Nicoline 🤍

You'd been looking forward to this date all week. Tony had planned something special—a quiet dinner at that little Italian place downtown, followed by a stroll under the city lights. It was the kind of night that made your heart flutter just thinking about it. But as you got ready in your apartment, a familiar cramp twisted in your stomach, and you felt the telltale warmth. Your period. And not just any period—this was the first one since you and Tony had started dating a couple of months ago.

Panic set in. You weren't prepared, and the thought of bleeding through your favorite dress mid-date was mortifying. You grabbed your phone and texted him: Hey, I'm so sorry, but I have to cancel tonight. Not feeling great.

His reply came almost instantly: Everything okay? Need me to come over?

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen. It felt embarrassing to explain, but Tony had been nothing but understanding so far. It's... my period. Came out of nowhere. I just want to curl up at home.

There was a pause, longer than usual, and then: Say no more. Stay put. I'll handle this.

Handle it? What did that even mean? You sank onto your couch, wrapping yourself in a blanket, a hot water bottle pressed against your abdomen. The cramps were already making you wince, and all you wanted was to hibernate until it passed.

Meanwhile, across town, Tony Stark stared at his phone in the middle of his penthouse workshop. JARVIS's holographic displays flickered around him, but his mind was elsewhere. Period. Right. He knew the basics—biology class had covered it back in MIT—but details? Supplies? He was a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, not a period expert. But he wasn't about to let his girlfriend suffer alone.

"JARVIS, pull up... uh, everything I need to know about periods. Quickly."

The AI's voice was calm. "Certainly, sir. Menstrual cycles involve..."

Tony waved a hand. "Basics, JARVIS. What does she need? Pads? Tampons? Chocolate?"

As JARVIS rattled off a list, Tony grabbed his keys and headed for the elevator. The nearest pharmacy was a twenty-minute drive, but traffic in New York meant it could be longer. He slid into his Audi and punched the address into the GPS, his mind racing. He wanted to get this right—for you.

The pharmacy was brightly lit and overwhelming when he arrived. Aisles upon aisles of colorful boxes, all with cryptic labels. Tony stood in the feminine hygiene section, scanning the shelves like he was analyzing arc reactor schematics. "Okay, pads... heavy flow? Ultra? Wings? What the hell are wings?"

He grabbed a box at random—something that said "overnight protection"—and added a pack of tampons for good measure. Then, pain relievers: ibuprofen, right? He tossed in a bottle. Chocolate—everyone said chocolate helped. And tea? Herbal, maybe? He wandered to the next aisle, piling his basket with chamomile tea bags, a heating pad (did they sell those here? Yes, in the back), and a fluffy blanket because why not?

But doubt crept in. Was this enough? The right brands? He pulled out his phone and dialed Natasha Romanoff. She picked up on the second ring.

"Stark? This better be good. I'm in the middle of a briefing."

"Nat, I need your expertise. Girlfriend emergency. Periods. What do I buy? I'm in a pharmacy and it's like a minefield."

There was a chuckle on the other end. "You're shopping for supplies? That's adorable. Okay, listen up. Ditch the random pads—get Always or Kotex, something absorbent with wings for security. Tampons if she uses them, but ask next time. Midol for cramps, not just ibuprofen. Dark chocolate, not milk. And ginger tea for nausea if it hits."

Tony scrambled to follow, swapping boxes and adding Midol. "Wings for security—got it. Anything else?"

"A hot water bottle or heating pad. And be gentle when you get there—no hovering, but show you care. Listen to what she needs."

"You're a lifesaver, Romanoff. Thanks."

Natasha's voice softened. "Tony... you love her, don't you? I mean, really love her. Dropping everything for this?"

He paused, basket in hand, a warmth spreading in his chest that had nothing to do with the store's fluorescent lights. "Maybe I do," he said quietly, then hung up before she could tease him further.

Bag in hand, Tony sped back to your apartment, his usual cocky grin replaced by a determined focus. He buzzed up, and you let him in with a weak smile. When the door opened, there he was—hair slightly tousled, arms full of bags, looking equal parts triumphant and nervous.

"Hey, gorgeous. I come bearing gifts." He stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him, and set the bags on your coffee table. You were still curled on the couch, looking pale and uncomfortable, but his presence made the ache a little less sharp.

"Tony, you didn't have to—"

"Shh. I wanted to." He knelt beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "How bad is it? Cramps?"

You nodded, wincing as another twinge hit. "Yeah. And I'm just... bleh."

He unpacked the bags methodically, like it was a mission briefing. "Midol—Nat says this is the good stuff. Take two?" You swallowed the pills with a glass of water he fetched from the kitchen. Next, the heating pad—he plugged it in and draped it over your lap, adjusting it until you sighed in relief. "Better?"

"Much. You called Nat?"

"Had to. She's the expert on all things covert... including this." He grinned, pulling out the pads and tampons. "I got options. And chocolate—dark, because apparently that's the magic one." He unwrapped a bar and broke off a piece, handing it to you with a wink.

