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Tony thought that when he relinquished his position as CEO to Pepper, he wouldn't have to make the major decisions anymore. He figured that using his talents in the workshop and focusing on, you know, saving the fucking universe would absolve him of of those responsibilities.
And yet.
Tony rolled up to the compound at four o’clock on a Saturday evening, fresh off the jet from an important business meeting in Cairo. Three days of waiting for the assholes to show up just so that he could shmooze his way into their ecological, environmentally friendly, good-for-Stark-Industries-image company gave him a headache like you wouldn't believe. He was glad that Pepper wasn't as underestimated anymore in the business game, but he never thought that he'd see the day where he hated being just the pretty face.
His face seemed to agree; at least, currently, in any case, as he made his way down to the communal kitchen for an after flight piece of toast and glass of water. He looked as haggard and disgruntled as the Winter Soldier when he found out there was another pre-serum Steve running the streets in a blue and red onesie. Bucky was initially mad because although this righteous fool actually had the strength and intuition to win in a fistfight, he was still, like, ten years old.
"I'm eighteen, Mr. Barnes! Nineteen in three months!"
Like Bucky said. Ten.
And speak of the devil.
"Barnes," Tony acknowledged, skirting his way around the kitchen island where Sam, Bucky and Steve were currently nursing disgustingly puce colored blended drinks. "Rogers. Wilson."
Tony pulled the bread out from behind the Cheez-Its in the cabinet and dropped a piece in the toaster.
"Stank," Sam smirked, taking another gulp of the goop. All three men were relaxed looking in their post workout gear, but Tony could tell they had been sparring by the slight sheen of sweat on their foreheads and the feeling of overall contentment that they were giving off as they leaned back in their chairs.
Steve grinned a bit at Sam's joke and turned to greet Tony proper. "Hey, Tony. How was your business trip? Are we allowed to ask?" He raised an eyebrow in mild interest, and Bucky grunted in Tony's place.
"He looks like shit. I'm pretty sure that if it had gone well, he'd be a little more… I dunno. Gloat-y." How many languages did Bucky know? And yet his vocabulary was evidently severely lacking.
But unfortunately, Barnes had hit it right on the nose. For all the ass kissing and eyelash fluttering Tony resigned himself to, the company just hadn't taken the bait. Never mind that Tony and crew had flown thousands of miles specifically to meet them on their own timetable. Never mind that Pepper had drawn up one of the most generous and ironclad contracts Tony had seen in a long time. Never mind that negotiations were in high favor of their potential client and everything was literally in their court.
Tony had failed. And that was that.
Tony sighed and opened the fridge again, only to pause on his way to the butter and close it. He turned around when his impromptu snack jumped out of the toaster, picking it up almost robotically and then tossing it in the trash. He was no longer hungry.
Steve's brow furrowed. Seventy years in the ice didn't dispel as many memories of his experiences with poverty as he'd have liked. Steve was about to speak up about the food waste when a subtle dug into his ribs caught his attention. He turned to the side and caught Bucky's gaze, which widened a bit in silent communication with a command that said, Don't.
Steve cleared his throat. "Is it true?" he asked instead, taking the hint. Ironic that Bucky had brought it up in the first place, but Steve wasn't going to judge.
"I don't want to talk about it," Tony replied softly, just as Rhodey and Pepper came striding through. The sight of the two would usually cause the inventor to perk up no matter the situation, but it seemed to present company that even two of his best friends couldn't lift his spirits.
Pepper took in the sight of her ex fiancée and clicked her tongue, quickly making her way over to his side of the kitchen. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a comforting hug and he let her.
"Oh, Tony. If it makes you feel any better, those hippie shitheads didn't seem to have wanted to listen to reason in the first place." She patted his back twice before stepping out of his space once more. Tony smiled slightly and nodded.
"Appreciate it, Pep. But you know, I think I just need a little time away from this whole ordeal, get some time down in the lab," he said, drinking down the remnant of his glass and placing it in the dishwasher. Tony was learning to be more courteous to his cleaning staff, in accordance with the wishes of one young Gen Z influence.
"What you need," Rhodey piped in, taking a seat and resting his prosthetic legs, "is some good ‘ole shut eye. Get some sleep, man. I know for a fact that you didn't get any rest 6,000 miles away from your comfort zone."
"Egyptian cotton, Platypus. In actual Egypt. You've no idea what you're talking about," Tony joked, even though what his friend was saying was true. He hadn't gotten any sleep since he had been away, too busy tossing and turning in said sheets, for reasons completely separate of his mission in the first place. "What I need is some plain old fashion sparks."
