cocktailparty | (no subject)

(no subject)

SPIN THE BOTTLE

BASIC RULES:
1. comment with your character (name | canon | preference in the subject)
2. rng that shit (level + option)
3. sloppy makeouts and tender feelings are had

note: younger characters (you know who you are) pleaseee refrain from picking the more inappropriate options, thank you!

TAME:
1. tell that person a secret
2. kiss (cheek/forehead/somewhere chaste)
3. hold hands
4. hug
5. sit on lap

MODERATELY AWKWARD:
1. kiss on the mouth (deep kiss)
2. give a hickey (neck)
3. straddle/sit on except more indecently
4. "butt grabs" ie light fondling/touching (through clothing)
5. whisper something dirty to them

RAUNCHY SHIT:
1. touch inappropriately-- how inappropriately is up to you
2. tell them something dirty enough to make them react (blush/get aroused/idk)
3. full on makeout, if there are no tongues it doesn't count
4. lap... dance.....
5. xxx (xcuse me i don't mean 2 b rude but 2nite i'm fuking u)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ this was definitely not his ideal zone of comfort.

Tony was right. he never tried anything like this. experiences of intimacy are countable on exactly two fingers. but this is just a game, isn't it? Tony looked like he was playing one anyway-- all smug and looking like he won something.

he inhaled a breath and folded his arms-- only to unfold them a second later when the other fixes a wrinkle. nothing weird about that. just a tiny familiar gesture. Okay. Calm down. ] Forties.

Fifties, forties, tomato, tomahto.

[ he dismisses it, drawing just a fraction closer-- like a predator easing in on it's prey. which he kind of felt like he was doing anyway, preying on a 70-year-old-virgin. there are so many things wrong with that but whatever. ]

You going to be okay? You're not going to hyperventilate or anything-- can you even hyperventilate?

[ as he talks, his fingers soothe a little higher, touching light over his collarbone through his shirt. ]

[ He's pretty sure the fifties must have had some significant difference but it's Tony-- Tony doesn't care. It wasn't important so he doesn't care. ]

Uh-huh. I'm fine... [ Probably. ] I don't think so.

[ His eyes are downcast and he tilted his head a bit, trying to follow Tony's fingers. Briefly wondering if he really could, in fact, hyperventilate. That's a panic attack, isn't it? He might.

Not that he was going to. He'd try not to. ]

Hey, look at me.

[ his other hand rises, thumb tracing the line of his jaw, though as his other touches have been it's more curious than fond, tilting his head back up, away from watching. he'll psyche himself out, or so tony thinks. it's just a little hickey, who cares, right? might even earn him some points around the other agents.

see, tony's totally doing him a favor. it's not selfish at all. ]

Tell me about it. The forties.

[ he keeps his eyes on him, something softer about the shape of his eyes-- though always intent, alert, that big fat brain of his working away at something, those cogs always turning. his hand settles idly at his neck, just cupping, the other drifting to mirror on the other side. and then despite himself, it is very intimate. this close proximity, feeling the thud of his pulse against his palm, staring into those stupid blue eyes of his. idiot. quieter, amused. ]

Do you miss it?

[ He doesn't look directly at first. His eyes blinking and glancing down quickly at a failed attempt to catch where that other hand was going. He thinks: it's just a game, right? Tony's not doing anything. Leaving a mark that might not even stick for long enough to be noticed because he doesn't bruise so easily.

He let out a tiny breath and looked him in the eyes with his own. big and hopeful but lost. tragically so since it's not the same as when he has something to distract himself with. You plan or hit something and can focus. He doesn't miss the blood or the war or the guns-- people, places- home. There's only one person here with any connection to it.

Tony's so close right now. He keeps looking at him and then it didn't seem like a game at all with those warm hands cupping his neck. Oh. ]

All the time.

