(no subject)
upset the order
marvel comics: tony stark (iron man)/peter parker(spider-man). // (3.674) // NC-17
spoilers for civil war. dubious consent.
written for the marvel rare pairings kink meme.
posted to spidey_fic and parkerstark.
Things have spiraled out of hand.
Peter had a hunch that they would when he'd had to fight Captain America in the alley - had to, because he'd given a promise to Iron Man, and promises were not something Peter wanted to break. Even if it meant having to fight Captain America, a man Peter completely admired - but Cap was wrong this time, and the law was the law. Just because you didn't like it, that didn't mean you could disregard it.
The day he realised things had gone for the worst was when he managed to persuade Tony to take him to the Negative Zone and show him the superhuman holding facilities. It was painful but clear to Peter that he'd been on the wrong side from the start.
He got MJ and Aunt May out of harm's way, that was the most important thing. But facing Tony-- that was something completely different. He couldn't. He knew that Tony genuinely believed that what they were doing was right. Peter no longer did, but it was going to be difficult to tell Tony this. He kept beating himself up over it - he owed Iron Man too much to just be able to abandon him - it didn't feel like the right thing to do.
Peter spent most days in the Avengers Tower - there were always things that needed to be done, and Tony needed his assistance as Spider-Man and as Peter Parker equally. Or at least, this was the excuse he used: there was too much stuff to do, he would tell Tony later.
It was a Sunday morning, and they were looking over some papers in Tony's office. Days of the week weren't something to pay attention to anymore - it didn't matter if it was Sunday or Christmas, they were always working. The last break Peter had was Storm and Black Panther's wedding, and that was a disaster. Peter didn't understand why Tony had been so enthusiastic about it, only to leave immediately before the start, but he had a pretty good hunch that it had to do with the fact he'd seen the Cap there as well.
"Tony, I don't think this is right," he said, setting down an important-looking paper. They were going through it for the past half hour, but Peter had no idea what was in it because he could not concentrate - his thoughts kept slipping to Captain America and this civil war they were all a part of.
"You think the wording is wrong?" Tony looked at Peter over the rim of his glass of bourbon. Peter would have reproached him for drinking while working, but he knew better by now.
"No, I don't mean the document," Peter said, rubbing his temples to force some sense into himself. Why was he doing this now? No time like the present, he thought. Better get it over with. "I mean this entire war, Tony," he said.
"It was never meant to be easy," said Tony, setting his glass down and focusing all his attention on Peter. It always made Peter uneasy, when Tony looked directly at him, when there wasn't at least a computer terminal or a set of power tools between them, because this way Peter had the nagging feeling that he was being scrutinised. He was intimidated by Tony Stark when they first met, and although they'd known each other for a while now, he still felt an irrational urge to look away every time Tony's eyes met his, with that serious expression on Tony's face.
Still. No backing out now. Man up, Parker.
"I don't mean easy, boss, I meant-- don't you ever wonder if you're doing the right thing?"
Tony leaned back in his chair, not saying anything at first. Peter became increasingly aware of the fact that he hadn't had time to have a shower since Friday evening, while somehow Tony's suit was as clean and pressed as it had ever been, even though Peter knew that Tony worked twice as hard as he did. He wondered if Tony Stark ever slept.
"I know I am doing the right thing," Tony said.
"How can you be so sure?" Peter wanted to know. "We're against people who used to-- people who are our friends," he corrected himself, "just because of a stupid piece of paper that some corporate goons thought was a good idea."
"That's what you think I am? A corporate goon?" Tony frowned. "And that the Registration Act is just a stupid piece of paper?"
"No, I didn't mean it like that," Peter quickly said. "But-- and I don't care if what I am going to say means that I will lose my job or that you'll confiscate my Iron Spider costume or whatever-- I think that there was a line, a point to which it was okay to go, but no further, and I think you've crossed that line." He scratched the back of his neck, lost for words. "I had to fight Captain America, I-- that's just wrong, Tony. You can't sit there and tell me it's not wrong."
"I know it wasn't easy for you to come out as Spider-Man, Peter, but-"
"This isn't about me, okay?" Peter interrupted him. "This was never about me, I was just the poster kid for your witch hunt and I thought it was okay because it was you, and I would trust you with my life, but this is bigger."
