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Very Attractive Together

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The thing was, Peter hadn't been waiting. Yes, he had a crush on Tony Stark as a kid. Yes, he'd greatly admired him as a teenager. Yes, he still thought Tony was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him. Honestly, sometimes it felt like Peter had spent half his life not quite sure if he wanted to date Tony or be Tony.

Tony had wanted Peter to be better. That left dating Tony.

Okay, look, Peter had almost certainly spent half his life wanting to date Tony and had been willing to take any excuse to do so. But he hadn't been waiting.

When he was a high school senior, he lost one set of virginity to MJ, who'd said, "Look, I'm a virgin, you're a virgin. Neither of us want to be. Don't make it weird."

And maybe he'd made it a little weird, but that didn't stop him from trying to lose another set to Ned, who'd let Peter kiss him, but just kind of stood there awkwardly until it was over and, when Peter tried MJ's line about being gay virgins, said, "That's, uh, that's really not a problem for me." Oddly, it hadn't been weird—or rather, it had, but was immediately put behind them in favor of building a new Star Wars Lego model.

Peter lost the rest of it to Flash Thompson, of all people, who apparently had kind of wanted to suck Peter's dick since freshman year. Peter had asked, "Is this why you were so obsessed with my penis?"

"Nah. I was just being an asshole."

And then—well. Peter definitely had not waited for Tony Stark.

But somehow, here he was at twenty-two, trying to make a case for why Tony should date him or at least let Peter suck his dick.

"Well, I can't say I'm not flattered—because I am, I really, truly am—" Tony said, clutching a hand to his chest in an attractive mix of sarcasm and sincerity, "—but you literally just called me 'Mr. Stark.'"

Peter flashed his most charming smile. He wasn't a teenager anymore. He had several exes who could testify that it was actually pretty charming indeed. "And you liked it."

"And I liked it," Tony agreed, but apparently it wasn't charming enough, because he continued, "but we're still not doing this."

"Why not? I'm attractive—"

"I'll say," Tony said under his breath, which was not low enough considering Peter had superhuman senses.

Peter's smile widened. "—and you're attractive. We can be very attractive together."

"Where are you getting your pick-up lines? No, wait, I don't want to know. Yes, you're," Tony looked like it physically pained him to admit this, "attractive—and I still don't know when that happened or who allowed it, how dare they—but, and this is a very big but, there is—there are reasons we should not do this."

"Sorry, what was that?" Peter straightened from where he was undoing his shoes. Really, it was only polite to take off his shoes in someone else's home, and he'd rudely walked all the way into the living room with them on. "You seem a little distracted."

"But reasons," Tony said, but he looked like he was contemplating entirely different butt reasons, reasons they should be doing this after all.

"Fine. Let's run them down. I'm younger than you."

"A hell of a lot younger than me," Tony said.

"You helped to mentor me when I was a young Spiderling." Peter's smile went fond as he remembered Tony's first nickname of sorts.

"I did, for whatever that was worth."

"A lot," Peter said warmly. "Am I missing anything else?"

"You're probably a virgin," Tony said, "and I don't do virgins. I have learned that lesson. Kids like you, pure as the driven snow, they are not for me."

Peter's smile went sharp. "That is definitely not a reason."

"When did you—?" Tony put a hand up. "No, wait, that was inappropriate, and I don't want to know."

Which was good, because Peter had no intention of telling him. He didn't fear much, but he knew this was a secret he would take to his grave, if for no other reason than MJ suddenly appearing to murder him.

"Look." Peter took a step closer. "Tell me you don't want me, truthfully, and I'll drop it, no hard feelings. I'll never bring it up again. It wouldn't be my first rejection, and if you reject me, it certainly won't be my last."

Tony took a step back and bumped into a side table. He put a hand out behind him to steady himself. Voice wavering, he said, "I don't want you."

Peter took another step. "Say it like you mean it."

Tony's jaw firmed. Something in his eyes hardened. "I don't want you."

But his hands reached out to cradle Peter's hips on that next step. "C'mon." Peter leaned in. "Say it like you mean it."

