Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Peter knew he shouldn’t be here. He knew. He knew. 

He’d been in the Tower for just over a year now, having moved in from the building next door after the borrowers who’d taken him in had kicked him out.

He’d finally admitted to them - after two entire years - that he wasn’t a borrower himself, that he was actually a human who’d been shrunken down to their size, and he’d been completely rejected. Worse than that, they’d gone so far as to threaten to reveal him to humans just to get him out of their way, claiming that since he was human himself it wasn’t a threat to them. Which was stupid, since Peter could just blab on them. Not that he would, of course, but it was pretty messed up for them to use his goodwill against him like that after they’d treated him practically like family for so long.

Regardless, as that wasn’t relevant at the moment, Peter knew he shouldn’t be in this particular place, especially not at this particular time.

To be more descriptive, Peter was currently in the lab belonging to none other than Tony Stark. Yes, that one: genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. 

As for why? Well, Peter couldn’t claim he was brilliant or anything, but before he’d been shrunk by that freak accident three years ago, he’d been at least a bit of a tech whiz. Considering that he had only been in his second year of high school, he wasn’t sure if that was saying too much.

Still, living a borrower’s life - especially on your own - was incredibly, mind numbingly boring, and he’d just about cracked.

So here he was, creeping across the edge of Tony’s lab and looking for any fallen bits and bobs he could potentially stuff away in his knapsack to finagle into something later.

As for why it was an issue in regard to time as well, well, it was because it was currently daytime, which meant that there was a not so insignificant chance that Tony would come back down into the lab while Peter was there too.

However, Peter couldn’t think of an alternative solution that would allow him to both gather materials from the lab and not have any chance of Tony being there for sure, so he’d gone with his best chance - when he’d heard him on the phone with ‘Pepper’ about an important deal he was supposed to be attending during this time.

Those did tend to be risky since half the time Tony ended up not going anyways - at least, from what Peter deduced from his usual position of choice in the vents - but he couldn’t find a more opportune moment than that.

For one, Tony was in the labs at all random hours of the day and night, so it’s not like Peter could just go when he wasn’t there. And, for two, unlike borrowers, Peter’s vision wasn’t well adapted for night-time viewing, so he couldn’t very well peruse his materials of choice in the dark of night after Tony went to bed since Peter would just end up stumbling blindly along.

Hence, the current situation.

Peter had already managed to amass a fair amount of supplies, ranging from some thin nuts and bolts, extra miniature screws that’d been covered in dust, and, amazingly - and for no apparent reason for it to be there - a hook. 

His sack had already grown quite heavy, so, to ease his aching shoulder, Peter had set it down in the shadows relatively close to one of the floor vents he could squeeze it through and ventured further out into the lab.

He’d just managed to reach the closest table’s edge - probably a good five human feet away from the wall he’d come from - when the lab’s doors slid open, and the lights flicked back on to their brightest setting.

The sudden, blinding light had Peter reeling back and falling, palms colliding with the linoleum floor behind him with a quiet smack and a soft gasp from his throat. 

The single footstep that he’d heard froze.

Peter swallowed. He slowly turned his head.

Tony Stark was standing at the entrance, staring right at him. 

That jolted Peter into motion, sending him scrambling to his feet and sprinting towards his acclaimed wall, which had never seemed so far away.

Thundering footsteps shook the floor beneath him, nearly causing Peter to trip over himself as he continued his mad dash to cover.

A shadow fell over him, a whoosh of air rushing over his diminutive form, and then something solid collided with his back, tearing a scream from his throat that only increased in pitch as he felt long, tree-trunk like fingers wrap themselves around his torso. They whisked him up into the air, tearing the air out of his lungs and leaving him gasping for breath.

He felt the heavy pressure of eyes on him, and he forced his own wide ones to meet those of Tony.

“What…” Tony breathed, expression caught somewhere between shock and wonder.

For a second, Peter worried he’d find out about borrowers somehow, but then he had the sudden, bone chilling thought that the man - a technological genius in his own right and definitely someone who wasn’t as closed off to what others would consider as impossible  - might think Peter was some weird type of spy or something.

And so, Peter opened his mouth, and out poured his torrent of an explanation, Tony’s eyes never leaving him through his entire, winding path.

-

“So lemme get this straight,” the man said after a few moments of silence in which Peter spent catching his breath after his long-winded more or less rant. “You’re human, but you were shrunk down by a freak accident and have been like this for three years, living in my Tower,” he surmised.

Peter nodded his head. He was still held in the man’s fist, though he was held over the table and Tony had sat down at least. Peter shifted uncomfortably, the heat radiating off the palm of the man’s thankfully not sweaty hand somewhat intense.

Tony pulled out his phone and typed something across it out of Peter’s line of sight, mumbling Peter’s full name to himself along with a few words that Peter caught like ‘missing’ and ‘closed.’

A strange look entered the man’s eyes after a moment longer of staring at his screen, and his gaze slowly drifted back over to Peter.

His grip on Peter changed suddenly, going a bit tighter, more restrictive, pinning Peter’s arms in place and locking him in the hold from ankles to shoulders.

Peter made an aborted noise, eyes widening and a startled gasp punching out of him despite the lack of actual pressure imposed on his form.

And then Tony murmured, “I could do anything to you, and no one would know,” thumb pressing down slightly on Peter’s chest.

“T-Tony?” Peter choked out, limbs locked by his sides and the single word escaping him in a wheeze with the increased pressure on his lungs. Even if he had enough room to genuinely attempt at a struggle, he didn’t know if he could; he felt frozen solid.

Tony’s gaze cleared somewhat from the distant haze it’d taken, only for his pupils to dilate instead. His thumb slid up, dragging the material of Peter’s shirt slightly as the tip rested under his chin, lifting Peter’s head and forcing the smaller to directly meet the other’s gaze.

The blunt nail of Tony’s digit felt like a steel band keeping Peter’s head in place, sealing his underjaw to his upper, his teeth clenched behind closed lips.

After a moment, it shifted again, moving to the side of his face in a nerve wracking parallel to a caress to Peter’s cheek, the pad of Tony’s thumb just larger than Peter’s entire head.

Peter hadn’t even realized he’d squeezed his eyes shut again until he felt hot air waft across his faintly trembling frame as Tony spoke, still in the same hushed, almost-reverent-but-darker tone, “so small.” 

Peter snapped his eyes back open in shock, flinching away from the digit still gently rubbing at his cheek and almost reticently making himself look up to the man before him.

Tony had lowered himself closer to the table in the time Peter hadn’t been taking note of his position, his face now mere inches away - in the larger’s terms - from Peter’s own, every micro expression that flitted across it as easily discernible as if they’d been bluntly portrayed to Peter’s far keener eyes.

Peter swallowed compulsively around his suddenly dry throat, heart beating rabbit quick and sending the sound as a roaring pulse in his ears as he simultaneously struggled not to flinch at the deep baritone of Tony’s voice but also the dark expression that he seemed to not even attempt to hide. 

The man’s thumb moved again, slipping back under his chin only to rise again on the other side of Peter’s face, caressing the previously untouched cheek and making Peter’s eyes flutter shut as he struggled to withhold a whimper, throat growing tight as an unwelcome welling of emotion seeped into his skin like the furnace-like heat from the pad that was now making slow, smooth circles against Peter’s cheek.

Peter bit his trembling lip, swallowing again and forcing his mouth to open while still keeping his eyes shut. “P-please put me down,” he barely whispered, half wondering if Tony had even been able to hear him.

His answer came a moment later in a rumbling chuckle that sent reverberations through the man’s palm and consequently through Peter, who was still trapped inside. “Now why would I do that?” he asked, sounding faintly amused and almost as if he were genuinely giving a go at bantering. The long fingers wrapped around Peter’s torso, legs, and arms gave a gentle, almost playful squeeze, and Peter gasped harshly, head snapping up immediately only to realize a moment too late that he was now staring directly into the man’s eyes.

If Tony’s pupils had been dilated before, now they were blown. Just the faint edges of a dusky brown made a circlet around the all-encompassing black that seemed to shimmer something iridescent under the lab’s glow. 

The fingers gave Peter another faint squeeze, and an involuntary whimper burst out of Peter’s throat as he flinched harshly, still unable to rip his gaze away from the giant of a man before him.

For his part, Tony’s lips parted slightly, seemingly without his knowledge, and the edge of tainted fascination in his features looked to have grown tenfold.

“Why would I do that,” he murmured again, not really seeming to pay any attention to his own words as he leaned in even closer as if doing so would help him in taking in further details of Peter’s minute, tremoring frame. He shifted, and Peter nearly yelped as he saw the man’s other hand approach him from the side, leaning as far back as he could with barely the tops of his shoulders and up being unrestrained by the firm grip of a fist.

Tony didn’t falter, and Peter only had the brief span of a moment to process the grip on himself shifting, one of the digits curled around his frame - the middle finger - moving outwards, before he felt something pinch around his right arm, pulling at it.

Peter choked on an inhale, gasping sharply and trying to rip his arm away from the unrelenting hold, finally realizing that it was Tony’s other hand - his forefinger and thumb in particular - that’d taken custody of Peter’s limb and were currently extending it away from his body.

