revivalproject | delivery

Entry tags:

delivery

WHO: Tony Stark, Cloud Strife, technically open if you want to hang
WHERE: The forge? I don't know the structure of this post eludes me, it might be just network, I might just be setting up a bunch of interactions for Cloud to have with everyone else like a benevolent god
WHAT: Tony's been making things and has packages for Reeve, Tommy, Sansa and Jon, and he's not doing all of that walking himself.
WARNINGS: It is genuinely not my fault that all of Tony's posts are horny and you should just expect it now.

a text to Cloud

hey

where are you?

you want a job, right?

Come to the forge.

Outside of the forge, sitting in front of the closed door very pointedly, were five lumpy bundles, the wrapping of these clearly not Tony's strong suit. One of them seemed to be just in a big leaf. They were all labled with thin tags of impressed aluminum tied or just placed on top for Cloud to figure out where they were supposed to go with just a name-- the rest, like who any of these people were and where to find them, was Cloud's job to figure out, apparently.

At least one of them should have been pretty easy.

C L O U D
It was...a chocobo? Or how Tony remembered a chocobo looking from the glance at it in Reeve's memory. Small, grey and surprisingly heavy, it wound up to go bouncing away on weirdly articulated legs. Did Tony think he was paying Cloud?

R E E V E
It's a head.
This might be what Tony thought a cat skull looked like. It wasn't much like the design he had left for Mini-C's skeletal structure in Reeve's sketchbook, he obviously had some time, and the obsessive insomnia turned to 11 after the sleep glut and nowhere to pour his creative energy, to take a more detailed turn, and he would have used the energy to make more of the structure but they were still tight on materials. What he did make was a few servos, dangling from the skull shape like a disembodied nerve system, and a prototype pair of hands tucked safely into the dome, too delicate to be very useful to Mini, but responding to their programming housed in the skull. The systems were done, was the point.

T O M M Y
Was this what he meant by hydroponics? It wasn't like Tony had managed to miss that bit of drama on the network. It wasn't assembled, a bunch of disparate pieces that didn't come with instructions, but a note that only read 'you need a tube'.

S A N S A
This bundle had a pair of brass combs in it, stamped, much like the labels on the packages, with roses. If Sansa hadn't figured out how to keep her hair from being a mess, maybe this would be a reminder.

J O N
A very tiny little knot of a rag, about as big as the label that sat under it, and felt light enough to be empty.
It seemed to only contain a gold chain.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Chances are good that Tony will do something a lot more stupid than fashioning an unusually fancy gift for Jon to have a much more appropriate reason to yell at him. This initial irritation has been easy to walk off.

"It's still a bit posh." Jon remarks as he accepts the welcome with a little smile. It's not a complaint, though. Just very unlike his usual, a little run down style. He has had a phase of trying to appear proper and adhere to the Institute's dress code, but that intention didn't quite survive him nearly getting eaten by worms. He still likes to keep himself moderately presentable, at least.

And it's then that Jon allows himself a more proper look around the forge, tilting his head a little to peek over Tony's shoulder. "What are you working on?" Tony just keeps finding new projects for himself. It's no wonder he got restless while they were all locked up.

'Posh' might have been one of the nicer ways to describe Tony's taste and he breathed an unsure laugh, giving Jon's shoulder another pat apologetically for not considering a look he might have preferred. What Tony was working on was a big enough question to keep them occupied for a while, though, and Tony went, "Ah..." as he turned back to the bench himself, trying to plot an abridged version. The coin was as good of a place to start as any, and he picked it back up with a shrug to offer, "For Cayde, he had cards underground, but nothing to bet with, I thought he could use some chips. I don't know, it's--I tried to make him a guitar," he gestured up to the sanded pieces of the instrument's body fairly high up on the scaffolding connecting the bench to the catwalk above, "but I don't know if he can play, that might just be for me, I just keep thinking about the--I know I should be making him more bullets, but the powder is not easy to pull together." So, that was Cayde, and now that he said it out loud Tony was pouting and flicked the coin into his scrap bucket as well. He could come up with some gunpowder if he wasn't wasting so much time. Moving along quickly, he pointed to another half-finished piece hung from the display that looked like a shower head, "Housewarming present for Catra. She didn't really use the bathroom while she was here, though. I don't think she likes water very much. Maybe she'll just get some of these." With a kick, he indicated another contained under the bench, this one full of slightly lumpy looking tools that had obviously been Tony's interim construction as he built the sleeker looking ones on his worktop that he was using. "No, I'll make her better ones, those are..." Scavenging through the factories took some delicate work sometimes, Catra would need reliable tools. With a deep breath, slightly irritated with himself but glad Jon was here to bounce this off of before he had committed to these terrible plans, Tony went on, "Cal's diving gear," with a point to what looked more like a web of flat wires that kind of looked like a pair of gloves, then scanned through the rest of what was hanging within reach, trying to find something else that Jon might actually care about that wasn't a bunch of jetboot prototypes, gauntlets, a few faceplates and a chestpiece that Tony knew was going to be scrap as soon as he actually worked out a system that could power a whole Iron Man suit. "Hey--" he said suddenly, turning back to Jon. "You never told me why you had an Iron Man. I thought the Hulk would be more your guy."

