Peter being a model photographer, enjoying documenting people in both candid and polished pictures. He loves his job, but he’s struggling to get work when he gets a call from one of the world’s most famous male model, Tony Stark.
Well, not a call from Tony Stark himself, just a call from one of his many workers. Anyways, it’s an opportunity Peter can’t pass up, no matter how nervous he is.
He’s nervousness is only compounded when he is informed that it will specifically be a partially nude photoshoot. And then, even worsened when he finds out that Tony is just as, if not more, attractive in person than he is on the camera.
maybe it goes like this: steve builds his pack (part 3)
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three
Read on A03
Read the Tony courts Peter wip
Stuckony (focus), Stony, Winteriron, Stucky
A finale to the sweet, slightly angsty backstory in three parts (ending in Stuckony).
Major warnings: D/S Au, A/B/O Au, Dirty dancing, Steve’s got a grip on Tony’s balls
Maybe it goes like this:
Tony doesn’t miss having a pack.
This is the lie he tells himself as he sees a sweet, intimate pack sharing a day out in the city, and later, a young, familial pack with a few pups eating ice cream in the park.
He can vaguely remember his parents buying him ice cream— or maybe he had snuck ice cream out of the kitchen— and eating that alone once. He doesn’t let himself dwell on that for too long.
And being a part of a familial pack by association hasn’t been the worst. He knows worse.
It wasn’t even that his pack growing up had been that bad. Maybe a little emotionally detached, sure, but he’s old enough now to recognize it wasn’t his pack that made the mistake— it was him.
He’s the one who decided to leave after graduating college, convinced that at the mature age of eighteen that he could conquer the world by himself.
Good job, Tony. Where has that left you?
Tony smiles, remembering his dad’s words: Your mistakes are outweighed by your effort to correct them; the damage done is outweighed by your success.
From that day until his dad’s death two years later, his dad was one of his best friends.
Wow, that’s sad.
He’s thankful that his dad followed his own mantra, making up for decades of indifference with calculated companionship and counsel in the last years he had with his family.
Tony guesses that if he had cancer, he would do something similar.
Tony guesses that if he had cancer, he would do something similar.
Tony guesses that if he had cancer, he would do something similar.
Tony used to tell his dad everything: all of his ideas, dreams and hopes for the company. Everything, that is, except his desire for a pack. And his dad, in turn, made sure he was prepared to take over Stark Industries, and had transferred his personal assistant, Pepper Potts, to Tony once he could no longer work in the office.
After his dad’s death, things took a while to get better. He eventually reconnected with Rhodey, his college roommate from MIT. The Air Force Colonel hadn’t been in his Ado-pack out of college, thank merciful god, but they were roommates for a few years and Rhodey had always treated him like a younger brother.
He understands now why his friend was out of touch for so long— his military career took precedence until he accepted a position in New York, working in intelligence. He’s proud of Rhodey, honestly, but had always felt abandoned by his friend. And Tony was also a little bit disappointed when the older man refused to form a pack with him.
“Tony, be realistic,” Rhodey had planted his hands on his hips, giving a twenty-three year old Tony his best disappointed Colonel look, “we aren’t compatible. It would never work.”
It was a repeat argument between them, and had only escalated since Rhodey started dating Pepper a few months earlier.
It wasn’t a secret that Tony was jealous.
“I am being realistic! We’re together all the time, and it would be so easy for you guys to move into my place,” he was desperate, hoping for something he could never have.
Rhodey had sighed, “Dammit Tones. You know I don’t think this is a good idea…” but Tony had jumped on his friend’s hesitation, and eventually convinced the young mates to move in with him.
Two years later, they’re still living with him in his penthouse.
Tony feels alone, sure, but living platonically with a young familial pack is better than living by himself. Or, god forbid it, with a toxic intimate pack.
He shudders as he tightens his tie, taking a long look in the mirror, shaking off the last of his thoughts. Tonight’s a good night.
His suit is tailored perfectly— accentuating his waist and shoulders, lengthening his legs in expensive slacks, and completed with his favorite burgundy tie and gold cufflinks. Damn he looks good. With a wink he’s through the door, heading to the garage and grabbing his wallet off the counter.
He takes the Lambo, because why not and shows up only fifteen minutes late, tossing his keys to the valet and skipping up the stairs to the Met.
