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

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.

Tony replied to that eloquent declaration with the rumble of another laugh and hummed, "Mm-hmm," against Jon's inviting throat, where he delicately scraped his teeth along the straining skin to sooth over the path with a swipe of his tongue in time with the slow massage of his fist between Jon's thighs, nose bumping under his chin as Tony's thumb traced over the head of his cock. He twisted slightly, trying to meet Jon's searching hand, but ultimately shivered in frustration at his quickly fraying focus and shifted one hand up behind Jon's shoulders so he didn't have to pause and give any warning for giving in and tipping them over onto the bed again. He could lay Jon gently on his back where he could still tuck himself covetously close and finally capture his lips in a proper kiss again, hard and hot against his hip, hand sliding out from under him to push the blind up into his hair and let Tony catch his eye again with an adoring grin when he could bring himself to take a breath. He could live with Jon not being able to look at him, maybe, he'd figure it out, but he didn't think he could bring himself to give up watching the flutter of Jon's lashes and how big and dark his watchful eyes went as Tony rolled the grip of his fingers still curled between them.

As much as Jon may try to focus on what is happening, it's getting harder and harder with every stroke of Tony's hand and every gasp escaping his own lips. He hardly notices when Tony's starts tipping him back. But he notices his fingers making contact at last, brushing against Tony's shoulder which his hand follows up to wrap his arm around Tony's neck by the time he closes in for that kiss that swallows up whichever noise Jon is about to make to accompany that little twitch his hips make to meet Tony's touch.

His other hand releases the sheets and moves up instead, finding Tony's hips and settling against it, fingers digging into warm skin when the blindfold gets pushed up and Jon blinks his eyes a few times before they find Tony's and Jon feels himself falling right into them. The only natural thing for him to do at this point is to pull Tony into another deep kiss.

Tony's kiss was slack and unfocused, hot with breathy groans at any confident probe of Jon's tongue that managed to draw his attention away from the careless grip of Jon's fingers or impatient rock of Tony's hips as he searched for the friction he couldn't quite manage while they were sitting up, undeterred by the bite of Jon's fly into his thigh where he tucked his leg between Jon's. His grip around Jon tightened briefly at that press into his hip, but remained a slow and easy massage with Tony's thumb lingering over Jon's head with every deliberate pass until he was gathering a generous, slick pearl from his slit. Tony released him then to brush his knuckles up his body instead, until they nudged under his chin to draw him out of the kiss. Still close enough that his breath was hot against Jon's mouth, Tony slid his thumb along his bruised lip. He had certainly tasted himself on Tony's tongue before, but it wasn't going to be anything like the chocolate that he had chased after, so Tony tried to steady his breathing enough to listen carefully with a reassuring nuzzle along the line of Jon's nose.

Jon's eyes remain locked on Tony's and those raw, mesmerizing emotions within them. The pressure of Tony's thumb to his lip has him open his mouth a little automatically, tongue emerging to taste that rare, yet still somewhat familiar taste that isn't merely Tony's fingers themselves. Fingers that belong to a hand that has just been touching him and now has stopped and left him missing the sensation.

The noise Jon makes can easily be considered a needy one before he breathes the other man's name after a brief nip on that thumb. "Tony..." The name trails off just as Jon's hand slips down from Tony's hip and around to find the other man's heated flesh, yearning to be touched. And the touch Jon offers is light at first, not deliberately teasing, however. It takes hm less than a moment to settle for a decent enough angle to give Tony a more demanding stroke with his hand. "Let me feel you."

The only way any of that could have been more arousing was with the edge of Jon's reliable frustration, and by the jerk of Tony's hips at Jon's stroke, he might not have survived it. His response was a wordless whine as he skimmed his hand up Jon's cheek to twine with the other in his hair, bracketing him between Tony's elbows where he held himself up to keep his forehead touched to Jon's and the edge of the blindfold. Another smile tugged at his lips at the sugar still clinging to Jon's skin that he could taste with every breath, while an anxious frown knit his brow. When he finally formulated words, they were muttered into kisses against Jon's face, "Anything you want, boss."

That reaction and Tony's response to his touch are oddly encouraging in how rewarding it feels to be able to get such reactions from Tony. Jon has no intentions to be cruel and returns what kisses he can while it is now his turn to set a steady, firm pace with his hand while his own hips rock upwards along with it every once in a while. And while he misses Tony's touch on him, he finds himself instead with the best view to closely follow every single facial reaction on his face. Every twitch, every gasp, every moan he turns into another kiss bound to send shivers across his own body.

They had a goal that they were supposed to be focusing on, Tony was pretty sure, nagging ever more faintly at him with every kiss and effectively burnt out of him in the irresistible warmth of Jon's hand. He hitched greedily closer into the touch, his thigh pressing between Jon's drawing up and tucking them into a tight knot where Tony shuddered and tensed, his murmured stream of affections stuttering in the same way he dropped his arm and it skipped down Jon's shoulder to his elbow, blindly searching to grab at his wrist and flex a warning and a desperate urge not to stop. He tucked his face into the comforting cradle of Jon's neck, where he smelled less like candy and more like the singular, bitter sweat that stood out on his skin now, no longer hidden under the influences of Corsucant.

As Tony is turning more and more into a hot, shuddering mess against his neck, Jon turns his head towards the side of his face, placing little kisses against his ear and whichever part of Tony's head is within reach to receive such affection. The tight entanglement of their bodies interrupts those kisses with the occasional gasp and sharp intake of breath whenever a shift or movement brings his own need in contact with warm, sweaty flesh. Flesh heated by desire. A desire directed at him.

"-fuck." Jon repeats an earlier incantation at the thoughts crossing his mind and stoking that fire Tony has already ignited beneath his belly.

