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@avengerled
PINNED POST!
welcome to avengerled, an independent, selective, earth-616 multimuse featuring captain america, the winter soldier, wolverine, and d.m. vaughn! authored by dean (he/him, 25+). please read my rules and muse bios before following.
rules & muses | thread trackers | interest tracker | permanent starter calls
FATED VOYAGE
multifandom multimuse written by dean
blog | rules | muses | tags
avengerled moved to fatedvoyage
hey! just an fyi, but i’ve moved from avengerled to fatedvoyage. you can find it here.
FATED VOYAGE
multifandom multimuse written by dean
blog | rules | muses | tags
avengerled moved to fatedvoyage
hey! just an fyi, but i’ve moved from avengerled to fatedvoyage. you can find it here.
FATED VOYAGE
multifandom multimuse written by dean
blog | rules | muses | tags
avengerled moved to fatedvoyage
hey! just an fyi, but i’ve moved from avengerled to fatedvoyage. you can find it here.
FATED VOYAGE
multifandom multimuse written by dean
blog | rules | muses | tags
overclocks / tony
God, this was going to be all over the front pages of the tabloids, especially if he wore the suit helmet. And sure, it was hilarious to think about, because…Logan, but was it big enough of a laugh that he could weather the bad press, or-
“Aha!” He pulled his helmet free from the pile at the last moment before giving up and giving in and taking the helmet of the suit instead, and held it up triumphantly, like instead of digging through a scrap pile he needed to tidy up, he’d found the proverbial needle in a haystack. He wore it when he was riding, because Steve and Logan and Bucky did not actually have a monopoly on motorcycles and Tony had been kind of a collector since he was seventeen (and entirely too young to have one in his aged, tempered wisdom, but that was another argument for another day), but considering how rare that was these days, and how rare it was that he rode with anyone else, of course he’d lost track of his helmet. Of course he’d piled scrap on top of it, probably telling himself he’d clean it up just as soon as he was done with something else. And then hadn’t. Of course he had. “What was that, Mister Impatient Pants?”
He hurried out to the garage after Logan, trying to pull on his helmet and a jacket at the same time, nearly getting himself tangled up in the sleeves before managing to get it all straight and once everything was secure, climbed on behind Logan, giving him an exaggerated bat of his eyelashes (a goad that was ruined, really, because of the helmet, which was a shame). And, hey, besides…Nat caught rides with Logan all the time, how bad could it actually be? “Be gentle with me, I’m squishy and it’s my first time.”
Logan didn’t need x-ray vision to know that Tony was probably batting those stupid big eyes of his. Just like Tony probably didn’t need to see his face to see the eye roll that accompanied his groan. Oh, this had better be worth it.
Revving his bike to life, he kicked off, taking it easy in the parking garage. But once he was out on the street, most bets were off. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to drive in a legal way. It’s just that it was New York, he was hungry, and he dared someone to actually try and ticket him. So he changed lanes and weaved through traffic, the movements almost falling into a pattern until he made a sharp turn.
He puttered carefully down the alley before parking in the middle, killing the engine and taking off his helmet. “Place is just up ahead. You can let go now, princess.”
overclocks / tony
“I have spent almost zero time on Krakoa considering I’m pretty sure I’m on the do not enter list on a good day, but thanks for letting me know the weird sex cult vibe is a thing and not just me feeling like I’m losing my mind.” It was automatic commentary, the kind of thing he said on autopilot as the bulk of his attention was split two separate ways; one half was already formulating a plan for tracking their mystery man down without using Logan’s nose, because, no, they didn’t have a way to keep him clean and do that. The other was already working on possible antidotes and reversals for the happy gas, but that also meant calling in people more well-versed in biochem than he was.
It was, to be frank, a bit bigger of a mess than it looked like on the surface.
“The responsible thing is to shove you in baby jail, I can’t in good conscience let you run around like this.” Not that he really thought Logan was going to be running around anywhere like that to begin with. At the same time, he was more than aware that were the situation reversed, Tony would be dragging himself into it on the sheer force of his stubbornness alone, and it wasn’t like Logan was the type to take the benching gracefully, either.
“Okay.” It was more to himself than for Logan, as he took a moment, hands on his hips, head bowed in thought a moment. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. I need samples because we’re going to have to find an antidote, we can’t let these people just wander off like this when we don’t have any idea what the side-effects are going to be long term.”
