“Tony,” Natasha says with a sympathetic smile. “He’s got you absolutely whipped.”
“I resent that phrase.” Tony quips lightly, as sweat rolls off his body. “And I am not-“ he sets down the bench press, “-whipped.”
Nat raises her eyebrows, casting her gaze across the gym. “So, you’re telling me that this extra working-out isn’t for Peter?”
“Peter loves my body just the way it is, thank you very much.”
“Then why are you in the gym?”
“What if I’m just trying to get healthy? I have a new 22 year old ballerina boyfriend, maybe I’m just inspired.”
Natasha frowns at him, her gaze dragging over his figure, before shaking her head. “Nope, sorry, don’t buy it. The Tony I know loves scotch and cigars. Tell me the truth.” She turns to look menacingly at the boxing ring. “Don’t make me beat it out of you.”
Tony sighs, collapsing in a heap on one of the benches. “I’m trying to work off a little pent up energy.”
He winces. “No, not stress exactly. Just- look, it doesn’t matter, it’s-“
He feels the warm presence of Natasha by his side, and can feel her expectant glare boring into the side of his head, so he sighs and lets it out: “Pete thinks we should wait to have sex, and I agree, so I’m just- I haven’t had sex in a while…”
There’s silence for a beat, before Natasha bursts into fits of laughter and Tony rolls his eyes. He’s a goddamn 45 year old man and-
“I take it back. You’re worse than whipped- oh my god, he’s got you right around his finger- I have to give him credit!“ She screams between fits of laughter. “The Tony Stark- sex god, and you’ve been dating for like three months!”
“We’re taking it slow,” he scolds lightly, “besides, Peter’s different. If he- I want to wait.”
She softens a little at that. “Well, that’s good. He’s sweet. And beautiful.”
Tony groans. “He is beautiful. I need to do another set of sit ups.”
Natasha laughs. “I’ll spot you.”
***
“And what’s really beautiful about this sequence is that those two dancers are doing the exact same dance- but Miguel is doing it in reverse, as a reflection on their characters,” Peter murmurs, snuggled up against his boyfriend on the couch.
Tony hums. The dance is pretty, sure. But he’s only really interested when he’s watching Peter on stage. Besides, it’s hard to focus when his boyfriend is pressed up against him smelling of strawberries and the chocolate cake he had for dessert.
Peter peaks up at him through his tumbling locks, face so close that Tony can’t help but lean down and kiss him gently. Peter smiles against him, before pulling back. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?” He asks innocently, and Tony wraps his arm around the boy’s slender waist and noses at his temple.
“It’s fine, sweetheart. I mean, I don’t have a thousand dollar bet on the ballet.”
Peter giggles, before reaching for the remote. “You don’t have to watch this stuff for me, Tony,” he says sweetly, and Tony’s heart bursts with fondness. “We’re a team. We should do stuff we both like.”
Tony grits his teeth a little. There are lots of things he’d like to do with Peter. One specifically. His hand on Peter’s waist catches a little sliver of skin from where his t-shirt has ridden up, and Tony just wants to drag the boy onto his lap and ravish him and-
“Baby, listen, there was something I wanted to talk to you about,”
Peter looks up brightly, wetting his soft plush lips. “What’s up?”
How best to do it? He can’t think of tactful way- and besides, actions speak louder than words- so he cups Peter’s face in his hands and kisses him.
Peter makes a pleased sound of surprise, and before long Tony has him pressed into the couch, one hand snaking up his shirt and the other curled firmly around his waist. Peter’s hands are tangled in his hair, and he’s moving his hips in a way that should be illegal when-
“Wait, Tony,” he breathes, lips red and cheeks flushed-
Tony peppers kisses up his throat. He’s painfully hard already- it’s been so long since-
“Tony,” Peter says again, and he pecks Tony’s nose with a sweet little kiss. Tony bites back a groan. How can this boy be so Disneyesque? Like a little princess, but at the same time he’s so flexible and- “Tony,” he whispers again, and his hands are on Tony’s belt and Tony feels his brain fry a little. “I know we said we wanted to wait, but- I- I want you,”
He can’t hold back his smile, and lets his teeth graze over Peter’s pulse point- already thinking about hoisting him up and carrying him to the bedroom when-
“That’s why you need to make the decision,’ he finishes, and Tony frowns.
He pulls back a little in confusion. “Wait, what?”
Peter half sits up, sweet and trusting, “if you think we’re ready, Tony, I trust you. If you think our relationship should get stronger first- I’m with you too. I just can’t be impartial anymore.” He leans up to nuzzle Tony’s scruff. “You’re too sexy.”
“Well, hell, Pete,” Tony mutters, flushed warm all over by the compliment, and awed by the trust. “I can’t- have you seen you? I can’t- I want it too and…”
Peter blinks up at him, adoring and sweet and-
“Fuck,” Tony sighs, pulling away. Because Peter is different. And Tony doesn’t do relationships- he dates models and actors and singers, the occasional porn star, but Peter is- Peter- “We should wait.” He decides, even as his cock calls him a traitor.
Peter beams, “we can make pancakes and then you can show me who you bet on!”
Well, eating chocolate covered pancakes and watching the Lakers win with Peter in his lap isn’t as good as sex- it’s a very, very close second.