Home [Peter x Tony x Natasha]

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Peter. Is. Bored. Summer break had never been this dull. It's still another three weeks before he can go back to MIT and with Tony gone on a week-long business trip, Peter's run out of things to do by himself. A penthouse seems fun at first glance, but when you're there by yourself for a week, it's too much space. There's nothing natural, save for the few plants that are only there because F.R.I.D.A.Y. reminds the two tinkerers to water them. The echoes are deafening. And while Peter could go out and enjoy himself, there have been some rumors going around that can only be silenced by staying out of public for a while. Peter's stuck. And he. Is. Bored.

He makes sure Tony knows, though. Peter texts him every half hour. When he's feeling particularly antsy he sends something slightly more suggestive. Peter and Tony have set rules, mutually consented to. As his daddy, Tony has full control over Peter's pleasure. Peter can touch himself, rut himself against furniture, wear his plugs or his ears, he can jerk himself, massage his prostate, everything. But he can't come. Peter loves to edge, so he does it often, but it's not the same when he's by himself. He knows he's doing it for daddy, but after a while it kind of loses its spark. Without his daddy telling him exactly what to do, it's not as exciting. And with all the meetings Tony's constantly attending, phone calls are rare.

They're not really about sending nudes, though this agonizing loneliness is certainly making Peter a bit more... Daring. Tony's phone is bursting with tasteful nudes at this point. The most not safe for work piece he'd sent his billionaire boyfriend was a video. He carefully prepared it, placing his phone on the counter of the bathroom, pointing it towards the shower, but covering the bottom half with the towel he would use afterward. Tony would never be able to see Peter's privates. But he could see exactly what his boyfriend was doing. Soft moans and pants echoed through the bathroom, mingling with the static noise of the shower water hitting his body. He edged three times, desperately moaning for his daddy on the last round. He wants to come, so badly. Only daddy can give that to him, but as long as he's not home, Peter won't be finding release. All he can do is get himself to that ravine, hover over the depths, look down into the pleasurable darkness only to drag himself away from it right before he tips over.

Peter feels powerful when he sends the video. He knows it pleases his daddy- knows it will get him hard. Tony will fuck his fist to it in his hotel room bed late at night, Peter's certain. The boy eyes the clock as he's on the couch, upside down, legs dangling over the backrest. He absentmindedly plays with the golden ring attached to his black leather collar with bold, red stitching. Tony's fourth meeting of the day is over now and judging by the fact that Tony has seen the message of the video, he's probably watching it in the bathroom right now. Peter grins when he receives a voice call from Tony and he picks up instantly. No greetings are exchanged. They both know there's no time.

"Oh, sweet pup, how you love to torture me by torturing yourself. U-uh-!" Peter moans when it becomes evident Tony's pleasuring himself. He turns around on the couch, so his hard cock presses into the cushions and he starts humping like a bitch in heat, yearning to find that edge again. "W-want you to prove to me how desperate you are. Show it to me, Peter. Show me what a little slut you are, aching for my cock to pound into you- for my hand to wrap around your shaft as I arch your back by pulling your leash tight. Go on, pup, wag your tail for me. Wiggle that bubble butt." Peter's mouth is opened, tongue sticking out as he ruts himself against the couch. Little whimpers fall from his lips.
"F-F.R.I.D.A.Y.-" Peter manages to push out through his rhythmic groans. "F-film."
"Initiating one-sided video call," F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s mechanical voice reverbs through the living space and Peter drops the phone out of his hand, chasing his high and pulling his legs in slightly to get a better position.

"Tsk. Tsk." Tony's disapproving noise has Peter gasp for air, his hips rolling faster and faster, arms barely keeping himself upright as he arches his back for his daddy to see. "What's my pup doing on the couch? Thought I trained you better."
"I-if you want me off, come home and punish me, daddy-" Peter growls.
"You know I can't, sweet Pete," Tony whines into the mic and the slick sounds on the other side of the line picking up the pace. He's jerking faster, which only encourages Peter to rut faster too.
"Please, daddy, train your slut- your bitch- take care of me-"
" Shit, shit, shit! Keep doing that, sweetness, hold on- hold on, I need to-"  The call cuts off and Peter wails desperately, his movements not halting as per daddy's orders. He wonders if Tony came. He's nearing the edge himself, but he knows he can't come without daddy there to tip him over. The gap seems to take forever and Peter's afraid Tony's left him to hump the cushions for hours while he's in his next meeting. No. Tony would never make him do that. The man loves Peter too much for that.