Chapter Text
Peter’s life would be a simple one, sure. But it’d be his.
He’d sleep in until like 7, and take the subway to work. At his job, the people would smile at him and greet him by his name- Peter. Maybe Mr. Parker. They wouldn’t all be his friends, that would be too much, but they’d invite him when they all went to lunch as a group and wouldn’t openly snub him and talk about him behind his back.
He’d work at a desk, using a computer with internet access and he’d listen to music as he did something to do with science. Maybe it’d be quality control or something. That’d be nice. A steady routine. Something with a uniform. The job would have health insurance and sick days so he wouldn’t get fired when his stomach acted weird for no reason.
When he got off work, he’d get to choose his dinner. He could go anywhere he wanted in New York to get it. Dim sum. Thai. Pizza. Taco Bell. Oh, he could totally go for some Taco Bell. He’d get a chalupa and the beefy crunch burrito- oh and a crunch wrap supreme with extra sour cream on it. And those little twirly things with sugar on it? He’d get like 2- no 3 bags of those-
He’d sit on his couch in his jammies and wrap himself in a blanket and just shove Taco Bell in his face while he watched a TV show and looked at something on his phone all at the same time-
“Omega.”
That probably wasn’t for him. Their stubbornness on leaving omegas nameless until their alpha gave them one was honestly the stupidest fucking thing he’d ever heard of. How the hell did they keep records? They had to have numbers or fucking something that they just never mentioned. And conversations meant that they had to just hover menacingly over whoever the hell they were talking to since omegas “should never be the first to speak”.
“Male Omega,” she repeated insistently from somewhere way too close to him.
Peter breathed in and blinked back to reality to give a blank look up at the beta woman in a white uniform who towered over him from his seat on the floor. When they made eye contact she took a step back so she wasn’t breathing down his neck anymore and eyed him up and down as if he were fundamentally lacking something.
Peter was used to this by now. If she wasn’t happy she could use her words. He wasn’t going to start some sort of guessing game. When it was clear he wasn’t going to start looking for hoops to jump through she glared at his chest and cleared her throat pointedly.
He counted to three before he looked down, and found he’d managed to dribble his lukewarm oatmeal down his bare chest without him noticing. It was dangerously close to one of his nipple rings. Thank god for small miracles. Jostling them to clean them was a fucking pain.
He moved carefully, the bells at his wrists tinkling daintily as he took the napkin off his lap and removed the oatmeal before putting it back. Sometimes he wished the napkins were bigger. He swore there was always some sort of fucking breeze in the meal hall, and if he still had his balls, he’d be freezing them off right now.
Once done, he resumed his neutral position with hands on his lap holding his bowl and spoon and gave her another blank look. One, two, three- he counted to ten as she stared back, obviously testing him, trying to get him to speak unprompted.
He didn’t give in, and once he hit ten she gave him a small unfriendly smile.
“Come with me, omega.” Whelp, there went his breakfast. He really should know better than to zone out like that while he was eating, but he fucking hated oatmeal and pretending he was elsewhere was pretty much the only way he managed to choke it down. And now, thanks to his dawdling, he’d only have like 5 bites to last him until lunch. He placed the oatmeal and spoon on the little raised table- was it a table if it was only like 4 inches off the floor and went down half the hall? Anyway, he put his oatmeal on it, and wiped his face daintily with his napkin before covering his food with it- a signal he was done eating, and rose from his kneeling cushion without using his hands.
The beta woman said nothing while she waited for him. She was somewhat new, having only been there for maybe a month or so, and Peter made a point of not learning the staff’s names. It was a tiny stubborn pointless bit of resistance, but still.
Around them, the other omegas, all of them girls, bent closer together so they might gossip in hushed whispers behind their face veils. He didn’t need to hear it to know what they were saying. What had he done now? Was he going to get a whipping, you’d think he’d finally learned- outright scandalous they even let him live here, etc. Peter had heard it all.
