A few years ago, Pepper discovered that Tony's hands were a perfect fit around her own.

When she first started to work for him as his assistant, she realised she needed to try and keep as much professional distance between the two of them as possible.

Even if it meant working in a giant plastic bubble.

It didn't quite work out that way, that simply. Working for Tony Stark was a very tactile occupation, from the very beginning she had to touch him. His arms to get his attention, the brush of fingers over coffee cups and files, (which she suspected were less innocent than his face would show), cupping a hand over his shoulder to wake him up when he fell asleep in the workshop. His fingers were rough, the muscles in his shoulder hard and strong. He was a well put together man, she had never denied that.

When she touched him, he had a few distinct reactions, one, the smirk, she understood well. The half grin, and puff of air, that made her blush when their skin made contact. The other reaction was more interesting, more confusing, and she couldn't quite figure it out.

Once, when she was knotting his tie for him, her fingers brushed over his neck as she pulled up the collars of his shirt. The look he gave her was like nothing she'd seen before, from him at least, and couldn't work out what it meant. And she discovered that his neck was so, so soft, not that she should've been surprised, she'd seen his moisturising regime in action, but to feel it under her knuckles was a different sensation. The first time she tied his tie was the longest it ever took.

When she woke him up, he always jumped, and she always had to hold herself back from massaging his shoulder a little as she woke him. Not that she thought he would ever actually notice.

She tried to professional, and most of the time she was, even when she had to go into Tony's bedroom to get him out of bed. Even when Tony pushed at her professionalism, pushed hard. She'd felt his hands all over her body at some point before she'd really felt his hands around hers. Arm, shoulder, knee. Chin, cheek, head.

Once her hands too, he pulled her up off the sofas, and out of chairs, more than once, dragged her into rooms but one day he took her hand in his, wrapped his fingers around hers, and squeezed gently.

She can't even remember why.

All she could ever remember was the perfect pressure, the warmth of his hand, the rough texture of his palms and fingers that even high end moisturiser couldn't soften. The way he looked at her when he held her hand, the way she felt.

That feeling stayed with her right up until the moment when both of her hands were in his and she was straddling him his on his bed, smiling down at him. His erection was straining against her centre, and she was sliding over his erection as she rocked gently against him. He was groaning, holding her hands tightly, lifting one to his lips to kiss it.

She did the same, kissing his hands at the centre of his palm, kissing each fingertip. She massaged it a little, smiling as he groaned a little louder at the attention.

"I love your hands," she said, "which is a little more normal than your desire for my hips."

He smiled, letting go of her other hand to cup her left hip, stroking her skin with his thumb. As she continued to rock slowly against him, she was getting worked up again, his erection pressing against all the right places, and she did love playing with his hands.

"Because you're a little more conventional maybe," he said. "No less perfect for it though."

She chuckled, blushing, letting go of his hand and rising up on her knees, taking his erection into her hand, and guiding him into her body. As he pushed up into her, she grabbed his hands again and rocked down onto him, biting her lip. He was hot, hard, and it was a little painful as the sensations seared through her, because as much as she hated to admit it, it had been too long since she'd had sex.

She wasn't going to tell Tony that, and as she took hold of his hands, again, interlacing his fingers with her own, she started to move, pushing against his hands to gain a little extra purchase.

"Why. My. Hands?" Tony stuttered.

"They're perfect," Pepper hissed in response.

He yanked one hand free and she growled at him, she wanted to hold his hands. He placed his hand back on her hip though, stroking her skin, smiling, and looking at her through half-closed eyes. She smiled back, moving a little harder. Every thrust in made her insides jump in reaction, the feeling going straight up to her chest and making her gasp.

"Perfect," he moaned, thrusting up harder into her body with a cry, the move angled as he only held onto one hip, gripping hard, those perfect fingers pressing into her flesh.

"Yeah," she agreed, moving faster again.

It was push and pull, in and out, over and over and Pepper was pretty sure she was going to be sore tomorrow. They managed to find a rhythm together, that was a little lopsided, but it didn't matter and with her free hand she pressed down on her clit, crying out with every touch and thrust. Tony's mouth was hanging open, eyes glazed over, fingers digging deeper into her hips. She could feel every part of him, of his erection as it filled her, the tip pushing up against her, shaft stretching her. His hand was clasping hers tight and she held it to her chest, choking on his name when her orgasm flooding through her. She was still shaking when Tony came, with a few frantic thrusts slamming up into her body, that almost had her loosing balance. He managed to keep her upright with his hand on her hip, bruising her skin. She felt him pulse over and over inside him, as her muscles contracted around him and he groaned.

"Oh, Pepper, oh," he mumbled.

She smiled, falling down beside him, when he finally relaxed back into the bed, Tony still holding onto her hand and following her onto his side so he could cup his hand over her hip again.

"Good, so very fucking good," he said.

"Yeah."

She kissed his hand, then his lips, smiling.

"Gotta ask though," he said, "why my hands? Because I'm so good with them?"

"Not quite Tony," she said, with a laugh.

"How you wound me Potts," he said, smiling back at her.

"They say," she started, hesitating and looking away from for a moment, the honesty a little too much to bear. He lifted her chin up so he could look into her eyes, and she didn't fight the gentle hold. "that your heart is the same size as your fists," she continued.

"Yeah, I remember hearing that somewhere," he said, softly.

"Well, your hands fit perfectly around mine."