penistower | I'm prepared for this ✫ I never shoot to miss

He goes a little cross-eyed, looking at her from this close up. "Oh yeah. Like what?" he challenges, trying to think of something himself in the moment. They're very different people, in a lot of ways, though maybe only the ways most like to measure. They have plenty in common he never would have thought they did.

"Well, we... both like coffee and ice cream," she says the first thing that pops into her head, grinning a little crookedly as she nudges her nose against his. It's silly, maybe, but it's a start.

His lips twist into a silly smile echoing hers, idly drawing patterns against her skin. "Anything that 99.99% of humans don't also agree on?"

She bursts into soft giggles she simply can't stifle, breathing a short, quiet laugh. "Oh, come on. That number can't be more than... 98%. Not everyone likes coffee, those weirdos." Because obviously everyone likes or at least should like!! ice cream.

"It's so sexy when you do math," he admits, something of a dreamy sigh in his voice before he closes the scant distance again, one hand coming up tenderly to cup her throat. This kiss is more thorough and involved than before, closing his eyes and allowing his hips to graze hers innocently. What's not innocent is the half-hard state he's in, impossible to ignore with the shift.

"Really?" she manages to murmur with a smile before he leans in for a kiss, through and focused -- it has the same kind of quiet intensity he devotes to his projects, Pepper thinks with a soft shiver -- unlike any of the kisses they've traded before, loving the gentle press of his palm over her throat. Her own hand slips down his front to palm his waist, fingers drawing tiny patterns through his shirt. A softest little hum leaves her when the kiss winds down; pleased, fondly amused and a little aroused all at once. It's hard not to let her smile shift more toward a smirk, picking up her train of thought from a moment ago -- thought it now has a more tangible connotation, feeling his predicament as their hips bump gently. "Math turns you on?"

He smiles too, breathless as they pull back and a steady flush creeps up his throat. "Only when you do it," he clarifies, kissing her cheek and then her ear as his lungs slowly stop burning and he starts breathing normally again.

"Oh," she repeats the often-used word between them softly, lips curving into a pleased smile under the press of his on her cheek. The light kiss to her sensitive ear has her sighing audibly, loving the tender gesture. "What else?" she murmurs before fully registering the fact that she'd spoken. It could mean a lot of things, to be honest; what else turns him on, what else she does that he likes. Not even she can tell what exactly she meant at the moment.

Pleasant shivers pull up under his skin at the question and her soft voice so close. What else. Such a simple inquiry but one he knows is his to interpret. That too is exciting and he isn't sure what will come out when he opens his mouth, not that that's an unusual feeling for him. "I like it when you're sure, which is most of the time. Bonus points if you're telling me what to do." That got a little fetishy, but he's cool with it. He was more thinking about them on the battlefield and how seamless Pepper makes it all with her utter command of every situation. It's truly breathtaking... but even simple, small things have been getting to him, especially these last few weeks. How she'll ask him for something in a way that brokers no argument -- it's hot.

"You do need someone around telling you what to do," Pepper agrees in a husky murmur, smiling, though she recognizes it's something of an uncharitable sentiment, really -- but still, a truthful one. Even Tony himself is aware of it. And Pepper doesn't mind it one bit. Her hand on his waist slips under the hem of his shirt, fingertips drawing circles into bare, warm skin now. Some completely unexpected urge enhanced by their intimate closeness has the words spilling softly and slowly from her lips, her heart skipping a beat once she realizes exactly what she'd just done. "Is that what you were thinking about in the shower?"

Her statement is easily agreed to, so much of a given that he doesn't even bother responding. His eyes drift closed at the soft touches, entirely caught off by her next question. Tony pulls in an audible breath and holds it, his eyes popping back open in a telltale way. "...Y-yes. Among other things." Slowly, he forges their eye contact back, finding it undeniably exciting that she'd been listening in. "But it's always you. You in control, you getting everything you need from me." It isn't easy for him to talk this way, his voice crackly and soft as a result, but still certain. He wants her to know how important that is to him -- that she always get what she needs. If he can make it happen then all the better. He doesn't realize yet that she can glean he's been having these fantasies for some time from the admittance.

She sucks in a soft breath at the implication in his words, becoming clearer every time she runs them through her mind again and again. Heat blooms deep within her and courses through her veins, a flush coloring her cheeks. She swallows thickly, licking her dry lips and breathes out slowly in preparation of the next question.

"Always?" she queries softly, almost timidly. "How long have you had... about me?" Her voice is breathless, almost hesitant to believe he'd been carrying such a torch for her longer than she'd imagined. It's humbling, startling and helplessly exciting, flattering even.

