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starkerhowlter · 2 years

Text

Got A Secret, Professor Stark?

Ship: starker

Rating: NC-17

Contains: panty kink, degradation, language, smut, technical voyeurism (when you think about it), praise kink, Mr. stark kink

Initial prompt: panty-kink

Words: 4706

Summary: Peter Parker is the biggest badass in the Junior class at NYU, only Tony Stark knows the truth.

Read it on AO3

For @starkerfestivals summer bingo

This fic has been a small labor of love and I couldn't be prouder of it. Finally, my THIRD work in the Starker Festivals Bingo is done!

This is unbeta'd but has been heavily cheered on by my favourite human @cozysafechaotic and my team on the Super Starkers server. Thank you guys as always for being your badass selves.

It's been weeks and Tony's climbing the walls. He's held off for close to two months from exposing the boy's secret. He tries to avoid looking, really he does, but he just can't help it. Badass Peter Parker, one of his top students is wearing panties. Each class period, Peter's in a short black sweatshirt and black jeans, combat boots untied on his feet.

He looks as though he just rolled out of bed, and each period a different boy has his arm slung over Peter's shoulders or tucked up the back of his sweatshirt. It's only when they move their fingers, or Peter raises his hand to ruffle his post-sex curls that Tony catches a glimpse of them...

A thin line of lace just above the edge of his jeans.

A whisper of something softer hidden beneath the leather and studs.

Tony swore he was hallucinating at first, swearing to himself that he wasn't looking at his student's ass every time he leaves the room. Sometimes, during class, Peter will disappear under the guise that he has to use the bathroom. He won't come back until twenty minutes later with a dazed and disassociated look in his eyes, his hair even messier than it was before. The professor pretends nothing changed as he chews his lip, willing himself not to have an outward expression to the boy's appearance.

Later in his office, he wonders to himself who made Peter Parker look that desperate. He frazzles his lip, wondering how pretty the boy must sound. He wonders how delectable the boy would look in those perfect panties, the red ones from today haunting his mind more than usual. That's his color. Oh how Tony wants to make his ass match those panties.

Thursday rolls around and Peter's in the front row again. This time though, he's leaning over a desk and kissing the boy in his chair. His black cropped sweater falls upwards at the angle, revealing a small pink sliver of lace just above his pant line. The other students around them are pretending like nothing's happening, trying their damndest to not look over and willing themselves not to feel uncomfortable. Tony smirks to himself, feeling almost sorry for them. He sets his briefcase down on the desk, unpacking his laptop and wiring it in. A few others stand around, friends from other classes around their desks, talking to his students.

The boy still hasn't separated from the other student for longer than necessary, his fingers slipping into the dark curls on the base of the other's neck. Tony glances at his phone briefly, answering a few texts until the clock displays 2 pm. "Alright!" he stands "If you are in this class, please take your seat! If not, doors over there." He points to the door where a late student is sneaking in. Peter breaks away finally, and a few other kids take their seats as well.

The mystery boy stands, allowing Peter to sit, pressing a final kiss to his mouth before leaving. Peter grabs his hand and passes him something round, a blush on his cheeks. Tony swears he hears the boy murmur, "Be good" before leaving but he may have made that up. The boy nods, either way, watching as he leaves. Peter finally meets Tony's eye, wiping the saliva off his lip with a "what are you gonna do about it?" expression. He rolls his eyes turning to the board and beginning his lecture. About halfway through though, his attention is brought back to the boy in the front row. Something about his expression has changed and he can't stop shifting. Before he can fuss with the idea, the class is over and Peter's rushing to pack up his notebook and laptop. He considers asking the boy to stay after class, hoping he could get a look up close. Before he can, Peter's disappeared out the door.

Tony wastes no time in his office later, pouring a glass of whiskey and sitting at his desk. The stack of lab reports on his desk stares back, dauntingly. He sighs deeply, a yawn already fighting at his mouth as he sits the crystal cup on a black coaster. The first report is atrocious and by the time he's on the eighth or ninth, it's gone three am. He falls back in his chair, hearing a door down the hall creak. "What the shit?" Tony rises, turning on his phone flashlight. "Hello?"

Instead of a ghost or an intruder, he finds Peter Parker sneaking through the halls. "What are you doing here? It's 3 in the morning!" Peter asks, just as shocked to see Tony as he is to see Peter.

"I could ask you the same thing, Mr Parker. What are you doing here?"

"I asked you first."

"Fine. I'm grading your class's midterm reports. What are you doing here?"

"I'm... doing nothing. I shouldn't have come." Peter turns towards the door and for a moment he thinks Peter's going to run. Instead of running, he pushes his back against the front entrance door, shoulders falling when it clicks instead of opening.

"Shouldn't have come?"

"No. I had an idea... and now I'm realizing it was a bad idea."

"It was, was it?" Tony prods, "What was your idea?"

"I... nothing. I'm sorry."

"Peter, you have no problem talking in class and I see you flirting with all those people. So what's different now? What's changed?"

"Well, this isn't organometallic chemistry class, Mr. Stark, and what I'm insinuating isn't related to chemistry either."

"What are you talking about, Peter?"

"I... See, this is the issue, I don't want to say. Because maybe I am reading this whole thing wrong."

"I don't think you are." Tony backs up, "Something brought you here at 3:17 am. You don't just happen to be in the area and want to pay a visit to your classroom. You had to know what door would be unlocked, and what the schedules of the campus police and janitors are so that you could get in here without being seen."

"I know... I... er... um..." Peter flusters, stepping forwards. "O-one of my friends said you always watch me in class."

"Well, that's a given, Peter, I am your professor."

"I know, but they said you watch me before and after class starts. She said that when Bucky was kissing me earlier, you almost looked upset."

"Because you were making out in my classroom, Peter," Tony replies, walking back towards his office. He looks over his shoulder, confirming the boy is following behind. "People tend to feel uncomfortable when things like that are happening in their area of control."

"Were you uncomfortable?" Peter asks, leaning against the desk, watching the older man take his seat behind the it, "Or jealous?"

"I don't think I should answer that question, Mr Parker."

"I want you to, though, Mr Stark," Peter smirks, subconsciously licking his lower lip.

"I don't care what you want. This is inappropriate, Peter. You know it, I know it... Every single one of our interactions this entire semester has been inappropriate."

"What interactions? Do you know something I don't?" Peter pries, looking at Tony through his eyelashes.

"Fuck it," Tony sighs sitting back in his chair. "Sit down and I will tell you exactly what I know."

"Yes, Mr Stark."

"And we will be circling back around to that." He says, voice dropping an octave, and Tony swears he sees Peter shiver. "Okay, let's see..." The older man looks down at his desk, finding a lone mark on the side of one of the papers and staring at it. "I know that you have a crush on me. I know that you flirt with all those men to get my attention." He looks up, finally meeting Peter's eye, "I also know that you aren't as much of a badass as you want people to think you are." Peter's eyes widen as he's rendered speechless. "What's wrong? Didn't think it's obvious how much of a softie you really are?"

"I'm not soft!"

"And I don't think that you thought I wouldn't notice you're... ahem... style choices?"

"What? Wearing hoodies and jeans isn't good enough for you?" Peter bursts out, standing up, hands landing on the dark wood desk.

"Not what I'm talking about and you know it. You're positively squirming with nerves. Thought I wouldn't notice these?" Peter's not sure when Tony moved around the desk, but one minute he was in front of and the next he's behind him, fingers running gently over the small line of dark red lace just above his pant line.

"O-oh... those... I'm sorry if I caused you strife. I didn't mean to I wore these for my hookup partners. N-No other reason."

"No other reason? None at all?" Tony purrs, hand running across his back again. Peter swallows a gasp, and Tony swears he could die a happy man listening to that sound.

"Nope. It's definitely nothing to do with you."

"I never said it had anything to do with me. Why would it have to do with me? Are you telling me you dressed up for me?"

"I.. Um... Er..."

"Because if you did that would be really fucking hot." Peter turns finally meeting the man's eye.

"Wha--"

"You heard me."

"Did I? Because I think I just hallucinated."

"You didn't, Peter. I said," Tony takes a step forwards, inching closer to the younger with each step, "that it'd be really fucking hot if you dressed up for me knowing the other students could see. I bet you wanted them to see, didn't you?" He asks, their foreheads a few inches apart. "I bet you wanted the other students to see you dressed up for me. I bet you wanted them to see me getting all riled up for you and seeing you looking desperate for me, knowing there's nothing I can do about it. Is that true?"

"Y-yes, Mr Stark." He confesses.

"Fuck. And then there's that." Tony groans softly, touching his fingers to the neck of Peter's cropped leather bolero. The zip catches the light and glints gently. "You can't go around throwing Mr Stark's at me left and right, Peter. It gets in my head and it lives there."

"Oh?" Peter teases, and Tony regrets his confession immediately. But fuck, he's too far gone to stop his voice from continuing.

"Yes. You keep saying it over and over in class and occasionally I can hear the frustration in your voice and I wonder what would happen if you weren't frustrated from chemistry but instead from being edged and denied until you're desperate for it."

Whatever line between them was obliterated in that one statement.

Before Peter can stop himself, he's crushing his mouth against Mr Stark's in a fervent kiss. He absolutely mewls at the feeling of the professor's mouth against his own, as he gasps, "Oh my god, Mr Stark, I've been wanting to do that since January!" The older chuckles at the statement, and the way the boy's voice cracks in the middle.

