"Okay, Tony, where do you want me next?".

Peter propped himself against the nearest wall, holding himself up with his feet and left hand- his right pressing to the earpiece (unnecessarily) within his mask. There had been a rather violent robbery in downtown New York and, excited to further push his "street skills" (as Peter liked to call it), he and Iron Man had decided to help the situation. Getting to the scene and taking down the first few bad guys proved to be easy, but as soon as Peter was separated from the Iron Man he seemed to be a tad bit lost.

"Just do as we practiced. Anyone in a black ski mask, take 'em down and web them up," Tony said from within his helmet. Peter huffed a sigh. All the bad guys in this ally were gone and he couldn't find any more.

"Where are they now?" he asked, shooting a web to the nearest rooftop and hoisting himself up, legs flinging upward, the souls of his boots to the sky, as he swung himself up out of the ally for a better look.

"Three o'clock, spiderling," and with that Peter spotted them. A group of three men running in the middle of a sea of yellow taxis and honking mopeds. He swung down, focusing his vision on one of the men and landing a hard kick to his head. Landing on a stopped taxi with a squeaking cry from the suspension of the car, he quickly secured the man to the sidewalk with a large web. Above, Iron Man set off a repulsor beam to hit the ground in front of another man running. Startled, the man fell backwards giving Peter enough time to fling a web to him, securing him to a street lamp.

"Nice one, kid. I'm going after the other two down the street, you get the guy heading into the garage," Iron Man said, landing with a metallic thud on the pavement before shooting towards the escaping men. Peter nodded with a firm "Okay!" and sprinted towards the parking garage to his right. He managed to loose the guy in the garage on the first level, but soon spotted him zig-zagging in between parked cars and heading towards the stairs. Peter flung a web at the door to the staircase and the man quickly changed course to continue up the garage through the parking spaces. Peter soon caught up to him, flinging web after web at the guy but just missing (and creating some inconvenient situations for the civilians who will find their car doors webbed shut). The garage ceilings were too low to get any good leverage to swing on a web and he was forced to chase after the guy on foot. Just when he almost caught up to the guy another man tackled the teenager against a parked hummer, immediately pulling Peter's hands above his head into a zip tie and, soon after, pulling a switch blade from his pocket. He managed three cuts to Peter's chest and neck before the teen was able to get his legs free, kicking the man off and attempting to fling a web at him.

"You got him, kid?" Iron Man asked through the earpiece just as the original man he was chasing tackled Peter into a parked motorcycle, managing to seriously injure his left arm. Peter was able to kick him in the jaw before stumbling against the motorcycle, attempting to stand up again.

"Uhhh, almost," he managed before one of them came at him with a switchblade again, swinging at Peter's head as the teen managed to dodge each time. The other man, from behind, opened a car door and, after slamming the door loudly began shooting at Peter's back with a handgun. The gun was blasted out of his hand and was soon after broken by Iron Man, but not after a few bullets were lodged into Peter's back.

With a few heavy gasps Peter breathed through the pain, falling to his knees and managing to tear his wrists free of the zip-tie. Suddenly, he was in between two trucks in a small nook in the wall of the garage.

"You're done for today. Stay here, I'll come get you once I'm done," Iron Man said, one gauntlet-covered-hand pressed firmly to the teen's chest.

"Wha? No, I'm fine, let me go," He argued, grasping at the metal wrist.

"No," The iron mask flew up to reveal a stern looking Tony Stark, "you're hurt. Stay here, I will come and get you after,"

"But-"

"Stay here, kid,". And without another word the mask clacked into place and the Iron Man was off, catching up easily with the cliche black ski masked man. Peter took a second to lean against the cement wall, huffing through the strong throbbing in his back and chest, twisting his shoulder blades to gauge how bad it was. It was bad, but not the worst. Suddenly, he feels the pavement below his feet vibrate subtly and he looks up to see the second man running up the garage past his little nook with some sort of glowing thing in his hand. That can't be a good thing. He decides to take the guy down, using his element of surprise, before he can catch up to the Iron man a few levels above them. He somersaults out from between the two cars, lands one knee to the ground, and readys himself to web the guy when an odd rumble vibrates through his kneecap and suddenly the ceiling of the garage is coming down on a hailstorm of concrete and a thunder of Iron Man's voice in his ear piece faintly echoed from the floor above:

"Stay hidden, kid!" And just like that a soccer mom van comes down, alarm blaring as if it were frightened, crushing the man who had wasted precious time to stop and question his circumstances. Peter was well aware of the Mustang convertible parked above his head on a crumbling parking spot, ready to fall on him. But he was far too distracted with the crushed man a few yards ahead of him to move in time and he soon followed suit, crushed (dare he say like a bug) under the flashing headlights of one of his dream cars.

When he woke next he was comforted by a warm wash of the scent of coffee, oil, and Old Spice. He knew he wasn't home before he opened his eyes, acutely aware of the hum of the large 'A' sign on the roof above him, the firm, hardly used, couch beneath him, the mildly similar hum of electronics in the lab even further below him, and a stirring Tony Stark in his squeaking lab chair. He took some time before opening his eyes in favor of listening and feeling Tony's movements. A whir and click as he took off his gauntlet and placed it on his desk, a deep hum of disapproval as he picked up an impossibly small screw driver, the small sound of friction as he rubbed his chin in exhaustion. Soon, however, his sense filter began to go down and he allowed himself to feel and hear even further: a woman moving through her bathroom in a nearby building, four pigeons cooing on an oddly quiet sidewalk, a cell phone ringing in a car on the street below followed by a pause and a soft "Hi, babe."

