cape_kore | 004 | Tony Stark

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004 | Tony Stark | Video

[ Although he’s not exactly smiling, Tony’s expression is blandly neutral, relaxed, and his voice is friendly. ]

Normally I’d have my assistant – I guess technically she’s my CEO now - handle the whole public relations thing, but she’s not here so I guess that leaves me doing it myself. Unless I have a volunteer from the audience? No? Didn’t think so.

[ He glances away from the camera for a second, almost like he’s looking at a list. ]

Stiles, I got your bow and arrows here. Any time you want me to stop by and get them, feel free. Alternatively, I can be persuaded to play delivery guy.

Sharon. You wanted some new toys? I got a couple for you.

Party Poison. Not to be confused with the lovely Poison Ivy. We have a bet, right?

[ Twisting his wrist, the video blurs and comes into focus on a large sabertooth tiger reclining on the living room floor like he owns the place. At the attention, he lifts his head, flattens his ears, and lazily bares his teeth. The video blurs again, coming to rest on Tony’s face, who’s utterly unfazed by being threatened by hundreds of pounds of formerly extinct cat. ]

Meet Stanley. And start the countdown.

[ Flashing a smile, he starts to lower his wrist, then pauses and lifts it back. ]

Oh, right. And one more thing before I forget.

[ Anyone who knows Tony might know better here. Might realize that he wasn’t going to forget and has in fact been building up to this the entire time he’s been talking. ]

“Hot Hands.” [ He even makes the air quotes with his free hand as he smiles, like everything’s all friendly like. Much like Stanley, though, it’s really a baring of his teeth. ] Listen. If you touch Bruce again, I’ll break them. And then my big green friend won’t have to show up to beat your ass into the ground. Capiche?

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[ Bruce is the luckiest person here. He has to be. No one else on this cape can be better at this than Tony. He's gotten himself to a place where he's mostly in control, somehow, despite Tony's attention, so he can drop his head forward to watch. The smile in Tony's eyes is strangely heartwarming in this context, and he smiles back -- at least until Tony starts sucking in earnest.

He groans and squeezes his eyes shut, his other hand coming up to Tony's shoulder and squeezing lightly, encouragingly. Once he recovers, he drags his nails down Tony's chest and manages to open his eyes again.

His body's already tingling faintly with arousal and building need, and he can deploy a healthy amount of control over his orgasms in order to prolong them, but judging from what he's heard of Tony's plans for them, he's thinking he shouldn't try to hold back. ]

[ Tony counts these little moments of feeling Bruce’s eyes on him as a victory. As success. Each one he wins from him is, he believes, one step closer to proving to Bruce that he can do this. That this is safe for both of them.

He gives his hip an answering squeeze, murmuring incomprehensible noises that, if he hadn’t been trying to talk with his mouth otherwise occupied, would have been something along the lines of that’s good, just like that, Bruce, you’re doing fine, it’s okay.

If Bruce wants to hold out, Tony’s perfectly capable of doing this for a while. A lifetime spent chasing sex as a substitute for everything else his life was lacking has gifted him with a certain amount of endurance that, even if he hadn’t been dispensing a lot of blowjobs before Bruce, allows him to be perfectly at ease down here on his knees. Of course, he fully intends to wring as many orgasms out of Bruce as he can before he gets chased away in favor of damage control. And it’s to that end that he chooses to be just a bit more demanding now.

On the next slide upward, he fits the hand not gripping Bruce’s hip around the base of his erection and follows with it the path his mouth has just taken. He’s coordinated enough to jerk him off while he’s blowing him, and that he sets in to do in earnest. ]

[ His low, throaty laugh turns into a moan, equally husky. He wants to quip something about talking when his mouth is full, but he doesn't actually have any objections to it. The humming travels up his cock in a curiously amazing way, and he loves that even now, Tony can't turn the chatterbox off. It's cute. It's one of the things he loves about Tony, which he can say now with the full weight of the word behind it.