He straightened, jerking a thumb at himself. “I’m going down into the sewers, there has to be some kind of container this gas came out of, it had to be transported and put into place somehow. Besides, I’m in a sealed suit, I’m safe.” He jabbed a finger at Logan. “You need to stay here, because it’s going to be concentrated down there, and because someone has to corral our happy shiny friends up here to make sure they don’t suddenly turn.”
“I’m not going in fucking baby jail.” It’s accompanied with a flat glare. Tony can’t make him leave, and frankly, can’t afford for him to leave. There was too much unknown right now, that if Logan wandered off, who knew what kind of trouble could happen. The perp could turn around and figure out how to infect Tony, or the people up here could suddenly get violent. There just wasn’t enough of them right now to cover above and below ground.
Which of course meant Logan was going to be above ground on people patrol. “Aw, fuck. I hate fuckin’ crowd duty.” He was not a people person on the best of days, and right now, paranoid about being infected with this happy stank and keeping a pole in his guts just in case--it didn’t really set a friendly mood. But he couldn’t disagree. His claws made short work of trimming the pole to closer to his stomach and back, but he kept most of it in--just in case. Easier to give it a quick wiggle and a jolt of pain than succumb to whatever this happy gas was.
Logan moved onto the main street, trying to wave people over and get them to stick together. “Alright, you happy weird fucks, get over here. Yes, all of you--ma’am--fuck.” They were stumbling about, tripping over their feet and just... laying there. He knelt down where one woman had fallen, putting fingers to her neck and finding her pulse worryingly slow. Glancing around, his heart began to sink even as he called Tony up on comms.
“Tony, this is not a one person job. There’s gotta be close to fifty infected people up here, and they’re gettin’ real sluggish.”
overclocks / tony
@avengerled / bucky / 🔥 Our muses drink hot chocolate and cuddle next to the fireplace! christmas / winter starters / accepting
“This was actually a really good idea.” There’s a part of him that wants to feel guilty about this, about putting himself on do not disturb for a long weekend when otherwise he keeps himself on call just in case. But it’s really the first time he’s been able to drag Bucky with him to the cabin he has squirreled away in the Adirondacks - his first time back here himself in ages - during a time where while it’s certainly chilly back home, here there’s snow falling quietly beyond the windows, insulating them from the rest of the world. The temperature has already dropped into the single digits, and that’s honestly the perfect excuse to stay inside in front of the fireplace and pretend all this getting back to nature stuff is great, as long as it includes blankets, hot chocolate, and four walls and a roof.
And Bucky. Bucky’s an incredibly important part of optimal enjoyment in this.
He’s planted himself in front of the fireplace, after settling in and getting a fire going (there’s central heat, of course, but the cabin is small enough and open enough the fireplace has actually done a remarkable job of warming the space just so for now - he’ll turn on the heat later, before they go to bed), bundled up in a heavy quilt big enough for two to share from his neck to his toes (he has an overall plan here).
It’s…Nice. Having Bucky here, that is, having someone else moving around and making noise and giving secondary signs of life in this place, considering he’s so rarely spent time here in ages and ages. There just…Hasn’t been much of a reason, usually. There’s always been this crisis or that meeting or something that’s prevented him from getting back out here, so…Nice. To have this place that’s more hidden away even than their own home. To share it. To realize he hasn’t been here in so long there are all sorts of hints and examples of past-Tony cluttering up the place, from the clothes he’d apparently left hanging in the closet all that time ago to magazines and books still sitting on every flat surface and lining the bookshelf along one wall; it should be embarrassing, to see those marks of a younger, debatably dumber him everywhere, but he’s left it. Bucky knows what he signed up for.
But overall, it’s a way to get some use out of it, hopefully, instead of letting it collect dust. Bucky’s certainly made sure the island hasn’t been left too idle too long since he found about it, in any case, and this is just as quiet, just as secluded. With a bonus of being cold part of the year for the weirdos who like that kind of thing (Bucky).
He glances up, through his lashes, when he feels more than sees Bucky make his way over, lips twitching slightly in suppressed amusement.
