By the look on Tony's face, the mess was definitely likely and Tony was looking forward to it. He worked the bottle open with one hand, the other meeting Jon's on his thigh to draw it up his stomach where Jon could feel the shift of Tony's muscle as he leaned over him, and the bubble of the giggle that laced Tony's question, "So it needs a little more work then?" His fingers were reliably deft, though he snorted another laugh at the generous amount of lube leaking down his wrist in his single-handed effort, and he dropped the bottle carelessly by Jon's head. The laugh slid easily into a sigh as Tony rocked up to test a now slick finger against his entrance and impatiently pressed into himself despite the twitch in his thigh or his other hand tangling tensely around Jon's held against his chest. He had more than patient already, he though, he could survive a little pressure, and did his best to keep his focus on Jon despite his lashes fluttering and threatening to fall closed, watching for his attention.