Fic: Zen Is When
Title: Zen Is When
Summary: Different doesn't mean bad.
Fandom: Avengers
Word Count: 982
Rating/Contents: NC-17, rope bondage
Pairing: Bruce/Tony
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: For
jezibelle, on account of it are her birthday! Taking a break from Kink Bingo to... write fic?
"It's dangerous," Bruce said, licking his lips. "Can we please stop having this argument while you're naked?"
"You don't have to worry about me," Tony said, making no move to cover himself; they'd had this fight approximately sixty-seven times, and Tony had already learned all his weaknesses. "The big guy likes me."
Bruce was trying to be subtle, probably, but his eyes kept flickering up and down Tony's body. Point for Tony. "I'm worried about taking out a city block."
Tony rolled his eyes. "Thanks for your concern for my safety."
"Tony."
"You've got to help me help you on this one," Tony said. "You want this, I want this, there's nothing we both want that can't get done. It just takes upper-level problem solving. I mean, it's not like it'll help if I just tie you up to the bed."
Bruce got very still and said, "Actually, it might."
So Tony has him tied to the headboard- none of this ties and scarves crap, nothing that might slip and pull the wrong way and cut off his circulation, good old fashioned hemp rope that Tony spent at least two hours on the internet learning how to tie, which is about an hour and forty-five minutes more than he'd spend on learning anything else- and Bruce looks, well, Bruce looks good.
It doesn't have anything to do with how hot he looks, which is very, nice and tethered and ready to do exactly what Tony wants. The hot part's for Tony, but the good is for Bruce. He looks relaxed, calm, meditative; his heart rate is a little elevated, but other than that he might be doing yoga. It's not like he's not enjoying it, because his cock is rock hard and saluting Tony very proudly, but he's good. Stable. Steady. All the weird, paradoxical things that Tony likes about him.
"You weren't kidding," Tony says, tracing his fingers through the mess of dark hair on Bruce's chest. "You do like this."
"I never kid, Mister Stark," Bruce jokes, though it's more like a murmur. He arches his back, wanting more of Tony's touch, and Tony gives it to him, sliding his palm down the flat plane of Bruce's stomach. He knows where Bruce is ticklish, but he doesn't tease, doesn't toy with him, because that day is not today.
Tony throws a leg over his hips, bending down and kissing him as he starts to rock against Bruce's body, Bruce's dick riding along the cleft of his ass. "I want to know why," Tony says, sitting back up, because he's not known for his ability to leave things alone. He read about that on the internet too, why people like this kind of thing, but Bruce isn't struggling, isn't fighting, just lying there and taking it.
Bruce shrugs, as best he can with his hands bound. "I like the focus," he says. "It's peaceful."
Tony doesn't quite know what to do with that information, with the utterly foreign idea of it. "Okay, Doctor Banner," Tony says, raising himself up, "let's try some of this peaceful sex of yours."
Bruce doesn't try for a witty response, which is really more pleasing to Tony than the alternative, given that Tony's presently taking Bruce's cock inside him, dropping down on it slowly, incrementally. Tony groans, biting his lip; he got himself ready earlier, but it's not much compared to Bruce himself, his nice big dick that seems to be hitting Tony everywhere he wants at once, lighting him up like a pinball machine.
Tony moves slowly on him, up and down, up and down, rolling his hips like the soothing stroke of a piston. Bruce's eyes drift shut; his mouth opens, and sounds fall out of it, lovely ones, pants and little moans, and Tony is starting to like this chill stuff, despite his misgivings. It may not be messy and fast, like Tony is so accustomed to, but that doesn't mean it's not really hot, that he doesn't want more and more. He doesn't want to see Bruce shake apart, doesn't want him to explode, just wants to see him float away.
Different doesn't mean bad. Tony likes different. Different means interesting, eighty to ninety percent of the time.
Tony speeds up a little, wrapping his hand around his cock; he can feel it sneaking up on him, spreading through his body, growing in him. It's a slow thing, unfolding, and it's never been like this before, but Tony could stand a lot of again.
Bruce's breath is coming faster now, his heart rate rising but not too much, staying just in the sweet spot, the zone between calm and disaster, right where Tony wants it to be. There's the edge of danger in it, the edge that Tony knows so well, the one that never, ever leaves, but just now, it feels dull, not harmless but not promising the same kind of hell that it usually does.
"Tony," Bruce says, a rock in the middle of the river of meaningless things coming out of his mouth. "Tony, Tony-"
"Yeah," he replies, pushing down harder, giving him more, hoping this is the good kind of end and not the deadly one. He can see Bruce reach it, see it wash over him, and Bruce shouts and stills but nothing bad happens, not a goddamn thing happens, and Tony's so relieved that he comes, spilling out over his hand, his face tipped back in a gesture that might even be gratitude.
"No," Bruce says, as Tony reaches for the ropes, and Tony stops. "Just- just leave them there a minute."
"You got it," Tony says, laying down next to him, pillowing his head on Bruce's chest. "See? Nothing to worry about."
Bruce snorts and shakes his head; he doesn't say no and he doesn't say yes, and that's a step in the right direction.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/430614.html.
comments over there.
