ironmonger | (no subject)

(no subject)

The past few days are finally starting to take their toll on Obadiah when Milliways appears tonight. It's mostly over, save for tracking down the masterminds and dealing with them. Tony is fine - physically, at least - and Sherlock hardly the worse for wear despite the blow to the head he took. In terms of physical damage, the worst they got was Jones's broken leg. In terms of publicity, they're doing well; Stark Industries is front page news. Everyone likes a happy ending.

He's still looking very much forward to making the assholes in charge of the operation pay the price, but for now he's more than happy to settle in at the fireplace with a drink. And, at Bar's insistence, dinner.

[OOC: Warning for painplay and consensual breaking of safewords at some point after the six-hundred-comment mark. This one kind of got away from us.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Perfectly," he says, and means it.

"And perhaps, if we are going to experiment with anything that might leave marks, we ought to do that first. So they will be as far gone as possible when the time comes."

Obadiah approves of this line of thinking.

"I am wearing a belt today," he says, though he knows perfectly well it's obvious even to anyone who isn't Sherlock Holmes.

"I'd noticed," he says dryly. "Would you rather beat me with it here, in the bedroom, or in your rooms?"

"My rooms," Obadiah decides, getting up.

Just to avoid leaving behind anything Tony might pick up on.

"All right."

Sherlock smiles and heads for the door, retrieving his shoes along the way. He isn't sure whether it is better or worse to do this in the same place the original trouble happened; better, he thinks.

Frankly, that connection hadn't even occurred to Obadiah.

Conveniently - as will occasionally happen in Milliways, when it wishes - his room isn't far away. He's unlocking the door just a minute later.

And Sherlock is quite cheerful as he follows Obadiah inside. He's looking forward to this.

He listens for the sound of the door closing behind him, then turns to slide an arm around him.

It doesn't carry quite the same pleasure as it had when he'd done it knowing Sherlock hated him, but that doesn't mean he enjoys it less.

Sherlock leans on him a little, turning to rest his cheek against Obadiah's shoulder.

The real, fundamental difference is that this time, instead of thinking about violence, he is thinking about love. Everything else comes from that. The easy comfort in his posture, the way he smiles. All of that.

He can feel the different in Sherlock's carriage, especially now that he knows how many times he avoided being killed or injured last time without realizing it.

That, Obadiah thinks, is a definite benefit to Sherlock's deciding he's in love.

He was relaxed last time, but it was a forced relaxation; he made himself relax so he would not do anything, would not give the appearance of being about to.

This time, he is relaxed because he is happy. A world of difference.

"It might be simpler if I played Tony," he offers. "You can see more or less how he will react, accounting for circumstances of course. And I can give you his safeword without it meaning anything. Mine will remain Anthony."

"All right," Obadiah agrees.

He is very much looking forward to this. He doesn't have quite the same neat set-up as before, but he can improvise. And he does still have the essential supplies.

"Lovely," he says, and starts unbuttoning his shirt. "Shall we, then?"

Obadiah steps back to watch.

"Let's."

He doesn't make any particular ceremony of it, but by the time his shirt hits the floor and he starts unfastening his jeans—

—he is someone else.

It's interesting to watch the transformation when he knows it's coming and is paying attention. He still can't quite pinpoint the moment when Sherlock disappears beneath Tony, even though he knows there must be one.

(He changes as well, more subtly, in anticipation of dealing with Tony and the events ahead.)

And he flashes Tony's smile, bright with anticipation, as he wriggles out of all the rest.

Tony is so innocent. He can look forward to getting hit with a belt and be this cheerfully unworried about it, because he trusts Obadiah and he thinks it will be fun.

As always, he takes the time to run his gaze slowly over Tony once he's fully undressed. He never gets tired of that.

(It's easy enough to mentally edit out the slight differences between Sherlock's body and Tony's. Most of them are less obvious than the scars on his neck, and in any case both bodies are equally appealing on a visual level.

Sherlock, of course, doesn't bear the marks he is so looking forward to seeing on Tony, but Obadiah can let that go easily enough.)

(Sherlock's hair is noticeably longer, his muscles a little more defined. Small, subtle things, relatively easy to ignore. The scars are by far the most obvious permanent difference, and even they are unobtrusive in the right light.)

He grins and lets Obie look, happy to show off, then steps forward to kiss him because there's no way he could not.

Obadiah indulges him, sliding his hands slowly over Tony's bare waist as they kiss.

For no reason other than that he is happy and in love, he giggles, resting his hands on Obie's shoulders and pressing close to him.

"Tell me what you want," he invites.

"Take off my tie," he murmurs.

His hands on Tony's waist slide down a little lower.

Now that's a promising suggestion.

Smiling, he does. Obadiah's hands are a bit of a distraction, but he can enjoy them and still work on unknotting the tie.

It's all right if Tony gets a little distracted.

He can pay for it later.