Peter’s a smart boy. He’s got a good head on his shoulders and a reasonable heart in his chest. So Tony can’t understand what the fuck possessed the boy. He crosses his arms across his chest (and it’s not a defensive movement), foot tapping impatiently against the floor.
“Try again, baby boy.”
Peter takes a second (and another, and another, until seconds become minutes) and Tony’s becoming impatient. His hands curl into fists as he points his glare at the wall behind Peter.
“I just - I didn’t - I realised -” And Tony’s pissed okay. He usually loves it when his boy gets so flustered he can’t even string a sentence together, but all it does now is infuriate him. He started the fucking conversation he should be prepared to finish it.
He’s pissed, okay, so he can’t be blamed when he finds himself slamming Peter into the wall, hearing the crack from where his skull connects with the wall. It’s a sickening sound, and only makes Tony angrier. Angry with himself, angry with Peter, angry with fucking Beck.
It has to be Beck. Peter is compromised, Beck got into his head (and his heart, maybe, the fucking charmer) and Tony knew he shouldn’t have let anyone else get close fuck fuck fuck.
He’s angry and he’s scared.
( he’s weak so fucking weak he never learns his fucking lesson )
He doesn’t want to lose Peter, doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it. He’d given Peter so much credit, had praised him (internally) for being the only one who’d accepted Tony, for supporting his plans of world domination and what not.
“You aren’t leaving me.” And it’s a statement as much as it’s a question. It’s a statement because he refuses to lose Peter, a statement because he refuses to let Peter go, and a question because Tony can keep Peter wherever he wants for however long he wants, but if Peter doesn’t want to be there, then there isn’t much of a point.
His boy claws at his arm and Tony tightens his hold on his neck as punishment. It’s supposed to deter him, remind him whose in charge, but it doesn’t work seeing as Peter fucking bites him. He digs his teeth in until it draws blood.
Tony’s blood is boiling with fury and something else, because Peter always looks so good covered in blood, and the brat is actually drinking the blood that spills out of his bite mark, like a greedy little vampire. He shakes the boy off and watches him drop to the floor. He’s tempted to kick him while he’s down.
( hurt him mark him kill him let him know who he belongs to don’t let him win )
He doesn’t. He lets him jump onto the ceiling and crawl away from Tony, because he needs to calm down and Peter needs to catch his breath.
( the breath he stole because its his that boy is his )
There’s red in the corner of Peter’s mouth, red that matches the pulsing glow of his eyes, red that mirrors the stain on Tony’s floor from earlier. Tony doesn’t apologise. He can’t. But, he thinks if he could, he would apologise to Peter. He settles for turning away and sitting on the couch.
The silence is heavy and suffocating, and Tony wonders if he’s ruined the best thing that happened to him since Extremis (And when did his priorities shift? Why does he never fucking learn?).
Peter sits next to him, because he’s stupid and doesn’t seem to have an fear receptors in his body. He’s obedient because he chooses to be, not because he’s scared of what would happen if he wasn’t.
Still, Tony throws an arm over the couch and welcomes Peter into the space it left. Peter, of course, cuddles closer, and rests his head against Tony’s shoulder.
“You’re too quick to judge.” He murmurs, voice raspy from how Tony had choked him. Normally, Tony would reprimand Peter because he’s not too much or too little of something, he’s perfect ( he is he is he is he is ) but he lets it slide this time.
“You have one chance to explain yourself.”
Peter stiffens beside him, and pulls away, but Tony refuses to back down. He’s not in the wrong, he isn’t, he can't be, because Tony makes the law, he is the law and he’s always right, even when he isn’t (especially when he isn’t).
“Are you fucking serious?” And Peter must be pissed too, or insane, to talk to Tony like that. “You didn’t even let me talk before choking the shit out of me and now you’re saying I have one chance? Fuck you.”
Tony should end the boy right where he’s standing for having the audacity, but he’s still going.
“I’ve given you everything Tony. Everything that I have and more. You have my love, my loyalty, my devotion and my body and you still ask for more, more, more. And I give it. I give it every fucking time, no matter how exhausting it is, because I live for you. I live for you. You want space? I’ll give it to you. You don’t want to address it? I won’t. And it’s pulling me apart but I don’t care cause it keeps you by my side. But this is getting out of hand. You can’t - you can’t care for me and then act like you don't. You can’t give me special treatment and then treat me as if I'm just another one of your kept boys. You need to be honest with me and honest with yourself.”