With Bruce letting his walls down, he won't last much longer under Tony's attention. Getting demanding with Bruce is the best way to drive him crazy because that's something he never does for himself. He takes a few measured breaths, but he can't fight off that moan and the way his breath starts to hitch now. His head falls back against the door and he holds onto Tony's shoulders, needing to feel him.

When he starts to feel his orgasm coming, he doesn't tense up and try to push it away, like he would've before Tony started to teach him that it's okay to let go. ]

Tony. [ It's a shaky warning to him that Bruce is close. ]

[ With his mouth full of Bruce, it’s extraordinarily difficult for Tony to feel much of anything but an almost overwhelming amount of desire. He likes this a lot; the way he feels against his lips, the way his skin tastes against his tongue, the weight and the warmth of him, the closeness, the pleasure he knows that he’s giving him. And though he may not have yet said it in words, he really likes the way he tastes when he comes.

The idea that he might back off at the warning, like he’d actually let a drop of semen escape him if he’s able to catch it, makes him chuckle. It’s a deep, gravelly sound, quiet, almost silent because it’s not quite as easy to breathe like this as it is normally. But his shoulders shake slightly with it, and a puff of warm breath gets expelled against Bruce’s abdomen as he lets his hand drop and takes him all the way in again.

He glances upward, strokes Bruce’s cock with his tongue and tightens his lips around him. He reaches for his balls again, strokes them gently. And he doesn’t stop, doesn’t pull away. Just keeps moving, fucking him with lips and tongue as best he can, determined to ride him out right where he is. ]

[ He's not surprised when Tony sticks around, but he does grin at Tony's amusement, not that he gets long to feel much beyond the building pressure. With this kind of relentless attention, Bruce really is helpless, and he'd be nervous about letting go for anyone -- especially after the Hulk -- because it seems like anyone else would think it ill-advised, but not Tony. When he starts to make quiet sounds as he approaches the edge, and his hold tightens on Tony's shoulder, he isn't worried or embarrassed or anything like that.

He is still self-aware, and he is still keeping an eye on his body, on the signals it's putting out, but mostly he feels the oncoming wave of his climax, and then it sweeps through him, unexpectedly hard and actually really cathartic. His hips lift fractionally off the door with the force of it, and he moans his way through it as he tries to start bringing his breathing back under control.

Once his body calms down, he licks over his lips and looks down, smiling faintly. ]

You are inhumanly good at that.

[ He doesn’t pull away until Bruce is spent, and even then, he does it slowly, licking him clean before finally letting him fall gently from his mouth. He doesn’t immediately get to his feet, either. There’s no way he’s going to be able to do it without staggering a little and that’s not the least bit sexy. The carpet in this house is seriously substandard and he’s starting to discover that it’s hell on his knees.

Instead, he looks up at Bruce, watching him as he comes back to himself. He looks good like this, flushed and leaning back against the door like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

When he speaks, Tony just smirks at him. ]

Or I just really like having your dick in my mouth. That’s a possibility. More than a possibility, really. Kind of a certainty.

[ He laughs softly again and cards his fingers through Tony's hair. Bruce thinks he looks good like this -- watching Bruce with that self-satisfied smirk on his flushed lips. With his feelings out on the table now too, there's no question that the look in his eyes is all love. He's filling up with it for Tony at the moment. He's dying to kiss him, but he can be patient, and in the meantime, he slides out of his pants and pushes them aside before he relaxes back against the door again. He's clearly waiting for Tony, projecting the message that he's for Tony. ]

I can live with that. There are a couple places I'd like to have your dick right now. [ He smiles and it's a touch shy, but there's nothing but playfulness in his eyes. ] Any requests?

You’re making me pick one?

[ It’s not the impossible decision he’s making it out to be, and after giving Bruce’s body a long, appreciative look from head to toe, he rises to his feet. ]

I guess I can do that.

[ Reaching out, he runs a hand up over Bruce’s chest, lets it linger over his heart as he leans in to whisper in his ear. There's none of the uncertainty from a second ago; this time it's all quiet command. ]

Go lay down. On the bed. [ Catching the edge of his earlobe in his teeth, Tony bites down, not quite sharp enough to sting. ] Facing me.