And with that declaration, Tony excused himself and took the elevator down to where he truly wanted to be, leaving five concerned and anxious friends in his wake.
⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊
Peter was modifying the triggers on his web shooters when Tony stepped through the doors to the lab, and instantly Tony felt a genuine smile stretch across his face. He paused in his steps, taking a moment to truly appreciate the image of his young protege hard at work. It never ceased to amaze Tony how lucky he was to have not only met, but mentor such promising talent. And not only was Peter smart, but he was kind, and thoughtful, and good and everything that couldn't be taught. Tony meant it when he told him he was the best of them.
Peter was everything pure that Tony could never have faked for himself.
He watched as Peter's ear gave a slight twitch, indicating that Peter was smiling. With his super senses, it was nigh impossible to sneak up on him, and Tony never even tried. Instead, he casually strolled over to the table Peter was working at and leaned to examine his progress.
"Looks good," Tony commented, off handedly. To be truthful, he wasn't really inspecting all that closely.
"Hey, Mr. Stark! Welcome back!" Peter said cheerfully, eyes still concentrated in front of him. So that's how it was going to be.
"What? No welcome banner? No streamers? Not even a hug?" Tony said, messing with Peter's project by sticking his finger under his nose and poking a piece of the mechanism that was hanging out. Peter swatted his hand away, playfully. To mess with an inventors project was a high offense, but Peter hadn't really minded. It was just nice to remind Tony that he had genius in his own right.
"Aw, come on, old man. It was six days," Peter replied cheekily. "And we texted everyday." Peter looked up at Tony and quirked an eyebrow, challenging him to argue back.
Tony rolled his eyes, looking for all intents and purposes like a self righteous toddler who couldn't be convinced he was wrong. "It's not the saaaaaame," he whined.
"Oh? Am I not an engaging textual partner?" Peter put his tools down in favor of turning around and leaning on the table, crossing his arms in haughty superiority. His grin grew wider as he noticed Tony's moue turn to a proper pout. He knew he was being a brat, but Tony was too stubborn anyways and it was fun messing with him.
"Textual partner. Clever," Tony acknowledged. The air in the room suddenly felt much heavier, and the implications of where their conversation was heading made Peter's senses tingle in excitement. Tony was looking at Peter with much less pride and a lot more hunger. "But texting and seeing you in person… two completely different things."
"I don't know… you saw my person quite a bit, if my text logs are any indication," Peter singsonged. "Did you save all the photos we sent?"
Tony's eyes raked over Peter's body, as if he was imagining all the different poses Peter had sinfully constructed for Tony while he was in Cairo. Seeing him, clothed but right in front of him… Tony had to remind himself that this was his, and he didn't have to torture himself for years on end anymore, that this thing they had between them had been going on for nearly six months now.
"Photos will never do you justice," Tony whispered. The tone that he used was firm, and made Peter feel like the center of every universe. Tony breathed love and lust in one sentence. All the passion and fire that Peter knew Tony wanted Peter to experience with him was conveyed in a single moment.
"What are you waiting for, then?" Peter challenged. "Kiss me like you miss me."
⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊
Upstairs, the friends that Tony had left in the kitchen showed mild concern for the older inventor. More than one felt like he was burning the candle at both ends, and while this wasn't unusual behavior for the man, the team was working on supporting each other in their self care endeavors. Facing a horde of bloodthirsty aliens headed by a Mad Titan intent on dusting half of an entire universe makes you reevaluate some things.
"Shouldn't someone make sure he rests a bit?" Steve suggested.
Pepper and Rhodes looked towards each other, a silent conversation that Steve wished he could translate.
"Didn't he tell you…" Rhodes started, not bothering to finish the sentence.
"Yes, but he's…" Pepper finished.
"Yeah, but he promised…"
Pepper scoffed, then looked to her left in thought. She opened her mouth, closed it, then looked back towards Commander Rhodes.
"No, he wouldn't…"
It was Rhodes' turn to scoff. "He would."
Watching the two gave Steve a feeling of camaraderie that reminded him much of the friendship that he shared with his Commandos. It was bittersweet, and Steve would have appreciated it more if the subject they were discussing weren’t so personally important to him.
Bucky had apparently felt the same way. "What in the hell? Something you'd like to share with the class, guys?"
Rhodes and Pepper ceased in their private speech long enough to look over at the rest of the group, then back at each other, before Pepper whipped out her phone. "I just…" she started, quickly opening it and scrolling down her screen. "Let me just check something.”