"A while," he confirms, flushing too in almost automatic mirror to hers. It's hard to pinpoint exactly when, but before she came to stay with him. It was something he'd brushed off until they actually started getting to know each other. "Sorry, I--" His face gets redder in an instant and he looks away. He's sorry for a lot of things, but most especially for pushing her away because he had feelings for her. In his defense he never thought she would have gone for a guy like him, let alone him in specific.

"Well. You know I'm bad at this."

"I... I had no idea you felt that way," Pepper says quietly, her heart picking up speed and fluttering wildly in her chest. She had no idea he felt that way about her, specifically, unknowingly mirroring Tony's own insecurities. For all their talk days earlier of Happy thinking she was the 'hot one', Pepper never did see herself in such a way. Certainly not next to Natasha. She bumps her nose gently against his jawline, breathless and feeling warm all over -- no, not warm, hot. Creeping over to downright aroused because god, the knowledge is sexy.

"Don't be sorry." She's never felt like this before, so bold and so hesitant at the same time. She needs to know. Her hand climbs further up his shirt, sliding along his side and palming his back, her voice barely audible when she suddenly pleads against his skin, "...Tell me? What you thought about?"

"Me either," he admits, not wanting her to think he had pined for her. Though maybe he had, in his own naive way. But then she's asking him that and clinging to him in such a way that has him falling apart all over again. He was always better at doing than speaking, especially in these contexts, but she's so adamant and frankly the idea of divulging his secret whims to her is sexy as hell. He's pretty sure she thinks so too.

Steeling himself, he shifts against her again so she can feel the solid weight of his erection now, fully formed. He likes being trapped against her this way, like he was this morning, the more he told himself the stand down the more aroused he had become. Tony fits his lips to her ear, knowing he isn't capable of saying these things and make eye contact. His hand seeks out her waist beneath her shirt, similarly gripping on while he begins, almost like he's telling a fairy tale.

"It always starts the same way. You... You're waiting for me, in my room." He hesitates, already embarrassed, but somehow that's sexy too and he's able to go on. "You're wearing lace--and leather. Your hair's in a ponytail, and you look at me like... Like I belong to you." His breath is already coming in quick pants, hand convulsively squeezing around her hip bone. He pauses to kiss her jaw, just below her ear, an almost desperate press of lips before returning to his place. "I kneel down and crawl the rest of the way to you, until I feel your fingers in my hair..."

Her breath catches sharply when he fits himself against her fully, no coyness now in the way their hips slot together and his hard arousal presses against her own groin unambiguously. She stills when Tony's lips find her sensitive ear, but can't control the minute trembling that wracks her entire body from head to toe-- but she's not cold, far from it. It's solely helpless excitement that has her shivering, her stomach lurching and flipping when his gravelly voice drops those enticing words against the shell of her ear. Her eyes slip shut and she swallows dryly, seeing the scene he's describing playing out behind her lids.

She can't hold back a tiny sound as she listens, a briefest, softest moan; god help her, that's hot -- and nothing like she'd ever imagined. The way he describes her is so foreign to her, this sexy dominatrix type of woman. But she finds herself wanting it instead of feeling uncomfortable with it. Her breath shudders out in a long exhale between parted lips when Tony kisses her jaw, puffing hotly against his skin as her fingers tighten against his bare back, shivering slightly again as she pictures Tony on his knees, crawling toward her in submission. Heat pours through her and centers between her thighs, the throb there unmistakable. God, this is turning her on unlike anything has in ages.

"What next?" she breathes with a quiver of excitement in her thready voice, the anticipation killing her. "Do I curl my fingers in your hair and tug? What do you do?"

That tiny noise she makes has his stomach lurching in kind, rubbing his nose against the side of her face as he builds himself up to go on. He's glad this isn't freaking her out, though maybe it's not what she would have expected of him. He hopes that only makes it sexier.

"First you pet me, then you tug. I whimper, pressing my face into your hip as I wait for instructions. You don't disappoint..." Here's where things are going to get explicit, and he swallows, hooking one leg around hers and stroking up the side of her ribs with his fingertips. The more he can touch and be touched, the less nervous he is to tell her all the dirty things he's been harboring about her for what seems like forever. "You let go and back up, tell me to get naked for you, and climb onto the bed. You look so... regal that way, towering over me as I remove my shirt. You watch me and smirk. I turn red all over, standing up so I can get my pants off. I push my boxers down too and step out, turning in a slow circle so you can look at me. You laugh at me, it makes me hard."

He wonders if this is crossing into romance novel territory yet, knowing he isn't the best storyteller in the world. But maybe that's okay in this instance. He can feel how much this is affecting her, the way she trembles next to him just as sexy as the words at hand. "I kneel back down and wait for you to tell me to join you on the bed, trying to be patient like a good boy but you look good enough to eat... You lean back against the pillows like you've forgotten about me, reaching down to touch yourself through black lace panties. It's torture, watching you when I want to touch. And taste."