Summary: Different doesn't mean bad.
Fandom: Avengers
Word Count: 982
Rating/Contents: NC-17, rope bondage
Pairing: Bruce/Tony
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: For
jezibelle, on account of it are her birthday! Taking a break from Kink Bingo to... write fic?
"It's dangerous," Bruce said, licking his lips. "Can we please stop having this argument while you're naked?"
"You don't have to worry about me," Tony said, making no move to cover himself; they'd had this fight approximately sixty-seven times, and Tony had already learned all his weaknesses. "The big guy likes me."
Bruce was trying to be subtle, probably, but his eyes kept flickering up and down Tony's body. Point for Tony. "I'm worried about taking out a city block."
Tony rolled his eyes. "Thanks for your concern for my safety."
"Tony."
"You've got to help me help you on this one," Tony said. "You want this, I want this, there's nothing we both want that can't get done. It just takes upper-level problem solving. I mean, it's not like it'll help if I just tie you up to the bed."
Bruce got very still and said, "Actually, it might."
So Tony has him tied to the headboard- none of this ties and scarves crap, nothing that might slip and pull the wrong way and cut off his circulation, good old fashioned hemp rope that Tony spent at least two hours on the internet learning how to tie, which is about an hour and forty-five minutes more than he'd spend on learning anything else- and Bruce looks, well, Bruce looks good.
It doesn't have anything to do with how hot he looks, which is very, nice and tethered and ready to do exactly what Tony wants. The hot part's for Tony, but the good is for Bruce. He looks relaxed, calm, meditative; his heart rate is a little elevated, but other than that he might be doing yoga. It's not like he's not enjoying it, because his cock is rock hard and saluting Tony very proudly, but he's good. Stable. Steady. All the weird, paradoxical things that Tony likes about him.
"You weren't kidding," Tony says, tracing his fingers through the mess of dark hair on Bruce's chest. "You do like this."
"I never kid, Mister Stark," Bruce jokes, though it's more like a murmur. He arches his back, wanting more of Tony's touch, and Tony gives it to him, sliding his palm down the flat plane of Bruce's stomach. He knows where Bruce is ticklish, but he doesn't tease, doesn't toy with him, because that day is not today.
Tony throws a leg over his hips, bending down and kissing him as he starts to rock against Bruce's body, Bruce's dick riding along the cleft of his ass. "I want to know why," Tony says, sitting back up, because he's not known for his ability to leave things alone. He read about that on the internet too, why people like this kind of thing, but Bruce isn't struggling, isn't fighting, just lying there and taking it.
Bruce shrugs, as best he can with his hands bound. "I like the focus," he says. "It's peaceful."
Tony doesn't quite know what to do with that information, with the utterly foreign idea of it. "Okay, Doctor Banner," Tony says, raising himself up, "let's try some of this peaceful sex of yours."
Bruce doesn't try for a witty response, which is really more pleasing to Tony than the alternative, given that Tony's presently taking Bruce's cock inside him, dropping down on it slowly, incrementally. Tony groans, biting his lip; he got himself ready earlier, but it's not much compared to Bruce himself, his nice big dick that seems to be hitting Tony everywhere he wants at once, lighting him up like a pinball machine.
Tony moves slowly on him, up and down, up and down, rolling his hips like the soothing stroke of a piston. Bruce's eyes drift shut; his mouth opens, and sounds fall out of it, lovely ones, pants and little moans, and Tony is starting to like this chill stuff, despite his misgivings. It may not be messy and fast, like Tony is so accustomed to, but that doesn't mean it's not really hot, that he doesn't want more and more. He doesn't want to see Bruce shake apart, doesn't want him to explode, just wants to see him float away.
Different doesn't mean bad. Tony likes different. Different means interesting, eighty to ninety percent of the time.
Tony speeds up a little, wrapping his hand around his cock; he can feel it sneaking up on him, spreading through his body, growing in him. It's a slow thing, unfolding, and it's never been like this before, but Tony could stand a lot of again.
Bruce's breath is coming faster now, his heart rate rising but not too much, staying just in the sweet spot, the zone between calm and disaster, right where Tony wants it to be. There's the edge of danger in it, the edge that Tony knows so well, the one that never, ever leaves, but just now, it feels dull, not harmless but not promising the same kind of hell that it usually does.
"Tony," Bruce says, a rock in the middle of the river of meaningless things coming out of his mouth. "Tony, Tony-"
"Yeah," he replies, pushing down harder, giving him more, hoping this is the good kind of end and not the deadly one. He can see Bruce reach it, see it wash over him, and Bruce shouts and stills but nothing bad happens, not a goddamn thing happens, and Tony's so relieved that he comes, spilling out over his hand, his face tipped back in a gesture that might even be gratitude.
"No," Bruce says, as Tony reaches for the ropes, and Tony stops. "Just- just leave them there a minute."
"You got it," Tony says, laying down next to him, pillowing his head on Bruce's chest. "See? Nothing to worry about."
Bruce snorts and shakes his head; he doesn't say no and he doesn't say yes, and that's a step in the right direction.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/430614.html.
comments over there.