Porn Battle Xplay: Monster and Synergy
Title: Monsters and Synergy
Fandom:Iron Man
Rating-Pairing: NC-17, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark/ Jim Rhodes
Prompt-Notes: Oneshot written for Cerebel's Porn Battle, under the prompts of 'selfish' and 'loving two people at once'. Written from Pepper's perspective. Proofread, but unbeta'd.
She catches them in the act a lot.
A few days ago, she'd walked in on them fucking near the couch in his workshop. It was too much, and she'd stood there enraptured watching, hoping desperately they simply couldn't see her. There was something competitive to the way Rhodey was holding Tony down, delivering short and even strokes, practicing patience, that world renowned control. Tony's eyes were screwed closed, his teeth bared, hands gripping at Jim's threadbare and tight t-shirt like he'd been made to take the torture, wanted more contact before it became too much. Jim's hand is planted square on Tony's chest, palm eclipsing the reactor. The two of them look strung out, almost beyond reproach.
She could hear them talking in a language she won't ever be able to decipher, strained shorthand phrases gritted out in a thick, sweat-soaked moment. This is the third time she's caught them in almost a week, and she swears the next time Tony asks her to make a run for more condoms, she's getting him a sponsorship deal with Durex. This, however, is no harlequin suite of intimacy, it's simply another spar, good natured rough-housing between them after their suits had been thrown off to the side. The fact that an orgasm came out if it, she supposed, was simply to be a bonus.
Without warning, they'd rolled into another position like quicksilver, Jim's hands melting into the cut of Tony's hips. Tony had simply let his whole body fall open, his head eased back, his legs twisted onto the floor. He snaps forward, presses his lips to Jim's, and she can see his tongue prying Rhodey's lips apart, biting at him fondly before pulling away, voicing how good this feels in whines and moans. Pepper wished they could freeze that way, strained muscle and exerted skin, a work of art. Tony grasped Rhodey's ankles-- their bodies contorting in ways that should be gruesome-- and used the extra leverage to roll his hips up and down, Rhodey's whole length disappearing like a magic trick. Jim holds him, makes sure to make the body atop him writhe with frustration, and wrings him dry. Tony makes a sound like someone's trying to rip his heart out, holding his breath and painting both of them with come.
It's fucking filthy, makes her warm. Watching the two of them crumple, still connected on the floor, Pepper thinks of how selfish she must be, reveling in private moments between friends, partners, brothers in arms. The itch to touch anything no matter what it is becomes great, and she turns away and out of sight, trying to catch her breath and gather herself, trying not to think about two of her good friends and colleagues, as bodies in pornographic detail, muscles and skin and open mouths that scream. She knows them, the balance between them, attends to it regularly enough to know how wrong it must be to spy. Jealousy crawls up her spine, wraps around her neck and makes it hard to breathe. She wants to be that, wants that appreciation, that friendship. Hell, if she's honest with herself, she wants Tony's fingers in her hair, Jim's lips on hers, she wants to be stretched out thin in positions that strain and stretch and leave her sore. She wants that, she wants them.
They don't fuck sweet and slow, and there's no room for romance in this play; they do it like it'll ease tension between them. They do it like it will restore them, tip the scales of power back to a balance, whatever that means.
It makes her wonder if the reason why Tony always acts like a brat around Rhodey is simply because that he likes the retribution. It makes her think about how the power structure would change if she joined in. She wonders if the art, the wonder, would be different if she were included, and wonders how many things her softness would ruin.
She walks into her office and stops still. It's not even noon and she's got Tony looking at her, pressed against the wall in impeccable suit and tie, Rhodey sucking Tony's cock. She'd come here for respite, some sort of relief from the vision of the two of them stuck in her head and instead, she thinks, they've been so courteous as to give her a front row seat. Tony blinks, his chest heaving as crooks a finger at her without saying a word. She walls over on shaky, unsure legs, biting at her lip nervously.
"Wh..." She starts but shuts up, tries to catch her breath. "What is it, Tony?"
"Look at him, Potts," He orders, directing his eyes down. She follows, knows what they're showing her.
She darts her eyes to Rhodey's, sees his loving amusement directed her, like he wants to wave if he'd be sure it didn't wreck the mood. She smiles, watches the demand of his lips, hand curling down to caress at his full cheek, and relaxes when he gently leans back.
"God, Pepper," Tony continues, "We've been trying to impress you for weeks, now. You think that we didn't know, that we didn't want--"
"Well, you did seem rather self-absorbed at the time." She rambles.
