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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 3 years

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Give In To Me

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker) Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my post for the “new love” square for the @starkerfestivals January event. I listened to the song Give In To Me a stupid amount of times to get this one just right. Word Count: ~6.6K Warnings: There is some homophobic language/actions and a bit of violence in this one. It’s not the fluff fest most of my fics usually are, so approach with caution! Summary:

Tony always knew he was a little different - and growing up on a ranch in the middle of nowhere Wyoming didn't leave room for that type of uniqueness. College is supposed to be a godsend, and for a while - it is. Things start to spiral out of control when Tony's father dies and whiskey takes the wheel.

Twenty something years later, Tony is still struggling with the aftermath. It's not until the gorgeous cowboy Peter Parker walks into his life that Tony starts to feel like living again.

Or, the one where society sucks and Peter makes it all better.

Read on AO3 here.

In all 45 of his years, Tony never thought of himself as weak.

There were times when shit got hard and the walls felt like they were sinking in on him – even then, the feeling of weakness never even registered.

From the second that Peter Parker walked into his life – everything changed. The feeling of weakness came from the way the tan Stetson sat so temptingly on his head; the brim tucked down over his eyes that made searching out his gaze something of a mission. It came in the way his heart picked up when he saw the lean cowboy, his face and body still giving off the slightest hint of youth that Tony could only fondly remember in his later age.

Most importantly, the weakness came when it was just him and Peter – the two of them tackling the stalls or discussing the latest specs for the crop rotation they meticulously planned. In all his life, Tony didn’t once feel that earth-moving feeling of rightness like he did when in Peter’s orbit.

All of Peter’s finer attributes and deeply engrained intelligence compiled together could easily bring him to his knees – Tony fought with himself daily to simply stay standing under the strain of what Peter made him feel so easily. After almost fifty years of repressing all of his emotions, especially the hard ones like love and attraction, Tony found himself both fearful and excited by the immensity of his plentiful feelings for Peter Parker.

He wanted to burn from the fire of it all, while melting Peter down and taking him into the blazing madness together.

Of course, his thoughts were much braver than his actions and behavior.

It was never easy – coming to terms with his differences. From an early age, Tony could feel how other he was. Though he loved ranch work with all of his being, the thought of learning and getting so much more from the world settled in him before he really understood what it all meant. Where his daddy didn’t give a shit about his schooling, Tony strived to excel. Information and knowing things came pretty easy to him, and he reveled in it.

He studied so much, he figured the cows would start mooing all of the different facts and tidbits of information he always recited to them during his fence checks and daily feeds. There was always a craving for more that settled deep within him – the thing taking home in him in a way that held tight and wouldn’t come close to letting go.

Things got even more interesting when he figured one of the biggest differences between him and all his other buddies was the fact that he wanted to kiss them, and not the girls they were always whispering and gossiping about. He found out pretty early how off the wall those feelings were and desperately tried to stamp them down.

For a lot of his childhood, Tony did a lot of that – stamping things down. Whether it was his smarts or the warmth in his stomach he got when looking at certain boys, Tony did whatever he could to let those things fly under the radar. He figured the best way to stay hidden was to blend in with the normality of the crowd.

The one thing Tony wasn’t ever going to compromise on was his future, however – it was one thing to hide his brain and all the things he could do with it, but a whole other thing to waste it, just because someone didn’t like it. His daddy fought tooth and nail to get Tony to ditch the educated man dreams and stay exactly where he’d always been.

Taking over the ranch could wait – there were so many things to learn and tons of opportunities for Tony to do it.

When the acceptance letter for UT Austin came, Tony hid the envelope away and quietly went about the process of getting himself set up for attendance that next fall. Like most things in his life, Tony put his entire life together after high school by himself – making his own decisions and following the dreams that he never let anyone else know about.

Austin meant more acceptance – besides the amazing university, Texas’s capital was rumored to be amongst the more liberal parts of the state. For someone who held a whole piece of himself back in fear of what might happen, escaping to a place that wouldn’t condemn him for his preferences felt pretty sweet.

Against his parents’ wishes, Tony left for college immediately after graduation – his work ethic and know-how getting him a fellowship within the agricultural engineering department that got him to school as early as possible. Getting away meant everything after such a long time being cooped up in a small town with people who had narrow minds and an even smaller range of interests.

His introduction to all of the other things the world had to offer came hard and fast. His Levi jeans and cowboy boots were a hit amongst the people that never stepped foot outside of the big city – and the boys who liked other boys were not quiet about their appreciation. From nothing to everything all at once, Tony fell headfirst into the life he never knew existed.

And it was nice – for a long time, it was really (really) nice. Tony felt right under his skin for the first time ever and didn’t have to hide himself away – his brain or his lust for beautiful men that could take him apart and put him back together in a way that was much better than what existed before.

He flourished in the classroom, the lifetime of ranch knowledge edging others out in the application and understanding department. Tony used all of the pieces he accumulated over the years to absorb all of the information he could and quickly found himself with a double major in Business and Agricultural Engineering. Though he wasn’t actually planning to go back and take over the family ranch, knowing how to run one from all angles seemed like the right thing to do.

Austin felt like a dream – everything Tony ever wanted was right in front of his face just waiting for him to reach out and take it. And while he could, Tony clung tight to all of the things he never had before and probably never would again.

Things came crashing down when his dad died eight weeks before graduation. The night before he finally got ahold of his mom after noticing more than forty missed calls, Tony was out with his latest fling – Clint Barton, who could do things with his hands that Tony couldn’t get enough of. When he finally stumbled his way back to the dorm, Tony found his answering machine completely full – each one of his mother’s messages more desperate than the last.