In a way he understood their skepticism of him- technically he was the only male on the grounds of the Omega House campus and most of them had been here since they were six and so he was the first man they remembered seeing. It wasn’t their fault he’d lived on the outside for so long and so had an attitude about the ridiculous shit they thought was normal. He kinda felt bad for them sometimes.
But only sometimes, because dear god it had become abundantly clear in the time that he’d been here that all the stereotypes about omegas were mostly true. Jealous, spiteful, haughty, vapid idiots, some of whom managed to even chew gum in a way that begged for someone- anyone- to murder them to spare everyone else the misery of existing with them.
Or maybe it’d been too long since he’d had chocolate or decent carbs. It was getting harder and harder to tell.
The beta walked off, then stopped when she realized that he was too far behind her. She sighed dramatically, but did not comment. Life moved pretty slow in the Omega House as it was, but Peter always made a point to drag his metaphorical feet while obeying the stupid rules to a T.
Whip him once, piss him off.
Whip him twice, he starts to hold a grudge.
Whip him three times for not “meeting expectations”? He’s reading the manual and you’re getting fucking malicious compliance for the rest of your life.
The rules said the chimes at the feet and ankles must “tinkle gently” while he moves? Congrats, it’s going to take him 10 minutes to walk 10 feet, fuck your schedule. It’s not like he had anything else to do anyway. And it’s not like they could punish him for it either- graceful movement was prized. Plus it gave him more time to zone out. He was getting a bit too good at that lately. He wondered if he should be concerned by it.
Anyway, he’d have a shoe collection. It wouldn’t be anything extravagant. Just some converses and maybe a couple of pairs of nike. He’d buy them at a thrift store. He loved walking the aisles there when his Aunt took him for school clothes or when the toaster quit working again. So many things to look at all jammed into a too small store. And he’d have fuzzy slippers to wear inside. Blue ones. His feet would never be cold again.
That’s what he’d do on Saturdays. He’d take the subway to a new thrift store until he’d visited all of them, and then he’d start rotating to only the ones that he liked until his apartment was filled with cheap but interesting stuff. Maybe he’d start a collection? Put up some shelves- no- get some bookcases. Bookcases were classier, and he was going to fill them with books on genetics and maybe if he had money he could get legos.
He could do that on Sundays. Put on a movie, make a nest in the living room and build complex lego things. That would be nice. He’d start with all the Star Wars ones-
“Omega,” the staff woman was not pleased. She’d stopped and he’d almost walked past her down the wrong fork in the hallway. He stopped as well, eyeing where the carpet of ‘allowed’ space ended, and the forbidden area of tiled flooring began. Was this another test? If he voiced a concern without her telling him explicitly to speak he’d be breaking a rule. But the tiled sections of the House were strictly off limits. It was the easiest way to remember and mark the sections since most of the omegas in the House were illiterate at best and wouldn’t read a damn sign anyway.
Maybe that was why they were so cliquey. He’d never been much into sociology. Maybe he should have taken it instead of all that physics when he did dual enrollment at Empire State. Either way he made a point of skeptically inspecting the floor with disdain. The tiles would be possibly slippery and not only that he could fucking feel the draft of the fucking AC already. She had on a full robe uniform thing but he was naked except for his feet and ankle bells and his face veil. And the cockcage thing, but he always tried to not think about that part. It was all for “health” supposedly, whatever the hell that meant.
“This way omega,” the woman said firmly gesturing, and moving her body to block him from walking any further down the carpeting. Touching him was strictly forbidden.
Wonderful. It’d been ages since his last whipping, and so they’d decided to continue the brainwashing whatever by forcing him to break a rule. Step on the tile, whip. Don’t follow directions from staff, whip. This was going to suck.
He stepped on the tile, just waiting for people to jump out and go “aha!”, but it didn’t happen. Instead the beta woman just walked past him and kept going.
Okay then. What the fuck was happening?
