Disclaimer - I don't own Iron Man. All rights go to Marvel Comics, Stan-the-man Lee and associates.
Also, this is set post-avengers, if you haven't watched the movie; this fanfiction does contain some spoilers. Also there's a sex-scene within this fanfic, so be warned if you're not comfortable reading such material.
You Only Live Thrice
By Arlia'Devi
For PurpleCadet
It's so fucking horrible. Tony feels the stress of the situation heavy on his shoulders. He actually feels sick to his stomach and that's not a feeling he's used to. It's not because he's blown off the check-over at S.H.I.E.L.D. infirmaries, or that the shawarma was bad – it wasn't. It was very, very good. He'd totally ignored Fury's demand of a debriefing and overall health assessment before leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. which should have made him feel great. But now he's in the limousine, sore and probably still bleeding and feeling like he's being driven into a bigger mess than the one he's just walked out of.
The mobile buzzes in his pocket. It's a number he doesn't recognise – probably S.H.I.E.L.D. and he ignores it. There are five missed calls from Pepper. He presses redial.
"I'm coming, Pep," he says when she answers. "Stark Tower is a bit of a mess. Can I bunk over?"
"Tony…" Pepper says patiently.
"Look, Pepper," he cuts the witty humour shit. It isn't working. "I know I fucked up… I mean, fuck, what else could I do, Pepper, I-,"
"We'll talk, Tony," she replies and when the line goes dead he knows he's in trouble. Stomach-lurching, thick-ball-in-his-throat trouble.
"We've arrived at Miss Potts' apartment, Mr. Stark," says the driver over the intercom and Tony inches towards the door, chugging down the end of his whiskey on the rocks before kicking the door out to a deep evening-bathed street. The breeze is cool as it hits him, but smells of smoke and despair.
He's only been to Pepper's apartment once. It's modest, despite her pay-packet, and on the seventh floor of a relatively small modern complex. Her neighbour is an old gambling woman with a cat. Though she spends most of the time in Stark tower or at his mansion, working for him or working on him, he's never once brought up them actually living together.
He takes the lift to the seventh floor and straightens out his cufflinks. The lift rises slowly, sliding through floors before it 'ting's and gets to the seventh, opening its door's smoothly. There are only two apartments per floor. Pepper's is to the left.
He opens the door, knocking on it softly and calling her name. He knows he's in trouble enough; not entering politely won't be the cherry on the top of the hate cake she's got baking for him.
The apartment is dark and silent. That's not a good sign and he walks through the hall, coming into a small kitchenette and lounge space. The television is on but muted, and the room is dark. The visuals of the day's battle are on the television mounted on the wall, flashing through the room. Pepper is sitting on the lounge, her legs curled under her rump and the images are reflecting against her. When the television lights up her face, Tony can see how distraught it is from the doorway.
There's an image of him blasting an alien on the screen. For a moment he admires himself – the suit is scratched to oblivion and Stark Tower is a smouldering tower of clean energy in the background. The camera pans up to a great hole gaping above his tower.
He's about to say something and break the silence between them when Pepper beats him.
"You called me," she whispers, her eyes not wavering from the screen.
Tony shuffles forward, his hands in his pockets. He looks around the apartment and it's bare. She probably hasn't eaten.
"Yeah," he says. "I did."
She bolts up from the lounge then and stalks towards him.
"You fucking called me!" she hisses, approaching him slowly. "How do you think I felt when watched you disappear into that… that… hole! Only to see that you'd called me moments before? How do you think it made me feel?"
"Geez, sorry, Pep," he says. "Next time I won't."
There's an open bottle of wine on the coffee table. It's empty. Next to it is a bottle of cheap bourbon, three-quarters full.
Fantastic.
"You've always known who I was, Pepper," Tony says lowly with conviction.
"No," she bites her lip and shakes her head. "No, I didn't. I could handle you when you were Tony Stark – just Tony Stark. This," she gestures to the television screen. "This I can't handle, Tony. I can't."
And finally he understands what is happening, or at least, he thinks he does. He may be a genius in the lab, a business mogul and had quite a strategic mind, but Pepper Potts is a woman he can never conquer; never understand.
"I called you to say I loved you," he says. "To tell you goodbye."
