Title: Maybe This Time
Fandom: MCU / Superior Iron Man
Rating: Explicit
Length: ~4300
Content notes: none apply
Author notes: this is an AU version of MCU events that mixes MCU stuff with Marvel 616 Superior Iron Man. Peter is slightly older in this universe and didn't meet Tony during the events of CA:CW. It's also written to fit 5 bingo cards and a this-or-that challenge. The kinks/options in question are: character likes being slapped, oral, cookies, sex club, object penetration, Superior Iron Man (on a different card)
Summary: Despite a disagreement between them, Peter can't convince himself to stay away from Tony.

AO3 link

'Go fuck yourself, Tony' is what he wished he'd been able to say then. He couldn't even remember how he and Tony had stumbled onto the topic, but Peter was flat out not doing it. He wasn't a lab rat. And he had no interest in continuing to interact with someone who thought he should be.

One stint as someone's science project was more than enough. He'd been tricked into getting involved with Dr. Connors. If that man was ever an ethical scientist, he lost that post years ago.

It didn't help that when he refused to extol the virtues of Tony's 'brilliant' idea, that Tony then decided to insult him. Peter could handle insults all day from criminals and people who didn't particularly matter to him. But he wasn't going to put up with that sort of shit from someone who claimed to want to spend time with him. Even if that time was almost entirely centered around sex.

No thanks.

Tony had been doing a lot of good things in the city over the last couple years. Peter wasn't wanting to discourage that behavior. But, apparently, he was going to have to do his encouraging from afar.

For the time being, he was seeking out dinner. There was a little Mexican spot he knew that had great taco options. Bonus, they had a special. So, Peter and his incredibly affordable tacos found a seat on a roof near the club Peter was still too self-conscious to go to on his own.

His friends would probably tease him about it. Either him not being able to make himself go, or about wanting to go in the first place. Screw them – in the 'my friends are jerks' sort of way.

He would never tell them the whole idea was Tony's fault. Mostly Tony's fault. Peter was interested in kink, though he hadn't explored much. The club thing was nudged a bit by some of his interactions with Tony.

Either way, Peter was sitting on a roof nearby, enjoying his tacos, and watching the people coming and going from the club. Leather and spandex and lace in all varieties. People were so creative with their kink attire. Every time he sat here watching, he'd see something new.

Tonight he watched a familiar car pull up to the front of the club and he nearly dropped his damned taco. The man who stepped out of the backseat of the car appeared to have something in his hand. A moment later, a second man stepped out behind the first, only he was being led by a leash. That's what the first man had in his hand. That first man – that was Tony.

Tony being at the club didn't really surprise Peter. Tony prided himself on doing whatever the hell he wanted to do. No, the shock was the leashed person behind him. Peter's eyesight was excellent so he knew he wasn't seeing things. The guy who got out of the car with Tony was Flash Thompson.

Peter stuffed half the taco into his mouth to avoid grumbling any expletives loud enough to be heard on the street. Now Peter felt even better about wanting Tony to fuck off. If this was how he reacted to being told 'no', Peter would rather stay away.

As annoyed as he was about that situation, he wouldn't let this ruin his night. Or his people watching of the interesting club-goers. One day – one day – he'd drum up the courage to actually go to the club himself.

For Peter, 'one day' was apparently that weekend. He didn't have any special fetish gear to wear, but he dug out an old t-shirt that was too tight for day-to-day wear, but perfect for this. As for pants, he dragged out the pair of skinny jeans Aunt May had mistakenly thought would be a good fashion choice for him. They sort of fit. Except for where his thighs were nearly splitting the seams.

He was nervous he wouldn't fit in. Or he'd be told to leave. But the bouncer at the front gave him an appreciative once-over. In fact, the cute guy handling the cover charges told him, "Oh, honey, as the new guy, you'll have them eating out of your hands. I wish you were a top, sweetie."

Peter, cheeks tinging pink, had thanked the guy and followed the line of people into the club. He tried to look like he knew what he was doing. Drawing his shoulders back, standing up straight, walking with purpose to find a place to sit and take in his surroundings.

The place was pretty impressive. Much livelier than what it had appeared from the outside. It was all leather and wood, but also, somehow, high-tech. An interesting combination that worked in the space. Despite all of the tech, the lights were dimmed to an ambient level. And everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.

