Chapter Text
He knew it had been a stupid idea.
There had been a heavy feeling of anxiety pressing down on his chest as he waited for the other shoe to drop. He waited for F.R.I.D.A.Y. or some other advanced background check program to rip through the identity he had built over the past five years like paper.
Seeing the entry-level position at Stark Industries had just been too tempting. He tried to brush it off. He tried to ignore it and find another job elsewhere, one that would be safer and less risky. With a portfolio filled with glowing references from his professors, a high GPA, and plenty of lab experience under his belt, he had already received multiple job offers upon finishing his Master’s Degree.
But it had been a persistent itch that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t ignore. It was as if his enhanced senses knew Stark Industries was where he needed to be, no matter the risk.
Up until that point, he had felt pretty confident in the identity he had fabricated. The documents he had faked and the electronic footprint he had tailored had been enough to get him in and out of university without issue. The part-time job and internship he found that claimed they had done a background check using the Social Security Number he had procured didn’t have any problems.
But this was Stark Industries. This was another beast entirely.
A part of him glowed with pride when he was told that he, Benjamin Richards, had been hired. There was a separate part of him, though, that wondered whether he would arrive on his first day and immediately be escorted out in handcuffs.
The day prior, he spent a significant amount of time just practicing his signature over and over again on blank pages of battered school notebooks he would never have otherwise used after graduation. Knowing he would be expected to sign employment contracts and potentially even NDAs on day one, he needed to ensure it looked as if he had been signing that particular name his whole life.
He'd had plenty of practice letting his new name roll off his tongue with ease over the past few years. It had been a surprisingly simple transition given his intense aversion to the name of Peter Parker now that it felt like heavy sand in his mouth. Knowing that no one he loved would ever be speaking his name again, he had changed it altogether to avoid the ache he felt whenever the name of Peter Parker formed on his lips. Considering he had to build an identity from scratch anyway, it made no difference in the level of complexity.
Signatures were few and far between, though, so he felt as if practice was necessary.
He berated himself internally the next day when he discovered, of course, that the tech conglomerate would rely primarily on electronic signatures and fingerprint scans.
The request for a fingerprint scan made him hesitate at first, but for only a split second. Once upon a time, Stark Industries had a thorough collection of Peter’s biometrics that he would use to move about the labs as Tony Stark’s protégé. However, he already knew from experience how much of a ghost Peter Parker really was, even when facing a system as complex as F.R.I.D.A.Y.
No, he had no concerns about SI finding remnants of Peter Parker. His only concern was them finding out that he didn’t actually exist.
When he finished out his first week without issue, his confidence grew. As time went on, his concern about being found out lessened each day.
Still, just as he had in college, he made an effort to keep his head down with his work. The less attention he drew to himself, the less likely he was to get caught.
Of course, just like in college, he failed miserably at staying unseen. It didn’t matter how little he socialized with his colleagues or how much he stayed out of work drama; he was still noticed for being an incredibly intelligent and diligent worker.
He had been there approximately six months when he nervously pointed out to his boss a flaw in the design of a new billion-dollar piece of tech that was going to market very soon. That had been enough to prompt a double-take from his boss, but when he offered a viable alternative that was simple and cost-effective enough to avoid a launch delay, he sealed his fate.
He didn’t mean to get a promotion out of it. He didn’t mean to get a healthy raise to go along with it after the Stark Industries ‘elite’ looked over the work he had done in only a matter of six months and realized they needed to keep him at all costs. He certainly didn’t mean to draw attention to himself. He had pointed it out because he genuinely cared about the project and the company. The last thing he wanted was to be noticed.
So, when he received an email saying he would take part in a meeting with the company's CEO, he audibly groaned before resting his forehead on the cool surface of his desk. He wondered for a moment if the desk beneath him would break if he started banging his head against it.
Sitting in a room across from Pepper Potts was emotionally exhausting for him. While he had mentally prepared himself in advance, it still managed to sting when he couldn’t see a trace of recognition when he introduced himself.
It had been almost seven years since he had last seen her, and yet she looked unchanged. The only difference he could note was the shine of her newly acquired wedding ring that adorned her finger.
Smiling and shaking her hand, he refrained from spilling his guts.
It’s me. Peter Parker.
You know, Spider-Man.
You made me popcorn once when I stayed after a lab session to watch a movie with Mr. Stark.
I was at his funeral.
He forced down the remaining thoughts that caused his stomach to churn.
You forgot about me way before everyone else did, though, didn’t you?
He remembered the look she had given him at Tony’s funeral; a look of blame. At first, he had chalked it up to just being a look from someone who was very clearly distraught about their husband’s horrific death.
But then the grant he was supposed to receive to pay for college disappeared.
Then his access to SI labs to repair his suit had been revoked.
Any attempts to spend time with Morgan had gone ignored.
Lastly, he was completely left to his own defenses when he was being accused of murder using Stark tech, no less.
Despite anything that was implied, he knew that Happy had stuck around on his own accord (and May’s) and not on behalf of Stark Industries. And certainly not on behalf of Pepper.
It made him wonder if he hadn’t been crazy after all. Maybe she, for some reason, blamed Peter for Tony’s death. He just didn’t understand why.
Whatever the look may have symbolized, it was not the same look she was giving him as she happily shook his hand. Her praise of how glad she was that he was a part of the SI team left a bitter taste in his mouth.
His new position fit like a glove. While he didn’t like how much attention he was getting, he enjoyed the freedom and the extra cash. It allowed him to make upgrades that hadn’t been feasible since he started making his own suits. He figured he was as happy as he could have been given the circumstances.
He had been working for Stark Industries for approximately a year and a half when his life was once again turned upside-down.
Perched on the top of his couch in an effort to keep his dinner away from his heavily food-motivated dog, Charlie, he had flipped on the news as he often did after a long day in the lab.
“We’ve been over this; dogs can’t eat spaghetti,” he teased to his canine companion who was giving him over-the-top puppy dog eyes that could put even his own to shame. “It’s not g—”
He was abruptly cut off by the sound of his TV bellowing a breaking news report. Turning his head to the screen, he quickly read through the message displayed, fully prepared to grab his suit and go if Spider-Man was needed.
He read through it again.
And again.
And again.
He could no longer hear the words being spoken by the reporter; he could only hear a high-pitched ringing in his ears as he stared blankly at the words in front of him.
Having lost all form of concentration, he idly dropped the plate he had been holding onto the floor, much to the delight of Charlie, who gobbled it up from the upholstery it was inevitably staining.
His heart beat rapidly in his chest as he read the words a sixth and seventh time as they scrolled beneath the anchorwoman.