"Oh yeah? What else were you thinking about?" Tony pushes back on the boy's hips, gently pressing him against the back of his desk. He reaches his foot out to behind him and shuts the door. When it clicks, he connects their mouths again. "Were you hoping this would happen when you got here tonight? Were you hoping I was just as desperate for you as you are for me? Hoping and praying that any sort of inhibition that was stopping me would crumble the moment I saw you?"

"Yes, Yes! I was hoping you would notice! I did it for you!" Peter whines hand covering his mouth. Tony growls in approval, touching his hand finally to Peter's wrist.

"That's what I thought. But here's the fun part, Peter, I want this just as much as you do. I have wanted this since January. But I know you love to show off." He takes a step back, returning to his leather chair. "So. How much do you want it?"

"Fuck, Mr Stark, I want it." He gasps, frozen in place, the man before him rolling his sleeves up to his forearm. Mr Stark's wristwatch glints in the lamplight, and Peter notices the ends of a tattoo on his arm.

"Are you going to show me how much you want it, or are you going to stand there and keep ogling me all night?" Tony's deep voice asks, and Peter feels the want spread in his stomach. "I know you're flirty, you've done it all semester. Why can't you do it now?"

"Because you are a lot sexier than those other men," Peter confesses, mustering his courage as he rounds the desk corner. "It makes it harder when your existence is distracting. I can't focus! It throws me off my game." He stands before the man, black jean-clad knees touching Mr Stark's. He could get used to having the professor stare up at him, whiskey eyes piercing into his heart and soul. He wonders for a fraction of a second how he'd look above him, but that's a position for another day.

He straddles the older man's thighs, connecting their mouths together again. He gently lowers his hips, carefully avoiding Mr Stark's crotch.

Tony looks up at the boy, "C'mon, pretty thing. Flirt."

"Fuck, Mr Stark," Peter whines, "I.."

"You...?"

"Don't make me say it."

"Say it or lose the jacket."

"Fuck." Peter gasps, pushing the shoulders of his jacket off, catching it at his elbows. Before Tony can resist, he's got his mouth at the boy's shoulder, pushing the sleeve of his shirt out farther. He drinks in Peter's whines, the boy sounding broken. "Please, Mr Stark... I have wanted you for so long, please do something."

"Alright. How about I tell you what to do? Does that sound like something you want?" Peter nods, meeting the older's eyes. "Now, about this jacket..." Tony begins, pushing Peter's jacket off his arms, and dropping it on the floor. The leather falls into a small pile at their feet, Peter's white undershirt following suit. "How are you doing, Peter?"

"I'm okay, Mr Stark. We can... we can keep going if you wanna."

"If I "wanna"?" Tony repeats, hands pausing their dancing on Peter's stomach. "Sweetheart, it's not just about me. I want you to be into this too. I told you earlier, that you're in charge. What do you want me to do to you, honey?"

"M-may I?" Peter asks, shyly touching the buttons on Tony's grey shirt.

"Go right ahead." Without a moment to spare, Peter's fingers are working the buttons on the man's shirt. He reveals more and more of Mr Stark's torso, and gods is it a sight. The man's got a small tattoo under his left pec, a name.

"Who's Pepper?"

"Ah... Yeah, about that." Tony begins, "She's my ex-wife. There's a long story there, but we've been separated for almost six years. I promise you that you don't need to worry about her."

"Why is her name still tattooed on you then?"

"It was a whirlwind thing, I think my name might still be on her hip. I don't care to find out." To say Peter's expression changes a little would be an understatement. A light seems to fire in his eyes, brows furrowed as he stares at the script tattoo. "Are you okay?"

"Hm?"

"Are you okay? You haven't stopped staring at the tattoo." Instead of replying, Peter connects their lips in a hard kiss full of desperation and want. Peter's fingers fuss over the ink, scratching gently. "Fuck, c'mon, Peter." He nods.

"How do we want to do this?" Tony looks up at the younger, as though he could answer with his eyes.

"How about you remove your jeans? Let's start there." Peter nods, following directions and sliding his jeans down his legs, removing his shoes as well.

Tony's died and gone to heaven, he's sure of it. Before him is an angel. The small details on the younger's body are laid out before him and he begins to take stock of them. There's a heart on his hip and a bruise on his waist, no doubt from when he ran into the counter in the lab the other day. "Holy fuck." He murmurs, eyes finally landing on his prize. The boy's cock is tucked neatly into the front of the most beautiful wine-red lace panties. "Can I see the back? Turn around for me?" He begs, not even realizing he is. The boy's nodding and turning, showing his perfect ass to the older. The panties have begun grinding in between his cheeks as he's gotten harder, and the man feels a calling in his soul to find out where the line leads. Before he can stop himself, he's reached out to touch the lace, snapping the band against the boy's hip, "Fuck. These look so much better up close, Peter. You have no idea how long I have waited to see you like this."

"Thank you, Mr Stark," He blushes, turning back to face him. "M-may I?" He asks, motioning to the growing bulge in the professor's slacks.

"Yes, fuck, please do." Tony spreads his legs more, allowing Peter to unzip his slacks and finally pull his cock out of its confinements. The soft groan that passes his lips has Peter smirking. The younger sinks to his knees, pressing his lips to the tip and kitten licking along it. He begins suckling, hand covering where his mouth can't reach. Tony gasps, trying his hardest to make it seem as though Peter's ministrations not affecting him.

"Mr Stark, fuuuuuck" Peter gasps, pulling off of the older. "I need you."

"Sweetheart, you read my mind. Get up here."

"D'you have lube?" Peter asks, rising slowly to return to Mr Stark's lap.

"I do. It's in the desk in the center drawer." The boy reaches over, opening the drawer. It's full of pens and sticky notes and paper clips.

"Erm... there's no lube."

"At the back. Reach up when you get back there." The boy follows directions, finding a slot where a small bottle of lube falls in his hand.

"Mr Stark you sly son of a fuck." He giggles, dropping the bottle in the professor's hand.

"Try this, 'Mr Stark you horny son of a fuck." The boy blushes, "It's your fault, I don't know why you're shy. The reason the bottle is almost empty is because of you."

"Fuck." Peter gasps, head falling on the man's shoulder. "Just put your fingers in me god dammit."

"You don't have to ask me twice." Tony smiles gently, spreading lube over his fingers. "Now, take a deep breath for me." The boy nods, breathing in and before he can exhale, the feeling of his panties being pushed aside and a finger gently prodding at his hole invades his senses.

"More!"

"Already? Desperate, aren't you?" Peter whines, pushing back on the fingers. Tony smirks, "Let's see what happens with three." He presses a third finger in next to the others, revelling in the broken mewl he gets in reply. "Aww, poor little Petey."

"Mr Staaaaark!" Peter whines, "I need mooore. Fuck me please!" The boy gasps, licking at Tony's jaw. "Please, please, please..."

"Aw, why should I? You sound so good begging for me. Maybe I should keep you here, writhing on my fingers?" Mr Stark smirks, and Peter moans desperately. "Maybe if you ask nicely, I will." Before he can finish the statement, Peter's gently smiling into his neck.

"Please, Mr Stark."

"Please what?"

"Fuck me! Please fuck me, Mr Stark!" Peter begs so prettily that Tony could die happy listening to it. "Please please please please please fuck me!"

"Aww, of course, honey." Tony kisses Peter as he opens the lube, spreading it over his cock. "Ready?" when Peter nods, he presses the head of his cock against Peter's ass. "Hold on for me, this might feel uncomfortable at first."

"Mr Stark, I've had sex before. Don't worry, I'm clean. I get tested often with my friend."

"Alright." He presses in more, giving peter a moment to adjust to the feeling of fullness. He obliges when Peter begs for more. "Fuck you're so tight, Peter. Such a good boy." Tony's caught off guard when Peter brokenly moans. "Oh, you like that?" Peter raises his head, running his fingers through Tony's hair, pressing their lips together again. "Hm? I didn't hear a reply on that?" In lieu of a reply, Peter nods silently, reconnecting their mouths. "Aww, a shy little Peter enjoys when I tell him how good he is? Wouldn't have pegged you for that."

"There's a lot about me you don't-- oh fuck!" He gasps. Mr Stark decided at that moment to begin thrusting gently upwards.

"A lot that I don't what?" Tony smirks, not pausing his hips.

"There's a-- It's not important" Peter replies, head falling on Tony's shoulder. "I just was saying how you didn't know a lot of things about me."

"Oh? Like what don't I know about you sweetheart?"

"You didn't know about my praise kink, you don't know that I like to watch old black and white films sometimes when I'm sick and you don't-- oh fuck!"

"Don't what?" Tony teases, "Finish your sentences, honey, you're doing so good."

"I was saying that you don't-- you don't. Oh, fuck please!"

"Aww, c'mon baby... You're being so good for me. Just a little longer. Tell me what you think I don't know and I will let you cum."

"Please don't make me! You know what you don't know!" Peter melts, body becoming loose and malleable. The older wraps an arm around his hips, changing angles. He knows he's hit Peter's spot when the boy cries out brokenly.

"Holy fuck, Mr Stark!"

"C'mon, what don't I know? You said I don't know about your praise kink, that you watch old films, and what's the third thing? You've got me on edge baby." He smirks internally at the wordplay, scratching gently at Peter's back. "What don't I know? Hm? Is it that you aren't really as much of a whore as you act like you are? Is it that I know you don't actually call out the names of those men when they fuck you against the bathroom wall? Is it that you have been lusting over me for the last few months? How about that you're being such a good boy for me. Because believe me, I know all of that. I'm smarter than you think, baby." He licks gently at Peter's neck, biting softly when the boy tilts his head to give him more space.

"No! I think you don't know how much I wanted this."

