revivalproject | carriage

Entry tags:

carriage

WHO: Tony and open!
WHERE: Around Temba (hangar, fountain, ???)
WHAT: Doing some personal cleanup since the storm, and running into a floral distraction
WHEN: End of November/beginning of December
WARNINGS: It's a Tony post, we all should have expected it would get horny. It did.

a.The city had felt imposingly massive since the storm. Then, it was because of its depths and shadows, harbouring fears that only gave way to complex secrets as the clouds cleared, but today it was purely a problem of traversal. The hangar, looking slightly battered from the weather itself but not nearly as poorly treated as the ships finally returned inside, most of them still caked with mud and brought limping to roost, was approximately eight lightyears from the forge.

At least it was a fairly straight shot, but Tony felt half crazy by the time he came shuffling into the echoing space, the wheels of his cart dragged through the cracked roads rattling with a cohort of pebbles caught in their works, and abandoned the thing which felt like it had grown steadily heavier on this trek with a drop of his good arm and heave of a sigh. Gathering his energy again, he straightened to hug is arm cradled under the other, still wrapped and immobile against his chest, leaving his sleeve hanging empty, and headed for the Bloodsport to collect what remained of his onboard from their journey. There were tools there that had been sorely missed at the forge, and a variety of acquisitions from the Agrii cargo bay under Sundance's guidance, and a silky quilt that had Tony sitting in the doorway of the ship with it pulled up over his head, eyes closed and legs kicking idly, looking bruised and exhausted and trying not to look at the cart for just a minute while he meditated on his next move and definitely wasn't just stalling.

b. Most of the D.A.T.A. points had gone dark some time during their venture out to space, or, more likely, the storm that had seeped into all of their works. With the forge back to working order, it was time for Tony to address this problem, which it turned out he had made a rather large one for himself. The closest camera was installed near the fountain, though, and might have been the most important, to alert Tony to any new arrivals, so that would have to be his first stop to see what damage was done. They were all going to have to be upgraded; Tony wasn't going to be able to spread himself across the city to repair every one of them every time one of those storms hit. With his cartload of tools from the hangar, he would have to investigate the generator, surely flooded from the rain, and likely dismantle the watchful orb to find out what exactly had been burnt out in the overload from the storm's energy.

c. It definitely wasn't only the storm that had changed the charge of the city, though. As the skies cleared, it became obvious that the air had grown colder and crisper, and in the days that followed, the chill seemed to settle and harden the ground. Tony would have said it felt like autumn, but the alien plants didn't quite change the way they would have on Earth, growing brittle in the cold but without the warm oranges and yellows of a fall in New York. Instead, new plantlife seemed to have sprung up for him to notice on his long haul with his cart, giving him the good excuse to abandon it occasionally to crouch carefully at the side of the road, stiff in his bandages, and pluck up the young, frosty cyan buds that had started growing there. A few had flowered already, their petals petite but vibrantly blue, and smelling sharply spicy like cloves. He kept stopping to collect another, telling himself to deliver them to someone like Tommy to confirm that the smell didn't mean they were poisonous, maybe they were edible, and maybe this new growth meant that feeling that creep of ice on the air wasn't as much to worry about as Tony was starting to think. A winter couldn't be too harsh if these flowers were flourishing here.

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Tony hardly needed the directions, fingers pressing harder than he would usually risk into the easy give at the top of Jon's thigh, trying to make up for the imbalance as he kept Jon close. They still worked deftly, searching for Jon's ticklish squirming as they spread across his skin, because although Jon's exploring hands didn't exactly feel good as much as make Tony's clothes feel suffocating, they did make him sigh a needy moan against Jon's collar. The hand sliding down his back had him pressing his shoulder back defensively, trying to scratch that gnawing itch between his shoulder blades that Jon teased through his shirt and shouldn't have been nearly as distracting as Jon's hand fit between them. Tony felt even more constrained there, not sure how else to push into the touch, only murmuring his encouragement at the sound of Jon's voice and nosing back along his shoulder where he left a trail of biting kisses up to his neck, the scrape of his teeth catching briefly on Jon's skin like he was searching for purchase to do as he was told. Without the mobility in this position, he tried to tease Jon back to ignite the same urgency in him, spreading him between his fingers to trace a third up the cleft of his ass.

