open post

[gotup]

Comments

[myheartglows]

Tony heaves a sigh and flops onto his back, grimacing, preparing himself to get moving. Two hour drive back. Maybe he should invest in a personal helicopter. "They don't. That's why it's a fantasy," he mumbles.

[gotup]

"Sounds to me like you're the one with the cowboy fantasy." Steve raises his eyebrows. "What would you even do for something like that?" You know, for potential future reference, in case Tony actually does have a cowboy fantasy.

[myheartglows]

Eyes still shut, Tony smirks. "Nah. I'd just like to get whipped by a crop," he says with a humorous lilt. "Make me all nice and rosy red in the gooey bag."

[gotup]

Steve just snorts. "Won't be me doing it, then." Because if a gooey bag is what he thinks it is - and that's a terrible euphemism, Tony - then that's pretty solidly in the red zone of Places Steve Doesn't Touch.

(Also, that sounds painful. Steve can understand a certain amount of pain leading to pleasure - he could probably be persuaded to take a riding crop to Tony's ass, for example - but there are some things that qualify as too much pain.)

[myheartglows]

Tony slits open his eyes and rolls his head to Steve with one of his patented unimpressed-by-everything-ever, seriously-color-him-surprised looks. "Too far?" he drawls.

[gotup]

The look that Steve gives Tony in exchange is equally bland and unimpressed. "For both of us, I think." Don't pull that shit on him, Tony. He can figure it out some of the time.

[myheartglows]

"Speak for yourself," Tony huffs. Perhaps a telltale sign to someone who really knows him of the actual truth in his words: he turns his eyes away. "Maybe I subscribe to the M in BDSM."

[gotup]

He's not even going to go near his theories about BDSM and Tony's apparent self-flagellation, because that's just a giant mess that Steve's somehow managed to wind up right in the middle of. What Steve does know is that the more positive and caring aspects of being a dom are what called to him in the articles Tony linked him, and he figures (or maybe hopes) that it's something that appeals to Tony's psyche on a level that isn't full of self-loathing and the deep belief he deserves to be punished for his sins.

(Steve's almost surprised that Tony's never been a devout Catholic; something in this reminds him of a warped version of the faith he was raised in.)

"If that was what you wanted, then you wouldn't keep coming back to me," he says dryly. And possible spanking aside, he doubts that Pepper would ever indulge anything like that, either.

[myheartglows]

Tony shoots up in the bed. Tension ratchets along his shoulders and up his spine. "Oh, I dunno," he bites out, voice tight, staring dead ahead. "The way you fuck my throat is pretty brutal."

[gotup]

Shit. Steve's not sure why Tony's reacting like this, but it's not good, and he doesn't know what to do to fix it. "That's the exception, not the rule." And if he hadn't already been quietly planning on shifting things in a more nonsexual direction, this would absolutely make him do it anyway.

[myheartglows]

"You sure about that?" Tony snaps his head over, his eyes hardened: a full frontal assault to defend the gates. "You got the experience to know that's not the kinda thing you like?"

[gotup]

I like it because you're doing it, Steve thinks, but doesn't say. Because, god, looking down at Tony swallowing his cock is intensely hot. He'd be just as happy if he only sucked him off.

"I got a gut feeling," he says quietly. "And that's what I'm going with." Even though his tone is quiet, it's certain; he's dug his heels in on this one.

[myheartglows]

Tony's expression shifts, the most subtle of ways: a small widening of his eyes that transforms the hardness into desperate fear. "That's fine, I suppose. But you never know. The stuff that can come out from behind closed doors..." he trails off thoughtfully, only partly a show because he's always thinking and overthinking, and even though Tony masks it with practiced precision, something's flipped the railroad switch of his overclocked thoughts down an uncharted path. His brow pops up as though at something particularly interesting (more showmanship) and he casually points out to Steve, "Maybe one day I push exactly the wrong button and you find yourself feeling a lil' satisfaction from shutting me up."

[gotup]

Something about that tone is a little too casual, and Steve sits up in bed, fixing Tony with his most serious look. "No." His revulsion at the very thought is plain on his face; what Tony's describing isn't kink, it's abuse, at least in his mind. "I don't care what kind of secret dark side you think I have, Tony, you damn well know me better than that."

[myheartglows]

Tony clicks his teeth shut. He glowers back at Steve for a time, eyes a little wild, before inevitably, as every time before when they have a stand-off, he concedes first by turning his head away. Eyes down at them, his hands curl into fists in the comforter bundled at his waist. He convinced himself he came to Steve for the punishments he thought he could draw out. But he knows Steve better. That's the problem, because he came back, anyway.

