Chapter Text
Peter is swiftly approaching the smashed side of drunk so it was a bit easier for Tony to convince him to take a hit of the joint he’s smoking. Tony Stark is Tony Stark, and he and his buddies get a cordoned off space in the club where management will turn a blind eye towards their shenanigans. As long as the bottles keep pouring signed with a generous tip on top at the end of the night, Tony can do whatever the fuck he wants.
The hard, dirty trap shit they got pounding through the place’s speakers is almost deafening but Peter, despite his inebriation, still hears Tony’s honey-drip voice when he coaxes in his ear, “come on, baby, you can take it straight out my mouth.” Tony sucks kisses on the hollow of Peter’s throat, feeling the boy shiver on his lap.
Peter finds himself nodding and Tony grins Cheshire-wide.
Tony takes a deep inhale and cups Peter’s face firmly, pushing their lips together and breathing the toke into the boy’s mouth. Peter coughs, letting the smoke trickle past his lips in jagged puffs. Tony laughs, rewarding him with a soothing kiss. He offers Peter a gulp of vodka to wash away the taste, the boy scrunching his nose adorably at the burn as he swallows quickly. One of the guys watching them snickers and Tony throws a smirk at him.
“Wanna try again?” Tony asks Peter, already taking another drag.
Peter gives an imperceptive shake of the head with a little whining noise, but he parts his lips anyway, letting Tony push the smoke into his mouth, this time inhaling a little smoother, a little deeper. Peter huffs it out with lidded eyes, swaying a little in Tony’s hold.
“So good, baby,” Tony praises, kissing him all over. Peter’s shirt is riding up and Tony has his free hand rubbing up the boy’s bare back. The shorts Peter’s wearing hugs the curves of his ass so sinfully and Tony’s aching to stick his dick in there again.
They shotgun some more, and Peter even takes a few hits straight from the joint, the smoke rising up and off his pink lips in slow currents.
Peter lets Tony kiss him hard and filthy, not protesting when the older man slips a hand down the back of his shorts, rubbing at his puckered hole. Slipping a finger in is easy. The boy’s still loose and wet from their fucking earlier that night. Peter squirms in his hold, lips parting in an aroused sigh.
Tony kitten-licks at those strawberry lips. “You high, baby?” he murmurs.
“Yeah,” Peter moans, eyes dark and unfocused. He takes the final drag like that, grinding his hips in little circles as he’s getting fingered, before Tony takes it from him and stubs it out.
Peter runs his fingers through his own hair, throwing his head back and stretching his long, lithe torso as he writhes to the beat on Tony’s lap, eyes fluttering shut and completely uncaring about where he is and who’s around. He makes such a pretty picture and Tony slips another digit into him, finger-fucking him a little faster.
“Shit, Stark, your slut looks about ready to blow,” one of his buddies comments. The guy’s got a girl in a short dress grinding on his dick but his eyes are locked on Tony’s boy. Tony doesn’t blame him. Peter’s the prettiest thing they’ve got playing for them.
“Yeah,” Tony agrees. “Might even let you have a go when I’m done.” He’s not, really. As if he’d ever let anyone else touch his boy. But Peter’s so strung out that the thought of him probably letting Tony do whatever he wants to him, including loaning him out to his buddies gets Tony so hard it almost hurts.
Tony unbuttons his pants and takes his dick out to relieve the pressure.
No, he’s not gonna let anyone lay a hand on Peter, but he might just let them watch his boy get fucked.