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 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. ]

[ The tilting back of Bruce’s chin is something he can read without mistake, and he doesn’t hesitate to continue. Under his jaw, over the curve of his Adam’s apple, Tony paints his skin with kisses: closed mouth, open mouth, here and there a flick of his tongue when he can’t resist.

Bruce’s fingers feel so good in his hair, the tingles of sensation his nails spark against his scalp a counterpoint to the slow burn building low in his abdomen. Very lightly, he grazes his teeth over the skin beneath his lips, not biting, just offering a new sensation of his own.

He can feel the gradual swell of Bruce’s cock, trapped as it is between them. That too is something he understands, and he makes a low murmur of sound as he cups Bruce’s hip in his palm. He’s not entirely sure where the patience comes from, but he uses it, lets his thumb trace idle circles around Bruce’s hip bone for a few seconds that stretch just a little too long. Then he slips it between them, curls his fingers around his growing erection, coaxingly stroking the head with the pad of his thumb. ]

[ There Tony goes again, making Bruce feel like some kind of sex god, like he's so desirable Tony has to kiss him so thoroughly and delicately. The funny thing is that the fact that Tony's making Bruce feel that way means that he's the sex god here. He's not sure where this patient attention comes from either after Tony's been a blitz of aggression, but he'll take it and chalk it up to the fact that Tony loves him, and they're running the gambit of Tony's love right now, all the way from intense possessiveness to intense tenderness.

He moans when Tony takes his cock, and this is when his tight control over his breath starts to unravel at the edges. He ducks his head, still trying to leave Tony room to kiss his neck if he wants, but Bruce can't lie still anymore. He needs to taste his skin too, to lick down the line of his shoulder and bite -- and Bruce isn't worried about being gentle. He licks over the already fading mark, and he gives Tony's hair a light tug. ]

[ Sometimes, Tony thinks that discovering what sounds he can coax from Bruce is the best part of having sex with him. Not that the intimacy and the pleasure are anything to scoff at; far from it. But there’s something about listening to him, knowing that that moan or this sigh is his doing, that strikes some chord deep in the core of him. Every note of sound he wins from him, he stores in his memory, like a collector, preserved and pristine so that he can think about them later. What prompts them, how to provoke them again, how they might change if he does something differently.

Maybe he just thinks about sex, and Bruce, too much.

At the moment, however, he isn’t thinking at all. He’s reacting to the pinch of Bruce’s teeth against his skin, hissing out a low note of pleasure and something that sounds suspiciously like god yes under his breath. Tony would be lying if he claimed not to like it rough; he loves it, some part of him that hates being handled like he’s going to break revels in it.

His hand tightens around Bruce’s cock, not content simply to caress anymore. He gives one firm pump of his fist, follows it with another, half a beat behind his hips. He’s breathing hard now, and his voice is strained, edging toward wrecked when he finally pulls his mouth off of Bruce long enough to speak. ]

How… How’re you doing? Holding up?

[ Tony's so responsive. For someone as reserved as Bruce, the easy way Tony can express himself, or throw himself into sex, is so foreign to him and so alluring. It isn't hard to get him to react so enthusiastically, and that is endlessly satisfying. He grins and lets Tony feel it before he finds a new spot and sucks at his skin because Bruce might not be as possessive as Tony is, but he can appreciate the idea of wanting to stake a claim on someone. For some reason, the bundle of energy and passion that is Tony Stark is his, and it'd just be wrong if he didn't leave his mark, right?

He hums gratefully when Tony starts jerking him off, and he tries to move against him, coordinating against Tony's hips and his hands. He still has one hand on Tony's back, still holding onto him, but he takes it now and runs it from his shoulder and down and back again, stroking over his skin. ]

Oh, Tony, I'm just miserable. [ He grins and then tugs on Tony's hair, pulling him back so he can see him. Admittedly it is harder to be sassy when he's being fucked so thoroughly, but he has the benefit of still being en route to his second orgasm. ] I'm only having some of the best sex of my life.

[ There's no resistance when Bruce tugs his head up; moving with the pull, Tony lifts his head and meets that sass with a crooked smirk. He tries to laugh or snort, something amused and dismissive, but he doesn't have the wherewithal for it to come out as anything but a strangled groan. Talking, though, that's easier than breathing. ]

Guess we're gonna have to... have to work on that.

[ He just can't keep talking, not when his attention is being pulled in so many directions. The slight tingle as tiny drops of sweat start to bead upon his skin, raising little prickles of gooseflesh as they slide, one by one, along the curve of his spine. The dull, muted slap of flesh meeting flesh as their bodies meet. The heat of Bruce’s body surrounding him, leading him inexorably toward his own orgasm. The weight of Bruce's erection, hard and silky smooth, as it slides against his palm. He tries to hold out, wants to get Bruce off again before himself, but he's not going to make it and he knows it. ]

I'm-- [ There's a trace of embarrassment in his eyes as his mouth quirks sheepishly. Having spent the majority of his life being a playboy in public view of the world, he expects a little better of himself than for his endurance to fail, especially with Bruce, who makes him feel compelled to try to be better about everything than he actually is. ] Sorry, I can't... M'not gonna make it.

[ It doesn't bother Bruce at all. He's actually maybe kind of glad because he can use watching Tony get off as a kind of porn for his own second orgasm. It's not like Tony didn't already give him a champion-level blow job before they even got started. As far as he's concerned, there's no reason for Tony to be embarrassed.

He lets his smile turn wicked, and he slides his hand up Tony's chest, and though he passes over the arc reactor, it's not the point or even a highlight of his touch. It's just part of his body, and Bruce is a pretty big fan of every single part of Tony's body. It's a good one to be proud of. ]

Good. Let me see you come, Tony. [ His eyes close briefly as he grunts, Tony hitting a good spot, his hand working over Bruce's cock momentarily distracting him. Then he's back, but there's a haze in his eyes now to go along with the still-wicked grin. ] Want to watch you. Want to feel you.

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