His eyes opened and he was back in the living room, his "spider senses" calming down. He forgot how overwhelming it was sometimes. Cautiously, he rolled his shoulders and sat up, pain much smaller than before. Without any real purpose Peter padded down the stairs to Tony's lab, clad in only a tshirt and some basketball shorts. He found Tony where he knew he would, hunched over his disassembled gauntlet at his desk. He punched in his access code and opened the glass door with a short

"Hey, Tony,". The older man looked up at him, eyes red with a lack of sleep, frown lines deep set out of concentration.

"Hey kid, doin' okay?" he asked, turning in his chair, hands landing on his lap with a soft thap. Peter nodded, fingering a dremel head on the table beside him.

"I'm fine Tony. I'm always fine" he said rather confidently, grinning at the stone faced Tony.

"You weren't okay. You weren't careful enough. Got yourself shot," He said sternly. Peter's face scrunched up at that. He was fine. His body wasn't unfamiliar to a good beating, nor was it to a quick healing.

"S'not like I've never been in a fight before, Tony. You don't gatta treat me like I'm gonna die out there," That earned him the "look". The older man's eyes hardened, lips falling into a hard line. 'Here we go again' Peter thought begrudgingly.

"You could die out there. You're just a kid. Why do you think I don't send you out alone? You need more practice. You have to-"

"Jesus, Tony, I ain't a kid!" Peter interrupted, meaning it to have been angry but it came out more like a whine. "Quit calling me one. I'm 18, I'm practically getting social security checks, I think I'm old enough to fend for myself against a group of bank robbers," He crossed his arms, leaning on one hip.

"Kid, you got shot three times in the back. You need more practice, I can't be everywhere at once to help you out of a tough situation," Tony ran his hand over his face, leaving a small grease stain on his forehead.

"I'm not a kid!" Peter shouted, "I can fend for myself!"

"You are a kid! I'm more than old enough to be your father and I'm getting tired of having to act like it."

"Tony, I can make my own decisions, I'm strong enough to-" Tony cut him off, standing abruptly and taking two long strides until he stood directly in front of the shorter man, looking down with anger in his eyes and a small flicker of worry.

"You were almost crushed to death because you wouldn't listen to me,"

"But I wasn't!" Peter shouted back, not backing down from the larger man.

"Stop acting like a child and listen to me!" Tony shouted back and Peter shoved him away.

"I swear to God, Tony, if you don't stop calling me a kid I'm gonna start calling you old man," Peter growled. Tony made a face at him.

"And you call this not being childish?"

"I'll call you old fart, putting around in your hobby room all day,"

"Peter, stop it," Tony huffed, sitting back down and rubbing the back of his neck.

"I'll call you dad. In front of everyone," Peter threatened. Tony sighed and leaned his head back, turning his head towards Peter with the most obvious 'What the fuck, kid' look on his face.

"I'll call you 'dad' in front of everyone. In public, in front of press,"

"Kid, stop it,"

"In front of the mail man,"

"Peter,"

"In front of Rhodey,"

"Shit kid, stop acting like you're five!" Peter crossed his arms.

"I won't stop until you stop calling me kid," He offered, one eyebrow crooked. He knew Tony wouldn't back down. If Tony Stark was known for anything- besides being Iron Man- it was for being the most stubborn human being on Earth. And just like he guessed, Tony replied with:

"No,". Peter comically shrugged with a sigh and a smirk. Turning slightly to leave the room he responded over his shoulder,

"Okay, fine then. Have fun tinkering, daddy dearest. I'm heading home. Try not to worry yourself into a heart attack," and he left before Tony could respond.

For the next week Peter held his word and refused to call the older man anything but 'dad'. Alone and in public it was "Hey dad, look at this," "Where are you going daddy dearest?" and batting eyelashes, and he could see Tony obviously trying to ignore the embarrassing title, calling him childish and holding a deep set frown. It was fun messing with the proud Tony Stark. Peter knew it was childish but he also knew the Iron Man was just as childish as he was, refusing to back down as if it were more than just a matter of pride.

One particular situation, however, took the fun out of this weird stubborn game.

Coming down to the lab Peter sipped at his coffee, another in his hand for Tony. They had been working on one of Tony's cars, a fun pastime project for the two of them. Peter had lost track of time but he knew it was dark outside and his body craved caffeine in order to keep moving so he had gone on a quick coffee run. Tony slid himself out from under the car after he heard Peter coming in. Sitting up he crooked an eyebrow at the teen.

"Got me one too?" he asked. Peter nodded, handing him the cup before sitting on the cement floor next to him.

"Figured you've slept less than me this week. Probably needed it,".Tony nodded in response, sipping at the hot liquid.

"Thanks for letting me work on your car with you. It's nice to tinker with something that the world doesn't depend on," Peter admitted. Tony looked at him, a small smile pulling at his lips creating smile lines that were oddly flattering. His hair was particularly unruly this evening, he had tousled it to hell with hours of running greasy hands through it and pulling it in thought. His goatee needed grooming, his face rough with days without shaving, his eyes tired looking from a lack of sleep, eyes often closing for long moments of pause allowing impossibly long eyelashes to brush his cheeks.