“So full disclosure, I may have ulterior motives for sharing a blanket.” He twitches the edge of the quilt to the side a moment, giving the smallest sliver of a glimpse of bare skin from throat to knee before pulling it closed again. "But this is a naked Buckys only zone if you want to find out what.“
This had been such an insight into the past. Past Tony was full of... stuff. So much stuff. Not that current Tony didn’t also come with so many accessories, but this was prime stuff to snoop through. There was the obvious--engineering books, math, science. Some literature, as well, sci-fi mostly, but he could see Tony’s love of history as influenced by Steve too, which was no small bit hilarious. And so many magazines. All shockingly on topic--until he’d stumbled upon Guitar World, and wow, did that just open up so many doors.
Strolling back out from the bedroom, having added more of Tony’s old clothes to their suitcase (what, they’re perfectly good comfy clothes), Bucky held up the magazine, tapping the front cover. “Serenade me, music man.”
He carefully dropped the magazine onto the living room table as he made his way to the fireplace, though he paused as soon as Tony gave him a good glimpse of his clothing-optional status. Which tracked, honestly. And made him suddenly feel very overdressed.
“Naked Buckys only, huh.” Bucky unbuttoned his outer flannel, giving Tony a coy look. “Should I go fast, or take it slow?”
overclocks / tony
@avengerled / i’ll kill them, i’ll kill them all. (there’s ants in the kitchen) john wick / accepting
“Okay, calm down, T-1000.” So he fully agrees that ants in the kitchen aren’t ideal, but Bucky’s over here ready to go scorched earth on them like he, personally, has been kicked in the shins by the little guys and called names instead of the fact that they’ve just wandered in by mistake. Seems a little…Extreme, honestly.
Especially when you’re in the superhero business.
“Look.” He very purposely reaches down, takes Bucky’s hand, and gives it a firm tug back in the direction of the living room. There are better ways to solve this than double fisting cans of Raid, squirting anything that moves, and he’s fairly sure Bucky’s probably one more ant away from that being a reality. One, that can’t be good for Al. Two, it definitely isn’t good for the ants. And three, it’s not like a full on infestation or anything, there’s like…Five. Five ants. Either one of them could have brought them inside on shoes or pants legs, or there could be a loose seal on a window (which there shouldn’t be, but it’s not impossible), or something completely innocuous that doesn’t entail a full on invasion.
It certainly doesn’t warrant flat out murder.
“I know a guy. I don’t know if you know a guy, do you know Scott? Scott Lang?” He honestly has no recollection if they’ve ever met at all. But Tony’s known Scott for years, and, besides. He’s Ant-Man. "Talks to ants, it’s weird, it’s…“
He waves the hand not holding on to Bucky’s in the attempt to keep him in place flippantly. ”It’s his whole thing. Gets tiny, talks to ants, doesn’t matter. What does matter is he can be guilted about the possibly tragic future fate of the ants you’re so hot to trot to kill and probably get them to leave. Maybe. I can make a call…?“
There’s a moment, just briefly, where his mind leaves his body and, standing outside and looking at the situation logically, he can see how irrational he’s being. They’re just ants. It’s not the end of the world. This isn’t even the most stressful thing to happen to him in the week, let alone his whole lifetime. He’s got a laundry list of things that are easily more aggravating than this.
And yet. Ants have caused murder to enter his heart.
Begrudgingly, he let himself be led from the kitchen, giving the ants a scathing look at he left. They would get to live. For now. “Scott Lang. I think I met him once before I killed a Nick Fury LMD. Or after. Whatever, it was around then.” A whole big confusing time for everyone involved, best left forgotten, honestly. He doubted Scott would have that kind of recall about meeting him.
“Yeah... yeah, that’s probably better.” Bucky deflated, shoulders visibly sagging as he admitted temporary defeat. He looked back over Tony’s shoulder towards the kitchen. “I’m gonna have to throw away the bread, though, they crawled all over it. Tony, that was a new loaf! Fresh bread! I’m gonna have to bleach the fucking kitchen!”
overclocks / tony
@avengerled (bucky) / 🎃 - 9 houses covered in halloween decorations autumn aesthetic starters / accepting
“So, I know I worked the bugs out of the skeletons last year.” He’s made his way to the roof of the house, standing there as casually as if he were on solid ground, hands on his hips, jetboots on his feet, as he calls down to Bucky in the driveway below. He’s also pretty sure the skeletons are banned this year, so he’s going to have to get a little creative and besides, he doesn’t want them to get played out. Become trite. Be known as the neighborhood Halloween one trick pony.