The next words he utters are a breathless command. "Tony- Don't come yet." The movements of his hand stops there, with the side of his fingers pressed against the base of Tony's cock. There isn't any of his magic carrying those words. Neither is there in the following declaration Jon makes, breath still coming short, yet pushing his other hand against Tony's shoulder, wordlessly prompting the man to switch places. "I will make you mine."

Unprepared for this betrayal, Tony hiccuped a pathetically high note and his hand flexed painfully where it had been curling methodically through Jon's hair, tugging at his scalp while Tony's nails bit into his palm. It wasn't an easy command to follow, not with the soft burr of Jon's voice tickling up the back of Tony's neck and the stubborn streak it met there telling him to paint his claim across Jon's stomach anyway, what was Jon going to do, make him do it again? Tony had to throw himself down onto his back on the bed before that thought was all it took to get him off, muscles taut in a deep arch up into the cold hit of air that had the sweat on his skin rapidly cooling into shivering gooseflesh. He didn't quite relax all the way back as he breathed the tension out in a laugh, one hand over his head clinging anxiously around the edge of the mattress to find ground, the other squeezing tightly around the root of his own length until the danger of Jon saying anything else to him had passed and he slid his hand further down between his thighs, finger teasing against himself when he could finally meet Jon's eye again with a wicked smile. The expression was Jon's warning that Tony wasn't about to stay there if he really did mean to reverse their positions, more than ready to loop an arm around him to roll him onto his back again through the mess of sweets without some strong incentive to behave.

Jon gives Tony the time he needs to pull himself back together as much as he currently can, now being the one to kneel between Tony's legs and following the little track of the other man's hand. He looks up in time to catch that wordless warning and responds to it in kind, a single eyebrow perking up ever so slightly before Jon releases a hot exhale and leans forward, one hand landing next to Tony's hip, the other joining Tony's hand between the man's thighs and taking but a moment to to locate Tony's entrance and brushing a single finger along it in a rather telling motion. At the same time he maintains the eye contact Tony has established and gives a little nod towards the little table Tony has deposited Jon's glasses on earlier.

The small, near translucent bottle sitting there innocently is easy to miss, he will admit that.

"Feel free to stop me." The offer and intention is out and clear, but ultimately Tony still has a word in the matter.

Tony already had a leg curled around Jon and a hand on his chest ready to roll him over when he froze, unsure what to make of that challenging eye contact or the nod until he surrendered to glance up at the bottle. How long had that been there, and what else had Jon been waiting to spring on him? While Tony brightened with a grin of delight, tongue between his hungry teeth, the offer still didn't stop him from rolling Jon over again onto his back in the bracket of Tony's thighs, where Tony could turn that grin down on him from sitting up on his hips like a predator perched above him. That left Tony free to grab the bottle himself, asking, "This isn't the homebrew, is it? I was looking forward to that," with an unconvincing pout. Not that this wasn't true, but he was more than happy not to have to wait through any more development time.

The quick noise of surprise and the following moment of dumbfounded sputtering only lasts long enough for a healthy new blush to spread across Jon's face, but aside from a little grimace of indignation Jon doesn't put up an actual fight. Instead, he snorts at Tony's question. "I used the homebrew to fix up holes in the library's roof." Whether he is telling the truth or not remains up for debate. He puts a hand on Tony's thigh as he watches him curiously, the challenge still on his face despite the earlier embarrassment. Is he about to witness another mess to further soil this bed?

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.

Jon gives a noncommittal little shrug in response, only remotely taking note of the dropped bottle, his attention very much on Tony, his laugh, the sheer delight he seems to take in this particular purchase Jon has made. Fine. He will bring a few additional bottles back to Temba, if- Jon takes in a sharp breath when Tony starts fingering himself and very much presenting his work and himself to Jon's view. The fingers Tony keeps holding to his chest twitch slightly, as does one of Jon's legs, reflexive responses to him tensing up in this mix of anticipation and excitement.

He bites his lips for a moment and drags his attention up to Tony's face to meet his eyes while opening his mouth in a more futile way, attempting to put his thoughts into words and failing. Jon's second hand has shifted to Tony's leg and across it, drifting towards his own cock to brush his flat palm against it absent-mindedly. His attention remains on Tony's face as he manages to breathe a few words at last. "Tony... You're beautiful."

Tony's mouth opened in a mirror to Jon's speechless pause, only Tony smiled and ran his tongue along his lip until it caught on a sharp tooth, head tilted expectantly. What he was expecting was another stubborn complaint, at least some flustered sputtering, so the compliment felt like it caught him by the throat, difficult to breath around the fire in his chest that his heart danced erratically around and lit up his face. He dropped Jon's hand to catch himself as he fell forward, planting his palm into the blankets over Jon's shoulder, the other abandoning the tight heat of his own body to chase Jon's petting over himself away to glide easily over his cock, still slick to the wrist and leaving a damp kiss with every brush of Tony's knuckles against his stomach as Tony leaned close. "Now, now," he demanded, light with another laugh; he could take one finger easily, he had done this before, he was entirely in control of this situation, and he pressed an eager kiss to Jon's mouth before he could say anything else dangerous.

Jon has a moment to appreciate the color on Tony's face before that same face suddenly is very close to his again and he feels Tony's hand around himself, slick and warm and if that touch hadn't made Jon's breath catch in his throat, then the kiss certainly does so.

But it's fine. Breathing is overrated anyway and Jon eagerly returns the kiss while it lasts.

And while he finds himself cut of again from watching and commenting, Jon's hands find themselves free to move and roam once more. Which they do, mapping the strong muscles of Tony's shoulders, back and torso before one of them slides down the man's ass in a very appreciative way.

Archivist Catch-All

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