A needy little shudder and gasp escape Jon's lips his pawing hand freezes for a moment and Jon wouldn't be able what exactly to attribute those reactions to. Though he finds himself halting just briefly enough to let himself be aware in every detail possible where exactly Tony's hand, mouth and teeth are at that very moment and what they are doing and the hand on Tony's back tightens its grip again while Jon lets out another shuddering breath, keeping his eyes closed to let his body report its experience to him.

The hand that has paused between them returns to life and had Tony shared his frustrations about hindering pieces of fabric, Jon would have agreed with that notion. Touching the man through his pants is not the same. And he knows he prefers to experience Tony's hands on his skin himself. And yet it's not without a little clumsy fiddling that Jon manages to open up Tony's pants and blindly free the heated flesh kept captive behind those fabrics before greeting it with a testing, gentle caress of his fingers.

Not entirely sure what to do with that pause, Tony very slowly eased back his own attention, ghosting delicate kisses against the fluttering pulse at Jon's neck and stroking his hand reassuringly up his back to massage at his tailbone again instead. "Okay?" he asked, more of a breath against Jon's throat as he felt the breath finally go out of Jon again, and wrapped his arm securely around him instead to knead restless fingers along the sharp angle of his hip with every jolt that grip around Tony's back sent through him. Testing his boundaries wasn't as fun when Jon wasn't swearing or biting at him.

Tony couldn't have thrown him off too much, though, as he found his focus again and Tony sighed his own relief at being freed from the vice of his pants into Jon's delicate touch. "That's it, that's good," he encouraged as he tipped his head back to nuzzle at Jon's jaw and coax him into another kiss, slower and more careful to try to find Jon's pace.

"Okay. It's okay- I'm okay." Jon says in a low, breathy half-laugh and adds a short nod of reassurance before submitting to the lure of Tony's kiss. The voiced encouragement is gladly received and answered with a two-fingered stroke with some added pressure from base to tip at first, then followed by Jon wrapping his hand around Tony, his muttered adorations lost in the kiss. But that is to be expected, isn't it? This kiss is meant to make someone's mind go blank and Jon can't claim that he minds that effect terribly much. Not in Tony's presence, at least. Not under these circumstances.

While Jon enjoys his current lack of rational thought, his hand has made its first two testing strokes along Tony's length before settling at the tip, with his thumb running slow, pensive circles over it.

Tony hummed his appreciation against Jon's lips, his careful strokes making Tony's stomach jump but an easy rhythm to slow his breathing to and melt gently into Jon's embrace again. It didn't last nearly long enough, the teasing of Jon's thumb, the repetition over Tony's sensitive skin ramping that twitch in his belly into a shiver up his spine that had him forgetting his meditative breathing entirely, panting into the kiss instead before dropping his head to press into Jon's shoulder where he hissed, whining and frustrated with his own impatience, "Bo-oss..." The hand on his hip tightened, Tony's thumb mirroring the circles against Jon's back more fretfully.

A few months ago, Jon was still certain he would never grow to like that particular nickname, but the way Tony uses it now comes with a very particular added effect to the sweaty weight dropping onto his shoulder and that tension-imbued shudder of Tony's body. It would only be cruel to tease him further. And yet Jon can't resist leaning his head against Tony's and whisper, "You can always tell me what you want me to do."

Those word said, Jon lets his own head drop forward and onto Tony's shoulder in return, humming along with the pressure applied by Tony's thumb and lets his hand slide downward again at last before settling to an actual rhythm.

