DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN the Ironman or any of its characters and I do not make any profit off of this. This is only for my pure enjoyment and those who wish to read.
CLAIMER: I OWN my original character Mikhail Alexander.
WARNING: This is a MALE X MALE / SLASH fan-fiction. If you DO NOT like same-sex relationships, then this story may not be for you. Slight AU!
BETA READER: There is no beta reader for this fan-fiction, so there will be mistakes that I have missed.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Don't read too much into the ending. We all know about Tony's playboy ways and how they get him into trouble. I may do a second part to this…maybe. Anyways, enjoy.
.:oOo:.
Who is to say what originally caught Tony Stark's attention in the dimly lit, overly packed hotel bar filled with people flocking from multiple conventions being held in the same building? It could have been the plain white button up shirt with its sleeves rolled up, or the exposed toned forearms lined in intricate dark ink. It could have been the porcelain mug holding piping hot coffee being raised to a pair of lips moving in silent reading, or the weathered paperback novel held by slightly calloused fingers.
"Hi, I'm Tony," Tony greeted with a flirtatious smirk while slipping gracefully onto the open stool next to the delectable specimen that had caught the billionaire's attention upon entering the room and motioned for the bartender to pour him a glass of bourbon.
Tony's fingers twitched. Short locks of umber were slightly tousled from fingers running through and Tony wanted nothing more than to run his own fingers through those short locks to verify if they were as soft as they appeared. Lapis blue orbs glanced up from reading to focus on dark mochas and Tony felt his breath hitch at the brilliant hue seemingly enhanced by a pair of thick framed reading glasses.
"Mikhail," The brunette stated and Tony would have missed the smooth tenor if he was not so focused on the man.
Tony's smirk widened and caught the title of the novel Mikhail had been reading.
"Stephen King's Misery?" Tony questioned, his brows rising. "You're not planning on going Annie Wilkes on me are you?"
The corner of Mikhail's mouth twitched upwards and the brunette closed his novel completely.
"If I were going to hobble you, Mr. Stark, I wouldn't use an axe to do so," Mikhail murmured just loud enough for Tony to hear.
Tony exhaled a breathy chuckle and tossed back the rest of his bourbon.
"Promises, promises."
.:oOo:.
Tony's groan was swallowed by a heated kiss as his back met the hard surface of his hotel door, the handle digging into his hip as he fought with the key card. Calloused hands slipped down the raven's waist before tugging Tony's burgundy dress shirt free of dark slacks. Tony's fingers fumbled with the key card, almost dropping it in the process of turned around in Mikhail's hold. The slightly taller male's mouth latched onto the side of Tony's neck and the billionaire moaned, his back arching against Mikhail's chest. The hotel door beeped as the light turned green from red and the two men tumbled inside.
"Come here," Mikhail voiced huskily, yanking Tony close by the front of his shirt before practically ripping the burgundy fabric off.
Tony laughed, his mocha orbs filled with amusement as he mirrored Mikhail's action without hesitation. The brunette's torn white button up shirt joined Tony's on the hotel room floor. Their slacks were quick to follow.
"That could have been my only shirt," Tony teased, before leaning up and slanting his mouth over Mikhail's.
Mikhail started to walk them backwards in the direction of the bedroom only for Tony to jerk them around and push the brunette onto the white leather sofa, before straddling his lap. Slipping his fingers into Mikhail's umber locks, Tony grinned.
"Really is as soft as it looks," Tony stated and Mikhail nipped the raven's collarbone in response.
Cupping Tony's hips, Mikhail pulled the raven down while rocking forward. Tony's head tilted back with a moan. Lifting heavy lids, Tony's mocha orbs locked onto darkening lapis blues. Tony's heart beat sped up to near racing at the visible lust swimming in Mikhail's deep pools. Tony felt himself slipping and for a moment, the raven was unsure if it was physically or metaphorically. Mikhail moved and Tony went with him.
.:oOo:.
Sunlight poured in through the open curtains, beaming right over Tony's face. The raven groaned, inwardly cursing the person who opened the blasted drapes. Rolling over, Tony winced at the dull throb in his lower back and blinked sleep-filled mocha orbs. Memories of last night made themselves aware as much as the pleasant ache of his body. The space beside him was empty, the temperature of the sheets cool to the touch. Tony frowned at his missing partner. He was usually the one to dine and dash, his partners usually having to be shown the way out by his assistant. It felt strange being the one to wake up alone.
"I don't like it," Tony murmured, carefully sitting up just as his bedroom door opened to emit Pepper Potts carrying a clear suit for him.
She paused at the sight of him and Tony realized that he was still frowning.
"Tony?" Pepper voiced, unsure of what she should ask in regards to her boss.
"Pep…did you happen to see anyone leave?" Tony questioned and the redhead shook her head 'no'. "Huh."
"Oh, I know that look and don't you dare—."
"JARVIS, get me the name of my guest last night and his contact information," Tony ordered his A.I., his mood suddenly flipping as he allowed his happiness to show.
Pepper rolled her eyes as her boss hopped out of bed and began getting dressed, disregarding her being witness to his nudity. JARVIS must to have found whoever Tony was searching for as the raven paused mid-way in buttoning his shirt, his frown reappearing.
"A journalist?" Tony whispered and Pepper felt dread crawl down her spine.
"Tony, what did you do? Who did you do?" Pepper asked, thinking of the PR nightmare that may be happening in the very near future.
Tony swallowed.
"Do you happen to know a Mikhail Alexander?" Tony asked and the redhead gapped.
"ANTHONY EDWARD STARK!" Pepper screamed, her well manicured hands digging into her neatly styled bun and practically destroying the up-do.