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A length of carmine cloth floats along his left side hip, like a smooth river kissing his skin in its wake. The material twirls around, caressing along his lower back, to circle over to his front and up his chest, making him squirm slightly as he tries to contain the laughter trying to erupt.
“Stephen,” Tony calls out, fisting his hand against his sides, trying his hardest not to squirm. Cladded only in his boxers on top a circular pedestal, an inch or two high, making him look taller than Stephen for once.
Rolls of different colored fibers dancing around him in a magic show should be disconcerting, but his attention was focused on a bigger issue other than his naked state, which he didn’t mind, or fairytale dress up. What ticked Tony off was the detached and uninterested look on the ex-doctor’s pale blue eyes, his gaze shifting from cloth to cloth floating over them, nonchalantly touching one before turning to another, looking at everywhere but Tony.
Tony wasn’t pouting. He was not.
“I don’t need a dress for the ball,” he teased, seeing another meter of cloth a shade darker of Stephen’s annoying cape (It’s a cloak, Tony) pass his side. He almost confused the floating material for the sentient ca-cloak. It wasn’t around it’s master, perhaps jealous of the attention Stephen was giving to all these cloths. Tony could relate.
The sorcerer merely provided Tony with a tiny noise, as if that was enough to make note that he was somewhat paying attention to him. But not enough. Almost as if reading his thought, Stephen extended his reply: “You have reached the level of Master, Tony. Every single Master wears their uniquely designated robes. As the Sorcerer Supreme, and the only one willing to deal with your attitude, I will see that your robe is agreeable to your taste.”
“How noble,” Tony mumble dripping with sarcasm, trying to get Stephen’s usual reaction, the start of a small bantering, but the same upset feeling came back when Stephen gave him his back as if to shut him up. Ignoring him.
Tony was sulking now.
Yeah, sure. Ironman was not at the peak of his ripe years anymore and maybe, the years had been harsh with him; alien invasions, a Terminator menace, civil wars and a nihilist grape titan could do that to you. But he would call himself still quite eye-catching.
He worked out almost daily, Captain made sure of that. His lungs were not what they used to be, years of smoke and alcohol taking their toll. But his body was better, his skin had faded scars, but the visible muscles and lines that framed him were enticing.
Either way, Stephen refused to linger on him no more than the necessary. As scarred fingers beckoned a maroon cloth over, Tony glared at the sorcerer. “Even if you try, you can’t set me on fire with your scowling, Tony,” Stephen brushed him off, voice loud in his ear at the silence and small space, without even looking.
“I can certainly try,” Tony quipped back. Stephen’s luscious lips pulled up into a small smile, his cheekbones standing sharper in the soft light of the room. His features seemed dangerous and more defined beneath the illumination, turning the already sharp bone structure into a truly breathtaking angle.
Stephen let the roll of cloth float up with the others. His moment was slow, like a musician singing off the notes of his symphony onto existence for the world to relinquish in. There had been a moment where Tony didn’t believe such a man could exist. He wondered if Thor lied to him when they presented Strange, and he was the god amongst men. He truly acted as one.
His body shivered when those piercing galaxies turned to him, calculating and sizing him up. The mirth in them making those eyes hooded with delight.
Finally.
Tony perked up internally at him, those bluish greens ran down and up his body. He felt acutely aware of the gaze and ever inch of tanned skin it skimmed over without shame. It left him tingling, making his heart pick up its pace, his mouth and throat suddenly dry and a growing heat settling on his ears and nape. Stephen didn’t move, he merely watched him.
The Sanctum was warm, he had felt the room warming up slightly for him when he undressed from his suit, perhaps to sooth his vulnerable state. But right now, he felt too hot, his blood boiled, his guts were amid a war under the Sorcerer Supreme’s gaze. His chest raised and got abruptly stuck, forgetting how to function for a second when Stephen stepped closer.
Like a trapped animal. Defenseless at his mercy.
Shit. Fucking erotic.
“Don’t,” was Stephen's only command, his voice low and dangerous, and Tony wanted to move just to see what laid after that threat.
But, didn’t.
He didn’t want to break this spell. Exhilarating and so goddamn good.
Stephen circled around him humming in thoughtful manner, Tony held his breath until Stephen was back in front of him, at arm reach, so close he could extend a hand, grip that tunic and drag him over to slam their bodies together. He wanted to feel Stephen towering over him with that handsome smirk on his face, shading him from the light and world with his broad lithe body, and relieve the maddening heat coiling inside him.
“Tony”
Tony snapped out of his feverish thoughts, his brown eyes looking up from the floor to Stephen’s eyes that crinkled to the genuine fond smile that ignited many unwilling responses in his body. “What-” Tony asked breathless with a loss for words, stolen by Stephen.
“I said,” Stephen prompted finding Tony scattered self rather cute instead of rude, the jerk knew very well he was the reason, and that made him attractively smug. The bastard. Thin lips tugging at one side with amusement. Tony’s heart skipped a beat. “Turn around. I will take your measurements.”
He raises an eyebrow at that. Why not simply walk around him like before? Stephen seemed to like that very much, like a predator playing with his next meal, ready to pounce him. Still, he complied. Forcing his tense muscles to move, his legs felt heavy, Stephen sole focused on him now. His brown eyes opening slightly in surprise at the sight of his reflection.
