Something Borrowed

It was quiet for a movie night, with only half the gang present. Thor was off in Asgard, Bruce halfway across the world, and Natasha probably shanking someone even as Tony yawned and tossed another piece of popcorn in his mouth. The bowl on the floor was down to the kernels and those baby pieces that were half popped and half crunchy, and always got stuck in his teeth.

They were watching some action movie with a lot of explosions, a lot of pretty women, and not a lot of plot. Tony nearly didn’t hear the door open over the sound of a car crashing into a wall on the screen, but he had been waiting impatiently and not even gratuitous violence could fully distract him. Peter was supposed to have been back an hour ago, before the movie even started.

Peter knew it. Tony could tell by the sheepish expression on his face as their eyes met, Peter slinging his backpack against the wall, hesitating at the edge of the room. Waiting for Tony’s say.

God, he was such a good boy sometimes. It almost made up for the fact that he was late with no notice.

“Come here,” Tony said, parting his legs where he was stretched out over the love couch across the room, creating a nice little space for Peter to settle in.

Steve looked up, blinking at Tony in confusion, apparently not having noticed their new addition. He was the only one--Bucky and Clint had the perception and awareness of an owl on a truly tremendous amount of speed. Steve was a master of tactical decisions in the heat of battle, but off duty, relaxed with his boo, he was as attentive as Tony was humble.

Bucky smirked and leaned over to whisper something in Steve’s ear, and Steve flushed as he turned his head in time to see Peter crossing the room to join Tony on the couch. He had made his protestations the very first time Tony had brought Peter out to play with the others around and Tony had made it quite clear that he was welcome to use one of the many other entertainment rooms if he was uncomfortable with Tony’s entertainment.

Steve had grumbled about it, but Tony noticed that the once or twice he’d brought Peter out to play Steve hadn’t left the room and he sure watched an awful lot for someone whose old fashioned sensibilities were offended. Tony was pretty sure Bucky had some part in that. Tony would give good money for the chance to hear the things Barnes was always whispering in that ear of Steve’s that made him flush pink and avert his eyes at the dinner table, the fitness room, and anywhere else Bucky saw fit to talk what had to be filth.

Then Peter was there and Tony had more interesting things to do than think about what Steve and Bucky got up to in their spare time. He guided Peter into his lap with a hand on his hip, settling him into the V of his thighs, back to Tony’s chest. He was a skinny thing, just perfect to wrap both arms around to keep him in close, waiting until Steve met his eyes before sliding one possessive hand up under Peter’s shirt and hiking the hem up with it.

Steve gave him an unamused look and turned back to the tv, but Tony didn’t miss the smirk Bucky sent his way. At least someone had a sense of humor.

“Can we get back to the movie?” Clint complained, curled up in an arm chair alone and looking sort of mulish about the interruption. “We missed the best part of the car chase. I’m going back.”

“Well we can’t miss that,” Tony said, voice mild, turning his attention back to the screen as the movie started up where they had left off.

Peter was tense in his lap, though the fidgeting fingers resting on Tony’s thighs were the only part of him that moved. He had probably been expecting a scolding at the very least. Tony was too relaxed for that, having already sipped through a finger of whiskey after a long day of meetings. Having his boy back, warm and quiet in his arms, was enough to settle the last bit of discontent he had been holding. He was inclined to be forgiving.

It was easy to wait out the misgiving. Peter relaxed inch by reluctant inch until he was leaning with his whole weight against Tony’s front, his socked feet shifting to tuck under Tony’s calf. His toes were always so cold, and he was a shameless heat thief about it. Still, he was pliant and just where he should be, and that was good enough. Tony nuzzled his face in against the side of Peter’s head and laid his lips there, breathing warm against his temple, and tuned more fully into the movie.

It was distracting, though, that warm weight all across the front of him. Peter had been away a lot the last week, some big project for one of his classes stealing him away. He hadn’t even climbed into bed until after Tony had fallen asleep the night before, and woken when Tony had just to jet off again. Tony didn’t like it.

But here, now, with Peter under his hands again, Tony could take his fill. He traced the hand on Peter’s hip across the warm band of skin along his waist that was laid bare to the room, just light enough to send his skin into goosebumps. He felt a little shiver run through Peter and grinned. He was so sensitive, the spidey senses surely playing a role in that, and Tony lived for it.

