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In Loco Parentis

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As soon as it happened Tony knew, deep down, that it was going to be a life-changing event.

He knew it as soon as he saw the kid’s face. The minute he got word of the child sex trafficking ring being discovered - and, subsequently, immediately shut down - he and the team were there, trying to get help for the victims, reuniting them with their families, donating clothes and food and therapists for the dozens of children rescued from the cult.

Officially, Tony only funded these investigations, but unofficially, whenever there was a large-scale operation like this one he was right there, doing whatever he could to help. It was the polar opposite of making and selling weapons of mass destruction, but hey, he slept a lot better at night.

Really, it was Steve’s idea. Steve “spent so much time volunteering that he couldn’t make enough money to afford his own place” Rogers, who, after a brief period of being the worst thing to ever happen to Tony’s career (and his conscience), helped Tony turn things around and, as thanks, now lived a few floors below him in Stark Tower, which was leaps and bounds above the hovel he used to call an apartment.

So anyway, like he was saying, it was Steve’s fault that Tony was here, watching a horde of abused children being counselled and questioned. It was Steve’s fault that Tony met him, that he turned around and saw a short, slender, baby-faced teen with a mop of chocolate brown curls on his head, sequestered in the corner by himself, curled up under a trauma blanket.

“Who’s he waiting for?” Tony asked the social worker while gesturing to the kid. Most of the other children’s parents had shown up already, but the ones who hadn’t were waiting in The Soft Room, watching kids’ shows and drinking juice boxes, not sitting alone in the hallway.

“We’re bringing in an investigator from CPS’s domestic branch,” she said, sending the boy a sad look over her shoulder. “His name is Peter Parker. We looked him up, and he has no living relatives, so he’ll need to be placed in foster care.”

Tony felt his heart sink. The boy couldn’t be older than sixteen, though it was hard to tell these kids’ ages because of how malnourished and small they were - every one of them had probably had their growth stunted, and this kid was no exception. He had the body of a teenager, even though he was little; the clothes they put him in were meant for young children, and while they were big enough for him, they didn’t fit quite right.

He knew what he was going to do before he even considered doing it. Nobody should ever have to go through what this kid had - orphaned, abducted, abused - who knew how long this kid had gone without being properly cared for, what kind of horrors he had to endure at the hands of those monsters…

If Tony could help just one of these kids make it through this nightmare, let it be him.

“I’ll take him,” he said.

It was only two weeks after Tony brought Peter home that he requested to officially adopt him.

Naturally, the kid had some issues settling in. Tony had the best child psychologists that money could buy on hand, and Peter’s therapist was working around the clock to make sure Tony was doing the best he could to make the transition for Peter go smoothly, but it goes without saying that there were setbacks.

Peter had been a captive for so long that he didn’t really know how to…function. Tony felt more like he brought home a baby than a fifteen-year-old, at first. Peter was helpless, and while he was obedient and manageable, it was weird for Tony to have to physically dress and bathe and put the kid to bed. Peter’s therapist said that the kid was used to just falling asleep wherever, eating whatever’s given to him, getting hosed off instead of bathed and never wearing clothes, so it wasn’t surprising that he needed help with those things, but still. Tony wasn’t exactly expecting to have to teach the kid how to put on pants when he brought him home.

But there was something endearing about it. Fulfilling, almost. Peter was obviously wary of him, but he trailed after him like a duckling, always eager to help and please, though Tony suspected the kid just didn’t want to be alone.

It was understandable, really. His therapist said that isolation was used as a punishment by his captors, so it made sense that Peter would rather be around Tony, even if he was unsure about him, than be alone in this big penthouse.

It was cute, the way Peter kept close to him. Like a puppy he brought home or something. Peter would sit by him while he was tinkering in his workshop, or watch him while he was working out in his gym, or stand beside him while he was cooking, or sit next to him when he was relaxing on the couch.

Tony took a temporary leave from his CEO duties (not a hardship, with Pepper filling in for him), so he was able to spend each day acquainting Peter with - well, normalcy - getting him accustomed to simple things, like eating more than once a day, or putting on his own clothes (and keeping them on, for that matter. Peter wasn’t fond of layers at all), or brushing his hair (Tony had to use baby shampoo to keep his curls from tangling, and it was remarkable how different the kid looked with shiny, soft, well-tamed hair). Peter seemed to prefer when Tony did those things for him, becoming tense and nervous when he was asked to do them himself, but Tony didn’t really mind. It’d only been a few days, after all.

Besides, like he said - it was cute. Tony’s heart skipped a beat every time the kid shyly held out his brush to him, silently asking Tony to brush his hair. It was moments like that that really made Tony see how rewarding this whole “fatherhood” thing could be.

Most things went smoothly, but there were two big setbacks.

The first was talking. Peter mostly just nodded - wouldn’t say no, even if it was just a shake of his head - and it took some serious coaxing to get him to use actual words.

“He needs to know that it’s okay to speak, even when not spoken to first,” Peter’s therapist told him. “He isn’t used to being allowed to vocalize his wants, needs, or even thoughts. Ask him small, easy questions, be gentle and patient. Encourage him no matter what answer he gives you. It’ll take time.”

Tony tried his best, but Peter was pretty good at communicating without words.

“Do you want the blue one or the red one?” he asked, holding out two cups for Peter to choose from. He seemed to like things geared more towards kids, which made sense. He never got to have a childhood, after all. His therapist warned Tony that he might regress a little bit, as a defense mechanism to the new and strange situation he’d been placed in.

Tony was hoping Peter would speak, but the boy just pointed at the red cup, nervously, like he was expecting to be punished for doing so, like he was being tested. Tony smiled, hiding his slight disappointment that Peter didn’t speak, and started filling the red cup up with juice. “Okay, buddy, red cup it is.”

The small, shy, sweet smile the boy gave him chased the disappointment away.

He set Peter up in the living room in his favorite pile of blankets, letting him pick away at his lunch while streaming his favorite shows on Netflix (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Pokémon, mostly) while Tony cleaned up the kitchen. It took some gentle persuasion to get Peter to stay on the couch instead of following after Tony, but the open floor plan of the room seemed to put the boy at ease, since Tony was never out of sight while he cleaned.

When he finished, the man made himself comfortable on the other end of the couch, in the only available space left over from the large, fort-like nest Peter had constructed and was nestled in. The boy’s eyes were glued to the screen, blinking slow and relaxed as he passed in and out of a dozing-like state. Tony watched along for a few minutes before he got an idea.

“You really like this show, huh?” he asked, quiet and gentle, but still startling Peter out of his sleepiness. The boy nodded, glancing at him, obviously concerned by the question, but Tony didn’t back down. “Which turtle is your favorite?”

Peter blinked, looking more than a little confused as he sunk down into his nest. He gazed at the TV, but Tony knew he was watching him intently in his peripheral vision.

“Mikey,” he answered softly, shoulders hunching in apprehension.

Tony smiled. It was only a small step, but still a step forwards, and he was grateful for any progress he made with this kid.

The second big setback was bedtime.

Now, Peter was worryingly well-behaved. Worrying because it was obvious that he’d been conditioned to obey - that he’d been tortured and abused into following commands, without any resistance or complaints. His therapist had assured Tony that Peter was probably expecting him to abuse that power every minute of every day, so Tony took extra caution to avoid doing so, especially accidentally.

So when Tony told him to lie down on the bed in his room, he did. And when Tony pulled the blanket over him and turned off the light, Peter stayed - until Tony reached his own bedroom door, and realized that Peter was right behind him, following him.

“No, Peter,” he told him gently, making sure not to scold the boy. “You have to sleep in your own room, okay? Come on, back to bed.”

He couldn’t tell the kid to “stay,” because what if he needed to use the bathroom or get a glass of water in the night, but thought he wasn’t allowed to? What if he couldn’t sleep and wanted to move around instead of lying immobile all night, but was scared to get up, lest he be punished?

So Tony just tried to be firm but understanding while repeatedly leading the boy back to his own room, telling him, “If you need me, you can come get me, I won’t be mad, okay? You can wake me up, but I really want you to try and sleep in here. It’s not a punishment, kiddo. You aren’t trapped in here, okay? But this is your room. At least try and stay the night, yeah? Please?”

Peter hesitated, then gave a quick, fretful nod, which made Tony send him a pleased smile, while he pulled the blanket over him for the fourth time that night. “Thank you. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“’Kay,” Peter mumbled, curling up adorably under the blankets.

Tony did, in fact, see him in the morning. He saw him as soon as he got out of bed, because Peter was right there, sitting on the floor, his back resting against the bed, waiting for him. Tony startled when he saw him, and the boy gave him a worried, nervous look, clearly expecting to be punished. It took a while to calm him down after that.

Getting Peter to stay in his own room at night was an issue, but it wasn’t the end of the world. The kid napped a lot, especially when Tony brought out his laptop and tablet and did work on the couch or at the dining table, while Peter curled up in his nest on the couch watching kids’ shows and eating snacks.

So, talking and bedtime, the two Big Issues Tony had encountered since bringing Peter home.

Or they were, anyway.

Two weeks after Tony first took Peter in, his lawyer stepped out of the elevator in the penthouse’s foyer.

Peter was not thrilled by the presence of a stranger in their living room. He hadn’t even warmed up to Steve yet, and the man lived in the building. Bruce and Pepper had stopped by a couple of times, but Peter hid from them, the same way he was now with Yinsen, clutching the back of Tony’s shirt and peeking out from behind him fretfully.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Tony said, placing a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder. “That’s my friend Yinsen. He’s my lawyer, and he’s brought something special for you.”

His words didn’t exactly comfort Peter, judging by the tense expression on the boy’s face. Tony sat them both down on the couch, Yinsen taking a seat on the accompanying armchair on the other side of the coffee table.

Yinsen removed a stack of documents from his black, leather briefcase and handed them to Tony. “Once you finish signing, it will be official,” he said.

Tony took the documents and turned to Peter, speaking softly and gently. “Pete, I know you’ve only been here for a couple weeks, but I need to know: do you like it here? With me?”

The boy’s face twisted in confusion, his brows scrunching up as he thought it over. After a minute he nodded, looking up at Tony worriedly.

Tony smiled. “I like having you here, too,” he said, lifting the documents. “This is the paperwork to make it permanent. If I sign these, legally, I’ll be your dad, and you’ll be able to stay here forever, with me. But I won’t sign them if you don’t want me to. This is your decision too, okay?”

Peter blinked, looking back and forth between the papers and Tony’s face, like he wasn’t comprehending what Tony just said. Tony could tell that he wanted to ask something, so he murmured in his most soothing voice, “It’s okay, kiddo, go ahead. You can ask anything you want to know.”

“You…” he started, unsurely, the confused look still etched on his face. “You’d be…my Daddy? Forever?”

“Yeah,” said Tony, not bothered at all by the childlike lingo, given that Peter was still adjusting to - well, everything, and his therapist said he might need some time to feel safe enough to start acting his own age. “That’s right, kiddo. I’d be your daddy, and you’d get to stay here with me, forever, and I’ll keep taking care of you just like I’ve been doing. But only if that’s what you want.”

Peter nodded, cheeks reddening in an adorable blush as he looked up at Tony through his big doe eyes. “Wanna stay with you,” he said, looking like he wanted to lean in for a hug, but a nervous glance in Yinsen’s direction stopped him.

“Okay,” Tony smiled, placing the stack of papers on the coffee table and leaning over them, pen in hand. “Then it’s official.”

Peter acted…strangely, for the rest of the day, to put it simply.

He was always nervous, but this seemed more like anticipation than fear. The kid stuck right beside him, as usual, but he flinched every time Tony moved too suddenly, like he was expecting to be grabbed or…Tony wasn’t sure.

He was worried that maybe the kid had the wrong idea about being adopted. Maybe the other kids who were trafficked were done so under the pretense of adoption? Peter was acting like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop; like now that Tony had signed the paperwork, he was going to start abusing Peter the way he was raised to expect.

It broke Tony’s heart, but he didn’t react. He was determined to show Peter that nothing had changed - that just because they were legally family now didn’t mean Tony was going to act differently. Peter would settle down eventually, after enough time had passed and he was able to trust Tony, and he realized the man had no intention of hurting him.

Peter looked confused every time Tony moved and didn’t touch him. He would go unnaturally still, waiting, and when Tony just picked up his tumbler or tablet or the remote instead, Peter would blink, lost, like Tony just threw him the world’s fastest curveball.

“Wanna watch some ninja turtles, Pete?” Tony finally asked, hoping to distract the kid, to calm him down. Peter nodded, so Tony got to work on assembling the kid’s usual fort/nest, complete with a bowl of animal cookies and a cup of apple juice.

Tony took his usual seat on the other end of the couch, tumbler in one hand and his laptop in the other, and to his complete surprise, Peter jostled his blanket fort and scooted down the couch, until he was pressed against Tony, leaning into him, cuddling him.

It was a welcomed change from the jittery nervousness Peter had been operating in all day, so Tony didn’t let his surprise show. He booted up his laptop, sipped his scotch, and ran his fingers through the boy’s hair absentmindedly, coaxing the kid into a light nap.

While Peter dozed, Tony started to look up kids’ stuff online. They were lightyears away from Tony being able to take the kid into public, especially for shopping - but he would need proper clothes and other stuff, in the meantime. Peter learned how to navigate Netflix on his own pretty damn fast, but Tony was reluctant to buy him electronics, specifically ones that could hook up to the internet. Peter could get overwhelmed putting on his own pants in the morning; Tony didn’t want to stress him out by giving him access to every piece of human knowledge in existence.

