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The familiar sound of train tracks kept Peter awake that night. He supposed the sound of a gentle oscillating fan as well as the memories of the night prior to his reclusive sleeping arrangements also didn't allow him to fall asleep either.
His mother and her boyfriend were down the hall, as were his aunt and her husband, the grandparents who owned the home, as well as his uncle (although he was currently MIA from the function).
Tony should be here—and yet, nothing. His laughter could not be heard at the dinner table nor around the tree. His stupid expensive car wasn't parked in the driveway alongside everyone else's cheap rides—and his bag wasn't by the couch where he usually took to resting it.
Peter sighed and continued resting on his back with his feet nearly dangling over the edge of the bed, and as his mind wandered to the times when his favorite yet illusive uncle was normally home, he heard the sound of a car door shut and a gentle grunt of frustration through the crack in his window.
"Stupid ice.."
Peter shot up in the bed which warranted his vision going dark and his head pounding for a few staggering moments before he stood and as quickly, and quietly as he could manage—walked out of his room, down the creaking stairs (though he knew stepping on the outer edges made it less noticeable), and through the living room towards the front door.
There was a jingling from a key fob on the other side but Peter was already unlocking it and muttering through the chill that he felt from the cold night air hitting his warm cheeks.
Tony jumped when he noticed, "Peter?? What the hell..what are you doing up?" came an urgent whisper, but his uncle was already walking past Peter before he had the chance to reply.
"Couldn't sleep." He confessed idly and continued on after he heard Tony's car lock from the driveway, "What are you doing here so late?"
"My flight got delayed—didn't your mom mention it?"
She most definitely had not because Peter would remember hearing anything that had to do or was in any way related to Tony.
Why hadn't she mentioned anything?
"No she..it must've slipped her mind. When did you text? She might not have seen it if it was later in the day." He tried, though when he noticed Tony's face scrunch up and contort in a sour sort of way, he knew that hadn't been the case.
"I called her—had a whole five minute conversation about it and everything."
Tony sighed heavily as he untied his shoes and placed them near the rest of the others and shot the front door a hard look.
"You lock it?" and as Peter nodded, eager to please as always, Tony nodded as well.
"Good, good.."
The silence that wore on in-between them was something that he'd experienced before. It was mildly awkward and a tad..tension filled, though he wasn't sure how exactly to describe the latter feeling. It often kept him up at night after getting home from family functions such as this—leading him to feel just a tad bit crazy which thankfully always passed on after a while apart.
Peter often would stare at family photos and the curt short messages the both of them had sent betwixt themselves in the dead of night when he felt particularly strange.
But why.. Peter began to ponder, shivering a bit from the cold air that brushed against his bare hair covered legs.
"Where you sleeping at?" Tony suddenly asked in the same whispered tone as before, making Peter's gaze snap up to see his uncle placing his bag against the usual foot end of the couch.
"Oh um..just upstairs like usual."
Tony nodded again.
He's so quiet tonight ..though Peter supposed it made sense considering the time.
He also was, to his knowledge and hopeful guessing, completely sober. Normally Tony got more talkative after a couple drinks—especially with him. Perhaps he just had nerves like Peter did, though he didn't think he was all too intimidating.
Peter shuffled into the kitchen and noted the glaringly green time staring back at him from the stove.
11:46
I guess it isn't too late..he wondered as he brought his arms up to cross across his chest, feeling the familiar chill of the house once more. He should've put on a robe (if he had one, that is).
A hand, shocking in its placement as well as its warmth, came to rest across his back—it could only have belonged to Tony. Why was Tony putting his hand on him? Peter had grown so intensely accustomed to their 'singular hug at the end of the visit'. This, though, was foreign. It was unexpected and felt in many ways strangely intimate.
Peter knew that probably wasn't the right word to use in relation to his uncle—but how else was he supposed to describe it? It wasn't like he was trying to be weird or anything..
When Tony let his hand fall away he couldn't help but let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding and turned towards his uncle who was staring at the time as well.
"We should probably get to bed, hm?"
We?
"Y-Yeah."
His uncle seemed to sway just a tad too close when he hummed because as suddenly as the familiar strange feeling began to get worse, Peter was turning and watching his uncle's back return to the couch.
It was strange, the way Tony made him feel.
Peter's bare feet padded across the hardwood flooring till he was at the foot of the stairs and staring into the darkness towards where he knew the couch to be. He could see a subtle outline of a person, but nothing more than that. He'd thought to go get his eyes checked out but just hadn't gotten around to it yet.
"Goodnight Peter." He heard from the figure in a whispered huskier tone, and Peter nodded in the dark to comply with the underlying 'you can leave now' message that his uncle was sending his way.
"Goodnight Uncle Tony." and with that, began the hesitant and quiet walk up the stairs. Thankfully nobody had woken up, he thought as he shut his temporary bedroom's door shut with a gentle click.
