He's done this kind of thing before.
Spend enough time in Vegas when you're Tony Stark, and it'll happen eventually. Somebody will have a party for somebody else and a specific kind of girl will show up. They're friendly and attentive, with a particular kind of reserve not shown by the random girl looking for a party and a fuck. They don't drink all the booze, which puts them pretty high up on Tony's list to start with, they laugh at jokes even when they're not funny, and then all of a sudden they're gone, slipped off with someone, extremely unlikely to return. They've slipped off with Tony more than a couple of times, and until such a day as one of them sells the story to the Enquirer, they're probably just gonna keep slipping off with him.
Tony can have all the women he wants, but there's something about a professional. It's almost relaxing.
He's never actually propositioned one outright, never done anything past waiting around for the 'for X dollars I can rock your world' that comes at the end of the evening. He thinks about it, though, wonders how it would go down; it's just that he knows himself well enough to know that wondering is a look that never lasts on him. If he wonders about something, it's only ever a question of how long it'll take before he does it.
So he does it.
He knows a guy who knows a guy who knows some girls, and he has JARVIS make a call, and then he has an appointment, just like that, and the only part he feels bad about is corrupting JARVIS. He's just a kid, after all, and for all that he knows what his creator gets up to, some things might be a bridge too far. Then again, he doesn't think they can arrest an AI for solicitation, so JARVIS is really just going to have to suck it up.
"Sir, your guest has arrived," JARVIS says that night, interrupting Tony from the journal article he's been reading for kicks, scribbling notes in the margins about what a fucking idiot the author is.
"What time is it?" Tony asks.
"Precisely eight-thirty PM," JARVIS says; he has that note in his voice that Tony swears he didn't program in, the one that sounds satisfied when things run on schedule.
"Standard scans," Tony says.
"She appears to be carrying no weapons, sir, apart from pepper spray."
"Let her in and lead her to the lounge," Tony says, standing up and cracking his neck, setting his journal page-down on the end table. He wonders briefly if he should freshen up or something, even though the most demanding thing he's done all day is cackle at what passes for genius in physics and engineering these days.
Then he remembers he's paying an insane amount of money so that he won't have to impress anyone.
When he gets to the lounge, a woman is standing there, looking at one of the paintings. She's not exactly dressed as he would have expected; Tony expected at least a little bit of leopard print, but there is not a spot to be found. She's wearing a sexy but tasteful green dress, one that accentuates her curves but doesn't scream 'look at my ass.' Her clutch matches the dress, and the strappy off-white heels fill out the ensemble nicely. She looks like she's here for a classy cocktail party rather than a very adult sleepover.
"Name?" he says, by way of greeting, and she turns, clearly unsurprised by his presence; the dress is cut down to bejesus, which makes a little more sense.
"Pepper," she says, smiling. "It's nice to meet you, Mister Stark."
As silly hooker names go, it's not bad; it could have been Cristal or Porsche or Mystique. Tony looks her up and down, and oh yeah, he has no problem at all with what he sees. "Why'd they send you in particular?"
She holds her bag in front of her with both hands, looking demure. "We make an attempt to match our clients' personalities and tastes, insofar as we know them," she says, in an efficient tone that doesn't match the rest of her. Tony has no idea if she's being honest or not; for as much as he's paying, he'd like a little consideration, but with these results, he's not sure he cares.
"Tall, redheaded, slender, slightly distant," he muses. "I don't know what that's supposed to say about me, but I like it."
"I don't have to be distant," she tells him, stepping closer and giving him a very effective come-hither look.
"Seductive does look good on you," he says, talking mostly to her tits. "Though distant was working too. You seem flexible."
Pepper frowns. "I'm honestly not sure if you want me to make a pun or not."
"Neither am I," he says. "Come on." He starts off through the house, and she hurries to follow him, her heels clicking against the floor. "I get this feeling we're supposed to have awkward conversation or meaningful personal revelations or stiff drinks or something."
"We can have whatever you want," she assures him.
"I want copious amounts of wild sex," he says. "Physically demanding sex. Sore-the-next-day sex."
"Then that's what we'll have, Mister Stark."
"Tony," he says over his shoulder. "It's Tony."
"Tony," she repeats. "I'm here for whatever you want."
"I want to fuck you," he tells her.
"Then fuck me," she says, like she's challenging him to do it. Maybe they've got his number a little bit better than he thought, because if there are two things in this world that Tony loves, they are sex and challenges.
"I had the money transferred to your bank," Tony says.
"I received notification," she says. "Thank you for your generosity."
"Pretty sure you're the one being generous here," he replies. "Then again, some people would consider it a privilege to sleep with me. So it's entirely possible that you're getting your money for nothing and your kicks for free."
He makes it to the door of his bedroom, stepping through; as soon as she's inside, he shuts the door, pushing her up against it, taking her purse out of her hand and tossing it away. He leans in to kiss her, but he stops himself. "Are you one of those 'not on the mouth' girls?"
"At these prices, I'll put my mouth on anything you please," she tells him, smiling wryly. He laughs in surprise, lacing his hand in her hair and kissing her hard. She puts her knee in between his, and he's content to just grind on her for a minute, enjoying himself, getting ready for what they're actually here for.