You took a bite, the rich flavor melting on your tongue, and felt a giggle bubble up despite everything. "You're ridiculous. Sweet, but ridiculous. We were supposed to be on a date."

"Dates can wait. This is more important." He settled beside you on the couch, pulling you into his side gently. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, and he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. "Tell me what you need. Movie? Soup? Me to rub your back?"

"Just... stay?"

"Wouldn't dream of leaving." He grabbed the remote and queued up your favorite rom-com, dimming the lights. As the opening credits rolled, he fetched a mug of ginger tea—Nat's suggestion again—and held it for you while you sipped.

The evening unfolded in quiet comfort. Tony didn't fuss too much, but he was there for every little thing: refilling your water, adjusting the blanket when you shivered, even humming along off-key to the movie's soundtrack to make you laugh. When the cramps eased a bit, he coaxed you into eating some crackers and cheese he'd grabbed from your fridge.

"You're too good to me," you murmured, leaning your head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady under your ear, a soothing rhythm.

He tilted your chin up with a finger, eyes soft. "Nah. You deserve it. All of it." His thumb brushed your cheek, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you, wrapped in warmth and care.

“You should let me look at that,” you said, nodding toward his forehead. 

“It’s nothing.”

“Tony -”

“I said it’s nothing.” His voice was rough, strained. Then, quieter: “You scared the hell out of me back there.”

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “I had it under control.”

“You had a gun to your head.”

“And then I didn’t.” You tried for a smile, but it felt wrong on your face. “I’m fine. We’re fine.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t look away. Didn’t blink. The intensity in his dark eyes made your breath catch. “We’re fine.”

The silence stretched between you, thick and charged with something you had both been ignoring for months. Every briefing where his hand lingered on your shoulder. Every mission where he positioned himself between you and danger. Every late night in the common room where conversations went deeper than they should. 

“Do you have any idea what it does to me when you look at me like that?” The words escaped before you could stop them. 

Tony’s jaw tightened. “Like what?”

“Like…” You gestured helplessly. “Like that. Like you’re trying to see through me.”

He stood abruptly, crossing the small space between you in two strides. Suddenly he was right there, close enough that you could smell the smoke and sweat on him, could see the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. 

“Tell me you don’t want me,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “And I’ll believe you. Tell me you don’t think about it, about us, and I’ll walk away right now. I’ll never bring it up again.”

Your heart hammered in your chest. This was the moment. The moment you could lie, could protect yourself, could keep things professional and safe and uncomplicated. 

“I can’t,” you whispered. 

His hand came up to cup your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone. “Can’t what?”

“Can’t tell you I don't want you.” You leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering closed. “Because I do. God help me, Tony, I do.”

The kiss was inevitable. His mouth crashed against yours with months of pent-up hunger, and you responded with equal desperation. Your fingers tangled in his hair as his hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him. He tasted like copper and adrenaline, and when his tongue swept against yours you made a sound that was almost embarrassing in its need. 

“My place,” he muttered against your lips. “We land in five minutes. Come to my place.”

You nodded, incapable of words, incapable of anything except wanting him. 

___________________________________________________________

Tony's private suite was all floor-to-ceiling windows and modern luxury, but you barely registered any of it. The moment the door closed behind you, he was on you again, backing you toward the bedroom with kisses that grew more heated with each step.

"We shouldn't -" you tried, even as your hands worked at the buttons of his shirt.

"Probably not," he agreed, shrugging out of the ruined fabric. The arc reactor glowed between you, and you pressed your palm against it, feeling the warmth, the steady thrum of the technology keeping him alive.

"This is a bad idea."

"Terrible idea." His hands found the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head in one smooth motion. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you in just your bra and tactical pants. "Worst idea I've ever had."

"Liar." You reached for his belt. "You've had way worse ideas."

He laughed, the sound rough and genuine, and then his mouth was on your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin below your ear. You gasped, head falling back to give him better access, and his hands made quick work of your bra clasp.

When his palms cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped. He made a satisfied sound against your throat, and then he was walking you backward until your legs hit the edge of his bed.

You fell together onto the expensive sheets, a tangle of limbs and desperate touches. Tony's weight settled over you, and the feeling of his bare chest against yours was almost overwhelming. You could feel every defined muscle, every scar, the heat of his skin burning into yours.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he murmured, kissing a path down your sternum. "Do you know that? Do you know how many times I've imagined this?"

"Tell me," you breathed, arching into him as his mouth closed around one nipple.

"Every goddamn day." He sucked hard enough to make you cry out, then soothed the sting with his tongue. "Every time you walk into a room. Every time you smile at one of Rogers' terrible jokes. Every time you kick ass on a mission and look at me like you're invincible."

His hands were working at your pants now, and you lifted your hips to help him slide them down along with your underwear. The cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, but then Tony's hand was between your thighs, and coherent thought became impossible.

