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Berries and Cream

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The Avengers poured out of the bowling alley into the night, laughter still lingering on their lips. Everyone was smiling, even Steve, though he tried to contain the expression as he looked at Tony. “I’m not saying it again,” he said sternly.

“I must have misheard you the first time, my dear Captain,” Tony drily returned. “I could have sworn you said, ‘You were right, Tony,’ and that can’t have actually been what you said. Not after you went on a tirade--”

“It wasn’t a tirade--”

“--went on a raging tirade about how Non-Combative Mandatory Family Fun Night was ‘unnecessary’ and ‘a waste of time’ and ‘just another excuse for Tony to go out and party.’ So I know you can’t have just told me I was right, Mr. Negative Nancy.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You were right, Tony,” he repeated, loud enough to satisfy Tony’s ego as everyone else in the group heard it and smirked. “This was fun, and it was good for the team. We need time spent together that doesn’t involve fighting for our lives. This was a good idea.”

And it definitely had been. The team in general had been skeptical when Tony had suggested they all make it a point to spend some downtime together at least twice a month, but it had been Sam who’d come to his aid. He was by far the least emotionally constipated member of the team, so when he’d supported the institution of some wholesome family fun, it carried a lot more weight than it had when Tony suggested it in one of his perpetually hyperactive rants.

Not that Tony had necessarily intended for these outings to be so PG-13. He would have been more than alright with reserving them all a booth or two in the back of one of Manhattan’s many strip clubs and showing Steve and Bucky how fun was had in the 21st century. That beautiful vision had failed to account for Peter, however, who for all of his worldliness was still only 17 and therefore not legal to drink, or enter clubs, or pretty much anything else fun in the state of New York.

Tony couldn’t even be mad. Not when he saw Peter looking so flushed and excited to be hanging out with the team, despite being completely sober and the worst bowler in the group. His eyes were bright as he did a celebratory fist pump over the four pins he managed to knock down, and they had turned to Tony with a look of such grateful fondness that if anyone had glanced his way they might have seen the love there and then the cat would have been out of the bag.

Tony wanted to kiss him silly.

Peter’s pinky finger brushed against his on their way across the parking lot, enough that it would have been an invitation for Tony to hold his hand if it weren’t for the fact that they both knew better than to do anything like that in public. Here, it was just a casual brush to let Tony know he was there, and nothing more. Behind closed doors Peter and Tony could hardly keep their hands off of each other, but not in public, not even around their friends.

The kid was still seventeen, old enough to legally consent in New York, but young enough that Tony knew it would sow discord in the group if the others knew. They knew all too well both Tony’s reputation and Peter’s innocence, and despite all of Tony’s confidence and charm, he didn’t think that he could handle seeing the judgement and horror on his teammates’ faces when they figured out Tony was taking advantage of the brightest, sweetest, purest boy he’d ever met.

Not that Tony was --or would ever be -- taking advantage of Peter. He’d burn the world down before he let anyone do that, even himself. But he couldn’t say no to that face, and if he was going to hell for that, might as well be in a handbasket.

Everyone was still piling into the cars, two massive black SUVs that would come up registered to a nonexistent company if anyone bothered to run the plates. Thor, Sam, Rhodey, Bruce, and Wanda had climbed into one, whereas Vision had just sort of… melted through the bowling alley’s walls and then disappeared in that freaky way of his. Nat had already called shotgun on the second vehicle, while Steve had sent around that glare that said ‘I’m driving and no you can’t fight me on it.’

Bucky and Clint took the backseat, Clint good-naturedly sliding into the middle, and Tony was halfway into the remaining seat before he realized that left Peter still standing next to the open door with nowhere to sit. “Wait, pause, this car shrunk since we rode here. Why doesn’t the kid have a seat?”

“Because Romanoff showed up late and now wants to bum a ride home,” Bucky drawled.

“An excellent point, Buckminster Palace. Scary spider, you’re out. That’s baby spider’s seat.” Tony kicked the back of her seat for emphasis.

Nat whipped her head around and Tony felt a rush of fear and certainty that his foot would soon no longer be attached to the rest of him. She only batted her eyelashes at him, though, which was somehow just as threatening. “Tony, are you saying you’d kick a woman to the curb and make her walk home, alone, in the dark, in a city like this?”

Bucky snorted. “That’s not fair to the city, it doesn’t deserve to have her let loose on it.”

A flash of pearly white fangs --teeth, that is. “Exactly. So let the little spiderling suction himself to the roof or something and let’s go.”