Then the entire fist holding him in place loosened slightly, and Peter did yelp this time as his entire frame dropped what felt like half a foot to him before the grip reaffirmed around him, Tony’s topmost digit resting, likely unintentionally, threateningly against the side of Peter’s thin, fragile neck. This left the man capable of extending Peter’s arm straight out, as his pointer finger was no longer in the way, his middle finger adjusting to curl around Peter’s ribs just below his armpit.

In any other situation, Peter might’ve been able to watch the proceedings with morbid fascination, but, as it was, he settled on complete, mind-numbing terror.

He watched as Tony gently pinched his two digits around Peter’s hand, the entire thing and a good portion of his wrist disappearing under what was likely just barely-there pressure but felt entirely insurmountable as Peter weakly tugged at his arm, desperate to bring it back to his body in an inane belief that’d it’d be safer there with the rest of him.

He was frightened to risk pulling harshly, both because he was afraid Tony would reinforce his grip in response and resultantly crush Peter’s entire arm as happenstance but also because having Tony’s attention shifted to the limb was almost a respite, no matter how technical of one it was.

“I can barely feel them,” Tony murmured, seemingly to himself, the sudden sound nearly making Peter jerk his arm despite his previous assertions. 

Peter’s already steadily declining hope that Tony would let him go sank to the farthest pits of itself; the pure look of enchanted captivation written across Tony’s features held no such promises.

What it held; Peter still didn’t know. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to think about what it might hold; what more Tony would be willing to - would actually do with Peter. Peter, who was completely and utterly at his mercy.

His arm was suddenly released, and Peter jolted back to attention, pulling his limb back as close to his body as he could with the rest of Tony’s tree-like fingers barring him from pressing his arm to himself.

Peter couldn’t bring himself to look Tony in the eye this time, though, head ducked down despite his hammering chest and his eyes as wide as dinner plates from where they surreptitiously took in the man from under his fringe. 

Tony’s head was tilted slightly, a soft hum resonating from him as his hand lowered down to rest on the table, Peter moving with it.

Disturbingly, his expression had gone eerily blank, his eyes still somewhat dilated but no other tells showing besides the slow blink he gave in Peter’s direction. 

Peter’s tremors picked up. He struggled to find his voice, feeling, for an unnamable reason, that this was his last chance at making an attempt at reasoning.

He didn’t get to use it.

He was released rather abruptly from Tony’s hand, causing him to fall on his rear from the suddenness of it. Though, thankfully his feet had already been practically touching the ground so there was only a faint pain in his palms as he caught himself, heart rate skyrocketing as his head snapped from side to side to take in his surroundings and he stood shakily to his feet.

There was depressingly little around him; a few scattered papers, a mug, and some bits and bobs that were likely a part of the mechanical piece that was resting further down the table.

“Stay.” Tony said - no, commanded - shocking Peter’s attention back to the still expressionless man.

The way Tony had said that single word.

A sudden, harsh shiver jolted down Peter’s spine, and he bolted.

He had no idea where he was going - he had nowhere to go. But it didn’t matter. His fight or flight instincts had long since kicked in, and, since he knew there was no chance in the farthest depths of hell that he’d be winning such a fight anytime soon and since his adrenaline was already giving him a heady, rushing feeling through his limbs and head, Peter’s higher level of thinking gave way to pure instinct.

He darted across the tabletop, having no plan in mind except get away, get away, GET AWAY.

Something slammed into the table, making the entire frame vibrate harshly as if there’d been an earthquake and sending Peter’s legs out from under him as if he was as weak-kneed as a newborn foal.

He fell to his hands and knees with a startled gasp and wasn’t given a moment’s respite before a long finger hooked itself around his stomach and flipped him over onto his back, two fingers shaped in a V then forcing his limbs to spread out. Both his arms were splayed on either side of him, and his legs were parted as well, leaving him laid spread eagle across the tabletop, pinned down by two fingers with the rest of the man’s hand resting just past Peter’s shoe-clad feet.

Peter thrashed against the grip, panting harshly both from his sudden sprint and from being more or less body slammed before being held down by an oppressive weight. His back arched off the table as his limbs struggled to free themselves to no avail, and he kept his eyes squeezed shut, shaking his head desperately as if he could make everything any less true.

“Well, that wasn’t very good,” a voice hummed above him, tone deceptively neutral, and Peter stilled, even his breath stuttering in his chest.

There was a brief pause, almost as if Tony had been waiting for a response - not that Peter could understand why considering that the man had disregarded any and all of Peter’s opinions thus far - before he continued.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay?” Tony questioned curiously, as if he genuinely didn’t know, pointer finger shifting slightly to brush up and down Peter’s arm.

Peter was too frozen to even attempt at jerking his arm back to himself even with the laxing of a grip on the limb.

“Hmmm?” Tony hummed, still stroking Peter, the teen’s breath so shallow it was nearly nonexistent. Tony waited a moment longer, but when Peter failed to respond once more, he made a disappointed sound, making Peter tense up. “I guess I’ll just have to teach you better,” he decidedly said, and this was what finally made Peter snap his eyes back open, only to immediately regret it.

Tony was smiling, but it was blasphemous to the meaning of the word to refer to the quirk of his lips as such. It was too dark, too predatory. His eyes were crinkled at the corners, but that didn’t take away from his revamped pupil expansion, nor did it distract Peter from noticing how Tony’s gaze trailed down Peter’s entire, diminutive frame and back up, slowly. Anticipatory.

Peter’s throat closed up all the way this time, not that he thought it’d make a difference. 

His body felt both numb and as if it’d been suddenly struck by an intense fit of pins and needles, leaving him limp under Tony’s grip, mind fuzzing in and out.

When Tony’s fingers lifted off of him, Peter could only faintly close his eyes.

When Tony picked him back up in his fist, Peter was slack in his grip, biting his lip to withhold a terrified, distraught sound that he doubted would’ve been able to make it out on its own in the first place.

When Tony stood, Peter’s eyes clenched further shut, burning.

When Tony began to walk, Peter felt as if he was in another series of earthquakes, every movement reverberating around him, every footstep thudding and sending a jolt up Peter’s spine.

When Tony opened the door to another room some time later, Peter taking note by the click and creak of hinges, even the faint tremors that’d risen back up from his frame stilled, and Peter had to struggle to keep his eyes shut. He’d learned in the past however long - or short - it’d been that opening his eyes only subjected him to the abject terror sooner. 

Peter wanted to live under the faintest of deceptions he could for as long as possible.

Which turned out to not be long at all.

He jolted back to reality when the fingers uncurled themselves from around him, sending him tumbling onto a soft surface that he immediately realized was a bed, the navy covers spreading out in all directions like a woven, life-sized version of the sea. The end closest to him held the pillows, mountainous in size and intimidating in a way he hadn’t ever realized he’d consider for something he used to construe as harmless. 

“Back with me?” Tony asked, not sounding particularly upset but still sending Peter’s pulse into the stratosphere as he curled in on himself and looked in the man’s direction. He was level with Tony’s mid-thigh at the moment, with the man standing at the side of the bed, and it made Peter feel impossibly smaller.

He didn’t bother responding to the man, verbally or otherwise, and it became clear that the man hadn’t expected a response anyways as he moved to seat himself on the bed, Peter frantically scrambling backwards as he realized what was happening.

He knew he wasn’t close enough to be sat on, but that didn’t make the experience any less terrifying when seeing Tony start to sit was basically the equivalent of watching a skyscraper collapse.

The entire bed shook with the motion, making Peter bounce up slightly as if it was a trampoline. The covers dipped down towards Tony, forming a demented slide towards him that Peter was unable to escape from, the slick, near silky quality of the fabric giving way under his grip and sending him skidding down it and colliding straight with the man’s jean-clad thigh.

“Missed me?” Tony asked amusedly, fingers immediately reaching down for Peter and insistently brushing against his back despite how Peter flinched away from the touch. “Don’t worry,” Tony continued, tone dipping lower. “I can help with that,” he practically purred, a finger sliding around to brush against Peter’s stomach.

Peter’s breath stuttered, and he frantically tried to push the digit away, unable to escape by moving backwards since the rest of Tony’s palm was resting, furnace-like in its heat, behind him. “N-no,” Peter stuttered out, voice wavering as his panic ratcheted up to an all-time high.

“No?” Tony echoed, fingers stilling against him.

“No,” Peter managed to get out again, louder, still fighting against the pointer finger that was now resting solidly against his abdomen.

“Hm, and here I thought we could play nicely,” Tony replied, enough levity in his tone that it took a second for the words to process in Peter’s head.

He froze. What Tony had said earlier - something about ‘teaching him better’ - filtered back in his mind, and then his struggles renewed, growing more frantic by the second to the point that he’d taken to trying to claw at the digit in front of him, the one that was pressing him into the overbearing heat of the palm behind him, in an attempt to get it to loosen so he could try to escape.

Instead, it pressed down on him, not enough to completely restrict his breathing, but definitely more than the gentler squeezes he’d been given before. Peter stiffened.

That was a warning. A reprimand.

Tony confirmed as much with his next words. “Ah, ah, ahh~” he sang admonishingly, swiftly adjusting his grip so that his two center fingers were wrapped around Peter’s torso before lifting the smaller up to be almost level with his face, Peter’s legs dangling freely in the air and head swooping dizzy at the abrupt motion. “You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” he crooned, warm, coffee scented breath washing over the teen.

