Who: Kent Brightstar and Tony Wyrzykowski What: Bruised Face, Dignity in Shambles (shame shame shame) When: 4 June 2019 | Late Evening (after the viewing party) Where: The Reserve Bunkhouse Warnings: Language and TV-MA Sexy Times, including some mild submission kink and discussion of that kink. Also feels. Just feels all over the place.
The ice pack had thawed awhile ago. He could have refrozen it with a muttered latinate word or two and a little jiggle of his wand, but this misshapen bit of cool plastic under his face felt like penance. The glow of his laptop was the only thing that lit his room as he lay on his side. His phone was in his line of sight, but he'd silenced it. He could still see the occasional notification pop up: texts from Tony and Cate and his family. The party was no place for him, even though he'd enjoyed himself immensely right up until the point where he'd gotten into an argument Fitz in the kitchen, and it had devolved into fists thrown. Unwilling to see anyone in his bruised and bleeding state, he'd made it to the bathroom without being seen and apparated home.
A lame text excuse of "not feeling great. went home." followed.
And that was the point where he started to ignore his phone. He knew he could have fixed the bruising and swelling--and possible break--in a few seconds, but the pain felt necessary, a reminder of his inherent stupidity this evening. Kent needed to hold onto it for a little while as he wondered what the fuck his problem was.
Art & Soul ended, the credits rolling over the preview for the next week's penultimate episode. Reaching out, he started it playing again, for the third time that night. It was his own personal rosary, with his special brand of Catholic guilt added into the mix without all the formal religious trappings. He had this kind of Escher setup going on, with a table and his laptop suspended sideways, so he was viewing the episode right side up while still on his side. A particular ringtone cut decisively through his resolve to spend the rest of the night that way.
It wasn't medical, but he answered it just as quickly as if it had been an emergency.
"Hi, Tony."
"Hey, baby." In a weird coincidence, Tony was also lying on his side, though in his case it was on the couch while he half-assed the cleanup from the party, flicking his wand to send bottles and napkins and spilled food soaring into the open trash can.
Fitz had come to find him after the party and tell him what had happened between him and Kent. Tony had been startled and upset at the thought of his best friend and his boyfriend trying to kill each other in his kitchen, but most of all he was concerned. So he hadn't yelled at Fitz and he wasn't going to yell at Kent. "Fitz told me what happened," he said instead, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb Nat. "You okay?"
Sliding the ice pack out from under his cheek, Kent let it fall to the floor with a dull sort of splat. He turned on his back and winced as his whole face gave a throb. "Fuck." Tough to say if that was his answer or just a response to the pain itself or the fact that Tony knew what happened. He tried to summon up some ghost of the annoyance he'd felt before at Fitz, but all he could manage was a grudging sort of admiration that he'd had the courage to tell the truth, while he, Kent, had run home with his tail between his legs. "I'm… feeling like a total prick. Sorry I left. Didn't want to ruin your party. How was the rest of it? I know everyone loved it. Loved you. I'm watching the episode again right now."
Tony smiled despite his growing concern about Kent. "Are you really? You're adorable. I was pretty good, wasn't I?" His smile faded into something far more serious. "It was good. Would've been better with you there at the end, though."
He frowned into the screen. "What happened? I mean, I got Fitz's side of it. But I want to know what happened with you. Was it… is your head okay? Do you think you should go to medical just to be safe?"
The only reason Kent didn't go on to wax poetic about Tony's performance was the way that smile slid off his face. It was awful, seeing that shift; it twisted deep. "Hurts a little." A shrugged shoulder, still bare since he hadn't bothered with a shirt when he got back to his place. "But it wasn't that. Not really. Just me being an asshole."
A deep sigh expanded and collapsed his chest, and the phone tilted awkwardly as he sat up to put his back against the hard, unforgiving wall. When he drew his hand down his face, the rasp of stubble was audible even through the tiny speakers. He tried to look at Tony, but found that he couldn't. "It started over stupid bullshit. Just an accident: he spilled his drinks down my shirt after we both took a blind corner too fast. I… took it badly. Disproportionately badly. I don't even have a single rational excuse."