"I don't want you," Tony said confidently, and Peter would have pulled away, but Tony's hands had trapped him there, had pulled him forward into the lee of Tony's legs where he was leaning on the table. Tony dropped his forehead against Peter's. He closed his eyes as he said, "I shouldn't want you."

"But you do," Peter said quietly, hopefully.

Tony gave a strangled laugh. "I do." His lips were chapped. His beard caught against Peter's fresh-shaven face. He sighed, a gloriously defeated sound, when their mouths separated. "I really, really do."

"Well, then," and Peter couldn't help the mischievous smirk surely gracing his face right now, when he was not only about to be a little shit, but knew in advance he was going to get away with it, "what do you say, Mr. Stark? Do I have permission to suck your dick?"

Tony looked up at the ceiling as if beseeching it for patience. "How do you even know those words?"

Peter slid the tongue of Tony's belt out of the buckle, smile firmly in place. "You can always shut me up."

"Oh, this is a bad idea."

"So that's a no?"

"I didn't say that." Tony swallowed hard. His hands were warm on Peter's hips. He closed his eyes. "This is a bad idea, and I am a bad, bad man."

"But, Mr. Stark, didn't you once say you only had good ideas?"

"Oh, well, if I said it, it must be—" Tony stopped speaking as Peter drew his zipper down. His eyes were wide. It always surprised Peter how long Tony's eyelashes were. His brown eyes glowed almost amber in this light. His dick was already perking up despite the fact Peter hadn't even directly touched him. Softly, Tony said, "You know you don't have to do this. It's—there are other—we don't have to do anything right now. I could take you to dinner first. Wine you, dine you, prove over the course of a meal how absolutely unsuited I am to being the target of anyone's romantic ambitions."

"Yeah, I know I don't have to." Peter ignored entirely Tony's well-meaning lies about dinner, knowing he couldn't be anything but charmed. Seven years had proved Tony only improved upon exposure. The polish came off, but what was underneath was something real—raw, but beautiful. "And maybe later I'll take you up on that dinner." Make that definitely later, because there was no way Peter was turning down a date. "But I want to do this for you." Peter pressed another kiss to Tony's mouth. "Tony, please: let me do this for you."

Tony licked his lips. "Breaking out the first name, huh? That's dirty pool."

"Would you prefer Iron Man?"

"That's—nope, that's—" Tony's hands flexed. His thumbs snuck up under Peter's shirt to stroke at the skin stretched over his hip bones. "You are a very dangerous young man, you know that?"

"What gave you the first hint? The super strength or the webbing?" Peter lifted Tony a couple inches so he could draw Tony's pants and underwear down, then set him bare-assed back on the table.

"I did not even consider the super strength," Tony said with the awed tones of one whose mind was going in a very particular direction. "Why didn't I consider the super strength? Oh, this is going to be fun." He smiled like he was helpless to it, nothing artificial in his surrender. "But no. I was thinking about your keen intellect and your—" he waved a hand, "—wiles.


"You know what you have. You were certainly confident enough walking up here and propositioning me without so much as a hello."

Actually, Peter had been pretty sure Tony was going to laugh and shut the door in his face. Peter had thought it would be worth it at least to know that he'd put himself out there, that he'd have one less hopeless fantasy to torment himself with every night. Maybe he'd be able to move on to another relationship and not doom it with the certain knowledge he was at least half in love with someone else. Peter certainly hadn't expected the interest that had crossed Tony's face before he spouted a half-hearted rejection as he'd let Peter in.

"But—" Tony looked down at his own erection, his pants sliding down to pool around his ankles, "—we're not doing this."

Peter's heart dipped as low as Tony's pants. He wasn't sure he had what it took to convince Tony again. He was kind of shocked it had worked in the first place. Peter stepped back as Tony leaned forward to grab at his belt, still threaded through the belt loops, and pulled them back above his knees. Peter's throat worked as he tried to find the words to ask what had changed.

When Tony looked up, his expression softened from matter-of-fact to something—kinder, fonder, almost like loving. It was close to cutting out Peter's heart before Tony said, "What do you say you put that super strength to use and carry me to bed?"

Peter swallowed a couple more times and tried frantically to get his poor, pounding heart under control.

"Too much too fast? You can always change your mind—"

Peter heaved Tony up and half over his shoulder, one hand under a thigh, the other against Tony's ass.

