from the entrance; the depths darkened rapidly, and the first path to choose came quickly. Flanking the entrance were torches, though, and with them baskets of lumpy, oily candles that could be lit on the flickering braziers to carry into the dark, and become floating points of light that whispered past each other in the soft grass and between the fragrant, lusciously flowering walls of the maze. Even now, the branches and vines that determined the structure seemed to be stretching voraciously, leaving beds of petals where they had crashed into each other, and sneaking across the paths to catch uncritical toes. Even experienced maze-solvers might find some challenges within, with some tricks of the eye and secret doors to discover, but they might also find there was no rush to the exit; the myriad blind alleys and cul-de-sacs weren't simply dead ends. In one, a set of swings, flat wooden boards hung close to each other and maybe tall enough to peek over the maze wall with an enthusiastic enough push. In another, a shallow pond, thick with small flowers that swam over the surface of the water that glowed eerily. A particularly lucky and industrious explorer might find a puzzle box, waiting patiently in a nest of purple sand, that rattled when shook. There was definitely something in there. What else might be hidden in the dark?* Around only a few corners, the whole experience might be over, breaking back into the open garden of the library from a surprising nook just a few steps away from the inviting entrance to the maze. It would probably be better not to get too impatient.

*Feel free to make up some fun, weird stuff, I'm sure we can all be cool. If you're really not sure and need me to say yes, you can dm here or @ me on discord.

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Just as Jon won't stop fiddling with the box, he can't exactly keep his cheeks from heating up as he listens to Tony's words. The metaphor isn't difficult to understand at this point and he bites his lower lip slightly while nodding slowly.

"So..." He says after a couple more moments, two fingers moving along the side of the box, seeking the right spot. He leans his head back against Tony, glancing at him as with a soft push and a twist of his other hand, the box clicks open. "Have you figured out the right combination yet?"

That answer should have been obvious, so Tony's eyes narrowed in a smile as he gave a critical tilt of his head, only for his teeth to click together again before he actually got any words out. As much as he could get in his head or tried to provoke Jon into a more familiar dynamic, so regularly at a constant boiling point in every other relationship in his life, he realized the friction hadn't really been there since they had agreed on their commitment. And while that was entirely Jon's initiative, and then Jon's patience, Tony still boasted, "I'm a fast learner."

While Jon could argue to a degree, he chooses not to and instead fish out the content of his prize box, which is as surprising as it is baffling.

"Did you make this as well?" He has to ask, turning the rubber duck around in his fingers. It's such an odd mental image to picture Tony actually making a rubber duck while stuck on an alien planet. And which part of Jon would the little toy actually be inspired by?

"No--well, kind of," Tony replied, knowing Jon meant the duck itself, but that wasn't entirely accurate, and the duck gave a soft quack in agreement as Jon rotated it. "It's from Billy's...fair," he said, free hand twisting to build his story as he considered the sky again, and abandoning that for much more stable ground. "I've been making some motion sensors to put around the fountain, though, you know, to set up an early warning system, I've been experimenting--I can connect it to your phone, if you want," he explained, only to rapidly lose momentum, from enthusiastic about his development to realizing that if Jon wanted to know something, he could just know, and didn't really need a system for it. In a much less confident mutter, Tony finished, "For the mothcats, or whatever."

"Billy's fair." Jon echoes the words, his eyes moving back to the little duck. Of course he remembers the fair. "...you kept it all this time." He listens to Tony's words as he brings up the motion sensors, but the smile on his face can still easily be attributed to this little souvenir Tony has kept.

The smile doesn't disappear when he tilts his head back again. "Or when someone new arrives and decides breaking into the library at night is a smart idea." Jon offers in return. "It keeps happening, doesn't it. I was already considering to ask the people that are painting the hotel if they can paint a large eye in the entrance hall, but-" He taps the duck with a single finger. "Would that be too ominous?"

By the time Jon looked back at him, Tony was scratching idly at his chest, trying to look very intent on the hedge next to him. They didn't have to think too hard about what Tony did and didn't keep, look, he was getting rid of it now. The duck quacking again at Jon's tap got Tony's attention back, in time for a surprised chuckle at Jon's far more ominous proposal than Tony's incredibly normal invitation. "No, no, listen--It's a personal touch, it's comforting, for people to know immediately who you are and what to expect when they walk into your house, boss," Tony assured him. "They know how they're going to be handled." Maybe he shouldn't be too encouraging, though, because he wasn't sure how much he would like walking into a big eye every day. Did he like that? When his focus wandered this time, it was with a concerted effort to check in with how his libido was reacting to the concept, almost enough to distract entirely, then abruptly reroute him back to, "What do you mean, keeps happening? The kid's been back? Did he touch anything?" That might have been more intense than it needed to be.

