Spring break. Beaches. Time of bikinis and body shots and bad decisions.
Unless you're Peter Parker. Then, you're on an R&D internship with Stark Industries, working on new tech to help the Team. The Avengers. Of which he will soon be a card-carrying member, and not just a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Like, at the end of this semester kind of soon, so he's got a good reason to be thinking of tech instead of the aforementioned body shots.
Only he's not.
"Hey, Mr. Stark?" he calls out across the lab, setting down some components. "What do you think MJ is doing right about now?" he asks nervously, because the two are on a break, like on that old tv show his Aunt May likes to watch in reruns.
"MJ is probably sitting alone, in her room, staring at a picture of you on her cell phone, while listening to some really smooth slow jams," Tony says in a distracted tone. Almost…. Got it.
Tony grins excitedly as he steps back from the model on display, adjusting his tech glasses when they try to slide down the bridge of his nose. "Just kidding. She's wearing a bikini on a beach, getting hit on by some meathead. And that's life." Elated, and only half paying attention to the things he's saying, he steps forward again and starts taking the holographic model apart in the air.
"No, but for serious, what do you think she's doing?" Peter worries, stepping around the research bench to see what Tony's up to. "That's going to short out, if you don't do something about the static inhibitors," he advises in the moment before it does and the model fizzles away into thin air.
Dark eyes slide their gaze to Peter in the moments after the model fizzles away. "Good catch. Well. Sorta catch. It might have been nice to get a warning before I had to start all over again," he says, then hands Peter his tech gloves, before taking off the glasses and carefully setting them on the young man's face. "You give it a try, and I'll try to dig up my inner young woman so I can tell you all about what MJ is actually doing."
"Ned won't let her do anything stupid right, Mr. Stark?" he asks, sliding into the gloves and working on building a new model. He zooms in on the static inhibitors, isolating them from the rest of the simulation, and gets to work on tweaking them to work well enough to handle the weight of the project. "Not that MJ's stupid," Peter backpedals quickly. "But, you know. Tequila."
"What do you know about tequila?" Tony asks the young man. Sure, Peter's old enough to drink, but he just doesn't strike him as the sort of person that actually does it. He's too busy getting straight A's, or saving New York, with about 1% of his time left to have a sometimes girlfriend. "When do you even drink? While you sleep? Wait- You don't sleep."
Peter guffaws at that. "Mr. Stark, everything I know about tequila comes from the fact that there are a lot of songs about girls drinking it and taking their clothes off." He's had a few drinks, since he came to college, but it turns out the whole spider thing really helps him metabolize alcohol. He'd had to fake staggering around after a frat party, so nobody got suspicious that he wasn't drunk after his third drink. He figures it can be done, but not without some really dedicated drinking.
"Wait. You know about tequila from songs?" Tony asks. He shouldn't be surprised, now that he's just stated the kid doesn't have time to drink, but it's a little heartbreaking to have the reality spelled out for him like that. "That's it. We're going to the bar. And I don't mean my bar upstairs. I mean an actual place you go to, to pick up women, or die in a fire trying."
Peter's mouth drops with the declaration. "Uh, Mr. Stark, are you feeling alright? Because you just said we're going to a bar and it's 4 pm on a Tuesday and this static inhibitor really needs some work," he babbles, waiting for the older man to correct himself and say get back to work.
There's a brief pause as Tony considers this. "Okay, we pregame first, because right now there's only old men like me at the bar, drinking away their miseries. No girls," Tony tells the kid, before clapping him on the shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "Then, after we're drunk enough to think it's a great idea, we head out to the bars." Bar seems to have become bars in one fell swoop. Tony is intending to party, so help him Loki-Jesus.
"Pregame?" Peter asks helplessly, looking at Mr. Stark. He doesn't have to look up anymore, not after that last growth spurt before the end of high school, at least. "Like, we're going to a football game? Do they even play football this time of year, because I thought that was a fall thing." They pregamed before college games, a few times, him and MJ and Ned and a few others at Columbia, so he's not completely oblivious to how it's done.
"Sure. That. We're going to do that, expect it's going to be in my penthouse, at the bar, with lots of Tequila," Tony deadpans. "Come on," he says a moment later, already walking in the direction of the elevators.
"Ending the work day early, Boss?" Friday chimes in over the speakers in the room.
"You know, that's getting creepy," Tony informs the A.I. He looks back over his shoulder, and motions with an arm. "Come on, kid. We're getting drunk."
Peter scrabbles the gloves off, and the model goes dark. Two steps away from the table, he remembers the glasses and pulls them off, tossing them lightly to land atop the gloves. He trots to the elevator and steps into it beside Tony. "Are you sure about this, because it's gonna take a lot to get me drunk. It's that spider thing, I think. I went to a frat party once..." he babbles the story to him as the elevator takes them up to the penthouse.
"Challenge accepted," Tony says when Peter pauses for breath from his babbling. He walks out into the penthouse after the elevator doors open to the correct floor, heading straight for the bar. "If tequila doesn't work, I've got absinthe. That'll do the job, or I'm considering alternative substances." No one challenges Tony Stark and expects any less than him going all out, right?
Right.
With that, he gets behind the bar, and takes a bottle of tequila from the freezer. All of his hard alcohol is kept in said clear glass freezer, while the mixers and beers are in the fridge beside it. Then there's the stuff on tap. Tony doesn't really need to go anywhere to have a good time, and it's a little sad, when he thinks too hard about it.
"You know how to do tequila shots, kid?" he asks, digging around for some limes after setting a salt shaker on the bar top.
"Isn't there something about licking your hand and sucking some lime?" Peter screws up his face in thought. "Like, I saw it once at a party, but it didn't make much sense. I just drank some vodka, which tasted bad, but didn't require me to lick my hand."