He's starting to lose his voice a little, his heart fluttering wildly like a caged bird. He needs to take a break, for a second. His fingers brush against the band of her bra at the same time as he kisses her throat, almost like he's punctuating for the story. His tongue darts out, indeed to taste her, marveling in how sweet her skin actually is, his dreams literally coming to pass.

She's spellbound, captivated by every word, her breathing picking up with each moment until she's panting ever so softly. Any thought of this being just a sexy but still innocent little whim gets obliterated into thousands of pieces when Tony really gets into the meat of the fantasy, and she shivers all over again as his calloused fingers trail further up along her ribs. She hardly even thinks of judging his storytelling skills, perfectly affected with every single word.

When he gets to the part about good boy and her touching herself in the fantasy, she can no longer contain her low whimper, her hips shifting restlessly against his as she feels wetness dampening her panties at the mention of tasting. "God," she breathes, a slight edge of a whine in her tone. Her hand strokes up and down his back, dipping over to graze over his side, fingers tightening occasionally; her touches are growing more restless, more impassioned, arching into his questing hand at her bra and dipping back her head on a low moan when his lips and tongue caress her throat.

"Where--? Where did you want to taste?" Her tone has a degree of audible desperation, her flush spreading down to her heaving chest, passion clouding her head from anything else but this, both her need to hear more and her physical desire growing. She'd never before realized how much spelling out such intimate details in words turns her on. Squirming, she digs her nails lightly into his bare skin and begs breathlessly, "Tell me, god, tell me..."

"Everywhere," he admits, breath catching at the sight she makes, arching that pale throat and just as lost to his fantasy as Tony is. Maybe moreso since it's the first time she's hearing it all. He whines, the way her hips shift against him the most exquisite torture, to say nothing of her nails clawing into his back. In that moment, he doesn't feel embarrassed anymore, or even the slightest bit hesitant. All of her reactions are letting him know exactly what she wants -- something he'd wanted her to spell out from the beginning. Sharing what gets to him only seems fair at that point.

He dallies for a moment still, kissing up along the lean column of her neck and settling back into her ear, determined to finish his story even if it destroys them both. "Finally, you remember me, and you beckon me up onto the bed. I waste no time, moving between your legs. I still want to touch, but I'm not allowed; I've been punished before." His hand moves over her side to her front, rubbing over that trim belly in appreciation. "I put my face between your breasts, feeling the boning of your corset against my cheek. Just that is sexy, but you grip my hair again and push me down, expecting me to service you. I start with little licks and sucks, tasting how wet you are through your underwear. Only you can take your clothes off, so I keep going until my jaw is tired and you've had enough, pushing me to the side so you can reposition us as you see fit."

Tony moves again, lips against the corner of her mouth now. He has to speak up a little more to be heard, but his voice is smooth and confident now, eager to see how much this can effect her before she's had too much. "You stand up on your knees and tell me to lay down on my back. You take off your panties and loom over me, sticking them in my mouth while you straddle my chest. I look up so I can see all of you at once, sucking on the dirty panties until you tell me to stop. Lucky for me, you replace them with something far better, pulling them away and kneeling over my head now. I open my mouth for you, I know what comes next." And he thinks she gets the picture too, his hand skating down further to palm her hipbone.

Corset, black lace, leather... damn. It's so far out from anything Pepper's ever done or even once thought of doing with anyone, but it doesn't disturb her. It's fascinating and arousing to view herself through Tony's eyes in this fantasy, supposing the dominatrix persona he's imagining is something of a natural extension of her take charge-personality in a more sexual flavor. Pepper gives a pitchy mewl against his skin when he spells out her demands on him in the fantasy, heat throbbing between her thighs in envy of the dream. Her leg curls over his knee, hips slotting more firmly against his and rocking minutely but very deliberately against the straining erection confined in his pants. She pulls her hand away from his back and lifts it up instead to sink into his hair much like he's describing, crying out softly as his story comes to a head for now, at the squeeze of her hip; and the implications therein. God, that's so hot, her cheeks blazing by now. Fisting his hair lightly, she smashes her mouth to his in a hard kiss, tongue plundering hungrily, panting harshly when she pulls away a moment later.

"Hm-- you like that, huh?" she asks raggedly, words of her own bubbling up and breaking free; and that turns her on too, giving a little something back. Her hand drops from his hair to catch a fingertip against his bottom lip, rubbing teasingly. Wetting her own lips with her tongue, she breathes out the words with an almost lazy sort of satisfaction, blue eyes dilated and darkened, "Getting your face fucked? Smothered between my thighs? To be used?"