"That's not true and you know it. You know I have known. You wouldn't have dressed in those pretty panties every week if you thought I didn't know. You wanted to put on a show. Is that what you think I didn't know? How much you wanted to show off for me? How much you enjoy distracting me in class by bringing in upperclassmen like Barnes to kiss at the desks while I teach? Do you enjoy showing off for me, Peter?"

"Fuck yes I do! Please!" He jolts his hips against Mr Stark's, connecting their lips as he grinds against his stomach. "Please! I told you what you wanted to know, please please please let me cum! I did what you asked!!" Tears start falling past Peter's eyelashes and Tony swears it's the prettiest thing he's seen all week. One desperate Peter Parker begging and crying on his lap and the feeling of the boy tightening around him as he does.

"Holy fuck, Peter!" Tony growls, grabbing the boy's hips, making damn sure there will be bruises left behind. "Want to know what I have waited for all this time?"

"Fuck, please, Mr Stark! Please, please please..."

The boy trails off in an almost incomprehensible slur of begs and Tony's slipping, fast. He presses closer to the boy, sucking deep purple marks into the skin of his neck. Peter's gasps are broken into whimpers and mewls as the older continues, "I have waited to see you fall apart on top of me. I have waited to see what all those little playmates of yours have gotten to see before me. But what they didn't know? They didn't know you wished to be mine, did they?"

"N-no, no, no..." Peter's fingers curl into fists on the man's shoulders, "They didn't know..."

"What else didn't they know?" Tony prods, reconnecting his mouth on one of Peter's nipples, setting a bruising pace into the boy's spot.

"That I wasn't thinking of them. I was thinking of you. I was wishing they were you. When I was on the floor in the bathroom all those times, I was dreaming that it was you." his eyes flutter shut, moaning softly at the repetitive rhythm being interrupted as Mr Stark's hips stutter. "Fuck, I was wanting it to be you above me, Mr Stark, wanted it to be you begging for me and telling me how good I am!"

"Oh, is that so? Wanted me to tell you that you feel so perfect for me? Like you were made just for me? Wanted me to tell you that, fuck...." Tony trails off as he feels a tightening in his lower stomach. "Wanted me to tell you that you are such a good boy? That I wish that all your little playmates could see you right now? Do they make you like this, Peter? Can they tear you apart this perfectly? Do you beg this prettily for all of them?"

"No! Just you, just you, fuck! Please, Mr Stark, I'm so fucking close, please." He whines, voice breaking into a sound unlike Tony's ever heard. It becomes his life mission to rip that sound from the boy again.

"Gods you sound amazing, baby," Tony purrs, "Are you getting close? Gonna start begging some more for me?"

"Fuck please, please, please please!!" Peter cries out, pressing his hips down against Mr Stark's, reaching a hand down to take his own cock in hand.

Before he can reach though, Mr Stark's hand bats it away, "Let me. I want to make you feel good everywhere so that all of your playmates feel inadequate. I want you to get what you have craved -- ruined by me."

"Fuck, please!" Tony smirks to himself at the boy, "I'm so fucking close please!"

He licks into Peter's mouth one final time before growling, "Ready? When I say go, I want you to cum like the good boy you are." Peter nods, hands gripping the older's shoulders.

"Please..." he weeps, desperate tears streaming.

"Alright, pretty thing... three... two... one..." He pushes his hips up more, the burning becoming almost intolerable. His voice drops to a deep purr as he growls, "Cum. Fuck! Cum for me, Peter. C'mon...."

As if waiting for his cue, Peter's hips push back to connect to Tony's, the overwhelming feeling of both of their orgasms clinging to every inch of Peter's being. "Fuck, Mr Stark!!" he cries.

"That's it, that's a good boy. Keep going..." He runs his fingers over Peter's cock, as a few final spurts land on his chest. It's at that moment that he looks down and finds that the tattoo of Pepper's name is concealed under cum.

"Was that intentional?" Tony gasps, bringing the younger's attention down to his chest and to the tattoo. Peter blushes a deep pink, covering his mouth with one hand and shrugging his shoulders.

"N-no... but now that I'm looking at it, who's to say it isn't?"

"Gods..." Tony's head falls back against the chair, smiling affectionately. "Do you want to stay put or move to the couch? I need to grade your class's midterm papers either way."

"No, you don't." Peter purrs, "You need to come fuck me again, Mr Stark."

"Gods one taste of poison and you're already begging for it."

"No, I'm begging for you, Mr Stark."

Oh, fuck this kid is going to kill him.

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, likes, and reblogs are very appreciated!

#shut up nika #nika writes #starker #tony x peter

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90minsofscreentime · 2 years

Text

Grief

Hello, hello, hello! Here is a new work of mine~ Yes it has been a long while, I completely and utterly blame the education system. Why can’t a girl write fics forever in peace??

Anywho~ This is one of my squares for the Starker Festivals Summer Bingo 2022 and it's just my luck that the first square I manage to finish is the angst-iest of them all. 😅Some warnings for this story: This is the immediate aftermath of Uncle Ben's death, so Peter's point of view goes into detail about his overwhelming emotions and the terrifying situation. If reading about the death of a close family member or friend is particularly triggering for you, then it may be best to skip this one - I will never take it personally~

Take care, my friends and I hope you enjoy! 🌺

Also available on ~ AO3

SFSummerBingo2022 Prompt Fill ~ “Grief” @starkerfestivals

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Peter can’t breathe. He can’t fucking breathe, his chest is expanding and expanding and expanding and no breath is coming out. He can’t stop gasping, he can’t stop looking at him; his chest, his face, the blood – Oh my god there’s so much blood –

Peter’s eyes are wide and frantic, darting around every inch of the scene in front of him; the ghostly image of his Uncle. No, no, no, that can’t be right, Peter thinks, panicked, He was just speaking a second ago, I could hear his voice, he was going to be fine I could hear his breath I could–

The indescribable shift of Uncle Ben’s eyes from warm and comforting and home to unrecognisably empty and cold and grey cannot stop flashing through Peter’s mind. His rabbiting heart has sunk low into his chest and even now the unforgiving pulse of desperation is throbbing against Peter’s entire body, scratching and pulling to break free and take over him completely.

It hurts. Oh god, it hurts so much, please make it stop, please, please, I can’t breathe–

The world becomes blurry and distorted with trembling tears, shaken by the constant tremors vibrating through his skin, stuck in his frozen eyes and stinging the length of his throat, begging to be released. But Peter can’t blink. He can’t move, he can’t see, he can feel the sticky weight of something on his hands, but he doesn’t dare glance down and look. Instead he remains stunned still in his new warped world, full of tears and blood and cold, cold eyes; all alone, never to be rescued.

Uncle Ben.

I can’t breathe.

Muffled voices start to filter into Peter’s lonely world, the words indistinguishable, as if Peter is drowning and his ears are full of tears and blood. He can’t hear anything. He can’t see.

Uncle Ben.

“Hey, Kid,” A single, gentle sound pierces the ocean surrounding Peter, fading slowly into his world, approaching his side like a torch in a cave; a lighthouse at sea. “Hey there, buddy,” The voice continues, its words clear and concise – comforting. “It’s gonna be okay, my name is Tony Stark, I’m an officer with the NYPD, the ambulance has arrived–”

“Un–” Peter’s throat closes up, fighting the onslaught of tears.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” The gentle voice – a man – has a body. It comes closer and presses their temples together so that the man’s ear is presumably closer to Peter’s trembling mouth. Peter can’t breathe.

“Uh– Un-” Peter gasps wetly. “Uncle Ben– ”

An animalistic cry tears its way through the oceanic barrier in Peter’s throat as he throws himself into the stranger’s arms and suddenly, the dam holding everything back bursts. A thunder drum of sound claps around his ears as he surfaces – hot, painful tears sliding from his eyes; deafening street life and onlookers surrounding every inch of him; his distorted world turning black as he squeezes his eyes shut against the pain. Please make it stop, it hurts, it hurts, I can’t see, my throat hurts so much, please help me, please help–

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you – I’m here now,” The man cradles him, protects him from the terrifying world, the people, the body lying just a few inches in front of him that he just can’t stop seeing. “I know it hurts, I know, you’ve been through something very frightening, and I’m so sorry you had to experience that.” A litany of comfort flows from the stranger’s mouth, the repetitive hum of his voice anchoring Peter. The tears don’t stop – his sobs continue to tear their way out of Peter’s throat – but the man keeps murmuring. Peter doesn’t want him to stop.

Time seems to twist and deform around them as they crouch there on the rain soaked pavement, everything and nothing happening all at once. Peter starts to make out the sound of other officers managing the crowd, passing civilians stopping to gawk and chatter with each other at the scene, different tires of different vehicles arriving and leaving one after the other, so many voices of so many people that Peter wants to scream at. He wants to demand that they all leave, that they stop their incessant staring and whispering and judging and sympathies, as if his Uncle Ben is some freak show or social commentary or anything close to these strangers’ business. Peter grips a little tighter at the gentle man’s clothes and takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“Can you hear me, Kid?”

Peter nods slowly.

“Shall we get out of this crowd and find somewhere quiet?”

Peter nods again.

Sitting in a police station is a very foreign experience for Peter. He’s always lived a life free of delinquency and misbehaviour. He never planned on ever seeing the inside of a prison cell and therefore assumed he’d live a life of blissful ignorance, only hearing of crime when it came from the lips of a detached news anchor. But the seats of the washed out, fluorescently lit police department are cold, uncomfortable and much too real for him to deny. He just wants to go home. He wants… that kind man to come back.