A few people try to talk to him on the way in, and he gives away a couple smiles, weaving through the crowd to find his friends and making his way up to the Great Hall and Balcony.
“Tony!” a familiar voice calls across the Hall, and Tony spins to find the happy couple heading his way.
“Rhodey! Pep! What a crazy party, congratulations,” he pulls both of them into a hug, giving Pepper a brief kiss on the cheek, and then, at Rhodey’s pouty-face, swooping in and giving him one too.
Pepper giggles, squeezing her fiancée’s cheek when he recoils in disgust, “Thank you, Tony. And thank you, again, for pulling the strings necessary to get this place— it’s absolutely breathtaking.”
“Hey, it was no problem,” Tony deflects, forcing his smile a little wider, “they set up the sculpture court, right? Pep, I know you’re gonna love that—”
Rhodey’s smile is back, and he laughs, clapping Tony on the shoulder, “Yeah, Tones, they gave us the tour when we got here, it’s great.”
“Good, good, that’s… good.” Tony awkwardly pauses, and his friends exchange a look, Pepper winking — which is terrifying— before smiling secretly.
Both of them turn, and Rhodey motions behind him, “Hey, I’ve gotta find someone. You’ll stay put?” he gives a pointed look to Tony, disappearing before he can respond.
Pepper shakes her head affectionately, grabbing Tony’s hand as he tries to escape. He whines a bit, turning his best innocent eyes on her, “But Pep, I haven’t even had a drink yet. And he wants me to meet people.”
“Hush. You trust us, right?”
Unfortunately, yes.
“Ah, great,” Rhodey comes up to them, towing someone else. Okay, understatement. Towing a large, hunk of a man behind him, filling out his Army blues like they were designed with his body in mind. He’s young— baby faced and adorable— completely out of his depth, probably. His smile actually looks genuine, because Tony can easily see the confusion breaking through his perfectly clear complexion.
Damn, Tony wants a bite.
“Tony, I’d like you to meet my friend, Captain Steve Rogers,” Steve puts forward his hand, and Tony grasps it as Rhodey continues, “... and Steve, this is Tony Stark, my best man.”
Steve looks appropriately stunned. He places his left hand right over top of where they are still joined, and meets Tony’s gaze with a small nod, “Mr. Stark, it’s a pleasure.”
If Tony wasn’t so sure this man was the most dominant piece of military Alpha in the room, he’d ask the good Captain to get on his knees. And beg. Fuck. As it stands, he’s never felt this enamored and respected in an initial meeting— damn, this man knows how to make a first impression.
“Tony, please,” he corrects, smirking into Steve’s beautiful face, “and the pleasure’s all mine, Captain.”
He waits for Steve to release their hands, but all he gets is a similar smirk in return. The larger man squeezes where their hands are joined, brushing his thumb over Tony’s knuckles, and leans in to murmur, “You can call me Captain all night long.”
He releases Tony from the magnetic hold on his hand, and Tony is slightly embarrassed to feel his face heat up, and clears his throat. It’s been years since someone could fluster him like this, and this man has been able to do it in seconds. Before Tony can respond, Steve adds, a little louder for the public ear, “—but just stick with Steve for now.”
“Alright, Steve— how do you know…” and as Tony goes to bring Rhodey and Pepper back into the conversation, he realizes that the couple has left without a word. Tricky bastards.
Steve doesn’t seem phased, though, and answers the question as if Tony had even bothered to finish it,
“I met Jim a year ago during my summer post in Taiwan— both of us were stationed there, doing a few months of consulting for specialized ops, and were fast friends. I swear, Jim was my only buddy over there, and he’s one of the most honorable men I’ve ever met,” the smile that follows his words is soft and remembering, “how about you, Tony?”
“Rhodey and I were roommates at MIT— he’s always been my big brother, and both him and Pep live with me now—”
“Oh,” Steve interrupts, “I didn’t realize you were pack, I just assumed—”
“No, definitely not,” Tony stops him, laughing to help lighten the sensitive subject, “I don’t have a pack. But if we were compatible, I think the two of them would be it for me. It just… it doesn’t work for us,”
Steve shakes his head, a serious expression falling over his features, “No, I get it, that’s personal— I shouldn’t have brought it up. Please, can I— can I grab you a drink?”
