It’s as Tony is zoned out jogging on the treadmill, earbuds in place and pleasantly tuning out the rest of the world, that the man (kid, really, he’s probably barely old enough to drink if that, but he feels better lusting after a man) he’s been idly watching lift weights across the gym crouches down in a squat and familiarity slots into place.
He’s jerked off to that ass.
He finally has a face to put towards his favorite camboy, Spidertwink. He’s kept his anonymity and explained away the moniker in one fell swoop by always performing with a Spider-Man mask on (nothing but the mask most nights).
Apparently, his favorite camboy is also his favorite barista; the young, college-attending, blushes-so-pretty-whenever-Tony-flirts Peter Parker. Peter Parker who started attending this gym after Tony recommended it and always stops by to say hi and then always works out right in front of Tony in the smallest pair of cotton shorts. He lifts. He’s stronger than Tony at the rack despite being smaller in build and muscle mass.
Tony still spots for him, of course. If he asks. Today Peter is doing a light load, heavy rep for strength training and doesn’t really need it but if he asked-
If he asked, today, Tony would have to decline because he can’t stop remembering what Peter’s ass looked like in that same position last night, riding a dildo bigger than Tony’s cock and whimpering out the name of his highest bidder. He can’t stop remembering how he’d moaned, low and hard through the mask, hand flying up and down and cum shooting towards the camera like a cheesy porno comercial. How endearing he’d been when he’d wiped the glass off with a wet wipe and fussed over the lens condition -Tony tipped him five grand and told him to buy a new one- and then Peter was crying and thanking him and Tony was coming into his fist, too.
Yeah, no, no dice. Tony is out of commission today. He should probably go home before his semi-hard cock becomes a full fledged public indecency. It’s bad enough that Peter has become masturbatory material in two places in his life; adding this entirely sexual third element makes everything seem like he’s in the beginnings to a bad porno.
He watches Peter perform a perfectly executed power clean. His thighs are straight and he’s balanced so effortlessly and his ass is so round; now Tony knows how Spidertwink can hold some of the positions he does on stream. His core strength is fantastic and it shows in how well he can take dick, that’s for sure.
Oh, god. How’s he going to get his morning coffee now? All he’ll be able to do is stare at his chest when the kids not looking and remember when Spidertwink lamented in chat about always wanting to get his nipples pierced but never having the money or time for it. Tony fixed the money issue for him right then and there, of course. Anything for his -virtual, pretend- babyboy.
It’s not pretend when Peter racks up, removes the weights, or does a quick stretch.
It’s not virtual when he turns around and starts walking towards Tony.
Softly and under his breath Tony whispers, “Fuck.”
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