Sometimes, it’s when Justin says very little that he actually says the most. Maybe it’s because Tony rambles just like Justin does and that familiarity breeds understanding when the words themselves are nigh incomprehensible. It’s also possible that since he knows what makes him ramble and stutter and get absolutely nowhere in a conversation, he’s fairly capable of divining that meaning when someone else does it. Of course, it might also have to do with the fact that his thoughts are doing the mental equivalent as images of masturbating Justin Hammer dance in his head.

“Well, you know, if it seems a little strange, I can start us off. I mean, that might—If we’re instituting the Jerk Off When You Feel Like It clause, that’s—I might do it a lot. When you’re around. Like, most of the time.”

His brain to mouth filter firmly set into the off position, Tony keeps going. “I kind of want to do it right now, actually. I sitting here, looking at you.” And he is looking at Justin, like he’s the most fascinating sight in the world. “The fire’s all lights and shadows on your face and you’re talking about jerking off. Which I’m picturing now.”

Absently, he rubs his fingers against his leg, wiping them off. And if they drag a little higher than necessary up his leg and curve inward toward his groin, well, he is staring at Justin like a ravenous wolf and talking about imagining him jerking off. It’s to be expected.