Tony resists the urge to reach out and grab his arm, to reassure Steve that there’s no harm done, but instead agrees, “Sure, yes— uh… why don’t you surprise me?”
The flirty, light smile is back, and Steve easily agrees, leaving Tony to find the open bar. He’s thankful for the time to process, easily dismissing a few guests who try to start a conversation with him.
How could Rhodey have kept this guy hidden for so long? Tony barely got a whiff of him, almost getting enough scent to determine compatibility, but not quite. How old is this guy, anyway? And Army? What is Rhodey thinking?
“Here ya go,” Steve’s voice breaks through his thoughts, and he jumps a bit, turning to see the Captain holding two glasses and wearing an unsure smile,
“Damn, Steve— warn a guy?” and he grins playfully, thankful to see Steve laugh along. Tony makes a grab for the glasses, and Steve pulls them out of his reach, laughing even harder, before handing Tony the low tumbler with dark amber liquid and a single orange peel garnishing the top.
Tony peers back up at Steve, “Old Fashioned? With—” he takes a sip.
“Bourbon,” Steve answers before Tony can, and sweet lord, this man has good taste.
Swirling the drink gently, Tony hums and closes his eyes at the taste. Just like his dad used to make.
“I’m glad you like it,” the low voice adds to the moment, and for just one second, Tony allows himself to get lost in the fantasy of drinking sweet Bourbon in his den, with a strong, blonde man by his side.
He opens his eyes to reality, “It’s perfect, Steve,” earning him a satisfied hum in return, “now tell me, what are you drinking this evening?”
“Oh, well—” Steve looks a little hesitant, holding up his larger glass for inspection, “it’s called a Tom Collins.”
“A craving for something sour, Captain?” Tony takes a step closer, sipping his drink slowly.
Steve licks his lips, “I like a good balance,” he takes a long drink of his gin, “and the orange is my favorite part.”
Tony watches his mouth move, admiring his full bottom lip as it’s tugged back by his teeth, breathing in the faint scent of Coffee and Thunderstorms, “You know what,” Tony dips his head forward, peering up at Steve through his lashes, “the orange is my favorite part as well.”
There’s a sharp clink clink clink sound, and the moment is broken between them as attention is called back to the engagement. Tony realizes, regrettably, that he’s supposed to be up front, and gives Steve one last desperate look before leaving to address the crowd.
After the party, he searches for Steve. He asks Pepper, and then Rhodey— both of whom haven’t seen Steve since their introduction earlier.
“Sorry, Tones, but if you want to see him—”
“No, no,” Tony dismisses the suggestion, “it doesn’t— don’t worry about it, it’s— I’m okay, I’m fine, alright? All good.”
Rhodey tries to protest, but Tony just ignores him, kissing Pepper goodbye as he makes a hasty retreat out of the museum. If he can get home first, maybe they won’t ask him to talk about his feelings.
---
Tony doesn’t miss having a pack.
It’s been exactly a year since Pepper and Rhodey moved out, and Stark Industries has never been stronger.
Probably because every spare moment he has is poured right back into his company.
Every. Spare. Moment.
Which is probably why Tony’s late for his best friend’s wedding.
It had been a rough night— Rhodey had insisted on staying up late to bar hop, and their small bachelor party had torn up the most cutting edge and expensive bars all throughout New York City. The downside, unfortunately, is that coming back home at 4 AM— drunk and somehow already hungover— leads to the absolute worst morning a twenty-seven year old could ask for.
So honestly, it’s not Tony’s fault that he shows up a half hour late, barely dressed in his tux, and sunglasses practically taped to his face.
His saving grace ends up being Rhodey. Again.
An assistant meets him at the door, ushering him into the dressing rooms, and tugging off his tux as he moves. He’s handed a cup with a vague order to drink, and the sunglasses are unceremoniously tugged from his face. He struggles a bit under the attention, but after a few minutes of the world’s worst smoothie, blinding light, pressing, steaming, ironing, shaving, and makeup application that will not be mentioned again— Tony is shoved into a larger room with the rest of the bridal party.
Before he can even begin to apologize, Rhodey is stepping forward,
“Tony, this is the least I owe you, brother.”
