Do you mind if I add on to this? Because yea, I love it!
Peter is a process server—handing out subpoenas and divorce papers, and he’s damn good at it because his blue streaked hair, lip piercing and full sleeves of tattoos means no one takes him seriously, no one suspects him, and he always gets his man(or woman, or gender non conforming person).
But this latest serve…it’s damn near impossible.
Tony Stark is being served with an order to appear in court by a man who claims the billionaire businessman conned him. Only problem is, Peter can’t get close enough to get the paperwork into his hands.
There’s also the well known fact that Tony doesn’t take things from people himself, which leaves Peter doing some mildly intrusive hacking and stalking to figure out the man’s schedule.
8am departure from Stark Tower
9am arrival at Avengers Inc
12:30pm lunch at Le Monde
2:30-5:30 meetings at Stark Tower
So he either has to get him first thing in the morning or as he’s coming back to the tower for meetings. Considering he’s the only serve left for Peter this week, he decides to get it done in the morning and spend the afternoon gaming with Ned and smoking out with MJ.
7:45 am finds him waiting outside Stark Tower, skateboard in hand and papers tucked securely into his jeans, watching the rolling doors that the billionaire’s car comes out of every time he leaves the building.
Two minutes later the doors roll up and the sleek Audi pulls out, heading for the corner where Peter is waiting. He takes a deep breath, jumps on his board and flies out in front of the car, head whipping toward the vehicle at the last second, eyes wide with fake shock just before impact.
It’s only fifteen miles per hour, at most, but fuck does it hurt. There’s a long moment of silence and then a crowd of bystanders begins to gather, whispering and staring down at him.
“Jesus fuck! Kid, why didn’t you look?! Oh god, shit, are you hurt?”
He’s pretty sure he’s never heard the normally urbane and collected Tony Stark from press conferences sound like that—worried, distraught, angry.
He clutches his ribs—which might actually be broken—and groans softly as pain radiates through his chest. A hand lands on his forehead and he opens his eyes to find Tony Stark hovering over him, dark eyes worried and lips pressed into a tight line.
Peter nods and sits up slowly, guided by a hand at his neck—firm but gentle—and tries to smile, winces when the road burn on his cheek throbs.
“Y-yea, I’m fine,” he assures the older man, “nothin too bad.”
Stark’s eyes narrow as though he can hear the lie, and he glances up at the crowd that’s now filming them with obvious disgust. He turns his attention back to Peter, eyes lined with concern, “Listen, let me take you to the hospital, ok? You gotta get checked out, at least.”
Peter shakes his head and shifts so the papers at his waist slip free and onto the pavement, “Nah, I’m fine sir, honest. I shoulda looked before I crossed, I’m just late for a meeting.”
At this, Tony’s lips curl up wryly, gaze flickering over his hair, piercings, tattoos. “Meeting, with who? Your dealer?”
Peter grins at that, “No sir, with my manager. Up for a promotion,” he lies easily. The crowd around them dissipates when it’s obvious nothing scandalous or gruesome is going to happen, leaving him sitting on the damp pavement and Tony crouched over him.
“Good for you kid. If you need a recommendation I’ll be happy to let them know you damn near died trying to get there,” Tony murmurs, smirking a little as he helps Peter stand. His gaze flicks down to the papers on the ground before he swoops down and grabs them, “Dropped these,” he says, holds them out to Peter.
Peter toes his board over and rests a foot on it—he might have to make a quick escape if the older man gets upset. “Thanks, those are for you actually. You’ve been served,” he says, smiling brightly before kicking off and speeding away.
Peter grins at the loud obscenity and heads downtown towards Ned’s place, ribs throbbing with every breath he takes.
Ned makes him go to the hospital when he sees the bruises and scrapes across Peter’s cheek and ribs, and the admitting nurse says it’s a good thing because he does in fact have a cracked rib and two more that are badly bruised.
He’s high as a fuckin kite, half asleep in the hospital bed, when his door opens and in walks Tony Stark.
The older man stares at him for a minute and then shakes his head, laughing wryly as he comes over to lean on the bars of Peter’s bed.
