Author's Note: I do apologize again for the long wait. To those who wanted an M-rated chapter, I'm sorry to say I found myself unable to write one. I've never done so before and decided to write what flowed naturally, instead of forcing a detailed sex scene. I thank you all for your reviews and alerts, and ask that you continue to tell me what you think on the story thus far.
In the process of tugging a very willing Tony Stark to a considerably more comfortable area, Loki felt his legs hit the back of their destination, and being somewhat more than distracted, fell backward in a rare moment of clumsiness.
However, he had very little to carp about, as a certain self-admitted narcissistic CEO came tumbling atop him.
The cushiony softness of the bed acted as an equipoise to the weight of the solid body now covering his own, leaving Loki breathless in the way that had nothing to do with an outside constriction on his chest.
Maneuvering some so they both weren't half-way in and off the bed, Loki released Tony's tie, letting it hang loosely around his neck. For a moment, neither moved, Loki's eyes trailed over Tony's appearance, clothes still wet and clinging, shaping what lay beneath (though the God of Mischief was hardly unappreciative), hair damp and ever so slightly curling at the ends, releasing water droplets, and Tony's eyes- those eyes that stared at Loki, the windows which gave insight beyond feeble concealments, the defensive personas, those eyes that could be filled with mirth yet in a blink steel over in solemnity, those deep brown eyes that have experienced pain and the atrocities of his fellow man, but were still alight with morality.
The air in the room grew steadily warmer as Tony moved over Loki, resting his hands on either side of the man under him while Loki leaned back on his forearms, lifting his head upwards to meet Tony half-way so their lips could reacquaint themselves.
Stubble scratched at Loki's chin, a feeling he never thought would be so familiarly pleasing, as Tony's lips moved with his, applying sweet pressure which Loki couldn't help but return with growing vigor. A hand trailed up Loki's neck, leaving tingling sensations in its wake and stopped below his ear, letting a calloused thumb stroke along his cheek and fingers rest in his hair, bringing them closer together.
The kiss deepened, bringing a greater heat, eliciting sounds of content from both men, and Loki was finding his usual aloofness far more difficult to maintain, something Tony took great pride in exploiting when given the opportunity, as that nameless passion spread through his veins, burning all else away. It was unsurprising when the kiss no longer supplied sufficient contact and Loki moved to rectify this heinous error. Hooking both arms around Tony's neck, however, proved a bit much for the brunet as holding both himself and Loki up with one arm a few inches above the bed was decidedly more work than it was worth as Loki felt him give away and the two landed back on the on the comforter with 'oomph!'s and muffled chuckles.
The chill of Tony's cold damp shirt in contrast with the heat of the man's skin now pressed against his own reminded Loki that it would be favorable for wet clothing to be promptly and swiftly removed. So his fingers went about their task, primed with all the deftness Loki could gather while his mind was beginning to haze and body entirely too aware of every sensitivity, and began unbuttoning Tony's shirt.
It was during this fumbling that Loki became aware of how he loathed Midgardians and their want of buttons.
Really, all these circular fastenings adorning a shirt just to keep it closed.
It was ridiculous.
Then Tony had the audacity to sound amused with Loki's lack of success. Loki's eyes rose to meet Tony's face. He was looking very entertained and it was all Loki could do to raise a dark eyebrow challengingly in evident.
"It would do well to remind you Tony," said Loki, tracing a pale hand along his collar, movements sensual and voice low, "that I have no emotional attachments," his other hand joined the first, "nor merciful inclinations towards your clothes." And with that, he ripped open the obstinate garment, satisfied with every 'plunk' of soaring, unruly button against solid surface.
Casting an unconvincing pitying look for the reduction of Tony's wardrobe that gave away to a smirk, Loki gazed at Tony, whose features only took a moment to go from mildly surprised to predatory and descend upon his mouth in a ravenous attack while his own hands made similar work of Loki's own disheveled shirt.
