A/N: Writing is such therapy….

Not Her, But Her


She was talking to him like she always did, talking about her day or something of equal importance, and normally, he would be listening, maybe not with the most alert face ever, but enough to provide feedback and conversation.

Normally.

But not this time, because this time while she talked, something something about what her little brother did the other day that nearly caused her to choke him to death in a fit of blind rage, they happened to be at her house, cozied up on the couch.

And her mother had just walked into the kitchen, directly to the side of his girlfriend, which meant that while he was facing his girl, his gaze—and attention—was really focused on the woman humming quaintly to herself as she bustled about, probably preparing dinner.

"—and then, just when I thought 'oh, it can't possibly get any worse', here comes Jack-Jack just a blabbering and hits me upside the head with his rattle!" Violet vented, throwing her arms up before raking her hands down her face. "I swear, having little brothers is the most annoying thing on this planet."

"Mmmmhm…." Tony nodded, half his mind on fixing his face to show sympathy in response to Violet's distressed tone and the other half purely focused on the goddess just a few feet away.

"You're so lucky you're an only child, Tony," Violet groaned.

"One brother actually," Tony replied, lifting a single finger higher than necessary, and when Violet's eyes followed it, Tony took that split-second advantage to crane his neck to the side. Those light gray yoga pants Mrs. Parr had on drew his gaze without even trying and he traced the supple curve there, that defined her thick cheeks. "He's older, really cool, though."

Violet scoffed, and Tony righted himself the moment she glanced back down at him, smiling softly at just the sight of him. "Maybe if those two little snots were older I'd be able to say the thing."

"Give 'em time," Tony suggested suavely. "Annoying now they may be, when they're older, they'll be the first ones to come running when you need help. Brother's are like that."

Multi-tasking was something Tony was extraordinarily good at, so he could easily keep conversation with Violet natural and smooth while also attempting to eye-hump her bodacious mother.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Violet said thoughtfully, though she still sounded doubtful, to which Tony added quirkily, "They'll still be annoying, though. That's not going anywhere. They'll just be dependably annoying."

When Violet giggled, Tony felt accomplished. Violet was a good girl, she deserved a few giggles here and there, anything to soften the blow for when she eventually found out his true intentions. And really, who could blame him? It wasn't his fault that her mother, that the highly seductive Mrs Helen Parr, was the epitome of the term 'goddess'; the word might as well have been crafted solely for her. Beauty that belonged on a runway, a smile worth more than diamonds, a figure that practically screamed 'put a baby in me', and that thickness….

And then there was Violet. A verifiable stick.

Now Tony wasn't stupid, he knew that if her mother looked like that then Violet had every chance in the world of coming out the same way, but who knows how long that would take? And would it have to come at the cost of children first? From the old videos of Elastigirl that Tony had stashed under his bed, even before the kids she possessed quite the sinful body—so his plan was pretty simple: lock down the daughter while advancing on the mother.

"I think it'll be the other way around knowing those two numbskulls," Violet retorted playfully, tucking her legs underneath herself. "Dash'll probably do something stupid and Jack-Jack's gonna be right behind him and that's when something explodes—"

"—so you might want to invest in some kevlar," said Tony with a funny grin. "Not like you can make some sort of shield to block all that boom, ha."

Violet gave a nervous chuckle. "Y-yeah, you're right about that…." She suddenly reached over and patted Tony on the leg. "I'll, uh, be right back—just gotta use the bathroom then we can watch our movie."

The moment Tony waved her off and Violet disappeared down the hall, a certain stiffness caused Tony to sit up bolt right. He was staring at Mrs Parr with all the intensity of a lion spotting a deer, reckless and unabashed. With his view uninterrupted, he could see she was busy fixing herself some kind of cheesecake; she had already poured herself half a glass of some shimmering, arterial red liquid and was casually sipping from it. She seemed to be minding her own business, tending to herself and her current needs, probably didn't even have Tony on her radar in any capacity.

And for some reason, Tony found that exciting in more ways than one. He wasn't one to attract attention to himself, it just naturally came—but this… this right here, being treated as wallpaper by a woman so gorgeous, it almost begged him to get her attention. He had to figure her husband, Bob, the human tank with arms, wasn't really upholding his end of the intimacy part of their relationship considering whenever Tony came over either he was never there or, like tonight, just leaving with his friend Luscious to do… whatever it was adults did.

Utter madness in Tony's opinion. What sane man would chose to leave a wife that looked like that to go goof around with his pal? There was no way in hell Tony would let Mrs Parr out of his sight were she his woman. He would be racing home every day just to hold her, squeeze her, kiss her—

"Oh, Tony, is there something you needed, dear?"

It wasn't until that accented drawl dripped into his ears like honey that Tony came back down to earth to see that he had stood, cross over to the kitchen, and was leaning against the entryway, all without realizing it, and probably without blinking if the burning sensation in his eyes was any indicator.

Unfortunately, his brain was still in a fog over how he had gotten to where he was now—"Well, not really, Mrs Parr, nothing important anyway, I was just wondering how you were this fine night"—but thankfully, his mouth had his back.