But the kid would need stuff to do besides watch TV, especially when Tony started working again…but what would a five-year-old trapped in a fifteen-year-old’s body find fun? Stuffed animals?

He seemed to enjoy watching Tony tinker in his lab, and the kid was smart; he had that spark of intelligence in his eyes when he was watching Tony put things together…

Lightbulb going off, Tony started adding every Lego set and model train collection he could find to his online shopping cart, before moving to the teen apparel section.

He was such a good dad.

“I know you don’t like clothes,” Tony said, angling the laptop sitting on his legs so Peter could see the screen better next to him. “But you gotta wear ‘em, and since you’re sticking with me, you need a better wardrobe than the second-hand rags they sent you here with. So come on, pick something. At least a couple outfits. Whatever ones you want.”

“I can…choose?” Peter asked, unconfidently. “I can wear whatever I want?”

“That’s right, kiddo,” Tony smiled, his heart warming each time Peter spoke. They’d come so far in just a couple weeks. “It’s up to you.”

Peter thought for a moment, then stood up and walked away from the couch. Tony watched after him, confused, especially when Peter kept walking past the bathroom door and further down the hall.

His confusion doubled when Peter returned a couple minutes later, his shirt and pants gone, replaced by one of Tony’s dress shirts, which hung off of him like a dress, falling all the way to his bare thighs and completely swallowing his hands as the sleeves engulfed his arms.

“This,” Peter said, lifting his arms and showing off how baggy Tony’s shirt was on him. “I like this one.”

Tony chuckled. “Wouldn’t you like your own clothes even more? Ya know, ones that belong to you, that only you get to wear? And that, uh, fit?”

Peter shook his head. “I like Daddy’s,” he said quietly, hugging himself in Tony’s loose shirt. “I don’t like…fit. S’too tight.”

“Okay,” Tony said, looking back at the laptop and adjusting his search. “You can wear mine for now, and we’ll get you some similar ones that are nice and baggy so they aren’t too tight. That way you can grow into them, sound good?”

Peter smiled, walking back over and crawling onto the couch, cuddling up against Tony’s side. Tony lifted his arm and draped it around Peter’s back, pulling him in close, reveling in the contented sigh the boy made. His heart felt full and at peace that the kid had warmed up to him so much already.

“Daddy,” Peter said quietly, nuzzling into him. “I wanna thank you.”

Tony smiled as he finished placing the online order for Peter’s new wardrobe. “You don’t need to thank me, Peter,” he said, ruffling the boy’s hair as he stood up gingerly. “I’m not doing this for thanks. I like taking care of you, so you don’t need to worry. I’m going to keep doing it, okay?”

Peter’s expression fell slightly, worry covering his face. “But…I wanna thank you.”

Biting back the temptation to sigh, Tony just smiled again, grinning at the fretful boy. “Okay, kiddo. You’re welcome.”

But the expression didn’t lift from the kid’s anxious face. Sheesh. “No, Daddy, I wanna really thank you.”

Tony rubbed his temples, exasperatedly. It’d been a long day, and trying to decipher the kid’s backwards definitions of things took more brain function than Tony currently could dispose. “All right, you win. You can thank me later, okay?” Like tomorrow, after a good, full night of rest and some breakfast.

Peter’s face picked up, his worry abating. “Later?”

“Yeah,” said Tony. “Later.”

Tony didn’t really know what was happening when he first woke up.

It was still dark - the middle of the night, most likely - and Tony felt sluggish and disoriented from being pulled from sleep way, way too soon.

But he also felt good.

Like…really good.

He couldn’t stop the moan that left his mouth as pleasure spread throughout his body, resonating from between his legs. It felt amazing. He could feel his hard-on twitching against his stomach, fully erect and aching…mmm, and something wonderful was running over it, teasing it…

Tony kept his eyes closed, pressing the back of his head further into his pillow as he arched his back from the incredible feeling. Jesus, it’d been too long since he got laid, clearly. Another moan left him as his hips bucked, feeling something warm and wet wrap around the head of his cock, lightly sucking on it, and a soft inhale of breath ghosted over his skin, which felt even better.

The pressure around the tip of his dick increased, squeezing it gently, as something wet ran over the slit, making Tony thrust his hips again. Unable to stop himself, Tony reached down, needing to wrap his hand around his cock, to stroke it, to come - he was so close already, he needed to finish right now - but the feeling of actual, tangible hair in his fingers, attached to a real head, not his imagination, snapped Tony from his half-asleep daze, and he ripped the blankets off himself, startled and confused.

And horrified, when he looked down and saw Peter - his kid - draped across his lap, gently holding his cock, lapping at it leisurely, completely unaware of Tony’s distress. Tony laid there, frozen and uncomprehending, as Peter licked across the tip of his cock softly, eyes closed and face serene, before pulling the entire head eagerly into his mouth, applying gentle suction, caressing it with the soft inside of his mouth like Tony wasn’t even there, like he was just enjoying the taste and feel of his cock by himself, like Tony was just a piece of furniture.

Tony couldn’t keep the moan inside as Peter lowered his head, taking him in deeper before pulling back, coating his shaft in saliva. Peter stroked him lightly, fingers gliding over his skin, as he lavished the head of his cock with his lips and tongue, alternating between gentle licks and sucks, occasionally kissing the tip, looking completely content, like this wasn’t the most immoral thing Tony had ever unintentionally done.

Peter ignored him as he moaned again while happily lapping at the head of his cock. Tony couldn’t take his eyes away, couldn’t move or react, too shocked and confused by the sight of the child he had literally just adopted only hours earlier sucking on his cock like it was a toy he was playing with, and not the reproductive organ of the man who had just legally become his father. Peter wasn’t sucking his cock like he wanted to get Tony off - he was sucking his cock like he was tasting it, enjoying it all to himself, experimenting with his mouth while simultaneously worshipping it, treating it like it was his favorite thing in the entire world, like he was in no hurry, like all he wanted to do was lie there and suck on Tony’s cock forever.

He almost came right then, just from that thought, and in his mind, Tony begged himself to stop this. This was so, so many levels of wrong - Peter was abused, he didn’t even know how wrong this was, and if Tony didn’t tell him now, it would be much harder to explain later - but he was paralyzed, still disoriented from waking up and from the mind-numbing pleasure this kid was giving him - he wasn’t even really blowing him and it was still the best blowjob Tony had ever had, and that was a race with some pretty steep fucking competition.

And then there was the kid’s face. Tony felt stuck, like a deer in the headlights, looking down at Peter’s face, because it was so unfamiliar that it almost didn’t even look like him. There was no tension, no anxiety, no fear or confusion or shyness - not even a trace of any usual expression the kid normally had, it was all gone, and replaced with such complete bliss that it floored Tony.

The kid looked completely content. He looked happy, like he was totally at peace and at home, sucking on Tony’s cock like he was savoring it, like an addict finally getting their fix and wanting to make it last. Tony couldn’t think at all in the presence of that look on the kid’s face, because he didn’t have the heart to take it away from him - Peter just looked so overjoyed, happier than Tony had ever seen him, and Tony’s brain was still catching up to the rest of him, not to mention the indescribable pleasure of that talented tongue caressing him just right, in all of Tony’s favorite, most sensitive spots, watching this kid take him apart expertly, like he was made to do it.

The sudden, horrid realization that he was triggered the most shameful orgasm Tony Stark had ever had in his entire life. Peter was unperturbed, somehow completely expecting it, and he closed his lips around the head of Tony’s cock and milked the come out of him, gently stroking his shaft while he pulled rope after rope of his hot come eagerly into his mouth, swallowing it all with ease, drinking every last drop fucking gratefully while Tony’s dick spasmed trying to give him more.

Tony collapsed, ashamed, exhausted, confused and blissed-out while Peter licked him clean. He looked back down when he felt the kid nuzzle against his hip, sighing contentedly, and Peter looked up and met his eyes, giving him the brightest, sweetest smile Tony had ever seen.

“Thank you Daddy,” Peter said softly, kissing the sensitive head of his spent, softening cock.

Tony closed his eyes, dropping his head back down against his pillow, praying it was all a dream.

It was not.

After Peter went back to his own room, Tony lied there, all night long, until the sky barely started to lighten. When he finally accepted the fact that he wasn’t getting back to sleep, Tony pulled himself out of bed and into the kitchen to make some coffee.

He took a seat at the dining table, head hanging in his hands, his steaming mug of coffee in front of him going completely untouched.

What the fuck was he going to do? He couldn’t tell anyone, not even Peter’s therapist. If it had just been an attempt, then sure, maybe, he could ask what the fuck he’s supposed to do when his adoptive son tries to blow him, but it hadn’t just been an attempt. Peter hadn’t tried, he’d succeeded, and if Tony got other people involved and Peter told them he’d made Tony come…

They would take Peter away.

Never mind what they’d do to Tony - honestly, he’d deserve whatever they did - but then Peter would be uprooted, again, when he only just got comfortable, when he was finally warming up to Tony, finally talking to him and acting normal - not normal for his age, sure, but still like an actual person and not some…slave.

But Tony had undone all of that, last night, when he allowed that kid to “thank” him with sex, like he was brainwashed into doing his entire fucking life. Why couldn’t he have just pushed Peter away? Even if it hurt his feelings, at least Tony would have a hope in hell of explaining to him why it was wrong. He didn’t know what the fuck he was supposed to say now, and he had to figure it out all by himself.

He let his head fall onto the table, guilt and shame engulfing him. He’d abused Peter. He’d let that kid turn himself into a thing, a servant, just like the monsters who’d abducted and brainwashed him. Tony was no better than them, now. Worse, in fact, because Peter trusted him - wasn’t scared of him, because Tony had never done anything to hurt him. Until now.

And now Tony had to convince Peter that what he did last night was utterly wrong and that he could never tell anyone about it, without making the kid scared of him. He couldn’t just say, “Hey son, last night I completely took advantage of you, committing one of the worst crimes imaginable, and if you ever tell anyone about it they’ll take you away and send me to jail, but don’t worry, I’m still totally a responsible and trustworthy adult who is completely capable of taking care of an emotionally-disadvantaged teenage boy, without abusing said teenage boy’s willingness to provide me with illegal sexual favors. Oh wait.”

Tony groaned, pulling at his hair while keeping his face pressed against the table. He didn’t know how he was even supposed to look at Peter, let alone speak to him.

And if he were an honest man, Tony would admit that somewhere, deep, deep down inside of him, he was also scared of how his body would react to the sight of Peter, too.

The aching twinge in Tony’s shoulders and back from falling asleep at the table faded slightly at the much better feeling spreading throughout his - oh fucking God no!

Groaning, Tony tried to move back, to push his chair out from under the table, but the mouth around his cock swallowed him down deeper, sucking and pulling him in, halting Tony in his attempted escape with a surprised moan.

Tony collapsed his upper body on the tabletop, tightening his hands into fists, trying to block the sensation out, but it was impossible - Peter was going for broke, not the gentle, teasing touch of last night - no, Peter was actively trying to suck his soul out through his cock, and fucking God in heaven, it felt amazing.

Tony spread his legs, letting Peter lean in closer, take him in deeper. He gasped as the boy swallowed him all the way down, massaging his dick with his wet, tight throat, caressing the underside of his hard-on with that sinfully talented tongue of his. And then, Jesus help him, the boy moaned around his cock as he sucked and bobbed his head skillfully, his hands resting on Tony’s thighs, fucking his own face on Tony’s cock and making the happiest, most grateful little sounds as he did, like Tony was doing him the favor, letting him suck his cock under the table like Tony was giving him a treat.

Biting his lip, Tony clenched his eyes shut and refused to reach down and put his hands on the boy. He would not participate, he couldn’t. He’d wait until Peter was done, and then…shit, he still had no plan, no idea how the fuck he was supposed to talk to Peter, to explain everything to him…

A loud, startled cry ripped its way from Tony’s throat as the boy deep-throated him, all the way to his balls, something even the most talented escorts Tony had been with hadn’t been able to accomplish - Tony was long. But Peter, apparently, had no gag reflex to speak of, and sucked Tony’s entire cock into his throat like he was cheerfully swallowing the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.

The mental image of the kid’s face, making the same expression as last night, blissfully and appreciatively sucking on his cock like there was nowhere else in the entire world he’d rather be, pushed Tony over the edge and had him spilling a heavy load of hot come down the boy’s throat with another vulgar moan. Peter swallowed him all the way, letting Tony’s cock shoot down his throat, holding it there until it emptied itself and then slowly, deliberately pulled off, sucking every inch of him from base to tip, still only using his mouth as he cleaned Tony’s cock off with his tongue, finishing with a loving, chaste kiss to the head, right over the slit.

Tony waited until Peter withdrew slightly to bolt out of his chair and to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him as he struggled to figure out what the fuck to do. A shy, tentative knock on the door paralyzed him, made worse Peter’s sweet voice saying, “Daddy? M’hungry…” from the other side.

“I’ll be right out, Pete,” Tony said, sliding down against the door, covering his face with his palms shamefully.

Tony wasn’t sure if he was grateful or upset that Peter was acting like nothing was different.

