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Peter is going to kill him.
The kid won't stop sauntering around the lab with his teeny tiny short-shorts and his giant nerdy science t-shirts that spill over his shoulder, and he's driving Tony to an early grave every time he bends over, which is way more times than Tony has ever seen before—not that he's tracking it.
It's the seventh time it happens that day, when Tony snaps; he's been watching his mentee's delicious ass flex in shorts with a two-inch inseam. He can see the outline of his fucking cock. He thinks he can be forgiven for just going for it—all the blood in his brain has flown to his dick.
“Alright, kiddo,” he says, hooking two fingers in the neckline of Peter's slightly too-large shirt and dragging him down across the lab bench, ignoring the way his brow furrows in confusion even as he lets Tony rearrange his body. “You've got me, alright? You win.”
“Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, confusion coloring his tone. “What's—woah!”
Tony hums, patting at his wrists where they're cinched in tight, nearly pulling Peter off his feet in the stretch of them. He's folded at a ninety-degree angle, his back arched ever so slightly as he shifts, trying to pull himself free.
“Listen,” he says, circling back around and ignoring the way Peter strains at his bindings; they're vibranium, Tony knows they're not going to move an inch. “There are some things that are just deeply unneeded, and pretending to do the bend and snap in front of me to get me to see your assets is one of them.” He pats Peter's hip, admiring the curve of his ass in his jeans. He can't wait to split the kid open on his cock. “Sweetheart, you could've just asked me to fuck you like a whore.”
Peter stills entirely, a shudder running down his spine.
“What?” he whispers. “That's not—Mr. Stark, you've gotta believe me, that's not what I've been—I'm naturally clumsy, I mean, c'mon, you know that, right?”
Tony laughs, shaking his head. “It's okay, honey,” he murmurs, slipping his fingers underneath Peter's waistband. “You don't have to pretend; I know that you want me.”
“Mr. Stark,” Peter says, quietly, an edge of fear sliding into his voice. “I don't—please let me go.”
Tony grins, savage delight nipping at his heels as he strides back around the lab table to crouch in front of Peter.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, making sure he can see Peter's expression. “Now, why would I ever do that?”
For a moment, Peter’s staring at him, doe-eyed and confused, his mouth half-quirked into a readied smile, as if Tony is just making an off-color joke.
As soon as Tony's words register, fear fills his eyes, almost enough to hide the gleam of arousal. He throws himself into attempting to break free, his legs kicking in the air, unable to get traction, his arms straining at their cuffs.
He's beautiful in his panic, and it only serves to get Tony harder, his dick twitching in his pants as Peter whines fearfully, panting from his attempts.
“You done?” Tony asks mildly, smiling at him. “Because if you do want to try again, all I ask is that you wait until I'm inside of you.” He grins, winking. “Fear can really make you tighten up.”
“Mr. Stark, you don't have to do this,” Peter pleads, sniffing. He already looks close to tears, his brown eyes watery, the poor kid. Tony would feel worse about this if he weren't such a giant tease. “I wasn't—there was no seduction in my—I just dropped my pencil.”
Tony arches a brow. “Seven times?”
“I'm clumsy,” Peter says immediately, a hopeful glint in his eyes. “I'm—I always drop things, c'mon, you know that.”
Tony smiles, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “How about this?” he says, as he gently winds his fingers through, before he yanks Peter’s head up. “I'll let you go, right now, and I'll even throw in a million dollars, just for the hell of it, if you aren't hard right now.”
Peter blinks, the beginnings of tears streaking down his face.
“If you are hard, then, well, we'll see where this night takes us. Sound good?”
“Mr. Stark,” Peter stutters, chewing on his bottom lip. He's shivering, the bottom half of his body twisting fruitlessly to try to free himself again. “Please just let me go.”
Tony laughs, tugging once on Peter's head for good measure before he lets his head drop. “That sounds like an answer to me, doesn't it, honey?”
He circles around the table, humming along to the faint music—Nine Inch Nails, he notes absentmindedly, which means Peter picked it—and doesn't even hesitate to reach under and unsnap the button on Peter's jeans.
“Mr. Stark,” Peter yelps, as Tony worms a hand down his underwear, smoothing a hand along the kid's throbbing dick. It's so hot it must hurt, with all the blood in it.
“So,” Tony murmurs, caging the kid in as he lets go of Peter’s dick and grinds forward. “It seems like I win the bet, Mr. Parker.”
“Please,” Peter says, his voice thick with tears. “Please just let me go, Mr. Stark. I won't tell anyone, I promise. I'll keep this a secret between us, just you and me, and no one else.”
