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thestarkerisobvious · 5 months ago
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Warmth
based on a prompt by @awesomestarker
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story by @thestarkerisobvious and @mrstarksbaby
moodboard by @mrstarksbaby
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Best.  Vacation.  Ever.
It was silly, but ever since that one year that the electricity had gone out, Peter insisted.  One entire day without electricity.  Except for the refrigerator, of course.  And the hot water heater.  But that was all.  As little device use as possible.  Even to look up information.  That’s what books were for.  During the day they would read or play chess or play card games with the tarot deck or just sit and talk in the sunlit rooms and enjoy the day.  Then, at night, sleeping, bundled up in the living room by the fireplace.  Just like they had done that first winter.
Peter shouldn’t be happy the electricity went out that one year.  Shouldn’t be thankful.  Should acknowledge, at least, some of the danger they could have been in (if it weren’t for the generator.  And the backup generator, of course…)
But he couldn’t help it.  Right now, he was glowing.  Even in the cold cabin, he was glowing.  He should at least go wrap up in the fuzzy blanket again - and he would soon - but for now he stayed where he was.
Watching the Sexiest Man Alive chop wood.
And he was.  Officially.  Voted Sexiest Man Alive.  More than once.  And Peter, now sitting in the seat closest to the window, almost shivering with the cold, couldn’t have agreed more.
He had sat there with the cup of hot cocoa Tony had made for him at his feet.  He had been sitting at the kitchen table, reading in the sunlit room.  He had found an old Llewellen book (“Charms, Spells and Formulas”) that he had bought ages ago at a used book store but never got around to reading.  He was now pouring over a chapter about “gris-gris bags” and scribbling out lists of herbs to look up.  One list to check against Tony’s fully-stocked spice rack, one to check against his collection at home, and one to check against the internet as soon as they allowed themselves back on line.
Tony had only rolled his eyes and groaned at the idea of ordering MORE spell ingredients, but didn’t interfere with the new project until he noticed Peter was shivering at the table, tucking his hands under his legs when his fingers got too cold to write.  
“Humor me,” Tony countered when Peter insisted “I’m fine!” through chattering teeth.  The next thing he knew he was sitting in the living room in front of the fire, warming his hands on a mug of hot cocoa.  
“Are these cinnamon for my protection?” Peter asked with a grin.  “Maybe,” Tony said with a sideways grin.  “Someone has to protect you from yourself.”   
Peter smiled, silently stirring in the intention.  Then noticed that Tony was rolling up his sleeves.   
“And what are you doing?”
“We need more of this,” Tony replied, kicking a pice of firewood with his boot.  “I’ll be back.”
And now here they were - Tony outside chopping firewood, Peter sitting at the couch closest to the window so he could watch.  Watch and wonder.
What was it about that man, Peter wondered, watching those powerful arms move, the iron muscles flex as Tony raised the ax above his head over and over again.  It wasn’t the muscular build, not that alone.  It couldn’t have been.  Captain America had bigger biceps, and much bigger pectorals.  And Thor, well, Thor was a god.  Who towered above all of them, making even Cap look like a short man.  There were more muscular men in Peter’s life.  And as for strength…
…Peter lay back a little in his seat by the window.  Smiling wistfully.  
The truth was, Peter was stronger than Tony.  Stronger than most of the Avengers, actually.  Possibly as strong as Captain America, although Peter never set out to prove it.  Never needed to.  He knew what he knew.  Besides, it didn’t matter.
Peter never thought much about being so strong.  Never thought about the muscles he had built up just swinging across New York City every day, or lifting vehicles off of each other in pileups.  In fact, whenever he thought about being “strong” the only thought, the only memory, that came to mind was holding a splitting ferry full of people together on his own.  He wasn’t strong, not compared to fracturing ferries, or collapsing concrete buildings, or crashing airplanes.  So he never really thought about how much stronger he was than Tony.
Oh, but in Tony’s arms at night, it felt so good to feel weak…
“Enjoying the view?” Tony asked as he brought in the first load of firewood. 
“Very much so,” Peter acknowledged.   
Tony headed outside again, closing the door firmly behind him to keep in the heat.  Peter shivered a bit, grinning to himself.  Tonight was going to be sweet.  When Tony was done chopping firewood he would probably want a shower - a good place to warm them both up, certainly - and then they would have to figure out another way to keep themselves warm.  Although maybe not.  It was barely afternoon, maybe too early in the day for that.  Peter would get up from his seat and, after finding a warm sweater, find some way of making Tony a meal.  As a reward for all this wood-chopping.  They had a whole list of dishes that could be made with the use of the battery powered hotplate or the fire  - some sandwich melts, probably..  And maybe even some hot coco.  Yes, certainly some hot cocoa.  Definitely.  As a reward for all this wood-chopping.
Peter would do that.  Get up from his chilly seat by the window and do that.  But not just yet.
Because right now, Peter just wanted to watch.
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thestarkerisobvious · 6 months ago
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Whatever It Is, I Guarantee The Answer Is Yes
by @thestarkerisobvious and @cutepandaprincess
Tony couldn’t keep his hands off the rise of Peter’s ass no matter how hard he tried… he was only human dammit… but when Peter shifted, exposing more of his ass to Tony’s hands, Tony’s hands just went up.  Caressing the small of Peter’s back, running over his shoulders and the back of his head, all these were lovely pastimes too. He hadn't been completely sure he would be making out with his brilliant (beautiful!) intern tonight, but now that he was...
...he didn’t want to hurry this.  If his hands went lower, his twenty-something-intern might get the wrong idea and decide it was time to move things along.  But right now… right now was perfect…
Tony couldn’t remember the last time he had been allowed to kiss someone for this long.
Pepper had made fun of him in the early years, back when they were still intimate.  Laughed at him wanting to make out like a teenager.  He had no way to explain to her that it was the part he needed most… the closeness, the intimacy.  The feeling of being cared for when another human being cradled his face in two hands.  When the clothes came off… well, that was just mechanics.  Something to be done with and then dismissed.
Pepper had been profoundly different, because after the clothes came off and the mechanics were finished, the intimacy actually began.  After she was satisfied, then she was ready for the part Tony needed.  A little of the kissing, mostly the closeness and the cradling.  
With men it was different.  Men Tony’s age didn’t expect it, and boy’s Peter’s age were all too eager to show off… usually their oral skills… usually headed south before the first kiss was over.
But this was different.  
Tony was embarrassed at how much he was moaning… but every time Peter put two hands on the sides of his face he just melted.  Sometimes he pulled back just to look up in amazement at the boy’s face.
Sometimes Peter would start kissing downward and Tony’s heart would break a little, knowing this part was coming to an end…
Then Peter would come right back to his mouth again and the melting started all over again.
Peter was a mix of feelings now. He could hardly believe he was here, in his boss's penthouse. In his lap. In his arms. Peter wanted more of this, at the same time he wanted things to get started. (And at the same time he was trying very hard not to think about what would happen if...)
He kissed all the way of Tony's face, his lips, his neck, his goatee. Moaning at everything Tony did with his hands. Moaning at everything Tony did to him. 
God… this was perfect… 
Sometimes Peter would put his hands on Tony’s face, sometimes Tony took his hands and put them on the sides of his face himself.  Both felt like heaven.  
“My god you’re perfect…” Tony whispered… it was not an adequate description of what he was feeling right now, but it was all he had.
Over the years he had learned to keep a certain distance from other people… people in business, people in the superhero business, people in bed.  It was safer that way.
In the past 10 minutes he seemed to have forgotten all he had learned.
“Peter… you’re making me crazy…” he moaned helplessly.  This kid had put a spell on him, there was simply no explanation for it.  
One hand ran possessively up Peter’s back, pulling his shirt up with it.  The other hand squeezed greedily on a handful of ass.
Peter moaned loudly, blushing hard when he realized the sounds he was making. He helped Tony get rid of his shirt. Panting softly when he felt the man's eyes on him. 
"Tony… fuck…" his hair was a mess, sweaty and glued to his forehead. He opened his mouth again, then closed it again. The words just wouldn't come. 
”Yes” Tony whispered, moving suddenly to kiss Peter on the mouth again.  What he whispered next he whispered directly against Peter’s lips.  “Whatever it is, baby, I guarantee the answer is ‘yes.’” 
Peter pulled away enough to speak. This was as good a time as any. He took a deep breath and strugged to find the words.
"This… I've never… been with anyone before…" he admitted, embarrassed. 
Tony blinked in confusion.  Then he blinked several times in confusion.  It didn’t help that this most beautiful body was inches in front of him, and he was ready to cover every inch with his mouth.  He needed to taste it, needed that in a powerful way…
...but wait…
He pulled back enough to fully focus on Peters face, looking into his eyes, perplexed.  
Was Peter saying… was he admitting he had never been in a relationship before??  And did that mean he wanted Tony to… Tony’s chest tightened and his mouth went dry and his heart pounded. 
He wanted that… wanted that like a drowning man wanted to breathe. Wanted this brilliant, beautiful boy in his life.  Wanted it so badly it was OBVIOUS he should say no.  Nothing he wanted like that could be a good thing...
“Kid… are you… are you sure?  Are you sure… you want it to be me?  I mean I’m nine miles of bad road…”
Peter nodded eagerly. "I want it to be you… I'm… I'm… not sure I'll be good at it… but I'm enjoying this," he admitted, closing the distance and kissing Tony's lips. 
"Can we continue? I mean… I understand if you don't want someone as inexperienced as me..." he started to ramble and feel insecure. Covering his chest with his hands nervously. 
Automatically Tony took Peter’s hands and placed them on his own chest, even as he tried his best to puzzle out the incredible information he was receiving.
When Peter had started talking it had occurred to him that he had gotten it wrong… of course Peter wasn’t talking about his first relationship, he was saying this was the first time he had been with his boss before...  which made sense since he had never worked for anyone before… but wait… even that didn’t make sense… now Tony couldn’t figure out what he was being told.
He did catch the part where Peter was enjoying the kissing, so he leaned forward and kissed him very gently, brain spinning.
Then he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the boy for a moment.  It was a ruse - it was to hide his face as he tried to puzzle out what this could possibly mean.
He had caught the word ‘inexperienced’ … the exact opposite of the boys he had been dealing with for the past several years.  Those boys were eager, sometimes over-eager, to show off their skills (and some, of course, were professionals.)  None of them had ever announced that they were inexperienced… 
This was a puzzle.  And vitally important - he had to ask the questions very delicately.
Now they weren’t even kissing - he was just holding Peter, rubbing his hands up and down Peter’s back.  He was taking too long, and it was getting awkward.  He had to say something.
He kissed the boy on the side of the face and spoke very carefully.  “Okay... give me information.  
“You mean… you’ve never been… with an older man?”
Peter swallowed hard. Oh no.
He was going to have to say it out loud, wasn't he? 
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starker-stories · 5 years ago
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The Dick Pic
Also on AO3 By @thestarkerisobvious​ and @starker-stories​ A little one-shot by us that’s not part of anything else. 
Tags: Misunderstandings, Dick Pics, College Student Peter Parker, Top Tony Stark, Bottom Peter Parker, Anal Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Awkward Conversations
Rating: E, Words: 10,137
Summary: Was that really your first dick pic? I’m sorry I never thought… you were the first person to even walk AROUND with a phone in your pocket so I just didn’t think. I’m sorry. All you had to do was say you didn’t want that. Did you open it in a meeting or something?
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Their trip to Paris was memorable for so many reasons. Not just because Tony set out to spoil Peter rotten with fine wine, good food, and crowded sightseeing spots closed down just for them, but because of what they did in the hotel bedroom that night.
Peter opened up to Tony that night. Told him things he hadn’t told anyone, had no plans to tell anyone. Tony had a way of surprising Peter, a way of getting Peter to surprise himself. It wasn’t just the expensive gifts, the exclusive restaurants, or the limo rides everywhere. That was Tony’s life, and he was inviting Peter to be a part of it. Peter freely accepted that invitation.
No, it was something more. Tony had invited Peter into his bed, and had invited him there to do more than just fuck. But what Tony had invited him there to do, Peter wasn’t completely sure was possible.
Tony looked over at Peter, the glow of the City of Lights behind him. Peter was already moving into position. A very comfortable position, but already a very familiar position — the only one they had made love in the few times they had — almost by habit.
The last thing that Tony wanted to be in Peter’s life was a habit.
“Pete,” he began, stroking the outside of his arm. “I brought you here because it’s the most romantic city in the world. Because it’s what I think of when I look at you. I think of how much I’m in love with you, and how much I want to make you happy.”
Tony urged them both into a different position, closer, more conversational, facing each other, unable to look away. “What do you want,” he asked.
“I don’t… what?” Peter grinned, shy and a little amused. What did he want? He was in Paris, France. He was in a luxury hotel. He had Tony Stark, the Tony Stark, saying ‘I love you’. What else could any human being want?
“Tony,” he said, stroking the man’s face. It seemed so obvious. Like in class, when the teacher asked a question so easy it was too embarrassing to answer. But, just like in class, the silence was even more embarrassing. So Peter answered. “I want you.”
Tony smiled softly. “And I want you, baby.” He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Peter’s lips. “But how do you want me?”
“Forever,” Peter said without thinking, then caught his breath a little when he realized what he had just said. He kissed Tony quickly, in hopes to cover.
It wasn’t a good cover.
“Sorry, I just meant…”
Tony interrupted Peter's objection with a kiss of his own. Deep, lasting, and relieved.
“Only that long?” Tony said. “It’s a decent start, I suppose. I don’t know if I can stop after only forever, though.”
He kissed Peter again in his own attempt at cover. He punctuated his words with kisses. “But what. Do you want. Tonight. Here. In bed. With me. Sexually,” he said when the kisses broke.
“Oh, I mean… I mean… well…” Peter blushed and ducked his head and grinned and wondered if kissing the man would be enough to get out of the question.
“‘Well’? I don’t know what that means, baby. I want you to tell me.”
“Tony I don’t… I’m not really… okay you’re going to make me talk about this, aren’t you? I’m not really much of a… talker…”
Tony knew that during the few times they’d been together, Peter struggled to say anything at all before, during, or even after. Tony never pressed the issue. He hadn’t known if they were just an itch to scratch for each other. If so, all that mattered was that they were both physically satiated.
But he’d realized that Peter wasn’t an itch for him. Even before his ‘forever’, he’d figured out that he wasn’t an itch for Peter either. That meant if this was going to last anywhere past a year, much less ‘forever’, Peter needed to be able to express his desires. So he pressed the issue. Relentlessly. Refusing to make love to the boy until he’d gotten at least something he desired out of him.
It was a long night, but it was a night Peter would never forget. He admitted to things he never thought he would admit to anyone that night. That night Peter dared himself to be honest, to be vulnerable. Dared himself, and succeeded.
He asked for things too. Asked for several different things, in the end. And everything he asked for, he received.
 ~~~~~
 It was a beautiful morning. Peter had actually gotten a full night’s sleep. He was sleeping in his dorm room, of course, because Tony was away on business and wouldn’t be back for a few days.
He had awoken from a lovely dream. About Tony, of course. In the dream Tony was reminding him to be bold, to ask for things that he wanted. He couldn’t have what he wanted that moment, of course… but could he?
Why not? Tony had encouraged him to be bold.
So he boldly took his phone out.
Thinking of you.
He thought of several other things he could add to go along with the picture (‘Would you like to taste?’ or ‘Mostly about your mouth’) but in the end he chickened out of every one. In the end, he just hit send. That was enough bold for one day.
 ~~~~~
 Tony looked at the picture on his phone.
Well, he had told Peter that he could ask for anything. He wanted to hear every one of Peter’s sexual desires. He didn’t know why he expected that would never be one of them. Things weren’t as neatly defined in his generation. He’d been with enough younger men before to know that.
And he’d broken up with enough of them when it became an issue.
He supposed, a few months was a good run, given his record. He stopped taking Peter’s calls and messages. Whenever he regretted his decision, he simply opened his phone to the last picture he’d saved from Peter’s messages.
He missed the kid so much that, a time or two, he considered whether he could tolerate it enough to get Peter back. He’d tried that before, though. Tolerating it once led to twice led to three times led to asks and refusals and arguments and the inevitable breakup that should’ve happened at the start of it all.
Letting Peter’s calls go to voicemail unlistened to and leaving his messages completely unread was easier. The kid would move on and find someone willing to satisfy his needs.
But that was the problem. The kid would move on. The idea of that put such a dull ache deep inside him that he found his finger hovering over the green button whenever Peter called.
That would never do. This wasn’t something that could be talked about over the phone. It was definitely something that couldn’t be talked about anywhere that there was a bed. That led to disaster. And unfortunately, his feelings for Peter weren’t going away by simply ‘ghosting’ the boy. Tony texted Peter. Dinner? 8? Marea? It was his favorite restaurant. They’d been there together before. It might seem like it was going to be nothing more than a make-up date.
 ~~~~~
 Peter’s last two weeks had been a strange kind of slow-motion nightmare. Sometimes everything was normal. He aced his classes. He wowed his study groups. He texted his friends and his friends texted back. Then he would try to set up a date with his boyfriend. He spoke to FRIDAY. FRIDAY would be cheerful as always, explaining why Tony couldn’t talk to him right then. Then he would text ‘I miss you’ and wait to hear some response. Finally giving up and going to bed. Wake up in the morning and start the entire miserable process over again.
Sometimes he told himself he was being ridiculous. He trusted Tony. Trusted the man with his life. Trusted him enough to tell him things he had never told anyone. He was in love. He just had to remember that he was in love with an incredibly busy man. Dating Tony Stark meant sharing him with the rest of the world. “I’ll just be patient,” he told himself. “I’ll be the most patient boyfriend that ever lived.”
Sometimes he wondered why he was so utterly and thoroughly unlovable. Why would Tony want to date a kid like him, a kid with so little sexual experience, a kid who had admitted to an entire, itemized list of fears? He was unlovable, and Tony was proof.
Tony had been his first serious boyfriend (serious boyfriend? Tony had been his only boyfriend.) Sometimes he convinced himself that he would just live like a monk, a monk who fought crime and worshiped a far-off, unavailable man. It wasn’t the strangest superhero backstory in the world.
Sometimes Peter was angry. He had admitted to things, admitted to things he never thought he would tell anybody. It seemed like a good idea at the time. And what had been his reward? To be ghosted by Tony Stark, apparently.
But Tony hadn't broken up with him, that much was certain. Peter checked his email, his phone messages, every social media account he had a million times. Checked them every morning. Sometimes got up and checked them in the dead of the night. Waiting. Waiting for the explanation that would never come.
Almost two weeks to the day, he received the message. His whole body collapsed in relief. He hugged his phone to his chest tightly and did a little dance. Grinned from ear to ear. It was okay. They were going to Marea and everything was going to be okay.
 ~~~~~
 Slowly, very slowly, Peter was getting the idea that everything was not okay.
They were seated to Tony’s usual table. Menus and orders taken, wine brought and served. During which Tony was near silent, making only the barest conversation that politeness required. Not only to the servers, but to Peter as well.
When the meal arrived, Peter realized he was going to have difficulty eating. His stomach was in knots. Something was obviously wrong.
“Pete,” Tony said casually, after he finished another bite. “What did you mean by that last picture you sent me?”
“Oh, I meant that I was going to not be late for our lab session because I whipped through my differential equations test in record time and I was actually ten minutes early? Except you weren't in the lab?”
Tony looked puzzled. “No. The last picture you sent. What were you trying to imply by that? Something you want?”
“I guess… I guess I was…” Peter dropped his eyes. “I guess I was bragging that I finished it faster than anyone in the class. The professor said it was faster than anyone he had ever seen and asked me to be his TA next year…
“I mean I wasn’t bragging… but I was. And you didn’t notice.”
“It sure looked like you were bragging. And wanting something other than an A on your exam.”
“In differential equations? We’re talking about Tuesday, right?” Peter took out his own phone and looked for the last pic he sent — which was from differential equations.
“I don’t know the date… I guess it was a Saturday or a Sunday. Maybe Sunday morning… yeah I think Sunday morning and you don’t have differential equations on a Saturday, so no, not that… Did you send me something about that too?”
“Something about… what?” Peter reached out and snatched Tony’s phone from where he set it on the corner of the table. He had prided himself on his patience this week, but his patience was coming to an end. He opened the message app, found his name, and scrolled to the end of the messages, then back to find the ones that had pictures attached. A cute squirrel in Central Park, a sunset behind Stark tower from the top of another building that he took just to text ‘I Miss You’. Finally, the finished test he’d mentioned twice. The one Tony hadn’t even acknowledged.
“There are things that haven’t come up before between us. And we haven’t exactly talked about the things that have come up between us. And that would be a pretty large thing to discuss. What exactly did you mean by sending me that picture?”
“Are we talking about the picture of the spider I sent?” Peter asked, scrolling again. “You never told me you were squicked out by spiders. I’m just a spider fan. You knew that. Everyone expected me to be an entomologist.” He shrugged, guiltily. “I just like math more.”
Finally, Tony grabbed his phone back. He scrolled through the messages until he found the one. He set his phone upside down on the table so no one else could see, then he slid it over to Peter.
Peter looked at it, started visibly, looked around to make sure no one saw it, then he grinned and ducked his head and blushed. Damn, he had felt so bold when he woke up with that in the morning. What was he thinking?
Oh yeah — he had been thinking…
“Well, you’re always telling me how pretty it is…”
“I’m into a lot of things, but there are some I’m not thrilled about.”
“I had a dream about you,” he said as quietly as he could and still be heard. “And I woke up thinking about you, and that was the result.”
“What kind of dream are we talking about? There wasn’t exactly a clear message with it.”
Peter looked confused. He started to speak then stopped. This was very hard to talk about in a restaurant. So he considered the possibilities. He grabbed his own phone and started texting quickly.
Was that really your first dick pic? I’m sorry I never thought… you were the first person to even walk AROUND with a phone in your pocket so I just didn’t think. I’m sorry. All you had to do was say you didn’t want that. Did you open it in a meeting or something?
It was ridiculous to sit there and text someone two feet away. Tony had no shame about talking about the issue in public.
“No, that’s not the first dick pic I’ve ever been sent. The angle and the way you were holding it… that is a first time without implying something by it.”
Peter put his phone down in frustration. He remembered exactly the kind of mood he had been in when he had taken that picture. Bold as brass. Fearless. Amazing. He didn't feel amazing right now. “I can’t really answer that question in a restaurant.
“But... remember when you took me to Paris? It was about Paris. Well it was sort of Paris... but yeah. That’s what it was about.” He tried not to sound hurt, but he was feeling hurt. How hard was it to say ‘don’t send me dick pics’? And why was Tony ignoring everything that came after that?
“Look, there are things I’m just not into,” Tony said firmly, irritated by the kid’s inability to comprehend. “If that’s what you're going to be needing out of this, you’re gonna have to find it elsewhere.”
Peter pulled his chair up to the table as far as he could and leaned in, whispering. “It implies you want to see it. Because you keep telling me you like to see it.”
His chest ached. It hurt to breathe. What Tony had said to him, and convinced him to say, in Paris meant so much to him. He’d never forgotten it. And he could never discuss it in a restaurant.
“Yeah, it’s beautiful. You’ve got a big, nicely shaped cock and I don’t mind seeing it. Like seeing it, actually. But that picture was… different from the dick pics I usually get.”
Tony flipped his phone face up, the picture clearly visible to anyone walking past their table. At that point, making Peter feel uncomfortable was almost part of it. The kid certainly made him uncomfortable the morning he got that. Especially after the way things had been going so well between them.
Peter tried desperately not to gape. It was instinct, not to let your opponent know when you were hurt in battle. But dammit, he was hurt. “‘Things I’m just not into’? Squirrels, sunsets and spiders? Or, more importantly, ‘the things you think about during the day, and your triumphs and proud moments’? Because once upon a time, Tony, you seemed to care about those things a great deal.”
But now words like ‘angle’ and ‘holding it’ and ‘different’ began to register. Suddenly, he found himself getting angry.
“Give me your damn phone.” He grabbed it off the table.
He scrolled through Tony’s phone wondering if someone else was sending Tony dick pics. In which case he was really going to lose his patience. But no, there it was. His cock. Huge and lovely and hard. Hard because he was remembering the incredible things Tony had done to him in Paris. Huge because he had, with his sudden surge of confidence, placed the phone directly beside it. What could he say? He had woken up feeling cocky.