"Sure thing kid,". Peter blinked away, realising he had been staring at his face for a few moments too long. Tony put his coffee off to the side and laid back down, turning slightly to see behind the tire. He made a small sound of annoyance.

"Hey, can you hand me a screwdriver? I gotta use something to scrape this brake fluid off, it's starting to crystalize,". Peter nodded,

"Sure, where is it?"

"On the other side of me,". Peter sat up onto his knees, leaning over the older man, placing his palm on the ground by Tony's hip to reach over him to the screwdriver.

"Hand me two of them, actually. Something flat head," Peter let out a soft grunt out of the effort of the stretch and, without thought, followed with an oddly throaty:

"Yes, daddy,".

He froze. Tony froze.

The air stood still as Peter realised he was stretched out over the older man on his hands and knees, way closer than necessary, and just fucking practically moaned out the words 'yes daddy'. His eyes darted to Tony's face, not even daring to move as if he would scare a wild animal. The older man crooked an eyebrow at him and fucking smirked.

"You flirting with me, kid?". He propped himself on an elbow (getting even closer to the teen) and raised his chin up, eyes dark. If Peter's face wasn't already flushed with embarrassment he was as red as a fucking sunburnt tomato. He moved very quickly from over Tony, practically to the other side of the room before shaking his head almost violently.

"N-no, what? Thats fucking weird, that was fucking weird. Hey, I'm kinda tired, I gotta study for a big test next week and I promised my aunt I'd help her with something and I should really head home and sleep I'll see you later, okay? Okay, cool, bye," the teen stammered, talking as fast as he could as he gathered his things into his backpack and practically sprinted out of the lab and up the stairs leaving a confused Tony Stark behind.

Peter tried not to wallow in embarrassment. He tried to avoid thinking about the whole situation in general for the next few days but the more he avoided thinking about it the more he thought about it and the more he remembered Tony lying half under his car, oil staining his hands, legs sprawled out long in his tight jeans, back arching to reach behind the tire, the way he smelt of oil and sweat and something he could only describe as Tony, and, literally, Peter had never thought about any of this before and, seriously, it was weird. The teen had been calling Tony "dad" for a week now jokingly and relishing in the aggravated responses but this time it wasn't funny. It was tense and awkward and fuck all if a small part of Peter didn't find it fucking hot.

The shit-eating smirk Tony gave him was enough to fuel more than a few dangerously erotic fantasies and the teen would rather shoot himself in the face than admit he had gotten off more than once to the idea of calling Tony Stark daddy. Okay, it was more than a small part of him, the teen was fully turned on at the thought.

Peter growled in frustration, the research paper he had been trying to write for hours now glowed with an empty, white document. He pressed his palms to his eye sockets, rubbing the sleep out of them before peaking through his fingers to stare hopelessly at his messy work desk. His cell phone's notification light blinked a bright blue. Probably an email from Tony chastising him for missing his workshop day. Peter would email him back later making up some excuse about his paper or something. He couldn't bring himself to see the genius inventor recently, the image of him laying underneath the teen, his arc reactor glowing softly under the tight black t-shirt, the hem of his shirt lifted to ever slightly reveal hip bones while he reached under the car-

Peter let out a shaky breath, disappointed in himself for acting like a schoolgirl with a crush on a boy-band singer. But fuck did he want Tony's dirty hands fisting through his hair while he nuzzled those hip bones, digging his nose under the button of his jeans to take in his scent, tongue darting out against the small line of hair that lead to a much desired place. 'Can I take these jeans off you now, daddy?'

Peter let out another growl of frustration as he palmed himself through his basketball shorts, his knees spreading slightly, the chair squeaking as he leaned back. Eyes closed, teeth digging into the inside of his cheeks, he tried to imagine the growl that would rumble in Tony's chest at the question, tried to imagine Tony's rough fingers around his neck tightening to just barely painful, rolling his hips rhythmically against the teen's groin. 'Daddy- please,' he would choke out. Peter opened his eyes, pupils dilated until they were almost completely black, breaths shaky as he finally freed his erection, gripping himself a little tighter than usual as he bucked his hips in an unfamiliar sense of need. Not a need to just orgasm, but a need for so much more it made this throat tighten and chest throb. He needed fingerprint-bruises on his hips, needed teeth marks in the meat of his shoulder, needed his lips kissed bruised and red, needed to be fucked. The light emanating from Tony's chest would be bright enough to see his abs tense, his biceps tighten, his teeth bare, a low, possessive growl would catch in his throat as he would push himself into Peter agonisingly slowly. The teen would part his lips into a whine: 'Fuck, yes daddy'-

He came with a gasp and a shaky "Fuck-", managing to dirty his desk and keyboard. He slumped against his chair, grip loose on his softening cock, eyes heavy lidded.

He would probably put off emailing Tony back.

It was a few more days before Peter managed the courage to walk back down the stairs to the glass doors of Tony's lab. Staring down at the floor as he walked in, he let his bag slide off his shoulder with a casual,

"Hey, old fart," that he hoped sounded calmer than he was. Tony grunted in response and Peter looked up. Tony was shirtless, a layer of grease and dirt covered his arms up till mid bicep where his shirt sleeves would start. He was leaning back in his chair, blue- gloved hands digging carefully into the hole in his chest. A few surgical tools lay out on a metal pan on the desk beside him and one of his computer screens displayed a rather quickly beeping heart monitor.

