Chapter Text
“Sweetheart, we need to have a little talk,”
The words don’t exactly make Peter feel good, nor does the way Mr. Stark is sitting at the kitchen table staring at him intently. Their shopping trip had taken most of the day, and they had picked up takeout for dinner on the way home. Peter was still reeling over what had happened in the store, the sound of Mr. Stark’s soft curse as he came still ringing in his ears. He felt greedy for that noise, and it was making him feel insane. He had been devastated when he realized he had missed a chance to see his dominant’s cock and was now determined to be on his best behavior.
But based on the tone of Mr. Stark’s voice, he thinks his behavior today hasn’t been fully dealt with, and that makes him nervous.
“Did I do something wrong, sir?” he asks nervously, turning off the water that he’d been using to rinse off their dinner dishes.
“No, not wrong per se, but I’d like to get ahead of something I think could turn into a problem,”
“Okay,” he says softly. He slinks over to the table and sits down, folding his hands in his lap. “I’m listening,”
Mr. Stark leans across the table, hands clasped together, with a serious look on his face. “We’ll start easing into some more strict rules and routine tomorrow, but I wanted to have this conversation first so I can set you up for success and not for failure,”
“Thank you, sir,” he murmurs, having a feeling he knows what this is about.
“Peter, you understand that your body belongs to me, correct?”
“Yes, sir,”
“And that means I can do what I want with it?”
“… yes, sir,”
“That I could take away all your hard work in a heartbeat instead of savoring it?”
He whimpers, feeling a little bit afraid. “Yes, sir,”
“I’m not going to,” he says assuringly. “But I’m going to say this plainly, so from here on out, there are no misunderstandings about my expectations. It is my decision as to how and when we break down all that beautiful innocence. Not yours,”
Oh god.
“Yes, sir,” he whispers.
“Say it back to me,”
“It- it’s your decision how and when we break m-my innocence,”
“Do you understand the weight of that?” he asks intently. “It means all your little habits and tricks you do to keep your arousal down- done. You don’t do that anymore. You let it out. Every urge you repress, you let go. Give it. All. To. Me,”
Peter’s lips part in surprise, reality crashing down around him. He’s starting to feel like his long-laid plan has backfired. He had to give Mr. Stark everything?
“Based on what I’ve seen, when you’re in subspace it’s a little easier for you to not hide it,” he goes on, as if Peter isn’t having a total crisis. “But it’s the day-to-day that I want you to understand. I want you to be aroused, Peter. I want to see you struggle to ask me for things you don’t know, but you want them anyway. I don’t want you to be an innocent virgin forever. That’s not what this is about. It’s about the training and the process. But the process can’t happen if you don’t give it to me,”
“I- I want to give it to you, sir,” he says quietly, not sure what else to say. “I really do,”
“But?”
He bites on his bottom lip nervously. “It’s a little harder in practice?”
Mr. Stark nods knowingly. “I’m not going to be cruel about this, sweetheart. It’s going to take time to break everything down. But that means there might be punishments for things you don’t expect, things that feel backward. I take it that for the last four years, you’ve been punished for showing any little inkling of arousal?”
“Yes, sir,” he whispers.
“And now it’s going to be the opposite,”
Something about the words and the low timber of his voice makes Peter shiver. A tiny part of him wants to disobey and wants to know what sort of things his dominant will do to him. And another part of him aches to be good, to give it all up easily.
“See- there,” Mr. Stark says, pointing a finger at him. “What were you just thinking, kitten?”
“I- um- it was bad, sir. I can’t-“
He raises an eyebrow, and Peter knows he’s already done it. “That’s for me to decide. Tell me,”
“I- I was thinking about disobeying, sir,” he whispers. “… on purpose,”
“Why?”
He gulps. “To find out about punishments,”
“And what did I tell you the other day? If you want to know about something-“
His stomach sinks. “To ask you, sir,” He waits for a response, but Mr. Stark is just staring at him expectantly. It takes another few seconds before he realizes what he’s waiting for. “Sir, will- will you please teach me about punishments?”