"Fuck," he groaned, fingers sliding through your wetness. "You're so ready for me."

"Tony, please -"

"Please what?" He circled your clit with agonizing slowness, watching your face with dark, hungry eyes. "Tell me what you need."

"You," you gasped, hips rolling against his hand. "I need your cock inside me. Now."

"Fuck, I love it when you talk like that." He slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right, and you cried out. "So wet. So fucking tight. You're going to feel incredible wrapped around my cock."

"Then stop teasing me and fuck me already," you demanded, reaching down to palm him through his pants. He was rock hard, straining against the fabric, and when you squeezed, he groaned.

"Impatient," he muttered, but he was already stripping off the rest of his clothes with shaking hands.

When he was finally naked, you took a moment to drink him in. Lean muscle, the arc reactor glowing blue in the center of his chest, and his cock - thick and hard and already leaking at the tip. Your mouth watered.

"Like what you see?" His voice was rough, cocky even now.

"Get over here and fuck me, Stark."

He settled between your spread thighs, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. You were so wet you could feel yourself dripping, and when he dragged himself through your folds, coating himself in your arousal, you whimpered.

"Look at me," he commanded, one hand gripping your hip, the other guiding himself to your entrance. "I want to see your face when I fill you up."

You met his gaze, and then he was pushing inside, one long, slow thrust that stretched you open around him. The sensation was overwhelming - the burn, the fullness, the perfect friction as he sank deeper and deeper.

"Oh fuck," you moaned, head falling back against the pillow. "Tony, you're so big -"

"That's it, baby. Take all of me." He bottomed out with a groan, his hips flush against yours, buried to the hilt. "Fuck, you feel incredible. So tight and wet and perfect. Like you were made for my cock."

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper, and he cursed. "Move," you begged. "Please, Tony, I need you to move."

He pulled almost all the way out - you could feel every ridge, every vein - and then slammed back in hard enough to make you scream. The pleasure was so intense it bordered on pain, and you loved it.

"Yes! Fuck, just like that!"

Tony set a brutal pace, each thrust driving you up the bed, the headboard slamming against the wall. The wet sounds of your bodies coming together filled the room, obscene and perfect. His cock hit that spot inside you with every stroke, and you could already feel your orgasm building.

"You like that?" he panted, sweat beading on his forehead. "You like getting fucked hard?"

"God, yes. Harder. Fuck me harder."

He grabbed your thighs, pushing them up and back, folding you nearly in half. The new angle let him go even deeper, and you saw stars.

"Look at you, taking my cock so well," he groaned, watching where you were joined, watching himself disappear inside you over and over. "So fucking beautiful. So perfect. I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."

"Already ruined," you gasped. "Only want you. Only want this."

His hand slipped between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, fast circles. The dual sensation - his cock pounding into you, his fingers on your clit - was too much.

"Tony, I'm going to - fuck, I'm so close -"

"Come for me," he demanded, his rhythm growing erratic. "Come on my cock. Let me feel that tight pussy squeeze me."

The filthy words sent you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed through you in waves, your inner walls clamping down on him as you screamed his name. Your whole body shook with the force of it, pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Tony chanted, fucking you through it, prolonging your climax until you were sobbing with overstimulation. "You're so fucking tight when you come. I can't - I'm going to -"

He buried himself deep one last time, his cock pulsing inside you as he came with a guttural moan. You could feel him filling you, hot and wet, and the sensation triggered another small aftershock that made you whimper.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Tony's weight was heavy on top of you, his face buried in your neck, both of you breathing hard. You could feel his heart racing against your chest, matching the frantic pace of your own. His cock was still inside you, softening slowly, and you felt his release starting to leak out around him.

Reality began to creep in at the edges.

Tony rolled off you, collapsing onto his back beside you. The silence was deafening.

"So," you said finally, staring at the ceiling. "That happened."

"Yeah." His voice was carefully neutral. "That happened."

You turned your head to look at him. His profile was sharp in the dim light, jaw tight, eyes fixed on some point above him. The easy intimacy from moments ago had evaporated, replaced by something awkward and uncertain.

"Tony -"

"We should probably talk about this," he interrupted.

"Okay." You pulled the sheet up to cover yourself, suddenly feeling exposed. "Let's talk."

He sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "That was... intense."

"Yes."

"And probably a mistake."

The words stung, even though you'd been thinking the same thing. "Probably."

"We work together. We're on the same team. This could complicate things." He still wasn't looking at you. "We were running on adrenaline. Post-mission high. It doesn't have to mean anything."

"Right." You sat up too, gathering your scattered clothes. "It doesn't have to mean anything."

"We could just... forget it happened." He finally met your eyes, and you saw your own uncertainty reflected back at you. "Blow off steam after a hard mission. That's all it was. We never talk about it again."

You should have felt relieved. This was the easy out, the way to avoid complications and hurt feelings and all the messy emotional fallout. So why did your chest feel tight?

"If that's what you want," you said quietly.

