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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[ 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?

[ Snatching up the bottle, Tony thumbs the cap off one-handed, peels his other hand away from Bruce’s leg, and pours enough into his palm to slick himself up. He doesn’t do that until the cap’s back on the bottle and he’s tossed it up toward the head of the bed, out of the way. The reprieve from sensation is necessary to keep him from coming too soon and ruining everything, though watching Bruce is still enough of a sensory overload that it requires the exertion of every available ounce of what’s left of his control to get the job done. ]

I want you…

[ He almost says on hands and knees. There’s a primal appeal to the position that strikes a chord deep down where his most basic of instincts lurk. But he wants Bruce to see him. He wants him to know that he belongs to him. ]

…just like this.

[ And in one swift lunge, Tony’s kneeling between his thighs, one hand planted against the bed just below his shoulder, his mouth bare inches above Bruce’s lips. He keeps himself far enough away that he can still see him but Bruce can’t touch him without lifting himself up to do it. ]

Are you ready?

[ Game or not, he isn’t going to take him until he is, and in that respect, the ball is firmly in Bruce’s court. ]

Edited 2013-03-19 02:32 (UTC)

[ Tony's intensity is breathtaking, a counterpoint to Bruce's calmness; even when he's in a fierce mood, as it were, he's never like this until he's already buried in Tony and close to breaking his hold on control. He gasps, surprised by Tony moving in so close and struck breathless by suddenly having so much of him so near and so very touchable. Of course Tony's making it hard on him. Of course, and Bruce loves that.

He's basically ready, but he takes a few long seconds to trail his eyes up Tony's body, starting from his cock and working all the way up, and all the while he gets his breath back under control. Only then does he lick over his lips and then nod. ]

Ready. [ No wait. Better. The corner of his mouth twitches into a smile. ] I'm all yours.

[ It’s possible that Tony could manage this blinded if he was pressed to do so, but he’s not, and even though he’s impatient, there are still some things he won’t neglect. The feast of the senses that’s Bruce Banner beneath him is one of those things.

Laying his free hand on his chest, Tony slides it downward, a long, continuous caress that flows over his abdomen, around his cock, under his balls, and back along the valley of his ass. His eyes never leave Bruce’s face, and nominally, the touch is intended to swat his hand aside if it’s still in the way, since Tony refuses to look anywhere but into those big, expressive eyes. But in reality, it’s mostly just because he wants to touch him.

Ducking his head until his lips just barely brush against Bruce’s, Tony takes a hold of himself, positioning his cock largely from memory, and nudges it against Bruce’s ass. ]

You can touch me now.

[ Partially, it’s selfish; Tony wants to feel Bruce’s hands on him. And partially, it’s because he knows that once he’s fully inside him, Bruce is going to need something to hold onto. ]

[ Bruce had actually completely forgotten about that rule, so he's glad that he didn't try to touch him, despite the temptation. Now that he knows he has free reign, though, he takes it, tempting as it might be to keep himself on edge. He can't keep his hands to himself after Tony touches him like that anyway; Bruce doesn't think he's unattractive, but he thinks he's average. But Tony doesn't touch him like he's average, not once, not ever.

So now he lets his hands roam, and he starts by dragging his nails lightly down Tony's back and onto his ass, where he digs a little harder before he takes hold, squeezing and pulling him closer. There's challenge in his eyes, silently demanding that Tony give him what he wants already.

It's maybe strange that this is how they're choosing to have sex after the L-bomb, but judging from the way neither of them can look away from the other right now, it's perfect. ]

[ Anyone who thinks that Bruce is average is a fool. There’s nothing average about him, and Tony’s opinion on that doesn’t factor in the Hulk. The Hulk is a bonus, like an Easter egg on a DVD or a post-credit surprise at the end of movie. In Tony’s eyes, Bruce has always been remarkable, from his brilliant mind to the body that is heavily featured in an embarrassing number of wet dreams.

He sees that smile, feels the clench of Bruce’s fingers against is ass, and smiles a hungry, predatory smile of his own in response. It’s the only warning – if Bruce still needs one – that he gives him before he rocks forward, finally, finally pushing into him with a quiet exhale.

This isn’t some slow, careful lovemaking where he eases further in by tiny increments, but it isn’t hard and fast either. He’s got enough presence of mind to strive for a middle ground, and he finds it in the steady roll of his hips. There’s no stopping until he’s balls-deep, until there’s nowhere left to go, and instead of listening to his body scream at him to move, Tony hooks his hand around the back of Bruce’s neck and pulls him into a hard, demanding kiss. His stillness won’t last very long, but for a moment, he’s giving Bruce time to adjust. ]

[ His pace is pretty perfect; too hard and Bruce would be struggling to make sure no switches are flipped, no triggers set off. Too slow and he wouldn't be nearly as satisfied as he is now, and while he can do that to himself no problem, when Tony resists self-denial, he does what Bruce can't do for himself and he's reminded of Tony's insistence that Bruce can relax.