Unable to just rush home, Tony settled his mom down and made a few calls to get himself a flight back to Wyoming as soon as he could. As much as he wanted to feel bad about the sudden death of his father, there wasn’t much in him that made Tony ache the way he probably should. His father never understood him – never even took the time to do so. There was sadness, but the idea of missing his very last midterm to mourn couldn’t be processed. Not when he worked so hard to get where he was.

He never planned to go back home – and rushing back just wasn’t in the plans, either; no matter the reason.

Of course, karma had a way of proving that not all decisions were the best. The very next night, while out with Clint and a few of their friends, Tony found himself in a sticky situation. Taking to the bottle the second he had everything in order, his blood was more whiskey than red blood cells by the time they hit one of their favorite bars – the word belligerent sat in the back of his head when he let himself think about just how much the world was tilting and his words were slurring.

While Austin was relatively liberal, there were still many people that came to the city that didn’t share the local attitude about the world. Most people Tony spent his time with were pretty accepting of his preferences and never shied away from him, especially when he brought his dates around. In a lot of ways, Tony felt stupidly lucky; the level of understanding his close friends were capable of surpassed all he received throughout the years of his childhood combined.

That wasn’t to say that the strangers on the street felt the same as his friends, however. Sober Tony understood that piece of information; he logically kept his personal and private business to himself when out in public. That Tony was long gone, replaced with the recklessly drunk version that didn’t keep his hands to himself and couldn’t care less about what other people thought of it.

When he pulled Clint into a kiss without a care in the world, Tony should’ve known he was asking for trouble. There was a beat of time when he pulled away with a smile where Tony felt like he was floating on air – he was just drunk enough to forget the world, just for that single moment. Then, the chocked-out word he dreaded his entire life rang in his ears. ‘Fag’ sunk into his skin, the heat of shame radiating down from his stomach until his legs felt molten with anger and fear. His fists clenched tightly by his side, the alcohol boosting his courage beyond anything reasonable.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Tony roared, his hand pressing flat against Clint’s chest, pressing him back and out of the way. He shifted his body until he was between Clint and the guys now closing in on them.

“I called you a fag. Out here in public, doing something like that – “ the guy was able to get out just enough to push Tony past a breaking point. He didn’t get to finish his thought – Tony’s fist connected with his jaw; then, all hell broke loose.

For what it was worth, Tony gave just as good as he got. After the initial punch, Tony threw himself into the first of the three guys that were gathered around. Searching for Clint’s eyes, Tony nodded his head towards the exit when he caught them. They shared a scared look for a second before the other man was gone, the sound of a fist hitting his cheek covering up the shuffle of Clint’s boots as he fled.

At least he was alone in the beating he took when a swift punch to the back took out a couple of ribs, the pain pulling all the fight from him in one swift breath. By the time his eyes were shutting with blissful unconsciousness, everything felt numb – his body, heart, and his already tarnished soul.

After almost twenty years, thinking back on the experience still took his breath away.

He regained consciousness in a hospital bed with his hands wrapped and one eye swollen completely shut. The thought of not being in jail was the only comfort he felt as every other injury made itself known. Fractured ribs, a dislocated jaw, and bruising everywhere. It hurt to breath and if he pressed too hard with his tongue, his front tooth felt like it might pop right out of his mouth.

Tony stayed hooked up to the machines just long enough to make sure there was no lasting damage, then checked himself out against everyone’s orders. Canceling his flight on account of not being able to handle the pressure of breathing, let alone at thirty thousand feet, Tony put his shit in a bag, packed up his truck, and hit the road. Fourteen hours stood between him and the distance needed to maybe mend his brokenness.

Instead of going back to Austin after putting his daddy in the ground, Tony took to his old room in the house he grew up in and dug into the ranch work as deeply as he could. He finished his degree with a couple trips back to the city to take big tests and put the whole experience behind him the second his diplomas came. All that education, all the time it took, and the effort he put forth – it all seemed a little flat after the huge crash back down to reality. The world wasn’t the big place he so desperately wanted it to be. The realization of that hit so close that he bottled everything inside, put his head down, and finally gave into wishes he’d been resisting for as long as he could remember.

In letting himself fall into the work, Tony found his enjoyment of being around the ranch again. His forethought in school put him in a good position to make some good moves and bring all the land back up to speed. In just a couple of years, Tony brought their profits up and made some decent headway into getting the soil ready and willing to spring up crops to at least sustain them throughout the seasons.

Little by little, Tony took to running the ranch the way his daddy always wanted him to. His mom let go of her work around the place one small chore at a time, her old age catching up to her after so many years of ceaseless work. In the last couple of years before she passed, Tony created the best memories, actually letting himself get to know the woman who raised him and allowing her to see him in return. When he came out, she simply looked at him with a knowing smile.

“I’ve always known, boy. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Those words echoed within him every time he thought of her after that. She succumbed to pneumonia and joined his daddy late in the spring of his thirtieth year. Now completely orphaned, without any family at all, Tony turned to building up the ranch – the place now one of the only ones in the world he could feel some semblance of home.

He started the change with an initial push to bring the ranch into the latest decade. He bought a new herd of cattle and got a few work horses that could maintain the load of the work about to come. Next, he increased the staff on the property. Where Howard got by with only one hired hand, Tony brought on a foreman and three other hands to help with the new livestock. There were several empty bunkhouses on their many acres of land, and with a little bit of fixing up, they made adequate workers’ quarters.

With the manpower and the ability to give up some of the physical labor for the brainier work, Tony watched the land flourish before him. The livestock brought in good profit year after year – the turnaround on the cattle almost enough to bring in new herds almost every year. When the need for a wider stock occurred, Tony wheeled and dealed until he bought out both of his neighbors, their land adding beautifully to the well working operation.