They went down a corridor to a slope that he quickly figured out was an underground tunnel which honestly answered so many questions. Some quick mental math when he’d first arrived told him that there should be 46,000 omegas just in Queens, and since he’d only seen like maybe 200 of them- where the fuck were the rest of them? But a connected collection of buildings made much more sense, especially since there wasn’t a kitchen in the building aside from the locked one that was only used for cooking classes. They had to have a commercial kitchen somewhere to feed them.
They walked for fucking forever and by the time the beta stopped outside a door Peter was well on his way on figuring out how exactly he’d arrange the tie fighters around the death star in a little display in the window he’d make. Maybe not directly next to the window though- direct sunlight was bad for the plastic-
“Inside please,” she said.
Peter stepped inside and stopped. What in the Yes to the Dress nonsense was this? One wall was lined with mirrors with a little step up platform in front of it. Boxes were open full of jewelry and sparkles on various tables. The other end of the room was occupied by an open shower and what looked like a hair and nail salon.
“Ah- omega- step up onto the platform please,” a beta woman- he vaguely remembered her from his first day here. She had a slightly better uniform than the others. A much smaller and ancient beta woman stood beside her with glasses on a chain. Her fingers were gnarled with arthritis and she stood with a hunch.
Peter cautiously stepped onto the platform, and the ancient woman looked up at him and sighed like she’d been served a piece of shit on a plate.
“She’s so tall!” she complained loudly. “And so flat!”
“It’s a he, Madam Marie. He’s a male omega,” important beta woman said loudly in Marie’s ear.
Marie batted her away. “I’m not that deaf yet, and it doesn’t matter does it? Now let’s see what we’re working with-” she didn’t sound enthused as she pulled a white flexible tape measure from around her neck and stepped towards him.
“Oh my,” she clucked as she measured the distance between his nipples for some reason. “Not much to work with, but don’t worry my dear, I’ve seen worse. She’ll need a collar and connected chains to the nipples- it’ll drape nicely and emphasize what little bust she does have. At least nothing’s drooping yet.” She alternated talking to him and yelling at the others standing by the jewelry stations. “What’s her level?”
“The highest tier, Madam.”
“Ahhh... aren’t you a lucky omega then. We’ll do diamonds and...” she grabbed his hand and examined the back of it over the top of her glasses. “Rubies. Definitely rubies. And gold. Take away this silver- it does nothing for her coloring.”
They were doing dress-up now? Peter was thoroughly lost.
“Spin?”
She had to smack at his hip before he realized she was talking to him and he obediently spun so she could see his back.
“Ah- and now we see why she has the highest tier!” she exclaimed happily. “This I can work with. Such an ass! I know you must have worked very hard to get it, hmm? You should be proud-”
“Madam Marie-” the important beta scolded.
“What I would have done with such an ass when I was her age! My husband would have died so much sooner from exhaustion!"
“Please- our omegas are delicate creatures,” important beta pleaded. “There is no need for such talk.”
Marie snorted. “Oh yes. Such delicate creatures," she waxed sarcastically. “Look at these thighs- such acres, we’ll have to do some custom draping with layered chains I think- and these hips-”
Peter could feel the tape measure hit the back of his ass as she held it against him.
“Wonderful hips. She will have so many children! Yes. I see the vision now. You go scrub her clean and I’ll get to work.”
“Thank you Madam Marie.”
What followed was a spa day from hell. It probably would have been heaven if they treated him like he was an actual person and not some random dog they’d found on the street that needed a good flea bath. They chattered easily amongst themselves while they exfoliated his fucking taint for god’s sake.
The occasional simpered “Oh, poor omega. We’re almost done sweetheart,” thrown his way like he was fucking four didn’t help either.
They gave him a fresh manicure and pedicure and scrubbed his scalp like his long curls owed them money and they thought they might find some change up there. After 20 minutes, 2 different Madams and a 3 ring binder filled with pictures of various hairstyles, it was decided his curls were just too much on their own so they were straightened with some sort of heated metal clamp thing and braided into submission. They dotted his braids with jewels, and he did not look forward to getting the damn things back out again.
