Chapter Text
Tony flits from person to person as the clock draws closer to midnight. Adults and teenagers alike mill about the room. He’s proud of the turnout this year. Peter had been allowed to invite all his classmates, and he saw a few faces that he knew would get well taken advantage of.
“Mr. Stark? It’s eleven forty-five,” a coordinator says, interrupting his conversation.
“Show time,” he grins at his guests, who chuckle. He follows her up to the stage, taking a mic when it’s handed to him. “Hellooooo, everyone. This is the part of the evening where you have to listen to me yap for fifteen minutes instead of giving you the Time Machine you really want—“
There’s a light smattering of laughter among the crowd.
“But it’s almost time for everyone’s favorite holiday— grooming day!”
That elicits a much louder cheer. To his left, his son Peter steps on stage with a nervous expression. Tony holds out his arm to him, and he tucks into his side. Tony smiles, amused by the shyness.
“Everyone starts to get cozy, refreshments will be passed around at a minute to,” he announces, smirking at the vague talk. This party already pushed the limits; he couldn’t just say outright that he was handing out syringes of lube so tiny teenage holes could be prepared without fanfare when the clock struck twelve. Not until midnight. Adults start to navigate towards teenagers, and he smirks when he sees Bucky and Steve gravitate towards Harley, and Pepper and Natasha towards MJ. Yes, this was going to be a very good year.
Grooming Day. A wonderful little 24 hours in the middle of July, where anyone under eighteen could be fucked by anyone over eighteen and wouldn’t suffer the consequences. Some people had their limits within those parameters, some didn’t. Tony’s annual party didn’t allow anyone under fourteen, only because he found it to be the age where they stopped fussing and accepted their fucking.
At least that’s when Peter stopped complaining, but that might’ve been because Tony trained it out of him. He’d taken his sweet boy for the first time at the age of twelve, and when Grooming Day was over, he hadn’t been able to stop. Obviously, only a select few knew about that, but he looked forward to Grooming Day and the chance to fuck his boy freely and without shame for twenty-four hours straight.
Now he’s almost seventeen, and Tony doesn’t know what he’s going to do with himself when next year is his last. But that’s a problem for future him. Right now, all he needs to worry about is the clock.
He yaps for a few minutes as stagehands bring out a curved sex bench. The minute hand steadily ticks on, and at 11:59, waiters with trays of lube and sex toys position themselves around the room. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife as the countdown begins.
“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one!”
He hands the mic off to a waiting employee and yanks Peter in for a bruising kiss. Around the room, shrieks of panic and moans of lust alike bounce off the walls. Even though Tony would be fucking his boy on stage, he won’t be surprised if not many people are watching.
“Are you going to fight me, bambino?” Tony smirks as he starts to push off Peter’s adorable little suit. His hands rise to push at Tony’s chest with a feeble attempt. He chuckles as the suit jacket hits the floor. “You’re so cute when you pretend not to like it.”
“I don’t, Dad!” he protests, gasping as Tony yanks his shirt apart, sending buttons flying everywhere.
“Don’t you?” he grins predatorially, backing him towards the bench. “Don’t you look forward to Daddy fucking your sweet little hole open every year?”
He did it more often than that, but he hadn’t fucked or played with Peter in three weeks, so he’d be virgin tight, as well as having been kept in chastity until twenty minutes ago when he’d been allowed to go in the bathroom and take his cage off. The result was a Peter who had forgotten how to behave for his daddy, and he always struggled beautifully. He pushes at Tony’s arms as he goes for his pants. “No, I don’t,” he huffs.
“Oh, I think you do, bambino,” he croons, pushing down his pants and his stupid normal underwear. Tony couldn’t have him in lingerie before the day started, or it would be against the rules.
“No, no, Daddy, please,” he begs as Tony bends him over the tallest part of the bench, sticking his perky little ass out perfectly. “Not here. Please not here.”
A silver tray appears, and Tony takes a syringe of lube, pushing the blunt tip against Peter’s tight hole. He has to force it in with a little pop before he can deplete the plunger. Peter sobs deliciously as his insides are flooded with cold lube. Tony decides to do another, filling up his ass until the clear gel bubbles back out because of his panicked clenching.
He keeps the naked, writhing boy pinned with one hand as he unbuckles his belt with the other. He sighs when his cock springs free, giving himself a perfunctory stroke before lining the tip up against Peter’s rim. There was no slow and gentle on Grooming Day, at least not in the first hour.
“Scream for me, baby,” he groans, before pushing his cock in with a harsh thrust. Peter does, a ragged cry erupting from his throat as Tony manages to get a third of his cock in at once. Around the room, similar screams emerge. “Good boy.”
“Daddy, daddy, no, please, it’s too big,” he babbles, trying to get away. Tony follows him with his hips, pushing in forcefully until he’s taken half. Peter sobs, nails scrabbling at the leather bench.
“You have to relax, baby boy. We go over this every year,” he grunts. He doesn’t mind the struggle. The way Peter is clenching around his length is mind-numbing, and he pulls out a little before pushing back in. This time, his body gives, and Tony groans loudly as he sinks into the hilt. There are a few whoops and cheers, and he laughs lazily, giving a little distracted wave. “Ya hear that, angel? Think they like you. Should Daddy share you this year?"
“No-o-oh!” Peter shrieks as Tony starts to pound his ass.
“No, what?”
“No, Daddy, please don’t let anyone else fuck me,” he begs.
“Why?” he growls.
He moans weakly, pleasure clearly starting to occur. “B-because I- ah! - I only want you to fuck me.”
Tony grabs his hips and pulls them back further, his balls slap against Peter’s, making the boy whimper. “You were just complaining about it a second ago. You sure you don’t want Steve or Bucky to use you like a little fleshlight?”
“No!” Peter shrieks, very familiar with that concept already. “Just you, Daddy! Please!”
He huffs and bends over Peter’s back, feeling his orgasm drawing up faster than he’d like. “Beg me,” he growls. “Beg me to breed you, baby, be a good boy.”
“Please, Dad,” he moans. “Fill me up. Breed me. Make me your little slut, please, please, don’t share me. Only yours, only you-ah-ah!”
Tony groans, slamming his cock in deep as he cums. The first load is always heavy, and he sighs with relief as he fills up Peter’s insides with hot, sticky seed. “If only you had a pussy for me to really breed,” he chuckles, and Peter moans weakly. “Did you cum?”
“No, sir,” he whines, already sounding broken in.
“Good,” he chuckles. Peter got highly sensitive after cumming, and Tony didn’t want to deal with the whining yet. His boy knew it wouldn’t stop. Even when they finally broke for a meal or sleep, he would be stuffed with buzzy toys or keeping Tony’s cock warm.
“Mr. Stark, I have a selection for you,” a waiter says, holding out the tray again. Tony makes an interested noise at the array of sex toys and picks a large and heavy dildo with a knot. “Excellent choice, sir. Might I suggest pairing it with a weighted cock ring if you don’t want him to finish?”
“Mm, excellent idea,” he grins, taking the ring. It would sit nicely around Peter’s cock and balls, the little weights tugging on his already swollen and sensitive bits.
“Dad, please,” he whines as Tony kicks his legs open.
“Hush, son,” he chides as he affixes the ring, be sure his balls are pulled through the back loop snugly. “It’s been twenty minutes, you’ve got a long way to go.”