Re: Tony & Pepper
She was going to say something, about the speed he had driven, about hard times and tomorrow morning but he was already stopped, already the door had slammed and for a brief moment there was nothing but anticipation. Pepper didn't notice that her hand, undoing the seat-belt, warped the clasp as her fingers lingered until it was useless.
The door opened before she said anything at all, and the high black heels teetered, a single step backward into the solid mass of the car. There was a momentary thought that this was why so many women were willing to have newspaper-stand notoriety, because Tony's impatience licked through whatever paper-thin resistance it was possible to have to his charisma and impetus, and whatever resistance she had had been lost. Maybe it was the suits. Maybe she should be in a suit, less access -- and then his hand slid over silk jersey and Pepper gasped into his mouth and her fingers curled tight against his back, adrenaline warring it out with somewhere between ten years of working too much for that intrusive of a personal life and six years of being too much in love with the boss to much want one.
She was always appropriate. But she rocked into him, and one hand slid to the back of his neck and she kissed him back with the clarity of doing something she had long wanted to do, denial coming to the end of a very long road with an equally long drop. It felt like falling. It felt like worry it would all bubble up and break like thin glass tomorrow, and then she smiled against his mouth and decided tomorrow didn't matter tonight.