When it happens, Peter is mortified, torn between being furious at himself and humiliated at the situation his treacherous mouth has landed him in. Tony inhales sharply, nostrils flaring, his eyes widening minutely and his hips stuttering in their steady thrusts against Peter until they still completely.
His name is a soft rush of air, barely loud enough to be heard over the sudden ringing alarm bells sounding off in the his mind. Peter clenches his jaw and turns his face away from the older man; the action exposes his neck, makes him feel just a little more vulnerable, but he doesn’t care, embarrassment overshadowing the anxiety.
Tony seems to have managed to gather himself much faster than Peter is capable of right now and is changing positions, pushing up, arms straightening from where they’d been holding his body just above the the younger man’s, and moving back to sit on his heels, still buried in the warmth of Peter’s body. The shift forces Peter to bite back a soft noise, the quietest of whimpers, as Tony’s cock nudges deeper inside of him. He ears catch the beginning of a gasp from the man above him as his body clenches around the older man, before Tony cuts it off, closes his eyes and breathes deeply. Dark eyes, pupils blown wide, open again a few moments later to stare down at Peter.
A large palm cups Peter’s cheek, gently coaxing him to look back at Tony; stubbornly, the younger man refuses to focus his gaze, instead choosing to stare at a fixed point just above and behind Tony’s’ right shoulder. He hears a quick, almost silent exhalation, the sound the genius makes when he is amused at something Peter has done, and that is not what Peter needs right now, goddammit.
Angrily, Peter snaps his head back, away from Tony’s palm, and pushes against the other’s chest as he rises, the suddenness of the movements managing to take Tony by surprise, the older man falling backward on the bed, their bodies separating. Peter allows a swift moment of regret, his body still thrumming despite the humiliation nipping at his heels, and moves to stand, but his foot tangles in the loose top-sheet, and Tony takes the momentary distraction of Peter attempting to free himself to tug him back down. Peter just doesn’t have it in him to fight now, his face heating and eyes averting in shame.
“Peter.” The final repetition is given with a gentle brush of warm breath against the younger’s face, Tony having shifted to sit in front of him. Their foreheads touch, but Peter continues to refuse eye contact.
“Look at me,” Tony murmurs, cupping Peter’s cheek again, his thumb running a slow path over a prominent cheekbone. Peter closes his eyes instead, hiding the quick flash of fear, and Tony sighs, lips quirked in fond amusement now that Peter can’t see him and misinterpret it. “Stubborn.” He leans in, brushing his lips just barely over the sharp angle of the other’s jaw. “Look at me, babe.” Peter’s brow furrows, but Tony stalls any refusal by shifting his thumb over the younger man’s lips, shushing him. He forces Peter to make eye contact with him and says, soft and quiet, “Don’t be embarrassed.”
Peter’s eyes, honey-hued and beautiful and wet with tears, search Tony’s face for any sign of mockery. “I don’t-” His hands lift, gesturing vaguely before falling limply back to the sheets, his breath catching. “I didn’t mean to-” His cheek heats, burning beneath Tony’s palm.
“Didn’t mean to say it?” Tony guesses, pressing his forehead to Peter’s, nudging their noses gently together. Peter nods, his eyes closing once again. “Baby,” murmurs Tony. Peter’s lips tighten, a strangled noise escaping him. “I told you not to be embarrassed.” The younger’s lips part, breath releasing shakily. “Because, if you’re embarrassed about it, then I’ve gotta be embarrassed - or worse - for the way it nearly made me come, then and there - and we both know that I don’t get embarrassed over anything.”
Long lashes, damp with the tears he’s been blinking back, lift to reveal those gorgeous eyes, the soft light of the setting sun hitting them and turning them a warm caramel, the confusion in them clear. “I- You-” His breath hitches. “You-”
“Nearly shot off like a high school freshman at a sorority party?” Tony smiles at the laugh Peter can’t stop, a little of the humiliation washing from his features. There we go, he thinks; Peter should never look that way, as though he’s done something terrible, as if he believes that Tony will be angry with him. “Baby,” he continues, taking new note of the way pet name evokes a small shiver, the way Peter’s lips part, his eyes darken just a shade. “I don’t think there’s anything you could ever say - or do - to turn me off to the point of not wanting you.” Tony is rewarded with a wobbly smile, a little of the younger man’s confidence returning as he straightens just a bit. Eyes sparkling with mischief, Tony reaches for one of Peter’s hands, lifts it to press his lips to the delicate knuckles in a soft kiss. “How about,” he begins, coaxing Peter to come closer, his arm going around Tony’s neck, “we try that again, hm?” Peter bites his lip, looking nervous, excited, eager.
