Chapter Text
Friday morning, Tony sits at his desk, more nervous than he's been in a long time. Every time he closes his eyes, he pictures Peter fingering himself beneath lace underwear.. Peter looking up at him with a mouthful of cock.. Peter begging him to come, his voice cracking as he speaks.
Please, daddy..
Tony lays his head on his desk, trying to think of literally anything other than Peter and the way his tight, pink hole looked stretched around..
Tony groans, thinking there's no way he's going to get through the day. Once the shuffling of feet settles down, he dares to lift his head, eyes scanning the crowd of students that had taken their seats. His anxiety starts to die down when he notices that he doesn't see Peter.
Then, of course, he starts to wonder why Peter isn't in class. The kid is by far his best student, attentive and incredibly intelligent. He's never been late to class, hell he's almost always early, eager to learn.. There's a brief moment when Tony thinks that maybe Peter knows. He knows and he's too upset with Tony to show his face. That thought is erased when the door creaks open and a slightly flustered Peter walks in nervously.
He looks away instantly, filthy images of just how Peter's cheeks got so pink flooding his mind.
“Take your seat, Mr. Parker.” He says a little more firmly than he means, but honestly he's just happen it came out as more than a whimper.
“Yes, sir.” Peter says, completely innocently as he ducks his head in and heads for his seat and oh god, the mental image of Peter's lace-clad ass in the air, on display at his request almost makes him drop his coffee mug.
He spends the entire rest of the class trying to imagine that Peter doesn't exist, even though he can feel the boy's eyes on him, probably more than normal because he's ignoring him. He just can't win.. When time's up and class is over, Tony is the first one out the door, offering a quick goodbye and a reminder to study because mid-terms are coming up.
He takes the next couple of hours to sort himself out and he makes it back to class as the next round of students. finally able to distract himself enough to teach something useful. The rest of the day is blissfully uneventful until about half an hour after his last class, when he hears a knock on the door and Peter walks in.
“Mr. Stark?” Tony looks at him before sighing, resting his head in his hands. “I brought you this..” Peter steps up to the desk, setting a small bag down and Tony's fists tighten where they're pressing against his eyes. “I thought you might want some soup, if you're not feeling well.”
Why does Peter have to be as sweet as he is beautiful? It makes it so much harder to keep his hands to himself, thankful that there's a desk between the two of them because he's not sure he could if there wasn't.
“Thank you.” He keeps his head in his hands and he can feel Peter still standing there, waiting for something more, and Tony wants to give it to him, he really does, but if he so much as looks up at the kid, he's not going to be able to stop himself from pinning him to the desk..
After what seems like an eternity, Peter leaves him be and Tony presses his palm to his groin with a groan, beyond grateful that it's the end of the day. As a teacher, the weekends have always been a welcome release, but never has he needed a break like he does right now. He has no idea what he's going to do come Monday- He can barely look Peter in the eye now, with an entire weekend to stew with his imagination and their one-on-one session looming at the end of the day, he has no idea what he's going to do.
Honestly, he knows he should cancel it, maybe even request that Peter change classes because he doesn't see himself getting over this infatuation, especially not if he has to see Peter three times a week. It's not fair to him, the distance that Tony's going to require to keep his actions professional. He's going to miss working with Peter, the boy's mind and work ethic have truly inspired him in the past weeks..
He tells himself it's for the best. If Tony were to say or do something that made Peter uncomfortable, he would feel terrible. Of course, Peter seemed entirely comfortable being watched during his show..
No. No, he needs to cancel the one-on-one and never watch Peter's show again. He's definitely, absolutely going to do that.
Until he logs into the website and a message pops up.
Prodigy: I love what you sent, daddy. Can't wait for you to see how pretty I look.
Jesus fucking Christ, this kid is unbelievable. Just tell him you have to cancel, he thinks. Make up an excuse, he tells himself.
IronMan: I bet you look beautiful, baby.
Shit. That was not what he was supposed to do.
Prodigy: I couldn't help myself, I already came in them.
Prodigy: Are you mad at me, daddy?
It's no wonder Peter has well-paying regulars if he treats every man that watches his show like this. Impulse control has never been his strong suit, but he's sure even men stronger-willed than him have fallen prey to Peter's charms.
IronMan: Hmm you've been a bad boy..
IronMan: How are you going to make it up to me?
Prodigy: Please, daddy, I'll do anything you want, just don't be mad at me.
IronMan: Maybe I should spank you. Would you like that, baby?
Prodigy: Yes..
Prodigy: I can't wait for Monday.
IronMan: Me either, baby. I can't stop thinking about you.
He should really shut up now..
