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

Justin's prepared to get into an appropriately fussy, neat lecture about working around hot metal and possibly sharp bits of cold metal in the nude is an awful idea. Not just awful, but lethal. He's all set to go on about a topic Tony already knows, and not just because it would be expected, but because he really does not like the idea of Tony getting his major arteries cut, even though a t-shirt only provides minor shielding in the first place. It's the idea that counts! The idea of being properly modest in one's own home, of being repressed when it comes to nudity and, therefore, closer to being a gentleman than a guy who runs around in the buff and wears no pants.

But then he mentions jerking off, and Justin knows why. At least, he knows that if Tony was jerking off to someone (something?) other than him, he wouldn't bring it up with such ease. He's observed a lot about him in the past year. As far as he can tell, the man doesn't lie. He's no Abe Lincoln, but on a personal level? Justin hasn't seen anything that would lead him to believe Tony was even capable of lying when it came to the two of them.

Of course, maybe he could be the best liar, and Justin a fool for not realizing it. That, however, was too big of a stretch for him to imagine, much less handle.

"I usually jerk off first thing in the morning. I kind of, I've taken to wearing your pjs to bed. So, like...I don't know, is that creepy? I'm jerking off all over your clothes that I, uh. That I just wash and wear again. I have like five shirts at this point. And...you know, it's not every morning, but it's, it's getting to be a ritual. B-But as for...not really. I used to have terrible nightmares about that sort of thing growing up. I wore closed boxers for a really long time. You know, the kind that doesn't have the slit in the front? Yeah. I had an awful nightmare with them once and I just...it got to me.

"So, you know. Good thing I have my own bathroom at work, right?"

Although he doesn’t dig too deeply into the psychology of it, as that would result in confronting many issues revolving around his parents, Tony’s aware of his personal quirks when it comes to honesty. Namely, that he doesn’t lie to the people he cares about. Occasionally he’ll omit details in an effort to protect them, like if he’s dying and he doesn’t want to worry anyone, and he’ll lie if he’s trying to surprise someone with something, but otherwise, he tries to be as honest as possible.

He’s largely honest with everyone else, too. He’s not above doing underhanded things if he deems the situation appropriate, like hacking SHIELD’s files when he knows they’re doing something dirty and trying to get the Avengers caught up in it, but he’s lived his life under public scrutiny for so long that lying about the things he does seems pointless. Everyone has seen him do a plethora of embarrassing, stupid, and character damaging things already. Why pretend to be something that he’s not now, after all this time?

Justin’s painting a picture that’s doing nothing to encourage Tony’s mind to stay away from sexual thoughts. First it was sucking on his finger. Now it’s him lying in his bed in his pilfered clothes, stroking his cock, and damned if that doesn’t make Tony’s blood start heading south in a hurry.

Who knew camping could be such a turn on?

“You know, you don’t have to put that ritual on hold when I’m around. It doesn’t have to be an only when you’re alone kind of thing. You could, and should, continue it. When I’m awake and can watch you. Any time, really.” It’s hard to keep his hands off of him. In fact, it’s hard to keep any part of him away from Justin when there’s nothing overtly sexual going on. When there is, it’s downright impossible. But that doesn’t mean that Tony doesn’t like to watch. He loves to watch. When he can find the willpower necessary to keep it to watching.

“I mean, it doesn’t just have to be in the morning. If you get the urge to jerk off any time, you should definitely do that.”

Justin tries not to lie. Sometimes, he really has to. Sometimes, Justin does underhanded things, deals below the table that he doesn't get a salary for doing. But it was okay, if only because it gained him another contact where he didn't have one before. Oh, it was never anything awful, just a little something off the books so no one else knew.

Usually it was nothing awful.

Now, however. Now. Justin feels he can't do anything out of line, otherwise he'll have a visit from a certain pirate-themed director, and Justin? Does not want that. At all. He knows Tony's done things for his record at SHIELD, but he also knows that he's not about to go tattling to him if he has an issue with anyone from their little...agency.

He knows that Fury knows this much, and it's a concern. He'll deal with it if it ever comes up, of course, but whatever he can do to look clean (and be clean, actually) and professional on paper and camera? He'll do it.

"Any time, huh." It's difficult to seem indifferent to the whole thing. At least he has a marshmallow to skewer and nearly burn to keep his eyes occupied. That much is something he can be grateful for. "That...uh. That might be an issue, you know. If—when—we move in. Whenever it is. That's, ah. You know, you sleeping in the nude and, like, getting up...I mean that in the waking up, not the...it's. I think I'm going to have to—I'm the boss, I can go in whenever I want. So what if I'm not coming in as early as I used to, right? I'm busy. We're busy. I don't—I can come in—I can go in later. It's no big deal. I don't even have to call, it's. It's going to be interesting for the first month or so, how's that?"

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.

