
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13378710.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Spider-Man:_Homecoming_(2017), Iron_Man_(Movies), The_Avengers_(Marvel)_-
      All_Media_Types, Marvel_Cinematic_Universe, The_Avengers_(Marvel_Movies),
      Batman_(Movies_-_Nolan), Batman_-_All_Media_Types
  Relationship:
      Peter_Parker/Tony_Stark, Dick_Grayson/Bruce_Wayne, Pepper_Potts/Tony
      Stark, Selina_Kyle/Bruce_Wayne, Rachel_Dawes/Bruce_Wayne, Jen_(Dark
      Knight_Rises)/Selina_Kyle
  Character:
      Peter_Parker, Tony_Stark, Bruce_Wayne, Dick_Grayson, Pepper_Potts, Selina
      Kyle, Jen_(Dark_Knight_Rises)
  Additional Tags:
      Crossover, Alternate_Universe_-_Sugar_Daddy, Infidelity, Consensual
      Infidelity, Consensual_Underage_Sex, Extramarital_Affairs, Relationship
      Study, Established_Relationship, Established_Peter_Parker/Tony_Stark,
      Marriage, Marriage_of_Convenience, Hotels, Lifestyle_Porn, Orgasm
      Control, Lube_play, Anal_Fingering, Lolita
  Series:
      Part 4 of "Life_of_the_House"_One-Shots, Part 1 of Blue_Flower
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-01-15 Words: 3015
****** Of a Kind ******
by RedFlagsAndDiamonds
Summary
     At an event in France, Tony and Peter encounter billionaire Bruce
     Wayne and his "ward."
Notes
     This is technically part of my one-shots series following
     DaScribbla's "Private and Intimate Lives of the House" series, but it
     stands alone by itself as well.
     The DC elements are based around Chris Nolan's "Dark Knight" series.
     I feel I should apologize in advance to any die-hard DC fans. You
     have been warned.
     This wound up involving much more inspiration than I anticipated from
     Nabokov's "Lolita." Certain elements and lines of dialogue have been
     borrowed, particularly from the 1997 film adaptation.
     If anyone's curious, my headcanon for Dick Grayson was a young Max
     Benitz.
 
A cool, late afternoon breeze wafted through the open French doors leading from
the balcony and flew across the bed, sharpening Peter’s nipples as he whimpered
again and arched his back.
“Hey – easy, baby boy, calm down…”
Peter almost huffed out a breathless little laugh, before it was swallowed up
his high-pitched, helpless moaning.
It was easy for Tony to ask him to “calm down” – he wasn’t the one sprawled
naked over silk sheets, tilting his pelvis obediently to ride the three fingers
buried knuckle-deep in his ass, completely at the mercy of the gentle Parisian
wind and the tingling lube that Tony had brought along as a treat.
“You’re lookin’ a little flushed – think you can last much longer?” Tony
inquired calmly, no more affected than if he were ordering one shot over the
legal driving limit.
“I – fuuuck – I- I dunno –“
“Mm, guess it’s my turn then.”
Gasping in a breath, Peter let him scoop up his hips and pull him nearly
vertical, until their bodies were aligned at a sensitive spot.
“Annnnnnd just so you don’t get bored –“
Before Peter could even lift his head to ask Tony what he meant, a dollop of
lube had been slathered over the head of his cock, Tony’s thumb polishing it
into the slit as he pulled his fingers free and began working his way inside.
He squealed, he squirmed, a tiny drop of the fluid managed to find it’s way
into a particularly sensitive spot under his foreskin, and he let out a screech
that probably left Tony’s ears ringing.
When he finally, finallycame, the orgasm was almost an afterthought, just a
final release of all the tension before his body could bring itself back from
overdrive and begin calming into quiescence.
Unlike his flesh, however, the lube couldn’t be quieted, and by the time Tony
had gasped out his own climax and collapsed into the sheets beside him, Peter
was already whimpering and pleading afresh.
Tony snorted, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“Christ, to be fifteen again.”
 
