#sfsummerbingo21

The notion of a new student did intrigue him, however. It wasn’t often that teenagers or children moved to what was essentially the middle of nowhere. The most that the town got was retired elders seeking a quiet life.

Tony reached his locker and jerked on it harshly, getting its stubborn door to swing open with practiced ease. He pulled out the textbook he needed for his Physics class and stuffed it into his bag. After zipping it up, he shut his locker and turned, ready to make his reluctant way to his classroom, only to come face to face with James Rhodes, his best friend of twelve years.

“Hey, Tones,” Rhodey greeted. “You ready for Markovitz’s test?”

Tony quirked an eyebrow. “Are you doubting my skills? Please, I could do it in my sleep.”

“That makes one of us,” Rhodey grumbled, annoyance passing over his face. “The least he could’ve done was make the test later on in the week. But no, we have to take it first thing in the morning on a Monday. I haven’t even had coffee yet.”

“You’re good at Physics,” Tony insisted. “Markovitz is just a shit teacher.”

Rhodey gave a helpless shrug. “Nothing we can do about it. We need his class to graduate.”

Tony nodded in agreement and they stepped into the classroom, which was halfway full of students who resembled zombies more than the teenagers they were. Their faces were marred with stress lines and deep eyebags, but that was no shocker. It was their last year of high school, and they were overcome with a need to both work themselves to the bone and give up, letting life take them where it pleased. A great deal of the graduating class wanted to move to the big cities and become more than small-towners following in their parents’ footsteps. It took a lot out of them.

Tony and Rhodey took their seats, which were, unfortunately, on opposite ends of the classroom. That wasn’t much of a problem for Rhodey, who was charismatic and got along with most people he encountered. For Tony, who preferred for people to stay away from him at all times, with the exception of a select few, it was equivalent to the end of the world. But he made do.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the class to file in, and by the time the bell rang, they were all at their desks. Mr. Markovitz cleared his throat, bringing their attention to him.

“We have a test today, so you better hope you studied, because this one’s a tough one.”

He allowed them a brief moment to groan and roll their eyes, and continued:

“But before we start, I have someone I’d like you to meet. Come in and introduce yourself, Peter.” He finished speaking and turned his head to the door, his students mimicking the action with curious eyes.

A boy walked in with his head down, his brown curls flopping over his forehead with each short step he took to the front of the classroom, where he stopped and looked up at them with a grimace. Tony could sympathize. He’d never had the ‘new kid’ experience, but he imagined it wasn’t good.

The boy began to speak. “My name is Peter Parker, I’m from New York, and I want to be a chemical engineer.”

Peter gazed around the classroom, his stare lingering on each student with a curiosity of his own, until it landed on Tony. Their eyes widened as they met, and Tony felt his breath catch in his chest. The tenseness of Peter’s jaw seemed to melt off of him the longer they stared at each other, and Tony’s heart fluttered at that. He’d never calmed anyone at sight before, and he thought that, that was what might’ve been happening at the moment. A smile, small but bright, started to grow on Peter’s face, and Tony found himself blushing.

“Take a seat, Peter,” Mr. Markovitz interrupted, and the eye contact was broken.

Peter shuffled to the only available seat, the one two rows in front of Tony’s, and sat down next to Ned Leeds, an omega who led the only Lego Club in the entire state of Montana.

Mr. Markovitz walked through the rows at a hurried pace, tossing a test face-down in front of every student. He’d handed everyone a test in the span of a minute, eager to begin testing.

“As usual, there’s no multiple-choice in my class. You have forty-five minutes. I’ve set the timer; you may begin your test.” Once he finished speaking, Mr. Markovitz perched on his desk with the timer next to him, and didn’t move an inch for the entirety of the test, watching them all with strong focus.

He’d said more than once that he hated cheaters, and he took enough precautions that no one doubted him. Aside from keeping an eye on them as they tested and making all their questions short-answer, he also gave his students different versions of the test, so they couldn’t ask each other for help.

Tony gripped his pencil tightly, attempting valiantly to forget Peter’s presence for the duration of the test, and read the first question.

You have a mass of 71 kg and are on a 51-degree slope hanging on to a cord with a breaking strength of 165 N.