Recalling it now made Kent feel this weird combination of irritation, embarrassment, humiliation, and amusement. It was like watching a fairly low-brow comedy that wasn't really all that funny. Where there had been an attempt at pathos and urgency, now there was only puerile idiocy. "I've never forgiven Fitz for hitting you. I know you have, and I know I should get over it, but I'm not there. I wasn't there. I'm still not there. And I don't even know how much of that was the act itself--him assaulting you--or just the fact of his taken name: Proudfoot." It was pavlovian, the way his lips pulled back in a disgusted sneer. Here he didn't dare look at his screen. "Doesn't matter. We had some words, tossed a couple of stupid insults back and forth, and then I said something that evidently warranted being physically attacked, and next thing I knew we were fighting in your kitchen."
Kent let his head fall back against the wall. "It wasn't even a long fight. He got an elbow to the shoulder, I got one to the chin. Then his boyfriend showed up--Alex, or whatever--and Fitz got another shot in as I was turning away. Asshole. But now it's done. And I'm done. With all of it. With him. As far as I'm concerned, he doesn't exist in my world anymore."
Tony watched the changing expressions on Kent's bruised face as he listened, nurturing a deep desire to reach through the screen and smooth away the scowl for him. He sighed, leaning his cheek on his hand and just watching him quietly. "Well," he said after a minute, "thanks for putting up a privacy charm, anyway. Nat doesn't have to know about what went down, okay? She's got enough on her mind."
He sat up, leaning forward to look seriously into the phone. "Look, I know you've had problems with Fitz and his family for whatever reasons. And you don't have to be friends, you don't have to talk, you can just ignore each other if that's what works. And… okay, I don't think I'm supposed to tell people this yet, but he's not going to be around here much longer if things work out -- he wants to move down to Alta California and work with CREATURE. I think he talked to Zophie about it." Tony smiled hopefully. "So that'll make it easier, right? But sweetheart, he's been my best friend since we were kids. He's always gonna be in my life. I can't choose between you and him."
His jaw was starting to hurt with the repetition of grinding his teeth together, even more than the contusions. Kent directed his glare toward the covers that were bunched up from where he'd turned. "I won't tell her. I'm not even sure I would've told you."
The admission, truthful as it was, made him wince. He took in a quavering breath and pushed his fingers through the back of his hair while he counted to fifty in Russian. It didn't take much time. Kent looked at his phone again and slouched against the wall. "I know. I wouldn't ask you to do that. I'd like to be that selfish, but I know that's not how this works. Or it shouldn't if it's healthy."
He brought the screen closer, and wished he could see more than just the digital representation of the little flecks of color in his boyfriend's eyes. "I don't know how you put up with me. Or why. I know I'm about as predictable as a faulty quod."
It wasn't fishing for sympathy or reassurance. On anyone else, it probably would have been a ploy, but Kent genuinely couldn't puzzle out why anyone would bother with him outside of familial obligations after spending more than two seconds with him.
Another time, Tony would've laughed, but right now there was no laughter in him; he just gave Kent a fond, lopsided smile. "Is that supposed to be a bad thing? You know you're talking to a Quodpotter, right? Former. Whatever." He waved his hand, brushing that aside; he'd spent a good month not touching the open wound that was his Quodpot career and he wasn't going to poke at it now. "I like that about you, babe. You always surprise me, usually in a good way. And it's-- it's honest, and I like it. I like you. I dunno. You know I'm not good at feelings, but you, uh… you give me feelings."
He pushed his hand through his hair, ducking his head. "Can I come over? This would be better in person, and I want to take care of your face. Let's not let Catey see you that way. Those are some gorgeous shiners, baby, you think your nose is broken?"
Given his boyfriend's propensity for careening away from any emotional response that wasn't tinged with a bit of the ridiculous, Kent felt as though that admission was practically a declaration of intent. He started to smile, but it hurt; his eyes were fond, though, and he hoped it translated through the screen.
A part of him wanted to mulishly turn down the offer, but there was no universe in which he entertained that notion with anything like actionable purpose. "Yeah, you can come," he said it quietly, like showing enthusiasm would downplay any real pain he was in. He didn't even laugh at the possible innuendo. Kent gingerly touched his nose, and he shrugged. "Dunno. Hard as it is to believe, I've never been in an actual, physical fight before. And, for the record, Fitz is a bony fucker."
Tony shook his head. "You've never broken your nose before? I have, like, a dozen times. I'm the expert on broken noses. I'll come check it out for you." He pushed himself up off the couch, stretching out his back, which cracked. "If you trust me, I'll even fix it for you. Sit tight, baby, I'll be there in a minute."
