revivalproject | Archivist Catch-All

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Archivist Catch-All

WHO: Jon & YOU
WHERE: Coruscant - Various places
WHAT: Coruscant Event catch-all. Some open, some closed prompts. See what your little Eldritch avatar has been doing...
WHEN: Coruscant Event
WARNINGS: One of them includes Tony. Approach at own risk.

The Perfect Gift [ OPEN ]

Coruscant is- A lot. A lot of city, a lot of people a lot of- Everything. Even for Jon, who has been living in London for a good decade now. But even London seems unnaturally small compared to Coruscant. And yet living there has ensured that Jon isn't intimidated by crowds. In fact, he has come to find himself quite capable of adjusting himself to their situation and as he learns more about the planet and its inhabitants, Jon also learns more about how to navigate it and find that which he is looking for.

Which proves invaluable While out to acquire goods and supplies he deems useful for their inevitable return to Temba.

It's a long list Jon has for himself. A variety of clothes and footwear are on it, including some actual swimwear, equipment and supplies for his little chemistry lab, writing utensils, notepads, new variants of tea and other luxuries, a couple of handy little tools and - Gifts. And especially those gifts prove to be the difficult part. Since the person Jon is trying to find a gift for is none other than Tony. The man that tries to fix everything and constantly makes gifts for others himself. Finding a gift for such a man is harder than one might wish to think.

Apparently a selection of treats are about to become part of the assortment of gifts Jon has already picked up and he is currently studying the packaging of what may be actual chocolate. One can never go wrong with some sweets and a good wine. Jon smiles softly to himself and his attention drifts over to something that is either a futuristic bottle opener or a very peculiar toy, making him frown before reaching out to pick it up, vaguely addressing either the person next to him or no one in particular. "No idea what this is, but- I'm curious."

Being A Monster [ OPEN ]

Some may say it is ill-advised for Jon to be heading down into the lower levels of this multi-layered city. And yet here he is, his worn clothes and too large poncho making him easily melt into the crowd of beings who ignore his seeking stare. A stare that isn't seeking for difficulties with finding its target, but rather because every being down here proves to be a remarkably suited target for his needs.

He takes the easy route and turns into the next bar he passes. There are plenty of dreadful stories here for him to request, confine to memory and later record. Which will have to wait until they are back in Temba, since his tape recorder has not been brought along on this trip.

It's later that night - Or maybe early the next morning that the Archivist returns to the hotel they are all staying in. His steps swaying a little from the alcohol, but a contentment rarely seen by many on his expression. He even gives a cheerful wave to anyone else he encounters at this odd hour. "Someone is up early!"

Among Force Sensitives [ CLOSED to Obi-Wan ]

It's not without a healthy degree of trepidation that Jon walks up to the intimidating structure that he has been told to be the Jedi Temple. He is dressed in a set of new clothes, which he assumes to be local enough in style and clear of the wear and grime of the clothes he has been wearing down over the past months on Agra 10. Well fitting grey pants covering the better part of dark boots and a light, long-sleeved tunic paired with a very functional messenger bag is just one outfit the Archivist has come to pick up so far and he finds himself particularly happy to now own some footwear that isn't meant to be purely decorative while one spends the better part of the day behind a desk.

Though even his new attire doesn't fully keep Jon from pausing briefly in his steps to look up the massive building. Home and training ground of the Jedi. Jedi like Cal and Obi-Wan and Ezra. Beings sensitive to an energy field called The Force.

Beings that can sense something is not right with him.

Jon swallows once, hand tightening around the strap of his bag before he pushes forward, expression set into a stubborn set of determination. It will be fine. The Jedi Master has agreed to accompany him into the Temple, meaning Jon won't be heading in there by himself. It will be fine.

At the top of the stairs, he comes to another stop, finding himself looking up at massive columns of a height that raises questions for the Archivist. Questions he will be keeping to himself at least for the time being before taking his attention back down and looking around for the man he is supposed to meet up here at the very entrance of the Temple, muttering to himself. "...Christ. I hope he hasn't forgotten."

It's a date! [ CLOSED to Tony ]

New clothes that actually fit him and that Jon feels good in are but one of the things this planet has provided. Another thing is the chance to get his hair cut back to a more reasonable length, get the items required for a decent shave and of course have a proper bath. Small luxuries that add noticeably to Jon feeling human again. And to provide him with the confidence to ask Tony out for a proper date. How many chances like this will they get anyway?