"Okay, I like the enthusiasm, but—wall, wall—"

Peter huffed a laugh. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"I'd be a lot more convinced you were paying attention if you weren't fondling my ass. Hey, did I say stop? That was definitely not a stop. You can multitask."

Peter could multitask and successfully navigated his way to Tony's bedroom. "Fast or slow?" Peter asked as they reached the mattress and he hefted Tony's weight further down, so they were aligned hip to hip.

"Is there a middle ground? I feel like there should be a middle ground."

Peter dropped them on the bed, turning at the last moment so Tony's head was in the air and his own bounced off the mattress.

"You didn't actually let me choose." Tony's words were reproving, but he didn't move from his position sitting astride Peter's body.

"You were being slow, so I decided to be fast."

"Not the only thing moving fast right now," Tony muttered, almost as if to himself. His quick, clever fingers undid Peter's jeans. He leaned in close, sticky locks of his styled hair brushing against Peter's forehead. "You sure you're okay with this?"

"Tony. Mr. Stark." Peter could feel Tony's full-body shiver. "I asked you, remember?"

"How could I forget? It's just that it—" Tony stole a kiss, stole another. "It doesn't quite make sense to me. Look at you." He pushed up Peter's t-shirt to tweak a nipple.

"Are you really soliciting me for compliments right now?"

"Yeah. Sure. Hit me with what you got. I'm always ready for some good old-fashioned ego," and with the word, Tony got a grip on Peter's dick, "stroking."

"Pretty sure," Peter swallowed a moan as Tony tugged with the upstroke, "you know what I think about you."

Tony pressed a kiss to the corner of Peter's jaw. When he pulled back, he had that look in his eyes, the one he had in every post-mission debriefing when he was blaming himself for everything that had gone wrong. "Humor me."

It hit Peter suddenly that he didn't want to be one more thing Tony blamed himself for. Peter flipped them, but he didn't let go. "You are the most self-centered, self-pitying, and infuriating man I've ever met."

Tony's eyes went wide, startled out of whatever guilt spiral he'd started to indulge in. "At least I'm number one, right?"

Peter knew it probably wasn't the time for it, was too soon for it, that Tony wouldn't want to hear it. He said it anyway: "You are also the kindest, smartest, most self-sacrificing person I've ever had the misfortune to fall in love with."

Tony's body went stiff under Peter's own. Peter held him down and made him listen.

"You have smart, honest people who can tell you all day long how great you are, how good you are, and you won't hear them. You don't believe you deserve happiness in your life, and you'll do your best to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory so long as it affects you alone. You'll ask these, these stupid questions—"

"Didn't you just say I was smart?"

"—and every gift they give—I give you—you'll turn into a weapon to bleed yourself. If it's a comfort, then it's a lie, and if it's a lie, you'll take it as truth. You won't hear them. You won't hear me."

"So what you're saying is you're in love with me." Tony's eyes had gone shuttered. He stared at the ceiling.

"No." Peter rolled off him, let him go free. "You already knew that. I'm saying—" Peter dragged a hand through his hair. "I don't know what I'm saying. Never mind. You were right. This was a bad idea."

Tony grabbed Peter's wrist before he could climb off the bed. "Kind of heavy for pre-pillow talk." His throat worked as he stared up at the ceiling. "But you're right. I'm not good at compliments these days." He looked at Peter. "Give me a chance, and I can be good at other things."

Peter's cheeks were warm. He really hadn't meant to go off on Tony. He just was frustrated, was still raw from the last time Tony had thought a sacrifice would be needed and made the executive decision he'd be it. In the end, Tony had been fine—Tony was always fine—but—

It hurt. Every time, it hurt. Whether Peter was actually important to Tony or just some dumb kid that had needed a little help early on in the hero business, it had never changed how he felt. That was at least one small part of what had pushed Peter to see Tony today rather than putting it off another day or week, letting the months build up until another year had gone by and he still hadn't said anything. Peter wanted Tony to know he deserved good things in his life. Peter wanted to be something good in Tony's life.

Peter's smile was a little brittle this time. "Well. I do owe you that blowjob."

Tony stroked his thumb over the pulsepoint in Peter's wrist. "You don't owe me anything."