He slid a soothing hand along Peter’s belly until the bumps had retreated again, but he had Peter’s attention now. He could feel it even in the quiet between them by the way Peter had turned his head just a fraction of an inch toward Tony’s face, how his still fingers had curled just a touch against Tony’s thighs. Tony settled then, resting the heel of his left hand on the button of Peter’s jeans and letting the pads of his fingers rub the soft skin below his navel.

The lead character was confronting some guy with a mohawk and a bad attitude on the screen again. What was he even angry about again? A dead wife? Missing kid? Something to do with his family, but the plot was poorly made and entirely forgettable. Tony tuned in for half the conversation before his mind wandered again to the boy in his arms. This time he played the fingers of his left hand against Peter’s ribs where they had landed, running along the divots between bone then down the series like a finely made cello. Peter turned his head a little more Tony’s way, but Tony blocked it with a turn of his own, nudging him back to look at the tv again.

Little touches and brushes of skin weren’t quite enough anymore, and the fact Peter was still clothed was honestly an annoyance. He wanted to feel all that skin, slide his idle hands wherever they felt like roaming, map every little contour and plane as he had many times before. He made do with what he had for the moment, running his hand from ribs to sternum, then up and across. His finger brushed across Peter’s nipple and that seemed a nice place to stop, rubbing back and forth a few times, circling with the tip of one finger, then pinching between two.

Peter tensed then relaxed within a moment, struggling to stay still and quiet beneath his teasing. Tony had mercy, dropping his hand from the nipple to run down the center of his stomach, then back up and up and up until his fingers were in the dip of Peter’s clavicle, the shirt stretched and constricting around his upper arm and elbow, nearly the entirety of his stomach bared to the world. Tony chanced a glance up but no one was looking, attention focused on the movie. He wasn’t sure whether that was what he wanted or not.

The long line of Peter’s torso looked beautiful in the dim overhead lighting, stretched out pale and soft for him. That expanse of skin belonged to Tony, was there for Tony to do with what he would, and there was nothing in the world that pleased him more. He kept his left hand where it was stationed, holding the shirt up with one nipple covered and the other pebbling in the cool air. The right hand he toyed along the waistband of Peter’s jeans, up to dip into his belly button, then down again to the button of his pants.

There was entirely too much clothing between them and Tony wanted more to touch. He popped the button without a second thought then took the zipper down. The sound caught Clint’s attention, eyes finally straying to zero in on Tony pushing Peter’s fly apart with one hand. Tony frowned, then, because it was impossible to push those down any further without using his other hand too, and he quite liked where that one was at.

He nuzzled his lips back to Peter’s ear, giving the shell just a little suck before speaking quietly. “I want those off. I wanna touch you.” Then, when Peter seemed to hesitate: “Don’t get shy. Take them off.”

Peter didn’t respond, but he didn’t waste any time after that either. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his pants and boxers and pushed them down together, shifting his hips up to get them around his thighs, and shimmying them down from there to his knees then pushing them off with his feet. He was so limber and adept, which came in… useful.

“Good boy,” Tony murmured, letting his hand follow his eyes from the jut of hip bones to the soft dick that was partially hidden by his closed legs. He slid his fingers between those thighs, taking a moment to enjoy the sight of his tanned hand against Peter’s pale skin, rough on soft, unforgiving touch against yielding flesh. “You’re so pretty, baby. I’ve been waiting all day to get my hands on you.”

Apparently the commotion of pants removal had caught even Steve’s attention, because he made a strangled sound and glared at Tony as he caught sight of the state of Peter, half naked between Tony’s legs. Tony let one side of his mouth quirk in a smirk, using his hand to push Peter’s thighs to each side, spreading them to give himself better access to slide his hand in and cup his dick and balls, giving them a little roll between his fingers. Steve looked like he wanted to tell Tony off about it, but then his eyes shifted to Peter’s face and he faltered.

What did he see? Tony couldn’t see Peter’s face, but he could perfectly imagine the way Peter was probably not even looking at the television anymore, cheeks pink and mouth parted, eyes focused off on some distant point, or maybe staring right back at Steve with that wide eyed attention. He thought of how Peter looked when he bit his bottom lip and he wanted to bite it for him, but he settled for leaning his head down to mouth and suck along Peter’s neck instead.