"Whats going on here?" Peter asked cautiously, not wanting to disturb the older man in what looked like life-dependant-work. "Nothing much- where have you been? You missed two workshop days- never mind, come here, I need a third hand," he said quick enough that Peter had to turn the words over in his head again to understand them.

"What do you mean? What are you doing? Should you be doing that?" Peter stepped closer carefully, craining his neck to see the metal device without its usual blue glow. Tony nodded, making a quick glance before he nodded his hands towards a box of gloves. Peter put on a pair, leaning closer to the older man.

"What do you want me to do? Is this safe? Why isn't it glowing? Are you gonna die?" Peter stammered out. Tony pushed a pair of tweezers into the teen's hands.

"Just grab this wire in there and attach it to the end of this one. Damn thing is too short for me to get to like this-" he practically gasped out, heart monitor beeping in Peter's skull.

"Is this life threatening? What's it for? If I kill you I will probably go insane, you know." Peter babbled, leaning fully over the man to peer down into his chest. The hole was a lot deeper than he would have thought it to be, the skin around the metal red and angry from agitation.

"No, I'll probably live either way, maybe. I don't know can you just do this so we don't have to find out?" Tony rasped out, obviously trying to hide the urgency in his voice. Peter swallowed hard before reaching in and grabbing the small blue wire with the tweezers, carefully pulling, coming to a grinding halt as Tony let out a gasp of pain.

"Don't do that, kid," he breathed. Peter nodded before carefully wrapping the two ends of the wires together. There was a soft whir and Tony grunted before placing the reactor back into its place, pushing the device in until it clicked, patting it for assurance.

"See? No big deal. Easy, right?" he said. Peter bowed his head until his forehead touched the -now glowing- reactor.

"Jesus Christ, don't ask me to do that again," he huffed, hands coming down onto Tony's sides to brace himself. He felt the older man chuckle under him and, looking up, found him with another shit-eating grin on his face, something Peter both hated with a passion and adored above all else. He took a minute to look at the man: he had since cleaned up his facial hair leaving just his signature goatee. His eyes looked brighter- maybe he slept a little while Peter was gone- and they seemed to spark with a feeling of intelligence that was nothing less than beautiful. His hair was just as dirty as it was the last time Peter saw him though, the dark spikes hiding the dirt and motor oil. For a split second Peter leaned in closer, the scent of metal and sweat and Old Spice made his back tingle and the smile lines on his face made the teen's chest tighten. As if it were a natural reflex Peter lent in the rest of the way and pressed his lips to the older man's, breathing in deeply as he did. Tony's facial hair scratched at his face, the metal in his chest hot as his own chest pressed against it.

Just as quickly as he had leant in he pulled away. Maybe a little too fast as he found himself bumping his lower back harshly into the desk behind him, bracing his gloved hands against it. Tony blinked at him, registering what had happened in the past three seconds. Peter scrambled to his feet, waving his hands in front of his face,

"SORRY, SORRY SORRY, THAT WAS WEIRD I'M SORRY" He shouted, tripping over a few wires as he stumbled backwards through the lab to pick up his backpack and, for the second time now, run out of the lab like his life depended on it, leaving a stone- still Tony in his lab, the heart monitor beeping just as quickly as it had when the teen had arrived.

This time it was Tony who felt the need to avoid the teen. Workshop days be damned- he needed a few days away from the spiderling. The Iron Man had been caught completely off guard by the sudden kiss- though Peter's last runaway was more than obviously some sort of budding sexual attraction and it was almost mathematically impossible to avoid this situation he was now in- and he felt quite… odd. The kid was almost three decades younger than him- something he reminded himself of constantly, the numbers flashing behind his eyelids often- and he wasn't lying when he said he was old enough to be the kid's father. That fact alone should have kept him at bay. But there was something so wonderfully new and innocent to the kid's sudden outburst- his small frame stretched out over his body, the almost guttural way the word 'daddy' fell from his lips and damn it he knew the idea shouldn't be anything but wrong. The kiss was unexpected but expected at the same time. As soon as the genius had seen Peter's face for the first time in almost a week new equations and numbers clung to his eyes and posture, new emotions hung from his body language and, if he weren't distracted by the gaping hole in his chest, he would have prepared against the sudden actions of the horny teenager.

Horny teenager.

Tony Stark shuddered at the thought, hands stilling from his soldering work, his right index finger burning slightly. When had the thoughts of Peter being a horny teenager start? He put the soldering iron down, running his hands through his hair and down his neck to ease the tension in the muscles there. He hadn't slept since the awkward kiss and he didn't plan on being able to have plague-free sleep any time soon. The thought of the teen made him uneasy, so to say. Disgusting, a pedophile at his worst. Throughout his life he hadn't gone for anyone more than five years younger than himself, never felt the attraction to anyone not his age. Then again, he had really only gone for women in his past and never really played with the idea of another man further than his own thoughts in his bed. Maybe he did have some kind of 'daddy' complex because, seriously, hearing the word fall from Peter's lips was one of the most intriguing and arousing things he's ever heard and-

Tony closed his eyes against the boot of his suit he was working on, numbers and equations floating into the dark space behind his eyelids. Whatever was happening to him wasn't going to work out, he knew that. Maybe if he waited long enough, attended a few more press conferences and parties, he would find a nice young girly thing to distract him and the whole Peter thing would fall back into mentor and apprentice mode and the bright red warning signs would stop flashing in his mind. He huffed out a sigh and picked up the soldering iron again, ignoring the pain in his fingers where he burnt himself, thinking about Peter's deep breath as he kissed him- thinking about his situation was not what he needed right now.

