(MCU) Match Point
February 12th, 2014 20:36![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
salmon_pinkTitle: Match Point
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing: Pepper/Sif
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1782
Notes: For Femslash February, and Porn Battle XV, prompt "Pepper Potts/Sif - wrestle".
Summary: Pepper's a lover, not a fighter.
“I understand the usefulness, or at least the purpose, I do, it’s just that this seems a little advanced for me, and I really think that - Christ!”
Pepper’s back hits the mats.
Again.
Sif just smiles and nods at her, like this is a perfectly valid form of training, like Pepper should be enjoying being thrown around like a rag doll. Pepper watches her rock effortlessly from her knees to her feet in one fluid motion, before extending her hand to help Pepper up.
It would probably be petty to dig her fingernails into the thin-looking skin of Sif’s wrists. Not to mention a waste of a perfectly good manicure, and Sif likely wouldn’t even feel it.
Pepper’s still tempted.
But she bites down the urge, because she’s had years of practice when it comes to dealing with exasperation and anger, and lets the real-life God they’ve decided will be her sparring partner pull her lightly to her feet.
It’s ridiculous, the whole thing.
Yes, Pepper has been the target of some rather nasty kidnapping plots and one terrifying assassination attempt since Tony first went flying with the Avengers. Yes, she understands the need to be able to protect herself.
But it’s not like she’s helpless. She’d taken self-defence courses before SHIELD started sticking their noses in. Hell, she’s had Captain America teach her some moves.
Steve’s lessons are certainly more pleasant. He takes the time to talk things through, to explain manipulating momentum and gravity and how she can use her size against bigger opponents, because he’s figured out Pepper finds the physical movements easier if she first understands the physics.
And Natasha’s lessons are secretly a blast. She trails in all manner of pale, trembling SHIELD agents, uses them to demonstrate twists and kicks and all sorts of bad-ass moves for Pepper to attempt to copy.
There tends to be a lot of laughter during those lessons, although it only comes from Pepper and Natasha and not from the sweating line of anonymous faces in SHIELD uniforms.
But apparently both Steve and Natasha are busy, and a normal instructor isn’t an option, no matter how much Pepper may have argued for one. She suspects that’s Tony’s doing, that she has to learn from an actual superhero because Tony’s always been about go-big-or-go-home, so she’s here, stuck with the Lady Sif.
Sif, who is so beautiful it’s unreal, who is sun-kissed and tall and touches Pepper with strong, sure hands, who isn’t even sweating yet, who seems to genuinely want to help Pepper learn, who feels so warm when their skin presses together.
Sif, who once again flips Pepper over her shoulder like she weighs absolutely nothing, and then Pepper’s hitting the mat for what feels like the hundredth time.
Sif, it seems, has a teaching style that involves not so much learning-by-doing as learning-by-failing-over-and-over-and-over.
And every time she splays herself bodily over Pepper’s prone form, pinning her down with her weight. Thankfully she’s not wearing her armour, but there’s still pressure on Pepper’s chest, over her wrists, between her legs, making Pepper have to fight not to squirm, Sif as immovable as a boulder on top of her.
“I yield,” Pepper deadpans, and for the first time since their session started, Sif frowns. It’s a delicate crease between her brows, and more than anything she looks confused, and Pepper isn’t sure why she feels like she just kicked a puppy, but now she has guilt on top of her bruises.
Maybe it’s an Asgardian thing. Maybe they just love battle that much that the idea somebody doesn’t enjoy being tossed around is, well, alien to them.
“These exercises are not helping you?” Sif asks, honestly curious.
“I’m sorry,” Pepper sighs. Sif’s still lying over her, and their breasts push together distractingly with Pepper’s exhale.
“Perhaps we need to reconsider this lesson,” Sif muses, and for a moment Pepper thinks she’s being offered an escape, an end to the torture. No more mats, no more bruises, the chance to retreat to the comfort of her apartment with a tall glass of white wine and the memories of Sif’s weight pressing her down.
But then that weight shifts, like Sif’s getting comfortable, and Pepper’s heart drops, even if other parts of her are growing more interested by the second.
“You’ve not been able to avoid being tumbled,” Sif continues thoughtfully, not insulting Pepper but merely stating the facts. “Instead we shall focus on how to free yourself from such a hold.”
So Sif wants Pepper to try and wriggle free from under the hard muscles and softer curves of her body? Pepper isn’t entirely sure if that’s a better or worse form of torture.
And Pepper’s quite sure Tony didn’t mention anything about Asgardians being psychic, she’d have remembered something like that, but Sif’s now looking at her with eyes that have shifted to dark and knowing. She leans down, presses her nose and lips to the skin of Pepper’s throat and inhales, slow and obvious. And oh, with anyone else Pepper would probably be panicking that her deodorant isn’t holding up the way it’s supposed to, but from Sif the action is so animalistic, so raw, that Pepper’s gasping and arching her back before she can tell herself not to.