What on earth were they doing?
When they were done sanding him down, he was heavily lotioned and he stood on the platform again while they shoved various gold rings onto his fingers, toes, limbs and into all the various piercing holes he’d gotten since he’d arrived here. He got armbands, a chain that went from a delicate collar necklace to his nipples after hanging low enough to drape on his sternum and belly, and some sort of custom gold chain skirt thing that they built directly on him, bending the chains closed, taking it away to heat it up a bit, and then trying it on again. In the end, it draped semicircles of chains perfectly across his thighs and ass.
The last piece they put on him, they actually scruffed him before bending him over a table so they could put it on- some sort of solid gold g-string that sat directly against his butthole and attached to his cockcage in front. He hated it- it pulled on the cage and it was fucking god damn cold.
When they let him go he tugged on it and got “HANDS!” screamed at him. Years of training kicked in and he instantly let go and held his hands together just above his navel. Thankfully they gave him a moment to stand there and get himself together.
The madams- there were three of them now, all hunched little old beta women- conferred quietly. The oldest spoke.
“I think our dear omega needs some kindness,” she announced.
Peter was instantly suspicious. He was even more suspicious when a tiny cup with a small white pill and glass of water was produced immediately, almost as if it had been prepared beforehand.
“Omega- take your vitamin dear,” the beta woman said sweetly like he was fucking four. “It’ll calm your nerves.”
The pill inside the cup was a tiny bar snapped in half with the letters “Xan” on it. Great. ‘Calm his nerves?’ He was fairly sure the xanax would do more than that, but he took it since there wasn’t really another choice here. At least they let him kneel on a pillow until he stopped shaking so much.
God, he fucking hated being scruffed.
Okay. So. X-wings- should they join the diorama or should it be separated into an imperial side and a rebellion side, or should he stage the attack on the death star from the first movie? That was a difficult decision- it might take him a while to save up for all the models he needed, plus he had to factor in construction time. You don’t just build a death star and a millennium falcon in just a day. The tie fighters alone would probably take a day or two- maybe he could do both? Display each side then when he had enough, combine them for the diorama? Hmmm...
“Omega-”
God damn it, why the hell did they have to keep fucking talking to him? He blinked back into his body and gazed at the probably important beta who was sitting next to him on a step on the platform, as if she cared or knew him somehow. She smiled brightly at him when she saw she had his attention.
“Dearest Omega. I know your journey so far has been difficult. It has been 4 years now, and you are still overcoming the damage from being... unshielded from the world.”
Peter would argue he’d been damaged from being fucking kidnapped- wait. Did she say four years? Wait- that meant-
“But it is now time for you to leave us. I placed your name into the Book of Joy just this morning and already you have been chosen. Your alpha is very anxious to meet you- he has been dreaming of you even longer than you have been dreaming of him.”
It had to be a prepared speech. The girls were often encouraged to imagine what their alphas would look like, with a few very flattering pictures of fully clothed actors (one of which Peter knew wasn’t a fucking alpha) provided for them as “examples” of what they should look forward too.
And yeah, Alphas were rare- but they weren’t as rare as they used to be after all the devastating losses from the world wars. Not all of them were company owners and generals anymore. Some of them were just random douchebags managers of a Denny’s.
And now apparently he’d been sold to the highest bidder. A fact, that before it had been his literal ass on the line, had seemed kind of practical. Make sure the alpha had enough money to support the omega that kind of thing. Reimburse the house for the care and schooling of the omegas etc, since all omegas were housed free of charge.
He looked down at the diamonds on his fingers and wondered how much he’d been sold for. He felt sick.
