Tony Stark may not be submissive by nature but T’Challa would be damned if he was not submissive with him. Other people liked to judge their relationship, wonder how someone so prim and proper could manage the unmanageable Tony Stark. The answer was simple, with a gag and a few orders. This had all been a pleasant but welcome surprise at the beginning of their relationship and he liked to take advantage now. Tony led a stressful life, frankly so did T’Challa, but they had two very different reactions to that stress. After dealing with his business, the public, and various other affairs Tony wanted someone else to take control for awhile, to have a break. T’Challa, however, scrambled for purchase politically more often than he would like to admit, and things were often out of his control. What he wanted was dependability, pliancy, and just a bit more of a grip on at least one thing in his life. Tony has happy to comply.
That is how Tony ends up tied up, his upper body bound in rope, the intricate diamonds cutting nicely across his bare chest. His hands remain tied at his sides, incorporated into the pattern currently painting his upper body, and his feet are held apart buy a spreader bar, flat on the floor but difficult to move. The intricate rope work is connected to the ceiling, mostly only there to keep Tony from toppling over every time he reacted to something. The ropes allowed him some slack to lean forward but that was it. What, in T’Challa’s opinion, topped the position off was the pretty panel gag currently covering Tony’s mouth. The black was a sharp contrast to Tony’s pale skin and the intricate details on the gag added to the intimacy of the situation.
“You are stunning,” he tells Tony, brushing the backs of his fingers down Tony’s cheek. The action draws a slight shudder from the man and T’Challa marvels at the amount of trust Tony had in him for something like this. He has a set of keys in one hand for safety purposes, being bound did not hinder his ability to shake them in place of a safe word, he had experimented before putting Tony in such a precarious position.
The first couple experiments resulted in Tony dropping the keys and glaring at them in frustration, but he eventually learned to hand onto the key ring and rattle should he need to. Tony had been irritated that he had not figured this method out immediately but T’Challa found the whole thing endearing, especially the look on Tony’s face when the keys fell. He had looked at them as if they had betrayed him and politely asked T’Challa to pick them up for him. He had, of course, and once Tony had grasped that then he added the gag.
When he steps away Tony lets out a small whine, leaning forward, towards T’Challa. The ropes catch him long before he gets close, leaving him standing on his toes trying desperately to lean forward more without much success. He smiles and plants a hand on Tony’s chest, gently pushing him back towards the ground. Tony goes somewhat reluctantly, emitting another small whine when T’Challa removes his hand from Tony’s chest. “Patience,” he tells Tony even though it was near useless. Patience was not something Tony Stark possessed a lot of but T’Challa loved him all the more for it. Besides, it made his reactions to situations like this absolutely beautiful because he was so sensitive to the touch.
All his command earns him is a whine when he walks towards the table placed behind Tony. He had no idea what was on it, that was half the anticipation for both of them, and T’Challa has a treat for him today. He’s considered using the claws before, they were stunning and sharp, perfect for something like this, but he hesitated until he had perfected his control over them. Tony did not know that he had decided to include the claws today and that was bound to make this all the better for both of them.
Tony’s ropes make noise, twisting some as Tony made a futile effort to twist around to see what T’Challa was up to. “Keep that up and I will simply leave you there until I see fit to take you down with no play at all,” he says without turning around. Tony blows out an irritated breath through his nose and the ropes twist some more, presumably Tony turning the whole two inches he had moved back to his original position. T’Challa shakes his head at Tony’s ever present impatience, he knew full well he was not going far all tried up like that, even his feet were relatively immobilized. The thought of that alone makes T’Challa shiver let alone the sight. Tony was a pretty picture tied up and there for T’Challa to use as he pleased, awaiting helplessly for whatever he had planned.
He pauses in his movements for a moment before walking back over to Tony, wrapping a hand around his slender hipbones, “you are going to love this,” he murmurs into Tony’s neck. Tony makes a small noise of agreement and gives T’Challa a jerky nod. “You will be so good,” he says softly, dragging his fingertips up Tony’s side and over the rope knots to his shoulder. Tony shivers beautifully for him, pressing back slightly into T’Challa, rocking back on his heels to do so. “Clever,” T’Challa tells him, eyeing his ability to maneuver himself in an effort to achieve what he wanted, “but I want those feet firmly planted on the ground.” Tony reluctantly shifts back to his original position, “good, now stay there,” he tells Tony sharply, his grip on Tony’s shoulder. “If you do not you will not enjoy the consequences.” He gets something of a huff of agreement, or as close as he could get with the gag over his mouth.
T’Challa steps back again, releasing Tony from his grip and headed back over to the table and those lovely claws. They’ve been chilling in some ice, all part of the fun, and T’Challa removes them so he could try them and properly fit them to his gloves. He glances over his shoulder at Tony, smiling when he considers his plans for all that open skin. The claws are sharp so he is careful when he dries them, and also careful that he does not warm them too much. That would ruin his fun and Tony’s. After drying the claws he carefully fits them to the gloves, thankful not for the first time that he made them removable. First, how else would he maintain them, and second, how else was he to use them for some unintended purposes? A smart decision, he tells himself, and he always has prided himself on being creative. This was certainly a test of that creativity.
