Chapter Text
Dinner isn't what Peter expected, really.
He wondered if Karen would be eating with them, but she's not – the house is quiet.
They talk.
They talk about Peter's interests ("Harley says you're more chemistry and biomechanics than engineering"). They talk about Peter's school ("You'll be back at Midtown on Monday. Pff, waitlist? Who do you think I am?"). They talk about what Peter wants for the future ("Sounds like you'll get the Harley special – MIT, and a little help starting your own company. Easy enough.")
Peter kind of expected this to be more...cold, just quid pro quo, but Mr. Stark actually seems interested in who Peter is.
("You're smart. He likes smart," Harley'd said, but Peter thought that was euphemistic.)
The conversation finally winds down, and Mr. Stark gets up from the table to pour himself a a glass of...something alcoholic from the bar.
His back is turned and that gives Peter the courage to ask what he's wanted to.
"How does this...work?"
Thankfully, Mr. Stark doesn't play dumb. "Karen will be your legal guardian – paperwork's already filed and fast-tracked, by the way, she must really love you. She'll live here with you and do all the – " handwave "responsible stuff. I'll visit when I can. Sometimes you'll go a few weeks without seeing me, but usually I can carve out some time every week."
"And when you're here, she just...leaves?"
"Nope – top floor is soundproofed and all hers. Kind of a mother-in-law suite. Most of the time she'll leave the door at the top of the stairs open, but she closes it when I'm here."
"Oh."
"...Did you think I made dinner? Because I can't even keep a goldfish alive, sad to say."
Peter ignores that, too nervous to joke around just now. "What about...um…you know. Me and you. How does that work?"
Despite his nerves, Peter doesn't hesitate when Mr. Stark settles into one corner of the sofa and pats the cushion with his free hand.
Maybe he's starting to believe, a little bit, why Harley said he shouldn't be afraid, or maybe he's so starved for someone to hug him that it feels worth the risk. Either way, when Mr. Stark pulls Peter close with one arm, Peter settles in against him and tries to relax.
"You liked it before, when I kissed you?"
Peter nods, cheeks a little warm.
"Good. I'm not in any rush, Peter. I have things that I like, and it would be great if you liked them too, but if you don't..." Mr. Stark shrugs and sips from his glass. "I'm not interested in forcing the issue. I want you to enjoy things."
Peter studies Mr. Stark's face to find the catch, but he's probably too good a liar. "And if I tell you no, what happens then?"
"So brave," Mr. Stark sighs, almost to himself. "Nothing happens then, Pete. You still live with Karen, you still get your education. I visit and do things you're okay with, or...if you don't want me around at all, I stop coming by. It's happened before."
Mr. Stark doesn't shy away from Peter's ongoing scrutiny. "That doesn't make this consensual."
Mr. Stark gives him a thin smile before he gulps from his glass. "I'm aware. But this is how I get what I want with minimal damage to everyone involved."
Peter thinks about tabloids and Tony Stark's reputation. "How many people do you pay off to keep this stuff a secret?"
There's a bitter little smirk on Mr. Stark's face, and somehow that puts Peter at ease. "More than you'd guess. Less than you'd hope."
Peter considers. "I'm not…the only one. Right now, I mean."
"Nope."
Peter takes a deep breath. "I don't know how I feel about this."
He knows what Uncle Ben would feel. What MJ would say. What Ned would think. But none of them have to live with Peter's other options.
Mr. Stark sips his drink, half-flippant when he says, "When you figure it out, let me know."
"If I were at my last home right now, I.... He wouldn't have been careful. Or cared if I enjoyed it."
"I'm sorry." In this, he actually sounds serious and sincere. When he rubs Peter's back, it's clearly meant to comfort.
"And now I'm going to spend the weekend with you, instead of him."
"Seems like."
The glibness is back. It's frustrating, and it makes Peter's tone a little meaner than intended when he says, quiet enough to ignore, "I don't think this makes you better than him."
"Me neither," Mr. Stark says in a normal voice.
Then he drains his glass.
"Okay," Peter says, and then, "What do we do now?"
Mr. Stark sets his glass aside and plays with the too-long ends of Peter's hair. He probably needs a haircut. "I'd like if you slept in my bed while I'm here, but it's up to you."
Peter's insides clench, but it's not completely in a bad way. He imagines climbing into a bed with Mr. Stark, and it doesn't feel all bad. "I can do that. Now?"
