#top!peter

They hadn't been together long - they'd danced around each other for years, finally caving when Peter finished undergrad. It was a comfortable type of love - something you see in old movies, or cheesy romance novels.

But the sex... Jesus christ, the sex.

Peter hadn't had much time for... self discovery, while in school. Between patrol, double majoring in biochem and genetics, and maintaining a semidecent sleep schedule, there wasn't really opportunity for him to date or fuck around.

So when he came back to Manhattan, and they finally quit mooning over each other... needless to say, Tony hadn't had that much sex since his twenties.

It was generally kind of nice. Tony was sweet, gentle in his love making. Peter preened under the attention, sure - there was nothing wrong with their sex life. But Peter could tell Tony wanted something different.

When he brought it up, Tony turned bright red, stumbling over his words.

"It's not... There's nothing wrong, honey, really, I promise. I just... Sometimes I wish I was in your... position." This left Peter confused. "You... You want to bottom?" He'd never mentioned anything about it before.

Peter's tone didn't help Tony's blush, nor did it make him feel better about the whole ordeal. "Listen it's not... It's not an issue really and I don't... I don't have to. Seriously, if you're not comfortable we-" Peter stopped him mid sentence.

"Okay, no, that's not what I said at all. I just didn't know what you meant, Tony, let's take a step back." His hands immediately went to Tony's shoulders, bringing the older man back to the present. Grounding. "I love you, you know that right?"

Tony relaxed in his grip, taking a deep breath. "I know, I know, and I love you too. I just... It's embarrassing." Peter cocked his head, still not following. "You gotta use your words, T, or I can't give you what you want."

He closed his eyes, thumbs stroking over Peter's knuckles. He could do this, he could do this.

"I... So you know how you got bit by the spider, right?" Peter was very aware. He was also aware of just how bad Tony was stalling.

"Tony if you don't just spit it out I swear to go-"

"I want to see how much cum you can fit inside me!" He broke. With Peter holding him, right up in his face, he couldn't do it, couldn't hold it in anymore.

He slid to his knees, head falling into his hands. "I just... You can go so much, and sometimes when I'm fucking you I get to thinking.. How many times could you go in one night? How much could you produce? A few ounces? A cup? More? Makes me cum so quick just thinkin' about it, even in my old age. Can't stop thinkin' about it, about you fillin' me up like that. I can't do it anymore.

"It makes me feel like a gross old man, you know? Thinking about you like that? About you using me like a toy? It drives me crazy but I can't stop, can't keep it in anymore." He was shaking, unable to stop himself once he started.

Peter's eyes were wide, mind racing to process what Tony was saying. The bite had impacted their sex life - he could rebound almost instantly, and he did... produce more than the average twenty-something.

He sat down next to Tony, cradling him. "That's all you had to say, baby, it's okay. Shh shh, you're okay." he rubbed circles into Tony's shoulder, kissing his temple. "You know I'd never judge you for wanting something, right?"

Tony sighed. He knew that, logically, of course. His anxiety around admitting it didn't listen to logic, though, and it was hard to override that. "I know. I know. I love you. I'm sorry for freaking out."

Peter just kissed him again. "It's okay, T."

•|||•

Peter waited a few weeks before bringing it up again - both for Tony's benefit, and his.

He'd spent a long time digging through medical journals, doing independent research... He even made a (very awkward) call to Dr. Strange.

It didn't take him long to create a game plan: he needed to double his water intake, get more leafy greens and ripe fruit in. It wasn’t difficult - he had to shift around some of his calories, sure, but he made it work.

The worst part was not orgasming. He and Tony'd resumed their normal sexual activities a few days after their... discussion. But Peter made it a point not to cum - he wanted to build up as much as possible.

Even worse - he was edging himself several times a day. Massaging his prostate, sleeping with Tony, jerking off until just on this side of orgasm in the shower... He made it a point to work himself up and then leave himself there. He'd read several articles that talked about edging and semen production, and they all agreed - the less you cum, the more you produce and retain.

So he went with it. For the better part of a month - he didn't cum.

Tony, initially questioned it - but with some solid reassurances, and promises that Peter had "something exciting" in store, he let up. Getting him on the edging process was fun too - enough spice to keep Tony entertained until Peter was ready.

And ready, he was.

•|||•

He decided on a Friday night - that way they'd have all weekend to recover (or continue, if Tony wanted).

He made a real spectacle of it, too - stocking them with water bottles and easy snacks, bringing in a bunch of clean towels and leaving them at the foot of the bed. He wanted this to be good for Tony, and part of that was being ready for anything.

He waited until Tony was finished with work to bring it up. He didn't want Tony to be distracted at all, and he knew exactly how much anticipation can hinder daily activities.

When Tony walked through the doors of the penthouse, he could tell something was up.

It wasn't like Peter to be so... Flighty.

He was walking circles around the bar, drink in hand. Tony couldn't tell whether or not it was a drink drink, but it didn't matter... If Peter was up and pacing like this, there was definitely something up.

"Hey baby, how was your day?" Okay, yeah, something's definitely up. Peter never asked - he always waited for Tony to start - always gave Tony the opportunity to either vent about, or forget entirely, the day he'd just finished.

Tony dropped his suit jacket on the bar chair, walking back to meet Peter where he stood. He grabbed Peter's face in his hands, kissing down from his forehead to his lips. Peter sighed into the contact, relaxing immediately. "It was okay. What's got you all tense like this?"

Peter exhaled sharply before responding. "You know how you... brought up that thing, a few weeks ago? That thing you wanted to try?" Tony hesitated, eyes narrowing. "I... Yeah. Why?"

Peter blushed under the scrutny. "I've... Well, you know how I've been working on that thing? Not... not coming? I wanted to surprise you... And I think today'd be a good day." Tony was confused now. "You... you wanna try it? Topping, I mean?"

Peter snorted. "Not just topping, silly. That thing you specifically mentioned - seeing how much I could make, for you? I've been keepin' myself on edge, saving up all my cum for you." Tony shivered, goosebumps forming down the entire length of his arms. Peter's breath left his hair on edge, his words burning straight through Tony.

"I... I remember. Are- are you sure? Like I said, I mean, we don't hav-" Peter cut him off almost immediately.

"If I didn't want to do it, baby, why would I bring it up? Why would I spend almost a month edging myself for you? Why would I spend a month intentionally eating semen-enhancing foods, hmm? You think I was doing all that stuff for the hell of it?" Tony blushed at the words, head dropping to Peter's shoulder. "No, of course not, I ju-"

"You need to stop making excuses." Peter pulled back, meeting Tony's eyes. "If I didn't want to do this, I wouldn't have brought it up. Wouldn't have spent so long making sure I was full enough, had enough for you. You know how long it's been since I've cum, T, baby? Twenty seven days. It's been twenty seven days of edging, of producing this-" he reached down, gently cupping his own balls through his shorts "- for you? All of this cum, just waiting for you, waiting for your pretty hole?" Tony shivered at the words. Fuck, Peter knew exactly how to work him up.

"I'm sorry, baby, I just- this is a lot. So much, Pete, you gotta know that." His vulnerability was aparent.

"I know, Tones. We can go slow if you want - we won't do anything. Just want to show you i'm willing." Peter's tone was gentle, reassuring. It helped Tony immesurably.

"I- okay. I want to. Try, I mean. I trust you, we just gotta.. Gotta go slow. I'm an old man, you know." Peter knew it was said in jest, but Tony would always have a soft spot in his heart. "Not that old," he poked.

Tony bit back with a kiss, forgoing words he wasn't sure he could find. It was slow, soft at first - a thank you for everything Peter did for him, for the whole situation.

Peter responded eagerly, taste of grenadine and carbonation on his lips. Thank god, he hadn't been drinking. Something Tony'd always appreciate - Peter's sober excitement. The energy he put into their relationship. The devotion. He balanced Tony out perfectly. 

Peter nipped at his bottom lip. It was sweet - playful, but it made the whole thing so much more intense. Tony responded in kind, licking into his mouth. He pulled a quiet moan from Peter, seizing the opportunity to meet the other's tongue. Passion always took a while to build with them - reverence and love always taking priority.

Today, though... Today was different.

Tony's mind was still going steady, trying to process exactly what they were about to do. Peter really wanted to try this with him. It was groundbreaking.

He felt the excitement burn low in his stomach. He'd always had a thing for cum - whether it was his inside someone, or vice versa - there was just something so visceral about it. Watching it slowly drip from someone's hole, sucking it out, sharing it. The idea of breeding someone, of being bred, having cum forced inside him over and over again, without consequence...