The whisper had Tony burying his face against Jon's neck with another wordless whine before he had even processed the words dancing static across his skin. Understanding came with a deliberate exhale, welcoming Jon's bow against him with an affectionate nuzzle behind his ear as Tony tried to relax again into the suggestion. It had gone fantastically for him last time, so his anxiety wasn't as nervous anymore, but it was definitely frenetic despite the tightly wound control that was knotting up in his chest. What he wanted was everything, he wanted Jon, and he was not going to get enough of him in this position.

Sliding his hand down Jon's hip again, Tony grabbed him around the thigh this time to hitch him up as Tony dropped his other foot to the ground to push up out of his seat. Instantly, he regretted it, feeling the strain on his chest and biting his tongue, not about to try to spread Jon out on his back now and reevaluating how he could just take what he wanted. It left him braced restlessly, squeezing around Jon's leg, and finally had to admit, "Careful," which wasn't exactly what he wanted at all, but certainly broke the seal, making Tony snort a laugh. "Faster, please," he amended quickly, breathless smile in his voice, "tighter, it's okay, you can't hurt me, sweetheart, please." Mostly, he didn't want to draw this out; it was excruciating just trying to hold onto Jon, his worshipful kisses limited and gathering against Jon's collar like they met a dam as Tony murmured, "please," into each of them.

It's true, their current position is anything but optimal. Adding to that is, of course, Tony's current physical limitation they have to work around somewhat. Though what Tony will find is, yet again, that Jon is very receptive to simply spoken to.

Not after that initial jolt of alarm when Tony appears to make a move to get up only to quickly realize himself that doing so wouldn't be a great idea at all. Jon doesn't even have to remind him and merely sighs out an exhale while relaxing against Tony's shoulder once more, head tilted in a way that lets him at least glance at Tony's face.

Any remnants of that moment of alarm fade away when Tony speaks to him at last and Jon can merely smile back in response, humming an affirmative half a moment before tightening his hold and increasing the pace of his hand. He closes his eyes again and lets his voice drop again. "I like it when you talk to me, Tony. I like your voice. And I like to know what I can do to make you feel good."

Jon's shift to catch his eye was met with a smile, and Tony readily turning to meet him with a new array of affection to press into his cheek and lips, slower and scattered between hiccups and sighs at the stroke of Jon's hand. Of course Jon's control was still clear in his voice where Tony couldn't quite catch his breath, he wasn't the one slowly coming apart like Tony usually pushed him into, but it sent a new spark to Tony's fingertips and made him drop his head back into their leaning embrace with panting moans against Jon's neck. His answer wasn't nearly as coherent, mumbled or bit into Jon's shoulder as he assured him, "good, that's good," and purred his praises in fragments of Italian and English when neither came out smoothly. His hand slid up Jon's side to hug around his waist again, fingers spread over his ribs and stuttering as Tony tried not to tighten his grip and tease Jon's sensitive skin, until they were pressing into him anyway as Tony's voice broke.

It's a curious little role reversal and Jon can't say he dislikes seeing Tony slowly coming undone under his hand. It's not a side he imagines the man showing often, if at all if he can prevent it. Just the more reason for Jon to keep track of every noise, every reaction he receives, trying his best not to let Tony's hand distract him too much.

It's still rather distracting. As is being told he is doing well, apparently. Somehow that verbal praise heats up Jon's face all over again and he quickened his pace one final time to pull Tony through to the end, observing the result as best as possible.

It was with another hiccup and sigh against Jon's shoulder, Tony's arm tightening around him and knee rocking up under him again to try to draw Jon closer and press into every inch of him in frustration. When Tony did relax, it was with a shiver and nuzzle into Jon's neck, where he breathed hoarsely, "Shit, sorry," and swept his hand up Jon's back again to curl around his neck and massage a thumb along the ridge of his spine. Tony's eyes were still closed and head heavy on Jon's shoulder as he tried to nudge him back, twisting slightly in his seat to encourage Jon to dismount and leave at least Tony's hand free to fix this imbalance, still reluctantly pressing into the sweet warmth of his neck.