(a) What must be the coefficient of static friction between you and the surface for you to be saved from the fire?

(b) If the coefficient of static friction is zero, what would the incline angle have to be in order for the cord to not break?

He’d read up on static friction over the summer to prepare for Physics. This was something he knew the answer to. And yet, his mind was drawing a blank.

As the minutes ticked by, heat flickered at the base of his spine and rose up as panic stirred in his gut. He’d never stumbled over himself in a science test like this. What was going on? What was wrong with him?

Despite his alarm, he glanced up from his papers to look at Peter, who was scribbling away on his test. Perhaps Tony had gotten the harder version, and Mr. Markovitz had overestimated the students’ ability to pass Version B. That had to be it.

Tony sifted through the pages, skimming every question to identify ones he could answer, but his search came up fruitless. The questions, though phrased in terms he was familiar with, weren’t bringing any answers to mind, and he released a distraught whimper. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice, all engrossed in their tests.

Forty-five minutes flew by quickly, Tony’s stress making each second spent frantically scanning the test for something he could answer, shorter.

Mr. Markovitz collected each test with the same rushed demeanor he’d handed them out in. He tucked them into a drawer in his desk, locked it, and faced the class with his hands clasped before his stomach.

He announced, “Your tests will be graded by the end of the week. For homework, read the next chapter of the textbook, and be ready to discuss it tomorrow. Class dismissed.”

Everyone stood up, pushing their chairs in and rushing to their friends, no doubt to gush over the test. Tony made his way to Rhodey with an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“That was horrible,” Rhodey sighed, massaging his hand to rid it of the soreness it had acquired during the test. “I bet it wasn’t for you, though, boy-genius.”

Tony shook his head mutely.

“What?” Rhodey placed a concerned hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right, man. Even if you failed, one grade won’t do anything to you.”

Tony didn’t agree. “I need to pass if I want to make it out of here.”

“One bad test won’t tank your grade,” Rhodey asserted. “I promise.”

A stab of fear has Peter sprinting towards the balcony access, throwing open the door and looking around wildly for his stupid, idiotic Alpha.

He doesn’t expect to see Tony— fully dressed in the Iron Man armor— shooting long ropes of webbing fluid out of his palms instead of repulsor blasts.

What?

“A-alpha?” he stutters, rubbing his arms as a gust of wind chills his already overheated skin, “Tony?"

The armored mask turns to look at him, and Tony stops firing webs at the underside of the wall. He lands in front of Peter, blocking the oncoming wind, and lifts the mask, “Hey, baby— thought you were still sleeping?"

“S’cold without you."

Tony’s face falls as he looks from the mess of webs and back to Peter, “I... I’m almost done, if you’d like to see."

Peter perks up, “Something for me?"

“Mhm, made it especially for you, baby,” Tony leans forward to dot a kiss on his nose, and gives Peter a light tap on his ass, “why don’tcha run and grab your favorite blankets— I’ll be done when you get back."

It only takes a few minutes to gather the blankets from his nest, promising himself to arrange it even better next time, and skips back to where Tony’s folding away the Iron Man suit. He spends a moment watching— it’s always a piece of art to watch the nanobites at work. To watch his Alpha at work.

Tony stretches out his arms, “Here, give me those. Why don’t you go check it out?"

Peter’s skeptical of the giant wad of webbing, but hands over his blankets obediently. He crawls up the side of the balcony wall, sticking easily to the metal exterior. As Peter approaches, he notices an opening towards the crease— like an upside-down igloo. Curious.

He peers inside and almost loses his breath. No.

“Alpha,” Peter exhales. The interior of the webbed igloo is completely hallow, and the upper rim is transparent, giving him an unobstructed view of the city sky line while also remaining entirely hidden from view.

As he crawls inside, Peter lets himself unstick, rolling onto his back in the center of the structure and giggling joyfully. Tony made a nest for him. And not just any nest, no. His Alpha made him a spider’s nest.

There’s a soft, padded mattress on the base, and small shelving around the walls, already stocked with their favorite heat snacks, water and other necessities.