He'd tried to keep his love for it under wraps - Pepper had no real want for children, and god forbid he get wrapped up in a custody battle. He hadn't messed around with other men since his twenties, either, so the opportunity to explore this side of him just... never came up.

But now, with Peter - his most beloved supertwink with a refactory period of, like, -1, and his enhanced output... the possibilities washed over him.

He hadn't realized just how turned on it made him until Peter separated them, hands toying with Tony's waistband. The sudden lack of lips on his gave him the opportunity to express his appreciation - several broken moans escaping him. "Oh god, Peter, baby please."

He never claimed to be above begging, but he didn't do it often. It was a sight to behold, and with Peter being on a hair trigger...

Peter reached up, grabbing Tony by the throat. "What do you want, love? Use your words, tell me. Can't give you what you want if you don't use your words, Tony."

Tony dropped his head, gasping into Peter's neck. "Please, Peter, baby. I need you to fuck me."

Peter laughed, breathy. "Can't hear you, baby. Come on, come up and tell me what you want."

Tony looked up, shaky exhale falling onto Peter's lips. "I. Need you. To fuck me. Please, Pete?" His request was met with a smile. "Of course, baby."

Peter reached down and hooked under Tony's thighs, lifting him up like he weighed nothing. Tony often forgot about Peter's strength when they weren't in the field - feeling weightless like this, safe in Peter's arms? It was erotic, it was safe, it was everything. "Oh, god."

Peter took them to the bedroom, carefully setting Tony down on the bed.

Tony reached his arms up, snaking around Peter's neck. He brought them together for another kiss, not wanting to lose contact with Peter.

Peter chuckled, carefully peeling Tony away from him. "We can't do this if you don't let me get naked, T. Be patient." Tony rolled his eyes, allowing his fists to fall back to the bed. "Been patient, need you now." Peter tossed his shirt to the floor before dignifying Tony with a response.

"Don't talk to me about patient, mister. I've gone almost a month without coming, how do you think I feel?" He finished removing his jeans, leaving him in nothing but strained boxer briefs. Tony could see the outline of his cock, already leaking. He was nearly as hard in his own pants - which he was suddenly excited to remove.

Peter, perceptive as always, walked toward Tony and began helping him strip. Now shirtless, Tony reached up to place his hands on Peter's chest. He planted small kisses all over it, worshipping the man in front of him. Peter threaded his fingers through Tony's hair, enjoying the attention. "I thought this was about you, baby. Why you takin' your time with me?"

Tony looked up, smiling at the man above him. "Just thankful, is all. Love you." Peter cupped the sides of his face, reaching down and kissing Tony reverently. "Anything for you, baby. Anything. Now, let's get you out of those pants." Tony fiddled with his zipper, tugging the slacks down to his ankles before kicking them to the side. Now in a similar state as Peter, he felt so much more open, exposed. They were really about to do this. Peter had prepared for this. His dream was finally coming true.

He inhaled sharply, feeling the flush of arousal reach his cock. It was so intense, so much all at once - he felt high. This was definitely not an experience he planned on forgetting anytime soon.

Peter straddled him, shifting them back and up the bed. He met Tony halfway, sighing into the kiss. It was firey, full of hunger - neither really wanted to wait anymore.

Peter pulled back, meeting Tony's eyes. "Are you ready? You sure about this?" Tony nodded his head, mind too cloudy to use words right away. He was ready about this, so fucking ready.

His face must've said everything - Peter quickly helped him out of his boxers, sliding them down and tossing them next to the towels. He grabbed the bottle of lube he set out, wetting his fingers thoroughly before reaching down.

Tony'd opted to lay on his front, knees tucked under his hips for better access. Thank god for a nanite bed - they'd developed the tech to aid healing times and recovery after surgery and intense (battles) workouts, but quickly discovered the many sexual uses for it - one of which being added support for Tony's joints.

Peter traced over his hole, toying with him a moment. He very rarely topped in general, but he'd be willing to do it for the rest of his life if it meant he could see Tony like this. He was already so sensitive, gasping and rocking back into the attention. Peter laughed, gripping Tony's hip harder and steeling him before teasing his rim. He was so gentle - just barely dipping in with his index finger before massaging around and pulling back out. He wanted this to be good for Tony, not just a check off his bucket list.

Tony keened, hips pushing back into Peter's fingers. Greedy. "Relax, T. Let me do the work, okay baby?" All he received was a high whimper in response.

Peter laughed, rolling his eyes as he finally gave Tony what he wanted - he thrust two fingers in, careful not to go too deep to fast. Tony moaned, pitchy and high in his throat. It was so much better than he remembered.

Peter kneaded Tony's ass with his free hand, mouthing praise into his beautiful cheeks. Who knew he'd be such a service top? Peter certainly didn't, but he was definitely enjoying it.

He twisted his fingers, feeling around for Tony's prostate. When he found it he pushed, gently, redirecting his attention toward giving Tony the best prostate massage of his life. Tony instantly jumped, gasping into the sensation. Peter's fingers were just long enough to reach, just dextrous enough to keep him on edge. Tony fisted at the sheets, at Peter's shoulder - it was so much. Why did he ever stop bottoming?

He rediscovered his voice shortly after. "Fuck, Pete baby please, need you to fuck me now. Wanna cum on your cock, can't wait anymore. Please baby, please, need you." He was babbling, desperate and not willing to hide it anymore.

Peter, nearly as fucked out, conceeded. They were planning on going multiple times tonight, anyway, why not get the first orgasm out of the way? He pulled his fingers from Tony, wiping them off on one of the nearby towels. Good job, Parker.

Tony whined at the emptiness, still so unabashedly needy. Peter smiled to himself. He'd never seen Tony like this before, and he was so happy he was the one to do this to him. Tony was known for his stoicism and poker face - for Peter to be able to tear that wall down so easily? It was a pride point, for sure.

He reached for the bottle of lube again, coating himself in the cool liquid as he stroked. It didn't take much to get him ready - he felt like he'd been hard for eons, and wasn't thrilled with the whole "waiting" thing.

Peter rubbed over his hole again, smirking when Tony instinctively clenched around nothing. He sat up on his knees, easing himself into the man in front of him. Tony immediately dropped from his elbows, moaning as Peter sank all the way inside. It was so much better than he'd imagined - Peter wasn't particularly lengthy or girthy, but it felt like he was made for Tony. Designed specifically to fuck into Tony's hole, and to wreck him as he did it.

It literally brought Tony to his knees, arching back into Peter's touch and begging him to move. "Please, Peter, baby, give it to me. I can take it, whatever you give me, please, just please I need you to move. I need you to fuck me, baby, please."

it was enough to convince Peter. He pulled back, forcing himself all the way back with a quick snap of his hips. Tony moaned, broken and desperate. It was slowly becoming his mo - who knew Tony Stark was such a slut for his baby's cock, for his cum?

Apparently Peter'd been thinking out loud. He tended to do that during sex - couldn't keep his mouth shut, and whatever "filter" he had completely flew out the window. "Yeah? You like it when I fuck you, T? Like the idea of me cumming inside your pretty little hole? Wanna feel my cum leak out of you, baby? How much do you think i'll give you today, hmm? You do the math on it? I did. I did a whole fuck ton, just to see how much I'd give you.

"You wanna know how much cum I'll give you, T? Hmm? Math says it'll be 1000 mils the first time, can you imagine that? One thousand mililiters of cum, in your pretty little hole. Leaking out, drippin' all down your thighs? You're such a slut, can't even stay tight long enough to hold my cum inside. What a little cockslut, you are. Who would've thought?

"We already know how many times I can go. What was our max, like 8? Imagine eight of those fat loads inside you, love. Can you feel it? Can you feel me inside you? You're so tight, Tony, but you won't be when I'm done with you. No, I'm gonna stuff you full and leave you like this, leave you to feel as it runs out of you.

"Or maybe, maybe, I'll leave you here. I'll wipe you off, get you all clean. Then maybe I'll run over, grab one of our plugs. Plug your pretty little ass, leave you full of my cum. How about that? You like the sound of that?"

He did, by god Tony did. The sound of it, the sheer idea of being so full, so heavy with Peter's cum inside him... being plugged, and left to suffer..

It had him cumming embarassingly early. Tony typically prided himself on his stamina - stamina that was nonexistent with Peter's words.

He came, slack and broken, with Peter's name on his lips. He felt his own cum splatter on his stomach. It was pathetic, it was nothing compared to what Peter was going to give him. It was humiliating in the best way imaginable.