Sif pulls back just enough that she can stare down into Pepper’s eyes, but still close enough that Pepper can feel the warmth of Sif’s breath against her lips.
“I assume you’ll find more motivation in this lesson,” Sif smirks playfully, fingers trailing up Pepper’s thigh to settle over her hip. It’s a deliberate touch, a tease and a goad, and Pepper feels her determination and pride bolster within her, the lesson suddenly infinitely more interesting. “Remember, you have only to say the word, and I shall allow you to your feet.”
Pepper narrows her eyes, no more plans to yield, and Sif’s smile grows wider, sharper.
“Then begin,” she murmurs, in a voice barely above a whisper that dances over Pepper’s spine like electricity.
Pepper doesn’t need telling twice.
There’s no triumph, no breaking the pin, no throwing Sif to the side and revelling in her victory, of course there isn’t. But it suddenly doesn’t matter so much. She undulates under Sif’s body, pressing against her everywhere she can, feeling the smoothness of Sif’s skin against her belly where her top has ridden up. Never breaking eye contact, and Sif is gazing down at her like she’s doing everything right, like she’s exquisite.
Pepper’s no warrior, but in this she most definitely knows what she’s doing.
Knows how to follow her instincts, knows to scrape her nails up Sif’s arms, to dig her heel in against the back of Sif’s knee. Watching Sif’s expression, the slight flutter of her eyelids as Pepper writhes, the way it’s only now that Sif’s starting to sweat.
She knows her hair’s a mess, pulling free from its band, static making it stick to the mats, knows her face is probably pink and shiny, but it doesn’t matter in the slightest. Not with the adrenaline from all those falls still rattling in her system, not with the bruises along her back making everything more intense.
Sif’s hands close around Pepper’s wrists, pin them either side of her head, and Pepper knows she can’t break the grip but she pushes up against them just to revel in being held down.
Sif’s leg is pushing up between Pepper’s thighs, a blatant invitation, and Pepper moans as it rubs at her through her sweatpants. She rolls her hips down against it, feels Sif’s appreciative huff of breath against her cheek. And it’s tempting, oh so tempting, to just take her pleasure from it and damn everything else, but Pepper hasn’t forgotten that this is still a fight.
She shimmies her hips, legs wrapping around Sif’s thigh, moving until she can angle her own thigh up against Sif’s sex, and Sif’s eyes widen slightly before she grins, grip on Pepper’s wrists shifting as she braces herself.
Fuck, the way Sif rocks down against is her is so insistent, almost brutal, and Pepper gasps, tries to push up against it. Sif’s thigh rubs against her cunt, solid muscle that makes Pepper’s eyes want to cross, dragging fabric over her labia and shoving her down against the mats. Pepper groans, takes it all, takes the way Sif’s fucking her like this, coaxing rough and husky noises out of her throat, tips of her fingers tingling with how tight Sif’s holding her wrists.
Pepper manages to get her other leg up and draped across the back of Sif’s calves, flexing and pushing there like she has some semblance of control over the pace, even though she knows she doesn’t. She can feel it building in within her, that heady hot-cold flash of feeling starting at the base of her skull, Sif thrusting down against her like the only thing in the world that matters is making Pepper come.
And, in the brief moment before she does just that, Pepper arches up and kisses Sif, distracted and messy but still sweet, and Sif makes a soft sound against her lips that gets drowned out by the roar of blood in her ears as Pepper’s orgasm rips through her hard enough to hurt.
She hears Sif follow her over the edge, the sound of her pleasure distant through the haze in Pepper’s mind, and she’s kind of bummed she didn’t get to see that, see a God climax from the feeling of Pepper underneath them, but it’s going to be a few minutes before she remembers how to open her eyes.
When she does remember how, Sif’s looking down at her fondly, hair in her face and a smile on her lips.
“I won,” Pepper informs her, still a little breathless.
“You did not break the hold,” Sif points out, head tilting to the side.
“Oh, is that what I was supposed to be doing?”
Sif’s laughter is surprised but earnest and makes Pepper’s toes curl in her sneakers. Her thumbs stroke over Pepper’s wrists, easing the sting as the blood begins to flow back into her fingers.
“Well,” Sif purrs, thigh shifting just the tiniest bit and making Pepper’s nerves light up all over again, her eyes practically sparkling. “Perhaps we should repeat the lesson until you’re able to remember.”
And it’s entirely possible that Pepper’s in trouble, because falling in lust with a God can’t be good for her sanity. But she pretty much surrendered her mental wellbeing the day she signed up to work for Tony Stark, so Pepper licks her lips and smiles, small and wicked. “Perhaps we should.”
