Author's Note: back by popular demand. ;) You guys are all amazing. Picks up shortly before the last one ended. 4persephone doing Tony's POVs, me doing Pepper's.


"My worst idea was sending you to Stark Industries to find information on Obadiah instead of pulling you over the desk and into my lap so I could find out how very hot you are here."

His lips against her earlobe are enough to make her moan, though she buries her head in his shoulder in an obvious attempt to hide it. He's still got his knee between her thighs and up against the heat that's between them, and it's a good thing he's got his hands linked around the small of her back since he can feel the wobble in her knees.

In his arms Pepper is fragmenting, or maybe coming back together. He can't quite bring himself to care which of them it is beyond this moment and the taste of her skin. She smells like citrus and hunger, and it's almost left him crazy.

This is it, and he knows it beyond hesitation. She is already crazy herself, judging by the way she's literally trying to crawl into his skin. This is going to happen and he knows it in his gut and other organs that are far less polite to mention. When he took her ear in his mouth, her hands clenched and her toes curled. There's no mistaking the way she's unconsciously pushing her pelvis against his thigh in a desperate rocking motion...

He needs to get them off the dance floor and somewhere more private before they either end up in the tabloids or get arrested for public indecency.

"Damn it." She hisses again even as he pulls her closer. Her tone is a velvet drenched growl that makes his spine tingle and his pants push at seams that are already overstressed. His hips are pressed up against hers in a manner that's no longer even remotely subtle: hard-ons tend to be unmistakable.

It takes all the focus that he has back them off of the dance floor. He's headed toward the corner bathroom and the small space beside it that is their only current option. Yes, he'd prefer the front door, but the crowd's just too tightly packed, and at least behind the stairs there's some illusion of privacy.

Pepper is moving with him, by necessity if not design. She's still plastered to his front and her hands are fisted in his shirt, though her eyes are closed and he doubts she's aware she's moving with him. Regrettably her mind is finally starting to process, and the undesirable outcome is going to be a long string of words.

"Tony what are you… -shudder-" They're almost there. He bends and swallows her lips out of sheer desperation. He needs to shut her up or this is not going to happen.

He's made an executive decision. He's the boss for a change. In this case that means he's going to kiss her, and she's going to let him. Somewhere along the way Pepper Potts just stopped trusting both her instincts and her body. He's going to re-teach her both skills.

She wants this and he knows it; the hurt of denial is pouring off her in waves. There's a fear in her so strong that that it's eating her alive, and by damn he's going to excise it.

This avoidance is turning her into a person that neither of them recognize – who she'll loathe in the morning. He. Will. Not. Let. This. Happen.

So he half dances and half pushes her all the way to the corner. His hands haven't left her back and hers have unconsciously clasped his ass - they're both unsteady. His lips leave her mouth and his tongue snakes wetly down the side of her neck, along the skin below her ear. Her groan this time isn't muffled, though it is covered by the band. She's lost again in the heat of skin and tongue and he gives no retreat.

Not that she's asking for retreat. Not at all. It's not his tongue that's currently down her throat.

Three seconds later they impact the wall with a muffled thud. She breaks the kiss and moans into the small space where they're hiding as she speaks through clenched teeth. Her hands slide up his back, and then one cups behind his head. "Oh God what we are doing…Damnit, what are we doing?!"

It's the same old question – which he doesn't bother to answer. He's got his hand up her skirt and her skin is like liquid silk beneath the fabric as he lets his touch do the talking. He grins into her neck as his hands find molten heat. "If I have to explain it to you, Potts, it's obvious we should have been doing it sooner."

She's not wearing underwear – not exactly a shock considering the dress. Still he can feel the edge of her garters, and slickness immediately above where it's coated her thighs. She squirms at the contact as he ghosts up to her center, and bites her lip as his fingers tease the red nest at the junction.

Her hands come up to fist in his hair and pull his head back. He thinks at first she's going to kiss him, but she's only locking his eyes.

"We can't…" she almost wails.

"LIKE HELL." And he buries two fingers deep in her body.

The result is immediate, ferocious and powerful. Her head snaps back to connect with the wall as she convulses her whole body. He pushes his own neck forward and takes her lips in his own again, and the action covers her startled yelp even as his thumb moves and mercilessly finds a rhythm atop her clit.