“I know- precious omega,” she took his hand and patted it as condescendingly as possible, “It can be scary leaving the serenity of the House for the outside world. But we believe we have made a wonderful match for you. You’re old enough now to care for your children, and bring joy to your mate. It’s time for you to leave the nest. Don’t be afraid- here-”
A couple of betas women came forward with a thick white cloak and ceremoniously draped it across his back. The important beta pulled it around and fastened it close with a little clasp.
“This is to keep you unseen until you are finished traveling. I’m told you’ll be treated to an airplane ride today. It sounds very exciting.”
Someone behind him hiked up a hood over his hair. “It’s still sunny out, dear omega,” they chirped happily. “We don’t want you getting sunburned.”
Right, of course. Since he hadn’t been allowed outside since he got here, he was paler than a sheet of paper.
“Come. It’s time. Your alpha is waiting for you.”
It took three of them to get him to his feet and into the wheelchair because never-mind all the ‘fuck no’ that was going on in his head, that xanax was some serious shit.
He would- um. The falcon and the death star probably wouldn’t fit on a typical ikea shelf. He’d need. He’d need.
Fuck.
Okay. God damn this shit made it hard to think.
Eventually they wheeled him into a foyer where there were doors leading to the outside. An old man with a graying beard and a dark suit was sitting in a lobby chair with some men in black standing around him, obviously body guards.
Double fuck. Of course with his Parker Luck he’d get the old fucking pervert.
The old man looked up from his phone, and raised an eyebrow at him. “This him?”
“Yes, Alpha Stane,” the important beta said. “We have finished. He is ready to go.”
“And you promise that he’ll bear children?”
“Actually, we prefer not to discuss such things in front of the omegas. It um. Confuses and alarms them. We would not want our omega to be alarmed on your bonding day, do we? Today is a happy day after all. But your contract is a standard one. We were told your lawyers approved it.”
“He drugged? I don’t want hysterics on the plane.”
Peter watched as another beta woman came forward and handed him a small pill case.
“We have given him something to calm his nerves as he travels. The pill in the first slot will ease his stress. No sooner than six hours from now if bonding is not possible within that time. The pills in the second slot give no more than one hour before bonding. I advise you to set a timer on your phone as a reminder. And this is your key.”
The man nodded and handed the pills off to someone but pocketed the key. Peter wondered what it went to.
“Remember that- I’m putting you in charge of keeping track of this.”
“Yes, Alpha Stane,” he said and scurried back as if Stane was some sort of easily offended god.
“Good. Let’s go. We’re behind schedule as it is.”
Peter wondered if they’d have all the scissors put up like they did at the Omega house. Slitting the wrists in the bathtub was such a cliche way to go, but surely it was cliche for a reason? Meaning, it had to work, right?
He watched helplessly from just a few inches behind his own head as they wheeled him outside for the first time in years.
Despite his despair, he fell asleep in the car.
When he woke up, his brain seemed to be mostly working again- it didn’t take him long to figure out he was on a plane, and a private one at that- he could see the land beneath them out the window and these leather seats were definitely not standard fare. Not that he’d ever been on a plane before but he’d seen movies.
Not wanting to join the mile high club, he sat quietly and did his best to pretend he didn’t exist. Which honestly worked for a while until a stupid male beta with dark hair pointedly checked on him and clocked that his eyes were open. The beta smiled awkwardly at him, and Peter was never more grateful for his veil. At least he could somewhat control what his eyes looked like.
“Alpha Stane!” the beta called, and Peter was either going to stab him or shit in his shoes at the first opportunity once they got to wherever they were going.
The old man wandered in from another row of seats. “You awake?” he boomed.
“Yes alpha,” Peter said, only because it was obvious the man wasn’t going to speak until Peter said something. And he wasn’t sure how free the man was with his belt yet. There would be nowhere to hide on the fucking plane if he pissed him off.
Stane gave him a shit smile and sat heavily in the seat next to him. “Well, I think it’s a good time that we had a talk about your future.”
Peter bowed his head a bit to show he was listening.