He didn’t feel cocky now. He put the phone in his lap, shielding it from other eyes, and analyzed the angle.
“I haven’t exactly been answering my messages or downloading the photos attached to them lately, so forgive me if I’ve had an entirely different subject on my mind than squirrels and differential equations."
“Well, we haven't talked in two weeks, so I have no idea what’s been on your mind,” Peter hissed.
Patience. Patience patience patience. He could swallow all this hurt and pretend it wasn’t there, he was a master at that. He was good at it. (He had practice.) But right now he was looking at the picture of what he’d wanted Tony to praise (right before devouring it) and wondering if that was ever going to happen again.
“That,” Tony said when Peter had taken his phone off the table again. “That’s been on my mind. Hard to get anything else on my mind. What, exactly, did you mean by sending me that? Because, like I said, if you want to fuck my ass, you’re going to have to find somebody else’s ass to fuck.” He shrugged. “Which, I can work with, I guess. Not the first open relationship I've had to have because of differing sexual appetites.”
“It’s a right angle, Tony. 90°. It’s just… you used to say it was ‘so pretty’ and you… wanted it in your mouth. And I woke up dreaming of the things you said to me in Paris before you… before we… and I woke up. And I was thinking about you. That’s what I wrote. That’s what I meant by…
“…wait… what? Tony for god’s sake… Tony? Only you would try to have this conversation in a restaurant.”
“It’s not a problem. Guys grow up and have different tastes when they do. It’s not like I didn't have a fair number of experiences in that direction when I was younger.
“It’s just not my… not interested in that anymore. Haven’t been for a very long time. And I don't see myself particularly wanting to get fucked any time soon. Not even by you, sorry.”
“You have a fair number of experiences debating the angle of my penis over dinner in a restaurant!?” Peter laughed, overwhelmed by the surreality of the conversation. “You were right, Tony — your life was a lot different than mine.”
“Well actually, not your penis. but not the first one I’ve discussed over dinner in a restaurant. Usually as a prelude to heading to the bathroom with the other guy in said restaurant. But that’s not the point.”
“I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about!” Peter whispered angrily. Except he wasn’t exactly whispering anymore. This was the strangest conversation he had ever had in his life. He was beginning to lean into the strange.
“Oh my god. One minute I’m working up the nerve to admit that I still dream about what happened in Paris and the next minute we’re discussing why it’s wrong that I want to… I don’t even know what. This is insane.”
Tony just shook his head. He was being pretty clear, he thought. “We’re talking about whether or not you want to fuck me, that’s what we’re talking about. Because that’s just not something I’m into. But if it’s something you’re into, I’ve got no trouble with you finding it elsewhere. Well, actually I do, but I’m prepared to adjust my expectations.
“Wait…” Tony furrowed his brow. “Paris? What the fuck does this have to do with me sucking you off?”
“I’m sorry I sent you the wrong kind of dick pic and I have no idea why you think I was thinking of that, but I’m just about at the end of my rope. I’m in over my head here.”
“The only time I’ve ever gotten a picture like that was from someone who had very different ideas about my sexual tastes. It’s pretty much a ‘sit on this’ pic, don’t you think?”
There were tears behind Peter’s eyes. All of his talks to himself about ‘patience’ were drying up. He didn’t have it in him to explain what Paris had meant to him, at least not in a public place. Maybe in the dark, in Tony’s arms, maybe. But not while the man was spouting nonsense.
He took a deep breath. “No, Tony. It was a ‘you told me it was pretty’ pic. It was a ‘you told me you like to taste it’ pic. For god’s sakes Tony, you told me once you wanted me to c… to leave a wet spot on your bed for you to find when you got home. I’m sorry about your past lovers but I’m not really responsible for them. I’m only responsible for myself.” His voice broke a little. He wasn't feeling very responsible right now. He had done everything right.
He had been the proper amount of sexy and tried to hide all the shyness. He had tried to be bold when Tony wanted him to be bold. He had been patient. He had been positive. He was even attempting to have this incredibly personal conversation in a public place because Tony wanted to. He had done his best. But his best wasn’t good enough.
“Jesus Peter, how many different ways do I have to tell you this. I love you. I love what we do in bed together. There are directions I’m willing to expand into that and explore, but me getting fucked isn’t one of them. It’s not something I’m into. It wasn’t even something I was into back when I was young enough that that was all anyone wanted me to do. It’s just that’s the way it goes when you’re the age I was then. But eventually you get old enough to tell the other guy ‘no, I’d rather fuck you instead’. So, if you’re getting to that age, we’re going to have to talk in terms of how you can get what you want in that direction, because it isn’t going to be me.”
Tony had been keeping his voice calm and quiet the whole time, not even letting his exasperation come through in any way except his word choices. Peter was a smart kid, surely he understood the words that were being said.
Peter pressed his water glass against his face. He knew his skin was flushed and he felt overheated. He took the napkin from his lap and dipped it in the ice water and dabbed his forehead. It was probably a rude thing to do in this expensive restaurant, but what the hell? It couldn’t be worse than discussing the angle of the dick pic on Tony’s phone.
He took a deep breath and tried to say something that made sense. “Well, I guess I should say thank you for thinking that I’m old enough to be changing my tastes… I guess. If that’s really a thing you outgrow. But this is all coming out of left field for me.”
Taking another deep breath he thought back over what Tony had said. “And I love you too. I’m sorry people did things to you when you were young that you didn’t like. But if this is a ‘stage’ for me, a ‘stage’ I’m going to ‘grow out of’, I’d estimate you have another good ten to twenty years before that happens. I can’t see ever getting tired of it. But I guess you know better than I do… except…
“Except…” he said, looking back into Tony’s face. He could talk about science. Science was easy.
“Except it seems like you think we are both going to have the same experience, and the data doesn’t point that way. The data doesn’t point at all. You’re talking about societal expectations versus actual personal desires and there’s no reason to assume I’m going to ‘grow out’ of being… who I am.”
“It’s not a thing some people outgrow, but others do. There’s a certain expectation that the younger person bottoms, but then, as they start getting older, they find out that’s not really their thing. Or that they’d been putting up with it because they were expected to, even if they didn't like it much… or at all.
“Other guys don’t outgrow it. They’re just that way. Which is what I was hoping it would be with you. Because, if you wanted to, if it was a dealbreaker and you’d leave me over it… I guess… it’s not unendurable if it wasn’t often.”
Deep breaths and factual statements were helping incredibly. Tony’s voice was calm and that helped too. Speaking calmly and factually about these things means that things were actually okay — they could talk about more personal, painful things later. In private. Hopefully while naked.
“Well, I appreciate that your generation couldn’t exactly go to the library and do as much research as I did when I first identified as gay, so there's that…
"But, help me out, Tony. I sat down at dinner and suddenly you start talking about me ‘leaving you’ and I’ve got whiplash here. Literally the last thing I sent you was a picture of a squirrel.”
Tony raised his eyebrow. Peter was always a quick study and never this blindingly obtuse. Maybe it was the subject. He needed it explained more simply and perhaps repeatedly.
“Some guys are bent in one direction and others in the opposite. I’m pretty much bent only in one direction. I knew that the odds of you staying bent in yours weren’t great. Most guys fall in the more flexible position. I’m just saying that I’m not one of them. But if you are, as long as you didn’t have any sort of… emotional bond with whoever you hooked up with… I’d… adjust.
“This isn’t something even your generation goes to look up in the library, Because most of your generation is more flexible. It’s assumed that you both will, I don’t know, toss a coin for it, I suppose. I don't know how it works.
“The implications of what you sent kind of overrode my reaction to one of your daily messages of the sort I like getting from you.”
Peter opened his mouth but then closed it again. He looked at Tony’s face, and he stopped completely and took stock. He thought about the damn squirrel. He thought about how he aced the test that he wanted to brag about. And he thought about waking up with a raging hard-on and the need to brag about that too. And he thought about how much it hurt when Tony seemed to be ignoring him and what that meant. He took a deep breath, looked Tony in the eye, and spoke.
“I don’t want to ‘hook up’ Tony. With anybody. I don’t think you understand… it’s not that way for me. I don’t want to be with other people. I guess I should have told you that before. I don’t want to… even if there was someone else I actually wanted to… I don’t want to be with anyone else. I love you. I want…”
It would have been hard for Peter to do this in the dark, in Tony's arms. But dammit, this was Tony’s world. The world where you just have these conversations in the open. So he did it. For Tony. “I want to be yours. I want to belong to you.”
Of course, he barely got the words out. It was hard to talk without air. But his mouth formed around the words, which was something.
“I want the same thing. I love you, Peter. I love what we do in bed together. But, in bed, there are things I don’t love. Even if I do love the person who’s asking for them. That is what I’m saying.”
Being told what Tony wanted was almost as good as being held, so he held onto those words. And the words ‘I love you’. He took a deep breath, relieved, and tried to listen to the rest of what Tony was saying.
“All I need for us to be together is for you to understand…” He looked down at his phone, thinking about that doomed message that was supposed to be about Paris and wound up being about something else entirely. “…this is all very important to me, Tony. I guess I shouldn’t be ashamed of it, but I am, because I’m supposed to be all casual about some things and I can’t be. I don’t want to be with anyone else. And of course… I want to be in your life. I want that more than anything else.”
“I don’t like to share. Not you. Especially not you,” Tony said, admitting an inconvenient truth. The truth that led him to making this date instead of simply continuing to ‘ghost’ Peter until he went away.
“Which is also not in keeping with the way people of your generation approach things, I know. You’re not the first guy under thirty that I’ve been with. I know things have changed a lot. What’s expected of relationships. Inflexibility and possessiveness are definitely not the mode. But they’re where I’m at and it’s hard to see me changing that. I’m possessive. I don’t want to share the person I’m in love with, that I want in my life… for the rest of it.”
“I don’t want you to share… I don’t want to be shared! And I know I’m not normal for my generation or for my anything… and I tried so hard to… gosh maybe I should have told you sooner. Maybe I need to stop trying to be ‘normal’. I don’t see why I have to change. I just want to belong to you. I don’t want… I’m not interested in ‘hook ups’ and I’m tired of pretending that I… that I get it. I don’t. I can’t see being with someone and not… well you know. Blurting out everything I feel. I can’t really stop.”
“Baby, I am in love with you. And that doesn’t come without the possessive part. It’s worse with you though. Maybe because I’ve never really… felt this with anyone else. Not like this. Not like I feel with you.”
“Wait…” Peter stopped, the pieces suddenly falling together in his head. “Did you… did you just really volunteer to bottom for me?”
Tony sighed heavily.
“If that’s what it takes to keep you in my life. Like I said, it won’t have been the first time I’ve been fucked. I just never liked it. Not even when I was your age. It was just the way things were back then. Before a certain age, you were expected to bottom. And past a certain age, you were expected to change and to want to top.
“I wanted to be with guys and if that meant turning up my ass to get the rest of what I was looking for, I did it. But then I got to a point in age where I didn’t have to put up with it.”
"Tony, for gods’ sake I don’t want you to… why would I want you to turn up your ass when…” But he couldn’t really say more. Not here. He covered his face and whispered behind his hand. “When you do so many amazing things to me?”
“I can't stand the idea of losing you.”
Peter reached out for Tony's hand. “I love you.” It was like a dream come true, and while he wasn’t sure he had dreamed about it happening in a public place, well, here it was. “I love you and you’re never going to lose me.”
He wanted to say ‘I’ve never felt this way about anyone else’, but it was a silly thing to say. He had been in love with Tony Stark his whole life. He had felt this way about Tony forever.
Tony held Peter's hand, his thumb caressing the back of it. “You got together with me while you’re still so young. Before you have had time, really, to explore things you might find out you like or prefer better. I’ve had plenty of years to experience everything on the menu and you’ve just had one taste.
“I don’t want to hold you back, even though I don't want to let you go.”
“Tony, can we… leave? Please? I don’t want to talk about this here.”
“Okay, we can leave. It’s just… if it turned out that’s what you did mean by that picture… It felt safer here, than at home, to discuss these matters.”
“Wait… what? Now I’m really confused. Why would you want to discuss it here and not…” He didn’t want to say ‘in your arms’. It still felt very immature. “…at home?”
“Why here? No particular reason as to the venue, but some things are just safer talked about in a public place until they’re sorted and both people are on the same page. Where the bed is far away and not an option for where to discuss them.”
“Tony, I want you to teach me those other things on the menu. I don’t want to be with anyone else. We’re not talking about trying on different styles of shoe here. I… can’t do that with other people, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I know I’m supposed to want to be casual with other people because of my age but I don't. And I’m trying to tell you, I don’t want to feel ashamed of that anymore. I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t have to. I can be a Tony-sexual and not apologize for that. You’re not ‘holding me back’ you’re loving me and I’m loving you and there’s nothing bad about that.”
“Since I’m rather Peter-sexual, you being me-sexual is a good thing. Because I already have enough issues struggling not to take someone apart who looks at you for too long. Having someone actually touch you? When you belong to me? That's unsustainable.”
Peter couldn’t help but smile. And beam. Maybe blush a little. The idea that Tony wanted to ‘take someone apart’ just for looking?
"Okay. So we’re both very much alike in the me-sexual way. And we’re both very different about where we like to talk about private things. And we’re not going to talk about me being with someone else in bed because I hate that idea. And you’re going to stop volunteering to do something you don’t like because I really hate that idea. Is that sorted out enough? Can we go home now? I kinda need to.”
They weren’t going to just walk home hand in hand, no. Peter was going to hold Tony’s hand and use his other hand to hold into Tony’s arm too. He hoped Tony wouldn’t mind.
But Tony draped his arm over Peter’s shoulders as they walked back, holding him close, making sure that no one would possibly think that he wasn’t very much taken.
“So all this was just a case of bad lighting, poor camera angle choices, and you making yourself less than clear about the meaning of that particular picture of your, yes, very lovely, dick, hmm?” Tony asked with a sly smile.
Peter reached up and grabbed the hand draping over his shoulder. As they walked he couldn’t stop smiling.
“Tony… you’re going to have to find me an online course on ‘how to take a dick pic’ because I have no idea how that looked like anything other than a yummy snack.”
“I’ll send you a few examples, if you want,” Tony said smiling, “Because I don't want you looking at anyone else’s dick pics, not even as a course of online study.”
Peter smiled. “Deal.”
“So the way things have been with us? That’s good for you? You mentioned Paris… Those are some very good memories we made there. Apparently inspiring in your dreams, huh?” he said with a little smirk. “What parts, exactly, were so inspirational? I can’t understand unless you tell me. Explicitly. In detail.”
“Please Tony, not here…” Peter groaned and looked around them. New York City. People everywhere. But then again… wasn't talking the point? So he tried to be brave again, and spoke. He spoke almost directly into Tony's ear, but he spoke.
“You made me tell you what I wanted. You made me put it into words. And it was impossible to say those things without telling you how they made me feel. How you made me feel so safe and wanted and beautiful. And I told you that I loved you. And I could, because suddenly I wasn’t afraid anymore.
“And I told you and I couldn’t be anything but honest and that was okay. Because that’s what you wanted. And I told you about all the things I was afraid of, and you made that okay too. And when I knew it was okay to be afraid, then I wasn’t afraid anymore.
“And also you made me come three times in an hour. There was that.”
 ~~~~~
 They were making out hot and heavy in the elevator, Peter boldly pulling Tony’s shirt free from his trousers and sneaking his hands underneath. As the doors opened they stumbled out. Peter had Tony’s face in both hands, trying to kiss him and lead him into the penthouse at the same time.
“I want it to be you, Tony. Whatever it is, whatever you want to do, I want it to be you. I want you to be the first.” He’d made himself giggle, trying to kiss Tony and talk at the same time. He only had one glass of wine at dinner, but now he felt drunk.
“That’s what I want. I just thought there was another first you wanted with me, and that’s not going to be a first we can share. Unless it…” Tony sighed. It was a difficult choice. “Yes, okay. I’d rather it be me than anyone else. The thought of anyone else touching you… In any way…” Tony said fiercely.
“Oh god, say it again, tell me I’m yours, Tony. Tell me no one gets to touch me but you…”
“I don’t want anyone touching you but me. I want you entirely to myself. I’m selfish and possessive and irrational on that subject.”
Peter laughed in relief and joy. Laughing directly into Tony’s mouth seemed rude so he leaned his head back and laughed that way. He felt giddy. “Yes, please yes. Please. I want to get ‘Property Of Tony Stark’ tattooed across my back.
“Oh god no. Please no. Do you have any idea how many people did that hoping I’d be impressed and it would become true? Nope. No. No way.”
“Ah damn, then I’ll think of something else.”
“I can think of something that will make sure everyone knows you belong to me,” Tony said with a smirk. “Not telling you yet though.”
“I want you to be my first time, Tony, all my first times. I don’t know what else to have first times for, but please think of some and then be my first.”
“Oh baby, we haven’t even touched one tenth of the first times you can have. There are entire places on that beautiful body of yours that I haven’t made love to yet. Much less places we can do it in. Positions. Locations. Methods. I can be very imaginative.”
“Oh god yes locations! Locations. I’ll let you take me anywhere on the globe, anywhere, I won’t protest, I swear.” He felt too dizzy to walk. He kept his arms around Tony’s neck as they tried to move away from the elevator. It made them move slowly, but he was afraid to let go.
“Then that just makes for first times at least several hundred locations. Sixty of them owned by me. Several rented. And then there are hotels to stay at.
“All of them, Tony. Each one. We have years.”
“We happen to find ourselves in the penthouse tonight and I’m not willing to wait til the jet can fly us somewhere else. But there are many many things we’ve yet to do right here.
“Yes,” Peter said, kissing him again. “Anything.”
“Anything I want?”
“Oh… crap…” Peter pulled his head away a little and tried to clear it. He had to be honest… Being honest had been a big deal to him since Paris. And ‘anything’ was a very big word.
“Unh unh. You already agreed. No backing out now, beautiful.” Tony kissed Peter deeply.
“Okay,” he whimpered a bit against Tony’s mouth. “…but you also said I had to tell you the truth about being afraid of bedroom things so I’m trying to do both.
“All I know is, if I’ve never done it before, I want to do it with you. I need it to be you.”
“Oh you’ve done this before. It’s not a first in that way. You did say locations, though. I was listening very closely, Pete. I always listen to you.”
“Oh… oh good.” He grinned from ear to ear. Tony listening to him was all he wanted.
“Hmm. First, location. Time for other things later.” Tony took Peter’s hand and started slowly walking him away from the elevator doors, unbuttoning Peter’s shirt, dropping it on the floor, kissing him as they walked, unbuttoning his pants while he was being kissed and walked, pushing his pants and underwear down and nearly tripping the kid when they got hung up on his shoes.
Peter was too happy to think straight. He happily helped Tony get him undressed as they walked. If they were headed to the bedroom to do it on the bed, he didn’t care. Just as long as he was skin-to-skin with his lover soon.
When Peter’s shirt came off, Tony’s quickly did too. When Peter’s pants came off, Tony was a little more deft, realizing shoes were a thing and toeing his off as he stepped out of his jeans. They were naked together, Tony wrapped his arms around Peter, anything to keep him distracted from where he was walking him to.
Which wasn’t the bedroom. They were still in the living room for now.
Tony slowed their walk as they passed the console table. He opened the drawer and grabbed one of the small bottles of lube he had hidden all over the penthouse. As he wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist, he kept the bottle in one hand. He started kissing Peter again, edging their progress along the large glass wall.
“Ever get fucked 96 stories in the air before?” Tony kissed him again.
“The… the window? Oh Tony…”
“Not the window, baby. I’m gonna bend you over the balcony railing, looking straight down to the ground. Where anyone over there in One Vanderbilt will be able to see you bent over, taking my cock in your ass. Watch you getting the glass messy.”
“No no no. Tony, we’re outside!”
“Um hmm. Outside where they can see how beautiful you are. You are so beautiful Peter. Stunning. You belong to me and you’re one more thing that’s beautiful and mine that they can only look at.
“But Tony… Tony… Tony…”
“But don’t worry, baby. All they’re going to see is how lucky I am to have the most handsome young man in the city all to myself.
“But Tony…”
He held Peter close and kissed along his jaw until he was whispering in his ear. “But what, baby? You know you’re beautiful. You know your mine. You know how much I want you.”
Tony gently turned Peter around, holding him by the waist, pressed up against his back, nuzzling into the nape of his neck. “The lights from all those people out there… Not one of them has anyone as beautiful as you.”
Tony kept shifting the lube bottle from hand to hand as he touched Peter, so the kid never knew it was there. Ever since Peter had noticed and remarked on it, it was a game Tony liked to play against himself. How to do the ‘magically appearing lube’ trick.
“But Tony… I… I… Tony I… ” Peter took in great gulping lungfuls of air. He had no fear of heights, never had. In fact he thought Tony’s balcony was one of the most beautiful places on earth. But he was outside, and completely naked, and that was just all kinds of wrong.
But then again, Tony was naked too. Naked, and pressed up against his back and saying the most beautiful things. Peter took another deep breath.
“Okay. I can do it,” he whispered. “If you stay close.”
“Where else would I be, Peter. I won’t let you be anywhere but close to me.” Tony’s hand wandered over his body. Up along his stomach, his chest, his neck, holding him there just a second before moving down his sides to his hip. He moved Peter’s ass back against him.
Peter gasped at the feel of Tony’s hand on his hips and moaned as he felt where Tony was moving him. He needed to make himself understood before he was beyond speech.
Reaching behind him he found the back of Tony’s head and pulled it to his own, until he had Tony’s face pressed against his face. “No, I mean stay close.”
“Baby, I’m gonna be right there kissing those pretty curls on your neck. I can’t resist them. I’ve gotta taste your skin. I’ve gotta put those beautiful marks on it. The ones I don’t even share with you. The ones that show that you’re mine.
“I love that no one else has ever touched you. No one else will ever touch you.” Tony rocked up against Peter, growing hard, frotting along the crack of his ass. His hand slid down from his waist to rest on his belly, just above his cock. He held the solid warmth of it there, then moved lower.
“I should let you have all the experiences someone your age would have. But all of those are mine too.”
“Yes, yes... yes,” he chanted, loving every word that was whispered against his ear. “Yes Tony.
“Oh… but we forgot… you forgot…” Peter stopped and blushed and looked back a little. Tony had supplies hidden all over the penthouse, making sex possible in just about every room. But there were no night tables on the balcony.
Suddenly he found himself grinning. “You’ll have to go back for the lube.”
“I will?” he asked skeptically. To be the ultimate of sneaky, he’d have to not touch Peter with either hand and Peter had asked him to stay close. He wouldn’t let go.
“Not just yet. Kiss me again… oh…”
Tony opened the bottle, giving it a squeeze, and let it run down the crack of Peter’s ass. He bent over Peter’s back a little more and set the bottle on the tile. His finger stroked through the thick lube, pushing it between Peter’s cheeks, fingertip swirling around Peter’s opening.
“Oh Tony…” Peter whispered. He couldn’t say much else. He was trying to remember to breathe. Tony had touched him like this many times, but being touched this way outside? It was somehow a completely different sensation. Still, he knew Tony liked it when he said something other than “Oh Tony.” So he tried again.
“Please keep talking to me.”
Tony was surprised that Peter could say anything, even at this early state. His voice was thin and reedy, almost carried away on the night air. He bent over the boy and kissed between his shoulder blades.
His voice was a low rumble against Peter’s back. “Do you want me to tell you how hot this beautiful place on your body makes me feel? Or perhaps how very special it is that you let me touch you here. That you let me own you here.” He paused. “Or perhaps you’d like me to tell you that there is someone on the 85th floor of One Vanderbilt watching us?”
“Stop…” Peter giggled. He didn’t really believe it, but he also didn’t care. In this moment, with Tony touching him there, no one else mattered in the world.
“Baby, you are always beautiful. But up here? Up where we fly? Where it’s just us? Beautiful doesn’t touch it.”
“Yes, it’s ours,” Peter murmured, hooking his arm behind him so he could stroke Tony’s hair. “Our sky.”
“I want to always see your skin glowing with the city lights. Like it was in Paris.” Tony pressed the head of his cock lightly where his fingers had been. Not entering. Just giving Peter exactly what they both wanted, knowing what they both liked.
“Oh Tony, what are you doing to me?” Peter murmured, eyes half-closed. He could do that, he realized. Could close his eyes and just concentrate on the sensation, on the sound of Tony’s voice, on the warm, solid presence of Tony’s body. Forget, for a moment, that they were outside. Forget that they were on display.