And Jon follows the explanation with interest. It|s hard not to notice that Tony is working on a lot of things to plain give away to people he cares about - And Jon is quite positive that Tony will deny it should the Archivist call him out on that, regardless how obvious it is. Which makes Jon smile softly while letting his eyes trail over the presented items as well as the unmentioned ones. Most of these have practical uses. Are meant to be of actual use to the intended receiver. And here he stands, with a purely decorative golden chain that has been assigned an alibi to exist. Curious, right?

Stepping forward, Jon has come to idly wind a small piece of the chain around one of his fingers while scanning the room for all its curiosities. He doesn't miss the attempts at pieces of the suit, yet doesn't point it out. Though his head briefly snaps i that direction when Tony brings up the action figure. And for a moment Jon simply freezes, before remembering that Tony has found the one in his mindspace much rather than the one he keeps at the library. Which is... Better. He can blame that one on the comics, but explaining the one he keeps posed on his desk may be trickier. At least Jon has started to move his office in the library in a separate room.

The assumption makes Jon huff a little. "The Hulk. The big green one." He makes a small, dismissive noise. "No thanks. You- You have seen Jared Hopworth." And that's all he has to say about the Hulk. He follows it by a vague gesture with the hand not still half tangled in the chain, deliberately turning to look somewhere other than Tony while fishing for what he can sell as a rational approach. "I- I mentioned the comics, right? And, uh... I just... Like? That- Iron Man. H-he's the only one sensible enough to wear an actual armor?" Oh, that's weak. Even Jon grimaces a little, but his eyes find the guitar overhead again and he points up. "Sooo... Can you play it?"

That wasn't a fair comparison, Tony thought, and almost started to defend the Hulk's honour, only stopping because he wasn't sure how much Bruce actually appeared in any of the comics, and considering that maybe he wanted to shoot the guy who took Jon's bones into space as well. Fair. It didn't take Tony nearly long enough to come around on this to have missed Jon's unconvincing argument, making him narrow his eyes suspiciously with a confused, wry smile, definitely not buying that he would have asked Billy for an action figure to write an essay on because he thought the Iron Man looked sensible. Tony had never been accused of that in his life. Besides, there were plenty of Avengers that wore armor, and one of them was guaranteed to appear in those four colours. Giving Jon something of a reprieve to come up with a better answer, Tony turned to vault himself up onto the workbench, carelessly kicking tools out of his way to reach the guitar mounted above, while pointing out, "Cap wears armor. Has a whole shield."

The guitar came down in not entirely one piece, not polished or finished in any way, the neck unattached and just slotted into place as Tony sat with it on the edge of the worktop, but he had already strung it to make sure it did actually work. It took a brief tuning after an experimental strum, and Tony took the chance to continue, "Just an aesthetic preference, hm?" with a fangy grin and knowing nod, obvious what he might have meant by 'aesthetic'. Jon wasn't given the chance to explain his perverted fantasies, though, as Tony quickly played through the bridge of his chosen track to find his chord, which might have been plenty of warning for Jon before Tony was singing, "Where are those happy days, they seem so hard to find..." He barely got through the first line without the laugh creeping into his voice, but it wasn't an entirely terrible one, for an acoustic ABBA rendition, just not very practiced. He wasn't the one that lead a band in the room. Which might have been why he looked so expectant, getting his giggles under control by the time he got to, "It used to be so nice, it used to be so good..."