Her eyes flash angrily and her mouth distorts into a strange shape, gaping half-open.
"I know why you called me!" she cries.
"I've been Iron Man for two years. This isn't the first time I've almost died," he explains.
She places her fingers to the bridge of her nose and shakes her head.
"They won't be the last fucking things that come here, will they?" she hisses, walking back over to the lounge and sitting down. Tony follows, reaches forward for the television remote and turns off the TV. He doesn't sit down. Pepper pours more wine from a freshly corked bottle.
Pepper never swears. She's always been composed, but he doesn't comment on it.
"Probably not," he answers honestly.
She looks away and drinks her wine.
"And I'll always be there. To stop them," he says.
Seeing Pepper like this is harrowing. It's worse than a root canal. He'd rather go through a meeting with Fury and Hill and all the lackeys he's sick of dealing with for a week than have to face this situation with Pepper. There's no words he can say, none that he knows will make it any better. He doesn't understand Pepper like this, that's what it comes down to – logical, level-headed 'will-that-be-all-Mr-Stark?' Pepper, but not this Pepper.
She isn't looking at him when she says, "I haven't had a period in six weeks, Tony."
Tony takes a moment to digest her words.
""Well, shit, Pep," he breathes deeply, taking a seat beside her. "Are you…?"
She looks at him, shaking her head. The anger from her eyes is gone, giving way to sadness.
"No," she whispers. "I went to the doctor yesterday and they did some tests. It's all down to stress."
He smiles gently. His hands touch her cheek gingerly, wiping her stray tears.
"There's been far too much of that around these days. Hey, how about we get away for a while-," he smiles but she sniffs and looks unconvinced.
"How can we, there's so much work to do…,"
"It'll all still be there when we get back. Where do you want to go? Venice? Bahamas? Oh, Japan, you've always wanted to go there? Huh, Pep – come on."
She shakes her head and bats away a few more tears. "We can't Tony." She sighs. "We're bound to have press conferences galore tomorrow."
"Fuck 'em," he says. "We deserve a day off."
Pepper laughs gently. "Maybe. I haven't had a day off in five years."
"Well," says Tony, taking a swig of the bourbon on the counter. "It's time to start. Ew, but not with this – this is terrible, Pep. How can you drink such acid? We need some good stuff."
"I've drank enough, Tony," Pepper refuses with a small laugh.
"Then what do you do to unwind, Miss Potts?" he asked, skimming his hand over Pepper's knee, taking the loose dress with him.
Pepper smiles in the dark. "I know what you do to unwind, Mr. Stark," she says. His hand creeps lower. Swiftly she reaches out and grasps it as it touches the top of her thigh and wedges it between hers. "I am a little different."
"Anything you want."
"Massage."
He shrugs with a small smile. "Sure." His hands touch her shoulders and suddenly the reading lamp is flicked on.
"Not there," she says with a small smile. Her toes wriggle. "Start from the bottom. Work your way up."
Tony groans inwardly as Pepper perches her feet onto his lap. There's some hand cream on the small table, and she passes it to him. In the back of his mind, Tony wonders how he's gone from a world-saving superhero, headlining all over the world to a submissive boyfriend giving foot massages in less than six hours.
The cream smells like vanilla when he squeezes a large dollop onto his hand and presses it to the arch in her foot. Pepper squeals and can't contain the smile as Tony works the cream into the bottom of her foot and toes. His fingers lace between the spaces in her toes and Pepper jolts suddenly at the sensation. Tony chuckles to himself as his thumb presses into the arch of her foot.
He works on one foot for around five minutes before spluttering some more cream in his hand and working on the other. After a while, his hand drifts to her ankle and touches the smoothness of her leg. Pepper has sunken into the lounge and has closed her eyes, deep in a blissful state of relaxation.
Tony smooths his hand up Pepper's calf, keeping the thumb on his other finger working on the ball of her foot. Her skin is so smooth and hairless. He's heard of people that don't grow hair on their legs, ever, and has to wonder if maybe Pepper is one of them, or she's like a razor Nazi. It doesn't matter. He presses a kiss on the inside of her knee and Pepper grunts.
"Tony," she bites out, though she doesn't tug her foot away from his grasp. He places another kiss on the inside of her thigh, just a whisper above her knee. His stubble tickles the sensitive skin there. "Tony."