“Now, I don’t want to disappoint you, but I’m afraid I’m not going to be your Alpha. I only came and got you for my nephew. Someone like you deserves a special delivery, am I right?”
There were no words to express his relief. He really did not want his first time to be marked by a man who was easily a hundred plus pounds heavier than him dying of a heart attack while he was inside and on top of Peter. He felt that was quite possibly the worst way to lose your virginity.
“Now, I love my nephew very much. And he is... just a wonderful alpha,” Stane lied through his teeth. “But I’m afraid that I’m worried about him. He’s um. Gone through some things lately and he’s just not been himself. I think that you’re going to help him with that.”
WTF dude, he wasn’t a puppy.
“And I was thinking that if I were to call the house from time to time, you could talk to me- tell me how he’s really doing, that would be great. How do you feel about that?” His body language shifted, and Peter could tell that was not a request. It was an order.
Peter went with the safe route. “I wish for my alpha to be happy,” he said softly in his best ‘stupid omega voice’.
“I’m so glad we’re on the same page. You know- I’ve known him his entire life- in fact I was his guardian after his parents died so we’re practically blood. Which means that you’ll be my niece when you’re bonded. We’ll be family. Won’t that be nice?”
First of all, he was a boy so no. Second of all he just wanted the man to back off. Yeah sure, his breath didn’t stink but he was not digging the man’s vibes at all.
“And I want you to know that I care just as much about you as I do him. I really do- and if you have any concerns about him, I want you to call me, okay? We’ll help each other out to make sure that my nephew is happy again. The staff there will have my number. You uh- you know how to use a phone sweetheart?”
“Yes alpha,” Peter said.
“Excellent. If you’re in doubt, you can always ask the staff to call for you. They won’t mind. Plus I’m family, so it’s allowed- you don’t have to tell Tony about it at all. I don’t want to worry him- he doesn’t like it when I meddle, but it’ll be for his own good.”
“Yes alpha,” Peter said.
“Excellent.” The man moved as if to pat Peter’s leg but aborted the movement at the last second to awkwardly place his arm on the armrest. “Wonderful. We’ll be landing soon. Stewart! Give him the pills, would you?”
Asshole popped up again with a glass of water at the ready. When Peter hesitated to hold out his hand, Stane spoke up again.
“Take the pills, omega,” he said firmly.
Peter took the pills.
They landed and then it took a while for them to get off, and then the car ride in the high end blacked out Jeep thing both scared and bored him. At least they hadn’t given him the other xanax, so he was able to walk on his own and not like drool all over himself or something, so that was nice.
By the time they got to the truly ostentatious house behind a security gate Peter was starting to feel a little warm for some reason. Which was baffling. Yeah, the cloak thing was nice but he was still fucking naked and they were blasting the AC since it was still summer outside.
Stane stood outside the car when Stewart opened the car door for him. “Wait outside for us,” he said, and stalked off to the front door holding a pizza box.
A beta in a uniform answered the door and let them inside. “Please let Tony know I’m here- no mention of the guest, please. It’s a surprise.”
The blonde beta man nodded and scurried off, while Stane walked into the house like he owned the place. He dumped the pizza box on a coffee table before removing his suit jacket. Peter, deeply unsure of where to be, hovered anxiously for a second before Stane noticed him.
“Ah- do not fret. Your alpha will be here soon. Why don’t you wait back here behind this plant? I want you to have a good entrance.”
Peter reluctantly stood in the shadow of some sort of hideous fern tree thing. Honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure who the hell had decorated this place. Sad Bachelor Alpha Monthly? There wasn’t even so much as a single loose accent pillow on the long low and beige couch. Everything was sleek and sharp looking. And there was a weird water thing with a dead tree in it that had to be an absolute nightmare to clean.
Even the asymmetrical beige fake fireplace low key pissed him off. Was the man allergic to color?