Peter groaned, gritting his teeth as he felt Tony tighten through his orgasm. It was too much, he was so on edge after waiting so long.

It was nearly painful when he finally came. He could feel his balls tighten, feel the fluid flowing through him and spraying out the other side. He felt like a fucking firehose, orgasm lasting nearly a full minute.

He felt like a popped balloon after, useless after being so thoroughly empty.

It was made perfectly fine, though, by Tony's rising stomach.

This might have been the first load, and it was probably going to be the biggest of them all, but Peter was still shocked at just how much of an impact it made. Tony's stomach grew, near a solid inch as Peter continued pumping into him. The more he thrust, the larger he got - Peter continued to thrust into him until it was painful.

When he pulled out, a healthy amount surged from Tony's abused hole, covering the sheets beneath them. Peter snagged a towel in time to catch it, not wanting it to soak through to the mattress. It took several to handle the mess in front of him, and by the time he was done Tony was nearly asleep.

Peter stood, walking over to their dresser. He opened the top drawer, removing one of their smaller plugs. There was zero resistence when he slid it inside Tony, preventing the rest of him from escaping.

Tony hummed, content. "When do you think you'll be ready to go again? Because I definitely need a nap." He hadn't opened his eyes, but he still blindly reached out for Peter.

And then Peter turns fifteen; presents a few months later, earlier than most of his yearmates. 

As an alpha. 

The first Tony knows of it is when he comes home and smelled… something off. Something viscerally wrong, disgusting. Something that only got worse when he went into the living room and found Peter hunched over on the couch, a little ball of misery. 

“Peter?” Tony says. He’s still supposed to be in school and Tony doesn’t think he got a call about Peter being sent home. “What’s wrong?”

Peter looks up, red eyed, upset. “I’m sorry,” he says,  offering up a piece of paper. “I— it happened at school and the nurse ran the test and it’s— I’m—”

Tony doesn’t need him to say it; he knows what the red header on the test results means. Knows what that smell is now, knows why he feels on edge in his own home. Peter’s an alpha. Peter’s—

Peter’s shaking. “Dad,” he says, “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to! I don’t want to be an alpha! I’m sorry!” He bursts into tears and fuck, it doesn’t matter how awful Peter smells now, Tony can’t just let his baby cry all alone like that.

“Oh kiddo, no,” Tony says, kneeling inf ront of Peter and grabbing his hands. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“But you hate alphas!” Peter wails. “You hate them so much and now I’m one and— I’m sorry, please Dad, I’m so sorry.”

Fuck, fuck. “I don’t hate you, sweetheart. I could never hate you.” He tugs Peter closer, Peter clinging, sobbing against his shoulder. “It’s not your fault, I know that. I know you didn’t want this, but… it’ll be okay in the end, I promise. You’re going to be okay.”

*

It’s rough at first. 

After Peter gets through the first stage of his presentation, his scent settles. Grows, into that thick, bitter, sweet scent that clings to the back of Tony’s tongue. It’s awful, and Tony can’t escape it; it’s everywhere in the house, and all over Peter, over everything he touches. 

Peter can’t help it. He knows this, and he’s not going to make his son take blockers just because Tony has a— a thing about alphas. He’ll get used to it. He’d told Peter it wasn’t his fault and it’d be okay, and he’s going to do his damndest to make Peter believe it. 

He’s never going to let Peter know how unpleasant it’s become to even be in the same room as him, much less it next to him, or to hug him and kiss his forehead and treat him just like Tony always has, because Peter is taking this badly. He’s distressingly fragile about this, and Tony’s worried. It’s his own fault, with the way he’s talked about alphas all of Peter’s life, but he’d never thought— well, it doesn’t matter now. He’s just got to try and fix some of the damage he’s done. 

It’s not Peter’s fault he’s not quite so perfect anymore.

So, it’s rough at first, but slowly, things ease. Slowly, Peter’s first rush of scent dies down, mellowing into something not quite as awful. Starts to take the influence of Tony’s, softening a little, becoming more familiar. Not nearly as comfortable to be around as he used to be, but still something Tony finds easier to tolerate.

Slowly, Peter becomes more comfortable with his secondary gender, and Tony— Tony works hard not to think of Peter like that. To not apply those stereotypes—are they, Tony wonders, if they’ve been born out every time he’s dealt with an alpha—to Peter. He loves Peter, and he’s never going to stop loving Peter, no matter he’s become. 

And then Tony has a heat.

Tony doesn’t even think about it; it’s never been a problem before. When Peter was younger, Tony would send him for a long weekend at Uncle Rhodey’s and grit his teeth and suffer through it. Sometimes he broke, when the heat aids weren’t enough and he was so desperate he couldn’t stand it. Would hire a heat companion, the lowest rated alpha they could find, one willing to shut up and take orders.

The need quiets as he gets older, thank god, and it got to the point where he could nearly ignore them. Could just spend a few hours knotting himself once Peter had gone to bed and keep going the rest of the time. Maybe a little more irritable, a little tired, a little achy, but just fine, and Peter knew by then you just be a little more forgiving for those few days. A little kinder, even. 

Had actually been really good about it the last few years. Been cute, actually; had put on Tony’s favorite shows, had tried to cook things Tony especially liked (or order things he did, when the cooking failed spectacularly a few times. He definitely got that from Tony.), had practically bullied him into using the jacuzzi when Tony complained too much once about hurting all over and getting old. Had just… attempted to pamper him a little bit, adorably.

Tony won’t lie; he’s never let an alpha do that for him. He hadn’t wanted to give them ideas. But it’s always been fine for Peter to do it, and it’s been a little comforting. Peter’s just a good kid. 

But this time— 

This time, his heat hits him harder than usual, all the aches and pains and itchy, burning want that he’d thought he’d mostly left behind. This time, when Peter came home from school, Tony knew without seeing him, hearing him. He knew, because the second Peter walked in—

He didn’t smell terrible anymore. 

Fuck, he smelled good, so good, insansely good. The best thing Tony’s ever smelled, and that base part of his brain wants to just bask in it, cover himself in it. Tony freezes in the doorway of the kitchen; he doesn’t even remember getting here. 

He stares at Peter and Peter stares right back, eyes wide and darkening, his scent rising in response to a heat. 

Tony swallows, hard. “Peter,” he says. “I think you should go spend a couple days at Ned’s. Or Rhodey’s, or— or even Nat. Just. Not here.” 

Peter blinks at him, slowly. “I don’t have to,” he says. 

Yes, yes he does. “I want you to,” Tony says, and he knows it’s going to hurt Peter; there it is, that little flinch. Anything he can do to get Peter out of the house is going to be worth it, though, because this— this is not supposed to happen. His body is not supposed to recognize his fucking son as a good potential mate.

“Are you sure?” Peter asks, stepping forward, and Tony shudders, his scent deepening, spreading. Suffocating. 

“Please,” Tony croaks, and Peter nods. Practically flees, and Tony has the horrible realization that Peter might have felt something of the same. 

It’s not a good heat. 

*

Things get a little awkward. 

They avoid talking about it, completely, but… well. Tony isn’t going to stop having heats, after all. And Peter— Peter is stubborn. So stubborn, like Tony doesn’t know where he got it from, like Tony hasn’t encouraged it. 

Peter loves him and hates to see him hurting. So the next time, when Tony tells him to go— Peter squares his shoulders and says no. 

“Last time,” Peter says, “I came home and you’d barely eaten. You slept for almost the whole day after and you looked awful and you smelled—” he stumbles to a halt, blushes. “You smelled wrong,” he says after a deep breath. “Like you were sick. It— it scared me, Dad. I don’t want to leave you alone like that.”

“I don’t have to be alone,” Tony says. “I can— I can hire a companion.”

Peter frowns, staring down at the floor. Crosses his arms. “You’d hate that,” he says, very small. 

Yeah, Tony would. Has, in the past. It’s better than the alternative though. 

“Please,” Peter says. 

“I just don’t know if it’s a good idea, kiddo,” is the most he can manage without— without saying something heading into dangerous ground.

“It’s not a problem for most people,” Peter mutters, and Tony doesn’t want to be the one to point out that apparently, they aren’t most people. 

He caves. 

It’s an even rougher heat. Oh sure, this time he doesn’t spend the entire time curled up in bed, frantically fucking himself with the largest knot he has and still feeling empty and desperate and abandoned, barely dragging himself to eat or clean up a few times, feeling sick, feverish, the whole time. And Peter’s downright annoying about attempting to take care of him, bringing him food and pestering him about not hiding away the whole time and making Tony take care of himself some more, even if it’s mostly to avoid the shame of Peter seeing him like this. 