"Just let me, Pep," he whispers against her thigh. She makes a small squeak. He doesn't know if it's in protest, but really – she's not trying very hard, and he hitches her knee over his shoulder.
Pepper's hard to decipher at the best of times, so he just keeps kissing the inside of her thigh, slowly inching up the skirt of her dress. His hands smell like vanilla and everywhere he touches spreads the remnants of the cream. Shes got tiny freckles everywhere here, one of the perks of being a red-head that she has freckles in the most intimate of places – the strip of skin between her breast, on the insides of her thighs, dusting across her nape and shoulders, places you couldn't have known of unless you knew Pepper that well. And he's visited these places many times.
He hooks his thumbs into the side of Pepper's panties – seamless and nylon, simple and functional beneath her skirt. He shimmies it off her hips and she lifts her body to accommodate the move until he's manoeuvred them off her legs and feet and drops them to the floor. The skirt quickly follows.
He pushes Pepper's shirt up and his lips kisses just under her belly button. Her stomach is flat and lean, and her bra is just the same as her panties – functional beneath a pale top with no decorations and bone in colour. Pepper's fingers deftly undo the buttons as Tony kisses a mole on her hip bone. When Pepper props herself up on her elbows to discard her shirt, Tony tips lower, his lips, teeth and tongue finally finding her clit and Pepper whimpers into the dimly lit lounge room, her head lolling back onto the armrest.
"Oh God," she bites out. He grabs her hips, not detaching his mouth for a second, and pulls her forward on the cushions so her hair spills over the edge of the lounge, and she's searching for something to grip, her hands ghosting over items and fabrics like she doesn't know what to do with them. She settles for the arm-rest, like a makeshift bed-head and hangs on for dear life. "Oh God… Oh, Tony…."
"One in the same babe," he replies smartly. He's intent on making her come. If he wanted, he could hold her off for hours, making her beg and moan and writhe just for him, but he's not going to do that. What's happening now, it isn't about him. So he goes back to his task with fervour, using his lips and tongue and fingers and hell, his teeth, until a hand is anchored in his hair and she's pulling so hard he thinks his scalp might be bleeding and she's crying out so loud, the whole apartment complex can hear.
"Oh fuck, Tony," she pants as he crawls over her. His eyes are dark, almost black and smouldering. "That was so good – why was that so good?"
Tony grins and kisses her passionately. His lips are slick and wet and his tongue is warm. God, the things he can do with his mouth. Pepper reels. There's one giant tent in the crotch of his black business pants and her fingers hastily grab at the black belt and begins to loosen it.
"How do you want it, Pep?" he asks. "Anyway you want it, you've got it."
"I don't want to think, Tony," she says.
"You don't have to think," he replies. "Just tell me how you want it. That will be the most thinking you'll do for a couple of hours, I assure you." He picks her up. His knees ache from the strain and he almost falters when her weight hits him – almost. That wouldn't have been very manly. Or sexy.
"Where's the bedroom again?" he bites out, looking around.
"On the other side of the apartment," she says. "I can walk, you know, Tony."
"Nonsense," he hitches her up higher and squeaks when his hip locked. He tries to keep the expression off his face as he begins to walk, but Pepper probably knows how much it is killing him because her eyes never waver from his face and the ends of her lips quirk up into a smile. He knows Pepper had a darker side, a side that only rears its head on those long, hot nights they have sometimes at his place in Malibu.
When he finds the bedroom, he drops her unceremoniously onto the bed and fights the urge to push his spine back into place as Pepper grabs the belt of his pants and tugs him forward.
"This is what I want first," she says and her skilful fingers began to unbutton his suit pants. They fall to the ground and she huffs at his lack of underpants. Frankly, the fact that he goes commando most of the time bothers her more than it should. He says it is a habit of his bachelor days he just can't shake. Still, in these circumstances, she doesn't mourn the three seconds less it takes him to get inside her.
Her fingers touch the shaft first, just gently skimming up and down its length while Tony remains silent. Pepper looks up at him under her lashes; that look that he gets when she wants to let him know she's going to do something very naughty.
She pumps it with her hand now, in strokes that show him she's not messing around before she takes the tip into her mouth and swirls her tongue around it. Tony grunts and jerks a little, but makes no effort to move.