The statement alone almost has Tony in tears, and he closes the distance to pull Rhodey into a tight hug, whispering, “My body will never forgive you, Rhodey-bear.”
And the wedding goes on without a hitch from there. Pepper, as it turns out, had told Tony to arrive an hour before he even needed to be there— fully expecting him to arrive late. Because of this, he’s sober and aware when his best friends walk down the aisle. It’s a moment to remember.
Pepper looks like a queen— the Beta wears a perfectly tailored trumpet gown, trimmed with delicate lace and a scalloped neckline. Her mate cries— hell, Tony cries.
And a few hours later, he’s sitting alone at the open bar, swishing his drink and thoughtfully picking at the orange slice at the bottom of the glass. He knows he’s one of the only people avoiding the dance floor, but can’t find it in himself to join the party. Instead, he nurses his glass and silently watches his friends dance and laugh together.
“Tom Collins?”
Tony turns to the voice coming from his left, and is greeted with ice-blue eyes, the sharpest jaw known to man, and a filthy pair of lips.
“Tony, but close.”
“Tony—” his name sounds like sin coming from this man’s mouth, “wanna dance, sugar?”
“I really shouldn’t—”
“— c’mon, sweetheart. You’ve spent enough time with this drink, don’tcha think?”
His glass is stolen by this tempting man, who sets it down with a sweet smile and stands to his feet. He extends a hand, and Tony hesitates. He really shouldn’t— it’s been a long day, and he’s not exactly sober. Plus, Pepper might kill him if he makes a scene.
He takes the man’s hand, “Just one song, got it?” and all he gets is a wicked grin in response before he’s pulled off towards the dance floor.
The song playing is low— thrumming and hot. Most of the younger packs have already checked in for the night, saving their pups from the close grind of desperate bodies, scents mingling in Desire and Arousal. It takes only one sweep of the crowd to notice Pepper and Rhodey in the center, leading their guests in a sinful dance— magnetic and dangerous.
The man from the bar stops at the outer rim of the circle, pausing for a moment to strip off his tie and suit jacket. His eyes sweep over Tony’s appearance, and he steps closer, breath tickling the nape of his neck as he asks, “May I?”
Speechless, Tony nods. He’s surrounded with sweet Oranges and creamy Milk Chocolate as the Omega gently loosens his tie, pulling it over his head and folding it onto the table before slipping his hands up Tony’s shoulders, pushing underneath his jacket, and tracing his arms until the jacket falls, forgotten.
Chest to chest, the Omega looks up through his eyelashes, “Dance with me, Beta.”
Pulled closer to the center of the crowd of moving bodies, Tony keeps the man pressed against his side, then shifts to face him. He’s only an inch taller than this Omega, but the similar height works to their advantage as Tony grabs his hips, starting a slow grind that has the man in front of him clutching at his neck, his hair, and breathing out a sigh.
“Like that, baby?” Tony growls, digging his fingers into the Omega’s hips as they move together, foreheads touching, enjoying the friction and small sounds coming from his partner.
“Don’t stop, please,” Oh, begging sounds divine coming from this younger man’s lips. Tony wants to do absolutely wicked things to this guy.
They move together, the Omega shifting to follow his rhythm and relaxing under Tony’s hold as he moves his right hand higher, scratching his nails along the gentle arch of the man's back, as his left hand moves lower to firmly grip his ass. He squeezes, and the sweet Omega moans Tony into his neck.
“I’ll give you what you need, baby.”
“B— bucky,”
“Bucky?”
He gets a smile in return, along with a particularly dirty move of his hips, “My name is—”
“Bucky?”
A third voice breaks the spell, and Bucky sighs, stopping their dance and putting a bit of space between their bodies— which does absolutely nothing to hide their shared arousal.
“Whaddaya want, Stevie?”
Tony looks over his shoulder to see a hulking, blonde and horrifyingly familiar Alpha standing behind them— arms crossed and a face that screams unamused.
“I wanna know why my mate is putting on a show with—” he finally looks at Tony, and his expression blooms with shock and recognition, “— Mr. Stark. Of fucking course.”
“Language.”
“— shut up Bucky, of course you’d happen to find him of all people…”
“Well,” Bucky starts to defend, “you wouldn’t make a move, so I thought I’d get things started.”
