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“Pete, you have a real issue with authority.” Jonah looks away from him while sucking on a not yet lit cigar, the sunset pouring over his leather chair. “I tell you to go right, and all of a sudden you’re going left.”
Normally Peter wouldn’t like to take criticism like this, but after a few strikes, he really gets the feeling that he should be treading carefully around his boss. “It’s not my intention to be so difficult.” Swallowing his pride, he says this confidently, hands behind his back.
Jonah hums, spinning his chair back around and giving him a document of assignments for the week dismissively. “Be useful out there, Parker.”
—--------
“He said I had issues with ‘authority’.” Peter air quotes, leaning back into his seat with furrowed brows. Johnny is biting into a slice of pizza, focusing on the cheese that’s about to run off the crust from his bite. “I’m the only one bringing out spiderman issue after spiderman issue! He should be grateful I even *need* his money at all!” He crosses his arms, pouting.
Finishing his bite, Johnny looks upward towards him, quaking his brow. He shrugs, holding his head up with the palm of his hand. “You know I don’t like to defend Jonah, Pete. Don’t make me agree with him.” Johnny gruffs, tiredly picking up another slice of their pepperoni.
Peter waves his arms in the air, “if the job is worth listening to I’ll listen!” Peter grabs the camera sitting at the torn up leather seats. “I’m a photographer, Johnny. Jonah wants me to take pictures of…of nothing! Galas mean nothing, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers shaking hands means nothing. I need something big.” He takes off the case and squints into the peep, looking at Johnny scooping more pizza into his mouth with ease through the lens.
“That’s your ‘I got my assignments for the week’ speech. Let me see.” Johnny lifts his hand out, chewing vigorously. Peter reaches into the backpack at his feet, grabbing the stapled junk Jonah handed him this morning and slamming it into Johnny's palm.
They’ve been through this before. It’s true, Jonah and the others at the Bugle definitely don’t see Peter’s potential, Johnny can admit that. They might see his potential if he actually gave what he was supposed to, though.
Johnny’s blue eyes skim across the dates, times, and supposed pictures he was expected to catch. Openings of a park, a small party hosted by Stark and a few of his associates, new museum paintings, same old, same old, over and over again.
He hands the papers back, rolling his eyes. “Just do the photos, Pete. Keep the extra photos for yourself if you have that much of a hard on for them.” Peter shakes his head, mumbling.
“They keep hiring me for these bullshit jobs. I’m tired of it Johnny.”
“So am I, we have this conversation every week.”
Peter shoots him a glare.
With the pizza finished, all that’s left of date night is to get the hell out of here and go to sleep. Johnny had parked his newly fixed car in the parking lot of a nearby park. By the time they leave the restaurant, it’s dark out.
Even after dating for a few months, Peter still feels like he’s about to crawl out of his skin whenever they hold hands. Johnny is always so gentle, so incredibly loving despite being so cocky and god awful. The very first thing you’ll notice while holding hands with Johnny Storm, is that he’s comfortably warm.
It’s weird to get used to the fact that they’re just another couple in the park now. If you’d asked Peter five months ago about dating Johnny he’d shake his head and deflect while his heart thumped inside his chest. Finally *dating* him, felt so freeing.
“Problem with authority, huh?” Johnny lets go of Peter, moving toward the car, opening the side door for him.
Peter scowls, hopping into the front seat with his arms crossed. “Don’t remind me.”
“Let’s practice.” Johnny hops into the driver seat, buckling himself with a smirk.
“You’re not Jonah, Johnny. I’d rather not.”
Johnny shrugs, starting the car with his eyes closed. “That is not what I meant, Pete. Listen to me.” The engine begins to purr, beginning their drive back to Peter’s apartment. “How about you call me Mr. Storm for the rest of the night, yeah?”
Irritated, Peter turns to Johnny, an eyebrow raised. “I’m not doing that John-”
“Mr. Storm.” Johnny interrupts, raising a finger. “Entertain me, Webs. C’mon.”
—----
The drive wasn’t as painful as long as Peter kept Johnny’s name out of his mouth. Peter had been living in the same apartment since he was in college, not that he minded. It was dingy, but homey, liveable. Johnny only made it more so.
Before they even dated, Johnny lived here, taking up the space that was empty in every way possible. It was different to have someone and to really *have* someone. The apartment felt less like an apartment, and more like a home.
