(Iron Man) Stitch By Stitch
Title: Stitch By Stitch
Fandom: Iron Man (movieverse)
Pairing: Natasha/Pepper
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1395
Timeline: Iron Man 2
Notes: For the Fireworks porn battle at femslash_today, prompt "Pepper Potts/Natasha Romanoff, suit", and avengers_tables, prompt "soft".
Summary: Pepper wears immaculate suits and Natasha appreciates that.
“Allow me, Miss Potts,” Natalie says, except that’s not right. It’s Natasha, that’s her real name, or at least Pepper thinks that’s her real name.
It’s the name Natasha gives to people that matter, to people that she likes. That’s what she’d told Pepper, and Pepper had made an embarrassing giggling noise, because apparently Natasha could make her regress to a twelve year old girl with just a glimpse of that small, secret smile.
“That really won’t be necessary, Natalie,” Pepper insists with her own smile, because they have to keep up pretences. As far as anybody knows Natasha Romanoff is still Natalie Rushman, former aide to Tony Stark and now Pepper’s assistant.
Natasha grins a little wider. “What won’t be necessary, Miss Potts, is you calling me anything but Natasha.”
Pepper instantly tenses, glancing around as if government enemies and corporate spies are about to crawl out of the walls.
Natasha squeezes her hand gently. “I’ve taken the liberty of locking the door. Using the special locks. The ones Mr Stark uses when he’s hiding from board meetings. I’ve also disabled the security feed.”
“Is that wise?” Pepper whispers apprehensively. She’s still not used to this secret agent stuff, but she is used to be overly cautious. Working for Tony for so long has drilled her to cover every eventuality and leave nothing to chance.
“I promise no harm will come to you while I’m here,” Natasha insists, and for a moment Pepper forgets to breathe, because Natasha really, truly means it. “And I also promise that we are quite alone, with no chance of interruption.” Her fingers brush over the buttons of Pepper’s blouse. “So, as I was saying, allow me, Miss Potts.”
This time Pepper has no objections.
She bites her lip to hide her smile as Natasha takes her time sliding each button loose, from neck to waist. Her fingers ghost over Pepper’s collarbone, the swell of her cleavage, the ticklish skin of her stomach which jumps under the touch.
Pepper makes a faint humming noise when Natasha leans forward to press her lips to Pepper’s throat, gasps when she drags her thumb over Pepper’s nipples through the thin, lacy material of her bra.
“No interruptions,” Natasha murmurs against her neck, and the heat of her breath there feels as if it’s warming Pepper deep down into her chest. “No need to rush.”
She slides her hands around Pepper’s back, beneath the loose fabric of her unbuttoned blouse and jacket. Her fingers touch the clasp of Pepper’s bra, before pulling away with a thoughtful noise. “I think I want you like this,” she muses. “Wearing it all.”
“You don’t want me naked?” Pepper teases, cocking her hip a little as she slides closer.
“Oh, I’ll have you naked tonight,” Natasha promises, and Pepper feels her face heat for the darkness in Natasha’s eyes. “But for now, I want you like this. My boss, at her desk, in her suit.”
“Have a thing for suits?” Pepper asks playfully, and she reaches out to touch the waistband of Natasha’s skirt, but finds her hands caught and held in front of her.
“I have a thing for your suits,” Natasha replies, and then she’s pushing Pepper, just hard enough to overbalance her. Pepper hears herself yelp, but the chair is right behind her, leather and cushioned, and she topples into it, legs sprawled and eyes wide.
Instinct makes her move to draw her knees together, but Natasha’s there instantly, so damn fast when she wants to be, and she’s standing between Pepper’s thighs, keeping them open.
“Yep, just like that,” Natasha purrs, and then she’s sinking gracefully to her knees.
Her hair is loose, and the red waves tickle the insides of Pepper’s thighs as she leans closer.