"You're right," Tony said calmly. "It's much bigger than just you, or me, and if I can't count on you to support me one hundred percent, then I don't think you should be a part of it anymore."
"So this means you're cutting me loose?"
But where was Peter going to go? To MJ and May so he can wait in peace while all this blows over? He knew that he could not just sit idly by while his friends put their lives on the line for what they believed in. He did not want Spider-Man to be known as the one who walked away. What other choice did he have? To try and find Captain America, join the resistance? Be a fugitive? Fight Tony? He could not see himself doing that. He felt cornered, helpless, like they were asking him to cut off his nose to spite his face.
He heaved a sigh, feeling like a thousand-year burden was on his shoulders, and leaned forward, burying his face in his hands.
"I understand what a difficult choice this is for you, Peter," said Tony, resting a reassuring hand on Peter's shoulder. Too caught up in his thoughts, Peter didn't even realise Tony had moved, but there he was, standing next to Peter's chair. He tensed, looking up and turning around to look Tony in the face.
"How can you possibly understand what it's like?" he said. "I have my family to worry about, and who have you got?" Angrily, Peter shrugged off Tony's hand and got up. Tony did not move, so they were standing too close for Peter to feel entirely comfortable, but he could feel his blood boiling as he struggled to contain his temper. "Don't try to play the sympathy card, because you have no idea what it's like for me."
"Of course I know what it's fucking like." Tony hadn't raised his voice as Peter had, but Peter assumed it was only due to massive levels of self-control, and not because Tony was any less angry than Peter was. He did not look like he was going to keep that up for much longer, though: of all the things Tony Stark was famous for, his mild temper was not one of them.
"Steve Rogers was my best friend," Tony continued, "and now he won't even look at me. But it's for the greater good. How can you not see that, damn it?"
"I wish I could, but I'm not as clairvoyant as you, boss. As long as you have that crystal ball with you; I've been dying to know who'll be the new American Idol, so maybe you could--"
"Peter, this is serious!"
"I'm not the one who needs to be told that," said Peter. "I think it's time for someone to get off their high horse. You're acting like yours is the only hand which can bring justice and decide between what's right and what's wrong. And I don't think anyone should allow themselves that. Consider this my resignation." He turned to walk away.
Tony's hand shot out and grabbed Peter by the upper arm, momentarily stopping him. "We are not done here!" he said. Peter turned to look, first at Tony's hand grabbing his arm, and then at Tony's expression - Tony's eyebrows were knotted into a frown. It was clear to both of them that without his suit, Tony could not do much to physically stop Peter from leaving - although younger, due to his mutated DNA Peter was still stronger than Tony.
"What are you going to do, fight me?" Peter wanted to know.
"If that's what it takes to make you understand, yes."
"Hmm, let's see if I get this-- I am going to understand your point of view in the same way that Cap understood?"
Peter knew about lines - people had lines they drew, and lines that they didn't want to be crossed. With Johnny Storm, he was never supposed to mention that incredibly effeminate Asian boy Johnny had a close encounter with that one time in Vegas: because what happened in Vegas, stayed there. Wolverine was pretty touchy about Cyclops, and mentioning him in a positive context, even jokingly, did not do well with him. And Peter was just about to learn what exactly it was that Tony Stark did not tolerate.
Peter's spider sense reacted. He dodged the punch Tony threw for a hair's breadth, so close that he heard the whoosh of air as Tony's fist went past his head. Tony attempted to hit him again - something which Peter could easily have deflected in order to fight back; but he still refused to fight Tony. He grabbed one of Tony's wrists, and then the other, holding his arms up and in place between them.
His upper hand only lasted for as long as he was convinced that Tony was going to be the one to stand down. All Tony needed was that one moment of hesitation, a relaxed grip, and he turned the tables on Peter, grabbing his arm, pulling it and twisting it behind his back. A sharp pain seared through Peter's shoulder as he tried to wriggle loose.
"Don't bring Steve into this," Tony snarled into Peter's ear. "You think you can just assume that the world works the way you imagine it to. It doesn't." His grip on Peter's arm tightened. "You think that because you swing from a thread above a city that you have insight, but you have no idea what really goes on, Peter." Abruptly, Tony shoved him, and Peter's face hit the wall. He was only spared from breaking his nose by his reflexes and the fact that he managed to turn his head to the side in time. "You may hide behind your marriage," Tony went on, his weight pressing against Peter's back as he tried to keep him in place, "behind your job and your costume, but underneath it you're still the same, naive kid." As he spoke, his breath was hitting Peter's neck. He could detect a whiff of bourbon, and he wondered how much of it Tony had drank. He never saw the bottle, but Tony's glass had always been full. Peter knew Tony better than to assume that his coordination would be hindered by the drink - he was equally a threat like this as he was when stone-cold sober.