Peter was far too overwhelmed and lonely to feel embarrassed at the way he clung onto the police officer, not daring to let go lest he get swept up in a sea of first responders and never find that comforting presence ever again. The constant contact continued all the way through the tests, check-ups and investigations he sat through – different professionals rotating one after the other from their jobs on the crime scene to asking Peter the same few questions: “ What’s your name?” , “Are you alright?” , “Are you hurting anywhere?” , “Can you look into this light, please?” , “Can you follow my finger with just your eyes, please?” . The kind stranger started answering questions for Peter at some point when the repetition began to make him shut down almost completely, spurring the man to steal Peter away from all the disquietude and into a police car.

After another nonverbal insistence from Peter, the stranger – Tony Stark, as he reintroduced himself – ended up sitting in the backseat with him, another officer of some sort driving instead. The journey to the police department simultaneously took ages and no time at all. In reality, Peter couldn’t tell you how far away they were from that godforsaken street, or anywhere for that matter. The only thing he remembers from that car journey is his shy fingers reaching across the car seat towards Mr. Stark’s, seeking ever so much more comfort than he knows a police officer is willing (or allowed) to give to a random kid like himself, but even so, his trembling fingers were met halfway and grasped reassuringly tight, kickstarting a new, warm beating of his heart. For the first time that evening, he had begun to relax.

Now, however, that familiar, dreadful hollowness sits deep in his chest, Mr. Stark having left him with a gentle promise that Peter can’t remember. Was he promising to come back? Was he promising to send someone else? Am I being left here all night by myself? Constant what-ifs swell and congest in Peter’s mind, suffocating and confusing, but far better than the horrible, terrifying alternative that occasionally sneaks through the cracks in his thoughts, showing flashes of cold eyes, slack features and stained hands. Peter’s face crumples painfully in his attempts to not burst into pathetic wails again, his shoes squeaking against the floor as he tucks his whole body onto the plastic chair, hiding his face in his knees like a child afraid of a looming monster. Except there is no Uncle Ben, this time, to chase them away.

“Hey, Peter.”

Lifting his head up slightly, Peter sees Mr. Stark standing off to his side, a steaming paper cup in one hand and a spiral notebook in the other. For the first time, Peter actually looks at the man – at his features, his uniform, his height and his stance – and he is just lucid enough to recognise the man’s handsomeness. Mr. Stark’s face is aged, but by no means less attractive for being so; his entire air is distinguished yet there is a recognisable stiffness in his shoulders and a heaviness to his gait, hinting at a concealed exhaustion only made visible in moments of solitary weakness. Though, Peter can hardly imagine a strong, comforting figure like Mr. Stark ever appearing weak. A painfully obvious difference between them, Peter notes, bitterly. He doesn’t think their positions could be any more contrasting, in fact; a shivering teen next to an experienced cop. What a pathetic picture they must be painting.

“The break room only has either coffee that tastes like soot or watery hot chocolate, so I thought I’d spring for the lesser of two evils,” Tony gestures to the cup in his hand, moving forward to place it on a low circular table next to Peter’s chair, right on top of some scattered helpline pamphlets and police recruitment ads displaying triumphant imagery of young men and women in trainee uniforms – now a makeshift coaster. “Don’t feel obliged to drink, I certainly wouldn’t blame you – I’ve certainly had my fill of the refreshments here – I just thought it would be better than nothing,” The older man squats down in front of Peter attentively, face open and understanding, not even the slightest hint of condescension. Peter is grateful.

“Thank you,” He croaks out, immediately clearing his throat in embarrassment. Great, as if he didn’t feel small enough already.

“You’re very welcome, Peter,” A simple smile accompanies Mr. Stark’s words, simple but ever so comforting. After briefly shifting his weight on his heels, Mr. Stark’s features dim slightly into an expression of seriousness. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to brief you on what needs to happen now, for you at least.”

Peter’s chest stutters, his jaw tightening against the infuriating tremble of his chin. Goddammit, Peter, get a grip. He quickly looks down at his lap before Mr. Stark can see the immense effort it’s taking for him to not burst into tears; to not scream at the top of his lungs for Uncle Ben or May or his parents; to not lunge forward and bury himself in the arms of this poor police officer and hide away until the pain finally stops. His fingers grip tighter at the material of his jeans as Peter breathes a shaky inhale. His nails are still stained red.

Before Peter can spiral any further, a tender hand rests on top of his shaking knuckles, unmoving and unwavering.

“Take some deep breaths with me, Pete, there’s absolutely no rush,” Mr. Stark starts breathing loud and slow, his thumb smoothing over Peter’s skin. “I’ve got nowhere to be tonight, okay? Breathe nice and slow for me, there you go, in-and-out – you’ve got this,” In and out, in and out, God, Peter can’t believe he has to be instructed on how to breathe. It’s humiliating and terrifying, but damn if it isn’t helping to steady him. Mr. Stark’s hand is so comfortingly grounding, fostering a newfound desire in Peter to tilt up his palm and squeeze back just as tight, so that he may share all of this emotion through touch alone, so that he won’t have to feel so completely isolated in the frightening promise of what is bound to change about him and his life from this day forward. It scares him, but he starts to settle. His fingers flex underneath Mr. Stark’s. He receives an answering squeeze.

“How are we doing, Pete?” That compassionate voice sounds once more – soft and pleasant as ever. I don’t know, I don’t know, just- please don’t let me go. “Do you think you’re okay to talk now?” Peter nods, somewhat robotically.

“Yeah, I think so,” Peter murmurs, voice more firm now, but still worn out. Overused. Exhausted. “I mean, if not now, when, right?”

“Well,” Mr. Stark smiles amiably. “Like I said, I’ve got nowhere to be,” His arms spread grandly, a mock display that is completely charming. “So just let me know if you ever need to take a break or anything, alright?”

“Mhm,” Peter hums, reaching to his side to grasp the abandoned drink, his senses soothing slightly at the gentle warmth of the paper. He almost misses the pleased look on Mr. Stark’s face.

The evening stretches on after that, with Peter being informed about inevitable police reports, investigations and possible court proceedings regarding the… incident, as well as funeral and mortuary information that Peter can’t help but break down again at. Cue some more restrained tears and an eventual embrace where Mr. Stark is still leaning up from his crouched position in front of Peter’s chair, resolute and enduring as ever, even though his whole frame must’ve been uncomfortable holding Peter like that for so long. But not a single complaint leaves the older man’s mouth.

It’s with his head on Mr. Stark’s shoulder that Peter notices Aunt May shuffling through the automatic doors, face pale and body hunched over, a terribly lost look in her eyes. Peter’s never hugged her so hard in his life. They’ve never cried together so desperately, all without having to utter a single word.

The night continues to draw on.

Aunt May, Mr. Stark and Peter visit several different rooms to talk to several different people for different exhausting reasons. Recounting the events of the evening to men in white shirts and notepads takes physical effort at some points, but Mr. Stark always speaks up to rephrase, ask easier questions or just to pat a reassuring hand on his shoulder or his back or his leg. It eases his nerves also to see him do the same for Aunt May.

After the sufficient amount of questions seem to have been asked (too many), he and Aunt May are led back to the main lobby by Mr. Stark once more, condolences and final goodbyes exchanged (with Peter glancing a tad too longingly at the man who spent the whole night by his side). Just as they’re both steeling themselves for the eeriest car ride of their lives, back to their cold apartment, Mr. Stark calls out.

“Peter! Could you come back over here for a second?” A quick, wordless glance at Aunt May communicates her approval. Peter walks back into the building as she ventures out into the car park.

“Yeah, Mr. Stark?” Peter asks quietly, awkwardly slipping his hands into his pockets.

“‘Mr. Stark’, huh? That's very cute, I’ve only ever been called that in job interviews,” Mr. Stark jokes gently, with a grin so comfortable that Peter can’t help but huff a laugh in return. This man. “‘ Mr. Stark ’, very cool, very… distinguished,” The older man trails off as he scribbles quickly in his notepad before tearing out the sheet and holding it out to Peter proudly. “Here.”

“What’s that?” Peter eyes the paper, confused.

“These are my contact details,” Mr. Stark answers, nonchalant. Peter, on the other hand, has stopped functioning. “In case you have any questions about anything police-wise, investigation-wise, or just- if you need someone to talk to about anything,” The man’s face is too sincere to be joking about this. Peter takes the paper, still dumbfounded.

“Y-You… want me to talk to you about stuff?” Peter questions, still waiting for the catch. This police officer spent all night tending to him and he isn’t kicking Peter out at the first chance he gets? He’s actively extending the offer to keep in touch?

“Well it’s not obligatory, of course, but y’know, you can just text or phone or email or something – I did write my email on the, uh–”

“Okay,” Peter blurts, probably embarrassingly, but he’s still too stunned to notice. “Okay, I-I’ll… text you?”

“Yeah! Texting’s great, that’s great – anything you need, Peter,” Mr. Stark’s eyes glance up, his dark brown eyes swimming with contentment. Peter looks back, entranced. He can feel that his eyes aren’t glowing as much as they used to – his emotions no longer shining through as freely as they once did. He’s closed off. But this man saved him from shutting down altogether and for that, Peter tries his best to convey just how grateful he is through his eyes; greyed and dimmed.

To Peter’s surprise, he starts to see his own grief reflect back at him. Everything that terrified, confused and damaged Peter from tonight flashes behind the colour of Mr. Stark’s irises – a colour that, on closer inspection, was probably just as dulled as Peter’s feel right now. All the exhaustion is there; the uncertainty and guilt and blame, all hidden, but also… overcome. Peter sees himself. He sees pain. He sees love.