Now Tony’s confused, “Wait, hold up,” he looks between the two men as they glare at each other, “did you… are you trying to get with me?”
The couple turns and looks at Tony like he’s an idiot, Steve gesturing at where he’s still hard in his pants, “You didn’t get that from the reenactment of Dirty Dancing a few minutes ago?”
Bucky lets out a sharp laugh, cutting through the tension, and Steve’s face practically melts at the sight and scent of HappyAmusedOmega. Tony bets his face is doing something similar as he shakes his head in protest, “You guys are really serious? Can we— can we talk somewhere… more private?”
Definitely the wrong thing to say, because Bucky practically cackles in glee, “Darlin’ you can do anything to me in private,” and Steve reaches over to smack him on the shoulder,
“Slow, Bucky,” and he earns an eye roll from his mate, “Tony, let me see your phone.”
Right now, Tony feels like putty in his hands, which is probably why he gives over his unlocked phone without a word. Bucky slings his arm around Tony’s waist, and he notices that the crowd has thinned out, music slower and without the charge from before. Steve types a few things before handing the phone back,
“I put in our numbers— Tony, if you want to see us again, for dinner or even just coffee, please text us,” Steve squeezes his shoulder, and then moves his hand to cup Tony’s elbow, pulling him— and Bucky, by consequence— in closer,
“Tony, I need you to know: you are not obliged to see us again, even though we come on a little strong. You are— we are—”
“You’re all he could talk about tonight, Tony,” Bucky cuts in, turning Tony to look into his eyes, “and maybe you’ve never given him a second thought, but he met ya last year and has been dyin’ to see ya again—”
“— Bucky—” Steve warns,
“No, sorry Alpha, but it needs to be said. Tony, I have a feelin’ the three of us are damn compatible, and it would be a waste not to try. Give us a chance, yeah?” and the silence that follows is paired with twin expressions, eager and hopeful.
“Guys, I…” Tony is tired of being alone. He’s tired of denying what he really wants.
“... I’ll text you soon, okay?”
At the startled look from Steve and whispered oh, okay Tony from Bucky, he flees. He’s a perfect Cinderella alright— too afraid of honest confessions to stick around long.
But maybe he’ll keep his promise.
---
It takes a week for Tony to text them, and he does it as a group message. Both mates seem relieved to hear from him, and set up a date for that weekend, insisting that they pick him up and pay.
It takes two weeks after that, and three more dates, for Tony to realize that they want to formally court him.
A month after they start courting Tony, he asks about their intentions.
“I’ve gotta wonder, guys— are you really that serious about building a permanent pack? Or is this just a seasonal pack for you guys while you’re getting out of the Army?”
Bucky looks hurt by this, but it’s Steve who spells it out.
“I know we’re young, Tony. I mean— you’re not even thirty, Buck is twenty-one and I’m just twenty-two. Look, I know I’m really young to be a pack Alpha. Neither of us have experience leading a pack, but… it’s been something we’ve wanted for a while. It’s the reason Buck and I haven’t bonded yet, and it’s a dream of ours to have an intimate pack to start a family with.”
He’s stunned by Steve’s words. His pack growing up definitely wasn’t intimate, and after his horrible Ado-pack, he had completely dismissed the idea of ever having something like that again. But now.
“Tony, darlin’,” Bucky reaches forward to take Tony’s hands, “I think we have something really special, here. It could take years to build our pack, but Steve is pretty sure six is our magic number. Don’t ask me why. And also,” he hesitates, looking down at his hands, "I’ve gotta tell ya somethin’ important. Two things, actually.”
“What is it, sweetheart?” Tony asks, concerned, as Steve gives Bucky a nod of encouragement.
“Well, first of all,” Bucky looks back into Tony’s eyes as he continues, "Steve and I are compatible by memory. Like— when we first scented each other, a few years ago, we had a scent memory. We— we haven’t bonded because of the pack, but we will. And second,” he pauses a moment, “I’m not pack omega.”
“You’re… not?”