“Alpha!” Peter throws himself back out of the nest, sliding down the wall until he lands nose to nose with Tony. “I can’t believe... Alpha, you made me a nest."

“Of course I did, Peter— you deserve it.”

Peter throws back his head, laughing in an overwhelming wave of happiness. Oh, he’s so irrevocably in love.

“Join me,” Peter breathes, snatching back the blankets. He races up the wall and back into his nest, secure in the knowledge that Tony is flying close behind him.

It’s easy. It’s perfect. The webbing somehow catches and amplifies their combined scents, wrapping both Alpha and Omega in the comfort of their embrace. It’s the quickest Peter has ever started purring for his Alpha, and promises himself never to leave, ever.

Once all the blankets and pillows are arranged— Peter only going back to the bedroom once to grab more— they lay spooned together, drifting back to sleep before Peter’s heat hits in the morning.

Tony noses the back of his neck, rubbing Peter’s tummy with lazy fingers, “M’glad you like it."

And Peter just wiggles back into the crease of Tony’s hip, excited for the next few days together. He leads Tony’s hand down to cup him between the legs, soft and secure in his Alpha’s grip.

“S’perfect, Alpha. Can’t wait—" he yawns, shaking out his curls and rubbing at his eyes, “— can’t wait for you to knot me in it."

He’d spent an... exorbitant portion of his last check on the set - a cute lace bodysuit and garter belt in Iron Man red, with gold clasps and matching glittery thigh highs. It was honestly really cute, and he looked damn good in it, if he did say so himself. But it was true. Peter didn’t have anybody to show off for - he certainly didn’t have a boyfriend, and he’d be damned if Tony ever found out he bought it. He’d probably have to quit his job, get a new identity, move to Iceland, and even THEN the embarrassment alone would probably kill him. 

So of course MJ would demand photos. Of course.

“Okay okay, yeah yeah yeah FINE, will you at least let me SHOWER first? I feel disgusting and I smell like a garbage can.” Patrol always left him feeling some sort of way, and it was never good. Showering was quickly becoming his favorite pastime.

“Fine. But don’t you dare flake out on me. I expect those texts in no less than an hour. Love you, loser.” She didn’t give him time to respond before hanging up.

Peter looked down at his phone, exhausted. He loved MJ, he did, but sometimes she was just... too much. Like, for example - demanding to vet every single nude and lewd he took before he could send them to anyone. Sure, it helped - he’d gotten much better responses in the weeks since she’d started dishing out criticism. So no, it wasn’t like this was anything new or unexpected of them.

It just wasn’t like Peter to fuck it up this royally.

•|||•

He’d already taken a couple of pictures the day the set was delivered, but knowing MJ, it’d probably be best to have a variety. She was demanding, but she knew what she was talking about.

Peter dried off, making sure to be thorough. Lace didn’t feel good against his skin as is, but wet lace... ugh. Wet lace was the worst.

He stepped into the suit gently, careful not to stretch or tear the delicate fabric. These things aren’t typically designed for those requiring.. extra room up front. He wasn’t too big by any means, but he was clumsy enough to wind up popping holes in the crotch if his movements were anything but deliberate. He pulled the straps up, smoothing the cupless front over his chest. The deep red contrasted perfectly with his pale skin - it made him feel beautiful. The stockings definitely helped, too - his calves had filled out nicely since he began his vigilante work, and the glittery gold material did nothing but accentuate his strong curves. The garter belt was next - closing the clasps around his thighs and making sure they were secure around the top of his socks. They were just long enough that they didn’t pull or stretch when he connected everything, leaving him flawless in the outfit. He checked himself out in the mirror, running his hands down his sides and ass. Perfect.

Peter spent a solid fifteen minutes snapping pictures, warm evening sunset granting him perfect lighting. He got some from several angles - straight on, laying back, over his shoulder. MJ’s advice had allowed him to know exactly how he looked sexiest, and he took advantage of it.

By the time he was finished the sun had just finished dipping below the horizon. Time to go through and pick some for MJ. He wound up selecting 8 of his best, throwing them in his “favorites” folder before swiping up and pressing “share”.