( who is he to ask this of Tony of the Tony Stark he’s out of line )
“You can’t demand that of me -”
“I can and I am. I’m not stupid, believe it or not and I’m not oblivious. I know you love me, everybody knows you love me, except, apparently, you.” Tony’s panicking by now, because these are the truths he’s tried so hard to avoid and they’re being shoved down his throat and he’s stupid ( stupid stupid stupid ) to let this hapen to him again.
“Do not forget your place.”
“I don’t know my place! That’s the problem Tony! I can’t wait anymore for you to figure it out. Beck...he got in my head and I need you. I need to rely on you but I can’t until I know where I stand.”
“So this is about Beck.”
“Can you fucking listen to me? Jesus fucking Christ. I...I’m tired Tony. Please, just...just be honest with me.”
There’s something about the way Peter’s voice breaks on the words. He’s heard Peter beg before, has felt blood rush to his dick because of it, but this, this plea only serves to break his heart and weaken his resolve.
“Alright.” He agrees, because he too is tired of lying, and he’ll be damned if he lets something like fear control him. Peter nods and sits across from him, on the opposite chair. He’s stiff, hands clenching and unclenching, but his face clearly shows his determination. Tony hates having these sit down conversations, but, well, this is Peter. He’ll survive.
“Who’s Pepper?” Of all the questions, of all the people. Tony should’ve expected it. Peter never did anything by the halves. Overworking little perfectionist. Tony’s jaw creaks with the force he’s using to grind it, and the grating of his teeth rubbing against each other is irritating to his ears. He doesn’t stop though.
“An old flame.” Peter glares, and it's cute, because Peter is Tony’s baby boy and he’ll never find him anything other than attractive. Still, Peter’s not happy with Tony and it’s become sort of a mission of his to make sure the boy is always happy. He huffs, cracks his neck to stall and prepares himself for intense levels of discomfort. “We were engaged.”
At that Peter sits back. His face has fallen into, well Tony’s not exactly sure. Emotions aren’t his strong suit and he never cared enough to try with Extremis. He should stop, let Peter digest the information, but if he stops he wont start again, so he bulldozes.
“She wanted to settle down and I was working on Extremis. She didn’t like my upgrades and I realised there was no space for her in my empire so…” He shrugs, letting Peter fill in the blanks. He’s a smart boy.
“And me?” Peter asks, voice small but echoing in the confines of their silent home.
“You?”
“Is there space for me in your empire?” And that’s the question isn’t it. His bed is one thing, his home another, but his empire, well, his empire is his heart. There’s a reason Peter isn’t an employee.
He keeps a solid wall between personal and professional workings, but if you belong to both well, that speaks volumes. And then this is Peter, Tony’s...lover. He wouldn’t be a henchman or an assassin, Tony would keep him close, would elevate him because Tony’s a God and he won’t have a mere mortal at his side.
If he were to bring Peter into his empire it would be as his empress and that is...a lot.
But well, Tony knew he could only drag out his cowardice for so long. Peter, for all that he is obsessive and devoted and loyal, refuses to take bullshit, even from Tony. He’s been a walking mat for too long to let anyone get away with stepping on his toes.
This is the moment, Tony realises, as he stares at Peter, considering. His answer determines the direction of their relationship. Peter is giving him another chance at redemption, at forgiveness.
( He’s the God He doesn’t need to be forgiven He doesn’t have to let this little boy take control of anything when He can just as easily cast him aside )
His mind is made up, has been from the moment Peter kept sneaking into his bed outside of sex, from the moment Peter moved his stuff into his house and he let him.
“Yeah Pete, there’s space. A reservation if you will. Right next to me actually, if you’ll take it. Which you will, because I don’t just hand this shit out and I don’t know what I’d do if you rejected it.” And he’s rambling, a flaw he’s never really managed to edit out with Extremis.
But Peter looks happy, and it settles Tony a bit, something he would’ve freaked out over, but can only consider now. Peter wormed his way too deep under Tony’s skin to remove, like a parasite. Tony doesn’t mind too much.
“Don’t think we’re done mister.” Peter warns, but it's teasing now, and Tony easily uncrosses his legs and lets them spread, leaving himself open to receive Peter whenever he’s ready. “Call me your boyfriend. Right now.”