The men watched her eyes flit down the screen for half a minute before she gave a long suffering sigh, rolling them and then turning towards Rhodes.
"You were right," she said, turning the screen so that it faced the men. "He went down to the workshop."
"Aw, damn," Sam muttered.
“Let’s be honest,” Bucky chimed in. “Did we expect anything less?”
“Yes, actually,” Steve replied. “Not that he had actually agreed to laying off in as many words, but I figured that he would at least infer from our well meaning comments that he should take a break. Especially after such a hard business deal.”
“Well, see, that’s the thing.” Pepper crossed her arms over her chest in thought after handing the phone off to Bucky when he reached for it. “He told me that he would pace himself. He promised; that's why Jim and I didn’t think he’d hop back to it so soon.”
“I thought he was joking when he said he said he needed some sparks,” Rhodes added.
“Sparks is the last thing he needs. How many times has he burned himself due to lack of sleep?” Steve questions, and Sam snorts in reply.
“...Well, maybe he wasn’t talking about those sort of sparks,” Bucky mutters into his palm. Steve turns back to see Bucky’s face scrunched up in concern and interest, looking at the phone like what he was seeing was decidedly not what he expected.
“What do you mean, Buck?” Steve crossed the few steps from the counter to the table Bucky has now sat himself in, and he blinked a few times as his serum enhanced eyes tried to convince him that what he was seeing was actually real.
But it couldn’t possibly have been, because if what he was seeing was true, then that would have meant that Tony and Peter had some explaining to do.
⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊
Peter pulled grudgingly back from Tony’s lips, ceasing their make out and already missing the contact. "I have a surprise for you," he huffed.
Tony raised his brow.
"Oh, so you have been thinking of me, huh, Underoos?"
Peter rolled his eyes. "Please stop saying that while we're fucking; age play only gets me off by so much."
Tony laughed.
"What is it then, baby?" he mumbled into his mouth, valiantly trying to get back to kissing Peter.
Peter stopped him and opened the drawer of his desk, pulling out a pair of clean, shiny handcuffs. Tony’s eyes narrowed as he pulled away, only to widen in surprise.
"I don't think these will hold you, sweetheart," he said, breathlessly, "but I appreciate the image."
"Actually, they're Adamantium handcuffs," Peter explained. "Shuri and I whipped some up the last time I visited. Did you know that Vibranium isn’t actually the strongest metal out there? Shuri and I have been testing the different metals that T'challa has been managing to get his hands on, and there is a form of Vibranium called Antarctic Vibranium that literally vibrates at such a speed that it could melt different metals if comes into contact with, including regular Vibranium.” Peter’s speech grew quicker and his eyes shone with excitement that could only be brought out of him by scientific speech. “I wanted to try it out, but I didn't really know how dangerous it'd be in the workshop and I've kind of been wanting to mess around in here with them for awhile," Peter grins. "Then I figured we could configure some Adamantium cuffs instead, because those were weaponized with only strength in mind, and there's no risk of chemical injury. And if I broke out of those, my next test cuff would be with the Adamantine. Although that metal is definitely harder to find."
"Wow, you've really thought about this, huh?" Tony hummed as he pinched the foreign metal between the pads of his fingers. "I'm excited to try them out on you."
"Good! Except we won't be trying them out on me today," Peter smiled, unassuming. Quick as Thor's lightning, he snatched the cuffs from between Tony's grip and snapped them onto his wrists, not before hooking one end through a hanging chain that Tony hadn't even known Peter brought down from the ceiling.
"Wh-what?" Tony blinked, confused. Peter just smirked and pushed Tony down by the chest into the desk chair behind him. He then smoothed Tony's shirt down before looking him straight in the eye as he ripped the whole thing down the middle.
Tony's jaw hit the floor. "Did you just rip my custom made Hermes button down as a segue to bondage sex?"
Peter shrugged, and he would have felt guilty about the cost of the damage if he hadn’t known that Tony loved it when Peter showed his strength.
"I'm sorry," Peter purred, "I'll be gentle from now on." Slowly, he sank to his knees, trailing feather light kisses down Tony's chest, mouthing his abs, nibbling his hips.
He stopped when he got to his jeans. "Let me take care of you, Tony," he breathed, as he looked up through heavy lidded eyes. "Well, it's not as if you have a choice." Peter glanced at the cuffs, the fluorescent lights from Friday’s overhead bulbs bouncing off the gleaming material.
