Work Text:
She Bop
by aliccolo
Fandom: Marvel 616
Pairing: Pepper Potts solo
Rating: R
Disclaimers: Characters belong to Marvel, et al. Author makes no claims to them.
It's just an ordinary day for Pepper Potts. She's overworked, underpaid, and for the love of Benji, she's very horny. Typical, really. How could she not be in a constant state of arousal when surrounded by someone as sexually appealing as Tony Stark?
He makes things very difficult for her sometimes. He has a certain glint in his eye when he speaks about upgrading the weapons system. There's a faint smile on his lips when he's discussing where he'd like to go for lunch next Thursday. A genuinely affectionate something in his voice when they're discussing his itinerary for tomorrow's meeting in Beijing. It's all very difficult. And he isn't helping things at all.
She can't afford to be leisurely about these things. Everything is frantic and fast, every moment spared is money out the window, and when keeping company with Tony Stark, it was best not to waste what one couldn't afford. And while she is certain she is in no danger of receiving a pink slip anytime soon, she's always prided herself on her efficiency in all things, and orgasm is no exception.
She excused herself to the ladies' room, locking herself in the handicap stall, one foot perched on the toiler seat, breath already hitching in anticipation. Her fingers were moving quickly, sliding under the elastic of her panties, skirt hiked up over her waist as she assumed the position she knew suited her task the best. Fingers found their destination, settling straight on her clitoris as her hand started moving at the right speed to send her body reeling.
All the while, her mind wandered back to him. She imagined her fingers were his, that he was touching her, rubbing her, stroking her and making her moan as he pressed inside of her, fucking her and growling her name. He'd take her from behind, bent over his desk, kissing her between the shoulder blades, his stubble burning at her skin...it was all the makings of a perfect fantasy, and usually more than enough to get her off and back to work in a matter of minutes.
But even the best laid plans can hit a snag, and despite her best efforts to reach a quick and efficient climax, she just couldn't come. No matter how her fingers twisted at her clit, no matter what dirty, filthy, depraved thoughts she had, it wasn't working. She'd get close, rubbing herself desperately, needing that release, but it was just out of reach.
It's time to try something different.
No one batted an eye as she lets herself into Mister Stark's office, pulling the door shut behind her, locking it tight and drawing the blinds. She doesn't want anyone to see her, she still has some modesty. Or perhaps it's just plain old shame. Either way, she can barely comprehend what she's doing as she finds herself unzipping her skirt and unbuttoning her blouse, leaving them on the floor where they fell. She's naked, in Tony's office, naked and alone, and before she can stop herself, she's crawled on top of his desk, rifling around it for something, anything to play with. Her heart was a furious mess already, breathing shallow and rapid, body set and eager for her to move.
Finally she finds it, some meaningless philanthropic award statuette Tony had stuffed inside one of his desk drawers ages ago and had long since forgotten. It wouldn't be missed, and right now, it was looking pretty damn useful.
She sits on Tony's desk, legs spread, feet resting on the arms of his fancy leather office chair, blinking at the statuette, contemplating her next move, catching her warped reflection in the statuette's sheen. How this had even come into her mind was simply beyond her, but the body needs what it needs. And her body needs release. She's wet enough that it slips inside of her without any resistance. A small gasp escapes her lips as she presses it in deeper, as far as she could, eyes flickering open and shut. The statuette is bigger than she'd thought, or at least it feels that way, stretching her open as she finds a strange, almost painful rhythm with it. She doesn't waste time thinking about why it hurts, or why she keeps sliding it in and out of her pussy, she just focuses on the danger, and the pleasure that is quickly accompanying it.
She's on his desk, and that alone is enough to respark all those fantasies, and this time they are at least partially real. She can't control her own motions, legs opening wider to accommodate the more furious movements of her arm and her makeshift toy. She's in Tony's office. She's on his desk, and she's...she's...she'd die of a heart attack if he ever found out. But part of the thrill is knowing that he could find out...
Her other hand is on her clit now, and her movements are rough and hard. There's no time to be teasing, no time to take it slow. Each moment spent is a moment wasted, and a moment closer to getting caught.
Her orgasm is building. She can feel her muscles tensing, and her eyes close tight, hips rolling desperately against the statuette as she fucks herself with it. It won't be long, just a little bit further, a little bit longer. She's so close she can almost taste the bliss, and she's so ready to come, that when it finally hits, it's like a torrent rushing over her. Before she can stop herself, before she can regain control, she's not just coming, but squirting too, right squarely onto Tony's fine leather chair. She can't stop, not now, not until she's ridden it out and it's over, and it takes her a moment or two to stop the world from spinning and to realize she's just come all over Mister Stark's furniture.
There's no time to panic, no time to waste on a haphazard clean up when she's not even fully clothed. The statuette is left on his desk, next to the framed photo of the late Mrs. Stark, forgotten in her hurry to pull her skirt and blouse back into place and straighten her ponytail. The clean up job is accomplished easily, there's nothing Kleenex can't solve, and once the window blinds are opened again, his office is back to normal, and she waltzes out without a word. She won't ever speak of this afternoon, not to anyone, and as far as anyone knows, nothing out of the ordinary happened that day.
Later though, he'll wonder aloud about the statuette on his desk, and Pepper will blush silently. But aside from that, no one will ever know.