Summer lifted her drink, starting to laugh. “All right, all right. I can take a hint. No more questions. How can I help you stop thinking, Mr. Stark?” She tried her best to look seductive, feeling very awkward. “After all, you dragged me away from the dancing, the least you can do is make use of me.”
Tony looked up from the glass now on his hand and paused. Logically, he knew Summer was still across the bar from him, but it suddenly felt like that distance was much shorter. His pulse did a surprised double take. He swallowed half his drink in one go and set it down on the counter.
“Because… you looked like you were enjoying the dancing so much,” he replied sarcastically. It came out a bit late.
He circled the bar to her side, mulling her words over. Summer certainly was beautiful. If this was the least he could do… Tony brushed his fingers over her hair.
“Nobody asked me,” she riposted. “I’d’ve enjoyed it more if someone had bothered to ask me to dance.” Then he was right /there/, right beside her, charming and handsome and touching her braids, and her pulse felt like it was choking her. The stool was tall enough to let her look him in the eyes. And maybe she was a little drunk, maybe she was giving in to the taste of him in her mind, maybe this would be a disaster after.
Carefully she set her glass down, proud that the hammering of her heart didn’t make her hand tremble. Green eyes locked to whiskey-amber, she reached up to pull a rhinestone hairpin from under his hand, and another. Another, until the braids slipped from their coil around her head and down her back. “What would you like to do with me?”
“Let me think about that,” he said quietly. His body leaned forward on its own accord, framing hers against the bar. With an unsteady, hopeful breath, Tony closed the gap and brushed his lips over Summer’s. He started slower, flicking his tongue out experimentally over her lips, almost kissing her carefully. A subtle, electric tingle crawled up his spine.
Tony smiled, “You are far too beautiful to resist, did you know that?”
He wove his hands into the braids, unravelling them further. All the while, he was unable to draw his eyes from her lips for more than a few seconds.
Oh, gods. Tony Stark was kissing her, and it was /glorious/. He didn’t rush, he didn’t overwhelm, it was almost polite and far from chaste. All Summer could do was stare at him, breathing hard through parted lips while he sank his hands into her hair. “I didn’t quite catch that,” she murmured, before leaning forward to initiate a kiss of her own, a little shy, a little delicate. It had been a very long time since her last kiss, after all.
Tony sighed softly into the second kiss, shifting closer to her. Her response was thrilling, and terribly sweet. A slow intoxication filled his veins, changing the way he felt time flow around them, as if it were measured in the movements of her lips rather than seconds. He put aside the well of intricate feelings growing and focused on the actions he made. They were easier to understand, more expressive than he could hope to articulate so long as he was holding her.
Summer drew away, not quite ready to surrender wholly to what he felt. What was happening here could change her crush into something deeper, or destroy anything between them utterly. She couldn’t make herself put him away entirely, but just a moment … that would be okay. She slid her hands up his chest wonderingly, fingernails scraping over the fabric. “What do you see?” she whispered, searching his face.