[ One to start out with anyway. He probably ought to cut their sexcapades short rather than let them go on as long as Tony could keep them going, but there's always later. Provided his apologizing doesn't completely kill the mood... Oh God, Banner, why are you thinking about this?

Right about when he realizes he's on the wrong topic in his mind is when Tony gives his command, and then Bruce's mind is successfully empty of anything other than Tony. He swallows thickly and nods; he has no problem being told what to do. Before he goes, he skims his hands up Tony's chest and pinches his nipples lightly, and he pulls away with a playful look in his eye.

He climbs onto the bed and lays back, getting comfortable, and he watches Tony darkly, eyes following his every move. ]

[ He sucks in a sharp breath at the pinches, not expecting them in the least. Maybe he should, Bruce is hardly passive, but it still catches him by surprise, and when he turns to watch him get on the bed, his eyes are dark with a feral kind of lust.

Not yet moving after him, he unbuckles his belt and quietly pulls it free of his jeans. There’s a part of him, a surprisingly large part of him, that wants to use the belt to bind Bruce’s hands. To do it and tell him that he only gets to touch when he says that he can because Bruce is his. But the possessive impulse is as ridiculous as the idea is impractical. Tony knows better than to suggest restraints with Bruce.

Letting the belt fall to the ground, he stalks forward a step and unbuttons his jeans. Another step, and he slides the zipper down. Another, and he pushes the jeans down off his hips. A forth, he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers.

He stops then, a step from the bed. And the total nudity that will, his actions suggest, follow. His eyes seek out Bruce's as an eyebrow rises. ]

Get the lube out of the drawer.

[ He knows that touching Tony was pushing at a line that Tony had just drawn. He's played enough power games in bed and been in this position enough -- with Tony and with Betty -- that he knew just what he was doing. Though he has no problem falling into this role, just as he has no problem taking the other one, he can't just be passive. Not when he knows a touch can get Tony looking at him like that.

There's a moment -- it's brief, but it's there -- when Tony slides his belt off and Bruce's mind goes to a bad place. But then it's gone when the belt hits the floor, and Bruce can watch Tony's approach with hungry eyes. God, he's a gorgeous man. Hell, person in general.

The order shoots through him, and he pulls open the drawer and grabs the lube. Once he settles back on the bed, he holds it up, just far enough away from Tony that he'd have to come closer or, ideally, climb on the bed to get it, and he can't fight the playful smile that shows that he knows just what he's doing. ]

[ Bruce’s obedience is rewarded with a dropping of the boxers and another step forward. There’s nowhere to go now but up onto the bed and he sets a knee on the mattress. About to climb up, he stops again, eyeing the way Bruce is smiling and holding the bottle.

It’s just another facet of the game that Tony hadn’t even realized he started until they were both playing it. And since it’s one he enjoys, he’s not about to bring it to a halt. Even if the rules have changed. After all, he’s adaptable. Bruce wants to use his hands? Okay. He can do that. ]

Open the bottle and slick up your fingers. The first three.

[ Setting his weight onto the leg already on the bed, Tony brings up the other one and slowly crawls, on hands and knees, closer to him. ]

And don’t do anything else or I’m stopping right here.

[ He's preparing for what he thinks will be Tony taking the bottle from him, Tony driving him crazy a little more, but what he gets instead is completely surprising and... completely welcome. This time, Bruce obeys without any jokes or attempts to wriggle around the rules. He does just as Tony says, even displaying his fingers once he's done, holding them up for approval, though he does that subconsciously. He sets the lube down beside him and waits now, and even though he just came, he can feel his arousal coming back slowly.

He couldn't do this with someone he didn't trust completely because this could run up against not good memories. But he trusts Tony. Tony won't make him do anything that he doesn't want, and Tony won't hurt him. Tony genuinely loves him, and Bruce can believe that now because no one would accept the Hulk like that and then give Bruce his pants for the walk home if they didn't love him. All of him -- Hulk included.

