
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/450989.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      The_Avengers_(2012)
  Relationship:
      Steve_Rogers/Tony_Stark
  Character:
      Steve_Rogers, Tony_Stark, Nick_Fury, Natasha_Romanov, Thor_(Marvel)
  Additional Tags:
      Genderbending, Western, Alternate_Universe_-_Gender_Changes, Alternate
      Universe_-_Historical, Alternate_Universe_-_Prostitution
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-07-04 Words: 2669
****** Old West ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     Prompt: Warnings for underage and prostitution. Underage!f!Steve is a
     whore. Tony is the cowboy who falls in love with her.
Stella Rogers woke up to the sound of a knocking on her door. A quick check of
the clock her bedside table confirmed that it was three o'clock: almost time
for her next appointment. Oh how she wished she could just sleep. It was too
hot to pretend to be interested in dirty cowboys and leering fieldhands. She
sat up in bed to stretch.
The knocking began again. But louder and more annoying this time.
“Alright, Fury, I'm awake. You can cease your incessant knocking!”
Stella heard mumbling on the other side of the door about how he was “tired of
playing nursemaid to a bunch of whores.” Well. Stella decided to ignore the
insult and climbed out of bed to redress and to repaint her face and to comb
her tangled blonde hair. She picked her blue and white dress up off the floor
and tugged on her cumbersome red heeled boots. Sometimes she just didn't see
the point to dressing at all when her clothes were simply going to end up on
the floor anyway. She seated herself at her vanity and applied her rouge and
kohl almost automatically; her golen hair recieved the same treatment. With a
sigh, she stood up to admire the effect of gown and make-up and decided she
looked good enough for the types who usually came through this neck of the
prairie. She contented herself with the fact that she was making more money
here than most men and women made in factories and on farms, a whole $10 a
week.
She sat on her bed as she waited for the next man to come to her room, thinking
about she would love to go back East. Perhaps to New York where she could be an
actress on the stage or perhaps even record her voice onto one of those
cylinders that play music whenever one wants to listen. Stella longed to prove
herself as something more than just a warm body, worth nothing more than twenty
minutes and fifty cents. Her train of thought was intrupted by another knock:
her appointment. She schooled her face into an inviting smile and leaned back
on the bed to more prominently display her bosoms.
“Come in,” she chirped.
The door opened and let in an oldish man, probably thirty-five or even forty,
with unruly brown hair, brown eyes that shone in the afternoon light, and a
holster that weighed heavily on his hips, sagging his trousers down quite low
for someone to consider themself a gentleman. He flashed her a winning smile as
he shut the door, and Stella fought the urge to roll her eyes. He was the type
who thought she could be wooed and impressed by his cock and his so-called
skills with it. He wanted to impress and have his ego (among other things)
stroked and petted. He was just so fucking full of himself.
“And what's your name, miss?” he asked with another grin.
“What do you want it to be?”
Stella wrapped one of her blonde tresses around and around her finger, biting
her lip as she did so in the hopes that he would just get this over with rather
than have a conversation with her. She realized that this was not to be as he
pulled her desk chair over to straddle so that he could sit more comfortably to
chat, apparently. Her patience was quickly wearing thin.
“What's your real name, honey?”
“Rachel Collins.”
“Then why is your handkerchief embroidered 'SR'?”
She had left the damning piece of evidence on her vanity as she had been
adjusting her make-up.
“Alright, Sherlock, my name is Stella, if you really must know. Who are you?”
“Tony. Tony Stark. Though during the War Between the States, they called me
Iron Man since no bullet ever stopped me. Not even the one that just missed my
heart.”
He began to unbutton his shirt, presumably to show off a scar. Stella found
herself fascinated in spite of herself and looked on with curiosity and slight
horror at the mass of scar tissue and disfigured skin nearly the center of his
chest. She imagined that it had been quite painful, if wasn't still.
“Northerner then?”
He looked up in slight surpise.
“It's your accent. New York, I would think. What are you doing all the way out
here in Oregon?”