Peter actually reached up as if to climb onto the roof, but Tony caught one delicate wrist in his hand and pulled him back down. “He absolutely will not,” Tony said, affronted. “Jesus, and they say I’m the reckless one? Forget it. Peter, take this seat and I’ll just call a suit and fly home.”

“Oh, don’t do that, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, and just from the sound of his voice Tony knows he’s in trouble. A glance at those brown eyes, now suspiciously alight with mischief, only serves to confirm. “That kind of defeats the ‘Non-Combative’ thing, doesn’t it? To get into your battle suit? I’ll just squeeze in here with everyone else, I’m sure we’ll all fit.”

Everyone else in the car exchanged doubtful looks, and Tony had just enough time to brace himself before Peter was hoisting himself up and into the vehicle, directly on Tony’s lap.

It wasn’t that Tony minded having Peter in his lap --it was a favorite position for both of them, and many a movie night or collaborative inventing session in Tony’s lab had passed with Peter’s back cuddled up to Tony’s chest. He had no problem with Peter in his lap, the snuggly, sweet thing that he was.

Or at least, he had only one problem with it, namely that he had a dick that tended to take special interest in Peter’s proximity, regardless of whether they’re in a car full of unsuspecting teammates.

“Is this alright, Mr. Stark?” Peter said in that angelic tone he only took on when he was being an absolute hellion, and Tony realized with dread that the kid knew exactly what he was doing. If there was any doubt of it, it was erased immediately when Peter wiggled himself around under the guise of getting more comfortable and managed to grind his perky little ass directly on Tony’s cock.

It was moments like these that reminded Tony why he was so very certain that Peter Parker was going to be the death of him.

He must have taken too long to respond to Peter’s question, because Clint snorted beside Tony. “What, don’t tell me he’s squishing your legs or something, all 75 pounds of him?”

Peter twisted around to protest that despite his skinny frame he was really very muscular and totally weighed more than 75 pounds, and Tony was fairly certain it was no accident that the motion gave him more delicious, unwanted friction. “Is this really necessary? This feels unnecessary,” Tony babbled over top of Peter’s defense. “I have a whole fleet of AI-driven cars, I should just-- yeah, I’m just gonna call another car, don’t want the kid to be uncomfy.”

Another twist of Peter’s body, another torturous drag of friction on Tony’s now at least half-hard cock, and Peter managed to look Tony straight in the eye when he said, “Don’t worry, Mr. Stark, I don’t mind riding like this.”

How he could say that in such an innocent voice and yet somehow manage to perfectly communicate to Tony exactly what kind of riding he wanted to do on his lap, Tony’s brain was too busy short-circuiting to ever know.

Oblivious (thankfully) to Tony’s struggle, the rest of the car apparently decided the matter was settled. Doors were closed, seatbelts fastened, and Tony wrapped a protective arm around Peter’s waist that he’d swear if questioned was to secure him in case of an accident, but which really was Tony’s desperate attempt to hold onto some of his sanity.

The attempt was futile. Peter seemed bound and determined to drive Tony crazy before they made it back to the tower, making a big show of wiggling and squirming and sliding around with every twist and turn of the road. Once Steve had to make a sharp right turn when Bucky suggested a shortcut at the last second and Peter reached down to grab Tony’s leg for support. His thumb pressed into the muscle of Tony’s thigh just centimeters away from his cock, and Tony let his forehead thunk against Peter’s back in defeat.

He worked his phone from the pocket of his slacks, which were tight before he got a raging boner. He angled the phone where Clint couldn’t see the screen and shot off a frantic text.

TONY : Kid, for the love of god, please fucking SIT STILL

PETER : But it’s so hard to get comfy back here, Mr. Stark…

TONY : “so hard” that’s exactly the problem you bratty little mutant

PETER : I have no idea what you mean [angel emoji]

TONY : Kid. I’m serious. Be STILL

PETER : [angel emoji][angel emoji][angel emoji] or what?

TONY : Or I’m going to bend you over the counter and fuck you senseless the second we get into the building

PETER : And that’s a problem for me because…?

Tony didn’t deign to answer that. They were pulling into the tower’s garage and he had bigger problems to deal with-- namely, getting out of this car and getting Peter up to the penthouse without anyone getting suspicious or glimpsing the very much altered fit of his pants along the way. He all but shoved Peter out of the open door as soon as they came to a complete stop, quickly shucking off his leather jacket so he could drape it casually over his arm to solve at least one of his problems.