Peter didn’t comment on the fact that he had sucked Tony off twice, didn’t act any shyer or embarrassed around him, didn’t try and seduce him further or ask for reciprocation - nothing. It was like they didn’t mean anything, like they were just hugs or any other conventional method of showing affection - like it was no big deal, like Tony wasn’t fucking beside himself with guilt and self-disgust.

Peter trailed after him like usual, ate what he was given, quietly watched his shows while Tony pretended to work, snuggled up to him in his giant blanket nest on the couch, and completely failed to notice that Tony had become a nervous wreck, twitching every time the boy moved, half-scared and half-excited that the boy might slide between his legs at any moment and give Tony the third best blowjob he’d ever had in his life.

Was this what Peter meant by “thanking” Tony? Did he think he had to do it, that the only way he could show someone gratitude was to drop to his knees for them? Or did he actually want to? Tony wasn’t sure what terrified him more - the thought that this kid was raised, his entire life, to believe that he owed other men sex and that that was his only use, or the thought that Peter wanted Tony in that way, that he wanted to pleasure him, to suck on him and - fuck, fuck, he had to stop, he couldn’t get hard in front of this kid, not again.

He had to do something. This couldn’t go on; Tony’s mental state wouldn’t last at this rate. How was he supposed to help Peter overcome what he’d been through if he just kept contributing to the abuse? Maybe he should tell someone - if not Peter’s therapist, then maybe Steve, or Bruce, or Pepper - but no, that’d be even worse, if Peter told them that Tony let him fellate him, Tony would be very dead - Steve would see sure to that.

He was stuck. He didn’t know what to do. Maybe he should just…avoid it, minimize time alone with Peter, or start locking the doors and start spending a lot more time by himself? But no, he couldn’t do that - Peter might be fifteen physically, but he wasn’t mentally. Tony couldn’t just leave him by himself all the time; that’d be just as detrimental to his emotional state. Peter needed care, constant care, and Tony knew that when he took him in; he couldn’t abandoned that responsibility now.

He had to bite the bullet and talk to him.

Clearing his throat, Tony closed his laptop and set it aside, mentally preparing himself for the most difficult, awkward conversation of his life. “Hey, Peter…” he started, pausing to wait for a response.

But none came. Tony looked down at where the kid was leaning against his side, wrapped protectively in his blankets, and saw that Peter was sound asleep, peacefully nestled into Tony’s side.

Tony sighed, feeling his resolve evaporate.

Despite not wanting it to, a routine began to form between him and Peter, and even though he knew it was the worst possible plan of action, Tony’s method of handling the whole situation boiled down to “pretend it wasn’t happening.”

And Tony was sticking to that method with ironclad determination.

He didn’t change the way he went about his day-to-day activities. He didn’t stop eating breakfast at the dining table. He didn’t stop reading the morning news on his tablet on the comfy armchair in the living room. He didn’t stop sitting next to Peter while the boy watched Netflix, tumbler in one hand and laptop in the other. He didn’t stop sitting at the high countertop in his workshop while he was tinkering, perched on the very edge of the tall stool.

He didn’t start locking doors, barring Peter access to him, despite knowing Peter would inevitably crawl between his legs the longer he sat still.

Tony just kept pretending. He pretended Peter wasn’t undoing his belt, pulling open his suit pants to get at his cock, happily lavishing it with more attention than any girlfriend Tony had ever had. He pretended he didn’t hear the blissful, contented sigh the kid made when he finally got Tony’s cock in his mouth again; pretended his vision didn’t almost fucking white-out when the kid deep-throated him, sucking his cock like he needed his come to live, like he’d been lost in a desert and Tony’s cock was a glass of cool, fresh water.

Tony pretended not to notice that Peter was doing it more and more - that once a day became twice became four times, that Peter was being more forward about it, crawling into his lap while they were watching TV and nuzzling his entire face against Tony’s crotch, fucking cuddling with his dick like a toddler would with their favorite stuffed animal. Tony pretended he didn’t open his legs, as though he were just relaxing, just getting into a more comfortable position, and not making it easier for his fifteen-year-old son to pull down his briefs and free his already throbbing erection.

He pretended he wasn’t already rock hard before Peter even crawled over to him.

And he pretended to keep watching the TV, pretended he didn’t throw his head back and barely stifle a loud, shameful moan when Peter started licking up and down his cock absentmindedly, like a baby with a pacifier, no real intent behind the gentle sucking besides the apparent joy of just having Tony in his mouth, like the kid found some comfort in that, enjoyed just being able to taste Tony, like his cock was Peter’s favorite thing in the whole world and all he wanted was to suck on it.

Tony definitely, absolutely pretended that that thought wasn’t what kept getting him off. He pretended that this wasn’t the hottest thing that had ever fucking happened to him - that seeing this sweet, innocent, adorable little boy worship his cock wasn’t almost unbearable in how much it turned him on. He pretended he wasn’t a criminal, a child rapist, like Peter’s captives had been.

He pretended he didn’t love how Peter always swallowed every last drop of his come, like he couldn’t bear to waste any, like he was addicted to it, like he needed it. He pretended Peter wasn’t the most talented blowjob artist he’d ever met, that no one else, in Tony’s entire forty-five years of life, had ever been able to take him apart so quickly, or so thoroughly.

Tony pretended that he didn’t find it extremely arousing and unbelievably cute, all at once, how Peter sometimes just wanted to hold Tony in his mouth, lying together on the couch, distractedly sucking on the head of his cock like he was nursing from it, until Tony was so painfully hard that he had tears in his eyes. He pretended he didn’t fantasize about grabbing Peter by the hair and holding him down on his cock, that his body wasn’t trembling from how hard he was suppressing the urge to do so.

The hardest part was pretending he didn’t notice just how much Peter loved it. When he closed his eyes, he saw Peter’s contented face - his eyes shut, cheeks red, expression serene - even as half of Tony’s dick was buried in his throat. Nobody had any business looking that fucking angelic while sucking someone’s cock, but Peter did; his blissful expression was burned into Tony’s memory, because he always had it, every single time he got his mouth on Tony.

Tony was a fucking billionaire. A handsome billionaire - and a bachelor, to boot - he’d had people suck his cock like it was a privilege, like he was doing them a favor. Hell, he’d had people lined up in single-file waiting for the chance to blow him. And he’d definitely had people thank him afterwards.

But none of those times compared to this, because those were - well, sex. There was sexual motivation there. This wasn’t that. This wasn’t some harlot getting off on being used like an object by a hot rich guy. This was…innocent. It was pure. It was the sweetest boy in the entire world, sucking on Tony’s cock because it made him happy, drinking Tony’s come because he loved the taste, because he felt good when he had Daddy’s cock in his mouth and sad when he didn’t.

This was a kid who was raised his entire life to know how to please men, who was only ever allowed to suck and take cock, and who’d been brainwashed into liking it. Peter probably had to take comfort in giving head because he had nothing else - Tony very highly doubted that his kidnappers gave him toys to play with. At least, not the non-sex kind. Peter was a kid who never knew physical affection beyond giving it, so it made sense that he would be exceptionally talented. Anyone would be a master at blowjobs if that was the only thing they were allowed to do for fifteen straight years.

It was easier for Tony to tell himself that the only reason he pretended it wasn’t happening was because it felt too good to stop. That was the easier thing to admit to himself, versus the other, darker truth - the truth that, not-so-deep down, Tony loved it, too, he loved his little cockslut of a baby boy, loved how readily and willingly he dropped to his knees for him, loved that his cock brought his baby such endless comfort, that it was Peter’s favorite thing in the whole world.

Tony kept pretending until he couldn’t anymore.

It happened in the shower, the worst possible place for Peter to want to blow him, because there was nothing to distract Tony. It was so much harder to pretend that his fifteen-year-old son wasn’t kneeling in front of him on the shower floor, kissing up and down his cock languidly, when there was nothing but tiles and water surrounding them.

Tony had nowhere to look but down at Peter’s soaking wet, gorgeous face, as the boy knelt with his head tipped back, calm and content, his eyes shut to keep the water out as he gently sucked the head of Tony’s cock into his mouth, running the tip of his tongue over it, caressing it, happy to just sit there and taste Tony for hours, if Tony could resist coming that long.

Tony was convinced that if he was capable of orgasming continuously with no cooldown time, Peter would never stop sucking on him. He’d become a permanent fixture to Tony’s body, his everlasting little cock-warmer.

Peter rested Tony’s cock against his face as he lowered his head to drag his tongue across Tony’s balls, dipping the tip between both of them and gently flicking it upwards, then sucking gently on each one while Tony’s cock twitched against his cheek, leaking precome onto his forehead. Peter ignored it in favor of licking over every inch of Tony’s sac, adorning them with kisses and tender sucks, so attentive and loving, taking the utmost care to shower each one with affection and pleasure.

Tony almost came on the boy’s face right there, and it was the sight that did it; that broke the dam Tony had been building for the last week, pretending he wasn’t a monster, that he didn’t love having this flawless, talented child worship his cock like it was the only thing he wanted to do for the rest of his life.

“Oh, f-fuck,” Tony moaned, watching his cock leak more onto his son’s face. “Fuck, Peter…”

Peter’s eyes snapped open, looking up sharply at Tony’s face, eyes wide and bright and startled. He pulled back, his mouth falling away from Tony’s balls, Tony’s cock bobbing untouched in the air, no longer resting against his face.

Fuck, fuck, no - Peter had never stopped, he always finished, always. Tony tried to lean forwards, to get that incredible mouth back on him where it belonged, but then Peter’s face changed, and it stopped him dead in his tracks.

Peter smiled, no longer the calm, content look Tony was used to, no - this wasn’t a small, serene smile; it was large and bright, beaming up at him like the sun, with so much obvious joy and love and affection that it made Tony’s heart fucking stop.

Peter giggled, the cutest fucking sound Tony had ever heard, still grinning ear-to-ear as he finally, finally reached up and loosely wrapped his little hand around the base of Tony’s cock again, gently stroking it, angling the head back towards his sweet little mouth, yes, yes, yes -

Then, Peter blew Tony’s fucking mind.

For the first time, he talked.

“Does it feel good, Daddy?” Peter asked, innocently, with his sweet little voice, as he lapped at the head of Tony’s cock, forcing a wrecked moan from the man’s throat. Tony barely managed to keep his orgasm at bay - Peter had never talked during, only after, when he thanked him. This was - this was new, and terrifying, and so, so fucking hot.

“M’so happy,” Peter sighed, nuzzling his cheek against Tony’s shaft again, eyes slipping closed blissfully. “M’so happy I get Daddy’s big cock. Wanna make Daddy feel good.”

He held Tony’s cock away from his face gently, and trailed his tongue up the underside of it, contouring the thickest vein with the tip of his tongue, then lapped at the bottom of the head lightly, like it was just what he wanted to do, like he just wanted to taste Tony’s cock, to catch every drop of precome it was oozing.

“Wanna be good for my Daddy,“ Peter whispered, looking up at him with his big, dark eyes. “Wanna thank him for being the best Daddy ever.” He slipped the head inside his mouth, sucking on it a little harder, milking more precome out, then pulled it out with a satisfying pop. “Wanna show Daddy how much I love his cock.”

Sucking the head inside his hot, wet mouth again, Peter applied the lightest suction, like he was nursing on it instead of giving a blowjob. He licked the slit while moving his lips, thrusting the head in and out, fucking his own mouth on Tony’s cock, gently, back and forth, at his own tortuous pace.

“I love the taste of Daddy’s come,” he moaned, pulling off and looking back up at Tony, almost desperately now. “It tastes so good. S’my favorite. Can I have it, Daddy? Please?”

Tony’s mind went completely fucking blank from the overwhelming desire that surged through him.

The dam broke, and any semblance Tony had of being a good person was drowned in the flood of lust that crashed over him.

"You want Daddy’s come, baby?” he asked, voice gravelly and deep. Whimpering, Peter nodded eagerly, opening his mouth for Tony’s cock again. “You want Daddy to fill up his cockslut’s little mouth? Want me to fuck this greedy hole of yours like the grateful baby boy you are?”

“Yes,” Peter whined, leaning forwards to try and take Tony into his mouth, and whimpering when Tony pulled back, denying him. “Please, Daddy,” he begged, looking up at Tony through his desperate puppy-dog eyes. “I’ll be so good. I’ll be a good boy, just please, please let me have Daddy’s cock, want it…”

Grabbing his erection around the base, Tony held the head of it steady against Peter’s open mouth. “Okay, baby boy. Daddy’ll give you what you need. Stick out your tongue and hold still, okay?”

Nodding, Peter tipped his head back, tongue out, eyes half-closed in pleasure, as Tony rubbed the head of his cock over his warm, wet tongue, teasing it in and out of the boy’s mouth.

“Gonna fuck my baby boy’s pretty whore mouth and let him drink all my come like the hungry comeslut he is.”

Peter moaned, and that was the final straw. Tony grabbed the sides of Peter’s face with both hands in a bruising grip, and drove his hips forwards, pulling Peter’s head down on his cock, until every inch was buried in that hot mouth and down his throat.

Tony began fucking his face, brutally and animalistic, holding on to Peter’s hair as he revelled in the feeling of his little boy’s hot, willing mouth wrapped around his throbbing cock. He pulled the boy’s face flush against his groin, finally, finally fucking his mouth properly, like he’d wanted to for days, both hands in Peter’s soft curls as he thrusted all the way in, until his balls touched Peter’s chin and the head of his dick was hugged tightly by the boy’s tight throat.

