homemeless | 002 - The Stargazing Meme

002 - The Stargazing Meme

Vega, Altair and Deneb, The Summer Triangle and the Milky way

the stargazing meme

oo1. comment with your characters
make sure to put names, series, & preferences somewhere!
you can use < ! > sans the spaces to make the comment "blank"
oo2. reply to others in character
oo3. use the rng and enter 1-10
oo4. play out what happens—anything goes!
oo5. profit? oh yeah!

prompts

one → meteor shower you just saw a falling star! and another! make a wish!
two → aliens what was that? was that really? omg no way a ufo!
three → lunar eclipse you've been sitting out for hours, waiting for this. it's so cool!
four → comet does it move fast or slow? either way, it's amazing.
five → full moon the moon is so huge! just don't look too long, it's really bright too.
six → star dust anything can happen in space. make up your own plot!
seven → solar eclipse this might be happening in the middle of the day!
eight → planet sighting is that a new star? nope, just a neighbor in the solar system!
nine → constellations do you know the stories behind these odd patterns?
ten → deep space normal stargazing isn't that much fun. you got a telescope!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Oh, I think yes. And you have to have ones with neon lights on the bottom for the people who want pimped out ones for when they go out with their boys on the town, trying to look like the coolest of the cool. And you see them, and all you think is, 'why the hell do you have neon lights there? How much extra power does that take out of your pimped out car?' Maybe people would start painting music stars and celebrities on them, because the best way to show that you like an actress is to paint her in barely anything at all on the front of your Mood Rug. That's just...that's just common sense, really."

Justin certainly wouldn't paint a face on any of his cars. Hell, he's never done a decal or a bumper sticker. The best way to go by as unnoticed as possible is to just have a plain car.

...although, sometimes, things like the Lamborghini can't not be noticed, if only because they're so expensive that not a whole lot of people can afford them.

"They'll have to bring back that Pimp My Ride show, if only to make a Pimp My Rug segment. It'll be all sorts of craziness. Could be a lot of fun, right?"

“And instead of fuzzy dice and spinning rims, it’ll be who has the gold-thread fringe and little gemstone ornaments.”

He can already see it, who has better rugs and better decorations for them, which one can fit the most people and which can go the fastest in the least amount of time. There will be rug shows and rug calendars. Model rugs. Rug racing. Whole brands of specialty rug shampoos and cleaners. A whole new industry will open up, hundreds of thousands of jobs will be created.

Just like that, a dumb idea will stimulate the economy.

“We can be on the frontline of the newest fad to grip the nation.” He waggles his eyebrows like it’s the most exciting and fantastic of things. “It’s our duty as Americans to see this through.”

It's not the dumbest of ideas.

Snuggies made it, after all.

"Are you saying it's patriotism to go through with it? That if we don't, we'll be somehow less American?" Sitting up straightly, Justin moved his arms across his waist as though buttoning up an imaginary suit jacket, complete with flapping them out the side like he would to make it settle well and not wrinkle. "I see your game. You're messing with my extremely patriotic status. You're saying I'll be less red, white, and blue if I don't see this through. Your aim's good, I'll give you that."

He goes from stiff to slump in record timing, winding his arms back around Tony's waist and pressing a kiss to his temple.

"I'm in."

“You sure you’re not just saying that because you want me to blow you during our discovery of this whole new carpet-riding world?” Tony teases back, settling his arms comfortably around Justin’s shoulders and pulling him into a loose embrace.

It’s really not much of a tease. If he can build a flying carpet, he can build it big enough for two people and he can make sure it has ample room for them to move around. Going down on Justin during some aerial maneuvers without falling off the edge of the carpet wouldn’t be that difficult.

“Because it’s not like I’m ever going to turn an opportunity like that down. Hell, I will invent opportunities.” Which makes him sound kind of like a sleazy nymphomaniac. “You know what else, though. I bet those things would come in handy in situations like this. I mean, if it was big enough. You could set a tent up on it, set it to hover however many feet off the ground. It’d be like camping in trees, you’d never have to worry about being attacked by predators in the night.”

Animal or human, come to that. Tony’s seen enough horror movies in his day. He knows that homicidal undying maniacs are just as common as bears in the woods.