It took Peter a couple of seconds to weigh his chances, and then he managed to shove Tony off him, breathing heavily as he faced him, feeling his pulse race. "I'm not a kid," he said.
He barely got the words out when Tony was on him again, pinning him against the wall with the weight of his body. "You're sure as hell acting like one," he said. His blue eyes were angry, and beneath his own agitation, Peter had to admit that he felt scared. What are you getting yourself into? It was not because of the fact that he was, in effect, fighting his boss - it wasn't even the fact that Tony was the kind of person to hold grudges and it would take a long time to smooth this over. No, it was because Peter Parker had had a crippling, stupid, hero-worshipping crush on Tony Stark pretty much ever since he saw Tony deliver a lecture at MIT and for the first time realised that you could talk about condensed matter physics and look good in a designer suit at the same time. He got over it, because that's what you did with high-school crushes - you continued with your life and you did not let them affect your work. You did most certainly not let them resurface at the most awkward, inappropriate moment. There was a flush in Peter's cheeks that had nothing to do with how angry he was with Tony, and a bulge in his jeans that had everything to do with how close they were standing.
"Let go of me," Peter demanded. Trying to wriggle loose had not been a good course of action - it just made him rub against Tony, for which he mentally cursed himself. Tony's expression flickered - for an instant, he looked genuinely surprised. It was quickly gone, but what it was replaced with made Peter even more worried. Tony grinned: it was a menacing, almost predatory grin, and it did not reach his eyes.
"This is what it's about, then," Tony said, his voice tinged with something that might have been contempt, but before Peter could dwell on it, his legs were knocked apart to make room for Tony's thigh, and Peter gave a startled, choked noise as it jutted upwards to meet his crotch. "You little shit." Tony held Peter's chest down using his forearm, limiting his movement. His thigh rocked against Peter's crotch again, and Peter could feel his cock hardening as a result.
"I didn't think you were like this, Peter," Tony went on. Peter struggled, but Tony's fingers dug painfully in his shoulder - and every time he struggled, he kept rubbing himself against Tony's thigh, wedged between his legs. His cheeks were burning. "I am highly--" Tony leaned closer to whisper into Peter's ear, "--disappointed in you." His lips brushed the skin just as he ground his hips against Peter, slamming him into the wall.
"Stop it," Peter choked out, fingers haphazardly scratching against Tony's hips, digging into his suit in what Peter angrily had to admit was a pathetic attempt to push Tony away. Tony held himself firmly in place. He pushed his arm against Peter's throat, momentarily cutting off his airflow.
"Stop?" he echoed. "You're lying to yourself, Peter." As if to prove it to him, Tony used his free hand, snaking it around Peter's hips and pulling him closer, so Peter was involuntarily pressed down against Tony's thigh once more. He squeezed his eyes shut as stars exploded across the backs of his eyelids, and he cursed himself for wearing jeans to work. The pressure on his cock was painful, and it didn't help his case that his erection was straining against the fabric. Tony's fingers had crept between them and he was busy unhooking Peter's belt. He tried to stammer out a protest, but Tony's eyes shot up, the pressure on Peter's throat intensifying.
"What was that?" Tony said. "You want this." He finished unhooking Peter's belt, and his hand was on the small of Peter's back again. His fingers pushed past the waistband of Peter's jeans, and Peter felt Tony's hand - Tony Stark's hand, Tony Stark's hand is in my pants, he thought, panicking. Tony's warm palm was pressing against the naked skin of Peter's ass, cupping it, and Peter felt all the blood leave his cheeks in an incredible rush downwards. "How many times," Tony demanded, grinding his hips against Peter's, "have we been in this office, alone, and how many times," he ground down again, and Peter couldn't suppress the gasp that came when he felt that Tony was hard too, "did you want this?"