"Just... Please, Peter," Tony exhaled, anticipating whatever it was that Peter had been cooking up in his head. He knew that it would be spectacular, because Tony may appreciate the fuck out of his twinky boyfriend's body, but first and foremost, he had fallen in love with Peter's big, creative brain.
Peter dragged his lips sideways towards the button of his slacks, twirling his tongue in a motion that popped the button out of its hole. He then proceeded to take the zipper between his teeth and drag down, slowly, far too slowly, until the waist on his slacks was loose enough to free Tony's aching hard on.
"I love it when you beg," Peter admitted. Tony groaned.
“FRIDAY, baby girl,” he grumbled. “Black out mode, engage emergency protocol Avengers Need A Lifeline until further notice.”
“Will do, boss.” FRIDAY’s melodic voice echoed, before everything—the cameras, the sound and motion sensors, Tony’s own brain—faded to black.
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Steve stared at the screen, even after Tony had turned off the cameras. He had watched pornography before, shocked and a little more than awed at the idea of willing voyeurism when he first entered the 21st century, but this seemed so much… more. Why was it more?
Sam whistled low and long. “Didn’t know that boy had it in him,” he commented, off handedly. Steve looked up to see Pepper standing next to him with her hand covering her mouth.
It must have been quite a shock to the woman, to see her ex fiancée and his protege being so intimate. If he were to guess, no one in the room knew of this secret relationship. Selfishly, Steve was sort of relieved that he wasn’t the only one left out.
Even Rhodes seemed at a loss. “This is… nah, man, there’s got to be some sort of mistake.”
He shook his head, unbelieving like the rest of them.
“There’s no mistake, Jim,” Pepper said with finality, taking her phone back. “Tony’s fucking him. And probably has been for a while; you heard their conversation.”
She pocketed her phone and turned away from them, her shoulders shrinking into her person as she hid her face from the rest of the kitchen.
The men didn’t know how to react. They were still reeling over this new information for themselves, and it was much harder to console a crying woman than they liked to admit.
But someone had to do it.
It was quiet for a couple of minutes before anyone had dared to say anything, and the silence in the kitchen was almost unbearable. But eventually, Rhodes moved from where he was standing towards Pepper to comfort her where she stood.
“Hey, Pep, maybe we should go sit down in the living room, have some coffee, or…”
But when Rhodes reached her, he realized that she was shaking. He was two inches away from embracing her in a hug when her head finally snapped up and she whirled around, a determined look on her face.
“He spent six days sexting his mentee while he was supposed to be giving his full attention to this deal. Goddamn it, Tony.”
With one final furious growl, she picked up her purse and stormed out.
Silence followed her wake. Bucky winced and spoke aloud the two words everyone else was thinking.
“Oh, shit.”
⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊
Tony was having just a bit of a hard time breathing, looking down at Peter, so angelic, so beautiful, so… god damn strong. Peter’s hold on Tony’s legs made sure that Tony couldn’t budge an inch when Peter kissed the head of Tony’s very interested cock. Peter’s breath ghosted the wet spot that he created from his lips and every nerve in Tony’s body concentrated on that specific sensation. Tony wanted to buck his hips, but Peter kept his feet rooted in the exact spot with those strong, super heroic arms.
“Peter…” Tony breathed, “I waited six days to get my dick wet and I honestly thought there’d be a little more than this.” Tony figured he needed to get all his one liners out before things got heated. Quips were part of Tony’s personality, almost as much as sex was, and to his recollection there were only ever two people who could fuck the wit out of him.
Peter chuckled. “You know what’s funny?” Peter let his hands inch up and down Tony’s legs, as if he were trying to soothe him. Tony could testify, the action was anything but.
“What?” Tony hissed.
“When people see lovers of different ages, they always think that the younger is the impatient one. I suppose that makes sense,” Peter nodded, eyes darting in thought. “They have more energy and stamina and whatnot. Should we prove them right, Tony?” He squeezed. “Can you be patient for me?”
Tony was at an impasse. On the one hand, he wanted—no, he needed—to come. He needed it as much as Thor needed pop tarts at 11 o'clock at night, or as much as Clint needed to pet every dog he saw on the street.
Every night that he took himself in hand in Egypt to Peter’s pictures was a reminder of what was waiting for him when he got home. He had envisioned this reunion for countless hours, and to see his baby boy in front of him was testing what little patience he had left. He craved instant gratification.