The image of Tony caught between his legs is, arguably, one of the things mental images involving Tony that Justin has a frequent basis. Between his legs, on his lap, the feel of his front pressed flush against his back as he manages to catch a glimpse of him over his shoulder, all mental images he finds himself having throughout the course of the day. They're hardly all the ones he has of him, though. Sometimes, stuck behind his desk and scrolling through various e-mails, he gets the image of going home from work and finding Tony at his house already, daydreams coming home to him for nothing more than dinner together, a board game, and then bed. Sometimes it's Scrabble, though it never ends up well; in Justin's little dreams, they always devolve into claiming that they can use other languages in order to win. Sometimes they play checkers, and that particular one always ends up sexual, thanks in part to the way Tony ends up saying King me half the time. Sometimes, he imagines leaving work and going straight to Tony's, having a shower, and going down to the workshop to surprise him.

He imagines them together doing much more than anything sexual. Oh, he does wake up from explicit dreams during the week, but sometimes he wakes up and rolls over to find his bed empty other than him when it was the last thing on his mind. Wanting to get up and pour two bowls of cereal and just talk before he went off for the day.

It's a big reason that Justin can see them living together as opposed to living apart for the rest of their—for however long this goes on. He gets tired of waking up alone, and after over a month spent together? He's probably going to want that back far before summer. He just can't say as much yet.

"What about humans, though? Like those assholes in Deliverance. Yeah, awesome, your tent's way up and no wolverines can come by to slash you to pieces. But if somebody comes out with a gun to knock out the energy sources of it...you know, maybe. I mean, you know the risks when you go camping anyway. Crazy guys with shotguns who like pig noises are just part of that. Really, it's in the guide."

When he thinks of forest hazards, Tony thinks of bears and wolves, mountain lions and poisonous snakes. He thinks of machete-wielding psychopaths and undead horrors, monsters from the deep and werewolves. He isn’t thinking of inbred rednecks with shotguns or things with wings capable of reaching things up in the air.

However, he is now.

“Okay, so, maybe on the camping rugs, I could install a force field. Or some of electromagnetic repellent system to redirect the course of bullets and prevent the cast of Deliverance from shooting us out of the sky.”

It’s possible. He’s seen SHIELD’s tech. He’s seen what Loki’s magic could do. He knows now that some things are possible that he’d thought were only theoretical before. With enough time, he knows that he can make the carpets do, and have, whatever he wants.

“SHIELD’s got an invisibility shielding device. I could just install something better that would make us invisible. Then the crazy rednecks wouldn’t be able to find us.”

Justin hears him talking about a force field and is ready to roll with it. It's outlandish and silly, but if anyone could invent one, it would be Tony Stark. Still, it's an odd idea and he's ready to make some sort of crack about it...

...until Tony mentions an invisibility device.

It's been used in so many fantasy and sci-fi works throughout the years that Justin's always tossed it off as just that: fiction. Fantasy. Impossible and so far removed from reality that it belongs in nothing but the pages of books and screens of theaters and television sets. He's thought about it from time to time, but the ideas behind it—how to make it function well at all—always seemed like too great a challenge for anyone to do more with than think, would be awesome, but far too ridiculous to ever create.

But then he hears that SHIELD has done it. If it had been Tony, it wouldn't have seemed like such a heavy blow. In the eye of the world, Tony could do basically anything. That was easy to accept. It would have been easy for Justin to shrug it off as something he could never have done but something a man who created a flying suit could achieve. It would have been much easier to hear it.

But he wasn't hearing it. He was hearing that—

"You don't know who came up with it? The, uh. The inventor of the invis..." It's still too strange to think of actually existing, so he falters. He stops. He continues by ignoring it. "...thing. Was it a team of people or just one person? Do you know?"

“The cloaking device? Yeah, I think I know who came up with it.” There’s a rueful quirk to Tony’s lips that says that his thinking is in fact knowing. “It’s not true invisibility anyway. It’s just mirrors and projections. SHIELD doesn’t have the technology to create actual invisibility.”

It’s petty and childish and stupid, but he can’t help feeling a little bit of vindictive triumph at that. If he wanted to, and maybe he would just for the hell of it, he could create a real cloaking device. Something that would scramble light and refract it away from whatever object it was operating on. Maybe the failure wasn’t on the designer’s end. Maybe it was the technology of the time. But Tony will take any victory, however semantic it is, that he can get.

“My father. I’ve seen the plans. They’re a little antiquated, but when I saw the helicarrier in action, I knew that SHIELD had used them.” He shrugs like it doesn’t matter. But of course it matters. Everything about Howard Stark matters. “He founded SHIELD. Most of their toys and gizmos they’ve gotten from him and his work.”

