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

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.

The thread if irritation that usually laced that blush at Tony's teasing wasn't there to discourage him now, making Tony breathe a laugh, assuring him that he could dare to be far more depraved before Jon started protesting. Still mouthing his adoration against Jon's skin with sucking kisses and the teasing flick of his tongue, Tony hummed his appreciation and patted an encouraging hand up Jon's hip for his moan before tipping his head back again to murmur, "I'm listening, cuore, tell me what you like," with another breathy laugh, just his thumb tracing the vein along Jon's length until he was sure he had Jon's attention again. When he caught his eye, Tony took him into his mouth, chasing the circle of his fist with the wet seal of his lips, losing his focus with an eager whine in his throat. He sat up higher on his knees, toes curling against the cold stone and alternately pressing his fingers into Jon's hip or fretfully patting down his side apologetically as he chased a rhythm that let him take Jon deeper.

The laugh may be unexpected, but it's a very good tool to lift some of that tension off of Jon, who still feels very much out of his element. And even though he isn't actively doing an awful lot at this very moment, Jon still feels that he is perfectly capable of doing even that wrong. So the pieces of reassurance and encouragement... They help. Especially at keeping Jon's mind in this moment and positively flustered as he blinks an eye open again to look down at Tony and-

Well, that sure is A look.

Jon finds enough time to swallow once and mumble an inaudible curse, not having a proper response for Tony's request at that very moment and any contemplations he may be having are put on hold when Tony moves to take him in deep, earning him a gasp and a fist clenched into his hair as Jon's hips seek to match Tony's rhythm, his free hand finding the edge of the workbench to hold on to for balance. Would it be terrible to tell Tony that Jon likes his mouth and all those things the man knows to do with it? Will Jon find himself able to return the way Tony is making him feel yet again?

He will have to find out.

But right now any proper though Jon may try to grasp is in shambles. Instead, Jon can't help but watch Tony, face equally flushed as enthralled, the hand he has in Tony's hair slowly sliding through his hair and down the back of his head towards his neck. There are a few noises he makes that may be interpreted as attempts at saying something coherent, however.

That Jon couldn't muster a verbal answer for once, not even a sputtering complaint, almost made Tony laugh again, but the tug at his hair had him sighing instead, head tilting attentively. Jon didn't really have to say anything, Tony could listen for the hitch of his breath to press his tongue again where Jon reacted, and massage the tension from his flank as Tony stroked his way up to reach more of him and tickled down his back. The rock of his hips made Tony slow curiously, eyes up again as he rolled his head back with the pass of Jon's hand toward his neck, but he hardly had the patience for himself, and his intent to find what Jon would take to satisfy himself with Tony's mouth was brief. Jon could take more, Tony was sure he could take more, and he pressed his head into Jon's hand to get him to push back before Tony was proving to them both what he could handle, the hand that had been working through the slide of Tony's spit spreading up Jon's stomach to flex blindly for purchase as Tony pressed his nose into Jon's dark hair. The stretch of his lips and his throat working around Jon as he swallowed had him shuddering hungrily, and hyperaware of the touch at his neck, the sweat he could feel tickling down his thigh and the aching heat from his chest to his cheeks, and he had to drop his hand from Jon's side to palm himself through his pants with a moan.

That Tony is more or less trying to figure out Jon's limits isn't a detail Jon is aware of at this point, even though by now he is rather aware of Tony's general tendency to seek out and breach limits where he finds them. His own as well as those of others.

There seems to be a very brief pause in which Tony pulls his head a bit further back. It doesn't last very long before Tony moves forward again, this time taking in the entirety of Jon's length which causes Jon to freeze in place, a sharp little noise stuck somewhere between a moan and Tony's name escaping him as he looks down, the nails of his hand digging in slightly at the base of Tony's neck in response. He's very glad to have chosen to hold onto that work bench with his other hand or his knees might just give out.

"...f-fuck, Tony...!" Jon manages between gasps and the hand at Tony's neck sprawls out again to massage away the little marks of his nails.

He doesn't get much further than those two actually understandable words before Tony's own moan reverberating through his throat and subsequently over Jon's flesh send a delightful impulse through his entire body draping a blissful numbness over Jon's mind again and having him join Tony's sound of pleasure with his own.

That breathless curse was obscenely hot, but Tony was well out of practice and couldn't get the air to purr his encouragement, instead letting the ache in his chest turn desperate before he was dragging himself back, hazy and lightheaded by the time he was letting Jon's length fall from his bruised lips. Even panting, he dragged himself closer to make up for the loss, both hands working up Jon's hips and his sides as Tony pushed up higher on his knees again, like he would either hold himself up or pull Jon down into him as he nuzzled his cock up against his belly to mouth careless, wet kisses along its underside. When he had the breath to manage it, he hissed, "That it?," and his shoulders shook with another brief laugh, abandoned quickly into another panting groan as he lapped at Jon's skin.

Jon finds himself breathless for several moments and all he can do is stare down at Tony even as the man nuzzles his way up Jon's body. And where Tony is undecided whether he wants to go up or down, Jon ends up making the decision for them this time by letting go of the work bench and allowing his legs to give in and gently nudge Tony back down with himself to settle down in Tony's lap and wrap his arms around him with a yearning sigh. "You... are something." Jon just mutters the first thing that crosses his mind.

Passing his hands up Jon's back as he slid down to slow his approach, catching him but not quite able to bring himself to stop him as he let Tony spread his adoration up his stomach and chest until he was nuzzling into his neck, Tony let himself be swayed back down onto his heels to welcome Jon in the envelope of his arms tucked under his open shirt. He shivered, both from the cold floor and the weight he couldn't quite rock against in his lap, squeezing Jon tightly to stop himself from tipping him back onto the stone to spread him out for Tony's insatiable attention, holding him carefully up off of the cold instead. "I get that a lot," he chuckled into Jon's throat, glad that this time it sounded positive, the tip of his nose and the burr of his beard tracing searchingly like he could find where he had abandoned leaving the mark there to drop to his knees. Around hungry nips to Jon's neck, Tony mumbled, "Not to downplay the fact that I was right, because I always am; thank you for that, beautiful, you're magnificent."

"...hmm." Jon hums against Tony's hair, letting his hands move down Tony's back while gently rocking against him. One of his hands meets the waistband of Tony's pants and trails along it with a small sigh in response to Tony's lips against his neck. Just how is it that Tony always manages to stay clothed while Jon ends up an unsightly mess... Part of him wants to apologize for that. To argue being called beautiful of all things. But another brush of those lips against his skin push those thoughts away. This is neither time nor place for doubt.

"...maybe-" He starts instead, closing his eyes before continuing with a rather daring suggestion. "-maybe next time... we can try not to end up on the floor." Assuming there is a next time. There may not be. What does he know? What can he hope? He can feel his heart pounding between his ears and knows his face is trying out different hues of crimson at the mere suggestion.

And maybe to distract a little from that potentially bold assumption, Jon finally has a verbal response for Tony as well, even if it's a timid one. "I- I like touching you. And- Being... Touched by you."

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