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Peter was Tony’s student, his protege, someone he had taken under his wing to teach and mentor. Peter was bright and quick-witted, even if his common sense needed some tweaking here and there when it came to his crime-fighting. It was Tony’s job to notice things like that, and to practice what Pepper had called “positive reinforcement” by complimenting him or critiquing him and offering suggestions.

What he wasn’t meant to notice was Peter coming into the lab one day with lips that happened to look shinier and pinker than usual. The bulge in Peter’s back pocket was suspicious as well, and it took nearly a full hour for Tony to realize what it was.

And, in true Tony Stark fashion, he just couldn’t keep the realization to himself.

“Are you wearing lip gloss?” he asked while Peter was busy chewing on his bottom lip and mentally breaking down the holographic schematic in front of him. 

Peter’s brow shot up at the sudden accusation, teeth releasing the now-plump and wet lip that, yes, was definitely pinker than normal. Tony was also quite sure that there were flecks of iridescent glitter speckled across it, too, and the hologram was making it easier to see within the film of saliva coating his lip.

“O-oh,” he stammered with a nervous laugh. His eyes darted down to the floor in front of him, a dark blush creeping up his neck. “Yeah, um, I can explain. I lost a bet with MJ last week and let her put makeup on me for a day. I liked the lip gloss, though, so I might have stolen it from her bag while she wasn’t looking.”

For a moment, panic took over his features, and he sat straight up in his seat.

“Is that weird? It feels weird now that I’ve said it.”

Tony had to physically stop himself from vaulting across the room to stop Peter from using the sleeve of his sweatshirt to wipe the glittery polish from his lips.

“No, kid, don’t worry about it.” Tony waved a hand in the air, a mockery of waving away Peter’s fear of being caught. “You can wear whatever the hell you want here. I was just asking.”

Peter took a moment to take in Tony’s words before grinning. “Whatever I want?”

Tony wasn’t sure if the tone in Peter’s voice excited or worried him.


Tony rubbed at his eyes, half-willing that maybe he was dreaming or so sleep-deprived that he was beginning to hallucinate, but upon opening his eyes he realized that he was very much awake and not seeing things. Peter was normally very good at dressing appropriately for lab work, but today…

Today he was testing Tony.

Sure, the kid was kinda scrawny and all the muscle on him was built for acrobatics and flexibility, but Tony was a firsthand witness to the fact that he owned clothes that actually fit him. Instead, for whatever goddamn reason, Peter had decided to wear a sweatshirt so big that it hung off one shoulder and running shorts that disappeared under the shirt’s hem. Every inch of his long legs was on display while he sat cross-legged on one of the many rolling stools in the lab and tinkered with the HUD display in his mask.

Tony avoided saying too much out of fear that his tongue would get stuck to the roof of his suddenly-dry mouth and trip him up.

The hair on Peter’s legs was thin and sparse, and god, Tony wanted to walk over and run his hands over the muscles bulging out beneath the skin of his thighs. He thought about how delicious that skin would feel under his fingers if he decided to run his hands up them, pushing the sweatshirt up his stomach, letting his touch slide up those running shorts that were just barely visible…

He needed a shower so cold he’d contract hypothermia.

Tony shot up from his stool so violently that it slid across the floor and fell on its side after running into another worktable littered with unused tools. The noise startled Peter from his concentrated stare at his mask, voice weak as he called after Tony to see what had bothered him. Tony didn’t respond, instead asking Friday not to reveal too much to Peter, just in case his young protege asked after him.

Tony was going to hell. By now, he had pretty much accepted it. Sure, there were a multitude of reasons as to why he would be subjected to eternal damnation after his (probably untimely) death, but the top of the list would be lusting after the young man he had decided to mentor in world-saving. Peter was 18, a fresh-faced freshman in college, and Tony had absolutely no business in thinking about him the way he did.