Tony stayed bent across Peter’s back. “I’m touching you,”
He guided the tip of his cock inside. “I’m touching you.”
He wrapped his arm around Peter’s waist and held his hand low across the boy’s belly. “I’m touching you.”
He let his cock go with his other hand, wiping it quickly on his own hip. He tangled his fingers in Peter’s hair with a slight tug. “I’m touching you.”
“Yes, please yes…” Peter moaned. He leaned back into Tony’s embrace, eyes closed, and waited. Tony would tease his opening like this for quite a while, he knew. Tony knew how much he enjoyed it.
But then again tonight was different. Two weeks ago he had done what Tony had told him to do — he had dared to request something bold. It backfired terribly, but ultimately it had paid off. Ultimately, it led them both here. To a better place. He was going to remember tonight. Tonight should be different.
Turning his head slightly, until his lips were touching Tony’s face, he kissed his lover, screwed up his courage, and whispered “Fuck me.”
Tony pressed the head of his cock in very slowly, waiting to feel that little pop as Peter closed around behind it. He held still at that point. “Is this what you want? Tell me what you want. Tell me again.”
Peter took a deep, steadying breath. It wasn’t as hard to do once Tony stopped moving. That was the beauty of this game Tony played. Knowing that Tony wouldn’t move until he was able to speak made speaking so much easier. Gave him room to breathe. He did that now.
Looking up at the sky gave him courage. Knowing that it was their playground, their territory, made him braver even though he wasn’t wearing the suit.
Keeping his eyes on it, on the sky, he knew he could do it. Firmly, he reached up and took Tony’s hand away from his head. Firmly, he took both of Tony’s hands and guided them to his hips, never taking his eyes off the sky. Firmly, he spoke.
“Fuck me,” he growled. “Don’t be gentle.”
Tony kept one hand gripping Peter’s hip. The other arm he wrapped tightly around his waist, almost completely encircling it, putting his other hand next to the first on Peter’s same hip. Holding him firm, making sure that he wouldn’t accidentally push him over the railing — not a fun way to end the evening — Tony pulled back and thrust into Peter all at once, fast, hard, not at all gentle.
“You think you can handle that, baby?” Tony asked.
“More…”
Tony reached up and grabbed Peter by the top of his hair, yanking it hard, pulling his back up against his chest so tightly he could feel the cold metal circle of the arc reactor between his shoulder blades. He fucked upwards, lifting Peter onto his toes with the force of it.
Peter let out a sharp cry of surprise. Normally he bit his mouth down hard when he heard his voice. It always sounded too loud to his own ears. But being outside, he realized very suddenly, had an advantage. Instead of biting down he opened his mouth and let it hang open. Then, whatever happened, happened.
He landed Peter onto the flat of his feet when he pulled back, then lifted him up again when he entered. Tony couldn’t get very deep in this position, but Peter’s cries were very satisfying. Not gentle, not quiet, at all. But loud. Louder than Peter ever dared in the bedroom. He knew they were carried away on the wind. Off to the skies where they both felt at home.
What Tony was doing to him was a very different sensation, and for several moments he let Tony continue. It wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t deep either. As soon as he was able, he caught his breath long enough to speak. “Stop… stop…” he gasped, reaching back and touching Tony’s hip.
Tony settled Peter down onto his feet again, pulling back, leaving only the head inside him. “What, baby? What do you want?”
“Back up… back up a step…” Peter managed. It wasn’t easy to talk without air, but Peter didn’t want to wait to catch his breath. He pushed Tony back a few steps until he was able to lean forward, putting himself more at a 90° angle. Then he looked back with (what he hoped was) a wicked grin. “Now do it.”
Tony kissed the grin off Peter’s lips and then figuring out what he wanted, returned that grin with a smirk. He slipped out from him and raised Peter up a few inches to where he was bent over the narrow pane of the short glass balcony wall until the boy was looking straight down at the ground, 96 floors below, bent at that 90° angle he was asking for.
“You’ve climbed the tower before, Spider-Man. Get sticky and hold yourself up.”
“Oh fuck Tony,” he gasped, but his hands found exactly what they needed instantly.
“Yes.”
“Hold on tight, Pete,” Tony said, guiding himself inside again, then giving a hard push to seat himself. When Spider-Man stayed stuck and didn’t move with the force of his thrust, he increased that force and slammed in.
Looking straight down from great heights was nothing new to Peter, nor was feeling Tony trust deep inside him. But those two things together? Peter was grateful they were outside. The noises he was making now were completely involuntary. He couldn’t have kept quiet if he wanted to.
Peter’s feet were dangling in the air, so Tony held still, buried all the way in, until the kid’s toes found purchase on the inside of the glass the same way his fingers had on the outside of it. Like that, Peter wasn’t going anywhere and Tony let himself go. Fucking hard and fast with deep long strokes.
He knew that Peter always needed a grounding touch, but the position didn’t allow for much of that. So he splayed his hand flat out on the small of his back without pressure but warmth.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it, baby. All the beautiful world down there.”
“Fuck, Tony…” was all Peter could manage. He didn’t think Tony could see his face, so he didn’t try to hide his smile. Never in his life had he imagined anyone could fuck him this way.
“And my beautiful world right here so far above the other.”
The sight surrounding them both and the hot, tight sensation of Peter’s ass surrounding him was bringing him close, fast. His stroke grew shallow, his groans joining Peter’s cries on their flight through the New York skies. He let go of Peter’s hip, trusting the boy to hold himself in place, and slid his hand down underneath Peter, wrapping his fingers around the boy’s cock.
Whimpering, Peter lowered himself back to his feet and stood on shaky legs. He kept Tony inside him without effort (it was a good thing, being graceful.) He was so hard he was dizzy, but he concentrated on what Tony wanted to do next.
Back down on earth (well the earth 96 floors above the ground) Tony’s hand sought out all of Peter’s most sensitive places. His thumb sliding just below the slit as his hand stroked the boy’s shaft. He bit his lip trying to hold back his own impending orgasm.
“Oh Tony, what are you doing to me?”
“You’re gonna make my glass messy, baby. Wanna see you dripping down it.”
Peter reached backward with both arms and pressed his hands on Tony’s back. Eyes open, looking up into the sky, he leaned his head back and let it happen. If anyone was listening at that height, they would have no doubt who was fucking the twink at the balcony. Peter shouted Tony’s name endlessly into the night.
Tony watched Peter come on the railing, the sight was almost enough to send him over on its own. The strain of the boy’s body tightening around him… that was always irresistible. But when he heard Peter cry out, scream out his name… Tony hadn’t come so hard in his life.
With both hands on the rail, Peter tried to catch his breath. His head was spinning. He was pretty sure he had just been way too loud, but then again, Tony had been loud too… in fact… had he ever heard Tony be that loud? He couldn’t help but peek, looking back over his shoulder in hopes to catch a glimpse of Tony’s face before he had time to compose himself.
Tony’s mouth was still hanging open (ah, but Tony had been making some loud noises too, Peter was going to remember that) and his eyes were wide, looking up at the sky, just as Peter had done. Peter found himself grinning from ear to ear. It was a very, very rare thing to catch Tony not focusing on him. For a moment, just a moment, he had caught it. An unguarded moment. He treasured it. He wondered if there was a way to find it again.
As Tony slipped out of him he turned around and brought their heads close, draping his hands lightly behind his lover’s head.
“Property of Tony Stark,” Peter murmured, kissing his face. “You’re going to write it across my chest every morning with a sharpie.”
“Nah. Gonna make you write it on my windows with your come. Peter Parker was here. Tony Stark made him messy. Gonna let you write it on my chest when you’re riding me. Make you write it on my sheets.”
“No one will be able to read that,” Peter giggled, leaning his head back and looking up at the sky again. Their sky. His and Tony’s.
He leaned over and kissed Peter. “No one except the cleaning staff,” he said with a shrug.
“But I want everyone to know.”
Tony cupped Peter’s face and brought him into a long, deep kiss. “Baby, when you’re really ready, everyone will know.”
“I’m ready,” Peter whispered.
Anyone could get his name tattooed on their ass. People he never met had it there. He’s signed more girls’ chests with Sharpie than he ever cared to remember. But only one person would ever have something made out of gold-titanium alloy with the words ‘Property of Tony Stark’ engraved inside of it.
“No, Pete, you’re not. But when you are, I’ll be here.”
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thestarkerisobvious · 2 months ago
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SNIPPET
“Peter?  Look at me.”
Peter couldn't help but to blush. His face was all flushed and the redness was going down his neck. 
He took a moment to meet Tony's brown eyes. 
"Yes, Tony?" 
“You know I want to make you feel good, you know that, right?”  He cleared his throat, trying his best to speak in a normal voice (not easy, when his whole body was so hard he was practically vibrating)
The young one nodded.  "I do. I know that" he smiled. 
“And I can trust you - to tell me if something doesn’t feel good, right?  I need to know that you’re still ready to tell me ‘no’ when something just doesn’t work.  If you tell me ‘No, Tony’ then I will back off, and I won’t push you.  And I’ll know that it really isn’t working for you.  But as long as you say ��Daddy” I’ll know it’s my job to… to stay close and to make you feel safe.  Does that make sense?”
"It does," he agreed, leaning into Tony's touch as he kept both his hands around Tony's massive erection. 
"I trust you, Tony… you're my Daddy" he kissed his lips ever so gently.                           
“I’m so lucky to have you…” he leaned forward, kissing the boy with a moan.  “I don’t know what I did to deserve having you here, but you’re here, and I’m so grateful.”
-from a longer work by @thestarkerisobvious and @cutepandaprincess
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thestarkerisobvious · 11 months ago
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OKAY I DID IT I WROTE THE THING I might publish it tonight
its so shiddy when u have to convince yourself to do your hobbies. like, its fun, you like it, why cant you just do it. do it. do it. but what if.... mindless media consumption instead....
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starker-stories · 5 years ago
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Antinous
Also on AO3
Written by @thestarkerisobvious​ and @starker-stories​
This story was posted on @thestarkerisobvious​‘s blog back in the beginning of April. But we’d had a little disagreement and I took my name off of the story. We’ve since discussed it and here it is with my name back on it. So if the story seems familiar, that’s why. 
Tags: Shyness, Self Confidence Issues, College Student Peter Parker, Not Canon Compliant, Peter Parker Feels, Small Penis, Worried Peter Parker, Oral Sex
Summary: But kissing Tony meant being kissed by Tony, and being kissed by Tony meant Tony was undressing him, which is why he twisted away and found himself gasping “Tonycanwedothiswiththelightsout?” in a tiny, whimpering voice.
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“Tony? Can we… umm, god…”
Valiantly Peter moved his mouth away from his mentor’s hungry mouth and tried again. But turning down Tony’s kisses was not easy under the best of circumstances. Peter would know — he was becoming an expert. This was the third time he had been melting into Tony’s kiss, melting into Tony’s arms.
The difference was they were now kissing in Tony’s bedroom, sitting on Tony’s bed in fact, which meant things were getting into ‘now or never’ territory.
“…Tony?” he tried again. But dammit now Tony was using his tongue to tease Peter’s bottom lip and making his head swim.
In the end it was only because he was significantly stronger than Tony (and also currently panicking!) that he pulled far enough away to talk at all.
“What’s the matter, baby? Too much? Do you want me to slow down?” Though he wondered how simply kissing the boy could overwhelm his senses enough to push him away. Perhaps he misread the entire situation. “What do you want me to do, Pete? Are you okay?”
Peter opened his mouth but found nothing coming out. But this was not good, now Tony was looking doubtful, and the last thing Peter wanted was the man he had been crushing on for so many years looking doubtful. He solved the problem quickly. Unfortunately his solution was kissing Tony again.
But kissing Tony meant being kissed by Tony, and being kissed by Tony meant Tony was undressing him, which is why he twisted away and found himself gasping “Tonycanwedothiswiththelightsout?” in a tiny, whimpering voice.
“If it’s what you want. I want you to be comfortable. But Pete, you’re beautiful. I would miss seeing those gorgeous eyes of yours. Watching the adorable way you blush and how I’ve wondered all this time, seeing it at your collar, how far down it goes.” Tony reached for the top buttons on Peter's shirt, the lights still on, hoping the kid would forget his request by being distracted with Tony’s fingers on his collarbone, his lips brushing the sharp angle of his jaw.
His fingers slid down the front of Peter’s shirt, slowly, feeling the buttons he was going to loosen. “I want to see you. Want to know what you’ve been hiding all this time. You’re stunning. I can’t help noticing. Noticed that all along. More now that you’ve grown into your body. Baby, I can’t keep my eyes off of you.” Buttons worked their way undone. One from the top, one from the bottom, back to the top, alternating until the boy’s chest was almost entirely revealed, hidden only by one last button, valiantly holding on.
Tony kissed the divot between Peter’s collarbone. Kissed up to his Adam’s apple, bobbing as Peter swallowed nervously. “You taste like a little slice of heaven,” Tony crooned, his lips moving over the boy’s vein, feeling his pulse against them. The last button surrendered and he pushed Peter’s shirt open, sliding it over his shoulders. Tony caressed the curve where shoulder met arm, ran down Peter’s firm strong bicep, covered with smooth, flawless skin.
“So perfect,” he whispered, nuzzling the spot right behind Peter’s ear. His tongue teased just behind Peter’s earlobe and the boy’s shirt wound up on the bed. “God, Peter. Stunning. I can’t think of another word. Flawless. Beautiful. Sweet. You taste sweet,” Tony said, capturing Peter’s lips with his.
Sliding down Peter’s back, circling around his waist to rest just below the boy’s navel, Tony’s rough hand caressed smooth skin.
“I’ve wanted to see you. Know every square inch of your body. Learn every curve and contour.” As Tony spoke, he kept his lips brushing across Peter’s face. Softly kissing his cheek, his jaw, his temple, to his lips again. “So soft,” he said, his breath warm and moist against Peter’s hairless face. “Baby, you are beautiful. I love that you are frozen in time like this. How you’ve been captured at the moment where you are the ideal of perfection.”
“Baby,” he whispered as his fingers found the button of Peter’s jeans. “I want to learn you. Everything about you, mind and body.” He closed his fingers on the tab of Peter’s zipper. “Want every part of you to be mine.” The zipper slid down and Peter’s jeans slid down after it, leaving the boy hidden by nothing but his boxers.
Tony worked his hand under the waistband of Peter’s jeans, loosening them from around his waist, pushing them down as far as he could. The way Peter was laying, he needed to raise his hips just slightly. With a bit of a tug, Tony tried to show what he needed Peter to do. The boy seemed reluctant, so Tony moved him just enough to slide his pants over the angle of his hip and move them down to his knees. He sat up just a little so he could work the tight jeans down over his calves, down to his ankles, and off of his feet.
He leaned back and looked at his beautiful boy. Pale skin stretched out before him. Those long, graceful legs that danced him in the air as he swung on a strand of web. Peter’s boxers had shifted as Tony took off his jeans. They were loose over the curve of his ass, pulled snug across the front of his body. Where the smallest of bulges showed within them.
Tony slid his hands up Peter’s legs. Strong, he could feel the muscles under the boy’s limbs, hairless, not shaved, simply perfectly smooth. He was a little taken aback by Peter’s apparent lack of response. But Tony passed that off to nerves. Until his hands pushed over his thighs, up over Peter’s boxers, and his thumbs hooked in the elastic, sliding the last bit of covering from Peter’s body.
Peter closed his eyes tight as the boxers began to come down… oh wait weren’t those lights supposed to be off by now? He took a deep breath and promised himself everything would be all right…
Then the elastic of his boxers slipped down past where his treasure line should have been and Peter jerked upright like a man who had been electrocuted, jerking his boxers back into place and started babbling helplessly.
“Okay I KNOW what you’re going to say, but you of all people cannot accuse me of lying about my age. You know how old I am. You’ve ALWAYS known how old I was and I’m told that my dad wasn’t very hairy either and… it’s just… okay I don’t have to explain the spiderbite to you but after the spiderbite it just… it’s like everything just stopped…”
“Shhh,” Tony said soothingly, stroking Peter’s hair. “I know how old you are Pete. And there is nothing wrong with the way you look. You certainly don’t look underage. Not with those abs. Not with the way your arms look so strong. Whoever thinks you’re not as old as you are, simply isn’t looking at all of you.” Tony paused. “I’d like to look at all of you. Baby, I want all of you to be mine.”
“It’s just… dammit Tony.” He lowered his boxers a little to show what little amount of hair he had. “It was like this when I was fifteen… and then the spiderbite happened and it all just stopped. “ His shoulders sagged, but the truth is he was relieved. There was no one, no one on the planet, that he could talk to about this. And now there was Tony.
Of course Tony would make it all right.
“Is it really okay?” he asked in a whisper. He tried not to smile. But inside he was smiling. He didn’t have to pretend that it was about shaving, he didn’t have to pretend at all.
Tony leaned closer to Peter. His hand ran slowly down the boy’s chest and he leaned his head against the side of Peter’s, feeling the boy’s soft curls brush against his forehead. His arm circled comfortingly around Peter’s back. “You are perfect as you are. I love you as you are. You’re not fifteen, baby, and you don’t look like a fifteen year old boy. You look like a very handsome young man.”
Peter leaned into Tony’s embrace and took in his scent, letting it comfort him, calm him. He took a deep breath before speaking again.
“Okay. But then there’s this.”
He lay his head on Tony’s shoulder and thumbed the boxers down all the way. He kept his eyes closed, trusting his mentor to, at the very least, say something gentle.
Tony’s hand continued its downward caress, following Peter’s lowering of his boxers, feeling the perfectly smooth skin of his lower belly, where most young men of his age would have a defined treasure line. All Peter had was smooth skin over taut, firm muscle. His hand slid lower. And Tony realized what problem the ‘this’ was. Peter was smaller than averagely endowed. Tony’s gaze followed his hand.
“Peter, you’re… beautiful,” he said, slightly awestruck. The boy was like a perfectly sculpted classical statue. Only warm and alive, not cold marble. He ran his hand over the slight swell of Peter’s cock. “Proportioned to your body. I might be larger, but not proportioned to my height. I will never have the amazingly classic beauty that you carry.” Tony lifted Peter’s cock in his hand, caressed it, encircled it with his fingers. “My hand is too rough, too coarse, to touch your perfection.” He looked down at Peter’s cock. “But perhaps to kiss…” he said, looking back up into Peter’s face. “You are the ideal size for a kiss. A long, slow, deep kiss.”
Peter tried not to grin like an idiot. Tried and failed. It wasn’t just the flood of relief it was something else, something like… amazement. He trusted Tony to be gentle, but he wasn’t expecting poetic.
Still, the amount of nerves that had plagued him up until this moment forced him to argue. A little.
“Okay, but you have to say something nice because you’re my… wait… wait…“
Suddenly Peter pulled away to look Tony full in the face.
“Did you say… you loved me?”
“I’d hoped I was your lover. That you were mine. And a lover, loves.”
“Oh… Tony…” He couldn’t speak much more because he was kissing Tony’s mouth. And he couldn’t kiss very well because he was grinning from ear to ear. Finally he gave up and wrapped his arms around the man he had been in love with for what seemed like his whole life and held on, probably a little too tight, and spoke. Or tried. In the end all he could say was, “I’m so glad you said that.
“I’m so in love with you Tony Stark,” he said breathlessly when he finally let the man go. He pulled away enough to yank off his boxers and send them to the floor as he confessed. “I’ve been in love with you for so fucking long.”
“And if this is… if this is really okay… I mean you’re not just being nice…”
“Baby, you are so beautiful. All of you. Next to me? You are my Antinous and I am simply the much coarser, more earthly, Hadrian. And that love is forever.”
Peter stopped for a minute, his brain turning. Quickly he placed the story that Tony had told him of Antinous and Hadrian (one of many stories Tony had told him of late of famous men who had loved each other.) Suddenly he was grinning and blushing and covering his face. Oh god. Tony was comparing him to a white marble Greek statue, the kind with the tiny dick.
Oh well. If that’s what Tony liked… who was he to complain?
He reached for his Hadrian’s hand and brought it to the subject in question, the thing he had been so ashamed of, the thing that had kept him shying away from Tony’s obvious amorous advances for months now. Why had he wasted so much time? He should have known…
Tony made him feel strong and brave and powerful. Was it any surprise that, now, Tony would make him feel beautiful?
“Well,” he whispered. “If you want to kiss it…”
“Come lie back down with me and I will kiss you everywhere.” Tony gently lowered Peter back to the bed. He kissed the boy’s lips, his chin, his throat, his chest, his firmly muscled belly, down to the rise of his cock. Fully hard now, Peter was the ideal size, a perfect complement to him. He wrapped his lips around the boy’s cock, bringing him all the way to the root inside the warm caress of his mouth. Drawing his lips back up along his shaft, Tony placed a kiss on the tip.
Peter’s hands flew to Tony’s back, then to his head, then to the headboard of the bed, finally landing on Tony’s shoulders where he held on desperately as Tony’s skillful mouth brought him over the edge, and he came moaning his lover’s name.
Tony let Peter’s cock gently slip from his mouth. He put a kiss on the softening swell of his shaft. “Beauty,” he said, resting his head on Peter’s hip. He looked down at the way Peter’s cock went from hard to soft, lying against his thigh as if formed by a renaissance artist sculpting an angel.
Peter blinked up at his lover’s ceiling. Then he looked down at his lover’s face. But when he saw what Tony was doing he moaned and hid behind his hands.
He had to hide his face behind his hands, because he didn’t want Tony to see that he was grinning.
He couldn’t help it. His lungs were filling up with beautiful oxygen and it was making him giddy. He felt like he had been holding his breath for weeks. Weeks? Maybe for years. And why? Because it was very difficult to get a man into bed and while also desperately trying to hide his body. A body that Tony had just described as ‘classic’ and ‘perfection’. A body Tony thought was beautiful.
He had been so worried about this moment. Worried that Tony didn’t really want him. Worried that Tony would want to keep the lights on. And worried, more than anything else, that once he was in bed with Tony he would embarrass himself, might accidentally say ‘I love you’.
Now, as Tony moved to lie next to him, Peter was overwhelmed with relief, knowing he had nothing to hide at all. He let his arms fall around Tony’s waist. Relaxing in his lover’s bed. In his lover’s arms.
Feeling like a work of art.
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thestarkerisobvious · 7 months ago
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Fingers
by @thestarkerisobvious and @cutepandaprincess
NC17
First Times
Trigger Warning: use of the word 'Daddy'
“Will you let Daddy touch you again, sweetheart?” he asked gently, caressing one hand over Peter’s ass, caressing one cheek.
He reached into the drawer of the night table, pulling out the lube and a soft hand towel.  He didn't try to do this behind Peter’s back - it happened in front of him.  He needed his younger lover to see it. Tony worked with both hands while he kept Peter in his arms.
Coating two fingers generously, he lay both objects beside him as he moved his fingers into place.
“Yes… just like that…” he crooned as the first finger slipped easily inside.
Peter moaned softly, he felt the pain, but it wasn't as bad as it was the night before. "Hmmmm…" he felt Tony's finger opening him up. It was good. Like he was discovering new wild land. 
“This will get easier each time,” Tony was explaining quietly.  “When two people are together, their bodies get used to each other in time.  It will take some work at first, some getting used to.  Like breaking in new shoes.  It takes persistence.  But then, one day, it won’t take any effort at all.  We’ll just fit together, easily…”  He chuckled.  “Then you’ll be wishing Daddy was bigger…”
Peter mewled at that, almost coming instantly. "Fuck" he panted leaning onto Tony's finger "Ah… Daddy… one day…" he smiled. Wishing for all the promises Tony was making him. 
He longed for their encounters… their bodies together… Their feelings together. 
He wanted so much more than just Tony's body, than Tony's experience.
He wanted Tony. 
“Good boy,” he crooned as he worked in the third finger.  Carefully he watched Peter’s face, but he snuck looks downward.  Peter was so hard already… this might not last long at all.
“Good boy, you’re being so good for me sweetheart…” over and over and over.  Would he ever get tired of it?  Would Peter?
“How does that feel, angel?”
"Oh god! So big!" He moaned, closing his eyes shut, holding Tony's hand against his chest, intertwining their fingers. 
"...it's so big, daddy!" 
