10
THIS ROUND IS NOW CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS.
ROUND ELEVEN WILL OPEN ON FRIDAY THE 17TH.
ROUND TEN
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Please use this format: Steve/ ( Read more... )
Bruce was a graceful swimmer, moving through the water with a zenlike quiet. No wonder he found it calming; Tony could have fallen asleep watching him if he hadn’t been so turned on. The pool glowed aquamarine, open to the midnight sky, another jewel in New York’s crown of lights.
Bruce reached the near wall and stopped swimming. “Care to join me?” he asked, looking up at Tony.
Tony shook his head. “Nah. View’s better from up here.” He winked and leaned back in his chair, which, come to think of it, probably wasn’t sturdy enough to support both their weights at once.
“It’s a great pool,” Bruce said, a persuasive tilt to his voice.
“Course it is - I designed it.”
“And you’re not curious to try it out?”
Tony grimaced. He used to love swimming. Back in the day, he’d rented out entire tropical hotel decks for lavish pool parties with rainbows of cocktails and optional swimwear. After Afghanistan, though, the most he could manage was his daily shower. “I’m not dressed for it,” he shrugged.
Bruce raised an eyebrow incredulously. “Since when has that stopped Tony Stark?”
Tony smirked. The man had a point - it was about time he finally got naked on the roof of his own building. He had a reputation to uphold. He sashayed over to one of the heat lamps, which, of course, was purely ornamental on a such balmy summer night. With this impromptu stripper pole, he peeled one piece of clothing off after the next to the embarrassingly cheesy rhythms in his head. As he shimmied out of his pants, he already had a bit of a boner, and if Bruce didn’t too, it was only a matter of seconds.
“Christ, Tony,” Bruce groaned. The pool’s blue reflected in his eyes gave the illusion of an animal glow. “You’re shameless. Get in here.”
Tony swallowed. Bruce’s hair seemed so much longer when it was dripping wet, and Tony got a sudden desire to grab it, to twist his fingers in it tight. If he just dove into the pool and got it over with, would that make it better or worse? Worse, he concluded, and shuffled over to the steps, trying not to show how nervous he was. It wasn’t even that he was feeling it, the flashbacks and the panic, it was the fear that he might. Then again, he’d always been a bit of a gambler. With one motivating look at the object of his affection, he gingerly stepped into the water.
“I’d have thought you’d be more enthusiastic about skinny dipping,” said Bruce, paddling over to the shallow end. Tony was still standing on the second step, water undulating about his calves.
“It’s not the skinny that’s the problem,” Tony replied quietly. “It’s um. More the dipping.”
Bruce got it; the look on his face and the length of his pause said as much. “Tony, I’m sorry I pressured you. I didn’t think-”
“Who would? Grown man, dodges bullets daily, scared of his own swimming pool?” He swallowed. “It’s cool. I’m coming in. Just...”
Bruce waited attentively for Tony to take another breath and complete his sentence.
“Just please don’t dunk my head under. I know that’s an unfair request because that’s totally the kind of dick move I would pull on you, but please, don’t do it.”
“God Tony, of course I won’t.” Bruce’s voice, like his eyes, was heartbreakingly kind. Tony took another step into the water, to his waist, and one more, into Bruce's arms. Tony closed his eyes as Bruce wrapped around him, a steady knot of comfort. Though the water was warm with summer against his skin, he shivered. “You okay?” Bruce asked.
Tony nodded. He saw the irony here: Bruce was the calm one, and Tony was the one at risk of flipping out.
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