“No, I— I’m not a submissive, Tony. I’m Vers and swing submissive for Steve most days. But I can’t fully submit for a pack, and this means there will be a fully submissive Omega who mates with us. And gets— gets to—”
Steve cups his mate’s cheek, “Baby,”
“No, it’s. It’s fine, Stevie, I—” Bucky tries to pull out of Steve’s hold, but the tears are already falling as he rubs them away, “— I just can’t. I can’t give you pups.”
Oh. Oh. Tony did not know that.
Bucky is tucked under Steve’s arm as the Alpha continues to explain, “When we bond as a pack, if we decide to bond, it’s very likely that only the submissive pack Omega will pup for the pack Alpha. It was— hard, you know? Realizing that Buck and I can’t have a family—”
At this, Bucky buries his face in his hands and lets out a single sob,
“— but we’re willing to give that up if it means having the perfect pack, okay?”
Tony is shocked. He guesses it makes sense that the pack Alpha and Omega would be biologically directed to mate together. It seems unfair, though, that a scent compatible, soulmate pair wouldn’t be able to start a family. But—
“What about other bonded members?”
Both men look up at Tony in confusion, “What do you mean?” Steve asks.
“I mean, what if two other packmates decided to mate. Is there a chance they would pup?”
Bucky still looks confused, but Steve’s face lights up in understanding,
“You mean, what if we all bonded— would you and Bucky be able to get pregnant?”
“Wait, is it possible?” the hope in Bucky’s eyes is devastating as he looks between Alpha and Beta, gripping onto Steve’s arm with fresh tears shining on his cheeks, “could I still have pups?”
“It’s possible, Buck, but I have no idea.”
Bucky ignores Steve’s response and stands from his seat, moving quickly to Tony and straddling his lap, throwing his arms around the Beta’s neck. Tony steadies him with arms around his waist, and rocks them gently as Bucky starts to cry into his neck.
After a few minutes, Steve looking at them with overwhelming affection, Bucky’s tears run out and he sniffles into Tony’s neck, “Thank you, my Beta.”
“For what?”
The Omega pulls away, pushing Tony’s hair out of his face as his smile widens,
“Giving me hope.”
---
In May, Bucky finally graduates from West Point, and decides to work in engineering in the city. Steve has been working with Rhodey in “intelligence” for a year, and Tony finally feels happy.
They spend most of their time at Steve and Bucky’s apartment in Red Hook. Tony doesn’t mind the drive, and absolutely hates being alone in his penthouse— plus, he’s come to actually like Brooklyn. And if he spends his free time searching for the perfect spot to build a house, no one has to know.
And it works fine for now, because Steve still insists on taking it slow— although if Bucky and Tony had it their way, the three of them would already be mated. It sometimes feels like just the two of them are dating and Steve’s their chaperone, drawing boundary lines of, “Hey, clothes stay on, boys,” and, “Bucky, get off Tony’s lap, I swear to god.”
So Tony corners Steve.
Or more accurately, Steve is fixing them dinner and Tony pins him to the counter from behind, grinding up into his ass and growling.
He feels Steve stiffen beneath him, and Tony laces their fingers together where Steve’s are resting on the counter, nibbling on the back of his neck inches from his bonding spot.
“What’re you doin’ Tony.” it’s barely a question, and Tony just tightens his grip and bucks his hips forward, letting Steve feel his arousal.
Steve growls in response and turns in his arms, breaking Tony’s hold. He looks into the Alpha’s eyes, blazing red, and Steve slowly prowls forward, backing Tony into the fridge. His arms come up to frame Tony’s face as his back hits, forcing eye contact and baring his teeth in a predatory smile.
One of his hands reaches lower, gripping Tony and causing the Beta to groan at the friction, “Is there something you want, baby?” Tony shakes his head, losing the confidence from earlier, but Steve continues, “you need to use your words, Tony. I can’t help ya if you don’t tell me what you need.”
Ooo, Tony’s blood burns with the challenge, and he rocks forward into Steve’s grip, his own hands reaching forward to hold onto the Alpha’s shoulders. Steve presses in closer, and Tony licks a small stripe up his throat, stopping centimeters from his ear, “I need you, Alpha. Why can’t I have you?”
“Oh, Tony,” Steve chuckles, releasing his grip and sliding both hands around to cup Tony’s ass, pulling them closer until their fronts are pressed together, betraying Steve’s obvious interest, “you can have me all you want, baby. I just need something from you first.”