Prodigy: Yeah? What do you think about?
Tony spends the next half hour not shutting up. Instead he tells Peter about all of the things he wants to do to him, how he wants to see Peter laid out on his back with his legs spread open, waiting to be taken.. Among other things.
Peter seems just as eager to please here as he does at school, saying exactly what Tony wants to hear and he can practically see the self-satisfied smile on the boy's face at knowing exactly how much he's affecting Tony with his words.
Over the course of the weekend, there are a handful of times that he almost convinces himself to cancel the private show, but something always seems to come up. Whether it's an unexpected phone call or a glimpse at the previous messages from Peter, he doesn't quite make it around to canceling.
Suddenly, it's Monday morning and Tony is on edge even worse than before and unfortunately for him, Peter is back to his usual more-than-punctual self, walking through the door several minutes before any of the other students. He tries to keep himself busy at his desk, but he can feel those big, brown eyes watching his every move and try has he might, he can't stop the blush that creeps across his cheeks as he remembers just how pretty those eyes are.
When everyone else finally wanders in, he tells them to pull out their textbooks, so that they can discuss anything their still unsure of before the mid-terms next week.
“Mr. Stark?” Just the sound of Peter's voice is enough to get Tony half hard behind his desk, but he manages to look up at the boy just long enough to ask what he needs. “I forgot my book, do you have a spare?”
Tony directs him to the bookcase at the side of the room, watching from the corner of his eye as Peter goes to grab it from the top shelf. When the boy's shirt lifts with his arms, Tony knows he should look away- He almost does, but then he sees it..
A thin strip of red lace peaking up from beneath Peter's jeans.
He coughs, choking around his coffee, covering his mouth to avoid spitting it out, getting the attention of the entire class. Peter, already standing, rushes over to him with a concerned look on his face.
“Are you okay, Mr. Stark?”
“I'm fine.” He croaks out, but Peter just moves closer to him, reaching out as if to pat him on the back and Tony snaps at him. “I'm fine, go sit down!” He immediately regrets it when he sees the look of rejection on Peter's face. The boy takes his book and sits back down. His eyes don't look up again for the rest of class.
At the end of the class, the students begin to file out and after just a couple of minutes, it's quiet. Tony lifts his head and looks around, noticing that Peter is still sitting at his table, backpack on his lap. He slings it over his shoulder, walking toward Tony's desk with his eyes down.
“Did I do something wrong, Mr. Stark?” His eyes flicker up like he wants to look at Tony, but he's nervous, shifting on his feet. When Tony doesn't respond, he keeps talking. “I mean, I know I was late on Friday and I forgot my book today, I've just been stressed about mid-terms and I know it's no excuse, I just..”
Tony sighs as he rambles, finally looking up at Peter, who looks closer to tears than he sounded and it makes him feel even more guilty.
“It's not you, kid.” Tony tries to assure without giving anything away, but it doesn't look like it's working.
“Are you sure? Because it feels like you're mad at me and if I did something wrong, please just tell me and I won't do it again, I promise, Mr. Stark. I just don't want you to be mad at me..”
Please, daddy, I'll do anything you want, just don't be mad at me.
Tony slams his hands down onto the desk to try to shake the memory of Peter's words away, but all it does is startle the boy.
“Sorry, I- Shit..” He clenches the edge of the desk. “It's not you, I swear. It's me..” He knows he's making a huge mistake, but he can't just transfer Peter to another class without an explanation. It wouldn't be fair for Peter to not know why Tony's been treating him unfairly- He has a right to know what Tony's done.
“I need to tell you something, Peter, and if you want to file a complaint or change classes, I'll understand. You won't face any repercussions, I promise.”
“What are you-” Peter looks at him, concerned.
“I'm IronMan.” Tony can't even wait for him to finish, knowing he'll chicken out if he doesn't just say it. Peter stares at him, a mix of emotions flashing across his face, starting with confusion and ending with a bright red blush across his cheeks as he realizes what Tony means.
“You..”
“Yeah.”
It's silent for what seems like an eternity before Peter turns, moving toward the door. Tony scoots his chair back from the desk, tipping his head back, bringing his hands up to cover his face as the boy opens the door, squeezing his eyes shut. He may be tenured, but there's still a chance that he'd just ended his career and he has half a mind to just resign.
Friday morning, Peter rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, smiling a little at how well-rested he feels. The bliss only last for a moment before he reaches over to his phone, reading the time.
“Fuck!”