Pepper doesn’t know all that much about what Natasha does for SHIELD. She knows she’s a spy, that she’s trusted to protect Tony and Pepper and, by extension, the Iron Man weapon. She knows that Natasha is strong, that she moves with a confidence that Pepper envies. She knows that Natasha is probably frighteningly dangerous when she wants to be.
But when she touches Pepper, she’s always so soft, so gentle. Her hands slide up Pepper’s thighs, nudge them even further apart. Thumbs hooking under the hem of Pepper’s skirt, pushing it up, and Pepper raises her hips without thought, blushes when she realises what she’s doing, how instinctive it is to give herself to Natasha.
Natasha smiles up at her, another of those secret smiles, except this one is darker, hungrier, and it makes Pepper light-headed.
When Natasha’s lips brush against the fabric of her panties, Pepper whimpers for it. Careful, chaste kiss, and then Natasha’s pressing closer, burying her face there. Open-mouthed, damp and hot and moving so slow, taking her time to explore Pepper, to pull her apart stitch by stitch. Just enough pressure to make Pepper feel it, but still light enough to be a tease, light enough that soon Pepper’s hips are twitching up into the touch.
She can feel herself swelling for the way Natasha rubs her mouth against her folds, plush give of her lips and the pull and drag of her panties where she’s most sensitive. She wants to draw her thighs together, wants to curl in on herself and the pleasure, but already her body betrays her, content to surrender to Natasha’s pace. Leisurely but sure, and Pepper’s growing so wet for it, tiny mewling noises escaping her lips.
When Natasha’s thumbs dig into the meat of her thighs, Pepper moans, and somehow one of her legs has wound up draped across the arm of her office chair, spreading herself wider. She hooks the other over Natasha’s shoulder, shiny smooth heel of her shoe settling against Natasha’s shoulder blades.
Natasha makes a pleased noise against her and finally, finally begins to move faster. Rubbing her cheek against the inside of Pepper’s thigh, licking along the hem of her panties but never pushing them aside. Sucking on the damp material, and Pepper gives a hoarse shout for that. Hips jerking upward, one hand gripping the chair arm, the other thrown over her head and gripping the back of the seat.
Squirming now, restless, and Natasha is moving faster, but there’s still a softness to the touch. But when she slips her hand up, presses her fingers against Pepper’s clit through the fabric, it’s a sudden, harder pressure, even as her tongue still swirls gently beneath it.
“Please, Natasha,” Pepper gasps, and she doesn’t mean to sound so breathless, so wrecked.
The fingers push against her, strong and solid, and Pepper cries out. They’re pressing constantly against her clitoris, moving in tiny circular pulses, so steady and precise that Pepper feels like she’s losing her mind with it. Contrast of Natasha’s lips, her tongue messily licking at her, and Pepper can hear herself making a noise on every breath, harsh and ragged, meaningless vowel sounds.
Natasha’s thumb presses lower, fabric of her panties still stretched over it, just the tip pushing inside and holding her open, and that’s all Pepper can take. She feels herself losing it, fierce cold shivers wracking her body, even as she feels so hot she could burn, muscles convulsing uncontrollably as she shakes apart. Whining, head thrown back, and Natasha licks at her through her orgasm, teasingly gentle pressure until Pepper’s so sensitive she’s whimpering.
She slides her leg away from Natasha’s shoulder, her foot thumping awkwardly against the floor as if she has no control over it, and Natasha sits back on her heels. Licking her lips and smiling, eyes bright and pleased.
“Will that be all, Miss Potts?” she asks serenely, and Pepper can’t help but groan good-naturedly, except it sounds more like a giggle.
“Is there nothing I can do for you, Miss Rushman?” she asks, knowing the reaction the name will get, and Natasha frowns at her in a way Pepper really shouldn’t find cute. “Agent Romanoff,” Pepper corrects herself with a nod of acknowledgement.
“Oh, there is, but it can wait,” Natasha informs her with a smirk. “After all, I told you that tonight I’d have you naked.”
She waves a hand at Pepper’s dishevelled state, legs still spread, skirt around her waist, blouse unbuttoned and panties damp with her pleasure. “But for now, I’m just enjoying the view.”