“You got some nerve kid, I’ll give you that,” he murmurs, gaze flickering over Peter slowly, assessing the damage. “How bad is it?” he asks, voice soft with concern.
“S’not so bad,” Peter slurs, struggling to focus on the older man’s handsome face. “One time, a-a cheating husband, he broke my nose!” Peter declares almost proudly.
Tony shakes his head and chuckles humorlessly, “Kid, you gotta find a different job,” he says, sounding tired.
Peter’s brow furrows, “But I like my job,” he whines, shifting in his bed unhappily.
Tony just sighs and shakes his head, “Kid—”
“M not a kid!” Peter declares defiantly, “M’ twenty two!” He glares up at Tony, “and my name is Peter, not kid.”
“Sorry, Peter, you’re a kid to an old man like me,” Tony jokes, rubbing a hand over his jaw where grey has started to show up in his beard.
“Yer not old,” Peter murmurs, hand drunkenly lifting up to press fingers into Tony’s jaw, “yer hot,” he whispers.
Tony’s brows rise because this, he was not expecting. “I think you’re a little high right now kid.”
Peter glares at him grumpily and Tony has to repress a grin at how utterly cute the expression is—like an angry wet cat. “M fline…fl-fine!” he stutters out, hands flapping against the sheets in frustration.
Tony does laugh this time and shucks off his suit jacket before leaning on the railing and grinning down at the kid, “Sure you are Pete. Why don’t I order some food and sober you up a bit. Then you can tell me more about how hot I am,” he teases.
Peter nods agreeably and gazes at him a little wide eyed, and Tony makes sure he gets some water for him too, even if he does have a saline drip.
They talk and eat pizza for hours, playing cards until MJ drops by to make sure he’s ok, and to Peter’s great surprise, Tony stays. He talks to Ned and MJ, and asks questions about their lives and when they leave and Peter feels a bit more alert, he realizes that Mr. Stark has spent nearly the whole day with him.
“You don’t have to stay, I’m sure you’ve got important things to do,” he tells Tony softly, staring down at his hands, hoping that the older man will stay anyway.
“Eh, the company will survive without me for a day, besides, I’m enjoying the company here much better than I would at some stuffy board of directors meeting. No one there thinks I’m hot.”
Peter looks up at that, wide eyed and bright pink, “I uh, I’m sorry,” he whispers shyly, “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Because it isn’t true? Or because it is?”
Peter swallows hard and shrugs, winces as his ribs throb, “Doesn’t matter. You’re you and I’m, me.”
The railing at his side clicks down and a hand cups his chin gently, rough and calloused and not at all what he’s fantasized about for literally years. Tony’s gazing down at him softly, thumb passing gently over his lower lip and he gasps at the bolt of heat that shoots through him at the touch.
“Sweetheart, you’re the most you person I’ve ever met and I love it.” Tony brushes his thumb over Peter’s lips again, gaze heavy and warm as he watches the way Peter’s lips part around unsteady breaths. “Lemme take you out for dinner when you get outta here and prove it to you,” Tony says softly.
Peter swallows hard and nods before he can really think about it; he can over analyze this conversation later, right now he wants Tony to keep touching him. Feeling particularly daring, he flicks his tongue out against Tony’s thumb, a soft noise escaping him at the salty sweet taste of his skin.
Tony exhales sharply and curses under his breath before he’s pushing his thumb into Peter’s mouth, both of them groaning as he starts to suck on it.
“Fuck kid, you’re so pretty like this, I wanna eat you up.”
Peter pulls off his thumb with a wet pop and gasps out, “Please Mr. Stark, yes.”
The older man groans and glances over his shoulder to the door, still closed, but offering only a thin barrier between them and the rest of the world. When he glances back at Peter he’s weakened by arousal—the kid is flushed pink, lips wet and red from sucking on his thumb and damn if he doesn’t want to defile him right here and now.
“Christ kid, you’re hurt,” he murmurs hoarsely, “we can’t.” Peter frowns at him and grabs his hand, pulls it under the sheets and oh fuck, fuck, he’s hard. “God damn it,” he huffs out, fingers closing around what feels like a substantial cock.