Part of him is relieved; it wasn't some nameless sonuvabitch who came up with it. It was Howard Stark, meaning it was probably as close to actual invisibility as it could be at the time. Of course, as soon as he realizes he's somehow much more okay with any Stark being the first to make that level of progress, he ends up aggravated at himself for it—twenty years of not taking shit from Tony and, yet, somehow he's okay with him understanding what Justin can't? God. Sometimes, it seems like he's had inferiority issues all along. He just never realized them as much until he was actively spending time with Tony.

"Jeez."

It's a ridiculous word to use, but he can't think of anything better. A cloaking device is one thing. Howard making it? Another. Howard founding SHIELD? Not something he thought he'd hear. Ever. Hell, it didn't even dawn on him to make that connection, and that was one little secret that they didn't let come tumbling out in their "business" with Justin.

"I. Was unaware. Of, uh. All of that. Started SHIELD, really? I didn't. Well. I just didn't know is all."

At another time, in another place, when they're not as comfortable as they are, Justin might inquire as to what Tony might think his father would feel or how he'd react to what SHIELD had done since his death.

And then, promptly, he'd realize that Tony apparently didn't know the man at all, and that question would be null and void and, thereby, stupid and not worth anyone's time.

"Are you getting cold? I'm getting cold. I can put the fire out and there's—there's two big flashlights in this bag, which is...pretty much everything's in here. It's going to have to share tent space with us. I was thinking the foot of it so, like, extra warmth. Or I could just push it up against the flap. But. You know. Extra foot padding, I think it's a good idea. Besides, we sleep so tangled up half the time that stretching out isn't really—or, I do, at least. Most of the time I wake up, I'm glad I didn't jerk in the middle of the night because my knee would've smacked you straight in the dick."

Justin is charming. Really.

“Hey, if pushing the crap down toward our feet helps prevent you from kneeing me in the dick, that’s what I want to do.” He doesn’t really care where it goes. If he can sleep curled up against Justin on a sofa, he can do it in a tent filled with stuff. It’s just that the mental imagery of taking a knee to the groin begs for a response. “Don’t get me wrong. I like your knee rubbing against my dick, but actually kneeing me there’s just not cool. I mean, unless you don’t want to use it. Then knee away.”

Untangling himself from Justin now is the first step in moving into the tent, and he sets about collecting his arms and hands before rising to his feet and holding out his hand. “Come, my darling. Our tent awaits.”

Howard has always been a sore subject for Tony, and the level of unease he feels talking about him is directionally proportional to the closeness he feels toward the one he’s talking to about him. The more personal the conversation, the more uneasy it makes him. But he and Justin have gotten closer than he’s gotten with anyone else in his life, and he’s starting to find that it’s a little easier to talk about Howard with him. He doesn’t do it often, but when he does, he finds that it lacks the intensity of hurt that it once did.

Justin said he wasn’t aware of it, and Tony feels compelled to assure him that he didn’t either. That it isn’t knowledge that everyone else had but Justin.

“I didn’t know either. Not until Fury told me two, almost three years ago now, when he was on my ass about the palladium poisoning. But, I mean, once he did tell me, I could totally see it.” Joking about Howard is a rarity for him, but he isn’t surprised that he can do it in Justin’s presence. “Douchebag of a man founds douchebag of an agency. It seems pretty par for the course now when I think about it.”

While Tony untangles himself, Justin twists up the marshmallow bag and tosses the chocolate into a Ziploc bag, shutting it with ease before tossing everything else in the duffel bag and zipping it up. He looks at the extended hand, grins, reaches out to kiss his knuckles, and promptly puts the strap of the bag in it instead.

"One of the parts of the Smokey the Bear preventing forest fires pledge is: To make sure any fire that I or my friends create is properly and completely extinguished before moving on." Quickly, before Tony thinks Justin is some sort of camping god that he most assuredly is not, he adds to it. "I had to look it up to make sure I was doing it right. I've just got to put it out before we leave it. I mean, I'm sure it won't grow or anything—hell, it's dying quickly—but, you know, for your first time, I want to do it all right. So, it's, uh. It's pretty simple."

He doesn't take any more time explaining, instead standing up and flipping the top of the cooler open. There's a slender bottle of sparkling white grape juice, two glasses for it, two bottles of water, and a gallon of water. A Ziploc bag rests in it, too, and there's a variety of things, including a pair of gloves. He eyes the juice for a moment as he puts the basic latex gloves on—he meant to bring it out, to pop it open. They could have their own little New Year's toast, but he'd apparently forgotten all about it. He hesitates at it for a moment, unsure if Tony actually wanted it, but then he moves around it to withdraw the gallon and open it.

"Basically, you just make sure all the embers are dead. All of them. If you can touch the area and it's cold and wet, good. If you touch it and it's burning hot, then bad. Try again."