“Good boy…” Tony crooned, moving two fingers out and working Peter with just the two.  “You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart.”  He meant to praise Peter for telling him the truth, for expressing how he felt… but Peter probably thought he meant he was taking the fingers well…
“Just tell me if it’s too much…” he whispered, then started slipping the fingers in again, one at a time.
"Yes… so good… so big… hmmmm…" Peter moaned. He was holding onto the sheets, trying to focus on the large amount of sensations he was having now. 
Ah… so “so big” didn’t necessarily mean “too big.”  Watching Peter’s face carefully, it seemed to Tony that “so big” was actually a good thing.  Even now he was spreading his four fingers, holding his hand in a position that forced Peter to open up more than he had the night before… and Peter seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit.
With one arm tightly holding Peter to him, he worked those four spread fingers in and out, rocking Peter back into him, into his hand.  He kissed Peter’s shoulder over and over, teasing it with his beard, with his teeth, taking his time.
"Fuck…" the boy breathed out, all of Tony's body, all of Tony's touches. It was wonderful. Overwhelming. Like heaven. 
Peter rocked his hips against the fingers inside of him. The sting of pain was still there, even though it hurt less than the night before. 
Peter wouldn't say it out loud just now, but he enjoyed the pain as well. 
"Daddy! I'm so close!"
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starker-stories · 4 years ago
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The Dick Pic (v2)
On AO3 by @thestarkerisobvious​ and @starker-stories​
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When we first posted this story, it was helpfully pointed out that the beginning was confusing in relation to the rest of it. And it was. Thank you for that constructive criticism.
We went back to the original and reworked it. Hopefully it will be less confusing and the point of their argument more clear.
There was debate back and forth between deleting the original post or leaving both up. We finally decided on leaving both up. 
Words: 9815
Tags: Misunderstandings, Dick Pics, College Student Peter Parker, Top Tony Stark, Bottom Peter Parker, Anal Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Awkward Conversations
Summary:
One picture.
Two different interpretations of the picture.
One restaurant.
Two people, trying to make themselves understood.
One balcony
Two bodies.
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It was a beautiful morning. Peter had actually gotten a full night’s sleep. He was sleeping in his dorm room because Tony was away on business and wouldn’t be back for a few days.
He had awoken from a lovely dream. About Tony, of course. But about Tony when they had been together in Paris. In the dream Tony asked him what he wanted. And Tony gave him everything he asked for. In Paris, Tony told him to be bold. To ask for things that he wanted.
In the dream, as he had in Paris, he shamelessly asked Tony to go down on him. When he woke, his body was more than ready for Tony to do just that. But Tony wasn’t there. Peter was in his dorm room, alone.
He couldn’t have what he wanted that moment, of course. But… he could still ask. Tony liked it when he asked…
It was bold, probably too bold for him. Then again, Tony had encouraged him to be bold. So he boldly took his phone out and took a picture of the subject at hand.
Oh, that was shameless. He blushed, just looking at the picture. Quickly he typed:
Thinking of you.
He thought of several other things he could add to go along with the picture (‘Would you like to taste?’ or ‘Mostly about your mouth’) but in the end he chickened out of every one. In the end, he just hit send. That was enough bold for one day.
He spent the next hour grinning and blushing. He was proud, but he couldn’t tell anybody why. There was no one on campus close enough to announce: ‘Today I sent my very first dick pic’.
~~~~~
Tony looked at the picture Peter had sent with his message. ‘Thinking of you’. Yes, but what thoughts had Peter been thinking?
Well, he had told Peter that he could ask for anything. He wanted to hear every one of Peter’s sexual desires. He didn’t know why he expected that reversing their positions and Peter fucking him wouldn’t be one of them. Things weren’t as neatly defined in Peter’s generation. He’d been with enough younger men to know that.
And he’d broken up with enough of them when it became an issue.
He supposed that a few months was a good run, given his record. After the picture and message, he stopped taking Peter’s calls and any other messages. Whenever he regretted his decision to let Peter go, he simply opened his phone to that last picture.
He missed the kid so much that, a time or two, he considered whether he could tolerate getting fucked just to get Peter back. He’d tried that before, though. Tolerating it once led to twice led to three times led to asks and refusals and arguments and the inevitable breakup that should’ve happened at the start of it all.
Letting Peter’s calls go to voicemail unlistened to and leaving his messages completely unread was easier. The kid would move on and find someone willing to satisfy his needs.
But that was the problem. The kid would move on. The idea of that put such a dull ache deep inside him that he found his finger hovering over the green button whenever Peter called.
That would never do. This wasn’t something that could be talked about over the phone. It was definitely something that couldn’t be talked about anywhere that was near a bed. That led to disaster. And unfortunately, his feelings for Peter weren’t going away by simply ‘ghosting’ the boy. Tony texted Peter. Dinner? 8? Marea? It was his favorite restaurant. They’d been there together before. It might seem like it was going to be nothing more than a make-up date.
~~~~~
Peter’s last two weeks had been a strange kind of slow-motion nightmare. Sometimes everything was normal. He aced his classes. He wowed his study groups. He texted his friends and his friends texted back. Then he would try to set up a date with his boyfriend. He spoke to FRIDAY. FRIDAY would be cheerful as always, explaining why Tony couldn’t talk to him right then. Then he would text ‘I miss you’ and wait to hear some response. Finally giving up and going to bed. Wake up in the morning and start the entire miserable process over again.
He kept thinking about Paris. Their trip to Paris was memorable for so many reasons. Not just because Tony set out to spoil Peter rotten with fine wine, good food, and crowded sightseeing spots closed down just for them, but because of what they did in the hotel bedroom that night.
Tony had invited Peter into his bed, and had invited him there to do more than just fuck. But what Tony had invited him there to do, Peter wasn’t completely sure was possible. But it was possible. Peter had opened up to Tony that night. Told him things he hadn’t told anyone, had no plans to tell anyone.
He would never forget Tony’s words. ‘I brought you here because it’s the most romantic city in the world. Because it’s what I think of when I look at you. I think of how much I’m in love with you, and how much I want to make you happy.’
Peter was happy. He was lying on a bed in a hotel room in Paris, with Tony Stark sitting next to him, saying ‘I love you’. What else could any human being want? It wasn’t expensive gifts, the exclusive restaurants, or the limo rides everywhere. That was Tony’s life, and he was inviting Peter to be a part of it. Peter freely accepted that invitation.
‘I want you’, he told Tony when the man asked what he wanted.
‘And I want you’, Tony said back. Only then he asked, ‘But how do you want me?’
Peter remembered saying, ‘Forever’.
And Peter remembered Tony saying, ‘Only that long?’
So he told himself he was being ridiculous. He trusted Tony. As Spider-Man, he trusted Iron Man with his life. As Peter Parker, he trusted Tony Stark enough to tell him things he had never told anyone. He was in love. He just had to remember that he was in love with an incredibly busy man. Dating Tony meant sharing him with the rest of the world. “I’ll just be patient,” he told himself. “I’ll be the most patient boyfriend that ever lived.”
Sometimes he wondered why he was so utterly and thoroughly unlovable. Why would Tony want to date a kid like him? A kid with so little sexual experience, a kid who had admitted to an entire, itemized list of fears? He was unlovable. Tony was proof.
Tony had been his first serious boyfriend (serious boyfriend? Tony had been his only boyfriend.) Sometimes he convinced himself that he would just live like a monk, a monk who fought crime and worshiped a far-off, unavailable man. It wasn’t the strangest superhero backstory in the world.
Sometimes Peter was angry. He had admitted to things, admitted to things he never thought he would tell anybody. It seemed like a good idea at the time. And what had been his reward? To be ghosted by Tony Stark, apparently.
But Tony hadn't broken up with him, that much was certain. Peter checked his email, his phone messages, every social media account he had a million times. Checked them every morning. Sometimes got up and checked them in the dead of the night. Waiting. Waiting for the explanation that would never come.
Almost two weeks to the day, he received the message. His whole body sagged in relief. He hugged his phone to his chest tightly and did a little dance. Grinned from ear to ear. It was okay. They were going to Marea and everything was going to be okay.
~~~~~
Slowly, very slowly, Peter was getting the idea that everything was not okay.
They were seated to Tony’s usual table. Menus and orders taken, wine brought and served. During which Tony was near silent, making only the barest conversation that politeness required. Not only to the servers, but to Peter as well.
When the meal arrived, Peter realized he was going to have difficulty eating. His stomach was in knots. Something was obviously wrong.
“Pete,” Tony said casually, after he finished another bite. “What did you mean by that last picture you sent me?”
“Oh, I meant that I was going to not be late for our lab session because I whipped through my differential equations test in record time and I was actually ten minutes early? Except you weren't in the lab?”
Tony looked puzzled. “No. The last picture you sent. What were you trying to imply by that? Something you want?”
“I guess… I guess I was…” Peter dropped his eyes. “I guess I was bragging that I finished it faster than anyone in the class. The professor said it was faster than anyone he had ever seen and asked me to be his TA next year…
“I mean I wasn’t bragging… but I was. And you didn’t notice.”
“It sure looked like you were bragging. And wanting something other than an A on your exam.”
“In differential equations? We’re talking about Tuesday, right?” Peter took out his own phone and looked for the last pic he sent — which was from differential equations.
“I don’t know the date… I guess it was a Saturday or a Sunday. Maybe Sunday morning… yeah I think Sunday morning and you don’t have differential equations on a Saturday, so no, not that… Did you send me something about that too?”
“Something about… what?” Peter reached out and snatched Tony’s phone from where he set it on the corner of the table. He had prided himself on his patience this week, but his patience was coming to an end. He opened the message app, found his name, and scrolled to the end of the messages, then back to find the ones that had pictures attached. A cute squirrel in Central Park, a sunset behind Stark tower from the top of another building that he took just to text ‘I Miss You’. Finally, the finished test he’d mentioned twice. The one Tony hadn’t even acknowledged.
“There are things that haven’t come up before between us. And we haven’t exactly talked about the things that have come up between us. And that would be a pretty large thing to discuss. What exactly did you mean by sending me that picture?”
“Are we talking about the picture of the spider I sent?” Peter asked, scrolling again. “You never told me you were squicked out by spiders. I’m just a spider fan. You knew that. Everyone expected me to be an entomologist.” He shrugged, guiltily. “I just like math more.”
Finally, Tony grabbed his phone back. He scrolled through the messages until he found the one. He set his phone upside down on the table so no one else could see, then he slid it over to Peter.
Peter looked at it, started visibly, looked around to make sure no one saw it, then he grinned and ducked his head and blushed. Damn, he had felt so bold when he woke up with that in the morning. What was he thinking?
Oh yeah — he had been thinking…
“Well, you’re always telling me how pretty it is…”
“I’m into a lot of things, but there are some I’m not thrilled about.”
“I had a dream about you,” he said as quietly as he could and still be heard. “And I woke up thinking about you, and that was the result.”
“What kind of dream are we talking about? There wasn’t exactly a clear message with it.”
Peter looked confused. He started to speak then stopped. This was very hard to talk about in a restaurant. So he considered the possibilities. He grabbed his own phone and started texting quickly.
Was that really your first dick pic? I’m sorry I never thought. You were the first person to even walk AROUND with a phone in your pocket so I just didn’t think. I’m sorry. All you had to do was say you didn’t want that. Did you open it in a meeting or something?
It was ridiculous to sit there and text someone two feet away. Tony had no shame about talking about the issue in public.
“No, that’s not the first dick pic I’ve ever been sent. The angle and the way you were holding it… that is a first time without implying something by it.”
Peter put his phone down in frustration. He remembered exactly the kind of mood he had been in when he had taken that picture. Bold as brass. Fearless. Amazing. He didn't feel amazing right now. “I can’t really answer that question in a restaurant.
“But... remember when you took me to Paris? It was about Paris. Well it was sort of Paris... but yeah. That’s what it was about.” He tried not to sound hurt, but he was feeling hurt. How hard was it to say ‘don’t send me dick pics’? And why was Tony ignoring everything that came after that?
“Look, there are things I’m just not into,” Tony said firmly, irritated by the kid’s inability to comprehend. “If that’s what you're going to be needing out of this, you’re gonna have to find it elsewhere.”
Peter pulled his chair up to the table as far as he could and leaned in, whispering. “It implies you want to see it. Because you keep telling me you like to see it.”
His chest ached. It hurt to breathe. What Tony had said to him, and convinced him to say, in Paris meant so much to him. He’d never forgotten it. And he could never discuss it in a restaurant.
“Yeah, it’s beautiful. You’ve got a big, nicely shaped cock and I don’t mind seeing it. Like seeing it, actually. But that picture was… different from the dick pics I usually get.”
Tony flipped his phone face up, the picture clearly visible to anyone walking past their table. At that point, making Peter feel uncomfortable was almost part of it. The kid certainly made him uncomfortable the morning he got that. Especially after the way things had been going so well between them.
Peter tried desperately not to gape. It was instinct, not to let your opponent know when you were hurt in battle. But dammit, he was hurt. “‘Things I’m just not into’? Squirrels, sunsets and spiders? Or, more importantly, ‘the things you think about during the day, and your triumphs and proud moments’? Because once upon a time, Tony, you seemed to care about those things a great deal.”
But now words like ‘angle’ and ‘holding it’ and ‘different’ began to register. Suddenly, he found himself getting angry.
“Give me your damn phone.” He grabbed it off the table.
He scrolled through Tony’s phone wondering if someone else was sending Tony dick pics. In which case he was really going to lose his patience. But no, there it was. His cock. Huge and lovely and hard. Hard because he was remembering the incredible things Tony had done to him in Paris. Huge because he had, with his sudden surge of confidence, placed the phone directly beside it. What could he say? He had woken up feeling cocky.
He didn’t feel cocky now. He put the phone in his lap, shielding it from other eyes, and analyzed the angle.
“I haven’t exactly been answering my messages or downloading the photos attached to them lately, so forgive me if I’ve had an entirely different subject on my mind than squirrels and differential equations."
“Well, we haven't talked in two weeks, so I have no idea what’s been on your mind,” Peter hissed.
Patience. Patience patience patience. He could swallow all this hurt and pretend it wasn’t there, he was a master at that. He was good at it. (He had practice.) But right now he was looking at the picture of what he’d wanted Tony to praise (right before devouring it) and wondering if that was ever going to happen again.
“That,” Tony said when Peter had taken his phone off the table again. “That’s been on my mind. Hard to get anything else on my mind. What, exactly, did you mean by sending me that? Because, like I said, if you want to fuck my ass, you’re going to have to find somebody else’s ass to fuck.” He shrugged. “Which, I can work with, I guess. Not the first open relationship I've had to have because of differing sexual appetites.”
“It’s a right angle, Tony. 90°. It’s just… you used to say it was ‘so pretty’ and you… wanted it in your mouth. And I woke up dreaming of the things you said to me in Paris before you… before we… and I woke up. And I was thinking about you. That’s what I wrote. That’s what I meant by…
“…wait… what? Tony for god’s sake… Tony? Only you would try to have this conversation in a restaurant.”
“It’s not a problem. Guys grow up and have different tastes when they do. It’s not like I didn't have a fair number of experiences in that direction when I was younger.
“It’s just not my… not interested in that anymore. Haven’t been for a very long time. And I don't see myself particularly wanting to get fucked any time soon. Not even by you, sorry.”
“You have a fair number of experiences debating the angle of my penis over dinner in a restaurant!?” Peter laughed, overwhelmed by the surreality of the conversation. “You were right, Tony — your life was a lot different than mine.”
“Well actually, not your penis. but not the first one I’ve discussed over dinner in a restaurant. Usually as a prelude to heading to the bathroom with the other guy in said restaurant. But that’s not the point.”
“I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about!” Peter whispered angrily. Except he wasn’t exactly whispering anymore. This was the strangest conversation he had ever had in his life. He was beginning to lean into the strange.
“Oh my god. One minute I’m working up the nerve to admit that I still dream about what happened in Paris and the next minute we’re discussing why it’s wrong that I want to… I don’t even know what. This is insane.”
Tony just shook his head. He was being pretty clear, he thought. “We’re talking about whether or not you want to fuck me, that’s what we’re talking about. Because that’s just not something I’m into. But if it’s something you’re into, I’ve got no trouble with you finding it elsewhere. Well, actually I do, but I’m prepared to adjust my expectations.
“Wait…” Tony furrowed his brow. “Paris? What the fuck does this have to do with me sucking you off?”
“I’m sorry I sent you the wrong kind of dick pic and I have no idea why you think I was thinking of that, but I’m just about at the end of my rope. I’m in over my head here.”
“The only time I’ve ever gotten a picture like that was from someone who had very different ideas about my sexual tastes. It’s pretty much a ‘sit on this’ pic, don’t you think?”
There were tears behind Peter’s eyes. All of his talks to himself about ‘patience’ were drying up. He didn’t have it in him to explain what Paris had meant to him, at least not in a public place. Maybe in the dark, in Tony’s arms, maybe. But not while the man was spouting nonsense.
He took a deep breath. “No, Tony. It was a, you told me it was ‘gorgeous’ pic. It was a, you told me you ‘want to suck on it’ pic. For god’s sakes Tony, you told me once you wanted me to c… to leave a wet spot on your bed for you to find when you got home. I’m sorry about your past lovers but I’m not really responsible for them. I’m only responsible for myself.” His voice broke a little. He wasn't feeling very responsible right now.
Dammit, he had done everything right. He had been the proper amount of sexy and tried to hide all the shyness. He had tried to be bold when Tony wanted him to be bold. He had been patient. He had been positive. He was even attempting to have this incredibly personal conversation in a public place because Tony wanted to. He had done his best. But his best wasn’t good enough.
“Jesus Peter, how many different ways do I have to tell you this. I love you. I love what we do in bed together. There are directions I’m willing to expand into that and explore, but me getting fucked isn’t one of them. It’s not something I’m into. It wasn’t even something I was into back when I was young enough that that was all anyone wanted me to do. It’s just that’s the way it goes when you’re the age I was then. But eventually you get old enough to tell the other guy ‘no, I’d rather fuck you instead’. So, if you’re getting to that age, we’re going to have to talk in terms of how you can get what you want in that direction, because it isn’t going to be me.”
Tony had been keeping his voice calm and quiet the whole time, not even letting his exasperation come through in any way except his word choices. Peter was a smart kid, surely he understood the words that were being said.
Peter pressed his water glass against his face. He knew his skin was flushed and he felt overheated. He took the napkin from his lap and dipped it in the ice water and dabbed his forehead. It was probably a rude thing to do in this expensive restaurant, but what the hell? It couldn’t be worse than discussing the angle of the dick pic on Tony’s phone.
He took a deep breath and tried to say something that made sense. “Well, I guess I should say thank you for thinking that I’m old enough to be changing my tastes… I guess. If that’s really a thing you outgrow. But this is all coming out of left field for me.”
Taking another deep breath he thought back over what Tony had said. “And I love you too. I’m sorry people did things to you when you were young that you didn’t like. But if this is a ‘stage’ for me, a ‘stage’ I’m going to ‘grow out of’, I’d estimate you have another good ten to twenty years before that happens. I can’t see ever getting tired of it. But I guess you know better than I do… except…
“Except…” he said, looking back into Tony’s face. He could talk about science. Science was easy.
“Except it seems like you think we are both going to have the same experience, and the data doesn’t point that way. The data doesn’t point at all. You’re talking about societal expectations versus actual personal preference and there’s no reason to assume I’m going to ‘grow out’ of being… who I am.”
“It’s not a thing some people outgrow, but others do. There’s a certain expectation that the younger person bottoms, but then, as they start getting older, they find out that’s not really their thing. Or that they’d been putting up with it because they were expected to, even if they didn't like it much… or at all.
“Other guys don’t outgrow it. They’re just that way. Which is what I was hoping it would be with you. Because, if you wanted to, if it was a dealbreaker and you’d leave me over it… I guess… it’s not unendurable if it wasn’t often.”
Deep breaths and factual statements were helping incredibly. Tony’s voice was calm and that helped too. Speaking calmly and factually about these things means that things were actually okay — they could talk about more personal, painful things later. In private. Hopefully while naked.
“Well, I appreciate that your generation couldn’t exactly go to the library and do as much research as I did when I first identified as gay, so there's that…
"But, help me out, Tony. I sat down at dinner and suddenly you start talking about me ‘leaving you’ and I’ve got whiplash here. Literally the last thing I sent you was a picture of a squirrel.”
Tony raised his eyebrow. Peter was always a quick study and never this blindingly obtuse. Maybe it was the subject. He needed it explained more simply and perhaps repeatedly.
“Some guys are bent in one direction and others in the opposite. I’m pretty much bent only in one direction. I knew that the odds of you staying bent in yours weren’t great. Most guys fall in the more flexible position. I’m just saying that I’m not one of them. But if you are, as long as you didn’t have any sort of… emotional bond with whoever you hooked up with… I’d… adjust.
“This isn’t something even your generation goes to look up in the library, Because most of your generation is more flexible. It’s assumed that you both will, I don’t know, toss a coin for it, I suppose. I don't know how it works.
“The implications of what you sent kind of overrode my reaction to one of your daily messages of the sort I like getting from you.”
Peter opened his mouth but then closed it again. He looked at Tony’s face, and he stopped completely and took stock. He thought about the damn squirrel. He thought about how he aced the test that he wanted to brag about. And he thought about waking up with a raging hard-on and the need to brag about that too. And he thought about how much it hurt when Tony seemed to be ignoring him and what that meant. He took a deep breath, looked Tony in the eye, and spoke.
“I don’t want to ‘hook up’ Tony. With anybody. I don’t think you understand… it’s not that way for me. I don’t want to be with other people. I guess I should have told you that before. I don’t want to… even if there was someone else I actually wanted to… I don’t want to be with anyone else. I love you. I want…”
It would have been hard for Peter to do this in the dark, in Tony's arms. But dammit, this was Tony’s world. The world where you just have these conversations in the open. So he did it. For Tony. “I want to be yours. I want to belong to you.”
Of course, he barely got the words out. It was hard to talk without air. But his mouth formed around the words, which was something.
“I want the same thing. I love you, Peter. I love what we do in bed together. But, in bed, there are things I don’t love. Even if I do love the person who’s asking for them. That is what I’m saying.”
Being told what Tony wanted was almost as good as being held, so he held onto those words. And the words ‘I love you’. He took a deep breath, relieved, and tried to listen to the rest of what Tony was saying.
“All I need for us to be together is for you to understand…” He looked down at his phone, thinking about that doomed message that was supposed to be about Paris and wound up being about something else entirely. “…this is all very important to me, Tony. I guess I shouldn’t be ashamed of it, but I am, because I’m supposed to be all casual about some things and I can’t be. I don’t want to be with anyone else. And of course… I want to be in your life. I want that more than anything else.”
“I don’t like to share. Not you. Especially not you,” Tony said, admitting an inconvenient truth. The truth that led him to making this date instead of simply continuing to ‘ghost’ Peter until he went away.
“Which is also not in keeping with the way people of your generation approach things, I know. You’re not the first guy under thirty that I’ve been with. I know things have changed a lot. What’s expected of relationships. Inflexibility and possessiveness are definitely not the mode. But they’re where I’m at and it’s hard to see me changing that. I’m possessive. I don’t want to share the person I’m in love with, that I want in my life… for the rest of it.”
“I don’t want you to share… I don’t want to be shared! And I know I’m not normal for my generation or for my anything… and I tried so hard to… gosh maybe I should have told you sooner. Maybe I need to stop trying to be ‘normal’. I don’t see why I have to change. I just want to belong to you. I don’t want… I’m not interested in ‘hook ups’ and I’m tired of pretending that I… that I get it. I don’t. I can’t see being with someone and not… well you know. Blurting out everything I feel. I can’t really stop.”
“Baby, I am in love with you. And that doesn’t come without the possessive part. It’s worse with you though. Maybe because I’ve never really… felt this with anyone else. Not like this. Not like I feel with you.”
“Wait…” Peter stopped, the pieces suddenly falling together in his head. “Did you… did you just really volunteer to bottom for me?”
Tony sighed heavily.
“If that’s what it takes to keep you in my life. Like I said, it won’t have been the first time I’ve been fucked. I just never liked it. Not even when I was your age. It was just the way things were back then. Before a certain age, you were expected to bottom. And past a certain age, you were expected to change and to want to top.
“I wanted to be with guys and if that meant turning up my ass to get the rest of what I was looking for, I did it. But then I got to a point in age where I didn’t have to put up with it.”