But it’s torture, having Peter in the house. It’s torture, having what his brain seems to think is the perfect mate right there and not available, not doing anything. Having to tell himself over and over, in the worst of his heat when he can barely think straight anyway, that he can’t have this alpha. He can’t have Peter. Can’t have his son, fuck.

This is one of the many, many reasons Tony hates alphas. Because they do this bullshit to him, fuck with his head and make him want things, make it so hard to control himself. Make him consider things he never would. 

He wouldn’t. 

This is why he hates alphas, Tony thinks, the heat after that, Peter insisting that it had been fine last time so he’s staying again. This is why, he repeats in his head, making himself wait until Peter’s gone to bed before he fucks himself with his newest aid, larger than all the others, with all the bells and whistles to make it seem like a real alpha’s knot. 

This is fucking why, he tells himself as he comes again and again and again, clenching around it and muffling everything coming out of his mouth in the pillow; because they make him do this, want this. Makes it so easy, so good, to imagine Peter fucking him, knotting him, filling him up and biting him, god, fuck. Makes him moan Peter into his bedding; whisper, hopeless, desperate, please, Peter please, need you.

Because they make him not himself. 

But he’s not going to stop having heats, so he has to— has to just find a way to deal with this, a way that leaves him able to still look Peter in the eye after his heat’s passed. They’re not going to stop.

Worse, so much worse, Peter starts having ruts.

The first one— the first one, Tony hadn’t even smelled. The first one had been an almost instant slide from normal—Peter a little testy and distracted but normal—to full rut, Peter’s scent sharpening, deepening, flooding over Tony strong enough to make his knees go weak, send him sagging against the counter. Peter’s staring at him when Tony looks over, a little glazed, heavy and intent like Tony is some sort of prey, and it’s horrifying to see that expression on his kid’s face. 

Tony freezes, not wanting to set Peter off in any way, and Peter closes his eyes. Inhales, long and deep, scenting Tony, Jesus Christ. 

Opens his eyes, and there’s a flicker, a moment where he seems to realize what is happening, what he’s doing. Freezes too, and then—

Runs. 

He’s gone before Tony has a chance to move, a chance to even call after him, slamming out of the house without taking a single thing with him. Tony sits, shakily, and has a little breakdown. 

He doesn’t know how they’re going to manage this now. What the hell they’re going to do. Fuck, what Peter’s going to feel, when his rut is over.

Rhodey calls a few hours later, just to let him know Peter’s with him, safe and incredibly upset. “He won’t tell me anything,” Rhodey says as Tony clutches his phone, “but… well, he’s in rut, Tony. It’s probably his first, right?” Tony manages a noise that sounds like affirmation. “Right. I’m sure that’s it; they say it’s rough the first time. He can stay until it’s over. He’ll be fine; don’t worry, Tones.”

Too late. 

If he thought things were awkward after his heats, they’re so much more fucking awkward when Peter comes back two days later, rut scent gone. His normal scent nearly scrubbed as well, buried beneath heavily scented soap and— Tony sniffs, carefully, once Peter’s turned his back. His scent is so muted, metallic tinged, just off— he took a blocker. He took a fucking blocker so his scent wouldn’t bother Tony as much.

Tony’s heart nearly breaks. “Peter,” he says. “Baby. Come here a minute.”

Peter’s wary when he walks over, ashamed. Stops, a little too far away. “No,” Tony says, and opens his arms. “Come here.”

“Are you sure?” Peter says, so quiet, and Tony’s heart does break, completely. 

“Oh, kiddo,” he says. “Yes, yes, I’m sure,” and he clings to Peter just as tightly as Peter clings to him. It feels like he hasn’t properly hugged Peter in months.

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispers. “I’m so sorry, Dad, I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why but I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Tony tells him. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. We’re going to be okay.” He ducks his head, brushing his mouth right over Peter’s scent point. “I don’t want you to take scent blockers,” he says. “They’re not good for you, and you’re not— you don’t need to, Peter. I’m going to be fine without them.”

“I don’t want it to bother you,” Peter says, and Tony shakes his head.

“It doesn’t. It won’t,” he promises. “You’re more important to me than any of that.”

*

He doesn’t know how he gets through his next couple of heats. 

Peter stays, and stays, and Tony gets used to his scent there, during them. He starts thinking—

You’re not supposed to be ashamed of anything you think during heat, whatever it is, however wrong it is. Everyone knows it turns omegas into someone they aren’t normally, that those things don’t count as real wants. Still, Tony doesn’t think h should ever admit that what he’s started thinking about during his last few heats isn’t just Peter, inside him and under him and filling him up. 

It’s Peter, how Peter— Peter wouldn’t be one of those alphas, would he. Peter’s stubborn and a little pushy sometimes, but he’d never try to take over, never think he’s better than Tony. Never try to push him, manipulate him into doing something he didn’t want. Wouldn’t try to mate him or breed him without Tony’s permission, and would never use him like a mindless fucktoy, a stupid little omega slut. 

No; Peter would be such a soft alpha, so willing and careful with Tony, so easy to control, to direct. So good at taking direction. 

Peter would be—could be—the perfect alpha for Tony. He’d barely need any training to be exactly what Tony wants; after all, he already loves Tony. He already wants Tony. It’s like this is what he was born to be. 

It’s awful, but Tony’s still thinking it during his heats. Is still thinking it outside of his heats, day to day, watching Peter and seeing all the ways in which Peter would be perfect. He already smells like Tony. He already knows exactly what Tony likes. Knows how difficult Tony can be and isn’t bothered by it. And he’s gorgeous, he’s so fucking gorgeous, so tempting. 

He thinks Peter’s watching him a little too.

There’s something wrong about contact between them now. There shouldn’t be, but when they’re curled up together, watching TV; when Peter slides up behind him and hugs him; when Tony leans against his side when he corrects Peter’s work— those touches are off, are too much, too charged. Heavy with a kind of intent that does not belong there. 

Peter doesn’t leave during his next rut. Just stays in his bedroom most of the time, and Tony’s on edge the whole first day despite himself. When Peter emerges every now and then, he follows every move Tony makes, unmistakably hungry. 

Tony should feel hunted, should feel angry and horrified the way he had been the first time Peter looked at him like that. 

Oh, he doesn’t. Stares back at Peter on the second day, challenging. What, that stare says. You want something? Gonna do something about it?

Peter ducks back into his room and hides, but his scent is thicker, coating the inside of Tony’s lungs. He’s not handling this as well as Tony’s managed his heats with Peter in the house. 

Not nearly as good at keeping quiet when he moans Tony’s name either.

The last day— the last day, Tony wakes up and feels sore, heavy. Lies there and thinks, sluggishly, a little too hot, that he really wants to curl up and waste the day on some TV marathon. Really wants to— 

Fuck, he thinks a second later. Oh, fuck; this is… not great.

Peter’s in the hall when Tony comes out of his bedroom. Close, like he was lurking, drawn in by the scent of Tony’s heat, and the scent of Peter, of Peter still in rut, hits Tony so hard he shudders. God, he wants.

“Dad,” Peter says, his voice low, rough. “Dad, this—”

“I know,” Tony says, cutting him off. “I’ll just— I’ll visit Natasha for a few days.”

“No,” and Peter walks—fucking stalks—toward him. Backs him up against the wall, his hands on either side of Tony, trapping him. Tony feels frozen. “I don’t want you to go.”

“That’s just your rut talking,” Tony says. “That’s all.”

Peter shakes his head, slow. “No,” he says. “I’ve heard you, Dad. I know what you want when you’re in heat. I could give it to you.”

Tony swallows, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He should be afraid, he thinks, distantly. He should be worried about what this alpha might do, might try and take, now that he’s got Tony nearly pinned, but— he doesn’t fear Peter. Never will. There’s just… heat, a sharp screaming hunger riding up in him.

“I’ve heard you too, kiddo,” Tony says.

“Dad,” Peter moans, swaying closer, nearly touching him. “Dad, please, please, I want— I know you don’t want an alpha, I know, but I’d be so good. I’d be so, so good for you, I promise.”

It’s too much, too much, and Tony has held out too long. Has stopped being able to beat himself up enough for the things he’s been thinking, for what he wants. “I know,” he says. “I know you’d be so good. Fuck, Peter; you’d be perfect, wouldn’t you. You’d be every last thing I’ve ever wanted in an alpha.”