He throws the covers back and jumps out of bed. There was no way he was going to make the train, which meant he was going to be at least twenty minutes late to class. He picks up a pair of jeans from the floor, giving them a quick sniff before pulling them up and over his legs, grabbing a fresh shirt from his closet without bothering to look at it. He's got it half way over his head, tossing his backpack from one hand to the other as he sticks his arms through the holes just before he pulls the door shut, locking it.
He runs as fast as he can, but he doesn't manage to make it to the platform in time, sighing as he watches the train pulling away. He wouldn't be so upset if it were just about any other day, but on Tuesday and Thursday, physics is his first class and not only is it incredibly important for his major to ace, but it's also his favorite class.
Mr. Stark is the most inspiring, passionate teacher that Peter has ever had. He's invested so much into helping Peter, mentoring him and even offering lessons in their free time that focus on more advanced mathematics. He's going to be so disappointed when Peter shows up late..
He gets a few odd stares as he runs down the hall, straightening his hair a little before pulling the door open. Everyone pauses what they're doing to look up at him, including Mr. Stark, who looks away almost immediately, picking up his coffee cup.
“Take your seat, Mr. Parker.” He says, his voice rough and curt and even though he knows he deserves it, the cold treatment still stings.
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Stark's coffee cup slams onto the desk unexpectedly, startling him and he puts his head down as he makes his way through the room to his seat. Through the rest of class, Peter keeps glancing up at the professor, hoping to get a feeling for how upset he is with him being late. He tries to join the conversations, wanting to impress him enough to get back in his good graces, but Mr. Stark won't call on him- He won't even look at him, really.
Peter notices every now and again that Mr. Stark's face is a little red and he's taking awfully deep breaths. He feels a little relieved at the thought that maybe the man is just sick? Though he doesn't want him to be sick.. At the end of class, the professor is the first one out the door, so Peter doesn't get to say anything to him, he just packs his stuff up and heads for his next class.
After he finishes his classes for the day, Peter walks down the street to his favorite deli, picking up a to-go container of soup before heading back to Mr. Stark's classroom. He knocks on the door before opening it, peaking his head inside.
“Mr. Stark?” The teacher takes one look at him before sighing, resting his head in his hands and Peter's small smile falls. “I brought you this..” He steps up to the desk, setting a small bag down and he can see Mr. Stark's fists tighten where they're pressing against his eyes. “I thought you might want some soup, if you're not feeling well.”
“Thank you.” He says, but he doesn't move and Peter just stares, waiting for something more. When he realizes that Tony doesn't have anything else to say, he moves back to the door, frowning as he walks out.
At home, Peter's sitting at his desk when he gets an alert that one of his viewers is active and he sends a quick message over, thanking him for the gift he'd sent. Peter's learned that if you let them go a few days without thinking about you, they'll move on to someone more memorable, so he makes time, however little he has, to reach out when he can, especially with new viewers. Once Peter's got them on the hook, they show up more often and pay substantially more.
He'd received the package from this new guy, IronMan, Thursday after school. He teases the man, calling him daddy the way Peter knows he likes, working on a paper he has due next Friday in between replies.
The weekend flies by with all of the work he has to get done before mid-terms and before he knows it, it's Monday morning. He gets to class bright and early not wanting to be late. Unfortunately, leaving earlier had him in a little bit of a rush.
“Mr. Stark?” The professor looks up for just a moment, looking only slightly less frazzled than on Friday. “I forgot my book, do you have a spare?”
Mr. Stark offers a copy he has on a shelf near the front of the room and it's hard for Peter to keep his eyes to himself as he makes his way over. Usually, the professor's shirt was buttoned to the top, adorned with a perfectly knotted tie, but today.. He must have had a long weekend because today he was in a pair of dark-wash jeans and a white graphic tee, stubble accenting his already strong jaw.
When he goes to pull the book down from the shelf, the teacher starts to cough wildly, one hand covering his mouth, the other patting his chest and Peter runs over, worries he's choked on something.
“Are you okay, Mr. Stark?”
“I'm fine.” He croaks out, but Peter just moves closer to him, reaching out to pat his back. “I'm fine, go sit down!” Peter pulls his hand back like he's been burned, taking his book and sitting back down. His eyes don't look up again for the rest of class for fear of what expression the professor might have for him.
When everyone is dismissed, he gathers his things in his lap, waiting until everyone has gone before he stands, finally having his teacher's attention.
“Did I do something wrong, Mr. Stark?” At first, he'd just thought that the man was sick, but after today.. He was definitely treating Peter differently than the other students. When he doesn't respond, Peter keeps talking, a nervous habit of his. “I mean, I know I was late on Friday and I forgot my book today, I've just been stressed about mid-terms and I know it's no excuse, I just..”