The beings tending to their needs at their hotel have been quite helpful to him with setting everything up and recommending the right places not too far away. From a good, rather exclusive restaurant high up in a tall spire looming over Coruscant's upper level along with similar, yet distant skyscrapers and providing an excellent view to an artificially created and very unique park at the very base of said spire to the suggestion of a sensual and very private message provided by specially programmed droids up in their hotel's poshest suite offered by the beings in charge of the hotel tending to their guest's needs. Being that are remarkably eager to please this easy source of good credits. And after all these months on Agra 10, Jon has very little qualms about spending what the Agrii provide them with.

Having arrived a little early, Jon has already been seated at one of the rather few tables the restaurant actually possesses. All set apart and separated with strategically placed pots filled with colorful alien flora and a stunning view out of the large windows making up the entire outer walls of the place. A soft tune hangs in the air that Jon listens idly to while looking out of the window, over the city and every once in a while daring a glance down, feeling a bit thankful that Mike Crew hasn't instilled an even greater fear of heights into him. His hands are loosely clasped in front of him on the table, having very little to do at the moment.

When he hears a set of footsteps approaching, Jon turns his attention away from the window to greet who he assumes to be Tony with a gently, yet genuine smile.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The accusation was entirely unfair because Jon should have been entirely aware that pouting like that was only an invitation for a kiss that smeared the mess further as Tony snickered at the sticky tug of sugar in his beard. While Jon tried to manage any further disaster, Tony took his chance to draw more of the colour over his chin and down his neck until there was only a crystalline scratch of sugar to drag over his collarbone, Tony's fingers dancing there while he watched Jon's and the pink curl of his tongue with dark-eyed interest. "Am I?" he asked, not quite managing to sound like he wasn't trying to meet that challenge. "Someone will have to do something about that."

Jon catches the look in Tony's eyes and pauses any further cleaning attempts only to swallow at Tony's voice. The words themselves hardly matter, but the tone combined with that look Jon can almost feel ghosting over his skin and narrowly brushing down his spine that he has to fight back a shiver.

At the very least he is making a noteworthy attempt. The part of the shudder Jon can't hold back is accompanied by a stubbornly set jaw and a set of messy fingers pointing at Tony's nose. "And by someone you mean yourself." Which may sound stricter than necessarily intended.

There was only time for the smallest tick of Tony's smirk before his sticky hand was jumping away from Jon's collar to capture his wrist instead, accepting the jab of Jon's fingers as though they weren't any different than the candy Tony had offered to him and taking two into his mouth. At first, he stopped there, with Jon's fingertips held gently against his lips pillowed around them in the soft pout of a kiss, his gaze meeting Jon's incongruously sharp as he calculated the combative value of this malicious compliance against making a bigger mess to irritate Jon into a stricter yet response. He did have two hands.

Keeping his eye locked on Jon's, Tony had to search blindly between them for any packages that hadn't been batted away yet, pushing his thumb into Jon's palm again to stop him from reflexively clenching his fist at the inviting touch of Tony's tongue to his fingers. What he produced from the blankets was a malleable pouch with a flimsy cap to be torn off, something that could have been a sugary powder or a paste by Tony's estimation, making him raise his eyebrows in a very dangerous delight as he squeezed.

Having his wrist grabbed by a sugary hand has Jon flinch at first, eyes darting to this renewed physical contact and then following the path his hand is being taken on until his fingers meet Tony's lips and any protest he may have had comes to a sputtering halt. His eyes and hand captured, Jon finds himself oddly mesmerized and compelled to watch with a fresh blush sprouting across his cheeks.

He notices the searching motion of Tony's second hand somewhat belatedly, yet only glances over very briefly before his eyes are being pulled back despite the tiny alarm bell ringing at the back of his head, reminding him that he has two hands as well and maybe, MAYBE might want to try and prevent any further sticky messes.

Which sounds hypocritical even to his own mind.

And yet Jon's free hand comes up in time with the small plastic lid popping off of Tony's find, narrowly missing to catch the streak of creamy and ridiculously sparkly substance that Tony has launched from the small pouch and halfway across Jon's shoulder and jaw, making Jon freeze at the sensation.