Peter’s cock was beginning to fill just a little in his hand as Tony rubbed his fingers along the soft length of it. He let it fall from his grip to run them down past his balls, down into the crevice of his cheeks. It was a bit of a reach with their positions but he managed to get his middle finger to Peter’s little hole, tapping twice, frustrated with the inability to press that finger in.

Well, there was nothing for it now anyway--everyone knew exactly what was happening, quiet be damned. Tony maneuvered his knees between Peter’s own, then lifted and spread, opening Peter’s hips up with his own. Much better. Tony could reach enough to play two fingers around that hole, then press the tip of one in as far as his dry finger would go. Peter hissed as Tony encountered resistance and he pushed just a little further in, just because.

“Do you really have to do this during movie night?” Steve finally asked, sounding a bit steamed about it.

“Yes,” Tony said, not even deigning to look his way in his effort to crane his neck in just such a way to see his finger as he pulsed it forward and back just a hair, but it was no use. Spread across his lap was great for some things, but not for that particular view. Tony pulled his finger free, displeased that he was going to have to move them or accept an inadequate view, and instead circled two fingers around the tight little hole. “I’m not stopping you from watching the movie. Not my fault if you can’t drag your eyes away.”

Steve huffed and went quiet, but Tony didn’t miss the way his eyes had briefly flicked down to where his fingers were toying with Peter. Tony was going to consider that a win.

“Anyway, my house, my rules. If I want to finger fuck Peter-” Tony emphasized the words with a sharp flick of the wrist to abruptly press both fingers in to the first knuckle, Peter gasping and going taut in his arms, fingers digging into Tony’s pants as he breathed through the stretch and sting. “Then that’s what I’ll do.”

God, Peter was so impossibly tight and hot around his fingers. Tony wriggled his hand forward a little more without much success, held back by the tense clench of muscles and the friction of dry flesh. Tony mouthed hungrily along Peter’s jaw line, his own hips bucking up, pressing the hard line of his cock against Peter’s back. He wanted to fuck the kid so bad, just flip them over and drive himself in, but there was no way he would fit dry and he’d forgotten to restock the lube in the room.

“Open your mouth,” Tony said, pulling his fingers free and up to run them along Peter’s mouth as his lips parted, unresisting as Tony both digits in. “Good. Now suck.”

He had Clint and Bucky’s full attention now even if Steve was steadfastly staring at the movie again, eyes pinned unmoving right in the middle. Peter was sucking Tony’s fingers, eyes shut and head still as Tony pressed them in and out in a slow, steady pace.

“Get ‘em nice and wet.” Tony pressed his fingers in as far as he could, sliding down the back of Peter’s tongue, feeling his throat flexing wider to avoid gagging on them. Tony held there for several long moments, then slid the fingers all the way out, shiny with spit. “Open your eyes.”

Peter’s eyelashes fluttered and opened. Steve was watching now too, head ducked but turned halfway to their direction, eyes not looking quite at them but with Peter on the edges of his sight. He could do better than that. Tony considered only a moment then dropped his left hand to hook under Peter’s knee, pulling up as he shifted them with his hips, canting Peter so his ass was more toward the center of the room, the new position baring his hole to the men watching them. The movie played on in the background, covering the quiet of held breaths.

“Relax,” Tony ordered, not waiting for Peter to obey before he dropped his wet fingers down, circled his entrance once, then began a slow, steady push with both fingers.

Clint was cursing and unbuttoning his pants, watching as Tony’s fingers pushed inexorably in. Peter hadn’t listened and was tense against him, head turning to press against Tony’s jaw, panting hot against his neck. He hadn’t been stretched enough for two fingers, especially not with spit for lube, not after half of one dry finger. Tony paused just a moment as he approached the second knuckle, assessing, before pressing in that too until he had bottomed out, Peter giving one small whimper then going quiet again.

Tony wasn’t looking at Peter anymore though. His eyes were on Steve, at the man’s tense jaw and unblinking stare forward, the way his shoulders had jerked up toward his ears at the little sound Peter had made. Tony waited, still, fingers pressed up tight to Peter’s ass, waited for that breaking point he knew was coming. It came after only a few seconds, Steve’s eyes turning to look at them, the too-taut stretch of Peter. His eyes flicked up to Tony’s face next, and of course he immediately noticed that Tony was staring right at him, smirking, and only then pulled his fingers out and plunged them right back in with a third to boot. Peter hissed and jerked, back bowing up like a plucked string.