He lets her go, stepping away. "If you're so sure you know what I like, then what do I want?"
She pushes him backwards. "Get on the bed and I'll show you."
He grins, letting her guide him back, falling onto the bed when he gets there, legs spread, propped up on his elbows. It's his best 'please ravish me at your nearest convenience' look; just because she's a hooker doesn't mean he's not concerned with being as fuckable as possible.
She drops to her knees between his legs and slides her hands up his thighs and onto his cock, fuck the prelude, and maybe she does know what he wants. He's already good to go, and it only gets better and worse when she runs her hands along the length of him, firm pressure for him to grind up against. He wants her to stop fucking around and get on with it; he also really really wants her to keep fucking around for as long as possible.
When he almost can't take it anymore, she unzips him, pulling down his pants a little so she can take hold of his cock- underwear seemed like waste of time on a day like this. She strokes him quickly, just a little to get him ready, and it's not that he's not ready for her to put his dick in her mouth- he is, he really is, he has been for like two hours now- it's just that he couldn't possibly be prepared for what it feels like. It's hot and wet and soft and everything, but then she starts actively sucking him off, and holy fucking shit. She knows exactly what she's doing, every trick in the book, handling him like it's second nature, like there's no doubt in her mind as to how to take him apart. Her mouth is some kind of fucking gift from God, and Tony thinks maybe he should build some kind of cocksucking shrine just so he can put her in the middle of it.
This is already worth every single penny he paid.
He's aware that he's talking, but he's not entirely sure what he's saying- previous experience tells him it's probably along the lines of, "Fuck fuck fuck God shit fuck don't stop"- but it doesn't matter, it so doesn't matter. Nothing matters except her mouth, how fucking perfect she is, right on the dot right from the get-go. He never even knew he had a thing for that, for laser precision, total control, but apparently he's got a damn big one.
He reaches out with one hand, flailing a little before he finds the back of her head. He doesn't want to push, because just because she's a prostitute doesn't mean he should be an asshole, but he ends up holding her down anyway when he comes, deep in her mouth as he can get, moaning loudly enough that it would be embarrassing if he were even remotely able to give a fuck.
He turns her loose, smoothing her hair down apologetically; she doesn't seem particularly fazed by Tony's treatment, just licks her lips and sits back on her heels. "I thought you wanted to fuck me," she says, sounding faintly amused.
"Want to, going to," he tells her, a little out of breath. "You ambushed me. That was ambush head. Doesn't count."
"We don't have to keep score," she says.
"Oh, we're keeping score," he says. "We're definitely keeping score." He pulls his pants up, tucking his cock away and zipping up. "Lose the dress and get me a scotch on the rocks." He looks at her consideringly. "In that order, and keep the heels on."
She stands up, turning away from him and lifting her hair. "Unzip me?" she asks; they both know perfectly well she could do it herself, but there's something about the gesture, the excuse it gives him to put his hands on her curves, tracing them through the material. He actually does unzip the dress, eventually, and she lets it fall around her feet. She's wearing very appropriate inappropriate lingerie, classic black, panties with those silly little ties on the sides, bows just begging to be pulled. She turns towards him, giving him a little bit of a show; the bra is a match, the whole thing very carefully calculated to be as teasing as possible without actually showing anything- he can't even see the barest bit of nipple.
"You're good," Tony says.
"I aim to please," Pepper says, stepping out of the dress and walking towards the bar. Tony kicks the dress out of the way, turning to watch her walk, and if he didn't already have a thing for high heels, this moment would definitely give him one. Jesus goddamn she looks good, her ass shaking ever so slightly as she walks. He severely laments the fact that everything she needs is sitting on the top of the bar; he's going to hide everything underneath it next time, just to see her bend over and get it.
There's definitely going to be a next time. That is no longer a question.
She takes one of the rocks glasses and drops a few pieces of ice into it with the tongs, picking up the decanter and splashing some liquor over the ice. She holds up the glass for his inspection, and he raises an eyebrow. "Fill that up," he says, kicking off his shoes and sitting up against the headboard. "I don't drink for fun." She looks amused, but she takes him at his word, bringing the glass over and putting it in his outstretched hand. He takes a sip, motioning her over, and good Lord, she gets on the bed and crawls towards him, coming to sit by his side.
"Is this the part with the stiff drinks?" she asks.
"This?" he says, holding it up. "This isn't a stiff drink. I'd need a bigger glass for it to really be stiff." He holds up a hand. "On that one we can definitely skip the innuendo, it's way too easy to be worth it."
"Noted," she says, curling her legs up underneath her and leaning into his side. He puts his arm around her, offering her a sip of his scotch, but she shakes her head; more for him.
"I honestly don't know what we're supposed to talk about, if there's supposed to be meaningful conversation," Tony says.
"You said you wanted wild sex," Pepper reminds him.
"Give a guy a minute to recharge," he chides.
"I don't think you'd want to talk about the weather or the stock market," she says.
