We (I) demand coffee-related smut! Let's get frothy.
Mod Ali: Oops, this gets a 1/10 in smut, but I think I make up for it with yearning. Here ya go!
Tony hasn't felt wanted in a long time.
That's a lie. Every day his son looks at him with the big brown eyes he'd stolen from Tony and wants him around, needs Tony to protect him; and, honestly, being that person day after day is enough. Peter is his whole world. He hadn't known this before, but he wasn't complete until Peter came along. Feeling wanted in the way Tony Stark had always been wanted—for money, for sex, for… well, it was mostly sex—doesn't even cross Tony Carbonell's mind anymore. The only person in his life is Peter, and he was content with that being true for almost 8 years.
But then somewhere along the way he met Pepper Potts, and for someone who is so keen on schedules and plans, she sure threw a redheaded wrench in all of his.
As soon as Tony and Pepper make it into her apartment after a date, the door is locked and lights are dimmed and they're falling together onto her big, soft bed with the eggshell linens. The food was good and Peter was sleeping over at Happy's so Tony could sleep over at Pepper's. The first time he'd been here, he'd made a stupid offhand comment about how colourful the place was, glancing pointedly at the varying shades of cream and warm grays. Hey, he'd been nervous. He still is nervous.
But then, he catches glimpses of colour, like a bright red Hotwheels car on the dining room table from the last time he and Peter were here for dinner, or the (to her total distaste) neon green hoodie he'd lent her after she got caught in the rain on the way to the shop, hanging in her open closet. Or the small collection of picture frames on Pepper's bedside table, the only instance of anything that can be described as 'clutter' in the entirety of her apartment, of him or Peter or all three of them or of everyone—Rhodey and Happy, too. Then, he feels a little less nervous and a little more like he belongs here, in Pepper's neat little apartment and her neat little life, when his own is so complicated and rough around the edges.
He and Pepper stop their bickering (about the ultimate pastry, of all things) between the gentle kisses, and now they're just sort of looking at each other. Tony knows her face better than his own at this point, for all the admiring he's done; the curve of her cheeks are familiar, and the smattering of freckles across her nose are delicious. He knows her eyelashes, underneath the light makeup she wears, are pale and delicate. Her cheeks and lips are a little ruddy at the moment, and that's his fault, as is the softly quirked smile. He only realizes he's not breathing when she touches his cheek and pulls a sigh out of him.
Pepper has this way of looking at Tony with her intelligent blue eyes—she's doing it right now, studying her lover the same way he was doing—that screams to Tony that she wants him. It scares him and, on top of that, confuses him, because she is pretty much the coolest, smartest person in the universe, he's damn sure. What does she want with his sorry ass? She could have anyone with a snap of her perfectly manicured fingers but she's here, inviting a scruffy, washed up murderer into her bed.
(She knows it, now; she knows who he was, and she still wants who he is.)
The worst, and best, thing about Pepper's eyes is that he's pretty sure they see right through him. Without saying a word, Pepper ends the silence with a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, and she leans in, and Tony is just selfish enough to stop thinking and meet her halfway. She knows him so well, knows when he's thinking too much, knows how to distract him. That's the first way Pepper makes him feel wanted—by just knowing him. By taking charge, carefully pushing him back into the cushions, an increasingly firm grip on his collar or hips or hair, and just letting them make out like teenagers for a while.
(As the kids say: no thoughts. Head empty.)
"Tastes like coffee," Pepper whispers, because she always says that, like a running joke. It's not very funny, bless her, and it's probably true; Tony would be surprised if his body wasn't actually just 70% coffee at this point.
"I can definitely keep you up all night, honey," Tony smirks back, because his mouth runs independently from the rest of him, and thank god, because broadcasting his anxiety all the time would be a fucking bummer.
Pepper scoffs, but she loves his puns, he knows it. That's another way she makes him feel wanted. She laughs at his jokes. He always seems to catch her giggling in the corner of his eye, even when he's just being himself. She has an incredible smile.
