I haven't edited this much - it's almost 3:00 and I swore to myself that I would go to bed two hours ago (on account of a quiz tomorrow and a test to study for the day after), but I just really wanted to finish this and post it. So enjoy!

Also, a special thanks to Kitty2399 for inspiring a one-word addition at the very end. ;) Don't know why I didn't think of it myself.


Hot Rod

By ZionAngel


Pepper got the idea two days ago, when she brought Tony coffee as he was making some adjustments to the suit. He was sitting on the floor, tinkering with something. His mind was completely focused on the task, but he still wrapped his arm around her calf as she stood beside him, stroking the inside of her knee. The gentle caress against her bare skin made her breath hitch a little, and she shivered. It was easily their most intimate touch in three weeks. Maybe longer.

Between the continuing problems in the Middle East and a new crop of Stark weapons that had surfaced with South American militias, the board of directors breathing down their necks about one thing or another and the media following him everywhere, there had been no time for them to be together, just the two of them. They managed the occasional kiss, when Hogan drove them to or from a meeting, or before she went home for the night (if he wasn't out on a mission or so exhausted that he was already asleep). But even those were short and chaste and rare.

The hand on her leg was withdrawn far too quickly as he returned to his work. She missed his touch immediately, but there was nothing she could do - the suit had to be finished as soon as possible, so it could be ready for a mission at a moment's notice. She had reluctantly turned toward the stairs to return to her own work, passing by the Hot Rod on her way out. She stopped beside it, staring at the red leather seat, and the idea flashed through her mind. Suddenly, she didn't feel quite so disappointed, and she glanced over her shoulder at him. His full attention was back on his task, and he paused only briefly to take a sip of coffee. She felt a wicked grin tug at her lips, and she headed out of the workshop and up the stairs. The plan was fully formed in her mind by the time she ascended the last step.

Yesterday, she snuck away early to buy the necessary supplies.

Today, she walks in the door, ready to implement her plan, determined to let nothing and no one stop her.

He spends the morning in the workshop again, and she spends it in her office, getting all her work out of the way. The last thing she needs is anything to worry about later, and thanks to the adrenaline running through her since the moment she woke, she finishes everything that has a deadline within three days by 1:15. She grabs her planner and a thin, silver pen (all part of the plan), and heads to the hallway mirror to check herself over. After a few minor adjustments she is satisfied with her appearance, and she heads down to the workshop.

She finds him sitting on the couch, the TV on for nothing more than background noise, tinkering with the helmet. She knows there is a terrible smirk on her face and fire in her eyes, and she forces them down so that a mask of indifference and professionalism can take their place.

"Tony, do you have a minute?" she asks, walking towards the couch. He doesn't look up. "I need to talk to you about a few things."

"Fire away." He picks up a screwdriver that is lying next to him and continues working without missing a beat.

She steps right up to the edge of the couch, hoping that the color of the helmet will not cause her any problems. "Agent Coulson called with a couple of things. SHIELD wants to debrief you about the situation in South America, they don't have too many details at the moment and they want to stay on top of things." He lifts the helmet and examines it for a moment. "He said he can send someone to the house, but it needs to be soon." He lowers the helmet and reaches out to set the screwdriver on the table. He looks down as he does so, and he slows - almost stops - and stares when he sees the patent red leather stilettos on her feet. She can barely contain a smirk, and only lets him study them curiously for a few seconds before she turns on one of those narrow heels and saunters away from him.

"Yeah," he mumbles, and she knows he is watching her walk. "Tell him to send someone tomorrow, around eleven."

She can feel his eyes sliding up from her heels - the same red as the suit, and the car - and travelling up the back of her legs. She reaches the Hot Rod, and turns back to face him. He is looking at the helmet again, but she can tell that he's just pretending. His real focus is on her. "Okay…." She barely leans against the side of the car, where the painted flames end, resting hardly any weight on it. She crosses her right leg just in front of her left, pointing her toe slightly so it still touches the ground. "They also suspect there may be a large shipment of weapons changing hands in southern Iraq next week. Coulson said they'll keep you posted but you should be ready."

She's talking business, serious matters that would normally get an equally serious response, but nonetheless she has his attention now, and she can see the wheels turning in his head, trying to figure out just what she's doing. "Let me know," he murmurs absently. She's looking down at her planner, and at the top of her field of vision, she can see him turn to her again, his eyes moving up her legs to the hem of her black pencil skirt. It's short for her, so there's more for him to look at.

"The board of directors wants to set up a meeting to pitch some ideas for the company. If you have any, you should be ready to present them, too." She brings the sterling silver pen up to her lips, gently biting it as she looks over the planner. She draws it out slowly. "Unless something comes up, Friday is free." He doesn't bother to turn away when she looks up at him, he just stares at the bright red shade of her lips.

"Whatever works," he says. His voice deeper than it was a moment ago.

She tugs at her necklace, and slides the platinum drop pendant back and forth along the chain. "The Cancer Society benefit is in two weeks," she says. She drops the pendant back down to her chest, and it lands in her cleavage. Her crisp white blouse has one less button done than usual. She lifts her head to him, and rests that right hand on the car. "Are you going, yes or no?" She presses lightly against the metal as she runs her fingers along the edge of the car.