Meanwhile Peter was literally having a quarter- life crisis. Changing into his spider suit- one of the few things that could possibly make him feel better- he actually ripped out the communication device in his face mask (not wanting any way of communicating with Tony). Quickly, he jumped out of his third floor window, making sure his aunt was fast asleep before he swung from a tall building to the next, wanting nothing more than the wind on his face, feet pressed to the sky, ignoring the tears of pure embarrassment and anger that pricked at the corners of his eyes. He finally landed on all four on top of a rather tall hotel building, his hands fisting at the roof below him. He breathed deep, his mask adjusting so he could see further into the city.

'What the actual fuck is going on?' he thought, remembering the all-over-body tingle he had felt when his lips met the older man's. He wasn't supposed to be here. He was supposed to be at home, writing papers and studying for finals. He was supposed to be holding long side-ways glances at the girls at his school. Girls his age. Girls. Instead he was flinging himself from rooftop to rooftop in an almost violent speed, trying to let out his embarrassment and frustration over kissing a man thirty years older than himself who was supposed to be his mentor and nothing else. There was no way he would ever see Tony again. No way he would try to contact him again, no reason to. No way he would ever find any semblance of courage to face the millionaire again, the Iron Man, the hero.

After a few hours of roaming aimlessly through New York from the tops of buildings Peter forced himself back into his bedroom. He allowed the thought of deleting everything pertaining to Tony play in his mind. All the blueprints, all the emails, all the contact information. Every phone number, every text conversation, even his spider suit. While he peeled the suit from his body he felt the sudden urge to throw it away, to destroy the one thing that would forever connect him to the Iron Man. But he didn't. He knew he never could. Even if he left Tony forever and the entire "hero" life behind he would keep everything. This part of his life would never end, even if it were just a memory that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

A few days later Peter was sulking in bed. It was well past noon but he felt no need to get out of his bed. His aunt had since stopped trying to get him up, knowing by now it was a lost cause. He tried his best to will himself to sleep for forever when he felt the pavement three floors below him rumble. He sighted, pressing his eyes closed and debating looking out his window. He could just ignore it and lay in bed sulking forever. But the urge to look was overpowering and, just as he would have guessed, he saw a plume of smoke billow into the air. An explosion somewhere. He needed to help. He let out a sigh of defeat before putting on his suit and leaping from his bedroom window- muscles lethargic from hours of laying still in bed. He arrived at the scene with only a few webs swinging him to down town, a bank smouldering with flames. Great. Another stupid bank robbery. He felt like he was in a cartoon show as he spotted a few men in all black running from the burning building with literal bags of money in their arms. Peter rolled his eyes before perching on the underside of a balcony near by. He quickly webbed the two guys to the pavement before spotting a flash of red and gold. Fuck.

Iron Man whooshed past him, palms out towards the other men running from the scene. Peter jumped from his upside down position to the sidewalk below, webbing anyone who looked to be escaping. A particularly gruff looking man approached him, a laser blaster in hand. A few stereotypical Star-Wars sounding "pew-pew"'s followed as the man shot at the dodging teen. He was about to webb the guy's hand before Tony landed in front of him, blasting him square in the chest with a quick repulsor beam. He turned slightly towards Peter, his metal suit gleaming in the high sunlight of summer.

"Hey, Kid. Nice to see you up and about," He said through the mechanical monotone of his mask. Peter's body stiffened, crouching in defence, mind begging him to be coherent. To just not be awkward, please.

"I'M FINE HOW ARE YOU?!" He shouted at the golden mask unnaturally loud. When Tony turned towards him slightly more, probably doing his signature "what the fuck is this kid doing?" look on his face, Peter panicked.

"THATS GREAT," he shouted as he webbed his way up to the side of a nearby building, pretending to look for bad guys and the Iron Man crooked his head to peer at him quizzically. Peter was sure he was, literally, the most awkward being on Earth.

The "fight" was soon over and, after putting out the fires, Peter followed a flying Iron Man back to the familiar tower out of habit. He landed in a low crouch on the rooftop above the now flickering 'A' that stood not-so-proudly on the face of the tower. Iron Man followed soon after, landing squarely on his heels and walking casually towards the entrance to the tower. Peter followed, his mind racing.

'Don't say anything' He thought to himself, spine stiffening in tension.

'Don't think anything, don't say anything, don't let anything awkward happen,' He strolled as casually as he could into Tony's lab, watching as dummy striped the genius out of his gold and red suit to reveal a Tony Stark clad in only a tight fitting body suit.

'Don't think anything, don't say a damn thing to embarrass yourself again," Peter padded his way to Tony softy. Finally the older man looked up at him from behind his desk, patting Dummy on the head for his good work. His face was smooth but the teen could see a flicker of worry behind his dark, gorgeous iruses and something inside him snapped.

"I'M SORRY I KISSED YOU," Peter shouted like he had no control over himself. He was happy his mask hid his dark red flush. Tony closed his eyes and huffed a sigh, as if saying 'This kid is some kind of nightmare' before looking deeply at Peter.

"It's okay kid. Don't worry about it," he waved a hand at him. Peter stood still, wondering why he wasn't being yelled at for being a stupid, horny teenager.

"But-"

"Just let it go, kid. It's no big deal. Let's just make up some workshop days," Tony said, averting his gaze to his multiple computer monitors. He tapped the desk beside him in an invitation.

