[ smile smaller and kinder, tony pats simba on the shoulder. since the gion doesn't seem inclined to get up, tony scoots and swings his legs around until he's stretched out on his back parallel beside him. ] We can just skip to the pillow talk, I guess, [ he says, lifting his hips to smooth out and tug the towel back up. ] Don't hoard 'em. [ he reaches for a pillow next. ]
[He doesn't actually have a pillow either, so he reaches for one and rests his chin on it, catlike.]
Your pillow talk is probably all about the upgrades you want to make to your armor, [he teases Tony. Although it's not like he has much to offer in the way of conversation.]
[ tony stuffs his pillow folded beneath his head and his hands beneath it. when he stretches his back, it outlines the bottom of his rib cage. ] Better than your meat talk, [ he teases back. ]
[He forgets what he was about to say when Tony stretches like that, and he just watches for a moment.]
Fine, what do you want to talk about?
[He wrinkles his nose and makes a face at Tony, the skin around his eyes creasing a little. The expression is more feline, like a relaxed and content cat.]
Hn, let's see... [ tony clicks his tongue, mentally skimming through topics, but it's hard to settle on one that'll interest them both or at least be understandable for simba. what's more, tony's attention is split by the fact that a giant lion-man is lazing in his bed, which blows most other topics out of the water. unable to help himself, he sneaks a look. ] Well, it's not talking, but I do wanna scratch you behind your ears, [ he admits. ] Would that be weird?
[ smiling, tony twists onto his side and threads the fingers of his hand into simba's thick mane. ] Don't bite the hand that feeds you, [ he says. he finds the base of simba's ear and scratches there. ]
[Definitely a bad idea, he realizes when Tony starts scratching, but hopefully he won't have to get up anytime soon. Much like a giant cat, his eyes droop shut, and after a moment, a purr rumbles up from his chest.]
[ the purring has a calming effect on them both, similar to when tony washed simba's mane. tony can almost feel it reverberating through his ears and spreading into his own chest. he opts for silence so to not ruin the moment and throws all his attention into scratching. he sits up for the use of two hands and buries them into simba's mane like into the guts of an engine, rubbing his ears and along his cheeks.
tony may not have a woman's company tonight, but he can still make someone feel good, and himself in turn. just... just not in a sexual manner, even if they're in a bed and practically naked. it's different. ]
[Oh, Jesus. He should absolutely say something, because he's only getting harder as Tony rubs his ears and cheeks. But it's too awkward - too embarrassing - to explain that he's turned on by a simple touch. It wouldn't happen with more adjustment, but right now, he can't remember the last time anyone expressed that kind of platonic affection toward him, and it turns the platonic sexual.
So instead, he lets his head droop a little and tries to think about something other than his arousal - and, as a result, he actually dozes off a little, something that only becomes noticeable when the purring trails off.]
[ tony's hands slow. ] Simba? [ he whispers. he waits, watching and listening, but the gion's asleep. reluctant to pull his hands out just yet (how many people get to pet a lion?), tony marvels for longer at the feel and heat and sheer size, tempted to fall front-first into the mane just to experience it all against more of his skin. (man, this dry spell is doing weird things to him.) then, when his eyes wander to simba's muscled back and arms, he remembers being carried by them and the sensation of comfort and care. the view's not bad either, he admits.
tony, swallowing, slowly pulls his hands away.
it's an aesthetic appreciation. he's an engineer. he knows stellar design.
unwilling to leave (for a change, he huffs), he watches the news on TV on low volume and works on his tablet, resting against the headboard, which is more like a slab of lacquered wall. he gets up later, once, for a drink.
[He naps lightly - a catnap, even - as Tony works; it's only when Tony gets up that he stirs, lifting his head slightly to watch him move. By now, his erection has subsided, though he still feels the need in the back of his mind. It's there as he watches Tony move and pour himself a drink, still only clad in his towel.]
Sorry. [His voice is still thick and heavy with sleep.] Didn't mean to do that. S'pose I'm not very good company.
[ pouring his drink at the counter of the freestanding wall that mirrors the headboard, the news anchors on the TV overlarge beside him, tony whips his head around at the voice, but then smiles softly. ] I stayed, didn't I?
Mm. [He smiles and arches his back in a catlike stretch, lets out a soft satisfied groan.] Well, it is your bedroom.
[And while he'd feel bad if Tony left - like he'd driven him off - he also knows that Tony isn't the kind of person to sit idle for long. He's more surprised he hasn't wandered off to tinker with something in his workshop, in fact.]
No imminent catastrophes brewing? [He gestures to the television screen. It seems like Tony usually has it on to keep one eye on the news, like he doesn't want to miss a chance to jet off in his suit.]
[ the crystal decanter and glasses clink as tony shuffles them around. ] All quiet on the eastern front, [ he reports, then adds as if flabbergasted, ] You'd think they didn't wanna attract my attention.