As the years past, Tony got more ingenious and found ways to keep everything organic, the cattle were grass fed, and the small round of crops they were able to sustain year after year grew chemical free. Despite rebelling against it for so damn long, Tony took to ranching like a natural – the land belonged to his family for generations; it was in his blood.

When the crop production started to pick up, Tony figured it was time to bring in a professional with the know-how and education needed to maintain the soil and produce bigger numbers during every yield.

Steve, after years of being Tony’s right hand man, brought up a young agriculture guru that was quickly making a name for himself in the farming business. Without blinking an eye, Tony took his name and number, making the needed calls to get the best in the business there as quickly as possible. In all his years of running things, Tony understood what it meant to tap into potential, and if Steve was right, they were getting someone more than qualified that could easily hit his stride under their care.

All thoughts of business rushed out the window when he first took in all the glory that was Peter Parker. The cowboy hat that sat low on his head made it hard to determine how old he actually was – the word young could be applied to many age groups now that Tony was getting up there in years himself. There was a seriousness to his eyes that made him seem a little older, yet the beauty of youth clung to him like it may never let go.

Then, their eyes met – the crackle in the stare shared between them obvious in the way that both men shifted; brown eyes were glued to him from that moment on. Tony automatically stuck his hand between them, a sudden eagerness in his blood that made his fingers itchy for contact. He wasn’t disappointed when the shock of eyes catching magnified when skin met skin. Peter’s hands were rough, callouses adorning them – they were workers hands, ones that knew what it was like to spend long hours sweating for the cause.

Though the touch was brief, Tony felt it on his skin for the rest of their brief meeting. Tony was enamored from the very beginning but kept his business pants on and listened with interest to Peter’s extensive background and experience with soil analysis, crop rotations, and the like. While he was an aggie where Tony was a longhorn, he figured he could forgive the cowboy for his follies of youth – if his credentials were to be believed, they were getting a real asset to their team.

It didn’t take much convincing on Tony’s end when all was said and done – Steve did a good job selling the place in his initial rundown and Peter was signing the employment contract before the meeting was even finished. Unable to stamp down his excitement, Tony let a rare smile flit across his lips when he looked up to see Peter watching him. There was a glint of happiness bubbling up, and for once, Tony wondered what it would be like to allow himself to enjoy it again.

Realistically, choice wasn’t in Tony’s hands – from the second he saw Peter working on the ranch that first day, his fate was sealed. It’d been so long since the last time Tony allowed himself to look, let alone feel, that he was having a hard time controlling himself. Whenever they were within distance of each other, he found his eyes roving over Peter, his brain desperately attempting to remember everything for later. He figured that Peter could feel the weight of his stare and was later assured of that when he finally brought his eyes back up to Peter’s face after a lengthy perusal to find a shit eating grin on his lips.

They didn’t talk about it – not at first. Tony felt too much shame in the simple act of looking, the last thing he needed to do was rush the process and fuck them both over. Instead, they took to sharing looks and small quips when they were lucky enough to bump into each other. Tony’s love had always been the livestock, so he stuck to the barn and stables the times he decided to get his hands dirty. There wasn’t a lot for Peter to do in that neck of the woods, but they ran into each other often enough, anyways.

One such evening, Tony was cathartically finishing up bedding a few of the horses when Peter walked into the tack room, his eyes roaming over the gear hanging on the wall. In their ever-increasing conversations, Tony came to find out that Peter spent most of his childhood on horseback and liked to be amongst the familiar animals. Leaning up against the door of the stall he’d been mucking, Tony whistled lightly, getting Peter’s attention.

“Want to actually saddle up and ride tonight?” Tony asked, his forearms leaning against the top of the stall. “I haven’t settled Midnight or Cocoa if you’re interested.”

Seeing the flash of hope in Peter’s eye had Tony standing up a little taller, his hand moving to push his cowboy hat up a little further on his head so he could see Peter better. His lips rebelled against him, the corners reaching just under his eyes in the most genuine smile to ever grace his face. He was sweaty and tired and knew that taking the horses out now would make for a couple hours of work later – but it was all worth it. Peter nodded his head excitedly, his long legs already carrying him over to the saddle on the wall he eyed on a nightly basis.

Saddled up and ready to go, Tony clicked his tongue and shifted the reins in his hand enough to get Midnight on the move. Peter followed him closely, their feet a couple inches apart from each other with every shift they made in the saddle.

The cool night breeze moved around them; the trails beautifully lit by the moon casting its glow all around. It was a gorgeous night for a ride and an even better opportunity to get to know the handsome cowboy a little better.

Pulling up on the reins, Tony settled Midnight into a light trot, Cocoa following along seamlessly. He felt comfortable enough to shift forward a little, his stare moving to Peter across from him. “How are you settling in? This is probably a big change from College Station where you’ve been the past few years.”

“I love it out here. I grew up in the middle of nowhere Kansas. My uncle had a few acres that he made last until he couldn’t anymore. Being out here reminds me of the slow days I used to spend out on the range with him. A&M was just a stop along the way. Out here, it’s where I’ve always wanted to be.”

Sucking in a breath, Tony felt the words hit him hard – the vast openness drew him home all of those years ago; there was just something about being able to look up and see nothing for miles. Instead of replying right away, he let the peace of the words and the environment around him settle; it felt good to just be out here, especially with Peter by his side.

“Seems like you’re in the right place, then. It’s real quiet out here and everything moves a little slower than the rest of the world.” He stopped for a second, shifting his fingers in the leather of his riding gloves. “I’m real glad you’re here, Pete. Glad that you don’t dislike the slow stuff.”