Peter closes his eyes, letting out a long, shuddering breath. “Let me,” he says, his voice so rough they’re barely words. 

Tony doesn’t even bother to think. “Yes.”

He gets a growl from Peter for that, gets Peter pressing closer and kissing him, his hands all over Tony. Tony hooks his hand around the back of Peter’s neck and pulls him in, holds him there and kisses him deeper, again and again and again. 

“Peter,” he says once Peter’s pulled back a little. “Not here, kiddo. I’m not up for getting knotted anywhere but bed anymore.” Peter moans; yeah, he thought that might catch his attention. He’s still like all alphas in some ways. 

“Why did I even bother getting dressed,” Tony mutters, walking Peter back into his bedroom, shoving him toward the bed. 

Peter’s still watching him, so intently, but a tiny little smile creeps onto his face anyway. “So I could undress you?” he says, and fuck, he’s going to be cute about this. Of course he is; it’s Peter. 

He kisses Peter, hands up under his shirt. “Better get on with it then,” Tony says.

Oh, he’s seen Peter naked plenty of times, across all ages, and he’s sure Peter’s seen him naked a few times too. But this is completely different; this time, they’re looking. This time, they’re touching, and it’s so good, it’s everything Tony’s been wanting for months now, the contact he needs to settle his heat a little. 

They fumble their way onto the bed, tangled up on their sides, Tony’s hand sliding down to Peter’s cock as they kiss, and he loves the way Peter’s breath catches. Peter’s hand curls over Tony’s side, spreads across the curve of his ass, and then hesitates. He presses his fingers down and slips them a little lower, a little closer to Tony’s hole.

“Dad,” Peter says, “can— can I, uh. Before I—” He cuts off with a groan, and it’s adorable. “Oh my god, I’m going to be terrible at this.”

Tony nips at Peter’s lip, at the edge of his chin, teasing. Playful. “You’re going to be perfect,” he says. “And yes. Whatever it is, yes.”

“Fuck,” Peter whispers, and then he’s rubbing his fingers along the cleft of Tony’s ass, right over his hole, spreading around the slick that’s already leakingout. Presses one in slowly, watching Tony, and sure, Tony doesn’t need it but it still feels good to finally have some part of Peter in him. He’s still early enough in his heat that he can let Peter have this without immediately needing more. 

He scrapes his teeth over Peter’s neck, getting a shiver from Peter. “Gonna open me up for your knot?” Tony says, and Peter whimpers. “Come on, kiddo, you can get more than that in there.”

Peter listens, pushing a second finger in so easily, and Tony loves how quick Peter is to obey; how easily, thoughtlessly he does. He’s not going to really challenge Tony in any of this. Is more likely than not going to let him take the lead—ask him to, even—just like he does anytime he runs into something new. He always brings those things to Tony, like he’s certain dad will know what to do. 

His slick is running down Peter’s wrist by the time he’s given in and gone for three, Tony grinding back onto them, his hand slow on Peter’s cock, mouth slow against Peter’s. So sue him if he’s a little distracted. 

“I’m going to need more than that,” Tony says. Pushes Peter over and straddles him, and the way Peter stares up at him is fucking addictive. The way Peter moans when Tony rubs his ass over Peter’s cock, when Tony slides down onto it, is even better.

“Oh fuck,” Peter breathes out. “Dad, you feel so good I can’t even believe it.”

“Feel pretty good yourself, alpha,” and Peter’s fingers dig into his thighs, hard. “You like that, huh?” Peter bites his lip. “Like having an omega all to yourself?”

“Yes,” Peter whispers, and Tony— he was so sure Peter would be good for him, but—

“Do you feel it?” he asks, quieter. “There in the back of your head, looking at me and seeing an omega?” Peter’s breath catches, and Tony settles down on him, grinding slowly. 

“Does it make you want things?” Tony murmurs. “Make you want to just… get me under you, get me pinned and fuck me, make me beg for you knot? Make you want to get your mouth on me, make me bleed and bond me and break me in? Is that what you want, alpha?”

He hopes not, but he has to know before he ends up caught, has to know if the mistake he’s making is just that Peter is his son. Just, he thinks, fuck, just. 

Peter’s staring at him, his hands painfully tight and that dazed, heavy look gone. “No,” Peter whispers. “Dad— no, I don’t. I don’t want— am I going to? Is that what— is that all I can do?” his voice rising, anxious. 

“Oh baby, no,” Tony says, leaning down and kissing him. “Of course not.” Peter’s hands ease on him, and he draws in a shaking breath.

“Good,” he says. “I want— I want other things, not that. I just— I didn’t know, I’ve never—”

“I know,” Tony says. “Aren’t you lucky, getting me for all these firsts.” He raises his ass, starting to ride Peter slow, far slower than he really wants to. “So what do you want, sweetheart?”

Peter shakes his head, without words as twitches under Tony. It’s like getting Peter’s cock in him sets Tony off, brings all that want, that need from his heat back front and center, taking over his brain. “How about this,” Tony says. “This is what you want,” as he fucks down onto Peter, clenches around him. “You want that, want to feel me so tight all around your knot, don’t you,” and Peter groans, his hips jerking up, meeting Tony. “Want to feel me keeping you there, stuck with me.” 

He gets a hand on his cock and Peter’s eyes snap to it, his mouth gaping open as he stares. “You want to be caught by me; you know it’s true,” Tony says. “Want to know I wanted you when I’ve never looked at another alpha.”

“Oh god,” Peter says, “yes, yes, you can catch me, Dad,” and it should sound like the cheesy line it is, like an alpha teasing, pretending they’d hold true to it when they’d been caught good and hard.

It doesn’t. 

Tony’s suddenly desperate for Peter’s knot, the need for it sinking into him and spreading; he presses his hands against Peter’s chest and starts riding him fast and hard, just like he’s wanted to for months. “God, Peter,” he says. “Want you in me, want you to knot me up good.”

“Dad,” Peter whines, “you can’t say that, fuck.”

“No?” Tony says. “I think I can say whatever I want and you’ll love it. And what I want is for you to fill me up, lock so tight not a single drop of come could get past. Come on, kid; show me you can be as good as you promised.”

Peter’s gasping, flushed bright red and thrusting up into Tony frantically. “Gonna,” he manages, and he’s got that glazed, heavy lidded look again, sinking deeper into rut, into the mindless animal hunger of it. 

“Look at you,” Tony says. “Is that all it takes, huh? Telling you how much I want you swelling inside me, stretching me out? All you need to turn into this needy rutting beast?” Peter moans, his fingers leaving bruises on Tony, fucking him hard. “You’re such a slut for an omega hole, aren’t you,” and it’s fucking perfect; he can feel the first swell against his ass, the barest bump of a knot starting.

“Tell me, baby,” Tony asks, “is it better that we’re who we are?”Peter’s staring up at him, hanging on Tony’s every word; Tony leans closer, wants to be sure Peter can hear him over the loud, messy sounds of them fucking. “Do you like it more, knowing you’re going to knot your dad? Gonna come in your dad, breed him?” and he doesn’t need Peter to say anything, not with the way his knot is growing, still sliding in and out of Tony but there’s a little force to it now. 

“I mean, who could possibly know you better,” Tony says. “Or is it more than that, hmm? Do you like knowing that you came from me? Came out of me right where you’re about to come in me?”

Peter jerks so hard, his knot really getting with it now, barely slipping out of him on the next stroke. “Dad,” he gasps. 

“You were always meant for this,” Tony tells him, starting to pant himself. “Meant from the start to be so desperate for me, so needy, just begging for an omega to fuck, to milk you dry,” and it hurts when Peter tries to pull out that time, his knot hitting the point where they’re already stuck together; Peter could come like this—Tony could let him—but it’s not good enough, would just be a waste to have a loose knotting.

“I didn’t even know it,” Tony says, “but I made you to be so fucking filthy, so perverted. I picked the best donor for you, wanted you to be the best you possible could, but you’re even better.” It almost catches, Peter humping against him the limited amount he can, whining pitifully; Tony leans down, pulling on the knot a little, till his face is right over Peter’s. “You need this,” he says, Peter nodding immediately. “Need to be caught so badly, baby. You’re going to wind up being one of those alphas they talk about, that just can’t get enough, can’t ever get enough of being in an omega. It’s going to be so easy to make you knot me again and again, as many times as I want.” 

He laughs suddenly, nearly dizzy with the possibilities that just opened in his mind. Kisses Peter hard, biting his lip. “Think you’ll knock me up?” Tony whispers, pulling back just enough to see Peter’s eyes, wide and dark, shocked. Wanting. “Gonna give me a grandkid to spoil rotten?”

