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.

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Not that Tony needed any more encouragement, he had already reached shamelessly desperate probably much earlier than he would later be willing to admit to, but Jon's remarkably controlled twitch under him and the shaky urgency in his voice granted Tony a rare, single-minded focus on snapping whatever fraying thread was managing that restraint. That didn't make him any more prepared for the blunt press of Jon's tip, definitely bigger than a finger, bigger than he felt in Tony's hand, had he always been this big?, and the burning pressure as Tony pushed himself to take more, faster, now. It punched the air out of him, leaving him dizzy as he sank his weight onto Jon's hips, one hand pressed tensely against Jon's stomach, arm flush down Tony's body, the other digging his nails into his own chest like he might hide it again between them, his eyes still shut against the burn of tears he could feel clinging to his lashes. He was definitely going to feel that tomorrow. With a few quick gasps of air, he managed a hazy, "Good?," and gave a still yet impatient, experimental rock of his hips, sending an exquisite shiver up his spine.

Jon lets out a small gasp on his end when Tony suddenly impales himself on Jon's shaft and Jon finds his sensitive flesh squeezed tighter than before, but also embraced much more warmly. But despite his own reaction, Jon doesn't miss Tony's and is swift to bring one of his hands back up and place it over the one Tony used to support his weight, giving an ever gentle squeeze to those digits.

"You are amazing." Jon manages after regaining his breath, any stuttering replaced by certainty. His second hand brushes up Tony's leg and settles on his hip warmly. "Take your time. You set the pace." There is no rush, is there? Or at least that's what Jon tells himself while his hips want nothing more but to thrust up and the hand from Tony's hip refuses to stay there and instead moves to brush its fingers against the hand Tony has on his own chest.

That didn't have quite the effect that Tony was hoping for, and Jon's steady sincerity instead surprised a new laugh out of Tony, still tremulous but his flushed grin no less cocky or affectionate as he said, "I know." There wouldn't be any taking his time if the pace was up to Tony, though; if it was really up to him, they would have been well into round three by now, maybe making use of that tub instead of a blindfold to keep Jon relaxed and open to Tony's curious fingers. He was at the mercy of the limits of the body, though, or maybe that was Jon's hand on his, making Tony slow the urgent squirming in Jon's lap as he hooked their fingers together, holding them there tightly for a beat as he searched Jon's face through dark, heavy-lidded eyes for what he was reaching for. It was never as obvious when Tony wasn't talking.

He couldn't remain still for long, clenching eagerly around the weight and burn of Jon inside him like a brand, and he tipped himself forward again as much as he could bear to bring Jon's knuckles to his lips, eyes falling closed again and gasping into their hands as he rolled to fuck him deeper.

It's a sharp exhale followed by a low moan Tony receives in response, Jon's eyes as closed as his own and his hand clutching tightly to Tony's.

Yes, he could keep praising Tony. In fact, Jon would love to do just that. But his mind is pulled off its track and proper thoughts are buried under the sensation of Tony while his hips act on their own to try and push deeper. What he does manage verbally after a moment of having remarkably little access to any actual ability related to proper dialogue, is a breathy attempt at Tony's name.

He slowly opens his eyes again to look back up at the man and finds himself speechless all over again. How dare this man be so effortlessly stunning even when being an utter mess...

That was more like it, but the delay still managed to shock Tony into a panting, impatient whine in response to Jon's silence and the fleeting satisfaction of the lick of flame than seemed to pull along his thighs and in his belly that he struggled to stoke without having Jon deeper. Jon's moans eased the burning ache of Tony's poorly prepared stretch around him, leaving him watchful by the time Jon met his eye, with another smile to offer him despite the sweat that he could feel in the hair clinging to his face or the shirt tangled around his shoulders, or the traitorous tear tracing along his jaw. With the same needy urgency, his free hand skimmed up Jon's body where this position left him straining to brush his fingers over Jon's heart, and he pressed the kiss that he wanted to adore Jon's beautiful face with into the their hands tangled together.

Tony had to hope Jon still managed to hear all of the worshipful devotion in the gesture, because it was short lived before Tony's kisses became the bite of his teeth into Jon's knuckles as he finally managed to push himself up on his knees, the tension from the effort winding through his whole body and making it impossible not to bear exquisitely tighter around the ache of Jon inside him. The pinch of his teeth eased with every roll of his hips then, and every breath seemed to last an eternity despite leaving his heart beating desperately, never fulfilled by the rasping gasps in his throat.

Jon returns the smile he is being given fondly, feeling unable to feel anything but affection and desire for the man above him despite the for himself unusual position he finds himself in. And while Tony's hand finds his heart, Jon's travels up his arm to his shoulder and along the side of his face as their other hands remain entangled.

The bite and resuming movement get a short sound of surprise out of Jon, while quickly morphs into a moan and a series of encouraging gasps and pants as Jon pulls up his knees enough to plant his feet flat on the mattress for some leverage so he can move his own hips to meet Tony's thrusts with his own at last.

Tony had already been suspended over the edge with Jon's hands on him and whispering in his ear, I will make you mine; he almost repeated it as he tipped his cheek into Jon's hand, eyes wide and pleading and tongue touched to his lip like he was starving. He wasn't wrapped tightly around Jon like he thought he would be, molding possessively into the shape of him, so at the first nudge of Jon's thigh against his back he was quickly reaching behind to clutch behind his knee and keep it pressed close, arcing himself back to meet that thrust with a hiccup of shock at the ember that flared in shift. He dropped his other hand blindly down his body then to grasp desperately around his own cock, mostly slick with his own spit and what was left of the lube between his fingers, but that edge wasn't far.