Tony tsks, shaking his head. “I don't seem to remember that being an option, sweetheart. And if you don't want this, why the hell are you dripping for me? Or is that just how you are, you slut? Just always, always, waiting for someone to fuck you like you deserve, huh?”
Peter squirms, frantic, but all it serves is to grind his ass against Tony, who smirks down at the top of Peter's head.
“Look at you,” he coos, dropping a tender kiss to the crown of his head. “Already eager for me to fuck you open. Maybe I should leave you like this,” he muses, as Peter starts whining, high and animalistic in the back of his throat. “Keep you as an installed cockwarmer.”
“Please,” Peter breathes out, as Tony steps back, his hands hooked in Peter's belt loops as he tugs the kids' jeans down. “Please, Mr. Stark, you don't have to do this.”
Tony strokes a featherlight hand down his flank, grinning at the goosebumps that rise in his wake.
“Sure, I don't,” he agrees, watching as Peter slumps in relief, the tension in his spine slackening. He's turned to the side, his face nearly buried in his arms, and Tony offhandedly notes that the next time he wants to be able to see his face more easily. “I don't have to do anything. But here's the secret, kiddo. Maybe I want to.”
Peter doesn't respond, but the wet hitch of an inhale is enough.
Tony shoves Peter's jeans down and kicks his legs further apart, watching eagerly as the installed bindings for his ankles unfurl from the lab bench's legs and curl around them, spreading him wide.
Even mostly covered up by his briefs, he's beautiful, his ass firm as Tony runs a possessive hand over the curve of his hip. Despite everything Peter's claimed, Tony knows the truth; he's into this, his cock hard and leaking, damp patches shining as he shifts his hips.
He presses forward, his cock rubbing against the heat of Peter’s tight hole; hot enough that he can feel it even through the layers of clothes between them.
“I'll tell everyone,” Peter blurts out, as Tony's fingers wander higher, tracing his waistband, scratching across the small of his back, fondling his balls. The kid doesn't seem to realize he's pressing into the touches as he continues. “I'll go on record, Mr. Stark, I'll tell the whole world.”
“And tell them what?” Tony asks, vaguely amused as he slips a hand into the front of Peter’s underwear. The little slut is soaked, precum dripping down his length as he twitches in his briefs. “That you were panting after me like a bitch in heat? That when you finally got what you wanted, you got a little scared? I'm not going to make this hurt, honey, not unless you make me.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head as Peter shudders beneath him, his hips slowly rolling as he unconsciously grinds down into Tony’s palm as he cups his leaking erection. “And, sweetheart, really, who would believe you? You think you can get on a soapbox and tell lies about me? Honey, I could ruin your whole life in an instant.”
“Mr. Stark,” Peter cries, as Tony tightens his grip; too tight to be comfortable. “Please—”
“Please, what?” Tony asks, loosening his grip and smoothing his fingers over the head of his cock. Precum spurts between his fingers, tacky and viscous. “Please get me off? Please make me take it like the whore I am? Please fuck me until I feel empty without a cock in me?”
Peter shakes his head, falling mute, and Tony hides a smile as he lets go of his cock, reaching up to tug Peter's shirt higher up.
“I'm going to fuck you, kiddo,” he murmurs into his skin as he drags his teeth down his spine. “I'm going to split you open, and you're going to thank me for it, because you need this, sweetheart, and denying it is only going to hurt you in the long run.”
He licks one of his fingers and reaches down, tugging his briefs down just far enough that he can circle Peter's rim, before gently sinking the tip of his finger in. Peter opens easily, his hot, tight ass sucking him in. Tony pushes, just a tad bit further, and smirks when Peter arches into the dry drag of it. He knew the kid was into this; vindication has never felt so sweet.
“Please,” Peter moans, beneath his tears. His whole body shifts, tension unlocking in a smooth wave down his spine. Tony watches the change with a keen eye, delighted to see the surrender.
“What do you say?”
“Thank you,” Peter whimpers.
“No,” Tony says, slapping his ass. The yelp Peter lets out is beautiful, shot through with arousal, and Tony holds back a groan as he tightens around his finger. “You say, thank you, Mr. Stark, for fucking my needy hole.”
“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter murmurs, his flush so bright Tony can see it streaking down the back of his neck, spilling across his shoulders. “F-for fucking my needy hole.”
“You're welcome, sweetheart,” Tony says, and grins when Peter shivers. He reaches into the drawer next to the table, shaking his head when he immediately comes up with lube. “What's this, honey?”
“I don't know,” Peter answers after a beat of silence. He wiggles his hips when Tony pulls his finger out. “I can't see it.”
Tony slaps his ass again, a sharp reprimand, and admires the bloom of a handprint across his skin. “Why do you have lube in your drawer, Mr. Parker? Were you planning to seduce me?”