Once his equally stubborn shirt was removed and cast out of sight, Tony returned to Loki's mouth, his tongue mapping familiar yet no less tantalizing territory. Loki let out a stifled moan and pulled away, answering his craving to touch, to taste, and caressed his lips along Tony's neck and down his solid chest, the soft illumination of the Arch reactor lighting his way.
With hands tracing over firm muscle, Loki began to take notice of the occasional scar he'd come across decorating Tony's body. Most were simply pale lines, injuries given the proper time and care, healed over long ago, while others looked harsher, more recent with jagged edges and red puckered flesh. Clearly, these were not all from Afghanistan, and it did leave Loki to wonder what position had Tony found himself in to receive such damages? One could only take their eccentrics so far.
But Loki's musings were immediately pushed aside to be re-evaluated later as Tony had apparently become impatient of Loki's casual exploration and dipped down to nip at Loki's pale neck. Sensitive too, it would seem, as his impulsive, pleasure-lined gasps and his arching into Tony gave the man all the agreement he required and continued his relentless ministrations.
It was no time at all until all other articles of clothing were removed when the need for skin to align with skin became too vast to deny any further, for body heat to be shared and to intimately know one another as completely as they could. Loki could not remember, in all his long, infinite life, ever being as free with anyone was he was with Tony. For such a private and physically distant person such as himself to not only willingly allow but want Tony to be close, to know what touches make his body react and what things to say to make him feel.
It was a frightening prospect, the desire to be with another, drawing arms against the knowledge of what can happen when someone is given your trust, free reign of your entire self. The threat of your faith being snapped by their own hands, left to shatter upon the ground in shards of irredeemable dearth was always a possibility.
It could break him. It could destroy him. Loki knew this. But when he looked into Tony's eyes and felt Tony's touches and heard Tony's voice the small part of him that hadn't been hardened into calloused spite by his fall from Asgard, the part he would have not so long ago claimed weak and inconsequential, screamed with an ache to try such a detrimental risk.
And Loki acquiesced.
The desire to be as close as their physical forms would allow went on into the remaining night until only names were spoken, falling from lips likes mantras, escaping on the barest breath. As passions raised and touches were not so much in wanting but needing, it was all too soon before both were spent.
All was quiet, save for rustling sheets and evening breaths, languid kisses and leisurely retreating caresses. The previous heat dissipating, Loki drew close to Tony as his mind and body requested sleep. And before the dark of his unconscious mind could fully embrace him, though Loki was unsure as to why, he was somewhat startled when Tony wrapped an arm over him and buried his face in the crook of Loki's neck, intending to hold onto him, to keep them connected during their awaiting slumber.
It touched him deeply, and Loki didn't know why. But a weight settled in his chest, somewhere around his heart, something so very light, yet ever-present, and with every breath he could feel Tony take expanse across his skin, the weight surged with something Loki was hesitant to vulgarize with words. It was a good feeling, if simply put, and it was of little concern for Loki to put his scrutiny away for the moment to relax in the presence of the man the trickster found himself slowly revealing more and more to for some cherished rest.
Pepper walked briskly up the paved path to Tony's front door. She'd had a good night's sleep, an excellent cup of coffee, and no traffic to drag down what was turning out to be a wonderful morning. For once, she wasn't rushing to Tony's to tell him stocks were on the fritz, or that new secretary had more blonde than brains and made a million-dollar filing error, or that Clint had stopped by to try the new explosive arrows, resulting in a hole the size of a Cadillac in the wall of a Stark Industries testing lab.
Nope. All Pepper needed from Tony was to look over and sign the month's financial expenditure allowance. It was hardly the insanity she had to man-handle on a daily basis.
So, with the ease of her morning and simplicity of her mission lending a bounce in her step, Pepper let herself in, as she always did, to her boss's house.
And it was also with her preferring to keep her good mood that Pepper dug her heel into the rising annoyance that greeted her the second she walked through the door.
Not only had Tony not locked his door (superhero or not, Tony didn't sleep in the Iron Man suit, and even his massive ego couldn't suppress a bullet from a couple of daring robbers), but the floor was soaking wet, something that came apparent very quickly when Pepper kept herself from a possible fractured skull by clinging onto a near-by bookshelf for dear life when her foot slid along the slippery ground, all posture forgone.
