Chapter 5
T’Challa drinks his tea while Shuri wrinkles her nose at him. “Just leave him be and find a nice girl in Wakanda, that would be much better than this… Tony Stark person. He seems like an ass,” she says. T’Challa agreed that Tony certainly did seem like he was not much worth his time, but Tony in person was something of a different story. Finding someone who was not immediately put off by his obvious air of dominance even before they found out he was a sub. His childhood friend B’Tumba had grown jealous of his natural talent and leadership that he eventually tried to kill T’Challa. It did not end well because T’Challa was naturally a better fighter too, which must have been a blow to the ego though T’Challa could not bring himself to pity his old friend. Tony did not seem particularly concerned with his obvious belligerence though and given his past with his ability to easily intimidate people completely by accident he was curious.
“I have no idea why you are suddenly so invested in my love life, Shuri, but I would prefer if you were not invested,” he tells her. His Dom was none of her concern anyways, or anyone else’s but his own.
“I am just saying, leave the American out of it. You have better options here,” she says.
“Find me a single Dom who is not put off by the fact that I seem to have a more domineering than they do and I will be impressed,” he counters. It was far worse everywhere else- last week he had some random politician attempt to Dom him into agreeing with whatever it was he put forward. He was not impressed when T’Challa quickly slapped that down and told him that a move like that would be cause for arrest in his home country. Attempting to coerce a sub into a position they would not otherwise accept was a particularly offensive crime in Wakanda but it seemed to be a popular political technique in other parts of the world. It seemed the world’s shadiest politicians were not impressed with his easy ability to avoid that coercion.
“I’m sure we could find someone. I’m sure Stark is put off by your… presence too, he is quite egotistical. Seems like the type that would be easily bruised if his sub was not a wilting flower,” she says, wrinkling her nose.
“Your crude attempts at manipulation are not going to work, Shuri, so quit while you are ahead. Your assessment of Tony is wrong anyways. The first time we met he asked me to sit down and I refused, he did not take offense and sat himself, all while maintaining his own presence.” That had been rather unusual in regards to T’Challa’s own experience, but especially odd considering the culture Tony lived in. T’Challa’s presence in the general public would have been frowned upon not that long ago and the consequences of that inequality was still playing out in America and other closely tied countries. The notion that his presence outside his relationship would have been cause for concern at all was bizarre to T’Challa. Obviously subs had interests, goals, and aspirations outside of their Doms but that did not seem to translate well to more traditionalistic people.
“That is not true, is it?” she asks, frowning some when T’Challa gives her a look.
“I am not stupid, Shuri, I know what an affronted Dom looks like. I have to spend an unfortunate amount of time with them in the political arena. Tony Stark was not anything like them, he seemed unconcerned with my unwillingness to comply and he certainly did not undermine his position as a Dom.” That remained consistent across the next few times they met too- Tony seemed to have no issues quietly maintaining his position as Dom regardless of T’Challa’s obvious unwillingness to submit easily. It seemed to come effortlessly even in a situation where his position could be perceived as being threatened. T’Challa thought Doms everywhere could learn a thing or two from Tony’s obvious and unquestioned confidence but he doubted any of them would learn. There was too much of an expectation that certain groups of people must act in certain ways for anyone to understand why Tony’s confidence was necessary. After all most subs did not carry themselves like a king or a prince, that was just T’Challa.
Shuri’s eyebrows rise in response to his words though, “seriously?” she asks.
“No, I am making this all up,” he says sarcastically and Shuri frowns, “sarcasm,” he tells her, attempting to solve the confusion but he only seems to make it worse. “It is how they say it in English, leave me be. Regardless, I would like to explore Tony Stark further and even if I did not I have no strong desire for a relationship. I am only exploring this one due to biological circumstance and curiosity.” It was not often that he met a Dom like Tony. Actually he has never met a Dom like Tony- most were confused by T’Challa’s not acting like a ‘typical’ sub. He assumed that that was due to his position as a member of the royal family- they were all expected to be at least a little domineering and he was to be king. Obviously he could not be willing to fall to his knees whenever he saw a Dom and the thought of doing anything of the sort made his skin crawl.
Shuri does not look impressed but he knows she will not press this much further. “I still think you would be better off without Stark,” she says.
“Then I guess it is a good thing that I do not care what you think, I care what I think,” he says, his tone giving off a note of finality.
