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

[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."

[formoftherapy]

She braces her hands against his hips. Kite's mouth tightens on the deliberately slow upstroke.

[toblameforit]

He kiiiiind of squirms a little.

Tony can be so impatient sometimes.

[formoftherapy]

When she moves her head again, it's faster.


So is the time after that.

[toblameforit]

Oh good!

Now it's happy squirming.

[formoftherapy]

Squirming, while appreciated, is a bit counterproductive.

Kite's nails dig into his hips.

[toblameforit]

Obediently, he goes still.

More or less.

[formoftherapy]

She flexes her tongue along the underside by way of reward.

[toblameforit]

In which case, she can have a heartfelt whimper for her trouble.

[formoftherapy]

What a delightful sound.


She repeats the gesture, harder, with a counterpoint of teeth.

[toblameforit]

Now it is an equally heartfelt groan!

[formoftherapy]

Kite hums in satisfaction and moves her head faster.

[toblameforit]

He whimpers again, louder. His head thumps back against the bed.

"Fuck, baby."

[formoftherapy]

Kite lifts her head with a wet pop.

"We can do that, too," she says, voice rough.

She flicks her tongue against the head of his cock.

[toblameforit]

Gasp—shudder—moan.

[formoftherapy]

"Is that a 'yes'?"

Flicker.

[toblameforit]

"Kite," he says, his voice catching in his throat.

"Do what you want with me."

(It's one of Tony's lines, all right; he said it to Sherlock the first time they had sex. With much the same intonation, too.)

[formoftherapy]

"You cannot say things like that."

She scrambles up the bed to kiss him roughly.

"One of these days, someone's going to take you at your word."