"The weather is definitely boring this time of year," he says. "Love the stock market though. Can't get enough of it." He points at her with his glass. "This is because SI went up today. Next week it's entirely possible I'll hate it."
"Perfectly understandable," she says.
"Still, intensely boring to talk about, past 'We are good at it today,'" Tony confirms. "I don't know what you want to talk about. Other than sleeping with influential men and shopping for extraordinarily nice underwear, what do you do with your time?"
"I read," she says.
"Oh," he replies, a little surprised. "I don't. I mean, I don't read anything you'd read, unless you're deeply involved in the scientific community."
"Can't say I am," she says. "The last thing I read was The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time."
"See, I know that that's a book," he says. "I'm doing good to know that."
"It's a step," she tells him. She turns towards him, crawling into his lap; she takes his drink out of his hand, setting it on the nightstand. "Let's not talk about books," she says, leaning in, close enough that there's nothing in his vision but her, her hair falling down around his face and blocking the light.
"Nothing to talk about," he agrees, straining up towards her. "No reason to talk at all." He moves down the headboard a little. "Kneel up."
She does it, bracing herself on the headboard, and yes, good, this is a great spot for him to be, absolutely excellent. He pulls the ridiculous bows at her hips out with his teeth, one after the other; when the panties don't flutter off as expected, he bites the waistband, pulling the whole thing away and spitting it out. He puts his hands on her thighs, spreading her out with his thumbs, and there, that's what he wanted, just perfect. She's already so wet, heat coming off her, and Tony feels endlessly triumphant about that, that of all the women in the world, this one's getting off on him, on his cock in her mouth, on the wonderful thing that is Tony Stark.
No applause, just throw money.
Before he can something incredibly stupid to this effect, he leans in and licks her, flicking his tongue over her clit. She moans low, the good kind, the kind that's not theatrical, and Tony feels the headboard move as she lets it take her weight. She's going to need the support, because he's not going to stop, not until she comes on his face; then he's just going to pull her down on him and fuck her hard, so she better not tire herself out.
He does expect some restraint on her part, a little bit of humoring, letting him get his fill of this while checking her watch, but that is exactly the opposite of what he gets. Pepper grinds herself against his tongue, making desperate noises as he drives her crazy with his mouth, licking and sucking. He's a man on a mission here, and he's not going to stop until she gives it up for him.
By the noises she's making, she's close, very close, and Tony doesn't let up, pushing his fingers inside of her and fucking her with them; he can feel the moment when she comes, the way she clenches hard around him, and that's it, considerate and impressive time is over, Tony fucking time starts now.
He pushes her backwards, and she ends up in his lap, looking at him with slightly glassy eyes. He devours her lips, pulling her hard against him, his hands on her everywhere. "Too many clothes," he says impatiently, only getting a few of his shirt buttons undone before he just pulls it over his head and throws it away; he doesn't even get that far on his pants, unzipping them and shoving them down before he gets his hands on her again. He kisses her wildly over and over, unable to get enough of her lips.
She pulls back for the briefest of moments, grabbing one of the condoms from the nightstand and tearing it open, rolling it onto his cock before she sinks down around him, and he all but goes cross-eyed from the pleasure of it. "Fuck me," he says through clenched teeth as she starts to ride him. His hands find her ass, helping her along. "Christ, fuck me hard."
"Uh huh," she says, nodding her head, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "Give it to me, Tony, please-"
It's loud and it's hard and it's incoherent on both sides, pure and mindless, bodies moving together. There's nothing like the heat of her body, the need that's just about to kill him. She moves her hips just right, still completely on point despite the fact that this is wild, feral, out-of-bounds; Tony comes and it's a shame, a sin, perfection.
She moves on him for a few moments longer, groaning and sighing, before she collapses onto him, clinging slightly. It takes a long time for their breathing to level out, for either of them to be at the point of speaking.
"We're not done here, if you were wondering," Tony says hoarsely. "I haven't even seen your tits."
"Say the word," she tells him.
"Don't rush me," he chides, kissing down her neck.
When he wakes up in the morning, sunlight is streaming through the windows. "Window tint at fifty percent, JARVIS," he says, and the lights dim. Pepper is still there, dressed again, standing in front of his CD cabinet, moving something to a different shelf; Tony rolls out of bed and pads up behind her, curious. "What are you doing in there?" he says, nudging her out of the way with his hip. He stares at the cabinet. "You reorganized my CD collection."
"You were asleep," she says, "and you did pay for the whole night."
"I paid for sex, not organization," he points out. He frowns, looking at the cases in annoyance. "Everything is all in the wrong-" He stops. "Huh."
"Everything is exactly where I meant to put it," he says, confused.
"Genre, artist, year, alphabetical, with compilation albums last," Pepper recites.
There's a possibility he's let some kind of witch into his house. "How did you-"
She smiles. "There's a note on the inside of the cabinet."
"There is?" he says, opening the cabinet door and peering at it. "I should really automate this."
"It says that on the note too." She kisses his cheek. "It's time for me to go."
"See you when I see you," he says, trying to sound noncommittal, and she smiles, looking smug. He watches as she walks away, wondering what the hell just happened, all of it.
Tony doesn't make it three days before he calls back.