Peter blew out a breath. "We have pretty well established that I want to give it to you."

"Yeah." Tony's own smile was smaller, sweeter—more real. "I'm getting that." He tugged at Peter's wrist. "But how about we start with making out a bit and see where that goes?"

Peter let himself be pulled. It went slower this time. Tony's pants were half-down, Peter's jeans were undone, and Peter could feel Tony half-hard against his thigh, but Tony pressed closed-mouth kisses softly to Peter's mouth. He kept a hold of Peter's wrist, drawing tiny circles against the tendon with his thumb. He brought his other hand up to Peter's back and rested it there, between his shoulder blades and curled over his spine.

For his part, Peter leaned in, accepted kiss after kiss for the apologies they were. He gave a few of his own. He shook Tony's hand off his wrist and ran his hands through Tony's hair, finished destroying his expensive hairstyle like he was trying to leave an indelible mark on Tony's usually immaculate facade. He smiled against Tony's mouth as Tony thoroughly repaid the favor. He skidded fingertips against the short bristles along Tony's jaw and smoothed them along the tense muscles in the sides of Tony's neck and shoulders. He let one arm support his weight as he slid the other down Tony's chest and stomach, then moved it to hold his hip.

And then, because Peter couldn't resist, because he'd been waiting for so long and every extra second felt like its own special brand of torture, he licked at Tony's bottom lip and got his hand around Tony's dick. When Tony opened his mouth, Peter slipped his tongue inside. Tony's hand on his back flailed off. The hand that had relocated to his hair clenched, but he didn't pull Peter away.

"Really not good at slow, huh?" Tony asked when Peter gave him the chance and had started mouthing at his jawline instead.

"Some of us are getting old," Peter said instead of scaring Tony off with reminders of exactly how long he'd been waiting.

"Ouch. That hurts. That really hurts, kid." Tony pushed Peter off as he said that, but it was only so he could pull at Peter's t-shirt. Peter stripped it off and enjoyed the way Tony stared at his bare chest for a moment. "But I'll get over it."

Tony sat up to shrug off his own shirt, and Peter moved back to let him. He settled his weight deliberately as Tony threw his shirt to the side. Tony buried his face in Peter's neck when he shifted back, then forward again. It was weird how good Tony's dick felt against his ass even with his jeans in the way. It was ridiculous how powerful Peter felt as Tony moaned.

Tony set his teeth into Peter's neck, then stopped to say, "Is this okay? Do I need to worry about leaving lasting marks with the whole—healing factor thing?"

"If you manage to leave a lasting mark," Peter rocked his hips again and grinned at the way Tony hissed a breath between his teeth, "I'll be impressed that you were able to, but I promise I’d like it."

"Side goal." Tony dug his teeth in enough that Peter felt it, but not enough to really hurt, and sucked like he was trying to put a claim on Peter, like Peter hadn't already decided to give him anything he asked for, like there wasn’t already a very real part of Peter that belonged to Tony alone. Tony gave a happy hum when he pulled back, only to start another one an inch down. "I can always buy you a turtleneck."

Peter whimpered. "Not that I'm complaining, but why—?"

"Do you remember that awful Doc Ock suit?" Peter felt his whole face flush, was sure he was bright red down to the neck. "The one with the, the suckers?" Peter really didn't need the clarification. "I'm just—proving a theory."

If the theory was that Peter had liked the suction a little too much, had been embarrassingly into the feeling of the bruising force applied to his left arm and both legs when Doc Ock had briefly caught him, well—look, it wasn't like Tony had designed the suit to hide much. It was a high tech fabric filled with more technology than the local computer store, but it acted like spandex. At least Doc Ock had immediately retired that version.

"That was two years ago," Peter said.

"I remember it like it was yesterday. You actually managed to do some real damage to some of the external sensors."

"Can we not—can we make it a rule that we don't discuss supervillains in bed?" Peter asked, his voice strangled as Tony applied another mark to his chest.

"No trips down memory lane, check." Tony gave Peter one last mark, leaned over to put it right over his heart. "Anything else I should know?"