"Tony, for gods’ sake I don’t want you to… why would I want you to turn up your ass when…” But he couldn’t really say more. Not here. He covered his face and whispered behind his hand. “When you do so many amazing things to me?”
“I can't stand the idea of losing you.”
Peter reached out for Tony's hand. “I love you.” It was like a dream come true, and while he wasn’t sure he had dreamed about it happening in a public place, well, here it was. “I love you and you’re never going to lose me.”
He wanted to say ‘I’ve never felt this way about anyone else’, but it was a silly thing to say. He had been in love with Tony Stark his whole life. He had felt this way about Tony forever.
Tony held Peter's hand, his thumb caressing the back of it. “You got together with me while you’re still so young. Before you have had time, really, to explore things you might find out you like or prefer better. I’ve had plenty of years to experience everything on the menu and you’ve just had one taste.
“I don’t want to hold you back, even though I don't want to let you go.”
“Tony, can we… leave? Please? I don’t want to talk about this here.”
“Okay, we can leave. It’s just… if it turned out that’s what you did mean by that picture… It felt safer here, than at home, to discuss these matters.”
“Wait… what? Now I’m really confused. Why would you want to discuss it here and not…” He didn’t want to say ‘in your arms’. It still felt very immature. “…at home?”
“Why here? No particular reason as to the venue, but some things are just safer talked about in a public place until they’re sorted and both people are on the same page. Where the bed is far away and not an option for where to discuss them.”
“Tony, I want you to teach me those other things on the menu. I don’t want to be with anyone else. We’re not talking about trying on different styles of shoe here. I… can’t do that with other people, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I know I’m supposed to want to be casual with other people because of my age but I don't. And I’m trying to tell you, I don’t want to feel ashamed of that anymore. I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t have to. I can be a Tony-sexual and not apologize for that. You’re not ‘holding me back’ you’re loving me and I’m loving you and there’s nothing bad about that.”
“Since I’m rather Peter-sexual, you being me-sexual is a good thing. Because I already have enough issues struggling not to take someone apart who looks at you for too long. Having someone actually touch you? When you belong to me? That's unsustainable.”
Peter couldn’t help but smile. And beam. Maybe blush a little. The idea that Tony wanted to ‘take someone apart’ just for looking?
"Okay. So we’re both very much alike in the me-sexual way. And we’re both very different about where we like to talk about private things. And we’re not going to talk about me being with someone else in bed because I hate that idea. And you’re going to stop volunteering to do something you don’t like because I really hate that idea. Is that sorted out enough? Can we go home now? I kinda need to.”
They weren’t going to just walk home hand in hand, no. Peter was going to hold Tony’s hand and use his other hand to hold into Tony’s arm too. He hoped Tony wouldn’t mind.
But Tony draped his arm over Peter’s shoulders as they walked back, holding him close, making sure that no one would possibly think that he wasn’t very much taken.
“So all this was just a case of bad lighting, poor camera angle choices, and you making yourself less than clear about the meaning of that particular picture of your, yes, very lovely, dick, hmm?” Tony asked with a sly smile.
Peter reached up and grabbed the hand draping over his shoulder. As they walked he couldn’t stop smiling.
“Tony… you’re going to have to find me an online course on ‘how to take a dick pic’ because I have no idea how that looked like anything other than a yummy snack.”
“I’ll send you a few examples, if you want,” Tony said smiling, “Because I don't want you looking at anyone else’s dick pics, not even as a course of online study.”
Peter smiled. “Deal.”
“So the way things have been with us? That’s good for you? You mentioned Paris… Those are some very good memories we made there. Apparently inspiring in your dreams, huh?” he said with a little smirk. “What parts, exactly, were so inspirational? I can’t understand unless you tell me. Explicitly. In detail.”
“Please Tony, not here…” Peter groaned and looked around them. New York City. People everywhere. But then again… wasn't talking the point? So he tried to be brave again, and spoke. He spoke almost directly into Tony's ear, but he spoke.
“You made me tell you what I wanted. You made me put it into words. And it was impossible to say those things without telling you how they made me feel. How you made me feel so safe and wanted and beautiful and so… yours. And I told you that I loved you. And I could, because suddenly I wasn’t afraid anymore.
“And I told you and I couldn’t be anything but honest and that was okay. Because that’s what you wanted. And I told you about all the things I was afraid of, and you made that okay too. And when I knew it was okay to be afraid, then I wasn’t afraid anymore.
“And also you made me come three times in one night. There was that.”
~~~~~
They were making out hot and heavy in the elevator, Peter boldly pulling Tony’s shirt free from his trousers and sneaking his hands underneath. As the doors opened they stumbled out. Peter had Tony’s face in both hands, trying to kiss him and lead him into the penthouse at the same time.
“I want it to be you, Tony. Whatever it is, whatever you want to do, I want it to be you. I want you to be the first.” He’d made himself giggle, trying to kiss Tony and talk at the same time. He only had one glass of wine at dinner, but now he felt drunk.
“That’s what I want. I just thought there was another first you wanted with me, and that’s not going to be a first we can share. Unless it…” Tony sighed. It was a difficult choice. “Yes, okay. I’d rather it be me than anyone else. The thought of anyone else touching you… In any way…” Tony said fiercely.
“Oh god, say it again, tell me I’m yours, Tony. Tell me no one gets to touch me but you…”
“I don’t want anyone touching you but me. I want you entirely to myself. I’m selfish and possessive and irrational on that subject.”
Peter laughed in relief and joy. Laughing directly into Tony’s mouth seemed rude so he leaned his head back and laughed that way. He felt giddy. “Yes, please yes. Please. I want to get ‘Property Of Tony Stark’ tattooed across my back.
“Oh god no. Please no. Do you have any idea how many people did that hoping I’d be impressed and it would become true? Nope. No. No way.”
“Ah damn, then I’ll think of something else.”
“I can think of something that will make sure everyone knows you belong to me,” Tony said with a smirk. “Not telling you yet though.”
“I want you to be my first time, Tony, all my first times. I don’t know what else to have first times for, but please think of some and then be my first.”
“Oh baby, we haven’t even touched one tenth of the first times you can have. There are entire places on that beautiful body of yours that I haven’t made love to yet. Much less places we can do it in. Positions. Locations. Methods. I can be very imaginative.”
“Oh god yes locations! Locations. I’ll let you take me anywhere on the globe, anywhere, I won’t protest, I swear.” He felt too dizzy to walk. He kept his arms around Tony’s neck as they tried to move away from the elevator. It made them move slowly, but he was afraid to let go.
“Then that just makes ‘first times’ at least several hundred locations. Sixty of them owned by me. Several rented. And then there are hotels to stay at.
“All of them, Tony. Each one. We have years.”
“We happen to find ourselves in the penthouse tonight and I’m not willing to wait til the jet can fly us somewhere else. But there are many many things we’ve yet to do right here.
“Yes,” Peter said, kissing him again. “Anything.”
“Anything I want?”
“Oh… crap…” Peter pulled his head away a little and tried to clear it. He had to be honest… Being honest had been a big deal to him since Paris. And ‘anything’ was a very big word.
“Unh unh. You already agreed. No backing out now, beautiful.” Tony kissed Peter deeply.
“Okay,” he whimpered a bit against Tony’s mouth. “…but you also said I had to tell you the truth about being afraid of bedroom things so I’m trying to do both.
“All I know is, if I’ve never done it before, I want to do it with you. I need it to be you.”
“Oh you’ve done this before. It’s not a first in that way. You did say locations, though. I was listening very closely, Pete. I always listen to you.”
“Oh… oh good.” He grinned from ear to ear. Tony listening to him was all he wanted.
“Hmm. First, location. Time for other things later.” Tony took Peter’s hand and started slowly walking him away from the elevator doors, unbuttoning Peter’s shirt, dropping it on the floor, kissing him as they walked, unbuttoning his pants while he was being kissed and walked, pushing his pants and underwear down and nearly tripping the kid when they got hung up on his shoes.
Peter was too happy to think straight. He happily helped Tony get him undressed as they walked. If they were headed to the bedroom to do it on the bed, he didn’t care. Just as long as he was skin-to-skin with his lover soon.
When Peter’s shirt came off, Tony’s quickly did too. When Peter’s pants came off, Tony was a little more deft, realizing shoes were a thing and toeing his off as he stepped out of his jeans. They were naked together, Tony wrapped his arms around Peter, anything to keep him distracted from where he was walking him to. Which wasn’t the bedroom. They were still in the living room for now.
Tony slowed their walk as they passed the console table. He opened the drawer and grabbed one of the small bottles of lube he had hidden all over the penthouse. As he wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist, he kept the bottle in one hand. He started kissing Peter again, edging their progress along the large glass wall.
“Ever get fucked 96 stories in the air before?” Tony kissed him again.
“The… the window? Oh Tony…”
“Not the window, baby. I’m gonna bend you over the balcony railing, looking straight down to the ground. Where anyone over there in One Vanderbilt will be able to see you bent over, taking my cock in your ass. Watch you getting the glass messy.”
“No no no. Tony, we’re outside!”
“Um hmm. Outside where they can see how beautiful you are. You are so beautiful Peter. Stunning. You belong to me and you’re one more thing that’s beautiful and mine that they can only look at.
“But Tony… Tony… Tony…”
“But don’t worry, baby. All they’re going to see is how lucky I am to have the most handsome young man in the city all to myself.
“But Tony…”
He held Peter close and kissed along his jaw until he was whispering in his ear. “But what, baby? You know you’re beautiful. You know your mine. You know how much I want you.”
Tony gently turned Peter around, holding him by the waist, pressed up against his back, nuzzling into the nape of his neck. “The lights from all those people out there… Not one of them has anyone as beautiful as you.” Tony kept shifting the lube bottle from hand to hand as he touched Peter, so the kid never knew it was there. Ever since Peter had noticed and remarked on it, it was a game Tony liked to play against himself. How to do the ‘magically appearing lube’ trick.
“But Tony… I… I… Tony I… ” Peter took in great gulping lungfuls of air. He had no fear of heights, never had. In fact he thought Tony’s balcony was one of the most beautiful places on earth. But he was outside, and completely naked, and that was just all kinds of wrong.
But then again, Tony was naked too. Naked, and pressed up against his back and saying the most beautiful things. Peter took another deep breath.
“Okay. I can do it,” he whispered. “If you stay close.”
“Where else would I be, Peter. I won’t let you be anywhere but close to me.” Tony’s hand wandered over his body. Up along his stomach, his chest, his neck, holding him there just a second before moving down his sides to his hip. He moved Peter’s ass back against him.
Peter gasped at the feel of Tony’s hand on his hips and moaned as he felt where Tony was moving him. He needed to make himself understood before he was beyond speech.
Reaching behind him he found the back of Tony’s head and pulled it to his own, until he had Tony’s face pressed against his face. “No, I mean stay close.”
“Baby, I’m gonna be right there kissing those pretty curls on your neck. I can’t resist them. I’ve gotta taste your skin. I’ve gotta put those beautiful marks on it. The ones I don’t even share with you. The ones that show that you’re mine.
“I love that no one else has ever touched you. No one else will ever touch you.” Tony rocked up against Peter, growing hard, frotting along the crack of his ass. His hand slid down from his waist to rest on his belly, just above his cock. He held the solid warmth of it there, then moved lower.
“I should let you have all the experiences someone your age would have. But all of those are mine too.”
“Yes, yes... yes,” he chanted, loving every word that was whispered against his ear. “Yes Tony.
“Oh… but we forgot… you forgot…” Peter stopped and blushed and looked back a little. Tony had supplies hidden all over the penthouse, making sex possible in just about every room. But there were no night tables on the balcony.
Suddenly he found himself grinning. “You’ll have to go back for the lube.”
“I will?” he asked skeptically. To be the ultimate of sneaky, he’d have to not touch Peter with either hand and Peter had asked him to stay close. He wouldn’t let go.
“Not just yet. Kiss me again… oh…”
Tony opened the bottle, giving it a squeeze, and let it run down the crack of Peter’s ass. He bent over Peter’s back a little more and set the bottle on the tile. His finger stroked through the thick lube, pushing it between Peter’s cheeks, fingertip swirling around Peter’s opening.
“Oh Tony…” Peter whispered. He couldn’t say much else. He was trying to remember to breathe. Tony had touched him like this many times, but being touched this way outside? It was somehow a completely different sensation. Still, he knew Tony liked it when he said something other than “Oh Tony.” So he tried again.
“Please keep talking to me.”
Tony was surprised that Peter could say anything, even at this early state. His voice was thin and reedy, almost carried away on the night air. He bent over the boy and kissed between his shoulder blades.
His voice was a low rumble against Peter’s back. “Do you want me to tell you how hot this beautiful place on your body makes me feel? Or perhaps how very special it is that you let me touch you here. That you let me own you here.” He paused. “Or perhaps you’d like me to tell you that there is someone on the 85th floor of One Vanderbilt watching us?”
“Stop…” Peter giggled. He didn’t really believe it, but he also didn’t care. In this moment, with Tony touching him there, no one else mattered in the world.
“Baby, you are always beautiful. But up here? Up where we fly? Where it’s just us? Beautiful doesn’t touch it.”
“Yes, it’s ours,” Peter murmured, hooking his arm behind him so he could stroke Tony’s hair. “Our sky.”
“I want to always see your skin glowing with the city lights. Like it was in Paris.” Tony pressed the head of his cock lightly where his fingers had been. Not entering. Just giving Peter exactly what they both wanted, knowing what they both liked.
“Oh Tony, what are you doing to me?” Peter murmured, eyes half-closed. He could do that, he realized. Could close his eyes and just concentrate on the sensation, on the sound of Tony’s voice, on the warm, solid presence of Tony’s body. Forget, for a moment, that they were outside. Forget that they were on display.
Tony stayed bent across Peter’s back. “I’m touching you,”
He guided the tip of his cock inside. “I’m touching you.”
He wrapped his arm around Peter’s waist and held his hand low across the boy’s belly. “I’m touching you.”
He let his cock go with his other hand, wiping it quickly on his own hip. He tangled his fingers in Peter’s hair with a slight tug. “I’m touching you.”
“Yes, please yes…” Peter moaned. He leaned back into Tony’s embrace, eyes closed, and waited. Tony would tease his opening like this for quite a while, he knew. Tony knew how much he enjoyed it.
But then again tonight was different. Two weeks ago he had done what Tony had told him to do — he had dared to request something bold. It backfired terribly, but ultimately it had paid off. Ultimately, it led them both here. To a better place. He was going to remember tonight. Tonight should be different.
Turning his head slightly, until his lips were touching Tony’s face, he kissed his lover, screwed up his courage, and whispered “Fuck me.”
Tony pressed the head of his cock in very slowly, waiting to feel that little pop as Peter closed around behind it. He held still at that point. “Is this what you want? Tell me what you want. Tell me again.”
Peter took a deep, steadying breath. It wasn’t as hard to do once Tony stopped moving. That was the beauty of this game Tony played. Knowing that Tony wouldn’t move until he was able to speak made speaking so much easier. Gave him room to breathe. He did that now.
Looking up at the sky gave him courage. Knowing that it was their playground, their territory, made him braver even though he wasn’t wearing the suit.
Keeping his eyes on it, on the sky, he knew he could do it. Firmly, he reached up and took Tony’s hand away from his head. Firmly, he took both of Tony’s hands and guided them to his hips, never taking his eyes off the sky. Firmly, he spoke.
“Fuck me,” he growled. “Don’t be gentle.”
Tony kept one hand gripping Peter’s hip. The other arm he wrapped tightly around his waist, almost completely encircling it, putting his other hand next to the first on Peter’s same hip. Holding him firm, making sure that he wouldn’t accidentally push him over the railing — not a fun way to end the evening — Tony pulled back and thrust into Peter all at once, fast, hard, not at all gentle.
“You think you can handle that, baby?” Tony asked.
“More…”
Tony reached up and grabbed Peter by the top of his hair, yanking it hard, pulling his back up against his chest so tightly he could feel the cold metal circle of the arc reactor between his shoulder blades. He fucked upwards, lifting Peter onto his toes with the force of it.
Peter let out a sharp cry of surprise. Normally he bit his mouth down hard when he heard his voice. It always sounded too loud to his own ears. But being outside, he realized very suddenly, had an advantage. Instead of biting down he opened his mouth and let it hang open. Then, whatever happened, happened.
He landed Peter onto the flat of his feet when he pulled back, then lifted him up again when he entered. Tony couldn’t get very deep in this position, but Peter’s cries were very satisfying. Not gentle, not quiet, at all. But loud. Louder than Peter ever dared in the bedroom. He knew they were carried away on the wind. Off to the skies where they both felt at home.
What Tony was doing to him was a very different sensation, and for several moments he let Tony continue. It wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t deep either. As soon as he was able, he caught his breath long enough to speak. “Stop… stop…” he gasped, reaching back and touching Tony’s hip.
Tony settled Peter down onto his feet again, pulling back, leaving only the head inside him. “What, baby? What do you want?”
“Back up… back up a step…” Peter managed. It wasn’t easy to talk without air, but Peter didn’t want to wait to catch his breath. He pushed Tony back a few steps until he was able to lean forward, putting himself more at a 90° angle. Then he looked back with (what he hoped was) a wicked grin. “Now do it.”
Tony kissed the grin off Peter’s lips and then figuring out what he wanted, returned that grin with a smirk. He slipped out from him and raised Peter up a few inches to where he was bent over the narrow pane of the short glass balcony wall until the boy was looking straight down at the ground, 96 floors below, bent at that 90° angle he was asking for.
“You’ve climbed the tower before, Spider-Man. Get sticky and hold yourself up.”
“Oh fuck Tony,” he gasped, but his hands found exactly what they needed instantly.
“Yes.”
“Hold on tight, Pete,” Tony said, guiding himself inside again, then giving a hard push to seat himself. When Spider-Man stayed stuck and didn’t move with the force of his thrust, he increased that force and slammed in.
Looking straight down from great heights was nothing new to Peter, nor was feeling Tony trust deep inside him. But those two things together? Peter was grateful they were outside. The noises he was making now were completely involuntary. He couldn’t have kept quiet if he wanted to.
Peter’s feet were dangling in the air, so Tony held still, buried all the way in, until the kid’s toes found purchase on the inside of the glass the same way his fingers had on the outside of it. Like that, Peter wasn’t going anywhere and Tony let himself go. Fucking hard and fast with deep long strokes.
He knew that Peter always needed a grounding touch, but the position didn’t allow for much of that. So he splayed his hand flat out on the small of his back without pressure but warmth.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it, baby. All the beautiful world down there.”
“Fuck, Tony…” was all Peter could manage. He didn’t think Tony could see his face, so he didn’t try to hide his smile. Never in his life had he imagined anyone could fuck him this way.
“And my beautiful world right here so far above the other.”
The sight surrounding them both and the hot, tight sensation of Peter’s ass surrounding him was bringing him close, fast. His stroke grew shallow, his groans joining Peter’s cries on their flight through the New York skies. He let go of Peter’s hip, trusting the boy to hold himself in place, and slid his hand down underneath Peter, wrapping his fingers around the boy’s cock.
Whimpering, Peter lowered himself back to his feet and stood on shaky legs. He kept Tony inside him without effort (it was a good thing, being graceful.) He was so hard he was dizzy, but he concentrated on what Tony wanted to do next.
Back down on earth (well the earth 96 floors above the ground) Tony’s hand sought out all of Peter’s most sensitive places. His thumb sliding just below the slit as his hand stroked the boy’s shaft. He bit his lip trying to hold back his own impending orgasm.
“Oh Tony, what are you doing to me?”
“You’re gonna make my glass messy, baby. Wanna see you dripping down it.”
Peter reached backward with both arms and pressed his hands on Tony’s back. Eyes open, looking up into the sky, he leaned his head back and let it happen. If anyone was listening at that height, they would have no doubt who was fucking the twink at the balcony. Peter shouted Tony’s name endlessly into the night.
Tony watched Peter come on the railing, the sight was almost enough to send him over on its own. The strain of the boy’s body tightening around him… that was always irresistible. But when he heard Peter cry out, scream out his name… Tony hadn’t come so hard in his life.
With both hands on the rail, Peter tried to catch his breath. His head was spinning. He was pretty sure he had just been way too loud, but then again, Tony had been loud too… in fact… had he ever heard Tony be that loud? He couldn’t help but peek, looking back over his shoulder in hopes to catch a glimpse of Tony’s face before he had time to compose himself.
Tony’s mouth was still hanging open (ah, but Tony had been making some loud noises too, Peter was going to remember that) and his eyes were wide, looking up at the sky, just as Peter had done. Peter found himself grinning from ear to ear. It was a very, very rare thing to catch Tony not focusing on him. For a moment, just a moment, he had caught it. An unguarded moment. He treasured it. He wondered if there was a way to find it again.
As Tony slipped out of him he turned around and brought their heads close, draping his hands lightly behind his lover’s head.
“Property of Tony Stark,” Peter murmured, kissing his face. “You’re going to write it across my chest every morning with a sharpie.”
“Nah. Gonna make you write it on my windows with your come. Peter Parker was here. Tony Stark made him messy. Gonna let you write it on my chest when you’re riding me. Make you write it on my sheets.”
“No one will be able to read that,” Peter giggled, leaning his head back and looking up at the sky again. Their sky. His and Tony’s.
He leaned over and kissed Peter. “No one except the cleaning staff,” he said with a shrug.
“But I want everyone to know.”
Tony cupped Peter’s face and brought him into a long, deep kiss. “Baby, when you’re really ready, everyone will know.”
“I’m ready,” Peter whispered.
Anyone could get his name tattooed on their ass. People he never met had it there. He’s signed more girls’ chests with Sharpie than he ever cared to remember. But only one person would ever have something made out of gold-titanium alloy with the words ‘Property of Tony Stark’ engraved inside of it.
“No, Pete, you’re not. But when you are, I’ll be here.”
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thestarkerisobvious · 1 year ago
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OH YEAH that reminds me I wrote this
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my ONLY Lokius fic ever.
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LOKI | 2x02 "Breaking Brad"
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thestarkerisobvious · 5 months ago
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Daddy I Need You
inspired by this amazing moodboard by @muse-of-gods
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TW: panic attacks, physical stress reactions
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Daddy I Need You
That wasn’t what the text said, of course.  Not on Tony’s main phone.  A phrase like that.
THAT kind of talk only happened on a different device.  And Tony wouldn't be looking for messages from Pete on THAT device until tonight.  Tony’s main phone, an SI prototype, was supposed to be unhackable.  But that, of course, just made it a target.  That’s why they kept that kind of talk on the special phone.
What Peter DID sent Tony on his main phone was in code.
//DINY//
Tony blinked at the four letters on his phone.  No one should have been able to text him during THIS meeting.  But Peter’s number was different.  Peter seemed to need something.  But it could probably wait…
//diNy//
Tony stood up, took his briefcase, and left the meeting.
There would be hell to pay later - Pepper’s eyes were daggers - but “Daddy I Need You” was one of the safe words.  Safe phrases, really.  It meant important business.  NOT arms-dealer-shipment-ship-cut-in-two business.  Not Avenger business.  It meant Peter business.
Personal business.
Usually, the kind you couldn’t really talk about with the lights on.  With your clothes on.  THAT kind of business.
Normally safety words were to make the intimacy STOP, but Peter had Tony had realized early on, they were anything but Normal.  That’s why they had an entire Safety Lexicon - things they could say that would stop ALL conversation or action and bring attention to the problem at hand.  Tony had just never received that phrase in a TEXT before.  His brain raced as he tried to find a private place to have the private conversation.  This wasn’t Avenger business - Peter SHOULDN’T be involved in Avenger business.
Peter was SUPPOSED to be preparing for his last final.  His FINAL final - the very last lest he would take before officially have enough credits to graduate.  He wouldn’t GRADUATE graduate until the end of the term, of course - thus Tony scheduling these back-to-back meeting on the other side of the country.  When Peter’s graduation ceremony happened in May, Tony would be there, along with a huge cheering section, ready to paint the whole Columbia campus red.  Hot Rod red.  That’s why Tony was spending December in LA, leaving his young lover alone.  Peter was using his entire Penthouse as a study-space for these last few credits.  They weren’t even HARD credits, just technicality-credits.  Classes he could breeze through and test out early, things he needed to officially get the first degree.
So why was Peter needing him now?
