Rose DeLeon stepped out of the Stark Industries cafeteria, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor of the lobby like Morse code for "leave me alone." It was supposed to be a quick lunch break—grilled panini and a black coffee to fuel the afternoon grind—but the universe had other plans. There, leaning against a potted ficus like he owned the place, was Eric. Her ex. The one who'd charmed her socks off five years ago with his slick sales pitches and bedroom eyes, only to leave her picking up the pieces when his "business trips" turned out to be code for chasing skirts.
"Rose, babe," Eric drawled, pushing off the plant with that predatory grin she used to find irresistible. "Long time. You look... edible."
She stopped short, her stomach twisting like she'd bitten into something sour. Once upon a time, that line would have had her melting, following him wherever his wandering hands led. But not anymore. Rose had clawed her way up from that mess, building walls higher than the Avengers Tower itself. "Eric. What the hell are you doing here?"
He sauntered closer, ignoring the security guards milling about. "Heard you were working for Stark now. Figured I'd drop by, catch up. We were good together, remember? That weekend in Vegas? Come on, ditch the suit and let's make some new memories."
Rose's jaw tightened. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, not from flattery but from the sheer audacity. "We were a disaster, Eric. And I'm stronger now. Walk away."
He didn't. Instead, he matched her stride as she headed for the elevators, his hand brushing her arm like he had any right to. "Playing hard to get? That's hot. Come on, one drink. For old times' sake."
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and Rose stepped in, jabbing the button for the penthouse levels. Eric wedged himself inside just as they started to close, crowding her space. "See? Fate's on our side."
"Get out," she snapped, her voice steady despite the knot in her gut. Memories flickered—nights where his charm had masked the control, the way he'd make her doubt herself. Not today.
Up in the control room, Tony Stark watched the feed on one of his myriad screens, his fingers pausing mid-keystroke on a holographic interface. The penthouse lab was a glorious chaos around him: half-assembled arc reactors glowing like captured stars, drone parts scattered like metallic confetti, and a half-eaten protein bar forgotten on the workbench. He'd been tweaking JARVIS's facial recognition algorithms when Rose's face popped up in the lobby cam. Then this clown appeared.
Tony's eyes narrowed. Eric. He'd run a quick background check on the guy months ago, after overhearing Rose mention him in passing during one of their late-night lab sessions. Sleazy salesman, history of bad debts and worse relationships. Tony felt that familiar territorial pull, the same jealous spark that had ignited at the gala when suits had swarmed her like flies to honey. Rose thrived on the attention, he knew that—hell, it turned him on sometimes—but this? This was harassment wrapped in cheap cologne.
"Jarvis," Tony said, standing and grabbing his jacket. "Lock down the lobby if this guy doesn't back off."
"Already monitoring, sir," the AI replied smoothly. "Ms. DeLeon appears to be handling it."
But as the feed showed Eric following her into the elevator, Tony was already moving. No way was he letting this slide.
Down in the lobby, the elevator dinged open on a sublevel, but Eric stayed put, his body language screaming entitlement. Rose pressed the emergency stop button, the car jolting to a halt between floors. "Eric, I'm serious. Leave. Now."
He chuckled, stepping closer. "Or what? You'll call security? Come on, Rose. You know you miss this." His hand reached for her waist.
The doors had barely hissed open again when Tony burst into the lobby like a storm front, his presence sucking the air from the room. Security flanked him instinctively, but he waved them off. "Hey, buddy," Tony said, voice laced with that signature sarcasm that could cut glass. "Elevator's not a pickup joint. Time to exit stage left."
Eric turned, sizing him up. "Who the hell are you?"
"Tony Stark. Owner of this tower, by the way. And you're trespassing." Tony's eyes flicked to Rose, a quick check— she looked pissed but steady, her chin lifted in that assertive way that always made his blood run hot. He remembered the gala aftermath, the way she'd challenged his reckless streak before they tumbled into bed, all fire and no regrets.
Eric puffed up. "This is between me and Rose."
"Wrong." Tony stepped forward, his posture deceptively casual, but there was steel in it. "She's made it clear. You? You're done. Jarvis, escort this gentleman out. Permanently."
