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

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."

The potent cocktail of being rock hard and doused with shame did not get any easier to swallow with experience, and Tony was already cringing around the coil of it in his gut even before the sound of his own voice rang pathetic to him as he pressed his face to Jon's shoulder to mutter, "Sorry, you're right, I'm sorry." That wasn't a solution to the problem. He did know that doing this here was a terrible idea, and that he was moving fast and wasn't really thinking, those thoughts had occurred to him and he still had them both uncomfortable on the floor. The immediate fix was to scoop him up around his hips as Tony clambered to his feet, clumsy and stiff from the ache of kneeling on the cold, to limp the few steps to what was really the floor, but cozy. He knelt again to tip Jon into the pile of scavenged bedding that Tony slept on, and promised, "I can do better, this is...I'm working on it," with a smile before letting himself collapse on his back in the blankets next to Jon to catch his breath.

“Oh-“ That’s about what Jon manages to get out before Tony gets both of them off the ground, resulting in his mostly unclad form pressing against Tony as Jon holds on, a short noise of surprise escaping him, closely followed by a fresh blush in response to naked skin rubbing against a clothed, yet definitely warm body.

When Tony puts Jon down, the Archivist’s eyes are wide, his face is positively red, but he does recover quickly enough to take a quick look around. He appears a bit impressed, even.

And then he chuckles when Tony joins him. “Christ, please.... Don’t- Don't apologize! This-“ He gives the bedding a small pat and lets out a short laugh. “Actually pretty nice. We’d be doing a lot worse at the library.”

That said, Jon closes his mouth again and smiles before rolling onto his side and towards Tony. Having fully dropped his pants somewhere on the way over, he moves one leg over Tony’s and proceeds to push himself up enough to give him a soft, lingering kiss. One of his hands moves down to Tony’s pants and starts to undo it, now that there is more room to move and he can actually reach him. Another kiss follows and between that one and a third, Jon adds a little whisper.

“Don’t apologize. Not for this.”

Jon may apologize later for his utter lack in experience, but... Well.

"Are you sleeping at the library...?" While Tony was aware that Jon wasn't doing much sleeping at all, he had been somehow under the impression that he at least had...somewhere that he went. Maybe due to the amount of times Tony had snuck into the building to slowly spirit away the fragments of the data points and never spotted Jon, and had to recognize then that he never ventured beyond the first floor then. It sounded like they had both been cultivating some regretful personal space, and Tony started to laugh, too, at how miserably foolish that was before Jon was leaning over him. He hadn't really expected to get off after that complaint, it was the sort of comment Sunset would dismiss him with so he was appropriately thankful the next time she treated him to her attention, so he caught Jon's wrist with some surprise like he expected the move to be an attack, then stroked up to tickle back down the inside of his arm apologetically. Before he thought about that too hard and got the impression Tony could possibly want him to stop, Tony curled the other arm around his shoulders to pull his attention to his kiss, and Tony gladly responded to Jon's with a gentle scattering of his own.

The sudden grasp of his wrist is a surprise and has Jon stop for a very brief moment, a moment filled with the sudden doubt that Tony may not want to be touched by him. Which a certain part of his mind considers to be a reasonable response to Jon's somewhat uncharacteristic approach.

Thankfully, he isn't given much time to dwell on that thought as Tony pulls him in for another kiss that cuts away the little concern that weighted heavily on him and he can almost physically feel it drop away from his heart.

"I- uh.... I rest there, yes." He admits as he takes a moment to turn his eyes to where his hand is undoing Tony's pants quite clumsily, making him bring in his other hand to assist for eventual success. Please don't ask how many other people Jon has ever undressed in his life. "I actually got two blankets and- The basement is pretty labyrinthine and--" Jon has fallen into rambling a little while pushing Tony's pants down, then falls silent as he unearths his treasure.

And for a solid moment Jon stares, his mind trapped between absolute blankness and a thousand warnings to not make any mistakes. Once that moment passes, Jon quickly returns his attention to Tony and presses another kiss to his lips while the first of his fingers brush certainly too cautiously over the now exposed flesh. He has seen Tony do this. He can certainly... Mimic.

"L-let me. Please." Jon says softly, not entirely hiding the nervous tint of his voice just before he moves down Tony's body to end up sitting on the other man's legs, a look of nervous concentration paired with faintly trembling excitement on his face. Jon wraps a hand around the length before him, certainly more cautious than Tony may like, then bends down and after casting a look back up to Tony's face as if nonverbally asking for permission, plants a kiss right there on the very tip.