"It's probably for the best." He stood, pulling on his pants. "For both of us."

You dressed in silence, each piece of clothing feeling like armor going back on. By the time you were fully clothed, you had almost convinced yourself this was fine. You were adults. You could handle this.

"So we're good?" Tony asked as you headed for the door.

"We're good." You forced a smile. "This never happened."

"Never happened," he echoed.

But as you walked back to your own room, you knew it was a lie. Because you could still feel him inside you, could still taste him on your lips, could still hear the way he'd said your name like it was the only word that mattered.

Things would never be the same.

___________________________________________________________

The first morning after was the worst.

You had barely slept, your body still humming with the memory of his touch, and when you finally dragged yourself to the kitchen for coffee, Tony was already there. He looked up when you entered, and for one suspended moment, your eyes locked. You saw everything in that gaze - the heat, the want, the same sleepless night written across his features.

Then Steve walked in, and Tony looked away so fast you might have imagined it.

"Morning," you managed, your voice rougher than intended.

"Morning," Tony replied, his tone carefully neutral. But his hand trembled slightly as he poured his coffee, and you noticed. God, you noticed everything now.

You grabbed a mug from the cabinet, acutely aware of the six feet of space between you that felt like six inches. The air was thick with tension, with all the things you weren't saying. When you reached for the coffee pot at the same moment he did, your fingers brushed.

The contact was electric. You both jerked back like you'd been burned.

"Sorry," you muttered.

"No, go ahead." He stepped back, putting more distance between you, and the loss of his proximity felt physical.

Steve looked between you with a slight frown. "You two okay?"

"Fine," you said too quickly.

"Great," Tony added. "Why wouldn't we be?"

You fled with your coffee before Steve could ask anything else, but you felt Tony's eyes on you the entire way out. Your heart was racing, your skin flushed, and all from a simple touch of fingers. This was going to be impossible.

___________________________________________________________

Day two brought a training session you couldn't avoid.

Natasha had scheduled partner drills, and of course - of fucking course - she paired you with Tony. "You two have good chemistry in the field," she said, oblivious to the way you both tensed. "Let's see it in here."

The training room suddenly felt too small, too hot. Tony stripped off his shirt, revealing the arc reactor and the lean muscle you'd traced with your tongue just two nights ago. Your mouth went dry.

"Ready?" he asked, not quite meeting your eyes.

"Yeah." You weren't. You absolutely weren't.

The drill was simple - close quarters combat, disarming techniques, trust exercises. But every time Tony touched you, even through the clinical necessity of training, your body responded. When he grabbed your wrist to demonstrate a hold, you remembered those same hands pinning you to his bed. When he moved behind you to adjust your stance, his breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine.

"You're distracted," he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. His chest was pressed against your back, his hands on your hips, and you could feel every inch of him.

"I'm fine," you lied, but your voice came out breathy.

"Your heart is racing." His thumb pressed against your pulse point, and you knew he could feel it hammering. "What are you thinking about?"

You spun in his grip, breaking the hold, and found yourself face to face with him. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and his gaze dropped to your lips. For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you right there in front of everyone.

"I'm thinking," you said quietly, "that this was a mistake."

Something flashed in his eyes - hurt, maybe, or agreement. He stepped back, putting professional distance between you. "Yeah. Probably."

But when you partnered with Clint for the next drill, you caught Tony watching you with an intensity that made your knees weak. And when he sparred with Natasha, you couldn't look away from the way his body moved, the flex of muscle, the sheen of sweat on his skin. You remembered how that skin tasted.

By the end of the session, you were wound so tight you thought you might shatter.

___________________________________________________________

Day three, you tried to avoid him entirely.

You took your meals at odd hours, used the gym when you knew he'd be in his lab, volunteered for monitor duty that kept you away from common areas. It worked until dinnertime, when you ventured to the kitchen at 10 PM, certain everyone would be asleep.

Tony was standing at the counter, eating leftover Thai food straight from the container.

You both froze.

"I thought you'd be in the lab," you said.

"I thought you'd be asleep." He set down the container slowly. "I can go -"

"No, it's fine. I'll just -" You moved toward the fridge at the same moment he moved toward the sink, and you collided in the narrow space between the island and the counter.

His hands came up to steady you, gripping your arms, and suddenly you were pressed against him, chest to chest. You could feel his heart pounding as hard as yours. His eyes dropped to your mouth, and you saw him swallow hard.

"We can't," you whispered, but you didn't move away.

"I know." His hands tightened on your arms. "We agreed."

"It was just one night."

"Just one night," he echoed, but his thumb was stroking your arm now, a gentle back and forth that was driving you insane.

You don't know who moved first. Maybe both of you. But suddenly his mouth was a breath away from yours, and you could taste the anticipation, the want, the need -

The elevator dinged.

You sprang apart just as Bruce shuffled in, bleary-eyed and looking for tea. "Oh, hey," he said, oblivious. "Couldn't sleep either?"

