starkingenuity | (no subject)

There’s really not a whole lot of positive right now, if only because he felt badly about literally everything. That’s not his fault. That’s his dad’s doing.

“How can I say no to you?” he asks, looking a little bit like a sad puppy dog who hopes that his best friend really won’t come to his senses and hate him for life. He motions with his head before his body follows suit and he shuffles towards the general area FRIDAY had indicated the bathroom to be.

Yeah. The Grandmaster even did this right. Mirrors everywhere (of course). The tub was sunken and filled with water already. FRIDAY had guessed (correctly) that her Boss would want to to partake.

He’s pretty slow about his undressing... which is a blessing a curse. It’s not like Bruce hasn’t seen him before, but every angle at once? It’s got to be a dream for a guy that prefers to look at people in mirrors.

"I'm hoping you won't."

The way Tony dawdles is a blessing only once Bruce has stripped and gotten into the water, which he does as expeditiously as possible, in part to avoid having any bruises on display for any longer than he has to. Kiara's body had been strong, and her control had been rough, particularly when they'd first gotten started.

Once he's in the water, caring about bruises fades pretty quickly, and he slides down and watches Tony in the mirrors, letting his eyes skim from one mirror to another, from one angle to another. There's something particularly charming about the curve of his back just above his ass where it looks like Bruce's hand would rest perfectly.

It's entirely likely that this is a terrible idea, but Bruce isn't afraid, and that's something that should make most people outside this room afraid in his stead.

Tony’s never been afraid of Bruce. He’s never been afraid of the Hulk. His own mind scares him so much more than anything else could. And that includes green rage monsters. He’s not thinking of that or of the severe lack of emotion that Bruce has been cut off from as he joins his friend in the tub. The lights dim automatically, sensing all living beings having entered the water. It bubbles nicely around their chests before a faint pink glow of underwater lighting makes Tony laugh.

He’s almost instantly relaxed, feeling just as good as he had before. He’s mellow. Chill. And he can see that this is probably a device that can (and did) get addicting really quickly.

He moves to the opposite edge of the tub, watching the flick of Banner’s eyes on everything but the Tony in the flesh. And that makes him laugh too.

“All those cards are still on the table. Including the one that lets you look at me if you want to.”

"I was looking at you." No apology needed, and there isn't one in his tone, just a frank admission from a guy who's no more immune to the hot tub's influence than Tony is. "The mirrors gave me more viewing options before this room turned into a Vegas love hotel." Not a cheap one, mind you.

Sliding down until the water's just under his chin, he lets his legs stretch out and nudge Tony's knees. "I wonder if the water's a necessary component or if we've just missed a control that would extend this effect to the bedroom."

It might be a problem if there's something like this for the bed. They might never make it out of bed or off of Sakaar.

Tony’s hand slides along the top of Bruce’s foot to his ankle and then continues upward, drawing his arm and Tony himself with it. He can’t fight it, Bruce. It’s all attached to him! And sometimes hands have a life of their own! Drawing closer, though his hand does stop at Bruce’s knee, shoulders like islands above the water, Tony arches an eyebrow.

“This is a scientific experiment. We should check all the options. Know where the drain is?”

It will be a shame to lose this warmth, these feelings, but Tony doesn’t need sexy vibrations to want to touch Bruce.

Tony's got one of his knees; Bruce hooks his opposite leg around his back to draw him a little closer. "In the interest of experimentation, we have to replicate our findings from the other hot tub, not jump directly to new data." It's the scientific method, Tony, roll with it.

"You aren't in that big of a hurry to get out of the water, are you?"

“I’m always in a hurry. That’s why I deactivate safety protocols and self experiment.” Bruce can understand that. They have the same sort of carefree attitude when it comes to messing with science. “But if you’ve got a thing for going by the book, we can try it your way.”

He doesn’t tell the much hairier man that there was no leg play involved. Or that Bruce’s tugging is reminiscent of the bed and not the bath. It’s not that important to Tony to replicate their last experiment exactly.

Besides. No two kisses are alike. The last one (the first one?) had been sweet and tender and only edged into needy desperation during round two. This kiss cuts right to the chase. Warm, wet skin mirrors warm, wet lips. Tony takes no prisoners.