The sound Peter makes at that is incoherent, but the way his knot sinks further into Tony says enough. “Like the thought of that, do you?” Tony says. “Guess we’ll have to keep trying till it works.”

He feels it catch, feels it swell inside him, fucking huge, god. Peter’s got the most perfect alpha cock, the best Tony’s ever had. “That’s it,” he gasps, “fuck, that’s it, kid. Just like that, oh god, you’ve got such a good knot, so hard, ugh!” Feels it twitch as Peter starts to come, as Peter jerks under him, sinking even deeper, settling in and shooting off in Tony. Some distant part of Tony nearly hums with satisfaction. It’s a tight lock, a good breeding; Peter’s going to seed him easily like this. 

That shouldn’t be appealing at all, but it really fucking is, Tony’s cock throbbing in his hand; a few more strokes, another little thought about Peter’s pup, their pup, the best of all possible choices, growing in him, and he’s coming, clenching down hard around Peter’s knot. 

When he sinks down, ass pulling wonderfully at Peter’s knot, Peter wraps his arms around him. Kisses him, slow, messy, pretty fucking out of it, but to be fair, so is Tony. He closes his eyes, shoving his nose into Peter’s neck, mouth over his scent point. Licks at it and Peter moans, turning his own face into the same spot on Tony's neck, breathing hot and humid against it, and Tony wouldn’t say no if Peter bit down right now. 

He won’t because that’s just… not how Peter is, but Tony wouldn’t say no.

Tony squirms on Peter's knot every now and then, unable to help it, needing to remind himself how good it feels, how tight it’s settled. Peter moans every time, clinging tighter. 

“Still okay?” Tony says softly, and Peter tilts his head back, looking at him.

“Yeah,” Peter says, a little slurred, but it looks like he’s hitting a lull in his rut. “I needed you so much, Dad. Wanted you so much. The way you smelled—  I was losing my mind. How could I even look at anyone else when you were there?”

He’s tracing his fingers over Tony's back, slow, mindless circles. “I know you don’t want an alpha,” he says, quieter. “I won’t be all like, super alpha though, I promise.” 

“You’re not an alpha,” Tony tells him. “You’re my alpha.” 

“Fuck,” Peter murmurs, shivering. “Please— I can be your alpha. I can. I will.”

“You will,” Tony says, meaning it, making that commitment without a second thought. “You’re a dream come true, Peter. Perfect, so perfect for me, like no one else ever could be. You’re already mine, already made from me.” 

Peter moans, pressing his face harder into Tony's shoulder. 

They stay like that, drifting a little; it’s a hell of a catch, Peter’s knot not shifting in him even a bit, not shrinking at all. Tony wonders how long it’ll stay. If it’ll be this tight every time. 

He hopes so. Of course his son would do this well too.

It lasts and lasts, and— and Tony’s slipping back into heat, Peter’s knot still just as caught in him as before. God, this is going to be a wild heat. 

“You said,” Tony starts, Peter stirring slightly, “said you’d heard me.” He drags his nails down Peter’s side, slowly, just feeling how he presses up into it. “So were you making sure I heard you? Doing it on purpose?”

“Um,” Peter says. “I— maybe. A little. I mean, I— I didn’t want you to know? I felt so bad about it. But I still… really wanted you to know. Really wanted you to—”

“Wanted me to what?” Tony says, propping himself up a little so he can look at Peter. It might be nearly torture for Peter, but Tony can still get off like this, listening to Peter’s dirty little fantasies. Can still come all over Peter and all around his knot. “What were you thinking when you jacked off and came calling my name?”

“Ohmigod, Dad,” Peter mutters. 

Tony snorts. “Little late to be embarrassed, kiddo.” Twists, clenching at the same time, and Peter groans as his knot gets all that movement. “I wanna hear; entertain me, baby.”

Peter wrinkles his nose, but his arms stay tight around Tony. “I— I was thinking about you—” He takes a deep breath, turning until his face is tucked against Tony’s neck. “Was thinking about you fucking me,” he says, just a little muffled, and that was not quite what Tony was expecting. 

“Yeah?” he says. 

“Yeah,” Peter mumbles. “You— you’d tell me I hadn’t earned the right to knot you yet. That I’d have to work at it, show you how good I could be.”

“Fuck, Peter,” Tony says, squeezing his cock. “How were you supposed to show me that, hmm?”

Peter seems to realize what Tony’s doing then, tucking his head in more and looking down. Reaches down a second later, his fingers brushing over Tony’s, over his cock. “All kinds of ways,” Peter says, wrapping his hand around Tony’s, pressing their fingers between each other’s, slowly stroking Tony’s, using their hands together. “Anything I could think of, Dad. Letting you fuck me anywhere you wanted, any way; blowing you, or sometimes you’d just fuck my face and come all over it,” and Tony groans, hips jerking into their hands and pulling at Peter’s knot in the samemovement. 

“I’d think— I’d think about you tying me up on the bed, to it, telling me alphas couldn’t be trusted,” Peter says, hand moving faster, tighter. “Telling me you’d help me learn, that maybe if I did well enough, you’d ride me like that, still tied up, after you came in me.”

“Jesus,” and it feels so good, this dual sensation, Peter all over him, in him. “You’ve got a filthy mind, baby.” He nips the underside of Peter’s chin, licks it, just barely, and he doesn’t know if Peter will even understand what that means. “I like it, Tony says. “After all, I know where you got it from.” 

Peter huffs out this strangled laugh, his hand tightening around Tony’s cock. Moves faster as he starts talking again, Tony thrusting into it, closer by the moment. “You wouldn’t let me knot you even then,” Peter says. “You’d pull off as soon as I was almost there and make me come like that, play with my knot after until I felt like I was going to cry or pass out or something,” and he probably would. An alpha’s knot is so sensitive, not meant for anything but the warm, soft inside of an omega. 

Tony shudders. “Next time,” he tells Peter, “next time, sweetheart. When—oh, fuck—when I’m not in heat, when I can give you the full attention you should get.” He pants, rocking against Peter, clenching tight around him. “I’ll make you knot like that when I’m not in heat, because you haven't earned that yet, have you. God, I can’t fucking wait, wanna see what you’ve got in me.” 

He’s close, so close, Peter breathing heavy against his neck. “I should— Peter, baby, please.”

“Should what,” Peter whispers.

“Should get you like that,” Tony says, his eyes closing, right on the edge. “Get your knot popped and then compare you to some of my aids. See what you’re closest too and fuck you with that one.”

“Fuck,” Peter says, shaky. “I— I know I’m bigger than most, you’d have to— I don’t know if I could take one that big,” and Tony’s coming, squirming on Peter’s cock and twitching in Peter’s hand. 

Peter’s knot might have gone down a bit, he thinks as he lies on Peter, his brain most static and white noise. Just a few things, circling round and round— wait.

“Bigger than most?” Tony says. “How would you know, huh? You haven’t even seen the size of what I get in me.” 

It’s cute how Peter blushes, avoiding his gaze like he can pretend Tony isn’t there while he’s literally stuck on Peter’s cock. “Uh, I—” He squeezes his eyes shut, the rest coming out in a rush of words. “I snuck in once and found them and maybe played with them a little and that’s how I know.”

“You— you little perv,” Tony says, but it’s delighted. “Shit, Peter. That’s— I wanna say I can’t believe it, but boy can I. So what, you borrowed them for a bit? Or did you get off in my room and do your little comparison there?”

“Ahhh,” Peter moans, so embarrassed, but he brought this on himself. “It— it was when you went off to that conference overnight.” 

“So it was in my bed.”

“Maybe,” Peter says. “But, uh. Yeah. I did that, so I do know that I’m bigger than all of them except the new one, so—”

“Wait,” Tony cuts in. “Wait wait wait. New one? New one? Peter Benjamin Stark, that was not a one time experiment, was it.” Peter’s got his face hidden, an arm thrown over it like that’s any actual protection. “How else would you know that any of them are new, hmmm? Unless you just happened to see what was there before I got it and after.”

He pushes at Peter’s arm until he can see one eye; waits. Peter opens it, eventually, squinting at him. “You sneaky slut,” Tony says. “You went back for more, didn’t you. How many times?” 

Peter shakes his head, his face flaming red. “Too many,” he mumbles. 

Tony opens his mouth, about to demand more details, when Peter’s knot slips. He shudders, feeling it get smaller by the second, sliding out of him and leaving him feeling empty. “Ugh,” he groans, and clings to Peter a little, Peter gasping sharply. 