"No," you managed, your voice shaky. "I was just - I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

You practically ran from the kitchen, but not before you saw the frustration and longing on Tony's face that mirrored your own.

That night, you touched yourself thinking of him, biting your pillow to muffle his name.

___________________________________________________________

Day four brought a mission you couldn't escape.

It was supposed to be simple - surveillance on a suspected Hydra front company. You, Tony, and Natasha would pose as building maintenance staff, plant listening devices in the executive offices, and get out. No combat. No suits. Just good old-fashioned espionage.

Except nothing was simple anymore.

The office building was a labyrinth of cubicles and conference rooms, and you kept ending up in close quarters with Tony. When you had to duck into a copy room to avoid a late-working executive, his hand found the small of your back, steadying you. When you squeezed past him in a narrow hallway, your bodies pressed together for a heart-stopping moment, and you felt him tense.

"Clear on the third floor," Natasha's voice came through your earpiece. "How's it going down there?"

"Fine," Tony said, his voice tight. He was standing close enough that you could smell his cologne beneath the generic maintenance uniform. "Just finishing up."

You were installing a listening device behind a filing cabinet when you heard voices approaching - security making rounds earlier than expected.

"Shit," you breathed.

Tony grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the nearest door. It was a supply closet, barely big enough for one person, let alone two. He yanked you inside and pressed his hand over your mouth just as the security guards' footsteps echoed past.

In the darkness, you were crushed against him, chest to chest, hip to hip. You could feel every breath he took, could feel his heart racing against yours. His hand was warm over your mouth, his other arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady in the cramped space.

The guards' voices faded, discussing something about the building's HVAC system, but Tony didn't move. Neither did you.

"Tony," you whispered against his palm when the footsteps finally disappeared.

"I know." His voice was strained, rough. "I know."

His hand slid from your mouth to your jaw, tilting your face up toward his in the darkness. You couldn't see him, but you could feel him - the heat of his body, the tension in his muscles, the way his breath hitched when your hand came to rest on his chest.

"We should go," you said, but you didn't move.

"Yeah." He didn't move either.

For ten agonizing seconds, you stood there in the dark, breathing each other's air, his thumb stroking your cheek, your fingers curling into his shirt. You could feel his mouth hovering near yours, so close that if either of you moved even an inch -

"You two clear?" Natasha's voice crackled in your earpieces, making you both jump. "I'm at the rendezvous point."

You broke apart like guilty teenagers, fumbling for the door handle.

The ride back in the Quinjet was silent, but the tension was suffocating. You'd changed out of the maintenance uniforms, but you could still feel the phantom press of Tony's body against yours, could still feel his hand on your face. Natasha kept glancing between you with a knowing look that made you want to disappear. When Tony's knee brushed yours as the jet hit turbulence, you both jerked away so fast that Natasha actually smirked.

___________________________________________________________

Day five, you cracked.

You went to his lab at 2 AM, fully intending to end this torture, to tell him you couldn't do this anymore, that you needed to talk about what happened or fuck again or something because this half-life was killing you.

But when the door opened, Pepper was there, laughing at something Tony had said, her hand on his arm.

You backed away before either of them saw you, and spent the rest of the night crying into your pillow, hating yourself for caring, for wanting him, for breaking your own heart over a man who'd made it clear it was just one night.

Except the next morning, Tony cornered you in the hallway outside your room.

"That wasn't what it looked like," he said without preamble.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You tried to move past him, but he blocked your path.

"Last night. Pepper was just - we were going over Stark Industries stuff. That's all."

"Tony, you don't owe me an explanation. We're not -" You couldn't finish the sentence.

"I know what we're not." His jaw was tight. "But I saw you. In the reflection of the window. I saw you leave."

Your cheeks burned. "I was just -"

"You were coming to see me." It wasn't a question. He stepped closer, and you backed up until you hit the wall. "Why?"

"I don't know," you lied.

"Liar." He braced one hand on the wall beside your head, leaning in. "Tell me why."

"Tony -"

"Tell me you haven't been thinking about it every second since it happened. Tell me you don't feel this." His free hand hovered near your waist, not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the heat of it. "Tell me I'm the only one going insane."

"You're not," you admitted, your voice breaking. "You're not the only one."

His eyes closed like he was in pain. "Fuck."

"We agreed -"

"I know what we agreed." His hand finally made contact, fingers splaying across your hip, and you gasped. "But I can't stop thinking about you. Can't sleep. Can't work. Can't fucking breathe when you're in the same room."

"Tony, we can't -"

"I know." But he leaned closer anyway, his forehead almost touching yours. "I know we can't."

You stood there, frozen, his hand burning through your clothes, his breath mingling with yours. One of you just had to move an inch. Just one inch.

Steve's door opened down the hall.

Tony stepped back so fast he nearly tripped, and you slipped into your room before Steve could see the state you were in - flushed, trembling, aching with need.