Johnny kicks off his shoes immediately, but not without staring Peter down. Date night was always satisfyingly underwhelming, they both liked it this way, sharing pizza and making jokes while wearing their casual clothes at some dumbass restaurant. It was Peter's work clothes that really got Johnny worked up. Something about that stupid tie made him feel weak.
“Alright, no good Parker.” Johnny runs a hand on his back, turning him around to face him at the door. “Are you gonna start listening to me or what?” He lifts his chin up gently, staring into Peter's deep brown eyes. Peter only takes this as a challenge, looking up at him with a cheeky smile.
“No way, Johnny.”
A hard slap runs on Peter’s face, leaving a mark. He whimpers in pain, flinching from the sudden violence.
“Do you wanna try that again?” Intimidatingly, Johnny leads him towards their bedroom, pushing him backwards. Peter's brows angrily turn downward, biting the inside of his cheek with a hand where Johnny hit him. Peter tumbles backward onto their bed and Johnny leaves the door open, not like there’s anyone to see this anyway.
Johnny climbs on top of Peter, his eyes stone cold. “Say it.”
Peter looks away from him, his mouth opening to say a quippy line before Johnny grabs his jaw, forcing his eyes back onto him. “I’m not messing with you Parker. Look at me and say it. Be good for once can’t you?” Johnny nudges his knee in between Peter’s thighs, gauging an erection out of him effective immediately as Peter groans.
“You can put up a fight, Petey. It doesn’t matter. You’re gonna respect me.” Johnny moves his leg faster to create friction while Peter squirms underneath him. “You’re gonna have to beg with my name if you want anything to happen, and I know you do.”
Peter bites his lips, rutting himself against Johnny's thigh. “Johnny–..Mr. fucking Storm–” He only mumbles this closing his eyes shut.
“Can’t hear you.” Johnny shoves himself harder into him, tilting his head. His hands move to pin Peter's wrists against his own headboard.
“Mr. Storm!” Peter whines, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. Peter could move out of Johnny immediately if he really wanted to, but maybe he did need a little practice.
“That’s right.” Johnny’s own name sends shock waves to his cock. Peter is already sweating inside his work clothes, swallowing hard to try and stifle his moans.
“Get me out of these fucking clothes..” Peter begs, rolling his head to the side.
“Why should I?” Johnny laughs, his eyes rolling over Peter like a fine arts sculpture. “You look so perfect like this already.” Johnny moves one of his hands that holds Peter’s wrist to one, freeing himself just to ignite on his hip. He bends to trace his tongue across the small bits of Pete’s exposed chest.
“Please, Mr. Storm.” Peter had never been one to fold easily, but Johnny had caught him in such an unfortunate moment.
The words go straight to his cock and his hands make quick work unbuttoning and unbuckling Peter while he stays fully clothed. He doesn’t mind teasing him a little more. Johnny makes sure to make his touch last with every graze of skin, with each button, with each clack of metal.
Peter is desperate for any sort of friction against his dick as he lifts his hips up trying to catch Johnny’s hands in a moment of weakness, but it doesn’t work, leaving him needy and angrier than he was before.
Johnny continues to knee Peter's dick while sucking on his now bare chest, making Peter continue his moans of frustration. “Mr. Storm-..please-” Johnny’s barely listening.
“Patience is a virtue, Parker.” Johnny answers with his breath hot against his skin, leaving wet and burning hickeys against Peter's skin.
“I need you-..” Peter chokes out, swallowing another thick breath, beginning his pouting.
“Want me that bad?” Johnny inquires, lifting his chin. Peter is quick to nod, his brown curls moving with him. “Face down.”
Like a dog, Peter answers his every command, forcing his warm face into a pillow, his arms outstretched against his forehead for extra comfort. Johnny squeezes his thighs, forcing his hips upward.
“Look at how soaking you already are.” Johnny graces his finger against Peter's tip leaking with precum. He’s truly never known such a more gracious sight than Peter face down ass up all for him.
Peter whimpers, his mouth open and hot on his pillow.
Johnny proceeds with his teasing, his fingers lolling up and down the base of his cock while tracing the outside of Peter's ass with grace. “You’re doing so good, Parker.” He whispers, planting kisses against Peter’s back.
“Thank you Mr. Storm..” Peter answers, nodding off into ecstasy.