“Stark-” Steve said, face tightening into a glower as he sat up, beginning to shift his legs around to the ground but stopped short by Bucky pushing them back with his own. Steve scowled at him next.

“Come on, Stevie, don’t ruin the show,” Bucky complained, leaning back hard into Steve’s chest as if to press him back down.

“Yeah, Stevie,” Clint agreed, eyes still on the fingers that had begun pumping in and out of Peter. “It’s a good show.”

“It’s not,” Steve muttered, solid as a brick behind Bucky, scowling so hard his forehead was crinkling. Peter had settled again, not quite relaxed but soothing into breathless little pants with each inward thrust. Steve didn’t resist when Bucky reached back with both hands and pulled Steve’s head down until he was ducked in close enough for Bucky to talk directly into his ear, too low for Tony to hear.

Steve went still, listening intently. His eyes flickered to Tony and Peter partway through, then back to Bucky. Bucky pulled one hand away from Steve’s head and grabbed his hand instead, sliding it into Bucky’s lap to palm the hard shape of his cock. Steve’s eyes fluttered in a slow blink, gaze falling down into that lap, fingers curling around the shape of him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Bucky arched up into his hand and sighed out a moan, and just like that Steve was sinking back into the couch beneath Bucky’s weight, looking as if he wanted to eat the man alive.

Shit, they were hot as hell together. Tony’s hand had sped up without his noticing and Peter was getting all tense and fidgety again, the fingers gone mostly dry inside him. Steve was unbuttoning Bucky’s pants, hesitant but eyes dark with want, and that was enough to send a pulse of pleasure straight through Tony’s cock. He pulled both fingers out and gave Peter’s ass a little smack, releasing the leg he’d been holding up.

“Kneel on the floor,” Tony said, entirely done with teasing and touching. His cock was throbbing in his pants and Bucky was watching them again, lazy and lax against Steve even as one broad hand was sliding into the open fly of his pants. God, he needed more, and now.

Peter slid onto the floor and crawled forward, waiting for Tony to swing his feet onto the ground before sliding in between his thighs and sitting back on his calves. He looked up at Tony, eyes wide and dark. His lips were red and wet where he must have been biting down on them, and when Tony slid a thumb along them Peter leaned forward to suck it into his mouth. Tony groaned, watching him for several long seconds before pulling his thumb out and leaning back, knees spreading.

“Get to work,” he said, voice rough.

Peter reached with both hands to open Tony’s pants, sliding them down when Tony lifted his hips to allow it, focus between Tony’s legs where his hard cock had sprung free, dark and already leaking at the tip. He glanced once at Tony’s face then leaned forward and licked away the precum with a broad swipe of his tongue, swallowing it then mouthing his way down the length of him. Tony reached down and slid his fingers into Peter’s hair, gripping to pull him back to the tip.

“None of that. Be a good boy and suck me off.”

Peter didn’t need to be told twice, just opened his mouth and started to sink straight down on Tony’s cock. Tony moaned, hips flexing of their own accord into that wet heat, hardly able to hold himself back from holding Peter’s head down and taking what he wanted.

“No, that’s fine,” Clint griped from across the room. “You guys all have fun. I’ll just be over here taking care of myself. Alone.”

Lord, the man could be such a child. Tony rolled his eyes, letting his hips relax as Peter sank down the last inch, lips pressed tight to the base of his cock. God it was heavenly. He wanted to live in that mouth. When Tony managed to drag his eyes away from the sight he looked over to find Clint stroking himself with one hand, somehow managing to look resentful about it. On the other sofa, Steve was holding Bucky’s hip down with one hand and jacking his cock with long, hard strokes with the other.

“Relax, birdbrain,” Tony said, both hands coming to rest on the back of Peter’s head as the boy began to move. “If you can manage to have some patience, I’ll let you fuck Peter’s mouth once I’m done.” Peter’s eyes flicked up to him at that, then away with concentration as he sank down on Tony’s cock again.

“Seriously?” Clint asked, perking up. “I thought he was yours.”