He thumbed his phone off -- as good as magical tech had gotten, phones still went weird if you tried to apparate with them on -- and took the turn right there, popping into Kent's familiar room. "Hey, babe," he greeted him, and came over to kneel next to the bed, taking Kent's face between his fingertips and turning it side to side to inspect the damage. "Wow, it looks even worse up close."
"Gee, thanks." Kent started to laugh, but winced instead. "Ow. Fuck. Don't make me laugh. Or do make me laugh, but don't expect that there won't be consequences." He let his face and head be manipulated, and tossed a hand idly to the tiny bedside. "I left stuff out, for when I was done self-castigating. Just hadn't gotten that far yet."
His gaze locked on Tony's face. "I will be making this up to you. And...I really am sorry, and you were so good tonight. The episode turned out great, and I'm pretty sure I'm gonna be a mess after the next one. Thanks for that."
Kent paused a moment, chewing over his thoughts. "If this picks up, if you get more offers, would you consider moving out there?"
Tony turned sideways to inspect the jars and bottles Kent had pulled out, picking one to help reduce the swelling and bruising. Dipping his fingers in, he turned back to dab the paste gently onto Kent's nose and beneath his eyes. "What, move to LA? Do people actually live in Wizzywood?" He shook his head, carefully smoothing the paste over the bruised, puffy skin. "I don't think it'll be an issue, I mean… it was just a fluke I got this job because I met Orrin at that Flyboys party and I looked right. They want people who are actually actors and went to HAHA and everything and are really dedicated to it."
He wiped his fingers absently on his jeans and slid his fingers into Kent's hair, holding him close while he watched the bruising melt away. "Anyway, even if it was a thing, I'd still want to be here with Nat and the baby. That's not that uncommon, Griffin and his wife live on this amazing ranch in Texarkana, he just has an apartment in LA for when he's working." He smiled at Kent, rubbing a thumb along his cheekbone affectionately. "Why do you ask? You want to move out there, be my sugar baby once I'm rich and famous? Rich-er and famous-er," he corrected himself, and winked at him.
"If television and movies have told me anything, it's that everyone lives in LA or New York or London. The entire population of the world. There are some weirdos that might stick around in places like Chicago and Hong Kong and Tokyo, but they're not nearly as important as the other three. Oh, and every single corrupt politician has a fancy apartment in DC. No one commutes. Ever. The media would never lie to me about anything. Also, please don't ask me to explain the existence of Snowcap according to this model. I'd rather you not have an existential crisis." Sadly, Kent couldn't even smirk through his hyperbole and sarcasm, not when Tony was so carefully applying the required potions. He had a feeling his face was doing something a little dopey though, but did nothing to stop it.
Tony and Cate were two of the only people in the world he felt like he could be himself around, ridiculous face and all. Kent let his eyes fall closed as soon as the other man's fingers curved around his head. It was like that day in medical a few weeks back, when he'd felt so protected and cared for. A tiny shiver went through him at the memory alone, and when he gazed at Tony again, it was with a slightly hooded expression. "I can't say I find the idea of being your kept anything wholly without merit or particularly unappealing. If Cate takes over the world, you'll be our kept something. If you become richer and famous...er, we'll become your kept something. It's perfect."
He leaned in and rubbed his no-longer-aching nose against the side of Tony's. "I'm not what you'd call all that great with kids or babies, but I hope you and Nat know that I'd like to help out where and when I can. Village. Taking. Blah, blah, blah. I'm totally upselling you on this, aren't I."
Tony laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, you're doing great, baby." He tipped his head to kiss his cheek. "I guess it wasn't broken, huh? That's good. I'd be pretty mad at Fitz if he broke you." He pulled back a little to look at his face again, running his fingers gently through his hair. "And you know, I've seen you with Iris. I think you're not as bad with kids as you think."
He shifted closer, tucking one leg under so he could turn to face Kent fully on the bed. Dropped one hand to take Kent's hand and entwine their fingers, palm to palm. "You want kids someday?" he asked, low. "Do you think about it, ever?"
A shoulder lift was all he managed at that attempted praise, but Kent didn't point out that Iris had the built-in benefit of being an Adler and therefore at least a hundred times better than most people. Actually, he decided to point this out anyway. It was the kind of thought that needed to be out in the world. But he absolutely did not remark on the Fitz comment. That wizard was a non-entity to him. "The munchkin's an Adler. That automatically makes her at least a hundred times better than most people. Same goes for baby W. Built-in superiority in my universe. Totally unbiased true fact."
