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WHO: Tony Stark, dangerously open
WHERE: Tony's Calibration Room
WHAT: You're stuck in Tony's head and good luck, buddy, he doesn't want to be there, either.
WHEN: During the Calibration Event (June 3rd - July 10th)
WARNINGS: Some body horror under the cut, but otherwise it depends on you. Digging for Tony's secrets is still going to be a challenge here, so if you work for it I'll assume you want to see that nasty stuff. I'll update as necessary.
Update: Horny, as usual.

There is bright, dazzling light in the eye immediately upon entering this room, another door directly in front of the entrance peppered with bursts of camera flashes and roving spotlights illuminating the fine, gold silk drapes around the open frame, flashing through intricate, stained glass mosaics set into the stone flanking the entryway, and glinting off of the golden struts where a velvet rope had hung but had been knocked carelessly to the floor, an open invitation. Through it is a sweet-smelling party, packed with beautiful people in even more beautiful clothes, laughing among the sumptuous chime of crystal in a warm, welcoming hall. The wall stretching away from either side of it reaches almost to the extreme edges of the room, incrementally decaying from polished brickwork to raw, cracked stone, tumbling down into rubble that litters the way further into this room around the corner from the rich door.

This building the door is set into is just a wall from the other side, built up into a dark cave of that raw stone. Tony is pacing behind it, nowhere in the cave welcoming enough to sit or linger, jagged piles of scrap metal where there wasn't cold stone lining the walls and scattered in piles that would have to be carefully navigated to avoid sharp edges glinting readily to slice into ankles. The lone occupant isn't dressed nearly as charmingly as anyone at that party that would have been such a good time, his once white shirt wrinkled and tattered and rolled up to his elbows, open at the collar and liberally stained black down the front with whatever dripped from his hands, thick and dark like oil and charcoal. In one hand, coated in this viscous liquor, his ever restless fingers worked erratically and mercilessly over a dark knot. The sweet smell of the hall is long gone here, overtaken quickly by acid and whiskey and a bitter, sick smoke.

Set into the back of the wall, there is a computer monitor, spilling a soft blue glow across the stone floor with a constant generation of lines of code in an alien alphabet that Tony throws judgemental glances at as he paces back toward the front of the cave. Most of the light comes from the back of the room, though, the roof of the cave opening to a bright, blue sky, where soft clouds make a slow march across and birds wheel freely, well above the curl of smoke that whisped up out of the cave and dissipated.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The divulgence was not meant to come with the suggestion that he would be any less forward or impossibly unwieldy; those weren't habits that were going to be so easy to break. It only took a brief hitch of his breath at the warmth of her voice before Tony was laughing again and slipping away from Sansa. "If I was on my knees, you wouldn't be standing for very long," he promised. He had waltzed them back across the room to a set of glass doors at the other end, facing out onto a dark, high-walled back yard, the moon reflecting off the tranquil surface of a pool. As he opened the door and tugged Sansa through it, though, they weren't greeted by the dense, muggy air of a summer night in New York City, but the sharp chill of a concrete basement, cutting Tony's giggles short. He hadn't changed, like he suspected he might, but they seemed to have skipped the outdoor part of this trip entirely, possibly not fitting inside the confines of the dreamscape, to make it to his house and garage a few feet away from where the rest of the team slept in the main Mansion. He went, "Hm," thoughtfully, this was where he would have gone next, and gathered Sansa close again with his gaze lingering over her shoulder as he dropped his head to kiss the pale curve of it. The length of the space was darkened, most of the light pooling from the single lamp curved over the couch to his side that he had fallen asleep in a thousand times, barely glinting off of the polished fenders of the line of cars and the chrome fixtures of his workbench. "How's this?" he eventually checked, nudging her toward the seating area.