Fandom: Iron Man (movieverse)
Pairing: Natasha/Pepper
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1395
Timeline: Iron Man 2
Notes: For the Fireworks porn battle at femslash_today, prompt "Pepper Potts/Natasha Romanoff, suit", and avengers_tables, prompt "soft".
Summary: Pepper wears immaculate suits and Natasha appreciates that.
“Allow me, Miss Potts,” Natalie says, except that’s not right. It’s Natasha, that’s her real name, or at least Pepper thinks that’s her real name.
It’s the name Natasha gives to people that matter, to people that she likes. That’s what she’d told Pepper, and Pepper had made an embarrassing giggling noise, because apparently Natasha could make her regress to a twelve year old girl with just a glimpse of that small, secret smile.
“That really won’t be necessary, Natalie,” Pepper insists with her own smile, because they have to keep up pretences. As far as anybody knows Natasha Romanoff is still Natalie Rushman, former aide to Tony Stark and now Pepper’s assistant.
Natasha grins a little wider. “What won’t be necessary, Miss Potts, is you calling me anything but Natasha.”
Pepper instantly tenses, glancing around as if government enemies and corporate spies are about to crawl out of the walls.
Natasha squeezes her hand gently. “I’ve taken the liberty of locking the door. Using the special locks. The ones Mr Stark uses when he’s hiding from board meetings. I’ve also disabled the security feed.”
“Is that wise?” Pepper whispers apprehensively. She’s still not used to this secret agent stuff, but she is used to be overly cautious. Working for Tony for so long has drilled her to cover every eventuality and leave nothing to chance.
“I promise no harm will come to you while I’m here,” Natasha insists, and for a moment Pepper forgets to breathe, because Natasha really, truly means it. “And I also promise that we are quite alone, with no chance of interruption.” Her fingers brush over the buttons of Pepper’s blouse. “So, as I was saying, allow me, Miss Potts.”
This time Pepper has no objections.
She bites her lip to hide her smile as Natasha takes her time sliding each button loose, from neck to waist. Her fingers ghost over Pepper’s collarbone, the swell of her cleavage, the ticklish skin of her stomach which jumps under the touch.
Pepper makes a faint humming noise when Natasha leans forward to press her lips to Pepper’s throat, gasps when she drags her thumb over Pepper’s nipples through the thin, lacy material of her bra.
“No interruptions,” Natasha murmurs against her neck, and the heat of her breath there feels as if it’s warming Pepper deep down into her chest. “No need to rush.”
She slides her hands around Pepper’s back, beneath the loose fabric of her unbuttoned blouse and jacket. Her fingers touch the clasp of Pepper’s bra, before pulling away with a thoughtful noise. “I think I want you like this,” she muses. “Wearing it all.”
“You don’t want me naked?” Pepper teases, cocking her hip a little as she slides closer.
“Oh, I’ll have you naked tonight,” Natasha promises, and Pepper feels her face heat for the darkness in Natasha’s eyes. “But for now, I want you like this. My boss, at her desk, in her suit.”
“Have a thing for suits?” Pepper asks playfully, and she reaches out to touch the waistband of Natasha’s skirt, but finds her hands caught and held in front of her.
“I have a thing for your suits,” Natasha replies, and then she’s pushing Pepper, just hard enough to overbalance her. Pepper hears herself yelp, but the chair is right behind her, leather and cushioned, and she topples into it, legs sprawled and eyes wide.
Instinct makes her move to draw her knees together, but Natasha’s there instantly, so damn fast when she wants to be, and she’s standing between Pepper’s thighs, keeping them open.
“Yep, just like that,” Natasha purrs, and then she’s sinking gracefully to her knees.
Her hair is loose, and the red waves tickle the insides of Pepper’s thighs as she leans closer.
Pepper doesn’t know all that much about what Natasha does for SHIELD. She knows she’s a spy, that she’s trusted to protect Tony and Pepper and, by extension, the Iron Man weapon. She knows that Natasha is strong, that she moves with a confidence that Pepper envies. She knows that Natasha is probably frighteningly dangerous when she wants to be.