Justin's watching, too, watching every second. He starts out watching his lips move as he speaks, but when he picks up on movement around his crotch, he can't help but lean up just enough to make sure Tony's actually intent on going through with what he's talking about. It's a strange sight on Justin's end, and it's not until he hears a odd, slopping sound and the skewer goes back to its regular weight in his hand that he realizes he was ignoring that marshmallow too long. He squints at the burn ball of fluff meeting its demise as half of it runs down a bit of wood and the other half seems content to meet its end on top of it...at the moment, at least. It very well may run down the side of it eventually, but Justin won't know. He really doesn't care to know. He simply takes a hold of Tony's skewer and sets them both to the side of the cooler, ends resting far away from the fire so no one picks them up and gets burned on accident.

"Right now, huh." It's even more difficult to seem indifferent when he feels like he's got a frog in his throat, voice far huskier than usual thanks to it. It's like he's fighting off his mouth growing dry, but that doesn't make any sense; they've got enough drinks to keep him well-hydrated, he's not actually thirsty. Not really. But Justin's been watching Tony, too, and he's already danced around it. There's no point in playing innocent physically, not any longer. He tilts his head so he can go back to that spot on his neck—still slightly sticky thanks to chocolate and marshmallow—leaning down just enough to run his tongue over it before he speaks again. "You've got me out here, where there's not another soul for a mile, and you want to jerk off. You just want me to watch. You sure? Because I can do that. I can. But—" he punctuates it with his hand, slipping down over his stomach so his fingers can weave in next to Tony's over his pants, "—if you want some help with that, I can do that to."

“Uh huh.” It’s not the most eloquent thing a genius of Tony’s caliber can come up with, but at the moment, watching Justin lean in as his own fingers drag over the start of what has quickly become a full-blown erection, it’s really the best he can do.

He shivers slightly when Justin’s lips touch his neck, and without really thinking about it, reaches up with his free hand to tangle in Justin’s jacket and tug him closer. The quiet insinuation in his voice has Tony breathing a little harder than normal, and when Justin’s hand settles over his own, the added weight dragging over the denim, he makes a wholly undignified whimper.

“I’m not…” His fingers twine around Justin’s, then curve them both over his crotch, pressing their palms down against the hardness of his cock as he presses up against them. “…going to say no to a little help.” Subtly, he rubs their hands over his jeans, giving himself just a bit of much needed friction. “Think we can manage a joint effort?”

"Jesus Christ—hold on."

If Justin had a different life, perhaps he would have never needed glasses. If Justin had glasses in that other life, perhaps he would have started wearing contacts sooner. If he had, he might have gotten used to the idea of wearing them all day and night for weeks at a time. As it was, Justin wore contacts when he felt like it, which wasn't much at all. He certainly didn't want to sleep in them, and so he hadn't gotten any he could wear for a month at a time. If he'd done all that, if it had all fallen into place in that way, maybe he would have been wearing contacts up on their little campsite. But he wasn't, and glasses only got in the way of doing much sexually.

He had a case for them in his bag. Had he the forethought to get rid of them before he moved in, he would have used it. As it was, however, he wouldn't pull his hand away from Tony's crotch for the world, so he leaned back just enough to whip them off with his free hand and toss them atop the marshmallow bags and cracker boxes. He'd remember. He wouldn't step on them.

And even if he did, he had another case with another pair. He'd be okay. He just couldn't go any further without taking them off. It took all of three seconds, and then his lips were back at his neck as he moved his thumb in a slow, heavy circle over the head of Tony's erection, now so obvious that even without his glasses, Justin would have been able to spot it.

Not that Justin wasn't getting there himself—the way they were, Tony's cock hard but clothed and resting beneath his hand, how could he not react to that?

"We can do that. Unless you just want me—" the moan wasn't entirely planned for the moment he pulled his fingers away to undo his button and start on his zipper, but it seemed to go along well with each other, "—to take care of you myself. It's just you and me, Anthony. And I am firmly at your disposal."

At first, to a mind quickly becoming hazed by lust, hold on doesn’t make a lot of sense. There are no doors to close. They can’t turn the fire off and why would they? There’s nothing about to bubble over on the stove or screw up in assembly. There isn’t a reason to hold on. Until he sees him pull his glasses off, and then the proverbial lightbulb goes off.

He isn’t so far gone that he can’t wait. He stills their hands, though he leaves them atop his cock, while Justin removes his glasses. It isn’t until his mouth is back at his neck that Tony relaxes and he eases back into rubbing their hands against himself.

“I always want you.” It may not be what Justin said or meant, but Tony’s not letting it go unsaid. Not when the opportunity presents itself like that. While Justin takes care of the zipper, Tony reaches into the opening, pushes the fabric of his boxers – he isn’t going commando to camp – and down, and frees his erection to the air. It’s cold on his overheated skin, the contrast making his breath hitch on a tiny moan.

“But we’re—No showers. There’s a forest. We should, um, be a little neater than usual.” And Tony should probably get a medal for having that kind of foresight, especially with his dick in his hand the way that it is.

