Tony Stark. Infamous, rich, hot. Everyone knew Tony Stark, even if they didn’t know they knew Tony Stark. He was the king of New York, of America, of the world.
He’d conquered the city years ago, expanding his business from just weaponry to electronics, health and the underworld.
There was a reason he could be so open with his crimes and face no consequences. A reason why the police never knocked on his door and the government never came for him.
He was a powerful man, and he had influence everywhere.
Peter had been obsessed with Tony Stark since the first time he read about him. Peter Parker, would give Tony Stark all he had to offer, even if it left him dry and empty.
If he could just meet the man he could prove his worth, he could earn Tony’s favour and devote himself to him. If he could just meet him.
All he needed was to be in the presence of the man and he’d be set for life, Tony would see how amazing Peter was and keep him by his side and Peter would just be along for the ride.
-
Tony Stark was much more intimidating in person. He was barely much taller than Peter, and yet he towered over him. His presence alone had demanded submission, and his gaze was dangerous.
He looked lazy, comfortable sitting on a swirly hair across from Peter, but making it look like a throne. He looked like a king, and sitting before him Peter felt like a peasant. Like he had no worth outside of his service to his king.
Peter had never been so hard.
“Peter Parker,” just the way he had said his name had Peter resisting the urge to fall to his knees and suck the man dry, “the Arachnid.”
He should have been more worried that Tony Stark knew his full name, knew his identity, but he’d stopped caring about that the moment Aunt May died. All his friends were abroad and had people that could protect them well enough.
The only person they could come after was him and he was more than capable of protecting himself. Though, if Tony Stark asked him to die he would do it gladly.
“You’re a freelancer. Your loyalty belongs to no one.” He had said it like a statement. He didn’t need confirmation from Peter, he’d done his research and he was confident in himself. God, the things this man did to him. “It’d be smart not to cross me.”
Peter should say something. He had been sitting silently for the whole meeting, his palms sweaty and sticking to his suit pants. He couldn’t pull them off, not without making a full scene, so they were stuck there until he could get himself together.
He was glad for his mask, so he couldn’t further embarrass himself with his face. He had no doubt that his face was read, his mouth slightly agape and his tongue repeatedly flicking out to moisten his suspiciously dry lips.
“Wouldn’t dream of it..sir.” He had responded, adding the sir after a long enough hesitation to be teasing. “Though I am curious why you employed me when you clearly have capable workers.” He shot a glance towards the bodyguard standing in the corner of the room, hidden in the shadows, the glint of a metal arm giving him away.
The man had his spidey senses buzzing dully in the back of his mind, with his hand on the semi-automatic and his eyes in a constant glare. Then there was Tony, who’d had his senses screeching so bad he’d had to manually push his body to the seat.
It had calmed down, since Tony was clearly not putting out any murderous intent towards Peter, but it was still present enough for Peter to be on edge and slightly irritated.
He turned back to Tony, and was met with a lethargic smirk. He waited for an answer but one didn’t come, and he’d known better than to press (no matter how much he’d wanted to).
“Okay. Let me see the file.”
“Good boy.”
Fuck. He needed this man to defile him.
They’d debriefed him quickly and efficiently, and then he was being escorted out. If he went home and jerked off that's between him and his hand.
-
The mission was supposed to be fairly easy. It was a stealth mission, all he needed to do is retrieve the item and leave. It's a test. Peter knew it was a test.
Tony Stark had a whole fucking empire, he wasn’t going to employ outside of it unless he was desperate or he was scouting and he’s never once been desperate.
He had thousands of capable people under his thumb and open for use and manipulation, he wasn’t going to entrust any missions to an outsider unless he expected something from said outsider.
Peter was excited first and foremost. Tony Stark took a look at him and thought he was good enough. Tony Stark wanted him. He felt euphoric, pacing the ceiling of his apartment.
There were very few times when Peter had been specifically chosen, and the fact that it’s Tony (the Tony Stark) just makes it even better. His role model, the man he’d always looked up to wanted him. He felt high and he never wanted to come down.
He didn’t care if Tony Stark only saw a mutant, only saw a weapon he would rather have on his side than against him, because regardless of how, Tony Stark saw him and that was more than enough for him.
And then another, smaller part of him was disappointed, because if this was a test it was easy, that meant that Tony didn’t expect much from him. It meant he’d determined Peter’s limits and decided this was it. This easy, stealth mission. This retrieve and escape.
It was disappointing that Tony thought he was so weak, but it filled him with a determination to prove him wrong. To prove his worth and his strength and his skills.