Without further ado, Justin squats and takes to pouring the water around in short amounts to get the entirety of it, which causes it to hiss and steam. It's only when he's dispatched the flames entirely that he starts using more water, and the ground is mushy and muddy by the time he's finished it off. He doesn't want to get his hands muddy, and he doesn't want to burn his fingers if he can help it. Maybe it's a little odd that he's got gloves on. Maybe it makes him seem like less of a man. But if he can get out of without getting burned, then that's what he'll do.

"Yeah, okay. We're good to go. Darling."

With the strap of the bag pulling taut against his palm, Tony decides that the kiss was worth playing packhorse. Not that he objects to carrying things. He doesn’t. Where Justin’s concerned, at least, he likes to pull his weight in whatever it is they’re doing. He may not know much about camping, but he can carry bags and put up a tent, so there’s no complaint when Justin gives him something to do instead of simply taking his hand.

He can’t begrudge him wanting to put out the fire either. Maybe he’s losing his affinity for fun, but he doesn’t really think that scrabbling to escape a burning tent qualifies. Better just to get rid of it than wake up to find that it’s started burning out of control.

It’s with attentive interest that Tony watches him extinguish the fire. If they do this again, he’ll know for next time how to do it himself. The gloves do seem a little odd, he doesn’t immediately understand why Justin’s wearing them to pour water on a fire. But when he mentions feeling around for hot embers, he understands. And honestly, he would wear them too. They might provide some protection if a hot ember is touched and beyond that, they’ll keep the soot and wet ash off of Justin’s hands. Considering there isn’t a sink with soap around to wash up with, Tony can’t blame him.

“Well then,” he says when Justin tells him they can go, giving him a ridiculously over-the-top flourishing bow. “Away to our tent!”

They may not have a sink or soap, but Justin has good ol' Maximum Strength Neosporin plus pain reliever and a little bottle of lotion to go along with it in case anything happens. Tony's already seen it, and he's not afraid to use it again if he has to.

There's only a moment spared to pull his gloves off and toss back into the cooler, ignoring putting them in anything else like a lazy bastard, and he's grinning at Tony.

"You're silly."

Maybe it's not exactly on the top of the list of what lovers say to each other, but he says it anyway. Tony's being silly, and Justin can appreciate it. Hell, people would say wearing gloves while playing in the mud is silly, but Tony doesn't seem to mind. And, in one way, it's something he's come to love about him just as much as he's come to love everything else.

"But yeah. Let's do that." Taking a hand as though he can't be without it, he tugs him in that direction, stopping to kneel and crawl into the flap, holding his arms out to take the bag from him and place it as far away from the head of the opened sleeping bags as possible. "There's no water here, but it's fine anyway. Come on in."

Not many people call Tony Stark silly. Stupid, arrogant, self-absorbed, reckless, insensitive, and bastard; those are all popular choices that get repeated with some frequency. But silly’s a new one. He might have objected if it had come from anyone else, but from Justin, he just grins at him.

“I am silly. The silliest. It’s okay to bask in the silliness. I won’t be offended.”

He’s still being silly, and he follows Justin to the tent like they’re off on some crazy new adventure. In a way, it’s like that, since this is going to be a novel experience for him. Crouching down, he enters the tent on Justin’s heels and crawls his way over to one of the sleeping bags, glancing around with curiosity as he does so. It’s not the Ritz. And it’s not Harry Potter’s magical huge-house-concealed-in-a-tiny-tent tent. But for their purposes, he thinks that it’ll do just fine.

“I like it. It’s good. Maybe if we do this more often, we can stick JEEVES and JARVIS in it. Let them experience the great outdoors with us.”

Justin's quick to kick off his shoes once he's in, banishing them to a corner, wedged between the fabric of the tent and the bag. He doesn't waste any time pulling his glasses off and putting them in their case, tucking it on the other side. And then he's reaching for Tony's shoes, undoing the knots and pulling them off to put on top of his own.

"We'll have to get a bigger one, really," he remarks, almost more like he's talking out loud than actually talking to someone. It's true, though a small tent for their first time didn't seem to be a bad idea. It's still not, but if they make a thing out of it? Justin's going to look into larger tents that he can get instead of having to rely on his parents. There's nothing wrong with that, of course, but he'd rather they have their own if it's going to be something they do again. Maybe twice a year. He's not sure. They can discuss it later, at any rate. "I'll get us one. Much bigger. If you want to do this again that's not...if it's just going to be a once a year thing, then we can borrow my parents' again, but if you. Uh. Want to do it more than that, let me know. I'll get something just for us, then."