"I've got some new ideas for mine and your suits we can go over. Maybe you can help me fix my left gauntlet, fingers are being oddly slow," He said, face already setting into concentration, posture relaxing as the familiarity of his work settled in. Peter let himself smile a bit, happy to ignore his stupidness for a bit of normality. He quickly made his way to the adjacent bathroom to change into some jeans and a plain white t shirt, making his way to the desk to allow Tony to explain his new findings to him- IPad in hand to take notes.

After a few hours of talking about how Peter's communication module got torn out of his mask- which Peter made many false excuses for before Tony just gave up and decided to make him a better one- and some new materials to use for the palms of his suit, Tony began some pretty detailed soldering work on his gauntlet. His mouth was set in a hard line, fingers already dirty from work, his eyes squinting behind his goggles. Peter leaned in a fraction closer, all too aware of how close he was to the inventor and practically held his breath as if he would scare the brunette away. After the impossibly small metal pieces were finally connected Tony let out a sound of accomplishment, leaning back and pushing his goggles off his head.

"See? It's just all about a steady hand," He explained, Peter nodding in response as Tony leaned back in, zapping the metal ligaments until the fingers flexed. Peter leaned in closer, the same spark of curiosity flashing in his eyes as he watched the metal fingers move as if it were muscle. Lost in the inner workings of the gauntlet, he half heartedly mumbled

"Well, of course it's easy for you daddy, you're a hell of a lot smarter than I am,". He felt Tony stiffen beside him long before he registered the words and for a second he seriously considered just dying. Just laying down at Tony's feet and letting the sweet hands of death take him away to a place where he wasn't so fucking weird.

Peter looked back with dread, that fucking smirk playing on Tony's face and fuck him for being so fucking pretty. The base of his spine tingled at the way the word 'daddy' rolled of his tongue so easy and fuck it, he was already being weird. Just as stupidly awkwardly as before he covered the older man's mouth with his own, a hand coming down on the brunette's thigh to steady himself. He pulled away before Tony could react, face burning.

"Is- this is fucking weird isnt it? I don't wanna be weird but I've been literally thinking about this for days and I'm being so weird are-" Tony interrupted him with a low growl of frustration and dragged to teen back to him by the collar of his shirt, successfully shutting up his embarrassed babbling with his own mouth. The kiss was what Peter wanted from the first time- he dragged his hands through the dirty black spikes in the back of Tony's skull and suddenly his hands were everywhere at once- searing hot and little desperate and all of a sudden he was allowing himself to be completely over powered with a small whine in the back of his throat and he thought his head was going to fall off from the speed of it all. Tony stood, taking the teen with him without breaking the kiss and Peter could feel his muscles tense under his body suit as he practically lifted the smaller man off his feet. He found himself being sat at the table as the larger man made room for himself in between his legs and- oh, ooh. Tony shoved a thigh to Peters groin and the sound that left the teen's mouth was something he hadn't known he could make. Tony left his bruised mouth (not without a high pitched sound of protest from the teen) in preference for biting at the flesh under his jaw. Peter bucked his hips against the intruding thigh, a strong hand coming down on his hip as they rocked for a few moments. Peter's hands skidded to Tony's waist, his fingers dancing above the soft material of the body suit wanting nothing more than to feel hot skin.

"Ah- take this o-off," Peter demanded. He was answered with a particularly harsh bite to his collarbone before black, burning eyes met his own.

"Excuse me?" Peter could only pant at him in confusion, large hands pushing his own shirt up so they could wrap around his sides.

"You think you can tell me what to do right now?" he asked darkly, hand sliding down the teen's stomach before he palmed at the hardened flesh beneath his jeans. Peter gasped out, head lolling back to expose more of his neck to a hungry Tony. He latched onto the skin, biting hard enough to leave marks well above what his collar could cover tomorrow.

"But- I wan't-"

"If you want something you address me properly, and you ask nicely,". Peter looked down at him, knowing exactly what the older man meant by the look in his eye. Tony gave him a hot smirk before running his mouth down Peter's body, nipping at the skin every once in awhile. Peter scratched at the stupid body suit out of stubbornness before giving up.

"P-please, daddy, let me take this off of you. I want to feel you," He whined and Tony let out a low groan at the tone, his hand gripping tighter to Peter's stiff cock in reward before slipping his shoulders and arms out of the body suit. The teen's hands immediately grasped to the strong form above him, skin soft and burning under his palms.

"Good boy," Tony praised and Peter practically gasped at the words, his body begging for more. The words of praise set something off in him and suddenly all he wanted was to do good for Tony, to be Tony's 'good boy'. And with a jagged breath he pushed on Tony's shoulders roughly (the realisation that he was stronger than the older man being ignored) and he slipped off the desk, falling to his knees. Tony's suit did not do well with hiding the outline of his straining cock and Peter instinctively leaned in towards his pelvis, tongue tracing the bulge before giving the fabric a quick, wet suck. He was pushed back roughly by a large palm on his forehead.

"You can' just have whatever you want, Peter," he said, voice alarmingly deep, "You have to ask nicely, remember?" Peter looked up at him, fingers defiantly reaching up Tony's waste to peel the rest of his suit off of him.

"Let me suck your cock, Daddy," he begged, letting out a whine as Tony was finally freed from his suit, already hard, pre come beading at the slit. Tony let out a low groan of relief.