“But I was thinking maybe this year we could, I don’t know, spice it up a little. Go in a different direction.” The last couple of years - God, it’s really been more than that, hasn’t it, he still feels like his first Halloween in this house was literally six months ago and here they are, steadily creeping up on wedding anniversary the second. But the last couple of years have been a mishmash of things as far as Halloween decorating has gone, a fun project without real direction, just a chance to show off his engineering and programming skills in ways that entertain, instead of saving the world.
For fun, in other words.
But he’s pretty sure the neighbors on one side of them are pissed he launched that skeleton into their yard at…Really ridiculous speeds two years or so ago because of a missed carry the two and really…It’s probably for the best he’s being discouraged away from that path this year. Which has led him to be creative.
He thinks so, anyway.
“So, anyway, think about it." He spreads his hands, like he’s painting Bucky a picture. ”At first I thought, hey, zombie Camelot, but then I remembered that time Doom and I were in Camelot and there were actual zombies and I got annoyed about it all over again, so I killed that, like, immediately.“ So he’s still a little sore over that, even if it was years ago. Ask him if he cares. Doom gets the chance to meet King Arthur and he spends his time with Morgan Le Fay raising a zombie army instead. What a loser. ”So, then I started thinking: What will you not see in the middle of cornfield, landlocked, ass end of nowhere Indiana. And it came to me. Undead mermaids. Pirates. Less…Disney’s underwhelming Pirates of the Caribbean ride and more the Cryptkeeper meets Splash.“ He looks pleased with himself. He’s ready to go at any time, with or without Bucky’s blessing on this one, because he has a vision. He has parts on order. He has the stubborn streak to make it happen. ”And as a bonus, no launching skeletons into orbit.“
He’d gone grocery shopping. That was it. He’d wanted to make brownies, found he didn’t have the mix on hand, gone to the store, picked up a few extra items (good prices, good sales), then come home. When he’d left home, Tony had been on the sofa. When he’d come home, Tony was now on the roof. That was not where he’d left his husband. That was also not where he really wanted his husband to be, especially when talking about Halloween decor.
And, in typical Inspired Tony fashion, going a mile a minute. So much information, so little time. “Yeah, we’re circling back around to that later, I have questions, most of them kind of sexual,” Bucky muttered. After an inhale, he raised his voice, “Can this conversation be had on the ground or is neck strain vital for understanding this vision?”
He wasn’t against decorating for Halloween. Bucky loved decorating for the holidays, it was fun, and not something he’d gotten to do for the majority of his life. But Tony had, the last few years, put his engineering prowess to the test, and some of the neighbors were getting a little testy about it. They could shove it, but still, a little skeptisism was earned.
“So are you thinking of changing our very resellable house into a water slide or some sort of theme park attraction? Because we still have to live here for a bit after Halloween, you know. Like our house is still just studs in the woods right now.” Bucky shifted the bag of groceries in his arms, his gaze trailing from Tony to look down at the aforementioned resellable house. Time to commit it to memory before it became a theme park ride.
“I’m not against the theme, I just need to know our house isn’t going to be a water slide. Or transformed permanently into the front half of a ship.” Because both of those sounded very likely. Though it did remind him of an idea he’d had earlier after driving through town and seeing some signs for corn mazes and hay rides. “You know, we do have that long road to our house, we could do a big haunted trail ride instead. I got friends with tractors. More real estate.”
overclocks / tony
@avengerled / “Though my body may be imprisoned, none can stop my magic powers from roaming the universe in search of revenge!” it’s dnd night and steve’s being a smartass avengers vol 1 #1 / accepting
The problem with Steve is that he thinks he’s funny.
Generally, he’s right, Tony thinks Steve can be very funny. Generally their senses of humor tend to be the same, when it comes down to it. But he also does this thing, this thing exactly, where he thinks he’s funny (and he is) but Tony can’t just laugh it off and move on, because while being genuinely funny it also feels like a challenge. And Tony just can’t back down from a challenge.
Generally.
This is the scenario: Steve’s character is now imprisoned, literally, due to a case of mistaken identity and some clever misinformation Tony’s worked around to everyone else over a period of…Well, they don’t have steady game sessions because supervillains don’t really give a shit when it’s DnD night, but since the beginning. Notes have been passed around the table at every session, each one containing a lie about Steve’s character, a slanderous bit of gossip, something that sows the seeds of doubt and distrust (it’s fine, Tony’s technically done it to the entire group), all intended to put him right where he is. Because Tony has a reputation as a cruel and harsh DM that is not exaggerated and not undeserved. Additionally, no one will ever say he goes easy on Steve just because he can make cow eyes at him from across the table.