The effectiveness, and shininess, of the whim was startling enough to Tony as well that he huffed a strangled laugh, reluctant to release Jon's hand or the weight of his fingers on his tongue. It was not sustainable when he met Jon's eye again, though, the expression forcing a giggle out of Tony that knocked him on his back, shaking with it where he was wedged between the pillows and Jon's shoulder. "I don't remember ever popping off that early, look, I still have my pants on, really, that mess is your own fault, you should know by now how excitable I am," he goaded as he brought the candy pouch up before his eyes to consider briefly, then toss dismissively away off of the bed and lick at the splatter of cream that had oozed down his knuckles. "Oh, chocolate," he muttered around his hand with new surprise. "And...pop rocks," was the only way he had to describe the accompanying tingling sensation on his lips.

Jon remains frozen a moment longer, but is shaken out of his stupor by Tony landing next to him, cackling. Which at least enables Jon to bring his hand to his face and rub off some of the creme to taste it himself - Only to figure out that Tony is, indeed, correct. He groans, but licks off his thumb as well before turning somewhat towards Tony and give the man's shoulder a little punch. "Right. The moment we find something tasting of chocolate it gets immediately tied to the idea of you prematurely discharging into my face."

The complaint finishes with a small, accusatory huff while Jon brings his arm around again, but not to punch Tony again, but to hold onto Tony's upper arm and pull himself around and onto his own side to now being the one hovering over Tony, that fizzle from the creme still on his tongue and lips which he will press onto Tony's without much further warning. Clearly this is punishment for making sure Jon won't be able to possibly enjoy a treat at least tasting like chocolate without recalling this association.

Tony's wincing and protective grabbing of his arm after the punch was not a particularly convincing performance with his still impish grin, and was quickly forgotten as Tony was set laughing again by Jon's reliably dry grumbling about his facial. The kiss then was a much bigger threat than Jon's punching because it was very possible that Tony might die of suffocation, making him bring a hand up against Jon's chest in a perfunctory attempt to slow him down so Tony could catch his breath as he bowed close. That was a death Tony was willing to risk. His hand passed up over Jon's shoulder and around his neck to curl fingers still sticky with sour marshmallow filling into his hair and keep him close until Tony's hysterics were under control enough to hold Jon in a deep kiss. The tingling slide of his tongue was an acceptable replacement for the sugary press of his fingers, making Tony push up hungrily into the kiss and work his hand between them up through the mess on Jon's jaw, only to make himself laugh again at the smear of the candy. "It's not a bad look on you," he offered in a dark purr, sharp twist of his smirk returning against Jon's lips. "Don't you want to make your mark?"

The kiss is nice, Jon decides, having shifted on top of Tony to soak in the warmth and closeness while his focus remains on the kiss itself. He absently knows one of his to be hands playing with Tony's hair, the other makes slow, yet dedicated progress to open Tony's shirt underneath him. One of those curious local pieces created by a fashion culture that seems to have never quite invented buttons or zippers. But the fabric is soft and suits Tony and it parts easily enough for Jon to slide his hand inside and run it down Tony's side while he raises a brow at the man's words.

"...my mark..." He repeats the words in a curious whisper against Tony's lips before pressing another kiss to them. "Are we still speaking of smearing colorful sugar over each other?"

Tony had to hold a deep breath so his exhale wasn't so embarrassingly unsteady with relief at Jon's cool touch against his anxiously heated skin, muscles twitching and goosebumps already raising under Jon's fingers. He released it as a sigh into another kiss, his thumb tickling over Jon's chin to tease him open to the study of Tony's tongue until they were equally embarrassingly breathless with it and Tony could nip pointedly at Jon's lip again to murmur, "Barely."

He shifted enough that he wasn't holding Jon anymore to find his kiss, hand trailing down from Jon's chin to tease a thumb along his throat instead and the other passing up through his hair to drop limply onto the bed over Tony's head. "I've been thinking about--" he started, second guessing it as he realized this wasn't really something they had talked about so much as the way that Jon could talk, making Tony's eyes dart with a nervousness that he tried to hide in another slow kiss before he continued. "Sometimes you talk about me, about us, like we belong to each other," he tried more carefully, and his face screwed up slightly because it was a possessive language that left Tony feeling aberrant and off-balance, but with a flush that made his whole body feel hot. Okay, it was definitely better half a second ago when it was supposed to just make Jon squirm.