Tony Stark is alive
Tony Stark is alive
Tony Stark is alive
Tony Stark is alive
While it may have only been four words in total, he couldn’t wrap his mind around them. It was as if he was staring at a statement as ridiculous as “grass is purple.” He knows grass is irrefutably not purple, just as he knows that Tony Stark is irrefutably dead.
And yet there he was, sunglasses and all, proudly displayed as a picture on the boy’s TV. It had been an old picture taken a lifetime ago, but it was definitely that Tony Stark that they were talking about.
He could feel the fine hairs stand up on the back of his neck as goosebumps ran down his arms. His body finally forced him to take a breath; apparently, he had been unconsciously holding it.
Sensing the change in his companion’s demeanor, Charlie abandoned the remnants of food to lay his head in his owner’s lap. The gesture was enough to bring him somewhat back to Earth, his hands moving to pat the dog lovingly.
His head was still reeling. When he stood up, he grabbed at the couch for a moment as a wave of dizziness washed over him.
Faced with the overwhelming news of his mentor’s alleged resurrection, he did what any rational person would do: he went to bed.
It ultimately made no difference to him; he had obviously fallen asleep at some point in the night and was experiencing an extremely vivid dream. Sure, someone who thought they had that much control over a dream might do something crazy like try to fly, but he had enough excitement in his waking life, thank you. What he really needed was rest.
That’s why the following morning, when he headed into work, he thought nothing of it. Everything was business as usual until he went to refill his second cup of coffee. He passed a small group of his coworkers who were babbling excitedly among themselves.
He never intentionally tried to listen in to gossiping around the building, but it was difficult to turn his ears off when he had superhuman senses. It didn’t take much for him to hear a repeat of what he had heard the previous night in his “dream.”
Tony Stark is alive.
The crash of his mug hitting the floor startled his colleagues, causing them to disperse as he apologized and picked up the broken pieces.
It hadn’t been a dream. Tony Stark really had somehow returned from the dead.
But how?
Unfortunately, he didn’t have access to the inside scoop as he once had. Even Spider-Man didn’t have the connections to go around asking about that type of thing.
However, it wasn’t long before bits of information began to seep out into the media. Hearing the name “Dr. Strange” come up was an unexpected sting, but it explained how a resurrection had occurred.
He questioned how different his life would be if he had known resurrection had been on the table when he had approached Dr. Strange.
It took 2 months, 1 week, and 5 days before he came face-to-face with Tony Stark.
He had spent hours debating how to approach the situation. Knowing the man was currently residing in New York at Stark Tower, he thought about “accidentally” running into him on the street. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t think he could handle that Tony would have no recollection of who he was. He had already experienced that once with MJ and Ned; he didn’t think he could go through that again.
The older man would have some memory of Spider-Man, he was sure, but he knew that wouldn’t be enough. His best memories with Mr. Stark were as Peter Parker, not Spider-Man. Most of the time, the two's time together as Iron Man and Spider-Man only resulted in tragedy.
It was a severe struggle as he went back and forth on the list of pros and cons.
Fate ended up making the decision for him by blindsiding him with the fact that Tony Stark would make his return to Stark Industries that day. He later wondered if he would have stayed home from work if he had known.
“And over here is the Benjamin Richards,” Pepper said proudly to Tony during the apparent impromptu tour around the facilities and staff.
Fortunately, the spiderling hadn’t been holding anything when he turned and came face to face with Mr. Stark. He was certain that his eyes visibly bulged from their sockets as he saw the familiar face. At least Tony would have assumed it was because of his fame and not because his former protégé was spiraling into a panic attack.
The moment he met his gaze, he noticed the flicker of surprise in his eyes. His heartbeat raced wildly in his chest, wondering, praying that it was a hint of recognition. He was desperate to hear the name “Peter Parker” leave Tony’s lips as he proclaimed to already know the person standing before him. It wasn’t as if he was certain that Tony would be affected by the spell. It wasn’t as if there had been some rulebook, especially not one that contained conditions that involved resurrected mentors.
“Great to meet you, Benjamin,” was Tony’s response. The words shattered his heart just like that stupid coffee mug. Although he had mentally prepared himself for this inevitability, he wanted to weep.
Of course, he would never show it.
“Great to meet you too, Mr. Stark, sir,” the boy responded, shaking the extended hand and ignoring the slight prickling he felt on the back of his neck at the sensation of the touch. It had been far too long since that name fell from his mouth.
“I’ve heard great things about you,” Tony continued with a smirk.
“You have?” the younger man said, mildly surprised that anyone had bothered to talk about him at all. Yes, he had managed to work his way up fairly quickly in the company, but he didn’t feel as if he was worth mentioning to Tony Stark.
“The guys upstairs won’t shut up about you and your work on the new Theta Project,” the older man said.
He could feel the butterflies starting to move in his stomach as he heard the words coming from Tony. It was a long-forgotten bloom of pride that could only ever be triggered by his mentor. It was a sensation he hadn’t felt in almost a decade, and it made him long for more. Bashfully, he responded with, “It’s nothing, really.”
“Nonsense,” Tony quickly pushed back, his eye contact never breaking. The insistence caused the other man’s cheeks to pinken. “It’s good to have someone with your level of intelligence on the team. I look forward to seeing that brain of yours in action.” The sentence was dripping with true Tony Stark charm, thick like molasses.
The warmth the spiderling had felt in his belly slowly moved downward and—
Oh.
His breath hitched for a split second in surprise at his own reaction. That was certainly a new development. The mild sensation of arousal is not something he expected to feel at that moment, especially when it was only words being exchanged. But it was undeniable. Fortunately, he was used to working in high-stress situations, so he was still able to form coherent sentences. “Th-thank you, sir. I hope to work with you in the near future. I’m sure there’s still a lot I could learn.” He prayed it didn’t sound as needy and presumptuous as it might come across.
However he may have interpreted it, Tony’s grin widened. While they had spent the entirety of their conversation maintaining eye contact, he noticed the split-second break where Stark’s darkened eyes looked the younger man over before returning to their staring match. It had been so quick that if he had chosen that moment to blink, he would have missed it entirely. The fire building in his belly was so pleased he hadn’t.
“Keep up the good work, Mr. Richards,” Pepper interjected obliviously, looking to move on to a different department with her former husband in tow.
The staring broke once more as he glanced at his boss to say “thank you” before returning to Tony. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Stark.” Forming the name with his lips felt like home.
