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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"Good."

(He's briefly tempted to start out full-strength; there is, after all, a reason they agreed to invalidate Tony's safeword in favor of Sherlock's, and he is curious about how much Sherlock can really take. But that would be against the experimental spirit of this little venture, so he resists.)

The belt comes down instead at half-strength, enough to give Obadiah plenty to build from as he tests Tony's response.

A soft moan, about a third of the way along the scale from pain to pleasure, manages to escape him before he can stifle it.

(Obadiah is, of course, entirely welcome to take this venture far past Tony's safeword into the kind of pain Sherlock very rarely gets to feel. And it is up to him whether he would like Sherlock to continue playing Tony throughout. Some innovation will be required, because he has never seen Tony that broken and hopes he never will, but Sherlock is nothing if not imaginative.

It does not even occur to him that Obadiah might worry about how he would interpret such a move.)

He isn't squirming anymore; he's very still and a little tense. But he's definitely into it. The look on his face says as much.

(At the moment, Obadiah is inclined to take it as far as he can.)

The second blow has the same force as the first, laid out in a different spot. Starting out at normal to slowly work his way up the scale.

His moan is a little louder this time, less restrained. What self-control he has, and Tony has never had all that much, is disintegrating already.

Isn't it beautiful?

It is.

The third lands a little harder.

He hisses, mostly with pain, but doesn't—quite—let himself flinch.

Next time he might not even be able to manage that much.

This time, he does aim for the same spot as before.

There's no extra force behind it, but he won't blame Tony for not noticing that fact (though he wonders if Sherlock will).

And he doesn't stop himself in time; he pulls away a little, whimpering.

(Oh, yes. Yes he does.)

He pauses for a beat, then hits that spot again, watching the viciously vivid red spring up against the milder redness from the flogger.

He whimpers much louder, tense with the effort of keeping himself in place, keeping himself from making any futile attempt to escape.

He moves a bit lower with the next stroke, but makes it much harder.

Gasping raggedly, he presses his face into his shoulder.

(Magnificent is the word that springs to mind.)

In contrast to Tony, Obadiah takes a slow, even breath before he delivers the next blow, changing the angle to cross both of the last two spots he hit.

There's a moment when he stops breathing entirely, and then he moans—into it, oh yes, but hurting—and subsides into a quiet punctuated by tiny whimpers every time he moves.

Obadiah pauses to rub his hand none-too-gently over the most vivid marks on Tony's skin.

Then he brings the belt down on them, hard.

That was legitimately a scream.

He smiles.

Can he hide his face against his shoulder again?

Well, he is.

And good luck getting him to stop.

Under the circumstances, Obadiah will be a little more forgiving of that than he was before.

This time he chooses a different spot. It's not mercy so much as it is beginning the cycle anew.

It does at least give him a bit of a breather; he whimpers again instead of screaming.

But how long can he keep that up? Obadiah will do his best to ensure that it isn't very long.

Tony is stubborn.

Getting a second scream out of him will take something at least as painful as the blow that triggered the first.

And when that inevitably happens, he squirms, almost curling up into a protective huddle on the bed before he makes himself straighten out again.

"Hold still, Tony," he says. His voice is lazy and just a little breathless.

Soft, and rather more than a little breathless: "Okay."

"Good boy," he says, and strikes hard.