It was going to be heartbreaking if Jon's planet didn't have ABBA, that would be intolerable and he might have to leave to give Tony some time to cope with that. Or maybe Jon's musical tastes were all weird, medieval storytelling, which could have been worse.

At the time being, Jon won't just admit that he asked Billy about Tony and ended up obsessing over an action figure of him the mutant created to give Jon a few visuals. It's a lot less about Iron Man even than about Tony being Iron Man.

He gives the tiniest of shrugs at Tony's prodding. "Captain America is your hero, not mine." Which is, in fact, very true. Jon didn't grow up with those stories. He doesn't have the same relationship to these people. And judging by the material he has, Jon finds Captain America to be a character that is hard for him to relate to. Always portrait flawless, strong, a natural leader admired by everyone. Iron Man, or much rather Tony... Jon knows Tony. He has come to meet his flaws as well as leaping right between two fighting mutants to keep them from harming one another. And all that without the suit. Without any armor or super powers or increased reflexes. Yes, maybe it was reckless and to a degree foolish, but...

He still gives a brief sputter and looks away at Tony's aesthetic preferences. For a moment, at least. The tune played on that rough looking guitar catches Jon's attention. It's indeed a song he knows, but nothing could have prepared him for Tony suddenly starting to sing. Jon plain stares for the first few lines. A mix of surprise and maybe a little amazement and- Well, he may have to admit that he enjoys this unfamiliar image of Tony trying and for a good part failing to keep a straight face through his performance. But it's a wide and openly happy expression that settles on his face after that and Jon has no qualms to join in. "So when you're near me, darling can't you hear me - S. O. S. ..."

Tony's surprised laugh at least suited the mood of the chorus better, and he didn't work as hard to try to control it with Jon doing the heavy vocal lifting for them until Tony played them out, not sure enough about the lyrics of the second verse to continue to lure Jon into a performance for him. Surprised because, first, he was glad they weren't going to have an ABBA crisis, and second, because he really didn't expect Jon would have that much enthusiasm for him even if he was picking up what Tony was putting down. The smile that Tony usually teased out of him could best be described as 'long-suffering', and as much as Tony didn't think he would get tired of that one, the expression he had for a brief disco interlude warmed Tony to his fingertips and had him biting his lip around his own grin as watched Jon curiously. There was going to have to be a serious cultural shift around here if music was what it took to get Jon to release like that, there was enough of them around, someone had to have a few hidden talents.

It had been far too long since Tony had plucked his last string before he realized he was just leaning on the bench and staring and he hadn't even answered Jon's question, so he suddenly said, "A bit," before carefully gathering his semi-complete guitar to prop up on his table. Feeling that stretch of silence all at once made the flutter of his heart feel like panic and he babbled, "I thought it would be nice for Cayde's bar, I keep thinking about it and I know I just am thinking about having a drink, really, but he asked me for the bullets and I'm not coming through and it's this cycle, is that weird, do you get that? Listen--I know I haven't delivered for you, either, I'm sorry, I'm working on it, it--I'll make it up to you, but you don't have a bar, you're a whole different..." Deep breath. "Problem."

Well, it's a nice little musical change from everything this planet likes to pile on them. And Jon finds that he enjoyed this excuse to set aside concerns and worries and- Do something he isn't only good at, but in theory even enjoys. At least when he doesn't have to entertain an audience. In this case the only audience has been Tony, and Jon is fine with that.

He releases a short, cheerful sigh into the silence and seals it with a very short chuckle before catching sight of Tony's staring, which in turn calls forth that by now a little familiar heat creeping to his cheeks. "You're good with it." He manages to say just barely before Tony tumbles down his little trail of ramblings. Which has a similar effect on Jon as the man's earlier hardly controlled laughter. He starts out looking a little surprised, but settles into a fond smile easier than before and he steps forward to where Tony is still sitting on his workbench. Because if Tony has been bothered by the silence between them, Jon is finding the distance just about as bothersome. It's not a verbal response he has for Tony to his rambling. Jon simply moves to stand before him so he can reach up and place his hands around Tony's face and pull him down into a kiss.

If he's going to be a problem, then he's going to be Tony's rather specific problem.