It was all fascinating. Peter was glad he'd convinced himself to come. He hadn't decided yet if he was going to play or not. But it wasn't out of the question.

Looking around, it didn't seem his choice to sit and watch was out of place. That let him relax a bit. He was a little surprised when a couple different people approached him and asked if he wanted to join them to play. For the moment, he smiled and politely declined. He wasn't quite ready to venture out just yet. But, he did appreciate that people were asking. It made him feel better about himself anyway.

As he was sitting there, drinking water, looking around the club, he heard the sound of a hand striking flesh. Not a strange sound in a place like this, but this seemed different. It wasn't the sound of a hand slapping a meaty area of the body like a thigh or an ass. It took Peter a moment to locate the source and realize what he'd heard.

Curious and a little confused, it was hard not to stare at both the deliverer and the recipient of the slap. He could see the red imprint on Flash's face from where he was sitting. An imprint of Tony's hand. Was that the sort of thing Flash was into? Or just Tony?

Fascinated again, Peter watched the scene play out. It was an interesting concept. And he understood the appeal – partly. Overall, it had him intrigued, from a scientific standpoint, as well as a kinky exploration one. Even to the point that when a fiery redhead approached and asked if he was interested in trying something with her, he bravely said 'yes'.

The woman led him to a private playroom and sat with him to talk over their likes, dislikes, and goals for the session. Peter found her approach calming. It let him ease his way into opening up about some things he wanted to try. And gave him room to note things he wasn't interested in. The woman could definitely tell Peter hadn't done this before, but she wasn't judging him for it. He wasn't used to that. It was nice.

"So, you want to try out being slapped," the redhead said. "Just the slapping or do you want it while you're being told to do other things? And, is there any warm up stuff you need to try first? Ease your way in?"

Peter shook his head, then half-shrugged. "Um. We can blend it with other things. Make it organic. Unless you want some other sort of warm-up first, I'm okay with that too."

She grinned at him. "You're cute. And sweet. I like it. It works for you." She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, the leather her thigh-high boots creaking softly as she did. "Now, can I get you to take off your clothes for me? Let me see how gorgeous that body of yours really is."

His teeth dragged across his lip. But he nodded. Then he began to strip out of his clothes. He peeled the too-tight t-shirt over his head and dropped it casually on the floor like he'd seen hot thirst-trap guys do on social media videos.

The redhead purred a pleased sound. "Keep going, honey."

That was a nice little confidence boost. Again, following the trend of the thirst-trap guys, Peter turned away from the redhead as he unfastened his jeans. He ended up wiggling his ass a lot more than he'd intended due to how damned snug his jeans were. But, he got them over his hips and down his legs. Revealing his complete lack of underwear beneath. He'd tried to wear them, but the jeans wouldn't fit over even his most threadbare pair. So, commando it was.

"Oooh," came the redhead's voice. "Been a long time since I've seen an ass that good. I'd love to turn it a bright shade of red."

Peter tucked his chin over his shoulder. "Is that what you want as a warm-up?"

The redhead glanced to a wall of implements, then back to Peter's ass. "There's a crop over there with your name on it, brat. I'm sure I could put it to good use."

A shiver skittered across his skin. He hadn't experienced a reaction like that to just the 'threat' of an implement before. "We – we could definitely start there."

The grin on the redhead's lips turned into a wicked little smirk. "You are perfect, honey," she said. Then spun a finger in the air, indicating for him to turn around.

Right. She hadn't seen all of him yet. He was already here, no sense being shy now. Slowly, he turned to face her. It was a feat not to cup his hands around his cock to hide.

"Relax, sweetie. I don't bite. Much," she said as she rose from her seat and approached the wall of implements. She ran her fingers over a couple of them before selecting a black leather riding crop.

Peter took a deep breath, waiting. His body was starting to react to the surroundings and the confident way the redhead moved around the room. And, maybe at the prospect of the crop on his skin.

"Now, I want you to kneel for me," the redhead told him and dragged the end of the crop across his shoulders.

He lowered himself to the floor, resting back on his heels. But he wasn't sure what to do with his hands. Fortunately, the redhead helped him out and used the crop to guide his hands to rest on his thighs.