A full-size mirror floated in front of him, not moving a lot besides a little swaying. He could see his blush running down his neck, his shaky breaths as his ribcage raised slowly, the scar at the center pink and nostalgic, but most of all, he can see Stephen behind him. His dark hair looking ebony black, contrasting his silver strikes at the side more intensely, crystal sea foam eyes catching his chocolate ones with that smirk. Oh.
Tony had been an active lover in his youth, he got the title -playboy- for a reason. He was open to any and every experience, trying to grab and eat all the world could offer in his life span. But, becoming Ironman and saving earth, the universe, and sometimes, reality; took away that part of his sexual life. Tony Stark’s libido had been tucked away forgotten in a chest with several locks, not by choice, but there was always something to do, he had people to save and alien’s asses to kick.
He was alone, no one was going to come interrupt them, all the time in the world with a sexy wizard behind him, holding each other’s eyes with electricity coursing through. The locks are rattling.
Click
“Is there a problem, Mister Stark?” Stephen mused, his voice a tone too low to be called appropriate. Back at that donut spaceship, Stephen had mentioned in their argument how he didn’t work for him. At this moment, he would love Stephen as his personal assistant. He could imagine him wearing an expensive suit, provided by yours truly, just to please his boss, saying those professional word in a lewd and enticing manner. He would love to comb those soft black and white locks back, looking sharp enough to kill a man; Tony would order a pair of reading glasses with framed royal blue edges to compliment those ice-cold cyan eyes.
Imagination was a dangerous thing, Stephen started taking his measures as his mind wandered. Being Stephen’s boss, an office affair, Tony wasn't too much into roleplay, but he could just imagine the possibilities. Stephen cornered against his desk, pointing how this was a very bad idea but still submitting to his ministrations. Tony would sooth his worries, he would whisper sweet promises to ravage him while wearing the suit he bought him, because Stephen was his to reverent and worship. He would enjoy ripping those layers of expensive cotton off his body, to reveal the tender marble skin underneath, asking to be marked and claimed. Watching Stephen look outraged at the way he discards the suit, that most likely, would cost a year salary for some.
Clank
Tony felt a hand grazing his hips, to cup them, thumbs rubbing circles in his lower back. His mind was so far away that the touch made him jolt and send shivers down his back and right into his crotch, which was already strained by his line of thought. Stephen hummed, ignoring the delightful noise he managed to rip from Tony when he pulled him back so his naked back pressed against his clothed chest.
“Where did you go?” Stephen asks softly into the shell of his ear, lips crushing against the skin with each word. Tony let out a whimper, throwing his head back, trying to get closer to the body behind him. Stephen chuckled, the motion allowed him to let feathered kisses down his neck, each managing a shudder out of the smaller man.
“Thinking…” Tony said in a breath, his mouth opening to let out a long sigh of pure heat. Stephen hummed in question, moving his attention back to Tony’s ear, nipping tenderly on the earlobe. Tony gasped, clenching his teeth as his whole body trembled at the assault.
Stephen allowed Tony to breath for a second, letting the ear go, “You must be tired,” Stephen said, his words teasing and husky, smiling when Tony grumbled at him. He could stay like this, holding Tony by the hips, feeling him heated warm from pure attention against him, exploring the ripples and tides those muscles created that had been tempting him since the moment he laid eyes on that sun kissed skin. But he could do all that in the confinements of his room.
Later.
“Your robe is ready,” Stephen told him after a moment of self-indulgence. He stepped back, basking on the angry groan of complaint Tony made when their bodies separated, before chanting lowly the spell.
Tony gasped as soft warm robes appeared, covering his body from head to toe. The chest cut resembled Stephen's, but he had a hoodie hanging on his shoulders. The Robe fell gracefully around him, the edges barely touching the floor. The knee boots and pants were exposed since the robe opened in the front to allow mobility. No sleeves, he was wearing gloves though. The gloves reached his elbow, the fingers were cut at the first knuckle and they felt sturdy, packing a punch. He flexed his fingers, testing them, seeing how some sparks glimmered on the knuckles. Magic gloves, of course.
Tony liked it.
It was an array of reds he could barely identify, shades of maroon and carmine. The belt that held his robes was golden, and there was an opening for his arch reactor on his chest. The length may have been too much, but he enjoyed the sway when he moved his hips, and if Stephen’s stiff clenched jaw was any indication, so did he.
Tony smiled at the sorcerer, stepping down from the pedestal to be chest to chest with Stephen. Leaning up on his toes to land a chaste kiss on his jaw and whispers on his pale skin, “Thank you, Godmother”. Stephen grunted, Tony could feel the rumble on his hands over Stephen’s chest, making him laugh. Stephen looked down at him with a small smile and he replied with his own.
The Sorcerer Supreme lowered his head, warping his arms around Tony’s waist, and pulling them flush together. Tony shivered, the heat on his guts coming back, asking, begging and yelling for relief that could only be obtained by the man who conquered his heart. Stephen kissed his cheek before moving his lips to his flushed pink ear, as if to share a secret even though they were alone. “Allow me to show you how to remove them,” and Tony let out a moan, the words went straight through him and he couldn't do much but nod, eager and needy. Already breathless, he managed to make out one word, one word that crumbled Stephen's control.
"Please "