Pepper makes him feel wanted with her hands, exploring his body in a way that made him squeamish at first. Tony Stark had never once been body-shy, but Tony Stark stopped existing several haircuts and thirty pounds ago. It hadn't mattered one bit to him until he and Pepper had started—this—and it struck him that the guy Pepper should be seen with was someone like Tony Stark, with the crisp Armani suits and shiny Italian shoes and nicely windswept hair. Damn, Tony had had really sexy abs at one point.
But despite his pudgy stomach—the result of many blueberry danishes, his haphazard cooking skills and a now non-existent vanity budget—and because Pepper can undoubtedly read his mind, she throws a leg over his and their thighs slot together, which is a pretty good distraction. She pulls her face away from his, which really kind of sucks, but then kisses his jaw like it's an apology. She trails down his neck where he's only somewhat ticklish, and her small, thin hands have somehow crept onto his love-handles without him noticing. She squeezes gently and giggles when Tony jumps because his ribs are also somewhat ticklish. Somehow, he doesn't have it in him to be any kind of upset, though, especially with her grinding low and slow on his groin like that. Her mouth does a slow, sensual tour of him, tasting him, nipping him.
(Pepper Potts is a biter, to Tony's awe and, ultimately, delight.)
She coaxes him out of his shirt and slides out of her own, and right when Tony feels a dumb joke coming up she grins and takes a convenient break from her exploration to return home and kiss him. It's been a while since his last partner, but Tony was never one to be useless in bed, and he just barely lets Pepper finish giving him the hickey on his collar (Tony remembers suddenly that she got him a couple turtleneck tops this past Christmas and he wonders if the two actions are correlated) before flipping them over and turning the tables, showing her how much he wants her. He tongues at her throat, her arms, her breasts in a way that makes her sigh happily, a now bare leg wrapping around his back and pulling him in tighter. He obediently kisses where she directs him to and he tells her in low murmurs how beautiful she is.
Neither of them had a drop to drink tonight besides sparkling juice, or a hit of anything that would remind Tony of his club kid youth. No mind games, no sex games; unless what Pepper is after is a lifetime of free chocolate croissants, he has nothing to offer but himself. So maybe it's caveman of him to think this, but yeah, when he reaches a hand down and Pepper is wet after a half hour of their usual quips and some smooching, it makes him feel wanted. The hand Pepper has snaked around his wrist feels like it's grounding him. The other hand vacillates between his hair and his ass, which is really just the cherry on top of the ego cake.
Pepper kisses him slowly while he fucks her the same way. They both enjoy the moment. Pepper makes him feel wanted when they've both finished and she tucks herself into his arms, and there's something in the way that she fits so perfectly there that makes him kind of lightheaded.
She does it when she continues her argument from, like, two hours ago that Happy's chocolate croissants are in fact the best treat The Iron Kettle serves, and she does have the authority to make this decision because she has tried everything over the last few years where she came in just to be with Tony, with Peter, with Happy. She does it when she keeps his and his son's shit all over her apartment, in plain view despite the immaculate tidiness of everything else, because she likes having these pieces of her new family around her all the time. She does it when she fights him, because he knows he has a bad habit of pushing away and she knows it too, and she doesn't let him indulge in it for a second. She does it when she makes every excuse to come up to his and Peter's apartment, because she has apparently made it a game to discover something new about them every time she stops by, in the form of a toy Peter made or the books on the shelves. She does it when she laughs at his dad jokes, and when she cares for Peter like he was her own son.
(Peter could be her son. Tony realizes suddenly that he wants to marry her. Can she hear his heart thudding? Fuck. Let's shuffle this terrifying thought to the back for the moment. A heart attack, even a small one, would really ruin the afterglow.)
Pepper makes him feel wanted. Pepper, a shining light in his life, another piece that he hadn't known he was missing until he had them, like Rhodey, like Peter… Tony couldn't not want them if he tried.
For as long as they wanna keep Tony around, he is going to be grateful, try not to cry, and do his fucking best to act like he deserves it.