Beyond the emotional, it also just feels incredible. Maybe a little too much, but he doesn't have any problem with that. The wildness in Tony's grin confirms what Bruce already knows -- that nothing about this will be gentle or slow, and he's more than okay with that.

He kisses back just as hard, just as hungry, and he runs one hand up his lower back, scratching lightly. The other's still planted firmly on his ass. ]

[ Regardless of how this may have begun, Tony is confident that if he does anything Bruce doesn't like, he'll put a stop to it immediately. Not because of - or with - the Hulk, but simply because Bruce isn't a pushover and has never struck Tony as the kind of person who puts up with something he dislikes for no good reason. If it gets to be too much, he believes he'll stop him, and that's really all Tony needs.

In the way Bruce responds to his kiss, he reads permission to move, and the first rock of his hips is a bit shallow, just enough to feel Bruce around him. It makes him shudder slightly, the tight heat of his body almost too exquisite for Tony to handle. But the next thrust is firmer, the one that follows firmer still, and he sweeps his hand down from Bruce’s neck, along his side and over his hip to grasp the back of his thigh and hike his hips up a tiny bit higher.

Breaking the kiss, still feeling his way toward an acceptable tempo, Tony lifts his head to look at him. He understands that Bruce needs to monitor himself, that he can’t always be completely there in the moment like most people can. But that doesn’t mean that Tony won’t try to get the most of him that he possibly can. ]

You with me?

[ Once Tony starts moving, Bruce does slip away mentally, pulling back into a spot where he can monitor what's going on around him from a safe, detached space. He can hold onto a remarkable degree of calmness from that spot in his mind, even in the midst of chaos or, say, Tony grinding into him steadily. He is holding onto him, both hands on his back now, palms flat because that way he can feel Tony's body tensing, can feel him think about how hard he's going to thrust, and Bruce can prepare himself for it.

A few thrusts like that, with Bruce carefully relearning the way Tony's body moves -- and he takes the time to relearn it each time they do this because he's not allowed to cut corners -- and he can step back into the moment, leave his head and come back to more than just Tony's muscles and Bruce's predictions.

He leaves his eyes closed when Tony pulls away from the kiss, but he opens them at the question, and he blinks away the lack of focus to smile at him. If there was a problem with what Tony was doing, Bruce would stop it. He has the restraint and the sense of responsibility to put a stop to something that's dangerous. They're okay. ]

I'm here. Don't you dare slow down.

M’not.

[ He isn’t. He doesn’t have any intention of slowing down. To emphasize that point, he snaps his hips forward with a little more force than he’d been using. It’s just that one thrust, and then he’s right back to what he’d been doing. Steady, relentless, but not frantic. Not too fast.

He wants Bruce to see him, wants him to feel him. And he wants it to last. At least long enough so that there can be no doubt that he’s the one there with Bruce. That it’s him possessing him like this. ]

Just want you here with me. Just want you.

[ Reaching up, he tangles his fingers in Bruce’s hair, gives it a tug. Another emphasis to another pointed rock of his hips. ]

You’re mine.

[ The sharp thrust catches him by surprise, and he cries out softly; it isn't a protest, but it would've been if Tony had kept up at that pace. He can handle rough when it's steady like Tony's pace is now -- but then again, it's the surprises that make sex with Tony so distinctive. Tony isn't as steady and predictable as Bruce is, and he pushes Bruce to let go of his routine.

He grunts at the tug to his hair and the thrust of his hips, but he has to fight his smile off. Tony's possessiveness is childlike in its own way, and while it could get problematic if it becomes something out of a Lifetime movie, he's not worried about that yet. ]

No argument here. [ He looks up into Tony's eyes. ] I'm all yours.

[ Too much, he realizes at that sound, and reins himself back in. He doesn’t want to hurt him. Hurting Bruce, in any way, is the last thing he wants to do. It only takes that one look for him to release the grip he has on Bruce’s hair and drop his hand down onto the mattress.

Actually apologizing might be weird, might disrupt the mood too far, so he searches for something better. He evens out the rhythm of his hips, keeps them steady, and he ducks his head to kiss Bruce’s throat. Later, he decides, he’ll use his words. Right now, this is going to have to do.

He keeps kissing him, lips gentle against his skin as he trails them down the column of his throat. They’re lazy, sloppy kisses, completely out of time with his hips, but he isn’t trying for perfect synchronization. ]

[ There's no need to apologize; Tony didn't go overboard, and even if he did, Bruce would understand losing himself to the moment. He won't say no to being kissed though, and he tilts his chin to give Tony better access. His erection is coming back; it'd started slow but is quickly returning now, and every time Tony brushes against it, he needs to work extra hard to keep his breathing even.

He runs his fingers up Tony's back and neck and into his hair; he loves Tony's hair, the way it feels between his fingers, the way he looks when it's mussed. He strokes his fingers through the strands and scratches, tugging gently. He brings his leg up, giving Tony better access, silently telling him it's okay to do more. ]

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