See now this - this is where he fucked up. If he’d just taken a minute to actually see which contact he clicked, he could have avoided this entire mess. But no - he just typed a quick ‘m’, clicked on the first contact that popped up, and clicked send. There was definitely a flaw in design here, too - if Steve Jobs hadn’t been stupid enough to force close the messages app after sending photos... this wouldn’t’ve happened, either. Peter could have simply turned on airplane mode, deleted the messages, and everything would have been okay.

But of course, he didn’t do any of this, and after selecting Mr. Stark’s contact, and after sending the eight individual photos of himself in Iron Man lingerie... Peter locked his phone, changed, and went to the kitchen to grab dinner.

•|||•

Tony had seen a lot of things in his time on Earth - he’d seen plenty of men and women in plenty of different outfits - sexual or otherwise. He’d enjoyed some of them, even! But he never even thought to consider that Iron Man lingerie existed. Red and gold looked good together on metal, sure, but lace? Silk? Chiffon? He’d never thought about it.

Of course, not until he received some... very interesting photos from everyone’s favorite spidertwink.

Now... Tony wasn’t one to snoop without asking first. He’d never had an issue or scandal with consent. He prided himself on not being One Of Those Rich Guys™. But when he opened his messages with Peter Parker, and came face to face with the (apparently very grown up now) kid in a very scandalous ensemble... he’d be lying if he said he didn’t stare.

To be fair, Peter looked fucking delicious. Tony sucked in a gasp the second he saw it, arousal burning through him almost immediately. What the fuck? He hadn't attached anything else - no text, no explanation. No indication as to who the photos were meant for. Obviously they weren't for Tony... right? Then again... Peter was in his colors...

So Tony decided to be a bit brave.

•|||•

The smell of leftover fried rice and soy sauce was enough to have Peter's mouth watering. Patrol had always left him hungry, so he rarely waited to get back to his room before digging in. Tony, bless him, had paid for a one bedroom while Peter was away at college. He always made sure Peter had a thoroughly stocked fridge and pantry, and it served him well on nights like this. He ate his fill and cleaned up before returning to his room. He needed to put the suit and his lingerie away, tidy up his bathroom, prepare for his organic chem midterm...

His thoughts were interrupted by several quick dings from his phone. MJ must have finally responded.

Peter's blood ran cold when he swiped to open the unread message.

Where the fuck are my pictures, loser? I thought I said an hour.

He nearly dropped his phone. Sure enough, there were no photos sent recently in their text thread. Peter's mind ran a mile a minute - who the fuck could he have sent them too?? May, of course, wouldn't say anything - she probably hadn't even seen them yet, her shift had just started. Maria would probably slap him the next time she saw him, and leave it at that... but, oh god.

Oh god. Mr. Stark.

Peter quickly swiped over to the rest of his conversations, fear immediately confirmed: he had, indeed, just sent his boss eight selfies in the most scandalous outfit he owned. Even worse...

Read: 8:02pm

Oh fuck.

(• • •)

Oh fuck.

Not that I’m complaining, but are you sure these are for me?

Tony doesn't stop though. Not when Peter's moans turn into mewls, when he's too exhausted to hold up his own hips, when the tears turn to sobs.

He keeps thrusting, keeping hitting, keeps pinching at the head of Peter's cock to keep him from cumming.

Peter can't describe the feeling. Hes exhausted, but so energized. A mix of pain and pleasure, to the point where he doesn't know what he's begging for anymore.

And the way Tony's thick cockhead catches on his sore and abused hole, only to slam into his prostate at a dizzying, brutal pace doesn't help Peter in climbing out of the mindset Tony's currently got him in.

Peter doesn't know where one moan ends and another one starts, only that its cut up with each thrust.

Tony's loud too, grunting and growling and huffing for breath. Peter's surprised the older has been able to last this long. He's not cum once in the couple hours since they've started.

It's not long though before Tony's moans turn gruff, his hips faltering in their rhythm. Peter doesn't know if he cries harder because he's relieved or upset.

"Please, please, please -ah!- oh, please-" Peter wept, struggling to catch his breath.

Tony shoves him face first into the mattress as he cums inside, rolling his hips. Peter scrambles, hand reaching down to his cock.