He makes a soft hum and then turns his chair, eyes dark and stormy. He spreads his legs pointedly and then points to the floor. “Kneel,”
Peter whimpers but slips off his own chair and onto the floor. The cold tile of the kitchen hurts his knees, but he assumes perfect form without complaint. Except Mr. Stark tucks his fingers under his chin and forces his head up, keeping intense eye contact.
“Beg me,”
“Wh-what?” he stammers.
“Beg me to teach you about punishments,” he says simply. “There’s no right or wrong way, just do what feels best,”
“P-please, sir, teach me about punishments,”
“More,”
“Please, sir, teach me about punishments,”
“No, I said more, not again. You are begging, not asking politely,”
Overwhelm bubbles in his throat, and his mind races. “Please punish me, sir? For- for thinking about disobeying?”
The fingers twist to grip his chin tightly. Mr. Stark leans forward a little, looming over Peter. “And?”
His eyes go wide. “And- and hiding it from you,”
“And?”
“And- and talking back,” he gulps. “And not letting you decide if it was bad or not,”
“You’re a quick learner, I’ll give you that,” he murmurs, lightly rubbing his thumb over his skin. “Keep going,”
He whimpers, something building in him that he can’t explain. Tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. “Please, sir, teach me. I’m sorry for keeping it in. I’ll give it to you, I promise,”
“Better, but I want more,”
“I’ll be good,” he says, tone edging towards a sob. “I’ll- I’ll be aroused, sir. I won’t hide it. Please teach me. I want to know,”
“Are you aroused now?” he asks, his voice slightly lighter as a small smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.
Peter turns inward, and he gasps a little when he realizes he is. “Ye-yes sir,”
“What does it feel like?”
“Like- like my insides are all twisted,” he whimpers. “And I’m hot, and I want- I- I want-“
“Oh, don’t backslide now, kitten, you’re doing so well,” he purrs. “Give it to me, come on,”
“I want you to touch me,” he forces himself to say. “Anywhere, or kiss me. Or- or punish me. I just need- want- you to do something,”
The hand on his chin draws him upward, forcing him taller on his knees as his thighs shake from overwhelm. He’s only an inch or two from Mr. Stark’s face now. He jerks forward a little, hoping for a kiss but he’s held firm.
“Why do you want to be punished, little thing?” he asks dangerously. “Are you feeling guilty? Or is it just curiosity?”
“I don’t know,” he whines, even though deep in him he thinks he does.
“You do come on, darling,” he coaxes. “Tell me why you want a punishment and not a reward, and I’ll give it to you,”
Tears slip down his cheeks now. There’s this raging storm inside him he can’t name. He’s caught between wanting to pull away and wanting to lean in. A swirling tide of obey and disobey. “I- I-“
“Let it out, Peter. It doesn’t have to make sense,”
“I don’t know,” he babbles, letting out a sob. “I want to be bad. I don’t know why, sir but I also want to be good, and I just- I- I - I want you to take it. Please take it, make me give it to you, make me submit please,”
“Good boy,”
Peter can’t understand the words until he’s suddenly yanked to his feet, and Mr. Stark starts stripping his clothes off of him. He gasps and shivers as he’s suddenly laid bare to the cool air, resisting the urge to cover himself with his hands. Based on what Mr. Stark said in the store today, he thinks he knows what’s coming next.
“You’re going to be naked for the rest of the night,” he says firmly. “If you’re good, you can have some of your pretty things tomorrow, but not until I feel like you’ve learned your lesson,”
“Yes, sir,” he whispers, his voice feeling broken.
“And that includes if we leave the house,”
Peter gasps, his heart plummeting into his stomach and actual tears springing forth. “But, sir! I can’t be naked in public!” he protests before he can stop himself.
Mr. Stark raises an eyebrow, a look he’s slowly growing accustomed to. “And why not? Plenty of other subs are,”
He sniffs and wipes away a few tears. “Because it’s wrong! My body is only for y- “ He stops himself when he realizes what is about to come out of his mouth.