Peter didn’t say anything else for the rest of their ride, the silence between them light and easy – like Tony’s admission was the pin needed to break the little bubble of tension that always surrounded them. They made it up and back across the trail before it was too dark – and with an extra pair of hands, Tony got the stable ready for the night much quicker than he initially anticipated.

Without really thinking, Tony placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, pulling until they were pressed side to side. The contact felt amazing yet forbidden – Peter’s heat against him a craving he kept at bay for so, so long. “Thanks for the help closing up. I would’ve been out here for hours on my own.”

Peter moved then, his own arm wrapping around Tony’s waist – no hesitation, no shrinking away from the intimate contact. A couple of seconds went by before Peter moved again, his body turning and free hand coming to rest softly against Tony’s cheek. “Anytime, cowboy. You can’t possibly know how good you look on a horse. Or how sexy you get when you’re sweaty from work.”

The last few words were whispered, the space between them dwindling down to nothing as Peter inched closer – his fingers were wrapped tightly in Tony’s pearl snap, the first few buttons completely loosened by the time their lips finally met.

For just a moment, Tony let himself fall into the kiss. His arm tightened around Peter’s shoulder, bringing him into his chest a little tighter. The other hand reached up to rid Peter of his hat, then did the same for himself. Without the brims in the way, Tony leaned even farther forward, their lips and tongue moving in a dance that felt old hat now that they were finally connecting like this. Peter felt like home from the moment they met, and this intimate connection felt even better.

But then he remembered the many years of isolation and all the shame – the bad memories of those times more than enough to pull him away from the amazing sensation, his lungs burning from lack of oxygen and searing fear of what-ifs and ignorant people. Unable to push it all down, Tony put a bit of distance between them, his eyes glued to the floor where his boots were brushing nervously against the dirty planks.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I-I – “ Tony tried to babble out before deciding to ditch the niceties and make a quick escape out the door.

For two days, Tony avidly avoided the stables. Though it was his favorite place on the entire property, he wasn’t ready to face Peter head-on and knew the younger man would wait to find him there as long as it took. There was an unspoken connection that neither was willing to let go of, no matter how hard Tony fought against it. Between shared looks and hard-won tidbits about each other’s lives, something was created, the bond living and breathing, just like the two of them.

Deep down, Tony knew running away wouldn’t get him anywhere. His self-imposed isolation lasted for almost twenty-five years. In that time period, Tony didn’t take on a lover or even think about letting another person into his life. He got by on his excellent relationship with Steve and the few hands that had been there from the beginning. It was almost too easy to stay solitary and never let the world around him come close to hurting him ever again. The fact that Peter managed to get under the high walls of his fortress meant there was already no escaping it.

And now that their lips had met and Tony knew what it felt like to have Peter pressed against him – well, he almost didn’t want to fight it, anymore. Times changed and so did the way the world saw people with differences.

Unable to come to terms with what happened to him, Tony turned his head away from all of the advancements that occurred – allowing himself to hope for something better felt like a death wish.

Yet, the more time let himself get to know Peter, the more he felt himself wanting to give in to the hope – wanting to give in to Peter and the thing that could easily burn so intensely between them. At what point did the fear that ran his life get the better of him? When, after so much time of being by himself for both protection and self-preservation, was enough actually enough?

The answer to that question came in the form of a knock on the main house door halfway through day three of ignoring the entire situation. He was sock-clad in his kitchen with chicken salad halfway prepared when the sound echoed around the house – his heart kicking up in pace and volume with every resounding pound. Putting everything on the counter, Tony took a couple of seconds to pull in a few deep breaths before he could even think about turning around and answering the door. He wasn’t sure how he knew it was Peter there waiting for him, but something in his gut spoke loudly – the all-too-familiar feeling of rightness dragged him to the door without thought.

With so much adrenaline coursing through him, the door was within his grasp way quicker than he expected. The doorknob was already in his hand before he could think about what came next, and when Peter stood there on the other side, hat in his hands, a somber look in his eyes – Tony lost it. His momentum carried him over the threshold, long arms scooping Peter into him until they were pressed flush together, chest against chest. They shared the same breaths for a moment before lips were upon each other again, this kiss sure where the last one shared between them carried so much apprehension.

Their lips stayed sealed together until Peter pushed against him, the movement just enough to bring his brain back to earth. His eyes searched Peter, Tony eager to understand what brought the distance between them this time.

Understanding the inner turmoil, Peter placed another soft kiss on Tony’s lips, his eyes flashing with mischief and want. “You’re gonna crush my hat,” Peter mumbled, a soft smile overtaking his lips. “Invite me in, cowboy.”

“Oh. Yeah. Fuck – please come in, Pete.”

Tony didn’t hesitate to step back, his heart was racing, and limbs were shaking, but the chance he wanted was right in front of him – and he sure as hell was going to take it; fear and past-precedence be damned. With Peter in front of him the way he was, so open and willing, trusting Tony to make the right decision – he felt like he could take on the world.

Peter walked into the house just enough for Tony to get the door shut before he was manhandling long limbs. Tony’s back pressed against the heavy wood with a gentle push and answering thud. Now that the hat was no longer in sight, Tony took the opportunity to press their bodies back together, the feeling of Peter against him head to toe so intoxicating – literally everything he ever dreamed he could want.

Their lips pressed and pushed together, the never-ending battle of who controlled what continuing throughout the dance to Tony’s bedroom. Landing in a heap like they did, Peter ended up between Tony’s bare thighs, his hands passing across the goose fleshed skin there. Tony threw his head back with every caress, the weight of another man on top of him so foreign and exciting after so many years with only his own hand for company.

