iron_ically | This is how I show my love

Entry tags:

[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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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?"

It was almost fascinating to watch her expression as she touched the arc reactor then took a ~~gulp~~ sip of scotch. He leaned over, plucked the bottle up and refilled the glass.

"That is exactly the face I was hoping for."

"It's a good face, luckily I've got it on command, isn't it?" She was teasing. Technically it was true, she had three older brothers, she could whip that expression out whenever it was needed, but she was generally impressed with Tony. Just the fact that he was alive was impressive.

She took another sip before passing the glass back, she'd gotten his shirt off after all, that was why she had taken it from him to begin with.

"And you know how t take away it's effectiveness immediately," he teased back. He assumed she was teasing and didn't have that face on command, or at least she wasn't using it in an on command status at the moment. After all, she'd started this. He'd just kicked it up a notch by taking her to the bedroom.

"Thank you," he said as he took the glass and sipped at it, then leaned over just enough to set it on the night stand.

"It seems you've got a disproportionate amount of clothing on. You should turn around and let me fix that."

He was assuming the dress had a zipper in the back.

The zipper was actually on the side, but Niamh turned anyway, gathering her hair up and holding it in the knot in her hand. He could find the zipper, she had faith. Consider it hands on learning.

She glanced back over her shoulder, expectant. "You sure know how to woo a lady, Mr Stark."

When she lifted her hair, he scooted closer, dipping his head to press his lips to the curve of her neck, trailing kisses up to her hairline then back down. His hands roamed down her back to her waist then along both sides until he found the zipper. He pulled it down slowly, allowing his fingertips to graze her skin lightly.

"Perhaps, you'll have to give me some pointers." He said it in a tone of voice that implied he thought he was doing all right on the wooing part, but then she was the final judge.

She hummed out a pleased sort of noise, sighing softly like she was entirely contented. She was, too. There was something lovely about the way the evening so completely derailed from dinner and dessert.

"Oh no, I'd like to see what you think is wooing. I'll give you a peer review later." Somehow, shivering as his fingers brushed across her skin, she managed to sound completely at ease in the situation.

"You should know, I do very well with standardized tests," he whispered against her skin as he swung one leg around and slid off the bed to his feet, taking her wrist in one hand as pulling her to her feet.

Once she was on her feet, it took the slightest tug on the hem of the dress to make it pool at her feet. He leaned in, tilting her chin up with one hand and kissed her deeply.

"How am I doing so far, Miss Oliver?" he asked when the kiss broke.

"Good?"

She stepped forward on her tiptoes, kicking the dress to the side so it wasn't in her way, and curled her arms around his neck. "Regrettably, now I think you're the one with too many clothes on."

She didn't make any move to fix that though, enjoying the feel of his skin against hers, feverishly hot, pressing a line of kisses across his chest. They were going to have sex, she knew that, she just wanted to savor the previews.

He pulled back enough to look at her, his gaze traveling over her body from her shoulders down to her feet and back up again. "Hmmm, that is regrettable," he murmured as he leaned in to kiss her collarbone, lips and teeth nibbling across her skin.

That wasn't fair. He was cheating, turning her into putty like that, and she would bet money he knew exactly what he was doing. And it wasn't fair.

"We should fix it," she said, somewhat decisively. A bit decisively. She was trying for decisive, but the reality of turning to putty meant it came out in a bit of a question.

He was cheating and he knew exactly what he was doing to her. He hummed against her skin as he continued to litter kisses across her skin.

"We should fix that. We should definitely fix that." Since he was just wearing a pair of sweatpants, it wouldn't be hard to fix at all. He slid one hand down her arm to her hand, placing it against his hipbone just above the low waist of his pants. "Please. Be my guest."

Niamh swallowed, losing all her nerve for a minute. She had to give herself a pep talk.

You are a grown woman, Niamh Griffin Oliver. Get it together. Tony Stark is just a man. A rich man, who is a superhero and a billionaire playboy and kind of a manslut, but! He's not been a manslut lately and if you can handle 28 screaming seven year olds, you can handle bloody Tony Stark.

Taking a breath, she pushed it out slow, fingers pushing down on the waistband as her other hand drifted down to do the same on the other hip. "I will."

Tony watched, not sure what was going on inside her head. His brow furrowed for a second, the space of the time it took her to give herself the peptalk.

"I do so like it when you make yourself at home," he groaned, eyes closing, head falling back for a moment before he leaned in to pull her into a kiss, one hand tangling up in her hair while the other went to the small of her back.

"Tony," she breathed, a bit of a whine, trying to push him back slightly. Her hands on his hips were firm, gentle until her nails dug into his skin slightly. "If you keep distracting me, you're going to remain clothed. Focus, Mr Stark."

Sometimes, one had to be firm with Tony. He tended to bulldoze over everything otherwise so her nails digging into his skin not only got his attention, but turned him on even more. He groaned, pretending to be put out by the request.

"I think, Miss Oliver, that it's you who needs to focus," he teased her but sighed and raised both hands, putting them behind his head. "Ready. Set. Go."

"I'm properly focused, Mr Stark," she retorted, moving back slightly to push his pants down, crouching to follow their progress until he was properly undressed.

She looked up at him, a grin like the cat who caught the canary, and slowly pressed a kiss to the outside of one of his thighs before she straightened back up. She pushed up on her tip toes, taking one of his hands in each of hers and putting them on her hips and replacing her hands around his neck. "What's my grade?"

If she was looking to get a reaction out of him, she definitely did. His heart beat kicked up a bit faster; he went quite still then shuddered a bit when she kissed the outside of his thigh. A grin played over his lips when she asked about her grade.

"B plus. Practice on this particularly subject is highly encouraged. It does make perfect you know."

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