The struggle with his pants was enough for Tony to lift his own hand out of the way in surrender, far more patronizing in reality than actually trying to help Jon through this problem, and was charmingly distracting from whatever Jon had to say about the library. Basement, sure, whatever, Jon went quiet for a weirdly long time and Tony tried to prompt, "Are you...okay?" Graceless with some buttons, cute; shocked to horror by the sight of his dick, unnerving. His hand was still open in the air when Jon treated him to another kiss, and Jon's touch was slightly reassuring that there wasn't something monstrous going on with Tony that he should have been worried about, so he curled his knuckles against Jon's jaw to trace his thumb over his cheek, trying to ease some of those nerves. "I'm all yours, boss," Tony assured him with a grin, but was reluctant to let him go as he slid away, making him pass both of his hands through his hair restlessly for something to hang onto, then drag down his neck to fold together clutched over his heart. Maybe it was the way Jon was sitting on him, but he got the sense that he wasn't supposed to intervene when he really wanted to wrap all of his limbs around him to pull him reassuringly close and kiss the nerves out of him, and that was the longing expression Jon got for his question before Tony opened his mouth for only a soft gasp at the touch of Jon's lips. He had done this before, right? Being wound too tight was just his natural state. Maybe. Jesus christ.

The little gasp he gets from Tony is a good start, or so Jon hopes. He is literally stilling the trembling of his hand by closing it around Tony's flesh, an uncertain thumb slowly stroking up and down its side while Jon is quite literally trying to get a feel for it.

Tony made this look so easy. But the man is a lot less restrained than Jon is, who tilts his head to the right at first, then to the left, contemplating what angle might work for him. He doesn't know. But he knows he can't make Tony wait forever only because he's unable to decide. So he licks his lips in a testing way before carefully taking the tip into his mouth, not knowing what to expect. What he knows is that his own heart is hammering away wildly and that Tony's "I'm all yours" has sent a shiver down his spine Jon can still feel this very moment.

He doesn't do an awful lot at first. Mostly just getting used to the feeling of the tip of a solid dick in his mouth. His hand is making a few experimental moves up and down its length now, probably giving Tony the impression that Jon hardly ever even touches himself.

A little further up from his hand, Jon remembers that he ought to use his tongue as well and he runs it over the tip in his mouth just as experimentally as his hand around the shaft. Right. That's... That's how this is done. Sort of. He'll figure it out. He's watched Tony!

That stroke of Jon's thumb and the clutch around him that was just a little tight was already making Tony squirm impatiently, so the incredibly measured plan of attack just about sucked the air out of him as he tried not to start mouthing off immediately. That wouldn't help, that would definitely make this process go much slower if Tony ramped up Jon's nerves any more, but maybe if Tony pissed him off in the right way--He had to cover his face with both hands, sucking a slow breath in through his fingers, and fuck Jon just stopped again, this was some kind of test. It was the tease of his tongue that did it, making Tony arch his back then push himself up on his elbows, talking quickly; "Okay, Jonny, my heart, my darling, I can feel the gears turning and I do respect your process, but maybe we can talk through this. I'm going to ask you something and you're going to be straight with me and no one is going to be judged or on the spot or anything. Do you have any idea what you're doing down there?"

And Jon freezes again at the sudden movement, eyes going wide as he looks up at Tony and suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. A very particular brand of shame washes over him and Jon just wants to shrink away. It's his eyes that flick away first. Then, with a remarkably undignified pop noise he releases Tony and backs away guiltily.

"I- ah... I-i-I'm sorry." He doesn't look back up. Right. He has blown this one. And not in the way he has been supposed to. And he pulls his hands back into his lap, quickly wringing them together.

"... y-you make this look so easy." Jon finally admits, clearly embarrassed and not looking back up.

Mistake. Tony definitely didn't want Jon to stop entirely, and the shiver that shocked through him at the cruel abandonment to the cold air was his punishment, but he was obviously going to have to stop if Tony wanted to actually talk to him. Deep breath. "Hey, hey--" First of all, this position was not working, and Tony slid himself up enough to get one leg out from under Jon so he could brace his knee against him protectively as he nudged the other one up under him to encourage Jon closer while they dealt with this anxiety. "That's because I'm easy," he pointed out, and wrapped one arm around his waist as he pushed the other through Jon's hair, trying to get him to look up to Tony's smirk. "I said no one is going to be judged, do you feel judged? I'm sorry, you were doing fine, I swear, for someone who's never met a hard on in their life. That's the last one, I promise. I'm just trying to make sure you're enjoying yourself, it didn't seem like it, it felt like you were taming a snake. That one was it, that was the real last one."

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I'm not sorry, but WELCOME TO THE AWKWARD TRAIN!!

bless u, plz be absolutely terrible

that's the plan~ <3

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