“Yes, Steve. Fucking anything.”
He’s pushed away, back hitting the fridge as Steve steps back, “Be ours. Promise it. Move in with us, and then we’ll mate.”
“Alpha,”
“Those are my terms, Beta,” Steve puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder, pushing him out of the kitchen and into the living room, “and until then, let me finish cooking and go keep Buck company, okay?”
He doesn’t wait for a response, and turns back to his meal while Tony stands frozen in the doorway. He can see Bucky lounging on the couch, wrapped in soft blankets and pretending he hadn’t just heard their whole conversation. He sees the way Steve moves around the kitchen, natural and dominant in his home— caring and providing for his pack.
For my pack, Tony thinks to himself.
“I’m yours.”
Both sets of eyes are on him, and Steve drops everything in his hands. He sees Bucky stand up from the couch.
Steve takes a step towards him, “W— what did you say?”
“I said— I’m yours. And you’re… you’re mine. My pack,” he looks into Steve’s eyes as the taller man steps into his space, “My Alpha.”
He hears a soft exhale, and feels Bucky grab his arm. Tony turns, “and My Omega.”
“My Beta,” Bucky breathes,
Steve kisses the Omega’s cheek, smiling wide, and pulls Tony into his arms,
“Ours.”
No, Tony doesn’t miss having a pack. But here— wrapped up in between his Alpha and Omega— he’s wanted, he’s safe, and he finally belongs.
Steve doesn't go out a lot to bars, doesn't like the thought of being close to drinks and drunk men and women who don't know what their doing and doesn't like the smell of cigarettes that wafts in the air but he's trying to be different and be more outgoing so he asks Bucky and Sam to take him to the bar that he knows they frequently go to.
The smell of cigarettes aren't wafting through the air like he expected but loud and crowded and- he's really regretting going out tonight. Bucky leaves and goes off with some redhead upstairs, Sam does too eventually and Steve's left alone in the lounge that they chose.
He gets up eventually and makes his way to the bar- though he's not a fan of drinking, right now he thinks he needs something to subside the headache the booming music is giving him. He leans on the counter while he waits for the bartender to make his drink and his eyes drift over to the dance floor where there are couples dancing and some people just slightly bobbing their heads up and down but what catches Steve's attention is a boy- man really or else he wouldn't be here.
Steve doesn't notice when the bartender is done with his drink and slides it over to him, he's too focused on the man on the dance floor- he's dancing alone but he couldn't look happier and Steve knows he's been staring too long when the boy lifts his head- he doesn't stop dancing though just continues to move his feet around and twirl his body- and meet Steve's eyes and gives gives him a sly grin from the dance floor.
Steve takes in the man's appearance once his body is turned towards him after a small twirl. His hair is brown and wavy and he's wearing a red tank top with a gold color, around the shoulders and arm holes, embedded into it with jean shorts. The man is an erotic sight, Steve thinks and his cock is starting to harden in his pants and he averts his eyes.
Eventually though, the music ends and people are taking the chance to exit the dance floor. Steve keeps his eyes downward though, focused on the water droplets sliding down his drinks glass and onto his hand until a barstool next to him creaks and the corner of his eye catches a familiar red and slight gold shirt sat next to him. He manages to keep himself together until he feels a soft hand on his shoulder so he turns and Steve sees the brown haired man that was dancing on the floor- because who else would it be? Steve thinks, Bucky left somewhere upstairs and Sam- he never saw where he went.
"Hi," The man says simply and Steve can see him better now than from the dance floor; he can see the beads of sweat on the man's forehead from dancing and he can see his eyes now, they're simple but so beautiful and when the stranger repeats himself, another small Hi?, Steve knows he's been staring too long at the stranger again.
"Hi" Steve says and he tries to be confident when he turns his stool to face the man but his mouth goes dry and his hand plays with his glass, "You're new around here- no- I mean I'm new around here- I'm Steve"
The man puts a hand over his mouth and giggles, "Peter," he says.
Steve thinks for a moment that their done- that Peter thinks he's not worth talking to anymore despite it only being a few minutes that they'd met and he's pleasantly surprised when Peter gets off the stool, once a new song starts, and takes his hand with him and says: I love this song! Dance with me!