Bruce is still figuring out how he feels about that, but he's realizing what's strange about it is that he's never felt so whole, him and the Hulk together, since the accident. ]

[ That kind of compliance deserves recognition, and since he’s right there, Tony dips his head to press his lips to Bruce’s knee. ]

Good. That’s good.

[ Shifting his weight, he frees up a hand to briefly stroke the inside of that knee. It’s a light caress, touching for the sake of it, touching because he simply enjoys doing it. His eyes lift, track upward along Bruce’s body until they reach his eyes. ]

Spread your legs.

[ Bruce isn’t the only one he’s trying, somewhat creatively, to restrain. He’s doing it to himself too, refusing to let himself give in and ruin the game. It’s just that he wants him so much; the intensity of it nearly leaves him shaking and he’s so hard that every movement that makes his erection brush against his skin forces him to bite back noises far too undignified to be uttered. Yet. In a few minutes, he won’t be pandering to dignity at all. ]

And talk to me. You can’t touch me, but you can still talk to me.

[ He shivers when Tony kisses his knee, and he spreads his legs, giving Tony all the room he can offer. In a way, the rule Tony sets out is the most difficult. If Bruce needs to focus on restraining himself, the distraction of talking could fray his control. Tony's the talker, the rambler, and the reason Bruce likes to hear it is that he's not like that at all. ]

Does that involve asking you to let me do something with these fingers?

[ So he goads. He knows it's daring, but this is all fantasy, all pretend. The smile on his face is wicked and playful, and there isn't a trace of worry about what Tony might do in response. ]

[ He doesn’t immediately move into the space Bruce has opened up for him. Eventually, he will, but for the moment he stays where he is, down by his knees, fingers hovering just above his skin. ]

You can. [ Tony flashes a smirk, pointedly raking his gaze over Bruce’s body before settling on his eyes again. ] But I can’t promise you won’t get more than you ask for.

[ Sliding his hand upward, still not touching him, he traces the air about the inside of his thigh. ]

One finger, Bruce. Put it inside yourself and tell me how it feels.

[ The anticipation of being touched is going to kill him, but it's also what he thrives on in sex these days. Sex laced with an element of denial and frustration is a natural extension of the rest of Bruce's life. Either Tony knows that, or their sexual compatibility is as serendipitous as every other facet of their compatibility. Bruce doesn't really believe in luck or chance or fortune, but he has to admit there's something along those lines binding him and Tony together.

His smile twitches, though his returning arousal is clear in his eyes. He has to twist at the waist to give himself the right angle, but he makes sure Tony still has a clear view as he presses his finger against his entrance and slips it past. He gives his body time to adjust, breathing quietly, before he speaks. ]

Doesn't feel like enough.

[ Patience, Stark. Have some patience. Don’t fuck this up. He keeps repeating it, over and over, reminding himself that while instant gratification is nice, good things come to those who wait. It’s just damn difficult waiting when he’s watching Bruce’s finger sinking into his ass when it could be his finger and his cock and… Focus.

Licking his lips, Tony glances up toward Bruce's face, withdraws his hand from where it's hovering over his leg, and, on impulse, drags his fingers over the length of his own erection. After all, Bruce is putting on a show. He may as well let him know that he’s enjoying it. ]

So add a second one.

[ Bruce glances down when he notices Tony move, and then he's basically openly staring. Any time Tony touches himself is of interest to Bruce. Someone as attractive as Tony who's stroking his cock needs to be watched, and closely. He does as Tony says he can, adding a second finger, and it's almost too much all the way up until it isn't nearly enough.

His breathing is steady, but labored, and he makes a soft noise in his throat that's almost a whine; it's cathartic, and he needs to vent some of his mounting frustration. He finds a steady, comfortable rhythm, working his fingers in and out, while he focuses on what he's going to have soon. It only adds to the anticipation and makes him that little bit more hungry for it. ]

Enjoying the view? I know I like mine.