*
Natasha has done many things in her life and has had many things done to her, but having her hair brushed was not one of those things. If she paid attention to it at all it was only to wrangle it into a presentable state and that was that. Pepper, though, had suggested it and Natasha didn’t see the harm in having someone else deal with her hair for once. Now that she was sitting here, though, she wasn’t sure how she felt. The rhythmic movement of the brush combing through her hair should be comforting she supposed, maybe even pleasant but the action put her on edge for some reason. She didn’t tense though, of give any other indication that she was not fond of the action in part because she had no idea why she was uncomfortable but mostly because she didn’t want to displease Pepper. She’s already done so much to inconvenience her that she didn’t want to add to the list.
“How is this?” Pepper asks some time after she started, brush flowing through Natasha’s hair easily now that Pepper worked all the knots out. Natasha doesn’t answer right away and the brush stops moving, pulling away from her head.
“Its fine,” she says quickly, not wanting to irritate Pepper.
“No it isn’t,” Pepper says in a matter-of-fact tone that makes Natasha nervous. “You hesitated when I asked if this was okay, but you aren’t tense at all and there doesn’t seem to be any indication that you dislike this. Explain,” Pepper tells her. The command wasn’t heavy-handed in the way Natasha was used to from Doms who assumed their authority was the end of discussion. Instead Pepper held a quiet kind of Domination and strangely Natasha felt her commands much more than she would have if her commands had been sharp and the submission expected. Doms like that always made her want to hit them. Sometimes repeatedly.
“I don’t know,” Natasha mumbles after Pepper’s question lingers unanswered for too long. She doesn’t like the answer but she didn’t have anything better for her either.
Pepper doesn’t seem to be offended by this, sitting back in her seat instead to examine Natasha. “Think about it. Something about the situation put you off enough to hide it from me, which I don’t want you to do by the way,” Pepper says in a stern tone.
“I didn’t want to disappoint you,” Natasha tells her quietly.
“Telling me that you’re uncomfortable will not disappoint me, but hiding discomfort from me will,” Pepper tells her.
“I don’t even know why I was uncomfortable, its stupid to say you’re uncomfortable without a real reason,” she mumbles. What was the point in ruining Pepper’s fun over some arbitrary feeling that existed for no reason?
“There is no ‘stupid’ reason for being uncomfortable with something Natasha. Do not hide your discomfort from me out of some misguided attempt to make me happy. It won’t end well for anyone, least of all you,” Pepper says. She leaves it at that and sits back on her couch to do… something. Natasha hears her tap at the screen on her phone and assumes she’s answering emails for work or something so she remains in her spot, unsure of what was expected from her.
Natasha didn’t know what to make of Pepper as a Dom. She was used to rough Doms who all but forced her into whatever it was they wanted from her and she complied, of course, because she needed something from them and they usually ended up dead anyways. She’s played Dom of course, but her general motivation was the same. Distract them long enough to get what she wanted and she’s always been damn good at her job. Pepper though she was so… gentle and she had no idea what that meant. BDSM on principal generally involved pain and yet here she was brushing Natasha’s hair. What was the point? What did Pepper even get out of that?
The Red Room had taught her many things and how to handle high amounts of pain that stretched the capabilities of the human body was among her top three lessons. Loyalty and various fighting styles with and without weapons were next. Loyalties changed though, and her skills were more often used against the Red Room than for them these days, but her ability to handle pain has never led to unexpected avenues until now. She was plenty used to playing sub but she’s never had a Dom more interested in brushing her hair than flogging her or something. Not that flogging was particularly painful.
She sits in silence for a long time while Pepper taps away at her phone before Pepper reaches out, gently smoothing out her hair and she jumps completely by accident. “Sorry,” she mumbles, rearranging herself and resolving to pay more attention so she wasn’t jumpy. Subs weren’t meant to be jumpy.
“Don’t apologize. Tell me what was wrong, Natasha,” Pepper says. She has that soft command in her voice again and Natasha almost feels compelled to answer but she quells the instinct quickly, used to pretending she was not a sub.
Pepper seems content to let her gather her thoughts for a few moments because she doesn’t demand Natasha answer her when she doesn’t answer right away. “I… I’m not used to this,” she says eventually because it was the best she could do.
“What is ‘this’, exactly?” Pepper asks, going exactly where Natasha didn’t want her to go.
“This,” she says more forcefully, “why brush my hair? Why pet my head or whatever that was? What is the point in that?”
“What’s the point in being gentle, you mean?” Pepper says, her voice going up at the end like it was a question but the comment was certainly more of a statement.
“No… well yes. Why would you want that?” she asks.
“Why don’t I want to hurt you is what you’re asking,” Pepper says bluntly.