He’s giving as good as he’d gotten before. Mostly because he can’t just let Bruce win the battle of the aggressor.

Yes, the "safety is for other people" approach to science had served them both... not so well, to be honest. Did either of them learn from it?

No, not really. Why else are they in this tub?

For this kiss, apparently. Bruce has enough time to register that Tony's on his way, and enough time to bring an arm up around his back to keep the waves from Tony's sudden movement from tugging them apart, then there's more sensation than calculation. He's aware of the prickle of facial hair and the occasional graze of Tony's teeth. He might not win the battle of the aggressor, but he doesn't have to; he has patience on his side, and it's a patience that could keep them in this hot tub for hours, just for the taste of Tony's mouth and the chance to wrap his arms around Tony and pull him in closer.

Probably right about now a rational scientist who is actually using this tub for science might call a time out and wonder why the intimacy (to this degree) only has happened here. Tony and Bruce have been in bed together, have touched and have cuddled. But that is platonic, not sexual. That was nothing like this. Surely they ought to step back and decide if the properties of the tub are what is causing this explosion of passion.

It’s not as simple as Tony keeps thinking. Wanting Bruce has always been more intellectual than physical. He’s flirted and made innuendos with Bruce for awhile not but always without this next step.

Could the hot tub be allowing them to drop their inhibitions?

Tony presses a hand to Bruce’s hip, fingers pressing a little more roughly than before as he presses between his legs. That hasn’t been his idea. Bruce started that one. He just aims to finish it.

“Never thought I’d dig the professor type,” he murmurs between trying to breath and kiss at the same time. “But it really works for you.” And it’s working for Tony too. The guy really goes against his physical type but obviously that’s no problem. Even if he’s not tall and blond.

If the hot tub is letting them drop their inhibitions, that's one thing and at least today Bruce can live with it; if it's instilling feelings they don't have outside the hot tub, that's another, far more troubling matter. He wants to be wanted, but not just for his genetic material or for Hulk or because an alien hot tub has flipped the switches on their libidos and Bruce has a lot of pent up libido. Both he and Tony deserve better than that.

He's not really thinking about what he and Tony deserve. He finally gets to smooth his hand down Tony's back until his hand fits perfectly into the curve just above his ass that he'd been admiring before Tony got in the tub.

But that first physical jolt of want that hits him when Tony brings their bodies together pulls at cautions and precautions and habits that even the hot tub and his abbreviated emotional range can't quite nullify.

The very last thing that Tony needs is to be in a hot tub with Bruce and his body fluids. Murder by orgasm isn't something he ever wants to get out the red pen for in order to write it in his ledger.

"Tony." He's not quite getting the effect he's after when he can't quite seem to drag himself away from kissing. "Tony, hold up. We need to..." Stop. They needed to stop.

[End of the month bullshit.

“Huh?” Stop? Stop is not the sort of thing that Tony wants to hear right now and his brain doesn’t even manage to connect it as a word he’s capable of understanding. Not when his nails scratch through dark hair and his body comes in contact with—

Oh. Okay. That’s not good.

“Please tell me you have a condom?” Hes not suggesting that they fuck, not exactly, but he is suggesting that they stay safe. Bruce’s semen isn’t exactly safe to handle and who knows if he might leak a little during foreplay?

[Ugh, my condolences.]

Stop is absolutely not what Bruce wants to say right now. It's all he can do to straighten the leg that he'd wrapped around Tony to pull him in and try to plant his foot on the floor of the hot tub. That still leaves them wonderfully-- exceedingly-- excessively close.

Tony manages to hit right at the heart of their current conundrum, even high on whatever they're both high on. "Why would I have a condom?" He catches Tony's lower lip with his teeth and has to forcibly tell himself to let go. "Tell me you have one."

Edited (because I can't spell) 2017-12-29 04:53 (UTC)

Letting go of his lip is only important to facilitate talking but Tony honestly has no interest in that for the moment. He knows how that might sound. Him. Not wanting to talk? The world must be ending.

“FRIDAY—?”