“Yeah, you seeing it now?” he says softly, rubbing his hip. “Finish your sentence, honey,”
“My body is only for- for you, sir,” he whispers, thighs shaking. “I- I was saving it for you,”
“And you did. You saved it so beautifully for me, baby boy,” he praises. “You’ve kept it so safe and special. But you need to give it to me now, and if you need me to take it, I will. But you have to let go,”
“Okay,” he sniffs. There’s still a swirl of emotions inside him that he can’t name. “Thank you for teaching me, sir,”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he coos softly. “I want to be very clear: what we’re about to do is because you asked me. I’m not a mind reader, sweetheart, but I’m still learning about you. If there is something you want or need, you ask me, and then I’ll decide if you can have it. It’s not your job to decide what you do and don’t deserve. You just ask, and let me handle the rest,”
He takes a moment to let the words sink in. “Even- even if it’s something I’m not supposed to want?”
“Especially then,” he smiles. “Because I think you’ve set all these little rules in your head to protect yourself, and the only rules you need to follow are mine. And you will never be in trouble for asking a question. Do you understand?”
He sniffs and nods again. “Yes, sir, thank you,”
“Okay, let’s head upstairs, and we’ll take care of this, alright? Get all those big feelings out of you,”
The thought of walking upstairs feels exhausting, and he almost protests. But then he realizes this is one of those things, and he forces himself to be brave. “Would- would you carry me, sir?”
“Oh, very good, baby boy,” he says as he stands up.
He holds his hands out in silent invitation, and Peter steps into his hold, wrapping his arms around his neck. In the next moment, he’s lifted into the air, wrapping his legs around his waist and tucking his nose into the crook of his neck. Mr. Stark is still wearing his suit, and the soft material makes him shiver.
“Thank you, sir,” he murmurs, kissing the patch of skin just above his collar.
“God, you’re too cute,” he mutters. “You’re welcome, baby,”
He clings to his dominant tightly as he carries him upstairs, still feeling a storm of emotions inside. His eyes burn from crying, and he feels tired, but he wants to know what’s coming next. The constant battle between his inner emotions and what he thought he was supposed to be doing is exhausting. He wants to learn what Mr. Stark intends to teach him.
“I like your suits, sir,” he murmurs when the thought comes to mind. “Sometimes I just wanna rub all over them like a cat,”
Mr. Stark laughs, sounding both genuinely surprised and pleased as they enter the playroom. “I will keep that in mind, kitten. Hop down now,”
Peter lands on his feet gracefully, though he sways a little bit. He wonders if his exhaustion has anything to do with the sensitivity Mr. Stark mentioned the other day. That because he’s denied himself of things his body apparently needed, everything is so much more intense now.
“Come over here baby,” Mr. Stark beckons him towards the large mirror on one side of the room.
He whimpers but follows, breath hitching as the man shrugs off his suit jacked and starts rolling up his sleeves. Peter feels mesmerized by the movement of his hands, watching every action with magnetized focus. His mouth waters as thick, chiseled forearms revealed and he instantly feels unmoored and lonely, wanting them to hold him once more.
“Sir,” he whines. “I want– I want–”
“Shh, you’re gonna get whatever you want one second,” he soothes him. He grabs one of the thick blankets off the bed and puts it on the floor and then to Peter’s shock and horror, he kneels.
“Sir?”
He chuckles softly and pats his thighs. “Kneel in front of me, in my lap best you can,”
Peter shivers slightly at the order but joins him on the floor. His slender legs fit perfectly between Mr. Stark’s, and when his butt makes contact with the soft material of his slacks he moans. He can feel the hard bulge of his cock against his ass, and subconsciously he grinds against it, before stopping himself.
“None of that,” Mr. Stark murmurs low in his ear, one hand on his hip encouraging him to move again. “That’s all yours baby boy. You can feel it, it’s okay,”
Liquid hot pleasure flows into his belly like lava at the words. He rubs his ass against the bulge again, moaning. It was his? His cock was– it was Peter’s? But how–
“It’s mine, sir?” he says, his voice coming out high and pathetic with confusion as he forces himself to obey his new rule and ask what he wants to know.