___________________________________________________________

Day six was worse.

You were in the elevator when Tony stepped in at the last second, and the doors closed before either of you could escape. Forty floors. Just the two of you in an enclosed space.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Hi." You stared at the floor numbers, watching them climb with agonizing slowness.

The silence was deafening. You were hyperaware of everything - the sound of his breathing, the smell of his cologne, the way he kept shifting his weight like he couldn't stand still.

Between floors fifteen and sixteen, the elevator jolted to a stop.

"JARVIS?" Tony called.

"My apologies, sir. Minor technical difficulty. I'll have it resolved momentarily."

You didn't believe in coincidences, and from the look on Tony's face, neither did he. But you were trapped now, stuck in this small space with the one person you were trying desperately to avoid.

"So," Tony said after a moment. "This is -"

"Don't." You held up a hand. "Please don't."

"Don't what?"

"Make small talk. Pretend this is normal. I can't -" Your voice cracked. "I can't do this, Tony."

He turned to face you fully. "Can't do what?"

"This. Being around you. Pretending I don't -" You cut yourself off, but it was too late.

"Pretending you don't what?" He took a step closer. "Say it."

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me." Another step. "Say it."

"Fine." You met his eyes, letting him see everything you'd been hiding. "Pretending I don't want you. Pretending that night didn't mean anything. Pretending I don't think about it constantly, that I don't dream about you, that I don't -" Your breath hitched. "That I don't wish it had meant something to you too."

The look on his face was devastating. "You think it didn't mean anything to me?"

"You said -"

"I said what I thought I was supposed to say. What I thought would make this easier." He closed the distance between you, backing you against the elevator wall. "But nothing about this is easy. Nothing about wanting you this much is easy."

His hands came up to frame your face, and you couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but stare at him.

"Do you have any idea what it does to me when you look at me like that?" you whispered, echoing words from a lifetime ago.

"Like what?"

"Like you want to devour me."

"I do." His thumb traced your lower lip. "I want to devour you. I want to take you apart and put you back together. I want to make you scream my name again. I want -"

The elevator lurched back into motion.

You sprang apart just as the doors opened on your floor. Natasha stood there, eyebrow raised, clearly taking in your flushed faces and heavy breathing.

"Interesting," was all she said.

You fled.

___________________________________________________________

Day seven, you broke.

You couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't focus on anything except the memory of Tony's hands on your face, his words in your ear, the look in his eyes that said he wanted you just as desperately as you wanted him.

The team was worried now. Even Thor commented that you seemed "troubled in spirit." You made excuses - a bug, stress, insomnia. Anything but the truth.

That night, you gave up on sleep entirely. You had been tossing and turning for hours, your body aching with need, your mind replaying every moment with Tony in excruciating detail. The way he had looked at you in the elevator. The way his voice had dropped when he said he wanted to devour you. The way his thumb had felt on your lip.

You needed air. Space. Distance from your own thoughts.

The Tower was quiet as you padded down the hallway in sleep shorts and a tank top, bare feet silent on the cool floor. You were headed for the balcony, for fresh air and city lights and anything to clear your head.

But when you passed the corridor leading to Tony's lab, you saw light spilling out from under the door.

Your feet stopped moving. You stood there, staring at that strip of light, knowing you should keep walking. Knowing that going to him now, like this, would be the end of your resolve.

But you were so tired of fighting it. So tired of pretending. So tired of wanting him and denying yourself.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you were standing outside the lab, hand raised to knock.

JARVIS spoke before you could: "Miss, Mr. Stark is currently working. Shall I announce you?"

"No, it's okay. I'll just -"

The door slid open.

Tony stood on the other side, looking as exhausted and wrecked as you felt. His hair was a disaster, there were dark circles under his eyes that matched yours, and he was wearing the same clothes you'd seen him in yesterday. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.

He looked beautiful.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, his voice rough.

"No." You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling exposed in your thin pajamas. "You?"

"Haven't really tried." He stepped back, gesturing you inside. "Come in. I could use the company."

The lab was cluttered with half-finished projects, holographic displays floating in the air, tools scattered across every surface. It looked like Tony had been trying to work on a dozen things at once and succeeding at none of them.

"What are you working on?" you asked, even though you didn't really care.

"Nothing. Everything. I don't know." He picked up a wrench, put it down again. His hands were shaking slightly. "Can't focus."

"Yeah. I know the feeling."

The silence stretched between you, heavy with everything you weren't saying. Tony's back was to you, his shoulders tense, and you could see the way his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

Seven days. Seven days of torture, of longing, of wanting something you'd promised yourself you couldn't have. Seven days of slowly losing your mind.

It had to end. One way or another, it had to end.

"This isn't working," you said finally.

"What isn't?"

"This. Us. Pretending nothing happened." You took a step closer. "Tony, I can't stop thinking about it. About you."

He turned slowly, and the look in his eyes made your breath catch. "You think I can? You think I've gotten a single decent night's sleep since that night?"