“Stop decoding what I’m saying. I don’t like it,” Natasha mumbles.
“Turn around,” Pepper instructs and Natasha turns slowly to face her. “Eyes up,” Pepper tells her when she keeps her head down. She complies and Pepper sits up in her spot, straightening her spine. “What kinds of submission have you been involved in?” she asks.
Natasha shrugs, “a bit of everything,” she says. People had wide-ranging interests and desires; she’s catered to a lot over the years from both sides of the spectrum.
“But nothing sensual?” Pepper asks. Natasha shrugs again, guessing that she hadn’t if she was surprised by this. Pepper considers this for a long moment before speaking, “I prefer sensual BDSM, always have. Not that I don’t throw in some pain play too, it can spice things up a little, but I like grooming my subs, making them feel precious and cared for. if that’s something you’re uncomfortable with than we should work something else out,” she says.
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Natasha says quickly, maybe too quickly if Pepper’s raised eyebrow is any indication. “I just… I need to get used to that. I’ve never had someone take care of me, not without strings attached, and I don’t take care of others either. I was made to be solitary, able to take care of myself and unable to make connections to others. I’ve never needed someone to take care of me, never will. This is new territory and I just need time to adjust.” That was all, she just needed time.
“Have you ever let someone take care of you? Pamper you? Something tells me you’ll find that a lot harder than you think it would be,” Pepper says softly.
Natasha shakes her head, “how hard can it be to let someone groom me? Saves me the trouble of doing it myself,” she says honestly.
“Clear your schedule for tomorrow than, and come up with a safe word.” Natasha frowns because she doesn’t think she’d really need a safe word for being groomed of all things but Pepper looks serious to she resolves to think about it.
*
“What did you get from the suit?” Hope asks, surprisingly waiting until after dinner to ask.
“Totally managed to isolate the Pym particle, go me, and I almost completely reverse engineered the suit too. And made that helmet design a whole lot les hideous. If you want the helmet design I’ll give it to you but keep it away from your little birdy, he can remain hideous forever,” Tony says, wrinkling his nose. Scott fucking Lang, what an ass and here he was insulting Tony.
“Was that ketchup stain you too?” Hope asks, raising an eyebrow.
“How often do I even eat ketchup?” The question is meant to be rhetorical but apparently Hope misses the memo because she still expects an answer. “No it wasn’t me, I barely eat the condiment.” Not to mention the things he ate in the lab were usually small things like cut up fruits, cut up veggies, or other snack foods that the bots left around to ensure that he ate. He had a bad habit of being absorbed in his work but if the food was there he’d eat it, same with drinks. Otherwise he’d completely forget until suddenly he felt like he was about to pass out. Dummy freaked out when he did that though so he refrained from doing that as much as possible to spare the bot a panic attack.
“I’m going to kick Scott’s ass for getting a god damn ketchup stain on the Ant-Man suit,” Hope says, looking ready to whip out her phone, reach through the fiber optics and strangle Scott that way. Tony would pay good money to make that possible just so he could watch her do it.
“This is why my suit is metal, it’s easy to clean. I power wash it and all those donut crumbs are gone,” he says, grinning when Hope gives him a dirty look.
“Well if you keep eating those donuts you’ll get softer around the middle,” she tells him, poking him in the side.
“I am not soft in the middle! That’s just my body!” he says, hugging his midsection.
“Your soft body,” Hope says, snickering when he looks down at himself to see if she was right. “If you want we could box again. I remember the last time pretty clearly,” she says. She outright laughs when Tony makes an annoyed noise.
“First, you cheated, second, I’ve spent a lot of time boxing since then and I’m actually pretty good now thanks. So take that,” he says, nose in the air. She had been the only reason he had an interest in the sport and Howard had been thrilled he wanted to take up the masculine sport. Tony had a tendency to shy away from all sports because no, his face was pretty and he wasn’t going to have someone punch it but Hope had to go down. He had never fulfilled that wish but he had kept up with it because he found it enjoyable and one time when Howard had gotten really nasty Tony tested his skills on his asshole father’s face and knocked him out. He also nearly broke his hand and had hell to pay when Howard woke up but in the meantime it was glorious.
“Only one way to find out if you’ve improved or not,” Hope says, “get your ass in the ring I know you have lingering around here somewhere.”
Tony gives it a valiant try but Hope ends up laughing her ass off when he fails to last more than five minutes. In his defense Hope was a damn dirty cheater but she at least offered to teach him how to be a damn dirty cheater too.