But, on the other hand…
He wanted to be good for Peter. He wanted so, so badly to be good for him. He would give anything for Peter; his company, his suits, his left arm. Anything his protege-cum-lover could ever wish for was his, and the crazy thing was, if (or when, more accurately) Tony offered anything, it was almost always turned down.
“I know that offerings are your love language, Tony, but I want to enjoy you fully, without all the gifts. For now, at least?”
Without the aid of trinkets, Tony was initially at a loss. He didn't know how he could prove to Peter just how much he appreciated and wanted him in his life, but as time went on, Peter helped him to see that gifts weren’t as necessary as he had thought them to be.
Tony listened to Peter when he wasn’t distracted by all of the shiny toys. He really got to know his young lover. Sure, Peter had been ecstatic when Tony had bought him the new bed set and desk when he was fifteen, but Tony found that Peter’s eyes twinkled much more when he remembered what Peter’s favorite toppings on his pizza were, and which shows made him laugh the most. When they were cuddling on the couch, discussing the intricacies of nano tech and whether or not Peter should patent his web formula, Tony could feel that Peter was truly happy, because Tony listened to him.
So, could Tony listen to him now? Could he be patient?
“Yes.”
Peter smiled and Tony let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He could be good for Peter. He could—
“How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tony pop?” Peter queried, a childish lilt in his voice. Tony groaned, both at the reference and in expectation of what was to come.
Peter’s tongue darted out again, licking the same spot that he had before. Then, he did it again. And again, and again, and again, and again. Peter licked his head until it was glistening and fully coated, mixing his spit with creamy beads of precome.
“Mmm,” Peter hummed as he licked his lips. “So sweet.”
Tony groaned, again trying fruitlessly to move his hips. “You know, I bet the rest tastes just as delicious, sweetheart.”
“Oh, I’m sure it does,” Peter agreed, eyes twinkling with something. “And something this tasty needs to be savored; wouldn’t you agree?”
Tony wanted to cry.
Peter let out a little laugh as he watched Tony bite his bottom lip in blissful agony. He went back to work, this time using his tongue to lick a full stripe up Tony’s cock, from bottom to the tip. It leaned a bit when he reached the tip, so Peter shifted his right elbow to hold down Tony’s leg and used his hand to stabilize his cock. He kept it upright, repeating the motions with his tongue again.
Peter licked paths up the shaft, one after the other, never closing his lips or even hinting at taking Tony down fully.
By the time Tony felt faint from panting, Peter had a significant amount of drool dribbling down his chin from keeping his mouth open for so long.
“How ya hanging, Tony?” the little shit asked.
Tony grunted, pulling at his chains in order to emphasize his current state. “Well, I’m hanging,” he said. Peter giggled.
“Was that a pun?” He stepped back and admired his handiwork. Tony’s cock was red and leaking, straight and twitching with excitement. Little beads of sweat were appearing above Tony’s furrowed brows. Peter smiled. As the annoying pun flinging masked hero, he was proud of Tony’s quick responses, despite his current predicament.
Peter divested himself of his shirt, belt, and jeans, leaving him in nothing but his briefs and socks. He moved forward to lean over Tony again, kneeling and placing his hands on his shoulders. His knees on the ground, he rubbed his clothed erection on Tony’s shin and shifted closer so that he could whisper in his ear.
“Look at what you’re doing to me, Tony,” he said, his voice gravelly with lust. “You’re being so good. I can’t wait for you to be inside me.”
Tony whimpered, tugging at his bonds, making the chains above him clink in a beautiful symphony of distress. Peter decided it was time to reward him.
Moving back, Peter positioned himself over Tony’s lap and bent to swallow him whole. No longer showing restraint, Peter bobbed his head quickly, sucking and moaning, making sure that the vibrations in his throat added to the pleasure he was giving. Tony responded with an almost sob, passion and pain rolled into one singular emotion that expressed how Tony felt about the hot, wet heat surrounding his cock.
His legs gave a simultaneous spasm and straightened from underneath where Peter had placed his forearms. The action stuttered Peter in his task, but he quickly recovered by placing his hands on Tony’s hips, letting his legs free, but keeping his cock exactly where Peter wanted it. Peter gave Tony his full attention, swirling his tongue and making sure to take Tony down so deep that he hit the back of his throat, repeatedly.
Tony didn’t last very long. The concentrated efforts that Peter blindsided him with milliseconds after teasing him for so long caused an electric shock of lust that stemmed from his spine to his brain, making his head loll back in agonized bliss. Tony yelled, calling out Peter’s name as he came, vision white and limbs stretched to both Heaven and Hell.