A coy smile lifted the corner of her glistening pink lips, a smile that took Tony's breath away. She didn't look in his direction, rather she focused more on her decadent slice of cheesecake, picking up a sterling silver fork with those elegant fingers. As she cut away a piece, she shifted her weight to her other foot and Tony visibly gulped when her hips swayed accordingly, when her rear bounced ever so gently.

"Well, to tell you the truth, I was feeling a little… annoyed," Mrs Parr began experimentally, as though deciding how much to divulge, but Tony was listening with more attention than he had ever paid anything.

"Annoyed? About what?" Tony wondered, and he approached the island in the middle of the kitchen, standing on the opposite side of his secret crush. A peculiar scent had reached his nose then, and he subconsciously inhaled until his chest swelled, taking in as much as he could.

Without even knowing how he could parse such a thing, he knew with absolute certainty that this was Mrs. Parr's natural scent, undiluted with lotions or perfumes; it was just purely her he was taking in and it quickly became the best thing his nostrils had ever the pleasure to imbibe. But even as instincts tried to revert him into a dog and sniff away, Tony kept a firm hold over himself, limiting his inhales to barely noticeable huffs, making sure to keep both eyes trained on the voluptuous woman now lifting some cake to her lips.

She chewed, swallowed, then placed a hand to her cheek looking like she had just been touched in the best way. "Ohhh, yeah," she confirmed to herself with a little nod, "I knew this would be good, but mm-mm-mmm! Not this good, this was worth every penny."

Comfortable with just watching, with just basking in this beautiful woman's pleased afterglow, Tony quirked an eyebrow when Mrs Parr curiously gathered another helping on her fork and moved it toward him.

"Want a piece?" she asked him genially, holding a hand underneath to catch any stray crumbs.

The fork that had just touched Mrs Parr's lips, that had actually been inside her mouth, was inching it's way closer second by second, and Tony eyed it with an outward gaze of lethargy while his brain screamed within the confines of his skull, tossing out dozens of ways to handle this, everything from simply fainting to diving on that utensil like a dog to its favorite bone.

Could this be an indirect kiss? Most definitely, there was no way it could be anything else. And that right there… brought about a wave of suspicion that made Tony politely shake his head. It had been so long since Tony had been on the receiving end of a master play that he almost forgot the obvious tells. When Mrs Parr continued to smile at him in that beguiling way before taking back her fork and plopping it between her lips, Tony inwardly heaved a slow sigh.

He had almost fell into her trap.

Responding to his question earlier saying that she was "a little annoyed" and then not telling him why… eating the cake with way more relish that was necessary… offering him a piece off her own fork….Three very obvious snares that almost had Tony entangled, but he had played those same cards too many times not to recognize the set-up. And now Tony's mind was working as he engaged Mrs Parr in simple conversation, not even paying attention to his words as his brain put pieces into place.

Mrs Parr had just tried to tease him, which meant… that on some level he intrigued her. Did she like him? Clearly, he was allowed to date her daughter and set foot in her home. Did she want to fuck him? Probably not. Did she want to make him sweat? After what she just pulled, there was very little doubt in his mind now. The picture was getting clearer, but what else? What else was there? Why did she want to tease him?

"Of course," Tony replied casually, hunching a shoulder. "Who doesn't appreciate a good sundress?"

Mrs Parr nodded with a chuckle, now picking up her wine and swirling it while eyeing him shrewdly. "Point, buster, but what I meant was," and here she paused, angling herself sideways so that her rear was more or less pointed in his direction, "it's hard to find one that can fit a figure like mine. It was a nightmare just finding the yoga pants I've got on now."

Displaying her assets so unabashedly like that summarily answered the question in Tony's mind. She was "annoyed" probably because her husband wasn't giving her the attention a woman like her must crave, meaning her only way to satiate that burning need came in the form of whatever lucky young man her daughter happened to bring home. And right now, that lucky young man happened to be him, and so since she was offering it up for comparison, Tony felt it safe to let his eyes drop a little, taking in her round cheeks held snug by those leggings.

"I mean… I can sorta see what you mean," he told her thoughtfully, placing a hand to his chin and quirking his left eyebrow.

"Then clearly you're not seeing what I see if you're stuck on sorta," Mrs Parr replied with a mirthful bite, one Tony figured was brought about by her wine. She put a purposeful little bounce into her hips and there was no covering the way Tony's eyes widened when her booty began to rock accordingly, swaying almost rhythmically. "See this? Imagine trying to fit all of this into something that doesn't make me look like I'm wearing a tarp."

It was perhaps the most blatant attempt Tony had ever bore witness to, but witness it he did, and although his mouth began to salivate a river, when he spoke, his voice was clear.

"That… must be difficult."

An exasperated sigh left Mrs Parr's lips. ""Difficult", he says, ha. I think that's putting it mildly, don't you think?" and she didn't wait for Tony to answer. "Imagine sitting on someone's face with all this cake," she proposed easily, and she gave her rear the smallest of pats, the sound alone causing a certain weakness to strike Tony in the knees. "Might be a neck breaker!"