And it certainly didn’t help that Peter had decided that, today of all days, he was going to wear a pleated skirt to the lab. At this point, Tony should have said something, enforced a dress code that was tailored specifically to prevent him from going absolutely bonkers. The last thing he wanted to do, though, was stifle the kid’s self-expression. He was an adult, and his recent dive into feminine presentation had zero detriment on his work or results. 

There was no other reason Tony could hide behind besides his own stupid dick.

For once, there was no sweatshirt, but he was wearing a gray t-shirt that was maybe a little too tight on top of a black and red plaid skirt. He still wore a normal pair of black and white sneakers on his feet, and Tony almost wished he was wearing something a little more feminine, maybe a pair of black Mary Janes if he was being honest. 

Almost. He still had some self-control left.

Tony pointedly ignored the fact that Peter was wearing a skirt that barely covered the boy’s ass and instead tried to focus on the misfiring gauntlet in front of him. Friday was unusually silent today, no longer offering her assistance unless Tony specifically asked after her, but Tony didn’t think anything of it. His AI were sometimes a little finicky, and it wasn’t unusual in the past for JARVIS to become silent on days when he wasn’t continuously addressed.

He had almost managed to completely forget about his student’s state of dress, if not for the fact that Peter had decided, at that moment, to push Tony back from his workbench and stand purposely between Tony’s knees. He looked… upset. Tony blinked, trying in vain to figure out exactly what he had done wrong, when Peter twisted his fist in Tony’s shirt and pulled the older man closer.

“You are infuriating,” he said, and the words, combined with his frustrated tone, threw Tony for a complete loop.

“I’m… what,” Tony repeated dumbly, mind working a mile a minute to figure out what was going on. 

Infuriating. God, I’m going absolutely insane trying to get you to just look at me.” Peter’s hands were gentle, still callused from years of vigilantism and lab work, when they framed Tony’s face and forced him to look at Peter. His mouth fell open as Peter’s thumbs felt over his stubble, prickly from not being shaved. “I’ve been waiting for weeks for you to do something, and I can barely hold your attention.”

“Pete,” Tony said, but a finger against his lips rendered him silent.

“I’m tired of waiting on you to make the first move.” Peter’s hands lowered, bringing Tony’s arms up, and the older man swallowed through a thick throat when he found himself cupping Peter’s ass beneath the skirt, the cheek fitting perfectly against the curve of his palm. (And, oh god, the kid wasn’t wearing any underwear.)

It took far too much effort for Tony to regain his voice. He was getting rusty.

“You’ve been doing all of this on purpose?” he asked, and he couldn’t help the hungry way his eyes cast over Peter’s skirt, up past the tight shirt to the sparkly, glossed lips now pulled into a proud smirk. Tony could think of several ways to wipe it off his face.

Peter leaned down until their faces were just inches apart, his arms looping around Tony’s neck. He could smell the artificial cherry-sweet scent emanating from the boy’s lips. Tony’s hands remained on his protoge’s bare ass, unable to move, not wanting to move. The barest of flexing in his hand had his fingers digging into the fat meat, and Peter practically moaned against him.

“Mm-hm,” he hummed. “I thought the skirt would have done you in, but god, you held out for so long. I’m almost proud, but I can’t wait any longer.”

Fingers thread through Tony’s hair, Peter’s lips brushing against his.

“I want you to fuck me, Daddy.” Tony’s heart damn near stopped. Peter sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, teeth clinging to it as his eyes followed the motion of Tony swallowing. “I want you to fuck and ruin me, and I don’t want you to feel guilty for doing it.”

Tony wanted to close the distance, non-existent as it was. Wanted to kiss him and taste that cherry lip gloss on his tongue, and fucking hell, Peter was literally in his lap and begging for it. The guilt bubbled up again, apparent on his face, because Peter took it between his hands again and pressed their lips together so desperately even Tony moaned into the kiss.

It was sinful, downright sinful, how good he tasted.

Tony was going straight to hell. He might as well enjoy the ride.