“Have a safe journey home, Peter,” Mr. Stark – Tony – rumbles. “Hopefully I’ll see you soon,” Peter has so much to say to this man, so much to ask… He settles for a final tight hug that is reciprocated tenfold.

“I’ll see you then,” Peter whispers, the last defiant sting in his throat resurfacing, silent tears starting to brim.

“You better, Mr. Parker,” A promise is shared. Something implicit and beyond words is shared. Peter doesn’t want to go.

“Bye, Mr. Stark,” A parting wave is the last thing he sees before he turns to go out into the chilled early-morning mist, the sun beginning to peek its way through the city’s buildings. A new day. Peter walks towards the family car.

On the journey back home to their apartment, their lives and the inescapable change, Peter looks down at his phone and then at the paper clutched tightly in one hand. He creates a new phone contact.

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starkersparks · 2 years

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For Hurt Peter on my Starker Festivals Summer Bingo, even though it’s taken me the whole event to post anything again. 😅🙈

#sfsummerbingo22 #starker moodboard #starker festivals

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 3 years

Text

Let Me Get Close To You

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my fic for my @starkerfestivals summer BINGO “wrong number” square. I sat down to write this a couple of days ago & just couldn’t stop - I hope you guys enjoy the cute little verse I created (that I’ll more than likely revisit soon!!). Here’s my bingo card - if you see something on there you might want written, shoot me a message!!! Word Count: 7K Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case? Summary:

Stuck with the worst professor for Nuclear Science, Peter tries to vent his frustrations to Ned - only to send a desperate text message to Tony Stark, instead. When an immediate spark and so many things in common make it easy for Peter to fall further for the elegant genius, what’s the worst that could really happen?

Or: the one where Peter texts the wrong number & romance ensues.

Read on AO3 here.

----

Fuming from a frustrating Nuclear Science class, Peter maturely stomped his way out of the engineering building. They were only two weeks into the semester and the old man already had Peter on edge. His major revolved around the class and his ability to get the most out of the information. The dinosaur that stood at the front of the lecture hall every day hadn’t had an original thought since the 90s and refused to see when others did. Much like every old white man, Dr. Milner’s ideas were the be all end all of a science that changed by the millisecond.

Still pretty new to campus after a late sophomore year transfer, Peter didn’t have many people to turn to that weren’t his nerdy and standoffish teammates on the Academic Decathlon team – most of those guys lived in a world a couple steps from the norm, happily keeping to themselves. Though Peter existed there eighty percent of the time, his need to be social and fill a space in the real world made it impossible to commit to that sort of isolation fully. Straddling the line made it difficult to exist on either side – Peter’s favorite pieces of himself were what kept people away, no matter the lifestyle.

With his mind so heavy with all sorts of negativity, Peter suddenly found himself homesick; he spent so much of his life trying to escape the streets of New York – so far from home now, Peter missed them desperately. Thinking about his tangible connection to his favorite urban wasteland, Peter pulled his phone out and hastily typed in Ned’s new number.

Peter Parker [1:23PM]: Hi, I hate it here. Peter Parker [1:24PM]: Dr. Milner is out to get free thinkers. I may not survive the next fourteen weeks.

Peter already felt a little better after typing the words – the mere ability to get one of his many worries off his chest did wonders. Until his phone pinged with a new text message notification, of course.

Nimble fingers pulled the phone from his pocket, his eyes carelessly looking over the screen as it unlocked. Expecting to see Ned’s name there, Peter almost threw the phone to the ground when Siri’s suggestion registered.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:26PM]: Hi stranger! I think this was meant for someone else, but I too think Dr. Milner is out to squash any new idea that doesn’t fit the mold. In his forty-year career, he hasn’t changed a bit.

Another text message was below it, but Peter forced himself to stop reading – his heart felt like it might beat out of his chest already, too much excitement at once couldn’t be good. Out of all the numbers he could’ve accidentally typed, Tony Stark, New York’s genius and resident beauty, Peter’s secret (though not so much) crush, ended up on the other side of the line. The unbelievability of the idea made Peter consider a well thought out prank. Then again, how did any of his fellow classmates know Tony Stark’s personal number?

Sucking in a deep breath, Peter made himself look at the second text message waiting unread.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:27PM]: I’m not sure how you got this number, but I sincerely hope you make it out alive. If you’re in Milner’s class, you’re on the Nuclear track, which means you must be smart. Trust me, the world needs your future contributions, whatever they might be.

Peter gripped the phone a little harder after reading through the second message over and over again. He let his eyes take in each of the words, wondering, if it really was Tony Stark, how anyone ever survived talking to him. In so few sentences, Peter already felt discombobulated, both more confident and turned around than just seconds before. Aside from his infatuation with the man, Peter understood Tony Stark’s contributions to the technology community and the world at large more than most.

It took him a few minutes to convince himself to text back – every time he tried to type something, his fingers froze just centimeters above the screen. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many questions he wanted to ask to make sure he wasn’t getting catfished. Instead, Peter took the direct route, his courage obviously all or nothing in the face of something as big as an accidental interaction with Tony Stark.

Peter Parker [1:35PM]: Holy crap – excuse me for the bluntness, but is this really Tony Stark? Siri doesn’t often get things wrong, especially since I souped her up. But I’m sure you can understand the apprehension. Peter Parker [1:37PM]: Would you be up for answering a few questions just to make sure?

The tip of his finger tapped against the screen impatiently after he hit the send button, his nerves and the not-so-subtle excitement were barely contained under the surface of his skin. He couldn’t remember a time where feeling alive was so prominent.

A smile slipped across his lips when, a moment later, three consecutive texts vibrated Peter’s phone in succession.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:40PM]: You souped up Siri? Steve Jobs is probably turning over in his grave right now. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:41PM]: I think I’m the one that should be asking the questions, don’t you think? How did you even get this number, Peter Parker? It’s a private line. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:42PM]: I am, though – Tony Stark, I mean.

Peter Parker [1:45PM]: Reconfiguring tech is kind of my thing. I used to dumpster dive in high school – you’d be surprised by the cool pieces of technology people put in their trash. Peter Parker [1:46PM]: Oh, bringing out the big guns – I’m happy to see Siri without my latest addition works for others, too. Peter Parker [1:47PM]: It was an accident, sending those first texts to you. My friend in New York just started a new job that came with a paid phone. I still haven’t saved the number. You are one off from him. Peter Parker [1:48PM]: Alright, Tony Stark. Tell me what campus I’m on.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:53PM]: I’m not surprised by anything human beings do, especially in New York City. Throwing out a perfectly good iPod is certainly not the weirdest thing I’ve heard of. Did you make anything interesting in your trash conversion adventures? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:54PM]: You talk a big game, Mr. Parker. Can you walk the walk, too? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:55PM]: He must be on my payroll, then. The bank of numbers my employees have come from my personal network. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:57PM]: That’s an easy one. You’re at MIT – Milner was there when I was a student. The only thing that’s probably different between then and now is the amount of hair the old bag has.

Peter Parker [2:01PM]: You’re not wrong, Mr. Stark. I made things that helped me be self-sufficient. I grew up really poor and couldn’t afford the things everyone else had – so I figured out how all the tech worked and made my own. I’ve been using a ten-year-old iPhone for ages. Peter Parker [2:03PM]: You bet. Are you challenging me? Peter Parker [2:04PM]: He is, actually. He started in an entry level position two weeks ago. Peter Parker [2:06PM]: It’s gross, isn’t it? I’m glad we’ve moved past projectors in the classroom – the hair on his hand would make for a distracting shadow. Peter Parker [2:07PM]: Okay, okay. I think I’m convinced. One more test, though – send me a picture.

Maybe – Tony Stark [2:14PM]: Oh boy, none of that Mr. Stark shit. As far as you’re concerned, I’m Tony. Only Tony. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:15PM]: You made your own. That’s – impressive. I’m impressed and more than a little curious. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:17PM]: Challenging you, no. Enticing you, yes. I’m visiting Cambridge to do a guest lecture series next week. Come see what Stark Industries is up to – I’d love to hear what you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:18PM]: It was as bad as you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:20PM]: Okay, Peter Parker. [IMAGE ATTACHED]

A gasp of shock left Peter’s mouth when he opened the last text to find a smirking Tony Stark looking right at him. To prove the time and date, Tony held up the New York Times, his free hand pointing to the headline Peter read on his phone earlier that morning. After the shock of actually talking to Tony Stark wore off, Peter let himself take in the picture and all of its details.

Tony’s desk was largely visible in the shot – pens and stacks of paper littered the surface, a few rogue pieces of tech ready to be fiddled with acted as paper weights and grungy aesthetic. The man himself was breath taking – his glasses were a deep violet, offset beautifully by the crisp white shirt and black waistcoat covering Tony’s upper body. A light purple tie was loosely knotted at his throat, as if he fiddled with it while working just to keep his hands busy.

Without much thought, Peter saved the photo and added Tony to his contacts before replying – there was no reason not to trust the man, the spark in his shiny hazel eyes seemed to genuine and real to even question.

Peter Parker [2:25PM]: Only Tony, got it. Peter Parker [2:26PM]: Curiosity is good – keeps you fresh and on your toes. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: Oh, I see. You want a chance to impress me. I like that. Not sure what my opinion is going to do for you, but I’ll be happy to share it. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: Gross. Peter Parker [2:30PM]: I’m – you’re… Wow. You really are Tony Stark.