“Likewise, kid,” the older man replied casually, moving to follow at Pepper’s heels. As much as he had hated being called “kid” by Tony in his youth, its level of familiarity had been such a welcome title this time around, although purely by coincidence.
He felt compelled to watch as his former mentor walked away, desperately hoping it wouldn’t be the last time. The pair had made it approximately twenty feet before he saw Tony glance back, catch his eyes with a glimmer, smirk once more, and then return to looking forward.
The warmth he had felt quickly made a reappearance along with more stirring in his chest. He was extremely grateful he had much greater control of his… reactivity than he did as a teenager, as he had no desire to be sporting an erection at work.
He had never had Tony Stark look at him like that before. Albeit, he also didn’t expect to have a reaction to the man like that either.
Okay, that wasn’t entirely true.
He knew pretty early on in his teenage years that he wasn’t 100% straight. He had never really taken the time to sit down and label himself, though. It never seemed important in the grand scheme of things.
It’s very possible that he had a crush on Mr. Stark at one point, but it wasn’t as if it had developed into anything serious because of course not. He had been fourteen when they met, after all. It was just something that was there that he didn’t really pay attention to. He would develop these baby butterflies in his mentor’s presence. While his heart rate would elevate with each purely innocent touch, he was a rational human being. He never let the ever-present constant get in the way of a romance with someone far more practical, like Liz or MJ.
This, though… this wasn’t the fluttering of a crush. The man had aroused him. While their interaction on paper would have been unremarkable, the subtle glance at his physique and the turn back to look Mr. Stark had given hadn’t been professional in the slightest.
A part of him believed that he was seeing what he had wanted to see. It was clear that his body and mind had festered his attraction to the genius, so it was very possible that the hungered look he had seen was merely his own manifestation.
The other part of him was parched and thirsty for more.
As he moved back to continue the project he was working on, he suppressed any further thoughts about the situation. For starters, he was at work. But he also already felt exhausted by the five-minute interaction and just wanted to crawl back into bed. The potentially mutual attraction that had transpired wasn’t enough to cause him to forget the hollowness of knowing that all the memories he had shared with Mr. Stark had been wiped clean. Clearly the older man had been rebooted to factory settings, as that was the only possible way he could have been on the receiving end of that type of look.
After he finished for the day without any reappearances of Tony, he needed to blow off some steam. Going on a run with Charlie sprinting beside him was never enough; it merely acted as an appetizer to what he really needed.
Swinging from building to building, he could finally breathe. The rush of adrenaline that filled his veins was always his drug of choice. Any crime he could stop or any person he could help along the way was just a cherry on top.
He had been in action for over an hour when he elected to take a break, savoring the burn he could feel in his muscles. Sitting on a high rooftop, dangling his feet off the side, he was just about to remove his mask when he heard a sound from above him.
Moving quickly back to his feet, he looked to see Iron Man as he slowly hovered downward before reaching the concrete next to him.
He would have assumed that he had already taken the worst of it that morning, seeing Tony in the flesh; he had no idea that seeing the red and gold armor would be a separate heartache. He felt compelled to run his fingertips along the arc reactor to verify this was still not a dream.
“Spider-Boy,” Stark’s voice echoed playfully as his feet finally settled on the ground. “As I live and breathe.”
He already knew this would be a challenging conversation, and not just on an emotional level. Tony Stark may no longer know who Peter Parker is, but he was bound to have some memories of Spider-Man, just as Happy had. Trouble was, since so many of their memories were tied to him being Peter’s mentor because he was Spider-Man, there would be a lot of holes in memories that Stark’s brain would inevitably try to fill. Unfortunately, he had no idea what it would choose to fill them with, meaning he would have to be careful with what he said. “Still Spider-Man,” he shot back. “And interesting choice of phrase. Long time no see.”
Tony chuckled and retracted his mask. “I’ve been busy.” His eyes flickered down to look at the spider symbol on his chest before returning to look at the large eyes on the boy’s mask. “What about you? Save any planets while I was gone?”
“Me? Nah, I’m just your friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man,” he mused. Since Mr. Stark’s absence, the major world destruction had been that of his own little one. But he wasn’t about to dive into that garbage pile. “Stopping bank robbers, helping little old ladies cross the street, g—”
“Working for Stark Industries,” Tony finished for him.
A mask is generally a good asset to have when you’re attempting to hide your reaction to something surprising. Unfortunately, with such expressive eyes on his own disguise, he did not have such a luxury. “W-what?” he responded, far higher pitched than intended. His heart was racing in his chest, just as it had the day Mr. Stark turned up at his door over a decade ago. Trying to do anything in his power to recover, he added, “I don’t think so. I feel like I would remember getting paid Stark dollars.” He folded his arms across his chest in an effort to appear nonchalant. “I’m always accepting donations, though.”
Tony looked mildly amused before he began to project a holographic video for the boy to see using his suit. “Quick question of the rhetorical variety.” The spiderling watched a recording of himself in the lab from earlier in the day, shortly before having his run-in with Tony. “That’s you, right?”
Deja-vu washed over him as they recreated a topsy-turvy version of their first meeting. Figures that Tony Stark would figure out his secret mere hours after “meeting” him.
His brain quickly ran through his options on how to continue his lying, but considering how well it worked out the first time, he didn’t see much point. To avoid incriminating himself further, he elected to remain silent.
Per usual, Tony did enough talking for both of them. “I thought I recognized you when I saw you earlier today, and then it hit me,” he spouted after closing the hologram. The older man began to circle him very slowly, like a shark. “To be honest, I’m amazed I never tried figuring out your identity before my little dirt nap.” His voice got quieter before saying, “Maybe I didn’t want to know,” almost as if it were an offhand comment to himself. He stopped his movements and stared at Spider-Man. “I’m sure the board of directors would be fascinated to know what their golden boy did in his spare time.”
The eyes on his suit narrowed. “Are you seriously trying to blackmail me?”
Tony snickered. “God no. What am I going to do, take your milk money? Your secret is safe with me, kid.” There was a pause before he added. “Who else knows?”
The question was a swift punch to the guts that made him want to double over and heave. While his answer of “No one” was the same as the first time around, it had been under much different circumstances. Using humor as a coping mechanism, he added, “Though I think my dog has started to suspect something.”
Stark laughed. God, he had missed hearing that laugh. It brought him back to safe memories of lab sessions and movie nights. Back to a time when Aunt May was still alive, and his friends were a mere phone call away. “You’ve been doing this for what, over ten years now, and I’m the only one who knows?” he asked skeptically. “No family? No friends?”
