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kathierif_ficTitle: Work Environment
By: kathierif_fic
Fandom: MCU/Iron Man2
Rating: FRM
Pairing: Natasha Romanov/Justin Hammer (one-sided, imagined)
Summary: She knew exactly what she would do if he ordered her to her knees now.
A/Ns: written for kink_bingo, prompt “genital torture”
Warnings: graphic thoughts of genital torture in a fantasy, not acted upon
It needed a really special kind of person to make someone wish for Tony Stark at his most whiny and annoying, dying from Palladium poisoning and not seeing a way out for himself, Natasha Romanov thought almost fondly as she adjusted her grip on the folder she was holding and following her current mark into his office.
Tony Stark at least had a good side, she thought, her face a carefully blank mask, a good side and a soft underbelly he was trying to protect at all cost, and while he had a more than healthy sense of self-importance, it rarely slipped into outright, unfounded arrogance. Pepper made sure of that.
Tony was smart and a decent businessman when he bothered to concern himself with the day-to-day goings of his company and when he was not distracted by technology or emotions or dying. Natasha had witnessed his sharp intellect more than once, had depended on it to get out of critical situations and had grown to respect Tony.
She doubted that was going to happen on her current assignment.
Justin Hammer had all of Tony’s negative habits, but none of his good ones, as far as she could tell. He had approached her and had tried to hire her as a PA at one of Stark Industries’ events, where she had been to help out Pepper when her usual PA had come down with the flu.
It was a good thing she had amused herself with slipping deep into her Natalie-Rushman-persona, which was by far less deadly than her true self, or she would have injured Hammer gravely the second he’d dared to step up to her and place his hand on her shoulder. Instead she’d given him a bland smile and had fled as soon as she could, but not before he’d made his offer to work for HammerTech instead of Stark Industries.
When Nick Fury had found out, he had given his okay for Natasha to go undercover and make sure Hammer didn’t have any other internationally wanted criminals besides Whiplash on his payroll.
Natasha had nodded and accepted the assignment, and here she was, following Justin Hammer into his spacious and tastily decorated office and watching as he fell into his leather chair, his knees spread wide apart, as if he expected her to step between them.
Not moving a single facial muscle, she placed the folder on the desk in front of him and indicated where he was supposed to initial and sign.
Hammer gave her a smirk, pushed his glasses up his nose and dropped the hand not holding the pen into his lap, fingers twitching slightly.
If he opens his mouth now, she thought as she reached for the file again, if he opens his mouth and says one wrong word…
She watched him watch her, his gaze flickering between her face and the open button of her blouse, his tongue flickering out to wet his lips, an she imagined him ordering her in his most imperious tone to get to her knees and show him how much she liked working at HammerTech.
She imagined sinking to her knees gracefully while still holding his gaze, never turning away, her eyes boring into his until he swallowed, suddenly not so sure anymore about the whole thing, but he was greedy and would not stop her from reaching for his fly, opening the button and the zipper of his light grey suit pants. Quite to the contrary, he would lift his hips to allow her to tug the fabric slightly down, and she would do it, eyes finally flickering down to look at his dick.
She would lick her lips, her hands resting lightly on his thighs, the nail polish Pepper had picked out for her a bright red contrast to the fabric.
She would lean down and breathe across the tip of his stirring dick, watching his face from under lowered lashes, and reach out with her tongue, barely touching him and teasing him further. The tip of her tongue would trace along the ridge and then down his length, following the vein on the underside in an elegant pattern designed to drive him wild. His breathing would grow quicker, his hands clench into the armrests of his chair, and she would finally close her lips around the tip of his dick, surrounding him with heat, wetness and a hint of suction.
She would take her time, taking him deeper and deeper, listening to his breathing speeding up, his helpless sounds of mindless, hazy pleasure.
He would squirm in his chair, hips pushing up in and uncontrolled rhythm, and if she wanted, she could pretend to choke when the tip of his dick brushed against the soft back of her throat.
She wouldn’t want that.