In that moment, if Peter could nod, he would. He really would. He didn’t care if it was cowardly or snivelly or anything of the like. He couldn’t bring up what he had previously considered to be his own personal, constantly filled-to-the-brim well of righteousness and willfulness. No, somehow, it’d all dried up in the face of his complete and utter dependence on the whims of the man before him. No matter what he said or did, it wouldn’t change anything as long as Tony didn’t want it to. So if agreeing with the man meant that he had a chance at not being subjected to whatever further extremes he could think of, then Peter would take it - wretched or not. 

As it was, every single joint and muscle in Peter’s body felt locked in place, so Peter could only stare up at Tony’s wide, expectant eyes with a sense of helplessness and dread that he’d never felt before.

He almost sagged in relief when Tony gave a smile that was along the lines of understanding, if with an additional edge to it. “Good,” he said brightly.

Peter’s world shook as Tony moved with him again, the man reclining backwards until his head was resting in the pillows at the top of the bed, fluffed up enough that he wasn’t fully laying down but nearly so. He set Peter down just a little lower than his chest, Peter stumbling a bit before catching his balance, having to struggle to maintain it somewhat with the rise and fall that came in sync with the man’s breathing.

“I don’t want to get your clothes dirty, so you should take them off,” Tony said, one of his hands raised behind his head as an additional cushion but the other resting by Peter’s side on his stomach, fingers twitching.

Peter felt ice trail down his spine, eyes darting around but knowing there was no escape. How would his clothes get dirty? he thought.

“Just your shirt and pants,” Tony continued, not even looking down towards Peter, instead facing the ceiling, almost as if he was giving the teen a moment of privacy in which to enact on the man’s orders in some strange modicum of decency.

‘Just?’ Peter thought, bringing his trembling hands up to the topmost button of his shirt. 

It was all… strange.

After he’d been found, Peter’s mind had been in a whirlwind of panic, heart racing and mouth pouring out a steady rush of words in an attempt to explain the entire situation to Tony before the man could misconstrue anything. Then, once he realized that Tony hadn’t been suspicious of him being a spy, Peter had almost let himself relax, but the look in the man’s eyes… 

And then with how he’d acted, as if Peter was… was something lesser. 

Peter had half a mind to worry that he’d be dissected open, regardless of the fact that he was just a human but smaller. Maybe the man didn’t believe his story. Maybe he did but wanted to see if the shrink rays had affected him regardless. Either way, those suspicions had been ramped right back up now with Tony telling him to remove his clothes, but it still felt… off.

First of all, they were no longer in the lab, so that was a point against experimentation. 

Second of all… well.

He couldn’t think of one that fit at the moment that wasn’t already laid out in the first, but it overall just didn’t seem likely that Peter would be cut up any time soon.

As for the look in Tony’s eyes… 

Peter shivered. 

The way his pupils swallowed up everything around them, how they looked like they could absorb Peter in as well… 

It made some inner part of him, some instinctual piece, want to disappear. To get out of the line of sight of whatever was held in the man’s gaze.

It was dark, Peter knew that. It wasn’t something intrinsically friendly, and it definitely wasn’t welcoming to the teen. 

What it was, though, he still couldn’t fathom.

It was possible that it had to do with the control the man had clearly so enjoyed exerting. With how he squeezed Peter just because he could. With how he gave him orders and expected Peter to follow them like some wayward pet. 

But how that related to Peter taking off his clothes, he wasn’t sure.

Was he going to… punish Peter?

Peter’s hands trembled harder, and he fumbled with unclasping the second button of his shirt.

But that still didn’t make sense in relation to removing his clothes. Unless, of course, he was planning to have Peter bloodied, and Peter cringed away from the thought. He desperately hoped it wasn’t true.

He considered earlier, when Tony had forced his arm to extend out and felt for his thin, needle-tip sized fingers. This might be more of that. Maybe Tony wanted to see what he looked like without the clothes in the way. Peter didn’t like it - not in the slightest, as it was like removing a layer of skin, of protection, away - but he would put up with it if it meant he was otherwise left well enough alone.

His tremors died down somewhat, and he finished the last of the buttons, sliding the top off his smooth shoulders and hesitating a moment before dropping it at his side.

He felt a prickling across his skin, goosebumps rising, and darted his gaze up, finding Tony’s dark eyes locked on his form. The man smirked and looked back towards the ceiling as Peter flushed a bright red, crossing his hands across his chest in a sudden, intense desire for modesty.

He knew he was scrawny - scrawny and pale. Lack of food and sunlight more or less guaranteed as much, leaving him with creamy white skin and a flat, hardly defined stomach, the faint outline of his ribs visible.

He shifted for another moment before pulling his shoes off and, a second later, his socks. Then he set to working the clasp of his pants free, tugging them off one leg at a time and setting the rumpled material on top of his shirt.

That left him standing in his grey boxer briefs, flush creeping past his cheeks and up to his ears as his shoulders hunched and he clasped his hands in front of himself.

Tony let out a groan, and Peter’s eyes scampered back up to him even as he flinched half a step away, shivers picking up again both from the new onset of cold to his exposed skin and from his never gone but previously faded fear of the man before him.

Tony sat up a bit, causing Peter to yelp as he fell backwards and collided with the waistband of the man’s jeans, a hand quickly coming up to cup behind him, the heat welcome, for once, even as a violent shiver wracked through Peter’s frame.

“Aw, cold?” Tony cooed, looking down at him and bringing his thumb around to gently brush against Peter’s chest. 

Peter squirmed against the touch, an uncomfortable feeling rising that somehow felt different than before, both his hands coming up to push weakly against the thumb. 

It didn’t stop its ministrations, though. “I can help with that,” Tony murmured, voice sounding a drop lower, rougher, and thumb shifting onto its side a bit, the hardened callus on the right ridge of his nail catching on Peter’s nipple, making the teen jerk and gasp, struggles renewing.

The movement repeated, sending a spark down Peter’s spine as his pebbled nipple was roughly brushed against with the coarser skin, and he kicked his legs out a bit, pushing back into the fingers behind him in an attempt to escape the touch. Instead, Tony shifted his thumb to the left, so now Peter’s other nipple was subjected to the direct, unrelenting stroking against the callus, making a tremble shiver up Peter’s suddenly weakened arms. “St-stop,” he managed to stutter out, hands gripping onto the digit if only so they didn’t fall limply at his sides.

Tony hummed. “Warm already?” he questioned, almost sounding surprised, before making Peter gasp as his thumb shifted lower, over his stomach, before sliding down without pause to brush up and down Peter’s legs. “Still feel cold to me,” he mused.

Peter used the fact that he was currently free for a moment from his knees up to wriggle and jump over Tony’s thumb, stumbling for a second but managing to take a few, inclined steps away from the hand before collapsing, breathing harshly.

He felt like he’d run a marathon with how out of breath he was, flush back with a vengeance and nipples colored to a harsh pink compared to their previously pale, only faintly rosy complexion. They felt irritated - and pulsing - and Peter tucked his hands under his armpits to cover them up, careful not to directly touch them with how suddenly sensitive they’d become.

“What’s wrong?” Tony suddenly said, abruptly reminding Peter of his audience, and he craned his neck up to look at Tony’s face, a slight frown crinkled between his brows. The man’s gaze was centered on Peter’s arms - and thereby his chest below it. “Are you hurt?” he asked, and Peter struggled to discern if the concern was genuine over his own harsh breathing.

There was a rasp of cloth behind him before a finger snaked its way between Peter’s arms and his chest, making him cry out as the pad of it pressed against both his nipples simultaneously and his limbs were forcefully moved to allow it. “St-stah-!” he tried to get out, only to interrupt himself with an abrupt, unidentifiable sound as the finger shifted against his already definitely swollen nipples.

“Does this help?” Tony asked gently, finger sweeping to the right in a sudden motion that felt like a harsh flick to both of Peter’s irritated nubs, making him cry out, fruitlessly pushing at the digit as he panted and failed to formulate any words, blood rushing in his head.

And then the finger disappeared, and Peter collapsed limply against Tony’s shirt, breathing harshly and trying to regain some semblance of control to figure out what’d just happened.

He felt warmth - fingers - touch against his arms but didn’t have the strength to pay them any mind at the moment, that is, until both his arms were pinched up in a way that was eerily reminiscent of earlier in the lab, snapping Peter to attention. Both his arms were lifted up, one in each of the man’s hands between two fingers as he was lifted to sit up right, feeling used like a puppet or a doll.

His chest was still expanding and contracting harshly with his pants, and he didn’t have the strength to do much more than weakly tug at the grip, even as it was exchanged so both his arms were held pinched between the two main fingers of Tony’s left hand.

Peter barely managed to loll his head back, gazing up at Tony in muted incomprehension.

As seemed to be the norm at this point, the man’s eyes were blown black, eyes nearly half lidded. His lips were parted, and his breaths seemed to be coming out somewhat harsher than before as well, gaze locked onto Peter’s frame with a focus that made something inside the teen curl away.

The hand holding his arms up lifted, pulling a limp Peter with it, who struggled weakly but wasn’t able to do more than gasp and kick faintly as he was lifted entirely off the ground, shoulder joints straining slightly.

It was only for a moment, though, Tony’s right hand coming to rest where Peter had been seated a moment previously, before Peter was lowered directly onto it, legs parted to rest on either side of the man’s thumb.