"Look, unless you want to lick my hand, you're licking your hand, and we're doing this," Tony says to be a smartass before it strikes him how wrong that sounded. Tame, on the grand spectrum of things he's said to people before, but still wrong, given the recipient of the phrasing. He doesn't backpedal though, instead slicing the limes he's found and setting everything up for the shots.
"If you're sure about this, Mr. Stark," Peter say, nervously as he looks over the stuff on the bar. It's not so scary. It's just sodium chloride and a lime and some south of the border baby formula. He can do this.
"Definitely," Tony says, then demonstrates. "You lick your hand," he starts out, licking his hand in the webbing between the thumb and forefinger. "Pour on the salt," he adds, sprinkling the salt onto the wet skin. "Pick up your shot," he says, picking up his glass. "Then you lick, shoot, and suck. Got it?"
"Lick, shoot, and suck. Yes, sir, Mr. Stark. I got it." Ever eager to please, Peter does as he's told, until he's ready and holding up his shot with Tony. "Do we say a toast, or just drink? Because it seems like we should say a toast, it being my first shot and all."
Wow. It really sounds dirty when Peter says the process, especially with the 'sir' peppered in there, and the 'Mr. Stark'. Maybe Tony shouldn't teach the kid to talk like that. Might get him in trouble someday.
Whatever, it's amusing.
Oh, a toast. Right.
"We should definitely toast. I'd say, 'Salude,' would suffice, if this wasn't your first shot, but since it is, we should come up with something special," Tony decides, considering, then lifting his shot a fraction higher. "To straight A's, saving New York, and being gracious when MJ comes crawling back to you," Tony declares, before tapping his glass against the kid's. One lick, shoot, and suck later, the job is done, and Tony's leaning on an elbow on the bar counter. There's not even a grimace for the shot, because Tony buys the really expensive tequila that goes down smooth.
Tony may be smooth and casual, but Peter coughs as the heat of the liquor comes flashing up his throat, once the shot's gone down. He reaches blindly for something to drink to take the edge off and ends up with the bottle of tequila in his hands, glugging down a big mouthful, before he realizes his error.
"Wa-" Tony begins to say, reaching toward the bottle, but Peter's just plain faster. The older man drops his hand, and sighs, going about getting the kid some water before he makes himself sick. "Here. Trade ya," he says, taking the bottle from the sputtering Peter's hands and replacing it with the opened bottle of cold water.
Peter chugs at the water, downing half the bottle in a gulp. "Wow," he manages when he's finished, "I guess the spider thing doesn't help with the taste, huh, Mr. Stark? You looked cool doing, it though."
"You're going to look cool, too, kid. Just takes a little practice," Tony tells him, already going about setting up the next shot. He takes a long drink from the bottle, too, while he's at it, so they're even. Not that he thinks he'll be able to totally keep up with the kid, given the spider thing, but he's going to try. "Hokay, ready?" he asks, holding up his shot, salt and lime in position.
"Ready, Mr. Stark!" Peter says, licking his hand, then sprinkling it with the salt and taking up the little glass. This time he's going to try to hold it together long enough to get to the lime step. Maybe it helps. "Salude!" he cheers before he licks the salt, slams the shot, and manages to suck the lime with only a grimace to show for the action. "Hey, look! I did it!"
"You did great, kid," Tony tells him. "You didn't even need to chase it down with more water." So that's… two shots, plus the giant swallow of tequila he drank straight from the bottle. Whoa. Tony must be getting old, because he's starting the feel it. Dark eyes focus on the young man before him, that seems cheerful and bright, but not the least bit drunk.
With a deep breath, Tony sets up the next shots, salt, and lime. This goes on for a total of six shots plus what they drank from the bottle, before Tony is bowing over the bar counter with a sharp breath. "Are you…? You're not even a little bit drunk, are you?" he asks very slowly, trying not to slur.
"Not yet. Maybe a little fuzzy. I feel a little bit silly, I guess. I could start drinking two to one. Or three to one. That'll probably catch me up," he explains, sheepish. He goes ahead and pours himself two more shots, to get started on this three to one thing he's planning on doing, just to see if he even can get really drunk.
"That… sounds like a bad idea," Tony warns him, before straightening up. He clears his throat. "So of course, I like it, and we're going to do that." He licks his own hand and gets the salt ready on it, then holds up his shot. "Kid, this is about to suck for you." Because three shots in a row? That's not the most fun taste in the world.
"Maybe I could have something to chase my shots with?" he whines a little, because they'd given him kool-aid as a chaser at the frat party he went to. He doubts Mr. Stark has any kool-aid in his penthouse, but maybe he has a Sprite or something he can use to wash the rust and blood flavor of the tequila out of his mouth.
"What. Do you know. About chasers," Tony states more than asks, before turning and getting him a can of Coke, because that's something he likes to mix his booze with on occasion. "Here. No more whining." He clears his throat, blinks hard, and lifts his shot glass again, waiting for the kid to be ready.
Peter takes up two of the shots, one in each hand, and nods. "Ready," he says taking a deep breath and rapid-fire shooting the tequila, then biting down on the lime. That little wedge of lime doesn't do much to ease the flavor, so he chases it with the Coke, grinning afterward. "What do I know about chasers, Mr. Stark? I know they make shots bearable, especially when you're drinking three to one."
"Are you- Did you just-" Tony starts to ask a full question twice, before wetting his lips, and throwing his head back to laugh. "Kid, I didn't know you knew how to talk shit. At least not to me. I'd keep up, but then this party would be me on the floor, and you calling an am-ba-lamb for me." Tony just said am-ba-lamb instead of ambulance. Alrighty then. He's officially drunk.