He hopes to god that's it because the only other thing he can think of is that Mr. Stark caught on to his crush. He's tried so hard to keep his staring to a minimum, but the man is just so attractive and the fact that he's been so kind to Peter, taking a real interest in helping him has just made his infatuation worse. Now, he's done something that made him uncomfortable and he can't even look Peter in the eyes.
“It's not you, kid.” Mr. Stark assures him, but Peter doesn't believe him. There's nothing else it could be.
“Are you sure? Because it feels like you're mad at me and if I did something wrong, please just tell me and I won't do it again, I promise, Mr. Stark. I just don't want you to be mad at me..”
The professor slams his hands down onto the desk and Peter jumps at the sudden noise.
“Sorry, I- Shit..” Mr. Stark seems even more tense now. “It's not you, I swear. It's me.. I need to tell you something, Peter, and if you want to file a complaint or change classes, I'll understand. You won't face any repercussions, I promise.”
“What are you-” Peter looks at him, concerned. Why would he ever want to file a complaint about Mr. Stark? He's been the best teacher he could ever ask for..
“I'm IronMan.”
Peter just stares, confused at first until he catches on to what he's saying, then a deep hot blush takes over his cheeks as he remembers their conversation on Friday highlighting everything that IronMan wanted to do to him..
“You..”
“Yeah.”
It's silent for what seems like an eternity before Peter turns, moving toward the door. He should leave. He has to leave. He opens the door, wanting nothing more than to run and bury his head in the sand until the embarrassment passes, but then he realizes something.
IronMan wants him. He wants to do all sorts of unspeakable, filthy, sexy things to him and that means that Mr. Stark wants those things too, because he is IronMan. He takes a deep breath, hoping he's not about to make a huge mistake as he shuts the door, turning the lock before looking back over his shoulder.
When Mr. Stark hears the noise he looks up and the air between them is almost unbearably thick as Peter steps closer to the desk.
“Peter.. What are you-”
The professor looks him up and down, jaw tight as Peter tugs his shirt over his head in a single, smooth motion. Peter's confidence builds a little as the man cuts himself off with a heavy inhale at the sight of Peter's bare chest.
“You paid for a private show, didn't you?” He puts on his coy persona as he slips his shoes off, fingers working open the button on his jeans before lowering his zipper.
The older man is speechless as Peter drops his pants to the floor, revealing the bright red, lace-skirted underwear beneath- The ones that IronMan sent to him. He really did like them, enough that he decided to wear them all day in anticipation of his private performance later that night.
Peter steps closer, all too aware of the way Mr. Stark's Adam's apple was bobbing in his throat as he turned, leaning over the edge of the desk, baring his ass to the older man.
“Aren't you going to spank me, daddy?” He arches his back a little and Mr. Stark groans, but doesn't move.
“Peter, I-”
“Please, daddy.. I've been a bad boy..” He glances over his shoulder as a hand snakes between his legs, caressing his smooth balls through the thin fabric. He can tell the man is close to giving in, so he slips a finger under the fabric, brushing it over his hole with a quiet moan and finally the professor is standing from his seat.
His hand reaches out slowly, as if he's afraid to touch Peter's body. It starts with a light touch, fingertips against the back of his thighs, but it spreads quickly, the other hand on the other thigh, both sliding upward until they're massaging the soft muscle of Peter's ass, thumbs tantalizingly close to Peter's smooth sack.
“Mr. Stark..” Peter breathes out as he pushes back against the man's hands, his grip tightening, digging into the flesh and Peter bites his lip as he strokes himself.
“You were a bad boy, Peter..” The older man chides him, still a little hesitant.
“Yes..” He agrees with a small moan. “Punish me, daddy..”
A moment later the sound of the slap against his skin echoes through the room and Peter yelps, hips rocking forward reflexively.
“Oh, I'll punish you, baby..” Mr. Stark slaps him again in the same spot. “Gonna spank you until your ass is as red as your panties. Would you like that?”
“Yes, daddy.” Peter moans again, louder this time and there are three more consecutive smacks, alternating cheeks and Peter drops his head down onto his hands, biting into his forearm to muffle himself.
“You're such a good boy, Peter.. So good for daddy.” He keeps going until Peter's skin is tender and bright red, complimenting the dainty underwear perfectly.
Peter pushes off of the desk and the professor steps back, giving him space to move as he turns, pushing the man down back into his chair, hands immediately working his pants open.
“I can be better, daddy.. Let me show you how good I can be.” Peter tugs the jeans out of the way, freeing the man's already hard cock, thinking for a moment that he's going to stop him, but he doesn't. He lets Peter lower his mouth down onto him and Peter is determined to make him not regret that decision as he pushes all the way forward, swallowing him whole.