Peter blinked dazedly.

“Feeling better?” Tony murmured above him, and Peter snapped back to himself at the sight of the thumb approaching his sensitive skin again.

“No!” he yelped, jerking at his arms but still finding them locked securely in place above his head.

“No?” Tony echoed, as if in a parody of the time before, except this time he moved forward without hesitation, the tip of his thumb coming forward to rub against his chest, drawing out a cracked noise from Peter’s throat. “Lemme help some more, then,” he hummed lowly, and Peter didn’t have a moment to process the move before Tony’s entire thumb had shifted forward, pressing itself to Peter’s skin from the top to the crook in which it connected to his palm. Which meant all of it was rubbing itself against Peter. Which meant that it was rubbing against all of Peter. 

Peter let out a strangled sound, pushing more frantically against Tony’s persistent digit, his nipples feeling so thoroughly inflamed that every brush against them caused Peter to physically jolt, and now he had to deal with the fact that the bottom part of Tony’s thumb - a bit below his knuckle, was kneading at his crotch. “Tony!” Peter exclaimed in what sounded more like a squeak, desperately trying to clench his legs shut but only succeeding in gripping the digit tighter.

“Hmmm?” Tony hummed, ministrations slowing but not coming to a halt, instead shifting pace to put more pressure on one part of Peter’s body at a time, making him bend over with a shocked gasp as his groin was pressed down against with a friction filled pressure.

“You’ you’re moving-” Peter stuttered out, biting his lip and pulling at his hands again to no avail, beginning to feel them start to go numb from the blood flow draining from them. 

He could feel himself beginning to harden under Tony’s touch, and his face flushed scarlet; he could hardly process what or why this was happening, only that it was utterly mortifying.

Suddenly, his arms were dropped, and Peter gasped before wincing as they filled with pins and needles, desperate to try and use them to tug away from Tony’s grip but unable to for the moment.

Tony used the time to pick up the pace again, pulsing down on Peter’s chest and against his boxers with just enough pressure to border on pain for his nipples but also to make his member fill out in interest.

Peter shook out his arms one last time, and upon having them respond with enough feeling back in them, he shoved his hands between Tony’s thumb and his own crotch as soon as there was a gap to do so, and the man paused.

There was a second of complete silence. Of motionlessness.

Then.

“Oh?” Peter heard said softly over his head.

Peter cupped his boxers, desperately willing his erection to go away as he ducked his head so only the top of it was visible from above.

“Whatcha got there, Peter?” Tony whispered lowly.

Peter shivered, shaking his head in an abrupt, jerky motion.

“I asked you a question, Peter,” Tony said, something edging onto his tone; darker.

Peter’s shoulders hiked up to his ears, and he tried to curl his legs in again only to be met with the thumb still in place, resulting in his thighs clenching down on either side of it.

And then he barely withheld a shout as he flew through the air with Tony’s hand, the fingers behind him and the thumb in front and underneath him the only things keeping him in place as he threw his arms around the digit in his reach, more or less hugging at it so his frame didn’t get whipped through the air as he was brought level to Tony’s face. 

“Do I need to ask you again,” Tony questioned, and this time there was no mistaking the trace of danger belying the deceptively innocent words.

Peter’s mind raced. There was no way he was telling this man that he’d just got a hard on from some accidental rubbing, so, really, there was only one other option left.

He reluctantly unlaced his arms from around the thumb he’d clutched on to, careful to keep his lap pressed against it to hide his still present though flagging boner from Tony’s line of sight despite how his face flushed from the action.

Instead, he lowered his arms to reveal his chest, and, despite his complete and utter mortification, he got out, “hurts.”

Tony stared. Stared and stared and kept staring to the point that Peter barely managed to continue and restrain himself from covering his somehow indecent-looking nipples, the practically bright red of the skin obvious even to someone of Tony’s size with how swollen and colored they’d become.

“They hurt?” Tony seemingly asked to reaffirm, voice gravelly. 

Peter ducked his head again in a nod, waiting desperately to finally be set back down again.

It wasn’t to be.

“But that’s not what you’re hiding, is it?” Tony asked, voice dropping even lower to the point that it sounded like a bass was echoing with it.

Peter snapped his head up. “I-”

The thumb suddenly rubbed down on his crotch, and he let out a sound that was practically a moan, falling forward so his forehead was resting on the top edge of the digit.

“Peter?” Tony asked, finger stilling. Peter felt like crying. This was the most humiliating thing he’d experienced in his entire life. “Are you… getting off?” Tony questioned, sounding completely disbelieving. 

Peter jerked his head side to side in frantic denial, “N–n - ahh,” he was cut off when his crotch was rubbed again, breaking into a moan as he clutched at Tony’s thumb desperately. 

“Then what was that?” the man questioned accusingly, thumb pressing down another time as if to prove his point and managing to draw out another keening sound from Peter’s throat, member having risen to stand fully tented in his boxers at this point. 

And suddenly Peter was shifted around in Tony’s grip, thumb hooking under one leg and ring finger under the other, knees caught behind them at the knuckles and leaving his legs spread out wide and his arms gripping desperately on the other digits so he wouldn’t fall forward.

All in all, though, this meant that his boner was left exposed for Tony’s eyes to clearly see despite his struggling to get out of the completely revealing grip.

“You like this kinda thing?” Tony questioned, sounding distracted and not deigning Peter’s wild head shaking with a response. His free hand came up, pointer finger rubbing slightly against Peter’s crotch.

“N -ahhhh, st-stah- ah,” Peter moaned, head falling backwards and hips jerking forwards without his say.

“You really do, don’t you,” Tony marveled, not letting up on his ministrations even as Peter’s chest heaved and his hands clutched desperately at Tony’s fingers for some respite.

“No!” Peter finally managed to deny, prick throbbing with heady pulses of pleasure that clashed harshly with the warring humiliation and unease in his brain.

“Liar,” Tony replied lowly, but his finger dropped away, and Peter sagged in his grip, letting out a relieved, panting breath. “But we’ll figure that out,” he added on, and Peter once again had no time to process the potential meaning before he was raised up again.

Higher and higher, closer and closer, pressing himself further into the fingers that cradled his back as he was brought right up to the man’s face and -

Tony’s mouth - large enough to fit Peter inside if he curled up into a ball - opened, lips parting to reveal neat, gleaming white teeth larger than his palms, and Peter let out a high-pitched terrified sound which trailed off into a drawn out, keening whine of abject terror as the noise made the edges of Tony’s lips curve up into a smile.

And then a thick mass of pink flesh passed over both Tony’s teeth and lips to lave a hot, wet stripe over Peter’s chest.

Peter shrieked, squirming desperately to escape the grip he was locked into, unwilling to extend his hands out to push away the tongue because the mere thought of touching it sent horror coursing through him.

It came out again, this time going slower as it swiped across Peter’s chest from left to right, its size meaning that it caught against his shoulders and neck as well since it wasn’t precise enough to perfect its aim. Peter’s nipples tingled at the sensation, less abrasive than Tony’s fingers had been, the thick muscle leaving him a moment later and leaving a thin layer of saliva over Peter’s skin.

“N-no!” Peter shouted desperately when he saw it coming back again, and, surprisingly, Tony listened, his tongue disappearing safely back behind his lips and Peter lowered slightly so Tony could properly look at him.

“You said your chest hurt,” Tony pointed out, almost as if genuinely confused, and Peter shivered as the man’s tongue briefly darted out to lick at his lower lip. His eyes trailed down to Tony’s neck upon hearing him swallow, watching his large Adam's apple bob with the motion.

Peter shook his head quickly. “No,” Peter repeated, though what he was saying no to at this point, he didn’t know. Everything. All of it. That seemed accurate enough.

Tony tsked, expression shifting into a mix that looked both disappointed and annoyed. “Lying again?” he questioned reprovingly.

“I-I-”

“We’ll have to fix that,” Tony murmured, interrupting Peter’s attempt at a response without a care and causing the teen’s mouth to snap shut with a click at what he’d said.

Because.

Fix what?

Something glinted out of the corner of Peter’s eye, catching his gaze, and he felt his stomach drop at the sight of a pair of small - well, small compared to normal ones - sewing scissors in the man’s free hand. The hand that was now approaching him.

Peter’s struggles, which had died down in the more or less failed attempt at a conversation, renewed with a vigor that he’d long since thought he’d lost, the stiffness in his shorts softening quite quickly in his complete and utter abject horror.

Tony was going to cut him up.

Peter flung his arms out wildly, first trying to tug himself upwards and out of the grip locked around his legs and then bringing both hands to grip one leg and trying to pull that one over Tony’s thumb. Both attempts failed and Peter grew more frantic, desperate whimpers and high-pitched sounds bleeding out of his throat as he thrashed around in the grip.

“Stay still.” Tony ordered him darkly, and Peter froze, eyes wide and chest heaving harshly enough that he wouldn’t be surprised if Tony could hear it. “Wouldn’t want to cut you up now, would I?” the man said rhetorically, and that was the only thing that kept Peter from starting up his struggles again.

Because that phrasing implied that the purpose of the scissors wasn’t to cut Peter up. 

So Peter froze his limbs stiff despite how they practically shook with the restraint it took him not to flinch away as the cool metal of one of the short blades' dull outer edge rested itself on his thigh, creeping upwards.