“Mhmm,” he hums as he kisses Peter’s neck. His hands run over his thighs, rough and overwhelming. “My cock is all for you. Trust me baby, it’s gonna be your favorite toy soon enough,”
He shudders at the words. “But– but I’m–”
“Look in the mirror,”
Peter opens his eyes, and gasps when he’s met with his own reflection. Pink blush spreads from his cheeks down his neck and shoulders. His nipples are hard and pointed in the air, begging for attention. Between his thighs his caged cocklet hangs, a bead of pre-cum already sitting at the tip.
And behind him is Mr. Stark. Beautiful, wonderful, handsome Mr. Stark who Peter has devoted his entire life to. His tan skin contrasts against Peter’s pale complexion, everything about him bigger, thicker, more dominant. He feels a swell of utter devotion in his chest, but then Mr. Stark raises his gaze to the mirror, and he realizes he’s being looked at with the same emotion.
“Sir?” he whimpers.
“You are mine, Peter,” he murmurs in his ear, holding his gaze in the mirror. “But I am yours. Being a dominant isn’t just about owning and control. It’s about care and devotion. You give everything to me, and I protect that and cherish it with everything fiber of my biology and my being. You are mine, and in making you mine, I have to make myself yours. Though it’s something I do gladly,”
“Oh,” Peter whispers, eyes filling with tears. “But– but I’m just– I’m a t-toy. A thing on a shelf, a- a pet I’m not–”
“No, no darling you are so much more than that,” he breathes out, sounding heartbroken. “You are those things yes, but you are cherished–” He kisses his shoulder almost frantically, as if he’s trying to pour something into Peter that he can’t explain. “Do you think I would pay two million dollars for something that just sits around and looks pretty? I could buy an art piece if I wanted that, no– I wanted you,”
A tiny question sparks in the back of his mind, and the answer is so terrifying he dosen’t want to ask it. But he wants to be good. He wants to be so good. “Would you– would you have wanted me even if I didn’t save myself for you?”
Mr. Stark pauses for a moment, but not in anyway that’s alarming. He’s simply giving the question the consideration deserves, and Peter instantly respects him all the more for it. There’s something deep and building inside him that he’s not ready to put a name to until he hears the answer.
“I don’t know,” he finally admits softly. “What you did– it was a big factor in making me think about you seriously. But if there was any a sub I would’ve thought about without it– I think it would’ve been you. I have adored working with you, and getting to know you my sweet boy. I’ve watched you grow up into such a beautiful sub. You are so precious and special, not just because of the effort you put in for me, but because of who you are,”
Peter lets out a shuddering sob and slumps back against his chest, totally overwhelmed. “Thank you, sir,”
“You’re welcome,” he murmurs, kissing his shoulder and his neck. Peter whimpers and shivers again, feeling like a live wire about to explode. “Shh, shh, that’s my good boy. Gonna make it all better. You needy baby?”
“Mhmm,” he whines, shifting a little. It feels like his skin is on fire with need and want, and he doesn’t even know how to express it. He feels like a burning star, just waiting to explode.
“Okay, I need you to be my brave boy and trust me now, alright?”
Peter doesn’t understand why he would need to do that, until Mr. Stark reaches into his pocket and pulls out a silver key. His eyes go wide and in a turn of events he didn’t expect he starts to sob. “No, no, no–” He doesn’t know why he’s saying no, why seeing that glint of silver headed towards the lock on his cage feels like a punishment and not a reward. HIs breathing picks up and his vision clouds as tears spill down his cheeks. “No, sir, please–”
Mr. Stark’s other arm wraps around his chest and he feels rough beared kisses over his cheek. “Shh, Petey you gotta breathe baby. It’s okay. I know it’s scary, but you’re safe. Daddy’s just gonna take the cage off, okay? And we’ll go from there. Just one step at a time,”
His breath hitches at the moniker as he lets out another sob. “D-Daddy?”