“He is mine,” Tony said easily, interrupting Peter’s next rise up halfway through it and pushing down until he could feel the back of his throat again, so smooth and firm just there where he wanted it. He met Clint’s eye then, holding Peter’s head down against his crotch, feeling that throat beginning to twitch and flex around him as Peter struggled not to move. “But I can share.”

Bucky cursed across the room, and Tony glanced over in time to see him fucking into Steve’s fist once, twice, before Steve grabbed his hip with one firm hand and held it down, immovable as a stone. Tony watched the fat wet head of Bucky’s cock as Steve worked him with a methodical slowness, and Steve’s eyes were focused there but Tony was under no impression that he wasn’t just as attuned to Tony and Peter, and probably even Clint.

“Is his mouth good?” Clint asked, letting himself slip down the chair in a sprawl, legs spread wide. There was so much testosterone in the air Tony was pretty sure he could smell it.

“He’s so fucking good at it,” Tony agreed, encouraging Peter into a fast bob with a hand at his head. He would never get sick of watching himself gliding in and out of those lips. “Deeper, yeah, just like that.”

“You train him to take your cock?” Clint asked, never content to butt out and be silent. His eyes were fixed hard on the join of mouth and cock, nearly unblinking, but his hand had slowed as he awaited his turn.

“Anywhere I want it,” Tony confirmed, letting his head fall back as he felt the heat building in his groin, a tidal wave of pleasure just waiting to be freed. “I taught him to choke on my cock or to lean over and let me pound him into the nearest surface. Whenever I want. However I want him.”

Bucky was whispering into Steve’s ear and judging by the dark, unfocused look in Steve’s eyes it was something filthy. Somehow Bucky’s legs had both ended up over Steve’s own and he was trying with little success to push up into Steve’s grip, hips grinding in little circles against the hand on his hip.

“Care to share with the class?” Tony asked, unable to help the moan that escaped him as Peter sunk down on his cock again. God he was so close his thighs had begun to shake and his hand had grown a mind of its own, pushing Peter’s head down every other stroke so he could press the head of his cock against the back of his throat.

“No,” Steve said, shooting a sullen look Tony’s way. His eyes hit on Peter for just a moment before he could yank them away, and Tony might have thought he had imagined the way Steve’s gaze had gone hotter except in the same moment Bucky let out a high whimper of surprise where Steve’s hand had done something different where he stroked.

Bucky whimpered and chased the hand with his hips, stymied once again by Steve’s grip. “I’m gonna come if you-”

The hand slid off Bucky’s cock quick as thought and held him down at the other hip, Bucky gasping and trying to chase the missing hand, his erection hard and bare in the room. He whined, denied, muscles flexing as he fought Steve’s hold without success. It was too much, or just right, and on the next slide down Tony held Peter’s head there with both unforgiving hands and came hard to the feel of that throat working against him, body flushed through with heat from head to toe.

“Fuck, get over here,” Clint said, not even waiting for the last aftershocks of Tony’s orgasm to fade before he was spreading his thighs, hands dropping away to grasp the arms of the chair instead.

“Shut up,” Tony growled and held Peter’s head there a few moments more, staring the boy in the eyes and watching him swallowing, eyes watering with the effort of staying still. Only once his cock had gone limp and Peter’s throat was still did he release his hold, sighing as he slumped back into the cushions.

“I’m dying over here,” Clint said, and he did sound remarkably desperate. “Stark-”

“Okay,” Tony sighed, sitting up to look at Peter kneeling at his feet, face a mess and expression uncertain. Tony hummed and used his thumb to swipe an errant drop of come into Peter’s pliant lips, then leaned down to drop a kiss on the top of his head. “Go ahead, baby. Make Clint come.”

“Yeah, Jesus, before I explode-”

“Shut up, Clint,” Tony snapped, collapsing back into the cushions. “Before I revoke the offer.”

Clint shut up. Peter had come to his feet, half hard dick hanging between his legs, then cast one last apprehensive glance at Tony before crossing the room to drop down at Clint’s feet. He leaned over carefully, presumably to lick or suck along the tip, but Clint had other ideas. He pressed two hands into Peter’s hair and was forcing his head down without a word of warning, sinking straight into that hot wet heat in one push. Peter’s mouth spread wide just in time to sink right down to the base, hands scrabbling against Clint’s calves to maintain his balance, a soft sound escaping him as he did.

