Iron Man zoomed across the New York City skyline, using the noisy rocket thrusters – a real attention getter. Peter trailed just behind him, attached by the webbing Tony held in one gauntlet. He had Tony hold the webbing, rather than stick it to the breastplate of the armor (Tony hated cleaning webbing off afterward.)
Tony let the webbing go at the right moment and Peter, with a triple-somersault, landed on the roof of Vanderbilt One. Tony was supposed to land right beside him, but decided to add a little corkscrew action, spinning off to the left like a firework, then coming in for a landing. They stood, shoulder to shoulder, and looked down at their audience.
There were people down there, of course. It was New York City. The streets were full of people. It’s just that none of them were looking up. At least, very few were, Peter looked through the crowd and found a few people, standing still and pointing up. Maybe at them. Maybe not.
“Let’s… lets head over to Stark Tower, we’ll probably find some looky-loos there…” Tony began, mentioning some restaurants with patios that used to have patrons who came to look for his arrivals and departures to the tower, but Peter just shrugged his shoulders.
“Let’s just call it a night and go home.” He climbed aboard Tony’s back and rode him like a surfboard back to the tower. Man, once upon a time a move like that would have made the crowds below go crazy. Now Peter didn’t even look down. All the way back, he only asked Tony one question.
“Where did everybody go?”
“But we’re still gonna fuck, right?” Peter asked. It made Tony laugh, which was good. They had both been sullen and silent on the way back to Tony’s place. It was good to lighten the mood.
“Do you kiss me with that mouth?” Tony replied, walking into Peter’s personal space, then taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom. “Of course we’re going to fuck, it’s nighttime. Nighttime is for the self-indulgent.”
Tony’s suit nano-teched itself back into his clothing, which he hung over the rack by the bedroom door. Peter stepped out of his suit and lay it on the counter Tony had placed in the corner for the occasion. Tony walked ahead of him and stopping midway between the bed and the door to the bathroom. He was still wearing the worn AC/DC shirt and sweats he had on before he suited up. Now he faced Peter, kicking off his shoes.
“Shower first, or just afterward?”
Peter grinned and walked up to him. Taking him by the hand, he walked backward, leading them to the bed. “This first…”
“…but you have to ask me.”
“Oh… now I have to ask first, do I?” Tony teased, all grins. Peter grinned too, knowing Tony knew exactly what he wanted. Tony backed Peter up until he hit the bed. Only then, after kissing him thoroughly, did he lean over to whisper against Peter’s ear.
“Will you make love with me, Little Petie?”
Sometimes it wasn’t even the words, Peter thought. It was the way Tony spoke to him when they played this game, his tone so low and gentle, his body language expressing gentility and care. “Will you let me touch you? Will you let me make you feel good, angel?” He bent down a little to kiss Peter’s ear, cupped his other hand around Peter’s cheek. Placed his hand gingerly at the small of Peter’s back, but holding him loosely, as if he were still free to move away. “Will you let me touch you inside?”
“God it makes me so hard when you talk to me Tony…”
Peter broke away and pulled away from Tony’s embrace, climbing backward onto the bed and pulling Tony with him. He lay on his back and Tony climbed on top of him willingly, but continued the questions, just as requested. Slipping a tender hand under Peter’s shirt and asking permission before removing it – asking before touching his stomach, then his hips, then his ass. Crooning and gentling and praising all the while. Finally turning Peter to lay on his stomach because, as he whispered gently, “Daddy wants to kiss you down there.”
“Oh fuck Tony you’re making me so goddamn horny,” Peter moaned, long before Tony’s mouth even got to its target.
“Oh… my baby’s got quite a mouth on him,” Tony chuckled. Then yelped as Peter suddenly slipped out from under him, flipped him on to his back and mounted him.
“Your baby does have quite a mouth on him… and he wants to use it on you.”
“Oh, Daddy’s cock is too big for your sweet little mouth….” Tony said breathlessly, but gave up speaking when Peter swallowed him down and started sucking with a vengeance.
“Stop stop stop…” Tony pushed Peter away breathlessly. He would have gladly let Peter finish his ministrations, but tonight he had something else in mind. “If you make Daddy come,” he said when he had caught his breath. “…then I won’t be able to make sweet love to my angel.” He was sitting up, keeping his hands around Peter’s face, moving to back to Peter’s ear to whisper. To take back control. “Daddy wants to take good care of you, baby…” he crooned until Peter pushed him back down onto his back.
“I love it when you talk to me, Tony,” he moaned, boldly straddling his lover. Then, feeling even bolder, he began brazenly stroking his own cock. He didn’t know where his new courage came from, but the look on Tony’s face was completely worth it.
“And it turns me on… I mean it makes me dizzy it makes me so turned on…” he continued, crawling up Tony’s body until he was cupping the back of Tony’s head and raising up. “And I really, really love it when you say I’m your good boy…” He was feeding his cock to Tony now who, despite the awkward position, gladly took it down.
“But tonight, I’m really just need you to fuck me.”
They barely talked after it was over, only to smile a bit, give a few breathless compliments and trade Iloveyous. They held hands all the way to the shower, staying close as they cleaned up. Only when pajamas were donned and lights were out did they really talk about it.
“That was hot,” Tony admitted.
“That was way hot,” Peter confirmed.
“So are we… are we okay?” Tony asked, concerned. “I don’t mean us… you and me,” he said, gesturing with one hand between him and Peter. “I mean…” He waved his hand toward the window.”
“I mean out there… we clearly aren’t as popular as we used to be…”
“Yeah, it’s weird. I mean it’s going to take some getting used to… I mean it’s like relearning muscle memory, right? In the old days, you do a quadruple somersault, the crowd cheers! Now you can do a quadruple somersault with fireworks and…”
“…and silence.” Tony finished. “That’s a lot to get used to.”
“Yeah, but…” Peter thought for a long time before speaking. “But you can still be proud of your quadruple-somersault-firework show. Even if you get two or three people looking at you and pointing. Even without a great crowd cheering – you know you did it right.”
“So you’re not thinking of… moving on…?”
Peter almost glared at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“I don’t mean in bed,” Tony assured him, then lay his head back on the bed, resigned.
“Or maybe I do. I told you you always could, if that’s what you need to do. But I mean out there, Peter. I’m all but retired. You’re still a young man, you’re still in the picture. If it was you and some other person, someone who’s still popular…”
“And I’m just saying no. I can’t turn off my heart Tony – cheers or no cheers. Audience or no audience. I am who I am, Tony. And if you and I do tricks on the streets of New York and we get crickets then that’s what we get. Crickets. That still doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”
Tony reached out to gather his young lover in his arms and pull him close. “So, no regrets?” he whispered as he snuggled in to sleep. “After all, we did invest a lot a time…” He chuckled when he thought about the performance they used to put on for the spectators that used to crowd in the street for just a peek at them. “God, we invested time into an act that nobody cares about anymore. Those are hours and hours of our lives that we’ll never get back…”
“Don’t want them back, they were hours well spent,” Peter murmured into his lover’s chest. “I’m proud of those hours. Besides, they were my hours to spend, and I spent them well. I don’t regret a thing.
“Besides, does it matter?” Peter asked after a bit of silence. “If anyone is watching? We get our happy ever after either way. Maybe our audience has left, maybe they’re all out there watching someone else get their happily ever after. What does that matter? We still get each other. And we’ll get used to the crickets.”
“No regrets?” Tony whispered.
“No regrets at all,” Peter breathed, and let himself fall asleep. In the arms of his perfect man, in their perfect penthouse, in their perfect life. Maybe it would be a quieter life from now on, but it was still a good life.