He wanted to take his time, to fuck Peter’s mouth in every filthy way he’d been fantasizing about, but he was too close already, there’d been too much build-up, and despite wanting to make it last, Tony’s hips rocked of their own accord, his hands shoving Peter’s head down on his hard-on as he thrusted as hard as he could, riding the amazing feeling out of his baby boy’s mouth sucking him in, wanting it, silently asking Tony to come down his needy little throat.

He felt his orgasm hit him like a runaway truck, sudden and violent as he came in great, thick spurts of hot white come, holding Peter’s head tight against his crotch so his cock could spill every drop right down his throat. Peter just swallowed, content to have his throat fucked and filled up by his Daddy, and waited patiently until Tony was done like a good boy.

Tony collapsed against the wall after, his hands slipping from the boy’s hair, and Peter leaned forwards, panting, completely out of breath, and kissed the long digits of Tony’s hand, nuzzling it affectionately, then sighed and looked up at Tony with nothing but absolute love in his eyes.

“Tastes so good,” he said, licking his swollen, red lips. “Thank you for letting me have your come, Daddy.”

Tony groaned, head tipped back so he could pretend the hot water was washing away his shame. He couldn’t believe how much Peter was capable of talking - after three weeks of hardly saying a word, suddenly the kid became a total chatterbox while he was blowing him, all because Tony moaned his name?

And, Christ, who fucking taught this kid how to talk dirty? The kid was a pro at it, just like he was at sucking dick.

Composing himself, Tony focused on coming back to reality as his body recovered from one of the strongest orgasms he’d ever had. When Peter wobbly pulled himself to his feet, Tony caught him by the arm before he could even think of leaving the open, walk-in shower, and pulled the boy against his chest, holding him there with a hand on his shoulder, not quite a hug, but affectionate all the same.

Tony knew he needed to say something. Something at least a little responsible, at least a step in the right direction, something conscientious, like “we need to talk about this,” something Steve would say, something ethical.

Instead, what came out of Tony’s mouth was, “You’re Daddy’s good boy, aren’t you, Peter?”

He could practically feel the kid glowing as Peter nuzzled his face into Tony’s chest, leaning into him and sighing happily as Tony’s hand made its way into his hair. Eventually Tony gathered the mental strength to start washing them both up, finishing the shower by placing a gentle kiss to the boy’s forehead, feeling his heart warm at the happy, blushing smile Peter gave him.

It wouldn’t be fair to Peter to ask him what he wanted, given that he wasn’t capable of knowing what was good or bad for him, but Tony did anyway, pretending that that made it all okay, that Peter was capable of consenting to this, that this wasn’t illegal, that Peter was enjoying this because he loved Tony, and not because he’d been conditioned to do so.

“Peter,” Tony said, drying the boy off, then letting him reach for one of Tony’s hanging dress shirts, instead of his own clothes discarded on the floor. “Do you like being Daddy’s baby boy?”

“Uh-huh,” Peter said, pulling the shirt over his head and letting it fall to his thighs like a dress, then stepping back into Tony’s space, still kneeling on the floor, leaning down slightly to nuzzle their foreheads together with a contented smile. “Wanna be Daddy’s baby forever.”

Tony angled his face up, pressing his lips to Peter’s, who stilled in surprise. Tony gently cupped the boy’s face in his hands, coaxing him to lean down further into the kiss, kissing him sweetly, the lightest brush of their lips together, the tip of Tony’s tongue swiping into the boy’s mouth. Peter inhaled slightly, not quite a gasp, and pressed forwards into the kiss, deepening it, letting Tony nip and lick into his mouth, thorough but soft; dominating, but tender.

He pulled away, and was pleased to see a new expression on Peter’s face - arousal, eyes half-lidded and unfocused, lips parted and breathing loud, cheeks bright red and warm. Tony grinned, leaning forwards for another quick peck, then whispered against the boy’s mouth, “Daddy wants you to be his baby forever too, sweetheart,” he said, kissing him once more. “Want to stay in this tower with you forever, with my cock buried in that tight little throat of yours. I want to spend every minute of every day from now on feeding you my come, until you’re all filled up with it.”

Peter moaned, pressing their foreheads together, his hands resting on Tony’s bare shoulders. “Please, Daddy,” he begged, so pretty and sweet, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to Tony’s spent dick. “Want Daddy’s cock. Wanna taste.”

“Yeah?” Tony smiled, trailing his hands down Peter’s body and resting them at his hips, mere inches away from the hem of his shirt. “You wanna go watch shows on the couch with Daddy’s cock in your mouth?”

Nodding eagerly, Peter didn’t protest at all when Tony stood and then bent down and picked him up, carrying him on his hip like a toddler out of the bedroom and into the living room. Tony sat on the couch and maneuvered Peter gently into his lap, leaning back and letting the boy get comfortable, his cheek pressed to Tony’s stomach as he curled up on top of him, his mouth right in front of Tony’s soft dick.

Tony got to work turning Netflix on while Peter slipped the tip of Tony’s cock into his mouth, flicking his tongue playfully over the head, before shuffling forwards and swallowing the whole thing into his mouth. Tony rubbed his back, stroking him tenderly, while Peter happily dozed in his lap, lightly sucking on Tony’s cock like a pacifier, occasionally running his tongue over the slit, making sure to thoroughly taste every inch of him, even as he fell into a contented little nap.

Tony sat there for hours, letting Peter sleep and simultaneously suck his cock, and when the sun set and Peter showed no signs at all of waking, and Tony was rock hard in the boy’s wet, pliant mouth, he turned the TV off and gathered Peter gently in his arms, carrying him to the bedroom - Tony’s, no use trying to make the kid sleep alone anymore - and crawled into bed with the sleepy boy nestled in his arms.

Peter stirred, whining pitifully when he realized his mouth was empty. “Daddy,” he whimpered, reaching down towards Tony’s pelvis. “Want it.”

Tony chuckled and leaned in, kissing his greedy boy softly on the lips, then moved Peter down the bed, beneath the covers, until his head aligned with Tony’s crotch, and Tony could fist the base of his erection and readily feed it into the boy’s waiting mouth.

Peter happily sucked his cock back inside, only about halfway, given that Tony was fully erect now. Tony expected him to start sucking him in earnest, to milk the come out of him as zealously as he usually did, but like a typical kid, Peter was sleepy and unfocused, and contented himself to immediately fall back asleep with Tony’s cock simply warmed in his mouth.

Groaning, Tony tried to relax into the bed, to just curl up and fall asleep like Peter had, but each time he started to feel sleepy, Peter would unconsciously suckle a little harder, lapping at the underside of the head of Tony’s cock, massaging it, and Tony would startle back to full wakefulness, cursing under his breath at the sharp ache forming in his balls from how badly he needed to come.

He’d go fucking sterile at this rate. Shifting his hips slightly to make room, Tony lowered his hands again, one petting Peter’s hair and the other grabbing his shaft. He began stroking the exposed half of his dick in firm but quick jerks, revelling in the feeling of Peter gently sucking the tip. His hips started moving on their own, just short, shallow thrusts, and in record time, Tony felt his orgasm fast approaching.

He attempted to pull out – he didn’t want to come in the kid’s mouth without him knowing or without his consent – but as soon as he started to pull out, Peter fully closed his lips around Tony’s cock and sucked hard, sucking him back in, until the head hit the back of his throat. Tony came with a loud, strangled moan, feeling Peter suddenly milk him without warning, not letting him pull his cock out of his mouth, sucking him resolutely even in his sleep.

Tony felt the boy swallow, and pulled the blankets back to look down at Peter’s disoriented, not-quite-awake face, blinking up at Tony through half-lidded eyes, even as he continued idly swallowing everything in his mouth.

“Sorry baby,” Tony panted, petting the kid’s hair again. “Daddy didn’t wanna wake you. I tried to pull out, but you wouldn’t let me.”

Peter smiled, licking his lips and then leaned forwards and nuzzled Tony’s cock again, sighing happily. “S’okay,” he whispered sleepily. “I want Daddy’s come all the time. S’my favorite.”

“You’ll get sick of it at this rate,” Tony joked, though he immediately felt worried at the thought. He didn’t know what he would even do if Peter suddenly no longer wanted…whatever this was.

“Nuh-uh,” Peter murmured, gently licking the head of Tony’s cock again, making the man shudder at the oversensitive feeling. “Want Daddy’s cock forever. Daddy promised.”

“That’s right, baby,” Tony smiled, running his hands through the boy’s hair again adoringly, angling his hips so Peter could take his flaccid cock back into his mouth, warming it as he started to doze off again. “Daddy’ll take care of you.”

Chapter Text

The sound of Peter giggling helplessly made Tony’s heart skip a beat.

He was in the middle of buttoning up one of his dress shirts - hanging off of Peter’s otherwise-naked form - dressing him after their shower (and another amazing blowjob) when he gave in to temptation and kissed the boy sweetly on his still-swollen lips.

Peter had sucked in a small breath, gazing at Tony in affection and wonder, and the adorable look on his face had Tony leaning in again to kiss the boy’s cheek, then his jaw, then his neck. When his facial hair scraped against the sensitive skin of Peter’s throat, the boy twitched, giving Tony a startled look.

“Did that tickle, baby?” he asked. Peter’s brows wrinkled, obviously not comprehending. Tony leaned in again and kissed the junction between his neck and shoulder, letting the coarse hairs of his beard scrape against the baby-soft skin there, making Peter twitch again.

“Daddy,” he whined, rubbing at the skin when Tony pulled away. “Feels weird!”

“Yeah, baby, it tickled, didn’t it?” Tony grinned, trailing his hands up Peter’s sides, letting his thumb press against the boy’s ribcage just below his armpits. Peter gasped again and reeled back, eyes wide, another giggle forcing itself from his lips as he wiggled out of Tony’s grasp. “Daddy!”

“Uh-oh,” Tony said with fake concern. “I think the tickle monster is on the loose.”

Peter’s face paled slightly, and he dodged out of the way just in time to avoid being grabbed. With a startled yelp, he leapt off the floor onto the bed, narrowly avoiding Tony’s eager hands as he dove to remain at a safe distance. “No! No tickle monster!”

“But he can’t help it,” Tony said, grinning widely. “There’s a sweet, helpless boy in front of him, with this adorable little face and all this soft, smooth skin…” He trailed his hands up the side of Peter’s naked thighs, caressing them. “It’s too tempting, baby. He’s powerless to resist.”

Tony lunged forward, gripping the back of Peter’s thighs and pulling them sharply toward him, spreading them, causing the boy to yelp and wrap his legs around Tony’s chest as the man pinned him to the bed. Peter whined as his small body was crushed under his daddy’s superior size and weight, and Tony hushed him with a kiss, tickling him to his heart’s content as the boy squirmed and laughed adorably.

He let his hands wander from Peter’s most ticklish areas back down to his thighs, where he splayed his hands wide over the boy’s soft, untouched skin, enjoying the way Peter twitched and bucked as his sensitive inner thighs were rubbed.

“Daddy wants to make you feel good, baby,” Tony said against his boy’s lips, his hands roaming over every inch of his thighs.

Peter blinked up at him curiously, his cheeks pink. “Yes please, Daddy,” he whispered shyly, unfisting his hands from Tony’s shirt and reaching down for his not-yet-buttoned jeans. “M’hungry, want Daddy’s come. Wanna suck Daddy’s big cock.”

A small chuckle left Tony’s throat, even as a pleasurable shudder made its way down his back at those sinful words leaving the small boy’s mouth. He pecked the boy on the lips chastely before saying, “God, I love how insatiable you are.” Nosing along Peter’s jaw to his neck, where he sighed, before placing another kiss. “But you’re not going to suck me right now, little one. Daddy’s going to make you feel good.”

“But…” Peter began softly, sounding utterly confused. “But, sucking Daddy’s cock makes me feel good.”

“And I love that about you,” Tony said, smiling reassuringly. “But it’s my turn to dote on you a little bit, baby.”

“But - ”

“Shh,” Tony said, shutting Peter up immediately. “Just lie back and relax. Daddy’s got you.”

Peter went still, even though he didn’t really relax like Tony told him to. The man slowly trailed his lips down to the collar of his dress shirt, kissing Peter’s neck the whole way, before he paused to open the damn thing back up even though he’d only buttoned it closed a few minutes earlier. He continued his path down the boy’s body, stopping to lavish his small, pink nipples with his tongue, delighting in the way Peter whimpered and squirmed beneath his hands and mouth.

Tony dragged the tip of his tongue over the nub of Peter’s nipple, hardening it enough that he could pull it between his lips and suck gently, licking it slowly back and forth as he applied a light suction. Peter’s back arched, a loud, startled whine leaving his lips as his back left the bed entirely, and Tony smirked around the small bud before moving to the other one and giving it the same treatment.

The boy writhed below him, panting, and Tony pulled back and was pleased to see he had finally begun to get hard. It was odd, seeing Peter’s cock hard for the first time, considering the last few weeks of having the boy suck his cock several times a day. It just simply reminded him that for Peter, making his Daddy feel good wasn’t sexual, it was comforting, an expression of pure, innocent love.

Which made everything Tony was about to do all the more wrong. Peter didn’t drop to his knees for him every day because sucking his Daddy’s cock got him hard; he did it because he felt happy when he had Daddy’s cock in his mouth, because it soothed him, because he loved the taste of Daddy’s come and wanted to thank him and show him how much he loved him. Peter wasn’t doing it for his own pleasure, and that made the man’s heart ache deeply for his son - his lover. He wanted him to feel good, too. He wanted Peter to know that he loved him the same.