"I--"
"How many times did you jerk off to this?" Tony breathed, and Peter tried to say I didn't, I didn't, I swear I didn't - but all that came out was a choked moan because Tony was rubbing himself against Peter, painfully slow, and Peter could feel the front of his boxers getting wet with precome. Tony did not even need to hold him down any more; Peter had nothing in him left that made him want to struggle. He would justify it to himself by saying that it was useless, Tony would just hurt him if he tried moving - but he knew by now that it wouldn't be true. Tony was right, he did want it. Just because it was true, though, it didn't mean that he hated himself any less for it.
"You make me sick." Tony's voice was low, and Peter's zipper came down. Peter couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as he was freed from the constraints of the denim, but it caught in his throat as Tony started palming him over the cotton of his boxers. Tony's grip on Peter's throat loosened, and his fingers tangled in Peter's hair, pulling at the strands just enough to hurt. Peter could feel Tony's breath against his neck again, the hairs of his neatly-clipped moustache scratching Peter's skin. He could barely hear what Tony was saying over the roar of blood in his ears. "I didn't even have to talk to you about the Registration Act, did I?" Tony said. His fingers scraped against the head of Peter's cock, still trapped in his boxers. Not being able to restrain himself, Peter bucked his hips helplessly into Tony's hand. "All I had to do was this," Tony said, squeezing. Peter let out a loud gasp, moving his face away from Tony. He couldn't bear to look at him, not now. "You would have agreed to any fucking thing I said, wouldn't you, Pete?" Tony said. He licked a strip up Peter's neck, nipping at his jaw. Peter could feel himself start to shake. His knees went weak, and he clung to Tony's hips in an attempt to steady himself, fingers desperately fighting for some kind of purchase.
"No," he tried, but it was a pitiful attempt because his voice came out far too husky than normal for someone trying to fight off unwanted advances. "I wouldn't-- just let me go, Tony--" His plea ended in a choked whimper because Tony had stuck his hand down Peter's pants and his fingers - Tony Stark's fingers, screamed the single coherent thought in Peter's brain - were touching the length of Peter's cock. Tony started thumbing the head, coaxing out the precome which had already made Peter's underwear embarrassingly wet. Peter had trouble breathing. His head fell forward, his forehead meeting with the crook of Tony's shoulder. He smelled like cologne, sweat and engine fluid. Tony shook with suppressed laughter, and a moan escaped Peter's lips when Tony started fisting his cock.
"I knew it," said Tony. "Come on," he growled, tugging on Peter's cock, which caused Peter to buck violently into him. "You love it, you pathetic bastard." He tugged Peter's head upwards by his hair, and Peter yowled in pain. His breathing was coming in short gasps and Peter felt completely undone in front of him. Tony took his hand out of Peter's pants, slick with precome, and brought it to tilt Peter's chin upwards, forcing Peter to face him. He ran his thumb across Peter's lower lip. Peter felt dizzy as Tony pushed his lips open and made him suck. He could taste himself on Tony's fingers, and it caused him to buck his hips against Tony's again. Tony hissed, his control slipping, and Peter groaned around his fingers, because fuck, he needed the friction, and Tony's fingers in his mouth was something that he never knew could feel this good. "You fucking-- love this, don't you?" Tony said.
"Yes," Peter breathed out, taking Tony's hand out of his mouth. Everyone had their limits, and this was the moment that all of Peter's barriers had collapsed around him, all his dignity lost. He trembled all over as Tony's hand closed around his cock once more. This time, there was absolutely no hesitation - he started bucking into it, hips rocking, fucking Tony's hand, his eyes pressed tightly shut.
"I want you to touch me," Tony said, fighting to hold Peter's hips in place, stop him from moving. "I want you to feel the weight of my cock in your hand, Peter," Tony continued, working his fingers on the base of Peter's cock, and Peter could feel the pressure building up in the pit of his stomach. "Then-- I want to fuck you open, feel you tight around me, until you're begging--"
Peter's entire body stiffened as he came, spilling into Tony's hand. He was still panting when Tony took his hand out of his pants, wiping it on a silk handkerchief he produced from his pocket. When he was done, he threw it at Peter, and, reflexively, Peter caught it.
"Clean yourself up," Tony ordered, leaving Peter slumped against the wall trying to collect himself. When he was at the door, he paused, turning to look at Peter, who could feel his cheeks burning. "There will be no more of this kind of talk," Tony said. "You're with me."