A soft nose pressed against the length of Tony’s neck, the exhaled air and light caress dragging a light moan from deep within. Lips traced veins and bare skin until Peter had the lobe of Tony’s ear in his mouth, soft kisses placed around the shell almost enough to end things before they really got started. Tony tensed up, his body desperately fighting itself with every touch and kiss.

“It’s alright, Tony. It’s alright,” Peter whispered, his fingers finding Tony’s to tangle them together tightly. There was a quick shift until their eyes were locked and Peter was gazing down at him with so much lust and affection. He wanted so desperately to give in that his stomach was churning – the need and anxiety battled with each other every step of the way.

Instead of continuing the heavy petting from before, Peter kept their gazes locked – his hands running lightly down and around, then up and back until all of Tony relaxed. He used eyes and lips and arms to smash the surface of what Tony thought reality was, only to bring the truth to the forefront. His desire, the melting hot feeling of being consumed – there was merit to it, and it was returned so deliciously.

Sensing that Tony was finally settled, Peter got back to work – his lips trailed down Tony’s neck, across his collarbones and pecs with nips and licks following that very same path. He paused at each nipple, giving each nub a rundown until both were peaked and hard – the flesh sensitive to every touch now that the pleasure neurons were firing. The softest stubble of Peter’s five o’clock shadow drew soft sounds of joy from Tony’s lips – the idea of having beard burn on his body was insanely attractive; almost too much for his wrung-out soul.

Peter eventually stopped between his legs, that warm tongue of his worming out to trace along Tony’s length, down drawn up balls, across his perineum, and settling against his still tense pucker. He lathered the outside of the muscle with sweeps of a soft tongue and warm kisses – Peter’s ministrations dragging Tony even further under than before; his entire being was ablaze with the best kind of fire and heat.

Nimble fingers spread Tony’s cheeks for more room as Peter upped the stakes and started to go at Tony’s hole with vigor. Little by little, Tony felt the tip of Peter’s tongue press against his rim, each inch of it pressing in easier as the moments past. Every brush got Tony to open up a little further, his legs widening with each lick and press across his most private place.

Soon, a thumb joined in on the action, Peter pressing the digit in without any sort of preamble. Feeling a bit fuller, Tony forced his head up to take in the blissed-out look on Peter’s face. Though he was the one delivering all the pleasure at the moment, Peter looked like he belonged right where he was, settled between Tony’s legs bringing them one step closer to finally falling over the edge – together; the way it should be.

A quick fumble with the bedside table had lube in Peter’s hand, his fingers slick with it before either man could even blink. The added addition of long fingers to the already tantalizing push and pull of tongue and hole had Tony on edge, his cock almost completely untouched until that point. He let one, and then two fingers press into him without complaint – it’d been a long time since he even used fingers on himself, let alone allowing another person to do so. By the time Peter tried to push in with a third finger, Tony was panting with want – the tight bow of his body racked up and ready to release upon the slightest instance of a command.

The clench of muscle and heat around Peter’s fingers must’ve finally been enough for him – he gently removed his fingers from Tony’s ass and quickly fumbled with the lube bottle, the cap and his fingers a sticky-slick combination. While he worked that out, Tony tried not to mourn the fullness, his brain doing its best to remind the rest of him that Peter’s cock was inches away – and probably just as eager to drive home as Tony was.

About to turn over onto his belly, Tony was stopped by Peter’s hand on his shoulder. He gave him a curious look, his head tilting to the side in question.

“I want to be able to see your face,” Peter replied simply, the hand on Tony’s shoulder moving easily to press against his cheek. His thumb traced under Tony’s cheek bone – the caress filled with affection and meant to be calming.

Settling back against the mattress, Tony let out a small sigh. Peter immediately laid down over him, his weight pressing Tony even further into the bed. They shared a look as Peter shifted and moved, the head of his dick pressing against Tony’s entrance almost unexpectedly. With the slightest pressure, Peter popped inside of him, the stretch and burn there, but barely noticed.

Instead, Tony kept his eyes on Peter, their eyes dancing together with lust and want and need and safety – the intrinsic feeling of the rightness between them easing the way with every slow roll of Peter’s hips. Fully seated, Peter broke the gaze, resting his forehead against the side of Tony’s neck, instead. His lips were like liquid fire against Tony’s skin – every piece of him entering into that stage of delicious sensitivity.

“Oh god, Pete. You feel – “ Tony cut himself off when Peter started to thrust, the pleasure of it all robbing him of any tangible communication skills. Moans and pants filled the space instead, the pitch of his noises climbing in volume and intensity with every thrust.

Like most things between them so far, their coupling stayed pretty silent. Peter used touch to talk, instead – his hands gripped Tony’s hips, then shifted to press tightly into the thighs he was now holding up for better leverage for his own hips to thrust and move and roll in all of the right spots. He pressed kisses against Tony’s sweaty skin, and when things got really good, he let his teeth dig into the spot where neck and shoulder meet.

Tony felt his orgasm come on in little increments. His stomach filled with an untouchable heat. The warmth spread from there, down his limbs until each of his digits was completely overcome. When all was said and done, Tony felt the flare of that heat settle into the corner of his heart, the immensity of it dragging him down and under – his body and soul finally free.

Lips pressed against his ear again, Peter’s repeated “come on, come on – give in to me,” the soundtrack of first his orgasm, and then Peter’s right after. His voice shifted, Peter’s mumbled “Tony!” deep and gravely – low in the way that only something satisfying could bring out of someone.

Collapsing in a heap of limbs and sweat and the glorious scent of sex, Tony kept Peter wrapped up tightly against his chest – the thought of either of them going anywhere anytime soon more than Tony could possibly take. Peter was here now – the place in Tony’s arms belonged to him and this experience did nothing but drive that truth home.

He let a grin slip over his exhausted lips – the sedated look following him all the way into the deepest hour of sleep Tony Stark ever got.