“No,” Peter yelps, as Tony pops the top off and drizzles too much over the swell of Peter's ass. It's deeply unnecessary, but adds to the whorish look, legs spread, back arched, so desperate to be fucked glossy lube is just smeared everywhere, as if the poor kid was too eager to even figure it out. “It was for a project.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Tony asks, fighting with Peter's briefs, before giving them up as a lost cause and grabbing the scissors. The cool touch of metal against Peter’s skin makes him freeze, his heavy breathing picking up, and Tony makes a note of that too, for later. “Back in my day, we just called it fucking.”
“It is for a project,” Peter whispers, as Tony tugs the remnants of his underwear off, before he reaches up and cuts his shirt off as well. Might as well be thorough when he has the tools, and he does quite enjoy the sight of Peter naked and spread out on a table. “Sir, Mr. Stark, please.”
Tony arches an eyebrow, reaching out to rub the lube everywhere but over his hole. Peter whines at the touch, shivering when Tony scratches his nails over the soft skin of his inner thighs, when he thumbs at his perineum. He shakes even more when Tony drags his fingers over his balls, his hips jolting as if he can’t figure out what he wants.
Tony’s patient; he's not going to touch the kid until he begs.
His other hand wanders up Peter's back, scoring sharp lines of red that immediately begin to heal across his skin. He'd be more concerned that he couldn't take some pain if he couldn't see how he arches into it, undulating his spine in an attempt to get his nails deeper into his skin.
“Please,” Peter pants, as Tony teases him with the ghost of a touch, so close to where they both want him. “Please, Mr. Stark.”
Tony sighs, pulling his hands back.
“I don't know,” he muses, stepping away from his splayed out form. He tilts his head to admire the sheen of sweat clinging to Peter's rosy skin. “Now that I've thought about it—”
“Fuck me,” Peter wails, sounding so genuinely distressed to be empty that Tony's cock twitches. “Mr. Stark, sir, please—you were right, I got the lube to seduce you, and I chickened out, and now you're—now you—please fuck me like you—like you said you would.”
“Like a whore?” Tony says, unbuttoning his slacks. He doesn't bother tugging them down; the textures can play havoc on Peter's wrecked nerves, since clearly the kid's a mess already. “Like the slut you are?”
“Uh-huh,” Peter agrees, sighing when Tony slides his hands over his ass, squeezing over the two fading handprints. He sounds dazed as he continues, “Slut for you.”
“See, honey,” Tony murmurs, slicking his dick up. “Things are just easier when you listen to me, aren't they?”
“Yes,” Peter hisses out, as Tony presses the head of his cock against his hole. “Yes, please.”
Tony leans down, both hands on the table as he grinds against Peter’s ass, letting his dick slide against his tacky rim. He could definitely get off this way if Peter doesn't want to indulge in what he wants; it's always important to have a backup plan. “If you want me to fuck you,” he says, smirking at the moan of dismay Peter lets out. “Beg.”
Peter inhales, a soft flutter of air, before he shudders once, and all signs of a fight disappear from the lines of his body.
“I need you to fuck me,” Peter mutters. He sounds almost drunk with it, lust and trepidation warring in his voice. “Please, Mr. Stark, I need it. It—it keeps me awake at night, sometimes, and I think about your cock all the time. About dropping down and letting you choke me with it, about how empty I feel, even when I have my fingers inside of me.” He shivers again as Tony shifts, reaching down to notch his dick against Peter’s hole. “I want you to fuck me so hard I can't remember my name,” he manages. “Please, Mr. Stark, make it hurt—I don't want to be able to walk for a week without feeling you inside.”
Tony grins; rapacious and monstrous.
“All you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” he says, before he sheathes his whole cock in Peter's tight hole. The pressure’s so much that he nearly cums, sinking his teeth into his lip to just barely hold on.
Peter screams, all of the bindings releasing so that Tony can hook an arm around his chest and heave him backwards.
The hot clutch of his body is so much that Tony almost misses it when Peter clenches down, waves of pleasure pulsing in his entire body. He can feel every ragged breath from Peter, the shift as he somehow sinks in even deeper; everything whiting out again.
“Fuck me,” Peter's mumbling, by the time Tony’s ears start working again. “Please, please, please—move.”
The first grind of his hips sends Tony back into delicious agony; Peter's so tight it almost hurts, except for how good it feels.
“Harder,” Peter whines, his eyelashes fluttering when Tony glances down at his face, mouth slack with pleasure. “Mr. Stark—”
Tony can't help himself, stealing a kiss—more of a panting gasp captured from Peter's lips—before he's tipping the kid back over the lab bench, arms and legs still free.