Peter whimpered again, gooseflesh rising harshly under the freezing touch, and he nearly jolted right out of his skin as the tip of one of the opened blades slipped under his boxers, continuing its path upwards and over his hip. Peter shuddered, eyes squeezing shut. The blade met the negligible resistance of his waistband, slipping past it and then -

Snip.

Peter’s eyes snapped back open as cool air brushed against his skin, so he saw that the scissors had cut clean through the leg of his boxer briefs, the material falling away to expose his private parts for all to see and only hanging miserably on from their hold on his remaining leg.

Peter stayed still even as the scissors moved to take care of that issue as well, locked in place both by his fear of being cut open and from his absolute shock at what was occurring.

It was only moments later that the process repeated, Peter’s last piece of clothing falling away to the bed so far below, and Peter was left completely naked for Tony's eyes to see.

Chapter Text

Peter jerked his arms forward and down, covering his manhood and simultaneously blushing a bright red even as he paled underneath it, mind completely boggled. “Wh-what’re-” he tried to get out, but, at this point, Peter wasn’t even sure what he was asking. It was beginning to seem as if everything was going in a direction he hadn’t previously anticipated. One he hadn’t even considered to be an option.

“Oh, Peter,” Tony sighed, tilting his palm slightly back so Peter was lying more solidly against his fingers before pushing his thumb and ring finger even further apart, spreading Peter’s legs wider with a startled yelp from the teen.

Peter’s arms flung out to clutch desperately to the closest fingers in his reach, a faintly noticeable strain entering his legs from how wide they were being held apart. 

However, his movement meant that he’d left himself exposed, and Tony used the brief lapse to swiftly bring his own other hand up, barring Peter from reaching below his midriff with the back of his palm - as if Peter was pressed against a makeshift table - and using his thumb to brush against Peter’s now flaccid length.

Peter jolted, slapping his hands down against the back of Tony’s with a hitched breath, jerking again when the motion against his member repeated. “T-Tony,” he gasped, trying to pull away but only succeeding in moving a few scant his-sized inches while pressing his rear into Tony’s palm.

Tony made a muffled sound, but Peter was too busy growing more frantic at trying to escape the touch that was slowly hardening his cock to pay it any attention, hips canting as Tony’s thumb touched against his balls before working its way up his length, pushing Peter’s prick against his own stomach. “It’s alright Peter; I’ll give you what you want,” Tony crooned, breaths heavy and words punctuated by a particularly pressing push against Peter’s now fully hardened cock that had Peter gasping out a moan.

Peter’s neck muscles felt stiff, his shoulders thrown back as his hands squeezed tightly onto the tips of the fingers behind him, trying his best to restrain himself from making any more noise or having a reaction. He knew he was failing miserably, and he desperately tried to deny Tony’s words, but he could barely manage to shake his head with how tense he was holding himself.

“Not enough?” Tony questioned understandingly, and Peter gasped weakly through a pant as Tony moved to manipulate Peter’s entire body once more.

Tony’s ring finger went down, releasing some pressure from Peter’s left leg only for Tony’s free hand to hike said leg back over Tony’s pinky instead, locking it underneath his knuckle and pushing back, though, at least only just as spread out as he’d been before. At the same time, Tony’s pointer and ring fingers came down around Peter’s shoulders, fitting over them like the thick strappings of a roller coaster ride, forcing his arms to remain by his sides. 

Peter was too fraught to do much more than watch through barely opened eyes, trying not to flush harder now that he could see his own rigid cock, the tip already flushed a heady red color.

“That’s better,” Tony hummed, lifting Peter further up with his hand, and Peter could do nothing more than widen his eyes and open his mouth in a soundless gasp before Tony’s lips parted in front of him and the turgid mass of flesh that was his tongue came back out. It didn’t just slick itself against his chest this time, though.

Peter struggled to stop it even while feeling like his strength had completely left him, but he could do nothing more than watch since all of his limbs were locked in place, leaving his legs spread wide and his chest exposed.

Tony’s tongue, glistening with a layer of saliva, began lower than before, and Peter inhaled sharply as it laved against his erect cock, the wet heat of it sending sparks shooting up his spine and his head tilting back, exposing the column of his throat with a heaving gasp.

It didn’t stop there, though, continuing its path up across his twitching abdomen and his still irritated chest, nearly acting as a soothing balm to his nipples if not for the heat that sent jolts through each of the pink nubs, making Peter’s back unwillingly arch into the touch.

The pink muscle only moved away after reaching the underside of Peter’s chin, parting from his body with a thin strand of saliva connecting him to it until the mass disappeared back behind Tony’s lips, snapping the string.

Peter couldn’t do more than pant weakly, the experience draining him more than he thought it could and leaving him shining and slick with the man’s spit, cock twitching and the small mushroom head of it growing purple with need.

And then Tony smirked, and his tongue came back out.

Peter was practically boneless, not that his struggling would make a difference, but he felt more so as if he was completely subjugated by the piece of flesh that slathered against his body, nerves feeling too sensitive as they picked up on every ridge and bump that made up the taste buds that coated every inch of the muscle. It pressed against Peter’s crotch, from the front of his balls to the head of his cock, Peter’s hips canting into the slick, heated organ without his say as he let out a breathy moan, head thrown back and eyes closed.

Every unerring touch of it against his chest had him shivering from the renewed heat against his skin, which was quick to grow cold with how it was exposed to the air and now so thoroughly dampened. The press against his nipples sent flickers of something through him that had his cock twitching, a steady flow of precum beginning to eke out.

And it didn’t stop.

It wasn’t like the first touch, just once, twice. No, except for a couple occasions - in which Tony darted the appendage back behind his lips for a brief moment, the sound of the mass of flesh shifting still audible to Peter and during which the man’s throat worked as he swallowed each time - the man’s tongue never left Peter’s body. It continued to work Peter over the edge with no reprieve, leaving him gasping for breath and arching into the touch without even realizing, mind hazy and pleasure building, leaving him feeling on the edge of erupting as he began to squirm faintly, feeling the cusp of his orgasm become imminent.

And then it stopped.

Peter gasped more solidly, as if he’d just come up for air, eyes snapping back open and head finally jerking forward to see what was occurring.

The tongue was gone, the only remnants of it being Peter’s spit slick skin, and Tony was simply looking down at him, head tilted slightly and lips faintly parted.

“You want to cum?” the man breathed, hot air wafting over Peter’s rapidly cooling body and making him shiver in unwillingly desperate need.

Peter could only whimper, words twisting between an outright denial and a frantic agreement before either could pass his lips, resulting in only a faint, needy whine coming out.

Tony hummed, and Peter gasped sharply, hips jerking forward as he felt the faint brush of a pad of a finger touch his cock.

It was gone almost as soon as it came, though, and Peter slumped back into the restrictive hold he was locked into, panting chest glistening with every breath and the brief touch leaving him even more on edge, a whine escaping his parted lips as his head lolled to the side.

Tony made a sympathetic noise. “Want me to help you?” he murmured, and another feather light touch grazed against Peter’s ready-to-burst cock, making him let out a broken keen.

“Y-yes,” Peter breathed - nearly whimpered - too weak to even chase after his own pleasure, belatedly realizing that a few stray tears had slipped down his cheeks in his desperation, cockhead a lurid purple and practically weeping itself.

“Yes what, Pete?” Tony asked gently, only a soft hint of reprimand lacing the question.

Peter whined, head falling back again and legs squirming faintly, wishing he could press his thighs together to get some delicious, desperately needed friction against his aching prick. “Pl - please; please,” Peter begged, panting, the edge of a whimper turning into a sharp keen as he felt another faint brush against his straining cock. “Please, Tony!” he nearly shouted, arcing off the man’s palm with a sudden burst of strength that only resulted in a spasming sob making its way through his chest as his cock failed to connect with anything.

“Master.” Tony said roughly, almost a growl, and Peter gave a yelp of barely pleasurable pain, flinching harshly as the leaking tip of his cock was flicked with the blunt edge of a nail.

Not even in the proper mind space to comprehend what was asked of him, Peter sobbed out, “Ma-ster - please, master,” through wet inhales, growing more desperate by the second and terrified of having his cock abused again as it’d been a moment before.

And then - pressure. Delightful, blessed, mind whitening, back arching, droolworthy pressure against his prick that had Peter’s hips jerking frantically with what little movements they could make as Tony’s thumb, path slickened with the still damp saliva that coated Peter’s skin, ground gently against Peter’s turgid length. “Good boy,” Tony purred, and Peter’s lips parted in a broken moan, thighs straining and back twinging at the arc his spine took as he came, thin ropes of cum erupting from his cock, spurting up his chest and onto the tip of Tony’s thumb.

As the last drop dribbled from Peter’s quickly softening prick, all the rigid muscles in his body fell lax, and his back fell against Tony’s palm, limp as a ragdoll, cum streaking his stomach and across his nipples. His cock lay softened against his right hip, and Peter watched, eyes so close to being shut that he was seeing through his lashes, as Tony brought his thumb to his lips, the flesh parting to stick the tip of it between them, and the man sucked the release off his digit.

Peter’s brain felt too fuzzy to process it all - to process anything, really - as he lay there, panting, Tony’s grip on him slightly loosened, releasing the strain against his legs.