The man sways a bit where he stands, still in the spot where he can play bartender, work-roughened palms slapping down on the bar counter to steady himself. Then he squints at the empty bottle of tequila, before leaning in toward Peter. "We finished the bottle, and you drank more of it than I did. How does it feel?"
"Feels good, Mr. Stark," Peter says quietly, thinking about how if he was just going to play hooky and get drunk, he should have skipped the internship and gone to Cancun with MJ and Ned. He blinks away the thought and smiles over at Tony. "How are you feeling? Ready for that root canal yet?"
"I need an energy drank," Tony says, stifling a yawn. "Otherwise, we're never making it to the bars." He turns, and picks out one from the fridge. "You want one, too, kid? Not that I think you need it, with the spidey thing and all, but thought I'd offer."
"No, I'm good with my Coke," Peter says, waving his drink in Tony's general direction, then having a sip of it. "I don't think MJ and I are getting back together this time, Mr. Stark," he says quietly, his voice a little slow. "I want to be wrong, but I feel it in that place where I feel things with my spider senses. You ever feel like that?"
Tony's in the middle of powering down his energy drink, so he holds up a hand, index finger up, to indicate he needs a few seconds. Once it's done, he thoughtfully eyes the can. "Don't do what I just did. It can cause heart issues. Something I don't have to worry about, but you might," he says, his voice sounding a little stronger, more normal, now that he doesn't have that drunk, exhausted feeling so much anymore. Then he considers Peter's question, folding his arms on the counter, and leaning against it. "Sometimes you just know something. Yeah, I get that, sometimes." He pauses. "You think there's a reason behind why you two aren't getting back together?"
"I think she's going to find somebody else," he says quietly. "Somebody who can take her out and not be on alert for bad guys and end of the world scenarios. Who can go for a walk in Central Park without having to stop to run down a mugger, you know? She's probably with him right now. And, I'm alone." He's not alone, alone. He's with Mr. Stark, but that's not making him less lonely.
"So, basically you're saying she's going to leave you for a guy that isn't a superhero badass, right?" Tony asks him point blank. "Because that's what you are. Girls dig superhero badasses. They don't want Johnny the Guy With a Man Purse that gets mugged. They want Peter the guy that chases the mugger down and gets that purse back."
"Not MJ," Peter says morosely, staring down at his Coke. "She never cared for the superhero thing one way or the other. And the last few times I left a date to chase down the bad guys, she was really mad when I got back. But not, like, that kind of mad where you yell. The kind where you act like everything's fine, but you don't invite your boyfriend up at the end of the night."
"Oh. That's hard, kid. You know what fixes all of that?" Tony asks, watching the sad young man thoughtfully. He can relate to what the kid's going through, really. Pepper doesn't care about him being Iron Man. Pepper wants dates. She wants time. She wants 100% of a moment, not 12% of one. That's why she dropped him again, and this time, didn't look back.
"Maybe Wanda and Viz have it right. Date inside the circle. At least you know the other person would actually get you, right, Mr. Stark?" Peter looks up at the the other man before it filters through his fogged brain that Tony asked him a question. "Sorry. What fixes all that stuff?"
"You do what you figure she's doing anyway. You get yourself a replacement model. Nothing soothes a broken heart like the next girl to fawn all over you," Tony tells him, before thinking about what Peter said. "And, yeah, maybe a superhero of some kind, or, hell, at least a first responder. They're totally superheroes."
"What about you? Are you looking for a replacement Pepper? Because I don't know where I'd even go to find a replacement MJ. Like, is there a specialty dating store I don't know about?" Peter asks, cracking a wide smile, because things are starting to seem funny. Specialty dating store. He cracks him up.
"Maybe I'm making one. You don't know," Tony says with a straight face. "Maybe I'll make a whole store of hotties, and it'll be generally understood to be awesome," the drunk man states. He could do it. He could make androids. Hell, look at Vision.
"You made Viz, kinda," Peter says, unwittingly echoing the thought. "Wanda could be your first testimonial for Stark Specialty Dating Store. Wait. Would you need more infinity stones for that? Because they're hard to get."
"We'll skip the stones this time. I can do it without 'em," Tony says confidently, before he comes from around the bar, and walks with a drunken sort of grace to the workspace nearby, picking up gloves and his glasses. They're put on, and he pulls up the basic human shape to start. "Fuck it. Let's make the perfect woman."
Peter stands and moves to the work bench next to Tony, watching him start shifting data around. "One: I really think we should be in Japan for this to work out. Better market, and all. And, two: I've only ever been with MJ. I don't want my next time to be with a robot. I don't want it to be with anybody, at all, but when I do, I want it to be somebody, you know, special." The younger man flushes with the admission, because he's heard stories about Tony, when he was Peter's age and how much tail the man was swimming in. There's no way he understands what he's trying to say.
Tony tries to understand though, because figuring things out is what he does. Perhaps not surprisingly, he's focused on the android's brain over her body when Peter makes that admission, trying to decide how he can maximize the memory capabilities in the model so it can be, well, smarter than the average human. There's also that special something that makes humans seem more intelligent, even if a computer brain can hold more information. Imagination. Autonomy. A dash of charm. So he keeps working, even when Peter lets him know he won't be a customer at his future store, just to give himself something to do as he thinks.
"Fair enough. What do you consider special in a person?" Tony asks, because he's going to pirate the ideas and put them into his work, and he's genuinely curious.
"I want somebody I can be friends with, not just sleep with. Kind of the best of both worlds, you know?" Peter tells him quietly, watching as Tony continues with his work. It hurts a little, that he's spilling his guts to the man's back, but he figures that's just Mr. Stark. Always working. Like him. "Maybe I should just go. Let you get some work done."