The door closed behind him.
marvel comics: tony stark (iron man)/peter parker(spider-man). // (3.674) // NC-17
spoilers for civil war. dubious consent.
written for the marvel rare pairings kink meme.
posted to spidey_fic and parkerstark.
Things have spiraled out of hand.
Peter had a hunch that they would when he'd had to fight Captain America in the alley - had to, because he'd given a promise to Iron Man, and promises were not something Peter wanted to break. Even if it meant having to fight Captain America, a man Peter completely admired - but Cap was wrong this time, and the law was the law. Just because you didn't like it, that didn't mean you could disregard it.
The day he realised things had gone for the worst was when he managed to persuade Tony to take him to the Negative Zone and show him the superhuman holding facilities. It was painful but clear to Peter that he'd been on the wrong side from the start.
He got MJ and Aunt May out of harm's way, that was the most important thing. But facing Tony-- that was something completely different. He couldn't. He knew that Tony genuinely believed that what they were doing was right. Peter no longer did, but it was going to be difficult to tell Tony this. He kept beating himself up over it - he owed Iron Man too much to just be able to abandon him - it didn't feel like the right thing to do.
Peter spent most days in the Avengers Tower - there were always things that needed to be done, and Tony needed his assistance as Spider-Man and as Peter Parker equally. Or at least, this was the excuse he used: there was too much stuff to do, he would tell Tony later.
It was a Sunday morning, and they were looking over some papers in Tony's office. Days of the week weren't something to pay attention to anymore - it didn't matter if it was Sunday or Christmas, they were always working. The last break Peter had was Storm and Black Panther's wedding, and that was a disaster. Peter didn't understand why Tony had been so enthusiastic about it, only to leave immediately before the start, but he had a pretty good hunch that it had to do with the fact he'd seen the Cap there as well.
"Tony, I don't think this is right," he said, setting down an important-looking paper. They were going through it for the past half hour, but Peter had no idea what was in it because he could not concentrate - his thoughts kept slipping to Captain America and this civil war they were all a part of.
"You think the wording is wrong?" Tony looked at Peter over the rim of his glass of bourbon. Peter would have reproached him for drinking while working, but he knew better by now.
"No, I don't mean the document," Peter said, rubbing his temples to force some sense into himself. Why was he doing this now? No time like the present, he thought. Better get it over with. "I mean this entire war, Tony," he said.
"It was never meant to be easy," said Tony, setting his glass down and focusing all his attention on Peter. It always made Peter uneasy, when Tony looked directly at him, when there wasn't at least a computer terminal or a set of power tools between them, because this way Peter had the nagging feeling that he was being scrutinised. He was intimidated by Tony Stark when they first met, and although they'd known each other for a while now, he still felt an irrational urge to look away every time Tony's eyes met his, with that serious expression on Tony's face.
Still. No backing out now. Man up, Parker.
"I don't mean easy, boss, I meant-- don't you ever wonder if you're doing the right thing?"
Tony leaned back in his chair, not saying anything at first. Peter became increasingly aware of the fact that he hadn't had time to have a shower since Friday evening, while somehow Tony's suit was as clean and pressed as it had ever been, even though Peter knew that Tony worked twice as hard as he did. He wondered if Tony Stark ever slept.
"I know I am doing the right thing," Tony said.
"How can you be so sure?" Peter wanted to know. "We're against people who used to-- people who are our friends," he corrected himself, "just because of a stupid piece of paper that some corporate goons thought was a good idea."
"That's what you think I am? A corporate goon?" Tony frowned. "And that the Registration Act is just a stupid piece of paper?"
"No, I didn't mean it like that," Peter quickly said. "But-- and I don't care if what I am going to say means that I will lose my job or that you'll confiscate my Iron Spider costume or whatever-- I think that there was a line, a point to which it was okay to go, but no further, and I think you've crossed that line." He scratched the back of his neck, lost for words. "I had to fight Captain America, I-- that's just wrong, Tony. You can't sit there and tell me it's not wrong."
"I know it wasn't easy for you to come out as Spider-Man, Peter, but-"
"This isn't about me, okay?" Peter interrupted him. "This was never about me, I was just the poster kid for your witch hunt and I thought it was okay because it was you, and I would trust you with my life, but this is bigger."