Carefully, avoiding his own skin, he slides the gloves on. It was easier when he was wearing the rest of the suit and he did not have to worry about slicing his wrist by accident, but without it his skin was prone. And so was Tony’s. He gives a final glance back at Tony, licking his lips at the expansive pale skin, broken up only by the lines of the dark brown rope. With the claws and gloves in place he gives his fingers a test wiggle, double checking that the claws were secure before going anywhere near Tony with them. They did not move from their proper positions and he smiles, carefully turning and walking slowly back towards Tony.
He purposely stands behind Tony and well out of his eyesight, pausing in his movements so he could watch Tony wiggle slightly, his breathing picking up slightly in anticipation. Stunning, he was simply stunning and he was all T’Challa’s. He was lucky to have Tony, to have this. For a moment he simply watches Tony, noting the way his muscles shifted when he moved, the way his ribs expanded when he took a breath, the slight indentations in his skin from the ropes… He shakes his head, clearing it, and focuses on the task at hand.
Slowly he raises the claws and clicks them together by Tony’s ear, creating a sharp metal on metal noise before pulling them back. Tony tilts his head quizzically, trying to determine the source of the sound. T’Challa clicks the claws again and he imagines Tony’s brow furrowing in confusion, wondering what the noise was coming from. The sound wouldn’t be familiar to him either, considering he did not often work with vibranium. All the more exciting for his purposes. He lets Tony wonder for a moment before he gently turns his hand and runs the back of the claws down Tony’s back, careful to keep the points from touching his skin. Tony sucks in a sharp breath, jerking slightly at the touch of the cold metal against his back. T’Challa laughs softly as Tony shivers from the cold. He takes his other hand and carefully runs those claws down Tony’s right arm, causing him to squeeze his shoulders in a bit to avoid the cold. The ropes keep him mostly in place though and T’Challa carefully runs the cool metal of the claws over Tony’s warm skin.
The claws warm slowly, leeching Tony’s body heat as he shivers against the coldness of the sharp points. Finally he walks around to face Tony, dragging the backs of the claws along Tony’s sensitive hipbones and lower belly as he went. The ropes provided short breaks in the claws hitting Tony’s skin, causing him to shiver anew every time the claws touched him again. “I knew you would be beautiful,” he tells Tony softly. He does not even try to look down to see what T’Challa has been running along his skin; instead he makes a soft keening noise in the back of his throat. The sound is muffled by the gag but T’Challa revels in it anyways, pleased that his sub was pleased. That was half his pleasure in this arrangement, making Tony happy, seeing him mewl and shiver, collapsing into T’Challa’s arms when they were done. It was a pleasure unlike any other.
While Tony is distracted by the praise T’Challa turns the claws over, carefully running the points over Tony’s hipbones. He anticipates Tony’s yelp of surprise and he pulls the claws back long before they have the opportunity to injure Tony. When Tony settles again T’Challa carefully wraps his hands around Tony’s hips, the fine points of the claws digging into Tony’s skin just so. It was a pleasure to feel the full body shudder Tony releases, eyelashes fluttering as he realized T’Challa’s vibranium nails were currently settled on his hips. He lets out a long moan, sagging as much as his current predicament allowed him to. “I take it you like my idea?” he asks, his lips tipping up some.
Tony lets out another small moan, nodding and shuddering under T’Challa’s hands. “Perfect,” T’Challa tells him, “I knew you would react well.” He carefully extracts the claws from Tony’s hips, “but I am going to need you to be careful, these are sharp and I have no desire to hurt you.” Tony nods, his eyes looking slightly glassy and unfocused as he does so. “Good,” T’Challa says quietly, leaning forward to place a kiss on Tony’s forehead. Tony was always so good for him, always giving him the most gorgeous of reactions.
He steps back for a moment to survey Tony, letting him grow tense with anticipation before he slowly reaches out with a claw, gently running it down Tony’s chest. Tony manages to suppress his shiver until T’Challa removes the claw from his body and T’Challa gives him a small praise for his efforts. Next he runs a claw over one of Tony’s cheekbones again, watching as Tony’s head tilts back some, his eyes fluttering shut as he revels in the sensation. He pauses for a moment, giving Tony a moment to enjoy himself before he raises a claw to the underside of his rib, trailing it along the bone until rope interrupted his movement. Tony trembles at the touch, letting out small moans as the sharp metal ran across his skin, barely there but enough to feel it.
“Shh,” T’Challa says gently as Tony regains some control, “you’re doing so well. Always so good, so perfect,” he murmurs. Tony makes a small keening noise, straining towards T’Challa. “Flat feet,” T’Challa reminds him and Tony settles again. Once Tony is relaxed again he gently places his hands on Tony’s ribs, between the diamonds of the rope. “Ready?” he asks Tony who nods despite not actually knowing what was about to come. So much trust was behind the action and T’Challa takes in a shaky breath, always so surprised and pleased whenever Tony reacted like this. He splays his fingers slightly; finding his place before he gently presses the tips of the claws into Tony’s skin, hinting at what he was about to do.