His footsteps are awkward when he steps onto the dance floor but when Peter takes his other hand in his own, Steve doesn't think he minds but he does mind for a moment when Peter's eyes aren't on him anymore and instead looking over towards the bar, grinning slyly, and he tries to see what the man is looking and at first all he can see when he looks over is people mingling and others drinking but then there's a man clad in a leather jacket and- Peter's turning his face over softly and cupping his cheek.
"Why're you looking over there?" Peter pouts, "someone more interesting than me?"
Steve shakes his head at that and bends down, with a little courage, and unashamedly answers: "I don't think anyone could be more interesting than you right now", Peter's eyes flash with something that Steve mistakes for joy and adoration.
Steve's not a virgin, no- he's had his fair share of partners but with Peter grinding up against his crotch to Call Out My Name, he thinks he might as well be and he doesn't protest when Peter pulls him away from the dance floor and up to the upstairs because by then he's forgotten about all of his past partners and the man in the leather jacket that had been staring too much for comfort.
"I've already got a room" Peter says once they reach the top and Steve hums in content; it saves the hassle of finding one.
Peter immediately has him lay on the bed, the room is nice but something in the back of his head is telling to get out! and it's not Peter straddling him, it's the darkness around them that he can barely see the walls but he still bucks his hips when Peter cups his crotch in his hands.
"Oh, god, Peter- get your clothes off, come on, doll"
He's confused for a moment when Peter backs off of him and steps off the bed and then his gut is churning and his head is screaming, get out! get out! repeatedly until there are arms wrapped around his neck and he's struggling to get away from something- two pairs of muscular arms that aren't Peter's- Peter.
"Peter!" Steve chokes, "G-Go get help! Now!"
Steve watches Peter turn but he's slow and carelessly and instead of watching the man go out the door- Steve watches him lock it and he whimpers. He's thrown off the bed just as carelessly as Peter had walked and he gasps for breathes on the floor but when he tries to get up pain shoots through his body and he falls back down.
"Couldn't find anyone, oh I don't know- less whiny?" Someone above him complains, a deep voice and Peter giggles.
" 'm sorry, Tones," Peter mumbles into the man's leather jacket and Steve recognizes it from not only a few minutes ago, he watches Peter slip his hand into the mans- 'Tones' shirt and despite the fear coursing through him, Steve feels a spark of jealousy.
"His friend was much easier" Tones says and Peter laughs.
"You sure? He gave you a black eye, Tony" Tony, Steve thinks and he puts the worrying feeling he has for Sam and Bucky for a moment to muster enough strength in his legs and arms to bolt from the door but even though he picks and turns the lock, it doesn't budge and he feels pain shooting through his back a moment later while being pressed against the wall.
"Was hoping I wouldn't have to use my knives until later but you're a lot tougher- probably got a lot of hope left in you huh?"
"Fuck you" Steve spits and he feels his blood go down his back when Tony takes the knife out of his back and let's him slide down to the floor.
"I gotta say I was a little jealous of you tonight," Tony says, "Peter doesn't usually spend much time dancing with his prey- which is why," Tony pulls out a bigger knife from behind him and Steve trembles, "I'm gonna take my time with you"
From the bed, both of them can hear Peter laugh, "he doesn't mean anything, daddy, it's not that serious"
Tony drops the knife, Steve thinks he should've waited to attempt to take the knife but the yearning to escape stops him from thinking rationionally and before he can turn around to take the knife- he's being kicked onto his back now while Tony walks away from him.
"It better not be, boy, I'd fuckin' kill you if he did mean something to you- if any of them did"
Peter moans and despite the blood loss his cock hardens at the sound of it, "I'd- ah, I'd kill you too if any of them did too"
"Fuckin' love you so much, baby"
"Love you too"
Down on the floor beside them, Steve feels his blood pool around him and his eyes begin to droop and he almost feels like fighting- Sam and Bucky would have fought, he thinks before he succumbs to the darkness and above him Tony latches his mouth onto Peter's neck- turned on by the smell of metallic in the room and the younger man beneath him.
"All mine, " Tony says and after he sucks another dark spot onto Peter's neck he detaches himself and gestures to the unconscious body on the floor before he says: "let's have some fun, yeah?" and Peter nods enthusiastically like he always does.
