If they weren't in a relationship that didn't seem to have lasting power, Justin would think of it as a lost opportunity. A missed opportunity to have been with Tony fucking Stark in that way, in any way they'd been together before. He knew, though—or would like to think he knew—that they'd have plenty of days ahead where there wouldn't be cold air, possible insects, and no tent for them to do whatever they wanted, be it face-fucking or laying on the floor and talking about replacing rusty pipes as part of remodeling. He didn't feel any pressure to be something he wasn't, and Justin? Wasn't exactly a sexthlete. Tony knew that much long ago, but one day, certainly, they'd have an opportunity for additional methods to be brought in to make sure that Justin lasted exactly as long as Tony wanted him to.

It wasn't a missed opportunity. It was what it was and a good way to get Justin thinking about future sex between them, though...when hadn't he thought about that on a daily basis? Really.

"You." He pauses, hand in his hair tugging on it just enough so that he can tilt his head back, make sure Tony's looking up at him even though he can't visually see it. "Are going to be the absolute death of me."

It's not until he drops his hands to pull his pants and zipper back up that he realizes that talking about his death seems to be something that puts Tony on edge. It wasn't what he meant, and as he sits back down and pushes his button through the hole, he clarifies as much.

"Sexually, I mean. One day I'm just...you wear me out. I'm not—this is not me complaining in any way, don't think that, because it's—I just. You know. I should have gotten in a bigger tent. Really. It's too small, but if you. We can make due with it, though, right? There's not much room, but if we're on our sides, then I think tomorrow morning could be. Uh. An interesting wake up call, to say the least."