Peter thinks it's a line, at first.
After all, it's the line. The line every successful older guy uses to get into the pants of every pretty young thing.
"My wife knows. She's fine with it. We have an arrangement, blah blah blah."
Peter tells himself he's not going to be the moron that falls for that.
Which is not saying that he doesn't fall for Tony. He just doesn't fall for the lie.
Or what he thinks is a lie. Until Pepper walks in on Tony fucking him.
Peter does a lot of things that he shouldn't, with Tony.
There's the obvious: he shouldn't be fucking a married man. He shouldn't be fucking his boss. He shouldn't be fucking his married boss who's had paparazzi on his tail since 1970. And oh yeah, he really shouldn't be fucking his famous married boss because he's thirty years his senior.
That's not even the problematic stuff, though.
He shouldn't fuck Tony in the office, in the lab, or on the elevator. He shouldn't fuck Tony in his living room with floor-to-ceiling windows. He really, really, really shouldn't fuck Tony in his marriage bed.
He shouldn't let Tony use him the way that he does. Isn't it enough that Tony is Tony? That Tony is famous, wealthy, older, cheating, and that he (or his wife!) could ruin Peter's entire future in a hot second? Isn't all of that enough of a power differential for them?
Because Peter lets Tony use him. Rough and selfish. It's not a sacrifice. For whatever reason, Peter loves it. Loves when Tony chokes him on his cock or pins him to the nearest surface and fucks him hard.
That's where they're at when it happens – Peter's pinned, head craned back by the grip in his hair, chest pressed down by the hand planted between his shoulder blades, trying not to come as Tony fucks him like a beast. They're on the master bed and Peter is going to blow his wad on an absurdly expensive, dry-clean-only, hard-to-explain-why-it's-missing duvet.
He's moaning as loud as he can manage while Tony compresses his lungs, which is probably how he doesn't hear Tony's wife until she's five feet away.
"Tony. What the fuck."
Peter freezes. So does Tony.
"Oh. Hey, Pep. You're home early – how was Japan?"
Peter's heard Tony be blithe in circumstances that would cow lesser men, but this is ridiculous. Peter's gonna fucking die. Especially since Tony starts to rock into Peter's ass again.
Peter squeezes his eyes shut and tries to disappear.
"Don't 'Pep' me. What the hell do you think you're doing to that poor boy?"
Unbelievably, Tony groans a little and starts fucking Peter harder. "He likes it."
Oh, Jesus Fuck. Did he just SAY THAT??
"Nobody likes to be used like a fleshlight, Tony. You think just because I'm not around, you can forget everything I've taught you?"
Everyone's gone still again. "It's not…really, Pepper, he likes it. Tell her, Pete."
"What the fuck is even happening right now?" Peter asks while trying to suffocate himself in the bedspread.
Tony has some practice deciphering his speech while his mouth is not entirely unobstructed. "Well, my wife came home early and decided to criticize my sexual technique, which is – ow-ow-OW-OW-OW."
Tony's weight is suddenly gone, and Peter turns, grabbing a pillow to put over his junk, and sees Tony on the floor, on his knees, with his ear twisted firmly in Pepper Potts' grip.
"Fuck, Pepper, you're gonna rip one of those off of me some day."
"Well it's not like you use them to listen."
"Then what part of 'don't be a selfish prick' didn't you understand?"
Peter is…awestruck in the most terrified way. There's a reason he's avoided meeting Pepper like the plague. He met Tony first, one thing led to another, they slipped and Tony's dick slid down his throat, and then Peter, very sensibly, didn't want to be impaled on a Manolo Blahnik.
Everyone who's paying attention knows that Pepper Potts is way fucking scarier than Tony will ever be. It was self-preservation, really.
And now he's naked on her bed, asshole loose from her husband's dick, completely without excuses, and he's not even the one that she's mad at. Not because she holds Tony accountable for keeping his dick in his pants, but because…
Peter's not even sure. He's seriously at a fucking loss.
"I'm sorry, Pepper," Tony says. He sounds more exasperated than repentant.
"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."
Tony's eyes widen. "I'm not apologizing to Peter! He loves it like that!"
"Peter," Ms. Potts says sharply, with her eyes still pinned on her husband.
Peter's balls try to crawl back into his pelvic cavity. "Yes, ma'am?"
"Has my selfish prick of a husband ever blown you?"
"Has he eaten you out?"
Christ, this is getting weird. "No, ma'am."
"Let you fuck him?"
"Engaged in any kind of foreplay longer than 3 minutes?"
Her voice keeps getting meaner, but she still only has eyes for her husband. Who seems to shrink with every answer.
"Uhm. No, ma'am." Not even the first time, to be honest. Peter had been face-down in his lap in record time. "But I've, um. I've enjoyed myself," he tries.
Pepper purses her lips down at Tony. "That's because you're young enough to get hard at a stiff breeze and still coming to terms with hero worship. But he knows better."
Peter opens his mouth to defend his own honor (every man for himself) but…honestly, she's probably right. And she didn't even say it like she was mad at him. Just Tony.
Pepper finally lets go of Tony's ear (Tony breathes out a sigh of relief) and puts her hands on her hips, clearly waiting.
Tony, without looking anywhere but her shoes, says, "Peter, I'm sorry for being a selfish prick."
Peter's at a loss. Things are super fucking surreal. "Um. I forgive you?"
"You don't deserve that," Pepper says flatly. Tony's shoulders hunch. "Go to your corner."
Peter watches, half fascinated, half mortified, as Tony crawls over to a corner that Peter failed to notice holds a cushion. He kneels there facing the wall like a little kid.
Peter's so morbidly interested in Tony that he doesn't realize Pepper's moved in front of him until she touches his cheek.
He startles badly, and she steps back. "Sorry," she says. Now that she's not scolding Tony, he can tell that she's tired. But her face is soft and her voice is warm. "I should have asked before I touched you. I know we haven't met, but Tony adores you so much, I feel like I know you already."
Peter stares. She's speaking English, but it might as well be Greek.
"I thought…I thought he was lying when he said that you knew."
From the corner, there's a sound, which stops when Pepper snaps her fingers in that direction.
"You know, that…I should have guessed that would happen. Tony's not the best at actual communication." She smiles, tight and exhausted. "I just got off a 14-hour flight from Tokyo, so I am in desperate need of a shower. If you stay, we can talk about this afterwards."
"Um…okay. Sure," Peter says.
In a very different tone, Pepper turns and says, "You, don't move a muscle, whatever he decides. I'll deal with you later."
She smiles at Peter again, strained, and disappears into the bathroom.
It takes Peter all of 90 seconds to decide that waiting around is batshit crazy. He grabs his clothes quickly, without looking towards Tony, and makes a mad dash for the subway.