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[gotup]

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[myheartglows]

Ok. Let's try this. You name a kink or a fantasy or idea you want to act out and I'll vote yea, nay, or requires negotiation. Simple.

[gotup]

Tony, in case you didn't know how out of my depth I am here, kink didn't even have that meaning back in my day.

[myheartglows]

You mean to tell me you've never had a dirty thought or fantasy while jerking it? Ha. An eye roll emoji is inserted here. I'm not buying it. I call liar liar loins of fire.

[gotup]

I never said that, they just aren't very exotic.

[myheartglows]

So? Here's some perspective, you sent me under by telling me to hold a pose. That was it. I don't need a whip and thigh-high leather boots to have a good time.

[gotup]

I mean, you probably have the legs to pull them off, though. ;)

But this isn't really about my fantasies. It's about taking care of you. Letting you get out of your head for a bit. Whether or not I get off is secondary to that.

At least, that's what he's gathered from reading the articles - and, to an extent, what he already figured out: Tony's needs are more important than his. When he's in subspace, he needs to be cared for, guided. (This is all written in his notes.)

[myheartglows]

Nothing, not even the dots, pops up after that. In the basement of the Stark estate on Fifth Avenue, which Tony is converting to a bare-bones work space (he's long emptied it of Howard's old Vault items), the phone's backlight shudders off as it slides face-down across the table. Tony himself slouches forward with his fist pressed to his mouth. He doesn't know what he wants out of this arrangement with Steve, just that he wants to stop hurting for a while. The easiest path would be bearing physical pain instead, or someone using his body, until he floats. But...

Nearly two hours later, past nightfall, Steve's phone pings with a new message in the conversation with Tony. It reads, Could hand feed me. Fruit or something. Maybe with a blindfold.

[gotup]

Steve smiles a little at the message and glances over at his notes, where he's written and underlined "a good dom wants to see their sub grow and improve as a person". It feels healthier than just using Tony for his body, that's for sure.

What kind of fruit do you like?

[myheartglows]

Berries. Various. Cherries, grapes, apple slices. I'm not picky. Prefer sweet over sour. Whatever it is it needs to be bite size.

[gotup]

With your disposition, I'd think you would enjoy tart fruits. ;)

How do you feel about dips?

[myheartglows]

Hold up. Forget the dips. Go back one. Did you just throw shade at me?

[gotup]

...wait, what?

[myheartglows]

Your innocent act fools no one. Did tart mean the same thing back in the prehistoric age or did you finally look through urban dictionary?

[gotup]

...okay, I wasn't thinking, but in my defense


it's not wrong either

[myheartglows]

The answer isn't immediate like the others, but when it sends: I didn't hear you complaining. ;) In another line he tacks on a winking emoji that blows a kiss.

[gotup]

I never said I was. I didn't even know that swallowing someone's dick like that was possible.

It's good he's by himself right now, because he's blushing furiously, his face and ears a bright red that threatens to creep down his neck.

[myheartglows]

The dots blink for a while. Slumped in a white chaise his mother loved and dressed in one of his father's robes, Tony runs his fingers over his throat and presses on his Adam's apple, since healed. He finishes typing and sends, Not bad for being a couple decades out of practice, huh? Soooo would you care for a repeat? I miss feeling sore.

[gotup]

Suddenly his jeans feel a whole lot tighter as he thinks about Tony with his lips wrapped around his cock like it's the only thing that matters in the world, and Steve shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

Can't say I'd mind.


What do you like for aftercare?

It's got a little brainstorming section in his notebook with a header and jotted notes like "blankets, water, chocolate?" Apparently this is important enough that Steve's tried some tentative searching of his own.

[myheartglows]

Tony readies to type "Next time I'm over there?" but Steve continues and Tony freezes. Pepper cuddled and cooed and told him how well he did; how proud she was. How much she loved him. Thumb trembling, he answers, Nothing. I'll be fine. I can sleep it off.

[gotup]

That is, in fact, the total opposite of what every article about aftercare says, and Steve frowns down at the screen. He doesn't want to push it because he's afraid Tony will pull away, but he wants to be able to take care of him, too. Maybe he'll just keep some water handy. His own natural cuddling instincts should be adequate for the rest, if Tony lets him.

If you're sure.

[myheartglows]

The dots play out for much longer than what the text ends up as:

I'm sure.

[gotup]

Next time you're here, then?

[myheartglows]

Ok

[gotup]

Bring my Snuggie with you.

[myheartglows]

The day Tony returned home he pulled off the Snuggie and tossed it onto the banister of the grand staircase, only to stare and curse and pick it up. Carefully folding it, he set it down on one of the chairs in the foyer. Yes, sir, the text says. The fleece, when the day comes, will be dry-cleaned and packaged in plastic.