“Never leave home without one, Boss,” the AI says helpfully from outside of the bathroom (scary) and Tony drags himself out of the water to go and get it. He drips everywhere.

But hey. At least he can say that he’s absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent still interested in what’s going on between him and Bruce!

“Is this going to work?” Could one little condom keep him from getting cancer? And does he care right now?

As kind of creepy as it is to have FRIDAY eavesdropping at a time like this, Bruce is entirely ready to take it in stride if it means that they can continue what they're doing with some degree of safety. If this somehow becomes a regular thing, they're both going to need to invest some time into some technological improvements over latex.

Not that Bruce actually cares just then. He's too busy watching Tony (and his interest) make his way over to the door. Men might not actually be his usual preference, but there's a lot to appreciate in the watching here.

"It should." Although it's not going on while he's in the water, so he reluctantly pushes up onto the edge of the hot tub, leaving just his feet dangling in the water and his balls in an uncomfortably cold spot against the lip of the tub. "It's the mutagenic effect that's the greater concern than the low level gamma radiation. You get a greater exposure on a long haul flight than you'll get from me."

On an isolated basis at least. Repeat exposure over years might be another matter.

“I love it when you talk to science to me,” Tony says, dropping to sit on the much too cold tile rim of the tube. Thankfully, even that shock doesn’t do much to dissuade his body from continuing to show that same interest he’d had before.

He’s a more equal opportunity sort of guy than Bruce, though he too has mostly had women for partners and that’s just usually because it’s socially easier for him to be known as a lady’s man. And because he’d been with Pepper for so long, people tend to forget about his earlier in life dalliances.

He catches the gold foil in his teeth, but he lets Bruce apply the apparatus while he lowers himself back into the tub and makes a really big show of just watching him roll the latex on.

"I know," he says absently, taking the condom from Tony and eyeing it like something he hasn't seen before, then gets on with proving that he has in fact seen and used one before. It's just been a very, very long time.

He's briefly silent while he treats this like a life-or-death application, then slides down into the water and groans with unfeigned pleasure for the rush of heat and return of that almost addictive relaxation before he reaches for Tony again. "Now you know that I've been subtly coming on to you for years."

“It was so subtly that you didn’t even know it,” Tony says, willingly lifting his arms to wrap them around Bruce’s shoulders. He can feel the latex poking at him, but he’s focused on kissing like a teenager, his libido pretty high but his control even higher. He’s not going for sloppy seconds today. He’s not going to be some tadpole baby-daddy rebound either. “Probably a good thing,” he murmurs, needing a breath anyway. “There would have been no hot tub science if you had been more obvious.”

No dormant Hulk. Probably nothing more than brief kissing so that Bruce could keep a kid on himself as best as possible. That’s hard to do with a guy like Tony, if you believe the stories. Probably best not to, though. Poor guy has been painted as a sex fiend most of his life when Pepper pretty much had to demand sex most of the time. Science comes first.

At least Bruce speaks his language on that.

It's difficult to imagine this happening much or possibly at all once they get back to Earth, if Bruce is honest with himself. The reason isn't even as simple as a single issue, but rather everything that it means to be back on Earth, with responsibilities and disasters that could come crashing down at any moment.

Besides, when he thinks of the two of them going all night, it's in a lab, bouncing ideas off of each other until something amazing happens.

Or blows up.

Holding Tony, pulling him in close and kissing him as though there is no one and nothing else that could possibly be important is a luxury that Bruce intends to immerse himself in completely, and in this they're well-matched for focus. He gets a hand up into Tony's hair, carding through the short strands on the back of his head and tugging when he can get a grip.

Is it the tub or isn’t it? Would Tony be so insistent on enjoying this particular moment if it wasn’t for the sonic vibrations running through him? Would he be thinking s little more about the countless people that probably had been lured here, had their inhibitions lowered, and then engaged in lots of kinky things they might not have otherwise?

It shouldn’t have gotten this far but it already has and Tony has never been good with putting a stopper on things he enjoyed.

His hands move from Bruce’s hair when his own is tugged (it gets a little moan from him) to cup the other man’s ass. It’s a bold move, one meant to press their hips together in incredibly insistent ways.