Instead, she would pull back, a hint of teeth grazing along his dick just to feel him twitch, and focus on the tip again, blueish shade of purple and slick with precome and saliva, and then…
She shivered at the thought. If he grabbed her hair then, winding red strands around his fingers and tugging her down again, she would go willingly, taking in as much as she could, her tongue pressed against the underside. She would allow him to set a rhythm, fall into it, and then, when he was at his most unfocused and chasing his orgasm, his head tipped back, his glasses knocked askew, his perfectly trimmed hair mussed, in that moment, when he was almost at the point of absolutely no return…
…she would make sure that it was the most memorable encounter of his life. Her teeth would press into his skin, hard, sharp and unforgiving, sliding into his firm flesh until her tongue was covered in the metallic taste of blood instead of the salty flavor of precome. Hammer – Justin, at this point they would be well past the point where she earned the right to use his first name – would squawk and then scream when she wouldn’t let up, his dick twitching between her teeth and his muscles quivering under her palms. He would mewl and whimper and squirm, careful not to move too hastily out of panic of ripping off his dick.
She would have absolute power over him.
A soft moan stuck in her throat – she would dig her nails deeper into his thighs and press her breasts tight against his shins, enjoying the rasp of her lacy bra against her nipples when he tried to kick at her and the burn in her scalp where he yanked on her hair.
Natasha swallowed, a single muscle in her jaw twitching as if she was already feeling Justin Hammer’s flesh between her teeth.
She knew, of course, exactly how much pressure she could put on his tender flesh without causing permanent damage. She wouldn’t want to bite off a vital part of his anatomy – she had to smirk at the thought – just show him who was in control.
Show him that she could, if she wanted, with just a sharp snap of her teeth, cause him even more pain than the pulsing, intense sensation of what she was imagining now, the dark impressions of her teeth a perfect straight line on his dick, shrinking as she kept it pinned.
She could feel herself react to the visceral images in her mind, her body growing wet at the imagined line of dark bruises, the sobs and whimpers that would make his body shudder, the outward sign that she had been the one to bring one of the leading businessmen in America down to his most basic actions and reactions.
Besides, there was the chance that he might enjoy the sensation of her teeth on him, rendering him helpless and vulnerable, at her mercy. His psychological profile indicated that there was a moderately big chance of him having masochistic tendencies. She could use them, make Justin hurt real good and then, when he was dazed with arousal and pain, she could cut her assignment short and find out exactly what she needed to know, questioning while he was riding a wave of endorphins. He wouldn’t even realize it when he cut out his own heart and soul and offered it to her on a silver platter.
Natasha blinked slowly, took a deep breath to bring herself back to the present, and turned an expressionless face toward Hammer, who had no idea what she had been imagining while he had been signing and initialing contracts and reports.
“Will that be all, Mr. Hammer?” she asked blandly when she took the paperwork back from him.
Hammer looked up at her with a lascivious grin, and for a split second, she almost ached to live out her fantasy. She could already feel the salt-and-metal on her tongue and hear him beg, and she wanted it, wanted all of it – badly enough to contemplate, for a heartbeat, to go down to her knees without any prompting.
His smirk widened, making her fear for a second that some of her thoughts had been visible on her face after all.
“That’s everything, thank you, Miss Rushman,” Hammer said, and Natasha gave a small, professional nod before turning around and leaving the office, not without imagining her heel against his groin one more time.
It cheered her up considerably.
What cheered her up even more was the unexpected but familiar sight of the courier lounging against the receptionist’s desk, smirking and outrageously flirting with the receptionist who couldn’t quite hide her admiration of his muscled arms.
“Thank you, I’ll take it from here,” Natasha said smoothly and gave the man a look, and with a last smile, he pushed himself off the desk and followed her, bag casually slung across his shoulder.
In her office, he handed her a box. “Bad day at the office?” he asked and offered her a small bag with a pastry in it, which she gladly accepted.
She smiled, a razorthin, dangerous smile full of unholy glee while her thoughts flittered back to her earlier fantasies.
“You know,” she said and took a bite of the pastry, “It could be worse.”