“Yeah baby,” he sighs softly into his curls, the side of his face pressed against his temple as he tries to soothe him. It’s working slightly, the gentle rocking of his dom and then tight hold. “Daddy’s right here,”
“I don’t want it off,” he whispers hoarsely, shocked at how true it felt. His cage represented all his hard work, all the effort he put in, the last four years. He isn’t ready to lose it.
“You just gotta submit baby,” he says softly. “Give it all to me, sweetheart, and let me do the rest. I’ll take it from you if you still want me to, but you just have to submit,”
Peter lets out a shuddering breath, wiping away the tears from his cheeks. He still feels that twist of emotions from downstairs, the desire to be both good and bad, the need to both submit and be forced into submission. He’s a swirling storm of contradictions that he doesn’t understand.
But Mr. Stark does.
“Okay,” he whimpers, turning his face against his neck as best he can so he doesn’t have to watch.
“Good boy,” he purrs.
Peter can’t help but hold his breath as he feels his dom’s fingers against his cage, the tiny click of the lock echoing like thunder in his ears. When the plastic falls away, he lets out a soft sigh of relief, like taking off too tight pants at the end of a long day.
And the pleasure starts.
“Oh god,” he whimpers, choked and panicked as his cocklet starts to harden. It’s like a roaring river inside him, waves crashing across rocks inside his mind. Every inch of Mr. Stark’s body pressed against his is like a straight shot of aphordisasic. The warmth of his skin, the roughness of his hold still tight across his chest. All of it flowing straight into his clit, bringing it to it’s full hardness in less than a minute without even a touch. “Daddy–”
“Fuck, you’re so cute baby,” he growls in his ear. “Look at your little boy clit, all nice and hard for me,”
His brain registers the words as command, even if they’re not meant to be and his head automatically turns to the mirror. He starts to hyperventilate as his eyes land on his penis, and to his surprise even though it feels hard and bigger than in the cage, it doesn’t look much different. It’s firmer and pink, and there’s more pre-cum drooling from the tip, but it’s still small and dangles uselessly. It’s nothing like the rock hard bulge still pressed against his ass.
“Do– do you like it Daddy?” he asks shyly, his voice creaking from his tears.
“I love it baby boy,” he murmurs.
“Can–” He hesitates, because just a few hours later the question had already been answered, but that was then and this was now, and Mr. Stark wanted him to ask. “Can I see yours, Daddy? Your– your cock? P-please?”
He chuckles, warm and fond in his ear. “Baby boy wants to compare with Daddy? Want to see how much bigger I am next to your little boy clit?”
Humiliation and shame fill him but instead of the aching discomfort the teasing of his classmates used to bring, it’s hot and delicious, like a cup of hot chocolate. He nods wildly, curls bouncing all over the place. “If– if it’s okay with you, Daddy,”
“Zero to a hundred with you, isn’t it?” he hums teasingly into his skin. “Wasn’t this supposed to be a punishment?”
Peter giggles a little, biting down on his bottom lip. “You said we were only doing this because I asked for it, sir,”
Mr. Stark raises his eyes to meet his in the mirror again and Peter feels a flutter in his stomach at how hungry he looks. There’s a long moment of silence before he finally nods, patting Peter’s hip to encourage him to scoot forward off his lap. “No touching until I say,* he reminds him as he pushes to his feet.
“No touch– Oh! Oh yes sir,” he nods, moving his hands to his sides, pressing into the blanket on the floor. It honestly hadn’t occurred to him that he could touch his cocklet now, his mind so used to it not even being an option. And he’s much more enraptured with the man towering above him, his mouth watering as those strong hands move to undo his tie. He can still feel the ghost of it pressed against his eyelids from this afternoon.