Jon would have been fine with just sharing kisses and in various ways literally sticking together, but he listens up when Tony speaks and refrains from interrupting him. Instead, his fingers slowly trail up and down the skin he has exposed.

"I..." He starts slowly, seemingly thinking about his answer. Then he simply smiles. "It feels right." A simple statement, but a sincere one. Not many things in Jon's life that have been feeling right have also been nice or positive. So to him, this has been a very notable improvement.

Tony in no way meant to suggest they stop sharing kisses, and in fact might have worked smoother if they had continued instead of stumbling them into that answer from Jon which Tony didn't immediately know what to do with and tugged at the insatiable ache in his chest. He released that knot of anxiety at once in a breathless, "Yeah, so..." then started to laugh, lifting his hand from the bed again to cover his own face before either of them could examine too closely how honest that answer was, dropping his other hand further to curl under Jon's arm and smooth up his back. This was not the conversation he meant to start. "Stop being sweet when I'm horny, I'm trying to do something here," he complained, still behind his hand with his face crinkled in a grin.

"Okay, yeah," he decided more confidently when he pushed his hand up through his hair to offer that smile in his eyes to Jon, "I have been thinking about that, a lot, and my fantasies are very healthy, don't worry about it." More soberly, with a delicate touch mapped across Jon's cheek, he said, "Somewhere out there in the multiverse there must be a version of me that deserves you," and touched a finger to Jon's lips to stop him from arguing before Tony could finish, "and he definitely didn't get there without your help."

Informing Jon about being horny certainly is a good way to have him quiet initially, at least, momentarily lost in his own, soundless sputtering. The added finger to his lips, however, is a good bet on stopping Jon from raising an argument of protest, especially with those last set of words Tony brings himself to produce.

No. Jon's original argument of insisting Tony already deserving him, ridiculously as that phrasing may sound, wouldn't work. Because that isn't the point Tony is making here. Neither would be Jon insisting Tony is fine the way he is and that he wouldn't want a different version of Tony. Tony is reaching out to him. He is entrusting him with his insecurities and this isn't a matter of what Jon may want. It's a matter of what Tony needs.

Jon offers a smile behind Tony's silencing digit and waits for it to drop away before reaching out to run a hand through Tony's hair and inclining his head ever so slightly before asking a single, pointedly uncompelling question. "And do you want to be that version of yourself?"

Because the message is clear: He couldn't become that person on his own and would require Jon to be there for him. And Jon wouldn't mind being that person for Tony.

Jon's soft patience was definitely infuriatingly patronizing, making it difficult for Tony to meet his eye without his cheeks stinging like he had his face in the forge, regretting not encouraging the much easier argument they could have been having now and also definitely not wanting Jon to stop looking at him like that with those big, searching eyes that Tony was going to have to kiss him stupid for. Tony curled his hand around the back of Jon's neck again to draw him in to taste the answer on Tony's lips, because of course that was what he wanted, what had they been talking about this whole time? What he had been meaning to say, at least since teasing Jon about leaving a mark, but maybe since realizing he would regret not holding Jon's hand while he had the chance, and maybe since Jon had offered him his heart, was slowly gathered in the small space between each lingering kiss and the warmth of Jon's mouth until Tony finally muttered, "Make me yours."

The kiss is an answer Jon understands without much trouble. It's also an answer he happily returns, sighing the tiniest breaths when given the chance but not being too hung up about missing out on oxygen. He can rather do without breathing that without Tony.

The verbal response is more one to catch Jon off-guard and while he is fairly certain he understands the implication, he still pauses as that set of words hits him in the back of his head and shoots down his spine with a burning heat that ends up erupting in various places at once sending different instincts at war with one another. Pure rational thinking is it that points out sharply that Tony is unlikely to appeal to Jon's monstrous side to claim him by extracting his deepest fears and darkest secrets and devour every ounce of trauma he has to offer.

