sʏᴍᴘᴛᴏᴍ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ; written in wizard’s eyes, casts of shadows and woven in emerald threads of ensorcellment, the spell of allurement had taken full effect of a certain iron clattered man. The dance of electrons though not at random but in a waltz, moving in a set patterns that the wizard and mechanic had set in place but the bewitchment has one of them daring to led the waltz straight into a rumba. There a fleeting tear in fabric of time that held their eye contact, strong arching of a brow and the pursing of lips as if he had sucked upon on a lemon slice, trying to hold his tongue knowing it was baited. And well, Tony was sucker for this certain type of bait. “Atoms are mostly empty space―” his tongue came to a standstill, stopping his continuation on empty spaces, arbitrary breath, hypothesis building that the shell spoken may refer to himself… no his suit and no it can’t be, the doctor isn’t that forward or is he. Twitch of his lips, wiggled in his nose in the slightest easily seen from the framing of facial hair. “What you going to crack the shell open for an end goal? What if there is no pearl just an oyster?” He couldn’t retract his queries out in the open void of space, had delusion of 267 hours of no sleep finally deluded his ability to read people though there had always been a mystery that Tony never could quite put his finger on with the doctor.
The smoke and mirrors that tricked his mind into seeking out the source of the mirage, the reflective surfaces of fun house mirrors, the smoke that hid the roaring ambles of the flames that cloaked themselves in a spell to find a melting point of iron that encapsulated his mind. Two fingers from his left hand traced over his thick left brow followed the bone until the temple, it lingered for a second with closed lids until they fluttered open, the dilation of pupils that swallowed his irises whole. “Stagnate, stall merry-go-round of life it would be without change, that is the balance in life.” His lips fall into a dip, there started to be a roll of his dark hues here the proud doctor in Strange starting to step out ― never will he ever take that away from Stephen, he saved many and help others, something Tony wished he succeeded at without collateral damage. A hand on his shoulder to keep him from falling back into the repetitious pacing of strides he’d painted over the wood. “Mmhm… Never did I say that you weren’t a doctor, did I?“ Never did he enjoy doctors it made him uncomfortable more tense from flashes of a cave-done open heart surgery on him, years and years ago, thumbs circling the correct areas to ease the flames and smoke build up in his head, though there is a straight line on his lips trying to resist to fall into the relax state, his body and mind not his own at the moment as tranquility brought his shoulders back, slight lean towards the hands. “You know me, I have high expectations of everything, bit of a perfectionist… but change can happen, content conclusion seem appealing.” The melting point of iron finally tipping, the lava of hot metal seeping out, no longer hiding before his iron shell.
He felt as if he was being check on by Stephen, once a doctor always a doctor right? The heat from the doctor’s hands took away the gooseflesh over his collarbones along with his shoulders, it became more prevalent at the tracing of blue print like lines on his neck, straining of his neck that pulled the flesh tightly against his bones. “I better not have to pay for this checkup, doc.” Uncertain if it was an excuse to be able to ease Tony into making the first move which he was willing to do, there a knit of brows, sleep keeping him from straying out of the free massage from skilful yet slightly shaken hands but he liked it. Noting that Stephen was rambling a tad, new layer of Stephen, this was leading Stark down the path of having to make the first move more and more, not the first time he’ll cross the line and surely not the last time either merging the pathways of friendship with something more. “What I’m getting from the remarks is that it is a yes we’re sharing the bed.” With words spoken, Tony reached up, first fingertips meet that of the nails before leisurely gliding over the scars on fingers and taking one of his hands off his flesh, yes it happen to be the one with the high-tech-puzzle on his skin.
Turning around to face the taller male, having to crane his neck upwards, brought his hand down to the side still clasping Stephen’s it rested in between the closing space between the two of them. His dark hues scanning over Stephen’s striking features but yet again he breathed out unsteadily when their eyes came to meet again. “Springs, insulation pad, foam comfort layer… though you don’t want to know the inners of a mattress, so I’ll ceased to bore you.” The tip of his tongue licked over the corner of his top lip stopping at the peak of his cupid’s bow, a habit of his from his youth and he can’t recall the last time he had done this habit. “Not that I need to prove my snuggling expertise to anyone but I keep coming back too wanting to do so for the gloating rights,” twig of the corner on his lips into a smirk, never had his hues left Stephen as he was fully under the spell, his right hand met Stephen’s nucha, there was a height difference between the two, Stark’s thumb combing over neatly styled hair. Particles collide; no, lips collide for the first time, stubble against stubble tickling over the skin, bottom lip hooking between Stephen’s to lead the way of the point of no return between the facial hair bros.
ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏsᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ɢᴀɪɴ.
there’s an argument to be had, that he’s fallen to his death: D O O M E D by choices any man could make, and yet, it’s as if the extra iron is just hitting his bloodstream —- ALL STARS WERE DOOMED IN THEIR PLACEMENT NEXT TO BLACKHOLES ( the question was more so if that was as bad a thing as he’d coined himself into believing ). it doesn’t take much to appropriate a paused glance, something aimed in putting a point across; he’s innately aware it’ll do little justice but the effort seems to be the part he counts. “ not everything is as...SCIENTIFIC, as you need it to be. ” hardly scolding words, a tone eliciting a warmth he hadn’t meant though there’s a glint of a smile forming: not vacant but rather SOLIDIFIED in its form. he’s not used to having the base to jump from. finds himself questioning his conscious efforts. “ come on, now...—- the oyster is just as important as the pearl; without it, no pearls could form at all. ” a raise of a brow, a challenge of sorts drenched in sentimental value ( he’s hardly saying people are oysters in so many words but he’s not oblivious to the attained nature he’s insinuating ). he finds something equivocal and clement regarding his evasive nature: not PURPOSEFULLY to push people to try but there are bonuses to being...a book without a blurb.
an illusion sits perfectly with men such as they are, CALLUS and vicious cycles of offering the world an image they want and yet truths are buried: hiding beneath hollowed shells built of iron or doctor’s scrubs. he can often still feel the cotton against his skin —- a heavyweight of a life before burden and responsibility ( lines set in stone now, he’d seen thousands of possibilities once...there wasn’t ever one where he wasn’t this without a cost ). fingers settle for a moment, finding refuge as they fell on iron shoulders. “ that was almost...poetic, a career option should all go south. ” teasing words that fall on gently defensive words. it’s crass to admit his fears and yet they laid waste for at least iron-clad men to see. he’d made the leap now; a step in a waltz or the next key of a sonata. there’s an echo of the word doom draped in fear and wanting to step back —- he...ignores it. fingers dance against skin in their return to familiar spots: eyes alight with the earnest view of concentration, though a soft amount of amusement fell present. green hues seeming to fill to the brim with something he’s almost certain is unfamiliar to the other man ( affection ). “ and what’s the content conclusion here? ” questions that don’t need answers but are spoken anyway. some need to preserve the desire to give it thought though he’s aware of the present meaning behind it. “ sharing beds and attaining some form of sleep? ” a smaller smile settles, gaze briefly rising only to fall back to lines that formed puzzles against the other man’s skin ( he won’t ask, feels there’s a line at the moment woven in irony and something that the other man was holding back ). it takes the hand of an engineer to pull him from his daze, something relaxing about the tracing of scars he’d typically hide beneath gloves: something that almost makes him...UNASHAMED of their appearance —- OF DUTIES THEY SPEAK FOR.
“ I’m sure, there’s a beyonce song that’s fitting but I can’t seem to think of one... ” a tone of relaxed contentment and words shedding in ways he still can’t control; a mind working overdrive to function amongst two irresistible players in a game he couldn’t win —- magnets drawing fields around his desire to fight for the opposite ( though he’d argue he’d fight until he’d been consumed in his doom entirely ). “ SLEEP —- almost definitely a sleep problem. ” he shuns his cape away, something uncomfortable about the nature of a living object being a part of this narrative...and the idea of it disturbing wong didn’t go amiss. “ if I say it’s not boring, do I get points for that? ” a teasing glow, trodding the line between coquetry and attempts to move the other man away from this topic of conversation; it seemed offering him a platform would mean listening to hours of educational talks regarding the inner workings of almost everything in his bedroom and while he was happy to do so on a better day...there seemed to be more PRESSING matters at hand. “ is that all I am? ” mock offence, clear in the way his smile sat, that no real harm had been done though he was willing to challenge iron with his own metal formation of cuddling routines. it’s magnetic fields connecting that distract that option: consumed by the black hole seemed to attest to being consumed by men clad in iron and lips that offered refuge from his own thoughts. his mind was at a loss, muddled by skin he couldn’t escape. lips seeming to move of their own accord not to deepen anything or suggest something more but return what had been given...though the moment his mind began working again it was sure to be ALL OR NOTHING —- or maybe he had little faith in himself, hand falling to settle against the other’s side but not before taking a path. the glide of flesh against arc reactors, hardly out of curiosity but more so from the need to find a vulnerability ( his scars were his, it didn’t take much to assume arc reactors were tony’s ). he’s in the obis now, gone to a connection he has no intention of breaking IRONIC given the foundations both men keep.
