Peter’s not sure when he first realised Tony was looking at him differently.
No longer like he was an asset, or like a parent would, but as something desirable - it takes a while before Peter believes what he thinks he’s seeing, because why would Tony Stark of all people look at him like that when basically no one ever has done in his life?
But he can’t deny the thought for long. Because when he starts stretching on purpose just to make his shirt ride up enough to show off his stomach so he can see what Tony does, when he starts finding reasons to make eye contact with Tony every time he’s got something to his lips and he can tell Tony’s breath is catching in his throat and his eyes are fixed firmly on Peter’s mouth and Peter hasn’t got that much experience in this department but he knows he’s not wrong. It’s obvious as hell.
Tony Stark is attracted to him.
He decides pretty quickly that he’d like to be fucked by Tony Stark. He’s got no experience with men, hasn’t really thought of them that way much before, but Tony is his fucking idol and his hero and as soon as he starts thinking about it he can’t stop fantasising about being in bed with Tony, and you know what teenage libidos are like, so he ends up jerking off to the thought of Tony almost every night, sometimes just to his imagination, sometimes to any porn he can find that looks kind of like his mentor.
Very quickly, he finds himself getting aroused around Tony all the time. It’s a combination of the fantasies and his spider senses, and it doesn’t take much more than a trace of the scent of Tony to get Peter going. He finds reasons to stand and sit as close to Tony as possible, his head spinning with anxiousness and excitement every time their shoulders so much as brush together. He listens intently, makes sure Tony knows he’s got his eyes on him. He wears tighter jeans and shirts just to show off his body the best he can, and always finds someway to stand to show off his ass. He slips suggestive words into their conversations, bends over every surface he can, tucks his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans when he’s standing around and watches Tony’s resolve thin a little more every time. Tony gets frustrated with him quicker than ever when they spend time together, but even that excites Peter enough that he doesn’t care.
Peter even gets turned on in the back of Tony’s car when he’s being picked up, even when Tony isn’t there.
He rubs his hands over the seat, remembering where Tony sat, inhaling the scent of him off the leather and imagining straddling Tony’s thighs and grinding against him. And fuck, he gets hard, because of course he does. He’s 17. He knows he should stop and try to think about something else, but without getting out of the car entirely he can’t get away from it. He’s straining against his jeans and palming at his cock to try and ease his desperate need ends up making it worse.
Fuck it, he thinks. Happy always has the privacy screen up when Tony’s not there, and he can be quiet and quick.
Tony’s in the workshop waiting for Peter to arrive, wondering what teasing hell the kid is going to subject him to this time; he’s more than suspicious Peter’s doing it on purpose now, but even if he is, Tony’s confident he can stick to his guns and do nothing about it. He’s not going to fuck a teenager. No matter how much he wants to.
He’s not sure what compels him to check on the car, but he ends up opening up the camera feed to his Audi just in time to see Peter’s fingers slide under his waistband of his jeans.
The camera is just above the privacy screen staring down at the back seat, completely concealed and giving him a perfect view of Peter splayed out across it with his head tipped back against the headrest, lips parted as he fondles himself inside his pants. Tony can’t quite believe what he’s looking at, his own cock jumping immediately to attention.
Shit. He should stop watching. This is a private moment for a teenage boy, no matter where Peter has chosen to jerk off.
A murmur of his name confirms all his suspicions about Peter. Keeps him watching. Gets him touching himself through the fabric of his trousers.
He watches silently, as though making a sound would startle Peter into stopping even though he’s halfway down the interstate, as Peter retracts his hand only to wriggle his jeans further down to free his cock so he can stroke it properly. Tony can see Peter’s eyes darting to the privacy screen, worry flashing across his face as he starts to jerk himself quickly, trying to race to his finish before he gets caught.
Tony’s resolve shatters instantly, because he doesn’t want Peter to get off that quickly. Not when he’s basically got a porn live feed of his wildest fantasy right in front of his eyes and he hasn’t even started to touch himself.