"You really want it, don't you? Never took you for a hungry cock whore, Peter," Peter was far too distracted to really hear the derogatory name but he felt it, hands twitching at the older man's thighs, mouth already open, eyes glazed over. To be honest, he didn't take himself as a slut either but Tony filling his mouth seemed like the only thing he could possibly want right now and if sucking Iron Man's dick made him a cock whore than he was sure any sane human being could be called the same.

Peter strained against Tony's hand, trying his best to reach him but Tony held firm.

"If you want it so bad, beg for it," Peter shot him a look, how long had Tony been such a kinky asshole?

"Please," Peter said weekly. Tony moved his hand to the top of his head, gripping onto his hair and pulling roughly indicating his dissatisfaction with the weak pleading. It was like breaking a dam.

"Please, please daddy, I need your cock in my mouth, I need it. I've never wanted anything more," Tony smirked at him, moving his hand to a soft touch at the back of the teens head and as soon as that grip loosened it was like he was a hungry animal, his tongue flattening against the base of the cock in front of him, following the vein up until he reached the head, tongue wrapping around the heated flesh to finally lick off the bead of pre come that had been taunting him. He slowly took in as much of Tony as he could as he hollowed out his cheeks. The man above him let out a strangled gasp of approval that lit Peter's insides on fire. He bobbed his head, working his tongue against the hot flesh as much as he could and the grip in his hair tightened.

"Nnn- that's good," Tony growled out and the teen couldn't suppress the moan that left him, vibrating around the cock in his mouth causing Tony to buck into him quite roughly. Peter looked up at him, softly humming now. He was like a work of fucking art- the reactor in his chest glowing softly, his arms and stomach twitching each time Peter's tongue found its way to the head of his cock, head lolled back slightly, lips parted in a low groan before dark, almost dangerous, eyes met his and -fuck- Peter choked at that look. Tony gripped his hair, pulling the teen's mouth off of him with a wet pop.

"Get up," Tony commanded and Peter did as he was told, standing on shaky legs, drool covering his chin. Tony wiped the drool from his face, looking at him longingly.

"You're adorable when you're giving head" Peter's knees almost gave out at the words. He leaned back against the table giving Tony room to hoist him back onto the surface before leaning over him for a desperate kiss. His fingers worked at Peter's pants while the teens fingers dug into his back. Peter pulled away to gasp at the ceiling, out of breath, unable to think straight as Tony's hands finally found his cock and ooohh fuck finally. Tony gave him a few strokes, harsh and dry but so fucking good, while he lifted one of the teens legs up and hoisted it over his shoulder. Peter gasped at the sudden vulnerability and the sheer excitement at what the motion meant.

"Oooh- fuck- please daddy, I need you in me," Tony pressed three fingers to the teen's mouth and he greedily sucked, lacing his tongue between the digits.

"I know, sweetheart, I know. You've gotta be patient," he cooed and Peter bucked underneath him. The older man removed his fingers and, while still roughly stroking the younger man for a distraction, he pressed his slicked index finger into him and Peter let out a strangled sound. 'Oh, that's new.' Tony leaned back over him, taking the shell of the younger's ear between his teeth.

"Shhh, It'll be okay. Be a good boy and relax for me, yeah?" he whispered into his ear, his hot breath brushing against the throbbing teeth marks and Peter willed himself to do as he was told, a full index finger in him now. It didn't hurt, it was just so incredibly foreign. Peter concentrated on the hand stroking his cock while the second finger went into him and for a second he felt a flutter of panic. What if it did hurt? What if it was too much for him and he wasn't able to please Tony? He could feel tears of disappointment pricking at his eyes and he screwed them shut. Tony's fingers moved slowly in him, scissoring slightly to stretch and relax his muscles and the younger man couldn't help the small cry he let out. He huffed, ready to protest:

"Daddy, I don't thi- ahhh- oh fuck!" Suddenly Peter was clawing at Tony's back, the small panic leaving him completely as the older man's fingers curved inside of him, hitting him in just the right way and Peter thought he would lose it right there. He let out another cry, this time in pleasure as Tony repeated the action.

"Oh fuck, ooh fuck daddy, don't stop, for the love of everything, do not stop," He moaned out, planting his free foot on the edge of the table as leverage. He angled his hips up, practically riding Tony's fingers.

"That's it, I told you you would be okay, didn't I?" Tony said against his neck. He slipped a third finger in and Peter didn't even notice. The teen moved his hips against Tony's hand and the older man let out a moan of his own.

"Fuck, that's a good boy," he growled out. Tony reached under the desk into a drawer, fumbling around a bit before he found a small bottle of lube he kept stashed in there, just in case, he had thought to himself when he put it in there a week ago. He was a genius, afterall.

He removed his fingers and Peter let out a sound of frustration, practically snarling at the older man. Tony placed the lube on the teen's stomach before grasping his neck in a tight hold. Peter's right hand flew to the fingers curling around his neck, a whimper leaving his throat.

"I thought you were going to be good?" Tony's chest rumbled with the question, teeth flashing in threat.

"Did you want me to stop? Because I can," he threatened, biting Peter's fingers. The teen's eyes went wide, his neck struggling to shake his head.

"I could walk out right now and leave you here. Leave you naked and shaking with need like a desperate whore. Is that what you want?"

"No-" Peter choked out, the pressure of Tony's hand making his cock impossibly harder.

