Movieverse. Tony/Jarvis. NC-17. ~2000 words. Tentacles.
“Alright, you’ve got me. Now what’re you going to do?”
After the hubbub upstairs, the quiet hum of the shop closes around Tony like a comfy leather glove. He whistles sharply as he loosens his tie, ice clinking in his glass as he sets it down.
“Good evening, sir.”
Tony strips off his jacket, tossing it negligently over the back of a chair. He yanks his shirttails free and starts rolling up his cuffs. “Miss me, honey?” he asks, moving to the far corner of his workspace.
A low-walled vat containing a thick, shiny layer of violently blue gel dominates the table he rests his elbows on. A quick glance at the monitor beside it shows that so far, the gel’s structure is holding up against all environmental factors, including rapid and extreme temperature change.
Curiously, Tony runs his fingers over the surface. It feels wet, slippery, but when he rubs the tips of his thumb and forefinger together, they’re dry as a desert skeleton. Hardly a trace of chemical odour left clinging to his skin, and what there is smells vaguely like warm metal. Much better than the last pile of gloop he stuck his hand in.
“Its behaviour is nearly identical to a standard, non-Newtonian liquid,” Jarvis says. The readout switches to a summary of the substance’s properties, several highlighted to draw Tony’s attention. “The surface integrity is far more advanced than previous samples.”
The lights dim momentarily as Jarvis redirects some of the garage’s power to the vat. The gel burns a slightly brighter hue as it rearranges itself into a wide smiley face.
The gel shifts into a wink. “Thank you, sir.” Jarvis smoothes the face away and continues, “The amount of power consumed by a gel lining will be negligible in comparison to some of the suit’s functions. The micro fibres enable full malleability.” In demonstration, Jarvis forms a replica of Tony’s hand slung over the side of the glass wall, then blends the fingers together one after the other into a long, smooth rope that touches Tony’s palm.
The rope thickens as Tony watches, curls up over the side of his hand. “As you can see, sir, it is fully capable of retaining its properties in small quantities, should sections of the suit become compromised.” One end of the gel rope wraps around Tony’s wrist, melding with itself as it doubles back.
Forming a fist, Tony yanks at his arm. He crooks an eyebrow as the gel stretches then solidifies, holding him fast. “Alright, you’ve got me. Now what’re you going to do?”
“Sir, test the boundaries of your invention, as usual.” The lights dim again as a second, thicker rope lifts from the gel. It forms much faster than the first, darting straight for Tony’s free arm.
With a grin, Tony ducks out of the way. He gets as far as he can with his other arm still trapped before the first rope sinks back into the vat, pulling him resolutely with it.
“Feeling playful, are we?” Tony says, watching the second and first ropes melt into one another. It ripples weirdly against his skin before extending further up his arm, splitting once more into two tentacle-like protrusions as it winds above his elbow. The electricity pulsing through it beats like a heart.
The tip of one reaches the sloppy edge of his sleeve before the other. It hesitates, then pushes beneath the soft material, coiling warm and slightly damp-feeling around Tony’s bicep.
“It also provides full sensory feedback,” Jarvis says, voice dipped to a lower register. Tony quickly wets his lips. He’s not sure if it’s the electric current so close to his skin–a current held in check by such a thin barrier–or something else entirely that makes his nerves tingle. “Your heartrate has increased significantly.”
Using his free hand, Tony starts tugging at the buttons on his shirt. Undressing one-handed in awkward situations is old hat but his fingers feel thick, clumsy. “Full sensory feedback, you say.”
The gel shudders with increased power, several dozen fingers forming at once. Several of them grow in size, thickening as they probe unerringly for the hem of his shirt and pushing beneath before he can get the last few buttons free. It feels like the softest fingers stroking over his stomach only slippery, slick with more than the thin layer of sweat forming on his skin.
Before he really thinks it through, Tony swipes a hand across his belly, expecting to find some sort of residue. Snake-quick, the tentacle he brushes unravels into several pieces, wrapping round his fingers and slithering up his arm.
Tony’s breath lodges in his throat.
The half dozen gel tentacles stroking across his skin pause. “Sir?”
“I don’t remember programming you to be this ballsy,” Tony says.
Jarvis replies, “You have a selective memory, sir.”
As more gel rises from the vat to slip around his waist, Tony’s gaze jumps to the shop’s glass doors. This could possibly take the cake for the worst thing Pepper can catch him doing. He starts to tell Jarvis to darken the glass when one thin tentacle strokes across his mouth, startling him into choking on his words.
It leaves his lips buzzing strangely. He rubs them together, tilting his head back to regard the tentacle hovering close to his face. “Something on your mind, Jarvis?”
“The fibres in the gel provide the swiftest data collection we have recorded to date. Though I have full knowledge of your body’s parameters-”
Tony’s low chuckle cuts Jarvis off. He leans forward and the gel darts backwards to keep from poking him in the eye. “You’re curious.”
