“You don’t want to touch that. Nope. Don’t. Just don’t.”
“But it’s shiney!”
“Exactly why you shouldn’t. Hands off.”
“What does it DO?”
“Evil. It does evil.”
“Then I should touch it, so I can defeat the evil. Obviously.”
Monthly Archives: February 2013
“You don’t want to touch that. Nope. Don’t. Just don’t.”
“But it’s shiney!”
“Exactly why you shouldn’t. Hands off.”
“What does it DO?”
“You don’t want to touch that. Nope. Don’t. Just don’t.”
“But it’s shiney!”
*explosively* Jesus Christ and all his merry men!
TONY!
“I uh…you want me to what?” Tony stumbled over his words. “You want me to kneel for you?” He was still in disbelief. “And yes I know what a safeword is, Summer,” he said, rolling his eyes trying to act more confident than he was.
She kept looking at him, appearing calm, lashes lowered. “You said you wanted me to take control. Changed your mind now?”
“Just didn’t expect you to go the whole ‘kneel before me’ route,” Tony replied flatly. Not one to back down from anything did as he was told and got on his knees. “Okay now what?” He asked staring at her.
“Now, I think …” she trailed off, watching him, thinking. “Come here, and take my pants off, kissing everything you find.” Her pulse increased, and she licked her lips.
Tony did as he was told and walked on his knees towards her. He unbuttoned jeans and slowly slid them down. He smiled as he pressed kisses to her now exposed stomach.
Summer’s skin twitched under his mouth, a little ticklish and a lot sensitive. “That’s good, oh,” she moaned. Rosy spots burned high on her cheekbones, matching the growing burn in her bones. “Please, Tony, will you … please. I want you. Want you to touch me.” The last words were mumbled, tone of command utterly lost.
Sometimes I wonder if I’d be better off lying. Lie like the fae do, with secrets and omissions and half-told tales, everything asked for but not the whole truth and never what’s needed. Like trading your soul to the devil, always a catch unseen til it’s too late.
The catch is that it’s me. I’m the one you don’t want, the one who won’t make deals under the table, won’t trade my honour for your regard. Compulsive honesty? Give me a break. Intentional omission, oh yes, never giving a straight answer to a direct question.
I didn’t have to say. How /easy/ would it have been, so simple, say nothing and ingratiate myself, warm and friendly, caring and willing. Just make another account (how many is that now?).
Temptation. Not even stepping close to that thing I won’t do, not even pretending to be something I’m not.
But doing the right thing is the wrong thing again; another scar in the same place. Not allowed to bleed; not supposed to care; it’s just a game, right? Where does that line lie? Just a game; just friends I’m not allowed to have. Just disregarded again; no second chances.
i am the firechild: archangelswag: iamthefirechild: archangelswag: i am the firechild:…
i am the firechild: Open RP: So a trickster walks into a cloud of sex pollen…
Anonymous asked: M! A: Sex Pollen. You are uncontrollably horny and feverish for the next 3 days, or until you’ve had three orgasms, without masturbation.
“Oh…shit.” The archangel’s skin quickly becomes flushed and his breath hitches. He feels an erection coming on and…
“Summer – oh fuck – of all people to see me like this-” His face is full of panic, but his eyes wander all over her body with a hungry shine to them. “Sex pollen. Can’t fix it alone – can’t stay in control – if you don’t want me to jump your bones, run.” He pants, turning to face her. His boner is painfully obvious, and his hands are clenched into fists with the effort not to play with himself in front of her.
“I can’t leave you like this!” It was almost insulting, that he thought she could be concerned about a thing like that right now. Granted, she can’t block him out now, and that’s having an effect on her thinking as well, but compassion alone would demand she help him find a way out of this. “What do you need?” It’s that simple.
“Have to cum. 3 times. Masturbation not effective. Otherwise, pain gets worse.” He falls to his knees, gripping the ground hard enough to crack stone in an effort to stay in control. The sudden drop causes the fabric of his pants to rub up against his shaft, and he lets out a whimper. “Please… Summer…” His eyes glaze over with golden light, his jaw going slack with need as he looks at her with pleading eyes.
“Not here.” Her voice is decisive, that instinct that controls her almost utterly in the face of pain taking over. It is, oddly, the one circumstance when emotion and empathy take a backseat. She strides to him, kneeling and clasping his shoulders tightly, her own wings fading into sparks and smoke. “Take us to my bedroom, Gabriel. Now.”
In this state, Gabriel can’t resist the authority of a young attractive woman and he teleports without hesitation.
Summer pushes him over, careless of whether they made the floor or the bed. “Gabriel. Gaberiel. Listen to me. I’m going to take the edge off.” Despite the sharpness of her voice, her hands are gentle, undoing his pants and sliding up his erection. With this much tension, she knows, softness is not the way, nor is patience. When this is over, when he is himself again and making his own choices, then they can tease each other into delirium. Firmly, she grasps him, stroking and twisting, hoping in the part of her mind that is thinking and not reacting that it will work.
Valentine’s Evening || iamthefirechild
“I’ve been thinking I’d like to do some work on my car,” Summer commented. “Maybe you could help me with that?”“Probably,” Tony answered easily, because what is modesty? He had no idea; he’d never had a sense of it. “What sort of work were you thinking? Minor? Complete overhaul? Real work? Just an excuse to get me to hang around work?”
She made a disgusted face at him. “If I wanted you to just hang around, I would ask, like you told me to. I would at least ask to borrow some space in the workshop. But no. Real work.” Putting her elbows on the table, all serious intent and earnestness, she propped her chin in her hands. “I want to learn how to take care of her. Change the oil, the spark plugs, the filters. How to tune her engine. How to interpret all the car codes. I, um,” she flushed, “kinda threw a rod real hard once because the engine overheated and boiled the oil, and I didn’t know enough to notice. And I want to basically redo her entire electricals, put in seat heaters and automatic locks. I thought about automating the roof, but it’s kind of fun to take it off myself.” She grinned. “I like to see who thinks I struggle with it and offers to help. I was going to ask Jarvis to guide me through the simpler stuff and not bother you.”