However, she was Pepper Potts, and composing herself took nothing more than a deep breath and a quick flip of hair over her shoulder. Stepping around the accident-waiting-to-happen, with stronger determination and a slight damper on her mood, Pepper continued her way to Tony's room.
The living room wasn't much better. Lucky for her, the floor was considerably less wet, though the soaked towel thrown over his leather couch wasn't met with a smile and his equally damp Valentino suit jacket gracing the glass coffee table was a little harder to ignore.
After traversing more water pools, a haphazardly dumped pair of shoes, and miscellaneous sock, Pepper wasn't quite in the high spirits she'd been before.
Narrowing her blue-grey eyes, the red-head trudged up the stairs; after all, that's where the puddles lead.
'Geeze Tony, you want a separate house from the Avengers mansion, that's fine, understandable, but would it kill you to take a mop to the floor so you don't leave giant pools of water-related insurance claims?'
In a swift set of actions, Pepper barged into Tony's room and was going to show no mercy to the still sleeping crime-fighter nestled in his covers. Walking over to the bed side and grabbing a fist full of blanket, Pepper yanked it off.
"Alright Tony, for the last time, I'm your assistant, not your housekeeper! Now ge- Oh my God!"
While Pepper had seen tufts of Tony's hair and half of his face peeking out from his comforter, she had failed to notice the not-quite-as-obvious other man hidden beneath the fluffy cover sharing Tony's bed.
Well, she could clearly see the both of them now.
Eyes snapping shut and left hand flying over them for good measure, Pepper was trying very hard to say something that wasn't ohmygodohmygodohmygod . . .
"Ah, good morning Ms. Potts."
"Hrmm, mornin' Pepper."
"Oh God, um . . .Tony, Mr. Rampet . . . I am so, so sorry, I, uh . . ." Pepper knew she had to be redder than a tomato by now, and who could blame her? She'd just walked in on her boss and his boyfriend, both naked.
"It's quite alright, Ms. Potts." Rampet sounded like he was trying not to laugh. Pepper wasn't sure if that was better than him being affronted.
Tony's voice rose up. "Ugh, speak for yourself, its early and cold." Pepper could hear rustling along with Tony's complaining and figured he was reclaiming his blanket, "And in case you didn't notice, some of us aren't in our Sunday best."
'Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. . .'
"Give us a minute, Ms. Potts, we shall be down momentarily."
If Pepper blushed any harder, her cheeks were going to catch fire, she was sure of it, and now that she was getting over the shock, decided she couldn't agree more that it was high-time to vacate the area.
"Look, uh, I'm going to go down stairs . . . and, yeah . . . leaving the room now." Eye lids still firmly glued together, Pepper made her way out of Tony's bedroom and didn't open them until her heels hit the tile of the kitchen.
Tony rubbed the sleep out of his eyes once Pepper blindly departed and looked over at Lawrence, unable to help his smile at the green-eyed man's appearance; perfectly kept hair now thoroughly tousled and a well-placed hickey at the juncture of his ivory neck that Tony was immensely proud of.
Lawrence returned Tony's stare and raise an eyebrow questioningly. "What?"
"Nothing. I just distinctly remember you telling me you're not a morning person. You should have a look that could turn people to stone after that lovely little awakening, courtesy of my now mortified personal assistant."
A smirk tugged at Lawrence's lips. "Hmm. Perhaps I merely had a good night?"
Tony groaned and leaned over; licking at those devious lips which yielded for a morning kiss and Tony saw no reason why they had to get up now. Staying in bed didn't seem so bad for another hour . . . or the rest of the day . . . or the foreseeable future.
But a firm hand against his chest checked him from getting too carried away. Tony pouted. He knew he did, he was man enough to admit it.
"As much as I would like to revive our endeavors of the previous night, you have a mentally stunned friend downstairs who ought not to be kept waiting."