Tony Stark [2:37PM]: I think you’ll have no problems keeping me on my toes, Peter. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: I have a feeling your opinion is one that I’ll be very interested in. You’ve been nothing but blunt this entire conversation, I know I’m getting the real deal stuff. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: I am. I really am Tony Stark. Tony Stark [2:41PM]: It’s your turn, Peter Parker. What face belongs to that beautiful brain of yours?

Forcing himself to breath, Peter looked around the room for the best spot to return the favor. The bed was a hard no, he didn’t want to send the wrong vibe to a person who could easily have whomever they wanted. His desk was small, but meticulously organized – his study materials open and ready for a night of reviewing the only thing obscuring the surface. It was obvious Tony appreciated his brain, it seemed pertinent to take advantage.

After a few attempts, Peter found the perfect angle to catch the light in his eyes, making them shine brightly in the camera. He thanked the clothing gods that he chose a well fitted three-button Henley in his haste to get out the door that morning. The feeling of satisfaction was new, but not unwelcome – he wanted to send Tony the photo; for once, he knew it would impress.

Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Keeping implies longevity. Are you planning on sticking around? Peter Parker [2:56PM]: My brain to mouth filter runs at less than 10% at all times. It has brought me more trouble than shutting up ever would. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: You’re gorgeous. Violet is a nice color on you. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: What do you think? [IMAGE ATTACHED]

Tony Stark [ 2:37PM]: Yes. I think that’s the answer to that question. You’ve presented a puzzle I want to solve. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: Shutting up never got anyone anywhere. The noise we create is what shapes us. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: Thank you – I have a lot of it in my wardrobe. Tony Stark [2:44PM]: & you called me gorgeous; Peter Parker, you’re a stunner.

Peter Parker [2:51PM]: You’re a scientist, you do that for a living. What makes me so different? Peter Parker [2:52PM]: That’s a refreshing opinion. I like the way you think, Only Tony. Peter Parker [2:54PM]: That honestly doesn’t surprise me. Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Do you tell the person who made you blush that you’re blushing? I don’t remember that standard operating procedure.

Tony Stark [3:01PM]: My intrigue is of a personal nature only – the puzzle you pose is of a different sort. Usually, I think and think and think until I solve whatever the problem is. With you, I want to gather all the clues and take it apart piece by piece. Tony Stark [3:02PM]: That’s a little heavy for only knowing each other a couple of hours, but when you know, you know. Tony Stark [3:03PM]: Not usually, but I have a feeling you’re an exception to a lot of things, Peter Parker.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Peter continued to exchange flirty text messages back and forth with Tony – the mood stayed open and easy as the time passed. The older man helped Peter get through Nuclear Dynamics and three hours of decathlon practice. For all the brains Tony had, Peter was surprised to find humor and a bit of insecurity, too. Tony let himself go on tangents and make dad jokes that were a step away from being obscene.

That trend continued for the rest of the week and well into the weekend. By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, Peter knew Tony’s schedule, half the newest late-night discoveries, and the way Mr. Sweet Tooth took his sugary coffee. Though a line of attraction and want existed, Peter was happy to know Tony as a person without the ability to act on the obvious tension between them. And while he appreciated the wholistic way they were coming to know each other, Peter couldn’t wait to see Tony throughout the week, either.

The older man seemed to share his sentiment – the shrill notification of a text message received pulled Peter out of his thoughts.

Tony Stark [7:30PM]: Hey, Pete! I present at 5:30 tomorrow afternoon. Want to grab something to eat afterwards? Tony Stark [7:31PM]: I’m impatient to get back to Hogan’s and thought you might appreciate his culinary prowess.

Peter Parker [7:35PM]: Tony – this is the fourth time you’ve reminded me about your presentation. I’ll be there. For dinner, too. Peter Parker [7:36PM]: Culinary prowess; if it merits that title, I’m sure it’ll be worth it.

Tony Stark [7:42PM]: I know – I just get some performance anxiety. It helps to remind myself that you’re going to be there. Tony Stark [7:43PM]: It is. Hap is an old friend of mine. He left MIT to go make his restaurant dreams happen and has been stupidly happy ever since.

Peter Parker [7:47PM]: I get it – I’ll gladly be your security blanket, Tony. Peter Parker [7:48PM]: Something tells me there’s more to that story, but I’m sure you’ll tell me one day. I’m excited to try it. Should I look up the menu beforehand, or let it be a surprise?

Tony Stark [7:55PM]: I like the sound of that. I’ve pictured having you in my arms often. Tony Stark [7:57PM]: There’s always more to the story, Pete. Let it be a surprise! In fact, I’ll order for you to make sure you get the whole newbie experience.

Peter Parker [8:05PM]: I’ll boldly say you can have me in your arms as often as you like. Peter Parker [8:06PM]: The newbie experience – there hasn’t been a time in my life where that’s been a good thing. Peter Parker [8:07PM]: Yet. Surprisingly – I trust you.

The next day went by quickly – Peter took a quiz in Nuclear Science and dug into his other two classes to keep his mind focused on anything other than Tony’s imminent presence. His last class was a core history class, so he gladly tucked into the reading the professor let them loose to do. The chime of his alarm broke through Peter’s fog a couple pages from the end of his assignment. Though he liked to be ahead, Peter gladly took the extra few minutes to get himself together before heading to MIT’s presentation hall.

Decked out in his finest pair of black jeans, a blue denim short-sleeve button down, and solid black high-top Converse on his feet, Peter walked the few minutes it took to get back onto campus from his small apartment. Unsurprisingly, a line was formed out the door of students hoping to get into the presentation last minute. Tony told him earlier in the week that they waited to advertise his appearance until the a few hours before to stop the masses from flocking. To Peter, the time restriction seemed to only make it worse.

In Tony’s excitement to have Peter there, the older man set aside a ticket for him – instead of joining the line like he might’ve without Tony’s insistence, Peter walked straight into the cool auditorium, snagging a seat at the end of a row located dead center in the auditorium. The vantage point was perfect – Peter wouldn’t have any trouble catching Tony’s eye as he spoke. Grinning at his access to such a simple pleasure, Peter relaxed back into the seat, passing the time until Tony took the stage by watching the crowd flood in around him.

It wasn’t long before the lights were dimming and a sweaty, high ranking alumnus gave Tony Stark a mediocre welcome onto the stage. The crowd broke out into a cheer that more than made up for the old man’s subpar words. Tony timed his entrance perfectly; he walked out as the energy rose, the shift in the crowd’s tension working to enhance everyone’s excitement. Peter found himself glued to the man, who until that moment, existed entirely on the other side of the phone – he didn’t want to miss a single second of full-body absorption.

A black suit coat sat snuggly on Tony’s shoulders, a singular button keeping the sides closed. His dark hair was elegantly styled, the bed-head look enhancing the easy-going style Peter knew Tony strived for. The facial hair Peter came to truly appreciate over the last few days of texting drew attention to his sharp cheekbones. Tony seemed genuinely happy to be there if the beaming smile on his face said anything at all. With a few claps and the corniest joke, the older man got the crowd under control, proceeding onto his speech with an effortless transition.

As expected, Peter found himself interested from the very beginning. Tony’s new work on energy and its uses amongst transportation and city overhaul was ingenious – when things got up and running, New York’s power grid would run completely on sustainable energy. So many thoughts flashed across the front of Peter’s mind – he wondered if Tony would let him take a look at the blueprints. He might not have much to contribute, yet Peter understood the opportunity for learning and development when it presented itself.

By the end of Tony’s presentation, Peter was overjoyed to know that he wouldn’t need to feign interest in the topics Tony brought to the table. For a while, Stark Industries went through a slump of working on weapons and junky tech Peter found in the trash more often than he ever wanted to admit. It felt good to be excited about something new coming from the company – Tony Stark was the smartest person in his field, anything less than almost perfect just didn’t do the man and his ideas justice.

After fielding a lot more questions than Peter expected, Tony headed off the stage with a roar of applause – the genius wasn’t a household name for nothing. Smiling at the thought, Peter pulled his phone out; he got to see behind the curtain more than others – he felt a sudden surge of gratefulness at the fact. Every person around him would do anything for the privilege; taking that for granted just wouldn’t do.

Peter Parker [6:45PM]: You’re an incredible public speaker, Tony. Peter Parker [6:46PM]: Thanks for making me come!

Tony Stark [6:49PM]: How inappropriate of me is it to say that this isn’t the only time I plan to make you come?

Peter Parker [6:55PM]: Very, but it’s appreciated, nonetheless. I’ll meet you over by the Engineering building whenever you’re done trying to outrun your fans.

Tony Stark [7:00PM]: You’re fucking hilarious. I’ll meet you there in five.

True to his word, Tony snuck up behind Peter a few minutes later – soft palms that gave way to well-earned callouses pressed against Peter’s cheeks as Tony covered his eyes. The mere fact that Tony was there at all was surprise enough; the touches and softly whispered “Hello, Pete,” in his ear felt like more than enough to cause a coronary.

Shaking his head to clear it, Peter turned in Tony’s arms, a huge grin playing across his lips. With the way they were standing now, Peter’s chest was pressed delightfully against Tony’s – he felt each and every one of Tony’s inhales of oxygen and exhales of carbon dioxide that brought Peter’s attention to the firm muscles pressing and pulling the man’s abdomen. His breath caught when Tony palmed his cheek, their mouths mere inches apart. Despite not actually knowing each other, Peter felt comfortable in Tony’s embrace.

“Hey, Tony,” Peter finally replied after allowing his breath to mingle with Tony’s. As they stood there pressed together, neither could decipher where one started and the other began. The thought made his grin grow a little wider, the courage inside of him pulsing a little more boldly with life. “You were amazing up there.”