Stane started playing classical music on a piano in a weird mystery nook that was the only safe place from the giant floor to ceiling south facing curtainless windows that had to turn this place into a fucking oven when the sun was up, and Peter could see that most of his future was going to be spent looking at fucking draperies.
Wonderful. Redecorating. Just one of the things he got the worst grades at.
A much younger dark haired alpha sprinted up the stairs Peter hadn’t noticed behind the water thing, going at least two at a time like an idiot. Weirdest of all, he had this glowing thing in his chest-
That was Tony Stark. Peter stopped breathing, and aimed to achieve invisibility.
The man who was either Tony Stark, the billionaire genius of his time, or his fucking stunt double zeroed on the pizza.
“How’d it go?” He asked, circling the pizza box like he was some sort of wolf. “That bad huh?”
“Just because I brought pizza back from New York doesn’t mean it went bad,” Stane said, still playing.
Tony gave into temptation and snagged a piece before landing on the couch with all the restraint of a toddler. “Sure doesn’t,” he waxed sarcastically before stuffing his face.
That was Tony fucking Stark. Peter recognized the voice from a demonstration he’d done on circuit boards for an online tech magazine. He’d watched the video on a loop, trying to mimic his soldering skills. The man was nothing short of a revelation, going so quickly the camera people had to beg him to slow down and even played things in slow motion in post. It’d been like watching Bob Ross paint. Complete effortless mastery.
“It would have gone better if you were there.” Stane said.
“Uh-uh. You told me to lay low. That’s what I’ve been doing. I lay low and you take care of all the-”
This was going to be his Alpha.
“The public. The press- this was a board of directors meeting,” Stane scolded, leaving the piano to grab his own slice.
Holy SHIT- Tony Stark was going to be his fucking alpha!
“Board of directors?” Tony demanded in fake shock.
Peter had to take deliberate breaths. He could not fuck this up.
“The board is claiming you have post-traumatic stress. They're filing an injunction.”
“A what?”
“They want to lock you out,” Stane said and took a bite of his pizza.
“Why, cuz the stock dipped 40 points? We knew that was gonna happen-”
“It was fifty seven points,” Stane corrected, chewing.
They sounded like they were talking about the weather but even Peter knew that had to be a huge change. How were they so calm about losing so much money?
“It doesn’t matter. We own the controlling interest in the company.”
Stane sighed. “Tony, the board has rights, too. They're making the case that you and your new direction isn't in the company's best interest.”
“I'm being responsible!” Tony protested, far too loudly. “That's a new direction for me- for the company. I mean, me acting on behalf of the company, I’m doing the right thing now-” he was babbling really.
Stane gave him a strained smile and stood. “How long have you been awake Tony?” he asked gently.
“That’s- I don’t see what that has to do with anything-”
“And that’s why I’m here today. I’m worried about you, boy. You can’t keep going like this.”
Tony snorted. “What does it matter? I’m clean and um. Mostly sober now. But I can keep up just fine without it-”
Peter would take him, clean or otherwise. If spreading his legs and sucking Tony Stark’s dick got him access to Tony Stark’s lab, he’d do it no problem. What was the phrase? “I volunteer as tribute”?
“I got you something,” Stane said, and made a sweeping gesture. He had to repeat it for Peter to realize that was his cue for his entrance. He did his best to walk gracefully over to stand next to Stane. He was trembling for some fucking reason, and he could feel a trickle of slick go down his leg as he moved. Which meant he hadn’t even been introduced and he was already falling to pieces.
Keep it together Parker. He knew he wouldn’t get another shot at this.
Tony’s eyes widened and darted between them. “What the fuck is this?” he demanded.
“This is your new omega,” Stane said, and undid the button of Peter’s cloak, pulling it off like Peter was a new car on the Price is Right.
There was a moment of heavy silence as Tony stared at him with a slack jaw.
“Well, don’t just stand there, Tony. Tell him how pretty he is,” Stane scolded.