Finally Tony found a small room with a door he could close to have the conversation.  From his briefcase pulled out a special pair of glasses - another SI prototype that the world wouldn't see the market for another 5 years or so.  He switched them on and started talking.
“Hey Bambino, what's wrong?  Talk to me.”
There was a moment’s pause.  Then, much to Tony’s surprise, another text.
//Daddy, I need you.//
“I’m here, angel.  What’s wrong?” Tony said, trying not to sound impatient.  Peter KNEW how important these meetings were.  This time Tony and Pepper were investing in LA were necessary to free Tony’s schedule for the next several months.  They had PLANNED it this way - planned for Tony to be gone so Peter could focus on his last finals.  Planned on Tony and Pepper camping out in LA to wrap up all their business dealings in one fell swoop before Tony took a leave of absence from the company.  All so he could spend more time with Peter.  That had been the PLAN.  Why was Peter screwing with the plan now?
There was a long pause.  A pause Tony didn’t like.  There were times Peter “needed” him, like when he was feeling melancholy over the death of his uncle.  Then there were times Peter “needed” him as in a ferry full of people had split in half and he couldn’t physically keep the entire ship together by brute strength alone.
He tried a different strategy.  Using the holoscreen available with the glasses, he pulled up a keyboard and started typing.
//Daddy’s here, bambino.  Tell me what’s happening.//
//I’m scared Daddy// was the immediate reply.
That made Tony blink.  Scared?!  His Uncanny Spiderman?  The one with radioactive blood?  The kid who clung to and entered an alien ship after he had SPECIFICALLY ordered the kid to return to earth??   The kid who had saved the life of Dr. Strange with his arcane movie knowledge and his willingness to risk being sucked out of a space ship into instant death?  Already Tony’s mind was calculating how long it would take to get from LA to New York if he suited up and took off from on top of the building they were in right now.
Still, he texted calmly.
//Talk to me, baby.  Tell Daddy’s what’s wrong.//
//Its over//
//What’s over, baby?//
//The last test.  Differential Equations.  I’m done.//
//That’s good, isn’t it?//
//I don’t know what’s wrong my hearts hammering and I//
Tony watched the words appear on the screen.  Then he watched Peter delete them.  He waited patiently as Peter struggled to put it all into words. 
//I can’t breath and I//
Deleted.
//Concrete is hard to breathe//
Tony’s brow furrowed as he tried to translate the line even as Peter deleted it.  Finally Peter settled on a sentence that summed it up perfectly.
//I feel funny, Daddy.//
Tony took off the glasses.  He held them a few inches in front of his face, activating the camera.  He spoke.
“Peter, you’re having a panic attack,” he said calmly.  “Turn on your camera and talk to me.”
Silence.  
Tony took a deep breath and tried again.
“BABY, be a good boy and activate the camera now.  Don’t tell Daddy no.”
//You’ll be mad//
“Why would Daddy be mad?  Bambino, Daddy knows a lot more about panic attacks than you do. I promise I won’t get mad, but you're going to be a good boy now and do what Daddy says.  Activate your camera now.  Don’t make me count to three."
The audio came on before the visual.  Tony could hear Peter sniffle.  Then the image appeared. 
“Oh, angel,” Tony said softly, licking his lips automatically.  “Why do you have on your pretty clothes?”
“I don’t know,” Peter said in a tiny voice, sniffling again.  
He wore his special pink collar with the silver heart in the center.  His pale chest was bare except for the delicate white “harness” Tony had bought for him, made entirely of heart-shaped fabric.  He had his pink fan in one hand, but he was hugging it to himself.     
“I thought they would make me feel better.”
“Did it?”
“A little.  I was going to take a picture for you and save it for later, but I couldn’t…”
He sniffled again, and Tony knew all he needed to know.  Peter had tried to calm down and put on a cheerful face.  To make himself feel better.  But when he found he couldn’t calm himself down, it only made everything worse.  Until finally Peter had to call for help.
“Alright sweet angel, you’re with Daddy now,” Tony said calmly.  Firmly.  “I’m going to put my hand on your chest now - is this where it feels funny?”
“Yes sir.”
“Is your heart pounding?”
“It's been going on for hours.”
“Oh baby, that sounds miserable.”
“I was suited up so I swung around the tower forever but I couldn't make it stop.  “I came inside and took a shower but it just keeps going.  And I thought… I thought…”
“You thought getting dressed in your pretty clothes might help?  It’s okay, angel.  Daddy’s going to rub your chest for a while and try to make you feel better.  Can you tell me what concrete breathing means?”
Tears formed in Peter’s eyes.
“It’s okay, bambino.  Daddy’s got you.  Just help me understand.”
“I told you…”
He sobbed and tried to catch his breath enough to speak.
“I told you about how Tooms dropped a building on me once…”
“Yes, but that was ages ago.  Way back when you were in high school.  Why are we talking about concrete now?”
“That’s what it feels like… I can’t…”  He demonstrated, trying to take a deep breath, panting and moaning when he failed.  “I try to breathe but nothing… it feels like I’m breathing concrete dust.  I can feel it in my throat.  I think I’ve been poisoned Tony…”
“Shhhhh angel, you haven’t been poisoned - mean you HAVE.  That’s adrenaline surging through your system - angel you're a superhero, and you have superhero adrenaline poisoning you right now.  That feels EXACTLY like breathing concrete dust.  Your throat hurts because every muscle in your body is tense.  You can't take a deep breath because your lungs are trying to take shallow breaths to send enough oxygen to your muscles.  You’re whole body is ready to run, but there’s no where to run to.  
“But Daddy’s got you.  Daddy’s going to hold you very close, and rock you back and forth.  I’m even going to get a blanket.  And get you under it.  Daddy’s going to rub the back of your neck and see if that helps.  Maybe I'll get Baby some cold ice cream for your throat…”
There was silence for a moment.  Dammit this wasn’t working.  Tony needed to be there, on the other other side of the country.  Maybe if he…
“Will you feed it to me?”
Peter’s voice was so tiny it took a moment to understand what he had said.  Then Tony understood, and smiled.
“Of course I’m going to feed it to you.”
“With a spoon?”  
“Of course Daddy is… wait…”  Tony was all grins now.  “I thought Baby didn’t like it when I spoon-fed him before bed.”
“I think I might like it tonight, Daddy.”
"Okay then bambino, you’re the boss.  Now tell Daddy what happened .  Did something go wrong with your final?"
“No, it was so easy,” Peter said, his voice choking with emotion.  “And I was way over prepared, just like you said I was.  And it’s done.  And everything was going fine, and I had said goodbye to everybody, but then, just out of nowhere..."
"It hit you.  You're done, Peter.  You have your first degree in math from Columbia university.  You graduated in record time.  You didn’t beat MY record, obviously… but if you did you’d still be a minor and we wouldn’t be having this conversation..."
“But it should feel good!!”  Peter bleated out, sitting up for the first time, leaning into the holoscreen towards Tony’s face.  As if Tony were there (where he should be.)  As if Tony could hold him (as he should do.)  
“Shouldn’t it feel good!?  To graduate?!”
He broke out in fresh sobs, looking around him in terror, struggling to breathe.
Tony waited for the moment to pass.  Then, he spoke.
“Peter, look at me.”  He didn’t speak until he was obeyed.  “Come on, look at Daddy now.  You can do it…”
Finally, Peter’s eyes met his.
It wasn’t easy, looking into Peter’s tear-stained eyes, but he did it.  He leaned forward and he spoke.
“I don’t remember graduating, bambino.  I know there was a ceremony, because there are pictures.  Bu tI have no memory of it.  I went out with my friends that night and got black out drunk and woke up in rehab.”
He watched Peter blink and sat back in satisfaction.  “You didn’t read about that in your Tony Stark Research, did you bambi?  Obadiah was pretty good at keeping things like that under wraps.  
“Now you listen to me, little mister.  You know I’ve always admired you, the way you just tackle life without benefit of alcohol or substances, just raw-dogging it through sheer force of will.  But right now, I’m going to send Friday a selection of wine from the rack and Dum-E is going to deliver it to the bathroom.  I want you to draw yourself a very hot bath…”
“But I can’t get drunk, Daddy.  You know it doesn’t take…”
“But it tastes good, baby.  That’s all you can do right now, is try to feel good in your body until your superhero adrenaline leaves you in peace.  Is there any ice cream left in the fridge?  I’d order you some chocolate-covered strawberries, but then someone would have to deliver it…”
“You could have the delivery person just put it in the special elevator, then push the button, and step out.  Or someone could stand in the elevator and then just hand it to Dum-E…”
“If I do that, will you be in the bathtub, baby?  I want you to make it really hot, with lots of bubbles.  Make it  just as hot as you can stand it.  You’re going to…”
He took a deep breath and tried to speak as calmly as possible.
“You’re going to crash, baby.  There’s no stopping it.  So now your job is to find the softest place to land possible…”
“I’m scared, Tony…” Peter said, his breath hitching again.
“Of what, baby?”
“Of crashing.  I don’t know what it feels like.”
“It feels like this, angel.  It feels just like this.  This is the worst of it, Peter.  Now all you have to do is wait it out.  Wait till it gets better.  And it does get better, Pete.  I promise.  
“Now, what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to…”  
Peter took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders.  He shook his head a little.
Then he looked down at himself.  He grinned a little, as if remembering, for the first time, what he was wearing.
He opened up his pink fan and held it over his chest.
“I’m going to ask what Daddy is going to do to me when he gets home.”
“That’s not what Daddy said to… oh…”  Tony grinned.  He had ordered Peter into a hot bubble  bath and, well?  Tony knew what Peter liked to think about when he was bathing alone.
“Okay, well, what do you want Daddy to do to you first?”
“I want you to  - well not at first - but… I want you to put me up against the headboard.  On my knees.  Facing the wall.”
“Oh… oh that sounds very nice, baby.  But what is Daddy going to do first?”
“Oh, first you’re going to tell me to put on my pretty clothes.  And then you’re going to tell me to take off my pretty clothes…”  He touched the silver heart on his kitten collar, playing with it.  Tony’s heart swelled with pride.  THIS had been Peter’s plan from the beginning - to put on his special clothes and think of Tony.  Tony who would certainly take care of him in his hour of need… even if he shed some tears along the way. 
“All right then, angel.  So after the pretty clothes come off, and then you’re facing the wall right up against the headboard, with your hands on the wall?  Do you like it like that, baby?  And then what does Daddy do to you?”
“I like it when you kiss my face and scrape your chin against my neck and ear and… and I like it when you say ‘Daddy needs to be inside you.’  I like it when you’re so far gone you growl it…”
“You're a liar. Daddy never growls,” he said, his voice failing him.  He had to regain his composure, and soon.  He had to walk away from this conversation and walk back into a meeting.  There were millions of dollars on the line…
“You do growl it, Daddy.  And then your whole body shivers and you sink your teeth into my shoulder…”
Tony was speechless.  
“Will you say it when you get back, Daddy?”  Peter asked now in his perfect “kitten” voice.  He was wiping the tears from his eyes.  
“Say what, baby?” Tony managed.
“Say, ‘Daddy needs to be inside you?’”
Tony took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders.  He shook himself a little and then, staring straight into the camera, into Peter’s eyes, he spoke.
“This is what you’re going to do, angel.  You’re going to find the biggest mirror in the penthouse, and you're going to make a nice, soft pallet in front of it.  You’re going to be on your knees there, so use lots of blankets, and make it soft.”
“Why, Daddy?”
“Oh, because Daddy is going to be done with these meetings sooner than you think.  And when I get home, I’m going to put you right on that pallet, right in front of that mirror.  And do you know what I’m going to do to you then, baby?”
“Are you going to make me show you my pretty clothes?”  Peter asked.  He had his pink fan open and covering his chest.  He lowered it now, using the slender fingers of his other hand to play over the hearts that made up his soft harness. 
“Oh no, baby.  Daddy’s going to fuck you right in front of that mirror.
“And then Daddy’s going to make you watch.”
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starker-stories · 5 years ago
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Our Turn
Also on AO3
There was a post. It yielded this story. There’s not exactly spitroasting, but we hope it’ll fit the bill.
itfeelssogoodmrstark Can I get Peter being spitroasted by Tony and SIM!Tony. Or Tony and Tony’s Ironman suit, bye.
Tagging the inspiration-er: @itfeelssogoodmrstark​
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By @thestarkerisobvious​ and @starker-stories​
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This is a Messages Interlude to the Messages series. The same versions of Peter & Tony as in those stories. But not a part of the run of the series. The Interludes are little bits of (usually) PWP written just for fun, because we can't get enough of this version of them. 
 Our Turn is a direct sequel to Your Turn. It can, however, be read as a stand-alone Interlude.
Tags: Bondage, Armor Kink, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Finger Sucking, Aftercare, Established Relationship, Tony Stark Still Has Arc Reactor, Iron Man Armor
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‘What does that feel like’ Peter had asked. When the question was posed, Tony simply answered with a smirk rather than an immediate demonstration. Leave the kid hanging. Leave him wondering if it would happen. Leave him wondering when it would happen. Leave him wondering ‘what does that feel like’.
He’d answer the occasional question about the situation. Though never too detailed. The requests for details were met with that same knowing smirk.
“Bend me over a table first, Tony, I’ve never done it that way,” he whispered, more than once, when Tony headed them toward the bed, but Tony always managed to say no.
“Already shut the lab down for the night. Gonna have to wait a while longer,” Tony said, putting the question off again.
Another time when Peter had been asking questions again, in the middle of his unanswered questions, Peter suddenly stopped to ask, “Wait! Tony… what if I break the table?”
“That possibility has already been considered, Parker.”
Peter never gave up. But then maybe that was because it had been almost two weeks and it still hadn’t happened.
“So how much information does the suit actually give you, other than what damage it’s taking? I mean I assume you don’t let it feed you information about pain, that wouldn’t be helpful.”
“Actually, it’s very helpful. Lets you know how much damage and resistance is left. So yeah. Pain sensors are included. FRIDAY reports many different kinds of external sensations.
“Reports the sensations. So it’s not like you’re feeling them yourself.”
Tony gave a sideways shrug of his head. With a little shake or nod… it was hard to figure out which.
“So if you were blind, assuming you could be, could you feel your way through a tunnel? That’s a stupid question I guess you have other sensors.
“You could, like, pet a cat, and tell it was soft, or something?”
“What about hot and cold? I assume you don’t want to know how cold it is when you’re flying…”
Having answered one sensation question, none of the others were. Let the kid wonder exactly what ‘reports sensation’ might mean.
They were in the lab the next time it was mentioned. “You won’t have to be gentle, when you do it, you know. I’m not really not a virgin this time…” Peter said with a wink.
“You’ll be in my lab, my lab table. I’ll be as gentle or as rough as I like.” But then, after having made it sound like it was about to happen, Tony opened a new project file and buried himself in the details of it, working until almost dawn.
After a week Peter asked the question one more time. They were in the shower before bed and he boldly turned his back to Tony, balanced himself against the wall and began to walk his hands down, utilizing his acrobatic skills and shamelessly presenting his ass. When he was at a perfect ninety degree angle he turned back and looked playfully over his shoulder. “You never bent me over the lab table, you know. And you promised.”
The sex was good that night, but no more mention of the table was had. Peter turned it over in his mind after Tony had fallen asleep. Was it possible he was being annoying? Tony never seemed unhappy with his questions, but he also never offered to do the specific thing Peter was asking for. He didn’t like asking Tony for things more than once (and in bed he never had to ask twice.) Either Tony was on board with something, or he wasn’t, and if he wasn’t, Peter let it drop. Maybe sex-over-a-table was something Tony had in the past and didn’t enjoy? He was well aware that Tony had very specific opinions about angles and sex. And being a good lover, well, that had always been Tony’s top priority. In any case, Peter wasn’t going to nag.
He was a little disappointed about the table, however. Tony was his first and only lover, and if Tony never fucked him over a lab table, no one would.
No more questions had been asked for almost three days. No assumptions put forth. No teasing. Peter did tend to have a little sad puppy face, though, when he would look over at the table Tony was using to poke around at a bit of holographic projection.
He was working on a holographic wireframe of the suit, down near where the boot’s foot joined the leg. It was enlarged to see the details. But apparently not enlarged enough. Tony looked over at the workstation they’d set up for Peter to do his school experiments on.
“Pete, can you get your hand into this wireframe, right about here?” Tony asked, pointing to a narrow opening in the design that was low, close to the table.
Peter squeezed in between him and the hologram. Did he push his ass against his lover, just a little bit? No of course he didn’t. Okay maybe a little. The hour was getting late, after all.
“Tease. We’re working. I need your hand in this bit here,” Tony said, pointing over to the left side, making Peter need to turn his head in that direction, almost tilted upside down looking up at a joint just out of reach.
“If you move in from the front with your right hand… no… like this.” He put his hand on Peter’s right wrist, moving it into position.
Cold metal fingers closed around his left wrist.
Peter reacted instantly, yanking his wrist away and attempting to jump into a more defensive position (usually when he was attacked it was from the north-eastern corner of the room. He never knew why. But over the years, no matter how much he had changed, he still preferred to observe before attacking.)
The suit moved with him, but did not release his wrist. Metal fingers closed over Peter’s right shoulder, pinning him down to the table.
“Tony?” He asked, mildly alarmed. He had heard of, but never witnessed, the suit attacking when it mistook a Tony-nightmare for an attack, and the story of Rhodey’s hacked-suit was legendary.
“Yeah?” Tony asked as he reached to the front of Peter’s pants, giving a hard pull on either side of the button and zipper, popping one and tearing the other. Another quick tug and the jeans were tangled around Peter’s ankles.
“Tone— oh… oh…”
Boxers found their way to the floor next, leaving Peter’s ass exposed to the cool air of the room. The suit’s hand moved from Peter’s wrist to his other shoulder.
Peter’s brain put two and two together rather quickly. His body, on the other hand, seemed satisfied with gaping, his eyes as wide as saucers, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it. One hand was still on the table, held there with an iron grip. His other arm flailed about for purchase, but he was unable to rise enough to find it. The suit’s second hand was holding him down to the table, and suddenly he found himself panicking and he cried out…
“Tony? Tony?! I’ll break the table!”
Tony chuckled. “Don’t you think that someone with a vibranium-reinforced bed would’ve already thought about that possibility?
“You’re going exactly nowhere that I don’t want you to go.”
“But… wait, the table? When did you… oh god…” Even as his brain calculated calmly (Tony’s putting him off constantly, Tony getting the table installed, Tony’s ruse with the wireframe, damn that man was good), his body continued to behave as if he were in a fight. His free arm found its way around and now he had the suit’s wrist in his grip… oh god, was he really wrestling with the suit? While naked? This was some strange fantasy-turned-wet-dream come true. If only he could stop fighting, but his body didn’t seem to be taking orders. He didn’t want to get free, after all… he had been waiting for this for so damn long. His legs, at least, were obeying — as long as he didn’t engage those muscles he could cooperate. Could stay obediently in this position and let Tony fuck him hard just like they had planned. If only Tony would give him a little bit of time to adjust…
Peter felt a pair of flat-bottomed scissors at the hem of his shirt and as Tony moved his hand up Peter’s back, his shirt began to be cut away. Straight up over his spine, then down each sleeve, until it lay on the table loose under him. A tug from Tony’s hand pulled the cut fabric away.
Tony gave a kick to one of Peter’s ankles, spreading his legs wide to one side, untangling his pants at the same time, leaving Peter completely naked.
“No Tony please!”
“No?” Tony asked skeptically. A metal cuff emerged from the table leg and closed around Peter’s ankle.
His yelp would have been a scream but he didn’t have enough air. Oh this was bad. This was very bad.
The knock against his leg had sent it into fight-mode and the cuff just made it worse. Now his brain AND body were creating joint plans. Vibranium or no vibranium, the weakest joint of the table was easily within reach and the suit wasn’t even TRYING to secure that hand and that table leg would make an excellent weapon no wait he didn’t want to wield a weapon, he’d kill Tony!
While Peter was struggling with his right ankle, it meant his left was holding himself upright. Which meant that it took Tony barely a push to knock the kid off balance and finish spreading his legs wide, the other ankle cuffed to the other leg of the table. Which took away any leverage Peter could achieve — wait, did he actually start to bend the middle of the vibranium table leg!?
Peter closed his eyes tight and squeezed down on the suit’s wrist and he tried to focus. He wanted this, had wanted this since the first time it had occurred to his little horny adolescent brain that being fingered by the suit would be so much hotter than playing with a sex-toy.
It didn’t work. Nothing was working, and his heart was hammering so hard he was afraid it would dent the table…
That gave him an idea.
“I’m caught between an Iron Man suit and a vibranium table, and I’m going to break one of them, Tony. Which one’s cheaper?”
That was good. That was like the banter he usually had with the bad guys, the kind that kept it light and reminded everyone there were non-violent ways out of the encounter. Reminding his body he wasn’t really in any danger.
“Out of date Mark. The 47. I built it able to withstand the shield, but go right ahead kid. Give it your best shot.”
Sending up a prayer that the table wouldn’t break (he had been looking forward to being taken while bent over a table for so long!) he strained to lift his right hand, lifting both it and the suit. An inch and a half off the table. There was no advantage of course, he was just making a point.
“I don’t want to break your suit, old man. It will hurt your feelings… wait…”
He managed to turn his head and feign a look back in Tony’s direction (all a ruse, he just needed to buy time. Still, it was working.)
“Where is your headset?”
“In my body. Haven’t needed that since the Mark 50. Of course I coded it to react with any of the old suits. Never know when you might need one to pin a little Spiderling to a table,” Tony said with a smug grin. One-handed, he pulled his t-shirt over his head by the back of its collar and tossed it away.
Tony’s snark was exactly what he needed. He could banter with Tony all day, it was second nature. Now, moving to turn his head felt less panicky. If only his heart would stop pounding…
“It’s heavy…” he said lifting his right hand off the table again, only by an inch, just to prove he could. Knowing that helped a little too. “How much does it weigh again?”
“Not much at all. Only twenty-five pounds,” Tony said, pushing Peter’s wrist back down to the table.
“Oh… bad. Breakable. Damn Tony you should have broken out those real old-fashioned ones… those big clunker ones, those before-I-was-born ones… I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy.” This was working. Pushing the suit and being pushed back was less like an attack and more like bedplay. He turned his head again and tried to concentrate on the suit’s wrist in his grip. He tried to stop squeezing, stopped trying to dig his fingers in to dent it, and tried to concentrate on the feel of it under his hand. This was the suit, and Peter had fantasized about it for so long. If only he could keep Tony talking…
“You were born before all of them. Even the Mark 1. Besides, the Mark 2 only weighed about thirty-five. Miniaturized tech. Composite alloys. Fancy stuff that they don’t teach kids about.” Tony popped open the button on his jeans and slid the zipper down. He let his pants fall down over his hips and stepped out of them.
“Is that all the fight you have in you, Parker?” Tony said with a smirk when Peter looked back at him again. Something cold and wet trickled down the crack of Peter’s ass and dripped off of the tip of his cock onto the floor.
“Fight it? I was hoping it would fuck me first.”
Peter heard the sound of two quick, sharp taps from behind him. Immediately he recognized the sound — Tony was engaging the arc reactor, but why? Now there was an almost silent whisper of metal on metal, something Peter’s spidersenses heard clearly, but Peter didn’t understand.
Until he felt the metal finger. There.
“Gotta open you up first before I fuck you.” More lube running down. Followed by something hard and dry and large teasing around his opening.
It was the last thing Peter had expected, and did nothing to convince his body he wasn’t in mortal danger.
He lifted his right hand from the table, not to get free but to interact, again, with this second lover, to think about those second pair of hands as Tony’s hands. Moving the hand gave him an idea. He began struggling with his right hand, just enough to keep the suit occupied, but not enough to remind his body he was in panic mode. Then, using the suit’s grip to pull against, jerked his body sharply to the right, sliding the suit’s hand with him.
He was still pinned to the table, but now he could turn his head and look directly into the suit’s face. The face of his dreams. The face of his most secret, never-confessed fantasies. (He might as well look at the suit-face. It felt, for the moment, that he was being fucked by it.)
Peter felt Tony’s right hand tighten just a little on his hip and the suit’s right hand pressed harder down on his wrist with a mechanical whir. A sound he’d heard before. The suit’s grip was applying power to hold him in place. and Peter’s traitorous brain made some quick calculations against his will. He had always assumed the suits were packing more punch than the Winter Soldier’s arm (after all the suit had two arms, and the assassin only had one) and for a moment it flashed across his mind that he might not have to worry about breaking the suit at all.
