
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13111644.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Spider-Man:_Homecoming_(2017), Marvel_Cinematic_Universe, Marvel
  Relationship:
      Peter_Parker_&_Tony_Stark, Peter_Parker/Tony_Stark
  Character:
      Peter_Parker, Tony_Stark, Pepper_Potts
  Additional Tags:
      Sugar_Daddy_Tony_Stark, Both_of_them_are_emotionally_constipated,
      Refusing_to_admit_feelings, accidentally_falling_in_love, Cheating,
      Infidelity, Angst_probably, Peter_is_barely_legal, Age_Difference,
      Alternate_Universe_-_No_Powers, Alternate_Universe_-_Sugar_Daddy
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-12-23 Updated: 2018-01-09 Chapters: 2/? Words: 1918
****** all tangled up, no strings attached ******
by Death_inspiresme
Summary
     He can't help but wonder sometimes, how he landed in this situation;
     a narrative that seemed so distant before now a reality.
     Or,
     Tony's pretty sure he's never loved anybody his whole life-- not his
     fiancée, not his parents; so honestly this whole arrangement should
     be perfect. Except Peter's nothing like he expected, and then of
     course feelings get in the way.
Notes
     Wew. I first got this prompt three months ago and wrote it as a one-
     shot, then realised that I wanted to develop it further so I decided
     to make it a multi-chapter fic. This is seriously overdue and there's
     nothing else to blame other than school exams and my intense
     procrastination skills.
***** intro *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
  Heavy curtains flap in the gusts of night air, stripes of milky moonlight
spilling into the room; illuminating the figure on his bed, colouring pale skin
and dark features. The skin under his fingers feel soft, almost warm, shifting
with falling breaths and Tony's hopelessly captivated with every movement under
his touch.
  A sigh, quiet yet so loud in the dark. Lashes flutter, and his fingers curl
back reluctantly as eyes blink open, unfocused and hooded. Ridiculously Tony
feels shame, self-conscious at being caught, but then a shy smile plays across
thin lips and he instantly feels at ease.
  "Hi," Peter whispers, voice low and sweet.
  "Hey," he mumbles in return, marvelling as the boy shifts himself to the
side, hair spilling over the pillows. "I couldn't sleep."
  Propping himself onto his elbows, Peter looks up at him through mussed curls.
"What's wrong? Is it... is it the nightmares again?" The sleepy gaze
immediately sharpens into worry, and he reaches into the covers to take Tony's
hand. The touch is warm, and Tony wraps his fingers around the small palm. "Are
you okay?" The boy asks tentatively; but he's not. Tony's not okay, especially
not in moments like these, when Peter's looking at him with soft doe-eyes,
concern etched so clearly into them, expression open and trusting. It's in
these moments that it becomes clearer than ever what's really happening, and it
shouldn't be.
  "I'm fine," Tony assures the boy, pressing his mouth to cold knuckles.
Peter's lips twitch into a small smile at the kiss, though there's still a
hidden look in his eyes that Tony doesn't want to see. He can hear the
question, heavy in the air, already poised on the other's lips: 'are you sure?'
So he grips the wrist tighter, pulling Peter across the sheets closer to him.
The boy makes a noise of surprise that quickly turns into a sigh as Tony licks
up the pale column of his neck, mouthing at the indent of a collarbone.
"Relax," he whispers, feeling Peter shiver at his breath, repeats almost
mindlessly into the crook of his neck, "I'm okay. I'm alright."
  The words taste like bitter lies, but it works-- and just like that the
moment's over, and the atmosphere changes to something much more familiar; Tony
kissing down his chest, the boy slinging an arm over his shoulders to pull him
closer. Later on he presses Peter into the mattress and wraps a hand around
both of them as the boy writhes under him, teeth biting on smooth skin and
moans filling the dark; and it's so easy to forget then, to just close his eyes
and allow himself to drown in the sensations and sounds echoing off the walls
of his room. Peter falls asleep soon after that, legs tangled amongst silk
sheets and arms wound tightly around him. Tony holds him close, feeling every
rise and fall of rhythmic breaths; eyes intent on the already darkening marks
blooming across pale skin, until his lids finally feel heavy.
 