The older man was on a roll with his line of questioning, unknowingly selecting the ones to do the most damage. “Uh— I don’t have any of that,” he admitted with a lump lodged in his throat. It was the first time he had admitted that to anyone, so the words felt unfamiliar to him as they came out.
Tony stared at him in confusion briefly before chuckling as if it had really been a lighthearted joke. “C’mon, there has to be someone. Not looking for names.”
Spider-Man merely stared at him, remaining silent even though he felt compelled to pour out his soul to this man who knew only lies about his life.
While his whole family was forever dead, he had intentionally refrained from making friends over the years. He continued to carry the same feeling that he did when he walked into MJ’s shop for the last time to see her and Ned. Being his friend was a dangerous burden that could only result in pain.
There was a twinkling thought in his brain that unhelpfully reminded him that Tony Stark was a superhero in his own right and had his own set of baggage. He wouldn’t have to worry about Spider-Man’s enemies targeting him.
He quickly pushed the thought away for another time.
When he didn’t respond, Tony’s face softened into a look of sympathy. “Shit, I’m sorry, kid.”
“Well, this has been really fun and all, Mr. Stark, but I think I’m going to get back to work,” he said sarcastically, moving toward the edge of the building to swing away.
“Just—wait,” Tony pleaded, causing the boy to turn back. There was a brief pause where the man rubbed at his brow. “I’m sorry. I’m notorious for not knowing when to shut my mouth. Just—you got a phone on you?”
Pure sass emanated from the Spider-Man mask with the eyes alone as he pretended to pat himself down. “Let me check my pockets,” he said sarcastically as his hands moved across the skintight cling on his hips.
Stark rolled his eyes at both his own stupidity as well as the boy’s reactions. “Jesus—okay, fine. F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Text Ben’s phone so he has my number.”
“On it, boss,” the AI chirped back.
As thrilled as he was to hear the faint sound of the familiar Irish lilt, the spiderling was focused on the fluttering in his stomach at the thought of the man sending him his phone number.
Why was he being so nice to him?
“This isn’t an invitation for late-night drunk dials,” Tony warned, causing the younger man to smile. “This is just in case you need someone in your corner.”
The sound of concern in his voice made him feel as if he was cocooned tightly in a security blanket. It was nowhere near as warm as being wrapped in the older man’s arms, but it was something. “Thanks, Mr. Stark,” he said sincerely.
“It’d probably be best for you to call me Tony,” the man corrected.
“Tony,” he echoed back, grateful the mask covered his uncontrollable grin.
That day alone had been a rollercoaster of emotions. There was still so much pain in looking at his former mentor, knowing that he would never know the truth. Knowing that the name he called him in return was a lie.
He thought back to that morning and the look he had received from the man. Perhaps the interest that burned in his eyes really was innocent after all. Tony may have felt compelled to serve as a mentor once more when he discovered his identity, since he had already worked with Spider-Man.
There hadn’t been anything sexual about the way he looked at Spider-Man; he had maintained professional composure. He tried to bat away the feeling of disappointment that was creeping up on him.
Of course it hadn’t been sexual. It never would be.
But then a thought crossed his mind.
“Hang on,” he said as Iron Man began to hover in the air to take off, his mask once again covering his face. “What did you mean that you recognized me? How could you recognize me if you had never seen my face before?”
I thought I recognized you when I saw you earlier today
He hadn’t said that he recognized his voice, which would have been the understandable giveaway.
Heat coiled in his belly, as he desperately hoped he was reading into that statement correctly.
“I’d recognize that ass anywhere,” Iron Man replied casually as if he was merely answering a question like what time it was. “Later, Spider-Man.”
And just like that, he flew away, leaving him alone on the rooftop to process his words and devour the implication.
He pulled his mask off to take a deep gulp of air. “Fuck,” he whispered to himself, his heart racing in his chest.
There was no way to misconstrue those words. Even his own self-deprecating mind couldn’t come up with an excuse about how the older man’s thoughts must have actually been pure.
He was grateful Tony had flown away; otherwise, he would have been faced with the predicament of being hard in a skintight suit that left nothing to the imagination. He had been able to control himself at work easily enough when the only material he had was his own imagination running wild about a mere look. This time he had Mr. Stark’s voice playing on a loop in his brain, the sultry words dripping down from his ears and straight to his cock.
They may still have been meaningless words; Tony had said them with such nonchalance that it very well could have been friendly banter.
But there was one thing he was certain of: he had been objectified. The man, who was technically his boss, had stared at his ass long enough to be able to say without a doubt, “That ass looks familiar.”
It was inappropriate.
It was unprofessional.
And God did he ache for more of it.
Fortunately, he hadn’t encountered any emergencies on his swing back to his apartment that would have diverted his attention away from his primary focus.
The moment he tumbled through the window of his bedroom, he moved swiftly to remove the suit restricting him. With a lack of human interaction over the past few years, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been that turned on.
He gripped his cock and attempted to restrain himself from leaning into temptation too quickly. He knew that if he gave in, it would have been over in thirty seconds. With it being as long as it had been plus his general over-sensitivity with his powers, a few well-timed strokes were all it would take.
But the sensation was too good to waste. And while yeah, it likely wouldn’t take him very long to get hard a second time around, it would have taken him long enough to realize that this was a terrible thing he was doing.
The sparks he was feeling that made his toes curl prevented him from nearing those thoughts. For now, he was happily leaning into the fantasy. He played a scenario in his mind of being back on the rooftop, though this time Tony had elected to stay after seeing the boy’s arousal, asking if he wanted help with that. Stark’s dark, hungry eyes stared him down as he moved closer.
“Please,” he whined quietly to the emptiness of his room. Without a second thought, he frantically rifled through his nightstand, pulling out a bottle of lube that had mostly gone unused. His heart raced as he circled a slick finger around his hole, imagining instead the fingers of the man he never thought he would ever see again. “Mr. Stark.”
“Peter,” he imagined Tony whispering, his hot breath against his ear as he slowly pushed a finger in.
By the time he was up to two digits, he had thrown his head back as he fucked himself on them, sweat trickling down his neck. In his fantasies, Tony had him pinned, his own thick erection pressed hard against the younger man as he continued to whisper Peter’s name over and over.
“Peter.”
The moment he pressed in a third finger, picturing his former mentor’s cock slowly pushing into him, he lost all control. He immediately spilled over in his hand as the waves of pleasure ripped through him.
Panting, he fell back on his bed, exhausted, wiping his hands on the sheets.
As he attempted to catch his breath, the feeling of guilt began to slowly wash over him.