Something in that tone made Kent breathless, and the way Tony held his hand sent sparks along the nerve endings across his arm. "Maybe it's crossed my mind a couple of times. Mostly just as intellectual speculation--the what-if of it all. I'm not necessarily diametrically opposed to the idea, but I can't say I see it in my five year plan at the moment. If it happens to happen before then, if I've talked it over thoroughly with--" he shrugged, mouth pulling to one side--"I could change my mind, is all I mean."
His gaze turned knowing, and he lifted his free hand to brush a thumb across Tony's cheek. Call it presumptuous, but he was certain that Tony did want kids, so 'if' wasn't exactly his follow-up question. "How many do you want?"
"Four," Tony answered without hesitation. "I always wanted four. Two boys, two girls. I don't actually care about that, though, they can be whatever they want to be -- but four just seems like a good number." He grinned and shook his head, a little self-conscious. "I don't have a five-year plan. I just really, really want to be a dad someday. After Quodpot, I thought… I dunno, I'd settle down and then it would be time to start on a family, a home of my own. But Quodpot didn't turn out like I hoped, so." He closed his eyes and leaned in to press his forehead against Kent's, his smile fading. "There's a lot that isn't what I thought."
They hadn't really talked about what had happened to Tony much past that first night, and Kent had done everything in his power to honor his evident need to keep moving forward. He wasn't under any kind of illusion that Tony never thought about it, but he completely understood the need to play the Evasion Game. He was a master of it himself. Kent sighed out a low and fervent, "Baby," (his first) before he tipped his face up and kissed Tony. "You can have so much. You do have so much. You can have a whole quodpot team of your own, if you wanted. An unstoppable army of Wyrzykowskis. You and Cate… They would be perfect. Any kind you had, any way you had them would be perfect, whichever way. They'd come by it naturally."
Kent bit his lip, reluctant to continue, but doing it anyway. "That wasn't what you meant, though. About kids." He paused, still turning it over in his head. "Talk to me. I know we don't. Not usually. But if you want to. I'm here."
Tony leaned back just enough to look Kent in the face, raising his eyebrows. "Me and Cate?" he repeated, mostly distracted from his darker thoughts by this one. "Sweetheart, that's not -- I wouldn't do that to you. Cate wouldn't do that to you. However this ends up, it's not gonna be me and Cate." He ran his thumb down Kent's cheek, rasping over the dark stubble he enjoyed so much. "Don't get me wrong, she's great, and I'm a lucky guy to be with her, and she'll always be my friend. But I know how you feel about her." He smiled, but it was small and faded quickly. "She's the love of your life, right? I told you way back when, I'd never get in the way of that."
Something tightened in his chest, painfully. It dropped into his stomach, a lead weight dragging him down, pressing into his lungs and making it hard for him to find enough air. It was a little like panic, but a lot more dire. "You are too, dammit." He hardly recognized his own voice. It was tight and fierce and just the wrong side of begging. "And you're not in the goddamn way. You just don't want to hear it. Stop convincing yourself this is temporary for me. Stop assuming this is just going to go away. You have no fucking clue how I feel about you, do you. Not really. You've heard me, but you don't believe me."
Kent crowded into him suddenly, turning and climbing up into his lap, catching his face in his hands. "What will it take? How can I convince you that this is real to me? You're real to me. You're everything to me."
The ferocity in Kent's voice caught Tony's breath, too, and he gaped at him for a moment, startled more by the tone than by the words. He shifted automatically to give Kent room to come over him, his hands coming up to rest on his bare waist without conscious thought, and he turned his face up to him. "Baby," he said after a moment when he couldn't form words, "this isn't -- I don't -- I'm really bad at this, okay? The parts with the feelings, and the parts where I don't mess it up and get distracted by another pretty face because I just…" He sighed and turned his face into Kent's palm, tightening his arms around him. "Remember when I said you give me feelings? I suck at feelings. But I've got them, too."
The way that Kent kissed him now, the way he guided his face back and pushed himself even closer, hips rolling down and against, it was all demonstrative to the things they still weren't saying. So maybe if they couldn't find their own words, they could borrow other people's. "'Did you really think I was going to just leave this all on you? I was always coming back.'" His lips quirked up, echoing Tony's expression from the episode. "'Besides, I'm worth waiting for.'"