"You know you're good at that, Pep," he cleares his throat as Pepper takes him wholly into her mouth. "Like, really good. But, um, I thought – ugh, this was about you?"
"It is about me," she kisses the trail of dark hair that crawls down his navel. "And I want this…" She gives the tip of his penis a languorous kiss to prove a point.
Tony knows what she was doing. She's done it once before. Only once, because he'd foolishly promised that one night she could do what she wanted to him – that she was in charge. Tony knows this is punishment. Punishment for his actions the day before. Pepper is working fast, and he is almost there, almost on the edge and she'll slow down again, or take her ministrations elsewhere, like his hip, or try to continue undressing him.
Pepper Potts can be a vindictive woman when she wants to be. Tony knows she was doing it on purpose – she got joy from torturing him sexually, and no, he will not beg for her to show him mercy. He will not whimper and cry when yet again, she brings him to the edge, only to drag him away yet again.
"You're awfully quiet Tony," Pepper says against his hipbone, biting it gently.
"I have nothing to say," he swallows.
"Usually you have everything to say," she smiles. "Not this time?"
He shakes his head and closes his eyes. "It's about you, Pepper."
"Do you want to come?"
Oh holy hells, for all that's good in all the world…
"Do you want me to come?" he repeats, looking to the ceiling.
Pepper stands up on the bed then and kisses Tony on the side of his neck as she goes to unfasten his tie. The tie flutters away and Pepper pushes off the light blue business shirt with ease.
"I'll punish you a little more later," she kisses his lips. "But for now, I'll have you. That's what I want. Hard and fast."
"You drive me insane," he growls out and pushes her back onto the bed. He is throbbing and she isn't playing fair and it is sending him out of his mind.
"No," she corrects as she falls into the pillows. Her eyes are on fire. "You drive me insane, Tony."
He kicks off his pants and crawls onto the bed. With a pull, Pepper is wrenched across the bed so that her thighs rest either side of his hips. She gasps as he slides into her, almost effortlessly. It's like home. Her gasps changes, morphs into a deep satisfied moan as he begins to move shallowly at first. His hips creak a little, like he's the old tin man in need of some lubricant, but soon enough the pleasure sparking from his groin is as good as morphine and all he can feel is the pleasure and the smooth skin of Pepper's hips and thighs.
Pepper whimpers and mewls out his name. Tony picks up the speed. Pepper likes it hard. She likes it fast. Sometimes she likes it so damn dirty and seriously fucked up that he doesn't even know who they are at the end of it all, when they tumble into the bed sheets all sweaty and spent and sated.
"Tony!" she cries. Her back bows off the mattress and her fingernails dig into the mattress. Her hips flex against him, trying to match the speed. It doesn't take long for Pepper to unravel, especially when Tony begins to rub the little nub at the apex of her thighs. Pepper distorts and a keen wail erupts from her mouth, and suddenly she's slick and tight and oh so hot, and Tony grits his teeth and hisses and makes some undignified sounds and then he's gone with her too.
He slips out of her and falls unceremoniously by her side. She's still rearing to go, but everything is catching up with Tony and he's aching all over – half a euphoric, post-orgasm ache, and half almost fucking died today ache.
"Pepper, I…," he huffs. "Let me… you know, catch some 'zee's and then we'll go for round two."
She looks at him and touches his face. His cheekbones first, then his lips, then his chin.
"I love you Pepper," he says. It sounds honest. It sounds raw.
She must appreciate it because she smiles.
"I love you too, Tony," she says eventually. "I hate how much I love you."
"How beautifully cliché," he snarkily remarks and she hits him. Hard. On the bicep and he groans and rolls onto his back.
"Don't you ever do that to me again," she huffs. Her eyes are trained on the ceiling.
Tony's hand rests on her stomach and he traces small patterns on her navel.
"I have to wonder how many lives you have left, Mr. Stark," says Pepper poignantly. Tony laughs at this. He has no idea.
Maybe one hundred.
Maybe none.
This took me quite a long time to write, merely because life got in the way. PurpleCadet hassled me to finish it and upload it, so alas, this one is for you girlfriend.
Thanks for taking the time to read this, everyone. If you liked it, please take the time to leave a quick review!
~ Arlia'Devi.