[ He wants to be in Bruce, not sitting here outside him, jerking himself off. But he can’t watch him finger-fucking himself without having to do something about the insistent, all-consuming need to act. To get just a little friction. A little something to tide himself over until he can have what he truly wants. ]

I’m enjoying it so much I could get off like this.

[ Long practice talking through pleasure, pain, intoxication, and sleepless nights keeps him coherent, when his voice is edging toward rough and unsteady. He isn't lying, either. Unconsciously, he'd started keeping pace with Bruce's hand, but now he's doing it deliberately, each pump of his fist following the plunge of those far too captivating fingers. ]

Tell me. Do you want to watch or participate?

[ If they did have all the time in the world to spend a day in bed, then Bruce would probably say "watch" because they could pick up the rest in round two. He can't spend all day with Tony, though, as much as he'd like to. ]

I've been thinking about you fucking me since you pulled me into your lap. So. Participate.

[ Bruce doesn't start sounding really wrecked until he gets into it. Until then, his voice is cool and calm, which adds a note of danger to him, really, that he can keep his head together as he's watching Tony with steadily darkening eyes. Once he notices Tony keeping pace with him, he slows down considerably, even if he wants, needs more. He compensates by spreading his fingers, which draws a muffled sound from him. ]

Another finger? Please?

[ Crafty bastard. It’s obvious what Bruce is doing; he knows that his slowing down is meant to slow him down, and Tony isn’t Bruce. He doesn’t have his level of self-control. Honestly, he barely has any self-control at all.

Determined not to lose the game he started, Tony bites his lip on a whimper – that’s probably just as telling as the sound would be, but he has to draw a line somewhere and that’s it – and nods. ]

Another finger. And Bruce?

[ He’s been thinking about fucking Bruce for a lot longer than just since the living room, and that impatience, coupled with the possessiveness that still hasn’t abated, twists his voice into a growl. ]

Hurry up.

[ The growl puts a wrinkle in Bruce's composure, and he needs to stop for a second and close his eyes so he can get his breath back. It's more than the growl or the possessiveness; it's knowing that even without touching Tony, he got him to sound like that. Through trickery, sure, but isn't that the point of their game?

Swallowing thickly, he adds another finger and finds his original pace again, and it takes him a few seconds of adjustment -- first to the stretch and then to the pleasure -- before he can loosen his hold on his concentration. He watches Tony again, eyes wandering over him with palpable need. ]

Done and done. Sorry. I didn't want you getting too excited without me. [ He smiles, still teasing, though that's not inaccurate. Since he woke up in the woods, he's felt especially close to Tony, and he wants to be the reason -- the physical reason -- for why Tony gets off. ]

[ That’s better. That’s much better, and Tony exhales a heavy breath as his hand works to catch up. It’s remarkably easy to get lost in this. The sight Bruce makes, laid out like that in front of him. The sound of his voice. That smirky little smile that he’s never seen anyone else make quite the same way Bruce does it.

His hand moves inelegantly, artless, in long, firm strokes that are taking him far too close to the edge than he should be. Eyelids drooping, lips parting, he catches himself as his head starts to bow, and with a soft, thin sound of frustration, yanks his hand away from himself.

He’s panting when he looks up at Bruce, and when he reaches out, his hand settles against Bruce’s thigh. His fingernails bite gently into his skin as his fingers curl, his voice an impatient hissing demand. ]

Lube. [ He holds out his other hand, palm up. ] Now.

[ God, but he's a pretty sight like that. It's almost enough to let him keep going, but if Tony hadn't stopped himself, Bruce was going to launch a formal complaint. He gets something better instead though, and he works to bring himself back down to reality after staring so hard. He'd been sliding into a daze too, comfortable and steady, but he doesn't want comfortable and steady anymore. He doesn't think Tony's going to give him that, either.

He passes the lube back, his eyes lingering on the sight of Tony's cock before he drags them up. ]

How do you want me?

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