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.]

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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.

Well, he does manage to take off Obadiah's tie.

He just does it maybe a bit more slowly, and with a bit more delighted wriggling, than he could have.

He always enjoys how responsive Tony is. He lingers for a moment longer before taking his tie from Tony and stepping back.

"What do you think?" he asks. "Should I just tie your hands or would you like me to tie you to the bed?"

"Tie me to the bed," he says immediately, no doubt reminiscing about the last time Obadiah did that. Unafraid to give up control.

He smiles approvingly: this was obviously the answer he wanted.

"All right."

He kisses Tony once more, infusing the gesture with considerable affection, then turns to lead the way to the bedroom.

Beaming, a tiny bit nervous but mostly excited, he follows.

Nodding toward the bed, Obadiah says,

"Face down. Hands over your head." Also similiar to before.

"Okay."

He is a little more nervous, but a lot more excited, as he obeys. He turns his head so he can watch Obadiah while he's lying there.

He drapes the tie over Tony's back for a moment, to focus on unbuckling and removing his belt.

He makes a bit of a show of it.

It's... what's the word?

Captivating.

Obadiah looks up and smiles at Tony as he pulls the belt from the beltloops. Then he swaps it for the tie, laying the belt neatly across Tony's back so he can feel it there as Obadiah starts tying his hands to the bed.

His eyes flutter closed and he takes a breath, quiet but audible, too slow to be a gasp.

"Damn, you're good," he sighs with its release, and offers no resistance whatsoever.

Obadiah chuckles as he works on his knots.

"That's why you love me," he says.

"One of the many, many reasons," he agrees.

"There," he says after a moment, sitting back. "Give that a tug, see if it holds."

(It will. Obadiah is good at knots.)

"Don't worry about stretching the tie, I can get another." Isn't he thoughtful?

The tie holds up to a thorough, if not heartfelt, attempt to pull away.

"Yep," he confirms. "You've got me, all right."

And he loves Obadiah and trusts him and it will be okay. It will be awesome.

(And he wonders, somewhere far away under all that, how many people Obadiah has tied to beds in exactly this fashion. But he does not pursue the thought, does not allow it to interfere with the pleasure of the moment.)

"Good."

Obadiah rubs his hand gently down over Tony's back, moving the belt lower as he does so.

"Would you like a little something lighter to warm up first, or would you rather get right to it?"

"Mmm... warmup?" he requests. Because Tony isn't Sherry, after all, and he has limits when it comes to pain, and sometimes it's nice to ease into things.

"All right."

Obadiah gets up and goes to his closet. He opens it and gets a black suede flogger from a shelf.

"I got this," he says, "in case the crop was too much for you last time."

(In the back of his mind, he reminds himself that he is not actually telling this to Tony, and thus may end up having to repeat himself at some point down the line.)

"I'm glad I didn't need it, I'd already hit enough items on the S&M porn checklist as it was," he adds dryly.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with the traditional stuff. I like it. It looks nice."

And he can't help just a tiny anticipatory wriggle as he rests his head on one arm, getting his hands as comfortable as he can in their restraints, and waits for Obadiah's next move.

"So do I," Obadiah says. He goes back to the bed and sets the belt aside, then trails the flogger down over Tony's back. "And there's a reason designs like this have survived over the centuries. But -"

He raises the flogger and brings it down across Tony's ass, hard enough to leave appealing-looking red streaks behind.

"I also like to be creative."

He yelps and flinches, caught off-guard, but a moment later he's grinning.

"I like it," he repeats, with rather different intonation.