Just that Tony isn't really getting rid of the duck. He will see it again the next time he passes Jon's desk. Where Jon still keeps the little Captain America frisbee and the Iron Man action figure. Tony isn't the only to keep certain little souvenirs.

Jon shakes his head. "No, he hasn't. Though I talked to him." During Calibrations. Not the most immaculate talk, but agreements were made regardless. "But he's not the first to sneak in, looking for books... I'm actually rather glad you put in that security system for the basement. Spares me having to handle anyone down there who isn't explicitly welcome to walk in on me."

There was no reasonable way to stop Jon from talking to York, so Tony could only turn his narrow, suspicious pout on Jon, jaw tense against the myriad of perfectly reasonable arguments that he had for Jon's 'trust people' philosophy. It didn't seem like York had gotten to him in the way that he had Tony, but just in case, Tony started to say, "You're--," wanting to cut off any emotional loop, only to be confronted with the idea that there was more than one of...whatever he was. "Who else would be sneaking in?" wasn't really a question in search of names, but an accusation that Tony didn't finish articulating.

Frustrated and distracted by this, he couldn't properly appreciate the suggestion to imagine what embarrassing secrets he had the honour of explicitly walking in on and/or being handled. He had to breathe more of a sigh than a laugh to try to unknit his brow, and encourage Jon to do go on with a kiss behind his ear. "We could soundproof it, too. Just in case. Probably for the best."

Jon can actually think of a few names that might sneak into the library. Some wouldn't really be an issue, such as Cayde or Catra, but there is an - admittedly short - list of individuals Jon doesn't want to have in or around his home. Though he's not going to bring up Beck right now.

Especially not when the suggestion of soundproofing the basement has him sputter briefly. "W-wha- I'm not that loud, am I?" Granted, Jon is aware enough that he is well able to raise his voice, but- Is he loud when--?

Jon's reliable fluster at least effectively wicked away Tony's tension, enough that his next laugh was brighter, though he tried to catch it behind his teeth to keep Jon under pressure with a nuzzle through his hair. "Only all of the time," Tony assured him, which shouldn't have been a surprise; Tony hadn't hidden how much he indulged in how vocal Jon could be, whether he was yelping or griping. "Finding out what keeps you quiet, that might take extensive testing," he continued, testing already with a tickle of his knuckles up Jon's side. "This could be a perfect pressure situation, you know, bushes not keeping a lot of sound in..."

Tony's words do little to make Jon any less flustered and the words combined with the light touches only send a shiver down his spine.

"You wouldn't dare." He insists in a tone that very much dares Tony to do so, but also indicates Jon's stubborn acceptance of this potential challenge. "I can be quiet!" A brave claim, given the tiny flinch he does away from the tickle.

"Not a very strong start," Tony challenged with a sharp grin against Jon's ear. He softened it with a kiss as he searched carefully for the best way to make Jon squirm, hold his tongue and burst anyway so Tony could hear him; sweeping his tickling hand up Jon's neck to lightly trace down his throat, like he was drawing his voice down for him, and into the dip of his collar to start plucking at his shirt's buttons. It was all very slow and telegraphed so Jon knew where Tony's hand was going, only for Tony to abruptly shift and pull Jon off balance with the other hand around his waist, trying to tip Jon across his lap and under the full pressure of his teasing smirk.

He should have known that daring Tony is a mistake. The man enjoys challenges way too much. Challenges and making Jon squirm. And squirming he does, even if he tries to be less obvious about it, pressing his lips shut against the uncharacteristically high-pitched squeal Tony's finger lure up the back of his throat with his dancing fingers. Being able to tell precisely where these fingers are going doesn't help at all- And suddenly the world is in motion and Jon's sealed lips release a yelp of surprise at being tipped over, leaving him to stare widely up at Tony.

"Jesus Christ!" Is pretty much all Jon can exclaim before catching sight of that smirk that promises nothing but a rather specific kind of torture.

It was very difficult to hush Jon through a bubble of laughter, breaking apart Tony's 'ssh--ssssh--ssh' while he tried to keep quiet himself. Although, nobody had said he had to be quiet...