Please, that’s easy compared to everything Tony just told Peter. Never in his life has he opened up this much in one sitting, and there’s barely any alcohol in his blood and nobody on his dick.
“Alright. Can my boyfriend find his way into my lap?” Peter beams at him and jumps up, skipping his way in front of Tony and dropping into his lap with ease. Tony loves having the boy on top of him, likes supporting his weight, having to tilt his head up just that little bit, and having easy access to his neck.
Peter loves it too, if the way he always manages to end up on top Tony at least once a day is any indication.
Peter loops his arms around Tony’s neck and plays with his hair at the intersection of his head and neck ( he’s too close to his neck too close too close he’s vulnerable ) and leaning in to peck Tony.
“We’ve still got to review our boundaries and expectations.” He says against his lips. Tony’s distracted, because his boy is in his lap and Peter tastes like chocolate and is grinding down onto him.
“Mm later.” He murmurs and dives back in, kissing Peter feverishly.
“No no.” But he kisses back anyways. “Stop,” kiss “distracting,” kiss “me.” He pulls away, leaning as far away from Tony as he dares. “I don’t know if you’ll still be in a talking mood later.”
“Make me cum so hard I blackout and you’ll be able to get anything out of me.” Tony says into the skin of Peter’s neck. Peter may have stopped kissing him but Tony has no reason to stop as well.
“No you’ll just fall asleep, old man.” Which, he deserves a spanking for that, but Tony lets him off with a pinch on the ass.
“Just talk to me when I’m fucking you.” Tony reasons.
“I can’t. I lose coherency when your dick’s inside me.”
“Whore.” Tony chuckles. Peter pulls away from grinding as retribution, but Tony pulls him right back and makes his boy’s hips move with guiding hands on his hips. “I need to get my dick wet, Pete.”
“God,” Peter groans, grinding with enthusiasm. “Fuck daddy love it when you choke me.” They’ve fallen back into their roles so easily, and the relief Tony feels at still being his boy’s daddy is enough to pull a sigh out of him.
“Yeah baby? You get off on me hurting you? Slut. Daddy’s little painwhore.”
“Fuck fuck fuck. That’s not fair.” And his boy is whining, pout in full force and face red from arousal. It makes Tony want to tease him. He stops, smirk set on his face, and his dock throbs in misery, but he’s used to it from numerous edging sessions. “Don’t stop please please please.”
“I thought you wanted me to, baby? Didn’t you want to talk?”
“You’re such a fucking-”
“Watch your mouth baby boy.” Peter steamed, the sound kept within the cage of his lips.
“Fine. Let’s talk. But I’m going straight to bed.”
“Good, I’m feeling tired myself.” His balls were crying, but the disgruntled look on Peter’s face was enough to soothe their ache.
-
Tony, for all that he is perfect, is slow to change. He never much liked it, change. Was always stuck in his ways. It didn't help much that most of the changes in his life were bad. That is to say, that Tony is slow to adjust to the new dynamic of their relationship.
He hadn’t liked Peter coming to his workplace because he was already too involved in his personal life. Tony couldn’t have him being too connected to his professional one, but, kind of hard to leave one’s boyfriend at home when you promised him a throne in your empire.
So Tony starts small. Not baby steps, because he’s a grown man thank you very much, but more like a shuffle. A lot of movement with very little distance. Very performative.
So Tony brings Peter along for work days, let’s him listen in on work calls and sit in his big fancy chair, let’s him steal his bodyguard for shopping (which he did before but it's becoming ridiculous at this point) and wander down to the lab, solving the problems a group of scientists haven’t (what a waste of time and money, he should seriously fire them), hell he even lets Peter take on some more assassin jobs. He keeps Peter off the Beck case and Peter doesn’t ask to be let on.
With all that he does, he still doesn’t let Peter sit in on meetings or actually contribute to the work he’s doing (scientists aside), and the whole time Peter is patient with him. Well as patient as a spoiled brat can be.
He still nags, but one glare is enough to get his boy off his back. Things are good, are nice. They settle. No more second rate assistants or sneaky little traitors. Just Tony and Peter. Peter and Tony.
For the first time in a long time, Tony thinks it’s enough.
He’s satisfied.