As though he definitely did not, Tony was mumbling, "I get it, stop talking, I'm still talking," as Jon reached for him, even as he gladly bowed without any more prompting than Jon's step up into his space and was muttering against Jon's mouth. With a snort of a laugh and a tight nod, no really, he did get it, he reached blindly to get any hold on Jon before he withdrew and Tony lost his chance to make up for ruining his gesture with a proper kiss in response, grasping his wrists first then the front of his shirt to keep him close. "You don't have to thank me. Did I say that yet? You don't," he said, though his hold didn't ease at all because he was enjoying being thanked, if that was still what this was. He'd take what he could get. "I just, you did a lot for me, before, with Billy and everything, and I didn't really say anything, I don't think." Not anything meaningful, surely, that was actually for Jon, and not just Tony pawing at him hoping he was understanding, like that was any different from his usual pestering.

This reaction is a little more peculiar than Tony's usual reactions and Jon wouldn't say it's a bad reaction. It may just be Tony having overworked himself that left him so scattered all over the place, and yet this babbling has only really started after the guitar. And in its very own very peculiar way, it's an endearing way of a scattered mind.

So while Jon is clearly surprised, he makes no attempts of pulling away. Instead, he looks briefly down at Tony's hand keeping him close, then back up at the man's face. His hands have come to rest on Tony's legs, one lightly sitting on one of Tony's knees while the other come to slowly to rub reassuring little circles into the other leg's upper thigh.

"What if I want to thank you. Would that be... Dreadful?" It's not really a question. He indicates a tiny shrug. "Think of it this way: Every time I thank you, I have a reason to talk to you. Maybe see you. And maybe even touch you. I..." The sentence hangs unfinished fora few seconds, then Jon gives Tony's knee a little squeeze. "-I quite like thanking you. I like being with you."

The question made Tony laugh again, a breathy chuckle that he wanted to press back against Jon's lips and had to bite his own against the temptation as Jon continued, taking his time apologetically spreading the creases out of his shirt across his chest instead. This wasn't helping Tony feel any less scattered, and had to try to anchor himself with a loop of his arms around Jon's neck as he tried to figure out how to follow up 'touch you' like he could possibly offer Tony anything better, giving a nod of encouragement with an enthralled grin. It was just this space, much like Tony's workshop back on Earth, that he wasn't used to having anyone in and felt about as intimate as having Jon in his head, making the ever humming wire of Tony's tension tighten as he got closer. He had to deliberately pull against it to tip his forehead against Jon's with a squirming smile--okay, that was pretty good, the follow up wasn't a let down.

"You don't need a reason," he promised apologetically, because clearly Jon did, but Tony was working on it, he wasn't actively avoiding, he was just...busy. "But, for the record, I did thank you first, just so we're clear," he laughed, see, working on it, as he pushed the arm of Jon's glasses up over his ear until they fell to hang against his chest. Tony tilted his head as though he had just revealed his most ingenious invention and deserved applause, thanks. Now they had every reason to make out without worrying about where the glasses were going to end up, Tony couldn't have planned the product roll out better himself, he did earn the kiss he drew Jon back up into.

Jon can perfectly understand the weird feeling of having someone in a work space that usually tends to be a private place. Which is one reason for Jon having decided to set up a proper office space in one of the back rooms of the library. And so far not a single soul has set foot into the building's basement to see - and potentially judge - what the Archivist has been turning that space into.

He blinks once when Tony brings their foreheads together. It's a gesture he's becoming familiar with and he casts a little smile upwards, enjoying the closeness and the laugh and simply breathing a short "...aight." in response to Tony's words, blinking twice more at the loss of his glasses, yet not complaining. Well. He may not need a reason, but Jon will always have one. And he informs Tony about as much in a barely audible voice as he's pulled into a kiss, his hand moving up on Tony's thigh up to his hip in a faux display of seeking balance. "You're reason enough."