Tony blinked back to being. “Wait- he- what the hell do you mean he-”
“This is the only male omega available in North America. Very expensive. Very rare. Incredibly hard to find. And I got him just for you.” Stane sounded like was indulging a spoiled child.
Tony visibly balked, and Peter tried not to take it personally but it was hard. He kept his eyes downcast as a good omega should and did his best to radiate perfection or something.
“For me- you got me a he- for me-” Tony gestured wildly between Peter and himself. “What are you trying to imply-”
“Tony,” Stane scolded. “You think I don’t know? There isn’t a thing about you that is a mystery to me. I’ve known you since you were a little boy, and your father- rest his soul- confided in me. ‘What were we going to do with Tony’, he’d ask. We thought college would help keep you busy with ah- appropriate activities, but don’t think for one second your security team kept your indiscretions or your tastes secret from us. Who do you think has been cleaning up behind you for all these years? Hmm? You think it’s a coincidence that only the women have made it to the papers?” Stane had inched closer with every word to Tony and poked the shorter man in the chest at the end.
Tony had his face turned to the floor, his eyes closed and his fists clenched at his sides with either embarrassment or rage, Peter wasn’t sure.
“So what you’re going to do is you’re going to mate this omega. Take care of him. Properly. Show the board that you’re a responsible, clean, sober and serious alpha capable of sitting at the big boy’s table. You’re gonna stop seeing all your little ‘friends’ on the side, and indulge in your... ‘tastes’ with a socially acceptable partner. Am I clear?”
Tony took a slow breath. “Obie- I am 25 years old-”
“THEN WHERE IS YOUR HEIR?” Stane roared back from way too close to Tony’s face. “Where is the rest of the Stark Legacy? I told your father it was a mistake waiting so late to have you. Maybe if you’d been more involved in the early days we wouldn’t be having to have this conversation!” He stepped back, and seemed to realize that Peter was still standing there, essentially naked in the living room and waiting.
“I’m sorry omega,” Stane fawned, and Peter almost got whiplash from the sudden tone change. “Don’t take what he says to heart. He’s a good man who’s taken too long to grow up.”
Peter only had eyes for Tony. “Alpha?” he asked quietly.
Tony made a face. “No I-” he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, but what the hell is that smell? Why does it smell like a bakery in here-”
Peter flushed, and tried to do a better job clamping his legs together as another string of slick made its way down his leg almost to the back of his knee.
“Boy, you have so much to learn,” Stane sneered. “That smell means he’s about five minutes from going into heat. Any experienced alpha could tell you that. I’m going to assume you know how to knot him, yes? Good. Here. You’re gonna need this.” he took the key from his pocket and handed it to a baffled Tony before patting him on the shoulder and walking toward the door.
“Wait- heat?” Tony sounded panicked. “Are you serious? And what the hell do I need a key for?”
“Happy bonding Tony,” Stane teased, and waved dismissively with his back to them as he walked towards the front door. “I’m sure you’ll be able to figure it out. Dumber alphas than you have managed for centuries.” He walked out and closed the door firmly behind him, leaving them alone together.
Tony looked like he’d rather be in front of a firing squad at the moment, but Peter couldn’t let that stop him. After all the years of bullshit and stupidity, he couldn’t- no wouldn’t go back. He looked over the top of his veil with his best puppy dog eyes.
“Alpha,” he said softly, some of his desperation leaking through.
“Uh- uh- okay. Okay. It’s going to be okay, alright? I um. We’re going to figure this out-” Tony babbled, running stressed fingers through his hair.
Fuck it. Peter lurched forward, enveloping him with a hug. “Alpha please,” he begged. “I’m so empty.”
That last bit was a lie, but he’d heard some guys making fun of it back in college. It was apparently a porn staple. Tony took a beat to put his arms around him, but Peter could feel Tony’s erection in his pants when he purposefully pressed his thigh against him. Tony scented Peter’s hair and quietly muttered “Fuck.”
Got him.