-
It was easy to sneak in. Peter was light on his feet, always had been, and he had the advantage of placing his feet wherever he wanted. He got past the guards easy enough, waiting for someone to leave for him to enter. From then on it's a walk in the park.
He’d memorised a map of the interior, so it's easy to make his way to the room he needed to be in. It's empty. Too easy. He dropped down, locking the door behind him.
He had a vague idea of what his target was supposed to look like. All he needed to do was find it.
He never did, because then an alarm was blaring and people were breaking down the door and aiming their guns at him.
He was honestly sick of being on the receiving end of bullets. It’s a little irritating having to dodge bullets and beat people up and protect his target.
“There he is! Stark was right!” Of all the possibilities he’d thought up, he’d never thought about a setup. Fuck.
He had looked around, searching for some form of escape. There were no windows, and the only door was the one the guards were blocking. Just his luck.
Leave it to Peter to get the short end of the stick. He was stupid, so fucking stupid, to think that things were just starting to become better on their own. He’d learnt long ago that the only way to get what he wanted and keep what he had was for him to take from others.
There was no happiness for him unless there was suffering for others, and he’d always prioritise himself. He couldn’t believe he let his guard down because of a stupid fucking crush. Tony Stark was a cruel, selfish man. He had no reason to favour Peter and he wasn’t above stepping on people to get where he needed to get.
Peter wouldn’t remain a stepping stone, though. He deserved more than that, the world owed him more than that, and he would make it happen. He’d give Tony a reason to favour him, a reason to look at him and protect him and love.
Even if it was the last thing he ever did, because it was what he deserved.
He was angry. He’d been mistreated and used and manipulated and he wasn’t going to just let it pass. Peter was going to get what he wanted, and the guards would pay the price for it.
-
He was angry and fuelled by adrenaline and it’s stupid, it’s so fucking stupid he knew he should have just gone home and washed the blood out his suit before it stained, and drank some tea and collected his payment in the morning but he’s angry and fuelled by adrenaline and that’s never a good combination.
-
He followed Tony Stark home. He’d left the office late and the shadows had always been Peter’s best friend and worst enemy. Neither he nor his bodyguard noticed him tailing the car, and it both amazed Peter and filled him with relief.
He waited for the metal armed man to leave before he dropped down from his hiding spot and pressed himself against Tony, pushing the man against the wall and grabbing his collar.
“You set me up.” He hissed, venom coating his words and making his tongue feel thick. He wanted to tear the man’s throat out with his teeth, wanted to feel the warm blood dripping down his chin and too soothe the ache in his fangs.
He bared his teeth in a snarl, but it was covered by his mask, and he cursed it mentally. His body language was clear enough to express his rage, but he still rather Tony saw the threat of teeth.
“That I did. I was wondering when you were going to show yourself.”
“Why?” He insisted, pulling Tony away from the wall only to push him back into it. “You gain nothing from burying me six feet deep.”
He didn’t get an answer, and he wondered why he thought he would. Tony only did what he wanted or needed. He didn’t explain why he chose Peter and he wouldn’t explain why he set Peter up. He probably never would, deeming Peter on a need to know basis.
He’d never imagined that his idol would piss him off so much. He’d always thought that they were perfectly compatible, that they’d just work together seamlessly.
Instead, a hand gripped his wrist, twisting it until Peter was forced to relinquish his hold. He could feel his bones rubbing together, threatening to break, when he was finally released.
“Don’t forget yourself.” The older man warned and Peter couldn’t help himself. He was angry and high on adrenaline and he had the biggest crush on Tony Stark and he was just enough of a masochist for most types of pain to set him off.
He ripped off his mask and then he was yanking Stark down, forcing their lips together and pushing his tongue inside. Tony let him, and Peter realised nothing happened unless Tony Stark permitted it to.
He was silly to ever think Tony didn’t know he was being followed, silly to ever think he was in control. Tony was the king of the world, he orchestrated so many deaths and so many births and he controlled the lives of everyone he could get his eyes on.
There wasn’t one person in the world that could outsmart or overpower Tony. He’d made sure of that the moment he created Extremis. The moment he removed everyone that stood against him at the beginning of his new Empire.
There was a hand in his hair and another on his throat, threatening to choke him at the wrong move and it should not have been that arousing but it was, it really fucking was, and he was so hard, a moan slipping past his lips and into Tony’s mouth.
He’d always had a taste for the rougher things in life, and ever since the Bite had trouble finding someone to satisfy him. He could already feel that he’d be content at the end of the night.
He ground his erection into Tony's hip, hands gripping at the man’s waist and it's everything he’s ever wanted. It’s him and it's Tony Stark and it’s them and it’s sex.
God, he loved sex.
