CEO Tony Stark is stressed. Luckily his executive assistant, Peter Parker, is really good at his job. 18+.
"Good morning, Mr. Stark."
Tony’s secretary chirped as he exited the elevator. He didn’t respond. Just made a beeline for his office and slammed the door with such force everybody in the vicinity flinched. Everyone except Peter Parker.
“I’ll handle this.” The young man smoothed his tie and confidently walked into the CEO’s office, not bothering to knock.
His official job title executive assistant. But his actual job description was fuzzy. He’d started as an intern in the human resources department last year. But on the first day of his internship, he got lost on the way to the bathroom and somehow ended up on the executive floor.
Before he could fix his mistake, he made eye contact with Mr. Stark through his office window.
The next day, his work station was relocated to the executive floor. He conveniently sat right within Stark’s line of sight. The CEO could peer through the window and glare at Peter whenever he wanted. Which was often.
His internship slowly became less about information technology and more about doing whatever Stark needed. Or wanted.
It started with the cliche stuff. Coffee. Dry cleaning. Lunch. Then Stark started trusting him with the key to his house. Watering plants. Tidying his home office. Cleaning his pool (while Stark lounged on a pool chair while “working” on his laptop).
When he was finally promoted from intern to executive assistant, Peter’s responsibilities became…more personal. Like fixing Stark’s mood when he was having a bad day.
Stark didn’t look up from his computer as Peter entered his office. Peter could see the deep stress on his boss’s face, etched in dark lines.
“I believe that’s my line, sir.”
“Sir, with all due respect—”
“What do you want, Peter?” Tony raised his voice, slamming his laptop shut with a bang. Peter looked unfazed.
“I want you to relax.” Peter stepped behind Tony’s big leather chair. He drummed delicate fingers on Stark’s shoulders—a silent, familiar request. The boss complied, raising his arms a little so Peter could remove his suit jacket.
Wearing a ruffled white collared shirt and a loosened tie, Tony settled back into the chair and sighed deeply as Peter began kneading his shoulders with practiced hands. He didn’t even bother stifling his moans as Peter pushed his fingers into all the right spots.
“Goodness, sir. You’re so tense.” He whispered, pushing extra hard on a spot between his shoulder and neck. “What’s got you so wound up?”
“Stuff.” Tony drawled as Peter delivered a full neck massage. The boy was a genius, chasing away a headache Stark didn’t even know he had. “Lots of stuff.”
“I figured as much,” Peter chuckled. “I can work out the rest of the tension in your back later. But I know you have a long day ahead of you. So if you’re okay with it, can I help you get your…head…right?”
“Sure, that’d be great, Pete.”
Several minutes later, Stark was thanking his lucky stars as Peter Parker kneeled between his legs, wearing nothing but a pair of white lacy underwear and a wide plug stretching his hole (“Property of Mr. Stark” engraved on the base).
Peter stared at Tony’s cock with reverence, like it was his favorite thing in the world.
The massive dick stood proud and thick against the open fly of Tony’s trousers. It was already flushed dark at the tip as a bead of precome glistened at the slit.
The sight made Peter’s mouth water like one of Pavlov’s dogs.
He leaned in slowl letting Tony feel the anticipation build. Warm breath ghosted over sensitive skin first. Tony hissed.
“Tease,” he muttered. Though he sounded delighted. Gently, he thread his fingers into Peter’s soft curls.
Peter smiled against the base of the shaft, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss right where velvet skin met coarse hair. “M’not teasing, sir.” His lips brushed the thick vein that ran along the underside. “Can’t a boy take a moment to appreciate his favorite dick?”
He started low and worked his way up with soft kitten licks at first. Equal parts slutty and innocent, he traced every ridge and contour with the flat of his tongue. When he reached the crown he circled it lazily, lapping up the steady leak of precome like it was something precious. Tony’s hips gave the tiniest involuntary jerk.
Peter hummed in answer, the vibration traveling straight up Tony’s length. Then he finally parted his lips and took the head inside—slowly, so slowly—sealing his mouth around it and sucking gently, letting his tongue swirl in lazy figure-eights. He kept his eyes open, locked on Tony’s face the entire time, watching every flicker of pleasure across his face.