Distracted as he was by that kiss and the way Kent moved against him, which as always made his mind head to very distracting places, it took Tony a moment to register what he was saying and why. Despite the murky doubts and fears swirling inside him, he laughed, a little breathless. "You dork," he told him, and leaned up to kiss that half-smile. When he pulled back, he was smiling, too, lopsided and unguarded. "Are you trying to make me say it?"
Adopting an ill-suited innocent look, Kent rolled his hips again in a slow drag. "Make you say what?"
But rather than letting him answer at once, he threaded his fingers into Tony's hair and then bundled it into a firm, but not unkind grip. He used this hold to tilt the other man's head to the side, whereupon he nuzzled into the newly exposed neck with a caress of lips and a graze of teeth against his pulse point. The tip of his tongue flicked out to taste and tease, following that line up his stubbled jaw and then back down again. Kent paused for just a moment, however, to murmur, "You don't have to if you don't want to. You don't have to say anything."
At the moment, Tony wasn't sure he could say anything, or at least not anything more coherent than a whimper. He clutched Kent's back, swallowing a groan at that far too distracting hint of teeth at his throat. "I know," he managed after a moment. "But I… gah, stop a minute, I want to look at you."
He eased away just enough to meet Kent's eyes again, his hands sliding back to his waist to hold him comfortably, pressing lightly in with his thumbs to ground himself. "'Having you back is worth every moment of those seven years,'" he quoted the next line. "'Raphael--' No, I can't call you that, it's weird. 'Samael, it's always been you. It's only ever been you.'"
As quickly as his nose wrinkled at that first name--it was especially weird with his brother actually around and in town for once--Kent's face softened again, went pink and warm. Now he was the breathless one, and there was this fire that was now blazing in his eyes. He pushed into those fingers at his waist as he wrapped his arms around Tony's neck. "Say that again," the words were like smoke, swirling indolently around them. "Say my name again. It shouldn't be that hot, and yet here we are. You really are an amazingly good actor. This isn't just a one and done for you."
Tony smiled at that praise, his fingers sliding down to the waist of Kent's pants. "Oh, you like your name now? Or just when I say it in my TV voice?" He leaned up to catch him in a kiss again, biting softly at Kent's lower lip for a moment before releasing him. "Samael," he said almost against Kent's mouth. "I'm not acting now. You make me feel… everything. Just so much."
His eyes were dark when Tony pulled back after kissing him in a way that left Kent feeling both molten and malleable. He put his hand on Tony's face and leaned in close, tipping their foreheads together as he shut his eyes. His lips curved up, quiet and private and so, so fond. "I love it in any voice," he said low, meaning every syllable, "so long as it comes from you."
"Aw," Tony answered, grinning wider, but for once he wasn't making a joke out of Kent saying things like that. "That's sweet. You're sweet." He brushed the tip of his nose against Kent's, just softly, in case there was any pain left. "Get any sweeter and I'm gonna have to eat you up." He drew his fingers up Kent's sides again and onto his back, pulling him in; they were almost too close to get any closer, but by Merlin, Tony was sure going to try. "Or at least get my mouth on you, if you're up for that."
His smile went sharp as he leaned his head back to look at Tony again, even as air became a precious and rare commodity in this little world between the two of them. The rest of him didn't move away, however, and he grinded his hips against his boyfriend's again, hard and so dirty. "Yeah," he breathed out. "Yeah, I'd say I'm really fucking up for that."
There really wasn't much better than Kent moving in his lap like that. Tony didn't bother trying to suppress his groan, or his need as he tipped his head up to kiss him again, long and deep, like he could climb inside him starting with his tongue. "Good boy," he breathed when he broke away at last, and shifted them both, swiveling around so he could shove Kent down onto his back on his bed. He followed him down almost immediately, bracing himself with one arm on the mattress while the other roved down his bare chest and he kissed him again. "Stay."
A shiver had needled its way up his spine at Tony's initial praise, a sudden flush lighting up his cheeks and flooding his upper chest. Kent's shoulders bounced a little as he was tossed on his back, but he was still a little too stunned by what those two little words were doing to him to protest in the slightest--not that any such thing had even entered his mind. It was fair to say that he arched up unapologetically into that touch, and pulled at the ends of Tony's shirt so he could get his hands on his skin. And then that last directive came out, and he froze, staring with eyes that were nearly black. He made a broken sound at the back of his throat as something cracked inside of him, white-hot and soul shattering. Kent squeezed his eyes shut against a crushing wave of need, and whispered, "Yes, sir."