He doesn’t. He’d known the minute he’d seen Steve’s character sheet what he was going to do, how best to destroy his character utterly outside a lot of luck, and he’d gotten to work. This is simply the way.
So…Generally some easygoing DMs would call it good, let him get away with it. DMs that liked to show favoritism to their significant other would probably let it happen with regularity. Tony is neither of these types of DM. He is exactly the opposite of this type of DM. He doesn’t punish clever thinking, no, but he does punish smartasses who think they’re being clever. And Steve is definitely being a smartass. He’s even going to give him a fighting chance, instead of making it impossible to do, because he’s feeling generous.
He pokes around in the bag of Doritos, finds the one with the most cheese powder on it, and shoves it in his mouth. It’s complete nonchalance from a man who’s about to fuck up Steve’s entire character concept. “Okay, Mr. Magic Powers, how’s that charisma check looking.”
“It’s looking great, thank you.” Nights like these were fun. None of them really played D&D seriously--sure, they made characters and a few of them got attached, but overall, it was more about blowing off steam than anything else. And a lot of other games got them into trouble, because literally everyone here was competitive as hell and known to take things like Monopoly or Mario Kart too seriously.
So D&D did well with their crowd. Just some paper, some dice, and an absolute tyrant for a DM. Well, maybe “tyrant” was too harsh a word, considering that Steve was generally asking for whatever Tony slapped on him. Like now. Goading Tony wasn’t a good idea in normal circumstances, but in this fantasy game? Too much fun to pass up.
Steve rolled his die and then looked at his wizard’s character sheet. It was a bad roll. No amount of stats was going help that. Still, he was grinning and trying hard not to actually laugh. “That is a... mm, mhmm, that’s a natural two, so five.” There were a few groans around the table, but Steve leaned back with a smile, holding up his arms and beckoning Tony to bring it on.
“Lay it on me, DM, how bad is it?”
overclocks / tony
@avengerled / steve / “i’m a risk taker! i take risks!” everything’s gonna be okay / accepting
Anything he says right now is going to make him the world’s biggest hypocrite. If he says No, Steve, you’ve never taken a risk in your life, it makes him a liar. Steve jumps off of roofs on his bike and from planes with no chute at least five times a month, and that’s when things in their business are slow. His whole quote-unquote origin story boils down to an experimental treatment that killed or drove mad everyone else that was a part of it. Steve doesn’t just take risks, he drags risk into an alley and beats it up and then takes the spare change in its pocket.
On the other hand, calling Steve out for this will just make Tony himself look bad, and open the floor for commentary about his own risky behavior. Of which there is…A…Sufficient amount. And one thing Tony does not want to do is defend his own risky behavior as justifiable because Steve’s literally acting like he’s never done something that looks both dumb and doomed from the start.
So it’s a very good thing, really, that he’s acting as a load-bearing support for a two-year-old (who doesn’t really need him to do it, anyway - she can fly, after all - but had insisted with her new favorite word, up!) so she can slap her newest neon-colored crayon scribble drawing on the fridge with a magnet and not pay any attention at all to this nonsense that will definitely get him into trouble. If they start this, it’s going to be a never-ending cycle of metaphorically pointing fingers at each other for every last risky thing either of them have ever done.
But Tony is not a smart man. Oh, he’s a genius, sure enough, he can do polynomial equations in his head while having an unrelated conversation while doing delicate soldering work while under fire. But he’s never seen an argument he’ll back down from, and he’s never been called submissive and reserved.
Halley gets her picture pinned to the fridge with the magnet she’s chosen (an oversized glow in the dark stegosaurus that is not at all biologically accurate) and he holds up a hand for a high five for a job well done. She’s not, he’s sure, at the peak of what she’s going to be (she’s a toddler, after all) but damned if that doesn’t sting when she takes him up on it. Being on Team Completely Human in this family is the biggest reality check he can have, he thinks. “I wouldn’t say you’re…Not a risk-taker.”