Justin knows it's cold out. It's not deathly cold, they won't freeze in what they're wearing, don't need gloves or mittens or scarves. What they're wearing is fine. For now, at least. Justin's looked into the weather forecast enough to feel confident that they won't wake up at three in the morning, shivering cold with their teeth chattering—it'll be a little cold, but nothing that what they've brought can't handle. That, and they have each other, so unless a freak snowstorm appears from nowhere and weighs down on them, they'll be fine. He's well aware how an erection can feel against cold air, which is why he moves his hand to take a firm grip of him the very moment he hears that moan.

Justin's read a good deal of literature in his time from all different eras. He's read poetry and non-fiction. He's done a lot of reading. He's seen writers talk about the sound of a woman's voice can seem like angels singing or another holy thing blessing the man in love with her, even if she doesn't love him back. Tony's not a woman by any stretch of the imagination, and writers didn't have the freedom to use that same scenario with two men for a damn long time, but the moan and his words are like sacred, beautiful music to his ears. Maybe that's melodramatic, he'll think later, but at the moment? There's nothing else that could sound as good as Tony's breathy reactions during pleasure, be it the very start, the middle, or the end. Justin loves it all, even if he doesn't say as much or make it exceedingly obvious, and it draws a short, chuffed laugh out of him as he works his hand along his length slowly. Eventually, he stops just shy of a proper rhythm, letting his thumb rub the head in circles as he catches his own breath and thinks of what to say.

Tony once said he loved his mouth, sometimes because of the things he used it to say. Something about him always knowing the right thing to say. Justin was not at all perfect. There were flaws and cracks that ran deep and jagged. He didn't want Tony to ever think him perfect. But if it took him a moment to think about what to say, no one could blame him. He wanted to say the right thing for as long as he possibly could.

"Neater, huh." It's far more difficult to sound unruffled when he's quickly on his way to being totally erect himself, but by God does he try. "Anthony, haven't we been over this? If you want me to blow you, just say so. That's—ah—that's neater, isn't it? I swallow, there's no residual evidence. Just slide back a bit and open your legs for me, let me get down here. I'll be completely neat. Promise."

When they set out on this camping trip, Tony hadn’t intended to make a play for sex. He’s never been opposed to sex outside, Belize is proof of that, but he’d also never been camping before and had only his imagination to tell him what to expect. Even after perusing websites of the available gear for a trip of this nature, he’d assumed uneven, lumpy ground that’s impossible to sleep on. A cramped tent. Bugs. Chill wind, low temperatures. Peeing in the bushes. Being dirty. Being uncomfortable.

It hadn’t seemed like the ideal place to fuck, especially since they’d be going back to Justin’s parents’ house smelling like sex.

But then they’d gotten here, and apparently smores are some kind of secret aphrodisiac. Suddenly, sex isn’t something that can wait until they can get back to civilization. Suddenly, it’s something that has to happen right now, on top of a cooler not far from the fire that made the smores in question.

A blowjob isn’t what he’d been aiming for, but now that it’s on the table, he’s not saying no. He slides backward, opening up room in front of him as he spreads his legs. With his free hand, he catches the back of Justin’s head, threads his fingers through his hair and leans in to kiss him. It’s a short kiss, though passionate despite its brevity, and when he pulls back, he says against Justin’s lips, “Only if I get to return the favor.”

The bad thing about being outside currently is that it's cold. Before, had they been in this position on the beach, Justin could have hiked up Tony's shirt and had plenty of skin to pay attention to with his mouth. Now? Now it's too cold to do that. It aggravates him, which he makes a note of for later—one more morning spent entertaining himself with Tony's chest won't be amiss, will it? Granted, it'll be in a tent, but they could always get up before dawn and hike back, take showers, have a morning slept in...

But it is his parents' house. And that's not really the best environment to go for that in, even though he really, really wants to. So maybe, he thinks when Tony's lips are pressed against his, the whole moving in with each other thing will happen before summer. That is, if nothing goes awry and Tony ends up not wanting a thing to do with him.

"Maybe. We'll see. Don't worry—" he punctuates it with the sound of his own zipper coming down as he moves to get on his knees, his smile far from press-friendly in every regard, "about that right now. Just, you know. Relax."

He never went commando in the first place, but he wouldn't have dreamed of doing it on a chilly camping trip. So he has to take a moment to adjust to the cool against his cock as he settles, hand moving over himself briefly so that Tony can see that yes, Justin's affected, too, even if he's trying to play it himself off as indifferent. He's very affected, and while one hand busies itself with Justin, the other moves to take a hold of Tony's thigh and keep his legs as apart as he needs to.

Relaxing may be difficult—he's not sure how Tony takes the idea of relaxing, really—when Justin leans down between his legs and makes no show of anything. There's no slow descent, no start-stopping. There's just Justin Hammer, CEO Hammer Industries, mouth preoccupied with a blowjob that, for all intents and purposes, has no other goal in mind aside from getting Tony off as quickly as possible, as noisily as possible, and—of course—as neatly as possible.