Later, when cum and sweat and apprehension were washed away, Peter pulled Tony into the circle of his arms, the still wet strands of floppy hair resting against Peter’s chin. They laid in silence for a while, Tony’s only movement the soft brush of fingers up and back down a lean back.

“Thank you,” Tony mumbled, his arms tightening their hold.

Peter pressed kiss after kiss against whatever skin of Tony’s he could reach in their reclined position, his own grip tightening. “I’ll chase that hurt of yours, Tony. Just stay right here and we’ll get through it together.”

Glancing up, Tony let the words wash over him, let Peter see the way his promise affected him. They locked eyes for the hundredth time that day and with the utmost feeling of rightness, Tony nodded his head. He wanted to give in, wanted to take Peter up on the love and protection and companionship he was offering.

He nodded again, once more for emphasis, then tucked into the perfect Tony-sized spot against Peter’s side. Laying a soft kiss on the skin there, Tony felt himself sigh and relax – finally feeling himself giving in and letting go.

#starker #bobbie writes #give in to me #sorry for the repost #it didn't show up in the tag the first time #fingers crossed it does this time around #peter parker/tony stark

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angst-fairygodmother · 4 years

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Light Fingers (The Umbrella Academy)

Diego’s vigilantism brings him repeatedly across the path of a young cat burglar. But as he finds himself developing feelings for the thief, he begins to wonder if there’s more to her than meets the eye, and whether they’re really on opposite sides. And as their relationship deepens, it brings with it a plot involving his estranged adopted father, and threatens to destroy all of them.

CHAPTER 1: CAT AND MOUSE

Word Count: 2406 Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Reader Warnings: Canon-typical violence Rating: T Cross-posted to AO3: here

Masterlist

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Twenty minutes. Maybe more, if the neighbors were particularly unobservant, but twenty minutes was a sure thing.

Gently, you tested the doorknob, shocked and almost a little insulted when the latch clicked and the door swung silently inward under your guidance. What kind of smug prick leaves home and doesn’t lock the front door behind him; sure, the neighborhood was nice, but it wasn’t that idyllic. Still, gift horses and all that. You shrugged and proceeded in, closing the door again behind you, no need to draw attention, and ghosting up the stairs to the third floor.

Keeping your light low, you looked around for something that matched the description of the painting that would be hiding your target.

“The painting contains three apples and a lemon,” your informant had said.

Unfortunately, nothing in the veritable gallery of this home office was one of those weird fruit still-lifes. Scanning all of the images for some fruit, especially with the variety of art styles on the walls, would take time. You cursed under your breath as you set to work systematically.

It wasn’t like you could hold it against your informant that much. She was a disgruntled and bitter but still scared and reliant employee telling you where to find maybe not all but certainly the most fungible of her shitty boss’s assets. You could permit her a little crypticness, so long as it didn’t blow up in your face in the end. Which, since this bloody fortune was made in arms deals, there was always the possibility of, literally.

Three apples and a lemon, three apples and a lemon, three apples and a...

“Gotcha,” you murmured, the first real sound you had made since entering the house.

The tall painting took up most of the corner where it hung, and the fruit was not particularly prominent, but there they sat, in a bowl on the table of the young couple featured in the image. That was good enough for you. The frame lifted easily off the wall, and behind it, set in was a small steel door with three combination dials in the center. It was cute that he thought that would protect him from you.

Within minutes, the last of the tumblers thunked into place and the door popped open.

“Hello my lovely,” you purred, plucking out a padded box, opening up and gazing briefly at the way the finely cut gem glittered beneath your fingers. “I have a new home for you.”

You snapped the box shut, reveling at the way it echoed through the empty house. It was reckless, but you had earned a little bit of that. There was no one close enough to hear and if there was a security system, all it would pick up was a blip of sound, a glitch. Tucking the gem, and several other treasures from the safe into your bag, you put everything back to the way it was with expert precision.

Nineteen and a half minutes. You should be smart and get out, you knew, but there was no sign of concern, interest, pursuit. And this was the sort of man you wanted to take more from than money. You bit your lip, hesitating. And then you made your way to his desk, which was scattered with files and papers, a treasure trove of corporate secrets and proprietary scandals.

Suddenly, the file you were reading was knocked from your hand and you jumped, startled by the heavy sound of something metal striking wood. Looking down, you saw the glint of a knife sticking out of the desk not more than an inch from your hand. You had been so engrossed in the numbers and figures, math and profits painted in blood, that you hadn’t noticed that you were no longer alone.

“Shit!” you shouted, recoiling.

Leaning in the doorway, another knife in hand, was a man dressed all in black, leather mostly, his eyes covered in a domino mask that really didn’t do much to hide his face. It might stop you from picking him out of a crowd, but if you were to try, you could probably figure out his identity. In fact, as you stared at him in the dim light, you were sure that he looked familiar, a fact you filed away for later, if he didn’t kill you.

“You know, solid black isn’t actually that great for creeping around in shadows,” you said, fighting back control of your voice. “And if you’re looking for Mr. Sullivan, I’m not him.”

“Good thing I’m not looking for him then,” he answered with a smirk. “But it does beg the question: what are you doing in his office?”

“Would you believe me if I said I’m his secretary and he asked me to stop by and pick up a file?”

“In the middle of the night, in the dark, dressed like that?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think I’d get that one to work. Listen, whatever you came here for, I won’t get in your way if you don’t get in mine. We can both walk out of here with no one the wiser.”

“I came here to stop you. Heard about a lurker on the radio and got here faster than the cops. But a lurker looks to me more like a thief.” His head tilted to one side.

