Ангельское терпение требует дьявольской силы. ©

The first time he does it, she stops mid-sentence and has to fumble her words until she catches the thread of the conversation again.

He comes to her when she’s sitting on the couch, making one in a series of endless phone calls, keeping Stark Industries tied together with a lot of “Yes, sir”s and forced jocularity, boys’ club lingo made unassuming with a woman’s voice. And like a dog who doesn’t like divided attention, or a sick child looking for comfort, he kneels in front of her, pushes her shoulders back into the couch cushions, lifts up her blouse and rests his head on her stomach.

The second time, she doesn’t pause. Never let it be said that Pepper Potts isn’t a quick study. It happens again, and then again. She thinks maybe she should ask why, but she doesn’t. Sometimes he’ll rest his cheek against her skin, his breath warm across her side. Other times, he’ll press his forehead and nose into her belly, his mouth open against the skin right above her skirt.

It’s not sexual, and it’s not a game. He’s not trying to distract her, or at least not entirely, she thinks. He just kneels there, and breathes, his eyelashes tickling once as he closes his eyes. She runs her free hand through his hair, and he always leaves before she hangs up the phone.

Reconciliation | Iron Man, Tony/Pepper | R by thelma_lou
Summary: This is not the end-of-the-line scenario she’d always envisioned. This is not a drunken mistake or desperation or declining years or no one else left to fight.

omg, it's ravishing! :heart:

@темы: [q.]