Tony used to assure himself that his reluctance to move beyond kissing with Peter was solely for the teen’s sake. No need to put undue pressure on him, especially with his first time, yada yada yada. And he was genuinely concerned about those things… but that was not where his problem ended.
No, Tony was not sure he’d be able to stop once he got a taste of that sweet, giddy boy. Doubted he could control himself, hold back, to give Peter a slow, loving, proper first time. Then Peter had had his issues prematurely coming; and instead of staving off Tony’s desire, getting to make the boy come once, twice, three, four times with his hand alone -- it had only fueled his desire more. He was addicted, addicted to seeing that sharp jaw clench back a cry, watch Peter’s watery, doe-wide eyes squeeze shut, his nose scrunching up as he comes undone.
Letting Peter top him first had been a simple solution. And perhaps Tony had been underestimating the teen. Certainly, despite how slender and small he seemed, Peter was nowhere near unbreakable. Tony’s purpled hips bore the bruises to prove it for days; that boy was powerful, and damn it, Peter was eager for more.
Nevertheless, Tony was forced to postpone the inevitable. He and Peter continued to work on delaying Peter’s orgasms; it would be much harder to pause if Tony was penetrating Peter, and could cause unnecessary discomfort on the boy’s part. Tony introduced him to the wonders of oral sex, and in addition to Peter practicing at home alone, he finally managed to stave off orgasm for a whole ten minutes
The night had started innocently enough; it was the weekend, and Peter was staying over at the tower. They were currently watching Citizen Kane, which Peter had been assigned as part of his English course.
“Is this the teacher I have to blame for all your ‘ancient’ movie references?” Tony muttered.
Peter snorted, not-so-subtly digging his elbow into Tony’s side as he wiggled into a comfortable position on the couch. “This is more than ancient,” he asserted.
“Shouldn't you be reading the classics, like Shakespeare or Dickens?”
“We're also studying Macbeth,” Peter said. “But things have changed from your days, Tony. We look at multimedia. And we don't even have to write our essays on a typewriter!”
“Alright, alright,” griped Tony. He gave the boy's side a light pinch as Peter continued to squirm. “Stop moving, kid.”
“It's dull,” he complained.
Sighing, Tony tugged the boy into his lap, wrapping his arms around Peter's lithe frame to pin down his arms. “Be a good boy and watch the movie, Pete,” he murmured in the teen's ear. Peter noticeably shivered, head tipping back as his hips canted against Tony's. “Can you do that for me, sweetie?”
Peter silently nodded, form collapsing against Tony in a sigh.
And he remained still, wrapped up in Tony's arms, for all of twenty minutes.
It started with him subtly shifting side to side, as if trying to get more comfortable. His face turned from the screen to Tony (whose eyes remained firmly glued to the flat screen), gaze tracing the man's profile, down his jaw, before finally burying his nose in Tony's neck.
With a fond roll of his eyes, Tony tightened his grip and pressed a kiss to Peter's soft curls. Of course, it didn't end there; he began to squirm restlessly, backside very obviously rubbing into Tony’s crotch. Peter's lips latched onto the man's neck as he hooked his knees over Tony's thighs, legs spreading as he began to thrust in earnest.
Chuckling, Tony abandoned any hope of finishing the movie as his hand trailed down Peter's stomach to cup his groin. “What's this, sweetheart?” he murmured, giving a taunting rub.
Whining, Peter thrusted into Tony's hand as he nipped at the man's neck. “Please, Tony.”
Tony sighed, as if truly exasperated, tugging on the boy's hair until he could peer into Peter's face. He pressed a kiss to the boy's pouting lips, smirking as Peter's mouth immediately opened in response. He had come a long way from an untouched, unkissed virgin - but hadn't quite picked up on subtly just yet. Tony obliged nonetheless, slipping his tongue between those slightly chapped lips into the velvet softness of Peter's awaiting mouth. The wet slide of their tongues never failed to make the boy quake, his hands trembling as they gripped the front of Tony's shirt. He twisted around until he was straddling Tony's thighs, knees squeezing against the man's hips as he rubbed himself against Tony's slowly hardening dick.
Tony’s hands slid down his young lover's back, fingers pushing past the elastic waist of his pyjama pants to cup the soft, plush skin beneath. He dug in, nails scraping ever so slightly as he teasingly parted the boy's cheeks.
“Sir, please, sir,” Peter was immediately begging, pressing back into Tony’s hands. “Mr. Stark, fuck me, I promise I'll be good.”
Tony let his index finger dip down, stroking, circling Peter's hole. “I don't know, sweetie,” he murmured. He rubbed his nose against Peter's clenched jaw as the boy simpered. “You're already so hard. Think you can last, baby?”
“Yes!” Peter gasped. The little miscreant fidgeted until he could thrust back, pushing directly onto Tony's finger. He let the digit sink down, the tip just barely pushing in, before he pulled back.
“Go get the lube,” he ordered. Instead of listening, Peter pressed closer, arms tightening around the man's neck.