Peter choked, sputtering first before swallowing all that his mouth retained that hadn’t leaked out. He coughed, letting go of Tony and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Looking up, he saw that Tony’s head was still tilted back, eyes shut and mouth huffing deep, satisfied breaths. Peter reclined back on his calves, craning his neck from his position on the floor to watch as Tony composed himself and slowly straightened up in the chair.
When Tony was significantly calmer, he raised himself up and moved to sit on Tony’s lap. He smiled and gave Tony a soft kiss on his lips before resting his forehead on Tony’s shoulder.
“You did so well for me, Tony. You lasted so long,” he cooed.
Tony scoffed.
“I certainly gave it my best effort,” he replied. Peter laughed, his joy reverberating through Tony’s collarbone. He was pleased, and Tony was happy. They rested for a while, content to feed off of each other’s glow in silence.
Then Tony shifted.
“Baby boy,” he murmured. Peter hummed in response. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you didn’t touch yourself at all while you were sucking me off, did you?” Peter paused, then lifted his head, blushing. He looked up at Tony through his eyelashes and shook his head no in response. Tony chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, rolling his hips under Peter. Peter hissed as his still clothed erection rubbed against Tony’s abs. “I could tell.”
Peter’s breathing hitched, and he shut his eyes tightly trying give himself some semblance of control. Truthfully, he was hard as an infinity stone and aching for release, but he had wanted to make sure that Tony could enjoy the sex as much as Peter would, and that meant that Tony had to come down from his high after that rather impressive—if Peter did say so himself—blow job.
He supposed he could have jerked himself while he was using his mouth on the man, but six days away from Tony made Peter want to connect with him in the deepest ways he could, emotionally and physically, and that meant coming on Tony’s cock. Peter was experimenting with Tony's patience, sure, but he wasn’t the only one being tested.
But time passed, and Peter felt that Tony was ready for round two. Catching his bottom lip between his teeth, Peter opened his eyes and let the sultry attitude of his settle onto his face again. He smiled as he raised his hands above their heads, stretching his long torso as he reached for Tony’s wrists.
“I guess we should do something about that, then,” he purred, grinding down. Tony matched his moves in tandem, leaning forward to capture Peter’s swollen pink lips in a filthy kiss.
“Please,” he breathed. Peter gasped lightly and quickly got off Tony to slip off his underwear. He then moved to lower Tony’s slacks a bit more, deciding at the last minute that he still wanted to keep most of Tony’s clothes on. There was something so exhilarating about being completely naked (socks didn’t count) while Tony sat tied up in the desk chair, shirt ripped and open and jeans only halfway down his thighs. Peter couldn’t explain it, but it painted the perfect picture in his head.
He stared, once again admiring his handiwork. Leaning back against his desk, Peter kept his eyes on Tony as he opened a drawer and searched through the contents for the bottle of lube he had stored there. Upon finding it, he uncapped it and squirted a generous amount on his fingers. Tony swallowed and watched on with rapt attention.
“I love it when you beg,” Peter repeated. “I mean, I love it when you take control, of course. I love that you have so much more experience than I do and you use it to make love to me. And I know we call it fucking,” Peter said, as he reached behind himself and poked at his own hole, “but that's what it is—making love. Because you do love me, and while it is true that you’re a total animal when you pound me into the mattress, or the couch, or the counter, or that one time in the indoor pool—" Peter remembers that tryst in vivid detail. It was unplanned and rushed and exciting, because Rhodey was due for his aquatic therapy that day, and it was no easy task to perform a quickie while slippery and soaking wet. “—you always prep me so gently, and that’s how I know. I’m more than just a good lay. You love me, Tony.” Tony blinked, speechless. “And I love you,” Peter continued, his voice soft. Then he hissed, finally breaching himself with a finger. “And I love it when you beg.”
Tony dropped his eyes down from Peter’s scrunched up face down to where his hand disappeared behind his back. Peter had his legs spread now, his dripping cock on full display as he worked himself open. “Beg me,” Peter begged, himself, ironically. “What do you want to do to me right now?”
“Oh, Peter,” Tony responded. “Baby, you're doing so good, opening yourself up for me, but you know I could do so much better.” Tony reached towards his boy, arms still held back by unbreakable chains. Peter whimpered.
“Yeah?” he whined. “How?”
“If you let me free, I could show you.” Tony licked his lips in desperation.
“How?” Peter repeated. He pitched forward slightly and raised his ass in the air to get a better angle for his wrist. Tony felt his mouth run dry.
