Steve smooths his hand over his clothing one more time, trying to look effortlessly lovely as he reclines on the couch, which of course takes a huge amount of effort. He spent hours preparing for this, though admittedly, more of it was spent on personal pep talks than beauty. He didn't wear makeup or a wig, but he did shave his legs; they feel so soft and smooth against the fabric that spills out around them. All of him feels soft in this get-up, in the best possible way.
He's never done this before, and he doesn't know if it's going to work out at all, whether he's going to get nervous and run away, whether he's going to feel too guilty. It's not that this was something that he couldn't have had back then; it just wasn't right for him to do it, to do something so needlessly luxuriant when so many people had so little. The world is a different place now, one with plenty of people still in need, but spending a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of Tony Stark's money to do something that a lot of people could afford is a completely different proposition.
"Ms. Potts," Jarvis says, and Steve startles, hurriedly patting down his hair. The doors open, and Pepper steps through; she's not quite dressed to match him, but she's a vision in a dark gray three-piece suit, more masculine than he's used to seeing her. Her hair is pulled back into a bun, and she looks like she could take on the world, which is probably what she's been doing all day. She certainly looks like she could take Steve on, which is far more important to Steve, no offense to the world.
"What do we have here?" she says playfully, as the doors shut behind her.
Steve swallows as she walks towards him. He had a selection of come-hither lines rehearsed, but, "Hey," is the best he can manage, which isn't particularly smooth or sexy.
Pepper grins at him anyway. "Stand up and let me get a good look at you," she says, holding out a hand. "You look so gorgeous."
Steve lets her help him up, feeling a little hesitant. Even through the chiffon and lace and feathers, he knows his, well, everything is on display. That's sort of the point, but right now it seems incredibly daunting, endlessly embarrassing. It's just that everything else is outweighing it, the part that feels so gloriously decadent, sumptuous, like he's a movie star. Everything Tony and Pepper own, the things they surround themselves with, they look like they cost a whole lot of money, but they're not elegant, not beautiful, not like this.
"All wrapped up like a present," she says, putting a hand on his hip, the other on the back of his neck to pull him down into a kiss. He certainly feels like one in this outfit, a little piece of candy left out for her. The peignoir is probably the most sumptuous piece of clothing he's ever owned and ever will. The neckline is low, the lapels embellished with embroidered bluebirds, and the sleeves are wide, ringed with soft, downy feathers. The whole thing is made of translucent, light blue chiffon that flows all the way down to sweep the ground around his feet.
"I almost hate to unwrap you," she says, trailing her hand along his back. "You just look too perfect."
"No, please, feel free," he tells her. "You're welcome to do it as many times as you want."
"I'll hold you to that," she says. He reaches for the small buttons that hold the peignoir closed snugly over his stomach, but Pepper stops him. "Allow me," she says, stepping a little closer as she unbuttons him, close enough that he knows she can feel him hard against her. She doesn't say anything, just kisses him again as she pushes his coat back, sliding her hands onto his waist underneath it.
The gown is another work of art, a beautiful thing in the same blue chiffon, and it fits him absolutely perfectly. It doesn't look or feel like he's missing breasts; the way the fabric drapes over his chest and down to the empire waist, it even sort of looks like he has some. It looks like it was meant to be this way, that these are nobody's clothes but his, that he's nobody but a better version of himself.
Pepper traces the embroidery on the waistband with a fingertip. "Do you like it?" she asks.
"Yes," he says without hesitation. "It's lovely."
"You look lovely in it," she tells him. "I might have to show you off."
Steve swallows. "Oh?"
"Tony would love to unwrap you like this," Pepper says. "Though not in this particular outfit. You'd make him so crazy he'd tear something. This is too gorgeous to damage."
"It'd be a crime," Steve agrees, kissing her again. "You'll have to watch him closely."
"Trust me, I will," she says, grinning, "if I can take my eyes off you."
"You'll make me blush," he says, as she traces her hands up over his chest, running her fingers through his hair briefly.
"I'm counting on it," she tells him.
Steve makes himself take half a step back; this is all suddenly going very quickly, quicker than he intended. He has no qualms about where it's leading, is more than overjoyed to get there, but he had all these plans for how it was supposed to go. He's not going to get rid of them in the heat of the moment, not after all this effort.
"Can I get you a drink?" he asks.
Pepper doesn't look offended; this is Steve's show, Steve's indulgence, and he doubts she's going to push him any way that he doesn't want to go. "I'll have a vodka martini, extra olives."
He bends down and pecks her on the lips. "Coming right up."
He walks over to the bar, setting out a glass and picking up the shaker; if he has drink recipes taped to the counter, that's nobody's business but his own. This is no time to slip up, no time to appear unsure or confused. He shakes up the martini, straining it into the glass, putting a skewer through a few olives and adding that in too.
When he turns around, Pepper is sitting on the couch, her arms stretched out across the back, her legs crossed. She looks perfectly at ease, like this is completely normal, a luxury that she deserves, and it does something to him, makes it that much better, the idea that he's good enough, just as pretty and satisfying as he can be.
"Thanks, sweetheart," she says, accepting the glass from him and taking a sip.
"I thought you might be hungry," he says, sitting down next to her, perched on the edge of the seat. There's a cart next to the sofa, and he rolls it over, taking off the cloche and setting it aside. He could have gotten things he couldn't pronounce the name of or probably walked right into Tony's pantry and picked up a tin of caviar, but he didn't. There's decadence, and then there's wastefulness, and Steve is very clear on the line between the two.
