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'My reputation grows with every failure.' George Bernard Shaw.
Tony rolled over so that he could lay on his back, and stare at the ceiling. The comforter and blankets had long been pushed off the bed, and onto the floor. His own nudity didn't bother him in the least, nor did his partner's, a young woman he had picked at a bar earlier. As a matter of fact, contrary to what 99.9% of the world thought, Tony Stark felt nothing stir, nothing quicken as he openly stared at her getting dressed.
The blonde turned, and gave him lascivious wink mistaking his passive appraisal for one of lusty appreciation.
Once dressed, she bent down, and gave Tony an opened mouthed kissed, which he returned, though with only a small fraction of enthusiasm. But it was important for him to put on a good show, to fool his latest pick-up into thinking he was totally invested in whatever they were doing, that he was a sex god, that could make a man or woman cum just by looking at them hard enough.
And so far it had worked. It certainly worked on the young woman who had just taken her leave, no doubt to boast to her friends on Twitter, and Facebook.
He sighed deeply, and closed his eyes. Men, women, men and women, it didn't matter. One-night stands, long-term relationships, it didn't matter: he felt nothing during sex, he felt nothing after sex. No one knew underneath the innuendo, and blatant sexual overtures was a man who was putting on a performance. No one knew that underneath the grunting, and sweating, and fucking, and being fucked was a man who felt deeply betrayed by his own body, his own mind.
He had gone to at least a dozen doctors, had countless tests run on him, and they all came to the same conclusion: he was perfectly healthy.
But that couldn't be true.
Not in this day and age, when sex was prevalent, and cheaply gotten. Not when every other show, every other commercial, every other best selling book seemed to focus completely, and totally on sex, sex, sex. Not when magazines devote pages, and pages on how to get more sex, better sex, like being a perpetually horny teenager was the new norm.
Not when chastity, and virginity were considered things to be either avoided or gotten rid as soon as possible.
How could there not be something fundamentally wrong with him, either mentally, or physically. or spiritually?
How could there not be something grievously out of whack with him when the idea of sex, when he was sober, was as interesting as drawer full of white socks. (And yet, there was part of him that craved human interaction, human contact.)
Maybe his chakras were out of line.
Or maybe his brain chemistry was out of whack.
Or maybe he was just a freak of nature.
He rolled to his side, and gripped his pillow tightly, and closed his eyes. He pretended the pillow was a woman.
A woman who loved him.
A woman who understood his predilections, but did not judge.
A woman who smiled at him indulgently, and laughed huskily, and who was perfectly fine not having sex, who was perfectly fine cuddling and kissing.
He shook his head angrily, and threw his pillow across the room. He went back to staring at the ceiling, not caring about the angry tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.
There was no such thing as a woman like that, not in this day and age.
~ 000000000000000000 ~
One of the first things that Natasha was taught as a child was that her body was nothing more than a tool, a weapon for Russia to use in anyway it sought to use it. Even her sexuality had been honed into a razor edge that could cut and kill as well as any knife or gun.
It was a difficult habit to break, the idea that now that she was a free woman she could enjoy sex for the physical pleasure it brought, and not the information she was trained to score. It was one of a long list of reasons that she, and Clint were no longer dating. It was one of a long line of reasons why she just plain didn't date.
Still, she was human, and while she may never touch, it didn't mean she couldn't look. And at the Avengers Tower there was plenty to look at. A god, a super-soldier (her favorite punching bag), a doctor, a billionaire/playboy/genius, and Clint. Hell, now that she was (mostly) over her phobia of the Hulk, there were times when she appreciated the cut of his physique.
But these men were her friends, so looking was as far as she ever allowed herself to go. Even though there were times when she caught herself staring a little too intently at Tony's lips, thinking they were particularly kissable. But there was no way that a man like Tony, who built his whole reputation, outside the boardroom, as some kind of sexual phenom would ever be satisfied with an asexual romance.
It was such a shame too, because under all that bluster, and bravado was actually a sweet, and almost overly generous man. But there was something also very painfully lonely when she looked into his eyes. Ever since he broke up with Pepper, and her subsequent engagement to another man, he has been even more promiscuous than ever. Every night he was bringing someone new to his room, sometimes two or three someones, as if trying to prove something to someone.