"You're right," Tony said calmly. "It's much bigger than just you, or me, and if I can't count on you to support me one hundred percent, then I don't think you should be a part of it anymore."
"So this means you're cutting me loose?"
But where was Peter going to go? To MJ and May so he can wait in peace while all this blows over? He knew that he could not just sit idly by while his friends put their lives on the line for what they believed in. He did not want Spider-Man to be known as the one who walked away. What other choice did he have? To try and find Captain America, join the resistance? Be a fugitive? Fight Tony? He could not see himself doing that. He felt cornered, helpless, like they were asking him to cut off his nose to spite his face.
He heaved a sigh, feeling like a thousand-year burden was on his shoulders, and leaned forward, burying his face in his hands.
"I understand what a difficult choice this is for you, Peter," said Tony, resting a reassuring hand on Peter's shoulder. Too caught up in his thoughts, Peter didn't even realise Tony had moved, but there he was, standing next to Peter's chair. He tensed, looking up and turning around to look Tony in the face.
"How can you possibly understand what it's like?" he said. "I have my family to worry about, and who have you got?" Angrily, Peter shrugged off Tony's hand and got up. Tony did not move, so they were standing too close for Peter to feel entirely comfortable, but he could feel his blood boiling as he struggled to contain his temper. "Don't try to play the sympathy card, because you have no idea what it's like for me."
"Of course I know what it's fucking like." Tony hadn't raised his voice as Peter had, but Peter assumed it was only due to massive levels of self-control, and not because Tony was any less angry than Peter was. He did not look like he was going to keep that up for much longer, though: of all the things Tony Stark was famous for, his mild temper was not one of them.
"Steve Rogers was my best friend," Tony continued, "and now he won't even look at me. But it's for the greater good. How can you not see that, damn it?"
"I wish I could, but I'm not as clairvoyant as you, boss. As long as you have that crystal ball with you; I've been dying to know who'll be the new American Idol, so maybe you could--"
"Peter, this is serious!"
"I'm not the one who needs to be told that," said Peter. "I think it's time for someone to get off their high horse. You're acting like yours is the only hand which can bring justice and decide between what's right and what's wrong. And I don't think anyone should allow themselves that. Consider this my resignation." He turned to walk away.
Tony's hand shot out and grabbed Peter by the upper arm, momentarily stopping him. "We are not done here!" he said. Peter turned to look, first at Tony's hand grabbing his arm, and then at Tony's expression - Tony's eyebrows were knotted into a frown. It was clear to both of them that without his suit, Tony could not do much to physically stop Peter from leaving - although younger, due to his mutated DNA Peter was still stronger than Tony.
"What are you going to do, fight me?" Peter wanted to know.
"If that's what it takes to make you understand, yes."
"Hmm, let's see if I get this-- I am going to understand your point of view in the same way that Cap understood?"
Peter knew about lines - people had lines they drew, and lines that they didn't want to be crossed. With Johnny Storm, he was never supposed to mention that incredibly effeminate Asian boy Johnny had a close encounter with that one time in Vegas: because what happened in Vegas, stayed there. Wolverine was pretty touchy about Cyclops, and mentioning him in a positive context, even jokingly, did not do well with him. And Peter was just about to learn what exactly it was that Tony Stark did not tolerate.
Peter's spider sense reacted. He dodged the punch Tony threw for a hair's breadth, so close that he heard the whoosh of air as Tony's fist went past his head. Tony attempted to hit him again - something which Peter could easily have deflected in order to fight back; but he still refused to fight Tony. He grabbed one of Tony's wrists, and then the other, holding his arms up and in place between them.
His upper hand only lasted for as long as he was convinced that Tony was going to be the one to stand down. All Tony needed was that one moment of hesitation, a relaxed grip, and he turned the tables on Peter, grabbing his arm, pulling it and twisting it behind his back. A sharp pain seared through Peter's shoulder as he tried to wriggle loose.
"Don't bring Steve into this," Tony snarled into Peter's ear. "You think you can just assume that the world works the way you imagine it to. It doesn't." His grip on Peter's arm tightened. "You think that because you swing from a thread above a city that you have insight, but you have no idea what really goes on, Peter." Abruptly, Tony shoved him, and Peter's face hit the wall. He was only spared from breaking his nose by his reflexes and the fact that he managed to turn his head to the side in time. "You may hide behind your marriage," Tony went on, his weight pressing against Peter's back as he tried to keep him in place, "behind your job and your costume, but underneath it you're still the same, naive kid." As he spoke, his breath was hitting Peter's neck. He could detect a whiff of bourbon, and he wondered how much of it Tony had drank. He never saw the bottle, but Tony's glass had always been full. Peter knew Tony better than to assume that his coordination would be hindered by the drink - he was equally a threat like this as he was when stone-cold sober.