Who wouldn't want a visit from Iron Man? [He just snorts and shakes his head.] Must be awfully sad for you, having to do...whatever it is you do normally. Not fly halfway around the world and beat up pirates.
[He knows Tony has his own company, obviously, but like hell he knows what his duties entail. Meetings, maybe.]
I beat up terrorists, too. [ tony carries a glass of whiskey in each hand to the bed. he sits down sidesaddle and offers one glass. ] One time I even picked up a stray cat.
And now you have fur everywhere and more meat than you can handle.
[He takes the glass and drinks it in a couple of swallows - which is probably a shame, because he's sure the alcohol is more expensive than anything he's ever had. There's a scrap of memory, a dark night, the wreckage of a building.]
I can't get drunk.
[Not that he thinks that's what Tony is trying to do, it's just a piece of information that's bubbled to the surface of his mind. He remembers drinking before, when one beer would leave him dizzy and puking everywhere. Now it just...doesn't do anything.]
[ getting drunk isn't the goal, no; this is just to wet his whistle. tony swallows the sip sitting on his tongue to frown and tilt his head at simba properly. ] Like, physically or ... morally?
[ after a speculative gaze, tony leans back on one hand, settling in and sipping as they speak. ] There goes my dream of seeing you become a wild party animal, I guess.
[ tony's eyes chance over. they catch on simba's exposed chest and stomach and arms and–they dart away to somewhere safe out the windows. ] Is that a suggestion for right now, because it's a great one, [ tony says. he nods. ] Let's do it. [ suddenly, he drains his glass, tilting his head farther and farther back, his adam's apple lurching with every consecutive swallow. ]
[Maybe he should say something - but Tony's an adult, and it's not his place to lecture him on his choices. Besides, his gaze is drawn to the line of Tony's neck when he tilts his head back, the shadow of stubble under his chin where the edges of the goatee blur.]
I don't think it counts if you're the only one partying, [is all he offers.]
Good thing I won't be, then, [ tony gasps around the burn. clearing his throat, he stands and pops an ice cube from his glass into his mouth. he sucks on it in one cheek. ] You're comin' with.
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Your pillow talk is probably all about the upgrades you want to make to your armor, [he teases Tony. Although it's not like he has much to offer in the way of conversation.]
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Fine, what do you want to talk about?
[He wrinkles his nose and makes a face at Tony, the skin around his eyes creasing a little. The expression is more feline, like a relaxed and content cat.]
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As long as you don't think it's weird if I start purring when you do it.
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[Definitely a bad idea, he realizes when Tony starts scratching, but hopefully he won't have to get up anytime soon. Much like a giant cat, his eyes droop shut, and after a moment, a purr rumbles up from his chest.]
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tony may not have a woman's company tonight, but he can still make someone feel good, and himself in turn. just... just not in a sexual manner, even if they're in a bed and practically naked. it's different. ]
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So instead, he lets his head droop a little and tries to think about something other than his arousal - and, as a result, he actually dozes off a little, something that only becomes noticeable when the purring trails off.]
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tony, swallowing, slowly pulls his hands away.
it's an aesthetic appreciation. he's an engineer. he knows stellar design.
unwilling to leave (for a change, he huffs), he watches the news on TV on low volume and works on his tablet, resting against the headboard, which is more like a slab of lacquered wall. he gets up later, once, for a drink.
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Sorry. [His voice is still thick and heavy with sleep.] Didn't mean to do that. S'pose I'm not very good company.
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[And while he'd feel bad if Tony left - like he'd driven him off - he also knows that Tony isn't the kind of person to sit idle for long. He's more surprised he hasn't wandered off to tinker with something in his workshop, in fact.]
No imminent catastrophes brewing? [He gestures to the television screen. It seems like Tony usually has it on to keep one eye on the news, like he doesn't want to miss a chance to jet off in his suit.]
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[He knows Tony has his own company, obviously, but like hell he knows what his duties entail. Meetings, maybe.]
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[He takes the glass and drinks it in a couple of swallows - which is probably a shame, because he's sure the alcohol is more expensive than anything he's ever had. There's a scrap of memory, a dark night, the wreckage of a building.]
I can't get drunk.
[Not that he thinks that's what Tony is trying to do, it's just a piece of information that's bubbled to the surface of his mind. He remembers drinking before, when one beer would leave him dizzy and puking everywhere. Now it just...doesn't do anything.]
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[It's something to do with science, but pretty much everything in his life has something to do with science somehow. That's not really saying much.]
I'm sure it's good alcohol, though.
[Even if he doesn't really know what kind it is.]
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[He pushes himself up enough to put the glass down on the nightstand, then settles back on his side instead of loafing again.]
You'll just have to party enough for the both of us.
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I don't think it counts if you're the only one partying, [is all he offers.]
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