It could have been to himself or to Jon, but Tony didn't produce much of a sound or slow the twist of his own hand or roll to meet Jon's hips as he formed the plea, "Wait--" His eyes fell shut and he turned his bruised mouth against Jon's palm, nails digging into his thigh, but that ember was a spark ready to be lit. He tried to say it again, and it came out this time, "Mine," in a breath the seemed to catch in his tight chest for an eternity before that spark lit stars behind his eyelids.

That final word goes straight to Jon's core. The intonation of it combined with the entire display of Tony above him. A sweaty, exhausted mess, pushed over the edge and positively shining, every muscle tense and ready to snap as Tony thrusts up one final time. Seeing Tony's entire body twitch when all that tension is snapped and the man utters his claim is a vision Jon will gladly burn into his own memory.

Jon says nothing when he comes half a moment later. He tries to keep his eyes on Tony as long as possible, which proves tricky with the man clenching even more tightly around him. Then his head snaps back and he has to close his eyes with a choking gasp before letting out a guttural noise, one hand clawing at one of Tony's legs, the other dropping to an arm, holding there in this moment of being one.

As the tension bled out of their joined bodies, Tony's breath coming in sighs that felt so hot they must have been what left his vision hazy, he slowly slid his arm out of Jon's hold to link their fingers together again. His grin felt as bonelessly weak as the rest of him, but it persisted just as he shivered through the effort to keep himself upright on his knees, his weight heavy across Jon's lap and twitches of protest jumping under his skin for holding himself high enough to watch Jon's glowing face as he caught his breath. There was still the stain of the candy on his skin, distorted in vanishing rivulets now down his neck, his lips red and wet, and without the knot of tension in his jaw and between his brow that Tony adored, he always looked soft and a little alien in a way that Tony kept being unable to map and capture no matter how long he wanted to stare at Jon like this.

His free hand skipped lazily up Jon's body, from the superheated press of skin to skin up Jon's belly to rub his fingers slowly through an obscene bead of come clinging to Jon's sternum, pushing it slowly against the ridge of his ribs with a watchful tilt of his head, considering his mark. He was sure he would feel Jon's the moment he moved, or could he already?, and wanted to hold as still as possible to keep it from sliding down his thigh in a lascivious possessiveness, and a mounting anxiety that Jon hadn't really thought yet about what they were doing.

Though slow to drag his gaze back up to meet Jon's, Tony's smile was easily back and worry only a distant tug in the welcome brightness of Jon's eyes, and he risked the smallest shift forward as he murmured in a hoarse voice, "Hey." With a squeeze to Jon's hand, he asked, "Good?"

Returning the smile is easy. It feels warm and right in his chest and Tony's own smile only makes the sensation so much better.

"Perfect." He breathes contently and lifts his by now relaxed hand off of Tony's leg and lazily gestures for Tony to settle down in his embrace so they can enjoy each other's cooling bodies and scents and keep each other warm. They may be messy and sticky, but Jon refuses to let that be a worry for now.

Jon produces a soft, tired yet genuinely fond chuckle while waiting for Tony to settle down on or with him. "You're amazing, Tony. I love you. And- I'm happy to be yours."

It was with some reluctance that Tony let himself sink forward, but found he was just as eager to finally press a kiss to Jon's lips again, and even happier to roll over into his back to sink into the welcoming, plush mattress with a groan for the deep muscle ache releasing the collective pressure at once. Even as he reached into his catlike stretch of satisfaction, back arched and hips loosening, he tickled on hand along Jon's side to slide under him and tug him closer to enjoy the rewards of the sprawl with Jon's weight against him.

When he found his voice again, it was to admit, "Never done that before," leaving Jon to guess which part was new among Tony's myriad of risky behaviours while Tony considered the statement was possibly not strictly true, his riskiest helpfully coinciding with blackout oblivion. He was starting to doubt his assumption that Jon had to be much more clear headed than he was in his hungry pursuit of Jon's dick and started to laugh, trying to bury it in Jon's hair before it sounded like he was laughing at Jon's declarations. "My boyfriend," he helpfully provided, because that was the word that Jon had claimed, but it still didn't feel quite right in Tony's mouth; juvenile, or just foreign, he wasn't sure yet of the reason. "My partner," he tried instead, sounding optimistic, but deflating slightly with little reflection. That left a lot of room for interpretation; Tony had many partners. He was already chuckling when he offered the more straightforward, "My lover?," though, twisting toward Jon again with the laugh and patting up over his shoulder to touch his face, every captivating plane of it making 'lover' sound even more reductive. This had been a pointless experiment from the start, truly, because Tony had already landed on the correct claim many kisses ago and grinned into yet another where he mumbled, "My heart."

In some ways it feels like a row of very personal promotions Tony is handing him, every single one of them sweeter than the one before it, leaving Jon grin both stupidly as well as happily as he settles down along with Tony and shifts close to wrap an arm around him and his head on Tony's shoulder where he can keep his eyes locked with Tony's and remain in easy reach for some additional kisses. Of which he will press one to Tony's lip with a small hum of approval, moving his hand up Tony's side and on to his chest to gently rest over his heart. Right. They can just stay like this for now.

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Archivist Catch-All

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