It took Peter a couple of seconds to weigh his chances, and then he managed to shove Tony off him, breathing heavily as he faced him, feeling his pulse race. "I'm not a kid," he said.
He barely got the words out when Tony was on him again, pinning him against the wall with the weight of his body. "You're sure as hell acting like one," he said. His blue eyes were angry, and beneath his own agitation, Peter had to admit that he felt scared. What are you getting yourself into? It was not because of the fact that he was, in effect, fighting his boss - it wasn't even the fact that Tony was the kind of person to hold grudges and it would take a long time to smooth this over. No, it was because Peter Parker had had a crippling, stupid, hero-worshipping crush on Tony Stark pretty much ever since he saw Tony deliver a lecture at MIT and for the first time realised that you could talk about condensed matter physics and look good in a designer suit at the same time. He got over it, because that's what you did with high-school crushes - you continued with your life and you did not let them affect your work. You did most certainly not let them resurface at the most awkward, inappropriate moment. There was a flush in Peter's cheeks that had nothing to do with how angry he was with Tony, and a bulge in his jeans that had everything to do with how close they were standing.
"Let go of me," Peter demanded. Trying to wriggle loose had not been a good course of action - it just made him rub against Tony, for which he mentally cursed himself. Tony's expression flickered - for an instant, he looked genuinely surprised. It was quickly gone, but what it was replaced with made Peter even more worried. Tony grinned: it was a menacing, almost predatory grin, and it did not reach his eyes.
"This is what it's about, then," Tony said, his voice tinged with something that might have been contempt, but before Peter could dwell on it, his legs were knocked apart to make room for Tony's thigh, and Peter gave a startled, choked noise as it jutted upwards to meet his crotch. "You little shit." Tony held Peter's chest down using his forearm, limiting his movement. His thigh rocked against Peter's crotch again, and Peter could feel his cock hardening as a result.
"I didn't think you were like this, Peter," Tony went on. Peter struggled, but Tony's fingers dug painfully in his shoulder - and every time he struggled, he kept rubbing himself against Tony's thigh, wedged between his legs. His cheeks were burning. "I am highly--" Tony leaned closer to whisper into Peter's ear, "--disappointed in you." His lips brushed the skin just as he ground his hips against Peter, slamming him into the wall.
"Stop it," Peter choked out, fingers haphazardly scratching against Tony's hips, digging into his suit in what Peter angrily had to admit was a pathetic attempt to push Tony away. Tony held himself firmly in place. He pushed his arm against Peter's throat, momentarily cutting off his airflow.
"Stop?" he echoed. "You're lying to yourself, Peter." As if to prove it to him, Tony used his free hand, snaking it around Peter's hips and pulling him closer, so Peter was involuntarily pressed down against Tony's thigh once more. He squeezed his eyes shut as stars exploded across the backs of his eyelids, and he cursed himself for wearing jeans to work. The pressure on his cock was painful, and it didn't help his case that his erection was straining against the fabric. Tony's fingers had crept between them and he was busy unhooking Peter's belt. He tried to stammer out a protest, but Tony's eyes shot up, the pressure on Peter's throat intensifying.
"What was that?" Tony said. "You want this." He finished unhooking Peter's belt, and his hand was on the small of Peter's back again. His fingers pushed past the waistband of Peter's jeans, and Peter felt Tony's hand - Tony Stark's hand, Tony Stark's hand is in my pants, he thought, panicking. Tony's warm palm was pressing against the naked skin of Peter's ass, cupping it, and Peter felt all the blood leave his cheeks in an incredible rush downwards. "How many times," Tony demanded, grinding his hips against Peter's, "have we been in this office, alone, and how many times," he ground down again, and Peter couldn't suppress the gasp that came when he felt that Tony was hard too, "did you want this?"