Jon replies with a small, gentle chuckle and his face pressing towards Tony's while the hand on Tony's back moved upward until his fingers brush through the man's hair. "Don't apologize. Not for- Well." He exhales into Tony's neck before nuzzling a small kiss into it. And while Jon does shift enough to get off of Tony's legs and stand before him at least, remaining just as reluctant to release the embrace of Tony's head and holds on just a little longer before sliding back into his place next to Tony and gently lean against him once more.

This place really needs some adjustments in a more comfortable direction.

This place was starting to feel downright hostile to Tony, who immediately regretted letting Jon get any further away from him, feeling less relieved to no longer be constrained than abandoned. He kept a hand on Jon until he was seated again with Tony's arm draped around his shoulders, and Tony bowed to welcome him with searching, appreciative kisses to his hair and forehead. His fingertips tickled along Jon's collar and up his throat until Tony took a deep breath, gathering his energy and focus and curled a knuckle under Jon's chin to tilt his face up. "Where do you touch yourself first?" he prompted in a smiling whisper, sharing a delicate secret with Jon that he punctuated with more kisses to his cheeks. "When you're sitting at your desk," he kissed, "and thinking of me," against Jon's lips.

It's kind of sweet that Tony keeps that touch on Jon, were it not for that slight peak of a rather familiar fear he can't help but pick up, if only temporarily. He gets no time to dwell on it, though, seeing that Tony is all over him and showering him with affection the moment Jon returns within reach. Which he doesn't exactly fight. The squirming and involuntary chuckles are, in all likelihood, expected. If not even the goal. And in all fairness, it feels nice and Jon does enjoy the attention.

He gets a brief break when Tony directs his gaze and makes Jon look at him when he asks his question and gradually adds the remaining pieces, leaving Jon with a pleasant shiver running up his back and a positive blush over his ears. Less about the question itself, however, but rather due to the way it has been delivered.

Before answering, Jon takes a moment to settle his thoughts and take a deep breath, then leans his head forward with a wide smile, eyes locked on Tony's and brows raised. His voice is kept a whisper that matches Tony's. "First? I pinch the bridge of my nose. Because the moment I start thinking of you, I won't be getting any further work done at all. Sometimes," He goes on and reaches one hand over to lightly brush the tips of his fingers against Tony's chest. "I reach for my heart. Because it aches in your absence. Then I try to recall where I have last felt your hands touch me."

Expecting that answer to come to an end with how irritating Tony was even in concept, Tony snickered and followed through anyway with another kiss to Jon's nose, smile bumping against his cheek as Tony tried to continue to follow the path as Jon went on. He dropped his hand down Jon's back to brace around his waist again as Tony nudged him over to help him follow from Jon's nose, down his neck to his chest, where he held a kiss against his heart for a slow exhale, brow furrowed and his own face hot against Jon's skin as that bubble threatened to burst in his chest again. He had to express that with another firm kiss, trying to press his promises into Jon's heart, hard enough to threaten to topple them off of the bench as Tony wavered without his other arm to balance them.

Well. And now Jon won't ever be able again to touch his own nose without thinking of this unexpectedly delicate kiss. Not that he hasn't encountered Tony's gentle side before, but it still hasn't failed to leave Jon in a certain state of awe that by now seems to be reserved solely for Tony. Jon lets out a quick yelp of surprise at being tipped back, his heart jumping for yet another reason than Tony centering his attention on it. Out of reflex he reaches up to take a hold on Tony's shoulder while the other lands by his side in an attempt to keep a semblance of balance.

"Christ, Tony!" Jon laughs and presses a quick kiss to the top of the man's head and letting his head linger there while the surprise ebbs away, then adds more quietly. "I sure love you, you know that...?" It's not really a question. But somehow he feels like putting it to words once again.