The yelp and exclamation were about what Tony had expected, and he still took as much pride as delight in them for still being able to surprise Jon, leaving him looking downright arrogant even as he brushed a thumb over Jon's cheek and had to stop himself from pulling him back up into a kiss. That would make it far too easy for Jon to keep from shouting. "You're doing great, boss," Tony encouraged instead. "You'd really have to be listening to hear that from the hotel." As long as Jon's tactic seemed to be 'let Tony do whatever he wanted to him', Tony was going to have to take his chance, keeping Jon cradled in one arm as he passed the other hand down his chest to drag up his shirt.

Jon takes the moment he has to scowl with a flustered pout, his eyes following Tony's wandering hand for a few more moments before he comes to the exact same conclusion as Tony and he reaches a hand up to wrap behind Tony's head and pull him down and into a kiss himself. He knows Tony will have a hard time resisting and maybe he can distract Tony a little longer from outright tickling him. Sure, Tony's touches themselves can be A Lot. And he certainly likes to test Jon's limits. An endeavor Jon doesn't exactly discourages either, but that's besides the point, right?

Tony had no defences crafted for that kiss, gladly bowing into it despite his own perfectly sound logic, and lifting Jon closer. He melted with it, the heat of Jon's mouth softening the tense coil of Tony ready to pounce, spreading his busy hand to flatten through the gathered folds on Jon's shirt instead then spread more slowly up his side where Tony's thumb only traced along the line of his ribs to find the warm flutter of his heart. He could make Jon squeak or grumble or stutter again in just one second...

Of course, he definitely, absolutely saw through this tactic, only after one slow breath, maybe two, a hungry sigh against Jon's mouth and a retaliative nip to his lip that Tony couldn't quite drag himself away from, either. Honey-warm, he conceded, "Okay," then murmured as he traced his teasing thumb along the lines of Jon's chest, "What's your plan for when my mouth is busy?"

Of course it's an effective tactic and not one Jon will get tired of applying. It's only fair. Especially when Jon finds himself being rewarded with some of the gentler signs of Tony's neediness and affection.

But he can't hold Tony back forever, of course, and he gives a little sigh that sits somewhere between contentment and disappointment at the end of the actual kiss. He remains somewhat triumphant in finding Tony unable to pull away entirely just yet, which brings a little smirk to Jon's pout. And he still has Tony's warm hand on him, currently not torturing him. So that's also good.

He raises a brow at Tony's words. "Well. That's what the kiss did pretty well, I suppose." Jon answers before thinking too much about the question.

Thinking too much would probably work against them anyway; if Jon started thinking too much, he might realize that just anyone could actually be nearby and hear the way Tony nuzzled a laugh against his cheek, or turn the corner and find him letting Tony brush his fingers down his exposed stomach, featherlight and circling hawkishly over every revealing twitch. "You're right," Tony had to agree, and so had to keep teasing Jon with brief, chaste kisses between his words as he continued. "I shouldn't tell you all of the ways I fell in love today," maybe wasn't much of a loss, maybe that was obvious, "Or kiss every finger until you can't touch yourself without feeling every one," probably would have taken too long anyway, "Or blow you." That one had very immediate, tangible results, Tony thought, his kisses broken by his sharp grin; a very strong case could be made for its value, but his tickling fingers stopped as they reached Jon's waistband and he concluded, "Too dangerous."

There certainly is still a part of Jon that remains acutely aware of where they are and that someone might be nearby, but for the most part this part of him has taken the backseat and is enjoying the unfolding events as Jon hums thoughtfully into Tony's kisses at his first suggestion, manages a curious note in response to the second one and nearly chokes on a fit of sputtering at Tony's final suggestion, especially paired with his dancing fingers just in place.

He just looks at Tony with wide eyes and a bright red face, mouth open and trying to work around a response, but after swallowing once ultimately Jon settles for "Tony..." And it's a warning and a dare and a plea and trapped somewhere between intrigued curiosity and the awareness that he won't have any chance to remain quiet if Tony's mouth found his private parts.

The thought shouldn't excite him as much as it does.

Tony didn't take nearly as long to figure out what to do with Jon's slack mouth, indulging in the soft brush of his lips and teasing a slow slide of his tongue that didn't dip past his tender pout, smiling all the while at the heat that Tony could feel in his face. Tony's purr in response was automatic and coy, "Boss," but the tension in his arm cradling Jon, pulling him tighter, betrayed the spark caused by that note he had hit. A perfect balance between warning and urgency, and if Tony could find the right way to push just a little more...

