dial tone

[formoftherapy]

It's a Saturday, nothing special about it.

Kite, having done all of the homework she plans on doing and unable to settle on what to do next, grabs for her phone.

She calls Tony's house. (Nothing special about that, either.)

Comments

[toblameforit]

No.

(He can't break character. Can't. Won't. They have always been the same for him; he is not much given to compromise.)

With another little shiver, he tilts his head to bare his throat for her. "Fuck," he gasps, perfectly Tony. "Yeah, like that."

[formoftherapy]

Another kiss, further down but partially overlapping the first.


And another.


She takes her time.

[toblameforit]

He wiggles impatiently.

[formoftherapy]

Impatience gets him teeth.


Which is probably what he was hoping for all along.

[toblameforit]

He wiggles delightedly.

So yes.

[formoftherapy]

She adds an additional hard nip before going back to kissing.

So there.

[toblameforit]

...So there?

So where? That was hot!

[formoftherapy]

There's another hard nip when she reaches his shoulder.

She kisses over his collarbone and keeps moving down.

[toblameforit]

"God, that mouth should be illegal," he groans appreciatively.

[formoftherapy]

She laughs.

"It is, for some people."

(Like her physics teacher.)

Another nip to the ribs, and the kisses trail steadily lower.

[toblameforit]

"You 'n your logic."

(That sentence, with its affectionate disdain, should go a long way toward affirming his identity.)

"Quit making sense and—mmmm, I like where that's going."

[formoftherapy]

"Do you?"

She bites at his hip just above his waistband. "And where do you think it's going?"

[toblameforit]

Breathless: "You tell me."

[formoftherapy]

"I could..."

She traces a flickering line with her tongue across his stomach.

"But actions speak louder the words."

She sighs, warm and teasing, against his fly.

[toblameforit]

"Like the way you think," he says, reaching to dig a condom out of his pocket.

[formoftherapy]

Kite flutters her eyelashes.

"You really need that now?" she asks, undoing the button and inching the zipper down.

(It's not that she doesn't appreciate the value of safe sex; she has no more desire to end up infected or pregnant than the next girl. But latex tastes like shit and sometimes Tony can be charmed.)

[toblameforit]

"Oh, c'mon."

(Tony would think: like hell am I gonna say 'Sherry would kill me', but... Sherry would kill me.)

Looks like now is not one of those times.

[formoftherapy]

"Well, when you ask so nicely," Kite teases.

She tugs the fly open, presses a kiss to the outline of his cock through his underwear before holding her hand out for the condom.

[toblameforit]

He passes it over and grins Tony's all-purpose you-love-me-anyways grin, suitable for any occasion whereon he has done something annoying.

[formoftherapy]

She palms the condom and kisses the same spot again--only this time open-mouthed and sucking gently.

She's curious to see how long it takes to scrub that grin off his face.

[toblameforit]

Nope.



Nope.





N—

—there.

[formoftherapy]

She keeps it up for a few beats after there.


Then, she sits back onto her heels, the better to tug his pants and underwear down his hips. They don't need to go far before she tears the wrapper open and rolls the condom slowly down over his cock.

[toblameforit]

He makes a contented little sound in the back of his throat.

[formoftherapy]

She strokes him twice before bending down and taking him into her mouth.

(There is, briefly, a curl to her upper lip. Fucking latex. If he's going to keep insisting on this, she's making him by flavored condoms.)

She doesn't let her thoughts affect her performance, however, curling her lips over her teeth and lowering her head as far as she can.

[toblameforit]

Delighted groan. "Mmmm, that's nice."