He went on to regale her with stories of a father-son weaponry business that
had factories in most states and territories. There had been a boom in sales
during the War and Tony had seen a chnace to prove to his father and his
business partner—Obediah Stane—that not only could be make and sell weapons,
but also use them. He had been shot in the chest in '63 and would have been
left to die in the field had he not been Tony Stark. The Conderates sent out a
doctor to remove the bullet on the condition that upon his recovery, he would
supply them with weapons instead to the North. How he ended up here? Well, that
was because his father had been drafted and killed in action himself, and with
him died the dream of training an infantry of super-soldiers. He had thought he
would continue to work with Obediah after he returned from War, only to
discover the man had been stealing from him. Their partnership had ended in a
duel behind Stark's mansion with Tony as the obvious victor. And now? Now he
was miner. What better way to give back to the poor folks still suffering from
War losses than to provide them with much-needed fuel? Fuel to power trains and
heat homes and even to light up homes that could afford electric light.
“And now I'm here. Sitting and talking with a beautiful girl.”
He smiled again, but this time Stella noticed the pain underneath it. She still
thought him cocky and boastful, but also sad and hurting. He had had a
difficult life, and that was something Stella could sympthize with, herself
having been orphaned young and passed about amongst relatives until she had
saved enough money to go West, only to find just as much disappointment. She
suddenly felt very foolish to have judged this man before she even knew him.
How many others had she misjudged? It was extremely troublesome.
“Oh, and now I've made you upset. I'm sorry, sweatheart. Come over here and
I'll kiss it better.”
And maybe she was being played, maybe she was falling for stories made up only
to make her feel bad enough to want to sleep with him, but if he was telling
the truth and there was something she could do to ease his pain—for why else
would a man come to a whorehouse if not because of pain and
dissastifaction—then she would do so.
“Whatever you want, just tell me.”
“Want you in my lap.”
Stella nodded and plucked herself up from her mattress, and Tony spun to sit
the right way in his chair so that Stella could straddle his thighs. She did
so, carefully so as not to jar his War wound, and began to hitch her hips
foward to get him hard enough to fuck her. She tucked her face into the side of
his neck to kiss him to avoid having to look into his doleful eyes. She
didn't—couldn't—let herself grow too attached. Tony cupped her buttocks under
her dress and pulled her forward with more speed. Stella felt him harden
beneath her and asked him if he wanted her to undress now. He let her up to do
so.
The blue and white silk cascaded off her body to pool at her feet. She leaned
over, giving him a nice view of her coresetted breasts, to unlace her boots.
Stella stood between his spread legs for him to unlace her corset, as if was
difficult to do so on one's own. He didn't stumble or struggle as he loosened
the cords as most men did, oftentimes pulling out a knife to slice through them
in their impatience. It was a welcome change, knowing that Fury wouldn't dock
her pay for ruined supplies this time. Soon, corset joined dress on the floor,
leaving her naked and feeling a tad vulnerable in his presence.
Tony looked her over, hopefully admiring instead of condemning. Apparently
satisfied with her, he also undressed and laid himself back on the bed. Stella
joined him and positioned herself between his legs to blow him. She stroked him
a bit, getting a feel for his body and its reactions. She didn't want or need
to deal any crazy behavior, but seeing no other reaction than sighs and moans,
she ducked her head down to suck him. He was fairly large in her mouth, though
not the largest. As she bobbed her head, she remembered an experience with a
man who went only by Thor who definitely was by a long shot, which would have
been uncomfortable had he not been equally gentle with her. Something about
“Midgardians” being tiny. Stella was shaken from her reverie when Tony suddenly
thrust more deeply into her mouth. She gagged and pulled back to catch her
breath.
“If you want to fuck my mouth, just tell me first,” she reminded.
She may not have been a fallen woman—if one could even call her a woman yet—for
very long, but she didn't think she was asking to much when she asked for some
warning before someone changed pace with her.
“Apologies, kitten. I would very much like to fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”
She lowered her head again, pulling his hands to her hair so he could better
control his thrusts and so as to have an indicator to when she was supposed to
pull off his cock for him to penetrate her. Though he was forceful, he let her
get used to the motion again before getting rougher with her and pushing deeply
into her mouth and throat. Stella felt his essence on her tounge and swallowed
harshly several times, elliciting loud moans from the man beneath her. And
again she felt herself being pulled off of him.
“You've got quite a mouth, miss. If I had kept going, you would have had me
coming in no time.”
She feels her face warm and she tells herself it's from her lack of breath and
not because of his praise. She doesn't have much time to think about that,
however, because soon he is flipping their positions, spreading her thighs wide
to get a look at what's between them. While Tony may have been flattering, she
wasn't very much aroused, which troubled him because whether she was a whore or
not, there was no reason to cause the poor girl pain.