“I, uh, I would—” Tony attempted to swallow; his mouth felt like sandpaper. “Oh, dear god, baby, I take it back—you’re being so bad right now, teasing me like this. I feel like I’d have to bend you over my knee, you’re being so naughty,” he started, regaining his composure. “Of course, then it’d make it easier for me to open you up.” Peter’s breath hitched again. “Can you imagine that, baby boy? My large, calloused fingers dipping into your sweet hole, stretching you until you could fit another one, and another one after that? Making you feel so good, baby.”
“Oh, yes, Tony…”
Tony smiled.
“Please, sweetheart, please, Peter, my Peter,” Tony begged. “Let me take care of you. I want to hold you. These hands have created world saving super suits and skin tight tech that wraps around your tight, fit body like a glove, and they want to touch you just as tenderly. Wrap themselves around your glorious cock while they pump themselves in and out of you, brushing against that little button inside of you that makes you sing like a fucking angel.” Tony was laying it pretty thick with all this flowery speech but, fuck it. His mother gave him strong Italian genes, and he was going to use it to his advantage.
Peter let out a cry as his knees shook.
“Yes… Tony… Yes…” he panted.
“Just let me go, Peter, and I can do that for you.”
Peter growled. “Oh no, Tony. That was beautiful, but you can do better.”
And then Peter was in his lap. He situated himself on top of Tony, guiding his very responsive cock into the tight heat of his hole. He sank down slowly, letting himself adjust to the foreign intrusion and keening high in his throat when he was fully seated on Tony’s cock. Tony groaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head in ecstasy.
And then Peter started to move.
He rocked back and forth first, simply feeling Tony inside him. When he finally adjusted, he lifted himself up, rising until it was only the tip that was left inside him, and then he sank back down at a sickening pace.
“God, kid—" Tony whimpered. He felt too good to be alive.
“Tony, Tony, Tony, Tony,” Peter responded, not capable of saying much else.
“Yes, Peter, oh, yes, keep going, god, you’re so perfect.” Tony bit the juncture between Peter’s shoulder and neck, sucking it raw and red as Peter bounced on him, a melodious litany of ah, ah, ah’s falling from his lips.
“Mr. Stark…” he suddenly cried, averting from his earlier course of using Tony's first name. Peter still called him Mr. Stark in the presence of others, but Tony had insisted on being on a first name basis, now that they were together. Secretly, of course, but together nonetheless.
Tony loved it when Peter said his name. The first few times had been hard for Peter, but as the intimate conversations and restless nights in love making continued, Peter got used to it. And every time Tony pushed Peter off the precipice, it was "Tony!" that he shouted, and not his title.
So, then, what was this? Was Peter so thoroughly enjoying himself that he reverted back to their public personas? Was his mind so hazy with lust that he wasn't even aware of what he was saying?
"Mr. Stark… yes… right there, oh g-god, right there, I can't—" Tony grunted as Peter pushed himself down in a particularly hard downward thrust. There went that theory. What was he saying earlier about age play? "Mr. Stark, you've been so good for me, I want to—I can be so—I, yes, I want, I, I need—" Peter's voice rose higher and higher, each reedy note like a siren's call in Tony's ear.
"Yes, baby, ride me, ride me like a fucking—like I'm a fucking—stallion, like I'm your—fucking—billion dollar sex doll—" Okay, Tony was grasping at straws for dirty talk now, but could you blame him? Certainly not, with Peter rotating his creamy pale hips in such a tantalizing pattern.
Tony wanted to mark him, starting with those hips, and biting down lower, at his inner thigh, licking and biting and sucking and laving until the dusty pink became sinful red. Oh, how Tony wanted.
He yanked at the handcuffs again, rattling the chains so hard that the vibrations reached all the way to the top of the ceiling where they hung.
"Petey…" he growled. "Let me go, baby, sweetheart; let me hold you." He pulled forward to emphasize his request.
Peter paused for a moment, then seemed to shake himself free of whatever current thought has passed in his mind, picking up speed again with fervor. He was silent but for the occasional whimper, moan, or gasp, not even daring to call out Tony's name again.
"Peter…" Tony warned. "You know you don't really want me tied up here...let me run my hands down your sinful body. Let me feel you completely. Come on baby…"
"M...Mr. Stark…" Peter whimpered, faintly. He gripped the back of the chair behind Tony, effectively ruining it with his strength. He clenched the chair tighter, speeding up in his chase for release. Every pant became a promise towards completion. He was right there at the edge.