The yelp had Tony giggling again until he was biting his lip around it, dropping his arm lower to drag Jon's hips forward as Tony used the hold on his shoulder to bow him back further until he finally had Jon on his back with only minimal ache under the bandages. Tony's hold passed down around Jon's thigh to coax against the wall and over Tony's knee as he shifted to kneel, where he could fit against Jon again without the frustration of keeping a protective arm around him. He celebrated this triumph by watching his fingertips delicately trip down Jon's stomach, from his bellybutton until his muscles twitched under Tony's touch, then leaned closer with a not terribly believable, skeptical hum betrayed by his smirk, to prompt, "I don't know, run it by me again." Braced on his elbow with a teasing wiggle of his hips against Jon's, Tony considered the puzzle of where he might last leave a lingering touch on Jon for him to be conjuring later, starting with another chaste kiss to his lips and a mumble of denial, no, probably not...

Letting himself get overwhelmed by those affections is remarkably easy. It's not like Jon has any reason or motivation to fight any of it. It's nice. It's different and distracting and Jon can't help but wanting to know what Tony has in mind, where his hand will go-

Jon gives a quick, little gasp at Tony teasing him ever so slightly with his hips, then adds that sweet brief kiss to underline the fresh blush on Jon's features and earns himself an adoring grin from the Archivist, who gladly repeats his words while his fingers play along Tony's neck and he closes his eyes to do so against Tony's lips. "I love you." And Tony better never doubt that.

That doubt was going to be an ongoing challenge, but Jon made it very easy for Tony to believe then with a broad grin in response even as he pestered, "One more time." He definitely wasn't anywhere near tiring of hearing it, but Tony laughed at himself and quickly followed the prompt with another firm kiss to keep Jon's mouth occupied and assure him he didn't really have to. Tony tipped his head to kiss the hinge of Jon's jaw where it ticked with determination as he said, "I'm trying to figure out-," then the reassuring curve of his neck that smelled like the edge of the atmosphere, "which part of you I adore the most-," and the hollow of his throat where Tony could feel his voice against his lips, "so you know exactly where I'd want to touch you next..." Tony had to shift then, lifting his head away to catch Jon's wrist and turn his next kiss into his palm, then his fingertips and admitted, "You're right, it's not an easy choice, we might have to do an extensive study." He already had a strong hypothesis regarding where Jon might feel they should consider, and deliberately waited to catch his eye before swiping his tongue up the length of Jon's thumb to leave it with the last, slow kiss.

Jon may not be getting a chance to actually repeat himself, but the reason why he doesn't get that chance makes it acceptable. That laugh alone would already have been an acceptable reason, but the kiss... Well.

The kisses that follow are of more distracting nature and Jon tries to follow their path by keeping an eye on Tony, his curiosity perking at the man's words, leaving him anticipating the next piece of the information just as much as where Tony will place his affection next. Towards the end, Jon opens his mouth as if to say something himself, but ends up biting his lower lip instead as he watches Tony's tongue move up his thumb in what at least feels like an excruciatingly slow pace, sending the faintly prickly feeling of goosebumps seemingly everywhere.

"... Tony..." Is the one thing Jon hears himself utter eventually, at least making a faint attempt to ignore the coiling tension building somewhere in the depths of his stomach that makes him squirm ever so slightly. Why does this comparably simple action affect him so notably? Is it the touch? The kiss? The visual display or simply because this is Tony and this man could be doing anything and it would stir up Jon's feelings with ease? Jon couldn't tell. But he can tell one thing for sure, "I want you to touch me more."