Maybe it wasn't the space, Jon had already been in his head and that invoice had cleared and Tony wasn't really feeling defensive, maybe it was the warm way Jon kept saying things like that and his smile while he sang that was fracturing Tony's focus because it was gone again. He had brought his hands around Jon's face, thumbs stroking over his cheeks and intent to kiss him breathless, sighing happily into the taste of him, only to snap away suddenly and announce, "I know your karaoke song." Besides ABBA, of course, which was the only good karaoke choice, easily, but Tony was so confident about what the tone of Jon's voice reminded him of that he added, "I'd bet you anything, if I'm wrong I'll get on my knees right now," and started to laugh again. "And if I'm right, I get to suck your dick." He did at least swipe his thumb over Jon's lips apologetically for the aborted kiss as he chuckled and raised his eyebrows expectantly. He would admit to his important discovery once he got confirmation.

Maybe Jon should have gotten used to those sudden interruptions by now, but he still blinks up at Tony somewhat stupidly, especially with the other man still having his face in his hands.

Now that is one peculiar train of thought to suddenly get shoved onto and it's that final remark that brings a familiar heat and to Tony probably familiar color to Jon's face. Jon may not be remarkably creative, but that's not a mental image he's having much trouble summoning up by now. And the way the fingers of his hands dig into Tony's thigh may be telling.

"My... Karaoke song." He repeats in an attempt to put his own mind back on track now. And all Jon does is raise his own brows quizzically.

"You know, your track, the one you pick every time you..." Tony started to try to get Jon on board with the concept, only to shake his head as it became clear that Jon was not following. "Oh my god." Despair. "Why does no one take you out? Honestly. Look at you. Okay, for the record, I'm right by default," he said, sounding exasperated but starting to smirk, because of course he was right, even if it was by technicality, and his prize scale was rigged anyway. Theoretically, Jon might be able to provide his fantasy karaoke song, if he had friends, but that wouldn't invalidate Tony's success.

He glanced back to the guitar, but that was going to be useless, this was a synth dependent experience so he dismissed it quickly to just demand, "Tell me you know this one, okay?" Soft Cell was a pretty big leap from ABBA, but Tony still had confidence that their Earths did not divert here and Tainted Love had to be Jon's song in a reality that he spent any time socializing, and he only set him up with, "Sometimes I feel I've got to--"

Jon does, indeed, not quite follow at first. Karaoke, while something he has heard of, wasn't really something he did growing up. Pretty much everything that cost money wasn't something Jon did. And Tony has seen Jon in his younger years. He wasn't exactly someone people desperately wanted to take anywhere unless their intentions weren't quite in line with what Jon felt comfortable with. So when Tony reacts... Shocked? Jon winces a bit and is about ready to apologize.

But then Tony shifts away from that moment of disappointment with an ease that brings Jon right back around to being puzzled. Curious, even, when Tony seems to consider the guitar and the expectant question only serves to raise Jon's anticipation. He doesn't even know just how tense he has been winding himself in these very few moments until Tony offers his answer in the shape of the beginning of the first verse of his chosen winner.

The answer Tony receives is a lot less verbal than he may be used to from Jon and instead a lot more visual. Jon's eyes widen with instant recognition and a significant part of him just wants to crumble right were he stands. Trust in Tony to pick a remarkably strong candidate Jon would find hard to argue with. His face may have managed to turn an even deeper shade of red, but rather than properly picking up on Tony's setup, Jon stammers something incoherent and pushes his head forward to press his face into Tony's chest, at that moment very glad that Tony pushed down his glasses earlier. And he takes a moment to just laugh in something like quiet relief - And maybe a hint of regret.

"I never-" He finally tries to answer properly despite not having stopped chuckling entirely. "Karaoke, just... Didn't. Happen..." A pause. "...unfortunately." Another pause, and a deep breath. Jon's hands have moved up from Tony's legs to curl into his shirt instead. "...Christ. That's a- Fine. You win. It's a win." Does he feel called out? Yes, he feels called out.

That was fine, Jon didn't have to sing it for him, Tony knew in his heart that Jon had the exact right voice for it and the instant recognition with the bare setup was enough to throw Tony out of it, too. He was laughing hard instead by the time Jon tried to bury his red face against him, gladly accepting this misery of being known in a reassuringly tight wrap of his arms, ankles locked behind Jon's legs, as though he hadn't also been the cause of it. He only released the hug when it seemed like Jon was trying to say something, taking him by the shoulders instead and already muttering with pride, "That was good, right? Got it in one," while Jon explained his karaoke inexperience. Tony had gathered as much, which was a shame and made him give Jon's hair an apologetic pat for not being around somehow to take care of him. Now they were stuck in the wild west, Tony could hardly make up for lost time. "We'll hit up a karaoke place when we get out of here, get you good and lubed up and see what comes out. Maybe you'll start threatening people again, is that just who you are when you get on a stage? That's why no one invited you, you're a menace."