And as Jon lets out a hot exhale at the assurance that he is still that much in control of himself, he leans closer, wraps his arms around Tony's shoulders and simply pulls the man into a tight embrace, hoping to ease his racing heart with a small noise that may be an attempt at a chuckle. "-right. You mentioned being- Needy." That's one way to put it, isn't it. He pushes himself up and shifts his weight off of Tony, leaving one hand on his chest, however, while overall moving down beneath his legs, his other hand finding the waistband of Tony's pants and the buckle of his belt. "I- Did some research. Well. Actually just reading rather than research, but- I should be doing better this time!"

The embrace was welcome, the accusation that Tony got for it less so. Needy? It made Tony tense up where he had gladly hugged Jon back to nuzzle into his hair and spread his slow kisses to every peek of his face that he could still reach, more focused on where their skin pressed close or caught, sticky with sugar or sweat already between them from being so close, with every breath and eager shift. As much as Tony thought he wasn't ready to let that go, he let Jon sit up without protest, eyes wide and hands falling back on the bed and open innocently, happy to put some space between himself and Jon's declaration. He had said no such thing.

Unless it did mean getting his pants off. Tony was willing to make that exception, maybe he could be a little needy and eagerly move to help, ready to arch off of the bed and kick the clothes across the room with everything else that had been in his way tonight. Jon's unnerving enthusiasm made it difficult to understand exactly what he might have meant, the tone sounding more like he was about to share a magic trick with Tony, so when Tony did put the pieces together he started to laugh in surprise, hand going back to his face in a not very effective attempt to stop it. He was glad Jon had clarified that his research was purely secondary, because Tony would have been trapped wondering about that for the rest of his life, probably, but he did still have to ask, "What have you been reading?" Was there some kind of manual? That would have saved Tony some trial and error.

Maybe Tony didn't use the exact same words, but he certainly referred to himself as horny not too long ago. Which to Jon's understanding means roughly the same thing. He didn't even mean it in any accusatory way. It's not something he will be giving Tony any grief over. Not when Tony is specifically needy for him.

Having directed his attention to undoing Tony's pants, Jon misses most of the other man's reaction, but pauses his action to glance up for a moment once he hers the laughter. The following question has him look back down again, hoping to hide a new blush by returning to his previous task. "Oh, you know. Nothing in particular. I- I mean... The temple archives are vast, but- Certain pieces are easier accessed on other networks." By that time Jon has finished opening up those pants and is giving them a brief, experimental tug down, but pauses again to look back up at Tony to ask almost innocently. Almost. Right at that moment Jon is very much teasing. "How many details do you want me to tell you?"

"All of them," Tony readily replied, not about to turn down any offer of Jon's to whisper his dirtiest details in Tony's ear, and especially if Jon had something to tell him about the internet porn in this galaxy, and squirmed impatiently with Jon's careful work of his pants. As distracting as it was, his stomach already jumping with every rapid breath under Jon's fingers, it did give Tony the chance to realize belatedly that Jon's question had an obvious alternative and quickly try to correct, "None of them."

Bursting into another giggle at how rapidly Jon had unspooled him by starting him off balance, Tony decided on the most honest, "Both," in an effort to get himself under control. He pushed up onto his elbows, then tangled one hand around Jon's hooked around the waist of his pants to guide him down in a more deliberately slow drag, head tilted coyly to watch Jon's face through his lashes for any revealing appreciation for each inch of tanned muscle, the cut of his hip or tense chord of his thigh. "What were you hoping to see?" he purred, corner of his mouth ticking up in a smirk that made either way Jon interpreted that question dangerous.

"I couldn't possibly hope to be seeing you, could I." Jon remarks with a glance up into Tony's eyes. "At the same time I don't believe I was actually prepared for what I ended up encountering." He lets his attention drift back down onto the bare, smooth flesh being revealed, where his eyes linger a moment before Jon pulls Tony's pants all the way off in a very deliberate move on his end. After casting the piece of fabric aside, his hand settles on Tony's right leg, just above his knee, and takes its appreciative travel upwards with Jon making it a point to ignore the centerpiece. For now, at least.

Adding a little pressure to his touch, Jon's hand traces one of the muscles in Tony's upper leg upward before the touch slides inward, coaxing the man to pull up his knee a little while Jon muses aloud. "Humans are actually on the list of beings that are categorized to have their legs as part of their most sensitive areas." He pauses there to lean down and place a kiss on the inside of Tony's thigh, lingering there with an expectant look back up in Tony's direction and the tips of his fingers circling the back of that same thigh in a light massage near his face. "I'm curious to hear your opinion."

