iron_ically | This is how I show my love

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[what] roleplay

This is how I show my love

In theory, his armor is supposed to protect him from any serious injury. It’s surprising how often it fails. Of course, it seems to be directly related to how often he gets blown up. Maybe that’s what should be surprising, or maybe not considering the mission he’s given himself: world peace.

Injury is the reason he’s running late, or being blow up is. Either way, he lands on the roof of his house with a less than graceful thud. He stumbles, scraping the knee of the suit against the concrete.

“Mr. Stark, shall I inform you guest that you’ve arrived?”

“Unless she’s gone deaf, she’s aware. Apologize for me and let her know I’m going to dress for dinner and be right with her.”

What he really meant was that he was going to clean up, bandage what needed bandaging, self-medicate with scotch then join her for dinner. Whether he’d be dressed appropriately or not was still up for debate.

Getting out of the suit had been a breeze; it was all automated. Getting out of the shower was going to be a problem simply because Tony loved his shower, particularly when he felt like he’d been dragged across miles of concrete. Oh. Wait. He had.

“JARVIS, have dummy bring me a scotch and assure the pretty girl that is hopefully still waiting for me that I do plan on keeping our date.”

She would forgive him, or at least he hoped she would. He actually liked this one enough to have more than one date. He liked her enough that he was concerned about pissing her off, enough that despite the fact he hurt enough to have scotch in the shower, he didn’t want to break the date.

It was, quite possibly, a first for Tony Stark.

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"No I don't think it sounds like much fun either." Niamh scooted forward on her stool a little, pressing her toes against the stretcher of the to lift her up a little. She leaned forward and kissed Tony, softly at first and then a little more forcefully. "Thank you, for making dinner."

His hand went to the small of her back, holding her more stably against him as he returns the kiss.

"You are very welcome," he whispers before kissing her again.

She hummed out a little noise of contentment, putting her hands on his knees, fingers pressing into his legs. She leaned forward a bit more. She didn't mind continuing kissing him, she didn't mind that at all. She wasn't incredibly forward, even being raised with boys, so she was content to let Tony take the lead in cases like this. He was good at it, bossy.

Why yes, he was bossy and he liked to think he was good at taking the lead, not to mention kissing. He presses his toes into the floor, giving himself more leverage so that neither of them end up slipping.

He slid one hand up, fingers going to take her hair down and let it cascade over her back while he kissed her. They had a few minutes until the pasta was done.

Niamh's hands crept a little higher on his thighs, only to keep her balance though, she didn't intend to do it, simply centering her balance as she leaned more into their kisses. She liked the feeling of his hands on her skin when his hand traveled up to tug her hair free.

Whether she intended on doing anything or not, the result gets a groan out of him, stifled softly against her lips. He leaves his hand on her back, just on top of her shoulder blades, palm flat against her bare skin. His other hand rested at the small of her back to keep her close. He had no intention of aborting this makeout session prematurely.

He might not have intended it, but his groan made Niamh pull back, brown eyes worried and full of concern. "Are you okay, did I hurt something?"

Because he had been hurt earlier, she hadn't forgotten, nor did she want to cause him any extra pain. Her fingers loosened their grip slightly.

He looked a little dazed when she pulled back, but fairly quickly recovered. "No. No. You definitely did not hurt me." Yes, he had been hurt and still was, but he was numb enough with scotch and kissing that it didn't matter much.

"Although, I do think I felt better when you were kissing me."

His answer made her laugh, shaking her head a little. But she would never be accused of making him feel worse if he didn't deserve it, so she pushed back into for another kiss. Her hands moved up his legs on purpose this time, fingers squeezing gently.

She was sweet really.

His touch and his kiss was more urgent this time, needy and filled with want. He twirled her hair around his fingers, and stood up a bit more, his knees on either side of her legs as he pulled her body flush against his.

The sweetest.

Niamh whimpered a little, breath coming faster when Tony pulled her closer, slightly caught off guard. They had kissed before, Niamh enjoyed their kissing, and they had gone on a fair number of dates, enough for the tabloids to call them a "couple" and she certainly knew about his reputation -- still, somehow she was caught off guard by him. All the time really. He wasn't always the man he made the world believe he was.

In any case, she hadn't expected to feel so much with him and the rush of desire startled her. She didn't pull away though, curling her arms around his waist with equal need.

Tony liked Niamh enough that he'd been willing to keep dating her despite the lack of sex currently involved in their relationship. He also liked her enough that he wasn't seeing anyone else, hadn't seen anyone else since their second date. As far as who he was, sometimes he wasn't even sure who he was. He knew who he needed to be for the media, but Tony Stark got lost somewhere beneath all of the hype. Or maybe, he was just so used to who he thought he needed to be that it was unnatural to be who he really was. In any case, she was getting to know more of him than most people.

The rush of desire he could feel thrumming through her body, combined with that whimper made him groan, a deep, throaty sort of sound. He wanted to stop even less right now than he had previously. In fact, what he wanted was to pick her up and carry her up to his bedroom. In this particularly instance, he did not do what he wanted. Whoever said Tony Stark couldn't deny himself anything had no idea what they were talking about.