There were many factors that brought about the swift rising in Tony's pants: her wanton display, the way she patted herself, that sultry drawl underlying her words; several things struck Tony in the groin, one after another, rousing his trouser snake into action. He wasn't sure how long he would be able to last, and that alone wasn't such a bad ending. Mrs Parr knew exactly what she was doing—she had to—so on some level that meant she wanted his attention, she wanted his eyes on her, for his thoughts to revolve around her and her salacious body.

"What's a neck breaker?" came a curious voice and Tony's neck almost did break with the speed at which he turned to see Violet, standing in the kitchen egress, holding two movie boxes in her hand. She stared between the two of them with a glimmer of anxiety and Tony could hazard a guess as to why.

Either she was nervous that her mother was regaling him with some embarrassing family story, orrrrr… she was praying that she wouldn't be suffering the nightmare that came with every daughter that had a sexy mom.

A 'not her, but her' scenario, Tony liked to call it.

"Trying to angle myself behind some of the furniture with the duster," Mrs Parr replied with shocking ease, and her expression didn't betray so much as a whiff of anything untoward. Then she chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. "You've seen me, Vi', the way I have to twist and turn myself to get some of those hard-to-reach spots—you'd think I was elastic!"

There was something in that last line there that gave Tony pause, like he had missed some secret message Mrs Parr had relayed, but whatever the case, it served to ease Violet's suspicions because she merely rolled her eyes and chucked both movies at Tony. He managed to catch the first one by pivoting to the side while the other one bounced off his chest, slide over the kitchen island, and knocked the partially eaten cake right onto the floor.

Violet clapped a hand to her mouth. "Oh, dang! Mom, I'm sorry—I didn't mean for that—" she started, flustered, then she pointed a ridiculously long finger at Tony. "It's his fault, really!"

"I beg your absolute pardon?" Tony said, double-taking at his long-haired girlfriend.

"He can't catch for beans, that was a straight forward toss!"

"A straight forward toss almost down the hall, you mean," Tony replied with a smug grin when Violet's face flushed pink. "Just where did you think I was standing? Do you need glasses? Hair too long?"

He playfully bickered with her for a few more rounds before Mrs Parr clapped her hands, gathering their attention. "Kids, kids, it's fine—it was only the best slice of cake I've ever had in my life, but it's okay, I'll find another," she joked, winking at them even while Violet hunched her shoulders in a penitent way. "Go enjoy your movie, I'll take care of clean up."

Instantly, Violet hooked her arm through Tony's and latched on hard. "Thanks, mom," she muttered before swinging him around and leading him back toward the living room.

Tony glanced over his shoulder to thank her as well when the words got caught in his throat and he temporarily forgot how to breathe. Mrs Parr was using a napkin to gather her ruined cake, but that wasn't what had Tony stunned: it was the way she leaned over, knees bent, so that her ass was on full display, and he could see her gauging his reaction from around those child-rearing hips with a coquettish smile.

Then she lifted a single hand, making sure his eyes followed it obediently, before slowly lowering it over the deep divide in her mountainous ass and extending a finger to give it a sensual, beckoning caress.

And then Tony was falling in what felt like slow motion. So focused on Mrs Parr's lewd act, he completely forgot to avoid the ottoman he normally stepped over, except this time his shin cracked off the corner and he toppled to the ground with all the grace of a three-legged elephant. As his chin bounced off the carpeted floor, he couldn't even get mad. How could he after being treated to such a delicious sight?

"Tony!" Violet sounded stricken. "Tony, are you okay?"

"Am I? Yeah. Is my pride? Not so much," he grunted, allowing her to pick him up. His nose was on fire, his left shin throbbed unmercifully, but a certain soldier in his pants stood like nothing had happened.

"Honey, you've got to be more careful," he heard Mrs Parr call from the kitchen, sounding highly amused, almost like she knew why he had tripped and took a certain pleasure in it. "Learn to be more flexible, like me."

"M-mom! Oh my God, shut up," Violet snapped, and her jittery tone once again instilled within Tony the notion that he wasn't quite catching some hidden meaning in Mrs Parr's words. "You are never drinking again when Tony's over, I swear…."

"Oh, c'mon, sweetie, there's nothing wrong with a sip here, a sip there—so long as it's not a sip everywhere," Mrs Parr argued with a debonair smirk. "Would you like one, Vi? Tony? It could be a secret between us," she added with that wink.

Gnawing on her bottom lip, Violet turned to Tony, who was watching as Mrs Parr invitingly jiggled her glass of wine. "I don't know… Tony?"

There was no way to know when Mr. Parr would be home—hopefully by now he and his buddy had found some mayhem to get into—and yet Tony was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Standing as tall as his throbbing leg would allow, he side-eyed his girlfriend. "Well… why not, eh?"

Because if this led anywhere, if things by some chance happened to go the way that Tony had imagined countless times, then this wouldn't be a moment with Violet, oh no… not her, but her… Mrs Parr.

"One little sip couldn't hurt," Tony replied, turning to the bob-cut wearing matriarch of the house.

Mrs Parr just smiled, then drained her glass in one short, intimidating swallow. "That's the spirit."


The End