It was too soon for Tony's hungry urgency to overtake his focus again, but Jon's voice had him rocking his hips again in his own eager squirm with an overstimulated gasp against Jon's wrist. His enamoured encouragement was an incoherent mumble as he bowed over Jon again to spread the heat of his tongue over the goosebumps on his chest, tracing a possessive stripe from his ribs to a purring kiss around his nipple. As Tony worried it to a sensitive peak between the scrape of his teeth and soothing swirl of his tongue, he passed his hand down Jon's side to gather his pants down against his thigh and smooth a thumb over the soft hollow of his hip, which Tony found could have been a strong contender for the last place Tony was willing to tear his hands off of. He tipped his forehead against Jon's chest to watch down his body as he spread his hand there and across Jon's stomach, and shoved his clothes further down out of the way.

And Tony is doing a great job at dispersing Jon's focus again, what with that roll of his hips and the work of his mouth. Jon barely has time to pay attention to what Tony is doing with his hand, more caught up at closely watching the man's face, gasping a little at the feeling of teeth against his skin and worrying his lip at the more soothing strokes of a tongue on those very same spots left slightly irritated by Tony's teeth.

Somewhere during it all, Jon's own hand has found its way to the back of Tony's head, his fingers quickly getting lost in his dark hair.

Then Tony shifts and leaves Jon with a lack of a direct visual line of what is happening and more bound to rely on the information the rest of his body is providing him with. Which is when he feels his pants being pushed out of the way, earning Tony a soft, half-sputtered gasp in response to the sudden change in temperature.

Jon didn't have to wait for the warmth of Tony's hand to curl around him, holding him in a loose fist with only a thumb stroking a restless rhythm along the underside of his cock as Tony worked his way down his body, nudging Jon' with a bump of his head or nose between licking kisses to his skin to encourage him to shift up again as Tony wiggled his way down between his thighs in the unforgiving seat. Tony's lips lingered for a slow breath in that vulnerable hollow along the sharp bracket of Jon's hip as he released Jon's length to pass his hand slowly back up through the trail of Tony's kisses to spread over his chest instead. "Is that enough, boss?" he framed as a breathy tease against Jon's belly, trying to be cautious enough of his boundaries to not have him lock up again, but his voice was dropping into a hungry growl before he was even finished and Tony brushed his lips eagerly over Jon's skin where his thumb had last pressed with a hot sigh in its abandoned path.

Having shifted back as per Tony's wordless instructions and as a result ended up a little propped up on one of his elbows, Jon finds himself with a fresh view on the scene. And he is very much inclined it is an even better view than before. With Tony's hand spread over his chest right before him and the strong line of his arm directing his eyes further down to where Tony has claimed his place between his legs just as if he belongs there. And it certainly feels like he does, if Jon is to believe the heated fluttering of his heart and that warm turmoil of anticipation trickling through his body.

"...shit, Tony." Jon breathes, sounding all but taken, then lets his expression shift into a little smirk. "How can you think there will ever be enough."

A prideful tick was already tugging at Tony's mouth for getting Jon to swear again, and he hesitated as Jon continued with his cheek still pressed to his hip to meet his eye, feeling the heat in his own face as his smile slowly grew and he turned his knuckles against Jon's chest to brush gently over his heart. He left that thought placed there for now, though, hesitation gone entirely as he turned his keen attention back on the heat of Jon's skin against his lips, then the taste and every twitch of him against his tongue as he took him deep into his mouth in a slow, steady sigh of satisfaction. Tony's hand dropped blindly back down over Jon's hip to seek out his fingers again, his arm sliding up along Jon's side until he was curling a hold around his wrist again that flexed restlessly with the exploratory rhythm of his slick pout, clearly not in the rush that had him nosing eagerly into Jon's stomach or pulling at his hips and legs any time before, and just as slow to draw back enough to let Jon fall from his lips and catch a steadying breath with adoring laps of his tongue still teasing his length. It was then that he mumbled, between soft, open kisses, "I'll come stay here. Not all the time, when you need to sleep, so I can be there when you wake up, and make sure--you're okay--and..." He started to doubt it once he heard it out loud, hand tensing around Jon's apologetically. It sounded so easy when Jon said it.

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