Tony lifted his head to survey Kent at that unexpected response, an electric tingle working its way through him at the way his boyfriend looked positively undone. "Oh, baby," he breathed, somewhere between laughter and awe. "That's how it is, huh? You like that kind of talk?" His hand slid down his stomach and lower, opening his fly with ease and sliding inside. "You really like it," he answered his own question, and squeezed, and grinned down at him. He wanted to kiss Kent now so badly, but he couldn't bring himself to stop watching his face, that broken-open expression there, the way his eyes were shut so tight he looked like he was in pain. It was mind-blowingly beautiful. Tony swallowed back all the praise that almost came to his lips, and instead he just pushed Kent's hair back from his forehead, gazing down at him reverently. "You wanna be good for me, sweetheart?"
The muscles throughout his arms and torso twitched and flexed with the effort of being still, of obeying while Tony took him apart. He bit his lip hard just to keep a cry at bay, or a tumble of babbled words, and forced his eyes open. Nothing was held back in his gaze; not his love, nor his lust, nor the intrinsic trust he had for this man. Kent put himself in his hands in every possible way. Slowly, he released his abused lip and hazarded a few breaths that were far more gasps than they were anything approaching calm or even. At first he could only nod, but that didn't seem nearly sufficient. "Yeah. Yes." His voice caught at a particular twist of Tony's hand, and his back arched a little, try as he might to control himself. "Yes, sir. So good. So, so good."
'Sir' didn't do anything in particular for Tony, but the way Kent looked and sounded when he said it definitely did. He dipped in to kiss that recently-bitten lip, swiping his tongue across the puffy spot to soothe it. "Yeah, you are," he said against his mouth. "You're always good for me, baby. You're exactly what I want. And I'm gonna take care of you, Samael."
He never stopped the motion of his hand, working Kent fast and rough, as he mouthed his way ungently down his boyfriend's neck, his teeth scraping across rough stubble. He sucked hard kisses into the hollow of his throat, leaving behind red spots to grow into bruises he didn't intend on healing with paste, and only paused a moment to lift up his head and smile at Kent. "Put your hands under your head," he instructed, soft and fond and very much at odds with the way he punctuated it with a bite at the join of his shoulder. "Keep them there. Can you do that for me, baby?"
The combination of Tony's hand around him and the low, silky purr of his voice had Kent shaking and moaning wantonly. The way he said his now-rarely used name rolled through his head in an echo that went straight down to where Tony's fingers were working him over so well. He'd chased after his boyfriend's mouth a little when he was kissed, but he was also more than happy to tip his head back to allow more access to that clever and talented mouth. This time he wasn't sure if he could trust himself to speak, especially when that sharp sting at his shoulder ripped a quiet keen from his parted lips. Kent nodded instead, and interlocked his fingers as he folded his hands behind his head. Settling his shoulders back against his bed, he used the slight impromptu pillow to look down his body and then to Tony, eyes hooded and inviting and expectant.
Tony grinned back at him, staying put for a moment just to look at Kent, admiring the taut lines of his arms stretched up, the muscles of his arms and chest on display just for him. "You're gorgeous," he told him, and laid a tender kiss on his lips before he ducked his head back down to continue his journey down his boyfriend's body.
He wasn't in the mood to draw this out; he'd told Kent he wanted to get his mouth on him, and his hunger for that was only growing. Another time he would've (and had) lingered longer, tracing every muscle with his tongue, but he only kissed a line straight down the center of Kent's chest, paused just a moment to scrape his teeth softly over his abs, sucked another little bruise in the hollow of a hip, and then he was there, shoving Kent's pants open and his underwear down just far enough to wrap his lips around the head of his cock. Tony closed his eyes, blissful, and stayed right there, just tonguing him softly while his hand kept up its hard rhythm.
It was a tough call, whether this particular game was the best or the worst. Kent moaned openly, and his lower back actually left the bed as Tony started in on that sweet and cruel torment. He planted his heels hard against the bed and pushed his head back hard against his hands. He wanted so desperately to free one and thread his fingers through the other man's hair, but he'd made an agreement and would only do what his boyfriend told him. The way that hand moved against him, and the velvet stroke of that nimble tongue had Kent an absolute wreck in no time whatsoever. "Tony…"
The man's name became a liturgy, punctuated with shuddering gasps and broken sounds and growled curses. He found himself begging, "please, please, please," but he couldn't have articulated what it was for: release of his hands? More of that hot mouth? To bring him off? Or was it to take him? It was all a jumble in his head, and Kent couldn't hold on to a single thought for long enough to do anything with it except watching helplessly as it flitted away. His head was full of sparks and fairy lights, synapses firing all over the place as his nervous system went from 'yeah, this is fucking great!' to 'what the fuck are you doing to me!?' from one breath to the next and then back again.