And then his hands move to shirt buttons, slowly undoing them from the top. Peter feels hung in suspense as a tan, slightly hair chest is revealed. He looks up at his dom in utter devotion, lips parted in awe as muscle and biceps are laid bare before him. Around one of his biceps is a tattoo, two parallel bands, one thicker, one thinner and Peter gets the strangest urge in his stomach. It feels almost primal, an unexplainable need to wrap his arms around his dom’s bicep and touch the marks. His hands grip the blankets tightyl and suddenly he wonders if Mr. Stark had really been telling him not to touch the dom until he was ready, because Peter is two seconds away from launching himself at him.
But there’s more to be seen and Peter is reminded of that as movement draws his gaze to the waistband of his pants. His heart beats rapidly, threatening to pulse right out of his chest. It feels like time is moving at less than a snail’s pace, every movement painfully slow. The belt goes first, pulling out with a swish against fabric that goes straight to his dripping cocklet. Then it’s a button and a zipper, again every noise making him feel like his senses are dialed up to eleven.
“Daddy, please,” he chokes out, not sure how much torture he can take.
“Sweetheart, I’m moving as fast as I can,” he laughs.
“No you’re not,” he pouts, gripping the blanket harder. “Movin’ so slow,”
The slacks hit the floor and Peter groans, eyes almost rolling back if not for the fact the doesn’t want to miss a thing. Thick muscled thighs, and chiseled calves that he wants to sit between adn get squished. There’s so many weird urges and wantings happening inside his mind and body he can’t even comprehend. Even his feet seem sexy in his heightened arousal, Peter’s submissive urges unable to decide if they want to kiss and worship, or curl up at them like a cat.
“You’re so handsome, Daddy,” Peter says almost drunkenly, shifting on his knees a little more. He wonders if he could cum just from this because it sure feels like it. If his dom commanded him to, he’s sure he’d just pop.
Then to his surprise, Mr. Stark’s cheeks flush red a little. “Thank you baby, you’re very sweet,”
His thumbs hook into the elastic of his underwear, and suddenly Peter feels that panic rising in his chest again, that this is bag, wrong, no good. But he forces out a deep breath, and reminds himself that this is Mr. Stark. This is his dom. His Sir. His Dadddy. And he is his. The man had just said so. Peter could have what he wanted if Mr. Stark saw fit to give it to him, and he did.
The undewear fall, and his whole world changes.
Mr. Stark is huge, bigger than Peter thought was possible, or maybe it’s just because Peter himself seems so small down here on his knees. His breath hitches as his cock bobs slightly after being freed, hard and sticking out proudly. He can’t help but try to memorize the sight of it, every vein, every curve. The way it seems to throb with life and Peter’s boy cunt feels emptier than it ever has in his entire life. He thought he’d be scared, or worried about taking it someday, but all he feels is excitement and need.
“Oh god,” Peter chokes out. He’s gripping the blanket so tightly it almost hurts. His mouth waters, feeling empty and cold in a way he can’t explain. “Sir– fuck–”
“Well that is a very nice reaction indeed,” Mr. Stark chuckles. “You wanna touch it baby?”
“Yes, yes, please,” he begs, scooting forward on his knees a little. “I– I want– I– it’s–”
“Just say what feels right, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he soothes.
“My– my mouth,” he whispers. “I want it in my mouth,”
Mr. Stark looks extremely surrpsied, but not disappointed or angry like Peter had feared would happen. He hesitates for a minute, clearly deciding whether or not to grant such a boon, but then he finally nods. “You can have it, baby boy. Hands and mouth, you can touch,”
“Oh, thank you, Daddy,” he whimpers as his hands immediately fly up. He rises up on his knees so he’s at a better height, his hands running up those muscled thighs. He shivers as he gets up close with his cock, the tip less than an inch from his lips. Overwhelmed, he tries to just do what feels right, like his dom had said.
Tentatively, he brings one hand around it at the base to hold it still, whimpering when his fingers don’t touch. Then he takes a shaky breath before sticking his tongue out and licking over the shiny, red tip. Mr. Stark’s breath hitches, and that’s an encouragement in of itself. So he does it again, and then moans as something in him alights. He gives little kitten licks to the tip and underside, working himself up to what he really wants.
