OLD PICS: Robert Downey Jr. in Anguilla, January 3, 2013.
I’m posting these tiny pictures because of that beautiful outfit.
Monthly Archives: February 2013
New Iron Man 3 stills (#)
Send me a nightmare, if my character is scared of it, you win.
It’s always the same nightmare. Doesn’t matter where she is. There’s no cue, no trigger. But it’s always the same.
She dreams their anger. Their disdain.
It’s eerily simple, the dream. She sees their eyes. Their faces, yes, but mostly their eyes. Filled with dismissal.
She doesn’t dream their turning away, but the sense of it is there. The sense of leaving, of absence, of abandonment. The knowledge that she isn’t enough. Isn’t wanted. Isn’t welcome.
Sometimes what wakes her is crying out; other times she doesn’t know. She always wakes in tears, trembling with fear. She can’t move for long moments.
My Robert Downey Jr edits #84 - {*}
Tony opened his eyes and looked up to her, worried that he had done something to make her uncomfortable. “Summer? What’s wrong? Are you okay? What’d I do?”
“It’s not you. It’s not you.” She shook her head, eyes still closed. “I’m afraid of pain. I’m afraid this is going to turn out to be an awful joke, like Carrie. I’m afraid I’m making a fool of myself, loving you.”
“Who the fuck is Carrie?” Tony asked stupidly. “I have never in my life been with a girl named Carrie.” Tony was completely and utterly in the dark. “I don’t think I even know anyone named Carrie.”
“It’s a movie. And a book. A couple movies. I was thinking of the sequel one, where the boys play a game of screwing girls and bragging about it after.” Summer rested her head on his shoulder, one hand groping for his. “The closest I’ve ever come to sex was being fingered. I’m just … I don’t … “
Valentine’s Day
He hummed appreciatively when she went to taste herself on his lips then let out a moan as his still clothed cock rubbed against her thigh. “Christ,” he muttered as his whole body shuddered. His eyes glittered a dark warm brown at her words, loving the way the words rolled off of her tongue.
Summer whispered, “What is it, darling? Do you need a turn?” She laughed, low in her throat, eyes half-lidded and still hazy. “So thoughtful, so good, wonderful darling Victor.” So she was a little drunk on his emotions. “Je’t amie, aishiteru, te amo, love you, love you, love you.”
He nodded, words escaping him as his hips ground against her’s, involuntarily seeking friction. Instead of telling her he loved her he pushed all of his love towards her. “Fuck, darling, I’m going to make a mess of my pants soon,” he murmured while he mouthed her throat.
“Come to me, come into — oh — ” Words dissolved under his projection, pulling another climax from her overwrought nerves. She pressed up against him, head thrown back. “Need you,” she managed. “Please.”
Watching her arch in the throes of another climax sent a thrill through him. Quickly, he rocked back on his heels and to his feet where he wrenched his shirt off and pulled his pants and boxers down. Victor rejoined her back on the bed, grabbing her thighs and pulling her closer to him. His hand guided his cock inside of her and his eyes closed from the sheer pleasure. Once he was sheathed in her however, he wasted no time, setting a hard rhythm.
All she could do was cry out under him, clinging and gladly helpless. It was almost painful, so sensitive was she, but an oddly desirable pain, like the scrape of nails into one’s skin. “Over,” she hissed, body starting to tremble.