He moans outright at the way her fingers sink into his hair, bringing his dream to life as if she were jumping off the page of the book he was just reading to her. Barely able to keep up with the fevered kiss, he grips on tighter to her hip, not being shy anymore in the way he grinds against her, knowing she's just as compromised as he is.

Chest heaving and pupils blown black, he attempts fruitlessly to catch his breath, only losing it all over again when she begins to taunt him. His lips part for her finger automatically, and he nods to each question more vigorously than the last. "Pepper," he whispers, her name hallowed and sacred like a prayer the way it comes across his lips. "You know that's what I want. Please..." He kisses her fingertip before drawing it into his mouth with light suction, eyes imploring her to get his way. He still doesn't feel like this is real, or like he's worthy of touching her at all. It's what keeps holding him up from being bolder, at least with his hands. But after everything he's not sure he could accept being relegated to the shower once again.

He drops her finger from his mouth suddenly and leans back into her ear, his hand pushing under her leggings and gripping her flank, still nervous but determined to make his case all the same. "I want to service you, with my mouth. Let me... I'll make you feel so good. I want to worship you, please. Use me."

Grinding against each other like this, fully clothed, seems all at once so juvenile and yet so deliciously teasing, almost naughty. Her throat goes dry at the utterly worshipful way he breathes her name, shivering at his plead. Fire licks along her spine when he sucks her finger into his mouth, eyelids fluttering at the sensation and gaze peeled on those lips wrapped around the slim digit. She gasps sharply when he pushes his hand under her waistband, his warm, calloused palm feeling like a brand against her bare skin, her pulse jumping at her neck. The words husked at her ear draw another helpless moan from her, shuddering violently at the sexy, sensual images that crowd her head at his pleads.

Her boldness from moment ago wavers just slightly despite her persistent arousal and desire. This isn't a fantasy, this is reality; this is something that cannot be taken back once done. But isn't this what they both so obviously want? However, it's not that that's holding her back, a briefest flash of vulnerability making an appearance in her heavy-lidded gaze. The fantasy he's describing is so meticulous, so detailed; but she's not this corset-clad vixen Tony conjured up to sate his lust -- at least she doesn't think so. (Little does she know.) Is she enough like this, as is? She doesn't want to disappoint him.

"I don't have a corset, though," she whispers, lips quirking faintly as she masks her uncertainty with playfulness, lifting her hand to comb her fingers through his hair.

He almost misses it -- almost. A lot of people don't think Tony even knows the difference between fantasy and reality. The truth is, he feels it acutely, probably more than most people. His hand glides back up and cups her cheek tenderly, his gaze heavy and sure as it meets hers. A moment ago he didn't think there was a stopping point, but the second he'd seen the vulnerability on her face he put the brakes on automatically. He doesn't want this if she isn't sure, and once again he's caught up thinking this is all going far too fast; getting away from them both.

"Hey. Sure you do." It's weird as far as reassurances go, but people expect a certain amount of eccentricity from him by now, especially Pepper who has now seen every reach of a very peculiar man by now. "I don't want her anyway. I want you." That's all he's ever wanted, he realizes in that moment. This means so much to him, he couldn't dream of botching it. He presses a kiss to her lips, firm and constant and unlike the rollercoaster they've been on for the past few hours.

She didn't mean to dampen the spirit, feeling a little pinch in her chest when he slows things down. She never meant to imply she didn't want this or him, the fault lying fully in her. The odd reassurance fazes her only for a tiny moment, used to his quirks by now, opening her mouth to retort only to snap it shut again when he goes on. Her expression softens, the hesitancy replaced with some tender emotion. Pepper kisses him back, firm but soft, gently pushing on his shoulder to get him to lay back and following him, all the while kissing him until he's on his back with her on top of him.

"I want you, too," she whispers truthfully against his lips once the kiss breaks, catching her breath. There's no point denying it, nor dallying; they're both consenting adults who want one another, so why wait? Still, she feels like she has to be honest about the source of her initial hesitation, confessing the root of her concerns quietly, "I just don't want to disappoint you."

His pulse quickens and his brain short circuits when she pushes him down, but he goes without a single hesitation. Yes, he thinks, this is his proper place. Under her, for real, at long last. A shiver traces up his spine at her utterance, ready to brush off her single moment of insecurity for what it was -- until she speaks up again.

Tony freezes, his hand had somehow settled at her waist in the move. His eyes are wide for a second, but then they draw in as understanding dawns. "Nothing about you could ever be disappointing," he says, such an instant reaction it couldn't have ever been rehearsed. Not that anything he says to her ever is. "If anything..." He's the disappointing one, but he can't get the words out, looking up at her in silent awe. She's so gorgeous from this position he can barely stand it.

"I want you to get everything you want," he says after a long pause, as if amending his aborted statement. If she wants him, then she has him, no holds barred. He can only hope she knows what she's getting into there.

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