The landscape is mutable and shifts into a different shape, changes into something that feels more like home for Tony than it'd be for anyone else. Sansa doesn't recognize half of what's inside the garage; cars are something she's heard people talk about but she's never actually seen one for herself. There's a bit of a gleam, though, and she can see that they're glossy and bright even if it's cool and dark here just now.

She closes her eyes and inhales sharply when he kisses her neck and she's still imagining how it felt when he guides her toward the couch. Perhaps she shouldn't be going along with this but, again, it's clearly a dream and she's allowed to indulge her curiosities and wants in a dream.

"This is perfect," she murmurs. "Come close to me and tell me more about how you'd knock me from my feet, hmm? I confess, I am quite curious."

He might have been distracted, but Tony had finely tuned senses for that gasp and was already chasing it as she drew his focus and he crowded Sansa back against the arm of the couch. With a hand around her back, pressed under her shoulder blades, Tony balanced her upright even as he tipped her back to ghost the tickle of his beard along the line of her collar before he was nuzzling light kisses up her throat. At this height in her heels, Tony barely had to stoop to slip one finger through the slit up the leg of her dress, rubbing his thumb against the silk as he gathered it against his knuckles to hitch up her hip and let his palm spread against her warm skin in his hold. "And ruin the surprise? Please," he started to laugh again as he nosed his way along her jaw to find another sweet spot to press his lips. "You'd let me bowl you over right now," he pointed out, his grin sharp under her ear, and leaned them further over, the couch pressing the back of her knees.

He's not wrong about being bowled over, considering Sansa is overwhelmed by everything going on just now. It's so much sensation all at once and her breath comes quickly as her body tries to decide whether to pay attention to his lips at her throat or his palm spread against her thigh. He's won this one, even if she rarely likes to concede battles, and all she can do is make another soft, wordless sound in agreement.

She does manage to slip one arm around his waist and slip the other up so that her fingers can play at the nape of his neck, sliding upward to card through his hair. She tips her head so he has more access and sighs again, her body trembling.

"I've never...like this. No one did it like this."

Without anything else to connect the thoughts, Tony would have guessed Sansa meant sweeping her off her feet, but that left him unsure what to do with 'I've never...'. They hadn't done much yet at all, unless she meant the tenuous threads of the dream, or the one-sided seduction it allowed her to take part in, or maybe-- "What, should we get married first?" he chuckled. He couldn't hold being a little old-fashioned against her, she was very much from a different time, but he wasn't going to make it easy for her to agree to a break for a quick trip to the courthouse. He took her invitation quickly to taste his way back down her neck, hand pushing up between her shoulders to dip her dangerously back as he skipped over her collarbone to scatter his attention across her chest with another huff of a laugh as his anchoring foot slid on the concrete.

Sansa tries to make an indignant noise at going to get married because that is absolutely not what she meant but it turns into another gasp when Tony's lips slide down her neck and to her chest. What she'd meant was that she'd never been seduced before, not that she'd needed to be married for him to kiss her. They're past all of that now.

"The teasing...the...all of this," Sansa manages. Normally eloquent, she's far from it right now. Normally she's quite capable of expressing herself but she's distracted from that in all the best ways. She shifts a bit, thighs pressing together for relief.

"You know."

It was clear that Tony absolutely did not know as he lifted his head, his expression a delighted puzzle and not sure exactly how to pursue it further without sharpening Sansa's focus too much to lose his hold on this new vague incoherence he was starting to revel in. Instead, he balanced his knee next to her hip on the arm of the couch as a fulcrum to have a loose control as he tipped them over it, hand firm on her back to keep her from falling ahead of him, the other sliding quickly with her dress to grip the top of her hip. She was a married woman, she had managed to make a kid, Tony didn't know what part of this was unfamiliar territory to her except maybe his snickering as he landed in the cushions on his elbow to keep carefully from collapsing into her. This was definitely a worse position than sitting at a kitchen table, but an irresistible one with her head back on the couch to shift up and steal a far less chaste kiss from her lips.