Tony remained perfectly still; his limbs seemingly frozen in a clench to keep Peter close to him. His grip was firm, both the hand on Peter’s hip and his late day stubbled cheek. Like the man himself, Tony’s touch left something behind that kept Peter on the hook, always seeking more. He half expected for Tony to lean in and slot their lips together – his deepest desires and tangible wants were starting to collide in such close proximity.

Instead, Peter’s smile was returned with quirked cheeks and bright hazel eyes. “You weren’t too bored?” Tony asked, his voice soft in the small space between them. His thumb swiped constantly across Peter’s cheek, the obvious need to move apparent, even in such an intimate situation.

Chuckling lightly, Peter shook his head. “So far from bored. My thesis research is all about sustainable energy – you had me interested from the very beginning,” Peter replied almost immediately, not caring that his excitement clearly shone through in the pitch of his voice. The way he was leaning into Tony’s touch, Peter didn’t have much of a chance to disguise his truth, anyway.

“You’re so much smarter than you give yourself credit for – I can tell already.” Tony’s words were mumbled almost as if the older man was embarrassed to say them – to hand out such a compliment to someone other than himself. And yet – Tony’s hesitation made the statement mean so much more; the rarity of such kind words (despite being spoken so softly) did nothing but make Peter want to melt into Tony even further.

Before things could get too mushy or physical, Peter took a large step out of Tony’s arms – begrudgingly, the need for space was prominent if they ever wanted the night to continue. Never mind the fact that paparazzi were constantly hounding and following Tony wherever the man went. Though he was deemed an appropriate companion at the time, Peter was more than sure the public would not agree.

With that thought in mind, Peter shot Tony a shy smile – “I’m pretty famished. Want to show me what Hogan’s is all about?”

They spent the ten-minute walk talking about the presentation – Tony grilled Peter about a few of the technical parts, while Peter drooled a little bit over the projected uses of Tony’s new energy storage and production. Like two nerdy peas in a pod, neither could help themselves – geeking out and talking about something they were both interested in made the rest of the world melt away. Peter might’ve kept on his tangent if it weren’t for a tall, thickly built man clearing his throat.

Looking up at the noise, Peter realized they’d walked a few blocks already and were standing in the lobby of a well-maintained hole in the wall that radiated the most delicious smells. Grease and cheese and freshly dropped French fries hit his senses all at once – there was no doubt that whatever they were about to consume would be more than delicious.

Peter was seconds away from wiping drool from his chin when Tony broke out into action. He took the couple of steps between their current position and the hostess stand to wrap who could only be Happy in a firm, breathtaking hug. “Happy, my man. It’s so good to see you,” Tony exclaimed as he stepped away, an adorable look in his eyes. “I’ve been talking this place up to Peter here, thought I’d cash in on your good will.”

Suddenly, all eyes were on Peter – Tony looked at him like something he couldn’t wait to deconstruct, while Happy tilted his head curiously, as if the one glance would tell him all he needed to know about Peter Parker. Unwillingly to stand there like an animal on display, Peter broke through the weird with a soft laugh and a light wave.

“Nice to meet you, Happy. Tony’s been selling me on your food for days now. I can’t wait to try it,” Peter said, his shoulders rolling back to help him stand a little taller. Though he had nothing to prove to the total stranger in front of him, Peter couldn’t help but want to make a good impression – Happy obviously meant something to Tony; their comradery and easy affection said that without much effort.

There was a moment where all three guys seemed to look between each other – Peter watched with bated breath as Tony and Happy carried on a silent conversation with just a few blinks and forehead crinkles. By the time Peter understood what was happening, Happy stepped a little closer to him, his big hand reaching out for what could only be a handshake. Without hesitating, Peter took it – for whatever reason, the handshake felt monumental; like with the one touch, he beat the level boss and gained access to the next one.

“Good to meet you, too. Tony’s good about that sort of advertisement – we probably wouldn’t have made it without his ugly mug around at the beginning,” Happy replied. “You guys know what you want? I’ll get it on the grill personally.”

At that point, Tony stepped back into the spotlight and grabbed the reins – he ordered everything at rapid fire speed, like the menu existed as a hard copy in Tony’s mind. Considering the warmth of the older man’s welcome and Happy’s cryptic words, Peter didn’t doubt that Tony was a regular – more than likely a founding customer, even.

It took no time at all for their food to come out to the small table in the corner Tony led him to. The tray was piled with an abundance of food – cheese steaks, fries, burgers, even a couple of desserts littered the table as Tony unpacked their haul. Peter’s eyes were wide, his mouth watering with a want that only Zap’s Bodega could illicit before. “This – it all looks amazing,” Peter babbled, his stomach both hungry and overwhelmed by everything in front of him.

“Just wait until you taste it. Happy used to crank out these cheesesteaks on the little hot plate we had in our dorm room. They were excellent, but the addition of the flattop has made them unbeatable.”

Unable to decide what smelled the best, Peter grabbed whatever was nearest to him. His fingers wrapped around the greasy paper of the aforementioned cheesesteak, his mouth watering even more. “So, you and Happy were roommates at MIT?” Peter asked around a large bite, the food in his mouth muffling some of the words. It really was good – worth looking like a pig in front of the most beautiful man alive.

“Hap and I go way back. His father worked security at Stark Industries – he was on my dad’s personal protection team for most of my life. When Happy’s mom died and the need for babysitting became a thing, Happy started to spend the evenings with me after school. In a lot of ways, he’s the only family I’ve ever had. When he first opened up this place, I was young and just looking for some investment that would piss my dad off. I knew Happy had talent, but neither of us thought this place would blow up the way it did.” Tony looked up then, a vulnerability in his eyes. “We’ve been in business together ever since.”

Smiling encouragingly, Peter nodded in Tony’s direction – their closeness, Tony’s unwavering advertisement and protectiveness, even some of the food names he could see on the menu; it all made sense. After taking another bite of the cheesesteak, Peter chewed slowly before responding. “There’s always more to the story, right?” he questioned cheekily. “It sounds like your gamble worked out for you – I didn’t look at the menu, but I did Google Hogan’s; there’s ten locations within a 300-mile radius.”

A snort had Peter looking up, his eyebrows quirked. “I should’ve known,” Tony said through a laugh. “Your generation is all about instant gratification.”

Their eyes locked then, Tony’s words and their meaning sitting in the space between them. Peter forced himself not to blink – he wanted to memorize the rich hazel color that barely ringed a growing pupil. Hunger and want and something unrecognizable existed in Tony’s glance; when it was all over and Tony moved on, Peter desperately wanted to remember the genuine rawness he drew out of one of the world’s greatest minds.

“Or just impatience,” Peter countered. He drew his eyes away, needing to break the glance to stop himself from propelling himself across the table and tackle Tony to the ground. Though it looked as if Happy kept the place spick and span, Peter didn’t want to think about Tony’s expensive suit on any other floor aside from his own.

They attempted to pull the small talk back to something a little tamer, but the road of the rest of the evening had already been paved. It became harder to focus on anything other than the thick press of Tony’s thigh against his own under the table. As the minutes passed, Peter noticed Tony staring, and after a while, the older man just never stopped. Every time he looked up, Peter caught hazel eyes taking him in – undressing him button by button with the sheer want in his eyes. A red blush took up permanent residence on Peter’s cheeks and neck, the color following him out of the restaurant and out onto the street where Tony took his hand without hesitation.

Before his mom passed away, Peter remembered a softly mumbled conversation laying across both his parents early, early in the morning. His dad’s big fingers were wrapped so neatly around his mother’s, the embrace tight, despite the hour. Peter reached out to touch the unbreakable seam, his eyes wide with wonder. “They fit,” Peter whispered softly, his finger running reverently over their joint fingers.

His mother pulled him close then, her lips finding that special place on his cheek. “One day, Petey, you’ll find that perfect person whose hands will fit yours just the way your father’s fit mine.”

A warmth settled in Peter’s chest as he slid his hand into Tony’s, their fingers interlacing perfectly with ease. The immaculate fit of Tony’s hand pressing against his own made him snuggle in further – whatever happened between them after this, Peter would forever know how easily he and Tony Stark fit together.

Giving Tony’s fingers a squeeze at the thought, Peter looked up, breaking the silence – “Do you want to see my apartment? I’m sure it’s not nearly as fancy as the hotel you’re staying at, but I’ve got Netflix and a really comfortable couch.”

Tony took a few long strides to answer, his face a little pensive. “I’d love to see your apartment, Pete,” Tony replied easily. They came to a stop at the crosswalk – Tony used his momentum to pull Peter close to his chest while they waited out the light. “I don’t care about fancy. You’ll be there.”

While Peter had lots of things to reply, his words were cut off by slightly chapped lips eagerly pressing against his own. It took Peter a second to recognize what in the glorious hell was happening – when the reality of the situation finally registered, Peter surged forward, tilting his head to not only return the kiss, but deepen it.

Both of Peter’s hands found their way around Tony’s neck to keep him close – he felt like he might pass out from the sheer goodness of Tony surrounding him without the grounding touch. He was far from a virgin, but none of his previous encounters knocked him off his feet in such a way that made Peter feel like a fumbling newbie.

Sipping from each other’s mouths, Peter was surprised by a strange and unrecognizable voice coming from behind them – “the light’s changed, fellas.”

It took an obscene amount of effort to pull away – though the stranger’s words made his face burn with embarrassment, Peter was reluctant to step out of Tony’s embrace and the tantalizing press of warm lips against his own. Regardless of his trepidation, Peter reluctantly moved back.