Yes, he had loved the inappropriate words that had come out of Stark’s mouth. He thirsted for the sultry looks he had given earlier in the day. Perhaps, if he played his cards right, he might have some possible chance with the man—probably not a relationship, but maybe a one-night stand.
No, Ben might have a chance.
That was the issue.
Even on the off chance that Tony wanted him, it was because he knew him as Ben. He would be appalled at the idea of being with Peter if he actually had his memories. It would have been manipulative to trick him like that, knowing it’s not what the real Tony would have wanted.
He then laughed to himself, realizing how silly he was being. This was Tony fucking Stark. He had been with celebrities, models, Pepper Potts; he could have just about anyone he wanted. There was no way in hell he would ever want anything physical with a lowly employee/bargain bin Avenger who was still a virgin.
Though, being a fellow superhero, he wondered if he could tell him the truth about his past and everything that had happened. That he wasn’t Benjamin Richards; he was Peter Parker.
He sighed, pressing his flushed cheek against the coolness of his pillow.
Even if he did, there was no way Tony would believe him. It was such an outlandish tale. The man would think he was nuts, even knowing how powerful magic could be firsthand. He had just gotten him back; he didn’t want to lose Tony again because he thought the younger man was batshit crazy.
All of this speculation was under the assumption that he would be seeing Iron Man again. Sure, they worked at the same company, but Tony would have no reason to be down in “Ben’s” area again. On the off chance that he even decided to go to Stark Industries at all to work, he had his own private lab, away from the peons that worked for him.
As he began to drift off to sleep, he wondered how long it would be before he could see Mr. Stark again.
A mere eight hours later, he discovered the answer to that question when he noticed Tony casually loitering on the lab floor, walking around seemingly aimlessly. The boy’s stomach fluttered the first time they locked eyes from across the room. He felt nervous, as if the man could possibly know he had masturbated to the thought of him the night before just by looking at him.
Much to his dismay, Tony broke eye contact and tried to busy himself, fiddling with the equipment as if to make sure it was in working order.
Following suit, the spiderling decided to focus on his own work, trying to ignore the fact that the object of his affection was in the same vicinity.
Over the next half hour, he repeatedly felt a tingle on the back of his neck. He immediately recognized the sensation as someone watching him. Curiosity piqued, his eyes would move to the direction of Mr. Stark only to find him turning his gaze in a flash.
Finally, after multiple rounds of the ridiculous game the two of them were playing, he finally caught Tony’s gaze and held onto it. Excusing himself from the pointless conversation he was having with a co-worker ecstatic to have the billionaire’s attention for a brief moment, Tony ambled his way over to the boy.
“Mr. Stark,” he exclaimed, still unsure why he would even be on their floor. The day before made sense since it was his first day back, but it wasn’t like they were doing anything of interest at that moment that would warrant a repeat visit. And given the abrupt finish to the conversation he was having with the other scientist, that obviously was not his reason for being there.
“Still would be best if you called me Tony,” he insisted.
“Oh! I just assumed—you know, since we’re at work and… you’re my boss and all. I figured it would be more professional that way,” he replied with a shrug. He knew that would take time to adjust, always having called him Mr. Stark as Peter. Not only that, but his mentor’s first name was the last thing he got to say before he—
He pushed aside the thought and focused on the present.
He could feel a mild heat in his cheeks when he noticed that Tony was staring at him with dark eyes just as he had the morning before. “Trust me. Far more professional for you to call me Tony,” the older man replied with a smirk.
His heart skipped a beat as he attempted to wrap his head around what that meant. His mind immediately replayed the moment from the previous night where he had breathlessly said the formal moniker aloud. But Tony would have no way of knowing that. So, he quirked an eyebrow to display his confusion.
Seeing this reaction, Tony cleared his throat before clarifying, “Treat me as a colleague, I mean. You wouldn’t call your co-worker ‘Mr.” or “Ms.”
See? Perfectly innocent explanation. “Oh,” he replied, attempting to leave out any disappointment from his voice. “Well, Tony, how—how can I help you?”
The man paused, as if he had forgotten what his intentions were. “I need your help with something, actually,” Mr. Stark finally said. “I have specs drawn up for a new project, and I could really use a second pair of eyes on it.”
Once again, he was surprised. “And you want me?” he sputtered. “Why?” As a reflex, his face scrunched up with his question. Realizing how that could easily be misinterpreted as rude, he quickly tried to recover in a panic. “N-not that I wouldn’t be happy to, of course. I just mean that—there are, you know, a lot of people here way smarter than me with a lot more experience.” Without fail, in Tony’s presence he felt like a teenager again, his nervous energy flaring up tenfold.
“You really sell yourself short,” Tony said, casually leaning against one of the lab tables. “I’ve seen your work here. Hell, I even took a look at your thesis. All of which is especially impressive considering your…” Tony waved his hand as if combing through his word options. “Extra-curricular activities.” His choice made the other one smirk. “So yeah, I need you. It’s your brain I need, not any of—” his hand moved once more to gesture wildly at the surrounding lab with a look of mild disdain. “—these people.”
The younger man snorted. He did not doubt that by that point he was blushing profusely, but he couldn’t have cared less. He was far too hung up on Tony’s words to worry about his appearance and also too preoccupied keeping his mind from imagining him saying “I need you” in another context.
“Not sure how much help I’ll be, but I’ll definitely give it a try,” he conceded rather happily. Much to his excitement, he followed his mentor to his private on-site lab.
Entering the room felt like he was finally returning home after several years away. The lab itself had very minor alterations to it that stood out, but for the most part it felt the same. While he had spent a good deal of time in Tony’s private lab at his home, this was the lab he was most familiar with.
Before Stark’s resurrection, he knew the lab had mostly become overflow storage space that was rarely ever touched. He always assumed Pepper kept other scientists away from the place out of nostalgia, not wanting to part ways with the equipment Tony spent so much time using.
He imagined that the look of excitement displayed on his face at that moment was interpreted by Tony as awe from being there for the first time. He ambled over to the station where he had spent the majority of his time. His fingers delicately traced over the damaged edge of the table that he had inadvertently broken from a slip with his super strength when he was experiencing issues with his web shooters.
Out of curiosity, he decided to turn to the other man and ask, “How’d this happen?”
Tony’s eyebrows immediately furrowed as he paused to catch a fleeting thought. “Huh, actually I don’t remember.” He rubbed at the crinkled lines on his forehead. “My memory must be going. Must be an old age thing.”
“You’re not old,” the younger man laughed. “I mean—technically, if you think about it, you’ve really only been alive for a few months. You’re basically an infant.”