[ he feels kind of bad now, like some sort of heather here to take steve down a notch, to revel in his embarrassment or something. its disarming, being brought out of it like that, seeing him so far out of his element it reminds tony of himself.

equally disarming is that he'd rather kiss him, then mark him. it wouldn't mean anything-- he's just got a thing for the tragically broken. he's fucked practically every girl in hollywood with enough issues to rival his own after all. yeah freud would have a fucking field day with this. and this wasn't the first time tony stark didn't know what to do with himself, but it was certainly an inconvenient one.

ugh, lets just get this over with. his eyes drop first as he leans, nudges his nose against that strong jaw line, a gesture to comfort steve maybe, though he has no reason other than it felt right in that moment to do it. quietly, he starts, ]

What was it like?

[ He got caught up staring, thinking maybe if he leaned in... if he leaned in he might feel like he fit in again. Like he was supposed to be exactly where he should. But then Tony moved and Steve's eyes darted to the floor quickly. That wasn't right, was it? That thought.

He tilts his head a little to the side, exposing skin at the nudge. An oddly comforting gesture that he's not sure Tony meant to be one. What's he doing? He thought maybe he wouldn't feel it but he does. Sensitive spot there. It almost tickles... ]

Warm. [ There's a long pause and he bites his lip, putting his hands on Tony's chest slowly. Just hovering there. He just wanted to put them there or maybe to prepare to shove him off. He's flustered back up. Muttering his answer out quietly. ] In a ..- Not weather-warm I meant... Ah -Everything's so impersonal now.

[ he feels a familiar clench in his stomach, a little twist of desire as steve tilts for him (surprisingly willing, aren't you) and moves his hands to his chest. what a strange turn of events, not that tony was any stranger to chasing unconventional highs and this was one fucking sordid one if anything.

his eyes droop half closed, exhaling slow, lips hovering over the corner of his jaw, but he doesn't kiss, no. that would be too intimate. his hand slips down, thumbing away the collar of his shirt and for a long moment he just-- can't do it. he can't make himself lean in and do it. ]

Is that why you don't like texting?

[ His hands are there, flat against his chest. He has no idea where else to put them now that they're there. It's silly. It's warm-- but maybe that's because of how close his hands are to his heart. Big glowing one for all to see. He ends up looking at it while he waited, anticipating something.

But Tony wasn't doing anything yet. He felt him breathing there... so close to his jaw but then he wasn't. Did he do something wrong? He pulls his hands back a little, hovering without touching. ]

Right. You can't hear emotion though text or feel it. It's distant.

[ no-- he arches closer without thinking, to put cap's hands right back where they were and it signals just how out of hand this is starting to get. wow. well. choices now were-- what. what could he even do now. give steve rogers a grade school hickey and laugh about it in the locker room? scandal, maybe. he was good at being scandalous. he's made tabloids for worse. pepper wouldn't find this funny, though. whoops twist of guilt.

it's sad that that bolsters his resolve. ]

What do you feel now?

[ the hand at the other side of his neck slips, fingers pressing into the short of his hair there, nails dragging light as he mouths a kiss right at the pulse. ]

[ That surprised him. He wasn't expecting Tony to move so that his hands were right where there again. Back on his chest. Was this still a game? It didn't feel like it. He tried to look at him in the eyes again, to question it-- but he doesn't turn his head. He doesn't have the angle. ]

Now...? [ He trails off to a very tiny gasp. Intake of air. He's unprepared again. He doesn't have a shield for someone with a kiss near his neck. People don't do that. ] I don't know.

[ me either, cap. me either.

it seems like a better thing not to talk, just to do what he does best-- probably ruin things by being selfish, by doing things he knows he shouldn't be doing, possibly damage things. it was like he was addicted to his own trainwrecks sometimes. he'd been doing so good, too. he could really use a drink right now.

his tongue lashes, mouthing again, this time with teeth, scraping light over skin and he doesn't really taste like anything-- sweat, maybe. skin. he smelled good, though. cologne, though he couldn't tell you what kind. something older, probably. something to think about as he sucks, progressively growing more aggressive about the way he draws blood to the surface, all teeth and tongue and suction. he doesn't think about what steve feels or that he maybe groaned once (nothing to do with you guy, really) or that when he abruptly draws away, he's watching fascinated as the bruise already begins to fade.

he reaches to touch it, thumb pressing. ]

Huh.