Between one moment and another he’s bent, using the wall to hold him up while Tony stabbed at his prostate relentlessly. He’d come once already, spilling into his pants when the grinding became too much.
He was excited to come again.
There’s a hand at the nape of his neck, squeezing then releasing squeezing then releasing, and despite the way it did nothing to stop his airflow it still made him dizzy.
Tony’s hand is warm and heavy, a comfortable weight on the back of Peter’s neck. It's both a claim and a comfort, and multiple feelings mix with the haziness that comes with a good fuck.
Tony’s fingers weren’t long, not really, but they’re thick, and three of them stretch Peter so wide it burnt, so wide he feared he’d be left gaping for the rest of his life. It was a dumb fear, one that’s laced with arousal and humiliation and only makes him harder.
He wanted Tony to fuck him so good, so hard, that there would be marks afterwards. Proof that this had happened and that Peter was good.
He must have looked like a slut, bent over the porch of a billionaire’s house, his come drying in the pants that had fallen to his ankles, his legs spread as wide as possible and his ravenous ass sucking in Tony’s fingers and begging for more.
He wondered if Tony liked the sight Peter made. If he was just as hard as Peter and just as eager to get off.
“Fuck.” Peter groaned, his hips pushing forward only to fuck back onto Tony’s fingers. He’s close, he’s so close. He just needed a little friction, but Tony had warned him not to touch himself, and punctuated the order with a glare that had set his spidey senses off.
As much as he was a glutton for punishment, he didn’t want to know what Tony would have done to him if he disobeyed. His hands remained on the wall, cracking it further with every second.
It's bound to happen when two super powered beings fuck. Things break.
He was slapped on his ass, the sting burning so hard and so sharp it brought more tears to his eyes.
“Spread yourself, whore.” Tony spit, and the word sounded so good in his voice, so right, that Peter mindlessly obeyed, bringing his shaky hands to his ass and holding it apart so Tony had direct access to his hole.
He was a whore, he had to be, the way his mouth was hanging open, freely letting pants out. The way he’d bared himself without a second thought, the way he hadn’t even considered moving inside, getting fucked right outside a man’s house being enough for him.
The man leaned over, his lips brushing against Peter’s ears and tickling him. If they weren’t already red, he was sure the touch would have had blood rushing to his ears.
He couldn’t see his own skin, but he could feel the heat radiating off of him and making his skin itch.
“I’m gonna wreck this ass so bad it’ll never forget who it belongs to.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
With a bite to Peter’s neck that had him crying out, the man was sliding inside. It wasn’t hard by any means, not with Peter holding his ass wide open, not with how thoroughly he was fingered and how wet he still was, but that didn’t mean that the girth was easy to stretch around.
Peter’s head banged against the wall, no doubt denting it, drool falling out of his lips and onto the floor. He was a mess and it felt so good. It had been so long since he got fucked into oblivion and he was living for it.
Tony’s thick and curved and heavy inside of Peter, throbbing in time with Peter’s pulse. Or maybe that was his pulse. His body feels like one big glob, his limbs indistinguishable. He doesn’t know where his head begins or his legs end.
There was a moment of stillness, where they both got used to it, Tony pressing his weight into Peter and Peter hanging on by the tips of his fingers, and then everything was movement and noise.
Tony pulled back, leaving the tip and watching as Peter greedily tried to suck him back in. It’s like he carved a space inside Peter and it hurts to not have it being filled. Then, in a quick and hard thrust, Tony sheathed himself back inside.
The longer it continued, the rougher it got and the more Peter slipped down the wall. He was almost touching his toes, breathy moans punched out of him with each thrust. He could barely breathe, each breath entering and leaving him with a wheeze.
He couldn’t possibly look that appealing. Not when he was fucked out and delirious, acting for all the world like a cock slut. Hell, maybe he was. Lord alone knew how long Peter had dreamed about getting screwed senseless by Tony Stark.
The man is practically a God, Peter can’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t want some of that action.
He reached back desperately, digging his nails into Tony’s hip and holding on for dear life.
He felt like he was gonna break and it was the best feeling ever.
“P-Puh-Please.” He begged, the end dragging out into a whine. He sounded so pathetic to his own ears, but there’s little he could do about it.
“You fucking slut. Is that why you came here? To get dicked down? To get drunk stupid on cock and become nothing more than a whining whore?”
He nodded his head shallowly. Everything Tony said made sense, it sounded right, even if he could barely wrap his head around the words.
“I’m going to spoil this boy cunt for anyone else. You won't be able to come unless it's my hands and my cock and my voice, do you understand?”