Peter’s eyes fluttered shut as his breaths finally began to slow, not even flinching as Tony let out a low, rumbling groan. “That feel good?” the man questioned lowly - roughly. Peter didn’t have the energy to do more than dip his head forward in what could be construed as a nod, chin resting against his sternum and lips still parted slightly as if he couldn’t manage to keep them shut. He didn’t struggle when he was adjusted in Tony’s hand, legs finally freed and form laid out flat on Tony’s slightly cupped palm, head rested against the pads of one of the man's slightly curved fingers. He was left to just breathe for a few moments again before Tony spoke, tone sounding… objective - Peter would say disinterested except for how poorly that’d fit - as he said, “It’s not really fair, though, is it?”

Peter couldn’t find the strength to respond to the words, eyes still closed and chest visibly rising and falling with deep inhales and exhales, working through the high that’d flooded his system and had yet to leave. Really, Peter hardly had the ability to comprehend Tony’s words at all, skin feeling oversensitive and at odds with how his back was far warmer than his saliva covered, chilled front. 

“That I had to help you, but you’ve done nothing for me,” the man continued near nonchalantly - if not for the heated, bass-like quality his tone had taken.

Peter blinked blearily up at him, a frisson of warning pinging through his mind, rousing him somewhat. His throat worked for a moment, lips smacking together as he tried to formulate words. “You - it - your fault,” he mumbled out, still coming to.

Tony made a low, disapproving sound, sending a faint chill down Peter’s spine. “You’re blaming me?” he almost scoffed, exhaling sharply through his nose, the breath washing cool air over Peter’s frame. 

Peter juddered his head in a semblance of a nod, trying to muster the strength to sit up but failing, some part of him still feeling lost up in the clouds.

“So it’s my fault you got hard?” Tony said disbelievingly, and Peter flinched through a sharp noise as something brushed against the still oversensitive skin of his spent cock, trying to squirm away from the touch even as it shifted to his stomach, smearing his cum into his skin with wet, slick noises as the spunk mixed with saliva. 

Then Peter yelped, his head jerking back as the pad of the finger shifted further up to brush against his nipples, which had lost some of their previously swollen, irritated state but still felt hypersensitive.

Tony hummed, the noise sounding the barest traces of reluctantly amused but otherwise uncaring, the man’s nail inching forwards to tweak at Peter’s nipples, drawing out a keen from the smaller. Peter brought his arms up to push feebly against the digit, to no avail. “If everything’s my fault anyways…” Tony trailed off. “Well,” he started again, a dark smirk quirking the corner of his lip from what Peter could see through his weak struggles, “I can live with that.”

Tony’s free hand fell away, and Peter let out a quiet, relieved gasp even as his nipples continued to spark from the remnants of the touch, the nubs once again brought to the cusp of a reddened hue, swollen to stiff peaks and throbbing.

There was a shift of rough cloth and the rasp of a zipper somewhere far below him, sounds that had some far corner of Peter’s mind alighting with warning bells, not that Peter was in the headspace to pay them any heed. 

He felt like he was on the edge of falling asleep despite the position he was in. He knew that if he were any more awake he would feel absolutely mortified and likely struck still with fright, but he’d never felt more boneless.

Even though he was technically an adult, having recently turned nineteen if he’d seen the dates right, he hardly ever jerked himself off - even before he’d been shrunk. Afterwards, he didn’t often find something to stimulate himself with - mentally or physically - and, if he did rub one off, it was more so to relieve the build up than anything else. 

That's all to say that he’d never been edged to the point of tears, to the point where the head of his cock felt like it was bursting and had turned such a deep, burgundy color that Peter had briefly worried that something was immeasurably wrong. He’d never cum so hard that his vision had whited out and his limbs had felt like they weighed both nothing and everything at the same time, leaving him completely slack. 

And, yes, more often than not, after he reached completion, he’d go to sleep shortly thereafter, but he’d never realized the extent to his physical depletion until this moment in which he wanted to be anything but. Not to mention how his mind felt like it was working through molasses.

A thumb came to rest on his abdomen, making the muscles there jump, before he felt Tony’s entire form shift down again, the man moving into a similar laying down position as he’d been in before, though slightly more hiked up. His middle back and up were still propped against the headboard and pillows.

Then he sank his hand down. And down. And down.

The fingers behind Peter curled slightly inwards, forcing Peter into a sitting position and letting him better observe his surroundings, and Peter froze.

His brain seemed to have shorted, because it refused to process where he had been lowered to. What he’d been lowered to.

It was a cock.

Tony’s cock.

Peter, seated in Tony’s palm, which was resting just below his hip and parallel to his apparent erection, was at eye level with just above the base of the man’s cock.

The massive length of it was bobbing, standing near straight up in the air perpendicular to Tony’s stomach but slightly curved towards it, a thick, throbbing vein running up the shaft towards the bulbous, leaking head of the man’s prick. A thick bead of precum dribbled from the tip, sliding down the front in a glistening trail that disappeared into the short, trimmed curls of hair that surrounded the base of it.

“Like what you see?” Tony murmured, bringing his hand - and Peter with it - closer to his twitching erection.

Peter scrambled backwards, bumping into the man’s pinky and shaking his head in frantic negation as his heart leapt straight into the ribs caging it, previously subdued adrenaline bursting forth in a torrent that left him feeling as if he was suffering from a headrush.

Tony's hand continued to move unerringly closer despite Peter's wordless protest, and Peter pressed further away, but he was barred in by the fingers at his back, feet scrambling at the soft flesh of the palm beneath him as if he could strain his shoulders enough to get the digits behind him to give way.

They didn’t, and Peter quite suddenly found himself being pressed directly into the shaft of the man’s prick, his face shoved in just below the mushroom head of his cock and the rest of his body squeezed against the pulsing flesh before him and the unrelenting grip of a hand behind him.

Tony’s hand adjusted so he was gripping his cock just as one would do when jerking themselves, the only difference being Peter stuck between the man’s palm and his throbbing erection.

Peter squirmed, managing to twist his head to the side to gasp in a heaving breath, the heady scent of musk filling up his nose as he struggled to regain the air he’d momentarily lost with having his mouth and nose directly shoved into the man’s turgid skin without release. His hands pushed frantically at whatever he could reach, trying to shove back and give himself an inch of space so he wasn’t left pressed into the overwhelming mass that made the man’s erection with enough force that he could only shallowly breathe.

Tony let out a loud, drawn out groan above him, squeezing down on his cock and Peter, making the smaller yell out as he was roughly manipulated in a short jerk up and down the man’s shaft, bumping into the ridge of the bulbous head of his prick. The path was somewhat smoothed by the still present slickness of Peter’s skin, spit and cum sliding together and allowing Tony to drag Peter up and down the scant inch or two of the man’s shaft that wasn’t already covered by his palm or Peter.

His cock must’ve stood at around seven inches at the very least, seeing as to how Peter was five inches tall but Tony still had room below the head to jerk his cock with.

“St-stop - Tony!” Peter shouted, shoving at the length and getting his words out when he had enough breath to do more than heave in a sharp inhale.

Tony growled, and Peter’s scream was sucked back into his throat as he felt himself frisked higher, over the ridge of the man’s cock and straight to the tip, only having a moment to process the sight of the glistening, darkly hued head and the pulsing, leaking hole before a thumb pressed against the back of his head and his face was shoved directly into the slit of the man’s cock.

Peter’s struggles picked up immediately, limbs pinwheeling frantically as he was suddenly faced with a complete and utter lack of air to breathe, mouth flooding with the heavy, bitter taste of precum as he failed to close his mouth in time. His hands gripped onto either side of the head of Tony’s cock, pushed desperately against it, frantic in his need for air, as he’d been unprepared to have lost it, so he hadn’t inhaled deeply before being forced to go without.

Tony let out another low moan, prick shoving up and forcing Peter’s face further into his throbbing slit, both of Peter’s hands jerking towards his own face, grabbing onto the sides of Tony’s cockhole and attempting to pull at it to get a breath. Tony only groaned harder, grinding his cockhead against Peter’s face and squeezing the rest of his body harder against the top of it.

It was only when Peter’s struggles started to slow, Peter becoming lightheaded from lack of oxygen in a way that warred with his still pumping adrenaline, that Tony finally released his grip from behind Peter’s head. Peter jerked backwards with a wet gasp, coughing harshly to try and get out the precum he’d accidentally inhaled into his lungs with his harsh breath. 

“You’ll call me master, unless you want to do that again,” Tony said huskily, voice dark with promise as another thick bead of precum rolled down his shaft.

Peter shuddered harshly, trembles wracking his frame as he let out another wet cough, stuttering to get the words out as the fingers encircling him tightened their grip around him and Tony’s shaft in a warning squeeze. “Y - yes m-master,” he eked out, swallowing harshly despite the thick, bitter taste still lining his throat. The thought of being smothered - drowned, more like - again in Tony’s slit had his shivering pick up, shoulders hiking as he attempted to curl in on himself and away from the massive cock he was still pressed up against.

“Good boy,” Tony purred, thumb stroking gently down the back of Peter’s head, at odds with the formerly harsh motion it’d made and still making Peter flinch just as much. “You do wanna be good, right?” Tony checked softly, rubbing Peter up and down against his shaft slightly, Peter’s nipples twinging faintly but his own prick hanging limply between his thighs.