Not that it mattered. He had his face exactly where he wanted it now, and he was grinning. Feeling Tony’s hand tighten on his body was all he needed to remind himself where he was and why he was there.
He was more in control now — he hadn’t caught his breath and his heart was still pounding but suddenly he realized that was okay too. Tony could fuck him if he was breathless. Tony could fuck him with his heart pounding. It had been a very, very long time since he’d felt this sensation with Tony, this butterflies-on-crack sensation, but dammit, he had felt this way before before. And he remembered enjoying it.
“Please tell me I’m getting fucked by the suit tonight,” he managed, with what air he had. He couldn’t sound bold so he just grinned and hoped that would suffice. “Please tell me that’s why you chose this one… that this is the sex one.”
Tony pushed his smooth, nanotech finger inside Peter. “I told you, no one but me gets to fuck you.” He didn’t move his finger in and out, but instead moved it in a circle, pushing against Peter’s rim, stretching him wider.
“Jealous. You can’t even share me with your suit?” Peter began, but his words died in his mouth when he realized what Tony was doing.
“Jealous,” Tony confirmed. “Baby, I don’t even share you with myself.”
With the tech around it, his one finger was as thick as two would’ve been. “You’re so tight. Feel warm. Never did tell you what I meant by ‘reporting’, did I. Don’t need FRIDAY to do that for me.”
“…oh Tony,” Peter moaned. He tried to clamp down his mouth on the words but it was too late. He didn’t want to stop the banter just yet. Dammit the banter was the only thing he could control!
“Just how many nights did little Peter Parker stare up at that poster jerking off and imagine…” a second finger slid in next to the first “…the suit inside of him.”
He wanted to answer, to open his eyes again, wanted to smile up at the suit and flirt with it, wanted to make some comment about a gang-bang and something about ‘inappropriate use of Stark Tech’. But Tony was fingering him (and Tony could finger him better than most men could fuck) and more importantly, Tony was fingering him with the tech. Just the idea left Peter breathless. Tony had said something, had fed him a line, was waiting for a reply. But right now Peter was just trying not to whimper.
Two fingers were thick. But then, without a third added, they somehow became thicker. Almost as thick as Tony’s cock. He felt the smooth texture of the nanotech and his eyes went wide when he realized it was growing inside him. Somewhere a quiet part of his brain congratulated Tony on utilizing his expert knowledge of Peter’s body to create the perfect sex toy.
The rest of his brain, unfortunately, was headed right back into fight mode. He could just feel the quiet part of his mind sadly waving goodbye.
He couldn’t stop. He began to struggle helplessly with the hand holding him down. Trying to use the suit’s grip to pull himself further to the right no longer worked — the suit was wise to that move — and fighting the leg restraints only brought his predicament more sharply into focus. He could probably take the table apart, or at least rearrange the shape, but then what? He would still have the suit on top of him, and he was finally beginning to realize there wasn’t much he could do about that.
The two thickened fingers curled down and found the sensitive place inside Peter. And didn’t stop. Not when Peter started whimpering. Not when Peter started panting. Not even when Peter fell into his ‘ohgodTony’ moans.
But then the sounds Peter made went from moans into a hiss. His hips were twisting away from Tony’s fingers and he was fighting against the suit in earnest now, his face in a grimace. Now his teeth were clenched and he wasn’t pushing his hand up in the suit’s grip, he was trying to wrench free, his left foot sometimes struggling against the restraints and pulling up the leg of the table, sometimes flexing in the other direction, as if trying to push the table leg back into shape.
Tony didn’t remove his fingers but held them still. His other hand settled low on Peter’s back, spread wide, warm, solid. “Baby, shhh, shhh. Don’t hurt yourself. You can’t break free on your own. It’s impossible. But all you have to do is tell me plainly to stop. And I will stop. Then tell me which thing to stop. Tell me what you need, Peter.” Tony waited for Peter to be able to answer. “I’ll do whatever you need.”
Peter forced himself to freeze. Freeze and breathe. That meant breathing through clenched teeth, breathing while he moaned, but it was a start. He concentrated on Tony’s hand touching his back. If he had a hand free he would have reached for it. But without that, he had to speak.
“Just keep touching me,” he whispered. Whimpered. He hated the sound of his broken voice, hated the fact that he was begging, hated the humiliation he felt when he heard how small and broken he sounded. Still, Tony responded immediately.
Tony ran his hand down from the edge of his suit’s hand on Peter’s shoulder all the way back down to the center of his lower back and held it there. “You have me. It’s all me, baby, except on your ankles. Do you need that released? Because that’s the only part touching you that isn’t me. I can feel you twice on my hands. Where my forearm is resting across your shoulders, I can feel the warmth of your body even if it feels to you that my arm that isn’t touching you anywhere.
Breathing was becoming easier. Tony’s voice made it easier, and the suit hadn’t moved at all when Tony started talking. As he spoke, the presence of his words made Peter’s body relax in ways his own brain simply couldn’t. It was still in fight mode, but now it seemed to be in fight-WITH-Tony mode and that was far better considering the man’s fingers were in his ass.
“Keep your legs still, baby.”
“I can’t Tony…”
The Mark 42, his rebuilt Prodigal Son, stepped away from the wall. At the sound of its footsteps Peter shivered, until it dropped down to its knees and crawled underneath the table. Each hand wrapped around Peter’s lower calf.
“I’m touching you there. I can feel the strain of your muscles. You’re so strong.” The table’s restraints released and the suit’s hands moved to replace them.
“Better, baby?
“I c… I can’t… I… it’s just… I need…” He panted and tried again.
“Your face,” Peter said finally, and when he spoke, he was calm. He swallowed hard, but as he said it, he relaxed a little, knowing how true it was. It was something he needed, and Tony would give him what he needed. “It’s your face, I can’t see your face. I need to see you.”
The Mark 47 moved its grip from Peter’s shoulder to pressing firmly but gently between his shoulder blades. Peter was still pinned, but if he turned his head, he could see Tony standing behind him.
“I’m right here, Pete. I’m pretty much everywhere,” he said with a little smile. “And I can feel you everywhere I’m touching you.”
 “That doesn’t feel like your fingers.”
“It feels like your ass,” he said with a smirk. “Tight and hot and pulsing around me. I can feel you everywhere at least a little, but the nanotech transmits every sensation if I want it to.”
“Can you feel this?” Peter asked, reaching back to grip, again, the wrist that was pinning him down. He also flexed against the other hand holding his wrist, not to break free, but to feel it move with him. The way Tony and he moved together in bed.
“Um hmm. I feel two touches on each of my wrists. You’re holding the one with your hand and the other you’re pushing up on. I could tell that with my eyes closed.”
“And you can feel this?” Peter asked, moving his legs in the grip of the second suit, even though Tony had already told him. This was so much better, feeling the six hands on him, and while his heart was still pounding in anticipation of what was to come, he felt safer, more grounded Tony was holding him with three pairs of hands. He felt less like a trapped animal, more like the center of attention. Like something precious.
As Peter tested the way he was being held, each hand gripped in response to his movement. When he pushed his ass back against Tony’s fingers, tightening and loosening around the nanotech, Tony slid them deeper inside. “Greedy,” he teased.
“Always,” Peter answered automatically, but he was still taking stock. As long as he kept moving, kept telling himself ‘Three pairs of hands, he’s making love to me with three pairs of hands’, he might be all right.
The fingers inside him didn’t even feel invasive now, although he still longed to feel Tony’s actual fingers on him. He flexed against the other four hands holding him down, reminding himself of their weight, of their force. He couldn’t stop himself. As sweet as Tony’s voice sounded his head just wouldn’t stop calculating. But they weren’t just binding, they were Tony touching him, and that wasn’t something he wanted to control. That was something he wanted to keep.
“Still only counts as lust though.” Tony moved his nanite covered fingers in and out, spreading them wider.
“Shhhhh… don’t list your sins around the suits.”
He slowly closed his other hand, the warm one, around Peter’s cock, and crooked his fingers again, but only as he pushed in, not when he pulled them back, massaging.
“Was listing yours. FRIDAY doesn’t know what a naughty, messy boy you can be.”
“Ohnodon’tTonyI… oh… do you want me to…?“
“Do I want you to make a mess on my lab table?”
Peter could only whimper in response, gooseflesh breaking out all over his body. His eyes were closed again and he felt close to tears. He would have turned his face away to hide it in the table the way he used to hide it in the bed. But Tony had trained him better than that. He lay his face flat on the cool surface of the table and pushed his body towards Tony’s fingers as best he could.
Tony’s hand stopped stroking Peter’s shaft and instead, palmed the dripping precome over the head until he felt the kid right on the edge. He let go of his cock. And retracted the nanotech from around his fingers. Leaving only warmth inside of him. Warm fingers who knew exactly where all of Peter’s most sensitive areas were aside from the obvious.
“Go on, baby. Make my workstation messy. I wanna remember what it looks like with your come dripping down it every time I look at it.”
That warmth, the warmth of Tony’s real fingers, were all he really needed. Then Tony’s words sent him completely over the edge. That quiet, logical part of his brain marked the occasion. Usually it took a bit of serious pounding before Tony could make him come on command, but this? This was a completely different level. He shouted as he came, his fingers digging into the suit arm’s wrist that was holding him down.
He wondered vaguely if he left marks on it.
Before Peter finished coming. Before the after-quakes even set in, Tony slowly pushed in, feeling him part around him despite how his coming made him want to close up. Peter hadn’t gone down when Tony started fucking him in long, slow, steady strokes.
Peter relaxed completely, floating on sensation. Tony had three pairs of hands holding him and right now it felt like heaven. His mouth hung open helplessly.
The suit’s fingers could move gently as well as hold tightly. The hand moved from between Peter’s shoulder blades, the kid was so relaxed, he wouldn’t be able to struggle. Tony ran that hand through Peter’s sweat soaked hair. He caressed down the side of Peter’s face, cupping his cheek. Then traced the edges of Peter’s flushed red lips with a metal fingertip.
Both of his hands held Peter’s hips as he kept fucking him. The Mark 42's hands left Peter’s ankles and slid up the inside of his legs until they were holding his thighs gently parted so Tony could get inside deeper. He heard Peter whimper and saw him flinch, but he didn’t stop them. Instead of holding apart, putting force there, the suit’s hands gently massaged Peter’s quivering muscles, strained from being held down to the table legs.
Tony started fucking faster, but just as steady. Leaving Peter’s unconscious senses able to anticipate him. “Baby, you’re being so good for us.”
Peter’s eyes went wide at the idea. Being ‘good’ for Tony was all he wanted in these moments. The words lit up every body in his body. But being ‘good for us?’ He wasn’t sure if he was terrified or turned on to the power of three.
The suit’s fingers gently massaged up and then down Peter’s thighs. The fingers near his mouth pressed down on the swell of his bottom lip, parting them and teasing just a little, seeking entry. The hand holding his wrist stopped pinning to the table and closed around it, fingertips against his pulse. All the while Tony kept fucking Peter.
“That’s it, Pete. Just like that. Let go. Give it to me. All of me. Everywhere.”
Peter moaned. Tony’s cock inside him was amazing, of course, but just at this moment he was moaning in exquisite relief.
In simpler times, when Tony had him like this, obedience to Tony’s commands was almost impossible. Tony had told him to relax, and so he did. And just like that, his body agreed to stop fighting. It was still calculating… Tony hadn’t ordered him to stop thinking after all… but for the moment his heart stopped pounding and his lungs were filling with blissful, heavenly oxygen.
He was also vaguely aware that there were now fingers in his mouth, but that was hardly a problem.
Tony, fully in control of the Mark 47’s finger in Peter’s mouth, pressed down gently on the kid’s tongue, making him open wider. When he did, a second finger slipped in, then both moved out until only the first joint was in Peter’s mouth, avoiding choking or too much pressure. Just enough that Tony could feel the warmth of Peter’s mouth. He wished he could feel more. The wetness. The texture. The movement of the boy’s tongue. Clearly the Mark 47, while older and rarely used, needed upgrading. But Peter didn’t need to know how much sensation he did or didn’t have in those fingers.
“Go on, Pete. I wanna feel that sweet mouth on my fingers.” Tony flexed his fingers that held onto Peter’s hips, without letting the movement be transmitted to the suit. Implying that he could feel on them what the kid was doing. Dammit… he wanted to feel it. The fingers in his mouth retreated, only to be replaced by the nanotech covered fingers on Tony’s own hand as he reached up. “That’s it, baby. Now I can feel you.”
“Mmmm?” Peter questioned, unable to speak (his mouth was full) but eager to please. Soon he realized that Tony’s fingers were in his mouth for a reason, and Tony had told him to suck. He obeyed.
The older Mark 42’s hands reached up to the juncture of Peter’s thighs and Peter tensed immediately, whimpering, his eyes going wide. He bit down on Tony’s fingers and began struggling again against the hands beneath the table, even when the hands began gently nudging his legs further apart. He knew what his lover wanted, it was Tony dammit, what he wanted was obvious. But like the leg clamps, every movement toward his legs sent his body right back into fight mode.
“Shhh, baby. I have you. You’re being so good for me. Need you to relax though.That’s it, Pete. I know you can do it. For me.” Tony altered his stance. He fucked down and then in, scraping across Peter’s sweet spot.
Peter’s teeth let go of the fingers. He didn’t pull his mouth away. It hung slack as Tony fucked him thoroughly. He couldn’t move at all. He wasn’t sure he would ever move again. He wished he could speak — could tell Tony how incredible it felt now, with Tony’s cock hitting him right there. But he knew he’d never be able to speak (all he’d get out was “ohgodTony” anyway) so he did the only other thing he could think of. He took the fingers deep into his mouth, down to the knuckle, and began sucking again.
That was incredible. Tony groaned low in his throat as Peter’s tongue lapped at the underside of his two fingers in his mouth. It was like fucking the kid and having him go down on him at the same time.
“I can feel you… both places… the same in both.” Tony’s words broke into a moan as the dual sensations merged in the pleasure centers of his brain. “No difference, baby. Fuck,” Tony moaned with pleasure. “It gives me everything about you.”
Peter was responding beautifully. His breathing was settled into regular panting, with small, little moans around Tony’s nanite covered fingers. The kid was enjoying himself, clearly. The build up nice and slow and regular. Tony could make him come that way. Hold out for a half an hour, letting Peter rise to a languid orgasm. Or he could do that.
Tony broke his rhythm and fucked faster, irregularly, then he pushed in sharply, angled straight across the boy’s prostate.
Peter whimpered and forgot about the fingers in his mouth for a moment. Then remembered what Tony wanted, and began sucking once again.
Tony took his fingers out of Peter’s mouth. They were slick with spit and moved softly over the kid’s lips. Feeling the tender skin, tracing the line, touching the corners. He knew that the nanotech had the capability of transmitting far more sensation that he let through during the normal course of battle. He didn’t exactly want to feel every hit he took. But he wanted to feel Peter. Every touch was like with his fingers, only… different in just enough of a way. Transmitted through a metal filter. He could feel the warmth of Peter’s skin and the cool metal of his suit.
Fucking irregularly wasn’t right enough to get either of them off. But the sounds that Peter made because he couldn’t anticipate what would happen next… those were more than satisfying. Little gasps. Sharp little yelps. Breathless ‘oh’. Never enough to fall into the more desperate ‘ohgodTony’ that Peter was so known for and always made Tony smile.
And then he stopped completely. Held halfway in. Leaving him wanting for either the sensation of being filled or entered.
Peter lay helpless on the table, eyes half closed, brain half-off, relaxing in the six hands that held him. He missed the fingers when they left his mouth, he loved the taste of them, so much like the metal around Tony’s arc reactor but different, but he didn’t move to get them back. Tony wanted to stroke his lips with his fingers now, so that’s what Peter wanted too.
But then something changed. It took him several seconds to register what it was. Tony was there, but he wasn’t moving. Peter tried moving backward, towards his lover’s body only to feel four metal hands and two hands of warm flesh holding him still.
Tony felt Peter try to push back. “Oh baby. Haven’t you figured it out by now?” The suit’s hands holding his upper thighs held Peter gently but firmly against the side of the table. “You’re not the one in control of your body this time. I am.”
He kept himself unmoving at that halfway point. “What do you want, Peter?” Tony asked.
Peter moaned. His eyes were wide now, no longer relaxed. The reminder of the suits, of what the suits could do to him (of what the suits had done to him) was lighting up his brain like a Christmas tree. But he couldn’t speak. Just now he no longer remembered the English language.
“So what you’re saying, by not saying, is that you want me to pull out and finish across your back? Feel my come all hot on your skin?”
“NonononoTony…” That was good. Those were two words he remembered.
“Then tell me what you want, baby.”
“No Tony please…” he begged. Three words. Three words were probably the best he could do.
“You want me to just stop, let go of you, pull up my pants and wait until we’re in bed tonight to finish?”
“Nonono… no… Tony…” He was close to tears. He fought to breathe. He knew what he needed to keep breathing, and he managed to say it out loud.
“I need you to keep touching me.”
Tony took one hand off Peter’s hips and ran it up his back. “There, baby. I’m touching you,” he said, changing nothing else.
Peter could breathe again. Just like that. He closed his eyes and focused on Tony’s skin against his skin, focused on the sensation of Tony touching his body. As long as he had that, he could function.
“Is that all you want, Peter?”
Peter found himself nodding. This was good. If Tony was touching him, he could think again. He was an intelligent human being, and Tony’s lover for more than two years. He could express himself with this man. He could actually express himself rather well. They were good together. He took a deep, calming breath, and turned his head enough to look back into Tony’s face.
“I need you to keep touching me. I want you to keep fucking me.”
Tony ran his hands, both of them now, over Peter’s back, down his sides, over the rise of his ass. “You want me to keep fucking you?” he asked.
“Please, yes. It feels so good, Tony.”
Peter took another breath. “And I know it feels good to you too.”
“How, Peter?”
“Oh… just…” Peter tried to move his body to demonstrate, but encountered two pairs of unmovable hands. He didn’t let his body react this time, he forced himself to stay calm. He swallowed hard.
It was a difficult mental problem, and difficult mental problems didn’t come along often for Peter Parker. He took it as a challenge. One he was ready to meet.
“Slow and steady?”
That wasn’t good enough. He wriggled a bit underneath the suit’s hand, then tossed his head a little to move sweaty curls out of his eyes. It was all to better see Tony (but it was also to buy time, making it easy to speak.)
“I know what I really want. What I really want is to know what you want. But what I want is slow and steady. Until I tell you to go faster. With your hands on my waist like you did. It feels amazing.”
“Yes it does feel amazing. Having you tight and hot around me,” Tony said. The suit’s hands on Peter’s legs slid down lower on his thighs, holding more comfortably. It was Tony’s hands on Peter’s waist that held him still.
“Just don’t let go…”
“Never,” he said as he returned to the long, slow strokes he’d been using before. Long, slow pressure inside of him.
“Promise.”
“Always, baby. Never letting go of you.”
“Your hands. I just need to feel your hands.”
All six hands moved slightly on Peter’s skin. But the two that belonged to Tony soothed over Peter’s sides again, settling on his waist, his thumbs sliding across Peter’s back.
“Am I yours, Tony?”
“Peter, if you think I’d ever let you go… or even share you… not ever going to happen baby. Not ever. You’re mine. No getting out of that. Not gonna let you go.” Tony bent over Peter’s back and put a kiss just above where his thumbs met around Peter’s narrow waist.
“Say it again.”
Tony smiled as he slowly rocked into Peter. “You’re mine. But the question is, baby… Am I yours?”
“Oh yes, yes. Let me move my hand… please?” He wiggled the fingers of his right hand, still firmly held down by the wrist.
“You can move your left hand.” He eased the hand that was pinning Peter down in between his shoulders over a little to the right, giving the boy more movement. “Both hands?” Tony said with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Greedy.” The Mark 47’s hand moved from Peter’s wrist to his forearm. “Now you can move your right hand.”
“But I want to touch you.”
“You can’t touch me with your left?”
Peter moved his left hand to grasp the suit by the wrist again, holding it solidly.
“That’s it, Pete. I can feel your hand on my wrist.” He kept his rhythm steady but only marginally increased his speed… before he’d been asked to.
“You’re going to come inside me, Tony,” Peter said dreamily, his eyes fluttering closed. “I want to hold you when you come inside me.”
“I will, you will. But not until you make my desk messy again.”
“NononoTony don’t…” Peter shuddered gooseflesh breaking out weakly on his arms and legs. He found himself almost sobbing at the idea. “I can’t again…”
The suit let go of Peter’s right forearm and cupped underneath his head, tenderly lifting and turning the boy slightly to face him over his shoulder. Peter’s hand followed it, gripping it firmly at the wrist.
“You can. And I wanna see you when you do.” He bent over Peter’s back again and kissed him there. “I wanna watch those beautiful eyes flutter shut. Wanna watch them open again when it feels too good. Wanna watch those lips part and gasp. Wanna see that face blushed pink. Your hair fall into sweaty curls.”
As Tony spoke, he fucked a little harder, a little faster, a little more directly on each word. “And then…” His hand replaced the suit’s hand in the middle of Peter’s back. “I wanna feel you clench around me… when you come.”
Peter let go of the suit’s wrist and wrapped his arm around his face, moaning and keening. The things Tony was saying would have made him come already but coming twice? This was difficult. He wasn’t sure he could, and he wasn’t sure what it would mean if he couldn’t.
The suit gently moved Peter’s arm from hiding his face. “Nuh uh, baby. Gotta see you. You didn’t hide last time, no hiding this time.”
“I can’t Tony.” Peter lay his face against the table, not hiding, not moving.
“I’m so close… fuck Pete,” Tony gasped. The Mark 47’s hand slid from under Peter’s head and both hands gripped his shoulders, pinning Peter. “God, baby… you’re…” His words failed him. “You’re everywhere.”
Tony dropped his own hand underneath Peter and began stroking his cock. “You have me so close… so close… Be good for me, baby,” Tony moaned, his tone desperate. He struggled to speak. He was always able to talk. The patter he kept up, dirty or tender, during sex was his thing.
Peter wanted to obey. Wanted it so badly. Tony’s hand felt so good, but he needed more. He turned his head weakly and looked back into his lover’s face.
“Does it feel good for you Tony?” he whispered, hating the breathless sound of his voice, speaking anyway. “Am I tight for you?”
His control faltered at the kid’s finding his voice as Tony lost his. But when Peter looked back at him, when he saw those eyes… his faltering control broke entirely. The hand he had on Peter’s hip tightened. As did the four hands controlled by his mind. Looking at Peter’s shoulders, he saw deep, dark purple-black bruises flower almost instantly. He let his grip on the boy’s hip lighten, and the suits’ followed, loosening just enough not to leave any more bruises.
In control of the suits again, he pulled back on Peter’s shoulders, moving him down further on his cock, buried all the way into his heat.
Peter screamed as he came, sobbing and shouting wordlessly, his throat straining. But he didn’t fight the hands. He was beyond fighting. He was helpless here. Completely helpless.
And, for the first time, that was all right.
They came as close together as two people could. Tony followed almost immediately when Peter cried out. He fell, stretched out across the kid’s back. Peter was still held by his four metal hands, but a warm metal circle pressed against his back. Peter could feel the hum of the arc reactor against his skin, its vibration faster and stronger than he’d ever felt it before.
“Oh, Peter,” Tony moaned, his breath warm across Peter’s back. “So good. My perfect… my perfect treasure… the most precious thing in my trophy case. Mine.” A soft kiss followed his breath. “Only mine. Always mine.”
Tony slowly stood, leaving a trail of kisses, on still broken breaths, down Peter’s back. His hands followed his lips, caressing, spread wide, with an easy pressure. Grounding. The Mark 42, now a little messy from Peter’s come dripping off the side of the table, stopped holding Peter’s legs. The hands slid slowly down them, gentling their way, until on reaching Peter’s ankles, they gave a tighter little hold, reminding him of where they’d started and why. Then they released him entirely.
The more skilled hands of the Mark 47 loosened but did not release Peter’s forearms. Tony stepped back just a little, sliding free from Peter, leaving a trail of his come running down the boy’s thigh.