~end
By: kathierif_fic
Fandom: MCU/Iron Man2
Rating: FRM
Pairing: Natasha Romanov/Justin Hammer (one-sided, imagined)
Summary: She knew exactly what she would do if he ordered her to her knees now.
A/Ns: written for kink_bingo, prompt “genital torture”
Warnings: graphic thoughts of genital torture in a fantasy, not acted upon
It needed a really special kind of person to make someone wish for Tony Stark at his most whiny and annoying, dying from Palladium poisoning and not seeing a way out for himself, Natasha Romanov thought almost fondly as she adjusted her grip on the folder she was holding and following her current mark into his office.
Tony Stark at least had a good side, she thought, her face a carefully blank mask, a good side and a soft underbelly he was trying to protect at all cost, and while he had a more than healthy sense of self-importance, it rarely slipped into outright, unfounded arrogance. Pepper made sure of that.
Tony was smart and a decent businessman when he bothered to concern himself with the day-to-day goings of his company and when he was not distracted by technology or emotions or dying. Natasha had witnessed his sharp intellect more than once, had depended on it to get out of critical situations and had grown to respect Tony.
She doubted that was going to happen on her current assignment.
Justin Hammer had all of Tony’s negative habits, but none of his good ones, as far as she could tell. He had approached her and had tried to hire her as a PA at one of Stark Industries’ events, where she had been to help out Pepper when her usual PA had come down with the flu.
It was a good thing she had amused herself with slipping deep into her Natalie-Rushman-persona, which was by far less deadly than her true self, or she would have injured Hammer gravely the second he’d dared to step up to her and place his hand on her shoulder. Instead she’d given him a bland smile and had fled as soon as she could, but not before he’d made his offer to work for HammerTech instead of Stark Industries.
When Nick Fury had found out, he had given his okay for Natasha to go undercover and make sure Hammer didn’t have any other internationally wanted criminals besides Whiplash on his payroll.
Natasha had nodded and accepted the assignment, and here she was, following Justin Hammer into his spacious and tastily decorated office and watching as he fell into his leather chair, his knees spread wide apart, as if he expected her to step between them.
Not moving a single facial muscle, she placed the folder on the desk in front of him and indicated where he was supposed to initial and sign.
Hammer gave her a smirk, pushed his glasses up his nose and dropped the hand not holding the pen into his lap, fingers twitching slightly.
If he opens his mouth now, she thought as she reached for the file again, if he opens his mouth and says one wrong word…
She watched him watch her, his gaze flickering between her face and the open button of her blouse, his tongue flickering out to wet his lips, an she imagined him ordering her in his most imperious tone to get to her knees and show him how much she liked working at HammerTech.
She imagined sinking to her knees gracefully while still holding his gaze, never turning away, her eyes boring into his until he swallowed, suddenly not so sure anymore about the whole thing, but he was greedy and would not stop her from reaching for his fly, opening the button and the zipper of his light grey suit pants. Quite to the contrary, he would lift his hips to allow her to tug the fabric slightly down, and she would do it, eyes finally flickering down to look at his dick.
She would lick her lips, her hands resting lightly on his thighs, the nail polish Pepper had picked out for her a bright red contrast to the fabric.
She would lean down and breathe across the tip of his stirring dick, watching his face from under lowered lashes, and reach out with her tongue, barely touching him and teasing him further. The tip of her tongue would trace along the ridge and then down his length, following the vein on the underside in an elegant pattern designed to drive him wild. His breathing would grow quicker, his hands clench into the armrests of his chair, and she would finally close her lips around the tip of his dick, surrounding him with heat, wetness and a hint of suction.
She would take her time, taking him deeper and deeper, listening to his breathing speeding up, his helpless sounds of mindless, hazy pleasure.
He would squirm in his chair, hips pushing up in and uncontrolled rhythm, and if she wanted, she could pretend to choke when the tip of his dick brushed against the soft back of her throat.
She wouldn’t want that.