“Tell me what my baby needs.” Johnny sticks a single finger inside him, circling his hole like a shark. He says this in a sense of false praise, his lips pouting in mockery of Peter, even if he can’t see it.
“P-please fuck me, Mr. Storm.”
Without a second thought Johnny begins stripping, his brows knitted together. It’s not everyday he gets the chance to top Peter Parker. Johnny’s hands grip at the flesh of Peter's hips, tracing his own tip around the sides of Peter's hole. “Beg.” Johnny breathes, crooning over Peter's shoulder.
There’s a beat of silence and then a whack of skin against skin, Johnny’s hand on Peter’s thigh. “Did you hear me? I said "beg.” Johnny growls out softly, his other hand pulling the back of Peter’s hair.
“Please, Mr. Storm I-please–I need this-..” Stuttering out of sheer pain, Peter manages to mumble out Johnny’s desired words.
Johnny pushes inside of Peter, letting out a deep sigh of relief of his own. “Such a good boy.” He praises, sliding himself inch by inch while he chitters. Peter’s moans fuel Johnny with uncontainable passion, making him bottom out into Peter with a groan. “You’re gonna do good like this tomorrow, yeah?” Johnny holds Peter’s jaw, squeezing onto the bones. Marking Peter was a side quest.
Peter nods, suddenly cock drunk and mewling. Johnny loves that sound. The one Peter makes when he's desperate. It’s almost like a painful whine, needy and calling, sculpted just for Johnny.
With pure unadulterated strength, Johnny rotates Peter onto his back, wanting to see that pretty face flushing and fucked. “Perfect Petey.” He mumbles, repeating it like a virtue, pumping in and out, planting wet kisses onto his collarbones and shoulders. Peter moans, biting his lip so hard he thinks it might bleed.
Johnny has a habit of treating Peter almost like a dog, keeping him close, making him heel for a reward. His fingers wrap themselves in Peter’s hair, stroking him. “Such a good pup. Who’s doggy are you, Petey?” Peter squirms against Johnny, his cock dripping precum onto his stomach.
“Mr. Storms-!” He gasps, swallowing hard. He always gets a little embarrassed like this, with Johnny watching him. It’s almost cute, seeing him avoid eye contact. The truth is, Peter likes seeing Johnny like this too, hot and bothered, steaming, knitted brows, focused but so intentional. He’s like an experiment, a science project or a car.
Johnny’s hands intertwine into Peter’s while simultaneously moving them above his head, practically folding him in half. “And you’re gonna be pretty and listen to me, yeah? Like the good dog you are?”
Peter moans at their sudden position, struggling to contain himself like an animal in heat. “Thi-mgh–it’s so deep..! Mr. Storm…” Peter has gone beyond the point of no return, the only thing that matters is Johnny’s giant inflated ego and giant cock which both happen to be stroked in ridiculous manners.
He only huffs a laugh, a bead of sweat falling from his forehead onto Peter’s chest. “That doesn’t answer my question does it, Petey?” His fingers remove himself from his, moving back down to his jaw, forcing it open. Peter whines frustratingly, biting the inbetween of Johnny’s thumb and pointer. “Talk to me, pet.” Johnny ruts himself inside of Peter, making sure there’s zero room between his dick and Peter’s guts.
“I-I’ll listen..” Peter’s words or muffled with his teeth still sunken into Johnny’s skin. Peter doesn’t know how much of this he can take, his hole is already sore and his cock is aching to be touched.
Johnny knows exactly when Peter is close and in almost exact timing, he uses his other hand to pump Peter’s dick. “If you’re a good puppy–” Johnny grunts, focusing his blue eyes back onto Peter’s struggling face. “And you fix your issues with your stupid fucking asshole boss-” Peter lifts his hips up to Johnny’s touch consistently, moaning with pleasure. “We’ll do this again. You need more practice keeping that morale up, Pete.”
Peter comes with a few more fast pumps to his cock. The sight of Peter coming for Johnny makes him release inside Peter, filling him to the brim with his own seed. “Perfect puppy.” Johnny rolls to Peter’s side, nuzzling into his neck. “You did such a good job. You’re gonna do so good tomorrow.”
Peter chuckles breathily, moving his fingers into Johnny's blonde locks. “I love you, Torchie.”
“I love you more.”