  It shouldn't mean anything, but the boy never fails to help him sleep.
 
Chapter End Notes
     Sorry this chapter's really short, more to come soon. This is just
     the beginning.
***** and so it goes *****
Chapter Notes
     here it is!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
  "Can I take you somewhere tonight?"
  Peter looks across at him from his sprawling position on the couch, long
limbs stretched enticingly over the cushions. There's a textbook in his hands,
handwritten notes all over his lap-- Tony catches glimpses of carefully
scribbled formulas before the boy notices his gaze, flipping the notebook shut
and moving it to the side.
  "Where?"
  Tony shrugs. "Just a fancy restaurant or something." Peter pushes himself off
the couch, sauntering over to him and slinging his legs over the side of his
armchair. Absent-mindedly Tony stabilizes him with a grip on his waist, running
a thumb slowly down his side. "It's been a while since I brought you out for
dinner."
  "That sounds nice," Peter says, but there's a hint of apprehension in his
voice that makes Tony look at him. The boy meets his gaze with a doubtful one,
hesitates before adding, "It...it's a school night, though."
  Tony swallows. The mention of school-- or anything regarding Peter's extreme
youth, really-- has always been a touchy topic for the both of them, something
they don't bring up as much as possible. Peter stares at him now, obviously
gauging his reaction, so Tony shoves the thoughts away, instead simply responds
by pulling the boy onto his lap and forcing a smile.
  "I promise I'll get you home in time," he says, hands sliding underneath
Peter's shirt, fingers running over ribs and making the other boy giggle.
"Just-- let me take you out for dinner. Please?"
  One of those smiles, bright eyes crinkling at the sides, that makes his heart
flutter. "Yes, okay. I'd love that."

  Admittedly, Tony did go a tad overboard, but who can blame him? That's the
point of all of this, isn't it? The joyful laughter as Peter buckles himself
in, eyes sparkling with excitement, Tony settling in beside him and taking his
hand.
  "I can't believe you," Peter says breathlessly, turning to look at him;
strong gusts of wind whipping through his hair, tangled curls falling into his
eyes.
  "What's the point of owning a helicopter if I don't use it?" As they lift off
the boy gives a peal of child-like laughter, gazing out the window at the dark
sky above blinking city lights; and Tony can't stop himself from leaning in and
pressing a kiss to his cheek-- it doesn't mean anything, of course.

  Dinner turns out later to be at a restaurant near the beach, Peter huddled
close beside him, head resting on Tony's shoulder. He can feel the weight of
pointed stares on him, hushed whispers from the other table, the other patrons
looking upon them with cold, narrowed eyes at the pretty boy nuzzling into his
neck-- and Tony ignores it all, leaning back against the seat, a firm grip on
Peter's waist.
  "Can I try?" Tony looks down at Peter, who's already reaching for the cold
glass of Scotch cradled between his fingers. Instinctively he stretches his arm
away, ice cubes clinking and amber liquid sloshing over the lip; some spills
over his hand.
  "No, you cannot," he says plainly, as the kid pouts defiantly at him. "It's
alcohol."
  All he receives in return is a roll of eyes; which, he notices, is something
the boy's been doing quite often lately. "Yes, I know what whiskey is, Tony,"
Peter sighs. "I'm sixteen, not six."

  Tony gives him a tight smile at that, and before he can react Peter's
grabbing his arm and pulling it closer. A warning is on the tip of his tongue
as the younger deftly plucks the glass out of his grip, but it quickly dies as
Peter licks the rim of it, pink tongue running across the cold surface to catch
stray drops from the spill. He hums softly in appreciation, grinning up at Tony
before offering the glass back to him.
  "A little taste won't hurt," Peter says, teeth catching on his bottom lip,
hazel eyes glinting coyingly; as if daring him to make a move-- and of course
Tony does.