"I, uh, I can't get any diseases, so—"

"No, nope," Tony interrupted, "we are coming up on one of my hard no's. If you fuck me, you're using a condom. I require at least three months of monogamy and a clean STD test to forgo protection. No super power exceptions. You'll just have to wait it out like any normal person."

There were so many things there Peter wanted to address, but he got caught up on, "You really want to date me?" Not just that, but, "You think we'll be together three months from now?"

Tony quirked a lopsided smile. "No pressure, but. Yes. If you wanted to. You don't—it can be just this, two attractive people," and Peter knew that wasn't going to be the last he heard of his earlier attempts at pick-up lines, "being attractive together, one night, no strings attached, but I've gotta tell you, I'm out of practice. I'm, ah, I've gotten kind of rusty at the whole not getting attached thing."

Tony went quiet, like he was waiting for an answer, and Peter—Peter kissed him, hard, pouring his whole heart into it this time, because if he had a chance, if he could convince Tony to give him something more, to keep him for more than one night, then he'd give Tony everything he had.

"I'm sorry," Tony said when Peter drew back, and despite the blase attitude, he looked mildly concussed, "I didn't hear you clearly. Was that a no?"

"No," Peter said, perhaps a little cruelly considering Tony's small flinch. He couldn't help the wild grin on his face, "That was a yes."

"You are so—" Tony kissed Peter this time. He brought his hands up to hold Peter's face reverently, like Peter was something to be treasured, cherished. Where Peter's kiss was hard, Tony's was heartbreakingly gentle. When he was done, he tapped their foreheads together and said, "Get up, I want to take off your pants."

Peter more fell than climbed off the bed with any grace, but Tony only laughed at him a little bit. Tony sat on the edge of the bed to kick off the rest of his clothes, then gestured at Peter. "Come here."

Peter stepped up to the edge of the bed and stood between Tony's legs. Tony kissed his stomach as he pulled at the underwear's elastic waist. Peter put his hands on Tony's shoulders. They weren't the steady ground Peter had hoped for, as Tony bent to kiss his hip as it revealed itself. Tony looked up and winked before practically bending in half to kiss the tip of Peter's dick. It twitched with the contact and the image of Tony right there.

Hesitantly, Peter put a hand in Tony's hair. Most of the product had come out, but it remained a little sticky, tacky against Peter's fingers. "I thought the idea was for me to give you a blowjob, not the reverse."

"They're not mutually exclusive." Tony straightened back up. "But it's definitely not happening at this angle. Come on, back on the bed. Let me take the edge off. That looks almost painful."

Peter felt himself blush. It kind of was, but the good sort of hurt. He crawled back in bed, excruciatingly self-aware of his body, of the flush across his face and chest, of the awkward bob of his dick as he flopped over to face the ceiling, and of every inch of skin prickling with the desire to be touched. Tony watched him in silence before abruptly turning to get a condom out of the bedside table.

Tony crawled up after Peter with unconscious grace and touched him. Hands to Peter's thighs first, spreading them as Tony settled between his knees. Fingertips up the length of his dick, next, just a short, exploratory trip like Tony couldn't resist teasing him. Tony's eyes crinkled at the corners as Peter's dick twitched with the contact. Tony's—Tony's tongue, licking up the path his fingers had followed.

Peter clenched his hands in the sheets and very carefully did not move. He was rewarded with the condom going on, then Tony's mouth. Tony—definitely knew what he was doing. Peter's breath punched out of him. There was the awkward sound of the sheets tearing, and Tony pulled back to grin at Peter.

"Please tell me this is not your first blowjob. I mean, I'm not changing my mind if you are, no judgment, but I was promised that I wouldn't be sacrificing your virginity on the altar of my hubris tonight."

Mortified, Peter stared at the ceiling. "It really isn't." He snuck a peek at Tony, who looked delighted. "It's just—you."

Tony's expression softened, but his eyes danced with mirth. "I'll try to be gentle. Gentler than you are on the bedclothes, at any rate." Peter wondered if it was possible to expire from humiliation. "It's okay. I can buy new ones."