*
 
Dinner was an automatic five courses, sorbet served in between, and an honest
to god five forks lined in a row next to the plate, which was something Peter
thought only happened in those “I married a prince” movies that came on TV
around Christmastime.
The dining room was packed, the tables filled with hundreds of old and old-ish
men in tuxedos and blazers, while beautiful girls in low cut dresses laughed at
their bad jokes. None of them looked a day over twenty-five.
As far as Peter could tell, he was the only boy, and he couldn’t help but
wonder if the others had guessed about their relationship, or if they’d
swallowed the introductions that Tony offered all evening:
“… my summer intern, good head on his shoulders…”
Most nodded politely, some offered sly grins that wouldn’t look out of place on
Wile E. Coyote, and one or two asked about the missus.
“On the yacht in Sydney, didn’t want to drag the munchkin all the way out here
for three weeks…”
Every one of them came from some background of invention or industry, through
which they had made themselves titans (as well as billions of dollars) and
gathered quite contentedly for the summit each year to share boasts and pat
themselves on the back.
For all that he adored the man at his side, Peter felt a distinct need to wash.
They had started working their way through some unpronounceable duck dish (they
didn’t offer burgers in this place, and Peter had certainly asked) when he
noticed the dark haired man staring at them from across the room, and his
stomach leapt into his mouth.
“Oh my god,” he whispered – it was one of those places you felt obligated to
whisper in – and kicked Tony gently under the table.
“There’s a guy back there – no, behind you, by the doors – doesn’t he look
exactly like –“
Tony paled and turned around quickly.
“Shit – don’t look, keep your head down –“
“What –“
“Anthony!” an over-suave voice called, and Tony’s eyes rolled to the ceiling
behind his shades.
“Christ, too late – Bruce!” he gushed, an ingratiating smile plastered on his
face that gave off more an impression of suppressed pain than surprised
pleasure.
Peter sat motionless, a bit stunned while both men exchanged pleasantries,
trying force his brain to reconcile that somehow, his life now involved
attending the same events as Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne.
“Thought you normally sent Fox to show up at these things.” Tony was mentioning
as he resumed his seat, watching somewhat helplessly while Wayne snapped over a
couple of waiters to begin pushing their tables together.
“Ergh, he’s got some merger in Wakanda to deal with, and anyway, this one
wanted to go to Comic Con next week.”
Wayne punctuated the statement with a squeeze to the hip of the boy next to
him, who Peter noticed for the first time.
He couldn’t have been much older than sixteen, dark haired, his eyes a steely
aquamarine and an impressive flush of color to his cheeks that looked as though
it had been airbrushed on.
“Oh, this is Richard… Dick, Tony Stark –“
“Dick? My condolences.” Tony quipped with the handshake, and Peter’s ears
started to burn as the boy smirked overconfidently.
“I’ve learned to control the grief.”
“See you brought your own little friend though…”
Jumping slightly when he realized he was being addressed, Peter swallowed
nervously and only just remembered to offer his hand.
“Um – Parker. Peter. Peter Parker. Sir.”
His ears had to actually have burst into flame by now, everyone was just
pretending not to notice…
Dick was barely muffling a laugh behind his knuckles.
“Peter’s interning under Stark Industries’ new apprenticeship program – been
making some serious waves with a military grade adhesive, haven’t you?” Tony
jumped in mercifully.
“Yeah, it’s uh – it’s coming along great, yeah.”
Wayne nodded with a slight smirk, one brow lifted, and it wasn’t clear whether
or not he believed Tony’s song and dance.
“A New York native, then?”
“Uh, Queens.” Peter mumbled.
A choked sound came across the table as Dick snorted around a mouthful of peach
nectar.
“How’d you afford an internship? Selling girl scout cookies? – Ow!” he whinged
suddenly, after Wayne flicked him on the shoulder.
“Actually, it was a national competition – scholarship stuff.” Peter shot back,
annoyance returning some of his articulation. “How about you?”
It was a risk, a big one, but it seemed to pay off when the other boy turned
red and Wayne chuckled without much humor.
“Say, Mr. Stark and I are gonna wanna talk business, and I’m pretty sure this
place has a gaming area or something – Dick, why don’t you and Peter go play
around a bit? Win each of us something fun.”
Peter opened his mouth slightly, ready to object – he wasn’t so much of a child
that he needed to be dismissed while grown-ups talked – but he felt a brush of
fingers against his thigh before Tony cocked his head towards the door.
“Go ahead – I’ll come getcha later.”
Reluctantly, he pushed his chair back from the table and started off, pausing
briefly to gape for a moment as Dick wrapped his arms around Wayne’s neck from
behind, in a decidedly more than platonic embrace.
“Don’t eat too much ice cream.”
“No promises.” Dick snarked back, before straightening his clip-on tie and
stalking towards the door, pointedly ahead of Peter.
As they strode through the lobby and down the gilded main corridor, Peter
debated furiously with himself until deciding that it wasn’t particularly worth
trying to form a rapport with this kid, who clearly made Flash Thompson look
reserved and modest.
“So how long’ve you and Stark been screwing?” he suddenly asked bluntly, before
Peter could launch into a prepared barrage of acid remarks.
“I – but – that’s – no –“
Dick rolled his eyes.
“I just act like an idiot, dumbass. Why else d’you think Bruce keeps me
around?”
Peter swallowed uncomfortably, growing anger starting to heat up his cheeks.
“It’s none of your business.”
“So you are fucking?”
“Shut up!”
They’d reached the doors to the casino, where a blue-jacketed hotel attendant
took one look at them and pointed to a side door, which revealed an
impressively stocked, neon colored arcade alley.
“Let’s do ‘Devil Woman’,” Dick suggested, with a tone that didn’t really offer
room for argument, as he wandered over to a metallic gold game cabinet
emblazoned with printed bullet holes and a scantily clad, buxom girl of
indeterminately Asian origin, and hefted one of the connected fake machine
guns.
“Bruce’s been training me in the private gallery back home, so…”
Determinedly raising the other gun, Peter ground his teeth and snapped back.
“Tony always sleeps in – I taught myself.”
They locked eyes, and Dick’s lip cocked up with an unmistakable sneer.
“Just so you know, that’s not really something to brag about.”
Peter fumed helplessly, but before another word could be exchanged, the game
activated, both boys turned their attention to the screen, and began gunning
down virtual demon women.
 