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing: Pepper/Sif
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1782
Notes: For Femslash February, and Porn Battle XV, prompt "Pepper Potts/Sif - wrestle".
Summary: Pepper's a lover, not a fighter.
“I understand the usefulness, or at least the purpose, I do, it’s just that this seems a little advanced for me, and I really think that - Christ!”
Pepper’s back hits the mats.
Again.
Sif just smiles and nods at her, like this is a perfectly valid form of training, like Pepper should be enjoying being thrown around like a rag doll. Pepper watches her rock effortlessly from her knees to her feet in one fluid motion, before extending her hand to help Pepper up.
It would probably be petty to dig her fingernails into the thin-looking skin of Sif’s wrists. Not to mention a waste of a perfectly good manicure, and Sif likely wouldn’t even feel it.
Pepper’s still tempted.
But she bites down the urge, because she’s had years of practice when it comes to dealing with exasperation and anger, and lets the real-life God they’ve decided will be her sparring partner pull her lightly to her feet.
It’s ridiculous, the whole thing.
Yes, Pepper has been the target of some rather nasty kidnapping plots and one terrifying assassination attempt since Tony first went flying with the Avengers. Yes, she understands the need to be able to protect herself.
But it’s not like she’s helpless. She’d taken self-defence courses before SHIELD started sticking their noses in. Hell, she’s had Captain America teach her some moves.
Steve’s lessons are certainly more pleasant. He takes the time to talk things through, to explain manipulating momentum and gravity and how she can use her size against bigger opponents, because he’s figured out Pepper finds the physical movements easier if she first understands the physics.
And Natasha’s lessons are secretly a blast. She trails in all manner of pale, trembling SHIELD agents, uses them to demonstrate twists and kicks and all sorts of bad-ass moves for Pepper to attempt to copy.
There tends to be a lot of laughter during those lessons, although it only comes from Pepper and Natasha and not from the sweating line of anonymous faces in SHIELD uniforms.
But apparently both Steve and Natasha are busy, and a normal instructor isn’t an option, no matter how much Pepper may have argued for one. She suspects that’s Tony’s doing, that she has to learn from an actual superhero because Tony’s always been about go-big-or-go-home, so she’s here, stuck with the Lady Sif.
Sif, who is so beautiful it’s unreal, who is sun-kissed and tall and touches Pepper with strong, sure hands, who isn’t even sweating yet, who seems to genuinely want to help Pepper learn, who feels so warm when their skin presses together.
Sif, who once again flips Pepper over her shoulder like she weighs absolutely nothing, and then Pepper’s hitting the mat for what feels like the hundredth time.
Sif, it seems, has a teaching style that involves not so much learning-by-doing as learning-by-failing-over-and-over-and-over.
And every time she splays herself bodily over Pepper’s prone form, pinning her down with her weight. Thankfully she’s not wearing her armour, but there’s still pressure on Pepper’s chest, over her wrists, between her legs, making Pepper have to fight not to squirm, Sif as immovable as a boulder on top of her.
“I yield,” Pepper deadpans, and for the first time since their session started, Sif frowns. It’s a delicate crease between her brows, and more than anything she looks confused, and Pepper isn’t sure why she feels like she just kicked a puppy, but now she has guilt on top of her bruises.
Maybe it’s an Asgardian thing. Maybe they just love battle that much that the idea somebody doesn’t enjoy being tossed around is, well, alien to them.
“These exercises are not helping you?” Sif asks, honestly curious.
“I’m sorry,” Pepper sighs. Sif’s still lying over her, and their breasts push together distractingly with Pepper’s exhale.
“Perhaps we need to reconsider this lesson,” Sif muses, and for a moment Pepper thinks she’s being offered an escape, an end to the torture. No more mats, no more bruises, the chance to retreat to the comfort of her apartment with a tall glass of white wine and the memories of Sif’s weight pressing her down.
But then that weight shifts, like Sif’s getting comfortable, and Pepper’s heart drops, even if other parts of her are growing more interested by the second.
“You’ve not been able to avoid being tumbled,” Sif continues thoughtfully, not insulting Pepper but merely stating the facts. “Instead we shall focus on how to free yourself from such a hold.”
So Sif wants Pepper to try and wriggle free from under the hard muscles and softer curves of her body? Pepper isn’t entirely sure if that’s a better or worse form of torture.
And Pepper’s quite sure Tony didn’t mention anything about Asgardians being psychic, she’d have remembered something like that, but Sif’s now looking at her with eyes that have shifted to dark and knowing. She leans down, presses her nose and lips to the skin of Pepper’s throat and inhales, slow and obvious. And oh, with anyone else Pepper would probably be panicking that her deodorant isn’t holding up the way it’s supposed to, but from Sif the action is so animalistic, so raw, that Pepper’s gasping and arching her back before she can tell herself not to.