He slides back, eyes rolling at the squeeze, before he thrusts forward, nailing Peter's prostate.
“Not gonna last this time,” he pants. “Gonna fuck you ‘til you hurt, just like you asked, sweetheart. Gonna make sure you always have a place ready for me; a slick little hole I can always slide into.” Peter moans, one of his hands darting down to stroke his cock, and Tony laughs, tugging him back hard enough that he wails, his voice cracking around the sound.
“My cock not enough, honey?” Tony asks, relishing in the squeeze as he fucks forward, rattling the bits and pieces strewn next to Peter's body. He can feel his orgasm building as he rocks back into the tight heat of Peter. “One of these days, I'm gonna line up all the Avengers, let them sink their dicks into you, let you get inside them; and you know what, sweetheart? It's still not gonna be enough, and we both know it. It's a good thing the world doesn't, though—how do you think the headlines would handle that Spider-Man's a cock hungry whore?”
Peter's whole body tightens enough that Tony can't even move as his orgasm washes over him, slow pulses of drugging pleasure rattling through his nerves. It lights him up from the inside, an implosion of nirvana that drags out forever as Peter grinds back, chasing his own.
“Tony,” Peter whispers as he slumps over his back, his hips shifting, trying to keep him inside even as he slowly pulls back. “Tony, please—”
Tony presses a kiss to his sweat-slick skin and slides a hand over his hip, tangling their fingers together over Peter's throbbing cock.
“C'mon, sweetheart,” Tony murmurs, pressing more kisses against him, the taste of salt and sweat and sex thick in the air. He feels languid, the complete opposite of Peter, who's still waiting, his dick hot and hard. “You were so good for me, honey, exactly what I wanted. So gorgeous and good, so pliant and sweet. You took me in so beautifully—I wish you could've seen the way your hole swallowed my cock. You're so hungry for pain, sweetheart, and it makes you damn near irresistible when your eyes get so wide with fear.” He drags his teeth over Peter's ribs, a sweet sting of pain that he knows his boy is craving. “C'mon, honey, you can cum.”
“Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” Peter cries, his orgasm shaking through him, cum spilling over Tony’s fingers, down his palm.
He strokes him through the aftershocks, until he hisses from the overstimulation, and lets his hand drop, still tangled together with Peter's.
“So,” he says, over the sounds of Peter panting. “How's that for a scene?”
“Tony,” Peter croaks, wiggling around enough that Tony detangles their hands and pushes himself up, stepping back to give him room, only to smile when Peter's face comes into view, a mess of tears and drool, red-faced and sweaty. He looks like every bit of the fantasy Tony has, sweet and delicious enough to eat.
“Tony,” Peter repeats, making grabby hands at him. Tony huffs, but steps forward, letting Peter cling as he runs his hands over him, smoothing across the warm and sticky skin.
“We're doing that again,” Peter manages after a few moments of stillness. He shivers in his arms, and Tony belatedly realizes he's still fully clothed. He tugs his ruined suit jacket off and drapes it over Peter's shoulders, smoothing the lapels down.
Tony clears his throat, a small grin on his lips at the sight, before he refocuses. “Yeah? You want to be my innocent lab intern again, honey?”
“Or secretary, or babysitter, or student?” Peter murmurs, his fingers deftly tucking Tony back into his pants before he squirms in closer, eager for more touch. He tips his head back, his eyes suddenly wider than they were before, tears abruptly clinging to his lashes. “Professor Stark, isn't there anything I could do to make up for this grade?”
Tony laughs, leaning in to press a kiss underneath each of his eyes. “I'm sure we can think of something, Mr. Parker,” he says, a fond grin on his face. “I've always admired your tenacious attitude in class; your bend and snap is a thing of beauty.”
“Hey,” Peter chides, shaking his head. “It got you to make a move today, didn't it?”
Tony rolls his eyes but doesn't argue. It doesn't matter what either of them claims; they both know Peter getting fucked was going to happen as soon as he put his sex playlist on.
“C'mon,” Tony murmurs when Peter shivers again. “Let's go shower; FRI has dinner waiting for us upstairs.”
Peter beams at him, his eyes low-lidded and content, completely fucked-out; a favorite expression of Tony's.
“You're the best,” he manages through a yawn, his fingers trembling as he covers his mouth. Tony only just stops himself from nipping at them as they linger in front of Peter’s lips. “Today was fucking awesome.”
“Yeah,” Tony agrees, not even trying to hide his fondness as he guides the two of them over to the private elevator, the siren song of a shower calling his name. Even clothed, he's sticky in places he'd rather not be. “Yeah,” he says, dropping a kiss down on Peter's head and sighing in contentment. “It really was.”