“Fuck yes,” Clint groaned, and Tony was pretty sure his eyes were rolling into the back of his skull. He let Peter draw back only to push his head right back down again. “Shit, you weren’t kidding, Tony.”

“Hey, let the kid breathe,” Steve said, sitting up and jostling Bucky as he did.

“He’s fine,” Tony said. “Does it all the time. Bucky, keep your man in line before he ruins everyone else’s fun, huh?”

Bucky huffed out a laugh. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea about how this relationship works, Stark,” he drawled, but he tipped his head to whisper in Steve’s ear again. Steve didn’t sit back but he did hike Bucky up closer to his chest, expression mulish again as he looked away from the constant up-push-down slide of Peter’s head in Clint’s lap.

“You can fuck his mouth,” Tony said, rolling onto his side for a better view, spent but interested to see Peter work from this angle. “He’s getting better at taking it.”

“Yeah?” Clint asked, and his pupils were blown so wide they were nearly black.

The fingers gripping Peter’s hair relaxed, sliding down to cup either side of his skull, and the switch from Peter sucking to Clint fucking his mouth was nearly instantaneous. Clint held Peter’s head steady as he began an easy slide up into the waiting mouth, hips flexing with both feet braced on the ground, biting his lip with concentration. He pressed up a few times experimentally then, apparently satisfied, increased the pace and strength of the thrusts with as little warning as he had given on the initial push down. Peter gagged, back arching a little, but Clint didn’t let up for a moment, head falling back and eyes squeezed shut.

“Shit, yeah,” Clint said, and he was so tense all over that Tony was sure something was going to be sore later. “Yeah, take it. You’re such a little whore, letting me fuck your mouth right after Tony. Bet you’d let Bucky and Steve go next.”

Peter’s fingers gripped Clint’s ankles and he was still having trouble when Clint’s cock hit the back of his throat, Tony could hear it, but Clint was seemingly having a little mercy now and not hitting quite so hard. Still, the wet sounds of Peter’s mouth filled the room and Clint was pink in the face, going back and forth between hungrily watching his cock disappearing and squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

Bucky was watching from his seat in Steve’s lap, gone still and quiet like a shadow as he watched Clint inching toward his orgasm with quick, steady pumps. One of Steve’s hands carefully traced up and down his shaft, teasing touches designed to keep him on the edge without going over. Steve whispered something in Bucky’s ear this time, palming the leaking head of his erection, letting Bucky press up into it just once before locking his hips down tight once more.

“Fuck,” Clint panted, sitting up as he focused his movements, shorter and faster still. “I’m gonna come. You better drink it all.”

Clint thrust in a few more strokes, releasing a moan that got louder with each push, until he was coming in Peter’s mouth with a choked shout, hips still bucking as Peter swallowed and swallowed and swallowed. It was several long moments before he released Peter’s head, falling back with a groan and draping an arm over his eyes. His chest heaved in much the same way Peter’s did, kneeling on all fours on the floor at his feet. He was blinking against his watering eyes, lips parted and jaw working carefully back and forth.

“Steve,” Bucky murmured, nearly a whine. “I’m ready. More than ready.”

“Yeah, Buck, let’s go,” Steve said, hands releasing him to instead urge him to his feet, and Tony could see the hard line of his dick through his thin pajama pants. He had to admit to himself that he was a little disappointed that they were leaving. He had really hoped he might get to see the supersoldiers in action. No dice, unfortunately. Not tonight.

As they disappeared down the hall toward their room, Tony looked back at Peter, still crouched at Clint’s feet but wide eyes on Tony. He was wiping away the cum and saliva around his mouth with the back of one hand, looking impossibly small and unsure. Tony sat up a little and beckoned with one hand.

“C’mere baby,” Tony said, voice soft, warmth humming through his tired body at the way Peter held his gaze and came to his feet after only a moment to steady himself. Tony opened his arms once Peter was there so he could sit on Tony’s lap, knees on either side of his hip. Tony tucked him in against his side and pressed a kiss to his sweaty temple. “You were such a good boy. You did perfect.”

Peter had gone loose and nearly boneless in his arms. He tucked his head in against Tony’s neck and sighed. His half-hard erection was already wilting away as he relaxed into Tony’s body and that was fine. Tony could reward him later.