Tony’s thumb brushed tenderly along Peter’s cheekbone, a stark contrast to the filthy picture they made: CEO sprawled in his leather chair, trousers shoved down just enough, pretty young assistant on his knees in nothing but lace panties and a sparkling plug nestled deep inside him.
Inch by inch he took more, cheeks hollowing as he created perfect suction. When the head bumped the back of his throat he didn’t flinch…just relaxed his muscles the way Tony had taught him months ago during one of their late-night “lessons” in his apartment. He breathed carefully through his nose and pushed forward until his lips were stretched wide around the base and his nose was buried in the neatly trimmed hair at Tony’s groin.
Tony groaned. “That’s it… good boy… fuck, look at you.”
Peter stayed there for a long moment, throat working rhythmically around the intrusion, swallowing repeatedly so Tony could feel the flutter of muscles milking him. Drool began to gather at the corners of his mouth, a thin silver thread connecting his lips to Tony’s skin when he finally pulled back until only the head remained trapped between his lips.
He bobbed back down again, setting a steady, worshipful rhythm.
Not fast. Not frantic. Deliberate.
Every downward slide was accompanied by a swirl of tongue along the underside. Every pull back came with a firm suck and a teasing flick against the frenulum. His hands weren’t idle either—one wrapped around what his mouth couldn’t reach (though he was getting better at taking it all), stroking in perfect time with his bobs, while the other slipped between Tony’s spread thighs to cup and gently roll his balls, tugging ever so lightly the way Tony liked.
Tony’s breathing had gone ragged. His fingers tightened in Peter’s hair—not guiding, just holding on.
“Sweet baby, Pete… you’re too fucking good at this.”
Peter pulled off just long enough to speak, voice hoarse and wrecked in the best way. “Only for you, Mr. Stark. The best boss ever.” He dragged his tongue flat from base to tip in one long, obscene stripe. “Only ever for you.”
Then he dove back down, taking Tony to the root again, moaning around the thick length like he was the one being pleasured. The sound vibrated straight through Tony’s cock and into his spine.
Tony’s head dropped back against the chair. “Gonna explode if you keep that up,” he warned, voice gravel-rough.
Peter’s only response was to suck harder, cheeks hollowing, throat opening, one hand slipping back to press against the base of the plug inside his hole. He rocked back subtly, fucking himself on it in tiny movements while he worshipped the cock in his mouth.
Tony’s hips stuttered upward once, twice.
Peter didn’t pull away. He never did.
He took every thick spurt down his throat, swallowing greedily, milking Tony through it with slow, gentle pulls until the man was trembling, oversensitive, cursing under his breath.
Only when Tony’s hand gentled in his hair, petting now instead of gripping, did Peter finally ease off. He let the softening length slip from his mouth with a final, reverent kiss to the tip.
He rested his cheek against Tony’s thigh, breathing hard, lips shiny and swollen, eyes glassy with pleasure and something dangerously close to adoration.
Tony stared down at him for a long moment, chest still heaving. Then he reached down, hooked two fingers under Peter’s chin, and tilted his face up.
“Better?” Peter asked softly, voice raspy.
Tony’s thumb traced the swollen bottom lip, smearing the last traces of come and spit.
“Yay.” Peter’s smile was small, private, devastatingly sweet.
He leaned in and pressed one last soft kiss to the softening cock before tucking it carefully back into Tony’s trousers with practiced care, zipping and buttoning him up like nothing had happened.
Then he stood, still wearing only the white lace and the plug, and leaned down to brush a kiss against Tony’s temple.
“You’ve got some free time this morning to catch up on work. I asked your secretary to clear your morning meetings,” he said while putting his clothes back on. “I’ll get you a fresh cup of coffee and a scone. Try not to slam any more doors before I get back.”
Tony caught his wrist before he could walk away.
Peter paused, looking down with those big, earnest eyes.
“My pleasure,” Peter licked his lips.
Tony smacked Peter’s ass playfully, dismissing him to complete his duties. He waited until Peter opened the door to deliver his parting words: “My place after work. Bring the black set. And the new collar. And a weekend bag.”
Peter’s cheeks flushed pink, though he was more proud than embarrassed. “Yes, Mr. Stark.”
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