Mr. Stark nods, taking Peter's hand and pulling him off the couch. "We'll check out the lab tomorrow – it's in the basement. I can't get much done down there personally, but I can help you tinker on your stuff, which is a good pallet cleanser. If you want it stocked with anything in particular, Karen knows how to requisition whatever you need from SI."
Wait. "I have a lab?"
"You have a lab. Ok, this is my room. Why don't you run upstairs and get ready for bed. Everything you need is in the bathroom. Meet me down here when you're done?"
*
Peter takes his time brushing his teeth and washing his face and all that stuff that Aunt May always made him do. He's not stalling. It's just been so long since he got privacy like this.
And when he's done, he'll go downstairs and pay for it.
Isn't that what this is? At least if he's going to sell his body, he's getting a long-term, seriously enormous return.
The ease with which Mr. Stark promised him seed money for his future company stole his breath. The idea that there would be a future company, and Mr. Stark would help him launch it.
He'd think it was all an absolute scam if it weren't for Harley. If he didn't know where Harley is right now and how he got there.
Peter doesn't let himself stall. As soon as his evening routine is done, he goes back downstairs, tugging at his new pajamas awkwardly.
Mr. Stark is already in bed, fiddling with something in a holo-workspace. He looks nice in the dim blue light – Peter's had a crush forever, but he's not sure what to do with those feelings now that there's…this.
As soon as Peter's spotted in the doorway, Mr. Stark swipes the work away and moves aside for Peter.
It's still early, especially for the weekend, but clearly they're not going to sleep right away. Mr. Stark has a tank top on, so Peter's guessing he's also wearing some kind of pants. It's probably just for show but Peter is glad for the pretense.
Before Peter's fully under the covers, though, Mr. Stark tugs on his sleeve and says, "Will you take your shirt off for me?"
Peter hesitates, but…he knew, he saw this coming, so he nods and strips it off over his head.
He waits for more, for the order to get naked, but it doesn't come so he scoots under the blankets.
Mr. Stark turns on his side, propped on his elbow, and looks down at Peter. He touches Peter's face like it's made of crepe paper, so very gentle. He drops a kiss on Peter's temple, and his hand wanders south. Peter tenses, expecting the touch to go somewhere predictable but it stays above the waistband of Peter's pjs, stroking his chest and stomach.
"Do you have any experience?" Mr. Stark asks, soft and polite.
"No. I mean, not really. Kissing, but not real kissing, just..."
Mr. Stark smiles like he understands what Peter's saying. He kisses Peter's closest shoulder and his beard tickles. "What do you think about when you play with yourself?"
"Um," Peter says, tongue already thick in his mouth as Mr. Stark kisses his collarbone, his sternum, his throat. His chest is already rising and falling embarrassingly fast. "I don't know, just…stuff."
Mr. Stark chuckles and Peter shudders at the sound.
"Well...male? Female? Animal, vegetable, mineral?"
"Um." There's a joke in Mr. Stark's voice but Peter can't quite grasp words once his nipple is in the man's mouth. Is that supposed to feel good? No one told him that would feel good.
Mr. Stark blows a cold stream of air across his damp skin, and Peter gasps.
"Easier question – men, yea or nay?"
"I – y-yes."
"Women? Girls?"
"Uh-huh."
"The family dog? Is this thing on?"
"Wuh – " Mr. Stark rolls away from Peter, and Peter blinks. "Wait, what did you say?"
"There he is. Welcome back!"
Mr. Stark settles onto his back and tucks one arm beneath his head and does this...thing, this subtle little stretch that looks like… Is that what people mean when they say someone is preening?
Somehow he's more unfairly attractive like this than in the magazines foster mom #1 threw in the trash without asking.
Mr. Stark looks a little smug with his distraction. "Kinsey scale, where do you sit?"
"Um, both. I like both, but maybe a little more with...um. Men. I think."
Mr. Stark nods and does that thing again, that thing that draws Peter's attention downward.
"You want to touch me, or you want me to drive? Up to you."
Obviously, Mr. Stark wants Peter to touch him or he wouldn't have pulled away. Peter's a little nervous, but at least he's pretty sure that clueless and awkward is a turn-on in Mr. Stark's case.
He feels weird and self-conscious touching Mr. Stark. He feels safer touching through skin-warmed cotton. He feels safer keeping his eyes on his hands. It's bad enough that Peter's body heats every time Mr. Stark flexes where Peter's touching. It's bad enough that he can feel Mr. Stark's eyes on his face.
