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[ingeniar]

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[ingeniar]

[ Weird, to want it from both sides. The ceremony had been all about one bond and marked belongs to the marker and some other stuff -- Tony hadn't caught all of it, too distracted by the whole nakedness thing -- but it doesn't feel like that. It feels like more, almost too much. He doesn't know where the guilt is coming from, except that it's there. Doesn't know which one of them wants to give in, except that he does. They all do. Right now, he contains multitudes, and they all want to kiss Stephen Strange.

He makes a small soft noise in his throat as their lips meet, somewhere between amusement and surrender. The hand between Stephen's legs moves a little higher, fingertips dragging across the wound, curving around the heat and weight of him. Not quite holding on, not yet, but feeling him fill out into his palm.

The kiss doesn't taste like much more than the air outside, faint traces of copper and salt. Tony leans into it, lets his lips part, crowds a little closer into Stephen. His free hand skids up over Stephen's hip, up his side, ribs, shoulder, until he can sink his fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. ]

[rehandle]

[ There. There. Tony yields to him, moves his hands over him, and it's magic. Stephen goes taut with it, primed, curving in, and soft sound spills like a spell between met lips.

The hand at Tony's neck drops to slide down his chest, splay over his shirt where a machine had once kept the man alive. He feels his heart thud through muscle and bone and the intrusion of metal, and Stephen mourns for one strange moment his own missing scaffolding - another point of similarity, a matching invasion he'd never considered before. But these hands, these new hands, were a gift. What they'd been through to make them is another lock clicked shut, condemned to never be nothing to one another, too many keys thrown too far out of reach.

Good, he thinks. Good, as he cants his hips to rock shallowly into Tony's hand, needing nothing from him, needing everything from him, testing waters and making welcome, parting their mouths for just a second to gasp down breath as even that simple sensation crests higher than it should. Then Stephen opens into the kiss, claims the space Tony's given him to deepen it— slow, no matter the fervour building in him. Taking time to map out ground he was never destined to tread, the two of them fated to die together or die alone, no hope of both living on in the same world once their paths had crossed.

How's this, fate? Stephen's hand slips lower, making room to press in chest to chest as his fingers tug at fabric, find the hem of Tony's shirt and bully up underneath, gratified to spread his hand over the span of his ribs, slide it down his back, tuck fingertips into the waistband of his pants and dig into the muscle there. Encouraging him inward, fixing him close. ]

[ingeniar]

[ It's been death for a long time. Death on the hot wind across Titan, death in the cold coils on the ship, death on the news when he got back home, everywhere at first and then fading as the world kept turning. They made documentaries and then they made movies about it. They mourned, collectively and apart, on the anniversary every year. They call it the Blip and the Snap to make it easier to say, but everyone knew what it really meant when someone was gone but not forgotten, when doors were left open that will never be closed.

Tony can't help thinking about it, maybe because Stephen can't help thinking about it. The warm hands on his body shouldn't exist for too many reasons. It's impossible. The odds are too long to quantify. But then again, he's seen plenty of impossible things over the last couple of decades -- what's a ghost compared to a god?

He grunts a little, a low pleased noise, increasingly distracted from his wandering thoughts by the desire to be doing three different things at the same time and the discovery that he has to choose between them. He splits the difference by letting go of Stephen's hair long enough to hitch up his shirt, trying to be encouraging and work his way out of his clothes without actually stopping anything else.

The kiss is getting into more tongue and teeth. Daringly, refusing to think any further than the space between their bodies, Tony nips at Stephen's lower lip while he circles his hand more meaningfully around his cock. He pulls back a tiny bit from his mouth -- not going anywhere, just making room to talk. ]

Haven't.. done this before. [ He's not vulnerable about it, not unenthusiastic, just making things clear. ] Don't.. don't judge me on my first try.

[rehandle]

[ Oh, fuck. Answer comes in a cut-off groan, first towering up over everything else and connecting with that hand closing around Stephen in earnest until his fingers have to bite into Tony's hip just to give it all somewhere to go. Breath gusts between them, starved of sound, but he's shaking his head while he wrangles his lungs. Judge him? He can't. If he did, he'd have to judge himself for how little it's going to matter, given that - ]

It's yours now. [ Strung up on the thought of being the first man to make it into Tony's hand, nevermind the sheer spiralling improbability of the chance to be his first anything, he only registers what he says when it tumbles out of him as fact. That and the shallow judder of his hips has him pressing his brow to Tony's again. Trying to disappear into him and dare him to say anything in the same small act. ] Don't - let it go to your head.