Jon can sing it for Tony at a later time. For now he will cling to the man until he has sufficiently calmed down and trusts his face to not be one step away from imploding entirely on him. He doesn't quite lean away, however. Not when he can linger a moment longer to take in Tony's scent and presence and just listen to his voice. Right. When they get home... They aren't bound to forget. Jon has had that confirmed by now. So what Tony is saying is entirely possible. And that's what makes Jon smile.

"...you only want to see me yell at strangers." Jon remarks without looking up, but with an audible grin. Granted, karaoke may not be necessary for that, but he might enjoy it? Though with Tony present, who can really say how much actual karaoke is even going to happen.

Very little, if past experience was anything to go by, but bar fights and alien invasions could be limited to Tony's New York. He hadn't gotten swept up in a brawl yet in Temba at all, it was obviously an environmental problem. Jon's answer wasn't a yes to this theoretical interdimensional future date, but any answer he got couldn't be too disappointing with Jon pressed against him where he could bury his smile in his hair and pet the curls down the back of his neck, still feeling the heat there of his shock from the dual assault of the terms of Tony's bet and the call out.

"It's inspiring to see a man in control of a room," Tony defended very innocently, as though he could possibly mean the inspiration was for anything other than filthy fantasies. He nuzzled his way down to Jon's ear, his hand moving alongside his neck to feel the flush travel back to his cheeks as Tony asked, "Are you going to make me wait to see you perform, or do I get my prize?"

A man in control of a room... Well, Jon can see a certain appeal in that. Though less so if it's himself simply being angry. He's sure Tony has his very own very effective way to not only gain said control, but also to maintain it for as long as he wishes. Tony is a man who knows perfectly how to make the most use of his weapons. And as far as Jon is concerned, Tony's hands can be take the role of those weapons quite well at times. Just as how they are now touching his neck and sending a shiver down Jon's spine.

The oh so innocent question doesn't really help and it's a sputtering little noise Jon replies with at first, situated somewhere between a laugh and a flustered choke, but there is a small grin on Jon's face when he finally turns his head enough to glance towards Tony. "It would be cruel to make you wait that long. Especially if you- ah... Want a proper performance."

The choke was enough to confirm that Jon was still thinking about it, making Tony meet his grin with a self-satisfied one of his own, and with his hold under Jon's jaw, coaxed him to turn the rest of the way to meet Tony's kiss. It came far too quickly for Tony to have actually been listening to Jon's answer, and Tony found that he didn't really know what Jon meant by 'a proper performance', but by then was straightening his shoulders so he was bowed over Jon again, his head tipped back in Tony's hands where Tony had abandoned him earlier and making up for the intermission with an overeager plunder. He did seem to interpret not making him wait as, not any longer than ten seconds, his hands already dropping down Jon's shoulders in his shameless impatience to fit between them and commit his laser-focused weapons to tugging at Jon's fly, and at some point he would have to worry about getting from here to there, too, but that already seemed like an ancient, annoying problem. They were still in the workshop, weren't they? Fuck. They could probably do worse than the staff room at the hospital, but should have had some standards.

To be fair, Jon has been referring to a musical performance, but interpretations tend to be those strange things that can vary greatly. And yet neither this detail nor the potential interpretations of it have much space dedicated to them in Jon's head. There's a rather demanding kiss that takes much more of his attention. A kiss delivered by a pair of lips that is capable of committing crimes of similar magnitudes as the hands they are accomplice to. Together they may just end up being his very own downfall in a way Jon isn't sure he would even be regretting.

So he decides not to regret and instead savor the moment he gets to return and taste the kiss, a specific part of his mind hyper aware of the presence, location and actions of Tony's hands. Standards, however... That's not something he spends any time thinking about. Jon still needs to decide where to leave his hands aside from plain all over Tony while the man is still so very accessible. Just holding onto his neck and shoulders will have to do for now.