“Mr. Stark, I can't, I need you,” he begged.
Tony simply tutted disapproving, giving the boy a light slap on his exposed ass.
“Peter,” he said firmly. “Go. Now.”
He disentangled with a huff before scampering off to the elevator. Tony took the time to tug down his pants and boxers, lazily stroking himself as he waited for the boy to return. It seemed he had barely closed his eyes to picture Peter, flushed and youthful and fidgety with need, before the boy returned. He held the lube in his outstretched hands, as if offering Tony a sacred artifact.
“Come lay down, Pete,” he invited, patting the couch cushions. In his excitement, Peter didn't think to discard his clothes; he settled onto his back, legs bent and knees pulled to his shoulders. Tony stretched over him, torso settling between his parted legs. One elbow rested by Peter’s ear as his other hand tugged the boy’s pyjamas up to his thighs. He had previously let Peter feel his finger, teased the boy with nothing more than his index finger up to the second knuckle. And now he slipped that same finger into his mouth, licking it to glistening wetness before reaching beneath the boy’s bunched up clothing and pressing inside his entrance. Peter moaned immediately, wicked and broken, head banging against the armrest.
“More, sir,” he gasped.
Tony pressed a kiss to the teen’s flushed cheek as he pushed until his finger was swallowed up to the base, gently prodding against Peter’s walls. He sat up, languidly thrusting in and out as he uncapped the lube and sloppily poured it over his remaining fingers. Peter’s hands clutched at his shirt as he lay atop the boy once more. His middle finger pushed gently, insistently, until Peter was whimpering, eyes squeezed shut, as his muscles relaxed enough for the second digit to join.
“Perfect, Pete, that’s it,” Tony murmured encouragingly, smiling into the teen’s hair. “Gonna come?”
“No,” Peter whispered hoarsely, turning to nuzzle his nose against Tony’s jaw. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”
“Gotta tell me if you are,” Tony reminded him, as his fingers pressed harder, faster, curling into the boy’s sweet heat. “I want to fuck you today. You can’t come yet, kiddo.” He made sure to lift his hips away from Peter’s, leaving the boy with nothing to thrust against.
His ring finger soon joined, Tony’s thumb and pinkie curling into his palm as he stretched Peter open. “Think you’re ready, Petey?” he murmured, dragging his tongue along the shell of his ear.
“Y-Yes,” Peter stuttered. His hands clutching Tony’s shirt managed to tighten somehow, pulling the man even closer.
“Okay, Pete, I’m going to need you to hold onto your thighs. Can you do that for me, bud?”
Peter’s eyes slowly peeled open, lips parted questioning as he stared up at Tony. “Wha-?”
“Hold onto your legs for me, baby,” the man repeated softly. “We’re almost there.”
Peter nodded jerkily, fingers gradually loosening their grip on Tony’s shirt to cup the back of his knees. The kid was so flexible, he could probably lock his knees behind his own head, but Tony thought the simple instruction may help ground him. Especially as he gently withdrew his fingers, causing Peter’s breath to hitch.
Tony barely felt the chill of the lubricant as he poured it onto the head of his cock and spread it down, allowing himself a few pumps of his hand before nudging in between Peter’s asscheeks. He could see Peter’s knuckles turn white as the boy gripped his thighs obediently, eyes squeezed shut once more.
“Too much, Pete?” he asked as he pushed in, inch by inch. There was a pause before Peter shook his head. “The lights?” This time Peter nodded, just a single jerk of his chin.
“Fri, dim the lights,” Tony ordered just as he entered fully, balls hitting against the boy’s skin. Peter sighed appreciatively, though his eyes remained shut. Reaching out, Tony stroked a soothing hand through his hair. “You have to talk to me, Pete,” he reminded.
“Please, just.” His voice trembled. “Move!”
Tony kept his first thrusts shallow and slow, pressing his forehead to Peter’s as he stroked his hand along the boy’s side. But soon enough his impatient brat’s knees were tightening around his neck, heels digging into his back.
“Mr. Stark, I can take it,” he promised before his tongue darted out to lick at Tony’s lips.
The light touch to Peter’s side turned into a tight grip to keep him pinned to the couch as Tony dug his feet into the opposite armrest and began to push harder into his boy. Peter’s arms and legs began to shake, his fingers still clutching onto his thighs, desperately digging into the material covering his skin.
“Fuck, that’s it, baby,” Tony growled, smothering Peter’s lips to swallow his cries. “Take daddy’s cock.”
At that, Peter let out a low, wrecked moan. “Dad-daddy,” he cried out. “I’m coming.”
Peter’s knees clamped against his neck almost tight enough to choke him as the boy thrust up into Tony’s stomach, coming into the fabric of his pyjamas. With a whimper, he shifted his knee away from Tony’s neck to shyly press his face into the man’s collarbone. “‘M sorry,” he mumbled.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Tony quickly reassured, wrapping his arms under Peter’s back to pull the boy into a hug. “Let’s give it a minute and we can start again, okay?”