"I hope it's good," he says, watching her nervously as she eats and sips her cocktail.
"It's all great," she praises. "You have to have some." She takes a piece of camembert and a bit of bread, offering it to him. "Go on, try a little." He reaches to take it from her, but she shakes her head. "Open up."
He can feel himself starting to blush, but he lets her feed it to him. "It's good," he says.
"Here, you have to have a blackberry too," she says, and her fingers brush his lips as she puts it into his mouth. She feeds him little pieces of cheese and bread and fruit, delicate bites that make him feel delicate, as close to dainty as he's ever going to get.
She picks up the last of the raspberries, perfect and glistening, and holds it out to him; he leans forward, but just before he can take a bite, she pulls it away, popping it into her mouth and grinning.
"You don't play fair," he says.
"I never said I was going to," she tells him, pulling him towards her and kissing him, sliding her hand between his legs. The gown is made somewhat less than demure by the fact that it has a long slit up the front, hidden amongst the folds of the fabric, coming up high enough to reach the middle of Steve's thighs. This is completely forgivable, as far as he's concerned, given how easy it makes it for Pepper to move her hand up his leg, stroking the inside of his thigh. He spreads his knees in invitation, but she still takes her time, kissing him slowly.
She breaks the kiss only to nip at his earlobe; he tilts his head to give her more access, the whole long line of his neck to kiss. She bites him lightly, sucking his skin as she finally touches his cock; he jumps, but she holds onto him, doesn't let him get away from her. He moans as she brushes her fingers over him, sinfully good through the fabric of his panties. They don't match the rest of his outfit, lacy white boyshorts that are thoroughly modern, but to be perfectly honest, panties are just prettier than they used to be, especially panties big enough to fit Steve. Steve just hopes they're resilient, because he's definitely stretching the thin material all out of shape right now.
"Let me make love to you," she whispers into his ear, stroking him slowly.
"Please," he moans, as she guides him back, laying him down on the couch. She takes off her jacket and unbuttons her vest, slowly stripping while Steve waits with nervous anticipation. It's not like they haven't had sex plenty of times, but something about this makes him feel like it's the first one; his heart is beating out of his chest as she slips out of her trousers, letting them pool on the floor, her underwear quickly joining them. She's still wearing her dress shirt when she climbs on top of him, kissing him as she rucks up his gown, far enough that the top of the slit is at his waist. Her kisses are harder, demanding, and Steve absolutely melts into them, lets her have whatever she wants.
Steve gasps against her mouth as she eases his panties down and wraps her hand around his cock. He's so hard, so needy, and it's torture to wait as she positions herself, getting ready for him. She takes him in carefully, every inch, moving forth and back until he's all the way inside of her. She braces herself as she starts to ride him, her hand on his chest, thumbing his nipple through the gown. "Does that feel good, honey?" she asks, moving up and down on him slowly, all the way up and all the way down. Steve makes some incoherent noise of assent, and she grins wickedly at him, going a little faster.
Steve has never felt like this before, ever, so completely taken over, so consumed by somebody else. He already knows it's going to be addictive, because he doesn't think he could ever possibly bear for this to end. There's more of his life, things he'll go back to, but right now all of it is distant, just an inconvenience compared to the feeling of being Pepper's girl.
She's moving quicker now, wound up, not holding back at all. Steve knows she's close, but he's not anywhere near done, wants so much more of this, all of it he can get. He slips his hand between them, the feathers of his sleeve tickling his stomach as he traces circles on her clitoris, driving her on, pushing her up and up until she comes, shaking on top of him, riding it all the way out, slowing gradually until she's good and done.
She drapes herself over him, kissing the side of his neck. "Did you?" she asks.
"Not yet," he says.
She sits back, and he bites his lip as he shifts inside her. "We'll fix that," she tells him, starting to ride him. He thinks maybe she's going to rush, try to finish him off quick, but she gives it to him nice and slow, just how he wants it, how he needs it.
He's holding on and holding on, wanting more so badly, greedy even though he knows they're both getting worn out. She moves her hand down her body, cupping her breast through her shirt, dragging it slowly down her stomach, stroking herself where they join. "I want you to come with me," she tells him, pushing down on him harder. "Come on, Steve, sweetheart, I'm so close."
"Yes," he moans. "Almost there-"
"Come on," she urges. "Do it with me."
He puts his hands on her hips, pulling her down against him as he comes, and he can feel him clenching around her, hear it in the way she moans his name. He feels boneless, all the tension inside of him released at once. Pepper's clearly feeling the same way, given how she collapses onto him. The illusion is a little spoiled by the fact that she's so much smaller than he is, fitting neatly onto his chest without crushing him, but he's nice and comfortable anyway.
She turns her head, kissing his cheek. "I thought I'd have dinner brought up," she says. "I don't know if you're hungry again, but I am."
"Oh," Steve says, momentarily thrown for a loop. He thought they were done here, that this ended at sex; he didn't think that she'd want to stick around, didn't know if he would.
"Come on," Pepper says gently. She tugs at the fabric of his gown. "I haven't even seen you out of this."
"Just let me freshen up," he says, and she climbs off of him, giving him a grin. He pulls up his panties, smoothing his dress down and standing up. "I'll get you another martini."
She pulls him down to meet her, kissing him soundly. "It's a date."