"This? This is just me messing around," Tony says, dismissing the model and pulling off his gloves, before taking the glass off as well, and setting them both aside. He grabs a chair and pulls it up to the bench, spinning it around backward, and straddles it. His arms fold over the back of the chair, and he rests his chin on them, dark eyes focusing on the younger man's. "There. Now we're having 100% of a moment. Tell me more about Miss Perfect."
"I thought she looked a lot like MJ. Now, I'm not sure what I want," the younger man goes back to the bar and roots around, before he comes up with a bottle of vodka and pours himself a shot. After he tosses it back, he makes a face and chases it with the Coke in his hand. "Tastes like rubbing alcohol, after tequila. What do you want, Mr. Stark?" Maybe he can just keep modelling himself after Tony, and want what he wants, because he's got things pretty together, so it can't be a bad idea to want what he's got.
"Good question," Tony says, dark eyes tracking the younger man's movements as he stays seated. He's too drunk to consider more booze, and he's lucky the energy drink helped perk him up to about normal levels, so he doesn't want to push that luck and end up passing out on the floor. "I want someone smart. Maybe even a genius, if I can find one." He pauses, then laughs, "I might be looking for myself, come to think of it. Someone that I can relate to, because they've lived a life like mine. Like what you said earlier. Dating in the circle of superheroes."
"I'm a genius," Peter says helpfully, before he realizes that, no, that isn't helpful.
That has Tony staring at Peter, like maybe he's just now seeing the kid. "Yeah. You are a genius," he says slowly. "And you're a superhero," he adds. Great. Tony's heading merrily down creeper lane. Poor kid. He'll probably have to apologize at some point.
"So, basically, I'm the perfect woman for you. Only, you know, not a woman," Peter says, his eyes a little hazy at this point. He offers up a lopsided grin. "That's probably a problem, right, Mr. Stark?"
"I can think of at least a few problems with this scenario, but none of them are about your gender, kid," Tony says, and oh boy, is he thinking about it now. He's already got a private jet to hell scheduled for him when he dies. He's not sure what the upgrade is going to be for wanting a twenty-two year old he's practically raised from his teenage years.
"Oh." Peter thinks about that for a minute, just letting it sink in while he sinks another shot. "So, what kinds of problems do you see with this scenario?" he asks, because he's curious. Painfully so, and he's just not sure where that came from.
"Mostly the problem where I am an old man, you've been like a son to me, and I think dating you would be an abuse of power that I might have a hard time living with," Tony says solemnly, because he needs to talk himself out of this, since the kid isn't running away screaming yet. "The funny thing is, though, I might enjoy having a hard time living with it, as long as I'm reaping all the benefits of my evil doing."
"One: You're not old. B, I mean Two: I'm glad you think of me all nice like that, but you were never a dad to me. That was my Uncle Ben. You were just my hero. Now, you're my friend. Does that make things easier to live with, Mr. Stark?" Peter asks, chancing a quick look up from his Coke can, then back down.
"Come here," Tony says. It's a firm, but not punishing tone.
Peter leaves his Coke can on the bar and makes his way over to the workbench. There's no chair there, since Tony's sitting on the one that goes with the workbench, but he leans against its surface, which is close enough to sitting to count, his hands gripping the edge and his eyes pointing toward his knees. He's pretty sure he's about to get told off, and he's kind of dreading it, because despite the whole, 'now you're my friend' thing, he still looks up to the other man.
Tony waits for the kid to get settled, then he stands, and nudges the chair out of the way with his foot. He steps closer, and touches under Peter's chin, brows furrowed. "You can't do that puppy eyed thing at me. It always breaks my heart," he complains quietly, before adding, "I'm not mad at you."
Dark brown eyes flash up, surprised. "You're not?" he asks, a dreadful sort of hope welling up in his chest. "I thought you might be."
"Nope, not mad. Not even a little bit," Tony assures him. "I am, however, drunk, and that's probably helping along all the immoral thoughts I'm having. Not that I usually need help in that department. Just. You've been sacred. I never wanted to corrupt you. I never wanted to taint your goodness with all my bullshit."
"What kinds of thoughts are you having?" Peter asks him, his tone quiet, his eyes earnest. He's not really sure what he's thinking, just that something about the conversation has his blood spiking and his heart beating faster.
"I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you so bad I can almost taste it already," Tony tells him, fingers still touching under the younger man's chin, but he doesn't move them to do more than that. "I bet you taste good, like something a guy like me might crave but knows nothing about."
"I'll bet I taste like tequila," Peter says, tipping his head back a fraction to invite that kiss, dark eyes lowering to Tony's mouth, then raising back to his eyes. He keeps gripping the work surface beneath him, unsure of what he might do with his hands, if he loosens them, even for a second.
"Tequila, Coke, salt, lime, and vodka," Tony recites the list of the things the kid has consumed since coming up to his penthouse. Fingers finally move, the backs of them brushing down the front of the younger man's throat, then up gradually, encouraging Peter's head to tip back a fraction more. But instead of kissing him, a calloused thumb comes up, and smooths over his lips. "Want to know a secret?"
"Yeah, Mr. Stark. Tell me a secret," Peter rasps out, his breath warm across Tony's thumb, his lips sensitive as they move across the calloused digit. He's a little disappointed his invitation didn't work, because for some reason, he really wants to be kissed right now.
"I like it when you call me Mr. Stark, and sir. Everytime you say it, it does something to me that I push to the back of my mind," Tony rumbles, his thumb moving to the corner of soft lips, before his hand pushes into Peter's hair at the back of the kid's neck. He grips the strands in a solid hold, then his lips brush the younger man's carefully. "I know you don't do it on purpose, that I'm just dirty," he tries to assure Peter. Teeth tug that soft lower lip. "You don't mean to turn me on, do you, kid?"