Instead, she would pull back, a hint of teeth grazing along his dick just to feel him twitch, and focus on the tip again, blueish shade of purple and slick with precome and saliva, and then…
She shivered at the thought. If he grabbed her hair then, winding red strands around his fingers and tugging her down again, she would go willingly, taking in as much as she could, her tongue pressed against the underside. She would allow him to set a rhythm, fall into it, and then, when he was at his most unfocused and chasing his orgasm, his head tipped back, his glasses knocked askew, his perfectly trimmed hair mussed, in that moment, when he was almost at the point of absolutely no return…
…she would make sure that it was the most memorable encounter of his life. Her teeth would press into his skin, hard, sharp and unforgiving, sliding into his firm flesh until her tongue was covered in the metallic taste of blood instead of the salty flavor of precome. Hammer – Justin, at this point they would be well past the point where she earned the right to use his first name – would squawk and then scream when she wouldn’t let up, his dick twitching between her teeth and his muscles quivering under her palms. He would mewl and whimper and squirm, careful not to move too hastily out of panic of ripping off his dick.
She would have absolute power over him.
A soft moan stuck in her throat – she would dig her nails deeper into his thighs and press her breasts tight against his shins, enjoying the rasp of her lacy bra against her nipples when he tried to kick at her and the burn in her scalp where he yanked on her hair.
Natasha swallowed, a single muscle in her jaw twitching as if she was already feeling Justin Hammer’s flesh between her teeth.
She knew, of course, exactly how much pressure she could put on his tender flesh without causing permanent damage. She wouldn’t want to bite off a vital part of his anatomy – she had to smirk at the thought – just show him who was in control.
Show him that she could, if she wanted, with just a sharp snap of her teeth, cause him even more pain than the pulsing, intense sensation of what she was imagining now, the dark impressions of her teeth a perfect straight line on his dick, shrinking as she kept it pinned.
She could feel herself react to the visceral images in her mind, her body growing wet at the imagined line of dark bruises, the sobs and whimpers that would make his body shudder, the outward sign that she had been the one to bring one of the leading businessmen in America down to his most basic actions and reactions.
Besides, there was the chance that he might enjoy the sensation of her teeth on him, rendering him helpless and vulnerable, at her mercy. His psychological profile indicated that there was a moderately big chance of him having masochistic tendencies. She could use them, make Justin hurt real good and then, when he was dazed with arousal and pain, she could cut her assignment short and find out exactly what she needed to know, questioning while he was riding a wave of endorphins. He wouldn’t even realize it when he cut out his own heart and soul and offered it to her on a silver platter.
Natasha blinked slowly, took a deep breath to bring herself back to the present, and turned an expressionless face toward Hammer, who had no idea what she had been imagining while he had been signing and initialing contracts and reports.
“Will that be all, Mr. Hammer?” she asked blandly when she took the paperwork back from him.
Hammer looked up at her with a lascivious grin, and for a split second, she almost ached to live out her fantasy. She could already feel the salt-and-metal on her tongue and hear him beg, and she wanted it, wanted all of it – badly enough to contemplate, for a heartbeat, to go down to her knees without any prompting.
His smirk widened, making her fear for a second that some of her thoughts had been visible on her face after all.
“That’s everything, thank you, Miss Rushman,” Hammer said, and Natasha gave a small, professional nod before turning around and leaving the office, not without imagining her heel against his groin one more time.
It cheered her up considerably.
What cheered her up even more was the unexpected but familiar sight of the courier lounging against the receptionist’s desk, smirking and outrageously flirting with the receptionist who couldn’t quite hide her admiration of his muscled arms.
“Thank you, I’ll take it from here,” Natasha said smoothly and gave the man a look, and with a last smile, he pushed himself off the desk and followed her, bag casually slung across his shoulder.
In her office, he handed her a box. “Bad day at the office?” he asked and offered her a small bag with a pastry in it, which she gladly accepted.
She smiled, a razorthin, dangerous smile full of unholy glee while her thoughts flittered back to her earlier fantasies.
“You know,” she said and took a bite of the pastry, “It could be worse.”
~end