“You were so good for me,” Tony said, with an awestruck tone. Peter had overwhelmed his senses. “Speechless, Pete. You took away all my words. All my thoughts. All except for one. He bent over one more time, kissing the small of Peter’s back. “I love you. That thought never leaves me.” The suit’s hands followed where Tony’s had been, stroking down Peter’s back, then up it to rest lightly across the back of his chest.
“I’m going to carry you to me.” Bending down, the suit lifted Peter into a bridal carry. Tony combed his fingers through Peter’s hair. His damp curls tangled around Tony’s fingers, as he eased his head to rest on the suit’s chest. He wasn’t ready to let go yet. He still needed to touch his boy. He let his hand drop from Peter’s head, trailing over his shoulder, down his arm, to his hand, to his fingertips, then finally leaving him. “It’s all right, Pete. I’m here. I’m bringing you with me.”
Peter’s eyes went wide when the suit gathered him up in iron arms. His breath was shaky and he trembled slightly. He moaned a little when Tony’s real touch stopped, but Tony’s words were still there. And he knew what came next. The thing he needed. It always came next.
Tony sat cross-legged on the sofa, missing Peter even though he could still feel the weight of the boy, through the suit, on his arms. Gently, the suit lowered Peter into Tony’s waiting lap. “There, baby. I have you. I have you.”
Tony held Peter a little tighter than usual. Closer than usual. More skin touching more skin. He felt Peter’s trembling, catching breaths, right on the edge of sobs.
He reached up and soothed the boy’s head into the crook of his neck. “It’s okay, Peter. It’s okay. I’m here.”
He curled Peter’s body against him. Tony pressed a lingering, tender kiss on the curve of his shoulder. He kissed each place where there were still dark purple-black marks. Not healed. Not healing.
He full-body shuddered against Peter and Tony closed his eyes. His breath caught and held. He could’ve hurt the boy. Seriously hurt him. Broken bones, torn skin. Peter would eventually heal those bruises, but Tony could’ve hurt him. Speechless, overwhelmed, farther gone than he’d ever been in his life, in his hands, even in his suit’s hands, he held the most precious in the world. And he could’ve hurt him.
“It’s okay, Peter. You’re safe,” he said, more trying to convince himself. Trying desperately to reassure himself that he had only bruised, not broken. “I’ll always keep you safe.” He could keep Peter safe from anything. Anything except himself. “Right here. With me. Mine. You’re so good. So precious. Everything, baby. All of you.”
Peter took deep, gulping breaths and waited for his tears to pass. They usually did quickly, when he didn’t fight to hide them, and he never tried to hide them from Tony anymore. Tony had explained from the beginning that the tears were okay, and there had always been a few after sex like this. Peter pressed his face into Tony’s neck and took another deep breath.
Then he wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck and sobbed.
Tony kissed the side of Peter’s head. “‘S okay, baby,” he said softly. “I want you right here. With me. Like this. Don’t want to let you go. Not yet. Not for a long time.” He took a deep breath and let it out with a whisper. “I need you, Peter. I need… I need to hold you.”
He pulled one knee up to support Peter’s back, to hold him close, Peter almost laying on his side in Tony’s arms, their chests almost touching. He held Peter as long as the boy needed. As long as he needed. Which was a very long time this time. He muttered soothing words, almost nonsense words, but he knew how much the sound of his voice helped Peter to calm. And this time, having lost his words, he needed to hear the sound of his own voice. To know that he was taking care of the boy. He had to take care of him.
It seemed the more Peter calmed, the less Tony did. His lips couldn’t hardly leave the boy’s shoulder. His cheek rested there. He looked at darkened spots against pale skin.
Peter’s arms were relaxed around Tony’s chest. His breaths even, his body was no longer wracked with sobs. He started to press kisses into Tony’s neck, moving a little away from his hiding place and resting against Tony’s shoulder. When he spoke, it was only a hoarse whisper.
“I’ve never… no one’s ever…” There was no way to finish the sentence. It wasn’t that no one had ever fucked him before (Tony knew that very well) but there had never been anyone who could have fucked him that way. Could have taken him apart that way. Could have made him give up control that way. There had never been anyone who had made him even dream of the things he had felt this night.
“Tony, I’ve never come that hard in my life.”
Tony held tighter as Peter tried to move away. He should’ve answered that, he knew. Instead he put five more kisses to Peter’s shoulder, in a very specific pattern. Then Tony rested his cheek against Peter’s cool skin. Peter felt Tony’s breaths become fast and caught, broken, shuddering. He felt wetness where Tony’s lips weren’t. He felt tears.
Peter was planning on asking Tony to carry him into the shower, something he hadn’t needed in a long time, but now the sound caught his attention and he found his spine straightening. He unwrapped his arms from around Tony’s neck and slipped his left around the man’s chest, the other around his head. He squeezed tightly for a moment, then relaxed. With his left arm he kept Tony firmly pressed against him and used his right hand to comb his fingers through Tony’s hair. He didn’t know what to say, so he waited.
“I hurt you,” Tony said when he could finally speak.
“No! No, it wasn’t that. It never hurts. It feels weird sometimes but it never hurts. I’m sorry I cried, it was just… it was a lot.”
“Baby, no.” When Tony leaned back to look into Peter’s face, his eyes were glistening. “I… marked you. I bruised you. I hurt… I nearly…” He shuddered again.
Peter’s brow knotted in confusion, both at the tears in Tony’s eyes (had he ever seen that before?) and the idea of being marked… he had been marked? He let go of Tony suddenly and reached to his shoulder, then to his back, trying to find the bruises Tony seemed to think were there.
“Marked… did you?”
“Bruises,” he said, very gently curving his fingers around Peter’s shoulder where he’d left the marks. “I could have…” Tony closed his eyes. “I might’ve…”
“Marked me? Oh Tony…” He cupped Tony’s face in his hand and brought their faces close together.
“I’ve wanted you to mark me for so long.”
“No baby, you don’t understand. With the suit… You heal from anything… maybe. I could’ve… pulled you apart.”
Peter smiled a little and touched his forehead to Tony’s. He put his hand on Tony’s shoulder, fingering the place where his own fingertip-bruises usually landed. They weren’t there now, of course. It had been a while since Tony had made him come that way, and he was more likely to leave dents in the headboard now than leave dents in Tony. He had hated them in the beginning, detested them. They were a mark of pride for Tony, but to Peter they were nothing but stomach-knotting. He wanted to see bruises on himself, of course, but never on his lover.
He remembered what it was like, hearing ‘I trust you’ over and over again when he didn’t yet trust himself. He decided not to take the same route.
Wrapping his arms around his lover again he held him close. “Okay. You could have pulled me apart. Maybe. Except you stopped every other time I needed you to, so it’s hard to believe you wouldn’t have stopped then, too. But if you left bruises, I didn’t notice. I didn’t ask you to stop. I was too busy coming my brains out.”
Tony shook his head. “I wasn’t in conscious control. Not of me. Not of them. It wouldn’t have mattered if you asked.” He looked at Peter’s shoulder again.
“Okay. But how many times I told you I was scared of hurting you, and you just told me over and over that you trusted me? Now I’m not allowed to trust you?”
Peter still had tears on his face, but now he looked into Tony’s face and smiled.
“Maybe you could have hurt me. Well, tech-genius, you’ll have to tech-genius yourself out of that one. Program failsafes into the sex suits. Call it the ‘suit sex’ protocol, or the ‘gang-bang program’ or ‘date-night’ or something.
“Because you are doing that to me again.”
Tony nodded. Peter’s words took the fear and worry and replaced it with something he could actually do. A tech solution. He was good at that. There wasn’t a problem he couldn’t tech his way out of.
“I had to do that with my nightmares. Create something that could tell when I was asleep. The implants could monitor my brain waves to tell the difference between my sleep/wake cycles. I just need a way to tell when I’ve lost conscious control while awake. I’m sure there’s some definable physiological response.”
He lifted Peter in his arms, kissed him on the lips, and carried him to the shower that was just off the lab.
“That can happen again. I want it to happen again. Just not before I’ve made a few upgrades to the sensors,” he said with a smile. “The older suits don’t have near enough of them.”
He let Peter down to stand on his feet. He turned him to face the mirror. On each of his shoulders were four dark purple oval marks with faint purple lines curving over the top. Tony turned Peter again and on his back were two thumb prints.
It wasn’t the marks themselves that Tony found so troubling. It was where they were. How they were placed. Peter liked to think that he was stronger than anything. But with the suit, he could have hurt Peter gravely. They both might want sex-with-suits to happen again, but it couldn’t happen until Tony had objectively tested protective protocols in place.
Peter was moaning and twisted his body around and around to get a better look. He fingered them over and over again, sometimes gazing at them in wonder, sometimes grinning from ear to ear. Finally he broke off to wrap his arms around Tony and pull him into a crushing hug. He was almost in tears again. “You marked me. You did. You finally did. I have bruises… oh god but they won’t last! Can I take pictures?”
Tony could see how happy it made Peter being able to be bruised by him in the same way as he bruised Tony. It made sense. And he had to admit, it appealed to his possessive side.
“Of course. I’d expect nothing less than a selfie from a millennial. Just keep it off of Instagram, huh?” Tony said with a smile.
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thestarkerisobvious · 7 months ago
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After Finishing A Big Project
I have to channel my inner Tony and remind myself of important things.
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...with his left arm under Peter’s shoulder, holding him steadily, he let his right hand roam over Peter’s shoulder and upper arm, massaging.  As he felt Peter relax under his expert hand, he pressed kisses against Peter’s hair, his forehead, even his cheek.  
He asked questions softly as his hand worked.  Got Peter to talk about his day, about his week.  About the triumphs, and the many, many disappointments.  The endless frustrations.  
“But now you’re done, sweetheart.  You finished!  That’s so good!” Tony crooned, squeezing the boy’s shoulders in encouragement.  
“I know it doesn’t feel good… not as good as it should feel.  Believe me, Daddy’s been there.  This is just the letdown.  Your adrenaline, all that adrenaline you needed to have so you could get it all done in time - well your adrenaline realized it was done with its job so it left you high and dry.  What you’re feeling now is normal.  And it’s good that your adrenaline shut off - because now you need to rest.  Just relax and let Daddy take care of you.  You just need a little sleep, that’s all.  Then you’ll feel better…”
As he spoke, he let his hand rest in the center of Peter’s chest.
And then it began wandering down, almost down to his stomach, then back up again.  He kissed Peter’s forehead, then his cheek.  Mostly he stayed propped up on his elbow, watching Peter’s face.
“Do you think you can do that, angel?  Do you think you could sleep a little while?  For me?”
“I think so, Daddy… if you stay with me.”
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thestarkerisobvious · 1 year ago
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THIS IS ME WRITING STARKER I SWEAR
I REALLY like it when you guys get excited an repost the funny kazoo noises but seriously you guys I do violin too.....
(btw I’m too lazy to do a Master List but I made a tumblr of JUST my Starker fic here it is there is Violin AND Kazoo)
being on Tumblr is like playing a violin in a concert hall for thousands of people and a few of them clap, then honking a kazoo to amuse your 2 friends AND SUDDENLY YOU HAVE 20K NOTES
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starker-stories · 4 years ago
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Messages - The Master Post
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Co-written by @thestarkerisobvious​​ and @starker-stories​​
Now that the Messages series is complete, here’s a master post to all of the stories.
The links to stories in the Messages Interludes series are also here, although that is not a complete series, but a place to put our ongoing fascination with Peter and Tony from this ‘verse. 
There were originally 7 books planned for the Messages series. But the first 5 take place over one very important single week of Peter and Tony’s lives. There are time-jumps between book 5, book 6, and book 7, because of that, we thought it best to move 6 & 7 into the Interludes series. Interludes will not post on a regular Thursday schedule like Messages did
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The Messages Series - COMPLETE
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Messages Unsent  (no tumblr link) 
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Nothing More Than A Machine (no tumblr link)
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Tomorrow (no tumblr link)
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My Virgin (Revisited) ( ← AO3 link | → tumblr link)
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The Cold ( ← AO3 link | → tumblr link)
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Messages Interludes - Ongoing
Use Your Words (complete)
Your Turn (complete)
Our Turn (complete)
The Opposite of Cold - Formerly book 6 of Messages (in progress)
Untitled Book 7 - Formerly book 7 of Messages (in planning) 
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Thanks to those of you who have taken this journey of the Messages series with us. Kudos and likes leavers, commenters, and readers all are so very much appreciated. Knowing you were out there really kept us going when we struggled.
We will continue to write and create, both as separate individuals and as collaborators. If you want to see what bubbles to the surface of our minds, give thewitchway and von_gelmini a subscribe hit on AO3, or on tumblr @thestarkerisobvious​​ and @starker-stories​​.
Messages. It began as a 366 word drabble. And it became a series. Seven months, five books, and nearly 100,000 words. You have our love for having reached this point with us.
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thestarkerisobvious · 4 months ago
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I SHIP PETER AND HARRY VERY HARD
They are the basis of this fic
And this moodboard by the late @von--gelmini​
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LOVE when people hate on mcu spider-man because ‘he shouldn’t be friends with/the pseudo son of a billionaire 😡’ as if literally every other iteration of peter parker hasn’t had sex with harry osborn in the osborn mansion like okay. at least the mcu billionaire just wants to keep him alive and in school lmao
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thestarkerisobvious · 4 months ago
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Demon Lover
art by the always-amazing @starker-sorbet
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Demon Lover
Rated NC17
It was moments like these that College Student Peter Parker was so grateful he didn’t have a dormmate.
And only partially because that meant he didn’t have a bunkbed.
Because if he DID… well… that meant he’d be having to take it doggy-style on the floor… a thought that made Peter smile to himself.  
“What’s so funny?” the jock grumbled, pulling away (again?!) and Peter looked back over his shoulder with a sweet, winning smile.  His hook-up, who had been all swagger and bold talk at the frat party, was suddenly nervous.  Possibly because Peter’s ancient dormhall creaked and groaned in a way that seemed particularly menacing tonight.  Mr. Jock had even mentioned the rumor that this particular hall was haunted, but Peter had dismissed that with a mention of the age of the building (and a very quick shedding of clothing.)  
“Just so glad you’re here, handsome,” Peter said gently, pushing his ass backward toward Mr Jock (who’s name might have been Hugh?) 
“Now how about getting back to work?” he added coyly, and Mr. Jock seemed to take the hint.  As he groaned in pleasure, Peter smiled all the more.  He was getting better at this.
His first few college hookups had been marred by his awkward shyness, and even by his all-consuming need to please.  This led to weekends spent with equally shy, equally awkward lovers who, while educational, simply didn’t satisfy.  (Plus they always wanted to hang out afterward, for deep & meaningful talks about sexuality or possible relationship-building activities or at least repeat-hookups.   Peter was interested in neither.  Peter was interested in experience.)
And experience was the best teacher.
Just like tonight.  He had developed a sweet-but-frank persona, a way of talking to his nightly conquests, both the kind-of-nervous and of-course-I’m-not-nervous types, that both put them at ease and  kept things moving at the pace he enjoyed.  The persona was one-part authentic and two-parts act, but it seemed to work most of the time.
And it seemed to be working now.  
“God you’re a horny little piece of ass,” Mr. Jock jested, grabbing Peter’s narrow waist with two huge hands, his fingers digging to Peter’s white flesh hard enough to leave bruises on a normal person.  Peter shivered at the thrill and spread his legs even wider, dropping his head and arching his back, moaning in need.  He didn’t care if Mr. Jock made fun of him for it now (or talked about him later.)  He was too hungry to care.  He whimpered involuntarily at the first sweet burn of penetration.
And then yelped involuntarily and bowed his back.  Damn this boy had no finesse.
“Okay, okay, let’s try that again…” Peter said quickly, breathlessly, trying to smile and soothe and readjust and keep their two bodies connected all at the same time.
A task that was not made easier when his framed Valedictorian certificate, and his framed Science Fair medal of honor and his framed acceptance letter all slipped off the wall simultaneously and went crashing to the floor.
“Nonono its fine, don’t worry about that…” Peter gasped, reaching behind him to take Mr. Jock’s hand, probably too tightly (dammit it was so hard to do this and remember his super-strength at the same time!)  “Damn thumbtacks never work, just do it like this,” he breathed, shamelessly moving his hips and his ass backward, trying to show this dumb ox how Peter wanted him to use his dick.  Fortunately, even this dumb ox had a sense of rhythm.  Moving with Peter he seemed to get the rhythm right (even if he couldn’t get the angle right to save his life.  Maybe math nerds would be better at this, Peter mused.)
It worked.  Maybe-Hugh grabbed Peter’s hips again in that bruising grip and started thrusting mercilessly and Peter stopped thinking altogether.
For just a few moments, it was perfect.  Those demanding hands.  That demanding cock.  Feeling full and controlled and taken.  
He was far stronger than Mr. Jock, of course.  As huge and broad-shouldered  as Maybe-Hugh was, Peter could have pinned him down with one hand.  And that just made it better, somehow.  Being powerful and willingly handing that power over, completely, to another man.
Of course, that other ‘man’ didn’t know how strong Peter was.  Hell, that other ‘man’ probably didn’t know Peter’s name.Peter distracted himself by sneaking a peek back at the powerful body behind him, all broad shoulders and smooth muscles and sweat.  Tonight’s conquest was huge and beefy and rough… also pretty dense, but Peter had learned not to be picky about hookups.  Especially ones that smelled as manly, as salty as this one.
And god just the sight of those sweating, straining muscles was turning him on beyond measure.  If only Mr. Jock would lean over his back just enough for Peter to feel the drops falling onto his back… but changing their position only a tiny bit might end the perfect rhythm of thrusting and Peter wasn’t about to risk it.)
Peter closed his eyes and opened up his senses.  Not the enhanced kind that let him know what people were eating in the dorm rooms down the hall (GOD he was so glad the rooms right next to him were empty.  It was hard to be quiet when you were getting a good fucking) but brought all the sensory input from this single room in to super-sharp focus.
The scent of sex and salt and urgency filled his nostrils and his brain and made him so very, very glad he had gone through all the trouble of convincing Mr. Jock back to his room.  And the body heat… even though it was only the boy’s legs pressing against the backs of Peter’s legs…  it was like being burned by an oven.  Once again Peter grinned with gratitude, this time about the excellent thermostat that controlled the temperature in his room.  Keeping it just a hair above comfortable (and then swearing it was broken and there was nothing he could do about it) made sure that his partners sweat, and right now his current partner was sweating beautifully.  It filled the room with the heady, sweet perfume that made Peter’s head swim.  If only it were possible to get pounded from behind AND keep his mouth attached to that warm, moist skin… maybe Mr. Jock wouldn’t mind a few tender, lingering kisses against his neck or chest after the sex was over.  Not every lover did. 
Peter loved the taste of human male skin, but if he couldn’t get a taste, he would certainly enjoy the aroma.  He arched his neck, raising his head, breathing in the moment, letting his senses record everything.  The beautiful scent of two human bodies working together, the constant, steady vibration of the bed moving against the wall, the throaty moans of the boy behind him…
“Gonna’ fuck you to death… I’m gonna leave that hole busted open from my dick…”
Peter ducked his head quickly before Maybe-Hugh could see him roll his eyes.  
Sometimes he wished he could turn his hearing off completely.
But now Maybe-Hugh was whimpering with a high-pitched, needy urgency that told Peter his perfect moment might already be over.  He turned his head to say something… maybe not something completely people-pleasing, maybe to actually speak up and ask for Maybe-Hugh to slow down a bit, to try to draw out the moment, even for a few seconds longer…
…then Maybe-Hugh reached out and grabbed Peter by the left arm and yanked it backward.
This sent Peter sprawling face-first into his own bed.  Which was not a bad sensation by itself, but sent Peter’s ass into a right-facing slant which meant Maybe-Hugh’s dick went in at a painful angle.
Peter yelped.
Then the lamp at the night table flung itself into the air and across the bed, clipping the other boy across the face.
Maybe-Hugh screamed.
                                              —————————–
“It’s okayit’sokayit’sokay it’s nothing!!” Peter pleaded, reaching out as Mr. Jock jumped up from the bed, looking frantically around for his attacker.  “You just knocked the lamp over, it’s okay…
“It’s okay!” Peter said louder, not the other boy but to the room in general.
“What the fucking fuck was that?!” Mr. Jock finally managed, not even noticing Peter’s hands on his, trying to pull him back onto the bed.
“You just knocked the lamp off the night table… it’s not expensive it’s just from the goodwill store…”
“It went flying across the fucking room!”
“Well you were being really vigorous dude…”  Peter smiled, or at least tried to, fighting to find that tone again, the tone that would make his partners relax… to keep them in the mood… or at the very least, keep them in the room. 
“You were amazing… and pulling me face-down on the bed was hot… you just gotta keep it at a 180 degree angle and…”
“What the fuck is wrong with your dormroom, man?!?!”
“Oh come on, baby, you were so close!” Peter begged, trying to smile and look soothing, all at the same time.  Come on…”
He moved up to his knees and risked flinging his arms around Mr. Jock’s neck, letting his hands dangle behind the large, square head delicately.  “I promised you my ass was tight, and wasn’t it?  You were so close… come on baby… just because you broke my lamp doesn’t mean we have to stop…”
“Dammit they told me not to go with you, they told me this damn place was haunted…”
“My dorm room is not haunted!” 
Mr. Jock looked down at him, surprised.  But people always looked surprised when Peter raised his voice.  He had quite an unexpected tone when he was trying to keep things under control.
Peter wasn’t sure if there was any point in trying anymore, but still, he tried.  Mostly because they had only been at it for about seven minutes, and it had taken twice that long just to talk Mr. Jock into wearing the damn condom.  For an city boy, Mr. Jock sure hadn’t been too informed about safe sex.
“Hey… come on… are you really going to let some stupid, inane Tri-Delt ghost story keep you from getting laid?  Seriously?” He joked, softening his tone the tiniest bit, but not letting go of his lover’s hands, still pulling him back onto the bed.
“Now get back over here and get back to it!” he said, semi-playfully.  It seemed to work… they were moving back onto the bed in any case.  Mr. Jock’s eyes were wide, but he seemed to be obedient.  Especially when Peter turned his back and pressed it against that hard, muscular (sweaty!) chest, hooking one arm behind them both and combing his fingers through his lover’s sweat-soaked hair.  
“You just broke my lamp,” he teased, grinding his body against his lover’s suggestively.  “The least you can do is finish what you started…” 
“You spooky little shit,” came the growl from behind him.  “I’m going to fuck that candy-ass until your knees bleed…”
The lamp exploded.
                                        ———————————-
Peter continued to argue.  He might have pulled it off - in addition to super-strength and extra-sensitive hearing he also had a an uncanny gift of persuasion.  He might have even convinced the panicked boy for a few minutes longer - yes, said boy’s discarded shirt currently flying around the room but Peter had managed to keep his arms around Hugh’s neck and thus his face pointed it the opposite direction.
 But then Hugh caught a glimpse of the aerial laundry show in the mirror and it didn’t matter.
Then the heavy rotary phone on the other night table began ringing and Peter gave up.
It wasn’t a normal telephone ring, because of course it wasn’t.  It was a long, terrifying continuous wail, loud enough to drown out the stammering and swearing as Maybe-Hugh frantically yanked on his pants and attempted to retrieve enough of his clothing to escape.  “At least you’re not trying to yank the cord out of the wall,” Peter muttered, mostly to himself, as he sat, defeated on the bed.  The last lover who had done that in an attempt to make the phone stop making the ungodly noise had just found that it made the phone ring louder than ever…
…which, come to think of it, was probably how Peter got the reputation of living in a “haunted dorm hall.”
“You forgot your shirt!” he called out half-heartedly as his panicked hook-up ran out the door, slamming it behind him.  Not that it mattered.  Apparently Maybe-Hugh had decided that pants and shoes were enough to make his escape.
Peter signed heavily.  He waited.
Finally, the phone stopped its clamor.
Finally, the windows stopped rattling as the walls ceased to vibrate.  One by one, the floating laundry dropped, item by item to the floor.  
They even piled themselves right next to the hamper.  
Still Peter didn’t speak.
The thrift-store lamp meekly lifted itself up from the floor and floated, humbly, back to its original position.  Peter leaned over to one side to let it pass.  It was still hopelessly broken, but he said nothing.  
It wasn’t the first broken lamp he had to deal with.  That’s why he got them from goodwill in the first place.
He sat with his mouth closed for some time.  Forehead creased.  Considering carefully.  The silence filled the small dorm room.
Finally, he spoke.   
“Tony, we have to talk.”
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