Maybe? What? No. No, there’s no maybe about it.

Tony opens his mouth to tell him that, to point that everybody’s getting off or he isn’t, but Justin’s getting on his knees and pulling down his zipper. The sound seems unnaturally loud, like he can hear each individual tooth clicking free. And his voice chokes in his throat, comes out as a garbled noise that’s more squeak than actual words.

Relaxing doesn’t seem to be in the cards here, despite what Justin says. Tony’s heart is beating too fast, there’s adrenalin surging through him, tangled with anticipation and lust. He knows what’s coming. They’ve done this too many times for him not to know. But he’s still practically crawling out of his skin in the amount of time it takes for Justin to get settled.

“Um, you should—I can—Jesus fucking Christ…” The strangled exclamation fades into a low groan as Justin takes him into his mouth, and goddamn, but he’s not wasting any time with it. Tony lays one hand against the back of his head, touch light so that it doesn’t hamper his movement, and grips the edge of the cooler with the other.

“Okay. That’s—That’s good. Really, fuck. Really good.” His hip shift, but only for a second and then he gets control of himself again. “Just, just, that’s—that’s perfect.”

Justin knows there's no "maybe" about it. He knows that what Tony says it what he means, and that if he has it in his mind to do something, it'll be done. Come hell or high water, Tony will find a way to do it. He hadn't thought orbiting the Earth would be something that anyone could get without years of training, but then again—he hadn't though to do it. He had the same resources, and if he'd wanted to do it at some point in his life, he probably would have done it. He just hadn't really thought much about making a trip to space that only the wealthiest of people could afford. But Tony had heard I would die to go to space in Justin's talks about stars and space camp, and he'd gotten the idea in his head that they would go. He'd gotten that idea, he'd gone through a process, and it had happened.

Not everyone could do that. Afford it, plan it, certainly not. But to get a single idea in their head and go through with it without needing any prompting? It wasn't that people couldn't do it so much as they didn't have it in them to actually do it; they wouldn't do it.

In less than a year, Tony had done things around Justin that had firmly destroyed his public persona. Sometimes, Justin found him self-absorbed, but he wasn't any more focused on himself than the next person. He found him to be one of the, strangely, least selfish people he'd ever run across in their circle. He'd found him to be devastatingly kind and patient, and those were two things that Justin Hammer had never thought possible. Not when it came on the tail end of a name that had worn him raw and blistered so many times before.

So what if he hadn't informed him of his actual reason behind the visit when he was sick? Justin still thought—even if he never said it out loud or Tony personally—he was a pretty damn good man.

He's not really focused on that aspect of Tony, however. At least, not at the moment. He could stop to say something, but he won't. He has no intentions of stopping until Tony's come down his throat unless he tells him to. Short of an earthquake, there's nothing that could get him to stop. Looking up as he is is something that's more for Tony than anyone else, considering Justin can't actually see him without any visual aid. He'd be blurry on a good day. On a night where there's nothing more than starlight, moonlight, and fire? It won't ever happen. He knows that much. He knows Tony knows that. But when he looks up, he tries to make eye contact as best he can. He can recognize the general placement of the face above him, but his eyes may be a fraction of a centimeter off. He can't help it. It's not something he can control. But he looks up for the sole purpose of Tony being able to see it, being able to get a full picture and know that Justin wants to be there. He's not doing it out of some sense of duty, some sort of idea that being together makes him obligated to get on his knees whenever Tony gets hard. It's not that.

In less than a year, Justin's not only come to a strange, unexpected new understanding of Tony. He's come to a strange, unexpected desire to have his cock in his mouth whenever possible. If asked, he'd try to explain it as best he could. Tony was more than free to ask what it was that made Justin so eager and willing to get on his knees at his age. His answer, however, would probably end up with a need to be fulfilled not long after it, so Justin hadn't thought to volunteer the information often, and not in too much detail. One day in Belize—a day where he'd slept ten hours straight after spending the majority of the night restless—he'd given him a brief rundown of the situation as Justin saw it. Maybe that had been enough for Tony. Maybe he'd ask. Maybe Justin would go into it on his own. He didn't know.

He did know, however, that "maybe" wasn't really in Tony's dictionary. He also knew that he apparently had a thing for watching Justin enjoy himself, even if he wasn't actively participating in it (or, actively in the basest sense of it all; Justin wasn't idly masturbating without a thought in his head), so the maybe I'll jerk myself off at the same time went from a possibility to a reality. His zipper was down already, after all, why wouldn't he?

There was no time wasted. Each movement of Justin's head had his nose pressed against Tony's skin or his mouth almost off him entirely.

Maybe it wasn't completely perfect, but if he could keep up the overall "pretty good" of it, he'd be happy. Not maybe; entirely.