Those standards also became an ancient problem the moment Tony got a hand down the front of Jon's pants, the kiss forgotten for a sigh of satisfaction with his attention diverted to slide his palm and the searching curl of his fingers down velvet soft skin. The ache of yearning to touch Jon again and feel the warm invitation of his skin and the trust in the shift of his muscles, it grew heavier in a knot between Tony's shoulders with every betrayal he seemed to be racking up and every squirming laugh he earned that Tony didn't even realize how excruciating it was until it released all at once in that sigh. It would not be nearly as long before Tony had another gift to lure him close again. Tony's shoulder dropped as he stretched to reach every inch of him, spreading his absent kiss down Jon's jaw, and his other hand spidered along the hem of Jon's shirt restlessly until it found focus enough to push the fabric up and smooth over the sharp jut of his hip. Too much clothes, off, please, Tony couldn't even vocalize, barely murmuring around sucking a kiss onto Jon's throat, but gave an insistent shove at Jon's waistband as he continued his slow strokes, his eyes barely fluttering open to watch for the first indication of Jon's answer, already poised to push his irritant away. This was probably too fast, Tony was naggingly aware of that every time and knew he would regret it, Jon had come here so sweet, but only felt driven by the drum of his heart.

Jon takes in a sharp breath when he feels Tony's hand close in on its target his hips jerking forward on their own accord, seeking the touch of that hand and its nimble fingers. There's a fleeting mutter between Jon's sharp inhale and him biting his lower lip in response to Tony's additional assault of his neck. How is it that they get from Jon wanting to yell at Tony to- This? Granted, this is nicer than yelling at the person he loves. Even though both is a sure way to get his heart rate up.

For a few short moments Jon lets his hands play and tangle with Tony's hair, then squints an eye open at the barely verbalized demand that accompanies the touch of a warm hand against his hip. If his face weren't already burning... Pulling his own teeth away from his lip and giving it a quick lick along with an audible exhale, Jon gives and absent-minded nod anyway, withdrawing his hands from Tony's hair to undo the buttons of his shirt but certainly planning to return once he has gotten some of that offending fabric out of the way and help with the pants where needed. And maybe it is too fast, but if it is, then Jon's mind hasn't caught up to complain.

Without Jon's fingers working through his hair, Tony had no reason to linger, barely nudging Jon back to give him the room to slide from the bench and down onto his knees on the hard stone floor. With both hands tucked against Jon's hips, Tony dragged his clothes down with him as he sank down onto his heels and spread his knees against Jon's ankles, nudging them apart enough to test his balance with a crooked grin like he meant to knock Jon over, but he barely got Jon's pants to his knees before he wanted his hands back on him. One smoothed up the back of Jon's thigh to fit around the tight curve of his ass, urging him forward again as Tony hungrily licked his lips and took Jon's length in a loose curl of his other fist again. Still smiling up at Jon around the loll of his tongue, he tipped his head back to slide it along the underside of his cock until he reached the knuckle of his thumb, then followed with his hand gliding through the slick trail of his spit as he laved his way back to the head, watching Jon's face with glittering curiosity through the performance. He hadn't really given himself the room last time to watch for what Jon was enjoying, sure that being unnecessarily obscene would make Jon fall apart, but less sure if it was in a good way. Hopefully, he enjoyed Tony being filthy at least a little bit, because it wasn't really for him anymore when Tony's lashes fluttered closed and he purred his appreciation to finally pucker his lips around his slick tip.

When Tony slips down, Jon closes his eyes and tips his head back to first exhale, then take a deep breath right after, making an attempt at regaining some focus. Which may be a doomed pursuit from the start, but that doesn't stop Jon from trying.

Hardly a moment later those hands are back on him, their touch sending a surge of electricity up Jon's spine and he looks back down with a gasp, eyes wide, ears burning and with apparently no real idea where to go with his hands. "Ch-Christ..." is all he mutters at the sight he probably should have been expecting, but certainly wasn't fully prepared for. Just how does Tony manage to do this to him? HOW?

And how does this man manage to look this good while presenting himself in such a vulgar manner?

Jon lets out a slightly sputtering moan and closes his eyes again at the sensation of Tony's tongue and lips on him and at least one of his hands manages to find itself a good place: Right on top of Tony's head, fingers burying in the man's hair and slowly stroking through the strands.

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