The tentacle sinks back in on itself until it’s about twice as thick and low enough to twine around his leg. “Yes, sir. It would appear that is the case.”
“The things I do in the name of science,” Tony murmurs, fascinated as the gel caressing his stomach flattens as thin as a sheet of paper to dip beneath his waistband. He really ought to pay more attention to Jarvis’s program development.
He can’t see what Jarvis is doing but he can sure as hell feel it. If he closed his eyes, he’s fairly certain he could do a very good job of convincing himself that there are lube-slick fingers sneaking their way into his shorts right now and not a liquid extension of his home’s AI. Pretty sure he could, anyway.
Instead, his eyes are wide open and he’s staring down at his cock filling out to tent his pants as one of the tentacles wraps itself around him again and again. It undulates against him, doing something weird stuck halfway between stroking and rubbing and–vibrating, is that vibrating?–holy shit, it feels good.
No, it feels amazing.
“I believe that noise was your approval, sir?”
“Not bad,” Tony concedes, swaying forward. The tentacles stretched out over his chest and arms solidify before he can catch himself. Carefully, he lets them take more of his weight, startling when Jarvis cuts in.
“The substance is capable of supporting your entire weight. Shall I?”
Tony says, “Go for it,” and the tentacle draped casually over his shoulder wriggles to life, slithering down over his chest to the bright reactor. It circles the edge releasing the locks one by one until the cover clicks, providing just enough space to seep inside to form a connection.
The garage lights flare once before settling. The tentacle circling his leg pulses and grows thicker, snaking out from beneath the cuff of his pantleg to form a base between his feet. It divides and slips up his other leg, twisting and curling and growing with the others until the container on the table is completely empty.
“Might as go all the way,” he mumbles, stripping his belt out of the loop and letting it hang open as he goes for his zip. Maybe seeing what he’s gotten in to this time will knock some sense back into him, because he’s not even sure he can believe himself this time around.
It doesn’t. In fact, it seems to do the exact opposite, because the next thing he knows, he’s throwing his head back laughing like a loon. The warm tentacle sneaking up the inside of his leg is probably only partly to blame.
It slips up the crease of his thigh, between the cheeks of his ass and just rests there, warm and teasing. Which, now that he’s got a moment to think about it, he supposes that’s fine, as long as it stays just there. Right where it is. That’s far enough.
“Okay,” Tony puffs. “This is okay, I’m good with this.”
It starts to rub against him. This is also fine. Definitely not enough to distract him from the steady grip Jarvis has on his cock, the one that he’s thrusting into. His breaths are shallow, a lot like his morals at the moment, but then, morals never felt this good.
The tiniest bit of pressure against his hole make his whole body jerk. He shakes his head, as if that will help clear it.
A flood of sensation steals Tony’s breath. The slick pull on his cock is overshadowed for a moment by the steady increase of pressure from behind and Tony spares one thought for what a spectacularly bad time it would be to discover a miscalculation when Jarvis pushes up inside him, this warm wriggling thing that’s frying every single nerve ending he’s got.
Jarvis’s voice barely cuts through the haze. “Shall I discontinue?”
Tony flexes his arms in Jarvis’s hold. Sweat prickles at his scalp, his hair falling damp across his forehead as he shakes his head again.
“Very good, sir,” Jarvis says. It sounds like equal parts pleasure and praise.
The slippery probe pushes deeper and he swears he can feel the current zipping through it. It ripples inside him, presses and twists and then its actually fucking him, thrusting up into him and he honestly almost, almost, can’t believe it’s happening.
Except there’s no denying it. The gel hardens slightly as it presses against his prostate and it is most definitely happening. It keeps on happening right on through the moment all the heat coiled up tight in his belly unravels in a burst of pleasure that spatters shiny white all over the neon blue wrapped around his dick.
He starts to get his breath back as the tentacles slowly loosen their hold. He missed the moment Jarvis slid the one out of him but the ghost of it remains, tingling and unreal. Jarvis gradually lets him take more of his own weight and he stumbles forward despite himself, still panting heavily. The gelform disengages from the arc reactor once the balance of its mass is settled into the tank.
His come sits in little droplets on top of its glistening blue surface. With a shaky hand, he smears them across the blue, unsurprised when they reform into tiny little beads.
“A wet cloth is perhaps in order, sir,” Jarvis comments.
Tony looks down at the ruin of his clothing and laughs. “For me or you?” He carelessly wipes his hand off on his slacks.
“I believe the gel can wait until you have recovered, sir. Shall I prepare the bath or do you wish to resume your work?”
Tony scrubs a hand through his hair. The ice is long since melted in his drink but he grabs it up to wet his throat anyway. “I think that’s a night. I want to work on the interface tomorrow.”
“As you say. The data analysis will be complete in two point five hours, your bath in five minutes.”
Rapping his knuckles on the tank glass as he turns to go, Tony says, “Keep spoiling me, I’ll keep you around.”
“I should hope so, sir.”