Tony pulled into his private area to park the car. When he stopped on the spot, he unbuckled his seatbelt and turned the radio off. The headlights went off, the engine died, but Tony still stayed inside the car. He was sitting still in the darkness and quietness of the cabin, as if he were hiding behind tinted glass. As if he hadn’t returned to his own place but was waiting for some kind of dangerous offender coming down to catch and detain him.
Or as if he was preparing to commit the felony himself.
Even if society wouldn’t consider his actions a crime— not anymore, at least— it still felt like he was doing something really wrong. Something that promised him fire and brimstone after he died. Or even before...
The kid had already become a grown man, truly and completely adult, and Tony hadn’t given him an unacceptable glance, let alone anything more, before he had become... legal. But the age gap between them was and would always be the same. It was no doubt constant shit.
And as a responsible and rational senior, he had to make the decision based on his strength of character. But while he was sitting in the car’s cabin in the dark, his backbone didn’t feel so... impressive. He felt… hollow. Leaking. Fading. And already guilty for the things he knew he would do. He felt as if his spine had turned to liquid and all his strength had drained away.
He felt old. Greedy. And perverted for sure.
He shouldn’t have let the glances, the flirting, the conversations happen from the very start. He should have cut all of it off when he first noticed Peter’s real interest. That was exactly what common sense should have made you feel when someone so young looked at you like that: to politely and nicely but unambiguously reject them.
And what had Tony done? The opposite, of course. Everything to encourage and prolong the ongoing process of love and lust developing.
Old goat. Old fart.
The only good and essential thing he had done was insist on going at Peter’s comfortable pace since he was the younger and more inexperienced one. The bare minimum.
His love for Peter was enormous. He had found him the most valuable thing in his life for the past few years.
And still, Tony was aware of who he had been and who he was. He knew himself very well. He ruined anything he touched. He destroyed it with his own hands. His love was greedy and yet detached. His feelings were always devouring but cold as an Arctic winter and tight enough to choke like a scratchy woollen scarf.
He was 'Stark', for the God's sake!
He wanted to cry when he thought about it. But he wasn’t that pitiful towards himself.
Tony, like a deadly virus, wished to grow inside a warm body offering him love, acceptance and shelter, and spread infected cells inside it. Giving him enough time always ended with painful surgery to cut the tumour out along with some perfectly healthy parts. Look at Pepper.
‘You just need someone resilient, Mr. Stark. A man in good shape. And I’m one of the best candidates, since I’m tough enough, don’t you think?’ he'd said.
Bloody yes, because he was the best. Stark couldn’t remember anyone even close to that except Rogers. But who cared about fucking Rogers?..
Tony neatly squeezed and unclenched his fingers on the steering wheel.
Touches could be unbelievably gentle. But Tony would make Peter bend. The boy might have unbelievable flexibility, but it only provoked the aggressive wish to push further. A desperate desire to explore the limitations and see the potential of his influence.
‘I know how to say “no”, okay? I promise, you have no chance of breaking me,’ he'd said.
But Tony had seen in those eyes full of puppy-like tenderness that the main problem was that he wouldn’t find a reason to say ‘no’. Because Tony cared about him and would never intentionally hurt him. But pushing boundaries so that what was uncomfortable yesterday becomes something they both desire tomorrow… that’s another story.
Tony was on the brink of starting the engine and leaving. Escaping from his own place and grabbing tickets to somewhere far away. Osaka or maybe Sydney. Throwing his phone into the ocean. Disappearing for a couple of years, until Peter found himself something better than... him.
But even the thought of letting the kid out of his sight made his guts ache.
What a bloody bastard he was, wasn’t he?..
Tony banged his forehead against the leather-covered steering wheel— once, twice, three times while kept repeating:
‘What a bloody bastard you are.’
He looked up and meet his own gaze in the rear-view mirror. He took a deep breath.
Tony gave the reflection his most charming smile and let the expression freeze on his face before getting out of the car and heading for the lift.
Peter was waiting upstairs. There was no point in making him feel neglected, especially considering that Tony wouldn’t be able to bring himself to let him go anyway.