He taps into the car’s computer system and locks the privacy screen up before he does anything else, then lets the red light of the camera blink on to indicate it’s recording. He enjoys the panic that spreads across Peter’s face for a moment when he clocks the camera, enjoys even more the way his face heats up, even as he doesn’t stop stroking himself.
“Easy, kid,” he says, his words playing through the intercom in the back of the car. He sees Peter squeeze his cock, eyes falling closed at the sound of Tony’s voice. “Don’t want you to get any mess on my seats.”
“Sorry sir,” Peter utters, opening his eyes again to stare straight into the camera. Tony almost comes in his pants.
“Don’t stop,” Tony instructs, “But you’re not to come until you’re here.”
Peter gasps and slows his hand, shifts to make sure Tony can see everything. His heart is hammering in his chest as he lazily jerks himself, imagining Tony watching the camera feed. He puts on a show, thumb swiping through the dribble of precum on the head of his cock, trailing his fingers lower to stroke his balls and tease at his hole, his head reeling in a mix of nerves and arousal. No one has ever seen him touch himself before (not unless he counts the time Ned came over unexpectedly and caught him at it, but he threw a pillow over his crotch pretty fast in that moment) and he has no idea how any of this looks but the fact that Tony’s watching him is reason enough to keep going.
It’s also almost too much. Tony’s mostly quiet but a few words of encouragement slip through the intercom and Peter hears him groan and knows he’s touching himself too.
This is it, he thinks. Tony Stark is going have sex with him after this. He wants it so badly, and before he can really think about what he’s doing, he’s pushing a precum slick finger inside his hole and opening his damn mouth.
“Are you gonna fuck me, Mr. Stark?” he says, voice trembling as his own finger probes inside him. The angle is awkward and he’s never touched himself there before, but he needs Tony to see how much he needs this. It’s sore but it feels good, feels dirty. “Will you fill me up, please?”
A muttered curse spills over the intercom.
“Is that what you want, kid?”
Peter just nods. Tony is silent again after that, but Peter swears he hears muffled moaning.
The car is slowing down. Fuck, they’re almost there. He’s so close, but he’s not sure he can hold off.
Tony watches the kid squeeze himself again, almost pained expression on his face. He turns off the intercom and calls Happy instead. Tells him to bring the car into garage 3 and leave Peter in the back, because he needs to talk to him. Happy is more than pleased to oblige - the less time he has to talk to Peter the better, he says. Tony’s got a few choice words about his attitude but now is not the time. He ends the call and turns his attention back to the live feed where Peter is still fingering himself, starting to pant a little. He knows Peter is probably desperate, and he can’t make him wait much longer, no matter how hot the desperation might be. (They can train that into him, Tony thinks, and enjoys how filthy the thought makes him feel.)
He better get to garage 3, and fast. He turns off the screen and makes his way there as calmly as he can.
Passing Happy in the corridor, he brushes off conversation as quickly as he can before slipping into the garage, scanning the space for the audi. Finding it quickly, Tony composes himself and opens the door.
He finds Peter slumped in the back seat, completely spent, the sticky mess of his orgasm all over the back seat.
“Thought you wanted me to fuck you,” Tony says, leaning into the car. Peter looks up at him, his brown eyes wide with apology.
“I did. I do,” he corrects himself. “I’m sorry, I.. I couldn’t-”
“I told you not to come until you got here.”
Peter swallows hard and closes his eyes, chest heaving as he comes down from the pleasure. “In my defence, I did... did last until we parked.”
Tony looks at him, looks at the mess. Narrows his eyes a little.
“Look at my car. Who do you think is going to clean this up?”
It’s a little unfair - god knows Tony has made enough mess in the back of his cars over time - but it’s all part of whatever this game is, whatever they’ve become. They’ve probably already gone too far to ever come back from this. The way Peter looks back at him, Tony can tell he feels the same.
“Sorry sir,” he says. “I’ll- I will clean it up.”
“Yes. You will. Right now.”