Peter mews and rolls his hips, eyes hooded as he moans softly. “Please Mr. Stark, please!” he begs, whining in the back of his throat as Tony groans and squeezes him again.
He shouldn’t, he really, really shouldn’t.
The kid begs again and he mutters fuck it before his hand delves under the briefs that seperate their skin and gets his hand on Peter’s cock, both men groaning at the sensation. He wishes he could see it, but if someone walks in it’s easier for him to slip his hand away like he isn’t jerking the kid off under the sheets, and fuck, it shouldn’t be so hot, but he’s getting hard now at the idea of someone walking in on them.
Peter whines as Tony rubs his thumb over his weeping head, pulls his foreskin down and smears his pre cum into his skin. The wet sound is muted by the sheets and Peter’s breathy gasps, his gaze intent on Tony’s face as the older man strokes him slow and firm.
“Look at you, so pretty and hard, god kid, I wish I could see your cock, bet it’s as pretty as you are,” Tony babbles, chest tight with arousal as Peter whines and pushes his hips up, fucking his cock into Tony’s hand with a desperate little keen.
“So wet for me baby, gonna make a mess? The nurse is gonna know what we were up to,” Tony murmurs, squeezing hard and twisting at the head of his cock so Peter groans and arches into it, a whimper of pain passing over his lips as his ribs protest the movement.
“Stay still baby, gonna hurt yourself,” Tony croons, one hand pushing gently on Peter’s shoulder to hold him down. If anything this seems to arouse Peter further and he rolls his hips up, fucking his cock into Tony’s hand with punched out needy noises that slowly drive Tony crazy.
“Please? Mr. Stark? Please?”
“Yea baby, what do you need?” Tony murmurs, “c’mon, tell me what you need.”
Tony groans and glances over his shoulder, yanks the privacy curtain closed so they can’t be seen and bends down to whisper in Peter’s ear, “Want me to suck you off baby? Can I taste you?”
Peter nods frantically and whines, moaning when Tony yanks the covers back and groans at the sight of him—long and thick and flushed a dark red, cum slicking his hand as he strokes him.
“Fuck, fuck!” Tony whispers, licking his lips before bending down and closing his lips around the head of Peter’s cock. The kid chokes on a moan, hand fisting in Tony’s hair as his hips jolt up and yea, Tony’s a goner. He deep throats the kid like it’s his fuckin job, moaning and drooling around that thick cock, the noises between them loud and obscene.
Peter babbles our breathlessly, a sharp cry shut off when Tony places his free hand over his mouth and muffles him as he uses the other to rub insistently at the tight furl of muscle below his balls. Peter is whining loudly now, hitching little sobs as his ribs ache under the assault of pleasure, head spinning from adrenaline and morphine and the need to cum.
Spit and cum leak down his cock and Tony uses it to slick his way into Peter’s hole, thumb pressing in as he sucks and licks insistently at the head of his cock. Peter cums with a shout, muffled against Tony’s hand, shaking as he spills down Tony’s throat, the older man taking him deep so he can feel his throat working as he swallows.
When he’s soft and overworked, Tony lets his cock slip from his lips, licking them clean before he does the same to Peter’s cock. He watches avidly as the older man stares up at him, moaning as he cleans the cum from his cock.
Tony carefully rearranges the sheets and grins down at the kid, licking his lips again as Peter flushes and glances away, obviously aroused and a little embarrassed. Tony turns his face back with a finger under his chin and smirks, “Baby, I can’t wait till you’re outta here so I can take you home and take you apart.”
Peter lets out a shaky breath and winces as his ribs ache more insistently. Tony doesn’t fail to notice and nudges the kid’s thigh, “Use the button kid, don’t be a hero,” he murmurs, nodding toward the morphine drip.
Peter is reluctant, but does it anyway, and soon he’s drifting on a wave of euphoria and sleepiness. He feels lips press to his forehead and opens his eyes to find Tony smiling fondly down at him, “See you soon kid,” he promises, and before Peter’s eyes slip shut, he hears the door shut behind him as he goes.
“Not a kid,” he slurs, grinning nonetheless.