And maybe, if Tony was being completely honest with himself, maybe he didn’t want to be the only one getting off on this. Maybe he wanted to share the pleasure, and in doing so, share some of the guilt.

Some of the blame .

Peter gasped loudly when Tony touched his half-hard cock and pushed himself up onto his elbows, reaching for Tony like he wanted to push him away, but stopping just before his hand touched. “D-Daddy, what are you doing?”

“Hush, baby,” Tony commanded softly, lowering himself until he was almost face to face with the boy’s cock. “Be a good boy for me and lie down. It’s okay.”

There was a strange look on Peter’s face - nerves, most likely - and he hesitated for half a second before obeying and lying back down on the bed. Tony smiled at him, reassuringly, letting his free hand gently stroke the smooth skin of the boy’s hip before he dipped his head down and took the boy’s small, semi-hard cock into his mouth entirely.

A somewhat choked and desperate moan left Peter’s lips as Tony took his small cock all the way to the base, petting the underside with a series of long, slow strokes from his tongue as he tightened his lips around the shaft and sucked for all he was worth. Peter writhed, panting, his hands fisting in the sheets as he wiggled from side to side needily. Tony grinned around his son’s cock, watching the boy’s face as best he could, loving the entirely new expression he found there - Peter’s face, bright red, his eyes screwed shut, biting his bottom lip to stifle his pleasured cries.

It was the best motivation Tony could think of. He slowly bobbed his head, sucking as hard as he could as his lips reached the head of Peter’s cock. He was fully hard now, and noticeably longer; the man actually had a hard time deep-throating him again, which made him smile. His little boy would one day be a man. Now that he was being fed regularly, maybe he would actually grow, too. But for the time being, Tony was going to enjoy having his sweet pocket-sized baby boy just the way he was.

Peter looked like it was taking every ounce of his effort not to buck his hips up, so Tony had to - literally - take matters into his own hands and grab the boy’s hips. He kept the boy’s cock in his mouth by suction alone, bobbing his head up and down, taking it down to the base each time, and then encouraged Peter’s hips to move in time with his rhythm, at first having to actually lift the kid’s hips to get him to thrust up into his mouth. Peter whined, his eyes shooting open and fixating on Tony, watching with shock and confusion as Tony essentially fucked his own face with his cock.

Tony tried to smile at him, but his lips and hands were busy, so instead, he focused on the literal task at hand, steadily increasing the rhythm as Peter’s cries grew louder and more desperate. The boy’s feet dug viciously into the mattress, and Tony internally celebrated, knowing he was close to bringing his precious little boy to orgasm for the first time.

With a high-pitched, startled cry, Peter threw his head back and arched off the bed, his cock twitching and spasming wildly as it shot a load of hot come into the back of Tony’s throat. Tony pressed his lips to the skin of Peter’s groin, burying his cock completely in his mouth, swallowing as much of it as he could. A thin rivulet still dripped from the corner of his mouth, and Tony’s eyes went wide when he saw it, panting as he finally pulled off the boy’s cock.

“Oh God, baby,” he panted, staring at the small puddle of come pooling at the base of his spent dick. “Your come is still clear?”

Peter didn’t reply, his chest heaving as he sucked in breath after much needed breath, his body lax and exhausted. Tony grinned and leaned down, licking up the warm puddle, savoring it, earning an adorable twitch from the boy. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re perfect. So small and sweet and not even shooting big boy come yet.”

He leaned up and kissed him, swallowing Peter’s little gasps for air as he covered his mouth with his own. Peter tried to kiss back, still totally out of it, looking so adorable and sweet, all blissed-out and sleepy from having Daddy make him feel good.

“Did that feel good, baby?” Tony whispered after he pulled away, peppering the boy’s face with light kisses. “Did you like Daddy playing with your baby cock?”

Peter nodded, his eyes still hazy and unfocused. “Uh-huh,” he agreed sleepily, breathing heavily. “Thank you for making me feel good, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome, little one.” Tony kissed him again, moaning at the thought of what was to come next. “I’d say it’s my turn now though, don’t you think?”

The light returned to Peter’s eyes. Tony almost laughed; the kid looked like he had just told him they were going to Disneyland. He’d never met someone so cock-hungry in his entire life. “Yes please, Daddy, I really want to,” the boy said, trailing his hands down his dad’s chest. “M’so hungry, I really want Daddy’s come.”

Chuckling, Tony kissed Peter on the tip of his adorable ski-slope nose. “I’m sorry for making you wait, baby. But you’re not going to suck Daddy’s cock right now.”

The smile fell off Peter’s face. “M’not?”

Tony shook his head. “Nope,” he said, voice deep with lust and full of promise. “Daddy’s going to fuck you.”

“But…” Peter said, like he didn’t understand what Tony meant. “But…Daddy, I wanna taste, please, Daddy, let me suck you instead?”

“You can suck me as much as you want after,” Tony said as he kissed the boy’s cheek, his jawline, his neck. “You can keep my cock in your mouth for the rest of the day, if you want. We can stay on the couch until your mouth gets sore.” He lifted his head back up and kissed him, eagerly. “But right now, I want to fuck you, baby.”

“But - ”

“Shh,” Tony said, thumbing over the boy’s lips to shush him. “No buts, I said you could suck me later.” It was so weird, having to scold someone for being too eager to suck his cock. Tony could have laughed from the ridiculousness of it. “Turn over, baby. There’s my good boy.”

Peter whined a little in his throat as he rolled over onto his stomach, but obeyed Tony’s command to turn over and keep quiet about it. The boy buried his face in his fists, face-down on the mattress, the tips of his ears red.

It wasn’t like this was the boy’s first time - there was no way it could be, not considering where he came from - so Tony guessed the boy was just shy, and maybe a little disappointed he couldn’t have Daddy’s cock the way he wanted. At any other moment, Tony would have had no problem indulging him, not worried in the slightest about spoiling the kid; Peter didn’t have a bratty bone in his body. But in this moment, he couldn’t wait anymore. He had to have his baby, and he had to have him now.

Tony reached over to the bedside table and fetched the lube he stored there, and then grabbed one of his pillows from the head of the bed and set it next to Peter. “Lift your hips, baby,” he said, positioning the pillow beneath the boy’s crotch when he obeyed, his pretty pink cock pressed against the soft material. Tony grinned. “That pillowcase has a 1600 thread count, sweetheart.” He bent down and kissed the back of Peter’s still-damp curls. “It will feel really good on your baby cock when you’re grinding on it.”

A small whimper was his only reply. Tony kissed the top of the kid’s head again before pulling back, setting his hands on the boy’s slender hips in order to ease them apart. “Spread your legs a little more,” he commanded softly, moaning when the back of Peter’s little sac came into view. “Now arch your back. There, just like that, that’s perfect, baby.”

It was beautiful, that sight. Tony felt his breath catch as he sat back and admired the view of his son, ass propped up, legs spread to reveal that pretty pink little hole, his damp chocolatey curls barely covering the tips of his bright red ears. It was the perfect image of temptation, of purity and perfection, of innocence just waiting to be corrupted.

He told himself he wasn’t going to wait anymore, but Tony couldn’t help it, he took the soft cheeks of Peter’s ass in his hands and spread them, uncovering his gorgeous hole and caressing the soft mounds of his ass at the same time. Peter was so uncommonly smooth, his skin like silk against Tony’s jaw as he leaned down, giving the boy no warning before he dragged his tongue over the puckered flesh of his hole in one steady, firm lick.

Peter squeaked and bucked his hips, in surprise, Tony assumed, and the man groaned and pressed down on his ass harder, pinning him to the pillow to hold him still. He couldn’t even bear to take his mouth away long enough to tell the boy to hold still - he needed more, and he didn’t care if Peter squirmed while he got it.

He pressed his lips against the boy’s hole in a loving kiss, scarcely noticing the boy’s shudder as he let his tongue circle the rim hungrily, prodding the tip against the tight opening. Peter convulsed slightly underneath him, wriggling against the sheets, his little cock trapped between his body and the pillow under his hips.

A pleased grin slipped onto Tony’s face as his tongue delved into the tight entrance. Peter gasped again, clawing at the bed, and Tony pressed his face forward and let his hands drop from the boy’s soft cheeks to grab his hips and hold him still as he ate him out. Peter whined, and the sound was so deliciously sweet that Tony lurched forward until he couldn’t get any closer and fucked the boy with his tongue until Peter was choking for breaths of air.

“Daddy,” Peter sobbed, his voice utterly wrecked.

Tony pulled back, chuckling, his hands rubbing soothing circles into the boy’s hips. “What’s the matter, baby? Your mouth watering from how bad it wants my cock?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Well, your mouth will have to wait,” he said with a note of finality. “It’s your ass’s turn now.”

Peter buried his face in the sheets, and Tony took the opportunity to lift his ass a little higher off the bed, presenting his still-glistening hole to the cool air. He could have sat there and stared at the kid for hours - he was unbearably beautiful, every perfect inch of him. Tony had never seen anyone so flawless. There wasn’t a single freckle or sun spot anywhere on him, not a single imperfection, his flawless baby boy.

The need inside of him swelled until it became too much to resist any longer, and Tony picked up the discarded bottle of lube and coated two of his fingers in the runny liquid. He bent down and gave the small of Peter’s back a quick reassuring kiss, before he circled his little hole with the tip of one finger, slicking it up, before he began gently pushing in.

Peter’s legs began trembling as Tony pushed his finger slowly in and out, stretching the muscle while drenching the boy’s insides with as much lube as possible. He reapplied the lube as needed, until Peter’s hole was soft and wet enough that he could slide a second finger in. Peter gasped at the thicker intrusion, whimpering slightly, his tiny hands balled into white-knuckled fists in the bedspread.

Tony shushed him, his free hand gently stroking his side and back as he worked to get him used to two fingers. Once the tension seemed to ease out of his limbs slightly, Tony probed on with purpose, rotating his fingers and pressing against Peter’s hot, smooth inner walls until he felt it - that rough little lump that made Peter keen and scramble up the bed, almost dislodging Tony’s fingers until the man grabbed his hip and pulled him back down, pinning him.

“Wh-what - ” Peter cried out, twisting his head to try and look back at his daddy. “What is that?”

The horrified look on Peter’s face made Tony feel slightly guilty, and more than a little angry. All the horrible things those men had done to Peter, and this hadn’t been one of them? They never bothered to pleasure him once?

No, instead, they trained Peter to feel pleasure only when pleasuring somebody else.

Well. Wasn’t it his daddy’s responsibility to teach him new things?

“It’s your sweet spot, baby,” Tony answered softly, pressing down again and loving the way Peter’s small hips bucked. “All boys have them. It’ll make you feel really good when Daddy fucks you.”

“It…” Peter started quietly, hesitating, “...will make it...feel...good?”

That broke Tony’s heart. With his free hand, he reached up and cupped the boy’s cheek, turning his head to face him as he leaned down and kissed him, gently. “I promise it will feel good,” he said as he pulled away, pecking the boy’s lips again, twice, a third time just because he loved kissing him. “It will feel so good, baby, I promise. Daddy wants you to feel really good.”

There was doubt in Peter’s eyes, so Tony figured the best way to make him believe him was to show him. He sat back between the boy’s legs and finished stretching him until he was ready for a third finger, then coated his fingers again with more lube before easing them in. Peter panted heavily into the sheets, his face red, his hair damp with sweat, so Tony went slow and gentle and careful as he readied his baby boy to take his cock properly.

At last, the muscle had loosened enough that Tony could gently separate his fingers inside him without much resistance, and he removed them entirely before fisting the base of his cock. “Okay, sweetheart,” he said as he lined up the head, his whole body thrumming with excitement. “Here we go. Daddy’s not going to wear a condom, okay? I want to fill you up with my come.”

“Wait,” Peter gasped, shifting up the bed slightly. “Wait, Daddy, I want your come, I wanna taste it. Please Daddy, please let me suck on - ”

“That’s enough, Peter,” Tony said. “I told you you can suck on Daddy after. But if you keep being greedy, Daddy won’t let you have it at all.”

Peter could probably tell that that wasn’t a serious threat. The man couldn’t refuse the boy before, and he certainly couldn’t do it now.

“Now, no more begging to suck my cock,” he said firmly, somehow managing to keep the incredulous laugh out of his voice. “The only thing I want to hear from you until I come is, please fuck me, Daddy .”

The boy pressed his face back into the bed, pouting, so Tony held his hips in place with one hand and guided his dick with the other. Gently, he fed his cock into the boy’s hole inch by inch, until the head popped in all the way and his shaft began to follow.

Tony moaned loudly, pausing to catch his breath as his cock was sucked in and squeezed. Peter’s whole body was shaking underneath him, like his daddy’s cock was sending jolts of electricity up his spine. It was hot as fuck, watching his son tremble on his cock, like it felt so good he couldn’t hold still.

“Baby,” he warned, not recognizing his own voice, deepened from pleasure. “Daddy’s going to fuck you.”

Peter said nothing, so Tony quickly ran his hand through his curls, lifted his hips a little higher, and began impaling the small boy with his cock. He started much slower than he wanted to, somehow managing to show restraint, keeping good on his promise not to hurt his baby - and worked up a rhythm, yanking the boy down on him as he thrusted forward, holding him still when he pulled back.