The teen nodded mutely, periodically spasming as his orgasm continued to hit him. As Tony began to pull out Peter groaned, fingers finally peeling from his thighs to grab at Tony’s shoulders.
“Shh, shh,” he comforted, peppering the boy’s face with feather-light kisses. He wrapped a hand around his cock, pumping to keep his erection from flagging. Though it was near impossible for such a thing to happen as he gazed down at Peter’s flushed, sweaty, bliss-slackened face.
He sat up abruptly, much to Peter’s half-hearted protests. “C’mere,” he said, free hand encircling the boy’s wrist to pull him up. “I’m going to fuck you now.”
He tugged Peter to his feet and to the end of the couch, where he pressed between the boy’s shoulder blades to bend him over the armrest. Peter was moaning already, back arching in anticipation as he smothered his face willingly into the couch. Tony took a moment to admire Peter’s pert ass, one hand kneading the firm flesh as his other trailed up the boy’s spine, pushing his shirt along the way, to finally grip the nape of Peter’s neck. The teen’s fallen pyjamas exposed just enough for Tony to nudge his asscheeks apart. He spat into his hand, rubbing the saliva into the boy’s lubricant-coated hole before pushing his cock inside once more. Peter’s muscles clenched around him as the boy pushed his face deeper into the cushion.
Tony’s thrusts lost the tenderness from before; his hips snapped forward at a rapidly quickening pace, egged on by Peter’s wailing moans. He held Peter’s hips against the armrest with a bruising squeeze, his other hand easing its grip on the boy’s neck only to twist into his hair.
“Oh,” Peter moaned, feet scrambling against the floor before they found purchase on the tops of Tony’s, toes digging into the man’s skin. “Yes, daddy, yes.”
“Fuck,” Tony groaned, bending over to fold his body on top of Peter’s. “Baby, you’re so perfect for me.”
“Mr. Stark!” Peter gasped. Tony was forced to release Peter’s curls as his head tilted to the side. His eyes were clenched shut as he panted heavily, drool dribbling from his gaping mouth as Tony’s body slammed into his. The man smashed his lips against Peter’s cheek, every thrust knocking his nose into the boy’s temple.
Peter struggled onto his elbows, arms that could deflect a car with ease now shaking with effort. The altered position let him arch his back further, angle his hips higher, and Peter cried out as Tony nailed his prostate. Bracing one hand on the boy’s shoulder, Tony straightened, his other hand closing on the boy’s waist to slam Peter’s hips back in time with each thrust.
“Pete, you’re so tight,” he managed through gritted teeth.
Peter was babbling instantly, as if he had been waiting for permission. “Please, I can’t, sir, I need to come.”
Tony groaned at the sight of tears wetting Peter’s cheek, his fingers biting into the boy’s skin,. “I’m so proud of you,” he said. His next thrust sent the smack of skin echoing around the room, and Peter honest to God wailed as Tony let his pace deteriorate into a brutal onslaught. Peter’s toes grabbled against Tony’s shins as the teen was pushed deeper into the armrest, his feet no longer able to reach the ground.
“You can come now, sweetheart,” he permitted as he felt his balls tightening and muscles clenching.
Peter cried out, legs thrashing between Tony’s and the couch, burying his face into the fabric as he sobbed. Tony’s hit him a few beats later, gasping as the climax radiated through his limbs. “Pete, Peter,” he groaned, continuing to thrust weakly with each pulse of his cock. “I’m filling you up, baby.”
Peter whimpered in response, struggling to lift himself off the couch. Tony winced at the sensitivity of pulling out, staring as his come dripped down the boy’s thighs to seep into his pyjamas. Regrettably, he tugged the fabric back up to Peter’s waist before helping the teen stand and turn around.
“How’re you feeling?” he asked as he cupped Peter’s jaw. His thumbs brushed away the pretty tears marring the boy’s cheeks. His lips were red and swollen, almost matching the subtle puffiness and pink tinge to Peter’s eyes. “Was that too much?”
“It was good,” Peter mumbled, barely managing coherency. He sagged forward, forehead knocking against Tony’s shoulder as the man quickly wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist. “‘M good, Tony.”
His hands slipped under Peter’s shirt to brush against the boy’s sweaty skin; he could feel the minute, sporadic trembling of his muscles. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?”
“Mmm.” Peter said nothing else as he wrapped his shaky arms around Tony’s neck, holding tightly.
“You’re not exactly light,” Tony grumbled as his hands slid down to grasp the back of Peter’s thighs and tug them to his waist. He grunted at Peter’s full weight, stumbling a bit as he adjusted. He was certain the boy was dead to the world before they even made it to the elevator, Peter’s soft, patterned breaths puffing against Tony’s throat as his body grew lax.
Tony ruffled his hair, staring down at the teen with a fond smile. “I think I might love you,” he whispered.
The only response he received was a sleepy sniffle, and perhaps it was cowardly, but he was glad to keep that sentiment to himself. For just a little longer.