His eyes dipped closed for a moment when her hand brushed over his hair. "Good. Now, we should figure out why I would be slapping you, don't you think? Are you going to defy me? Talk back? What?"

Peter hadn't considered that side of it. "Um, well, I – you mean, you can't figure it out on your own?" Immediately, he winced internally. Almost externally too. Was that the wrong thing to do?

"Oh, so I get sass then? You're gonna be fun, aren't you?" She took a breath. "Hold out your hand." When he did, she slapped the crop against it. It stung like the devil, but he didn't make any noise.

The crop didn't leave any marks on his hand, which he found somewhat disappointing, though not surprising. But, clearly, 'sassy' was the way to go to get what he wanted.

"I could try something else, but sass is what I'm good at. Though, if you have other ideas?"

She grinned at him. "I think this will do just fine. Now," she snapped the crop against his upper back as she paced around him slowly, "aside from giving me lip, what have you done that I should punish you for?"

Peter was about to answer when he heard, "How about for ignoring my calls?" from the door. He didn't have to look up to know who it was. He'd know that voice anywhere.

The redhead tucked the crop beneath his chin and applied upward pressure to get him to lift his head as she stepped directly in front of him again. "Have you been ignoring calls from Iron Man, sweetie?"

"No, ma'am," Peter answered. "I've been ignoring calls from Mr. Stark."

The woman grinned at him, then glanced over to Tony. "I see why you like this one." She held the crop out to Tony. "Did you want to take over?"

"No. I'd like to watch," Tony said. "Rumor has it he's into some things that I might like." Then nudged the door closed and took the seat the redhead had occupied earlier.

Turning back to Peter, she tapped the end of the crop against the underside of his chin and asked him, "So, why, my dear, are you ignoring calls from Mr. Stark?"

Peter kept his eyes focused on the redhead's face since she hadn't let him drop his head again. "Because he's an asshole."

The slap was immediate. The fire in his cheek like stinging nettles. The redheaded woman was stronger than he thought she was. Faster too.

Despite every instinct insisting he react, Peter stayed kneeling on the floor, hands resting on his thighs. He had asked for this type of play. Getting angry would be a dick move.

"That was very rude, honey." She tapped the crop against her free hand – the one she had just used to slap him. "Why would you say something like that about Mr. Stark?"

Peter let his head fall forward now, eyes focused on the toes of the redhead's boots. "Because it's true, ma'am."

She slapped him again. It stung just the same. But this time, he didn't get that urge to leap to his feet and shove her away.

"Mistress Nat, step to your left, please." Now Peter had a name for the fiery redheaded woman at least. He was grateful to Tony for that, even if nearly everything else about the man was irritating him.

Mistress Nat did as she was asked. Peter risked a quick glance upward to see what Tony wanted. Their eyes locked and Tony's mouth twisted into a wicked grin before he looked away.

Peter knew what he'd wanted to see. What he had seen. Peter swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.

"I think he likes how we play," Mistress Nat said.

"It appears that way. Do go on." Tony leaned back, one leg folded over the other.

Mistress Nat continued to ask Peter questions or ask him to perform tasks. If he gave her lip or didn't perform to her qualifications, she'd use the crop or her hand to deliver the punishment. Admittedly, Peter frequently altered his responses or task performance to potentially earn a punishment. That was the game they'd agreed to.

Part of the fun was figuring out if Mistress Nat could tell the difference. Even better if she gave him his 'punishment' anyway.

"I think he's ready, Mistress Nat," Tony rumbled from his seat.

Mistress Nat smiled softly, clearly in agreement, and directed Peter to stand. She guided him to a padded bench and instructed him to stretch out across the length of it, face down with his legs off to either side.

Once he was in the position she wanted for him, she continued to trail the crop over his skin, tapping it against his ass and thighs from time to time. Meanwhile, Tony had risen from his seat and come to sit straddling the bench Peter was stretched across.

"I have something for you," Tony said, fingers undoing his pants and drawing out his cock, stroking it inches from Peter's face. "Come here, Peter."

Peter almost hated himself for wanting this more than he thought he should. Though he was pissed at Tony for all of the bullshit from before, he still wanted to suck the man's cock, ride the man's cock, all of it.