*
 
“I say this with the least possible intended criticism,” Tony muttered, toying
with the base of his champagne flute as it was refilled by a balding waiter,
“but you need to teach that kid some subtlety.”
“Hypocrisy, Anthony – neither of us are particularly subtle men, what chance do
we have of passing it on?”
Tony shook his head disparagingly, allowing himself a passing glance over the
remnants of the table, the lip prints on Peter’s soda glass, Dick’s inaptly
named virgin bellini…
“How’s Selina?” he eventually asked.
“Presumably, enjoying fashion week with Jennifer and doing things that more
than a few adult websites would love to get their hands on. I’m guessing
Virginia’s at home with the children?”
“More or less.”
The unspoken, uncomfortable truth of the situation settled around them like a
pervasive fog, as though both were conscious that a murder had taken place just
down the hall and were mutually concealing the location of two rather small
corpses.
“’m surprised you’re still out this late.” Wayne mentioned, with a glance over
his shoulder that Tony guessed was meant to look casual. “I’d’ve thought your,
um, ‘intern’ would need a lot of sleep, at his age. There was somethin’ Alfred
used to say, ‘the man in the moon looked out of the moon, looked-‘”
“I’ve heard it.” Tony cut in. “He’s, uh – he’s pretty resilient, for his age.”
“Same as you, I’d guess.”
“Jesus, Brucie, hit me where it hurts why don’t you.”
Wayne sighed, with a hint of his usual condescending smile that had made Tony
want to sock him ever since their days in boarding school.
“Look, Anthony… I know you too well to judge, and I’d liketo think you could
say the same… so maybe we could quit pretending?”
Tony kept on his poker face.
“I don’t follow.” he deadpanned.
“I don’t blame you – he’s perfect. I saw the same thing in Richard, when I
found him in the boys’ home. See, men like us… we know how to see what other
men don’t. You’ve gotta be an artist, maybe even a madman in a way, and you
think you can hide it behind shame and depression, until one day you look up
and see this bright, beautiful little face staring at you like you hung the
goddamn stars in the sky, and all for him. And that boy, that deadly little
incubus, has no idea what he does to you or to everyone around him, but you
know, deep down, that he’s all that matters in the world and you’d offer him
your own heart on a diamond studded platter, if you thought it’d make him
happy. Am I right?”
It took several seconds too long for Tony to force his throat into giving up an
answer.
“… I guess this explains why you and Dawes never made things official.”
“Rachel knew well in advance that it was never gonna happen. Besides, he was a
better man than me.”
Tony didn’t need to ask for clarification.
“Why is it,” he mused aloud, without fully realizing his self-betrayal,
“there’s always a good woman left in the wings, who deserves the world, and
instead gets stuck with a freak like one of us?”
Wayne shrugged.
“Selina seems happy. She’s got security, a really nice roof over her head, the
chance to rub shoulders with senior citizens who drape themselves with lots of
easily removable jewelry, and neither of us particularly care where the other
spends the night. I can think of worse arrangements. Yours, for example.”
No kidding. The last time he’d spoken to Pepper, it had been to her unmoving
profile through a car window, about an hour after she learned whom he’d be
taking to Paris for the duration of their anniversary week.
“Look, I’m not saying I’m proud of myself,” Tony admitted quietly, rubbing at
his temples. “And I’m not deluded enough to think it’ll last forever –“
“Of course not. We all grow up eventually.”
“No, that, uh – “ he shook his head with a slight shudder of disgust.
“Definitely, not what I meant –“
“You don’t get it.” Wayne leaned forward, resting his elbows on the ivory
tablecloth.
“Right now they’re young, defenseless –“
“You’d be surprised –“
“- they need something, someone that they can look up to, that they can trust
to keep them safe. We give them all of that, and more. We give them love.”
“Funny – I kinda thought that was their parents’ jobs.”
“Some of us aren’t that lucky.” Wayne broke in, and Tony felt a chill as though
someone had dumped him into an ice bath, straight out of one of the more
popular urban legends.
“I, uh – “
“Let’s just say, I know better than most. You never really shared the past
Anthony, but I’ll bet you can imagine it, and I’ll go so far as to say you
dreamed of it once. Do you know what it’s like to lie in a man’s arms, next to
a roaring fire? Wrapped in furs while a blizzard tears through the mountains,
and he whispers to you; how beautiful you are, how proud you’ve made him?”
“… Can’t say I’ve had the opportunity, no.”
Though he didn’t doubt Obadiah Stane would have liked to try.
“It’s more than gold, Anthony – it’s hope, and it keeps them alive when they
know they have no one else, when they’d forgotten what hope even felt like, and
it would have been better just to die, so that everything would stop hurting.”
Silence settled over the table once again, and just as Tony began hunting for
an excuse to escape, the opportunity was offered to him by a harried looking
man in a tuxedo.
“Excuse me, gentlemen – are you responsible for the young men in the
entertainment hall? The waiters said you had entered together –“
“Something wrong?”
“Well, I – it’s rather difficult to explain –“
Tony was already on his feet and headed for the door, suspicions forming and
rapidly confirmed when the concierge pushed open the double doors and he found
a small crowd surrounding Peter and Dick as they flailed together on the
brightly carpeted floor. Peter was already sporting an incredible black eye,
and appeared to be in the process of stuffing an entire roll of redemption
tickets in between Dick’s bleeding lips.
“- show you what happens when you open your fucking mouth!”he was shrieking,
and it took a moment, as he pried him away, wriggling like a rabid animal, for
Tony to notice that he was sobbing uncontrollably.
Wayne had his boy clutched up to his chest in one arm like a doll, while he
pulled several blank checks from his breast pocket one-handed.
“’Think we’ll be making our goodnights – fill in the amount.”
 
