ironmonger | (no subject)

(hands on Tony's throat, pressing his head back into the mattress, choking him over and over until he's too dazed from oxygen deprivation to resist -)

He remembers his drink, takes a long, slow swallow. Heightening the suspense. (Using the filter.)

"Have you ever tried clamps?" They're a little too impersonal for his taste, best used for keeping someone occupied while he gets something else ready, but the right pair would look good on Tony. And if he's got plenty of time, he may as well start slow. (Slow to him, anyway. Maybe not to Tony.)

"Nope."

But he sounds cheerfully curious, not apprehensive.

(And what he's thinking about is the dozen ways you can disable a gun to make it perfectly safe, and what kind Obie might use, and when he should suggest it or if Obie might first. If it hasn't come up after the first time they do this, if they do this, he thinks he will.)

"They can range anywhere from a mild pinch to a nasty bite."

He turns his glass meditatively in his hand.

"Of course, if you want something mild, you're going to have to earn it."

That's just... cute. Hot, but in a cute way. Tony grins fondly, distracted from his train of thought.

Obadiah gives him an inquiring look.

Tony looks innocent!

Okay, no. No he doesn't.

"...Is it terrible that I think that's cute?" he asks with a crooked smile.

Obadiah looks taken aback.

Then he laughs.

"I have to admit, that wasn't quite what I was going for."

"I mean. Hot, too," he admits. "But cute."

"Then tell me what you were looking for," Obadiah invites.

Clearly he's nowhere near what Tony believes to be his limits yet.

The thought of guns comes back to him, and now it is Tony's turn to hold back saying something because he's not sure of the response.

(It only just occurs to him that for once he might have come up with something that's too much for Obie.)

Obadiah raises his eyebrows.

"I'm a big boy, Tony, I can handle myself."

Well, if he wants Obie to take him a little more seriously, this'll do it all right.

"I want you to hold a gun on me," he says evenly, still relaxed, with not so much as a shiver to show how he feels about the words. Just the way his pulse spikes again.

. . . Tony keeps surprising him during this conversation.

He's beginning to think he could get used to that.

"Really."

"Really. One that doesn't work, of course, anything else is just asking for trouble."

Tony believes very firmly in firearm safety!

Obadiah looks amused.

"Of course. Shooting you by mistake would ruin all my fun."

It sounds a bit theatrical to him, frankly, but if it would make Tony happy, he's more than willing to oblige. And it says volumes about how far Tony is prepared to go.

"Mmhm."

He leans up and kisses Obie's cheek.

"What d'you think?"

"Mm."

He gives Tony a fond smile.

"I think something could be arranged."

"As long as you're not just humouring me," he teases. "It's no fun if you're not into it."

Obadiah laughs in answer.

"All right, all right."

"See, now that sounds like humouring me."

He cannot even tell anymore!

"Does it?"

Of course he's doing it on purpose.

"All right, then, I'll make you cuff yourself to the bed. It's easier on me, anyway."

"That doesn't sound too bad," he says, in a tone of voice that indicates it sounds pretty good, actually.

Obadiah looks thoughtful.

"And then I'll put it down on the nightstand next to the lube I've left out. Give you a while to think about how the two might go together."

He can work with this.

—now that gets a shiver. An extremely positive shiver.

"I love you, have I mentioned that?"

Obadiah looks triumphantly smug.

"I believe you have."