Peter whimpered. “Y-yes master,” he agreed, not even bothering to resist the way his own body was being manipulated like a toy against Tony’s cock.

“You’ll be a good little helper, won’t you?” Tony cajoled gently, thumb caressing Peter’s cheek in a mimicry of the way it had when they first met.

Peter’s lip trembled. “Yes m-aster.”

Tony hummed, the sound shifting into a bitten off groan as his hips jerked, the skin of his prick rubbing against Peter’s front. The man let out a breath, petting Peter’s head again with his thumb, each stroke pushing Peter’s unresisting face into the man’s shaft for a moment before the press eased. “You’ll help me cum?” the man cooed. “Use your tiny hands to try and work me over? Hug my cock with your body like you're in love with it? Fuck yourself around my dick until I blow my load all over you? Swallow my cum like the little cockwhore you are?” The man’s hips canted again as if he were getting off on his own prompts, a hiss escaping between his clenched teeth and a blurt of precum leaking from his cock’s slit. 

Peter whimpered again, eyes burning with the threat of tears as his trembling picked back up. He didn’t know if Tony expected him to do what he’d just said Peter would, but he was too afraid of making a mistake worthy of punishment to go with inaction. 

So he shifted his trembling arms, Tony’s grip loose enough to allow him to free them from their positions at his sides, and placed them against the man’s shaft, palms pushing into the smooth skin that gave slightly under the pressure.

Tony moaned outright, palm pressing further into Peter’s back in what was likely an attempt at encouragement. It did work to spur Peter on, his trembling arms going around either side of the man’s shaft and gripping onto it in a semblance of an embrace, his fingertips barely touching on the other end. He repeated the action with his legs, which were long enough that he was able to lock his ankles together around Tony’s cock, the man’s palm supporting his back and rear from needing to hold himself up.

“Such a good toy,” Tony groaned, and Peter barely had any mind span left to wonder whether he’d misheard, too focused on squeezing down on the cock he was holding, arms moving up and down slightly, path now eased by both the saliva and the precum that’d begun to coat the man’s shaft. Peter’s chin was cusped just over the ridge of the man’s cockhead, resting against the rim and having a direct line of sight to every drop of precum that eked its way past the pulsing slit.

Then Peter’s right arm, near the crook of his elbow, caught against the thick vein he’d seen earlier that visibly throbbed against Tony’s prick, and he barely restrained a flinch as Tony let out a throaty groan, palm pressing against Peter’s back.

Peter’s mind latched onto the noise and what it meant, spurring him into action as he let his right arm drop from its hold around the man’s cock and instead pressed his palm directly against the bulging vein he’d brushed against, pushing down on it and rubbing along its length as best he could. He was rewarded by another inadvertent squeeze and a husky groan from Tony, signaling that his actions were likely working in making headway for Tony’s impending orgasm. All that was in Peter’s mind was that the faster Tony came, the faster it’d be over.

Tony’s hips jolted again, grip on Peter tightening to the point that it felt constricting, and his pace picked up, Peter’s hold around his cock failing as he was jerked up and down the man’s shaft near frantically. From there, he was used as nothing more than an object, lungs squeezing with his compressed ribs and skin only not rubbed raw because of the amount of pre that’d coated the entirety of Tony’s cock.

Tony moaned deeply, pushing at Peter’s head again, forcing Peter’s face into his cockhole, though, as thankful as one could be over such an action, it only lasted a moment before Peter was released with a wet, short gasp, face coated in precum and a thin stream of it following after him from the hole.

“You like that, you fucking slut?” Tony panted, jerking Peter up and down his shaft at the same, rapid pace, cock swelling further. “Like being a full-body fleshlight?” he rasped, speed quickening further and motions growing uncoordinated and short.

He suddenly pulled Peter off his cock, ripping him away and sitting up abruptly, Peter too startled from the jarring series of motions to consider even trying to move from his thrown, splayed out position in Tony’s cupped palm between the man’s thighs.

Tony’s free hand had come up to grip at his turgid cock, adjusting it and pointing the bulbous tip right at Peter, and, with two more harsh strokes down his shaft, he came with a deep groan, cum spurting out of his cock in thick streaks over Peter’s entire form. 

The teen tried to cover himself, but he was completely coated, cum shooting across his small, naked body from top to bottom and pooling into the curve of Tony’s palm so that Peter was sitting in a small puddle of it. His hair was laid flat with the viscous release, and he swiped desperately across his face as he spluttered, trying to get enough cum out from his eyes to see and from over his mouth and nose to breath without inhaling it.

Tony let out another low moan, a final rope of cum spattering over Peter. 

Peter frisked a hand through his fringe, pushing it back and out of his eyes so it wasn’t dripping cum into them, chest heaving as he tried to process what had happened.

Despite the fact that Tony had just climaxed, he let out a noise that was distinctly aroused, the pad of one of his fingers coming up to rub his cum against Peter’s stomach as if trying to get Peter’s skin to absorb his release. “Little cumdump,” he rasped, abruptly shoving Peter face first into the pool of cum in his palm. The teen barely heard the low chuckles above him as he began thrashing again as he had attempted to do earlier, failing just as much now as he had with his head shoved into Tony’s cock slit.

The thick liquid around him sloshed wetly and had his hands slipping as he tried to push off Tony’s palm, the fingers pressing down on his back not even twitching at his attempt at resistance. 

Tony rubbed Peter’s face up and down through his release, still not letting him up for air as his struggles continued. “Weren’t you gonna eat it?” Tony questioned innocently, another finger moving to idly trail down Peter’s lower back. “Shove it down your throat till your tummy’s all round full of my cum?” he kept on, voice dropping lower.

His finger shifted off Peter’s head to join the other against his back, allowing Peter’s head to jerk up out of the puddle of cum he’d been drowning in to take a gasping breath, choking and coughing violently. Tony made a disappointed noise, and Peter was shoved back into his spunk.

Peter thrashed just as violently as before, if not more so, panic genuinely beginning to set in upon realizing that Tony hadn’t stopped. One finger kept his head underneath the viscous ejaculate while another held him down at his back. A third began rubbing against his ass, spreading one cheek on the downward stroke of it and the other on the upward.

“Didn’t I say something?” Tony said disapprovingly, rubbing Peter’s face more pointedly into his release like shoving a dog’s nose in its own shit to prove a point. “Eat it.” he ordered.

And then Peter was let up again, and the teen barely spared a moment to breathe in a choked inhale, the sound a wet rasp, before he was rushing to cup a handful of cum into his shaking palms and shove it to his lips, forcing himself to take it in and swallow the thick substance as quickly as he could - before Tony could take his lack of speedy action as a sign of resistance. 

There was a second’s pause, only his forcefully withheld coughs and large swallows echoing through his ears, before Tony hummed contentedly, the sound unwittingly making Peter’s shoulders relax. “What a good little toy; so good for his owner,” Tony cooed, finger stroking gently up Peter’s trembling spine.

Peter desperately withheld the terrified whine that begged to creep up past his throat, instead forcing himself to bring another palmful of still warm cum to his lips and pour it into his mouth, excess dripping down his chin as he struggled to swallow.

“Are you enjoying your food?” Tony questioned softly, thumb creeping around to brush its pad against Peter’s stomach.

Peter swallowed convulsively, forcing himself not to flinch as he gave a jittery nod. “Y-yes m-master,” he rasped through his tight throat.

“Yeah?” Tony commented, a smile on his lips. “Then what do we say?” he questioned gently, as if speaking to a toddler.

Peter’s trembling picked up, mind running in circles for a brief, heart-stopping moment before it latched onto something. “Th-thank y-you,” he said, quickly adding, “M-m-master,” and nearly slumping over in heady relief when he received no reprimand for the belated title. 

There were a few seconds in which Peter only sat there, trembling in the puddle of cooling cum, before a finger pushed slightly against his shoulder, making him flinch heavily. “You’re not done yet, are you?” Tony cajoled playfully, nudging Peter forward a bit in a movement that had Peter rushing to scoop up more cum to his mouth, head pounding in terrified rejection of the thought of being forced to the point of near suffocation again. 

The order to stop continued to be withheld, Peter’s lips barely resisting curling upwards against the taste of bitter seed that laid thick against his tongue. He was forced to continue swallowing down the man’s release that he was still puddled in until his stomach was slightly distended and he had to actively restrain himself from retching, at which point he finally looked up at the man, eyes begging for liberation from the task.

Tony’s eyes were half lidded, and Peter’s eyes skated over but caught sight of the man’s half chub on his path to meet the other’s gaze. The thumb rubbing gentle circles on his lower back and the edge of Peter’s crevice - which was just barely reachable while the teen was in an upright position - finally stilled against him.

“Full?” Tony hummed, and Peter gave a slow nod of his head, worried that moving any faster would cause him to puke. “Such a good toy,” the man whispered in a rasp, gently raising Peter higher, the smaller being able to do nothing but try to keep steady as his stomach sloshed with the contents inside it. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” Tony cooed.

Peter clenched his eyes shut, grabbing hold of the thumb connected to the hand he was sat on to try and retain his balance as best he could, swallowing convulsively as he tried to think of anything but the way the rocking motion of Tony standing and lumbering over to wherever they were going made Peter’s center of balance shift and swirl in a way that was entirely unpleasant.