He made sure to slip his hand into Tony’s before they set off again.

“I’m just another couple of blocks away,” Peter reassured, a hungry smirk on his face. Tony returned the look, their stride all of the sudden lengthening. Their walk turned from a leisurely stroll to a brisk half-run. If it weren’t for the want raging through Peter’s veins, he might’ve found the change hilarious. In all of their time together, Tony never expressed impatience – he always seemed calm, cool, and collected. Yet, in the face of heat and need and the promise of bare skin, Tony let that mask drop.

Happy to know a new something about Tony, Peter reveled in the pent-up silence that carried them back to his apartment. Snagging a ground floor unit close to the entrance, they luckily didn’t have to wait for an elevator or awkwardly pretend that they weren’t about to push the other against the wall and start ravaging whatever pieces of skin they could find. Instead, Peter impatiently pulled Tony behind him as they walked between building 1 and 2 with eager steps.

After some fumbling and a set of dropped keys, Peter finally got his door open and Tony through it. Without missing a beat, Tony pushed him back against the newly closed front door, their lips harshly joining. Groaning at the contact and suddenness of it all, Peter pulled Tony in – any space left between them was unacceptable now that they were in a private space where wandering eyes and clicking cameras couldn’t see. Their obvious passion was too much for the public eye; Peter so desperately wanted to keep Tony to himself – devouring him in a safe space was only the first step.

As Tony traced his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, Peter fumbled his hands down the older man’s chest until he could pull the crisp button-down from well-tailored pants. The second he was able, Peter shoved his hands under the soft fabric, his palms greedily pressing into Tony’s hairy chest. A groan left his mouth – the chest hair under his fingers was soft and teasing. Peter was caught between the urge to tug at the strands and lay his head gently against them just to feel the texture against his skin.

Tony made the decision for him – large hands were suddenly on Peter’s waist, his feet coming up off the ground with little effort. Unable to keep his hands where they were, Peter broke the kiss with a groan and shifted until he could wrap his legs around Tony’s hips. Peter panted for breath while his lips were still free as Tony navigated through the room blindly. Another soft moan left Peter’s lips when his back hit the pliable leather of his couch.

Where just moments before they were standing chest to chest, Peter now had the full weight of Tony against him. The older man fit seamlessly between his splayed thighs, their hips lining up in a way that made Peter’s cock pulse against the confines of his tight jeans. With a bit of shifting, their groins were matched – Tony’s thick cock felt sinful against Peter’s. If his impending orgasm was already upon him, Peter wondered what it’d be like when their clothes hit the floor and he really got to taste what Tony had to offer.

Like he was reading his mind, Tony made quick work of the buttons on Peter’s shirt. Calloused hands dragged up and down Peter’s bare chest as he pushed the navy fabric to the side – his skin was practically hairless, the only exception being a small trail of it leading down to the v of his jeans. Tony let his fingers play through that small amount of hair, his fingers teasing as they got closer to the one spot that Peter wanted him to be the most.

Deciding to take his mind off of the heat in his belly and the closeness of his orgasm, Peter returned the favor. His hands were shaky as he passed button after button through their holes. With a gasp, Peter spread the sides of Tony’s shirt to get the maximum impact of the older man’s torso. He liked what he felt before, but the view was something else – Tony’s chest was chiseled and cut, his pecs and abs straining with effort. Peter noticed throbbing veins and a few scars in his perusal; the evidence of Tony’s life and the way he lived it made Peter pull the man a little closer. Tony Stark drove him absolutely mad – every new thing he learned contributed to the insanity even more.

Before he could get lost in the thought, Tony’s lips were skating along his cheek, only to stop and caress the outer shell of Peter’s ear. “You feel amazing, Pete,” Tony babbled, his tongue peeking out to join in on the fun. “I want to taste you, feel your cock pulse against my tongue. You’re so fucking hard and I can’t fucking wait. Is that okay?”

Peter pulled back then, a soft grin pulling at his lips. In all of his sexual encounters, Peter couldn’t recall someone caring about him so thoroughly, let alone stopping to ask how he felt. Both hands came up to grip Tony’s cheeks until the older man was looking right at him. Through the haze of arousal, Peter recognized that warm spark in Tony’s eye – it was the look in that first picture that kept Peter coming back for more.

“It’s perfect, Tony. I’ll take anything you want to give me,” Peter said breathlessly. He leaned up for a kiss to drive the words home.

Tony looked genuinely happy when Peter pulled away – his cheeks were flushed with obvious arousal, his lips quirked in a saucy smile. Without saying anything, Tony nodded his head and travelled slowly down the length of Peter’s body. Nimble fingers made quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans before Peter could think or even draw his next breath.

Sturdy hands didn’t hesitate to pull at the waistband of Peter’s boxers – his flushed cock was already leaking as it came to rest casually against the firm abs of Peter’s chest. Tony’s calloused fingers immediately wrapped around the length, giving a tight squeeze to the base. The sheer feeling of his crush’s hands on him was almost enough for Peter to jump straight over the edge. Catching Tony’s eyes and biting down on his bottom lip was his only saving grace – the knowing look in beautiful hazel eyes pulled a chuckle from Peter’s chest, the noise distraction enough.

“Okay?” Tony asked again, the words were spoken with his mouth hovering just inches from the pulsing flesh of Peter’s cock. He could feel Tony’s breath against his sensitive skin, everything about the situation making it hard to articulate or think or exist as anything other than a melted puddle of goo against broken-in leather.

Peter took a couple of deep breaths before nodding vigorously. He felt a red flush travel even further down his neck and torso, arousal and embarrassment mixing together to create the ultimate aphrodisiac. He finally found his voice, muttering a choked off “yes” before the motor function of speaking left him once more.

After a heartbeat and then another where neither man moved, Tony gripped the sharp bones of Peter’s hips, pushing his lower body down against the cushions. They shared another look as Tony lowered his head, his pink tongue poking out to lick lightly against the leaky head of Peter’s cock. Hazel eyes stayed on him – Tony continued to lap along his sensitive skin, all while killing Peter slowly with the heat and want reflecting back. By the time Tony had all of Peter in his mouth, Peter was seconds away from being undone.

It’d been so long, and he’d wanted Tony since he understood what attraction was. Being pinned down by the person he desired longer than some of his friendships did nothing but magnify everything that was happening. His skin felt like it was on fire under Tony’s touch – the suction around his cock felt like it was coming from all angles, everywhere, all at once. Unable to stop himself, Peter moaned, panted, and shamelessly shouted Tony’s name as the blissful seconds passed.

The telling zip of a zipper being pushed down, and Tony’s hasty shift told Peter that Tony was similarly affected. He picked up his head to watch Tony suck his cock down while his right hand moved at the same pace – while he took Peter’s cock into his throat, Tony was stroking his own erection with sure strokes. As if the heat around him wasn’t enough, the beautiful visual of Tony taking his own pleasure pushed him those last couple of steps over the edge.

Bubbling heat in his belly boiled over. Peter frantically reached down to grip Tony’s shoulder, his mouth wordlessly shaping around warning words. “I’m – I’m… fuck, Tony. I’m going to cum,” Peter finally managed to gasp out. There was just enough time for Tony to pull away, to let Peter’s pleasure splatter on the blood warm skin of Peter’s stomach. Yet, Tony held fast, instead – he redoubled his efforts, his lips tightening and throat relaxing in invitation.

Unable to stop himself, Peter let go – his hips thrust up into Tony’s enticing heat, the man’s name dripping from his lips as pulse after pulse of cum left his body. Tony moaned around him, swallowing easily without pulling his mouth away or stopping his ministrations. The suction continued until Peter was reaching down halfheartedly to push at Tony’s soft curls.

While he caught his breath, Tony crawled up Peter’s body, a self-satisfied smirk on his red cheeks. Peter grinned at him, happiness and satiation rolling off of him in waves. Without thought, Peter pulled Tony tightly to him, their lips finding each other like opposite poles of magnets drawn together by the sheer force of nature. Tony shared Peter’s taste with him, his talented tongue thrusting into Peter’s mouth with a shared groan between them. It was all so hot; Peter felt his spent cock already starting to come back to life.

With that thought in mind, Peter started to reach down to help Tony finish achieving his own pleasure; yet his hand was batted away with affectionate finesse. Peter shifted until he could meet the honey hazels he was already addicted to, a question in his eye.

“There’s no need,” Tony mumbled, his face tucking into the skin of Peter’s neck. “You’re so sexy, I couldn’t help but touch myself. The way you look in the throes of pleasure – it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“Holy shit.”

Tony chuckled at the awe in Peter’s voice. “My sentiment exactly.”

For a while, they stayed stretched out on Peter’ couch, exchanging kisses and greedy touches on all the bare skin either could reach. Without so much adrenaline coursing through his system, Peter felt himself melting even further into the comfy cushions below him. After a jaw breaking yawn, Peter reached up to cup Tony’s cheek, pulling the man’s attention towards him.

“Want to stay over?” Peter asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. Though they were spent and wrapped up in each other, Peter wasn’t sure where Tony stood. There was a big difference between the type of intimacy physical touch and sleeping next to another human being required. The last few days, Peter fell asleep with Tony’s messages open on the bed next to him – actually sleeping side by side, in person, that was a whole new step for them.

Tilting his head to the side, Tony shot Peter a tender smile before nodding and leaning down to press their lips together.

“Yeah, Pete – I want to stay.”

#starker #starkerfestivalsevents #starker festivals summer bingo #bobbie writes #let me get close to #peter parker/tony stark #starker fic #sfsummerbingo21

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