It was Tony’s turn to chuckle. “Yeah, well, clearly my creaking bones didn’t get the memo. Good answer, though; I’ll have to remember that one. It’s a good excuse.”
He smiled wildly, the butterflies in his stomach thrilled by the continuation of praise he was receiving.
Much to his dismay, nothing of much significance happened between them the rest of the interaction. Tony kept a sizeable distance between them as they examined Tony’s project. He was acting like a repelling magnet; any time he would move a foot forward, Tony would casually move back.
He assumed it had to do with the fact that in some ways, they had only known each other for about a day. It felt unfamiliar, though. Mr. Stark had always been an incredibly tactile person, especially when it came to Peter. Hell, within the first twenty minutes of meeting him, he had patted and settled his hand on Peter’s shoulder.
Lingering touches, guiding hands, fingers resting on the scruff of his neck; these were all things Peter had grown accustomed to. While he knew they had been innocent gestures, that didn’t stop his brain from revisiting each individual touch late at night, alone in his tiny bedroom.
With Tony electing to stay several feet away, he craved the attention. But perhaps it just didn’t work like that with adults. With another adult, the touches Tony had given him could be considered suggestive and inappropriate.
Of course, that didn’t make him desire them any less.
The visit had only taken a couple of hours. Tony claimed he needed a second pair of eyes, but the formulas he was using were simplistic yet flawless. He felt stupid just nodding along in agreement, but there hadn’t been much to it. He wanted to impress Mr. Stark just as badly now as he had back when he was 14, but he just didn’t have the opportunity. Overall, it had been a fairly disappointing collaboration.
That didn’t stop him from accepting Tony’s invitation for a different project the following day. The older man had done just as he had the day before, where he ambled around the lab aimlessly, looking as if he was debating his own internal monologue before finally making his way over.
Much to his excitement, the second project had been more challenging than the first; it finally allowed him to show off a little. He relished in the proud smile Tony gave him when he finally took a moment to breathe after a rambling monologue.
Over the span of several weeks, he was eager to go into work each day with the expectation that Mr. Stark would come to him looking for help. Every day, when he saw Tony approaching, he felt his chest radiate a bright glow. It was such a cliché, but he could feel his heart was bursting at the seams after having been empty and broken for so long.
With each passing day, he struggled with the idea of telling Mr. Stark the truth about who he was. There was the agonizing guilt of hiding something so dramatic from him, but he knew that he would be risking everything by opening up.
Worst case scenario was that Tony might think he was crazy and want to cut ties with him altogether. He didn’t want to imagine the thought of losing him all over again.
Best case scenario was that Tony would believe him and any possibility of having a romantic relationship would go up in smoke.
It was an ethical dilemma that kept him awake at night. If there was even the slightest possibility that the older man might be interested in him, then he couldn’t tell him the truth.
Apart from lying about his name, was not telling someone something the same as lying to them? He had been completely truthful in all other regards.
If it hadn’t been for his decision to change his name, there would be even less he would technically be lying about.
In his defense, when he had made the switch, he never could have imagined this scenario ever unfolding.
Spilling the truth to Tony would mean he would get to hear the name Peter Parker come out of the man’s mouth, something he never could have fathomed happening ever again, at least not in this universe.
Approximately seven years had passed since Peter Parker disappeared and evolved into Benjamin. By then, even his internal monologue no longer called him Peter. The only time the voice in his head would call him by that name was when he was picturing it falling from the lips of Tony Stark moments before he would come by the stroke of his own hand.
Much to his dismay, there was no real-life scenario he could hypothesize in which Tony would say that name in that manner.
Not that he would necessarily say Benjamin’s name, either. But each passing day he spent with the object of his affection made him wonder more and more if it wasn’t as impossible as he thought. The look Mr. Stark would give him as he approached to ask about a project always made his heart swoon.
It was peculiar, though, as Tony would rarely go immediately to him when asking for his help. He wondered if the older man realized that because of where his desk was stationed, he had a great vantage point of the rest of the lab, including the entrance. Tony may not have been aware that his employee could easily see him pacing around in deep thought before finally making his way over.
A part of him knew that there was likely a logical reason for it. After all, it was a large lab with several other colleagues, each working on various Stark Industries projects different from his own. It would make perfect sense that Tony might just be keeping an eye out on things. Often seen wearing his glasses, he was possibly also communicating with F.R.I.D.A.Y.
Just because there were valid excuses for the behavior didn’t mean his imagination wasn’t going to run wild with it. He enjoyed theorizing. His favorite, and quite possibly the most outlandish, was that Mr. Stark was spending those few minutes making up a project just so that they could spend time together.
He knew that was preposterous for the majority of the projects, as they had clearly been well thought out in advance with a month or two of work already put into it. Though, the thought would definitely creep up any time he was faced with a mundane, incredibly simplistic task that Tony really didn’t need a second pair of eyes for.
Out of curiosity, he decided to comment after one particularly simple project, fishing for an explanation.
“The formula is perfect, of course. I’m sure you could have written that in your sleep. Why need me?” he asked, his heart rate gradually increasing.
Tony was standing back several feet away, as he often did, watching the boy as he had reviewed his work. He looked mildly surprised by the question and paused for a few moments as if he was manually collecting letters to form his next sentence.
“You ever say or look at a word over and over again and the more you focus on it, the more incorrect it seems? Suddenly a basic English word looks foreign to you.” Mr. Stark began to rub at the back of his neck. “Ever since I’ve been back… there’s been a lot of that. For some things, like my work, I need a second pair of eyes to make sure that things—look the way they’re supposed to.”
The boy frowned. His mentor’s return to the land of the living had been a forgotten topic left off his list of possibilities.
“Last thing I need right now is to blow myself up accidentally,” Tony laughed bitterly. “Especially with something as simple as a formula that could be concocted using ingredients from a kid’s toy chemistry set.”
“Not sure the average chemistry set uses—” he glanced back at the formula sarcastically. “Palladium, but—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tony cut him off with a wave. “You get what I mean though.”
“Sorry—” he said sheepishly, regretting his impulse. He internally berated himself for thinking there was some secretive, non-professional explanation behind it. Of course there hadn’t been. The older man had requested his help for a legitimate reason that he was clearly struggling with, and he had just twisted it into something perverse he could get off to. “I—I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Don’t worry about it, kid,” he brushed off.
And he didn’t worry about it.
He didn’t worry about it until the following day came and went without an appearance from Tony. He was surprised his neck wasn’t sore, considering how many times he had raised it to look at anyone coming or going from the lab.
Perhaps he had spent the day at his home lab? Since he was no longer the CEO, he technically had no obligation to show up in the building at all. He had just grown so accustomed to seeing the man each and every day since he made his first reappearance.
