#spiderio

Spiderio in the nutshell 💚🕷️

So after Tony died and when this happened:

“You’re going through a 40s crisis, that’s what is it.”

But when Tony throws a party, he spares no fucking expense.

Quentin disappears somewhere halfway through the party and Tony finds him in one of the empty rooms upstairs, cock and balls deep in a cute young thing in a pizza delivery uniform.

“I hired escorts for you, expensive ones, no offense to you, honey-“ He tells the cute boy currently pinned beneath Quentin’s muscled frame, eyes glazed.

“What? He’s not the stripper you hired for me? I thought you wanted it a little cringe - have him in a delivery outfit.”

“If I wanted it to be cringe, I’d have him in a fucking pleated skirt and a white dress shirt with knee-high stockings.”

Jesus, there’s cum streaked on the boy’s face, on his chest, his cheeks are splotched red, but he doesn’t protest when Quentin lifts his legs up to his shoulder and practically bends Peter’s knees against his chest.

“So-“ Quentin says breathlessly. “You didn’t hire him?”

Ah fuck.

Tony vaguely recalls a drunk Natasha and Clint saying they were going to “order so many fucking pizzas”.

“Oh my fucking god-“ The boy does a full body shudder when Quentin really starts pounding into him, and Tony can’t look away from where his red-rimmed (swollen) hole is stretched to accommodate his best friend’s cock. Look, Quentin’s a big fucking man and the small ones don’t really enjoy taking it up the ass that much.

“Fucking hell, Quentin. He’s an actual delivery kid.”

“Could have fooled me.” Quentin grunts out. “His ass is fucking fantastic. Stop bitching, Tony. You wanna have a go? That’s okay, right, Petey? I promise you, Tony’s packing even if his height doesn’t-“

Peter can barely string a coherent sentence together, looking so blissed out.

“You should see the way he sucks cock.”

This is a potentially bad decision, but it’s what Quentin and Tony have always excelled at. He’s already unbuttoning his jeans, taking measured steps towards the bed.

Peter is pretty. Pretty young, his mind supplies unhelpfully.

“How old are you, kid?”

“17.” Quentin throws Tony a “seriously, Tony?” kind of look. “Of course I checked.”

“Glad to know your common sense still triumps over your cock-“

“Hey.” Peter peeks up at Tony from beneath his damp lashes. “Are you two gonna keep talking, or are you gonna fuck my face?”

Quentin shares a grin with Tony and slides his cock out with a half-punched groan, lube and cum giving his cock a wet sheen.

“I like this one.” Quentin dips down and kisses Peter, roughly cupping by him by the nape and squeezing. “Maybe we shoud keep him, Tones.”

Tony knee-walks across the bed, gazing down at Peter’s spit-slicked lips. He could imagine the fun three of them could have together - because hey, of course Tony and Quentin would have the same taste in a fuck toy.

“Well, consider that my wedding gift to you.”

- / -

“Fuck you, Tony. That’s not fair.” Tony laughs when Quentin walks in on one of the empty dressing rooms; Peter’s on his knees, lips wrapped so beautifully around his cock, careful not to get saliva on the suit Tony and Quentin had paid for to be custom-made for the wedding.

“Hey. I’m not the one signing my freedom away.”

Tony watches as his best friend approaches, laying a hand in Peter’s curls, stroking him affectionately. Four months later, and both of them have got quite the massive soft spot for Peter. There are days whereby Tony is amazed how gentle Quentin can be when he’s around Peter.

“Look, you made him sad that you’re getting married. It’s okay, baby.” Tony coos at the boy playfully. “It’s one less cock for a slut like you, but- ouch!”