Disclaimer: I don't own Ironman - and if I did I wouldn't be posting fanfics.

Author's Note: Hope you enjoy - :) Hasn't been beta'd.

Breaking The Line

There is this line.

And she's breaking it.

It isn't a physical line so to speak, but a line nonetheless that separates them, keeps them apart. It keeps them honest. It reminds them of who they are, what they do and why they can't go further – whatever that is. It keeps them as employee and employer. It's there more for her safety than his. He could dive into a volcano, swim an ocean, and fly to the moon – he could afford to drop the mask of professionalism, take a kiss here and there, and run his hands over her body while taking her dancing in the starlight.

He could afford to – he was Tony Stark after all. He could afford the world. It wouldn't be a surprise to the world if he was caught with her in his arms, her moaning as his calloused hands and devil lips had their way with her. For him that was nothing really new. It would be in the rags for a bit, his face and charming smile would flash on the tv but in the end life would go on for him.

For her it was something completely different though – for her it would mean the end of everything she had worked for. It would end her career and she would join the long line of disgraced personal assistants who had dared to take the plunge. When she had gone to work for him (or rather he had forced her to work for him) she had been so careful to let him know that though he was attractive (because he was very attractive), charming (the Devil must've been his pupil), and he had an adorable smile that made her heart swell she was not going to end up in his sheets like his last – his teeth grazed her neck and she forgot her concerns for a moment.

He's holding her close, practiced hands trailing over her – slowly. There isn't a rush; it's careful and precise actions ... like she's a china doll, like he doesn't want to screw it up. She hopes it's the latter as electric shivers run rapid up her spine. He's good, sinfully good. He's only had her for a few moments and he's figured out her weakness. He's ruthless like that. He doesn't stop. Just keeps going, testing here and there, crossing out what doesn't work and attacking what does.

She doesn't want him to stop.

But she can't keep this going, can't – he's pushing her against the wall, his goatee scratching her collarbone ... she's almost lost again – almost.

"Tony," she breathes. It's a half moan of pleasure and a half demand for him to stop. Her lips are just above his ear. She hopes he hears the latter and not the former. She needs him to stop.

He isn't stopping though. He hasn't heard. He keeps going and it's like she's powerless as the line is crumbled into nothing, as it's washed away like chalk in the rain. She knows she isn't powerless – she could stop this. She's her after all. She hasn't lasted this long to – a moan escapes her as he lifts her up against the wall, and she can swear he growls for a second, a deep rumble as her legs feel like jelly and her heart falls into his hands.

He has her there and she's trying to understand where the fuck that line has gone – and why they didn't break it sooner. Because it's both of them breaking it, it takes two for this to happen. Just like it takes two to toe that line for all these years – the way he leans in a bit too close, how she brushes his hand when she passes him something to sign, his comments, her whiplash replies, their eyes narrowed as they challenge each other before withdrawing – they've narrowed toeing the line into a fine art.

Just like how he's narrowed down pleasure to a - he pulls another moan from her, lips planting light kisses along her neck.

The line is gone, it's broken.

But it was always meant to be broken in the end, she supposes.


Author's Notes: Thoughts are appreciated :)