Historically, Tony is terrible at effectively expressing his emotions. He’s particularly horrible at it if the feelings he’s trying to express are positive. The more he cares for a person, the worse his ability is to show it, and while it usually isn’t a big deal – it’s not like he puts himself into positions to care about people often – he’s at least aware of the problem.

He uses gifts instead of words, things he can buy instead of tiny gestures universally recognized as affectionate, and sometimes, for the really important people, he pulls out all the stops and does something truly extravagant. Taking Justin into space was his way of expressing how he felt in a way that didn’t involve words. It took time that he willing gave to NASA to build the ship that would take them there, it took his ingenuity to come up with new systems the space program didn’t have previously, it took a massive amount of money, and it took attention to the things Justin said to figure out that it was something he even wanted to do in the first place.

He’d said the words. But the trip to space was his demonstration of them. And so far, he thinks it worked out pretty well.

It’s dark and the fire throws chaotic shadows around them, but there’s enough light that Tony can make out Justin’s face. He can see him looking at him, though he knows that he can’t really see him without the glasses. Maybe if he had his contacts in, but Tony knows that he doesn’t. Justin can’t see him, but Tony can see for the both of them, and he threads his fingers through Justin’s hair with deceptive care, stroking the short strands of well-kept, split-end free hair with affection that has very little to do with the fact that Justin’s lips are around his dick.

There’s no request to stop forming on Tony’s tongue and there isn’t going to be. He wants it too much to ask him to stop. And watching Justin jerk himself off while he’s sucking him – it’s incredibly hard to watch both at once, but does the best he can at making the impossible happen – erases any possible objection from his mind. Thoughts, too. Everything but the wet, hot pull of his mouth, the soft rasp of his lips as they slide over his skin, the shifting of his tongue, and the way his cock looks framed by his hand and the shadows from the fire. It’s sensory overload at its best, and with the way Justin’s going to town, he doesn’t have to wait very long before the pleasure building starts to crest.

“Justin,” he hisses, the slight, momentary tightening of his hand in his hair warning that if he needs to back off, it needs to happen right now. He has about ten seconds, that’s really all the time Tony can hold it back, and then he’s coming with a surprisingly strong intensity for a guy who’s getting blown in the middle of the woods.

It had worked out pretty well. They'd been able to get on a sort of schedule about when and where they could meet, they'd become acquainted and comfortable (Justin hoped Tony was comfortable, at least) in different houses, they'd gone across the world for no other reason than they could and Justin had a home in Japan, and he hadn't had a moment's doubt about bringing him around to meet his parents. Where Tony had seemed almost burdened with the worry that he'd make one wrong move and the whole thing would come tumbling down, Justin hadn't a concern in his mind about it. Oh, he was concerned that Tony seemed to be stressed out about it, but concerned about his behavior or how his parents would receive him? Not a one.

That wasn't something many people got, either. Maybe Tony could take that as an accomplishment; maybe he could take it as Justin trying to make him take it as an accomplishment, and therefore think him a douchebag. But he'd already told him how he felt about his sobriety, and that had been taken well enough. So, maybe, after they left and were on the plane back home, he'd tell him as much. Even if Tony had picked up on it by now, a little reassurance couldn't hurt, could it?

His name and that hand in his hair tightening is really all he needs; hell, he'd like to think he's so in tune with Tony when it comes to sex that he could get a good idea of when he was about to orgasm just through his breathing and the twitching of his muscles. But warning is fair and good, and it gives Justin time to try something a little different, even if he's still aiming for cleanliness. His hand leaves his own cock with the smallest of whimpers, but he's got more important things to tend to, and he recognizes that much. One hand on Tony's thigh to keep his legs opened enough, the other wraps around his cock so that when Justin pulls his mouth away almost completely, there's still friction there and desire being shown.

He doesn't pull away entirely, however. He simply leans back enough that with a tilt of his head, Tony only has to look down to watch his spunk go straight into his mouth. Maybe, in the heat of the moment and the way Justin's so fervently stroking his cock, there will be a little bit of a mess on his lips or his chin or just over his cheek. He's not 100% sure of the logistics of it all, though he's almost certain the angle he's got is going to make everything go as well as it can. He could never deny that watching his come go from his cock to the mouth of whoever was sucking him off had always been a bit of a bonus for him. Maybe it wasn't the same for Tony. Maybe the dim lighting around made it impossibly to see. He didn't know. What he did know was that he wanted Tony to look down, and if the light was good enough, be able to actually watch the transfer of his semen to Justin's mouth. A moment of it left on his tongue was all that Justin spared, and then he was swallowing with the smallest of quirks to his lips.

That apparently had gotten a little messy, but hey—it wasn't anything he couldn't get off with a swipe of his tongue.