He grabs at the back of Rhodey's head with an airy and surprised grunt, and she wonders giddily what Rhodes' mouth feels like, "You think we're this insatiable all the time?"
If Tony weren't thrusting into Rhodey's mouth the way he is, she'd actually believe him.
Rhodey eventually reaches for her leg, caressing tentatively at her calf as if asking for permission. He traces the curve, lets his hand travel into the ankle, down to the slender point of her heel, before sliding back up, fingers caressing at the back of her knee. She bites her lip and likes that. She wonders about how he's still a gentleman even with his mouth full, and spreads her legs a little wider, lets him slip his hand under her skirt. It crawls up her thigh in little mind numbing circles, reaching ever closer to the place she wants him, teasing before meeting the edge of her panties.
"She's wet, Tony," Rhodey confides before sinking back down around him.
"She is, huh?" Tony asks, looking over at her. "Good to know this is having some kind of effect on her."
"This would have some kind of effect on anything with a pulse, Tony." She insists.
She moans as Jim's hand cups at her, the heel of his palm mashing into her clit. She watches as he brings Tony off without blinking an eye, backing away. Tony's already packing himself back into his suit, watching as Rhodey licks his lips and clears his throat.
Rhodey whispers, his voice lilting. "Can I, Pepper?"
She can hear his hunger.
She can't trust her voice, just nods and languishes into the wall as he slides closer to her, hands carefully unzipping and peeling away her skirt until it's pooled around her heels. She steps out of it, kicks it away, the tails of her blouse only barely covering the silk of her panties. She spreads to make place for him, and gasps when she feels the outline of his lips press against her through silk. She presses into the wall, watching him. He's tentative, his breath gusting warm against her, enough to make her squirm and consider if asking for more is begging or just showing initiative.
Tony's far rougher as he breaks her from her thoughts, leaning in and pressing his lips to her own as if he's had this power the whole time he's known her. She falls into the kiss as Rhodey shimmies her panties down her legs, letting her feel cool air before the eclipsing warmth of his mouth. Tony presses her arms against the wall, hands at her wrists, just forceful enough to make her aware of how unromantic (how hot, something in the back of her head supplies) this whole thing is.
She falls into their touch after that, pressing into Tony's chest, sighing as Tony gloats with his whole body. She doesn't want to resist, or submit, or anything that could add to his gunbelt, but she melts into them, closes her eyes and thinks of how amazing it is to fall into this trap, the victim of a monster with two mouths eating at her like it wants to get to the bottom, wants to pick their teeth with her bones.
She moans into Tony's mouth, squirms against Rhodey, hooking a leg over shoulder and hip at the same time in a sign of welcome, feeling her grip on control slipping away. Her vision whites out, muscles shaking both inside and out, three of Rhodey's fingers slipped into her and pressed into the place that makes her see stars as Tony's tongue licks at the back of her teeth. The feeling is illicit, addictive, maddening.
They spread her out against the bed, stripping her from her blouse and bra and heels like open heart surgery, chiffon and lace pooling against the cool tile of the floor. She realizes, fleetingly, that she should be taking a more active part in this but their attentions simply make it hard to do anything but lay back and let them explore, their communication sharing all her secrets, taking methodical turns at dragging her to the edge and letting her hang over it, one after the other. They open her up with knowledgeable fingers and tongues, have her crying out for it until they can take her at the same time, and she lets them, wants them devouring her, falling into her no matter how cheesy it is.
All the things she wondered about, like how they wouldn't be the same around her, become irrelevant in their worship. They want to know every curve, drive her insane with the feeling like she's got catch-up work to do before she can play this game, too. Maybe she does, she's not even sure, but when she opens her mouth to speak, someone's always there, ready to kiss her, to steal her air, to pull at her and leave her moaning. There's always that harmony, that synergy all being directed at her in all its intensity and clearheaded need.
They're all around her, sweeping muscle and size fitting into the spaces that make her like them, all angles and contortions in the juxtaposition of skin against skin. She becomes dizzy with it, thinking of how they treat her like each other, constantly communicating until she's learned what they're saying, can tell them to press there or thrust here, go harder or softer and they'll listen in ways nobody ever has. They know what she wants before she does.
She's filled to the brim, the three of them rubbing against each other, fingers laced like chain at her waist. There are lips pressed into the curves of her neck, her collarbone, her chin. If she focuses, narrows what she's paying attention to, she can tell who's where, if it's Rhodey's hands, or Tony's lips. She breathes them in, leaning between broad chests as she relishes the feeling.
Their fingers meet at her clit. She screams as she comes. She breaks into pieces, shaking, clinging and clenching in the afterglow.