It's weird to say "us" in regards to himself and anyone else that's not business-related. Sure, he and Tony have been a "we" and an "us" for some time now, but it's still an odd thing for him to think, much less say. But he says it despite all the strangeness of it, and once he's gotten everything in its little corner away, he pulls up the heavy blanket as he all but slides up Tony's body, one hand pushing up under his shirt to get a feel of bare skin. It's only for a moment; then he's leaning over to zip up the flap and secure themselves completely inside, dark and cool but not too cool.

"A much, much, much bigger one."

There's no hesitation. Even without a light source other than the blue glow from Tony's chest, he knows his body well enough at this point that, when functioning at full capacity, he can find what's he looking for. There's a simple trail of his teeth over Tony's neck before he kisses him, hungry and demanding as though it's been a week since he last saw him, as though they haven't been together for over a month. That hand goes back up his shirt while his other props him up, knee moving between his legs to rub up against him, warm air exhaled through his nose as he seems intent to kiss him until he's positively dizzy from lack of oxygen.

Maybe camping is a turn on—and again, who knew?

He takes note of Justin taking off their shoes and files that away under what to do when camping. He hadn’t been sure about it. It’s outside, so it seems like they should stay on, but it’s also in a tent, so maybe that’s inside enough to qualify. Of course, there’s still a possibility that a bear or a machete-wielding psychopath will attack in the night and maybe wearing shoes would be a good idea. Of course, if either of those things happened, Tony suspects that they would have more to worry about than stepping on stones or pokey sticks.

If they do decide to do this again, he agrees with Justin. They will need a bigger tent. It doesn’t have to accommodate six people or actual furniture. But it should probably be a little bigger than this one. At least if they plan to spend any amount of time in it that isn’t spent sleeping. If they’re just going to sleep in it, a cozy little number like this is all right.

Really all right, he thinks, as Justin slides up against him and kisses him. It’s more than all right. It’s perfect. And suddenly the too small tent is just right.

There’s enough room to get his leg hooked around Justin’s hip and trap him against him, which is precisely what he does. And there’s enough to get his arms halfway around him before he realizes that there’s too much fabric between his hands and Justin’s skin. He doesn’t stop kissing him, at this point, that would be tantamount to not breathing, instead fumbles at his waist until he can shove the shirt up and out of the way.

At that point he pulls back, but only for a moment. It’s difficult to talk between kisses, but he tries anyway. And he keeps it brief. “Shirt. Off.”

Outside it's cool, and getting cooler. The fabric of the tent and size is designed to keep them warmer, of course, but with Tony below him and a heavy blanket over the both of them, taking off his shirt isn't an issue. He'd definitely go to sleep in boxers, at least, on the off chance their attacked by a machete-wielding psychopathic bear, but he can pull his shirt back on if it gets colder than he thought it'd be. But, for the moment, it's not an issue, and he gets rid of every top layer he's wearing without delay, shoving it all in the nearest corner to deal with later. He's got things to deal with now, after all, and they're for more important than where he puts his clothes.

"I like it when you're demanding."

Which is probably a bad thing in some sick, twisted way. There's probably something awful behind it, something psychologically depraved. Half a year ago, if it had been something that lasted a few weeks and nothing more came of it, confessing that aloud—or even thinking it, really—would have Justin cause for a few nights spent wondering what in the hell had become of his life. As it was, however, he could honestly say he'd fallen in love with a man. Not just a man, not just the man who'd sniped and bitched at him openly in public, but the man he hadn't expected to find in Tony Stark and, sometimes, didn't think Tony himself realized what sort of man he was.

Would he take off his shirt in the cold air of a January Kentucky night if ordered to? He sure as hell would. For Tony, at least, if not for anybody else.

"You too," he said. Not quite an order, but insistent nonetheless, and even more so when his hands took to undressing Tony quickly and without any mercy as to the fact of the matter that off was the desired end game of it all. "It's cramped, I know. But I want you. I really, I can't not have you right now. I want to—I want to worship your chest as long as you can take it, and then I want you to roll me over and fuck me. No lube, just spit. The old-fashioned way. We'll sleep better, I'm sure. The ground's not so great. But I promise: you get a good round of sex, we'll be good to go. So." He had to pause, his breath hitching as his quickly growing erection made itself apparently by pressing uncomfortably against his jeans. "That okay? You want that? Is that...agreeable?"

Tony doesn’t think that it’s sick that Justin likes it when he’s demanding, and not because he’s sick or convinced of his own superiority. It’s because Tony likes when Justin’s demanding, and he figures that if he finds something hot, it’s possible that Justin will too. And he finds it incredibly hot.