They sit there for a moment, taking each other in before T’Challa moves. He pulls the claws down sharply, the tips grazing the surface of Tony’s skin just enough to leave eight identical red lines on Tony’s ribs, four on each side. Tony lets out a sharp yelp, jerking in his bounds before settling and letting out a small, high-pitched moan. T’Challa reaches out slowly, running the backs of the claws over Tony’s scratches, delighting in the shudder Tony releases at the action. He smiles as he gently traces the claws higher, over Tony’s breastbone, his clavicle, and finally he traces a claw up the side of his neck. Carefully, very carefully as to not harm Tony, before he traces the claws back down again. When he pulls his hand back Tony drops his head, exposing his throat and T’Challa’s breath catches for a moment before he licks his lips. “Are you sure?” he asks Tony quietly.
Tony tilts his head up some, just a little, enough to give a clear nod to T’Challa. He shivers hard as a sharp flush of warmth and pleasure makes its way through his body at that, moved by the amount of trust Tony had in him. He lets the wave pass over him before he lifts his hand back to Tony’s neck, gently running the claws over the skin there. For a moment he doesn’t dare do more but Tony relaxes further into the touch so T’Challa shifts his hand, cautiously wrapping his hand around Tony’s slender neck. He can feel the muscle there, and Tony’s steady breathing despite the obvious danger of the points on T’Challa’s claws touching the sensitive skin along the side of his neck. For a long moment neither of them moves, taking in each other’s energy, soaking in the moment of absolute intimacy and trust before T’Challa finally moves, drawing the claws away. Tony makes a noise of displeasure at the loss and T’Challa shivers, knowing Tony found as much pleasure in the moment as he did.
He retreats so he could carefully remove his gloves and get the safety scissors to cut Tony out of his current position and remove the gag. Tony comes away from the rope easily, leaning heavily into T’Challa, nuzzling into his chest. He holds Tony for a long moment, arms wrapped around his waist as he breaths Tony in, “you were so good, Tony, you did so well.” Tony clings to him as he pulls him to the bed that sat in the far end of the room. Setting the gag aside he gently coaxes Tony into the bed and grabs a bottle of water, crawling into the bed after Tony. He encourages him to drink and Tony takes greedily, probably not realizing how thirsty he was until he was handed the drink. When Tony is done with the water he sets it aside, curling an arm around Tony as he settles into T’Challa’s side, sighing contently.
*
Rhodey squints at him for a moment before he turns away, turning back a whopping five seconds later. “What the hell happened to your neck? It kind of looks like you got jabbed with four needles, that’s a really weird pattern,” he says, eyes fixed on Tony’s neck.
“Uh… I had a run in with a cat,” Tony says vaguely. It was kind of true, T’Challa sort of counted as a cat. He had claws, really, really sexy claws…
“The hell kind of cat does that?” Rhodey asks, frowning at him.
“The sexy kind,” Tony blurts before he thinks that through.
That gets him one of Rhodey’s ‘what the fuck’ looks, “a sexy cat?” he asks, face incredulous.
“Look, just accept that there are some things about me you never need to know, okay?” he says. How the hell would he explain this anyways? ‘My boyfriend threw on some super sharp claws he usually reserves for superheroing and held my neck a little, but don’t worry it was in a nice way?’ Like yeah, okay, Rhodey would call the fucking cops or something equally overdramatic. Actually he’d probably call Pepper, and then he’d have to explain to her and god help him if she called Shuri. How could he look T’Challa’s sister in the eye and tell her they were experimenting with ropes and vibranium claws? He’d have to leave the fucking country. No, scratch that (haha), he’d have to leave the planet.
“What does Rhodey not need to know about you?” T’Challa asks, appearing out of nowhere because being silent was something he shared with his feline inspirations.
“Oh, uh,” Tony gestures loosely to his neck.
“Villain of the week,” T’Challa lies easily, coming up with a far better excuse than Tony because he was better at these things.
Rhodey makes a face, “villain of the week is a sexy cat? Do I need to call animal services?” he asks and for a moment no one reacts. Then T’Challa bursts out laughing, doubling over while Tony started snickering. “Okay… I will have you know this is weirder than that one time that one guy started breathing fire at me. And was very weird, just to clarify. I better not hear any scandals involving you two or cats, and I definitely do not want to be hearing about anything ‘sexy’ in any possible headlines. Okay? Okay. I’m gunna leave now and go find Shuri, we have a sushi date,” Rhodey says in a matter-of-fact tone before he wheels away, leaving Tony alone with T’Challa.
“A sexy cat?” T’Challa asks, eyebrow raised.
“What? It was the best I could do on short notice, okay.”
“I should have never let you out of that gag, you’re friend is now convinced we are into bestiality because I let you speak. You should not be in charge of your own mouth,” T’Challa tells him. Tony shivers, looking up at T’Challa, “well… since my last idea went over so well…”