Addicted, pt 2 - Tony can’t stop touching Peter, just to see his reactions
Part 1 - Tony loves the way Peter worships him as a hero. It only gets better when he realizes that extends to him as a man.
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Tony had thought he’d been addicted to Peter’s innocent idolization before; it’s nothing compared to the sick thrill he gets every time he catches a glimpse of the kid’s desire for him.
It becomes an experiment, to study the reactions of his subject with different stimuli.
Suddenly there was an endless stream of excuses to lay his hands on Peter. He started out with soft, subtle touches -
The paternal clasps on the shoulder started lasting a few seconds too long and ended with a deep squeeze of the muscles beneath. The hand on his upper back to lead him where Tony wanted him started drifting a little lower. The “atta-boy” hair ruffles became more like a caressing threading of fingers through the boy’s hair.
It took a few weeks for Peter to notice. And when he did, Tony knew he thought he was imagining it. Tony found his agonized confusion adorable, but after a month of this he was getting impatient himself. Time to up the ante.
The next time Peter came to the compound, Tony led him down to the lab with his hand firmly on Peter’s lower back, their shoulders brushing. This was completely unnecessary, seeing as how Peter had been there hundreds of times and was more than familiar with the way there. He heard Peter’s sharp intake of breath and had to suppress a grin, fingers brushing against the waistband of his pants through his shirt.
“Uh, Mr. Stark?” Peter queried hesitantly.
“Mmm?” Tony hummed in response, turning his head and bringing them face-to-face.
“I-you-um. Are you-?” Peter stammered.
“Spit it out, Parker,” he drawled.
“I just-“ Peter blew out a heavy breath in frustration. “Never mind.”
They had reached the lab at that point so Tony’s hand gave a gentle shove to propel Peter forward, finally releasing him from his hold. When Peter looked back at him, Tony just quirked an eyebrow at him. “If you’re sure, Pete.”
Peter shook his head and made his way over to his usual workstation.
.
Two weeks later, Peter was working in the lab again, concentration fixed on working out a kink in his new web shooters. He hissed in aggravation before throwing it onto the table. “Mr. Stark,” he called, voice just short of a whine. “I can’t figure this out.”
Tony was intrigued; Peter had to be really stuck to blatantly ask for his help. But when he saw the way Peter was standing at his work station, shoulders drawn up to his ears, well, he couldn’t resist such an invitation.
Peter noticed him coming towards him and started explaining the problem. “The left one keeps jamming every time I try to shoot a blast for more than, like, a second."
He sidled up right behind Peter and settled both hands on his shoulders. “Relax Pete,” he cajoled, kneading and massaging the muscles there. “You can figure this out. You’re a smart kid - the smartest I’ve ever met, in fact. Myself excluded, of course.” He noticed the tips of Peter’s ears turning red. Hmm, was this due to the gesture or the words? Or just the combination of both? A thought for next time.
“Uh, th-thanks Mr. Stark,” he mumbled, hands fumbling with the tools next to his hands. “I’ve just been working on this for the past three hours and gotten nowhere. The mechanism in the right one looks exactly the same but it’s not glitching,” Peter grumbled, holding up both of the web shooters in evidence before letting them fall back to the table.
Tony found he was not happy about how quickly Peter regained his composure. He felt himself pushing further without a conscious decision to do so.
Tony dropped his hands to the table on either side of Peter, caging him in as he leaned down to look over his shoulder. “Show me,” he said, right next to Peter’s ear.
“Hnn!” The low, barely audible, grunting gasp that Peter emitted was music to Tony’s ears. His blood sang through his veins as he saw Peter’s chest heaving, his hands white knuckled on the tools in his grasp.
Peter recovered enough to stutter, “Sh-show you what?”
“You know, show me what you’ve done and what your thought process has been so far. I’ll help but I want you to figure it out. I won’t always be around to take care of you.” Tony’s voice came out lower than he’d intended.
“Yes you will,” Peter said automatically.
“Hmm?” Tony asked.
“Be there to take care of me. You’re always there to take care of me.”
Oh, sweet, sweet boy. Tony had to close his eyes and take a moment to recover, holding himself rigid. He desperately wanted to reward his boy. It would be so easy to just press forward two inches to pin him to the table, so easy to just turn his head, press a filthy kiss to his neck.
"Of course, sweetheart. I'll always be there for my favorite boy, as long as I'm able." Tony's hand drifted to Peter's hip, giving a quick but firm squeeze, fingers dipping into the hollow right inside of his hipbone, before letting go and stepping to the side. His mouth watered, fingers tingling as he noticed Peter shuffle closer to the table, the top of which was conveniently placed right above waist height. If his face got any redder, he might spontaneously combust. Probably a good time for a redirect.
"But I'm not invincible, no matter how much I may act like it. Don't tell anyone," he murmured conspiratorially.
Peter rolled his eyes, seeming grateful for the distraction from the previous tension. "Yeah, wouldn't want anyone thinking you're actually human," he shot back.
Tony grinned. Was it weird that he found the insulting, snarky humor stupidly attractive as well?
"Anyway," Peter said pointedly, cutting a glance to Tony standing aloofly at his side now. "So I've looked at the catch and..."
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So since I finally finished my other fic from a year ago, I was feeling nostalgic for my little drabble from back then too. And I’ve also been wanting to see if I can still tap in to my more slutty side so there will hopefully be more to come soon. Idk, we’ll see how it goes 🤷🏻♀️
