Chapter Text
Tony couldn’t have asked for a better boy. Peter was beautiful, obedient, affectionate, and so, so trusting. Even now, in the moment, Tony couldn’t believe the monumental amount of trust being placed on him, given to him willingly.
Peter’s lips were soft and pink and upturned into a sweet smile when Tony kissed him.
“Thank you, baby,” Tony whispered against his lips, leaning over his boy from where he sat on the side of the bed and tightened the vibranium cuffs holding the boy’s hands above his head. He knew better than anyone that self-control meant nothing in the face of unabashed pleasure. “You’re trusting me with so much.”
“Because I do trust you,” Peter replied, unable to hide his smile when Tony kissed him again. If it weren’t for the gold cloth around the boy’s eyes, he was sure they would be shining with love and adoration, the way they always did before play.
Of course Peter trusted him. Of course .
Tony couldn’t help the slide of his hands down the toned and hard muscles of Peter’s chest and stomach; he could feel the jack-rabbit pulse of his heartbeat, and the muscles in his abdomen twitched under Tony’s fingertips. It was so smooth from the razor’s edge, sparse hairs having been shaved away and the skin soothed with lotion.
Tony hummed appreciatively and moved his hand to pet Peter’s hair. “What’s your word, Pete? And your colors?”
Peter’s chest heaved with a breath. Tony could almost feel the anticipation radiating off the boy’s skin when he answered, “Infinity or red if I want to stop completely. Yellow to pause, green to keep going. If I can’t speak, then I go mm-mm twice. I know my words, Tony, please .”
Tony shushed him with another kiss. “I know things get overwhelming with your senses the way they are. Don’t hesitate to stop me if you need to. Don’t force yourself to take too much for my sake.”
He stroked Peter’s cheek and waited until the boy nodded before kissing him and settling himself between Peter’s bare thighs, hands reaching across to the other side of the bed to retrieve their toys for the night: a plain white candle, unscented, and a handheld lighter with the gaudiest design on it Tony had ever seen. A bright, sparkly purple peacock feather with an indigo circle pattern at the apex, surrounded by a neon pink background.
Tony had loved the look of embarrassment on Peter’s face when he tried to explain that it was May’s, used in the kitchen at her apartment. Not that he would have judged, but Tony had let Peter have his explanation.
If May knew how her lighter was being used tonight, she might not want it back.
The fwip of the flame sparking to life had Peter going tense, just for a moment, a split moment, before he relaxed into the bed. Tony watched his clenching and unclenching fists, his shallow breaths, his hips shifting and legs squirming along the mattress. He let the flame die, then let it spark back to life to burn the candle’s wick.
As he watched the flame dance in his breath, Tony ran his other hand up and down Peter's thigh in gentle movements, took the boy’s soft cock in his hands and ran the shaft through his fist from base to tip. His thumb traced the gentle arch along the underside. He repeated the motion a second and third time. Peter sank into mattress with a gentle moan. He brought his knees up and curled his toes.
“Daddy,” he said, breath clinging to the word. He shuddered when Tony let his thumb circle the slit at the tip.
“Daddy has you, baby.” Tony wanted to kiss him, settling for pressing a wet, open-mouthed one on his thigh. “The candle needs time to melt. Daddy’s going to make you feel good until then.”
Peter nodded, hips moving languidly in Tony’s fist. He hardened just as quickly as Tony stroked him. Each trail up brought with it a quiet moan from the boy’s throat, a twist of his fist earning him a plea to go faster, to touch him harder, anything. Tony ignored each little demand and played with a sticky drop of precum that leaked onto his fingertip.
His baby fell apart slowly, until he was pulling against his restraints. His brow was pinched together, and for a moment, Tony thought he had forgotten about the candle.
Until it was blown out. Until the smell of smoke and burnt cotton reached his nose. Tony saw the flare of his nostrils as he breathed in deep.
“Daddy has you, Petey.” Tony let Peter’s hardened cock lie flat against the planes of his stomach and dragged a hand along his hip. “You have your words. I want to hear them the second you get overwhelmed. Breathe, baby. Are you okay?”
Peter’s chest stuttered as he let out an unsteady breath. He swallowed and nodded, lips parted to let his tongue slide between them.
Tony lifted the jar up high and held it there, giving the wax a few seconds to cool in the lack of flame before he gently and slowly tipped it over. There was a second where the wax was suspended, and in slow motion, Tony watched it spill over the rim and onto Peter’s stomach.
The first splash had the boy’s body going taut, head thrown back against the pillow beneath it, and his mouth dropped open in a choked-off moan, like it had been caught and pulled back into his throat. He whimpered, a weak little sound that prompted Tony to tilt the jar back up after the first few drops hit Peter’s skin. His next breath shook when it left his chest.
“Fuck,” he whispered. Tony went cold with the thought he had hurt Peter, hurt him in a way Peter would never have wanted him to, until his lips just barely quirked into a grin. His fists clenched. “Oh, my god.”
Tony grinned as well, and he set the candle to lean against Peter’s hip so he could drag his fingers through the cooling wax, to spread it thin against Peter’s skin, and he relished the hiss that escaped through his boy’s teeth.
A moment of silence. Tony caressed Peter’s thigh, thumb brushing the curve of his knee.
“Daddy,” Peter moaned, and he pinched his bottom lip between his teeth. “Please, I want more.”