Peter blinked up at Tony's face, watching him a moment before he lowered his head and curled his lips around the tip. Let his mouth slide farther down, slowly taking in every inch. He felt Tony's strong hand on the back of his head, a warm, comforting weight.

Overhead, he heard Tony tell Mistress Nat to 'go ahead'. He didn't know what that meant. Though, it didn't take long for him to find out. He could feel Mistress Nat's hands on his skin, then they disappeared for a few moments, only to return, but feeling heavier against his hips.

"Stay focused here, Pete. Don't worry about Mistress Nat," Tony told him, fingers curling beneath Peter's chin to keep his mouth where Tony wanted it.

Peter's senses wouldn't let him completely disconnect. He felt skin against his legs, then something nudging at his hole, cool and slippery. Solid, but flexible. Those clues all clicked together and suddenly he knew what was happening – Mistress Nat was going to fuck him.

An involuntary moan rolled from his throat, vibrating around Tony's cock. That seemed to make the man happy; he chuckled and rolled his hips up to press his cock in deeper.

"You should definitely make him choke on it while I'm drilling into him back here," Mistress Nat said, her fingernails scraping lightly down his back.

"Oh, I will," is what Peter heard seconds before Tony's hands positioned themselves on his head and neck to allow him to thrust his cock deep into Peter's throat.

Peter gagged a little. Figuring that was deliberate – Tony wasn't ready to fully choke him yet. That had to have been the warm up. A warning of what was to come.

Behind him, he could feel Mistress Nat getting into her role. Her hips snapped against him in quick, sharp thrusts. She was strong and somehow her movements were almost – delicate. Like a dancer or a musician. The way her hips moved was like she was following a choreographed routine.

"What do you think, Pete? Should we invite Mistress Nat in next time too? She has a way with that strap-on cock, doesn't she?" Tony asked him, knowing he wasn't in a position to be able to answer. "Imagine, having her in your ass while you choke on my dick every night." He brushed a hand over Peter's hair. "Falling asleep with your throat raw and her still fucking you. Wouldn't that be perfect?"

Peter, obviously, couldn't answer, but his betrayer of a body had him moaning in what definitely sounded like agreement. The idea, on the surface, was intriguing and hot. But he wasn't sure he wanted that every night. The way his cock twitched every time Tony mentioned something new said that he wanted at least part of it.

"Reach down and work his cock a bit, Mistress." Tony tapped Peter's hip. "Lift your backside or her."

Peter's body moved mostly on autopilot, feet pressing into the floor to raise his hips off the bench. Mistress Nat's fingers danced across his skin until they reached his cock where they folded gently around him and began to stroke slowly.

The moan this time was entirely deliberate. It was deep and warm and pleased, though muffled by the cock thrusting into his throat. It was enough to make Tony press in deeper, which did make Peter choke and gag, triggering a cough.

Peter pulled his head up, slightly fighting Tony's hold, letting the man's cock slip from his mouth, saliva dripping out with it. He took a couple breaths, then ducked back down to continue sucking Tony off. He wasn't finished.

"Good boy," Tony praised. "Very good boy. So many bratty little sluts would just quit there complaining about it being too hard. But not you."

"You're going to spoil him, Mr. Stark," Mistress Nat said, her fingers still stroking Peter's cock.

"Maybe."

Peter was working his tongue around the head of Tony's cock until the man shifted to thrust it into the back of Peter's throat again. He was ready this time and opened his throat to let as much slide in as possible. All while his own hips were rocking slightly against Mistress Nat's hand, trying to get just the right friction to get himself off.

"You didn't tell him the rules?" Tony asked, seemingly concerned.

"I knew I forgot something. Guess we'll have to save that for next time. Just tell him."

Tony sighed, but chased it with a grunt after Peter worked his throat around the man's cock. "Fine," he gritted out. "Peter, typically you'd have to ask to come, but I'm going to let you come when you want this time, since someone forgot to point out all of the rules up front."

Peter hadn't even been thinking about all of the possible kink rules beyond the safeword he'd established at the beginning when he and Mistress Nat had discussed things. Now he was glad he didn't have to think about any of that. It was hard enough just focusing on sucking Tony's cock and getting fucked by Mistress Nat at the same time. If he'd had to add any more tasks that required active use of his brain, he'd have a hard time getting everything right.