"I didn't, Mr. Stark," he says quietly, his lower lip moist from being tugged between Tony's teeth. His breath is a little ragged and he can't stop himself from using his tongue to wet his lips further. "I guess you won't be asking me to call you Tony, will you, sir?"
The peppering of 'Mr. Stark' and then 'sir' has Tony staring hard into eyes as dark as his own. Then his eyes shut with a deep breath, and his head lowers that fraction more, sealing his mouth to the younger man's. Fingers clench in his hair, and he neatly steps between Peter's knees as his tongue pushes into the multi-flavored mouth. It tastes like corrupted innocence, all the flavors together, and Tony likes that.
Peter draws a sharp breath through his nose and opens his mouth to Tony, offering up his mouth to be tasted. He grips that table until it feels like either it or his knuckles are going to crack under the pressure, and then he begins to kiss back, his tongue sliding along Tony's while he moans softly into the older man's mouth.
The hand not in Peter's hair goes to the kid's hip, and squeezes it possessively, Tony taking in a sharp breath of his own when the kid kisses him back, and feeds him that pretty moan. Then he's lifting his head, and bowing it after so his mouth goes to Peter's ear. "If we do this, and you like me well enough after, I'm not sharing you with anyone. You'll be mine, and only mine, if you decide you want to be with me." Because Tony isn't going to do this then let MJ swoop in, stealing Peter back.
Peter pauses a moment, his own thoughts going to MJ. But, he's sadly confident that there won't be a reconciliation between them this time. It's not the first time they've broken up, but it's the last. All the more so because he wants to agree to Tony's terms. He takes a deep breath, then lets it go, resigning himself to this new world he's choosing. "Okay, Mr. Stark," he says in a shaky voice. "I'll be yours. Only yours."
Tony can feel that resignation in the other man, and it should have given him pause. Maybe it does, a little, because Tony has an incredible ego, and no one should be resigning themselves to their fate of being with him.
But.
Tony's also old, and Peter is young, beautiful, smart. Things he craves so bad he can ignore his ego, if it means he gets to have this kid. So the words are soaked in, and accepted, Tony taking in a sharp breath before rasping into Peter's ear, "Yes. You will be mine."
Then he kisses that ear, more kisses plied down the side of the kid's neck, his hand in his hair guiding his head to tip to the side for a better angle for the affection. It's funny. Tony usually shies away from making such declarations and demands, but now that he has a chance with this particular young man, he feels greedy for it.
Peter shivers, unaware of the darker thoughts in Tony's head. He tips his head to the side as he's pushed to do a heavy sigh breathed out as the kisses move down his throat. "I'm scared, Mr. Stark," he manages to say in a strangled voice. "I want to touch you back, but I'm afraid of what I might do, if I let go of this table. I'm afraid I'll tear your clothes or mine. Or... I don't know what I might do." The table is holding him to reality, keeping him from becoming feral with the power of Tony's kisses.
"Everything is okay, Peter. I can buy new clothes, and you can wear something of mine home, if you need or want to," Tony tells him quietly, his hands going to the ones gripping the table so tightly. Fingertips caress the straining knuckles, coaxing them to let go, even as he kisses the younger man's mouth again. His tongue pushes inside that honey-sweet sin, and his cock aches in his pants from how good it feels to kiss him.
One hand at a time, Peter lets go of the table, the first hand going to Tony's hair and gripping the strands, the other fisting in the man's shirt. It's as if being granted the use of his hands brings him to life and he's like fire as he kisses back and stands, so that his body is tight to the other man's. He clings desperately to Tony as hard as he pushes for more. More kisses, more touching, more of this danger that feels like home.
It feels good, being wanted like this, by this young man. Tony gives him what he needs, more kisses with deeper thrusts of his tongue. More touches, his hands pulling at the younger man's shirt and only breaking the kiss for long enough to remove the garment, before dropping it to the floor. Then he's going for the buttons of his own shirt, working around the fist in the cloth to remove the clothing, so they're equal parts undressed.
"More," Peter manages to husk out, the hand that is no longer fisted in Tony's shirt sliding down his abdomen. He feels the ripple of hard muscle, and then he's at the man's belt, and he hesitates, because he's never done this before. Then, Tony kisses him again and he groans deeply, and both hands scrabble for the other man's belt, wrenching it open, then opening the button and zip of his jeans. The material pools around the man's ankles, and Peter breaks the kiss, lowering himself to help take off his shoes and socks, so he can step out of the heavy fabric of the denims. He's confronted by the tented erection in Tony's boxers and he reaches out a tentative hand to stroke it through the cotton, then stands again, going for another kiss while he strokes.
That. That's the moment that Tony loses his mind, when Peter strokes him as they kiss. Tony growls into the younger man's mouth, and lifts him by the hips, right onto the work surface of the very expensive, state-of-the-art technology table. Greedy hands then go to the younger man's pants, undoing the belt, then unbuttoning and unzipping them until he's able to jerk them down. He breaks the kiss long enough to get shoes, socks, and then those pants completely off, before he's kissing the kid hard again, a hand going for his cock through his briefs to stroke it. Impatience soon has him pushing his hand into those briefs, and gripping the younger man's cock, stroking it with firm motions.
Eager to match Tony, or at least not be left behind, Peter reaches into Tony's boxers, long fingers wrapping around his cock and squeezing before he begins to stroke him in kind. It's after he's past the insanity of needing to do more that his body begins to get messages through to his brain, namely how damned good it feels to have Tony's calloused hands wrapped around the thick length of his cock. He goes absolutely still for a moment, his body tense all over, and makes a sound that is at once impatient and needy. "Mr. Stark..." he breathes out the name, awe tinging his voice, that he's actually doing this with this man.