“Okay.”

Justin may not have phrased it like a command, but Tony snaps to like it is. He lifts himself up, fumbles with the shirt, and yanks it up with this graceless, wriggling flop that looks unfortunately like a fish on land. Not sexy, but there isn’t room to be sexy and it gets the shirt off, which is the most important part anyway.

There is one minor hiccup along the way, and it’s due to the fact that he’s listening to what Justin’s saying. For a moment, he can only stare at him, frozen with so much wanting that he feels like he’ll explode from it. Then the shirt’s off so fast he thinks he rips it and he grabs for Justin’s hips to yank him down against his own erection, hard now thanks to the outlining of the game plan.

“Yes.” It’s difficult to arch up against Justin’s hips, pull them down, and still try to get a hand in there to get Justin’s pants open and off, but Tony gives it his best shot. It’s a failed shot, of course, and he can only growl in frustration. “Jeans gotta go, Justin. Now. They gotta go now.”

"They're going. Right now."

To Justin, the hiccup is that there's so little room. He has no real room to stand or anything like it, so he has to roll over as best he can and wriggle himself out of everything, kicking them in the corner with their shoes as he goes from being partially clothed to completely naked. Nearly half a year ago, it wouldn't have happened with as quickly or with as much ease. Now, however, he knows that Tony's going to get there himself and wants him as much as (if not more) than most anything else. So shucking off everything he's wearing on a cool night in the mountains? Not something that's so unreasonable. Not any more. And maybe the beach in Belize had something to do with loosening him up in regards to do anything outdoors, but he can't really imagine being able to ignore him, former romp outside or no.

"They're gone. Totally gone. Just you and me now."

He doesn't roll back over completely, instead half-sitting at an odd angle so he can have his hands free to undo Tony's pants for the second time that night, fingers pushing them down. And then, because he really can't wait and doesn't want him to struggle in any way with kicking them off, he follows through until he's out of his pants completely. Just the two of them now.

"Did I ever tell you that even in this sort of lighting, you're still completely gorgeous?"

He might not have. It might have not ever come up before. But words can only go so far. So he shuts himself up verbally and leans down, trailing his tongue up two ribs before clamping his mouth around one of his nipples, sucking with enough pressure to raise the blood to the surface and leave the smallest of hickeys. And even though he wants to focus solely on his chest as best and long as he can, one hand moves to his inner thigh to massage it gently, fingers brushing against his balls as he does so.

They’ve had sex so many times by now that Tony can recreate Justin’s body down to picture-perfect detail in his mind. There’s no part of it that he hasn’t mapped with his lips and his tongue, with his eyes and his hands. He knows him inside and outside, and to someone jaded and more cynical – to the man Tony was three years ago – it would seem like the magic should soon start to wan. Like the novelty should wear off and the proverbial honeymoon ought to be over. But Justin’s like a fine wine, getting better with each passing day, and it’s with no less enthusiasm or desire than the first time he touched him that Tony reaches up to run his hands along Justin’s sides.

One of the things they needed to work on, Tony decides, is how to get their clothes off without sacrificing physical contact. The couple seconds it takes Justin to get naked don’t kill Tony, but he can’t say he’d be disappointed if he didn’t have to give them up.

He’s opening his mouth to say something witty and, hopefully, sexy, as Justin pulls off his pants too, but he’s stopped by the compliment he gives him. Has he ever told him that? No, Tony doesn’t think so. The reactor’s light is a pleasing shade of blue, just not, he’s always thought, for a constant lighting effect illuminating his every move. But now… Now he wonders if maybe it isn’t so bad after all.

Or at least, he will wonder later, once the sweat’s cooling on his skin and he’s trying to get comfortable in his sleeping bag. Right now, he’s too busy groaning under the ministrations of Justin’s far too clever mouth. The way he sucks against his nipple clues him into the fact that he’s making a mark, and that just makes it more erotic than it already is. His hips shift under Justin’s hand, subtly trying to change the angle enough that it isn’t just a light brush of fingers to his balls. But then, Tony always has been a glutton when it comes to pleasure.

“Okay. We really need to figure out something for me to do with my hands,” he manages to get out as he starts running his fingers over Justin’s hair. “Because trying to get them between your legs isn’t conducive to what you’re doing here. It’s just, it’s right there. It’s so close and yet so far, like some kind of awfully wonderful tease.”

