Snow White laid still, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, breath coming deep and even. She was aware—somewhat—of the outside world. Sometimes she could open her eyes a crack, though she saw little but the forest around her, the glass of her coffin reflecting back her appearance of hair black as ebony, lips red as the rose, skin white as snow.
Perhaps she was just modest, but she didn't think she could be the fairest in all the land. Queen Grimhilde was quite beautiful herself, with her sternly lovely face. Snow's own face was plump, her round rosy cheeks matching the poof she wore her hair in, as well as the vibrant curves of her pouty lips and her thick black eyelashes. Fair was right, she thought. Not beautiful or exotic, but fair.
Abruptly, she heard footsteps in the fallen leaves surrounding her glass coffin. Through the wilted flowers that the dwarves had festooned it with, she saw a man approaching. He appeared quite scruffy in all but his meticulously trimmed goatee—one of the Queen's huntsmen, perhaps? She didn't think so. He didn't wear armor or anything she recognized, just some kind of tight black tunic and pants made from the hide of some beast she had no familiarity with.
He saw her. With a curious look on his face, he picked his way across the tributes her forest friends had left to her and stooped over the coffin, brushing the detritus off it. "Babe, don't take this the wrong way, but I think you've had too many."
With a moment's looking, he found the clasp on the glass, undid it, and lifted the top of the coffin away. Snow almost shivered as she felt the coursing of the breeze over her body, but of course, she was fast asleep.
"Hi there," he said, patting her hand. "I'm Tony Stark, and you must be Snow White. Still a weird name for a kid. Did your last name just happen to be White? If we're going to go all L.A. on naming you, your parents could've at least done something with the 'lips as red as blood' thing. Blood Lips. Very metal. Anyway, don't freak out on me, but I think I know just what to do."
He leaned down, his eyes closed, his lips parted, and Snow felt her heart soar as he kissed her.
But that was all that happened.
"Uh, hello?" Tony waved his hand in front of her face. "That do anything for you? C'mon, wakey wakey." He snapped his fingers. "I need your help with something,
c'mon.
Okay. Okay... think, Tony, think."
He looked around, hands pressed to his head, as the wind blew again and the breeze stirred her skirt up her calves.
"Okay... alright... this isn't some Last Action Hero Thing where I'm actually inside the damn movie, I'm in some parallel world that
inspired
all this Disney stuff. It still had to go through studio notes and committees and test screenings—if anything, I'm in the director's cut. Okay, okay then." Tony pushed his hands on his cheeks now, scrunching his face up. "Yeah, that has to be it. Because in the cartoon, you're fourteen, and there's just no way
you're
a fourteen-year-old girl. Not unless Doc gives out boob jobs... original fairy tale, Brother Grimm stuff, what happened there?" He snapped his fingers. "Shit, where's JARVIS when I need him? Right, Walt Disney took out all the metal stuff—making the stepsisters dance in red-hot shoes, having crows pick people's eyes out—but in the original story, you... you were pregnant! You had a baby and it woke you up because when the prince found you in the original story, he didn't just kiss you, he... oh."
Tony stopped his pacing. "Well, that's out of the question. I do not have nine months to wait around and I've never fucked a sleeping woman, except for that time Pepper took all that Benadryl and she gave me permission to finish. So there's gotta be—"
Snow talked in her sleep. "Fuck me..."
Tony started. "Was that you?" he asked, staring at Snow once more. It seemed to him she now had a tiny smile on her face.
And why shouldn't she? After all, this was shaping up to be a very fun dream.
"Look," Tony said, "you're hot and all for someone who isn't Ariel or anything, but I think I'm just gonna try the kissing thing again. I probably just didn't do it right."
The pedestal under Snow sagged as Tony sat down beside her. With him seated on the coffin, Snow could see his cock inside his pants. It was hard and thick and whatever strange fabric held it, it seemed to be trying to point right at her face. But then it hid from sight again, Tony bending over her to press his mouth hard against hers, his fingers cupping her chin, forcing her lips to part so he could drive his tongue into her mouth.
She let him, accepting his tongue as if she were a limp ragdoll. Her own passivity was arousing her. The thought that she was his to do with as he pleased kept running through her mind. He was a handsome man. She wanted him to do what he pleased. She wanted to please him.