Sansa can't talk anymore because now she's kissing his mouth and it's easier and easier to part her lips under his the longer the dream goes on. Everything feels deliciously warm but in spite of that, she feels as if her hair is standing on end. Everything is strange and wonderful all at once.

Sansa reaches her hand down where his touches her hip and she covers the back of his hand with her own, pressing her fingers against his so that she can twine their hands together. She doesn't stop the kiss, either, until she has to break away to breathe and just as she does, she catches his lower lip with her teeth lightly.

"What do you want?" she asks, her own voice soft and her eyes even softer as she looks at him. Normally, she'd be noticing any number of details because the way she gets advantage is to read a person and their mood but just now she doesn't have any thoughts other than what the next good feeling is going to be. "Everything? You could have everything."

It had quickly grown hot in his jacket, the fabric twisted across his shoulders like this and restricting his eager press into the kiss, but Tony wasn't sated as Sansa broke it with a gasp for air and could go on ignoring the irritation as long as she let him anoint his adoration across her cheek. It was only at her question that he paused with a smile to consider then taste her lips again quickly, that was a good start, before she made her offer.

"Already got one of those," he said with a chuckle as he pushed himself up, "I thought you wanted to kiss in a closet or whatever." That wasn't at all what she said and he knew that, but he was crawling back over the arm of the couch to finally take a deep breath himself as he combed his hair back, trying to get his balance again with his knee still braced on the cushion. He definitely wasn't going to need this jacket anymore, and he stripped it off with a tug at his tie to drop carelessly to the floor so it wouldn't get in the way anymore. More focused, he slid down to sit his hip against the arm of the couch and pull Sansa's knee into his lap then further up his chest, his other hand feeling the line of her calf down to her shoe to nudge it off as he kept a puckish watch on her face.

Sansa closes her eyes and whimpers a little when Tony runs his hand down her calf to her shoe. She hadn't realized how such a touch would affect her and while she's been touched like this and enjoyed it, there's something about the blurred reality of the dream that seems to heighten the experience for her. It feels magic, in a way, and she feels as if she's come untethered from every worry or every thought except the next good feeling.

"Kissing here is better than a closet," she manages, opening her eyes a bit so she can look at him. They're too tall by half to probably do anything here but figuring it out seems like it'll be a good time all in itself. She laughs and reaches back to unpin her hair while Tony's fussing with her shoe, shaking it free. The rose falls to the ground with the pins and Sansa makes a note to retrieve it later if she remembers.

"I can see your face this way. Infinitely better."

Tony had been focused on pulling her other knee to his chest to tickle his way down to her ankle and knock that shoe off, too, his attention jumping from her face as she reached up to watch the shift of the silk across her body and the flex in the stretch. His tongue was between his teeth when his gaze jumped back to meet hers at the observation, making him grin around it and he slouched deliberately back against the couch, tracing his fingertips back up to her knee to hold it loosely against him as he draped the other arm along the back of the cushions, settling in. "I should stay here then," he interpreted with a very wise nod, obviously, she couldn't be any more correct. "Right?" What choice that left her with had to be an easy one as Tony nudged his restless hand between her knees to smooth down the inside of her thigh pressed closest to him, pushing the last clinging folds of her skirt up her lap, and he cocked his head playfully. Did she want him somewhere else?

Sansa lets out a low moan when she feels his hand slide between her thighs and while she knows she must look shameless with her skirt pushed up and so much of her showing, she also doesn't particularly care. She spreads her thighs a bit and drags her fingers along the back of his hand.

"You can touch," she says, meeting his eyes. "This version of me doesn't have to wait weeks like I would if we were awake."

It's hardly the most romantic thing to mention but she supposes it's important to go ahead and get it out of the way in case they decide to go that route.