It didn’t take him long to figure out the perfect angle to hit the boy’s prostate with every thrust, the head of his cock slamming against it when he pushed in, then massaging it when he pulled out. Peter was keening, writhing back and forth, impaled on his cock, and it was so incredibly hot that Tony felt his orgasm building embarrassingly fast.

He was by no means a hair-trigger lover; one of Tony’s best talents in the bedroom was his stamina and how long he could outlast his partner. But here, watching his son wail and shake from how good his daddy’s cock felt, feeling that perfect, made-to-be-fucked hole suck and worship his cock like it was starving for it, Tony felt his orgasm speeding toward him like a runaway train.

“Oh God, baby,” Tony panted, letting him lose himself in that amazing feeling, fucking Peter unrestrained. “Jesus, you feel so good, you have no idea. Daddy can’t hold on much longer, you’re sucking on my cock like you need my come to live. Fuck, Peter, I’m close. Daddy’s so close, baby.”

The boy was drawing out adorable little punched-out gasps of breath with every thrust, his entire body limp and all Tony’s, entirely his to take and use. He bounced the boy back on his cock with every thrust, like a toy, and when he felt that familiar tightening sensation warning him he was about to come, he reached one hand down to wrap around Peter’s own hard cock, jacking it in time with his thrusts, loving the way Peter wailed and shook as he was literally assaulted by pleasure.

“That’s it, baby boy,” Tony rasped out, chasing his own orgasm and milking Peter’s at the same time. “Come for Daddy, you’ve been such a good boy. Come from Daddy’s cock fucking your greedy little hole. God, you love it. Look at you.”

Peter whined, and all it took was one more brutal slam against his prostate and another stroke on his sensitive little cock for him to spill his second load of clear baby come all over Tony’s expensive pillowcase. The boy’s hole tightened sharply around Tony’s cock, strangling it as he came, and it pushed the man over the edge he’d been teetering on for so long. He damn near shouted as he came, head tipped back and fingers digging into the soft skin of Peter’s narrow hips, his whole body jerking as he felt rope after rope of hot come shoot from his dick into Peter’s eager little fuckhole.

The strength left Tony’s body and he collapsed, pinning the boy to the bed, covering him entirely. Peter was so small, his whole upper body was crushed under Tony’s chest, the man panting into his pillows as he felt the boy squirm between his torso and the bed. His cock was still lazily fucking in and out of the boy’s come-filled hole, idly thrusting in and out as Tony’s hips seemed to move on their own. Tony rested his arms beside his head, catching his breath, trying to find the strength to roll off his poor squished son, completely buried underneath him, the only part of Peter still visible was his trembling legs sticking out from underneath Tony’s gently thrusting hips.

When he finally managed to move off the boy, Peter gasped for air, desperately, and Tony was about to apologize and tell him what a good boy he was when Peter’s gulps for air suddenly morphed into loud, heart-wrenching sobs. Shock spread through Tony’s whole body, numbing him, and a horrible feeling of dread filled his stomach.

Before he could even ask what was wrong, Peter sobbed and said, in a hysteric, near-cough, “I’m sorry, Daddy, m’sorry, m’sorry - ”

“Baby,” Tony said breathlessly, not understanding a thing. “What on earth are you sorry for?”

“I don’t know, ” Peter cried, his forehead and eyes pressed firmly into the mattress. “I’m sorry I - sorry I was bad, I didn’t mean to be. I promise I w-won’t be bad again, I’ll be a good boy from now on, I p-promise Daddy, please forgive me…”

“Peter…” Tony breathed, hands instantly landing on the kid’s trembling shoulders and immediately trying to lift him into a hug. “Baby, I don’t understand, what are you talking about? You are a good boy, you’re the best baby boy in the whole world. Why do you think I’m mad at you?”

The boy sobbed harder, his entire slight form shaking uncontrollably. An unbearable thought popped into Tony’s head and he flinched, a sinking feeling filling his gut. His voice trembled almost as badly as Peter’s body when he gathered the nerve and asked, “Peter… do you think I was punishing you…?”

His sobs didn’t die down, but the kid did manage to give a short, jerky nod against the bed, and the sight of it spurred Tony into action instantly. He didn’t want to be rough, but he needed to hold his baby in his arms, and he pulled the crying boy off the mattress and cradled him tightly to his chest, rocking him, shushing him as he held and comforted him. “Oh God, no, baby, Daddy wasn’t punishing you - ” He spoke so fast he was worried Peter wouldn’t understand him, but he was panicking, he needed him to know that he’d never purposefully hurt him. “I’m so sorry, baby. I am so fucking sorry.”

It all made sense, Tony thought, feeling sick to his stomach. Peter had never been allowed to say no his entire life. Of course he wouldn’t tell Tony that he didn’t want to have sex. And the fact that he had asked if he could suck him off instead, multiple times - that wasn’t his cock hungry baby boy being greedy, it was his terrified and abused son, trying to refuse sex the only way he knew how.

Tony had never hated anything as much as he hated himself in that moment, not even Peter’s abusers. He was worse than them - he was Peter’s dad, he was supposed to keep Peter from being hurt, not fucking rape him. Any trust he had built with the boy over the last few weeks had just been entirely undone, and it was all his fault.

Peter being so talented and eager about oral sex suddenly made a lot more sense. If anal sex was a punishment, a tool used to cause harm, it would make sense that the kid would latch on to the thing he could do to appease his captors without hurting himself too much in the process. He really was just an abused, frightened child, and not the heaven-sent flawless lover Tony had convinced himself he was. It was a cold slap of reality, that moment, realizing that not a second of this had ever been consensual. Peter was just trying to survive. He didn’t love him. He was trying to survive him.

But it was too late now, all of it. Tony had broken the dam and there was no way to reverse the flood. He had fallen in love with Peter, and worse, he’d spent the last several weeks affirming Peter’s brainwashing, and he couldn’t undo all that damage by himself. He didn’t know how, and it wasn’t like he could ask Peter’s therapist or anyone else for help - that would be the end, of everything.

Tony would deserve it. But he couldn’t bear the thought of never getting to see his boy again.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered into Peter’s hair, realizing he was also crying as a tear slipped between his lips when he opened his mouth. “I’m so sorry. Daddy didn’t know it was a punishment. I should have realized you were hurting. I’m so sorry I didn’t. You’re a good boy, Peter. Daddy’s not mad. I’m not mad at you.”

Peter sniffled, hiccupping a little as his sobs died down. “Really?” he whispered in a broken little voice. “You really not mad?”

“No, baby, of course not.” He kissed the boy’s forehead, holding him like a baby, loving the way Peter fit perfectly in his lap. “Daddy wasn’t punishing you. I wanted to do that with you because I love you and I wanted to feel good with you.” He buried his face in Peter’s hair, sick with guilt. “I just wanted you to feel good.”

Peter was silent for a moment, then whispered, almost too quiet for him to hear, “...It did feel good, Daddy.”

Tony held him tighter, nearly crushing him against his chest. “I’m glad, baby,” he replied quietly. “I want you to believe me when I tell you that I’m not like the people who had you before. I’ll never force you to do something you don’t want to do again, okay? You can tell me no when you want to. You can ask for things when you want them. You’re my baby boy and I just want you to be happy, Peter.”

“Then…” Peter began shyly, squirming a little in his lap. “Then…Daddy…can I have another kiss?”

A laugh ripped its way out of Tony’s throat, and he tipped Peter’s head back gently so he could press their lips together in a soft and intimate kiss, savoring the taste of his sweet little boy’s mouth.

Peter sighed into the kiss, a genuinely happy sound, so Tony peppered his cheeks, jaw and neck with as many kisses as he could give, laying the boy down on the bed so he could adorn his soft baby skin with all the kisses he could want. Peter giggled as Tony’s facial hair brushed against his sensitive areas, and the man grinned and kissed him there over and over, until the boy was writhing and laughing, tears in his eyes, a great big smile on his face.

“Daddy,” he said as Tony left a trail of kisses up and down his tummy, worshipping him.

“Yeah, baby?”

The boy’s cheeks were pink, and he almost looked away from Tony’s gaze, before something made him hold his ground and look the man straight in the eyes as he whispered, “...I wanna try again.”

Tony never could have imagined that this would be his life.

He certainly never thought he would have children, and definitely never thought he’d adopt - but even more than that, even more than the parenthood and the responsibility, Tony never thought the happiest and healthiest relationship he’d ever had would be with an emotionally scarred fifteen-year-old boy. He never thought he would fall in love with a reformed sex slave, and he certainly never thought he would have to withhold sex in order to teach his own partner about consent.

Peter didn’t really...understand the concept. He would nod when Tony would tell him that it was okay to say no to things, but he hadn’t actually managed to refuse anything, and after what they went through, Tony was extremely insecure about his ability to gauge Peter’s willingness.

The last thing he wanted was to ever repeat that mistake. He wanted Peter to feel safe with him. He wanted the boy to one day be able to love him the way he was loved. And that could never happen if he didn’t feel like he could tell Tony no or didn’t believe his consent mattered. Tony wanted Peter to understand that he was no longer a slave, no matter how well he was treated.

Thankfully, Peter got a lot better about asking for things when he wanted them. He’d ask for certain foods, he’d ask to watch certain shows - he’d even, to Tony’s absolute joy, ask for affection fairly often, for everything ranging from a hug or kiss to batting those long eyelashes at him and sweetly asking if he could suck Daddy’s cock.

The improvement delighted Tony. Peter was getting better, he was gaining confidence, independence, and was a lot less afraid of new things than he used to be. He’d overcome his fear of sex, after many, many sessions of Tony showing him how good it could feel, and Tony was overjoyed to discover that Peter was as shameless about wanting his Daddy’s cock as he was about sucking his Daddy’s cock. More often than not, Tony would fall asleep with Peter under the covers, lightly sucking on his cock like a pacifier lulling him to sleep, and wake up in the middle of the night to Peter straddling his hips and pushing Tony’s cock into his ass so he could ride him to his heart’s content.

There was nothing in the world like it, watching his gorgeous, flawless, incredible little boy hungrily fuck himself on his cock like he was an addict going through withdrawals. Peter loved riding him, loved rolling his hips until he found that perfect spot, and then using Tony’s dick like a sex toy, purely to chase his own pleasure, like it was entirely his. Tony was more than content to let Peter have his cock. He wanted his baby boy to have everything.

But still, the boy had yet to tell him no. Tony had even tried presenting the boy with things he thought Peter wouldn’t like, like certain foods and shows he had never asked for. The problem was, Peter was so damn easy to please, still so utterly grateful for the things he had that he didn’t care about the things he didn’t like. It was the one thing that separated him from being an actual child - Peter was a very reasonable person.

So, Tony had to get creative. And if that meant they both had to suffer a little in the process, hey, that was parenting. Until the boy learned to say no, Tony put a temporary ban on letting him have his cock.

“I need to trust that you’ll tell me to stop when you want me to stop, Peter,” Tony said softly, caressing the boy’s cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I need to know I can never hurt you again. So, until you can clearly and honestly tell me no when you don’t want to do something, Daddy’s cock is off limits.”

“Can…” Peter started sulkily, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “Can I say no to not being allowed to have Daddy’s cock?”

Laughing, Tony scooped the boy into his arms and carried him over to the couch, peppering the side of his face with kisses. “God, you’re so adorable, baby.” He sat down and placed the boy in his lap, and Peter turned so he was straddling him, his hands resting on his Daddy’s shoulders. The kid was so short that they were eye to eye, their foreheads touching. “But no, that doesn’t count. And you can’t just say it without meaning it, either. I’ll know if you’re trying to trick me.”

Peter pouted, but Tony gave him a reassuring smile and kissed him, languidly. “I need to know what you don’t like. It’s the only way I’ll be able to let you have my cock, little one.”

“But…” Peter began, genuine worry in his expression. “But…I love everything Daddy does.”

Fuck. Tony cupped the back of his head and pulled him in, kissing him deeply. His tongue slipped into the boy’s mouth and slid against his smaller one, lightly flicking against it as they pressed their lips together. Peter tasted so good, like the cherry candy he’d been snacking on earlier. Tony sighed happily into the kiss as he mapped out his mouth with his tongue. “I love everything you do too, sweetheart,” he said as they pulled away. Peter was lightly panting, his face a beautiful shade of red. “I love everything about you.”

“Daddy,” Peter whined adorably, his hands fisting into the material of Tony’s shirt as he rolled his hips. “You’re hard. Can I have your cock just a little bit? Please?”

“Fuck,” Tony hissed, his head tipping back as Peter grinded against his steadily-hardening erection. “Fuck, baby, you want it so badly, don’t you?”

“Want it,” Peter nodded, jerking his hips needily to press their tented hard-ons together. “Please Daddy. Just a little bit. Want Daddy’s cock.”

“Not until you can say no to me.”

It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, turning down those pleading eyes, holding the boy’s hips still so he stopped rocking against his clothed cock. Peter whined miserably as he was deposited on the couch, and Tony leaned down and kissed him, palming the boy’s aching cock through his pants, just to be a little cruel. “ Daddy!”

“You can go take care of that in your bedroom or the bathroom, like a big boy,” Tony said to him as he kissed him again, letting the boy buck his hips up into his hand. Peter was so cute, somehow the most innocent person Tony had ever met, whimpering as he thrusted against his Daddy’s palm like he was in heat. “Until you can say no to me and mean it, you’re going to have to come by yourself.”