Drones whirred to life from hidden panels, herding Eric toward the exit as he sputtered protests. Rose watched, exhaling a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Tony turned to her, his expression softening just a fraction. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she said, meeting his gaze. "Thanks. I had it, but... yeah."
He nodded, then jerked his head toward the private elevator. "Come on. Penthouse. You need a drink, or something stronger."
They rode up in silence, the tension crackling like static. Rose leaned against the wall, her mind replaying the encounter—Eric's audacity a stark reminder of how far she'd come. Tony stood close, his arm brushing hers, that possessive energy simmering. She thought of their past moments: the lab kiss after his injury, the way she'd rushed to his workshop, heart pounding, only to find him bandaged but smirking. It always circled back to this pull between them.
The doors opened to the penthouse, a sprawling expanse of glass walls overlooking the skyline, minimalist furniture dotted with tech prototypes. Tony poured them scotch from a decanter that looked more like a sci-fi prop than barware. "To exes who can't take a hint," he toasted, clinking her glass.
Rose sipped, the burn steadying her. "He always was persistent. Used to work on me."
"Not anymore." Tony set his glass down, closing the distance. His hand cupped her jaw, thumb tracing her lip. "You're not that girl."
Before she could respond, he kissed her—hard, demanding, like he was staking a claim. Rose gasped into it, her body igniting. His mouth was all heat and hunger, tongue sweeping in to conquer. She kissed back fiercely, hands fisting his shirt, pulling him closer. Fuck Eric. This was what she wanted—Tony's intensity, unfiltered.
They stumbled toward the bedroom, shedding clothes like afterthoughts. Tony's jacket hit the floor, followed by her blouse, buttons scattering like confetti. He backed her against the wall, lips trailing down her neck, nipping at the pulse point that made her moan. "God, Rose," he growled, voice rough. "Seeing that asshole touch you... I wanted to deck him."
She arched into him, fingers digging into his shoulders. "Jealous?"
"Territorial," he admitted, echoing that gala night when he'd watched men flirt with her, the jealousy twisting into something primal. His hands slid under her skirt, hiking it up, thumbs hooking into her panties and yanking them down. She kicked them aside, bare now from the waist down, her pussy already slick with need.
Tony dropped to his knees, eyes dark as he looked up at her. "Let me taste you." No preamble—he buried his face between her thighs, tongue flicking against her clit with precision that bordered on genius. Rose's head thudded back against the wall, a curse spilling from her lips. "Fuck, Tony..."
He devoured her like a man starved, lips sucking, tongue delving into her folds, lapping at her wetness. One hand gripped her ass, fingers kneading the flesh, while the other teased her entrance, two digits sliding in deep. She bucked against him, the pressure building fast, her breaths coming in sharp pants. He curled his fingers, hitting that spot inside her that made stars explode behind her eyelids. "Come for me, Rose," he murmured against her skin, the vibration sending her over.
She shattered, crying out his name, thighs trembling as waves of pleasure crashed through her. Tony didn't stop, licking her through it until she was boneless, tugging him up for a messy kiss where she tasted herself on his tongue.
"Your turn," she whispered, pushing him toward the bed. He stripped off his shirt, revealing the arc reactor's glow against his chest, a reminder of the man who'd survived hell and come out smirking. Rose shoved him down, climbing on top, her skirt still bunched around her hips like a teasing frame. She ground against the bulge in his pants, feeling his dick strain through the fabric. "Hard already? For me?"
"All for you." He groaned as she unzipped him, freeing his cock—thick, veined, curving just right. She wrapped her hand around it, stroking slow and firm, thumb circling the head where pre-cum beaded. Tony's hips jerked, his hands roaming her breasts, pinching her nipples until they pebbled under his touch.
Rose leaned down, taking him in her mouth, tongue swirling around the tip before sliding down, hollowing her cheeks. He tasted salty, musky, perfect. She bobbed her head, one hand pumping the base, the other cupping his balls, rolling them gently. Tony's fingers tangled in her hair, not guiding but holding on, his breaths ragged. "Shit, Rose... your mouth..."
She hummed around him, the vibration drawing a curse from his lips. He was close—she could feel it in the way he throbbed—but she pulled off with a pop, grinning wickedly. "Not yet."