His head flopped widely, bobbing up and down as his desperation peaked. There was a warm palm on his ass and then there was sharp pain. His hand dropped from Tony’s hip, falling to his side uselessly as he gasped.
“I said, do you understand?”
“Yes yes yes yes please.”
“Good boy.”
Peter’s gone for. There’s no way he could physically or mentally recover from that. The word was said with an underlying growl, the praise mixing sweetly with the earlier degradation until Peter couldn’t differentiate which is which.
He’d forgotten how mind blowing sex could be. He’ll never forget again.
He needed to come. He’d die without it. He needed to touch himself because he needed to come, but he couldn’t.
“Touch me.” He begged, choking on a gasp as Tony’s hips smacked against his ass.
“No.” The denial should not have been that hot, but it had Peter tightening regardless. “Bring me off and I’ll consider letting you come again.”
Peter had never been one to back down from a challenge. He gathered the pieces of himself that had strayed, gaining enough coherency to start actively participating.
It took a while, the man’s stamina was on another level, but eventually Tony was slowing down, gripping bruises into Peter’s hips as he shot his load inside. Peter was grateful for his advanced healing, because he’d gotten so caught up he forgot about condoms.
With Tony successfully brought off, there’s little to distract Peter from his own predicament.
“Please, please I was good I need it I’ll die please.” Tony hummed, cock softening where it rests inside Peter.
“Okay. Come.” Peter’s hand shot down to his cock, tugging it furiously and spilling on the wall. He groaned, long and deep, and slumped against the wall, sweat and cum and lube clinging to his skin.
He hated all the moisture after sex.
Tony pulled out, leaving his come to trail down Peter’s thighs.
“Go home.” The man ordered coldly, tucking himself into his pants. “And don’t pull that shit again. We’ll be in contact.”
Peter didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. He knew aftercare would be a stretch but fuck. Tony had already gone inside, and it was suddenly so cold outside, when he’s bare and wet and alone.
It was easy to pull back up his costume and hide behind his mask, because that way no one could see the moisture in his eyes or the tremor of his controlled breaths. All they saw was an assassin and that’s all they deserve to see.
-
Once the sting of rejection had soothed with time (a few hours), determination replaced it. Tony Stark set him up, for what reason he didn’t know. Tony Stark then proceeded to fuck him right outside his house and leave him there.
Tony Stark viewed him as lesser, and compared to him Peter always would be, but he wanted to be more than a one night stand, and he’d work hard to make that happen.
He walked into Stark industries the next day, pushing past all the secretaries and straight into the elevator. He hadn’t even opened his mouth or moved his hand before the elevator was starting, the 100th button highlighted.
The same bodyguard from before greeted him with a stoic face, Peter returning the look with a smile on his face, raising an eyebrow in question.
The man stood still and silent, looking for all the world like he could snap Peter in half, like he wanted to, but wouldn’t. It was kind of endearing.
He pushed past him too, straight through large double doors and into Stark’s office. The man was on the phone, twirling a pencil and ignoring Peter.
It irritated him, if he was being honest, but he knew better than to act on it. The fact that the man hadn’t shot him yet was a show of mercy.
He sat down in the seat across from Tony, and the other finally turned to him, smirking sharply and hanging up without a dismissal to the other party.
A part of Peter preened, happy to be chosen over someone else, happy to be deemed more important. He didn’t let it show though, because Tony’s done nothing to earn Peter’s genuine joy.
“Don’t tell me you’re so desperate for dick that you’re back already.” Tony was trying to get a rise out of him, he knew it, logically. Tony’s a no-bullshit man, he gained nothing from mocking Peter for the sake of it, so Peter made sure to calm his tongue. He was not going to let Tony Stark win this round.
“I’m a freelancer. My loyalty belongs to no one. That makes my work extremely valuable.”
“Get to the point.”
“And here I thought the great Tony Stark would be able to read between the lines.” Too much, too much, too much, how was he still alive?
The glare Tony shot him let him know if he continued down that line he wouldn’t be. He cleared his throat, breaking eye-contact in an attempt to pacify the atmosphere.
“Employ me.” Tony scoffed, rocking back in his seat.
“Give me a good reason why.”
“I’m powerful and versatile and smart.”
“A lot of people are, Parker. Don’t waste my time.”
It’s a test. It had to be a test. If he were truly wasting Tony’s time they wouldn’t have been having this conversation. There’s a reason Tony was entertaining Peter, a reason he was listening. He’d seen something he liked in Peter and was curious to see more.
And Peter was going to milk the shit out of that.
“And I’m a good fuck. Obviously.” Stark smirked, his lips curling upwards lazily.
Things only went uphill from there.