Her pelvis jerks, her eyes roll back and it's all over. The shockwave rolls through her body and her knees all but buckle till he's holding her upright. He should back off and let her recover, but he's never been reasonable. Instead he keeps her there on the edge until the second wave of tremors hit her again, and they both sink to the ground.

"I can't believe you just did that." She finally murmurs. She's squashed between him and the wall like a rag doll, but she's at least not trying to run. He can still feel her muscles rippling around his fingers occasionally.

He waits until it stops completely, and drags them out slowly. The smell on his fingers is pungent, and he inhales it deeply. "Yeah, well you gave me no choice, Pepper. I mean honestly… 'I may not be going home…?' Your choice here is me, me or me."

"Nine to five," she mutters, ignoring the fact that this is the second time he's implied he knew she'd gone out looking for sex. Falling into their verbal routine is the easiest way to give her the time she needs to think. As long as her mouth is moving he won't realize how fast her brain is processing, searching for a way - any way - out of this. "You are allowed to give choices between nine and five. And don't tell me that nine pm to five am counts."

He shakes his head. "If that were true you wouldn't even be here. This dress is about your inability to leave your work at the door, not my alleged misbehavior. I'm here and this is real and you're still trying to shove us into a box so you can what, organize my filing cabinet?" He doesn't hide his snort of disgust.

"You're my boss. Taking care of you is my job. A job I am compensated for, I might add."

"Pepper there is not enough money in the world to compensate for working for a self-absorbed arrogant asshole, which we both know I can be. Come up with a better argument. I know that's not why you're still working for me."

She scowls. "Yes. It is. Because you made certain no one else would hire me if I left your employ without your permission."

"Unashamedly. But what's to stop you from taking the several hundred thousand dollars currently sitting in your savings account to start your own business? You'd be good at it. Hell you'd love it. Better hours, better coffee, and no asshole's dry cleaning to pick up. So why haven't you?"

This was so surreal. They are in the grimy back hallway of a downtown club, she's still holding onto him like she's surgically attached, his hand is still between her legs cupping her, and they're arguing about why she puts up with him. This should be sexual harassment territory. This should be a lawsuit in the making – doesn't the idiot understand that's half the reason she's always held back? – and if he hadn't just made her come harder than she'd made herself come in all her months of thinking about him she would be out of here right now.

That's enough for her to be shoving his hand away, for her to force him to take at least one step back so that she can breathe without touching him.

But not so far away that she can easily meet his eyes. Better to stare at his shoulders as she says in her coolest voice, "Mr. Stark, this is ridiculous. You're being ridiculous."

"No," His voice replies. "I'm being a hyperactive, self-centered, arrogant spoiled brat. You on the other hand are being an anal retentive, overly self-conscious, passive-aggressive little shit."

"Fuck you." Only his words registered, not the tone he's said them in. He hadn't been accusing, hadn't even really been angry. Just frustrated…and maybe just a little mad.

"That, Ms Potts, is the plan. Or it would be if you'd quit bitching and get with the program."

His words pushed her past her ability to think clearly. In the tight space she can't work up much momentum, but she still slaps him as hard as she can. It makes her palm hurt, it makes her hurt because she's so damned confused and it feels like he's being flippant and turning her – turning them – into a caricature of what they are.

She would slap him again, she's so out of control, but apparently once is all he's willing to allow. He catches her hand in his and holds it. That's the only way to describe it. He's not hurting her, but there's no way in hell that she's getting her hand back until he decides to let her.

"I know, I know. You're scared. You think I'm not? Big clue for you here, Pepper, this whole grown up, self enlightened, 'make a man of yourself' thing? It's hard as shit. Despite that you do what you've got to. You're fucking scared. I got that. I did my best and I gave you time to deal with it. Deal with it being the key words here."

"Screw this," she mutters under her breath before she grabs his face and thrusts her tongue into his still open mouth. She's so damned tired of all the fighting. She can't fight herself and him anymore, not if she wants to keep her sanity. "You've got six hours Stark, and then it's done, you hear me? You've got till dawn, and then I'm through with you."