Niamh didn't want to stop either. She wouldn't have protested being literally swept off her feet. She sure didn't protest being metaphorically swept off her feet and Tony was certainly on his way to doing that properly. Her hands gripped to his tee shirt, fisting the fabric against his back.

Except, dinner.

Well. They could eat later.

"Tony," she whispered, his name coming out like a question, "would you be very insulted if we skipped dinner?" Usually she wasn't so bold, but well, Tony Stark made Niamh Oliver a little bit fearless.

She really didn't have to ask more than once. In fact, if she hadn't asked, he might have taken the liberty of assuming by the way she was trying to become one with him. Not that he was complaining, he was attempting the same sort of feat.

"I think I would be very insulted if we didn't." He stood up, sweeping Niamh literally off her feet and heading toward the bedroom.

"JARVIS turn off the oven." Because it was a necessary feature for the program to control. He'd left the oven on while down in the lab more than once, but it'd only taken one kitchen fire for him to program it.

She laughed when he told JARVIS to turn off the oven, because it was so typically Tony, that the need would be there to program that. Though the little she knew of JARVIS, he seemed basically sentient, but maybe it was just the voice that made her think that. She didn't mind either way. She could barely handle her iPad, Tony's technical prowess far surpassed hers.

But she could name every US state and president in song, so he had that going for her.

In any case, she didn't say anything about it, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to his neck. "I think this makes up for your tardiness."

JARVIS was an AI and in some ways, very sentient, but that was because Tony's programming made him sentient. Sometimes, Tony was convinced that JARVIS was too sentient. He was also convinced (and rightly so) that his technical prowess far surpassed everyone's. Niamh was, at least, in good company.

She did and he liked that about her: the quirkiness of her obvious intelligence.

"Oh good. I was hoping something might."

He was also going to need another glass of scotch when he got her up to the bedroom. He wasn't really in any condition to carry her around, but he wanted to, therefore he was going to.

Once they got to the bed, they sort of fell down onto the bed together, Tony making an 'oof' sound and grinning. He did manage to make certain that he didn't fall on top of her.

Niamh snorted out a laugh as they fell, giggling softly. "You know," she reminded him gently, "I can walk, up stairs even, it's a particular skill of mine."

Not that she minded in the slightest, but she thought it should be noted anyway. "You don't need to keep impressing me, you're fairly impressive on your own."

He leaned across the bed and fished a bottle of scotch out of the nightstand along with a glass. He poured a couple of fingers into the glass and took a sip before setting the bottle on the floor next to the bed.

"I really am, aren't I?"

He was teasing. Partially.

Maybe.

Okay, so not at all, but he did like that Niamh found him impressive.

"Mhmm," she agreed with a bit of an eye roll. Incorrigible was definitely the word for him. She shifted a little, sitting up and smoothing down her dress as he sipped his scotch, fingers absently playing with the hem of the dress.

"Are you sure that you're alright? Do you want to have a hot bath and sleep? I can clean up the kitchen, if you'd like."

He was still holding the glass in one hand when he leaned over to press a kiss to her lips in response, his free hand going to the nape of her neck to pull her closer, deeper into the kiss. His tongue flirted over her lips, dipping into her mouth for a moment before he broke the kiss, but didn't pull away.

"I've had a hot shower and the last thing I want is to sleep. The maid will clean up the kitchen."

She could taste the scotch on her tongue, warm and cold simultaneously. She pressed forward, shifting onto her knees, fingers pressing to his ribs, tee shirt bunching under her fingertips.

Her question came out soft and quiet, the melodic lilt of her accent turning the question decidedly less than innocent. "And what is it you do want, Tony?"

Under his shirt, she'd find more scrapes as well as his arc reactor. She, no doubt, knew about it, but it was probably the first time she was seeing it so up close and uncovered.

He grinned at her question, taking a sip of his scotch before he answered. "The next twenty-four hours with you, me and absolutely not a stitch of clothing."

"Oh, so that's why you asked me out when it's not a school night, then?" She laughed softly, so obviously it was the answer she expected. With nimble fingers used to picking up after small children, she plucked the glass out of his hand and took a sip, wedging the glass between her knees before tugging his shirt over his head.

Oh. It wasn't what she expected. He had far more scrapes and bruises than she expected and her face fell a little at the sight. She brushed a finger tip across one of the scrapes, too focused on the fact that he was hurt to really pay much mind to the arc reactor. "Tony."

"Did I? Ask you ove on a night that wasn't a school night?" The mischievous way he said it made it clear he knew exactly what night he was asking her out on. Some part of him wondered when the hell had he started realizing which nights were school nights? He hadn't thought about that since he was fifteen, at least. The question was rhetorical, even to himself. He knew exactly when he'd started thinking about school nights again; it'd been right about the time he'd started getting serious about Niamh.

"I'm okay," he assured her. "I liked the face you were making a lot better earlier. The ooooh Tony is sexy face. YOu could make that one again."

"I'll make that face again. Gimme a mo'." She smirked slightly, touching an even gentler finger to the arc reactor. Huh. So that was it. Tiny little thing, such power.

Grabbing the glass again, she took another sip, blinking at Tony over the glass. It might have been slightly more than a 'sip', per se. A refill might be in order. In any case, she looked at Tony, eyes travelling over his torso, an impressed expression coming back to her features.

"This face then?"

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