“No,” Peter sobbed, grabbing on to Tony’s wrists with both of his hands to keep it pressed against his rock-hard cock. “I don’t wanna.

“There’s my good boy,” Tony chuckled, kissing him once more before he stood up.

It was hard for both of them, putting that kind of pause on their daily activities. Tony had gotten used to - maybe even a tad obsessed with - his son’s mouth sucking on his cock throughout the day, not even blowing him, just holding him in his mouth, sucking so gently, it was more relaxing than stimulating at times. Without it, Tony’s skin felt itchy and hot, and he found himself getting embarrassingly hard throughout the day, more than he ever had, even when he was a teenager. His body was accustomed to constant sex now, and his cock was used to being buried in either end of his sweet little boy.

His baby, who seemed to be craving it even worse than Tony was. Peter was insatiable, and it was torture, having his tempting, incredible body press against him all through the day, literally begging for his cock. Peter acted like it was killing him to go without Tony’s come, and honestly, it was killing Tony, too.

But it was necessary. There was nothing right or okay about their situation, he knew that. But he wouldn’t make things worse by taking away the boy’s ability to consent - at least, to the extent he could. If he couldn’t do the right thing, Tony was determined to do the next best thing.

And the next best thing was literally the hardest thing he’d ever attempted to do. Peter thought it was hard to say no to Tony, but the kid had no idea. Pulling a cock-hungry, willing, desperate angel off his aching, swollen erection several times a day was driving Tony crazy. Neither of them were sleeping well; Peter had a hard time falling asleep without his pacifier, Tony had a hard time falling asleep with that gorgeous body in front of him, just waiting to be fucked.

Reminding himself over and over again that this was the right thing was difficult. Both of them were miserable, and Peter’s mood only got worse as the days dragged on, until he had almost reverted right back into the withdrawn shell he’d been in when Tony first brought him home. He curled up on the couch, absently watching TV, wrapped in blankets all the way up to his chin. Tony’s heart ached seeing him, but he had to be firm in his decisions. He had to do it for Peter.

Loading up a bowl with Peter’s favorite kind of chips, Tony brought it over to the couch and set it on the table beside the armrest Peter was crowded against. Tony sat next to him, not too close, his own thinly-contained arousal reminding him to keep a safe distance. “You okay, kiddo?”

Peter didn’t look away from the TV, just nodded slightly, curling up tighter in his blankets. It broke Tony’s heart, seeing him like that. His libido be damned. He needed to comfort his kid.

“Hey,” he said gently, putting his hand on Peter’s shoulder, making the boy look at him. “Come here.”

He opened his arms wide for a hug, urging the boy to nestle in close against him. To his surprise, however, a look of doubt and - fear? - crossed Peter’s face, and he looked at Tony nervously before averting his gaze and quietly whispering, “Um, n-no thanks, Daddy.” He shrunk into his blankets until Tony almost couldn’t see anything below his eyes. “I don’t wanna hug right now.”

The breath left Tony’s throat. He did it. He did it.

Barely managing to contain his pride and excitement, Tony removed his hand from Peter’s shoulder, thrilled when the boy sat up a little straighter, clearly a bit more comfortable now. “That’s okay, sweetheart,” he said, his joy unmistakeable in his voice. “We don’t have to hug if you don’t want to.”

Peter gave a small nod, and Tony couldn’t stop himself from adding, “Do you know what this means, baby?” He smiled as Peter looked at him, questioningly. “This means Daddy’s cock is no longer off limits.”

A smile spread across Peter’s face, before he looked down again, his shoulders hunching. “Can…” he began tentatively. “Can we...play later, Daddy?”

Tony’s heart swelled. Peter needed time, and he was asking for it. He was asking for space. It worked.

“Of course, baby,” he said, smiling at the boy and getting a beautiful smile in return. “We’ll play whenever you want to.”

Tony wouldn’t - couldn’t - pretend that he wasn’t thrilled Peter’s appetite for sex hadn’t been dulled in the slightest.

He hadn’t been expecting Peter to suddenly hate it or anything, but he was a little concerned. He would have accepted it, of course - as hard as it would be, if Peter ever managed to break out of his years and years of conditioning, Tony would do the right thing. He hoped he would, anyway. Honestly, these days Tony didn’t really know what he was capable of anymore.

Regardless, that wasn’t the case at the moment. At the moment, Peter was throwing a fit at the idea that he wouldn’t have Daddy’s cock all to himself for the time being. It was adorable, despite how dysfunctional it was. Watching his baby boy pout because he’d have to go without his Daddy’s cock was something Tony would never tire of.

“It’s just for a couple weeks, baby,” Tony said, cradling the boy in his lap and kissing him. “Just until I can make Pepper’s promotion final. Once she’s the CEO full-time, indefinitely, I’ll be all yours. I won’t have to leave you alone again.” He leaned in and kissed him again, deeper now. “Besides, it’s only for a few hours each day. I’ll be home by lunch time.”

“Don’t do it, Daddy,” Peter whimpered, sitting up and burying his face in Tony’s neck, latching on to him. “Don’t wanna be without Daddy. S’too long.

“You won’t be alone,” Tony tried to reassure him, patting his back and shuddering when Peter pressed his face against the sensitive skin of his neck. “My friend Steve will be here with you the whole time.”

“Don’t wanna,” the boy whined, genuinely discouraged. “Want Daddy.

“I know, baby boy.” Tony kissed his temple. “I have to, I’m sorry. Trust me, you’ll like Steve. Steve is nice. And he’s very excited to meet you. He’s wanted to come upstairs and say hi a lot since I brought you home.” His lips trailed from the boy’s temple to the shell of his ear, where he whispered, “But I was always balls deep inside you, so I had to make an excuse.”

“Make an excuse now?” Peter asked sweetly, shuffling closer in his lap, like he was trying to fuse their bodies together.

“It’s work, baby. Daddy’s gotta do it.”

The boy sighed, curling up and hiding his face against Tony’s shoulder. “Don’t like it,” he whispered, so quiet Tony almost didn’t hear him. “M’scared.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Tony sighed, hugging him tightly. “Don’t be scared. I promise you’ll like Steve. Steve is Daddy’s good friend. And you - ” He swallowed, not sure how to continue. On one hand, Peter had promised he would never tell anyone about the things they did. On the other, what if he decided he wanted to “thank” Steve the way he had Tony? How could Tony prevent that without making Peter feel like what he’d done was wrong, or without implying that Peter belonged solely to him?

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Peter,” he said carefully, trying to word it right. “Steve won’t lay a hand on you, so you don’t need to be scared. Nobody will force you to do anything, and you never have to touch someone you don’t want to touch.” He kissed the expanse between Peter’s neck and shoulder, needing to put his mouth on that creamy smooth skin.

“I don’t?” Peter asked quietly. “I only have to touch Daddy?”

“You don’t ‘have to’ touch me, baby. Never, okay?” He pulled the boy’s head off his shoulder so he could look him seriously in the eyes. “If you don’t want to touch me or be touched by me, you don’t have to. You should only ever touch someone when you want to.”

“I want to, Daddy,” Peter whispered, relaxing Tony instantly. “I like touching Daddy.”

“I like touching you too,” Tony sighed, relieved, hugging him. “Promise me you won’t touch somebody unless you absolutely want to.”

“Kay,” Peter said, nuzzling him. “I promise.”

Of all the good things that had come from his and Tony’s friendship, Steve knew that Peter was undoubtedly the best.

He had known the kid for all of fifteen minutes before he realized how good he was for Tony. This, right here, this was important work. This was something actually worth Tony’s time and dedication, much better than making and selling weapons like he was when they met. This was meaningful, and Steve could see that Tony felt fulfilled by it.

Peter was sweet, if a little shy. It was understandable, and Steve didn’t question it or feel offended. The boy had only ever had one non-abusive relationship his whole life, and said relationship was only a few weeks old. It made sense that he would be wary and distrustful of strangers, even strangers that were friends with his dad.

For the first day, Peter didn’t say so much as a word to him. He communicated with short, jerky nods of his head, staying firmly rooted in his blanket nest and not moving. Steve didn’t push it; he figured they had more than enough time to get to know each other over the next three or so weeks while Tony dealt with his company.

Instead, he simply sat beside him, sketching or reading, entertaining himself quietly while keeping the kid’s snack bowl and beverage of choice filled. Peter would glance at him now and then, but mostly, he sat in front of the TV, curled in a little ball. That’s how the entire first three days went - Steve had spent hours and hours beside the boy on the couch, and he still hadn’t even heard his voice yet.

On the fourth day, Peter seemed restless. He was less curled up, and he kept twitching and fidgeting with his blankets, like he just couldn’t sit still. Steve asked him if he wanted to do something else, his own back hurting from sitting so much, but Peter shook his head, withdrawing back into his blankets to Steve’s slight disappointment.

On the fifth day, Steve brought his paints with him so he’d have something to do besides sit on the couch all morning. He set up his easel in front of the window across from the couch, so he could paint while Peter was still within sight, and more than once he caught Peter looking over to him, curiously, fidgeting.

On the sixth day, Peter slowly, cautiously moved toward Steve as the man was standing at his easel. He played it cool, pretending to be entirely focused on the strokes of his paintbrush, hiding his secret glee as the boy stopped beside him and peeked at the canvas Steve was working on. Peter didn’t say anything, just watched, fascinated and wholly entertained by the movements of Steve’s hand.

On the seventh day, Steve glanced behind himself at Peter, standing there watching, and gently asked, “Would you like to try it?”

Peter flinched, looking at the offered paintbrush like it was a lit stick of dynamite. He shook his head furiously, terrified by the suggestion, and Steve faked nonchalance as he shrugged. “Okay,” he said. “That’s fine. But just so you know, I brought more canvases.” He gestured to his bag of art supplies where it sat on the floor. “And I have the kind of paint you can use with your fingers.”

The boy’s face lit up, and Steve grinned, knowing he had him.

From then on, Peter seemed to open up to him a little more each day. He was always shy and hesitant to try something new, but before long, Steve had him playing games with him (kids games, sure, but Peter wasn’t quite there yet), building puzzles with him, and even assembling a model plane with him. Peter got a little more confident each day, and it wasn’t long before Steve wholeheartedly believed that this kid was the best thing Tony had ever decided to do. There was something about Peter, watching him slowly come out of his shell, listening to him giggle at a joke, seeing him smile like he hadn’t been horrifically abused his whole life. It wasn’t long before Steve realized that he loved this kid, that he wanted nothing but the best for him.

Peter was sweet and shy, but like any other kid, he loved to play. He loved it when Steve would sit on the floor and play with his toys with him, especially the building kind, blocks or legos or models where they could sit in companionable silence for hours and just create together. Tony had hung up the finger-painting Steve and Peter made together, right behind the TV, and every time Steve saw it, his heart would feel full and warm.

But today, it seemed, Peter wasn’t in the mood to play, or paint, or watch TV. Steve had been watching him every day for a couple of weeks now, and he was surprised it took this long to see Peter having a bad day. Tony really had worked miracles with the kid - Steve had been expecting him to be much harder to manage.

He guessed today was a bad day, anyway. Peter had been mute and sulky as Tony left, and the minute the door to the penthouse shut, he walked over to the corner of the room and sat, not moving. Steve tried to coax him out of it, but he was lucky to get even a shake of the boy’s head. Peter just sat there, his knees hugged to his chest and tears in his eyes, completely withdrawn.

Steve honestly didn’t know what to do. The kid was obviously upset, but if he wouldn’t talk to Steve, how was he supposed to help him? His first instinct was to pull the boy into his arms and hug him tightly, but the last thing he’d want to do is overstep his boundaries. He’d rather die than make this amazing kid feel violated in any way.

In the end, Steve sat a comfortable distance away, leaning his back against the wall, just listening to Peter’s quiet sniffles before he softly asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Peter stayed silent, and Steve resigned himself to once again going without an answer. But then, Peter breathed in shakily and said, “I miss Daddy.”

Steve internally celebrated - Peter had actually talked to him! It was a huge step for them, after weeks of silence, and he was so happy that he only briefly acknowledged the Daddy comment. Obviously, Peter’s mental age regression was a little worse than Steve initially thought, but that was a problem for another time.

“Hey, it’s okay to miss him, Peter. I know it’s hard, but it will be over soon.”

Peter nodded, tears running down his cheeks. “S’just…” he started, whimpering. “T’so hard, when he goes away. M’lonely.”

“Aww, kiddo, I’m sorry,” Steve said, his heart breaking for the poor boy. Tony had obviously done a fantastic job comforting him and building his trust, and it must have been excruciating to have that feeling of safety and security leave with him every morning. Tony was his savior. Steve felt an overwhelming flood of affection for the other man, in that moment. Tony was so good. Steve’s chest felt a little tight.

“Can I hug you?” he asked the boy gently, careful to keep his tone neutral. Peter looked so sad, it was killing him. He wanted to wrap him up tight and make him feel safe, just like he deserved.

To his surprise, Peter didn’t even nod, just crawled over from his spot in the corner and into Steve’s already open arms. Steve didn’t think twice about letting the kid curl up in his lap - they had more than enough time to get Peter caught up with his real age. The kid had only been free of his captors for a few shorts weeks, after all.