After day two and three passed, he began to worry.
Maybe the man was under the weather.
Or maybe Tony was off enjoying a well-deserved vacation that he hadn’t bothered to mention. It wasn’t like he had done anything to earn that type of personal information from the man who was technically his boss. This could just be a wake-up call to the fact that Tony wasn’t as interested as he had hoped; another thing to jot down on the ever-growing list of proof.
After a full week of silence, his heart skipped a beat when he saw the ever-familiar face enter the lab that Friday morning. A sense of relief washed over him as he scolded himself for overreacting. He had just been acting silly; clearly nothing had actually been wr—
He felt like a boulder had been dropped on his gut as he watched Tony enter only to turn around and leave immediately.
It was at that moment that he understood the man hadn’t been sick or on vacation; he just didn’t want to be around him.
He finally accepted the reality that his question from the other day had done more damage than he realized. His hope for some love confession had clearly been way off course. Instead, he had inadvertently offended him, enough so that he didn’t want to spend time with him anymore.
Jealousy flared when the thought crossed his mind that Tony might have been picking at someone else’s brain instead of his own. Though he knew he had no claim on the man and therefore no right to be jealous. Of course, that logic didn’t prevent him from moping.
After the radio silence, the spiderling made a decision that evening after work. He needed to come clean and tell Tony the truth. The older man was already avoiding him, so the worst-case scenario he had drawn up was already in force. And obviously he had no chance with him on a romantic level.
He may not have had a lot of experience in that department, like, at all… but he still knew about things like body language. Sure, Tony may have flirted with him in the lab a couple of times, but he maintained a respectful distance. There were no lingering hands or other playful touches that one would normally do when interested in developing a romantic connection. It was pretty apparent that the man was not interested, even when his darkened gaze said otherwise.
To finally spill the beans, he actually had to be in the same room with the man.
Fortunately, Stark Industries was throwing their annual fundraiser that Saturday evening. Now that he was no longer a lowly peon at the bottom of the food chain, he was obligated to attend. That obligation came with a price tag of a ridiculously overpriced suit that he had to keep reminding himself was an investment he would use more than once, praying he wouldn’t have some weird spider growth spurt this late in life.
As he stared at himself in the mirror, he admired the clean cut of the material and how it perfectly formed to his body as if it had been made for him.
Well, technically it had been.
He figured it was fairly likely that Tony would also attend. While he may no longer be CEO, the company still bore his name. It had been the first gala since his resurrection, and he was certain that some of the stakeholders were eager to see Tony like some kind of goateed sideshow act. It was clearly a strategy that the first event Stark was expected to attend was a fundraiser. The expectation was that anyone who wanted to get a look at him would have to cough up the cash to do so. But it was all for a good cause.
While he normally wanted to avoid standing out himself, the suit made him feel powerful enough to get the attention from Mr. Stark he desired.
A sense of anxiety washed over the spiderling as he entered the large event space that Saturday night. While he knew there would be a substantial gathering of people, he was still unprepared to handle the overwhelming amount of input he was experiencing as his powers recalibrated. Hearing one hundred different conversations all at once, along with the music and any other ambient noise, was a lot to take in.
For the most part, he tried to avoid large gatherings. This wasn’t usually an issue as of late considering his lack of a social life. Any opportunities that did happen to arise, such as his college graduation, he was prone to skipping.
This event, however, had been unavoidable. He was expected to act as a representative of SI and network, network, network. His sweaty hands shoved into his pockets were fidgeting with the dozen Stark Industries business cards he had printed up. He was also expected to highly encourage patrons to make donations.
At least that was the spiel he was given from the higher-ups. His direct manager, Jason, told him to just show up and not get too shitfaced from the open bar. So, at least the expectations were set fairly low.
Approximately thirty minutes after his arrival, while he was casually discussing thermonuclear fusion with Dave, an employee that belonged to a company Stark Industries was looking to absorb, he started to feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He had the creeping sensation that someone was watching him.
Shifting his gaze to look past Dave, he could see Tony socializing on the other side of the room. Seeing the man flooded him with a flurry of emotions, ranging from happiness at seeing him to nervousness about talking to him, and frustration that he appeared to be in good health and perfectly capable of communicating his whereabouts.
To any onlooker, it looked as if Tony was engaged in conversation with the person standing in front of him. But his spider senses that were currently ablaze were an indicator that Tony’s eyes may be straying.
At first, he did his best to ignore it. He tried to keep his focus on his conversation with Dave to be polite.
Even after Tony parted ways from the person he was speaking to, he made no effort to approach him. Just as he had in the lab, he maintained a distance but kept a very close watch.
The younger man felt heat around the collar of his overly priced dress shirt as he continued to sense Mr. Stark’s stare. He made an effort not to make eye contact with Tony and to avoid giving him the satisfaction of his attention.
But he was weak and starved for the attention his idol hadn’t been giving him the past week. When his eyes flickered to look, he regretted the move immediately.
His enhanced senses allowed him to see Tony with utmost clarity. Even as Tony elected to take a sip of his amber colored drink, his gaze never broke. The boy was reminded of the first day he met him as Benjamin Richards; even from across the room, he could see a dark intensity in the look that he had only imagined before as Peter Parker.
This time, though, there was an added depth to it. It was a look that could only be described as hunger. As Tony took another sip, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, the spiderling unconsciously wet his lips. Realizing what he had done, he abashedly broke eye contact, but not before he saw a coy grin alight Tony’s face.
Certain that his ears were burning red, he excused himself from his conversation and swiftly made his way to the restroom to cool off. Leaning over the sink, he stared at himself in the large mirror of the surprisingly empty facilities. He rubbed his hand across his rosy face in frustration, knowing how childish it was for him to get worked up over a mere glance that was likely meaningless.
Pulling out his phone, he easily found Tony’s number in a very short contacts list and sent him a quick text.
We should talk
Nervously hitting send before he changed his mind, he once again returned to his reflection and exhaled deeply.
He was going to tell Tony the truth. He had to.
Even though his mind had unhelpfully drifted back into delusional speculation that the man was somehow into him, he immediately squashed those thoughts with the reminder that he had been blatantly ignored the past week.
No matter what, it was wrong to keep this from him. He deserved to know about Peter Parker.
With a heavy sigh, he braced himself to return to the gala and locate Mr. Stark. Though, given the busyness of the event, it was likely he would have to wait his turn to speak.
As he turned toward the exit, he was startled when someone pushed through the door, causing him to jump back. Even more to his surprise, he saw the face of the man he was planning to meet.