By now, it’s entirely possible that Tony doesn’t need to tell him when he’s about to orgasm. There are a number of tells – like a sudden tension in his thighs, a slight twitch of his cock, and the way his lips will part just the tiniest bit to name a few – that give him away. But he isn’t consciously aware of them and would only start to recognize them if he watched himself in all of those videos that JARVIS quietly and completely of his own volition took of them. However, he doesn’t watch himself. Justin always manages, unsurprisingly, to consume the entirety of his attention.

Even if he did know, he would probably warn him anyway. It’s become a habit over the years, worn into him by a great deal of repetition. And it’s the polite thing to do. Although to be fair, Tony’s something of a hypocrite in that regard, seeing as he doesn’t really need the warning himself anymore and wouldn’t think twice about it if Justin neglected to provide it in turn.

There’s enough light for him to watch the show that’s put on for him, though at first he can’t quite understand why Justin’s pulling away. Then it dawns on him, and damned if it doesn’t go straight through him, make his balls clench just a bit harder.

“Jesus…” It’s a rough, ragged whisper, breathed out while Tony stares at him. Somewhere between the span of one heartbeat and the next, the daze he’s left in disappears, and he all but lunges forward to kiss him. It’s the kind of wild, sloppy kiss that’s born entirely of desire, and when he pulls back, he’s got his hands on Justin’s shoulders, which he tugs insistently.

“Stand up.” He isn’t sure if Justin got himself off or not, though that tiny whimper he recalls hearing seems to suggest that he hasn’t, and if that’s true, he believes it needs to be rectified immediately. The cooler's fairly low to the ground. He's practically at the perfect height to finish him off just as neatly as he did him. “I want you in my mouth right now.”

Justin's a showman in every sense of the word—on a stage, in a boardroom, in a meeting, he can control an enormous group of people when he needs to. With Tony? It's not about needing or craving control. He couldn't do any sort of show he hasn't seen before, anyway. He doesn't want to try at it, either, and end up doing something extremely embarrassing. It's what it would be, no matter how well he planned it out. Maybe that's why he thought of it in the first place; it was impromptu and not something he'd spent hours thinking about. It wouldn't come across as fake or him trying so hard to do something different and obscene that it was laughable.

It was odd, really, for Justin to feel like he didn't actually have to try at all. Not that he wasn't putting forth any effort into it—God was he ever—but the idea that he could simply be himself and that was wanted and acceptable wasn't something he was really used to. That he could be in a tailor-made suit or worn clothes from Walmart and still appear to be desired all the same...it was odd and refreshing, and sometimes? He didn't think it was really happening.

The kiss wasn't expected, though, really? Justin had no idea what to expect. He hadn't had any plans on sex, either, but when he'd seen Tony rubbing himself without a hint of shame, he couldn't just ignore it. He couldn't shut up and wait for the not-at-all long walk to the tent. And, really, it wasn't anything he wasn't willing to do at most other times, so why not? Sloppy and wild isn't undesirable, but it's over far too soon for his liking. He doesn't understand why it's over until he feels the tug on his shoulders and the cool air still gracing his erection, and then Tony goes and says that.

"Oh. Oh. W-Well. Yes." Where his words are shaky, stammered, and barely capable of making any sense at all, the idea obviously isn't something that he's opposed to. Not only does he stand, but he pushes his pants and underwear down just past his thighs. Cool air be damned, Tony deserves to be able to touch every part of him he wants, to grab his ass and feel skin as opposed to cloth. He had no issues thinking his body was too thin or without enough muscle, but he hadn't been with someone who seemed to love it in such a long time that he still had trouble believing it. But if there was one person who had rights to every part of Justin's body he wanted, almost whenever he wanted, and that Justin was more than willing to give up those rights, it was Tony Stark. Another odd thing, really, but his fingers moved to shift his hair to the side, antsy as he anticipated the switch from cold air to the warm wetness of Tony's mouth. Right now—if that wasn't enough to send his desire straight through the roof, he didn't know what else could possibly do the trick. "You can have me whenever you want. God, just. Now is good, though. Really good."

Tony doesn’t mind the stammer. In fact, he thinks it’s a positive indication of how he’s affecting Justin, and that’s his intention. He wants to scatter his thoughts and shatter his ability to form coherent sentences. None of this may have been planned, all of it may be a surprise, but it’s the best kind and he intends to make the most of it.

It’s a good thing Justin pulled his down far enough to bare his ass; Tony wants his hands on it and he doesn’t want fabric in the way. As soon as he stands up, his arms go around Justin’s hips and his hands settle against him, each one splayed over the center of the cheek it’s resting on, getting the most in his grip as he possibly can. Spreading his legs, heedless of his own pants still hanging open, Tony lightly digs his fingers into his flesh and hauls him in, until his cock’s right there, scant centimeters from his face. He licks it, tongue parting the slit for any drops of precum Justin might have released from his earlier ministrations.

“Whenever I want?” he asks without pulling away, tone silky smooth. He cocks his head, letting the tip brush over his cheek as he glances up, saliva smearing across his skin. “Justin. It’d suck you raw if I had free rein.”