Tony's insistence on...what? Doing his part? Doing anything but laying back and letting Justin's mouth have his way with him? Making sure Justin knows he won't neglect him at any point? Whatever the motivation behind it, it makes him chuckle, releasing his nipple with a soft bite—really nothing more than a press of his teeth around it—and look up, wet lips quirked into a lopsided smile as he tilts his head into hardened fingers. It's as endearing as most anything else Tony does and says and is, and it warrants a quiet moment wherein he just looks at him, blurry though he may be.

"It's really difficult for you to just...lay back, isn't it?" Tony doesn't need to do much more than wriggle for Justin to know what he wants, and that hand skims the rest of the way up his thigh to cup his balls, thumb rubbing a line over the span of skin he's seen Tony touch when he's pleasing himself a dozen times if he's seen it once, all thanks to a video played repeatedly on his ceiling and one particularly pleasant private birthday party. And again, and again, until he's got a rhythm and a good amount of pressure behind it that could be taken as more soothing than anything else. "I promise, Anthony, you'll get what's between my legs. Soon. You always do. I can't deny you like that."

Even as he says it, he drops his mouth to the upper part of the arc reactor, tongue trailing down the curve of one side and making its way to his other nipple, taking far more time with it. There's no room for Tony to really get a hold of him like they are, so he straddles one leg, rubbing up against him as he moves from nipple to collarbone, teeth grazing over the skin lightly.

When he finally takes Tony's erection into hand, he strokes him at the same time and speed that he presses up against him, breathing growing the tiniest bit erratic when he sucks on the skin just between clavicle and neck.

Oh, Tony will get what he wants. Soon, at this rate. He just has to be content to receive pleasure without any return, if only for a short time.

If he’s being honest, and around Justin he is, he’s always had difficulty passively accepting pleasure. Considering how much he enjoys providing it to someone else, lavishing it on a partner while they do nothing but bask in it, it’s somewhat hypocritical, he knows. But it’s a habit that’s been ingrained in him since he became sexually active and has only been compounded by his substitution of sex for the affection that was missing from his life for so long. He’d wanted to be the sort of man everyone wanted, if only for a night, and to do that, he’d known that he needed to provide the kind of experience that couldn’t be gotten from just anyone. The kind of experience that wouldn’t be achieved if he simply laid back and let someone else take over.

With Justin, there’s no need for that, and by and large, he’s managed to untangle his approach to sex from a single standpoint from the way he views it in a committed relationship. But he still has difficulty simply taking in the bedroom, especially from Justin. He’s taken enough from him over the years. He doesn’t want the trend to continue now.

“It’s a little difficult, yeah.” As difficult as it is to continue breathing evenly when Justin’s hand moves to his balls. Hips lifting in a bid for more contact, he tries not to squirm too much. “I want—It’s just that—I don’t have as much experience. With this. The not moving.”

Justin’s not making it easy for him to talk very coherently either. Between his mouth and his hand, Tony feels like his body’s one hypersensitive nerve, the feelings so intense that they quickly reduce him to gasping, shallow breaths and quiet, needy little hums. But he tries to do what Justin wants him to do. He can’t be completely still; his hips rock into Justin’s hand and his back arcs to get himself closer to Justin’s mouth, but he doesn’t try to weasel his way into getting what he wants. Justin wants him like this, so this is what Tony gives him: spread legs, his body naked and laid out for him, and his hands an unobtrusive presence in his hair and sliding over his shoulders whenever they can reach them.

They will have to get a bigger tent, there's no more room for doubt in Justin's mind. A mere 4' by 7' with almost 50'' of height is cozy and fine, definitely, and it'll make sure they don't end up drifting to one side or the other during the night. For a night, it's fine. But if they ever decide to do it again, size matters. Size matters a lot when it comes to tents, apparently. He just hadn't realized as much until he found himself with Tony's body laid out like a fresh, steaming buffet line beneath him, warm despite the cool air and more than willing to let Justin have his way with him. They'd done a great deal of things in a variety of places, but if they went camping again? Justin was going to need more room. It would need to be warmer. It would need a lot of things that they didn't actually have at the moment, and it was strange to be able to have anything he damn well wanted at almost the push of a button and yet, so far from humanity, he couldn't call up for a bigger tent. In the moment, he wanted it. But more than anything? He wanted to make sure that Tony's first camping trip was memorable, and not just for smores.

"I never said you couldn't move," was the first thing out of his mouth, breathed out after a chuckle just below his ear as he moved along his jaw without any sign of stopping. "If I didn't want you to move, I'd have to—I don't know, tie collection's at home. I'll figure it out later." It wasn't going to be entirely comfortable, Justin's next move. Justin would have to put himself in an oddball position, or Tony would redact that need by sitting up without being told to. After all, he hadn't told him to be still, and with that cleared up, well. "No fingers this time. I mean, unless that's like a must every single time, I don't know. You'd know more than I would. But. There's one easy way to get you lubed up, isn't there?"