“Well, I’ve gotta go, Aunt May is expecting me,” Peter said loudly, pulling his suit from his bag and pulling it on over his regular clothes, which solved the other problem. “Thanks for letting me hang out with you, everybody, it was a lot of fun, bye!” He headed for an exit and was shooting webs up into the skyline before the door could even slam shut behind him.

“He ran off in an awful hurry,” Natasha said suspiciously, tracking his progress with narrowed eyes.

“Probably has a curfew,” Clint reasonably replied.

Tony made a few murmured farewells of his own and made a beeline for an elevator. “Top speed, please, FRIDAY,” he commanded once the doors closed, palming himself or some modicum of relief. “Penthouse, STAT.”

“Of course, boss,” the AI replied, and then they were off.

It felt like an hour before the elevator reached the top of the tower, though Tony knew it was only 23 seconds, having designed the lift himself. Even still, Peter still beat him there and was waiting with his suit halfway off and grin wide, perched upon the very counter Tony had threatened to fuck him on, when Tony stepped into his private lobby.

“You look awful flustered, Mr. Stark,” Peter said coyly as Tony stormed toward him. “Wonder why that could--”

He was cut off as Tony yanked him off the counter to stand before him, pushing his hips against Peter’s to demonstrate exactly how flustered he was. “You’re insufferable,” Tony groaned, claiming Peter’s mouth in a rough kiss at last. “Driving me crazy. Almost came in my pants like I’m the damn teenager here.”

Peter pulled back to look at him, the innocent delight on his features real this time instead of feigned. “Really? I made you that--?”

He was so sincere Tony could melt. “Baby, you have no idea how sexy you are when you’re on top of me like that,” he murmured, running his hands over Peter’s sides, his hips, his thighs. “And the fact that you don’t even realize it… god, kid, you really know how to fuck up a night.”

It startled a laugh out of Peter just as Tony had been hoping. “I’m still confused about why this is a bad thing. I thought you liked bending me over things and putting your cock in me?”

Cherry red lips and filthy words and Tony felt his cock twitch, his boxers now feeling distinctly wet and slick with precome. “Jesus Christ, you know I do,” he choked out, his laugh a little hysterical as it followed the words. “But I’ll have you know that I had plans for tonight, spider-boy, ones that involved romancing and taking our time, which is now definitely not going to happen. I hope you’re very happy with yourself.”

“Romancing?” Peter echoed, pulling back from where he’d been nuzzling that sensitive spot beneath Tony’s jaw. “You were gonna romance me?”

“You don’t have to sound so shocked,” Tony grumbled. “You make it seem like I’m some villain the rest of the time, using you for your body and kicking you out in the cold.”

Peter was too used to Tony’s antics to startle and stammer his way through an apology the way he would have done once upon a time. Now he just looked charmed. “What, like you were gonna give me a flower or something?”

“Give you a-- jeez, kid, is that your idea of being wooed? A flower? Maybe I have been neglecting you.” Tony made a mental note to sweep Peter off his feet entirely more often, but took Peter by the elbow and dragged him to the bedroom undistracted. “This is how I was going to romance you, boy genius.”

The bedroom door swung open to reveal a sight that even Tony was impressed by, and he’d been the one to set it up. There were hundreds of candles on every surface of the room except the bed, dripping with wax after their few hours of melting during bowling and lending a warm, glowy, lightly fragrant atmosphere to the room. The bed itself was covered in rose petals (six dozen roses he’d plucked himself, a far cry from the one flower Peter was prepared to be impressed by). There was a box of chocolate covered strawberries and a chilled bottle on the end table, placed there minutes ago by a helpful Iron Man suit. FRIDAY had music playing, carefully selected from Peter’s own music library, something low and sultry that made Tony’s blood sing.

“Here I am trying to do something nice, and now I’m going to blow my load before I can even get started on you, you little minx,” Tony sighed.

Peter didn’t reply for a long moment, looking around the room with his jaw hanging open. When he did speak, there was a definite squeak to his voice. “All this-- you did all this for me?”

“Kid,” Tony sighed fondly, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his smooth, warm cheek, “there’s no limit to what I’d do for you.”

Tony didn’t have time to be embarrassed at his own sappiness before Peter was on him, pressing their lips and chests and hips together desperately. “Tony,” he whimpered, his flirty and confident facade gone. “You can’t just-- I’m not worth--”

“I hope you’re about to finish that sentence with ‘anything less than the best,’” Tony growled, pushing back until Peter’s shoulders hit something --a dresser, maybe, or a door. “Any other answer and I swear you’re going to be in all kinds of trouble.”