"Then why are we doing this?" You moved closer still, until you were right in front of him. "Why are we pretending?"

"Because I'm scared." The admission seemed to cost him. "Because I don't do this. I don't do relationships, I don't do feelings, I don't -" He broke off, jaw working. "I don't want to fuck this up."

"What if we're fucking it up right now?" You reached out, placing your hand on his chest, feeling his heart racing beneath your palm. "What if trying to forget is the mistake?"

"Tell me you don't want me," he said again, echoing his words from the Quinjet. But this time his voice was pleading. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll believe you. I'll let it go."

"I can't." You slid your hand up to cup his face. "I can't tell you that, because it would be a lie. I want you, Tony. Not just for one night. Not just to blow off steam. I want you every day for the rest of my life."

The kiss was different this time. Slower, deeper, weighted with meaning. His arms came around you, pulling you close, and you melted into him with a sigh of relief.

"My bedroom," he murmured against your lips. "Not here. I want to do this right."

You let him lead you through the Tower to his private quarters. The city lights sparkled through the windows, casting everything in a soft glow. When he turned to face you, his expression was open, vulnerable in a way you'd never seen before.

"I want you to know," he said, hands framing your face. "This isn't just physical for me. It hasn't been for a long time."

"I know." You kissed him softly. "Me too."

This time, when you undressed each other, it was with reverence instead of desperation. Tony's fingers trembled slightly as he lifted your tank top over your head, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of your bare breasts. He cupped them gently, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they hardened into tight peaks.

"So fucking beautiful," he whispered, lowering his head to take one into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue made you gasp, your fingers threading through his hair to hold him there. "I could worship these for hours."

"Tony," you breathed, already feeling wetness gathering between your thighs. You tugged at his shirt, needing to feel his skin against yours.

He helped you strip it off, and you pressed your palms against his chest, feeling the warmth of the arc reactor, the steady beat of his heart. Your hands traced down over defined abs, following the trail of dark hair that disappeared into his pants. When you palmed him through the fabric, feeling how hard he already was, he groaned into your breast.

"Bed," he muttered, releasing your nipple with a soft pop. "Need you in my bed."

You shed the rest of your clothes as you moved, leaving a trail across his bedroom floor. By the time you reached the bed, you were both naked, and Tony took a moment to just look at you - really look at you - his gaze traveling from your flushed face down to your breasts, your stomach, the apex of your thighs where you were already glistening with arousal.

"Lie down for me," he said softly. "Let me see all of you."

You did, stretching out on his expensive sheets, and watched as he knelt between your legs. His hands slid up your thighs, spreading them wider, and you felt exposed in the best way.

"God, look at you," he murmured, one finger trailing through your wetness. "So wet already. Is this all for me?"

"Yes," you gasped as he circled your clit with agonizing gentleness. "All for you. Always for you."

He slid two fingers inside you, and you were so ready that they went in easily, your body welcoming the intrusion. He pumped them slowly, curling them to hit that perfect spot, his thumb still working your clit.

"I love how you feel," he said, watching his fingers disappear inside you. "So tight and wet. So perfect. I've dreamed about this - about taking my time with you, making you fall apart slowly."

"Please," you whimpered, hips rolling against his hand. "I need more. Need you."

"I know, baby. I know." He withdrew his fingers, and you watched as he brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan. "Fuck, you taste incredible. Next time, I'm going to spend hours with my tongue inside you."

The promise made you clench around nothing, desperate to be filled. "Tony, please -"

He settled over you, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. You could feel how hard he was, how much he wanted this, but he moved slowly, giving you time to adjust as he pushed inside inch by inch.

The stretch was exquisite. You were so wet that he slid in smoothly, but you still felt every ridge, every vein, the perfect thickness of him filling you completely. When he was fully seated, buried to the hilt, you both moaned.

"Jesus," he breathed, forehead resting against yours. "You feel even better than I remembered. So tight around my cock. So perfect."

"Move," you pleaded, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Please, Tony, I need you to move."

He pulled out slowly - so slowly you could feel every inch leaving you - and then pushed back in with the same deliberate pace. It was maddening and perfect, the slow drag of his cock against your inner walls sending sparks of pleasure through your entire body.

"Like this?" he murmured, setting a steady rhythm. "Nice and slow so I can feel every inch of this perfect pussy?"

"Yes," you moaned, nails digging into his shoulders. "God, yes. You feel so good inside me."

His hand found yours, lacing your fingers together and pinning them above your head. The other hand cupped your face, thumb stroking your cheek as he gazed into your eyes. The intimacy of it - the eye contact, the joined hands, the slow, deep thrusts - was almost overwhelming.

"I love you," he said, and the words hung in the air between you. "I think I've loved you for months. Maybe longer. Every time you smiled at me, every time you touched my arm, every time you looked at me like I was worth something - I was falling for you."

Tears pricked at your eyes. "I love you too. So much. I've wanted this - wanted you - for so long."

