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[ingeniar]

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[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.