Tony didn't have to open his eyes to see what effect he was having on Kent -- he could feel it in the tense arch of his body, the quiver in his thighs, hear it in his broken begging. He was still fully clothed and halfway wishing he wasn't, but this was still perfect. He smiled as best he could without stopping the attentions he was giving that particular spot just below his head.
He did want to see him, though, and fix in his mind exactly how Kent looked when he had that desperate tone in his voice, so eventually he opened his eyes and sat up, never stopping working him over with one dedicated hand. Tony licked his lips, watching Kent avidly. "You're so good, baby," he crooned, low and fond. "Look at you sweating, working so hard to be good for me." He leaned down again to lick a stripe up his stomach, and blew cool across the dampness. "What do you want me to do to you, sweetheart?" he murmured. "Ask me for anything. Say please."
Even pressing his lips tightly enough together that it actually hurt couldn't keep the whimper from clawing its way out of his mouth. It was nearly a sob, and his hands had gone from interlocked behind his head to clenched into fists in his own hair. Kent's muscles clenched under that amazing tongue, rising in stark relief with every gasp for air. He found he couldn't even be all that upset that Tony's mouth was gone, not when he was saying words that may have entered his ear, but went straight to his heart, curling around it. By some miracle, Kent found a few usable words of his own, "Fuck me, please. Make me--make me yours. Please!"
"Aw, honey." Tony's heart had squeezed a little at those words, but he laughed anyway, brushing away any seriousness, and already reaching for his shirt to tug it off. "You already are mine, and I'm gonna show you. Gonna take such good care of you, my good boy. "
~*~
There was sweat dripping from the ends of Tony's hair by the time he sighed and collapsed down onto his elbows above Kent, heedless of the mess between them or the fact that they were both slick with sweat all over. He couldn't do much more than nuzzle his way into Kent's throat again, licking the salt from his skin in absent, cat-like strokes of the tip of his tongue.
"You better move your arms down now, sweetheart," he had the presence of mind to say after a few moments of catching his breath. "Gonna get stiff and sore like that. Stars… you are so good."
It's difficult to say what elicits the heartfelt groan that left Kent at that exact moment: those small, comforting licks against his neck or the relief of being able to lower his arms. The muscles are already screaming at him, but he silences them by wrapping around Tony's shoulders and broad back. Maybe it was a little nonsensical--god knows, he couldn't be expected to think at a time like this--but he mumbled back, "You're better. So much fucking better."
He leaned his face down a little to kiss along his hairline, not even caring that all he could taste was salt. Kent pushed out a sigh, lips forming a lazy smile. "Not exactly the way I saw this evening ending, all things considered, but I'm really, really not complaining."
"Mmm," Tony agreed, more with his tone than what was more a satisfied hum than an actual word. "Good." He tongued softly at the red mark he'd left much earlier, now turning into a bruise, and hummed again, extremely proud of his work.
He shifted up after a moment, wriggling and rearranging without leaving the circle of Kent's arms until he could grab his wand off the bedside and clean them both up with a silent and well-practiced charm. That accomplished, Tony settled in comfortably on top of him, keeping most of his weight considerately on his elbows, and smiled down at Kent. "So," he said after a moment of just beaming at him. "I never knew getting bossed around got you so hot and bothered, baby. Is that just a today thing, or am I gonna get to put on my bossy hat more often?"
An extremely telling blush filled his cheeks, but he forced himself to keep his gaze locked on Tony's face. He couldn't help but smile back, despite his embarrassment, but it was definitely a shy thing. "Not...a today thing, I think," Kent admitted hesitantly. There was real vulnerability in his eyes, and for once he left it clearly on display. "I don't… I don't have much experience with this. With much beyond the, uh, basics, but I really, really like that hat. I like the way it makes me feel."
"Yeah?" Tony brushed Kent's still-damp hair back from his forehead, then let his fingers drift down his temple, over his cheek and down his neck to press and test at the stiffness in his muscles in a light massage. "How does it make you feel, sweetheart?" He dipped his head down to kiss his lips tenderly, reassuringly. "I loved seeing you like that," he added, low. "You're gorgeous when you're begging."