Or maybe he was trying to prove something to himself. It was a strange thought, but one that Natasha was intimately familiar with. God alone knew how many people she had dated, or just plain had sex with before she came to the conclusion that she was better off alone, even though there was a part of her that really didn't want to be.
'I wonder . . .' she said aloud. 'I wonder if that's what he's doing.'
The redhead slipped out of her rooms, and made her way to his floor. It was easy to slip into his private suite, where she hid in a dark corner, and watched as a pretty young blonde left his bedroom. She smelled of sex, and there was self-satisfied smirk on her face, as if she had accomplished some great deed by bedding a wanton playboy.
Natasha frowned to herself, maybe she was wrong. Maybe her own loneliness was getting the better of her, and she was seeing what she wanted to see.
Or maybe he was a better actor than anyone gave him credit for.
She waited a few minutes, heard a pillow thump against the wall, and slowly made her way to his bedroom where she took a peek inside. Tony was still naked on his bed, he was playing with his cell phone, and his expression was a combination of anger and disappointment. Definitely not the look of someone who just had copious amounts of amazingly awesome sex.
'You can come in, Nat.'
It wasn't very often that the redhead was caught off guard. As a matter of fact she could count the times on one hand, and have a finger or two leftover. She stepped fully into the doorway of his bedroom, her face not bothering to hide her shock at being found out.
'How did you know I was here?'
Tony held his phone up so she could read the screen. On it was a text from JARVIS informing his creator that he had a redheaded visitor.
She shook her head ruefully, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth, and a light blush colored her cheeks pink. Tony thought she looked downright adorable, and wished he wasn't so screwed up, or he may have at some point asked her out. Natasha was a beautiful woman, an obvious trait, but under that was a wry wit, and a burning intellect, and so much strength that it nearly took his breath away.
Her childhood made his look like something out of the Brady Bunch.
'I should have known,' Natasha muttered.
He should be upset at her for breaking into his rooms, her intrusion of his privacy, but he couldn't bring himself to hold onto that emotion. Though he couldn't help but notice that her eyes didn't once go past his face, to check out his cock. Women had a tendency to do that a lot, even when he's wearing pants. They liked to guess how many inches he was packing, and then use that as a pick-up line.
It usually worked.
'I didn't mean to intrude,' Natasha said. 'I was just worried. I wanted to make sure you were okay.'
'I – you were worried about me? Why?' And he couldn't completely keep the shock out of his voice. It had been a long time since someone worried about him. As a matter of fact, the last person to show any overt concern for him was Pepper.
'Why?' Natasha repeated confused. She padded the rest of the way into his room, and took a seat next to him on his bed. He was still naked, and she was dressed in only an oversized t-shirt. He could feel heat coming from her proximity, and expected his body to react.
But nothing happened, the alcohol he drank to loosen his inhibitions so he could perform was wearing away to nothing, even if she had been naked, nothing would have happened.
'I happen to like you Tony. You're a good man, no matter what anyone says. Which means I worry about you. I see all these people coming in and out of your room, and I can't help but wonder if there's something bigger going on.'
Tony takes Natasha's hand in his, and kisses each finger before placing it over his heart. 'I'm just trying to figure some things out. I'm not dying, if that's what you think.'
'Good. I don't want you going anywhere anytime soon.'
'Why? Would it break your heart? Would you miss me if I were gone?'
'Idiot,' Natasha whispered harshly. She pulled her hand away, and instantly he missed the warmth of her flesh against his. His penis was still lax, but his heart was filling with something almost completely foreign. 'Of course it would break my heart if you died. This may come as very large surprise, but there are actually people, including myself, who like you regardless of your brains or your wallet.'
'And yet you're the only one here.'
'They're men, they're not good with emotional stuff. Besides it's 3 a.m., only nuts like us are up at this hour.'
Tony smiled toothily at her, and Natasha couldn't help but have her own mood lighten as she smiled back at him.
'Go out with me,' the brunet billionaire said suddenly. He hadn't planned on asking her out. But there was something in the way that she was looking at him that gave him a moment of optimism. Maybe the answers to his troubles lay with her.
Natasha's smile faltered. 'I don't want to end up another notch on your bedpost. I'm not that kind of woman.'
'I know. I would never treat you like one,' Tony said, getting into a sitting position. His tone was solemn, as he retook her hand, and held it between his own. 'I promise no sex. We'll go out for dinner, then dancing, maybe a drive out in the Lamborghini? There's suppose to be a meteor shower coming soon. I know the best place to see it.'