"You have me," he promised, his rhythm never faltering. "All of me. Every broken piece."

He shifted slightly, changing the angle, and suddenly he was hitting that spot inside you with every thrust. Your back arched off the bed, a cry escaping your lips.

"There?" he asked, doing it again. "Right there, baby?"

"Yes! Oh god, right there. Don't stop."

"Never," he vowed, maintaining that perfect angle, that perfect pace. "I'm never stopping. Never letting you go."

The pleasure built slowly, a warm tide rising inside you. You could feel yourself getting wetter, could hear the slick sounds of your bodies moving together. Tony's cock was so hard inside you, stretching you perfectly, and every thrust sent waves of sensation through your core.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion and desire. "Taking my cock so well. So wet for me. I can feel you getting close, can feel you tightening around me."

"Touch me," you begged. "Please, I need -"

His hand slipped between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing in slow, firm circles that matched the rhythm of his thrusts. The dual sensation was incredible, and you felt your orgasm building faster now, coiling tight in your belly.

"That's it," he encouraged, watching your face. "Let me see you come. Want to watch you fall apart on my cock. Want to feel that tight pussy squeeze me when you come."

The dirty words mixed with the tenderness in his eyes was your undoing. Your climax washed over you in long, rolling waves, your inner walls clamping down on him as pleasure flooded every nerve. You cried out his name, your whole body trembling, and he kept moving, kept touching you, drawing it out until you were sobbing with the intensity of it.

"So beautiful," he whispered, his rhythm growing less steady. "So perfect. I'm close, baby. So close. Where do you want me?"

"Inside," you gasped, still riding the aftershocks. "Want to feel you come inside me. Please, Tony."

"Fuck," he groaned, his hips snapping forward harder now. "You're going to kill me. Feel so good. So tight. I'm going to -"

He buried himself deep, his cock pulsing as he came, filling you with warmth. You felt every throb, every spurt, and the sensation triggered another small orgasm that made you whimper. His face was buried in your neck, and you could feel his lips moving against your skin, murmuring your name like a prayer, like a promise, like a vow.

For a long moment, you stayed like that - joined, trembling, hearts racing in sync. His weight was heavy on top of you, grounding you, and you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. You could feel him softening inside you, could feel his release starting to leak out, but neither of you moved to separate.

"I meant it," he said finally, lifting his head to look at you. His eyes were soft, vulnerable, completely open. "I love you. This isn't just sex. This is everything."

"I know." You cupped his face, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. "I love you too. This is everything."

He kissed you then, slow and deep and sweet, and you tasted the promise in it. The promise of more nights like this, more mornings waking up together, more of everything.

This time, when he rolled to the side, he pulled you with him, tucking you against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, secure and warm, and you felt something in your chest settle into place.

"So," you said after a while, tracing patterns on his chest. "I guess we're doing this?"

"Yeah." He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "We're doing this. No more pretending. No more trying to forget."

"What about the team? The complications?"

"Fuck the complications." His arms tightened around you. "I've faced down aliens and killer robots. I think I can handle some workplace gossip."

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Tony Stark, romantic."

"Don't spread it around. I have a reputation to maintain."

You tilted your head up to look at him, and the expression on his face made your heart skip. He looked happy. Genuinely, completely happy.

"I'm glad we stopped lying to ourselves," you said softly.

"Me too." He kissed you again, slow and sweet. "Best decision I've made in a long time."

You fell asleep in his arms, finally at peace. And when you woke up the next morning, still tangled together in his bed, you knew that this was just the beginning.

Some promises were meant to be broken. And some mistakes were actually the best things that ever happened to you.

This was both.

___________________________________________________________

Epilogue

Three months later, you walked into the common room to find the entire team gathered for movie night. Tony was already there, sprawled on the couch, and when he saw you, his face lit up in a way that still made your stomach flutter.

"Hey, beautiful," he said, patting the seat next to him. "Saved you a spot."

You settled in beside him, and his arm immediately came around your shoulders, pulling you close. It was natural now, easy, this thing between you.

"Ugh, you two are disgusting," Clint called from across the room, but he was grinning.

"Jealousy is not a good look on you, Barton," Tony shot back.

Natasha smirked. "I knew it would happen eventually. You two weren't exactly subtle."

"We were very subtle," you protested.

"You were eyeing each other through an entire briefing about Hydra," Steve said, then looked mortified that those words had come out of his mouth. "Sorry. But it's true."

Everyone laughed, and you felt Tony's chest shake with amusement beneath your cheek.

"Okay, fine," he admitted. "We weren't subtle. But in our defense, have you seen her? I'm only human."

"Barely," Bruce muttered, and everyone laughed again.

As the movie started and the lights dimmed, Tony pressed a kiss to your temple. "Love you," he whispered, quiet enough that only you could hear.

"Love you too," you whispered back.

And you meant it. Every single word.

Some nights of passion were meant to be forgotten. But some were meant to change everything.