Sif pulls back just enough that she can stare down into Pepper’s eyes, but still close enough that Pepper can feel the warmth of Sif’s breath against her lips.
“I assume you’ll find more motivation in this lesson,” Sif smirks playfully, fingers trailing up Pepper’s thigh to settle over her hip. It’s a deliberate touch, a tease and a goad, and Pepper feels her determination and pride bolster within her, the lesson suddenly infinitely more interesting. “Remember, you have only to say the word, and I shall allow you to your feet.”
Pepper narrows her eyes, no more plans to yield, and Sif’s smile grows wider, sharper.
“Then begin,” she murmurs, in a voice barely above a whisper that dances over Pepper’s spine like electricity.
Pepper doesn’t need telling twice.
There’s no triumph, no breaking the pin, no throwing Sif to the side and revelling in her victory, of course there isn’t. But it suddenly doesn’t matter so much. She undulates under Sif’s body, pressing against her everywhere she can, feeling the smoothness of Sif’s skin against her belly where her top has ridden up. Never breaking eye contact, and Sif is gazing down at her like she’s doing everything right, like she’s exquisite.
Pepper’s no warrior, but in this she most definitely knows what she’s doing.
Knows how to follow her instincts, knows to scrape her nails up Sif’s arms, to dig her heel in against the back of Sif’s knee. Watching Sif’s expression, the slight flutter of her eyelids as Pepper writhes, the way it’s only now that Sif’s starting to sweat.
She knows her hair’s a mess, pulling free from its band, static making it stick to the mats, knows her face is probably pink and shiny, but it doesn’t matter in the slightest. Not with the adrenaline from all those falls still rattling in her system, not with the bruises along her back making everything more intense.
Sif’s hands close around Pepper’s wrists, pin them either side of her head, and Pepper knows she can’t break the grip but she pushes up against them just to revel in being held down.
Sif’s leg is pushing up between Pepper’s thighs, a blatant invitation, and Pepper moans as it rubs at her through her sweatpants. She rolls her hips down against it, feels Sif’s appreciative huff of breath against her cheek. And it’s tempting, oh so tempting, to just take her pleasure from it and damn everything else, but Pepper hasn’t forgotten that this is still a fight.
She shimmies her hips, legs wrapping around Sif’s thigh, moving until she can angle her own thigh up against Sif’s sex, and Sif’s eyes widen slightly before she grins, grip on Pepper’s wrists shifting as she braces herself.
Fuck, the way Sif rocks down against is her is so insistent, almost brutal, and Pepper gasps, tries to push up against it. Sif’s thigh rubs against her cunt, solid muscle that makes Pepper’s eyes want to cross, dragging fabric over her labia and shoving her down against the mats. Pepper groans, takes it all, takes the way Sif’s fucking her like this, coaxing rough and husky noises out of her throat, tips of her fingers tingling with how tight Sif’s holding her wrists.
Pepper manages to get her other leg up and draped across the back of Sif’s calves, flexing and pushing there like she has some semblance of control over the pace, even though she knows she doesn’t. She can feel it building in within her, that heady hot-cold flash of feeling starting at the base of her skull, Sif thrusting down against her like the only thing in the world that matters is making Pepper come.
And, in the brief moment before she does just that, Pepper arches up and kisses Sif, distracted and messy but still sweet, and Sif makes a soft sound against her lips that gets drowned out by the roar of blood in her ears as Pepper’s orgasm rips through her hard enough to hurt.
She hears Sif follow her over the edge, the sound of her pleasure distant through the haze in Pepper’s mind, and she’s kind of bummed she didn’t get to see that, see a God climax from the feeling of Pepper underneath them, but it’s going to be a few minutes before she remembers how to open her eyes.
When she does remember how, Sif’s looking down at her fondly, hair in her face and a smile on her lips.
“I won,” Pepper informs her, still a little breathless.
“You did not break the hold,” Sif points out, head tilting to the side.
“Oh, is that what I was supposed to be doing?”
Sif’s laughter is surprised but earnest and makes Pepper’s toes curl in her sneakers. Her thumbs stroke over Pepper’s wrists, easing the sting as the blood begins to flow back into her fingers.
“Well,” Sif purrs, thigh shifting just the tiniest bit and making Pepper’s nerves light up all over again, her eyes practically sparkling. “Perhaps we should repeat the lesson until you’re able to remember.”
And it’s entirely possible that Pepper’s in trouble, because falling in lust with a God can’t be good for her sanity. But she pretty much surrendered her mental wellbeing the day she signed up to work for Tony Stark, so Pepper licks her lips and smiles, small and wicked. “Perhaps we should.”