Peter didn’t reply to that, either, except to drop both hands to Tony’s belt and start frantically trying to push down Tony’s pants and boxers. Tony groaned at the feeling of Peter’s hand wrapping around his cock, but he snagged Peter’s wrists in a tight grip and wrenched them away. “Seriously, kid, we’ve been over this before, I am neither seventeen nor a mutant and I have exactly one round in me and then I’m toast for a few hours. So I’m gonna need you to keep your paws off if you want me to take care of you.”

“I don’t,” Peter said quickly, breaking his wrists away easily. God, the kid was strong. “I don’t want that.”

“Oh.” Tony blinked, confused. He’d thought the signals were pretty impossible to misread, had thought Peter’s actions ever since they’d left the bowling alley were clear that he was as perfectly ready and willing as he always was, but Tony was never one to ignore a ‘no,’ even if it confused the hell out of him. “Okay, yeah. That’s fine, I’ve got a shower that can run cold. Why don’t you hang out in the living room for a bit and I’ll get all this crap cleared out--”

Peter stopped him with a kiss that dragged from his lips down to his navel as Peter dropped to his knees before Tony and looked up at him with big, dark eyes. “I don’t want you to take care of me,” he said breathily. “I wanna take care of you.”

He didn’t give Tony time to answer or even think before he was taking Tony’s cock into his warm, perfect mouth and sucking it down. Tony’s knees wobbled.

Even if he hadn’t been teased mercilessly with a beautiful boy in his lap the whole way home, he’d still be done in just from the feel of Peter’s mouth around him. What the kid lacked in experience and finesse, he more than made up for with enthusiasm and lack of a gag reflex. The situation being what it was, Tony didn’t stand a chance.

“God, Peter,” Tony groaned, hands scrabbling at whatever surface he’d pushed Peter into. A dresser after all, with little wrought iron knobs that almost definitely weren’t meant to withstand the kind of wrenching Tony was giving them. “Fuck, you’re good at that. You’re good, you’re so good for me, Peter,” he continued to babble, choking a little as Peter hummed at the praise and pushed farther onto Tony’s cock. “I’m not gonna last with you doing that, shit.”

Peter spared a second to pull off of Tony and look up through dewy eyelashes at him. “So stop trying to,” he said simply, and placed a sweet kiss to the drop of precome at Tony’s slit.

He’d barely gotten Tony’s length back inside his mouth and given it another clumsy stroke before Tony was coming, making Peter swallow hurriedly over and over again until a little dribble of white escaped the corner of his mouth and marked his chin obscenely. Tony had to take Peter’s face gently between his hands and pull the boy off before he’d allow Tony’s softening cock to fall from his lips.

“Good?” Peter had the nerve to ask, his voice still rough from the intrusion of Tony’s cock in his throat.

“Perfect,” Tony breathed, a sigh of relief. “C’mere, let me kiss you.”

Peter rose obediently and kissed Tony, allowing the salty flavor of Tony’s release to be sucked from his lips. Tony let one hand drift from Peter’s back around toward his crotch --he might not have been able to fuck the kid right at that moment, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make him see stars-- but Peter batted it away. “I’m starving, he declared, wiggling free of Tony’s grasp and heading for the nightstand with the strawberries. “Are these fresh?”

Tony rolled his eyes, kicking his legs free of the pants and shoes but tugging his boxers back up for now. “No, I pulled a bag of frozen ones out from last year and slapped some melted Tollhouse chips on them,” he deadpanned, coming to lay on the mattress next to Peter, sated and relaxed.

Peter didn’t appear to catch the sarcasm, and Tony grinned to think that Peter probably didn’t recognize the chocolatier’s name from the box or realize that the berries he was shoveling into his mouth might have been cheaper if they’d been dipped in liquid gold instead. He did, however, notice the label on the bottle chilling in the ice bucket.

“Sparkling cider?” he read with a cheeky smile at Tony. “Isn’t that a little virginal for your tastes?”

“You know as well as I do that there’s plenty of room in my appetite for virginal things,” Tony drawled, dropping one eyelid in a wink just to see Peter blush. “You should also remember from that agonizing wait until your seventeenth birthday that I’m a stickler for following laws regarding the corruption of a minor. In four years I’ll happily get you drunk as a skunk and kiss you head to toe, but until then, apple juice will do, spiderling.”