He doesn't say anything, and she watches his eyes trace a path from that hand, up to her chest and her lips and the red hair that hangs wavy and loose, and down her legs to those killer heels. She knows she has him right where she wants him (metaphorically speaking, of course; he is still sitting on the couch across the room). "Tony, yes or no?"

The look in his eyes when he brings them up to meet hers is fierce and burning, and she hasn't seen passion like that in ages. His voice is deep and husky when he speaks. "Miss Potts, I think you're trying to seduce me."

Her heart suddenly races, and her body screams at her to do whatever it takes to get close to him and rip his clothes off, but she isn't going to make it that easy for him. "Tony," she sighs in exasperation. "I have too much work to do to be wasting my time." Her tone and movements are nearly identical to the ones she would really use, and under different circumstances, she knows she would have him fooled. "Can you please take this seriously -"

"Oh, I assure you," he says, and he is striding toward her with fast, urgent steps, "I am." And then he's there, his hips pressing hers into the car as his mouth devours hers. She lets the planner and pen fall to the floor, shoves him away by the hips and yanks his shirt over his head before dragging him back and kissing him even more fiercely. She digs her fingers into the back of his skull, holding him as close as she possibly can, which still isn't close enough.

She wraps one leg high around his waist, and smirks into their kiss as she rolls her hips against his. He groans and thrusts almost unconsciously, and moves his mouth to her jawline and neck, lightly nipping and sucking at her skin. He nearly tears three of her buttons off in his attempt to get her shirt open, but it's still intact when his hands start roaming over the skin of her abdomen and the lace of her bra.

His arm tightens firmly around her waist and he begins pulling her backwards, in the direction of the couch. But Pepper's plan is very specific, and she doesn't even let him start the second step. "My shoes match the Hot Rod for a reason, Stark," she growls. She wonders that he didn't figure that part out before, but she could swear the very thought makes him harder, and he fumbles for the door handle. It takes him a second, but when he finally opens the door he practically shoves her onto the leather seat. He doesn't join her, and instead slides his hands up her inner thighs. He has an evil grin as he brushes his fingers between her legs, and then tugs her panties away from her hips. She watches him, and she could almost laugh at the look on his face when he sees that they are the same bright red.

She quickly undoes her bra (front clasp - no detail was left out of her plan) as he slips her panties down her legs and over her shoes. He drops them to the floor of the car, and crawls in above her. He presses hurried, passionate kisses to her stomach, ribs, two to her breasts, then her chest, her neck, and finally her lips. She inhales sharply as he rubs her breast firmly and settles himself between her legs. While he's occupied probing her mouth with his tongue, she reaches down between their bodies and squeezes him through the worn fabric of his jeans. He tenses and groans against her lips, and she quickly undoes his belt, button and zipper, and pushes his clothes down past his hips. He shoves her skirt up, bunching it around her waist, and enters her without the slightest hesitation.

She gasps at the sensation, and when her head clears a little, she only thinks that she should have done this a long time ago. She braces one heel high against the side of the seat, and the other on the edge beside Tony's hips. Her mind goes completely blank as he begins to move, and her body moves completely on its own to maximize the pleasure she's feeling. She clings tightly to his arms, shoulders, and back, her fingers pressing deep into his flesh. She kisses him at first, but soon she throws her head back into the leather seat, arching into him and breathing in quick gasps. Her muscles tighten rapidly, partly because of the fact that they've barely touched in weeks, and the fact that something about their position is perfect. His bent leg propping up her hips and her legs braced against the seat has her body tilted in a way that makes his every thrust connect perfectly and send a maximum wave of pleasure through her. He thrusts just a little harder the next time, and she feels a scream rip from her chest as she comes.

Her muscles slacken as she catches her breath, her arms draped limply across his shoulders. He brushes her damp hair away from her neck and kisses her racing pulse, seemingly very satisfied with himself - not that he shouldn't be.

He slips his hands beneath her back to grasp the tops of her shoulders. He uses the leverage to thrust harder than before, and she grips him tight again in response. She threads a hand through his hair and pulls back so she can kiss him, and sucks gently on his tongue. This only drives him faster, and she braces a hand against the side of the car, behind her head. Her other hand slides across his back and sides and everything else she can reach as she feels the pressure building within her again. His rhythm starts to falter just a little, and she knows he's getting close when he buries his head in the crook of her neck and she feels his hot, ragged breath against her skin. Her eyes shut tight and she holds her breath this time, and in a few more seconds, she's coming again, and through the overwhelming pleasure, she feels his whole body go rigid against hers.

When she's breathing again, and starts to focus, they're both lying completely limp and panting heavily. He's resting his head on the leather seat, forehead pressing just beside her ear. When she's able to move, she brushes her damp, frizzy hair out of her face, and then rests her hand on the back of his neck.

"Well played, Potts," he murmurs, and she laughs.

They rest for a few minutes more. After a soft kiss, they sit up and slowly put their clothes back on. He decides that his work can wait, that for the moment, the suit is perfectly fine as it is, and that he could spare a few hours. He also decides that his first priority for those hours would be food. "You can't just jump a guy like that and then not feed him, Pepper," he tells her when she smirks at his request. "How's he supposed to have any energy for round two?" he clarifies, and he gives her that look.

They try to eat lunch there, but end up going out anyway. They don't exactly have much choice - the frozen pepperony pizza they try to cook burns, neglected while they have sex on the kitchen table.