Peter nestled his head under Steve’s chin and sobbed weakly into the collar of his shirt, his hands loosely fisting the man’s top as he was held and rocked. It felt a little silly, rocking a teenager like a baby, but Peter was so small and sweet that something about it seemed almost natural. He fit perfectly into Steve’s arms. To his embarrassment, it made Steve think of how much he would love to have this - kids. How much he’d love being a dad, especially to a kid as incredible as Peter.

The boy gradually quieted his cries in his arms, his body relaxing and loosening as he came down from his emotional turmoil. Steve just held him, tight and secure, until Peter shifted in his lap - and then whimpered.

“What’s wrong, Pete?” he said immediately, unable to lean back with his back pressed against the wall. His grip went slack around the boy’s body, in case he was squeezing too tight. “You okay?”

“Hurts.”

“What?” Steve questioned, trying to see around Peter’s head on his chest. “Where does it hurt?”

Peter whimpered again and leaned back slightly, and that was when Steve saw it - to his embarrassment, the front of Peter’ jeans were tented up, an unmistakeable problem.

“Oh,” he said dumbly, his brain short-circuiting. “Oh, well, kiddo, that’s okay. Just wait it out and - ”

Hurts, ” Peter said again, tears returning to his wide doe eyes, making Steve’s heart shatter. “Steve, it hurts.

“Okay,” Steve said, trying to think of something and fast. He scooped Peter into his arms and lifted him, carrying him down the hall to the guest bathroom in hurried steps. “Don’t worry, we’ll uh, we’ll make it go away.”

Steve set him down on the closed toilet, kneeling in front of him and pointedly not looking at his crotch. “Have you taken a shower before?”

After a quick beat of hesitation, Peter nodded, uncertainly.

“Okay, good,” Steve said, wanting to pat the kid’s head but deciding to respect his space. “So, there’s, uh, two ways you can deal with it in the shower. The first is, turn the water to cold. Yeah, it will be kind of awful for a couple minutes, but it’ll get rid of it really fast.” Peter looked horrified, so Steve bit the bullet and continued, “Or, you can have a normal warm shower, and, uh...touch it. Like this.” He made a loosely-closed fist and began pumping it, up and down, thanking God in heaven that Tony wasn’t there to see it. “If you stroke it like this, you’ll, um, orgasm. That means semen will come out, which feels really good. I know that’s kind of awkward, so you don’t have to do that if you’re uncomfortable or scared. You can try the cold shower instead, or wait till it goes away.”

“Hurts,” Peter said again, and Steve winced sympathetically and stood up, gesturing to the door. “Whatever you decide to do is okay, Peter. Do whatever makes you comfortable, okay? It’s your body, so it’s up to you. I’ll wait for you outside till you’re done.”

He stepped into the hallway and closed the door on Peter’s lost-looking face, feeling uneasy, but unsure of what else to do. He kind of assumed the boy would choose to tough it out, but then the sound of running water reached his ears, and Steve stepped back to give the boy a little more privacy.

Other than that single incident, Steve’s time with Peter had been peaceful and heartwarming. But it did, eventually, come to an end. Once Tony was finished switching over every component of Stark Industries to Pepper, the man returned home for good, smiling widely at Steve as he thanked him with an expression that made Steve’s throat suddenly feel uncomfortably dry.

There was something undeniably bittersweet about saying goodbye to babysitting Peter. He had grown genuinely fond of the kid, and if he was quite honest, he was really going to miss spending time with him. Maybe he was getting old, but he was again considering taking the steps necessary to become a father himself. That desire had grown more and more over these last few weeks with Peter, and ridiculously, he found himself daydreaming being a part of this little family he already dearly loved.

Tony had his hand on Peter’s back as they stood in the entryway of the penthouse, bidding Steve goodbye. The boy was shy and shuffling his feet, refusing to look up, his cheeks slightly red.

“Don’t you want to thank Steve for taking such good care of you, Peter?” Tony asked, sighing when Peter turned and buried his face in his side, hiding it. “Sorry about this,” Tony said to him, a sheepish smile on his face.

“Baby steps,” Steve grinned, and knelt down in front of the two of them so he was closer to eye-level with the kid. God, Peter was so small. He wasn’t that much taller than Steve crouching on the floor. Sure, Steve was fairly tall, but still. He was so dang cute. “I had a lot of fun spending time with you, Peter. I know you’re excited to spend time with your dad again, but I want you to know, I just live a few floors below you here in this tower, and if you ever want to come play with me, I’d really like that.”

Peter peeked at him from behind the rumpled material of Tony’s shirt, gazed at him for a moment, and then gave a small, shy nod, making Steve grin brightly, his chest feeling light.

Steve never, ever expected that the next time he’d see Peter would be in his shower.

He damn near screamed his head off when he felt a hand brush against his hip, his head tipped back under the warm spray of water as he shampooed his hair, his eyes closed. He jerked away from the touch, startled and caught off guard as he peered down at Peter - naked, in his shower - gazing up at him, wet and reaching out for him again.

“Peter,” Steve gasped, horrified, stumbling back until his head hit the wall. “Uh, hey, buddy, I’m really happy you stopped by, but I’m kind of in the middle of - ”

The words died in his throat as Peter sank to his knees. Panic spread through Steve immediately, and he flattened himself against the wall to put as much space between them as possible. “Peter - ”

Peter, seemingly unperturbed by the terror in Steve’s voice, shuffled forward, wrapped a hand gently around his cock, and sucked it into his mouth.

The back of Steve’s head hit the tiled wall hard as he threw his head back and groaned.

There was no warning whatsoever as Peter pulled the entirety of Steve’s cock into his mouth. The man sputtered and jerked, confused and petrified, unable to look away as Peter placed both of his hands on Steve’s hips and sucked him from base to tip, easing up on the suction as he pushed his face forward and buried his cock in his throat, then repeating the process, over, and over, and over.

Steve groaned and hissed as the boy fucked his own face on his cock, filling him out to full hardness in no time. It was unbearable, the sight of his best friend’s kid - the kid who was kidnapped and enslaved – sinking to his knees and eagerly pulling his cock into his mouth, but just as Steve reached down to push him away as gently as his panic would allow, Peter opened his eyes under the spray of warm water and gazed up at him.

His breath caught in his throat. Peter looked… overjoyed. It was unquestionable that the look on the boy’s face was one of pure love and contentedness; Steve had never seen an expression like that on Peter before, nowhere close, not even when he was smiling and laughing as they played together while he was babysitting him. Peter looked fulfilled here, the way Tony had ever since he took the kid in. This was the look of someone with purpose. The look of someone utterly devoted.

Steve’s hand stilled before he could pull the boy off, and Peter let his eyes flutter closed and continued to suck up and down on his now throbbing cock. Steve bit the inside of his cheek, digging his nails into his palms, trying to figure out what to do before he fucking came. It was insane - he had never felt pleasure like this before. Peter was sucking his cock like Steve wasn’t even there, like it was his own private toy he was using because sucking on it gave him pleasure. Peter looked like this was the only thing he ever wanted to do and it was the hottest goddamn thing Steve had ever seen.

The boy tasted him thoroughly with his tongue while squeezing him with his throat, like he was literally trying to suck the come right out of him. Steve moaned and tried to resist, not wanting to do any more harm than he already had - God, Tony would kill him - but he realized, to his sheer horror, his orgasm was fast approaching.

And it was that moment, almost cruelly, that Peter pulled his mouth off his cock with a loud, indecent pop, stood up, turned around, and sank down on it until Steve was buried to the hilt inside his ass.

“God!” Steve shouted abruptly, his hands gripping the wet tile uselessly. “Fuck, FUCK!”

Peter must have prepared himself before coming in here. Had he planned all of this? What the hell did it mean? God, he was so dead, Tony would have his head for this. Both of them.

Still unconcerned, Peter bent forward, letting Steve’s cock slide out of him nearly halfway. He was short, so he had to plant his feet before lifting himself up on the balls of his feet to keep Steve inside of him, before he braced his hands on the shower wall, found his balance, and began to ride him.

He was wrong. This was the hottest thing he had ever seen. Steve couldn’t even pretend to keep his cool as Peter started fucking himself on his cock, his hips rocking indecently as he rode him, back and forth, back and forth, like Steve was one of those suction-cupped shower dildos and nothing more. Peter was bent in half, his hands pushing against the wall in front of him to keep him in place, his ass doing all the work of sucking and milking Steve’s cock like it was desperate for him to fill it with come. Steve nearly sobbed from the pleasure and the guilt, but lost himself when he felt his orgasm approaching, his sanity slipping away as he grabbed Peter’s hips and flattened him against the wall.

Peter gasped sharply as his rhythm was broken, but then Steve had him screaming, fucking the kid harder than he had ever fucked anyone as he bounced him back and forth on his cock like a doll. Peter keened and clawed against the tile wall, overstimulated, and as revenge Steve crushed him harder into the unforgiving surface so he couldn’t even dream of getting away as he fucked him cock-stupid.

The boy’s desperate whines grew in volume as Steve thrusted in balls deep, shooting the heaviest load of come he’d ever shot so deep inside the boy he was sure Peter could taste it. Peter kept bouncing, riding him as best he could, milking him, and when Steve’s balls literally had no more come to pump into him the man collapsed on the shower floor, dragging Peter with him, who was boneless between his legs and panting, totally out of breath.

He wasn’t sure he could even look at him, but Peter snuggled his tiny body into Steve’s broad chest and cuddled him, leaning up to press a tender kiss to Steve’s lips before he sweetly said, “Thank you.”

Steve stared at him in shock for a moment, then cupped the back of Peter’s head and pulled him back in, kissing him roughly and dominantly, swallowing the small squeak of surprise the boy let out as his mouth was claimed. Peter moaned as Steve’s tongue slipped into his mouth, and the man pushed them off the wall and lowered them to the floor, pinning Peter down, thrusting his already hard cock back inside that irresistible tight heat.

The worst part about fucking Peter was that the only thing that made him stop feeling guilty was fucking Peter.

It was the only time Steve wasn’t going crazy with guilt and shame; the only time he didn’t keep his phone open on the emergency call list so he could toy with the idea of turning himself in. When Peter would come down to his floor to visit him, Steve would be consumed with self-hatred, right until the boy sank down on his cock or sucked it into his mouth and erased those thoughts completely.

Steve was a different person when he was fucking Peter. There was no logic, no coherent thought, he was just an animal needing to breed and Peter was his mate needing to be bred. Steve hated that the thought that kept popping into his head was he was made to be fucked, but it was true - Peter was designed, irrefutably, to have come pumped into him. And he seemed to enjoy that Steve could go over and over again, for hours, with nothing more than a glass of water to recharge him.

He came down to Steve’s floor several times a week now, like Steve was his own personal fucktoy he was taking out to play with. It was incredible, having a boy so beautiful and sweet and flawless starving for his cock, but if Steve were truly honest, he could admit that he missed taking care of Peter. He missed playing with him and feeding him and cuddling him. He missed being able to pretend that he was his Papa.

He decided that, next time Peter visited, he would try and talk him into spending time with him first, before they reached the part they were at now, Peter laid out on Steve’s island counter with the man standing between his legs, wildly bucking his hips as he fucked him balls deep. Peter’s head was hanging off the other end of the counter, tipped back and letting out a stream of desperate moans, as Steve folded the boy’s legs to his chest and fucked his greedy ass like he was trying to choke the boy with the head of his cock.

Steve lost himself, the way he usually did, no mind at all for his surroundings save for the feeling Peter’s hole strangling his cock and the boy’s desperate chant of, “Ah - ah, ah, ah - ngh, feels good - ha - D-Daddy…!”

At that, Steve lifted his head to look at the boy, questioningly. Peter had never called him that before. But Peter wasn’t looking at him, his head was turned to the side, his arm above his head, reaching out to -

Fuck.

“Well,” Tony said. “You two seem to be having fun.”

“Tony,” Steve gasped, terrified, but he couldn’t fucking stop, his goddamn hips wouldn’t hold still, it felt too good, he couldn’t -

“Daddy,” Peter whined, his voice wrecked. Fuck, this looked so fucking bad - “Come here.”

Tony looked at him and Steve’s blood ran cold.

And then, Tony smirked.

Steve’s brain short-circuited as Tony walked over, reaching down and pulling his own half-hard cock out of his pants, before stopping beside Peter’s upside-down head and letting the boy eagerly suck it into his mouth. Steve whimpered as he watched Tony’s cock thrust in and out of Peter’s delicate throat, the contoured shape of his dick visible through his neck.

“This what you wanted, baby?” Tony asked gently, running his hand through Peter’s curls. “You want Daddy to come down your throat while Steve fills you with his come?”

Peter moaned loudly and obscenely around his dad’s dick, and it was the final blow, causing Steve to come so hard he could feel it gushing out every time he thrusted back, absolutely soaking his thighs. He looked down and could see the faint outline of his own huge cock pressing against Peter’s small belly from the inside, the head just barely visible, and he reached down and pressed on it, massaging his cock through Peter’s stomach, jacking himself off while the boy futilely jerked and whined.

“Fuck,” Tony said, pulling his cock out of Peter’s throat and instead letting the boy gently suck on the head, unhurriedly, like he was nursing from it. “You should move upstairs with us.”

Steve’s gaze shifted from Tony’s pleased grin to Peter’s utterly content, adorable face, lying there tasting his Daddy’s cock, and it was the easiest decision he ever made. He knew what he was going to do before he even considered doing it.

“I’d like that.”