"Please- I- I'm sorry daddy. Please,"

"Please, what?" Tony growled, his other hand opening the bottle of lube, coating his palm in the clear liquid.

"Please, please don't leave me here-" Peter begged. Tony shuddered as he touched himself with his lubed hand.

"What do you want?" He asked, pressing the head of his cock between Peter's ass cheeks.

"Ah- I want you to fuck me daddy. Please, fuck me senseless. Please, daddy, I can't stand it anymore!" And with that Tony pushed himself into the teen. Peter let out a cry, his eyes screwing shut. 'Thats a lot more than just fingers' he thought, his head getting foggy from lack of breath. Tony gasped over him at the sudden hotness surrounding him. He pushed in deeper, loosening his grip on Peter's throat so he could breathe properly. He began to thrust slowly, angling himself to find that one spot again. He moved in at an upward angle and Peter's body tensed under him, eyes wide, mouth gaping in a silent cry.

"Fuck! Right there, daddy, please!" and soon Tony was fucking him into the desk, hard and fast and right in that sweet spot. The teen gasped, words escaping him as he clawed up and down the older man's toned back, angry red welts criss crossing his shoulder blades. Tony gripped onto the small hips and pulled the teen forward on the desk further, leaning over his even more, practically bending the smaller man in half. Peter whined desperately, the edge just at his fingertips as Tony gasped in his ear at the muscles tensing around him. He let out a low, predatory growl.

"Don't you dare come without my permission," He demanded and Peter let out a sob into the strong shoulder.

"P-please daddy!" He begged, mind completely taken over by the blinding need to orgasm. Each thrust of Tony's hips sending shocks up his spine, heat pooling in his gut almost painfully. He wasn't going to be able to hold it back, it was out of his control.

"No- ahh- not until I'm ready," Tony commanded but even as he did Peter could feel his stomach tightening, his throat hoarse from his cries of pleasure. He was going to lose it, he couldn't stop it and he didn't want to because fuck it was so good. Just as his nerves teased him right to the edge Tony reached in between them, finger and thumb tightening around the base of Peter's cock.

"Ahhhh! No!" he cried out, tears welling up in his eyes as his orgasm was denied, back arching into the older man.

"Not. Yet." Tony growled against his neck before biting harshly. Peter was finally undone, nothing but a sobbing mess under Tony, babbling incoherent words as Tony thrusted into him harder and faster and fuck, it was like hell but it felt so fucking good. Tony began to lose his rhythm, moving against Peter desperately, his ark reactor burning against Peter's chest, the soft blue light touching the older man's sharp features softly and, even through the blinding pleasure, Peter was taken back by just how beautiful this man was. Tony cursed as his grip on the teen's hip became almost painful, his fingers turning white from the harshness of the hold.

"Please, please, please, please daddy, please let me come please I'm going to die if you don't let me come please," Peter sobbed, one of his hands coming up to pull at his own hair in frustration. Just then, Tony's grip at the base of his cock softened and instead he was stroking him harshly in time with his thrusts.

"Come for me, sweetheart," He panted and Peter arched up into him, choking on a sob as he finally came, involuntarily clenching around Tony as he did so, sending the older man over the edge as well. Peter gasped, feeling his insides heat up as Tony filled him was one of the most errotic things he has ever experienced. Peter combed his fingers into dark spikes as the older man leant his head on his chest, gasping for air.

Peter stayed still for a long time, messaging Tony's scalp as he stared lazily up at nothing, allowing his legs to relax slowly, his belly coming undone once again. Tony smoothed his fingers over Peter's side, kissing a rather angry looking love bite on his shoulder. He hummed slightly, the sound reverberating through his chest to the teen's and he swore he could feel love for the older man swell in his chest. Tony slowly lifted himself onto his elbows, legs just barely holding himself up.

"I wouldn't have thought of you having a weird daddy complex," Peter said, smirking up at the man above him.

"Says the guy who couldn't stop moaning "daddy" just a second ago," he said back before kissing the teen softly. Peter let himself be kissed, a shiver running down his spine when a tongue swiped over his lower lip. Tony pulled away suddenly and Peter let out a small gasp as he felt the older man hardening again inside of him.

"Nu-uh, no way, I physically can not go again," Peter said and Tony laughed at him, pulling out slowly.

"I wouldn't make you" He said, smiling widely at the teen as if he had never been happier. Tony picked up Peter's discarded shirt and tossed it at him lightly.

"Ugh, this is my only shirt," Peter whined as he realised there was nothing else to clean himself up with. Tony chuckled at him, finding an old pair of jeans in the corner to slip on.

"I'll buy you a hundred more," He said casually. Peter rolled his eyes.

"Woow, daddy. You have so much money," He said sarcastically, sitting up slowly before standing on shaky legs. He let out a small gasp as he felt himself leaking. Tony looked over at him, seeing his own come drip down Peter's thighs and he walked back over to the shaking teen, placing a hand on his hip.

"Are you leaking all over my lab?" He asked, a deep rumble in his chest and Peter winced when he felt his cock stir again. He looked up at him, quickly wiping the back of his thighs.

"Sorry, daddy. It's your own damn fault" he said and Tony groaned.

"You're never gonna stop calling me that, are you?" he asked, burying his face into Peter's neck, breathing him in softly.

"Not if you keep reacting that way," He said back. Tony looked at him, another stupidly handsome smirk on his face.

Seriously, fuck him for being so stupid pretty.