'Well . . . it has been awhile since I went dancing,' the redheaded spy said quietly. 'And it would be nice to have a night on the town.'
'So . .?' he asked, not bothering to hide his nervousness.
It felt as if there was a literal swarm of bees in his stomach, which was a new sensation for him. His reputation proceed him, which as bad as it was meant a lot of the middle man was cut out. They knew what he wanted, and most were more than wiling to give it to him.
'All right,' Natasha said with a smile. 'I'll go out with you. Just remember, no sex at all.'
She wished she had a camera, to capture the look of pure unadulterated joy light up his face. And whatever doubts lingered that this was a bad idea fluttered away like tiny birds.
Later on that night, as she lay in her own bed, she would replay his reaction over and over again. He didn't seem the least bit bothered by not having sex with her. This led to a couple of different theories: he was only interested in being friends, which was fine with her since one can never have too many friends. Or it could mean that she was right, that his promiscuous behavior was a symptom of something deeper.
Of course there was also a third theory that he was just bidding his time, and in a few dates he would expect her to put out. But that seemed too much of a douche bag move. And while Tony could be a bit of jerk at times, he was never a douche.
~ 000000000000000000 ~
Tony was super excited about his up coming date with Natasha in a way that he had never been with any other woman. Not having to worry about putting out at the end of night made it feel as if there was a gigantic weight being lifted off his shoulders.
And yet there was still niggling, pessimistic little voice in the back of his head that was telling him that this arrangement wouldn't last, that sooner or later Natasha a normal and fully sexualized human being would want sex. And he would be faced with the same dilemma as he had with Pepper: give in to make her happy, even though it would kill him on the inside a little bit every time, or . . .
Or what?
He wasn't actually sure what the alternative was.
If he told her the truth would she laugh at him? Call him a freak?
Then again what was the truth?
Tony shook his head of his unwanted thoughts. Tonight he was going to enjoy himself. More importantly, he was going to enjoy the company of a beautiful woman with no strings attached, and no pressure to preform.
'Are you done primping, Pretty Boy? Cuz I've been ready for about 20 minutes.'
'Will you stop breaking into my rooms,' Tony said with a smirk. He gave his appearance once last look in the mirror before joining the redhead who was standing in his bedroom doorway. She wore a sundress with a floral pattern on, and matching heels. Her hair was done in a loose bun, thin tendrils of curly hair framed her face.
To him Tony Stark and Iron Man were more or less two sides of the same coin. It had taken a while for him to get use to the fact that the Black Widow, and Natasha Romanoff were in essence two different coins. The Widow was a hard-ass, leather-clad, woman, who barely smiled, and who had more secrets than stars in in the sky: Natasha on the other hand dressed in pastels, and floral patterns, and while not necessarily an open book, she did smile more, and she seemed to posses an amazing empathy towards the rest of the team.
Tony was hoping that empathy would work on him.
'Aw, but it's fun,' Natasha said. She looped her arm in his, and the two Avengers made their way to Tony's private elevator.
'You're lucky JARVIS likes you.'
'Everybody likes me. It's practically a law.'
The billionaire barked a laugh, and for a few moments there was silence as they rode his elevator down to his private garage. Natasha stared at the brunet, she couldn't help but notice that he seemed relaxed, and happy. She hoped it had something to do with her. She didn't like seeing him look so stressed, and lonely.
It was starting to look as if one of her theories may just be right.
'What?' Tony asked when he noticed the redhead staring at him.
Natasha smiled, and jostled him a bit. 'Not to inflate that ego of yours anymore, but you look good.'
'I always look good. It's practically a law.'
Standing on tiptoes, the spy kissed the billionaire on the cheek before getting into his car. Tony huffed a small laugh, and shook his head. It was just a quick peck, but once again he could feel his heart fill with an almost alien emotion. It was different from what he felt for Pepper, and certainly different than what he felt for all those one night stands.
'Come on, Pretty Boy, let's get this date started.'
Tony jumped into the driver's side, and the two drove off into the night.
Just as he promised, they didn't have sex on the first date, or the second, or even the 30th. Natasha never brought it up, never gave any indication that she was even remotely interested in sex, and after every date when he walked her to her rooms, she would stand on tiptoes, and kiss his cheek.