“Fuck, Peter..” The teacher's hands find their way to his hair and Peter moans with his mouth full as Mr. Stark tugs his hair to guide his head. “So beautiful.. So good, baby..”
The older man pulls Peter's head back, dick popping out from between his lips and he grab the base, guiding it to smear the dripping pre-come and saliva across Peter's lips and cheek.
Peter takes just enough control to angle his head enough to lick a wide stripe up the bottom of the man's cock, stopping at the end to suckle while he looks up at the professor.
“Want you inside me so bad I can't stand it..” Peter whines, lips never losing contact as he speaks, hot breath prickling over the even hotter erection against his lips.
“Oh god, can I?” Mr. Stark asks, like he couldn't believe the gift that Peter was giving him and it honestly makes his dick twitch how much he sounds like he wants it.
Peter breaks free of Tony's grasp, crawling up from the floor onto his lap, both legs on either side of the professor. He lines the man's spit-slicked cock up with his ass, grinding back onto it as he grips the back of the chair, leaning over to whisper in the man's ear.
“You can do whatever you want to me. I'm all yours.”
Mr. Stark growls against the skin of his neck, taking it between his teeth as his hands tug Peter's cheeks apart, taking the panties with them and Peter can feel the wet, leaking tip against his eager, twitching hole.
“You don't have to prep me, Mr. Stark. I can take it..” Peter offers. With as often as he does private shows, he's usually prepared enough to take a normal sized dick. He only really spends time opening himself when he knows he's going to take something larger than average and while Mr. Stark's dick is thick, it's not much bigger than the toys he usually performs with.
“Don't want to hurt you, baby..” He mumbles against Peter's ear, pulling the lobe between his teeth and Peter's breath stutters ad Tony plays with one of his most sensitive erogenous zones. The professor slides the underwear to the side, working a finger inside of him as he speaks and Peter whines. He's the one that teases his audience and he's not entirely sure he likes having the tables turned on him like this.
“Please.. Fuck me, daddy.” Peter pushes back against his fingers. “I need you to fuck me!” He sounds desperate, but it does the job. Mr. Stark grabs the base of his own cock, positioning himself against Peter's pretty, pink hole, unmoving. Peter takes the hint and begins to sit back, lowering himself down until he feels his body giving way, pulling the professor's dick into him eagerly.
As the man fills him up, Peter leans forward, pressing their lips together, Mr. Stark offering Peter his tongue right away and he takes it hungrily. The intoxicating taste of the other man distracts him from the slight burn of only having used the teacher's pre-come to slick him up.
“You're so tight, baby..” Mr. Stark murmurs against his mouth as Peter begins to move, sliding up and down, getting used to the size and feel of him.
“Feels so good..” Peter moans back at him. “I love your cock, daddy..”
When the professor bucks up into him he lets out a loud yelp that only seems to stoke the fire in the older man, who picks him up as he stands, taking the couple of steps to the desk without slipping out of him. He lays Peter down across his desk, taking in the sight of him spread out and wanting before beginning to pound into him quickly.
“Oh, god!” Peter cries out, peeling the panties to the side so that he can grab his own dick, stroking quickly as Mr. Stark hooks his arms under Peter's knees and around his thighs, using the leverage to yank Peter back onto him, impaling him as deeply as possible. “Mr. Stark!”
Peter's free hand grabs onto the edge of the desk to keep himself from sliding away, the sheen of sweat covering his skin making him slippery, no doubt ruining the papers underneath him.
The professor is breathing heavily, biting his lip as his thighs slap against the skin of Peter's ass over and over again. He pauses, sliding out of him and Peter whines outright until the man tugs him back and flips him over. Mr. Stark grabs his wrists, placing his hands on the opposite side of the desk and he grabs on tight as the man's hands dig into his hip, picking up where he left off.
Peter struggles to keep his feet on the ground, his thighs digging into the edge of the desk as Mr. Stark set a ruthless pace, fucking into him like he's ready to explode at any moment. He reaches down between Peter's legs, jerking him hard and fast until he's squirting onto the floor, gasping for breath as his muscles contract around Tony's cock.
The older man lets go of Peter's cock just as it starts to get too sensitive, stroking his own dick, resting it right against his ass until he's coming over Peter's smooth backside, smearing the come around before pushing it inside of him, watching it squeeze out around him as he pumps a few more times before he finally stills.
Peter's head is resting against the cool wood as he catches his breath and he smiles when he can feel Mr. Stark placing soft kisses up his back as he slides out, leaving him empty.
“So good, baby..” Mr. Stark whispers in his ear. “You were so perfect for daddy..”