"You're like one of those kids that spam the kick button over and over on Mortal Kombat, and kick my ass with it, no matter how many moves I have memorized. Because, fuck, I like it when you call me Mr. Stark," Tony rasps out, before he's lifting the lighter man up by the hips, a hand cupping his ass as he stalks to the bedroom with him. "You're lucky I'm not fucking you on the hologram table. I would, but I'm sorely lacking in lube anywhere near it," he informs him, before taking Peter to his bedroom. He sets the kid down on his bed, then steals those briefs with another kiss, before he's hunting for that lube he said he needed.
"Don't want to be fucked," Peter manages, his face getting red when he thinks about needing lube. "I want more than to be fucked on a table. I want this to be nice." And now, he's officially a fucking woman. He looks down at where his hand is still inside Tony's boxers, stroking dutifully. He tries to illustrate his point by slowing down and letting his palm caress his cock slowly. He takes the lube that Tony's found and pulls the hand in his boxers back to fill the palm with the clear liquid, then begins to stroke again, keeping his motions slow and sensuous.
Tony needed to hear those words, and the illustration helps, even if it makes him feel a steadily building level of insanity. This isn't just some piece of ass he's about to take and fuck until he's sated, then kick out. This is his Peter Parker. This kid is special to him in ways he can't even begin to explain. Trying to think how to word it has the usually sarcastic man swallowing hard as he stares down into dark eyes.
"This is going to be nice. I don't know what I was saying, just before. I'm an idiot," Tony says softly, fingers carding through the young man's hair. "I'm sorry," he even adds, and everyone knows how often he says those particular words.
"Thank you, sir," Peter breathes out a sigh of relief, and uses the hand not stroking Tony's cock to cup his jaw before he brings his lips to the other man's in a desperate sort of kiss. Once he can think of something besides how good Mr. Stark tastes and all the ways this kiss is messing with his pulse, he lies back against the pillows, pulling Tony with him.
Tony moves over the younger man when pulled, a sharp breath taken in as he kisses Peter. Then he's pulling his boxers off, and tossing them, making more room for the younger man's lubricated hand to stroke his thick, heavy cock. Tony slows everything way down in his head, and even though he kneels between Peter's legs, he decides he's going to take his time before trying to penetrate the younger man. Instead, he collects some lube for his calloused palm, and wraps that hand around the other's thick cock, before he slowly starts stroking. His head lifts to stare down into the other man's eyes with a solemn expression as he speaks, "I've never told you this, but I've loved you for a long time. Sure, it hasn't been the kind of love where I thought I'd get to touch you like this, but now that I am, something feels like it's just clicked into place, in my heart."
There's a quiet kind of joy in Peter's eyes when Tony tells him he loves him. "I love you, too, Tony Stark. I never thought it would be like this, but you're right. We fit, don't we?" He takes a deep breath, and enjoys the moment, the words, and the weight of Tony pushing him into the mattress and the hand stroking his cock. "Nothing's ever felt this good. Not ever. Not for me."
Anybody else could have said something like that to Tony, and it would have hit his emotional walls. He would have grinned, and been cocky, but it wouldn't have touched him. Not in the way this young man's words moves him now. Because he knows Peter's been crazy about MJ, and for something with Tony to feel better than that? That just blows his mind. "It's just going to get better," he finds himself solemnly promising the younger man, clearing his throat to try to stop his eyes from getting shiny.
A tender kiss is pressed to Peter's lips, Tony's hand stroking the younger man's cock nice and slow. He's not usually prone to wording things in a poetic fashion, but he finds himself wanting to try, to make Peter feel as good as the younger man is making him feel. "I'm not sure what I did right, to have you like this, but I'm glad I did it, to get to touch you," he begins, before kissing the younger man's lips again slowly, tongue dipping into his mouth for a brief taste. "You feel like everything good in this world, like it's all been given to me, and I'm struggling to take you in without becoming overwhelmed by how fantastic you feel."
Peter raises his head, frantic for another kiss after those words, and then, when their lips part he breathes out a shuddering breath into the other man's ear. "I want to belong to you, Mr. Stark. I want you to have me, and I never thought I'd want something like that, but I do. More than anything in the world right now, I want to be yours." He keeps stroking his cock, but he also uses it to guide Tony closer, until he can feel his cock nudge against his hips. "Please, sir."
"We gotta take it slower than that, kid," Tony tells him, even if he can't believe what he's saying, because he wants to give him exactly what he's asking for, and he wants it right now. He takes in a deep breath, drawing in some patience so he doesn't lose his mind from that slow, constant stroking, and grabs the lube again.
You can never use too much lube.
"I don't want to hurt you," Tony further explains, before coating his fingers with a little more of the clear liquid, and reaching between them. He brushes Peter's cock lightly, but moves past it, along the testicles, until he's tucking them and ticking a long middle finger along the cleft of the younger man's ass. When he finds the entrance there, he circles it slowly with that finger. "So, fingers first, then we can upgrade."
"I'm a superhero. I can take it," Peter insists, his hips arching up into that touch. He's part petulant, because he wants what he wants, and part relieved because the unknown is a little bit scary. "I can take anything, as long you're kissing me while you do it," he says softly, wrapping strong arms around Tony and pulling him closer, looking for a deep, slow kiss. His tongue strokes against the other man's tasting him with a low groan, those slow strokes to his cock never ceasing.
"You're a virgin, at least to men. We're doing this my way," Tony tells him, even if it makes him grin a little, hearing that petulant voice. Then they're kissing, and Tony's hips start arching, just a little, into that slowly stroking hand. It elicits a groan from the older man, which is fed into the younger one's sweet mouth. That's when he pushes that long middle finger inside Peter, slowly, until the base of his digit is buried.