As a response to what Tony had told him, he moaned an affirmative sound around his cock. Moments later, his abs tightened and he spilled himself across the padded bench beneath him. He whimpered softly as Mistress Nat continued stroking his spent cock.

"Mr. Stark, are you going to fill his smart mouth?" she asked.

"More than," he responded and his hips jerked up. His large hands held Peter's head exactly where he wanted it as he came, shooting all of it into the back of Peter's throat. "You're going to swallow it or lick it up. Your choice."

Mistress Nat scoffed, still thrusting her hips against Peter's ass. "Not easing him into it at all, are you?"

Tony grunted as he finished. "No. What good would that serve?" He guided Peter's mouth off his cock. "You don't want me to go easy on you anyway, do you?" he asked, thumb catching a runnel of come and drool sliding down Peter's chin, pushing it back into his mouth.

Peter was surprised to find himself shaking his head. He really didn't want Tony to go easy on him. At all.

"Good boy. Now, swallow it." When Peter did, Tony grinned and praised him again, scrubbing a hand in Peter's hair. "Mistress Nat?"

"Oh, I'm good. I've got someone coming to make sure I'm well taken care of," she replied. She drew her hips back one last time, the strap-on sliding from Peter's ass. "But I would love to fuck him again. He's so stable and sturdy." She clapped a hand down on Peter's ass, then turned to leave the room.

Peter slumped to the bench, exhausted, not even concerned about his own come smeared on the top. He could wash it off later. He managed to mutter a soft 'thank you' before his eyes sank closed.

When Peter woke up, he was clean and wrapped in blankets and laying on a comfortable surface. Definitely not the padded bench from the club.

He peeled his eyes open, blinking at the ceiling as the rest of his senses took in the surroundings. He was pretty sure he was at Tony's place, but a sweet baked goods smell was throwing him off.

Fingers scratching at his head, he sat up, swinging his feet to the floor. Directly across from him, in a very expensive arm chair, was Tony. "Hi," he said.

Tony spoke across his steepled fingers. "I fuck your brains out and all I get is 'hi'?"

Peter shrugged. "What do you expect after you fucked my brains out?"

He could tell Tony didn't want to, but he grinned anyway. "Fair point, smartass."

"You're still an asshole," Peter stated.

"Probably. But why this time?"

Peter could be pedantic and ask why Tony didn't remember, but that wouldn't be productive. "You want me to be a lab rat. I am not your science experiment."

Tony frowned. "I didn't ask you to be."

Peter looked at him, aghast. "You were trying to convince me to give you blood and tissue and everything else samples for study." He shook his head. "Fuck that. Never again."

Now Tony just looked annoyed. "That wasn't for experimentation. That was for emergency situations. In case you ever did something stupid enough that you end up in the hospital. I assume you don't want mundane medical personnel poking and prodding at you."

It was Peter's turn to frown and be annoyed. "Why the hell didn't you just say that in the first place? If you'd told me that, the conversation would've been very different."

"I'll remember how obtuse you are for next time."

"Can you maybe skip insulting me because I didn't love your 'brilliant' idea? Because that hurt your case a lot more than the idea did."

"No promises," Tony offered. "Now, do you want these cookies I baked or not?"

"You did not bake those."

Tony pressed a hand to his chest. "I am wounded. You don't know that I can't bake."

"Maybe. But those are fresh and you don't smell like any part of a kitchen."

That made Tony chuckle as he leaned forward to pour cold milk from a carafe into a pair of glasses. "You're right. I have people to do things like baking for me." He held out a glass to Peter. "Help yourself."

Even if he was annoyed, Peter couldn't pass up freshly baked cookies. He accepted the glass of milk and picked up two cookies, then sat back on the couch to nibble at the first one.

"I'm still grouchy at you. But thank you. For the cookies and for the club."

Tony nodded. "You wanna go back sometime?"

Peter nodded back. "Yeah. I do."

"It can be arranged." But Tony said it in a way that made Peter think 'arranging' would be the smallest part of Tony's involvement. None of that made the prospect any less exciting.

One day, he'd figure out how he kept getting himself into these situations.