The pout Peter gave him only lasted for a second. He had long since accepted Tony’s inability to be dissuaded when it comes to matters of Peter’s legality. Instead of arguing, he handed the bottle to Tony --he still couldn’t figure out how to work a corkscrew, but wanted Tony to give him alcohol, jesus-- and held a glass steady for Tony to pour into it. Tony waved away a glass of his own and just lay there contentedly, spinning a rose petal idly between his fingers.

Peter finished his snack and curled up into Tony’s side, careful to keep some distance between his hips and Tony’s body. Tony wondered if he was hard, wondered if he’d shove Tony away again if he tried to help out with that. He didn’t push.

“Thank you for tonight,” Peter murmured into Tony’s shoulder, his face tucked away.

“You’re welcome for… what, letting you give me an amazing blow job? No problem, anytime, just say the words and I’ll make sure to give you a mouthful.” Peter giggled, his cheekbones pinkening where his profile wasn’t completely hidden. Tony thumbed at the delicate line. “You mean for all the fanfare here?”

“You didn’t have to do all that for me,” Peter mumbled, turning his face at last to look at Tony. “You know I don’t just like you because you spoil me.”

Tony was very, very much in love with this boy blushing over at him. “Of course I know that. Doesn’t make me want to spoil you any less. So next time-- okay seriously, that shocked look on your face is making me feel very bad about my romance skills, yes there will be a next time-- maybe you let me do my thing, deal?”

Peter kissed him, soft and sweet, and kept kissing him until they were both fast asleep among the roses.


The next time Tony fluttered his eyes open, the room was dimmer than before. Some of the candles had burned themselves out, leaving puddles of wax on the furniture that were probably going to be a pain in the ass for someone --not Tony-- to clean up later. The ice bucket was full of water. And Peter, who Tony was fairly certain had been lying by his side when he’d fallen asleep, was currently buck naked on Tony’s lap.


Peter had one hand between his legs, fingers tucked into his hole, gently working himself open. His other hand ran all over Tony’s stomach and thighs, teasing at the edges of the boxers that covered the area. He didn’t touch Tony’s cock, which was still soft but already taking interest in the feel of Peter’s skin on his. He came close enough to make Tony catch his breath in a little gasp, though.

“Tony, please, can I?” Peter asked breathily, his fingertips curling into the waistband of Tony’s boxers as he waited for permission.

“Shit. Yes, shit, whatever you want,” Tony fumbled in answer, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Peter looked golden in the fading candlelight, the dancing of the little flames reflected in his eyes and the shiny surface of the watch Tony bought him, the one thing he’d elected to keep on. As if Tony needed any reminders of how hopelessly gone he was for this boy.

Peter had wrapped a hand around Tony and was stroking him gently, his grip getting tighter as Tony’s length filled up and he started getting hard in Peter’s grasp. “Could have woken me up sooner,” Tony said raggedly, taking Peter’s own hard cock in his hand and delighting in the little mewl of delight he got in response. “I could have opened you up instead. Put my mouth to work, too. Been a while since I’ve let my beard rough up that pretty skin of yours.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Peter panted, though his hips buck forward into Tony’s grasp in a very clear yes. “I just-- c’mon, please, I want you inside me. Please, Tony?”

“Yes, god yes, c’mon, where’s the--?” Peter pressed the little foil square of a condom wrapper into his hand, and Tony grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him down for a kiss even as he started fumbling to get it open and the condom rolled onto his length. “Are you ready? God, how long have you been playing with yourself while I slept? Biting your lip so you wouldn’t make a noise and wake me up? I know how vocal you are, baby, I know that must have been hard for you.”

“Yeah, I’m ready, I got myself ready so when you woke up you could just slip insi--” Peter’s response was choked off as Tony did just that, pulling Peter’s hips slowly down towards his own as his cock sinks inside of Peter’s body. He had to stop himself from digging his fingers into the soft skin of Peter’s thighs. Any bruises he left would probably be gone by morning, but he hated to reward such beautiful behavior with pain.

He’d taken Peter at his word when he’d told Tony he was ready, and he certainly hoped it was honest because Peter felt tight around Tony now. Of course, he always felt tight, felt perfect, like he was built for just this moment so he could push all of Tony’s buttons. Everything from the tremble of Peter’s thighs as he worked himself up and down on Tony’s lap to the look of blissed concentration on his face just did it for Tony, plain and simple.