As much as Tony appreciated the explicit permission that he asked for, he snorted another laugh as he leaned deeper into the cushions to skate his palm between her welcoming thighs and press the warmth of it against her, his thumb tracing along the cleft of her hip. Obviously, this was exactly where she wanted him to be, which kept him safely out of reach but digging his nails eagerly into the back of the couch. "Now I get what this is about," he explained the laugh. "Have you been feeling neglected? You know, you can ask any time. It would be an honour to discover all of the other sensitive parts of you."

"Stop ruining my dream," Sansa says, glaring at him. She can only hold the glare for a moment, though, and she breaks into a peal of laughter. She honestly does miss physical affection since the end of pregnancy and delivering doesn't make that so easy to achieve but she didn't want to have to stop enjoying herself to be told that either.

"Go find some places to discover and put your promise to action."

Tony was quick to laugh with her, letting his head fall forward into his hand to try to stifle it enough to gripe, "Now it's your dream," as though he wasn't very happy to help her feel that way and direct them here all along. He pressed his elbow against her leg to hold it tighter to his chest, his fingers tenting along her opposite thigh to open her to the ghosting of his exploring thumb over her lips. With his keen stare still on her face, he pressed his knuckles against his teeth as he probed deeper, thumb sliding up easily along her hot skin. She was readily forgiven in that laugh for not hearing his hopeful offer; it was complicated outside of a dream anyway, at least she could be part of a memory.

Sansa knows she's flushed bright because her skin is pale and whenever she's aroused, it heats up and shows every feeling she has even if she tries to be reserved. Here, though, she knows she cannot be overheard so she feels free to let out a sound that's high pitched and longing when Tony touches her. It is complicated outside of a dream but here it isn't complicated at all.

Her legs are spread wide enough that he can touch anywhere he wants and instead of feeling self-conscious about it like she normally would, she's simply enjoying herself. She doesn't know how she looks to him, after all, but she feels as if she must be lovely in this particular moment. She feels lovely.

"Don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Tony promised, sure Sansa wasn't in any place, judging from that sound she made, to groan or tell him off for clearly thinking that was funny. He dropped his free hand to skate over her skin, tickling from her knee to her hip as the other worked to coax another noise like that out of her. That flush already felt intimately familiar by now, but Tony was used to it touching her nose as she tried not to let him fluster her, or blotching her cheeks in stress; the spread down her chest was a heat he wanted to taste. He was already talking again, mind elsewhere, "Your a vision when you're in control, but this is a wonderful surprise. You've had this dream enough times already, haven't you? You couldn't wait for me to touch you. I was ready to go to the edge of space to get a look at you like this, and I couldn't begin to imagine how divine you are."

Tony's words make Sansa dip her chin in hopes that her hair will cover her face somewhat and hide her shyness. He's not exactly wrong about her imagining this before but it'd only been a fleeting thought and gone as soon as it'd come.

She whimpers when his hand moves along her leg in concert with the one between her legs and she shifts a little to try and push into his touch. Tony's very eloquent when he's trying to flatter her so she's not shocked that he's eloquent now.

"Did you dream too?"

Tony's next laugh was a sigh against Sansa's knee as he taunted, innocently light, "What about?" to see if just making her consider answering made her squirm again. She must have thought him capable of all manner of debauchery by now, Tony could feel it in the tension up his spine as he held himself back to the arm of the couch, carefully watching for any signal to urge him on or the first sign of regret. He took that one as an invitation to stop teasing around her slick entrance and push the first finger into the eager heat of her, breathing another sigh down her leg as he gripped his restless hand around her thigh to press his lips to her knee where he could reach. That didn't nearly satisfy his energy as she clutched around another digit, so he had to start talking again, "If I could get to sleep with you in my head, I'm sure the dreams would be incomparable. I always get to thinking, I could be with you to see your face instead, and I haven't been let down yet."

"Not...not let down by my face?" Sansa asks, trying to follow. In her defense, it's difficult because he's so very distracting and she's impossibly turned on right now. Perhaps it is all in his head or hers or some combination of both but it feels like it's real and she doesn't have many words left in her.