Shakily, and almost of their own volition, Peter's arms raised up again towards the cuffs. They stopped midway past Tony's elbows though; so close, but not close enough.
“Come on, Peter,” Tony demanded, voice low.
Peter had such plans for today. When he and Shuri had come up with the schematics—forever ago, it seemed—Peter knew that they were working towards a worthy cause. It made Peter feel good, knowing that he now had the means to apprehend certain villains that previously evaded capture. But he also felt guilty, because he for sure planned to use their prototype on his lover in some sort of bondage play first.
Not that he was feeling particularly regretful at the moment. Even if he was about to snap them in two and definitely risk the wrath of his platonic science soulmate.
Oh god, how did he ever think he would have been able to lead Tony Stark in the bedroom (lab, whatever)?
“Fuck,” Peter huffed, his resolve crumbling like gluten free dough. He pawed up the remaining distance of Tony’s arms before finally grasping the cuffs by the rivets and wrenching them open and off.
As the precious metal fell over their heads like pieces of drifting plastic, Tony wrapped his arms around Peter and tackled him to the ground, effectively knocking the breath out of the younger man. He was careful to be gentle though, making sure that one of his forearms rested behind the length of his shoulders, while the other covered his lower back.
It was difficult to keep himself from getting injured as he stayed connected with the boy, but Tony managed. He glued himself to Peter's body, fitting a mold that he had become acquainted with in the past six months. As soon as he was sure Peter was comfortably settled underneath him on the floor, he straightened, looking down at his prize, victorious.
He shifted so that Peter's hips raised higher, spreading him with his hands until that flexible body was sprawled open and he could watch as his cock disappeared into Peter's gorgeous, lithe body. He lowered his pants a bit for more control.
"See? Isn't this better? Those cuffs were hot, but I never—want—to take—my hands off you—ever again," he panted, pumping in time with his declarations. Peter's hands scrambled for purchase, blunt nails scratching at Tony's biceps. Tony angled himself so that every thrust was purposeful, and Peter yelped as he hit his sweet spot over and over again. He didn't even reach for his dick, knowing that Tony had the skill to make him come on his cock alone.
Peter let himself go. Control was fun and he was glad he tried it, but this… this was what he truly wanted. Tony owned him—all of him. He owned the spider tech that helped his heroism, he owned his virginity and every sexually explorative night thereafter, he owned his heart.
"Mr. Stark! T-Tony!" he yelled as he came, bright light dancing behind his eyelids as he felt the smallest trickling of tears escape from the corners of his eyes.
It didn't take Tony long after that. He gravitated forward, capturing Peter's cries in a passionate kiss. One thrust, two, and he was gone, over the edge and emptying himself into Peter while the boy lay trembling on the cold floor of the lab, shattered pieces of metal around them.
They stayed that way for a long while, reluctant to release each other from the other's arms. Tony pressed a kiss to Peter's sweat dampened forehead, then moved down to kiss the corner of his eye where the tear had gathered.
"I missed you," he said. Peter mumbled in response. "I mean it, Pete. I wish you were there with me in Egypt. Would have loved to make love to you in between those Egyptian sheets." Peter laughed, softly.
"Sorry you got stuck with the cold lab floor, then," Peter joked. He winced as he moved to release Tony from himself. He grabbed one of the cleaner rags on the table to wipe them both off, noting with displeasure that his hypersensitive skin was cooling off way too quickly for his liking. Tony grinned and caught Peter's hand when he started cleaning his chest.
"I loved it," he said, staring into Peter's half lidded eyes. He realized that Peter was blushing again, from emotion as well as the with the after effects of sex. "Although…" he raised his eyebrows. "We aren't without casualties." He picked up a piece of Adamantium and held it up to the light. Peter groaned.
"Shit, Shuri is gonna kill me… " he sighed.
"Well, you're at least one step closer to creating the strongest pair of handcuffs currently known to man." He passed Peter his briefs, then pulled him back down to his level to warm him up with cuddles. "And when the time comes for more testing, we'll see how long they can hold up against spider strength instead," Tiny winked.
Peter laughed, high and carefree, and it was music to Tony’s ears.
⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊
Meanwhile, several floors above, Pepper Potts sat in a well worn and comfortable loveseat, wine glass in one hand and phone in the other. Finding the number she was looking for in her contact list, she dialed. The call was answered almost immediately.
"Hi, Princess Shuri? How are you? Have you been working on any interesting projects lately?"