The first time Peter had ever ridden Tony he’d been so nervous his hands had set to shaking where they braced on Tony’s chest. It had taken many tries of whispering in Peter’s ear that he was perfection, that he made Tony feel incredible, that he was doing so good, before Peter shed his self-consciousness and rode Tony like he meant it. The effort was well worth it to see Peter now, strong legs pushing and pulling his body on top of Tony’s, taking what he wanted and reveling in it.

Tony wrapped his hand around Peter’s cock once more, stroking in time with Peter’s rises and falls. He paused to add some lube to his palm and was rewarded when the newly slick slide of his palm made the volume of Peter’s little chorus of whimpers and kick up a notch.

“There we go, babe, talk for me,” Tony groaned, not particularly caring if Peter was saying actual words or not. Peter pushed himself down faster on Tony’s cock, the skin of their thighs meeting in a staccato rhythm, and already Tony could feel that airy sort of feeling in his gut that meant the drop was coming soon.

“Tony, please,” Peter moaned, his fingers scrabbling at Tony’s shoulders. “Please, I--”

He didn’t finish, but he didn’t need to. “Hang on, kid,” Tony huffed, pushing at Peter’s hips until they disconnected and Peter could roll onto his back next to him. Tony was on his knees between Peter’s spread thighs just a moment later and pushing himself in once more, humming with satisfaction as Peter’s legs wrapped around his waist and trapped him there.

The change in angle made Peter shake, Tony’s practiced thrusts dragging right over the spot inside of him that Peter could never quite manage to hit when he was moving on top of Tony. “Yes, fuck, thank you,” Peter gritted out, surging up to kiss Tony, and Tony bit his already well abused lip in answer. “I wanted to do the work for you, you’re always doing everything for me, but I-- fuck, I--”

“Peter,” Tony murmured, his voice far softer than it had any right to be with him fucking deep into the boy and rapidly coming up on his second orgasm of the night, “if I ever stop wanting to do nice things for you, I want you to have me committed immediately because I’m losing my grip. And if I ever stop wanting to do this for you--” he punctuated his words with a snap of his hips that made Peter gasp, “--you can go ahead and end me, I’ve gone off the deep end.”

Peter inhaled in a laugh and never quite exhaled, his body tensing under Tony until his back arched and his hands tightened on Tony’s waist. He didn’t manage to get out a warning that he was coming but Tony knew anyways, kept his rhythm steady and his grip on Peter’s cock tight until his hips jerked and he came in Tony’s hand.

Tony slipped his arm beneath Peter’s back and held him there, arched close into him, until that moment of tension passed and he shuddered and fell flat onto the mattress again. Only then did Tony let his thrusts get sloppy, his angles less precise as he allowed his mind to wander to the feeling of being inside Peter, warm and slick and tight even when there wasn’t a drop of tension in his body, and felt himself tipping.

He came hard, harder than he usually did when Peter managed to coax him into a second round, his hips pushed deep into Peter’s. By the time he gasped and let the tension ebb from his muscles, Tony felt Peter’s hand carding through his hair, whispering thanks and praise and all kinds of things that Tony would be whispering right back at him if he could remember how language was supposed to work right at that moment. Language was going to take a minute

Instead he just eased his hips back until he slipped free of Peter’s body, sliding the condom off and carrying it to the trash on shaky legs. He made use of the momentum and stumbled to the bathroom as well, bringing back washcloths and a bottle of water from the mini bar along the way. The water he handed to Peter with a fond kiss. “Drink up.”

He got a hum in response and Peter obediently cracked it open and started to drink as Tony gently wiped him down. He saved the second half of the bottle for Tony though, and pushed it toward him rather insistently. “If I need water then you do, too,” he said simply, his eyes wide and guileless. Tony’s so done for.

“Thank you,” Tony said warmly, taking the water bottle and perching on the edge of the mattress next to Peter. He had every intention of drinking it, he just had more pressing matters to attend to at the moment, like kissing Peter. “How’d I manage to snag someone with such a good heart?” he teased when he’d had his fill. “I figured I’d managed to rack up so much bad karma being an asshole that I’d end up sharing my bed with the lovechild of Hitler and Trump.”

“I can be mean when I wanna be,” Peter defended with a grin. “You didn’t think I was such an angel when we were sharing a seat this afternoon.”

“You’re always an angel,” Tony assured him, snatching up the box of strawberries long forgotten on the nightstand and flopping back onto his side of the bed. “Of course, Lucifer was also an angel.”

Peter reached over and stole the berry between Tony's fingers before he could take a single bite and popped it into his own mouth instead. “I think I might be okay with that.”

Yeah , Tony thought. He might be, too.