Peter gasps out as he penetrated, brown eyes flashing open to stare deeply into Tony's. "Oh, wow, Mr. Stark," he babbles, almost incoherent with the feeling of being parted. It's a stretch, but it's not painful, and the fear begins to subside, with need overtaking him. He swings his hips into motion, the slide of him making him pant with each motion. For the first time since they started, his hand falls from Tony's cock, so he can rest his hands on the man's shoulders, clinging to him as the sensations start to carry him away.
When Peter starts arching into his finger, Tony stares at him, painfully turned on at this point. It's like the kid was made for this sort of thing, and neither of them had known it. "I don't think you understand how unbelievably hot you're being right now," Tony tells him, gently thrusting his finger to go with those swinging hips. He bows his head to the side of Peter's neck, and plies an open mouthed kiss to it, sucking slowly, but not enough to mark him. At least not there. Probably shouldn't cover his intern with hickies.
"I don't think you understand how unbelievably good you feel, Mr. Stark," Peter murmurs, head tipping to the side, so Tony can suck at his neck. The attention over his jugular ratchets his breathing up a notch and he speeds his hips up, until the rhythm of his hand is just shy of fast. "I wish you could know how good I feel right now," he says, his voice a little high-sounding from the rush of chemicals to his brain and the hand working so perfectly against him.
"I've got a pretty good idea," Tony admits against his neck. In his younger years, he wasn't always on top. Sometimes he played catcher. It's like none of the hard work, and all of the pleasure rolled into one, as long as the pitcher's at least halfway decent. A soothing kiss is pressed to Peter's neck after he's sucked on it a few seconds, then he licks up to the younger man's ear, and mutters into it. "You about ready for a second finger?" That second finger brushes along that tight entrance while the first finger still thrusts.
"It's not the what you're missing out on so much as the who," Peter insists, before he gets quiet. Maybe this experience isn't really unique to him. Maybe Tony's had it years before, with somebody else. "It's pretty fantastic," he finishes lamely, his hips looking for that second finger, bearing down on it so that it joins the first and Peter gasps as he's stretched that extra bit. He goes still, letting Tony do the hard part now, and just concentrating on what it feels like, on enjoying this first time.
"I might not know what it's like to be with myself-" Tony begins, before he thinks about that. "Okay, I do know what it's like to be with myself, but not in the same way you're experiencing it. But what I do know, is that you're pretty fantastic. Stellar, really. Out of this fucking world," he says. He can't stress that enough, really. Partly because it's true, and partly because he saw that bit of hurt flash across the kid's face, that insecurity. He pulls his first finger back, then pushes both fingers inside the younger man, fingers of his other hand starting to caress his face, with his elbow pressed to the pillow. "You're…" He tries to think of the right words, staring deeply down into dark eyes. "You're the best thing in my life, and that was true even before today. Now it's just a million times better."
Those words are rewarded with a wide, happy smile. "I love you, Mr. Stark," he says in an awe-tinged voice, because he gets to say that now, and it's not weird. It's perfect and it feels so fucking good. Then, his attention is stolen by the two fingers working their way in and out of his ass, and he hisses with how good that feels. And to think he'd been scared this might not be as great as being with a girl. He rolls his hips, his cock heavy against his abdominal muscles, and wishes again that Tony wasn't being so careful with him, because nothing that's happened so far has diminished the way he wants this man.
"I love you, too, Peter," Tony says softly, his voice a little awe-tinged, too. That hiss from the kid has him going even more slowly, just in case it was a sign of pain, but the older man soon realizes it wasn't, and speeds his fingers up again. "Getting harder to do this slow," he explains, his cock throbbing against Peter's inner thigh. "It's going to feel so good, when I'm buried inside you," he adds, lips brushing the younger man's.
"Do it. Please," Peter discovers he's not above begging. "I need to be yours, Mr. Stark. I'm ready for it. I'm ready to belong to you, like you said I would," he reaches for that cock that pulses so slowly against his thigh, brushing his fingers down it's hard length and smearing the drop of precum he finds welling over the slit.
"Yeah? You want to belong to me, kid?" Tony asks him, voice hoarse from how aroused those words coming from this young man makes him feel. It's better than perfect. He hisses his pleasure when fingers brush his cock, and then he grips it by the base, and gives it a firm stroke. After that, more lube is smeared on his cock, before he's guiding the head to brush against the entrance of Peter's ass. "Because that's about to happen right now," he tells him, before sinking his hips slowly forward.
Peter's eyes bulge wide as Tony sinks the head of his cock inside him, forcing him to open in ways that having those fingers inside him hadn't. His mouth falls open as he drags in a deep breath that's chased by a whimper. It hurts, but it feels fucking perfect, too. "Thank you, Mr. Stark," he says in a relieved whisper that's almost too hoarse to make out. He belongs to him now, just like he needed. It's hard to believe that until a few hours ago, he'd never considered this, and now it's a focal point of his being. He's the Spider Man, and he belongs to Tony Stark.
"You're so tight," Tony breathes out, barely inside the younger man, and already it feels almost too good. His head bows to touch his forehead to Peter's, and he slowly, gently rocks his hips forward another inch, all while staring into those dark eyes. "Just hold still, okay? At least for right now. I don't want this to hurt you more than it has to," he murmurs next, trying to avoid the younger man's hips from rolling into action and spearing himself on Tony's cock.
Peter nods tightly. "Okay, Mr. Stark. Whatever you say, sir," he rasps out, his body trembling with the suppressed urge to move against this man he wants so desperately to be his. But, that's not what they agreed to, and he's a little afraid to bring it up now. So, instead, he focuses on the dark eyes boring into his, on the power of them and the strength. He focuses on the voice, guiding him through this first encounter. When Tony pushes again, he clings to him, mouth seeking desperately for a kiss to muffle the low groan that parts his lips. It's almost too much.
But, it's not enough. He needs more.