He flipped her onto her back in one fluid move, shedding the rest of his clothes. Naked now, his body was a map of scars and muscle, the reactor casting a blue glow over them both. Tony settled between her legs, rubbing his cock along her slit, teasing her clit. "You want this?"
"Yes," she breathed, wrapping her legs around him. "Fuck me, Tony."
He thrust in deep, filling her in one smooth stroke. Rose gasped, her walls clenching around his dick, the stretch exquisite. He paused, buried to the hilt, letting her adjust, then started moving—slow at first, grinding against her clit with each roll of his hips. "So tight... fuck, you feel good."
She met him thrust for thrust, nails raking his back, urging him faster. The bed creaked under them, the room filling with the sounds of skin slapping skin, her moans mingling with his grunts. Tony shifted, hooking her legs over his shoulders, driving deeper, hitting angles that made her see white. "Right there... don't stop..."
He didn't. Sweat slicked their bodies, his mouth claiming hers in a bruising kiss as he pounded into her. Rose felt the coil tightening again, her pussy fluttering around him. But it was more than release she craved—something deeper, raw. Memories of their intimacies flashed: the post-mission kiss, the lab passion. She wanted all of him, forever.
"Tony," she panted, breaking the kiss. "Cum inside me. Please... get me pregnant. I want your baby."
His rhythm faltered, eyes locking on hers, surprise and heat flaring. "Rose... you sure?"
"Yes. Fuck, yes. Fill me up."
The words ignited him. Tony's thrusts turned feral, hips snapping with abandon, his cock swelling inside her. "God, the thought of you carrying my kid... breeding you like this..." He reached between them, thumb circling her clit, pushing her toward the edge.
Rose came first, her orgasm ripping through her, pussy milking him in rhythmic pulses. "Tony! Fuck..."
He followed with a guttural groan, burying deep and spilling inside her, hot jets of cum flooding her core. They rode it out together, bodies locked, breaths syncing as the aftershocks faded.
They collapsed in a tangle, Tony still inside her, softening slowly. He kissed her forehead, a rare tenderness breaking through his smirk. "A baby, huh? That's one way to make an honest man out of me."
Rose laughed, tracing the reactor's glow. "Or complicate your playboy life."
He pulled out gently, a trickle of his cum leaking from her, which he watched with possessive satisfaction. "Worth it." Rolling to his side, he drew her close, but Rose wasn't done. She pushed him onto his back, straddling his hips again. "Round two? I want more."
Tony's eyes lit up. "Insatiable. I like it."
This time, she guided him back in, riding him slow, savoring the fullness. Her hands braced on his chest, she rocked her hips, grinding her clit against his pubic bone. Tony's hands gripped her ass, spreading her cheeks, a finger teasing her back entrance. "Ever thought about this?" he murmured, circling the tight ring.
Heat bloomed there, unexpected but thrilling. "Maybe... with you."
He slicked his finger with their mixed juices, pressing in slowly. Rose moaned, the dual sensation—his cock in her pussy, finger breaching her ass—pushing her higher. She rode harder, the fullness overwhelming, dirty and perfect. "Fuck, Tony... yes..."
He worked her open gently, adding a second finger as she bounced, the stretch burning sweet. "So tight back here. Gonna fuck this ass someday, Rose. Make you scream."
The promise sent her spiraling, another orgasm building fast. Tony thrust up to meet her, his free hand pinching her nipple. She came with a cry, squirting a little, soaking his groin. He flipped them again, pulling out to chase his release, stroking himself as he aimed for her chest. "Open," he commanded, and she did, tongue out, catching the ropes of cum that painted her skin.
Panting, they lay there, sticky and sated. Tony grabbed a warm cloth from the en-suite, cleaning her up with surprising care. "You know," he said, settling back, "if we're doing this baby thing, we should practice. A lot."
Rose smirked, curling into him. "Deal. But only if you promise not to let exes crash our rehearsals."
Tony chuckled, pulling the sheets over them. "No promises. But I'll always kick 'em out." As sleep tugged at them, Rose realized this was her strength—not just walking away from the past, but charging into a future with the one man who matched her fire. And damn, if it didn't feel like the best decision she'd ever made.