The redness on his cheeks returned, and he wondered if it was merely a coincidence or if Tony had known exactly where he was when he had gotten that text. Before he could say anything, a tingle zipped up his spine as he watched Tony lock the door behind him.
The blood that was causing the blush on his cheek immediately moved south as he remembered back to a much simpler time when Tony had first recruited him, locking the door of his bedroom to keep May away. Not only had that day changed his life, but that night had also been the first time he had gotten off to the thought of Mr. Stark taking advantage of him behind closed doors.
When Tony moved toward him, slow but calculated, their eyes locked together. The movement caused the younger man to back up until he collided with the sink behind him. With no ability to move any further, he watched with curiosity as Tony got within a foot of him. Even clearer than before, he could see the darkness of Tony’s eyes just watching him.
In the month or so since their reunion, this was the closest they had been to one another. Tony had always made it a point to keep a sizeable distance between them. Now that he was so close, the smell of Tony’s cologne made him dizzy. It flooded his senses and made his brain replay memories of all the other times they had been so close. Starting with a pat on the shoulder in his bedroom and ending with the feeling of home when Mr. Stark had wrapped him up in a hug on the battlefield.
“M—Tony,” he said in surprise, finally breaking the silence. Feeling the heat of Tony’s body so close to his, his anger about being ignored and his plan to confess his identity flew right out the window. He knew he should have pushed back, but he was determined to find out what would happen next.
“I really have been trying to be good, kid,” Tony said in a deep baritone voice that made him weak in the knees. “I’ve tried keeping my distance. I even backed off after you made it clear I may have gone a little overboard on asking for your help with projects. Thought it’d be good to give you space, no matter how har—” Tony’s voice stopped abruptly as if he regretted exposing any amount of vulnerability.
Realizing he wasn’t going to finish that thought, the younger man boldly questioned him. “So, you weren’t trying to ignore me?”
Tony chuckled. “No, I absolutely was. And I was doing a horseshit job of it. Made it all the way to your lab once before I stopped myself. But still, I managed to stay away well enough… And then I see you here, dressed in that excruciatingly tight suit…”
The boy’s breathing was labored as he felt Tony’s fingers delicately pick at one of the belt loops on his trousers. With such close proximity and the location of his hands, there was no way Tony wouldn’t be able to tell that he had managed to get fully hard on Tony’s voice alone.
The fingers hooked around one of the loops and pulled, causing him to lurch forward and collide his hips into the man. If Tony didn’t know he was hard before, he certainly did now, especially given the muffled whine that inadvertently fell out at the sudden friction.
Hearing the noise and the look of embarrassment from his partner, Tony grinned deviously. “There’s only so much self-control a person can have,” he said quietly.
Given how his heart felt like it was beating out of his chest, he wouldn’t have been surprised if Tony could hear it even without enhanced hearing. His eyes flickered down to Tony’s lips for a brief moment before returning to his gleeful stare.
“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave right now,” the older man said, his lips moving to ghost over the boy’s own.
“Tony,” he breathed out.
“Ah-ah,” Tony tutted. “Try that again.”
His brows furrowed for a moment as he attempted to understand what was being asked of him. Then he remembered.
Trust me. Far more professional for you to call me Tony.
“Mr. Stark, please,” he whimpered. Much to his delight, these words were met with a groan of equal frustration.
Equipped with a devilish smile, the older man responded with, “Such a smart boy,” before finally, finally closing the distance between them.
His heart sang as he felt Mr. Stark’s lips meet his own. He couldn’t help but wonder when he was going to be waking up from whatever fever dream he was experiencing (though he hoped the answer was never). That could be the only logical explanation as to why he was learning firsthand what Tony Stark tasted like.
An unexpected squeak emerged as Tony licked his way into his mouth methodically. He did his best to meet the movements, hoping that it wasn’t blatantly obvious how drastically inexperienced he was. Given the practically indiscernible moan he heard as he moved his tongue against Tony’s, he presumed he must have been doing something right.
Moving his hands from the boy’s hips, Tony’s nimble fingers quickly pulled to remove the tie from around his neck, followed by unbuttoning the top two buttons of his dress shirt. Oblivious to what would happen, but sensing a theme, he shucked off his suit jacket, not caring in the slightest that part of the suit costing more than his rent was now littered on a bathroom floor.
As upset as he was when Tony pulled his lips away, all was forgiven when the older man moved his attention to mouth at the column of his neck. The mixed sensation of tongue and teeth nipping at his throat perfectly distracted him from any awareness of the faucet head that was digging into his back. “Fuck,” he hissed, tilting his head backward.
When he felt the sensation of Tony getting hard against him, he bit his lip to muffle his reaction. As much as he wanted to focus on that as well as the overwhelming feeling of Tony’s facial scratching against his throat, he was concerned that if he didn’t try to distract himself, he was going to be coming in his $1,000 pair of dress pants.
As if reading his mind, Tony’s dexterous fingers made their return to his belt, removing the buckle while his mouth returned to the younger man’s lips. Their lips stayed together for a mere moment before he had to break apart to catch his breath.
His mouth momentarily unoccupied, Tony whispered, “Fuck, you’re perfect. Exactly as I pictured.”
The words were like honey that he happily lapped up. He couldn’t remember a time, if ever, that he had been so hard, straining against the pants that Tony was quickly undoing. His hips moved on their own, desperately rutting against the hand that was reaching into his boxer briefs.
His own hands were still clutching at the porcelain of the sink, white-knuckling it in an effort to hold back. When Tony’s fingers wrapped around his cock, the porcelain cracked beneath him.
Seeing the image before him of Tony with his hand down his pants was overwhelming in itself. But when he saw that the man’s free hand was palming his own thick length still tucked in his pants, he could feel himself teetering toward the edge, the heat in his belly unbearable.
“Mr. – Mr. Stark,” he sputtered in between labored breaths. “I’m—I’m so close. I’m gonna—”
“Fuck,” the older man swore once more. “Look at you. So perfect.” His own breathing grew ragged as he stared intensely at the boy who was unfolding before him. “Fuck, come for me, Peter,” he instructed.
Ever obedient to Tony Stark, Peter felt the rush of pleasure wash over him as his come spilled over Tony’s fist. His hips continued to thrust wildly until the feeling of oversensitivity crept in, causing him to cease his movements.
Coming down from his high, Peter’s brain grew more lucid as he began to process information at a normal pace once more. He was about to move toward reciprocation when he froze in his tracks, recalling what the man had said in ragged breaths.
“What did you call me?”