“No point in denying it then. I was hired by one of his competitors to try and steal some blueprints for some new grenade design,” you lied, hoping he didn’t know enough about the man to know whether that could be true. “But I don’t see it here, and frankly the payday isn’t worth getting almost stabbed. So how about I just…go and we forget this ever happened, yeah?”

You kept your hands in the air where he could see them and slowly circled the desk, away from the man blocking the doorway, closer step by careful step to the window. You studied it out of the corner of your eye. Heavy, leaded glass. That was going to hurt, but you’d been through worse.

“I’m not going to let you just walk away after you broke in here.”

“Technically all I did was enter, there was no breaking. Asshole left the front door open. Practically an invitation.” You gestured as if to say you were helpless against the temptation.

“Oh in that case…” you couldn’t tell from the distance, but the tone of his voice made you fairly certain that he was rolling his eyes at you. “I’ll be nice and not pin you there,” he gestured again with the knife, pointing at the wall behind you. “But I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

“Oh I dunno…strong handsome guy like you, I might like you pinning me,” you smirked. “But I’ll have to take a raincheck on it. Places to be and all that jazz.”

You had managed to position yourself directly in front of the window now, the light of the full moon shining around you like a very misplaced halo. He was watching your every move closely, tensed like he expected an ambush. Instead, you blew him a kiss.

And then you turned and leapt, smashing through the window in a rain of shards which glittered magically in the moon. By the time he reacted, crossing the room in a flash to stare out into the night below, you were rolling to your feet and running, adrenaline letting you ignore the distance you had fallen and a miracle letting you escape without blood.

You encountered the mysterious man with the knives seven more times over the course of that year. It had become almost a welcome tradition, a warning that someone was onto you, with plenty of time to get out before the actual police showed up. No matter how many times he threatened it, he never hurt you, and he never quite managed to stop you (part of you wondered if this was intentional, as you had worked out early on that this was one of the members of The Umbrella Academy which you had grown up hearing so much about).

“Diamonds again?” he asked, leaning casually against another display case as you placed the glass back over where the necklace now in your hands had been.

“What can I say, I like shiny things?” you offered with a shrug, holding up the jewels before dropping them into the bag at your hip. “And in my defense, I checked the provenance. These were stolen long before they ended up in my hands.”

“So that makes it alright to rob a museum in the middle of the night?”

“Yeah, basically. Doesn’t it?”

“No.” His voice was flat but his face beneath that stupid domino mask was incredulous that you would even try such an excuse.

“What if I add in that the necklace contains blood diamonds and ethically, no one should have them?”

“But you have them.”

“Only until I can sell them. And then I’ll put the money to way better use…I’m thinking Thai food, first at least. Wanna come?”

“What?”

“I’ll fly a signal or whatever it is that summons you and we’ll get dinner. You can leave your mask on if you like.”

“I’m not getting dinner with you.”

“Breakfast then?”

He pointed at you, with the hilt of the knife, as he had started doing more often. “You’re just trying to confuse me so you can escape again. That’s not going to happen this time.”

“Isn’t it?” you cocked your head to one side. “I don’t think the saying goes ‘eighth time’s the charm.’”

“Even if you escape, you’re not in someone’s house or office this time. A museum will have a security system. You’ll get tracked down for this one.” He sounded almost sad as he said it, like he regretted that your game of cat and mouse was coming to an end.

You took a step closer to him. He tensed. A certain amount of distance between you had always been one of the unspoken rules. Another step. You watched him swallow nervously and found it hilarious, since he could definitely best you in a fair fight. Third step. His eyes flickered to the sides as if looking for an escape route. Maybe he knew if you ever decided to have a go at him you wouldn’t let it be a fair fight.

By the time you stopped moving, you were inches from him and he practically vibrated with tension.

“If I didn’t know any better,” you whispered, watching his eyes flicker down to your lips. “I’d say you wanted me to get away.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he snapped half-heartedly, licking his lips nervously. “You’re a criminal.”

“Then now’s your chance. Stop me.” You leaned closer, the motion with the double meaning of your words making your intention clear.

The knife he was holding clattered to the ground as his hand shot out to grab you by the wrist. But the gesture wasn’t used to restrain. No, he used it to tug you closer, making you stumble into his chest as your lips crashed together. And then, the kiss became a war. You were both all teeth nipping lips and tongues battling each other. One hand gripped bruisingly onto your hip, fingers digging into flesh and holding you against him. The other released your wrist and tangled into your hair, knocking aside the cap you used to keep it contained. For your part you wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer. The other clawed his shoulder, clinging to him to keep yourself upright.

Your head was hazy and overwhelmed with the taste and feel of him, with the wanting more of it. But, there was a tiny part of your mind that was still paying attention. Your hand danced, trailing touches easily disguised as passion, freeing the knives from his harness, collecting them quietly in nimble fingers. He released your hip, slid his hand down over the curve of your ass, making you gasp. You set the knives as quietly as you could on the top of the display case, just out of convenient reach or obvious notice. His hand hooked onto your thigh, an inviting gesture. Instead you pulled away.

“This…” you murmured, lips still just barely brushing against his, “…was a bad idea.”

He released you; you stepped back.

“It doesn’t change things,” he said. “I’m still not letting you get away again.”

“Of course not,” you smiled, soft. You knew the steps of your dance. “But I’m still going to try.”

You turned. Diego watched as you ran, sprinting over marble-tiled floors. He reached back to grab a knife, not sure what he was going to do to keep from hurting you badly, but needing to do something. He frowned, the sheath was empty. Your steps drew you further away, he moved to follow, reaching further, only to find that every sheath was empty.

He swore, shouting the curse after you, and you couldn’t help the laugh that echoed back to him.