"I--"
"How many times did you jerk off to this?" Tony breathed, and Peter tried to say I didn't, I didn't, I swear I didn't - but all that came out was a choked moan because Tony was rubbing himself against Peter, painfully slow, and Peter could feel the front of his boxers getting wet with precome. Tony did not even need to hold him down any more; Peter had nothing in him left that made him want to struggle. He would justify it to himself by saying that it was useless, Tony would just hurt him if he tried moving - but he knew by now that it wouldn't be true. Tony was right, he did want it. Just because it was true, though, it didn't mean that he hated himself any less for it.
"You make me sick." Tony's voice was low, and Peter's zipper came down. Peter couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as he was freed from the constraints of the denim, but it caught in his throat as Tony started palming him over the cotton of his boxers. Tony's grip on Peter's throat loosened, and his fingers tangled in Peter's hair, pulling at the strands just enough to hurt. Peter could feel Tony's breath against his neck again, the hairs of his neatly-clipped moustache scratching Peter's skin. He could barely hear what Tony was saying over the roar of blood in his ears. "I didn't even have to talk to you about the Registration Act, did I?" Tony said. His fingers scraped against the head of Peter's cock, still trapped in his boxers. Not being able to restrain himself, Peter bucked his hips helplessly into Tony's hand. "All I had to do was this," Tony said, squeezing. Peter let out a loud gasp, moving his face away from Tony. He couldn't bear to look at him, not now. "You would have agreed to any fucking thing I said, wouldn't you, Pete?" Tony said. He licked a strip up Peter's neck, nipping at his jaw. Peter could feel himself start to shake. His knees went weak, and he clung to Tony's hips in an attempt to steady himself, fingers desperately fighting for some kind of purchase.
"No," he tried, but it was a pitiful attempt because his voice came out far too husky than normal for someone trying to fight off unwanted advances. "I wouldn't-- just let me go, Tony--" His plea ended in a choked whimper because Tony had stuck his hand down Peter's pants and his fingers - Tony Stark's fingers, screamed the single coherent thought in Peter's brain - were touching the length of Peter's cock. Tony started thumbing the head, coaxing out the precome which had already made Peter's underwear embarrassingly wet. Peter had trouble breathing. His head fell forward, his forehead meeting with the crook of Tony's shoulder. He smelled like cologne, sweat and engine fluid. Tony shook with suppressed laughter, and a moan escaped Peter's lips when Tony started fisting his cock.
"I knew it," said Tony. "Come on," he growled, tugging on Peter's cock, which caused Peter to buck violently into him. "You love it, you pathetic bastard." He tugged Peter's head upwards by his hair, and Peter yowled in pain. His breathing was coming in short gasps and Peter felt completely undone in front of him. Tony took his hand out of Peter's pants, slick with precome, and brought it to tilt Peter's chin upwards, forcing Peter to face him. He ran his thumb across Peter's lower lip. Peter felt dizzy as Tony pushed his lips open and made him suck. He could taste himself on Tony's fingers, and it caused him to buck his hips against Tony's again. Tony hissed, his control slipping, and Peter groaned around his fingers, because fuck, he needed the friction, and Tony's fingers in his mouth was something that he never knew could feel this good. "You fucking-- love this, don't you?" Tony said.
"Yes," Peter breathed out, taking Tony's hand out of his mouth. Everyone had their limits, and this was the moment that all of Peter's barriers had collapsed around him, all his dignity lost. He trembled all over as Tony's hand closed around his cock once more. This time, there was absolutely no hesitation - he started bucking into it, hips rocking, fucking Tony's hand, his eyes pressed tightly shut.
"I want you to touch me," Tony said, fighting to hold Peter's hips in place, stop him from moving. "I want you to feel the weight of my cock in your hand, Peter," Tony continued, working his fingers on the base of Peter's cock, and Peter could feel the pressure building up in the pit of his stomach. "Then-- I want to fuck you open, feel you tight around me, until you're begging--"
Peter's entire body stiffened as he came, spilling into Tony's hand. He was still panting when Tony took his hand out of his pants, wiping it on a silk handkerchief he produced from his pocket. When he was done, he threw it at Peter, and, reflexively, Peter caught it.
"Clean yourself up," Tony ordered, leaving Peter slumped against the wall trying to collect himself. When he was at the door, he paused, turning to look at Peter, who could feel his cheeks burning. "There will be no more of this kind of talk," Tony said. "You're with me."
The door closed behind him.