His fingers knead his ass as he speaks, the hairless portion of his cheek sliding down the length of Justin’s erection as he nuzzles against it. “I think you underestimate how much I love your cock.”

Maybe, the thinks, he should show him. It’s too cold to do it here, not the length to which he’d like to express the fondness that he feels. But briefly, maybe, he can try to do it justice. Tipping his chin, he licks his balls, suckles at one just long enough for Justin to feel it, and then drags his tongue up the underside of his shaft. He looks up, opening his mouth to delicately lick the tip one last time. Even though Justin can’t see him, Tony searches out his eyes anyway, since he can see him quite clearly.

Without warning he yanks him forward, sheathing Justin’s cock in his mouth in one quick motion. Familiarity lets him do it without hurting himself or Justin, and eagerness to have him in his mouth, to fuck him with it and be fucked by him, spurs him to make it fast. He takes him all the way in, then pushes on his hips to rock him backward, before pulling him forward again. Justin’s a smart guy. He hopes he gets the hint.

Edited 2013-03-23 00:58 (UTC)

Tony's definitely affecting Justin. Not just sexually, not just in the moment, but overall? He's done a number on him. Not in a negative way, of course. In a very positive way, actually; lots of ways, really, ways that Justin never thought possible from either of them. He hadn't brought home a significant other to really meet his parents in a long time, and the last one he'd brought home hadn't been all that significant in the first place. Just someone to drape in pearls and diamonds to look good on his arm who couldn't imagine the terror! of a holiday apart, don't you think it's a little odd?

He can't see him exactly, but he's completely aware of where everything is and what's going on. There's no other sense that's heightened to make up for his crummy eyesight, of course, but with cold air and Tony's mouth working against him, he couldn't be more aware of him than he is now, glasses or no. The image is blurry, but he's got a plasma screen to make up for it. There's no static lines, no messed up contrast and brightness, only Justin aware of every movement and oh hell.

Anything he might have said (though he doesn't know what he would say because he couldn't think clearly enough to form the most simple of simple sentences) dies in his throat the moment he feels Tony's throat open and take him fully in, and he'd have to be completely dead not to get the hint. The show he couldn't properly see and the motions before it, however, had Justin on the very edge of orgasm already, and he's a man. He can't quell every sexual need he has as much as he'd like to. And, as much as he'd like to fuck Tony's mouth for hours at time, he's not capable of it. His hand, already threaded through his hair and slightly clenched around his skull, tightens less than ten seconds after he gets the hint, less than two movements of hips that he really wishes he could turn into two hundred. His other hand, dropped to grip at one of Tony's wrists as though it was a life preserver, tightened at the same moment, and there was something that could have been a warning that never managed to make it off his tongue as anything more than garbled nonsense. Short, brief, garbage that didn't even come anywhere close to a word, much less more than one. Much less, I can't do this, I'm going to come right now.

But hey, Tony's a smart guy, and they've been doing this long enough that he's confident he'll know what that aborted word means. He hopes so, at least, because it's barely five seconds after it that he finds himself incapable of holding off any more and finds himself having one of the more intense orgasms he's had in the past five weeks.

Considering they'd been together for the past five weeks, it's saying a lot.

When he starts, he doesn’t know how close Justin is. He could be hovering near the edge of orgasm, he could be so far from it that it would take considerable time and attention to get him there. Tony doesn’t know, but he’s prepared for all eventualities. Because while he has always enjoyed the many permutations of sex, he’s never enjoyed it quite as much as he does with Justin, and all of the things that he would have once been slightly hesitant to do with a partner, he does eagerly now.

He’s prepared for this to take quite a while. His throat is loose, he’s as relaxed as he possibly can be, sitting on an awkward and mildly uncomfortable cooler. He’s prepared for the possibility that Justin will fight his intentions and barely move at all, and he’s also prepared for the most vigorous and thorough face-fucking he can provide. He’s even ready for the chance that he’ll barely get his mouth on him before he’s shooting his load all over the place.

As it turns out, that latter possibility is closer to the truth, and Tony accepts it with the same pleasure he would have felt if it had taken longer. The clenching of Justin’s hands on him is enough of a warning and he tightens his lips, sucks just a little harder, all but milking Justin’s cock until there’s nothing left to suck from it and it lays heavy and spent on his tongue. He draws back slowly, gently nudging Justin’s hips back until he has enough room to release him from his mouth. His fingertips stroke his ass lightly, soothing, calming caresses, as Tony licks his lips and leaves a kiss along the jut of Justin’s hipbone.

“Well,” he murmurs, voice low and sated. “That was hot. Gotta remember this the next time we're trying not to get too dirty.”

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."

Being the death of Justin is something that Tony fears, not simply because of deep-seated issues with his parents’ death, but because he’s witnessed lunatics targeting the people that he cares about as a way to hurt him. Stane went after Pepper. Vanko went after everybody. Loki went after the entire world. By himself, Tony’s something of a bad luck charm for other people. Add Iron Man into the mix and it just magnifies that bad luck a hundredfold.