But when she touches Pepper, she’s always so soft, so gentle. Her hands slide up Pepper’s thighs, nudge them even further apart. Thumbs hooking under the hem of Pepper’s skirt, pushing it up, and Pepper raises her hips without thought, blushes when she realises what she’s doing, how instinctive it is to give herself to Natasha.
Natasha smiles up at her, another of those secret smiles, except this one is darker, hungrier, and it makes Pepper light-headed.
When Natasha’s lips brush against the fabric of her panties, Pepper whimpers for it. Careful, chaste kiss, and then Natasha’s pressing closer, burying her face there. Open-mouthed, damp and hot and moving so slow, taking her time to explore Pepper, to pull her apart stitch by stitch. Just enough pressure to make Pepper feel it, but still light enough to be a tease, light enough that soon Pepper’s hips are twitching up into the touch.
She can feel herself swelling for the way Natasha rubs her mouth against her folds, plush give of her lips and the pull and drag of her panties where she’s most sensitive. She wants to draw her thighs together, wants to curl in on herself and the pleasure, but already her body betrays her, content to surrender to Natasha’s pace. Leisurely but sure, and Pepper’s growing so wet for it, tiny mewling noises escaping her lips.
When Natasha’s thumbs dig into the meat of her thighs, Pepper moans, and somehow one of her legs has wound up draped across the arm of her office chair, spreading herself wider. She hooks the other over Natasha’s shoulder, shiny smooth heel of her shoe settling against Natasha’s shoulder blades.
Natasha makes a pleased noise against her and finally, finally begins to move faster. Rubbing her cheek against the inside of Pepper’s thigh, licking along the hem of her panties but never pushing them aside. Sucking on the damp material, and Pepper gives a hoarse shout for that. Hips jerking upward, one hand gripping the chair arm, the other thrown over her head and gripping the back of the seat.
Squirming now, restless, and Natasha is moving faster, but there’s still a softness to the touch. But when she slips her hand up, presses her fingers against Pepper’s clit through the fabric, it’s a sudden, harder pressure, even as her tongue still swirls gently beneath it.
“Please, Natasha,” Pepper gasps, and she doesn’t mean to sound so breathless, so wrecked.
The fingers push against her, strong and solid, and Pepper cries out. They’re pressing constantly against her clitoris, moving in tiny circular pulses, so steady and precise that Pepper feels like she’s losing her mind with it. Contrast of Natasha’s lips, her tongue messily licking at her, and Pepper can hear herself making a noise on every breath, harsh and ragged, meaningless vowel sounds.
Natasha’s thumb presses lower, fabric of her panties still stretched over it, just the tip pushing inside and holding her open, and that’s all Pepper can take. She feels herself losing it, fierce cold shivers wracking her body, even as she feels so hot she could burn, muscles convulsing uncontrollably as she shakes apart. Whining, head thrown back, and Natasha licks at her through her orgasm, teasingly gentle pressure until Pepper’s so sensitive she’s whimpering.
She slides her leg away from Natasha’s shoulder, her foot thumping awkwardly against the floor as if she has no control over it, and Natasha sits back on her heels. Licking her lips and smiling, eyes bright and pleased.
“Will that be all, Miss Potts?” she asks serenely, and Pepper can’t help but groan good-naturedly, except it sounds more like a giggle.
“Is there nothing I can do for you, Miss Rushman?” she asks, knowing the reaction the name will get, and Natasha frowns at her in a way Pepper really shouldn’t find cute. “Agent Romanoff,” Pepper corrects herself with a nod of acknowledgement.
“Oh, there is, but it can wait,” Natasha informs her with a smirk. “After all, I told you that tonight I’d have you naked.”
She waves a hand at Pepper’s dishevelled state, legs still spread, skirt around her waist, blouse unbuttoned and panties damp with her pleasure. “But for now, I’m just enjoying the view.”