This time, when he closed his eyes, it was definitely with relief. Kent sighed and tried to bring his thoughts into some semblance of order, although it felt like a monumental task to do so. A tiny, pleased smile lifted the corners of his mouth, but he fought the urge to preen. "I feel… safe. Like I can let go. Let somebody else take control for a little while." He gazed up at Tony again, because how could he not? "It gets so loud in my head sometimes. It's nice not to have to think, to just get to feel."
Slightly overcome, Kent inclined his head, brushing his lips over Tony's chin and the edge of his jaw. "Was it okay? You didn't mind, did you? I don't want you to do what you don't want to do."
Tony laughed at that, and shifted his weight so he could cup Kent's face in both hands. "Yeah, 'cause it's such a chore to have my insanely sexy boyfriend obeying my every command and begging me for more. God, baby, of course I liked it." He smiled down at him, running a thumb along his lower lip gently. "I like giving you what you want. We'll do it again, okay? Whenever you want to play like that." He dipped in to kiss Kent, deep and thorough, his tongue sliding into Kent's mouth like he owned it, and when he came up for air at last he flopped over to the side, landing on his back next to Kent with a satisfied sigh. "You're amazing, Samael," he said to the ceiling. "My good, good boy."
The words that rolled over him left Kent pleased and flushed, heat coiling so tight in his gut that he could only handle it by turning on his side and moulding against his boyfriend, despite the warmth radiating from both of them. He buried a slightly choked sound by biting gently on Tony's shoulder. "Fuck, there really is something about how you say that. Saying my name. It just… gets to me. I used to hate it, but I like it in your mouth, how it sits on your tongue." He gave a short laugh and put his arm across Tony's toned stomach, fingers taking up a tiny pattern against his side. "Don't listen to me. Brain gone. Sex good. Best boyfriend."
"Aw, I think you like everything I do with my mouth," Tony answered, grinning up at the ceiling. "And I like listening to you." He tipped his head to the side, just enough to press his lips to Kent's temple, and shifted enough to wrap his arm under Kent's shoulders, holding him in close against his side. "I like a lot of things about you. Especially the fact that even with that genius brain of yours, I can make you forget how to talk." He smiled, wriggling a little to settle into a comfortable position, and tugged a much-rumbled blanket over both of them with his free hand to ward off the night's chill now that they were cooling down.
"You know what I'm thinking about right now?" he said after a moment, his fingers running softly up and down Kent's shoulder. "How much I want to see Cate play that game with you. Get you all worked up and desperate like that. Make you beg. I bet she'd be great at it."
It was like taking an erumpent horn directly to the stomach as the heat that had been simmering inside him went explosive. The shiver that shook his entire body was felt all the way down to his soul. The thought alone was a heady one, and it was something he wanted so desperately that he couldn't have even articulated it until Tony had just now. His agreement came out sibilant, like he was directly channeling one of his charges, and his body moved in a slow undulation despite being physically tired: "Yessss, pleassse."
Tony chuckled, both fond and excited at how obviously into that idea Kent was. "Well, that's up to her, babe." He hauled Kent in closer and brushed his free hand through his hair. "You want me to ask her?"
It was a fierce debate that took all of a second or two, but Kent bit his lip and nodded, still a little shy, a little uncertain. "Yeah," he breathed it out in a sigh. "Yes, please. I want…" He ducked his burning face in against the hollow of Tony's shoulder, right where it met his chest, and mumbled, "I want to be good for her too."
Tony's heart did something soft and melty at the tone of his voice, and for a moment he couldn't even answer. "Aw, honey," he said finally, and cupped his hand around the back of Kent's head, holding him in so close. "You'll be great for her. We both already think you are, you know. No games necessary, just our amazing boyfriend, in or out of bed." He stroked his hair gently, closing his eyes, and maybe it was that postcoital ease or how open Kent was right now that made him add, very softly, "I love you. Just you, just like this. My Samael Kenton Brightstar."
Those weren't the words he was expecting. Needed, maybe, definitely wanted, but not really expected. Tony had made it very clear about how he felt about, well, feelings, so to hear that made his heart pound even while a sense of peace and calm settled over his mind. And perhaps there were tears in his eyes and maybe his chin trembled, even pressed into Tony's skin, and there was every possibility that something might change, that he'd fuck it up somehow, but for now, for right this very second, Kent was unequivocally happy.