“How do I know you aren’t still using it though?” Peter was still worried that Mr. Stark didn’t trust him with the suit even though he said the baby monitor protocol was off.
“Don’t you have homework to do?” Mr. Stark sounded frustrated.
“I always do my homework, Mr. Stark.” He might have said that with a lot of eye contact and some deeper meaning he hadn’t consciously meant to convey, but Mr. Stark’s tone bothered him.
Mr. Stark looked at him for a long moment then finally went back to his work.
Peter left before he could make things any more obvious.
Heat rose in waves as Peter watched over the neighborhood. The noise from the distant traffic was usually a soothing background sound, but Peter was anything but soothed. Spending time with Mr. Stark was always great. The problem was Peter’s thoughts about him had changed of late. He wasn’t angry with Mr. Stark. No, he was bothered in another way.
The suit felt too tight, too much, covering all of his body. He decided to go home and slung a web to the next building. He could still smell Mr. Stark. He always smelled like money, something smooth, like some kind of wood, and the underlying scent of metal. So, the awkward boners when Mr. Stark got a little too close or told him he did good were making Peter a little tense.
Good Peter Parker. Just once, Peter wanted to be bad.
He made it to his building and went in to his room. He looked around for something that would help ease the tension but there was only one thing he could do. Unfortunately, that particular remedy wasn’t a cure for what Mr. Stark did to him. Then the thought occurred to him. It was crazy--completely insane, but he wanted.
“Karen, call Mr. Stark, and I want him to have video.” He went into the bathroom and locked the door. His heart pounded at what he was about to do.
“What is it?” the man asked, brusque. His voice made Peter’s body twitch.
“Are you watching?” Peter asked with more confidence than he felt.
“Yeah. I thought you didn’t want me to do that.” It sounded like Mr. Stark tossed a tool aside from the loud clanging sound.
“Can you see this, Mr. Stark?” He turned to the mirror where his reflection showed him still in the suit.
Peter told Karen to open the suit but leave the mask. “This is what you do to me, Mr. Stark,” he said quietly.
“Peter, what are you doing?”
Peter didn’t answer. He trailed one hand down his chest and heard a deep intake of breath. He watched his hand travel lower, over his abs, and down to his hard dick.
“Peter,” Mr. Stark’s voice sounded conflicted and that was all the permission Peter needed.
Suit open, hard dick in hand, the head poking through the ring of his fingers, Peter stroked himself. “Fuck, Mr. Stark,” he moaned low. It was good knowing Mr. Stark was there, listening and watching.
It wasn’t long before he bit his red lower lip, tensed, and came with the strongest orgasm he’d ever had.
He leaned back against the wall and moaned, “I want you, Mr. Stark.”
“Fuck,” Tony said. He was breathing hard. Then he disconnected leaving Peter bereft.
After Peter recovered, the realization of what he had just done hit him. “Now, I’m the bad guy,” he said to his reflection. It felt kind of good.