Tony put his mouth to better use than roasting Peter. He was—it was—Peter had had blowjobs before, okay. As was previously established, he hadn't been waiting for Tony. From awkward initial fumblings with Flash Thompson to a couple long-term boyfriends to any number of ill-advised college hook-ups, he'd had the full spectrum, from the truly spectacular to the, frankly, amateurish and terrible. Tony could've been anywhere in that range, and Peter probably still would have felt like he was going to die from the touch of his mouth, but he was good. It was good.

Tony was gentle, like he'd promised. He gave another kiss to the tip before swallowing the whole thing, Peter's dick disappearing into his mouth as Peter felt as though he was watching his life flash before his eyes. Tony's mouth was warm. The press of his tongue to the underside of Peter's dick was beyond describing. It definitely wasn't Tony's first time if the way he took Peter all the way to the back of his throat was any indication. Tony breathed through his nose, staring up at Peter with a smile in his eyes and his lips stretched around him.

Tony was gentle, and he was tearing Peter apart.

It was over fast. Peter was already close to the edge before the first touch of Tony's mouth, and even his own mortification could only do so much to dampen his ardor. Tony probably could've just breathed on him, and that would've done it. Tony bobbed his head once, twice, and Peter was coming undone.

"I'm—" he got out just before it happened, but nothing more. Tony looked unbothered as he pulled off—he looked triumphant—but Peter said, "I'm sorry."

"Trust me, I am taking it as a compliment." Tony pulled off the condom with an easy, practiced motion, tied it off, and flipped it unerringly into the room's trash can. He leaned up and pressed a kiss to Peter's mouth. He tasted like rubber and chemicals. It was unpleasant, but it was still Tony's mouth, which had just been on Peter's dick. Peter leaned into it. "You are an incredibly bad influence on my ego. At this rate, it's going to escape my body and fly off into the city to terrorize innocent New Yorkers."

"Still. Let me make it up to you." Peter didn't usually take liberties in someone else's home, but he suspected Tony wouldn't mind Peter digging around in the bedside drawer for another condom.

For his part, Tony lounged in bed, lying on his side and watching Peter with open appreciation. Tony might have taken the edge off the rest of it, but that didn't help with the rampant blushing. Peter wasn't sure if the self-consciousness or the boost to his self-confidence was winning when he turned back to realize Tony had been staring at his ass the whole time. Tony rolled with it when Peter put a hand to his hip and pushed him on his back. He spread his legs before Peter could get that far, as Peter paused to enjoy the view of Tony spread out naked and obviously enjoying himself, too. Peter's hands were shaking a little, but he got the condom on Tony, and then he finally, finally got to put his mouth on him.

It was less than ideal. Peter maybe gagged a little. He maybe gagged a lot. He maybe had to pull off immediately so he wouldn't throw up.

"That is not looking like the face of experience, there." Tony sounded more concerned than anything, rubbing a hand down Peter's back.

"The, um, you know the senses thing? How they're all kind of—dialed up?" Peter got out of bed so he could find a tissue this time to scrape at his tongue. "I, uh, I shouldn't have grabbed one of the flavored ones. Or maybe I should’ve grabbed one of the other flavors? Give me a moment, and I can get a new one."

Tony's face did something very complicated. He opened his mouth. He closed it. He opened it again. Finally, he said, "Are you telling me that you have never used a condom before?"

"Only for, you know—" Peter made a gesture.

Tony's expression remained aghast. He said, "Okay, I am definitely not budging on the three month rule now. Wait. Wait. Is that why you think you can't catch STDs?"

"I get tested!" Peter protested. "And I'm, I'm using a condom right now." Tongue scrubbed partly clean and tissue tossed into the garbage, Peter dug a new one out and brandished it at Tony like a shield. It did not ward off his disapprobation.

"You're not putting your mouth on my dick," Tony said.

"Yes, I'm putting it on the condom," Peter agreed.

"You nearly threw up. You still look like you're going to throw up. No."

"But—" Of all the things that stood in the way as a roadblock to having sex with Tony Stark, this was honestly nothing Peter had ever considered. "But I don't mind. I can handle it."

"And it is exactly that level of enthusiasm that I look forward to in my sex partners." Tony rolled his eyes. "Get back over here. Bring some lube. I don't need to get my dick wet to get off, or at least, not like that. Just, here." When Peter got back on the bed, Tony pulled him in for another kiss. "You are ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, if you think I want any part of this to be less than fantastic for you."