She knows they'll care enough to piece her back together, after.
Fandom:Iron Man
Rating-Pairing: NC-17, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark/ Jim Rhodes
Prompt-Notes: Oneshot written for Cerebel's Porn Battle, under the prompts of 'selfish' and 'loving two people at once'. Written from Pepper's perspective. Proofread, but unbeta'd.
She catches them in the act a lot.
A few days ago, she'd walked in on them fucking near the couch in his workshop. It was too much, and she'd stood there enraptured watching, hoping desperately they simply couldn't see her. There was something competitive to the way Rhodey was holding Tony down, delivering short and even strokes, practicing patience, that world renowned control. Tony's eyes were screwed closed, his teeth bared, hands gripping at Jim's threadbare and tight t-shirt like he'd been made to take the torture, wanted more contact before it became too much. Jim's hand is planted square on Tony's chest, palm eclipsing the reactor. The two of them look strung out, almost beyond reproach.
She could hear them talking in a language she won't ever be able to decipher, strained shorthand phrases gritted out in a thick, sweat-soaked moment. This is the third time she's caught them in almost a week, and she swears the next time Tony asks her to make a run for more condoms, she's getting him a sponsorship deal with Durex. This, however, is no harlequin suite of intimacy, it's simply another spar, good natured rough-housing between them after their suits had been thrown off to the side. The fact that an orgasm came out if it, she supposed, was simply to be a bonus.
Without warning, they'd rolled into another position like quicksilver, Jim's hands melting into the cut of Tony's hips. Tony had simply let his whole body fall open, his head eased back, his legs twisted onto the floor. He snaps forward, presses his lips to Jim's, and she can see his tongue prying Rhodey's lips apart, biting at him fondly before pulling away, voicing how good this feels in whines and moans. Pepper wished they could freeze that way, strained muscle and exerted skin, a work of art. Tony grasped Rhodey's ankles-- their bodies contorting in ways that should be gruesome-- and used the extra leverage to roll his hips up and down, Rhodey's whole length disappearing like a magic trick. Jim holds him, makes sure to make the body atop him writhe with frustration, and wrings him dry. Tony makes a sound like someone's trying to rip his heart out, holding his breath and painting both of them with come.
It's fucking filthy, makes her warm. Watching the two of them crumple, still connected on the floor, Pepper thinks of how selfish she must be, reveling in private moments between friends, partners, brothers in arms. The itch to touch anything no matter what it is becomes great, and she turns away and out of sight, trying to catch her breath and gather herself, trying not to think about two of her good friends and colleagues, as bodies in pornographic detail, muscles and skin and open mouths that scream. She knows them, the balance between them, attends to it regularly enough to know how wrong it must be to spy. Jealousy crawls up her spine, wraps around her neck and makes it hard to breathe. She wants to be that, wants that appreciation, that friendship. Hell, if she's honest with herself, she wants Tony's fingers in her hair, Jim's lips on hers, she wants to be stretched out thin in positions that strain and stretch and leave her sore. She wants that, she wants them.
They don't fuck sweet and slow, and there's no room for romance in this play; they do it like it'll ease tension between them. They do it like it will restore them, tip the scales of power back to a balance, whatever that means.
It makes her wonder if the reason why Tony always acts like a brat around Rhodey is simply because that he likes the retribution. It makes her think about how the power structure would change if she joined in. She wonders if the art, the wonder, would be different if she were included, and wonders how many things her softness would ruin.
She walks into her office and stops still. It's not even noon and she's got Tony looking at her, pressed against the wall in impeccable suit and tie, Rhodey sucking Tony's cock. She'd come here for respite, some sort of relief from the vision of the two of them stuck in her head and instead, she thinks, they've been so courteous as to give her a front row seat. Tony blinks, his chest heaving as crooks a finger at her without saying a word. She walls over on shaky, unsure legs, biting at her lip nervously.
"Wh..." She starts but shuts up, tries to catch her breath. "What is it, Tony?"
"Look at him, Potts," He orders, directing his eyes down. She follows, knows what they're showing her.
She darts her eyes to Rhodey's, sees his loving amusement directed her, like he wants to wave if he'd be sure it didn't wreck the mood. She smiles, watches the demand of his lips, hand curling down to caress at his full cheek, and relaxes when he gently leans back.
"God, Pepper," Tony continues, "We've been trying to impress you for weeks, now. You think that we didn't know, that we didn't want--"
"Well, you did seem rather self-absorbed at the time." She rambles.
He grabs at the back of Rhodey's head with an airy and surprised grunt, and she wonders giddily what Rhodes' mouth feels like, "You think we're this insatiable all the time?"