[ No talking then.

There's the sensation of the teeth there, lightly scraping. He didn't know it involved teeth. It's animalistic, Steve thinks. He wasn't sure what he was expecting but that wasn't it. This sends a shiver down his spine. His breath is caught in his throat so he holds it the entire time. He gripped his shirt slightly it until Tony moved back, then he let it go. Then he started breathing again. ]

It didn't stick, did it?

[ it's funny. he's not really sure why, but it is and the shape of his eyes soften, crinkle even at the corners with his amusement. look at that. ]

Nope. [ we could always try again, he thinks but just stifles his smile instead. this is lame. ] You took it like a champ, though. Congrats.

[ here's a little chest pat of your own, cap, though tony's watching him with a particular sharpness now. the stare of a guy who thinks way too much for his own good and is definitely doing so in this moment. ]

That was your first one, right?

[ Steve looks at him, curiously looking at him before sheepishly smiling at how amused Tony looked that nothing stuck. He's not sure why he would think it was funny but he had that nice smile going on. He's not sure what they're doing. That wasn't so bad. That was kind of nice? Strange but kind of nice. ]

Thanks. [ He ducked his head then and nodded a little while he pulled a hand back -- leaving the other one where it was. He reached up and lightly touched the spot with his fingers. Nothing there. A little wet with spit but he doesn't feel anything now. ]

Right. Never tried that before.

Edited 2012-05-05 10:01 (UTC)

[ tony doesn't move. the proximity is nice, what can he say. he doesn't think too hard on it, just watches with that weird intensity of his, his hands slowly (regrettably?) dropping away. he refrains from asking the obvious question: what else haven't you tried? ]

Congrats, Cap. You're on par with most fourteen year old girls, now.

What an honor. [ He muttered back. Look. Humor. Kind of...

He looked down, clearing his throat, then looked back up at him then lowered his eyes to where his other hand was still placed. Just there. Next to his big visible heart piece. He didn't really want to move it. Steve's horribly out of his element but then again everything was lately. Everything. And this seemed to make the most sense somehow. The closeness.

Steve's obviously running options in his head to figure out the next move. Tony's probably going to move on since it wasn't his turn anymore in this game it-

Oh. ]

...Is it my turn now?

[ are they taking turns? his brows lift, saying carefully-- curiously, ]

Sure, yeah.

[ not gonna lie, he's intrigued by the size of the super bruise he's going to have if steve decides just to lay one on him. that'll be fun to explain away. ]

[ There's turns in this game, right? Tony went, now he's supposed to go. Right... ? Not return the hickey but... well.

He moves back from him then, not that he wanted to, and quietly goes to take a turn. 'Sit on lap?'

A quick glance in Tony's direction and then he's silently cheating to get a different option. Oh. 3-5.

He's cheating again. ]

[ look more awkward pal. he lifts his brows, looks openly expectant. ]

Take your time.

[ The levels of awkward he looks could beat anyone. He keeps awkwardly shifting and trying again. Must of been about 6 turns he took there (why does it keep landing on that last one) before he finally stops, hesitating to do it again. ]

...Is it okay if I kiss you?

[ look at you asking like a gentleman, steve rogers. ]

I think the point is to do, not to ask.

[ 100% gentleman ]

...Oh. Well I wouldn't want to do if you weren't- [ interested? ] So. I should then...

[ he steps closer to help close some distance again, eyes bright and attentive-- you have all his attention, big guy. ]

It's just a kiss, Steve, it's not a big deal. Don't overthink it.

[ He's nervous. It's obvious. 'Not a big deal,' Tony says but to him a kiss was... significantly more intimate than a hickey. It might not last as long or leave a mark (or not leave one. his didn't.) --but it meant more.

To him anyway. Tony probably gave a million kisses. ]

Right... Don't think. --Overthink. I mean.. [ He's shaking his head and ducking it down ] --Ehem.