Wrong time, wrong people, but I love the desk! This could be Peter's office.

Peter caught himself daydreaming about a certain young woman when he was rudely interrupted by the Red Duchess Presumptive striding boldly into his office in the Fall Castle. “Would you like me to take that Currier event off your hands?” she asked, coming at him like she was about to bite. She came around his desk, and dropped down to her knees, effectively hiding between him and the furniture. He didn’t have the chance to answer before she said “Keep a straight face and an even tone of voice for the next five minutes, and I’ll do it.” She unfastened his pants, and reached inside. Peter was too shocked to protest effectively. Besides, he was too embarrassed about the fact that he was already hard. “Throw in the word “Pomegranite” and I’ll even do the follow-up visit to the proposed building site with you.”

Usually, Peter could figure out what Stark was up to fairly quickly. Then again, he was usually an observer, not the subject of her experiments. Her lips closed around his shaft and pulled… hard.

He struggled not to groan. Unlike Stark, who had gone into great detail describing the Rozluceni she had held to say goodbye to her old lovers upon accepting the Duchy, it had been more than a while since Peter had been intimate with anyone.

Just as he was wondering how she would know whether he kept a straight face, Natasha peeked in the door. “Peter, can I speak with you for a moment?” She seemed both shy and bold at the same time, as if she felt intimidated by him but was determined not to let it show.

Peter nodded. “Umm Hmm.” Was all he managed to say as Stark began sucking in earnest. Devil woman.

“I was wondering whether you had any suggestions for me regarding the thank-you notes?”

Peter thought hard, which was incredibly difficult considering one future wife was enthusiastically performing fellatio while another future wife was trying to have a serious conversation.

What thank you notes?

If it was important to Natasha, it was important to him. But for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what she was talking about.

“Pomegranites.” He said, as Stark abruptly stopped the hard sucking and did something… intriguing… to the tip of his penis. He hoped in that moment that she would teach Natasha how to do whatever it was she’d done, and nearly lost control right there.

“Pomegranites?” Natasha asked, obviously confused.

Devil Woman!

“Yes… pomegranites… I… use it as a curse word. Like, when I can’t remember something that I’ve obviously forgotten.” He was granted a brief reprieve as Stark paused in her ministrations. He could feel her body shaking, laughing silently at his spontaneous excuse.

“Oh! The thank-you notes to the other duchies who have sent various gifts congratulating and welcoming us. I thought…” Natasha’s voice trailed off, as if she wasn’t sure whether she really wanted to share what she thought.

Stark had resumed her diligent work. “Ah. Yes. I forgot who had taken that particular job, honestly. I’m glad you were able to fit it into your schedule. I’m terrible at those things, and people can always tell when I ask my secretary to word them for me, even when they’re all in my own handwriting.”

“Oh.” Said Natasha, as if surprised by his answer. He wondered what she had expected him to say.

“You asked if I had any suggestions?” He almost squeaked the middle syllable of the word, but managed to cover it with a slight cough. Stark cupped his balls in one hand, and kneaded ever so gently as she continued to pump her mouth up and down his shaft. “Well, as long as they’re on some kind of stationery with our letterhead, and you make sure all eight of us sign each one, I’m sure it will be fine.”

Natasha looked at him, confused for a moment, and he wondered if she suspected what was going on behind the desk. Stark was remarkably still and silent, except for her fingers and mouth. Then the young Duchess Presumptive smiled, and he recognized the expression she used when she needed to cover some internal stress or strife. It was a beautiful smile, and anyone who didn’t know her well would think it was just a natural, spontaneous expression.

He wished he knew why she felt so uncomfortable around him.

“All right then. I already picked out cards with our stamp embossed, and I’ve started writing them. I’ll just make sure when I’m done to bring them to dinner so everyone else can sign them as well.” She turned to leave. “Thank you Peter.”

When she was gone, he looked down to see Stark grinning up at him.

“It hasn’t been five minutes yet.” He informed her.

She bit him.

This post is an excerpt from my NaNoWriMo 2011 novel, working title “Overshadow.” Hopefully the scene is amusing as it stands, but what the reader might like to know is that the story’s world is ruled by an oligarchy. Peter, Stark, Natasha and five others are engaged to married to each other in a very traditional eight sided arranged marriage.

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