[ But it's words for the sake of words, a nod to the old order. Stephen hopes it goes to Tony's head - it's already gone to his. Too late to hide now, too late to pedal back and not remotely wanting to, Stephen leans into the helpless swell of pride, possession, belonging. There's not a lot of room between them now but he makes what space he needs, wrist butting up against wrist as he cups his palm over the shape of Tony through fabric and fastenings, squeezes ungracefully to make his point and muffle his frustration at needing to demand instead of just do. ] Let me in.

[ingeniar]

[ It's absolutely going to go to Tony's head in every single way, both literal and figurative, leaving him feeling a little dizzy with it all. He breathes a giddy laugh across Stephen's cheek, nosing over his skin, getting more relaxed now that they've crossed the proverbial line. This is what he enjoys -- the opportunity to learn something new, make new discoveries -- even when it means also making an almost conscious effort not to think about anything beyond the boundaries of this small room, this moment. But he can do that. The bond between them is barely hours old; it's unfurling in his blood, sending out roots.

Another laugh turns into a sigh as Stephen reaches for him in response. He cants his hips forward a little, pressing briefly into that bruised palm. ]

Okay, well I -- I gotta let go to do that, so.

[ Warning given, he does just that, though he stays close, almost nose to nose while he puts his hands to better use undoing his belt and his fly, trusting that Stephen can at least bully the rest of it aside, then makes a little more necessary room as he pulls his shirt off over his head.

The space gives him more room, a moment or two to let it settle in, what they're doing. He finds that the guilt and regret he might have expected isn't there, or is at least dialled almost all the way down, lost in the background noise. Instead, there's a growing fondness for the rumpled, slightly wild-eyed and mostly naked man looking back at him.

He steps back in again, raising both hands to touch Stephen's face. ]

Hey. [ Just in case he needs something to focus on. ] Hey, this is weird, right? [ Not that it's going to stop him cutting off the opportunity to get an answer by leaning in to kiss Stephen again, both hands still on him, fingertips strafed into the grey wings at his temples. Nevertheless: ] Sorry, I just had to say that.

[rehandle]

[ Better. Better, laughter and language bringing all this back down to earth. Tony is himself, no matter the madness that grips them both now, and Stephen huffs a breath of answering laughter over incoming lips as he's kissed again. If he was going to stop this he should have done it before it started - he didn't, and he won't, and before Tony tips back to get the space to speak again Stephen resolves not to think about it any more. ]

It's weird, [ he concedes, words swollen with a glut of feeling honed over too many million encounters with the same borrowed time.

It's weird when his palm presses soft over Tony's stomach, angling his fingers down to line himself up as he sinks them low, wrist pushing at fabric, making way for contact with hot skin. It's weird when he tips in to mouth a barely-there kiss against the corner of Tony's lips, tender, lingering. And it's weird when a hand that had struggled so much with precision has no trouble finding a comfortable hold on him, working him slowly to get a feel for his shape, thumb sweeping curiously over the head. ]

Fortunately, that's kind of my wheelhouse.

[ So Tony can blame it on him later if he needs to. Place the weight on the shoulders of a wizard who knew better and still decided it was fine and let what will be, be. What else is there? All they have in this moment is each other. There's nothing left in the way. ]

[ingeniar]

Hence the name.

[ They're going slow for now, teasing it out. It's probably better that way, though Tony can sense that it won't last too long, tasting a well-honed edge of impatience. He lets go of a slightly shaky breath across Stephen's mouth when his thumb finds a sensitive place, leaning into him, brows pressed together.

For all of his observations, the longer they stay like this, the less weird it feels. It's comfortable, almost familiar, though Tony couldn't say why. Like they've known each other for years, like they've done this before.

Tony rocks his hips a little, pushing his cock into Stephen's hand. He strokes his fingertips through the wizard's hair, keeps him bracketed, like he can make sure he's safe as long as he doesn't go anywhere, as long as they stay right here like this. Another shaky breath, shallower this time, as Stephen's hand keeps moving on him. A soft laugh, a groan in the back of his throat. As always, he's unable to stay quiet for long. ]

Mm. Feels good.