“I want to lick you,” he offered, remembering to ask first this time.
Stella looked confused at his request.
“Why would you want to do that?”
Tony is startled by her revelation.
“No one's ever reciprocated? I can fix that for you, if you'd like. Makes
intercourse easier on the woman when she's relaxed and open.”
Stella wished she had known that before. Perhaps some experiences would have
been less...painful had she herself been more aroused. She supposed that was
just her inexperience shining through again.
“Alright. If you think it will help.”
Tony assured her that it would and put his effort into proving it to her. He
laved his tongue over and over her lips, moistening her and arousing her
fluids. He sucked at her clit until she was a gasping, shuddering mess below
him. She completely lost it when he tongued her channel, bucking her hips
uncontrobably in exquisite pleasure. He licked her through her climax until she
begged, “Please, please stop now. It's too much! Please...”
He knelt up to survey his handiwork.
“What---what did you do?” Stella panted when he finally let up.
“What did I do?” he repeated. “When Fury and 'Tasha said they had a new girl,
they weren't kidding, were they?”
“N-no. I'm sorry. Really, I am. I'm trying.”
For as much as Stella griped and groused about her job, she knew she could not
afford to lose it. Any complaints about her service would mean being thrown out
to work on her own without the benefits that came with Fury's muscles and
'Tasha's aim.
Tony couldn't help but laugh. And Stella couldn't help but feel embarrassed and
angered. Here she had been trying to be patient with him after he had opened up
to her, let him rut against her and swallowed him down, and now this was all
some kind of joke to him? Having had enough of him, she sat up and shoved at
his chest, not caring if she hurt him or not, taking him by surprise enough
that landed on his back. He stopped laughing.
“I'm not here to be laughed at.”
“I'm not laughing at you, sugar. I had assumed, given your profession, that you
would know. I wasn't expecting to be the first one to get you off. I'd very
much like to finish what we started.”
Stella let out a huff of annoyance at her naivete. She hadn't even known women
were capable of “getting off.” She supposed it was just another limitation that
came with the job.
“Yes, alright,” she assented, hoping her face wasn't too red in humiliation.
“That's a girl,” Tony encouraged, spreading her legs once more, lining his cock
up with her entrance before slowly thrusting in.
“Ahhh---really can tell you're new. So tight. Damn.”
Stella wriggled in delight at the fact that she had finally seemed to shut the
man up. He seemed to like that too: putting up a bit of a struggle, squeezing
tightly around his member. He actually felt quite good inside of her. He sank
in deeply, but gently, also seeming to be enjoying himself. She let him thrust
and twist and grab and even bite, but when he leaned down to kiss her, she had
to refuse.
“No. No, I don't do that,” she said, hoping that he would accept her wishes.
“Alright, miss. Save your kiss for your one true love.”
He sounded almost bittersweet about the way he said that. She tried to pay it
no mind, instead concentrating her efforts on bringing him over the edge with
the few tricks she had under her belt. It wasn't much longer before she felt
him spill inside her with a throaty groan and collapse onto the bed next to her
now sore body. For a few minutes, he simply held her frame against his as he
collected himself, and she almost could have fallen asleep had she not
remembered Fury's policy of not allowing johns to spend the night with any of
the girls in his employ.
“You had better go. It's house rules,” Stella said gently, nudging him into
action.
“Ok, ok, I won't cause you any more trouble tonight.”
Stella wasn't sure whether she should be relieved by his statement or not.
Tony began to redress himself as she pondered his words. Then she remembered
something quite important, “If you haven't already, you can leave your money
with Fury or 'Tasha.”
Tony let out a small chuckle.
“I paid. And you'll find yourself a mighty fine tip too.”
Stella's face lit up at his words.
“Thank you, Mr. Stark.”
“Think nothing of it, Miss Stella. Now I best be getting on my way, but don't
think this is the last you'll see of me.”
And with a wink, he was gone.
She waited until she could no longer hear his bootheels on the stairs before
collapsing back onto the bed, sighing with utter contentment. Though she was
sore and tired, she knew she would remember Tony Stark for a while. She almost
couldn't wait to see him again...as long as he wasn't such a tease next time.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