Oh, he feels gross, god. A hot shower sounds amazing, but that would require standing, and walking, and just in general moving and all of that sounds awful. He sighs against Peter’s collarbone. “So which one was your favorite?”

“What?”

He nips Peter, lightly, but Peter still jumps. “Which heat aid?” he says. “I know you probably tried them all.” 

“They— uh, I— it’s—” It’s almost painful to listen to like this; Tony takes pity on him.

“I just wanted to find out which one I should use, when I get you knotted on one while you’re still caught in me. That’s all, baby,” Tony says. Grins. “But I can just pick one, if that’s easier.” Peter makes a helpless little sound. “How about the one that expands?” Tony asks. “Or— what about the one with a tube; I could fill it up and make it squirt in you. Could lick it back out of you after, even. What do you think?”

“Daaaaad,” Peter whines. “You— I can’t— oh god, whatever you want, please.”

Tony laughs at him. “You really are a slut for this,” he says, tilting his head up and kissing Peter. “Love you, kiddo.” 

“I’d like any of it,” Peter says. “Anything you wanted from me. Anything at all; I love you too, Dad, so much.”

“I know,” Tony says. God, he knows. This— if Peter hadn’t loved him, maybe he might have been able to hold out longer. 

If Peter hadn’t loved him, this would have gone so much worse. He sure as hell wouldn’t be kissing Peter right now, warm and soft. Wouldn’t be nipping at Peter’s scent point, teasing, pestering him until Peter huffs and squirms away. Wouldn’t have Peter following when Tony rolls off him, flops over again onto his stomach, face buried in his arms. Stretches a little, and Peter’s hands are on him, stroking down his side, over his head. Peter’s mouth is on him, trailing kisses across his shoulders, lingering for a moment at Tony’s scent point, darting out his tongue to taste it. 

Peter’s hand wanders lower, practically groping at Tony’s ass. Not that Tony can blame him for being tempted, but there’s something— he’s not sure it’s entirely sane, the wave of humor that hits him at the thought of it. Maybe just a little hysterical, he decides, and he’s going to blame that completely on his heat. It’s always made him overreact. 

“Dad?”

“Mmm?”

“Can— would it be okay—”

“Peter,” Tony says. “I told you. Yes. Whatever it is, yes. Carte blanche, kiddo.” 

Peter huffs. Mutters to himself, something Tony can’t quite make out, and then, at the end, “Fine.”

Fine what, Tony wonders. Peter’s hands are on his ass, spread across each cheek and pulling him open as Peter shifts on the bed, settling between Tony’s legs; maybe that was it, maybe Peter wanted to look. 

Or not, oh, god, Tony jerking as Peter licks up the cleft of his ass, stopping right before Tony’s hole. Pulls back and licks another line up, a little to the side of that, and it takes Tony entirely too long to realize Peter’s licking up the come that’s dripped down Tony’s ass. Can he be blamed, really, for being a little distracted by the wet, soft heat of his son’s tongue there, of all places?

“Fuck,” Tony gasps. “What the hell, baby, what—”

Peter pulls back, his breath hot against Tony’s skin when he answers. “I was going to ask,” Peter says, just a little sharp. “But noooo—”

“I’m not regretting that,” Tony says. “Just— Jesus, kid!” as Peter presses his mouth against Tony’s hole, licking at it. 

He doesn’t bother with words after that. It’s easier, better, to focus on the feel of Peter’s tongue against his skin, all along his rim and inside, firm and soft and wetter by the second as Tony starts slicking up again; he doesn’t know if Peter’s going to be able to keep up with it. 

So much better to dig his head and his knees into the bed and push up into Peter’s touch, into his mouth. Peter lets him, waits until Tony’s settled in and then keeps him there, his arms hooked around Tony’s thighs, hands on his ass. Buries his face as deep as he can and laps at Tony, eager and fucking hungry. Tony can feel every touch, every breath, every moan Peter makes, and he’s getting pretty noisy himself. “God, Peter,” Tony manages at one point, “where the hell did you learn this?”

Peter barely pulls back enough to answer. “Didn’t,” he says. “I just— wanted to.” Dives back in and Tony groans. 

“You’re filthy, that’s what you are,” Tony tells him. “Fucking nasty, baby. Of course you’re a natural at this, you— oh fuck, right there, kiddo, right— yeah, keep it up.” He’s not sure if he can come from this—hell, if he can even come again so soon—but he’s going to try. 

“It’s— it’s just ingrained in you, isn’t it,” Tony says. “Down to your bones, buried so deep, that you’re a slut,” and Peter moans into Tony’s skin. “Such a slut, such a good fucking slut, hungry for slick; you’re a disgrace of an alpha, you know that?” 

That gets him a huff, and then a hand on his cock. Tony almost tells him no, almost insists on testing this, but it feels so good and he just wants to come. He’s past caring how, just— “Come on kid,” Tony gasps, “come on, show me what you can do.” 

Peter keeps licking after Tony’s come, lighter, softer, but still going even when Tony starts squirming, too sensitive and worn out. “Peter,” he whines. “Baby, ugh, stoppit. I know you’re a slut for slick but enough.” 

There’s one more broad, long swipe of Peter’s tongue and then he’s pulling back. “It’s not my fault you taste good,” Peter says, and Tony laughs. 

Turns a little to look over his shoulder at Peter and doesn’t regret it; Peter’s face is red, his lips even redder, wetness smeared all over his mouth and chin and cheeks. Spit or slick or come, it doesn’t matter. “You think it tastes good because it tastes like you?” he asks, idly, watching Peter lick his lips.

“What,” Peter says, staring down at Tony’s sill spread open ass. “Because it’s my come I’m eating out of you?”

Tony snorts and Peter gives him a confused look. “No, dumbass,” Tony says, Peter scowling, “because you’re half me. More than half, technically.” 

Peter rolls his eyes, actually rolls his eyes, god. “Or maybe you just taste good, Dad,” he says, wiping the back of his hand over his chin.

“Well, come on,” Tony says. Crooks his finger at Peter when he frowns. “Let me have a taste, then.” 

Peter’s mouth drops open, and then he’s crawling up over Tony, making things difficult as Tony tries to turn over at the same time. Kisses him, pressing his tongue into Tony’s mouth, and honestly, Tony doesn’t care what any of it tastes like. Just wants this, Peter’s lips on his. 

“You know,” Peter says when he pulls away. “You’re kind of a slut too, Dad,” and the laugh slips out of Tony before he even thinks about it. 

“Guess it just runs in our genes,” he tells Peter.

“Yeah,” Peter says, nuzzling up to him. “I guess I had to get it from somewhere.” 

“Guess you did,” Tony says, and— maybe no one will ever understand, but this was the right choice. Peter was the right choice, was the alpha he’s been holding out for all this time. 

Of course he’d ended up carrying the perfect alpha for himself. This was always meant to be. 

“Love you, baby,” Tony tells him, soft, almost a whisper against Peter’s skin. 

“Love you, Dad,” Peter whispers back, and that’s what really matters, isn’t it.

*

“I have” he replied indignantly, pushing Peter over and onto his back, rolling atop the slender teen with a wry smile. “Not in a long time, granted. But the idea of it - Of you, isn’t exactly unappealing” he purred, reaching between them to fist Peter’s cock, pumping the head in short, tight little jerks. The boy gasped and jolted, cheeks ruddy.

“Its all about if you think you could handle it, sweetheart” he added, coating two fingers in Peter’s own precum and dipping them between his thighs, pushing them into the sloppy, swollen little hole between his cheeks. Peter could handle fingers fine, could take a thin plug or dildo (although on one very memorable occasion he’d snapped a glass one clean in half). Cocks, however, or anything thicker than two or three fingers and it was game over.

“Do you think you could take it, hm? Burying your cock in me?” He asked softly taunting as he fingered the boy gently, rubbing along his soft insides, scraping gently over that button-like nub within. As far as he knew, Peter had only ever put his cock in a girl. Some pretty blonde thing called Gwen, who looked like she’d stepped out of some Teen Punk magazine. The relationship had been short lived (to Tony’s benefit) but they remained good friends.

“I-I-” Peter stammered, scrabbling at Tony’s shoulders, eyes rolling as he rubbed insistently at his sweet spot. Peter was easy to keep sensitive, easy to keep on the edge. Tony sank back on his haunches and wrapped a hand around his cock, pumping him in time with each forceful inward thrust of his fingers and it hardly took any time before Peter cried out, curling up like he was wounded as he splattered his own stomach and chest with cum.