It was not hard at all to fall in love with Natasha. As a matter of fact it was the easiest thing in the world, and Tony's only regret was that he hadn't asked her out sooner.
It was only when their six-month anniversary came up did those niggling little voices at the back of Tony's head make themselves known again. He had wanted to make the occasion special, to show the redhead how much she meant to him, how much their relationship meant to him. But he was also nervous as to what she would expect from him. After all, she had been patient with him, and she deserved to be happy.
Sex made people happy . . . . right?
'Are you okay, Tony?'
'I'm fine.'
'Really? Because that's your fifth scotch in less than an hour,' Natasha said, her tone laced with worry. She lowered her gaze to her lap were her fingers twisted nervously. 'Are you . . . are you going to dump me?'
'What? No! Never! Who would do such a thing?'
'Clint,' she said with a sigh. 'He must have drunk nearly a fifth of Jack Daniels before he was able to screw up the courage to break-up with me.'
Tony frowned, and reached out to grasped the spy's hands to stop their nervous fidgeting. They were sitting outside on his private terrace, looking at the stars and enjoying a picnic dinner. The others were away, so the two Avengers had the whole tower to themselves, not that they were planing on going anywhere else. It was just nice knowing that would not have to worry about being disturbed.
'I'm not going to dump you, I promise. I just have a little bit of a confession to make, and I just needed a little liquid courage.'
'Confession? About what?'
'About . . . ' Tony paused and took a breath. 'Something is wrong with me – '
'I thought you said you weren't dying.'
'And I'm not. Hand to God, I'm not dying. It's . . . I wanted to make this anniversary special for you. I thought . . . I assumed . . . we would be having sex. But I can't, not unless I drink. A lot,' Tony said, his tone was defeated as he stared into the night sky. 'You see, there's something off about me. All those people I had sex with? It meant nothing, because I felt nothing, no joy, no ecstasy. Just betrayal, and from my own body, my own mind.'
The brunet looked down at his hands still entwined with Natasha's. 'For a while I thought I was gay. But that turned into a bust. I thought if I was in a monogamous, I could learn to enjoy sex because I would be doing it with someone I love. But we all know how that turned out.'
Natasha took in his confession, and processed it for a few moments. 'Tony? Are you asexual?'
'A-what?'
'Asexual. I'm no expert on the topic, but basically you don't want to have sex with anyone, ever. Didn't you think to Google it?'
Tony looked into the redhead's eyes to see if she were lying. 'I didn't think that was a thing.'
Natasha looked at him with indulgent, loving eyes. She freed a hand from his, and ran it through his hair before pulling his head down to rest on her chest. He closed his eyes and listened to the steady thump of her heart. 'You silly man,' she said, her voice soft, and thick with emotion. 'You poor silly man. How long have you been feeling as if you were some kind of freak of nature?'
'All my life it seems.'
The spy winced in pain at his admission, and pulled him closer. 'Is this okay? Don't be afraid to tell me if I cross any boundaries, if there are parts of your body you don't want me to touch.'
'No, this is fine.'
The redhead sighed, and kissed the top of his head. 'There's nothing wrong with you. You're not a freak, and you're not alone, and I'm not going to dump you, or abandon you. I love you, Tony Stark, so that means your stuck with me. No matter what.'
'But . . . what about you? Are you okay with this? I don't want you to sacrifice anything on my account.'
'Didn't you hear me? I. Love. You. Dumbass. Love is not a sacrifice. Love is . . . love is. Well I don't know what love is, I'm not a poet or a philosopher. I just know what I feel, and I don't care about sex, I've never cared about sex. Why do you think Clint broke up with me?'
'Clint is a moron.'
'Maybe, but what I'm trying to say is everything I do, I do of my own volition.'
'So if we never ever have sex?'
'That's fine by me.'
Tony pulled away so he could look Natasha in the eyes. What he say was a naked and unadulterated love, and he could feel his heart grow, and expand. He was awed that this woman, this beautiful vivacious woman had deemed him worthy of her time, and more importantly her heart.
'I love you too Natasha.' he leaned in and kissed her. It was closed mouthed, but still managed to convey in actions what he felt in his heart, what could never be fully conveyed with words.
There was plenty of time to figure out each other boundaries. But right now they were going to enjoy this moment together, and look forward to many more to come.
THE END.