Tony kisses the younger man hard, his mouth latching onto the other's firmly in a deep kiss, so he can swallow that low groan the kid emits. His eyes shut even tighter, and he he takes in a sharp breath, gently rocking his hips until he's fully buried in Peter's tight heat. He lets out a pant against soft lips as he breaks the kiss, and opens his eyes, so he can stare into the other man's. "Still doing okay?" he asks softly. God, he just wants to blow his load right now. He could, but then it'd be highly disappointing.
"Yeah," Peter pants out, relishing in the feel of having Tony's hips flush with his. "I'm feeling pretty great, actually," he says in a lust-drenched voice. "How are you feeling, Mr. Stark? Is this... you know, okay?" He's still not moving, because he hasn't been given permission, but it seems like it would be more enjoyable for Tony, if he could move.
"This is fucking amazing," Tony blurts out, being about as poetic as a train wreck. "I can't stress enough how good I feel right now. So keep doing the thing where you don't move, because I don't think I could take it just yet," he says tightly, before taking a deep breath. A soft kiss is given to the younger man's lips, and then he gradually begins to thrust, pulling back about half way, then slowly sinking forward again.
Oh, that thrust feels like nothing he's ever experienced. It makes his cock throb as hard as being with a woman ever had, and he cries out sharply, unable to hold the noise at bay. "Sorry, Mr. Stark," he pants, trying to get a grip on these little noises that just slip out of him as the older man moves. "I can't help it. I've never been loud before, but I can't help it now."
"I like the noises. Keep up the good work," Tony breathes out, each little noise the younger man lets slip being memorized by the older man. He's doing that. He's making the kid makes those sounds. A gentle kiss is pressed to his lips, and he slides his nose slightly along the other's, before his hips start to rock faster. He holds his breath a moment, then lets it out in a rush. "Okay, you can move now, if you want. Just don't buck too hard or this won't last as long as we'd like."
"The next thing I'm hoping for is to feel what it's like when you cum inside me, so that's not much incentive," Peter explains, flushing with the admission. Even so, he moves slowly, the first swing of his hips forcing a hissed exhale from between his lips. He looks for a kiss, letting his lips graze against the older man's before he sucks at his lower lip, tasting it, then letting his mouth slide down his jaw to whisper into his ear. "I'm yours, and now you get to mark me with your cum. And I know that'll feel good, because I always wanted to do it, myself." This is the first time he's had sex without a condom, not that he'll be claiming anything today. No, this is all about him belonging to Tony, and he's okay with that. More than, really.
"Are you talking dirty to me, Peter?" Tony asks. "Because I like it, and you should keep doing it," he adds, before the kid gets it wrong and thinks otherwise. He shifts to guiding the younger man's legs around his hips, getting a deeper angle that way, then starts thrusting a fraction faster. It's hot, hearing how into him coming the kid is, but he's really trying not to come too fast. With his weight on his left elbow, his right hand moves between them, and he starts jerking the younger man off again.
"Can't take much of that," Peter grits out, his cock throbbing madly in Tony's hand. "Gonna cum fast, if you do that," he mutters, locking his ankles around his waist. He cries out sharply at the deeper angle and his arms tighten around Tony, clutching to him, their chests dragging against one another as they move. He's not sure his balls have ever felt tighter than they do right now, and he knows he's about to make an absolute mess of both their abdomens, because when he starts cumming, he might not stop.
"Good, because I can't hold out much longer," Tony rasps, jerking the younger man's cock fast now, in juxtaposition to the almost slow thrusts of his own hips. "Come for me, Peter. You don't have to hold back anymore," he tries coaxing the kid, his heart racing from that latest sharp outcry Peter made. His head bows further, and his lips brush the kid's ear, muttering into it, "You're mine, now, and I'm yours."
Peter's heart leaps with the words, and he stutters out a question as best as he can in this state of near-coming. "You... You're mine?" Wonder and disbelief fill the words and then his hips are speeding for the last few seconds he can hold out and he's almost screaming, because in addition to giving him more friction for his cock, it gives him an idea what it must feel like to actually be fucked by this man.
Then, without conscious thought, he's surrendering to his orgasm, his cock throwing rope after rope of his hot cum against his stomach, only for it to be rubbed in by the slide of Tony's body against his. "Mr. Stark!" he cries out sharply as his lower body throbs and pulses with pleasure that just gets greater with those faster swings of his hips.
"Yes," Tony growls out the answer to that question. Love isn't just a one-way street with the two of them. He doesn't expect the kid to belong to him, without him knowing he has Tony's heart, too, and everything else that goes along with it. Fingers gently stroke the younger man's hair, dark eyes staring down into Peter's face as he watches him come. Then, before he can stop it, he's bowing his head and muffling a curse against the kid's shoulder, hips burying his cock deep as he comes, too. He fills the younger man's ass with his seed, body tense all over, and then he lets out a harsh breath, followed by quiet pants through his nose as he works on recovering. Fuck, he feels good.
Peter can feel it. The hot splash of his cum as it fills him. It makes him writhe in those final moments, and then he's cupping the back of Tony's head, cradling it to his shoulder as they both catch their breath. He trails a finger up and down Tony's spine, feeling intensely proud of their performance and unhooks his legs from around his waist, so he can pull back when he's ready. "I never dreamed anything could feel that good, Mr. Stark," he whispers out the words. "You're amazing. And I'm proud to be yours."
"You did so good," Tony breathes out, before slowly, gingerly pulling back so he can pull out of that tight ass. He turns, and drops onto his back, before an arm tugs the younger man to leaning against his chest, a kiss pressed into his hair. A calloused hand rubs up and down the kid's back, and he lies there, staring up at the ceiling. "You've had a busy day, today. Guess we both have."
Funny how these things happen.