Tony sighed. 'Curse Pepper and her impeccable timing.'
Lawrence stretch and got out of bed, something Tony was watching completely unabashed, then placed his thumb and forefinger to his chin in thought, eyes sliding back over to Tony. Damn, those things were dangerous.
"You know Tony, it occurs to me, that sharing a shower would reduce the time to take two separately, which would leave the single shower some additional time to be more . . . enjoyable."
Oh, how could Tony stay annoyed with Pepper when that was beckoning to him?
Reading somewhere that doing menial tasks calmed nerves, Pepper made coffee. Lots of it. And when five minutes passed with three pots of coffee ready to drink, Pepper decided to mop the floor, because she absolutely did not feel like tripping to her death via water puddle.
Finishing the floor, in a record one minute no less, Pepper sat back down at the kitchen bar and wrapped her hands around her first cup of coffee from the first batch, already cooling. She had thought about leaving. Just walking right out that door and to pretend like nothing happened tomorrow, Stark Industries wouldn't crumble to the ground if Tony didn't sign the financial allowance today.
But she couldn't. There was no way Pepper would be able to look Lawrence Rampet in the eye ever again if she left without really apologizing for . . . well, walking in on them.
It wasn't that she'd seen Tony naked. After working with the man for years and developing a close friendship it had become very obvious that the man has little to no sense of shame and Pepper had the "privilege" of seeing him in various states of undress and many times without, and while he didn't make a habit of it or anything, Pepper seeing her boss in his birthday suit had stopped being surprising a while back.
And in a weird way, it wasn't even that she'd seen Lawrence naked, though she definitely felt embarrassed and highly apologetic in doing so. Pepper had had the immense pleasure of escorting Tony's one night stands off the premises, sometimes on a bi-weekly schedule, often introducing herself while they were dressed only in the sheet they'd previously been sleeping on.
So, yeah. Strangers in various states of undress: only slightly more awkward to get accustomed to than Tony walking around without a thought for pants.
No, what Pepper really had a problem with, what she really felt the need to apologize for, was that she felt she'd elbowed in on something private, something intimate. She knew Lawrence was different for Tony, knew he meant something more than the late night shacking up. And the fact that Tony was actually taking advantage of a profounder relationship? It was something Pepper was sure she'd never see.
Tony deserved to be happy. He may be arrogant, rude, too sarcastic for his own good and not take all serious situations seriously, but he was a good man. Tony risked his life to protect people; he stood as a barrier between the bad guys and the whole of civilization, strong, but not invulnerable.
And if Tony wanted to take time for himself, to be something besides 'The Invincible Iron Man', to have lazy mornings lying in bed and quite dinners spent talking about the day with someone he cared about, then he should be allowed to, because he rarely did.
That was what Pepper was somewhat ashamed of, that Tony, just sleeping in with Lawrence, was that little something he was taking for himself, and she ruined it. The last thing Pepper wanted to do was disturb the little moments that Tony saw so few of, yet earned so much.
Footsteps coming down the stairs alerted Pepper to Lawrence and Tony's arrival. Pepper wondered if it was possible to hide in one's coffee mug, but thought better of it and took a sip, immediately regretting it. Pepper wasn't a fan plain black coffee, especially after it had gone cold.
Tony came into the kitchen first, wearing a loose sweater and sweat pants, looking like he's just stepped out of a shower, followed by Lawrence, who seemed to borrow some of Tony's sleeping clothes as he had on a pair of baggy draw-strings and a plain-T, looking like he'd too been present during Tony's shower.
"Why good morning Pepper! . . .Again." Tony had such a tickled grin on his face, Pepper just hummed into her flat coffee.
"Well I don't know about you all, but I'm feeling up to breakfast, omelets anyone?"
"I'm not all that hungry Tony." Pepper said as her boss ducked into the fridge to find omelet ingredients.
"You know Pepper, just seeing me entirely unclothed and then saying you aren't hungry leaves me to insinuate something that's making me feel rather self-conscious."
The red-head held back her remark. 'Don't forget, you feel bad that you messed up his morning . . .'