"You talk too much," she chides gently. "Use your mouth for other things." Gods know that she's going to, eventually, when she can return the favor. For now, she's happy to close her eyes and drift on just the sensation of his fingers pressing within her and the stream of chatter even if she'd just scolded him for it.

There wasn't a single part of that that didn't make Tony giggle, so he was still snickering as he took her very gracious advice and pushed himself up and away from the back of the couch eagerly. "Do I? That sounds like a personal problem. Never heard that one before," he was muttering as he pushed her knee back to slide back down the arm of the couch between her pale thighs, inching her forward with his knees tucked under her hips to lift off of the cushions. "I mean, you say the word, but you wouldn't believe how much I'm paid for fifteen minutes of flattery back home, you've got a steep discount," he laughed, leaning forward to give her that moment to adjust before his hold still under her leg slid down the back of her thigh, dipping his shoulder under her knee as he pulled up from under her hip. "I'll only tell you how beautiful you are when you ask," he agreed primly, letting his beard rasp over the delicate skin inside her thigh, watching and feeling in his hold on her for any cautious twitch from it.

"By the Old Gods and the New, I'm happy to talk later," Sansa says, utterly exasperated by the time he finally gets his mouth close to her. The scratch of his beard actually feels wonderful and she reaches a hand down to thread in his hair, gently guiding him to where she wants him to be. He wants a queen in control? He can have one.

Her skin is flushed and hot but there's not much she can do about it while she's still in the dress so she pushes it aside for a while and focuses on feeling good. She feels as if talking would negate her earlier point so instead she lets out little wordless sounds, higher pitched when he finds particularly nice places for his lips and fingers. She shifts restlessly, too - he isn't the only one with extra energy just now.

Tony's shoulders were still shaking with his laugh at that frustrated declaration even as he gladly bowed to Sansa' instruction, making his breath come in quick, gleeful gusts against her around the unfocused lap of his inquisitive tongue. It didn't last long, gone in the purr for the guiding hand, but the laugh still coloured the tone of the shameless murmurs and sighs he offered between every kiss and suck of her skin. If she had asked him to pick a dream, the answer probably wouldn't have come easy to his impatiently curious mind, but now that he could taste her with an arm wrapped around her there was no doubt what the only choice was. It made him clench his hands eagerly with every twitch of an ardent shiver that drew his stomach taut, the hold he draped around her waist drawing Sansa eagerly closer before spreading his restless fingers under the silk of her dress to hold against her stomach under her ribs where he could feel every breath and beat of her heart. Relentlessly, he chased them faster, following every gasp to feel the kiss of her thighs squeezed around him and the flutter under his tongue.

Perhaps it's because it's a dream but everything seems to happen faster than Sansa expects it to. She had expected it to take a while because she is shy with her body but apparently not so much this time. She flexes her toes and her spine arches a bit as she bites off a long moan.

Her body clamps down on Tony's fingers for a few, blissful moments and when she relaxes, she feels the soft haze of orgasm still drifting over her. She just manages to ruffle his hair a bit as she tries to catch her breath.

"You can talk again if you want," she whispers, too happy to not give him what he wants.

Tony wasn't eager to let her go just like that, slowly drawing both hands over the ridges of her hips and ghosting delicate kisses from thigh to thigh with absent touches of his tongue for any oversensitive twitches he could coax out of her before she got enough breath back to shoo him off. The ruffle to his hair was enough to get him to giggle again, though, and he took advantage of her pliant ease instead to readjust, pushing back against the arm of the couch and slouching his weight to the side against the back of it, one arm draped along the cushions again to drop his head to his shoulder, the other hand still petting from her thigh up her stomach with minute, probing touches of his fingertips like he was tracing her tendons. "Oh, thank you for this grace, my lady," he smirked. "I would be drowning in the silence without you. Let me tell you then, you are miles more satisfying than that cake, I'm glad we didn't waste any more time on it. Cap can have it."

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