Tony -even in the middle of his own orgasm- swats his hands away, only making Peter cry harder, body trembling.

Tony stays deep inside him as he rolls them onto their sides. Peter presses into his chest, one of Tony's arms pinning his own to his chest.

"Shh, baby, I've got you," Tony murmured into Peter's ear. Peter's chest heaves as Tony curls his fingers around his cock.

"Please-" Peter's breath hitches. Tony kisses at his neck, soft and loving -a contrast to the bruising bites he had inflicted on the same spot moments before.

He cums hard. Its painful and his body tenses and quivers. He can't help but thrash in Tony's arms as the older continues to stroke him through it.

When he's finally finished, he sags into the bed, leaning back against Tony and so tired.

He doesn't mean to fall asleep, but he can't help it. Once he closes his eyes he can't open then again, and its a fast fall into unconsciousness.

When he wakes up a few hours later, its dark, and the other side of the bed is empty. Peter scowls, still sleepy and sore and confused. Tony never left Peter alone afterwards.

He slowly climbs out of bed, wincing at the pain in his muscles. It felt like he spent the whole day at the gym and then ran a marathon.

Bruises litter his skin from his neck down to his ankles, and Peter presses his finger tips into the ones on his hips, matching his fingers up with the bruises left by Tony.

He shuffles his way to the front door, fully naked, and slipped out into the hall.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y?" Peter asked softly in the dark. "Where's Tony?"

It takes only a second for the AI to respond. "He's in the lab."

Peter nods, using the wall to balance as he makes his way to the spiral staircase that leads to Tony's work area.

He squints as he steps closer to the light. He sees Tony at one of his stations, naked as well, fiddling with a new piece of tech for the ironman suit.

Peter frowns. Tony's usually gentle hand is rough, jerky. His shoulders are tense, high up near his ears and as Peter steps down the stairs, he notices tears in his eyes. Glistening against his cheeks.

"Tony?" Peter called out softly, watching Tony jump and curse. He spins around on his stool, wiping his cheeks.

"Peter, what are you doing up?" Tony asked, standing up and making his way over.

"You weren't in bed," Peter said, reaching out for him when he got close enough. "Whats wrong?"

Tony wraps his arms around Peter, burying his face in Peter's shoulder. Peter's worry increases when he feels tears hit his shoulder.

"Tony, what is it?" Peter asked, wrapping his arms around Tony's shoulders.

The man lets out a shaky breath, but doesn't say anything. Peter runs his fingers through his hair, trying to sooth the man.

"Come on," Peter urged. "Lets go to bed."

He doesn't let Tony go. The two make their way back up the stairs, Peter still sore. Tony sniffles beside him.

They get back to the bed, and it takes Peter a little while longer to settle, body stiff.

It just makes Tony cry all over again, and he digs the heels of his palms into his eyes.

"Tony, please," Peter said softly, reaching for him. "Talk to me."

Tony's inhale is choppy and wet. It worries Peter. Tony's usually not like this -not without reason at least.

"I'm sorry," Tony exhaled, voice wavering. Peter's frown deepens and he scoots over to him, tugging at his elbow until Tony uncovers his face.

"Why are you sorry?" Peter asked softly, kissing at Tony's shoulder, leaning up against his side.

Tony wipes at his eyes again, regulating his breathing in the darkness of their bedroom.

"I went too far," Tony breathed, looking over at Peter. "I took it too far, I'm so sorry, Peter."

Peter shook his head, quickly reaching for Tony and pulling at him until Tony was rolled over, half on his stomach, half on Peter.

"You didn't go too far," Peter assured, wrapping one arm around Tony's shoulders while he used the other to pet at Tony's hair.

The older man buried his nose in Peter's neck, breathing shakily against him.

"I hurt you," Tony whined.

"I wanted you to," Peter murmured, kissing at Tony's forehead. "I concented, okay? You did nothing wrong."

Tony doesn't say anything, just continues to cry silently against him. Peter rubs at his back, planting kisses where he can reach.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Its okay," Peter promised. "You didn't go too far. You did exactly what I wanted. What I asked for."

Peter continued talking to Tony, whispering to him, petting him, kissing him, until the tears had all dried up, and his breathing had evened out.