Luckily, Pepper didn't have to cling to her guilt as Lawrence fixed Tony with a look and the genius raised his hands in defense and shrugged. "Don't unleash the unimpressed eye; I'm just the guy making breakfast."
A smile pulled at the emerald-eyed man and he took a seat next to Pepper, looking very relaxed and very unlike the poised, intimidating business man she lead into her boss's office those few months back. Pepper couldn't help but noticed Lawrence smile fondly at Tony as he flitted around the kitchen, heating up a skillet and moving onto whisking a couple of eggs with some cheese in a bowl.
Catching onto her staring at his staring, Lawrence met her eyes and Pepper gathered up her courage, fighting back the embarrassment. 'Now is as good a time as any.'
"Mr. Rampet, I'm really, really sorry about this morning."
Lawrence chuckled and Pepper actually felt her inner tension lighten. "It's quite alight, Ms. Potts. I believe from your . . . shocked expression that you were completely unaware that I was sharing Tony's company, and did not intend to see us so . . . freely." Tony coughed, a poor cover-up of a laugh, and started to whistle. "But I must ask, given the circumstances, that you call me Lawrence, as we were well past formalities twenty minutes ago."
Pepper colored but returned Lawrence's smile nonetheless. "Thanks, just as long as you call me Pepper."
"Noted." And they actually shook on it.
"Awww, aren't you two adorable?"
"Aren't you supposed to be flipping eggs, Tony?"
"Hey, I'm not the one that needed to apologize for getting an eye-full of naked."
Pepper glared. "Couldn't you have just left a sock on your door handle or something, you know, that thing all the other people with an immature college mentality do?"
"If you've kept up with the times Pepper, you'd have heard there's this new trend going around called knocking. One of its many uses is to check if someone's decent before bursting into their room."
Lawrence then gracefully stood up and cleared his throat.
"I'm afraid I'm not one for coffee. Tony, do you have any tea?" Tony pointed to a cabinet on his left and Lawrence turned back to Pepper and winked, who was grateful for his deflection of a brewing come-back war.
The pale man walked over to the stove after filling up a kettle and setting the water to boil before retrieving the tea.
"Would you like any, Pepper? Tony?"
Pepper shook her head and lifted up her coffee mug. Tony scoffed, "If I wanted to willingly drink tea, my forefathers wouldn't have pitched hundreds of gallons off a boat; I'm hardly going to accept the stuff now."
It was spoken with jest, Tony not even bothering to keep the smile off his face and Lawrence rolled his eyes and grabbed a cup. Then, almost coyly, he leaned over to meet Tony in a kiss, which Tony readily returned.
It was a sweet, soft moment, and Pepper suddenly felt a giddy happiness fill her at the domestic scene. Lawrence and Tony moving around each other to brew tea and finish breakfast, lending small, natural touches and quite murmuring to each other, asking simple things like, "do you want ham in your omelet?" and "can you pass me a mixing spoon?"
Pepper figured her presence was completely forgotten, if only for this small while, and found she couldn't have cared less. To see Tony in a setting so care-free, so plainly happy, it almost annoyed Pepper that she hadn't seen this change in Tony sooner. His smiles were more honest, his biting retorts spoken less, his impatience to be done with Avengers work because he had someone, in a sense, to return to. Tony looked like the weight of the world that had been set upon his shoulders lessened, and Pepper knew without doubt that Lawrence Rampet was to thank for this.
Lawrence was good for Tony. He was just as sharp, just as intelligent, seemed to share a similar sense of humor (though that bit did make Pepper wary), and unmistakably cared for Tony deeply. And while she couldn't say for sure, Tony seemed to be just as good for Lawrence. So Pepper sat there, watching as Tony rested his chin on Lawrence's shoulder and enfolded his arms around his waist as Lawrence stirred honey into his tea, leaning slight into Tony's gentle embrace, and oddly enough the coffee she was sipping on with a smile on her lips while bearing witness to these two men didn't taste nearly as bad as it had earlier.