Finally, he feels a surge of bravery and he parts his lips, wrapping them around the head of his cock. His jaw aches a little at how he has to stretch, but it’s a welcome ache as the weight of his dick settles on his tongue. His eyes flutter shut and he moans gutterly, sucking on it like it’s a pacifer.
He feels pressure against his skull, shivering as Mr. Stark tangles his fingers in his curls. “Look at you, kitten. All that crying and fussing about Daddy’s cock when it’s just what you needed, huh? That taste good?”
He whimpers in affirmation, bracing his hands on his thighs as his dom helps him take more of his cock in his mouth. He never hits the back of his throat, he just fills his mouth so completely that Peter has to inhale sharply through his nose. He flicks his tongue along the underside, groaning at the taste.
“Such a good boy,” he growls. The noise fills him with inexplicable pride and warmth, satisfaction flooding his core. He’s a good boy. He’s good for his Daddy. Nothing else matters. “Such a natural little cock sucker. God damn–” He inhales sharply. “- worth every fucking penny,”
Peter beams, feeling worth every one of the two million dollars his dom had decided he was worth. Maybe more. Maybe even priceless.
“Okay baby,” he finally shudders, using Peter’s curls to tug him off his cock. He whines softly. “I know, but Daddy has a plan honey,”
“Yes, sir,” he says hoarsely, returning to his polite kneeling, hands falling to his thighs once more. The fog lifts slightly and suddenly his cocklet is brought back to forefront of his attention and he whimpers in pain. It’s so hard and angry between his thighs, desperate for his Daddy to give permission.
“You’re being such a good boy for me,” Mr. Stark coos as he gets on the floor with him once more. Peter can’t understand it, but then large hands are urging him onto his back. He gasps softly as he’s once again put lower than his dom, right where he belongs, feeling small. His cock brushes against his hip and a tiny sob of overwhelm slips past his lips at how big it feels against his body. “Shh, shh baby, this is as far as we’re going. You’re okay,”
He hadn’t realized he was panicked about losing his virginity here and now, but once the words are said he relaxes visibly. His dom hovers over him, spreading Peter’s thighs with his knees and settling between them as he braces his hands on either side of his head. He holds himself up so his cock is hovering above Peter’s, just a breath away from touching.
“You ready to feel, baby boy?” he murmurs, brown eyes dark with lust as they look down at him. “Ready to feel what a real cock feels like against your little clit?”
“Yes, Daddy,” he sobs, keeping his hands at his sides since he hadn’t been told he could touch again. He doesn’t feel totally in control of himself as he babbles. “Please– please rub against my boy clit with your cock, please–”
“Jesus Christ, you’re a natural when you get going,” Mr. Stark mutters. “Now, I need you to try very hard not to cum okay? Tell Daddy if you feel close,”
Oh god. He already didn’t know how he hadn’t exploded spontaneously and now he had to hold back? “O-okay Daddy, I’ll try,”
“That’s my good boy,” he smiles.
Peter sucks in a sharp breath as his hips lower, and then lets it out in a long moan as he feels his dom’s cock dwarf his. He whimpers as he moves a little, really letting Peter feel how small he is in comparison. There’s a bit of friction and the slight pain helps him not cum instantly, but it’s only a few thrusts before he lets out a panicked mewl. “Close!”
Mr. Stark pulls his hips away instantly, beaming at him. “Good boy, how did that feel?”
“So– so good,” he sobs. “Want it back, Daddy please. Wanna cum on your cock, please, please please–”
“Shh, shh not yet,” he soothes. “You can have it back but you can’t cum yet,”
He lowers himself back down and Peter keens, his back arching as he helplessly grinds his hips up, rubbing his clit against his Daddy’s cock. “Mmm! Fuck– Daddy please–”
“Don’t even think about it, Peter,” he says sharply. “You wait,”
But it’s too late. He’s too far gone. His hands fly up to Mr. Stark’s biceps, clinging to him tightly as he rubs against his bigger body like a cat in heat. His mewls and whimpers sound mind-numbingly loud to his own ears. He’s sure he’s forming words, desperate pleas and begging between each sobbing noise.
