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Tony got up from his desk chair with a groan, deciding it was time for an afternoon pick-me-up. He’d been working all morning.
“Hey, kid?” Tony called upstairs.
No response.
“Peter? You awake?”
Tony approached the landing, scratching his head in deliberation. He’d been actively trying to bond with the kid over the past year, hoping to some day solidify his role as a stepfather and caregiver, but it was obvious that Peter had issues. The boy would go days without talking to him, and then when Peter finally did break the silence, all he had were lewd comments or probing questions about Tony’s sex life prior to marrying his mother.
Tony sighed. Peter was probably taking another nap as he always seemed to do. He wouldn’t bother him. It was for the best, anyway. Tony didn’t feel like having to pretend he wasn’t checking the kid out while he paraded around in nothing but boxers.
Tony paced the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil. He glanced at his watch. 3:07 PM. There was no way Peter should still be sleeping. The fatherly thing to do would probably be to wake him up...make him complete a chore, or at the very least, come downstairs. It was his duty. He wanted to be a good dad. Firm but fair—that’s what the parenting books had suggested. That’s what Peter’s mother had suggested. Tony found it hard to tell Peter what to do most of the time because the boy was the master of puppy dog eyes.
He decided to wake him up.
Tony opened Peter’s door quietly, expecting to have to jostle Peter awake—since yelling and knocking hadn’t been enough.
Tony was confused for a split second when he saw Peter’s naked back. The kid was whimpering and moaning. His first instinct was to ask if the boy was sick. Was he throwing up?
Then he heard Peter’s voice through the moans, “Fuck me, daddy. I want it so bad.”
“Peter,” Tony breathed.
Peter jumped out of his skin, flailing on the bed and yanking the covers up. “Fuck, dude. Don’t you knock?”
Tony didn’t bother mentioning that he had.
“Is that my underwear?” Tony blurted, gesturing to the discarded boxers beside Peter’s pillow. They weren’t plaid, which pretty much gave it away.
“What were you doing with them?” Tony frowned, walking over to the bed to pick them up.
“Nothing,” Peter lied. “I thought they were mine.”
Tony inspected them. “I wore these yesterday, and I don’t remember coming in them,” he argued with a smirk.
“Well, I,” Peter grimaced. “I uhm--”
Tony tossed the boxers to the floor and pulled Peter’s covers away.
“Hey!” Peter yelped.
“Jesus,” Tony commented. “You’re a fucking mess.”
Peter looked away. No point in trying to hide now. His hard, pink cock was on full display. He’d already come twice in Tony’s boxers. The man obviously wasn’t stupid.
Tony reached forward and wrapped his hand around Peter’s dick. “There’s no way you didn’t hear me calling for you,” he growled.
Peter looked up at Tony with wide eyes.
“You wanted me to find you like this didn’t you?” Tony realized.
“No, I didn’t. I swear,” Peter said, his eyes trailing down Tony’s body. He salivated at the sight of his dick in Tony’s hands.
“My mistake.” Tony took his hand away. “I guess I’ll leave you to it, then.”
“Wait,” Peter blurted, his hand shooting out to stop Tony.
Tony inclined his head, waiting for an explanation.
“Well?” Tony asked when Peter didn’t say anything.
Peter’s embarrassment seemed to shift into pride. “You like what you see?”
Tony nodded without thinking.
“You can have it,” Peter added, leaning back onto the pillow and spreading his legs.
“Fuck,” Tony sighed. “Why?”
“Because I’ve been thinking about it since you picked her up for the first date. Wanted it to be me on the night of your wedding.”
“Well,” Tony began, “now you’ve got what you want…what are you gonna do with me?”
“I think the question is what are you gonna do with me.” Peter smirked, rolling his hips.
“Get on your hands and knees.”
For once in his fucking life, Peter obeyed.