Peter looks around himself, but there’s nothing in the car he can use. He tells Tony as much, apology still written all over his expression.
Tony tells him he’ll just have to use his tongue.
Peter doesn’t argue. Fuck, Tony’s sure Peter would do anything he asked at this point, and as he watches the teenager get on his knees and start to lick the seat clean, he thinks of some of his darker fantasies and considers ordering Peter to play them out.
But not right now. There’s this to deal with first.
The sight of Peter licking his own come up off the leather seats is too much. Tony’s fully hard again, and Peter’s jeans are still around his knees so his bare ass is right there in front of Tony’s face, practically begging to be touched.
So he does. He runs his hand across it exploratively, gives it a little smack. Delights in the shocked groan it draws out of Peter, the way he pulls back from the seat with a string of white stretching from his lips.
“You know what you are, Peter?” Tony says darkly. “You’re a filthy little tease. Do you know what you do to me?”
Peter groans again, another uttered apology spilling from his lips. Every time he calls Tony sir, he feels the growing urge to just force his way into Peter without any of this foreplay.
“You’ve been torturing me. I swore to myself I wasn’t going to do this, but I think you need to learn your lesson.”
He smacks a hand over Peter’s ass again, harder this time, leaving a red mark as he pulls it back. The force of it pushes Peter’s face down into the seat, into his own mess.
Peter can’t help the sounds of pleasure falling from his mouth; he feels so debauched with his own mess smeared across his face, the salty taste of it burning on his tongue as Tony spanks him. He’s never so much as had a fantasy like this before, but Tony’s punishment is fulfilling some dark carnal need he didn’t know he had. He’ll take anything at this point, already feeling himself getting aroused again.
Tony stops smacking his ass and stretches his ass cheeks apart instead, and suddenly there’s hot breath on his ass and a wet tongue swiping over his hole. Peter goes red to the tips of his ears in embarrassment, squirming at he sensation and for a moment, he questions what the hell Tony is doing but there’s no time to ask because his tongue pushes harder, right inside him. His cock responds instantly and he stops caring about why Tony’s doing it because it feels good.
The sensation is short lived but when Tony pulls away to speak, he murmurs it right against Peter’s ass cheek. “Are you done cleaning up?” He says almost condescendingly.
“No,” Peter stammers out, turning back to the sticky seat. “Sorry- sorry Mr. Stark.”
He returns to licking the leather clean, and Tony returns his tongue to Peter’s ass, fucking it into him with practiced ease. It’s hard to concentrate, hard to do anything but tremble under the sensation, but Peter keeps cleaning up after himself until it’s done. When it is, he’s rock hard again.
Tony orders him out of the car. Tells him to bend over the hood. He rummages in his pocket for something but when Peter tries to sneak a peek back at him he pushes his face down into the metal of the car hood and holds him there until he stays of his own accord.
Suddenly there’s something cold and slick between his ass cheeks, two wet fingers teasing at his already stretched hole for just a moment before they push inside.
Two is bigger than one of his own, bigger than Tony’s tongue. Peter writhes away, his cock pressing against the still warm metal of the car as he does so. The hand that was on his neck holding him down moves to his hips to steady him, and it’s obvious Tony’s not going to be patient or slow. Peter can’t find his voice to tell the older man he’s never done this before so he says nothing. He wants this so badly, however Tony wants to give it to him, and he can’t deny the roughness is exciting; with his own come drying on his face, bent over the front of a car that costs more than his whole block in Queens, he doesn’t exactly feel like he can ask if they slow down to a nice gentle, loving pace anyway.
Tony hasn’t even kissed him, but he’ll take it.
Which is exactly what he does. He forces himself to relax and push back against the fingers fucking inside him, and soon the pain subsides and he starts to enjoy the way the stretch burns.
At the first sign of him enjoying himself, Tony retracts his fingers. Peter thinks he’s done something wrong, just for a moment, but he hears Tony’s zipper come down and the older man’s nails dig into his side as he strokes a hand over himself to slick his own cock with lube. He pushes again Peter’s entrance, muttering quiet words of encouragement as he forces inside. It hurts much more, more than fingers, but the pleasure runs so much deeper and Peter can pinpoint the exact moment his body gives in.