“Is this too fast? This is too fast,” he says, determines, but it’s much too late. “I can’t remember wanting anyone this much. Ignore me. I’m talking like I’m a common moron. But Jesus, Banner—“

Bruce can remember wanting someone this much. She's the reason he's able to do this with Tony at all, and he's certain that the intensity then had been amped up beyond what he would have been able to summon himself. Whether that wanting and this wanting have much in common is something only someone with a clearer head could tease out of the messy tangle of friendship and loneliness and desire that they're making just then.

And Bruce has absolutely no interest in even trying. He's used up the last of his restraint in the Great Condom Hunt and now he has Tony babbling at him and friction that has him stifling a groan against Tony's shoulder. Raising his eyes to catch a glance the two of them in the mirrors that surround them, he isn't interested in the contrast between Tony's gym physique and his own softer body; he's caught by the way he can steal a look at Tony's expression in a reflection of a reflection.

He doesn't take his eyes off of the mirrors now as he snakes a hand between them to wrap fingers around Tony's shaft and tease at the head with his thumb, watching as he puts his lips near Tony's ear for a rough murmur, "If you can talk this much, it isn't fast enough."

Tony Stark might be the most expressive man alive and Bruce is about to get quite the show of subtle, intricate motions of muscle beneath the man’s face. Tony is a thinker. Everything he does is based on his mind working over time and this is no different. He murmured a heated “I can talk—“ before he’s cut off. The ‘through anything’ portion of it has already been disproven by his own inability to do anything but exhale against the curve of Bruce’s shoulder.

Tony isn’t a young man but he’s not too old that he needs help reaching completion. His mind is utterly relaxed and for the first time in a long time, he’s able to just let go. There are no ideas for grand inventions in his head right now, no attempts at mastering a motivation of another. It’s all silence. Beautiful, pure silence.

And then he’s orgasming as if he’s been shot. His eyes open wide and he collapses into Bruce’s arms with a little laugh that just feels utterly right.

The show is everything he'd been after when he'd taken them well beyond a bit of making out. He watches Tony with an intense need to commit every second to memory. It isn't often anyone gets to shut Tony up.

When Tony collapses, he takes his hand away and wraps both arms around him to hold him while he catches his breath.

It's interesting to note that without Tony's urgency to compound his own, he can relax a little, start to think a little more clearly. What had been building between them had been greater than the sum of its parts, some synergy that has released Bruce to breathe, given him room to wonder whether Tony would disappear if Bruce got up to finish himself off in the shower.

It’s probably strange to have to ask this, but Tony does anyway, fingers slightly hooked in damp chest hair. “Is this where you tell me you’ll be back and finish in the shower?”

He’s not psychic, though this is yet another time he’s seemed to read Bruce’s mind. They just share a similar wavelength. No wonder Kiara had initially chosen Tony Stark to be her host after imprinting on Bruce. There’s a reason for everything. Including this.

Tony’s fingers slip lower, forefinger pressing with a little sass into the shell of Bruce’s navel.

“If I promise to put gloves on, can I help?”

Bruce's eyes widen a little when Tony voices his thought for him, but he dismisses his questioning thought that Kiara has taken Tony over again. She's gone; he knows that with a certainty that he doesn't question any more than he doubts that he'd know if she returned.

He steals a quick kiss and pulls the hot tub's false confidence back around himself. "There are ways you can help that won't require gloves if you don't mind not being directly hands on."

Does FRIDAY bring gloves as well as condoms? Hell, she might.

Of course FRIDAY has gloves. He’s packed a half gallon of hand sanitizer. There’s no way he didn’t pack gloves too.

Tony arches an eyebrow at Bruce, half confused and half intrigued by this new, hands off sort of way to enjoy sex. “Do you like to be watched?” He can get on board with that. He’s a visual guy. Watching is one of those things he lies to do. And he’s been watching Bruce longer than he’s actually known him.

That doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t rather be directly responsible for an orgasm but hey. Things happen. The world isn’t simple. And he’s sorta going maybe steady with a radioactive guy with DNA threatening blood.