He was glad to have his uncle in the house. He also wanted to say he felt just a tad bit safer, though he was also the one that slept with the window open, so safety mustn't have been such a huge concern.
He also couldn't..shut the thing either even if he wanted to since something was jammed, but that was neither here nor there.
Peter wished also to ponder on why his mother hadn't elected to mention Tony's flight predicament. Who had she told, if anyone? Had he been the only one on the outskirts of this thing? Why had they all lied?.. Why had his mother lied?
He supposed it wasn't out of the norm for her considering their recent strain but it still seemed strange to not at least mention something as simple as 'Tony's going to be late, he had some flight trouble' during dinner when the man had come up in conversation.
A sneeze suddenly resounded through the house—though it sounded muffled enough for Peter to not think anything of it.
He'd just have to figure it all out tomorrow since he couldn't imagine getting any answers now.
— —
"Peter." Came a whisper to his left, though he elected in favor of not moving in case it was his dreaded mother trying to awaken him to cut the fruit.
A few moments later, his name came again, only a bit more masculine and a bit more stuffy.
"Pete—" which was soon followed by a muffled sneeze ,"—ugh..shit."
He blinked, eyes straining in the dark to try and catch whoever it was that was standing over him, and noticed it was his uncle. What was he doing up here?
"Tony?.." He muttered whilst stretching his legs a bit.
"Yeah it's me kid..listen, I hate to ask this—but can I bunk with you tonight? Maria forgot to remove the stupid feather stuffed pillows and I didn't think to bring any allergy meds with me."
Maria, his mother—the pillows..right. Tony was allergic. That must've been what the sneezing and the stuffy voice was all about.
Mumbling under his breath Peter shuffled and closed his eyes whilst hoping Tony could take the hint and just get in. it of course couldn't have been that easy.
"Why do you have the window open?—"
Ugh..not this..just let me sleep god damnit..
"It's jammed." He stated bluntly, and rubbed his face as a shiver ran throughout his body via the lifting of the semi-warmed bedding.
"Sure is cold in here..not really seeing how you're fine with that." Tony started up again as he shuffled from Peter's left in an attempt to get comfortable. He shrugged sleepily and curled in on himself.
"M'tired Tony..that's how." He grumbled.
There was a bit more shuffling following his exasperated words, but thankfully things seemed to quiet down after a while.
Peter was nearly asleep again—or at least on the verge of it when he heard his uncle speak in a frustrated hush.
"blasted bed.." And Peter felt his back touch something warm—hot even, instead of the familiar cold air he had been forever used to.
"Never enough space on bed's like this.." his uncle muttered again and while Peter figured he could continue to lie as still as possible and attempt to fall back asleep, it became impossible when he noted even more shuffling along with a shoulder jabbing into his spine.
"What in the world are you doing.."
"Peter! Sorry if I woke you.." though he didn't sound entirely too apologetic when his words came out ecstatic, "Do you think you could scoot over just a smidge?"
his uncle turned again and while it was dark and cold and..strangely warm up against his back, Peter could feel something even softer press up against his spine..
"Or..this'll work fine."
How was he sober and doing this? He thought to himself as physical boundaries continued to be crossed.
Peter was aware, and he figured the word intimately was the correct term to use in this instance because his uncle was pressed up against him, chest to stomach to..and Peter felt his cheeks flush with heat.
"Mm.." Tony hummed against his hair as he seemed to take a deep breath in.
"Your shampoo is fantastic Peter.." which was soon followed by a hand wrapping loosely around his much thinner waistline. Tony's fingers brushed his t-shirt down for a moment before letting it lie still yet again.
That strange feeling was back at full force now that they were there—this close..it was..god it was almost too much to bear. A touch of the back to this?? How on earth was he supposed to be mentally prepared for this sort of thing.
Peter attempted to shut his eyes again and get some sleep—knowing that this would all be over in the morning and that he'd get his own bed back after the pillows are removed and the area is disinfected with whatever spray Maria keeps under her kitchen sink cabinet. It would all be fine and dandy..yeah, definitely.
Peter wasn't so lucky though because as he was trying to even out his breathing, that same hand of Tony's began to wander.
It was dark and very much unfamiliar to him—the chill brushing his front had nothing on the heat that was occurring behind him, and while he had never felt something other than a pillow brush against anything lower than his tailbone before, this was definitely not a pillow.
It was stiff and..and warm.
Peter blinked his eyes awake and shuddered in his uncle’s grip. It was loose but something told him he wouldn't be getting let go anytime soon.
I don't.. Peter thought suddenly.
"Tony I—" he swallowed thickly between words, trying to decipher how he was suppose to react in a situation like this. He'd heard about it at school and read about in in articles online..he'd..he'd—
Peter sniffled hard and felt his shoulders begin to shake.
"I don't.."
His words were soon followed by a hand slowing in motion and gripping his t-shirt tightly.
"Oh Peter I—I'm sorry..I didn't mean—" but Peter himself was shaking his head and turning to face his uncle.