Tony flipped them over. "How do you feel about intercrural?"

"That's, um, between the legs, right? You know you could just fuck me."

Tony made a sound like he was in pain. He bit his lip, and when he spoke, his voice was tight. "I was actually hoping for the reverse, if you were up for it." That—Peter was definitely up for that. He wasn't hard yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he started getting there. "I'm just a bit. Tense. It's my turn to take the edge off."

Peter obligingly closed his legs, made a tight spot between his thighs. "Okay, but if you change your mind, I'm pretty good at it." He grinned at the way Tony closed his eyes, as though just the sight of Peter was too much for him. "And I really like it."

"Well." Tony's throat worked as he swallowed. "Another thing we have in common. Let's put a pin in that, shall we?" He opened his eyes. "Let me be honest here, I'm not going to last that long. So if we could just—" Tony interrupted himself with another kiss to Peter's open mouth.

"Whatever you need, Mr. Stark," Peter said as Tony grabbed the bottle and popped the cap.

"Terribly dangerous young man," Tony repeated his earlier sentiment.

The lubricant was cold across the tops of Peter's thighs. Tony's body was warm. Despite what he'd said, he lasted longer than Peter had, trading long, lazy kisses and thrusting into the pressure created by Peter's legs.

"Look at you," and this time Tony didn't look like he was about to start blaming himself for what was happening. His eyes were half-lidded. The small smile on his face was brilliant, devastating. A drop of sweat rolled down his temple. "You are so—"

He shook his head and buried his face in Peter's shoulder. He mouthed at the skin there, and his next few thrusts were stuttered. He came with Peter's name in his mouth.

After, he rolled off Peter and took several deep breaths. It took him a moment to remove the condom this time. Peter grabbed it from Tony before he could try to throw it. Peter needed to get up and get a new one anyway. He pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Tony's mouth before rolling off the bed. He avoided the box that mentioned strawberry flavoring this time—Peter could testify with certainty that there was nothing strawberry about that flavor—and grabbed a regular one.

"What do you think," Peter asked, trying to keep his tone casual, "about doing something with my super strength now?"

Tony gave a moan that was only a little bit despairing. "I have a heart condition."

"You fixed that."

"Yeah, well, you're about to give me another one."

"I'm about to give you something," Peter said hopefully as he uncapped the tube of lubricant.

"Yeah, okay." Tony let his legs fall open. "I'm an old man, and trying to get it up again may kill me, but what a way to go. Go ahead. Give me all you've got."

Peter laughed. "I thought more—you could ride me, but I could do all the work."

"Same problem, same answer," Tony said. "I look forward to it."

If Peter hadn't already perked back up from the effect of several minutes of Tony Stark plastered against his body, thrusting between his thighs and moaning in his ear, the prep work of opening Tony up for him would have done it. The first finger slid in easy, Tony gone practically boneless in the afterglow. The third was tight. Tony probably hadn't done this in a while. Having Tony perched on his lap definitely would have done it, Peter's hands on Tony's ass as Tony said, "Come on, stop worrying about me breaking a hip and start worrying that I'll die of old age at this rate."

It was tighter yet when it was Peter's dick, and it certainly wasn't Tony's weight that caused Peter's arms to want to shake. Peter very carefully kept the movement slow, steady, smooth. Tony hissed out a breath as Peter went in, as he bottomed out.

"Are you sure you're not a virgin?" Peter asked.

"If you'd seen my sex tapes, you'd know better than to ask. I suppose I should be grateful I got to make my first impression in person." Tony's hands were bruising against Peter's shoulders, but he didn't look like he was having a bad time.

Peter resolved to never tell Tony that he'd seen them all, even the one Tony had released himself—especially the one Tony had released himself—when his friends got him drunk on his 21st birthday on superhumanly strong liquor and encouraged all his worst impulses. "You're just. Really tight."

"It's, ah, been a while. Longer than I'd like, probably. I'm fine. I'm good, really. You can—" Tony shuddered as Peter lifted him an inch or so and slowly lowered him again. "Yes. That. Just like that."