  They end up abandoning their food at the table, stumbling blindly into the
washroom. Heavy stares burn into Tony's back, and his last rational thought is
that he should have just rented the whole restaurant for the night. Then his
fingers fumble on the lock of the door, and Peter's pulling him forward by his
tie, the boy already breathless as they collide into a rough kiss, panting into
each other's mouths.
  Peter's still as eager as their first few encounters, all eager touches and
youthful enthusiasm as he hoists himself onto the edge of the sink. Hastily
undone slacks, shoes kicked into a corner, hands running over bare skin-- all
so familiar, so comforting. Tony fucks him right there against the counter,
hands gripping onto the cold marbled edge; Peter hooking his legs around his
waist with practiced ease and flexibility that never ceases to amaze him. It's
messy, every hard thrust of his hips sliding the boy across the smooth surface
and bumping their heads together, but it's also shared breaths and warm hungry
touches full of longing.
  A particularly rough thrust sends Tony's hips snapping forward almost
brutally, driving his teeth into the already bruised skin on Peter's neck and
wrenching a sharp cry from the younger boy, who throws his head back to bare
his throat. This angle allows the man to stare at his own reflection in the
polished mirror of the sink, allows him to take in his flushed skin and wild
eyes, realise just how hard he's fucking the kid-- and it tips him over the
edge, growling low in his throat as he spills himself into the lithe body under
his.
  Peter comes soon after with a weak sob, bony ankles wrapping around Tony's
waist to keep him close as they fall apart. They stay that way until the man's
wrists ache, and when Tony pulls away his palms sting sharply from how hard he
had gripped the counter. He leans over, grabs a roll of tissue for Peter, the
boy still clearly dazed and catching his breath. The air between them is heavy
now, an abrupt change from just a few minutes ago as Peter wipes away their
mess from himself, Tony pulling on his crinkled shirt.
  "D'you think they heard us?" Peter finally says, just as Tony finishes
fastening his belt.

  "After the way you screamed just now? No doubt about it." Dark eyes take in
the boy's mussed appearance, the pattern of reds and purples blooming across
pale skin, harshly bitten lips. "You've got to learn to be more discrete,
Parker."

  Peter rolls his eyes. "That's a bit rich coming from you, don't you think?
Your hands were all over me out there."
  "That's your fault for being so irresistible."
  Peter pouts, reaching out to playfully shove the older man's shoulder, but
Tony reflexively grips his wrists, entangles their fingers together to pull
Peter closer; leans down to whisper in the boy's ear, "Don't pretend you
weren't asking for it, darling. Practically begging for me to take you right
there on our table--"
  "Right in front of everyone?" Peter interjects, a slight tremor in his voice
that shouldn't sound as delicious as it is. Voice dipping low, Tony asks,
  "Yes, right in front of everyone. Will you like that, baby?"
  The boy doesn't reply, though his face flushes a pretty pink at his words-
- and that's enough of an answer to Tony.

  They walk out of the restroom together, Tony's arm slung lazily over the
boy's shoulder, swirling patterns into his dark suit. Faintly he notices that
his shirt is untucked in the front, and that an extravagantly dressed woman
seated nearby is staring at them disapprovingly, sharp eyes darting to Peter's
wildly tussled hair. Tony doesn't care, of course. They can stare all they
want; he's paid for their silence, after all. A man leans back against his
seat, legs crossed, peering purposefully at them over the rim of his glass.
  ln another timeline, a timeline before all of this, Peter Parker would have
shied away from all the pointed looks, but now the boy merely presses closer to
his side, lips curling into an easy smile-- and Tony can't help it, can't help
the little flutter of his heart, the bitter guilt and conflict rising up like
bile.
  It'll go away eventually. These feelings always do.
 
Chapter End Notes
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