There, that’s diplomatic. And, to a degree, fairly true. Tony will still argue Steve’s always been brave where Tony cannot, and has therefore given Tony courage when he’s most needed it. They are where they are to begin with because Steve broke the rules first. Steve is, as well, working on giving him an ulcer for the stunts he pulls in the field. Tony’s here playing dad to an overpowered toddler he’d kill and-or die for because of it. But there are things you can set your watch by when it comes to Steve, because those things will literally never change. His lack of a poker face, for example, or his steadfast resistance to things like taking a break or a vacation.
“Look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not thinking about that hotline again.” Tony had been in California, getting his shit together, when all that had been going down, but will he ever let it go? Absolutely not. “You and Sam are really not subtle.”
Also Sam may or may not have also brought it up in conversation to Tony, since he was the one that resurrected it during his own time as Captain America. Which had felt like pointed hinting then, and feels like it now.
“It’s a good idea!” Steve slid along the opposite side of the counter. The hotline was not his worst idea (that was probably the van). But you do it once and everyone points to it like it was some sort of joke. It’d worked! And it was before the internet, what else was he supposed to do, just leave people stranded?
Halley looked at him, and Steve puffed his cheeks up, crossed his eyes, and wiggled his ears. She burst out laughing, clapping her hands together before reaching for his face and slapping the air out of his cheeks. Which kind of hurt, but hey, he still had all his teeth. He looked back up at Tony.
“Look, me, Sam, and Bucky will take turns answering stuff, so it’s not all on me all the time. It gets us all in touch with the people in a way I think I need again, after... you know.” He waved his hand. Steve didn’t like talking about that other him or his takeover of SHIELD. He didn’t like thinking about it either, even though it seemed to pop up at the worst possible times. And he knew he didn’t have to spell it out for Tony, since he was one of the few people to have never left Steve’s corner.
He wouldn’t lie though--a big part of him was wondering if this was a good idea. Not the hotline in and of itself--that was solid, he knew. It was involving himself with it. Taking the time to travel around America had been good for him, but he’d learned that there were still people out there who felt betrayed. Who didn’t want to trust him. And he didn’t want to muddy the waters--if getting the hotline up and running without him would actually get other people to use it, then he’d step back in a heartbeat. Even if it’d bruise a bit to do so.
“Besides, with SHIELD gone and the Avengers still out of the country, people need to know there’s still heroes in the states who want to look out after them.”
He said, with a straight face, like all of New York wasn’t filled to the brim with superheroes already.
i had a sucky day but you know who didn’t? bucky barnes. it is his birthday
overclocks / tony
Oh. That actually…Made a lot of sense. Less Steve gets his groove back more…Steve being absolutely Steve about it, lack of dirty little secret and all. Being earnest. About both turning away from being a tool of a government he disagreed with and finding a way to be a hero without the looming shadow of Captain America. While being completely, utterly, frustratingly naive of what had seemed like great symbolism in his head had been a literal thirst trap to anyone who laid eyes on him. It was so Steve of a sentiment it hurt.
He almost said something to that effect, had something harmless and good-natured about Steve forever being Steve on the tip of his tongue that promptly fled the moment he felt Steve’s lips touch his neck. It was his greatest shame and source of pride that something that simple could make his brain completely short circuit, that just because it was Steve it ended up being like everything else involving him, stealing his focus and his good sense.
“I, uh.” That was playing dirty. Steve had to know that. In a dim sort of retaliation he slipped a hand inside the open vee of the costume to trace patterns with his finger tips along Steve’s stomach while he tried to gather enough of his brain cells to answer the question. “Elementary school. Red and gold were our colors, I-”
In retrospect his sounded a whole lot dumber than Steve’s. “Yours was better and I’m so mad about that.”
“No, no, yours is good too.” It’s said with a smile that Tony could probably feel against his neck. And maybe he was playing a little dirty. He’d seen the kind of effect that he could have on Tony--making an otherwise focused and driven man completely flustered and scraping together words as clumsily as the rest of them. It was... kind of a compliment, in a way, to know that he could get Tony to be speechless.
Steve shifted a little, flexing and pressing more into Tony’s touch at his stomach. “Elementary school was good times. A comfort. And not a bad color palette.” Each sentence was punctuated with a kiss, going lower down Tony’s neck, getting a touch harder, until he ended with a bright red mark on Tony’s neck. Not one that would last--not yet anyway--but one that was plenty visible for the time being.
“Did you have a favorite school subject?” He knew very well that Tony did. This was not a new topic in the slightest. It was just more teasing at this point, seeing how long Tony would put up with his questions, spoken against his skin and rumbling out of his chest.
