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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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.

He makes a high, sharp, absolutely agonized sound, and doesn't move.

His reward is another stroke in the same spot.

(Obadiah imagines Tony and Sherlock later on, with Tony examining the damage and realizing just what's in store for him. It's a lovely image.)

Now he moves, muffling his scream against a pillow, and this time he's much slower to make himself uncurl.

"Do you want me to use the other end, Tony?" he inquires politely.

"no," he says in a very small voice, and gets back in position.

"Then hold" - smack - "still!" Another.

He shudders.

"I—I can't," he says, pleading. But he's managing it at least for the moment.

"I think you can," Obadiah says evenly. "I think you'd better."

Another.

He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his face against the bed and makes himself hold still.

It's not going to last.

He'd like to pause and study his handiwork - Tony's skin, crisscrossed with red marks that are going to leave deep bruises, is beautiful - but this is exactly the wrong moment to let Tony breathe.

He keeps going.

Tony is very, very stubborn. He can hold out even longer than he thinks he can, and he thinks he can hold out pretty long.

What he can't do is hold out forever.

He starts to scream again first—scream if he has the breath, whimper if he doesn't. And he twitches, flinches, every time the belt hits.