Without really meaning to, Peter's hand seeks out bare skin, sliding up under the shirt to touch Mr. Stark's stomach. He spooks himself with the unconscious gesture, with the way Mr. Stark sighs into the contact, and Peter yanks his hand out from beneath the hem like he's been burned.
In the process, he brushes up against Mr. Stark's dick, which is hard in his sweatpants.
Mr. Stark sucks in a breath through his teeth and Peter freezes.
Then, Peter's hand wraps around Mr. Stark's hard-on through the fabric.
"Pete," Mr. Stark moans – or sighs – and Peter's hand spasms tighter, accidentally stroking as Mr. Stark's hips buck. Just as Peter's trying to decide whether to pull his hand away, not sure he's ready for this development, Mr. Stark's closest arm snakes beneath him and pulls him up against his side.
He turns his head and kisses Peter, this time quickly going from just lips to using lips and tongue.
There's nothing stopping Peter from letting go of the cock in his hand but the kiss is... distracting and somehow he never…he just never...
Mr. Stark thrusts up into his hold steadily and pants at Peter's mouth. "Fuck, baby, that feels so good – stroke it a little faster."
Peter does and Tony moans, burying his face in Peter's throat and sucking there.
Peter's head is spinning. Everything's happening so fast, he didn't mean to…is he giving his first handjob on accident?
He could stop. Mr. Stark said, or implied, that he could but he sounds like he's enjoying this really a lot, and this is what Peter's here for. It's not like this is hurting him, it's not even...it's through Mr. Stark's pants. If this is all that happens today, he's pretty lucky.
Peter gives in and commits, gasping a little at the sharp scrape of teeth against his neck. Is Mr. Stark going to give him a hickey? He'll be back at Midtown on Monday, do hickies last that long? It's probably googleable.
Peter's arm gets tired faster than he'd expect, given how often he does this to himself, but the angle is different and Peter doesn't usually last this long. He doesn't stop, though – a handjob is doable. He doesn't want to need to decide on something else.
He makes himself keep going until Mr. Stark throws his head back and fucks Peter's fist and the fabric against his palm goes warm and damp.
Mr. Stark sighs with satisfaction and pulls Peter's hand out from under the covers, after, kissing his fingers and sucking a couple into his mouth.
Peter's dick went a little soft at some point, but that fixes that.
"Thank you so much for that, sweetheart," Mr. Stark breathes. Peter shrugs awkwardly as Mr. Stark turns on his side and pulls them flush. He can feel Mr. Stark's jizz soaking through and into Peter's pajama bottoms.
"That was so good, baby – I wasn't expecting that tonight. Can I return the favor? Hmm? Can I play with your cute little cock until you go off for me?"
Mr. Stark's hand is already clutching Peter's butt, encouraging their bodies to rub together. Peter nods and gets nudged onto his back.
"Pretty baby." Mr. Stark's hand gropes him through the fabric. "Pretty boy. How does that feel, huh?"
"G-good."
Mr. Stark chuckles against Peter's ear, and Peter does his best not to thrash. His pants are made of baby-soft cotton that's getting damp with his own pre-cum and it feels amazing.
It's not going to take much. "M-mr. Stark."
"There you go, sweetheart. Such a good boy."
How can someone else's hand feel so much better than his own?
Mr. Stark's tongue brushes the curve of his ear, and Peter's body jerks.
"Gonna take such good care of you – be just this sweet and I'll give you anything."
Peter stiffens and comes.
*
Peter must drift for a bit, because when he's aware again, Mr. Stark is wrapped around him from behind and their pants are gone.
Mr. Stark is snoring a little, breath damp on Peter's neck, and Peter can feel what he thinks is Mr. Stark's cock against his ass – not hard, just...there.
He thinks about what happened and how. Mr. Stark was pushier than he said he'd be, and Peter's not entirely sure that he gave consent, which...probably means that that he didn't?
He's not sure how he feels about it.
He feels oddly...fine. Not because things are fine, but…probably because they could be worse. Peter thinks that he can deal, if it's like this. It wasn't bad.
Harley wouldn't lie – Mr. Stark isn't going to hurt him. Maybe he needs to just…chill. He's probably just making it worse by worrying about every little thing and whether wants it and whose idea it is.
He thinks… he's pretty sure he can live with this, and that's a sentiment that he hasn't felt in months.
"I can do this," Peter thinks, then slips into a deep sleep.