*
 
Tony didn’t ask questions until they got back up to the suite, and he had Peter
in the tub as it filled up with hot water.
Evidently, Dick had gotten in a few good blows before Peter found the upper
hand, and as he smeared antiseptic over the worst of the bruises, where the
skin had cracked and started to bleed, Tony couldn’t help but glance over the
curve of Peter’s extraordinarily slender calves, the unbroken line of his
smooth back, the underdeveloped muscles in his upper arms that simply
advertised youth, and wondered if Bruce Wayne, for all his obvious faults,
hadn’t been right.
It wasn’t a pleasant thought, and, as he’d trained himself to do, Tony
attempted to camouflage the situation with weak humor.
“Just tell me it wasn’t over who got to have the blue stuffed unicorn.”
Peter didn’t reply, continuing to sit bruised and red-eyed in the bath like a
battered child, his lip trembling, until he finally spoke.
“I’m not just a prize to you, right?” he whispered, in a voice too small for
him.
Tony floundered for a moment, not sure what to say.
“… I’d never… for what it’s worth, I never thought of this – us – not like
that. But if – Peter, I didn’t want to be a father to you when this started;
you were bright, beautiful – and I love you, baby boy – but if a father’s what
you need, then –“
He paused, as Peter made a face that traversed the gap between horror and
disgust.
“That’s what you think? That I – that’s sick! I wanted you because you were
everything I’d ever dreamed of – in a boyfriend,Tony, God! I’ve never had daddy
issu-!“
He was stopped by Tony’s lips on his own before he could finish vocalizing the
thought.
“Ok.” Tony murmured, and Peter didn’t mention that he could feel his hand
shaking a little where it rested on his cheekbone.
“Ok – tonight was bad. We can walk away from that. Same as we always were.
Nothing ruined?”
Peter sucked in several breaths, staring back at dark eyes that he’d drunk in
for the past six months – bright with joy, sharpened by rage, hazy with
pleasure – and silently made his decision.
After all, he had no one else.
“Nothing ruined.”
 
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