The eyes he was met with were moon-lit and haunted, and the skin he watched contorted into something grave, giving his heart a sudden jolt.
"Oh no..no Tony don't cry." Peter muttered out while reaching his arm up and around his tubbier uncle's waist in order to reach his back. He caressed the area in a way he hoped could prove to be soothing..and as he felt those large warm hands snake up his back he wondered if he should be trying to sooth his uncle at all.
Had he nearly just been molested?
A shiver ran down the length of Peter's spine that followed the trail in which his uncle's hands had just taken. What was going on?
"Oh god I don't know what's wrong with me.." and as Peter felt the familiar warm length now pressed against his upper thigh, he began to wonder if perhaps he should make a hasty leave for the bathroom.
The hands that continued to hold him close now felt like claws and clamps instead of the regular plush innocence they supplied.
it hadn't been him , Peter realized as something rutted up against him.
All those times he felt weird and..and sexually frustrated, it had been Tony.
Tony, Tony.
his Uncle Tony.
"T-Tony.." He wetly tried but to no avail was quieted by the other man's freshly shaven cheek.
"S-Shh..Peter be quiet..please just.." and it truly did sound like a plea on his uncle's lips, "Close your eyes..don't..try not to think too hard, okay?"
Something murky settled in his gut like a stone to a chain as he was pressed up against the warm spot on their full sized bed. A leg rested between his as he felt yet again something hard and hot pressed against his loose pair of boxer shorts.
He felt the strange urge to cry.
Tears did indeed slip down his cheeks as he closed his eyes and tried to do as his uncle told him to. He tried his best not to think too hard but it was difficult when something harder was pressing up against him. Something wet and stiff—something that was too hot to be normal.
It burned and made Peter want to gag as a hand pressed against the top of his back in order to hold him down (as if he were going to go anywhere).
Was this really happening?.. He kept expecting for it to all be a joke—o-or a nightmare as a result of those weird familiar feelings he'd get when his uncle was around after one too many drinks under his belt.
More tears streamed down his cheeks as he heard his uncle grunt from behind and shove in a bit more—no doubt making his insides become coated with something sickly and red.
God he was a virgin!
He hated how much he hated it and he hated even more how much he couldn't stand to stop it.
He hated how much it hurt, and again hated even more how much he lived for the pain.
This corrupt saddled love that was shared between the both of them.
"A-ah.." Peter clenched the bedding tightly and felt the hand on his back disappear for a long moment before it moved to grasp his wrist.
It was wet and so was his hole. Tony had no doubt licked his hand and..and made it easier for his cock to go in, hadn't he?..
Peter shook his head and nearly cried out from the feeling of something being entirely entered into him, but restrained himself to muffled silence once more while his jaw strained against itself.
"Mmph..Pete.." His uncle muttered from above after bringing his now other free hand to his neck. He idly wondered if he would be choked but was shocked to feel the heavy body fall down against him.
"Don't want to move," Tony whimpered, "went in too dry.. don't want you to hurt m-more.."
Peter shook his head and attempted to raise his backside—bucking up into the pain and holding in a cry that would no doubt sound like the loss of his innocence.
When he felt tears hitting his still clothed back he couldn't help but wonder as to who was raping who in this moment. He figured Tony had started it, clearly, and then..well..now they were both crying and Peter was the one bucking into it.
Peter thrusted up as much as he could manage once more in hopes of being able to become the victim of this double edged crime, and grunted past his mute wishful words.
Tony, being as smart as he is, seemingly got the gist.
The pain was nothing short of utter agony scraped from the bottom of hell's dirty pavements, and while tears fell from both of their eyes and the mess that had been produced took a gentle warm rag and many kisses to clean..Peter couldn't help but yawn.
He was tired and never wanted tomorrow's light to shine through the open unchecked window behind him. He didn't want to see his mom or her blasted boyfriend. He didn't want to see the stupid feather stuffed pillows or the way that breakfast would look absolutely breathtaking in the morning.
He didn't want to breathe, but that wasn't really an option.
Instead he turned and wrapped his weak and battered body around the man that had done so much in the short time they'd spent together, and hoped that this love that had been shared between them hadn't been a mistake.
All he ever wanted to do was please his uncle. To be a..to be a good boy .
"I love you Peter..." Tony murmured against his temple, and kissed the area sweetly as if dirty blood had not just been shed as a result of his shame induced love.
"I-I love you too, Tony.." he murmured back, and snuggled impossibly closer only wishing now that he could crawl beneath his uncle's skin and die there like a prematurely decaying pet. Wished that then maggots would infest the man in front of him so then he would feel as dirty as Peter did.
If he thought about it though, he presumed they felt much of the same in that moment. Perhaps they were both already infested with something much worse than maggots and creatures that thrive on the carcasses of the dead.
God he hated love..he hated everything that had to do with it because what else was this supposed to be?.. Love love love ..he repeated, on and on like counting sheep until he fell into a dreamless slumber.