He let that linger in the air for a few moments, mouth moving down his chest and stomach, hands moving to take a hold of his ass and push him up if he didn't do it himself. The easiest way wasn't spitting in his hand, really. There was a better, more effective, more pleasurable way to do it, he figured, and even though he'd had his cock in his mouth not too long ago, he found himself wanting it there again. If there was a drug in Justin's life, it had to be Tony, and he was totally fine with it.

So, angled oddly and slightly cramped, he trailed a line of kisses down his hip and wasted no more time in working up as much saliva as he could before he opened his mouth and relaxed his throat as best as he possibly could, taking him in fully and making no movement to back away. He couldn't see him well, and Tony knew as much. There was no room for contacts when it came to sleeping in the great outdoors (and, apparently, not room for much else if the tent they procured was so small), but he looked up towards his face anyway as he held him for as long as he could, tongue as loose against the underside of his dick as he possibly make it, intention to coat him in as much spit as he possibly could.

He realized that he was, quite literally, slobbering over Tony's cock in the same way he'd metaphorically slob over a rare dessert he hadn't had in ages and was particularly excited for. He also realized he didn't mind so much, if only because, well—it was Tony, the man he'd get on his knees for at a moment's notice. What use was there for trying to dredge up some feelings of shame when they weren't at all needed?

Oh. He could move? Well, of course he could move, but Justin’s comment about laying back had led him to think that he was meant to simply let him back his way with him. Which wasn’t a problem. At all. Tony was happy to let Justin do whatever he damn well pleased. It was the keeping his hands to himself stipulation that he didn’t know how well he’d be able to comply with, and now that he found out that he didn’t have to do it, so much the better.

That little point of uncertainty cleared up, Tony moved when Justin did, sitting up slightly so that he wouldn’t have to contort himself into a wholly uncomfortable position within the confines of the tiny tent. Suitable for sleeping, it was growing smaller by the moment. It was whether that was a bad thing - reducing their freedom of movement - or a good one – forcing them into closer proximity – that remained a small, quickly becoming inconsequential, question in his mind.

“If—You don’t always have to use…” Between the shuffle to get himself into a better position and the realization of what Justin meant to do, talking coherently was being relegated a lower priority. “We have sex enough that it’s probably…”

Justin took him into his mouth, completely derailing his ability to say anything at all, and Tony moaned so loudly that if there had been bears heading their way for a midnight snack, they were probably scared away. Psychopaths bent on slaughtering people engaging in indecent acts, however, would probably come running in droves; from the sounds of it, there was a great deal of dirty, shameless sex occurring.

“Could—Jesus, your mouth is perfect.” His hips lifted just a tad of their own volition, he couldn’t help it, and he reached out to lay a hand on the back of Justin’s head. “Just—Fuck, just, just make sure I’m as wet as you can get me.”

Had Justin been aiming for giving him a blow job, he would have taken far more care with him. He would have spent time working him as stiff as he possibly could be before he teased him until he couldn't take it any more and swallowed all over again. He had no issues with blowing him multiple times a day—and swallowing each time, of course—but that wasn't the goal at the moment. The goal was to get him as slick as he possibly could, and although he would have liked to drink him down once again, he'd had a different game plan in mind and they'd agreed on it.

Besides, what he'd put on the table was as good as anything else, and they still had a few days to themselves before they had to return to work and the rest of society. Tony's spunk and the back of Justin's throat would meet as many times before then as they could possibly manage it, he was certain.

So, lips wet and cock coated in a thick layer of spittle that was sure to drip onto the spread out sleeping bag below them, he backed drew himself away and slid back up his body, stopping to nip at that quickly-bruising nipple along the wall. His first instinct was kiss his mouth, but he meant to talk and that wasn't very easy to do when he was, quite literally, tongue tied. So he dipped his head so he could kiss his neck instead, hand moving across Tony's arm to make sure he'd gotten him around the back and was ready to roll him over and take his position on top of him.

"I want you, Anthony. Need you. Need you. like, five minutes ago. Need to watch your face when you blow your load right inside me, Anthony."

Of course, he couldn't see as well as usual. But there was that blue glow lighting up the space between them, and Tony tended to be close enough to see well enough whenever he was on top of him. The shortness of the tent would make it difficult for him to be too far from him, so it'd work out.

Maybe this tent was the perfect size after all.

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