An icy spike of fear lodges in his gut, but he doesn’t act on it. His face doesn’t pale, his hands don’t start shaking, he doesn’t look upset or traumatized. He doesn’t even mention it. And when Justin clarifies what he meant – what Tony knew logically that he meant – he shoves it all into the back of his mind and tries to ignore it.

“I like to think of it as satisfying you,” he tells him, focusing on the positive and not taking his words as criticism or some dark foreshadowing of tragedy to come. “If you’re worn out, then you’re satisfied. If you’re not, you might still be wanting more, and I don’t want to leave you wanting more when I’m more than happy to give it to you the first go round.”

The fact that Justin’s hot certainly doesn’t hinder that desire. The fact that Tony loves him definitely doesn’t hinder it.

One day, that little secret will come out. If not Tony saying it aloud, but Justin adding small figures up to create big ones, adding twos and sixes to create hundreds. The idea that Tony believes anyone who gets close to him is a target is well and good, but the idea that Tony believes that Justin would be killed to get at him wouldn't settle well. It would make Justin feel like Tony thought him, in some way, dependent on him. Justin could just as easily be killed for someone not liking his wealth, his brain, his company—he ran that risk being who and what he was. Certainly, enemies would target those closest to someone who could blow shit up with a wave of his hand. But Justin had kept things as quiet as humanly possibly, and if Tony didn't say anything to the wrong person?

Well, they'd have a stalker before anything happened, wouldn't they?

"Satisfying me, huh." As he says it, he's moving his leg over so that he can straddle the cooler and move in properly, nosing through hair that looked so wonderful from above only a minute ago. His glasses are still out of the way, but only so he can place a quick kiss to Tony's temple before he leans back to retrieve them. "But what about you? Are you...satisfied?"

Maybe it's because he's filled with sugar and, yes, satisfied. Maybe it's because it's a new year and he wants to make sure this lasts as long as it possibly can. Maybe the semi-semantics talk has opened a door to it. Justin's not sure, but it seems as good a time as any.

"I mean. Is there something you like that I'm—that we're—not doing? I mean. You know. Is there, uhm, is there something I should. Clothes? I...don't know. There's this whole, uh, world of stuff that I'm not, that I'm not really knowledgeable about, but you. Uh. You're...you've." You're Tony Stark. "I'm open to things? If they're. You know. Within something like reason. You just have to tell me because how, because how will I know otherwise? Right? Like. So. Is there anything you feel like we should be doing and we're not so you're missing out, but you're not telling me, so there's kind of a problem, so you should tell me now?"

He can’t answer him immediately, because he isn’t sure that he’s capable of opening his mouth without laughing. The notion that he might not be satisfied is practically hilarious. He’s never been as content with his life as he is now, and that’s not something he’d ever expected to feel.

“Seriously?” A smile plays at the corner of his mouth as he shakes his head. “Am I satisfied?”

Reaching out, he cards his fingers through Justin’s hair and tips his head so that he can kiss his forehead without disturbing his glasses. “You don’t know the answer to that already?”

There’s nothing he’s lacking. No area in which he believes that Justin could stand to improve. Emotionally, he’s happy. Sexually, he couldn’t be happier. Maybe it’s difficult to believe, given that he’s Tony Stark and his reputation suggests that he’s a frequent participant in sexual acts more appropriate to a circus than a bedroom, but he is.

“You don’t have to do anything differently, Justin. You don’t have to be anyone else but who you are. I’m satisfied. I’m more than satisfied.” He slides his fingers down out of his hair and along the back of his neck. “I’ve got everything I want right here. But you know, that does cut both ways. You can tell me too, if there's anything that needs changed.”

Seriously?

Justin is, partly, expecting Tony to come out with some strange fetish he'd have to Google later to get the full idea of, something he'll have to do a bit of research on in order to feel moderately comfortable before going through with anything. Partly because he knows that Tony's not at all what papers, magazines, the Internet, and "news" television make him out to be. But still, there's a little bit of uncertainty on Justin's end about whether Tony just likes sex in general or if he likes the bizarre, shadowy lands of things Justin can't understand anyone ever thinking of as sexy, much less having become so much of a "thing" that it has its own special name.

He's not expecting what he gets, however, and he grows oddly quiet and still as he listens—there's no fidgeting fingers or nervously tapping feet, just him quiet and still and giving Tony every ounce of focus he contains. The only movement is him leaning into Tony's hand moving along him, nothing more.

"Well." It's short and quiet, and he takes a moment to look like he's really putting extreme thought into what he has to say, like it's life or death. For all intents and purposes, he looks completely serious. "I was going to make a joke about something extremely awful, but I can't think of anything right now. I...honestly wasn't. Expecting that."

If pressed, Justin wouldn't be able to accurately articulate what he was supposed "expecting," if only because he didn't really know.

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