In reality, it’s probably not even three second before he’s cumming but it feels like three hours of pure bliss. And then his cocklet explodes, shooting cum over his Daddy’s cock and his stomach as a blinding white wave of pleasure rolls over him. He lets out a sobbing shout, nails digging into Mr. Stark’s arms, leaving tiny crescent moons.
Everything goes quiet as his brain fills with static. He slumps back against the floor, his grip loosening but not falling completely. His tits heave with shuddering breaths and it takes a few moments for his ears to realize that his dom is talking to him.
“- baby, you’re okay, shhh– come back to me, kitten it’s okay,” he murmurs softly.
Oh no.
“I’m sorry,” he says bursting into tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”
“I know, I know kitten it’s okay, you’re alright,” he soothes, kissing his cheeks and forehead. “Did it feel good?”
“Uh huh,” he whimpers, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “R-really good,”
“I bet,” he laughs softly.
“Are– are you gonna punish me?” he hiccups, feeling guilt mix in with the aftershocks of pleasure.
“Yeah,” he says with a sort of fond smile.
It’s only now that he realizes there’s a sort of rocking motion happening, and he gasps as he processes that it’s his cock still rubbing against his overtsimulated cocklet. Awareness brought to him, he whimpers at the sort of pleasure-pain the motion brings, overwhelm rising in his throat. “D-Daddy, please–”
“Oh no baby,” he says, looking far too smug. “I told you to wait, so we could cum together but you just couldn’t help it, could you?”
“N- no,” he mewls, back arching a little.
“No,” he agrees, voice dripping with honeyed condescion. “So Daddy is going to use his little boy until we can try again,”
“It- it hurts a little,” he hisses, even as he pushes into his dom’s touch instead of away from it.
“Mmm, but you like it?”
And oh god he does. “Yes, sir,”
He hums and lays more fully over Peter, pressing his lips against his. He moans as Mr. Stark shoves his tongue into his mouth, totally claiming him. His hands slide up from his biceps and over his shoulders, before moving into his hair. He groans softly as he’s allowed to touch freely, and he uses the leverage to pull himself closer, hoping it lets him use him better.
And he does feel used, in the best way possible. This whole thing had brought him so many realizations he doesn’t know how many more he can take, so he tries to just turn his brain off and submit. It works, and soon enough he’s floating again, the only thing that matters is Mr. Stark’s mouth and his cock.
“Mmm– Daddy– feels so good–” he mewls between kisses.
“You too baby,” he says panting a little. “Such a good boy for Daddy. You close again? Gonna listen to Daddy this time?”
“Yes! Yes, I promise,” he keens, trying his hardest not to give in to his mindless wantings this time. He focuses on submitting, on letting his Daddy use him. “Thank you, sir– oh– fuck please, m’so close–”
“Wait, just a little more baby you can do it,”
He whimpers but obeys, holding off his rapidly once more approaching orgasm as best he can. It’s less desperate from the nature of it being the second in a very short amount of time. But his cocklet doesn’t know how to behave after four years of being locked away. And then, blissfully, the command comes.
“Cum for me baby, now,”
Peter gasps as his body obeys, squirting weakly as another wave of deep seated pleasure racks his body. But the really pleasure comes as Mr. Stark shudders above him, kissing him deep and hard. There’s another one of those deep groans that makes his toes curl and his cock throbs against Peter’s groin. Hot ropes of cum squirt between them, absolutely drenching Peter’s pelvis and stomach, even up to his tits.
It’s intense. Too intense. Blood rushing to his brain as he gets that dizzy, heady feeling like he had at the breakfast table. He goes lax in Mr. Stark’s hold as darkness flits at the corner of his vision. “D-Daddy–”
“Pete? Hey baby stay with–”
The darkness rushes to meet him but he’s not afraid. He knows he’s safe with his dom. All he feels is warmth and the pressure of his body as he gives in, head falling to the side as he falls into the void.