"Do you think you could keep it a secret?" he tried, fitting one finger under Jon's waistband and splaying the rest across his fly as he pushed his hand deeper. "Right here, in the middle of the garden, but you're the only one that knows what it feels like, how deep I can take you, my hands on your thighs--Or..." He was still bowed too close, his lashes tickling Jon's skin as his eyelids fluttered, but he still searched Jon's face, feeling for any telling tension more than he could see it as he ventured, "Do you want everyone to know the way you say my name?"

Jon shivers under those teasing fingers, lips and words breathed between them in the hot air of Tony's breath. The heat on his face is about to be equaled by a different heat way further down and the hand he still has on the back of Tony's head twitches a little and he tries to steal the tiniest kiss before seeking to lock eyes with Tony, his expression turning as serious as Jon can manage despite his flushed face.

"If they have any decency," He starts, his voice tense with a need, yet still managing to be stern and he has to let out a quick breath before continuing. "-if they have any decency, they- They respect that this is our garden and we can do whatever we fucking want. Now kiss me. Then put that mouth of yours to good use." There is a brief pause before he adds: "Please."

The pushing had worked, kind of, Tony just hadn't anticipated Jon's ire being directed toward an imagined audience. At least Tony was here to appreciate Jon's tone, snickering with delight at the scorn, and could reasonably conclude that his enthusiasm wasn't an expression of an exhibitionist impulse. Maybe. There might have been more pushing to do.

There was no good reason not to submit to Jon's stern, polite demands, which aligned so conveniently well with Tony's impulses and tickled their way down his spine, it was just a hardcoded response for Tony to smirk instead and nudge Jon's nose with his. He probably didn't have to say, And what if I don't?, as long as Jon was kept distracted enough to miss the way he had to bite his lip against purring yes, yes, yes instead. He let Jon dip further into his lap, away from the cradle of his kiss, and tugged roughly at Jon's fly to fit a hand against his skin.

Any potential audience is more than certain to receive a very stern talking to if they don't know better than to mind their own business as far as Jon is concerned. And Tony seems rather receptive for a strong word as well. He may not necessarily heed any orders given to him, but he obviously enjoys the little tickle of half obeying, half denying and walking the often irritating line between both. It's an art in itself and Tony has mastered it.

Right now Jon doesn't care too deeply which side Tony is leaning to more. He is still getting touched still being kissed and still gets to enjoy Tony's full attention either way. Tony's attention which tends to be accompanied by the sweetest torture as well, but it's the enjoyable kind of torture. Jon bites his lip at the anticipation he feels in response to the impatient tug at his pants and it's all he can do but release his breath once he feels the touch of Tony's hand and mutter his barely audible approval.

Letting Jon down might have been a mistake. Now Tony could easily see the flush of his cheeks, the drag of his teeth over his reddened lip, and the way he relaxed at the massage of Tony's palm, and all the while could only nudge at Jon's arm around his neck with the scratch of his beard to place his distracted kisses. Tony wanted to curl possessively around him, where he could hear every noise he had been teasing him about before they even left his throat, but he certainly wasn't making nearly enough of them like this.

Squirming in conflict between his impatience and indulging Jon in his satisfaction, Tony tightened the arm looped around Jon's shoulders into a tangled hand in his shirt, drawing it taut across his chest to keep the fist working slowly over his length carefully loose. Listening for any hitch in Jon's breath, Tony eased around him for a tickling search of his fingertips, then tightened again to encourage Jon to push into his hand.

Leave it to Tony to try and scatter Jon's attention as much as possible while at the same time keeping up a semblance of his teasing. It's very much like him and will never truly fail to be frustrating in one way or another. Right now it's not necessarily in a bad way and Jon isn't oblivious to the need in those kisses despite the rather casual pace of his hand that brings an involuntary twitch to Jon's hips.

"Tony." The name is uttered not as a warning, but rather a suggestion for the other man to pay attention to the brush of Jon's fingers against his neck as he brings his hand back around slowly, cupping his face just as the motions of Tony's own hand lure a small hitch and a sudden "Oh!" out of Jon's throat and bring a fresh shade of red to his cheeks. The movement of his own hand pauses with his thumb resting gently against Tony's lips while Jon takes a moment reel himself back together.

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