Tony mouthed at the side of Peter's neck, reapplying one of the fading marks. Peter rocked into him, short little movements that kept him mostly buried. It was almost painful, how tight Tony was and how much Peter was enjoying it. Tony's dick was soft, but he was smiling. He had his arms wrapped around Peter, and his fingers played with the hair at the nape of Peter's neck.

"You don't need to hold back," Tony said. "What happened to giving it to me?"

"What happened to going slow?" Peter said.

Peter wanted this to last. He had Tony in his arms, connected in a way he'd never quite dared to fantasize about, and as good as it felt, it didn't hold the same sense of desperation as before, where at any touch, he felt like he was going to go off. Peter had the chance to settle in, to fully experience the moment. He could watch the play of emotions across Tony's face, the way he seemed to open up, to forget to hide behind his usual bluster and bravado. He could see the way, minute by minute, Tony relaxed into it, the way Tony surrendered all attempts at control. Peter could stare back when Tony looked into his eyes, unsure what Tony was thinking, but trying to get across that he was here not just for the night or a couple failed dates or even three months, but for the long haul—that given the chance, Peter would keep Tony for as long he allowed.

Tony's voice went low as he said, "Whatever you want."

Peter couldn't hold back, "All I want is you."

"I'm getting that." Tony closed his eyes again. He leaned their foreheads together. "I still say you could do better, but. If you want me, you have me. However long you want."

Peter couldn't help the noise that escaped him. He'd stopped moving, buried as deep as he could be. "Really? That, um, that's going to be a very long time."

"I'm okay with that." Tony kissed him again, a gentle press of barely parted lips that shifted as Peter shifted him. "Now, come on. I'm not going to break. Put your back into it."

Peter laughed. "Are you always this bossy?"

"I don't know." Tony smiled as he ran his thumb along Peter's jaw. "Stick around. Maybe you'll find out."

Despite Tony's imprecations, Peter kept it slow, letting the minutes pass as they pleased. He took his time and savored every last second, until even he couldn't stand it. Then he changed the angle, longer strokes, levering Tony higher before lowering him again. Tony made a small sound that wasn't pain, and Peter did his best to replicate it, to hit that spot every time his dick went back in. Tony's eyes went wide, whites visible the whole way around, before he closed them again, face screwed up as though he could hide from the pleasure of it.

"You're, ah, you're really, ah, good at this," Tony said. Then he stopped talking except for those involuntary little, "ah, ah, ah"s, each sound punched out of him. Though Peter was doing all the work, Tony's breathing was heavy, labored. Whatever his complaints about his age, he was getting hard again.

"Oh," Tony said when Peter was close, too close, trying desperately to hold back. "Fuck."

Tony came with a full body shudder, then slumped over, face buried in Peter's shoulder, pliant and biddable again. Peter followed soon after. He didn't flop over, despite the temptation. Gently, gingerly, he lifted Tony one last time and laid him out on the bed. Tony stayed where Peter put him as he disposed of the condom and grabbed some more tissues for where Tony had come all over his stomach. Tony stared up at the ceiling with a dazed expression as Peter cleaned him up. Peter could see him visibly mustering the energy before he grabbed Peter's shoulder and tugged.

"Take a break. Wallow with me," Tony said. "You've earned it."

"Mm. You say that now, but in ten minutes, I'm sure you'll appreciate not being a mess."

Tony waved a hand down his body. "Look at me." Peter was already looking, but he appreciated the invitation. "I'm always a mess."

Peter was tired. He thumbed at Tony's bottom lip. "Is this your way of asking me to cuddle?"

"Is it working?"

Peter collected the pillows and leaned back on one of them. Tony used Peter's torso instead, hooking his chin over Peter's shoulder. Some of his mussed hair brushed against the side of Peter's face. They lay there as Peter's breathing evened out and the sweat on his body cooled.

Peter couldn't see Tony's face as he said, "I'm not going to tell you I love you. I've learned that lesson. It's too soon, and I don't think you'd believe me. But I will say that I meant it. However long you want me, you've got me."

Peter buried his nose in Tony's sticky hair. He said, "I believe you."



Three months later, holding his clean test results in hand as he stood at Tony's door, Peter said, "What do you say, Mr. Stark. Can I suck your dick?"

Tony laughed. "I thought you'd never ask."