He drooling over the car hood as Tony starts fucking into him properly, slow and hard, the hand on his hip gripping tight enough to leave bruises that will regrettably fade too soon, his other pushing down on Peter’s back and keeping him pinned against the car. Tony’s grunting behind him, still murmuring to him, but it’s dirtier now.
“That’s it kid, take my cock baby,” he groans, moving his hand to pull at Peter’s hair. “This is what you get, you little fucking tease.”
“Mr. Stark,” Peter chokes as his head is pulled back up off the car hood, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. “Please, Tony.”
Tony outright growls at the name, and then he’s not fucking him slowly any more. He pounds into him against the car, driving deeper, until a burst of pleasure sparks inside Peter and leaves spots in his vision. It’s all he can do to grip at the car hood so he doesn’t drop to his knees and Peter wishes he could touch himself but he can’t.
He doesn’t have to, because Tony reaches around and touches him instead. Starts jerking him off in time with his thrusts, even as they grow more erratic. He’s close, Peter can tell, and he realises there’s no condom and it’s not exactly the time to ask Tony whether he’s going to pull out of him or not. At this point, he doesn’t know why he cares. He wants it. Wants Tony to fill him up entirely, so he feels like Tony possesses him.
Tony comes before he does, and he does pull out but not fast enough. Peter feels the burn of hot come coating his insides and he’s almost disappointed as the last of it hits his thighs and ass instead. His legs shake as Tony stills, buried in him to the hilt, hand squeezed around his cock, and Peter’s left gasping and needy, trapped against the car.
“Good boy,” Tony breathes, grip on his hip getting looser. “God Peter, you’re so good.”
Peter can’t help the swell of happiness in his chest at the praise.
After a moment of stillness, Tony withdraws and turns him around, sinking to his knees in front of him. Peter stutters, tries to tell him he doesn’t have to, but Tony’s already swallowing him down. He grips Tony’s hair and holds on. Peter doesn’t last long with Tony’s hands on his ass and his mouth hollowing around his cock and he spills his second load down Tony’s throat, unable to do anything but grip tighter.
Tony pulls off him as soon as he’s spent and stands up. He strokes a hand over Peter’s cheek, holding his gaze for a moment before he finally pulls him into a kiss.
It’s not his first kiss, but it might as well be considering how clumsy, brief and embarrassing the last couple have been. His first real kiss. Tony kisses him so deeply he can taste himself on the older man’s tongue. It’s as dirty as all his other firsts today.
As he pulls away from the kiss, Tony feels the guilt start to set in. He’d been so preoccupied with his desires, with the way Peter had been teasing him, that he’d barely registered what he was doing to the kid but looking at him now with tear streaked cheeks, face dirtied by the car hood it was pressed into, Tony feels a surge of protectiveness. He pulls the kid into his arms and rests against Peter’s head.
Fuck, he’ll never be able to hear those words again without thinking back to this. Peter nestles his face into Tony’s shoulder.
“Come on, kid. Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmurs, stepping back to tuck himself away and do his pants back up. Peter follows suit and allows Tony to steer him out of the garage by the shoulders. He takes him to the back staircase, lest they be seen by anyone else before he can get them both clean.
He’s got no idea where they go from here, but as he steps into the shower with Peter, the kid moves closer to him, rests against his chest as though drawn to him magnetically, and Tony decides they’re going to be okay.
Tony presses a kiss into his wet hair and helps him get clean, as gently as he can. He asks if he’s hurt him, but Peter is adamant he hasn’t, despite the bruises on his hips.
He’s still looking at Tony like he’d do anything for him, even now. Tony’s heart swells at the thought, and he swears to himself he’ll find some way to earn that look Peter’s giving him.
If he gets to fuck Peter again in the meantime? Well, he’s sure it’ll be Peter’s fault for teasing him again.