If Tony weren't thrusting into Rhodey's mouth the way he is, she'd actually believe him.
Rhodey eventually reaches for her leg, caressing tentatively at her calf as if asking for permission. He traces the curve, lets his hand travel into the ankle, down to the slender point of her heel, before sliding back up, fingers caressing at the back of her knee. She bites her lip and likes that. She wonders about how he's still a gentleman even with his mouth full, and spreads her legs a little wider, lets him slip his hand under her skirt. It crawls up her thigh in little mind numbing circles, reaching ever closer to the place she wants him, teasing before meeting the edge of her panties.
"She's wet, Tony," Rhodey confides before sinking back down around him.
"She is, huh?" Tony asks, looking over at her. "Good to know this is having some kind of effect on her."
"This would have some kind of effect on anything with a pulse, Tony." She insists.
She moans as Jim's hand cups at her, the heel of his palm mashing into her clit. She watches as he brings Tony off without blinking an eye, backing away. Tony's already packing himself back into his suit, watching as Rhodey licks his lips and clears his throat.
Rhodey whispers, his voice lilting. "Can I, Pepper?"
She can hear his hunger.
She can't trust her voice, just nods and languishes into the wall as he slides closer to her, hands carefully unzipping and peeling away her skirt until it's pooled around her heels. She steps out of it, kicks it away, the tails of her blouse only barely covering the silk of her panties. She spreads to make place for him, and gasps when she feels the outline of his lips press against her through silk. She presses into the wall, watching him. He's tentative, his breath gusting warm against her, enough to make her squirm and consider if asking for more is begging or just showing initiative.
Tony's far rougher as he breaks her from her thoughts, leaning in and pressing his lips to her own as if he's had this power the whole time he's known her. She falls into the kiss as Rhodey shimmies her panties down her legs, letting her feel cool air before the eclipsing warmth of his mouth. Tony presses her arms against the wall, hands at her wrists, just forceful enough to make her aware of how unromantic (how hot, something in the back of her head supplies) this whole thing is.
She falls into their touch after that, pressing into Tony's chest, sighing as Tony gloats with his whole body. She doesn't want to resist, or submit, or anything that could add to his gunbelt, but she melts into them, closes her eyes and thinks of how amazing it is to fall into this trap, the victim of a monster with two mouths eating at her like it wants to get to the bottom, wants to pick their teeth with her bones.
She moans into Tony's mouth, squirms against Rhodey, hooking a leg over shoulder and hip at the same time in a sign of welcome, feeling her grip on control slipping away. Her vision whites out, muscles shaking both inside and out, three of Rhodey's fingers slipped into her and pressed into the place that makes her see stars as Tony's tongue licks at the back of her teeth. The feeling is illicit, addictive, maddening.
They spread her out against the bed, stripping her from her blouse and bra and heels like open heart surgery, chiffon and lace pooling against the cool tile of the floor. She realizes, fleetingly, that she should be taking a more active part in this but their attentions simply make it hard to do anything but lay back and let them explore, their communication sharing all her secrets, taking methodical turns at dragging her to the edge and letting her hang over it, one after the other. They open her up with knowledgeable fingers and tongues, have her crying out for it until they can take her at the same time, and she lets them, wants them devouring her, falling into her no matter how cheesy it is.
All the things she wondered about, like how they wouldn't be the same around her, become irrelevant in their worship. They want to know every curve, drive her insane with the feeling like she's got catch-up work to do before she can play this game, too. Maybe she does, she's not even sure, but when she opens her mouth to speak, someone's always there, ready to kiss her, to steal her air, to pull at her and leave her moaning. There's always that harmony, that synergy all being directed at her in all its intensity and clearheaded need.
They're all around her, sweeping muscle and size fitting into the spaces that make her like them, all angles and contortions in the juxtaposition of skin against skin. She becomes dizzy with it, thinking of how they treat her like each other, constantly communicating until she's learned what they're saying, can tell them to press there or thrust here, go harder or softer and they'll listen in ways nobody ever has. They know what she wants before she does.
She's filled to the brim, the three of them rubbing against each other, fingers laced like chain at her waist. There are lips pressed into the curves of her neck, her collarbone, her chin. If she focuses, narrows what she's paying attention to, she can tell who's where, if it's Rhodey's hands, or Tony's lips. She breathes them in, leaning between broad chests as she relishes the feeling.
Their fingers meet at her clit. She screams as she comes. She breaks into pieces, shaking, clinging and clenching in the afterglow.
She knows they'll care enough to piece her back together, after.