Immediately thrown off again, heavy-lidded gaze becoming more of a squint, Tony got as far as, "Ah--what?," before Jon was tugging his pants off. While Tony didn't think his ego was quite as sensitive as it appeared, it definitely wasn't prepared to process Jon not being particularly interested in what Tony was presenting and curiously touching him regardless. Realistically, Tony knew it wasn't just this ugly scar on his chest that was putting Jon off, but he still belatedly wished that he had stopped Jon from revealing it, making him drop again onto his back with a huff and a shiver of pleasure that made his hands tugging his shirt closed again slow and stupid with all power redirected to the nerves lit up from Tony's knee to his hip. The shirt became something for Tony to clutch to try to keep himself still at the tickle of Jon's lips and teasing fingertips, Tony's toes curling anxiously into the blankets as he tried to decide how hot it was to be treated like some kind of experiment.

"I think my appendix would be an erogenous zone if you touched it right now," he concluded. It was less the experiment thing than the anticipation, maybe, probably, so why was Tony trying to be obediently still? Spell broken, he ignored Jon's gentle coaxing to tuck his leg around him instead, digging his heel into Jon's back to draw him up closer and into Tony's impatient reach. "C'mon, you can let me know how sensitive your legs are, peer review," he encouraged.

"Your a--" Is what Jon gets out before he gets dragged forward by a leg around him and a foot in his back, resulting in a much less dignified noise and a brand new shade of red springing to his face when he nearly falls on top of Tony, which makes him very aware of the state of undress he himself has left Tony in just a moment ago.

Despite the heat in his face, Jon casts a stubborn look at Tony, huffing in that mild irritation that just barely hides how flustered he feels. "Tony, I- I'm trying!" He insists, yet he can't help the feeling that he's already doing everything wrong and being a disappointment.

Between the noise and Jon's blush, Tony was chuckling again, which was a relief and felt far better than tensely waiting for Jon to get his footing. Not that Jon couldn't probably use the patience, but Tony wasn't particularly good at waiting for anything, especially if the alternative was hitching his hips up eagerly against where they could press against Jon's chest, winding his leg more possessively down Jon's back to keep him close while Tony propped up on an elbow again to grin back at him. It started as his teasing, wry smirk, delighted by Jon's stubborn glare, but the frustration in Jon's voice was an unfamiliar note that softened the smile to a less challenging fondness.

With his free hand, Tony brushed lightly through Jon's hair and followed along his jaw to keep his head up before he did anything like look away and Tony couldn't trace his thumb over his heated cheek. "I know, it's fine," he started, because there might not be any intruding on Jon's process and Tony could figure out how to survive it if he had to, "But you don't have to--listen, like the date thing--it's not going to feel right if you don't feel right, and you're getting all, this, and I can hear you thinking..." The deeper Tony got into this, the more it sounded to his own ears like he was already trying to discourage Jon when he hadn't even started, which was horrifying and possibly suicidal, so Tony took a deep breath and threaded his fingers methodically through the short hair at the back of Jon's neck to regroup. "Can I help?" he tried, brow furrowed with a skeptical laugh already, not sure what that looked like but willing to explore the possibilities.

Jon lets out a sigh that feels a little too heavy while leaning his head into the touch and closing his eyes for a moment to focus on that contact. Tony's warm hands are doing a fine job at soothing his mind and permitting Jon to take another deep breath before nodding. "You're right."

And he is right. Nothing of this has any chance of working if he doesn't feel it. He has felt the date itself. At least he believes so. He certainly enjoyed the time they spent together just walking and talking and even the affectionate mess they made with the candy. But then his mind tried to find a rational approach and a memorized manual for intimacy and Jon just fell out of it entirely.

He gives an apologetic nuzzle to Tony's wrist, though he doesn't actually phrase his apology. "I should know how this works..."

"Always am," Tony muttered, without the usual conviction as his mouth went dry with every deliberately heaving breath that Jon seemed to take, tensing his knee against Jon's back impulsively to try to press closer and hoping he didn't notice through the rhythmic pets to his hair. It was in this hazy distraction that Tony shook his head slowly and let it tip heavily onto his shoulder, because the mechanics of the process were too straightforward to be the problem, one eye winked shut to try to gather something more coherent to say.

"I'm looking at you like this and I know how badly I want to touch and taste every part of you," he managed, willing to commit embarrassing acts in the process but still flushing uncomfortably at just how much he wanted, which definitely wasn't healthy, and saying it out loud sounded a lot like admitting he had a problem, to Tony's ears. He already had Jon thinking he was needy, that couldn't be helping. That didn't lessen how much that desire informed how any of this worked, so it stood to reason, "If you don't want me like that..." Which was possible, Jon had already effectively told him that and Tony kept pushing his luck anyway. He concluded, "That's f-fine," and from the way he stumbled over the words and quickly found somewhere else to look, it very much was not fine, but that was not Jon's problem; it was definitely Tony's, and his suddenly fragile perception of his body, and his neediness that he really had to redirect from before Jon heard the hesitation and figured that part out.

"We can make out as much as you want, boss," Tony continued quickly, and with what he hoped was a dazzling flourish, plucked Jon's glasses off before they got tangled in the blankets and packages of candy with Tony's. "And, listen, I'll go down on you for hours if you'll let me, I know you like that part, I can take care of myself--if that's okay, I mean, I can try some breathing exercises, but I might have to go have a cold shower at this point, I don't know, is that also weird for you?" Tony was already shaking his head, because it hadn't seemed like it before, but he had quickly run out of things to say as he blindly deposited Jon's glasses safely on the nightstand. The motion triggered some kind of muscle memory that had him asking abruptly, "Do you trust me?"

The stroking of his hair is quite helpful to get Jon to relax again and Tony's admission, embarrassing as it may be for him to say, brings a little smile to Jon's face to underline his still present blush. He doesn't perceive it as a problem on Tony's part, at least. It's more something he still isn't entirely certain how to process. And while it is endearing in its own way to see Tony struggle for a moment and so very clearly being out of his own depths, Jon has no intention of torturing the man.

He finds Tony's eyes to lock onto with his own and brings one hand to Tony's chest, easily parting his shirt back open to gently place it over Tony's heart. "Tony, I love you. And I do want you. It's only-" And he can't entirely hide that small, embarrassed chuckle there. "-it's different from being being frustrated, overworked and angry when you actually care for someone. I- I don't want to disappoint you. And yet-" There is a very weak shrug and an apologetic smile. Too late to avoid that bit, isn't it.

Then, he adds a nod. "I do trust you."

Jon's questing hand made Tony tense defensively, looking dismayed by this choice when he was working up the plan for Jon to be able to see less of him, and he quickly met Jon's hand to catch him by the wrist like he might drag it away. Once it was there, though, Tony certainly didn't want it gone again, his chest jumping in a sharp, sensitive inhale that wasn't calmed at all by being reassured that Jon loved him, he was still working on that one, then sinking slowly in a more measured exhale as Tony pressed his hand over Jon's. For all of Jon's optimistic trust he wanted to put in other people's good intentions, he had a terrible habit of focusing on the negatives, Tony realized, if that possible disappointment was what held Jon back.

Tony wiggled under Jon to encourage him back so he could sit up again, pausing long enough to capture his face in both hands to hold for a kiss and promise, "We'll be okay, I can handle some disappointment, and I'm not saying you will, don't take that in, Lord, just, if you can put up with my personality defects, and if you do trust me, then trust that I can..." It felt by then like they were talking about a broader expectation than their sexual experience, so Tony started to laugh before he managed to finish with a far less lofty, "Deal with an amateur blowjob."

Giving Jon's shoulder a pat to follow, Tony shifted back up against the pillows where he picked one up to dump unceremoniously out of its case. It was the fabric that Tony held up with raised eyebrows for Jon to assess, then he lifted his chin to welcome Jon back against his chest where Tony could securely tie him blind. "You're focusing on the wrong vectors," he pointed out. Hopefully, Jon had figured out Tony's design by then as he said, "You had no problem winning me a prize, even though you looked like a complete disaster." The disaster had been an integral part of the success, after all, and Tony nuzzled his smile of appreciation for it against the stubborn knot of determination that had ticked in Jon's jaw.

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