[gotup]

"If that's what you think you really want, Tony, then you can back out of this, no hard feelings." Steve spreads his hands helplessly. Tony, for whatever reason, thinks he deserves to be hurt. That much is blindingly obvious, and Steve might have noticed it earlier if Tony hadn't been hiding himself away. "I'll figure out ways to get you out of your head, but no matter how many buttons you push, I'm not gonna humiliate you, and I'm not gonna hurt you. You might end up doing a hell of a lot of push-ups, but that's as far as I'll take it." And he's pretty sure Pepper wouldn't do what Tony thinks he wants, either, if he's any judge of character at all.

[myheartglows]

Tony thinks of Pepper, her soft coos, bright smiles, the dusting of freckles beneath her make-up when she leaned in close. He wants to earn her back, but to do that, he needs to be better. Stabler. For her, and for this blue speck in the universe that they call home. This can help with that; can keep him standing long enough to work out the problems. Steve can help. Tony tells himself all this like he told himself he wanted the punishment.

He can't admit that he wants the comfort, the safety in an embrace, without the guilt devouring him from the inside-out. These things he's lost the right to, he feels, after Ultron; after Pepper left.

"Okay," he whispers, voice choked, core shaken. "Done deal. You're the boss. The head honcho. My el Capitan." He's going to shake apart. He can feel it coming, heavy in his chest. "Hey, think you could, uh ... work some of your magic?"

[gotup]

"I can try." Steve sounds a little dubious. There's his original plan, sure, but he's not sure how well it holds up in the wake of their earlier session. "You wanna have your hands tied too? Think that'll help you go under?" He remembers Tony telling him that he likes restraints, and he's absolutely willing to tie his wrists with a ridiculous bald eagle tie if he wants it.

An awkward pause, and then he just blurts out the question he's been meaning to ask for weeks now, ever since the problem first reared its head. "Not that this is related, but, uh. For future reference. What do you want me to do if you get hard?"

[myheartglows]

"I don't know. Just ignore it. Whatever," rushes out from Tony's mouth and his breathing kicks up. He buries his face in his hands. "Don't wanna think. Thinking is really bad right now."

[gotup]

Steve exhales slowly and climbs out of bed to retrieve the scarf, still on the floor near the wall. This is a genuinely disturbing problem, and one that Tony probably needs a therapist for, not...this. This isn't a solution. Steve isn't equipped to handle someone falling apart like this. But for Tony's sake, he'll try.

He kneels next to Tony on the bed, puts a pair of fingers under his chin. "Look up, Tony." His voice is gentle, but still commanding, the way he needs it to be. When Tony obeys, he wraps the length of silk around his head, then ties a knot in back to secure it. "Now lie back on the bed." I'll take care of you, he promises silently.

[myheartglows]

He's rewarding himself before he's earned it, Tony feels, and he's not even receiving it from the right person; his thoughts flicker through a kaleidoscope of images, ideas, and impressions, a film reel running rampant, scenes too quick to catch save for the sheen of vibranium or a starless sky. Then, the blindfold covers his eyes and dims the world, and Tony breathes. He lies back and focuses on the cradle of the mattress and the brush of silk on his cheekbones.

[gotup]

The mattress shifts as Steve gets up from the bed again to fetch the fruit from the fridge, stacking bowls on top of each other to carry them. He arranges them on the bedside table, then sits on the edge of the mattress. He studies Tony for a moment, the tension carried in the lines of his body; he'd hoped their session earlier would have a longer effect. Instead, he needs something right away, and Steve doesn't know if it's Tony's mental state or his own bumbling errors.

"Open," he commands, plucking a red grape from the bowl. The flesh is firm beneath his fingers, perfectly ripe and just the right amount of sweetness.

[myheartglows]

His eyelids quiver behind the blindfold, restless; Tony tries to wrangle in the multitude of thoughts but they bob erratically, so he releases them out of his hands like the fireflies when he was ten. Maria had just stepped out of the car that she and Howard would die in eleven years later, and Tony, young and brilliant and wanting nothing more than to see her smile, opened his glowing hand. The lightning bugs flashed as they wove away. He loved his mother's smile.

Settling slowly, Tony breathes out the most he can into Steve's care. Steve can help, he tells himself. That's why he's doing this. He smells something sweet, and opens his mouth as told.

[gotup]

He deftly places the grape in Tony's mouth, lets his fingers linger against his lips for a moment before withdrawing. "Chew."

[myheartglows]

Being hand-fed while blindfolded, Tony suggested that back in their first string of texts, didn't he? He bites into the grape. After a moment he groans contentedly; he hasn't eaten.