Laying on his bed in the boiler room that night, Diego couldn’t stop thinking about her: the feeling of her hair beneath his fingers, the taste of her lips on his, her soft warmth pressed against him. But more than that, it was her smile, her laugh, the light-hearted way she had teased him from the very beginning, utterly shameless and unafraid.

Something tickled at the back of his mind that there was more to her than just a good thief, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. And every time he tried, instead he was assaulted with the memory of the way her flesh gave way to his touch and her hot breath tickled his face. He wanted to solve the mystery of her, but more than that, he just wanted her.

He got up with a sigh, knowing he’d be unable to sleep in this state. He loosely wrapped his hands before taking out his pent-up emotion on the punching bag hanging in one corner. As he worked, his mind seemed to clear, and a new thought occurred to him. The next time they encountered each other, and he was certain there would be a next time, at the very least he would get her name. A name to put to the face, and the other things, would be enough.

#Diego Hargreeves x Reader #The Umbrella Academy fic #pre-canon #Light Fingers #I might hate this title more than anything else I have ever written #or I might love it

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letterstomilen · 3 years

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i discuss the classification of igneous petrology as you fall asleep during my lecture (PART 1) (ASMR)

Childe/Zhongli, Alternate Universe (read part 2 here) When Childe's younger sister tells him about the volunteer at the library, he does not make the connection between that and his new favorite ASMR YouTuber, Rex Lapis.

Childe has a very effective method of getting through college. His little sister, who’s caught him making coffee at three in the morning on more than one occasion the past week alone, would beg to differ.

“You’re the best older brother,” she starts off, and he’s sure she’s trying to convince herself more than him at this point, “but you need to fix your sleeping habits.” Then, because she’s his little sister, she’d flash him a smile and pat his shoulder reassuringly.

(The comment is not lost on him though. He understands his sleeping situation will eventually wear him down if it hadn’t already, but he believes if he’ll drink a coffee every morning and a Monster every night, he’ll get through three days. By the third day, he’ll hardly be coherent but that doesn’t matter because he’ll conk out for the next twelve hours and then repeat.)

“Don’t worry, Tonia,” he says, trying to sound as reassuring as possible as he contemplates whether it’s worth it or not to swallow a pill of 5-hour energy with his morning coffee. “Once break ends, I’ll get back to normal.”

“You said that six seasons ago.”

Childe frowns, trying to remember if his sleeping schedule was this dysfunctional last year. “Huh?”

“The Walking Dead seasons,” Tonia clarifies, as if she’s not twelve years old and the show is for grown adults. He thinks. He hasn’t checked Commonsensemedia ever since La Signora labeled him as a “helicopter parent” and his Netflix tab has been playing How to Get Away with Murder as background noise for the past few weeks.

Isn’t it a show about zombies though? Tonia’s sheepish smile tells it all, because it’s the same exact guilty look he had when he got caught red-handed as a kid.

(Once he remembers later, Childe promises himself, he’ll check out The Walking Dead.)

“Oh. Well. I have a lot of shows to catch up on, you know. Not to mention a ton of my professors gave me reading for over the break.”

A half lie. They did give him a lot of reading because each professor assumed that their classes were his only one, and with seven days left, he still has a textbook worth of reading to go through. But there are no shows that Childe would sacrifice his precious sleep for. As a matter of fact, he would love to sleep. He’s spent the majority of his classes back in high school sleeping and faking attention, saving his grade at the last minute — it was quite the extreme sport really, if he says so himself.

Whenever he tries to sleep recently, his thoughts run at several hundred miles per hour, and he spends several hours staring at the ceiling before succumbing to the computer at his desk and watching trashy movies. At this point, he must have gone through the entire romance comedy list on Netflix. (Not a proud point in his life but if anybody ever wanted him to give a list of best to worst romance comedy movies, he now has one.)

Tonia, on the other hand, isn’t incredibly convinced.

Admittedly, the excuse was lame. Also, he can’t easily lie to his little sister, who’s far shrewder than he takes her for at times.

“You never start your reading in advance. You like to speed read it right before your class or watch a five-minute video on the chapters while your teachers take attendance. But that’s… uh, ‘a bad work ethic.’” Tonia looks immensely proud of herself as she says this, finishing it off with, “Zhongli told me that.”

“Zhongli?” he repeats, trying to remember if that’s one of her classmates or some stranger that’s hoping to kidnap his sister.

“The guy that volunteers at the library sometimes. He recommended me a loot of good books to read, but he talks like an old man.”

“How old?” Childe can tell she’s enjoying this — talking about her new friend at the library that he’ll probably have to run a background check on.

“Like he’s in his sixties or something. But he looks… actually, he looks your age! And he’s a student too. I told him all about you.”

Well, that doesn’t sound very reassuring coming from the mouth of a twelve-year-old. He’s not sure if that translates to his social security number, his current dilemma, or just that he’s her older brother.

“Like all of the stories you told me when I was a kid. And then when Lumine came to pick me up, she stayed to show him pictures of you too.”

“Of course she did,” he mumbles, ruffling her hair. One of these days he’s going to move without telling his classmates and the twins won’t enter his apartment unannounced. (But Tonia adores their company and the stories they tell her far too much for him to actually do it. But that doesn’t mean he’s above making threats when they tell his little sister about the bet he made about white-out and how it could dye hair. The jury is still out on this one.) “She’s just mad because I get away with it and she doesn’t. But don’t do it yourself. It’s a bad habit,” he adds, remembering that he should at least try to be a good influence on his younger sister when he can.

“Okaaay,” she says unconvincingly, before shaking her hair and running off to her room with lunch he prepared for her.

Watching her close the door and no doubt continue her binge of The Walking Dead, he takes out his phone and texts Lumine.

Childe