Obadiah gives him a benevolently fond look.

He reaches out to run his fingers lightly over some of the marks on Tony's thighs. The earlier ones, delivered with less force, are beginning to fade, but he can already tell that some of the later ones are going to bruise.

(God, he can't wait to see that.)

"I suppose you've had enough, anyway, haven't you?" he murmurs.

He also promised that it would eventually start feeling good.