Title: Art Appreciation
Author: A.j.
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Iron Man, movie-verse.
Notes: This has no redeeming value what so ever. Enjoy!
Summary: Tony Stark likes women.
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Tony likes women.
He likes how they smell and taste and feel. All those curves and all that skin spread out before him like a unique work of art.
He's had a lot of experience in art appreciation.
It's something he's grateful for; both for the initial experience and because, right at this moment, he knows exactly what to do. And he knows that if he were any less experienced or just a little bit more excited, he'd have already made a complete idiot out of himself already. Probably twice.
Below him, sprawled across his bed like some kind of modern day offering to the gods - and yes, sometimes he is that narcissistic - is Pepper Potts. Her skin is flushed and eyes hazy. She's naked, framed in the tousled red sheets and red hair and looks like she's been ridden hard and long. She lies where she's fallen, he thinks, and that thought tightens the muscles of his back with pride and lust and a hundred other things he can't quite name yet.
He can't help but smile at the picture she presents. Debauchery at its finest; control made chaos.
He shifts down, pulling out of her. Everything male in him tingles at the way she whimpers. It might be soreness - they had been pretty athletic - or loss, but the result is the same, and he wants her again.
But he's not eighteen anymore and something he learned along the way in all those 'art appreciation' lessons is that women needed time to recover too. Friction and heat and sensitive nerves eventually equate to boundaries that even his impatience can't crack, and Pepper hit hers two minutes ago. It had been glorious to watch.
He feels his lips curl up as he runs his hands over her sides and the slopes of her thighs. He plants his hands on either side of her hips and sliding himself down the length of her, letting the edges of his arc reactor graze and vibrate on the fine, invisible hairs that cover her torso. She shivers and drags a hand across her neck and down her collarbone, across her stomach and up into his hair. He lets her tilt his head back and up so that their eyes meet across the still-pebbled tips of her breasts.
"Hi," she whispers, her expression relaxed and blissful.
"Hi," he says and lowers his chin until it rests, lightly, on her still-quivering belly. "How are you?"
She hums, laughing a little at the ceiling, and keeps running her fingers through his hair. Her nails are short, but firm, and she scratches his scalp lightly. The sensation runs glorious pin-pricks down his spine and the skin of his face.
"Pretty damn good." She licks her lips and closes her eyes before nuzzling her head back against the impromptu pillow made by the bunching of the sheets. The pillow he'd shoved under her hips earlier is still where he put it, but he makes no move to shift it. He likes that he can rest against her lower body and long down on her face. That he doesn't have to strain his neck.
Maybe it's sexist and cave-man of him, but whatever. Everyone always tells him he's an asshole anyway.
"How are you?" She finishes, wiggling her hips and belly just a little against his weight.
"Oh, I'm more than okay." He strokes the skin he can reach, pushing down a little on her belly as a warning not to move. She complies, but lets him go to stretch her arms above her head, arching her spine and breasts in the most distracting of ways.
"Yes," he rumbles in response. "Definitely more than okay."
Her eyes and smile are wicked in the soft light of the bedroom. "Glad I could... be of service, Mr. Stark."
His favorite part of Pepper, the bit of skin that brings him back time and again, is the join of her thigh to her pelvis, just below her left hip. The strip of softness that starts just above the light stubble of her pubic hair and ends before the elliptical curve that indicates bone.
It's here that he nips her in retaliation. Her laugh, because that reaction is instantaneous, levels out into a low moan as he does it again.
"Should I tattoo your name there, Tony?"
He grins up at her, licks the light red mark left by his nip just before kissing and sucking it into a bruise. Listens to her breath catch then speed, watches as the skin across her breasts and face flushes again, and goddamn this woman has an amazing recovery time. His smile is predatory and sure. It's one that Pepper has admitted drives her absolutely insane.
"You look like Lucifer when you smile like that." She'd said, weeks ago. She'd been naked then too, spread across his chest, his fingers skimming the dip of her spine and the upper curves of her ass.
"No," he says now, slowly skimming his beard across her hip and down to her thigh, just to watch her shudder. "I like my mark better."
He can feel the muscles of her stomach twitch and flex under his chin and hands, her moan is low and needy in the best of ways. She's beautiful like this. Her hair unbound and spread across his bed, so far gone on him, on this, that he's pretty sure she doesn't know she's playing with her own nipples.
Sex with Pepper has been a revelation from the very first day; one he's kicking himself for not having sooner.
"Your mark is temporary," her voice is rough and smoky, like a bottle of Glenfiddich.
"That just means I have to go back and do it again." He edges her legs wider with his shoulders, adjusts the pillow to tilt her hips just a bit more and spreads her out like a meal. And it might be too fucking soon for him to be hard, but he knows that before the night's out, he's going to be inside her again. But first...
"Fuck, Tony." Pepper stretches her back, tries and fails to get her elbows underneath her before giving up. Giving in.
"Not yet," he rumbles, all the while spreading her open with his fingers. Staring at her sex and just breathing on her. "Soon."
Oh, yes. Tony Stark likes women. Especially the way they taste.
-fin-