He finally opened his eyes when he felt the palm he was sat in lower and shift, forcing him to slide down out of it, feet landing on cool marble. He looked around and realized they were in the bathroom, with Peter standing by the massive sink.

Cum dripped down his thighs and off his legs, pooling onto the ground around him as he cupped a hand underneath his stomach, taking slow, even breaths to try and release the pressure working at his throat.

He could hardly pay any attention to Tony as the man maneuvered around, turning on the faucets and letting out a jet of water into the sink, finger going under the stream every few seconds to check the temperature. It didn’t take long for the man to apparently be satisfied, hand lowering down to the bottom of the sink and plugging the drain.

Then he moved back over to Peter, and, upon realizing that Tony likely meant to pick him up in his fist as he’d normally done, Peter panicked and stepped quickly forward, hoping it’d show the man he wanted to be sat on his palm instead.

Not that he wanted either option - no, not at all - but the latter definitely held less of a chance at pushing against Peter’s stomach and making everything come right back out. Peter shuddered at how Tony might react to such a thing. 

Tony’s hand stopped in front of him, figure bent down slightly and allowing Peter to see the slight surprise that alighted in his features, a look that quickly curled into a half-lidded smile. “What a well-mannered toy,” he praised in a coo, lying his hand out flat and letting Peter take the initiative to step onto his fleshy palm. “So behaved for his owner,” Tony commended softly, stroking a thumb down Peter’s back as the teen settled into a seated position in the center of the man’s hand, head ducked low to hide his own expression.

Tony made short work of lowering Peter into the sink, the teen gasping as he was met with the warmth of the clear water, droplets spraying against his skin from where they splashed against the surface from the faucet.

Peter was so absorbed in the sensation, feeling relief at being able to rub the spunk off his skin - where it had begun to crust and dry - that it took him a moment to notice Tony leaving, only realizing he had done so when the man himself returned. 

He observed that the other must’ve left to grab a chair, as he took a seat in front of the sink, high enough that he was easily able to lower his hands into the water on either side of Peter, first turning the faucet off. 

The water was at a decent level, stopping at around Peter’s collarbones, and it was warm enough that it had all of Peter’s muscles relaxing, the cramps in his stomach from its distention easing into a barely noticeable twinge.

Peter didn’t resist as Tony’s hands came up on either side of him, rubbing gently against his skin across his arms, legs, shoulders, and chest. They passed over his crotch area and rear as well, but it was with the same level of interest - or lack, in a way - that was paid to the rest. Slowly but surely, they worked over every bit of Peter’s skin, pressure staying soft - just firm enough to rub away the cum and saliva that stuck persistently to his frame.

When Tony’s thumb brushed over Peter’s stomach, though, Peter let out a soft groan, curling away from the touch as it caused the slight inflation of his stomach to press uncomfortably inwards. Tony’s maneuvering stopped, and then his thumb slowly moved forward to follow where Peter had edged away, this time touching more gently against his skin.

“Aw,” Tony sighed softly, sympathetically. “Did you eat too much?” he questioned tenderly, thumb tracing the barely present outline of his distended innards.

Peter shook his head weakly, too afraid to agree in fear that it was a trap.

Tony let out a warm chuckle, another finger rubbing approvingly against his back. “I know you like my cum in your belly, but you gotta be careful,” he gently reproved, voice soothing enough that Peter unconsciously relaxed, knowing he wouldn’t be punished for it. “Do you like the thought?” Tony continued after a moment in a hum. “Being so full of my sperm you look pregnant with it?” he breathed.

Unwilling to disagree, Peter nodded limply, gaze fixedly staring at the rippling water in front of him.

Tony made a slow, content noise and resumed his ministrations, this time carefully avoiding Peter’s stomach except for occasional, gentle caresses to the faintly swollen skin.

Things continued on the same track for a long while, with Peter dunking his head under the water a couple times to remove the flaking spunk from there as well, and, by the time they were finished, the water had turned a faintly foggy color and had cooled significantly.

The cramped sensation in Peter’s gut, which had faded at some point in the middle, had now shifted instead, pressing firmly against his bladder. He hadn’t thought much of this possible scenario before, but the combination of the fact that the cum he’d forced himself to swallow was a fluid and that water - especially warm water - tended to speed up his current urge resulted in Peter now realizing he desperately needed to pee. 

As Tony lifted him up out of the water, still allowing him to be seated in the man’s palm while clutching his thumb, Peter squirmed, thighs rubbing together as the need began to increase exponentially. 

The man grabbed a nearby hand towel and set Peter down on its center, raising the edges up and blotting Peter dry with it, limb by limb. 

As soon as it touched Peter’s abdomen, though, Peter jerked harshly, a high-pitched squeak escaping his lungs and his thighs clamping together.

“Peter?” Tony asked concernedly, letting the tower fall and leaning in closer to Peter’s tense frame. “Is something wrong?”

Peter shook his head quickly, hands dropping to cup over his crotch.

Tony’s eyes narrowed, but when he moved to scoop Peter up, he did so gently. 

It still made the teen gasp, the sudden movement nearly making a spurt of piss escape out his urethra, and he stood shakily to release some of the pressure off his bladder, having to clutch onto the top of Tony’s thumb for support.

“Does your tummy still hurt?” Tony asked consolingly, and Peter winced but nodded weakly, unwilling to say otherwise. 

Tony’s free thumb snaked up and brushed softly against Peter’s abdomen, making Peter gasp out a whimper and hunch over, clutching onto the one thumb in his grip like a lifeline as he struggled not to tense up, knowing that would only spur on his release.

“Poor thing,” Tony simpered quietly, stroking over Peter’s bladder again, and Peter nearly yelped, a drop of piss escaping from him. Tony didn’t seem to notice - which was likely true seeing as to how small a single spurt was from Peter.

“I - I’m gonna pee,” Peter finally whimpered out, knowing that it wouldn’t take much more for everything to burst out if he couldn’t stop it.

“Awwww,” Tony cooed, “you gotta go potty?” he questioned in seemingly unintentional but complete and utter patronization. 

Peter flushed red from humiliation and utter need, thighs quivering and knees coming together as he desperately dug his fingers into Tony’s thumb so he wouldn’t just collapse and release his bladder all over himself. Still, he ducked his head in a nod, wet bangs covering his squeezed-shut eyes as the burn of tears finally won out and two single streaks tracked down his cheeks as he bit his lip from the strain.

There was a gentle press against his stomach that made Peter abruptly gasp, unable to jerk away as he felt his bladder clench full and Peter’s entire frame shook, desperate to get away from the finger that was adding a barely-there but enough pressure to his abdomen to make him see stars.

“T-t- Master,” Peter whimpered, the word the only entreaty he could manage to get out past his lips that wasn’t an inarticulate whine.

“It’s alright,” Tony soothed, and another finger slid up to Peter’s lower back just as the man’s thumb pressed down further, compressing Peter’s bladder between the two digits and causing a high pitched, broken keen to burst out of Peter’s throat as his bladder abruptly gave way under the pressure. His cock twitched and juddered as piss sprayed out in a torrent, hands still clenched over the ridge of Tony’s thumb and unable to direct his release, resulting in him wetting his thighs, legs, and down onto Tony’s palm.

“I- ‘m so-sor-ry, ‘m s’rry,” Peter sobbed, legs turning to jelly and sending him crumpling down until he was crouched on Tony’s palm, hands shifting to lock around the man’s thumb in a makeshift hug as sobs wracked his frame, the wet heat of his urine still dribbling down his thighs and puddling into the small divots in the skin under Peter’s feet. His forehead was pressed solidly just above the midsection of the digit he held in his clutches, and he felt entirely spent as he rested nearly all his weight against it.

“Shhhh, shhhh, it’s okay,” Tony crooned, stroking a finger down Peter’s back as he gave a soft, wordless hum. “I know you’ll do better next time,” Tony comforted him gently, Peter not even having the strength to react except trying to regain control of his sniffling, wet breaths as the man stood and moved back over to the sink. His hand left Peter’s back to turn on the faucet, its setting a gentle stream this time compared to the torrent it’d been before, and he waited a few moments before slowly bringing Peter under it.

The teen kept his head ducked so as to not splutter under the flow, loosening his grip on the thumb he’d been clutched onto and lying limp to let Tony maneuver him as he liked. Tony gently guided the stream to wash away Peter’s release, rubbing a finger over Peter’s thighs, legs, and crotch as the water cleansed the last remnants of his accident away. 

From there, Peter remained malleable under Tony’s grip as he was brought back to the towel and dabbed dry once more, hair ruffled gently with the soft fabric and leaving it in semi-dry but still damp strands. The teen felt completely and utterly drained - literally in the physical sense but also in the way of mentality. He couldn’t even find it in himself to come up with a reason to fight against Tony’s touch. It wasn’t as if his resistance would mean anything more than the bringing on of a punishment. 

His eyes drooped in a slow blink that barely managed to be known as such with how he struggled to reopen them. His shoulders were slumped slightly forward in his seated position, knees bent but almost straight and hands clasped loosely together between his thighs.

“Tired?” Tony asked softly, the wind from his breath buffeting Peter’s hair from how close the man was.

Peter nodded slowly, distantly, eyes remaining at half-mast as his breaths deepened and his limbs grew looser still.

Tony hummed understandingly, gently cupping Peter with both his hands and lifting him off the soft towel cloth, cradling Peter close to his chest.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured.