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 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.

There is some reassurance in those words, but more so in that moment of laughter. And it all sounded so plausible, too...

Jon doesn't get to dwell on any of this for long, however. Instead, he finds himself curiously watching Tony beckoning him closer with a pillow case in hand - Which he then proceeds to wrap around his head, leaving Jon to frown in his newly blinded world. A world in which he has to feel his way around at best.

"Uhm..." He says, for now making sure his hands are somewhere on Tony to not end up entirely lost. Though he makes no move to remove the improvised blindfold just as much as he has made no move to prevent Tony from putting it on him. "I... Can't see." Jon goes on to inform Tony about the obvious. "I'm aware there is a kink for this, but-" Is this the time to get into those...?

"Perfect," Tony chuckled for the very helpful update, only to laugh harder at Jon's awkward handling of 'kink' and try to suppress it against his neck. Nothing had really changed, Tony still wound himself, like he had been all evening, as much as he could around Jon, tangling their legs and wrapping his arms around Jon's chest to draw him back close against Tony where he revelled in the press of their skin together from his collar to his thighs, for an indulgent breath. "I could turn all of the lights off instead...?" he proposed, sounding skeptical because he didn't think it would be quite as effective, but maybe that would feel less intimidatingly kinky to Jon if they were both equally in the dark. "Just--you're still thinking about it too hard, stop that, I'm trying to turn that off," he insisted as he massaged one hand up Jon's chest. The other dropped away, searching the bed. "Comfortable?"

Jon huffs a little protest at being told not to think about what is happening, but he still relaxes a little further into Tony's touch. "Let me get used to this for a moment. It'll be fine." Since simply being blindfolded is one thing. He knows there is light beyond the fabric. He knows he can simply choose to see again with one simple motion. Being stuck entirely in the dark, however, is not an idea he particularly fancies.

If Tony is waiting for a sign from Jon to have gotten more comfortable with this new situation, he will get it in the form of Jon's hands starting to feel around some more. Only one at first, carefully sticking to whichever part of Tony's skin it's touching.

It wasn't clear to Tony if Jon being very quiet was his version of trying not to think, like Tony had suggested, instead of saying everything that came to his mind, which was privately funny enough to Tony that he started to chuckle again into the slow kisses that he was peppering down Jon's neck and across his shoulder. With as much patience as Tony could muster, he traced his restless patterns down Jon's body, tapping a rhythm up his ribs and sketching the lines around his tensed muscles until he felt them relax, and taking very measured breaths to keep himself from abandoning this process outright to bowl Jon over and replace every touch with a hungry kiss. He could do this, he could do patient, for at least another generous two minutes.

When Jon seemed to be getting his senses, Tony muttered, "Okay?," then brushed another kiss under his ear where he could feel the teasing curve of Tony's smile. "It's a blindfold, you don't have to stop talking." Maybe not all at once, though, because Tony's other hand had returned, a delicate touch of his thumb to Jon's chin to orient him before Tony explained, "Chocolate," something else for Jon to do with his mouth.

While Jon wouldn't say he feels helpless or at Tony's mercy, he is very much aware that he has no way of knowing where Tony will touch him next. All Jon currently knows is, that one touch will quite certainly be followed by another and he finds himself shivering a little in anticipation every time he notices Tony's hands leave his body.

Tony's words summon forth a new blush and Jon bites his lips for a moment before answering. "I- I know that, Tony! I'm just- I-- I'm feeling!" Don't call him out on this rather clumsy exclamation.

And he doesn't get much further anyway, given that Tony plans on feeding him more sweets now? "Jesus Christ, wha- Now? I-" He struggles for a moment, but then nods and opens his mouth with a brief. "Alright. Put it in."

This plan to direct Jon's focus might have been backfiring entirely because he seemed to have just become frustrated instead of cautious, but frustrated and complaining was at least familiar territory. Tony shook slightly against Jon, clearly trying very hard not to laugh at his determined feeling or how blindfolding him seemed to have made him non-functional, and it was much more difficult to keep out of his voice as he said very sweetly, "You're doing great, boss."

He was going to find it more difficult to voice his complaints unless he was more proactive about the touch of Tony's sugary, cream-covered finger to his tongue, where Tony went obviously still, holding his breath and watching Jon closely before he would start to panic and withdraw again. This was not at all the level of control he should have been entrusted with; the much easier solution was to get them both drunk.

This is entirely unfamiliar territory to Jon and one of his main defense reactions simply remains complaining. Though that gentle praise from Tony at least doesn't fail at calming Jon notably. And before he can actually complain more, there is a finger in his mouth, bringing with it the soft texture and rich taste of one of the few treats that have proven enjoyable.

Jon lets out a little sigh through his nose after closing his lips around the digit, tense posture melting out of its tension as he allows himself to enjoy the treat and start using his tongue to work it off of Tony's finger.

Then the finger dares to try and pull away, which results in Jon's hand snapping up and grabbing Tony's hand more or less by the wrist to keep it in place before muttering around the finger. "'m no'don'!"

Tony had underestimated Jon's ability to persist and argue, no matter what was in his mouth, making him shake with another laugh that tickled against Jon's shoulder where Tony dropped his face to try to stop it. He had been watching in fascination, his own mouth going dry at the heat closing around his finger and the tension bleeding out of Jon that Tony absorbed to sit rigidly attentive, his other hand spidering geedily from where it had dropped loosely against Jon's belly, up to wrap around his chest. The laugh eased the hold for Tony to continue restlessly petting down Jon's body, but his wrist was still tense with tendons jumping under Jon's grip as he prompted, "Hey," and touched another digit to Jon's lip to take. Seducing him with hungry, wet kisses to his neck, Tony massaged gently along Jon's tongue and pushed experimentally deeper into the inviting press of his mouth, any ground gained making Tony squirm his hips vainly closer against Jon.

Jon accepts the second finger even though it doesn't bring some additional creme with it. Which is a bit of a shame, but those kisses make it clear enough that the candy has never been the point of the exercise. So he tries working his tongue around the set of fingers, along the sides of them and allowing them moments to just rest on the muscle in his mouth, taking in the unique taste of Tony's fingers.

Taste is not sense of his that has had many chances to familiarize itself with Tony is one thing Jon comes to realize with a low hum at the back of his throat that may just be him thinking. This certainly is something Jon has missed out on despite having had opportunities in the past. The hum turns into a more content one even though Jon is faintly aware he has to let go of those fingers eventually.

It wasn't clear which part of Tony's fabrication had been the most effective, or if Jon had been willing to indulge Tony's hands all along and they weren't actually making him any more comfortable, but the slide of Jon's tongue along his skin had the expected effect on Tony. His breath was coming quickly by the time he had kissed his way up to Jon's ear, where he nipped and admired, "I don't know what you were worried about, you're a quick study." His eager exploration of Jon's skin meanwhile had settled on his fly to tug his pants open, letting Tony work his restless fingers deeper past his waistband while he slowly eased the others back out of the draw of Jon's mouth with a tug at his lip. "I'm going to touch you," he breathed, more of a request than a warning as his hands stilled for Jon's answer.

Losing those fingers from his mouth is a bit of a disappointment to Jon, albeit a temporary one. It manifests in a little huff and a somewhat stubborn response to Tony's praise. "'course I am." That's as much as he is going to argue at this point, now that his free to follow Tony's progress more properly, unaware of his own breath coming faster and less controlled at this point. Having let go of Tony's wrist, Jon uses the back of his hand to wipe his own mouth while nodding his okay. This bit isn't new, at least. It's one of those areas where Tony's hand excel at. And the fact that this thought crosses Jon's mind with such certainty is enough to make him let out a breath shuddering with anticipation.

Jon's stubborn irritability despite the needy hitch of his breath had Tony pressing a grin against his cheek again, where he could feel the brush of Tony's nose as he readily joined the nodding, just as eager to touch more of Jon by then to satisfy his hungry growl. He didn't leave either of them waiting, drawing Jon's length in the loose stroke of a fist against his stomach where the dry pass of Tony's palm stopped short of meeting the searching tease of his fingertips, slick with Jon's spit and sliding deliberately over his skin like Tony was reading braille in every nerve. With his own quiet moan for the touch, Tony pressed his messy kisses under Jon's jaw again, sucking eagerly at his skin and pushing close like he might weigh Jon over and bring this experiment, where he was figuring out how long he could survive without Jon inside him, to an end.

The touch of Tony's hand, while he knows it to be coming, still makes Jon's anticipation burst into a gasp that may still be comparably soft, yet entirely involuntary. As he isn't able to actually look, Jon tilts his head back, offering more of his neck while muttering a breathy "Fuck..." in response to the sensation of these skilled fingers moving over his sensitive skin.

Jon brings up one of his hands, leaving the other to curl into the sheets of the bed, and blindly reaches up to where he assumes for his own fingers to brush against Tony's neck, maybe shoulder, maybe chest.

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