Tony thought about it for all of three days, afterwards. Peter had been easily distracted by an orgasm and the following cuddles and nap, and Tony had lay in quiet consideration for the rest of the night. The day after that, when Peter was at school at Tony was pretending to work on SI business, he fingered himself. The angle was a little awkward and it wasn’t as pleasing as it could have been, but it wasn’t horrible.

By the time Peter came over on Saturday for the weekend, he’d prepped and cleansed and downed a shot of whiskey as courage. The moment the kid stepped through the door Tony rounded on him, pressing him against the wall and grinding his half-hard length against the kid’s thigh as he grasped him by the jaw, thumb forcing his mouth open so he could lick into it.

“Oh” the boy squeaked at him, grinding forwards on instinct, lips parting eagerly for Tony. He sweetened the boy up with a searing kiss, licking into his mouth and scraping his lower lip with his teeth before he took the boy’s wrists, guiding them to his hips and then back, pressing him to grab two handfuls of his ass. “Oh” Peter repeated against his mouth, pausing. “Today?”

“Today” Tony affirmed, leaning back and raising a brow. “Unless...?”

“I want to” Peter blurted, cheeks pinking. “If you do”.

Tony’s agreement that he still wanted to landed them in bed, naked and rocking against each other messily as Tony coated Peter’s fingers in lube. He’d fingered himself again before the boy’s arrival - But it wouldn’t hurt to add a little extra. Peter was rock hard and wild-eyed, teeth deep in his lower lip as he stared down at where Tony lay sprawled open and ready.

“What if I...”

What if I fuck up. What if I don’t like it. What if you don’t like it.

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart” Tony soothed him, catching him by the chin to make the boy look at him. Peter’s shoulders dropped a little, relaxing steadily, and he nodded once, looking down and shuffling on his knees. Tony had told the boy to start with two fingers, to focus on getting him wet more than stretching him open, and he let out a gasped grunt as Peter slid long, slender digits into him slowly and easily.

He’d have laughed at the look on Peter’s face, except the boy pushed deeper, hitting his prostate and rubbing at it intently and the laugh fell out of his mouth, replaced by a soft moan at the bare fizzle of pleasure it offered. “That’s good, baby” he coaxed, offering the stunned boy a warm smile. When Peter moved to touch his cock he shifted, batting his hand away. “Ah, ah. No touching yourself” he chided, head shaking.

He let Peter finger him for another few moments before reaching down, pulling the boy up and over his body gently. “You’re going so well” he praised, dipping his fingers into the tub of lube before he reached between them, wrapping his hand around Peter’s neglected cock. The boy’s breath stuttered and he rocked into the grip, lips parting as Tony tugged on his cherry-red, straining length. He knew it was easier to slide into someone hard, knew that stoking Peter’s pleasure was the easiest way to relax and distract him.

He pulled Peter down for a kiss, sucking at his tongue softly as he pressed a hand to Peter’s hip, guiding him carefully and slowly into position. It was easy to wrap a slick hand around the boy, to guide his cock to where Tony was wet and open, waiting. The first touch made them both snort shaky breaths, Peter clutching at the sheets as Tony ground his hips a little, teasing himself on the round, smooth tip. “You can do it” he encouraged, propping himself back on his elbows as Peter shifted, shakily reaching down to take hold of his cock in lieu of Tony’s helping hand.

It was strange, at first. Feeling the pressure of Peter’s cock forcing him open, spreading him wide. Fingers were one thing but a cock was another, his body parting willingly for the  thick slide of it, stuffing him full in a way he hadn’t been for so long. It wasn’t amazing but it wasn’t uncomfortable; his rigorous prep had ensured an easy slide. Above him Peter’s face scrunched, lips parted and eyes glossed as he looked down, watching himself sink inch by inch into Tony’s body.

Tony let his head fall back, breathing through the feeling of being filled. Peter wasn’t huge but he wasn’t small either, a decent and pretty length that still seemed to never end until Peter’s breath hitched and they were flush together. The boy was trembling like he’d just licked a live socket, a punched out whine stuck in his head as he dropped his head to Tony’s shoulder, hips nudging forwards briefly. Tony let out a harsh breath and shifted, grinding down to feel the way that Peter filled him. “Fuck, baby. So good. You’re going so well. Just like I like it” he assured the teen.

Peter looked up at him with wide, round eyes, lips parted as he let his hips roll, meeting Tony’s slow grinds carefully. “How does it feel?” Tony asked him roughly, and Peter responded with a low, weak whine.

“So good. S’good. Its...Tight? Its not like a...” Peter trailed off, cheeks going red, and Tony laughed.

“Like a pussy? You can say it, sweetheart. You can say its not like a wet cunt”.

Peter looked scandalised but nodded in agreement, rocking his hips forwards with a touch more force. They kept that gentle movement for a few moments as Tony got used to the feeling of a dick sliding along his insides and Peter got used to sticking his dick inside a guy for the first time. When he felt ready he urged Peter to go a little faster. The boy shuffled on his knees, sliding one hand under Tony’s hips the change the angle as he thrust forwards, gripping the headboard for purchase with his other hand.

Tony reached down and wrapped a hand around himself, groaning at the relief it offered as he dug his thumb into his slit, massaging his tip as Peter rolled his hips slowly, sliding in and out at a smooth, set pace. It went from pleasureless friction to base pleasure pretty quickly, Tony squeezing his eyes shut as Peter shifted a little again, angle changing until the tip of his cock rubbed against his prostate on each dragged thrust.

“Oh” Tony breathed out as the pleasure began to grow in the pit of his stomach, warming him from the inside out, raising the hairs on his arms. Above him Peter stuttered, like he was about to stop, and Tony snapped a hand down to his hip, shoving him closer to encourage him to keep going. “Fuck, keep going. Its - Its good”. He tried not to sound so surprised, watched as Peter nodded, face screwed up on a little uh huh in agreement, shoulders straining as he fucked into Tony in steady, gentle thrusts. 

“You can go faster” he breathed at the teen, struggling to keep his composure as he pumped himself gently, watching Peter lick his lower lip, restlessly shuffling above him. He gave the teen an encouraging smile, moving the hand up to his ribs where he soothed his thumb gently along his side, rocking his hips down to meet the thrusts as they increased in force. He was being softly jolted on the bed now, the insides of his thighs taking the brunt of each still-careful thrust. 

“I want you to feel good” Peter mumbled, eye half-lidded as he ground, seeking out the space that made Tony’s hips jolt. He felt thickly stuffed and gaping open, filled in a way he couldn’t remember feeling. The pleasure was pooling now, a hot coil in his gut that pulsed over his cock and through his insides. If Peter’s shaking arms and blissed out expression was anything to go by, it was good for him too. 

“I do” he assured fondly, moving his hand to stroke through Peter’s hair. “Go on, baby. Fuck me. I know you can do it, sweetheart” he urged, settling back against the sheets  and working his cock with a tight fist as he watched Peter’s expression twist, hips jerking forwards into Tony’s tight heat. Peter was moaning now, brows scrunched in pleasure as he chased his orgasm. Tony would have teased him for it, but he was losing himself in his own hunt, staring down at their connected bodies as he pumped his cock with renewed intent. 

Peter came first, hips punching forwards with a wounded sound, mouth forming a delicate o and lashes fluttering as ground forwards, pumping his cum as deep into Tony’s body as he could get it. Tony grinned up at him, drinking the sight in as he panted and dug his thumb into his slit. He watched as Peter seemed to come back to himself, shuffling on his knees to carefully, slowly ease himself free of Tony’s body. It made the older man groan at the empty, open feeling, the way he felt stretched out and rearranged inside, but he didn’t have long to dwell on it because Peter ducked down, nudging his hand away to wrap his lips around his cock. 

It didn’t take long for him to cum into the warm, wet suction of Peter’s mouth, hands fisting in the kid’s hair. “You’ll be the death of me” he groaned down as Peter licked cum from his lips, crawling up Tony’s body to settle against him like a kitten to a heat lamp. 

“Can we do that again?” 

“Kid. You’ve just cum. I’ve just cum. We-”

“I mean,” Peter interrupted, cheeks pinking. “Like, another time? I really...I liked it. Making you feel good. I wanna keep trying. I wanna learn how to do it more. Make you feel good like that”. 

Tony paused, looking down at Peter. Fondness threatened to drown him, warmth wrapping around his heart. He surged down to pepper kisses all over Peter’s face, until the teen was giggling.