sunfloweredstarker

And God help him, but Peter makes the most alluring sounds, muffled though they are falling from the speaker; heartbeat thrumming in his ears and phone clutched tightly in his hand, Tony listens on, utterly riveted, as the familiar stirrings to heat begin to coil tightly in his gut, a barely suppressed groan escaping against his will when Peter asks breathily, “w-what next Doctor Stark?”

So Tony describes in detail, trying– and failing– to remain professionally clinical in his gruffly uttered words for the boy to keep a rhythmic upstroke movement of his fist, to maintain a firm yet careful grip; Peter’s incredibly receptive, squeaking out little affirmative noises every once in a while before falling quiet yet again save for the harshness of his breaths… and try as he might to give the kid as much privacy as possible, Tony can’t help but imagine in his mind’s eye the pretty little picture his patient’s making right now, huddled on his small twin bed with a hand under his pajamas. Surely, Peter will be blushing the rosiest pink, rolling his hips upward to met the downward strokes of his hand and with those gangly legs kicking out at his sheets as he does so; perhaps even biting down on the corner of a pillow to muffle his cries from his aunt sleeping just next door.

“Oh, o-oh god, Doctor,” the boy mewls from the other end, and Tony’s eyes flutter shut from the effort it takes to gather whatever last shreds of his self-restraint. “It… it feels so good,” he sighs, sweet voice laced with unmistakable pleasure; the man just barely manages a strangled sound in response. For a few moments he lies there in his own empty bed, tortured by the slick sounds of skin on skin and bitten-off moans and the vivid visual that comes along with them, then a pause– when Peter speaks up again he sounds more wrecked than ever.

“Doctor Stark–” he says meekly, always such a polite kid. “I wanna, please… c-can you teach me how, how to touch myself? Down… there?”

Jesus fucking Christ. How could Peter still sound so innocent while basically asking how to finger his tight little hole? And why the fuck does his patient’s utter naivety turn him on this much?

Swallowing hard, Tony determinedly presses the heel of his palm into the bulge tenting at his crotch and, feeling more like a dirty old pervert than ever, grates out into the receiver: “you mean, how to achieve prostate orgasm?”

“Y-yes… that,” Peter huffs into his ear; seeming to sense his hesitation the boy adds on pleadingly, “please, Doctor? I need it, feel em- empty inside.” And well, Tony had sworn a doctor’s oath to help out the needy after all, hadn’t he?

“Start with your index finger, sink in all the way to your knuckle,” he mutters, and from the sudden cry on the other end Peter had followed his instructions without preamble; so the man grows bolder, now languidly palming at his rock-hard cock as he coaxes further in a low baritone, “curl your digits upwards now… yeah, does that feel good?” and “add another finger, there you go. Stretch yourself out a little.”

When the incessant keening whines of “unhh, oh- ah, ah”’s from Peter pitch impossibly higher to an abrupt scream, Tony knows that the boy’s probing fingers has finally found those sweet bundle of nerves– and sure enough soon the most desperate little sobs can be heard distinctly from the speakers, choked off cries of “yes, fuck yes!” and “oh, Doctor!” so loud that Tony worries for the kid that his aunt would wake– hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if his patient hadn’t awoken all the occupants of his apartment up with those cries.

“Shh, be quiet, that’s a good boy,” Tony utters, but his words achieve the opposite effect, for instead of keeping it down Peter’s wailing “ah, wanna be good for you Doctor Stark!” from the end of his receiver is louder than ever; the man actually hears the squelching sound of Peter’s fingers twisting deeper into his spasming hole– Christ, wasn’t that a beautiful image?– and the splattering of come hitting skin.

“Fuck, Pete… oh,” Tony groans, barely managing to cut off the ‘baby’ at the end of his sentence at the last minute. The teen’s now breathing harshly down the line, soft pants that Tony swears he can feel against his ear; gripping the stiff length of his cock and pumping it hastily through his slacks, the man looks down and realises the grey cotton of the material is now stained dark from all his pre-come. “Christ,” he grunts.

“Thank you, thank you so so much,” Peter babbles as soon as he’s finally caught his breath, his voice light with undeniable happiness; blissfully unaware of his doctor’s predicament on the other end of the line. “That was incredible–”

“Hey, it’s no problem kiddo,” Tony cuts off before the boy could go onto another round of thanks again– in other normal circumstances he wouldn’t have minded, but at this moment all he can think about is jacking off. “I promised to always help, remember? Now go to bed, it’s late… yes, goodnight kid. Sleep well.”

As soon as Peter hangs up the doctor practically flings his phone to the side; shoving his slacks down urgently to finally wrap a hand around his leaking, painful erection. Biting down harshly on his lip and jerking his grip viciously, the imagery of a certain brown-eyed patient squirming underneath him plays unbidden behind his closed lids along with breathy little gasps of “harder, Doctor, please”– it doesn’t take long before Tony’s hips are bucking off the bed and he’s spilling hot and wet into his closed fist.

i love starker. i adore them so much 😭😭 i need what they have… who is gonna be my tony </3

Maybe in some universe Peter Parker will send a love letter to Tony Stark💌(?

Tony: What’s it like dating me? Peter: You ever had a migraine and been turned on at the same time? Tony, insomniac: hey Pete, are you awake? Peter, relies on his beauty sleep: what Tony: are you awake? Peter: who the fuck do you think just said ‘what’? Steve, checking in after a rough mission: how're you feeling? Peter: not good. I have this headache that comes and goes Sam: walks into the room Peter: there it is Sam: One more week of being stuck here with Peter and you will definitely find a dead body. Peter: Yes, because one more week with Sam and Bucky, and I will definitely kill myself. Steve: Do you mind if I come in? Peter: Not at all. Do you mind if I leave? Peter: I'm mad at you. Tony: Me? Why? Peter: I don't know yet. I just am.

bonus:

I’ve been doing this for you. For all of you. I have wasted so much time. So much energy. To look like you — to sound like you — so that you specks feel comfortable around me.

For @sinditia’s fic THE SKY’S THE BEGINNING Dialogue, caption, and story idea is all Marsha’s!

(inspo.) For @starkerfestivals’ Flufftober | Day 3: Love Confession