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Tony jolted, knocking his hand into his cup of coffee. His quick reflexes caught it before it could spill onto his keyboard - again - and he cursed as he glanced around the room. The holo display above his workstation blinked back at him.
ALARM: Lunch with Peter
Right. Thankful for the alarm, Tony set his mug down and rolled his chair back. He ran his fingers through his hair as he headed towards the door.
“FRI, where did I make reservations for lunch today?” Tony asked.
“You had me reserve a table for two at Crown Shy, boss,” the AI replied.
“Right, Petey wanted to try them out,” Tony murmured as he walked into the elevator.
As he ascended, Tony frowned down at his body. He could get away with going as he was, but that wouldn’t be fair to Peter. The oil stains on his shirt and jeans competed with the sweat stains, and that might have been food on his knee. Definitely needed a shower and a change of clothes.
The elevator dinged, and Tony stepped into the penthouse, glancing around the open space. It was empty, which was unsurprising. Peter was likely in his room getting ready for their lunch date. Tony made his way to his own bedroom, stripping once he crossed the threshold. Friday already had his shower ready by the time he reached it, and he made quick work of cleaning himself.
Crown Shy didn’t have a dress code, but Tony wouldn’t have cared if they did. He donned a pair of black jeans and a clean t-shirt before slipping into his favorite Louboutin sneakers - the black ones with the studs. Ready to go, he went back to wait for Peter in the living room.
He was fiddling with a schematic on his tablet when the boy walked in. A soft clearing of a throat alerted Tony to his son’s presence, and he glanced up. Then he did a double take, eyebrows shooting to his hairline.
Peter had come out to Tony three years ago. Tony hadn’t known what to do at first, but he’d quickly adapted to new pronouns and helped Peter choose his new name. Since then, Peter had replaced his wardrobe with what Tony considered a skater-boy theme, all torn jeans and layered shirts.
It was definitely surprising to see Peter standing there in a high-waisted, ruffled pink skirt, white thigh-high stockings, and a pink cardigan over a white and pink tank top. To top off the ensemble, Peter had a pink headband holding back what must be a wig. At least, Tony assumed it was a wig because Peter’s hair had been much shorter at breakfast that morning.
Tony shifted in his seat, wishing he’d opted for looser jeans, and cleared his throat.
“Hey, kiddo,” Tony said, relieved his voice sounded level.
Peter twirled around. The short skirt lifted, showing more of Peter's milky white thighs. Tony suppressed a groan and shifted again. Facing Tony once more, Peter's smile lit his face - though with a touch of uncertainty.
“Does it look okay, Daddy?” Peter asked, biting a painted lip. Tony only just noticed the subtle makeup artfully covering the boy’s face. “I don’t look weird?”
“Of course, you don’t look weird, baby,” Tony said immediately. “You look great.”
Beaming, Peter darted forward to pull Tony into a tight hug. Tony couldn’t help but inhale deeply, taking in the scent of his son's perfume - and beneath that, the scent that was all Peter. He held tightly to the boy before reluctantly letting go as Peter pulled back.
“You ready to go, bambino?” Tony asked, getting up from the sofa. His back popped, and he threw Peter a mock offended look at the boy’s giggle.
“Yeah, Daddy, I’m ready,” Peter said, laughter still ringing in his voice.
Tony huffed but waved the boy towards the elevator. He couldn’t help the way his eyes followed Peter, watching the way the skirt swayed and curved just right over the boy’s ass. Shaking his head, Tony stepped into the elevator and leaned against the back. With Peter’s back to him and making sure the boy wasn’t watching his reflection in the door, Tony adjusted his suddenly too-tight jeans.
The trip down to the garage was quick, and Tony let Peter race ahead to pick the car they would take. No surprise, he skipped to a stop beside the Centodieci. Friday unlocked it, and Peter dove into the passenger seat. Tony made his way around to the driver's side, sliding in as Peter was doing his belt.
Peter's face softened in the glow of the electronics as Tony started the car and put it in gear. Friday set up the navigation without a word from Tony, and he slid out of his parking space.
“So,” Tony began but frowned. He wasn’t sure how to ask without sounding accusatory or implying anything. He cleared his throat, glancing over at his son. “I like the outfit, though I was a little surprised to see it.”
“I know it’s not my normal look,” Peter said, nodding and twirling a lock of hair around his finger. “I just.”
Tony glanced back over at the boy. All he could see was Peter’s side profile, but he noticed the furrowed brow. Peter’s lip was between his teeth again.
“Hey,” Tony said, laying his hand on Peter’s knee. Peter looked over at him, and Tony continued, “You can tell me anything, baby. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, Dad. Of course,” Peter confirmed, nodding once. “I'm still trans. Like, I know I’m not a girl, you know? But I like looking pretty and wearing skirts and makeup and stuff.”
“Boys can wear skirts and makeup, baby,” Tony said. “And you look amazing.”
The smile that lit Peter’s face could have powered the entire tower. Tony felt his own face soften, taking the edge off his inappropriate arousal.
“Thanks, Daddy,” Peter murmured, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear.
He shifted, and Tony’s hand slid further up his leg. Tony froze, holding his breath and waiting for Peter’s reaction. Peter said nothing, but he shifted again. Tony's hand slid further up the boy's thigh; his pinkie rested against smooth skin, and Tony's arousal came crashing back.
Not wanting to freak his son out, Tony squeezed lightly and gently pulled his hand away, resting it on the gearshift. Peter hummed, shifting again. Tony glanced over, noticing that Peter’s skirt had shifted now, exposing more of that creamy skin. The lane departure warning jolted Tony back, and he forced his eyes onto the road.
“You never told me about how that science project went, Petey,” Tony said, clearing his throat and staring steadfastly at the road ahead.
As Peter prattled on, Tony forced himself to listen and not stare at the swath of skin still showing between his son's skirt and stockings. He couldn’t help how his mind wandered back to it, imagining what Peter might be wearing underneath. Shaking his head, Tony berated himself and focused back on what Peter was saying.
“Where are we going, Daddy?” Peter asked as they pulled onto Pine Street.
“I made reservations at that place you wanted to try, baby,” Tony said, pulling up to the valet in front of the restaurant.
“Oh!” Peter’s eyes widened, and he clapped his hands, shifting forward in his seat. “Yes! I’ve been wanting to try this place for ages!”
“I know,” Tony said with a grin, shifting into park and unclipping his seatbelt.
The valet popped Tony's door open and accepted the keys. Tony dropped a couple hundred-dollar bills into the man’s hand as he circled the car and followed his son into the restaurant. The skirt swished, and Tony's eyes followed the movement.
“Reservation for two under Stark,” Peter chirped at the maitre d’.
“Right this way,” they replied, pulling two menus from a space on their booth and turning toward the dining room.
Peter followed the maitre d’ to a table beside a window, and Tony followed Peter. He couldn’t stop himself from looking at the boy. Something about the skirt and stockings, that tiny strip of skin visible, had Tony mesmerized.
“Your server will be with you shortly. Enjoy your meal,” the maitre d’ said before turning back to their podium.
“Oh, Daddy, the pull-apart olive bread looks good; we should get that as a starter,” Peter said.
Tony glanced at his menu and nodded. “Of course, baby.”
“And I’m gonna get the grilled citrus chicken, Daddy,” Peter said.
“I think I’ll get the pork,” Tony said. “And we can split the sticky toffee pudding for dessert.”
“Sounds great,” Peter said, setting the menu to the side and beaming at Tony.
“Hello, my name is James, and I’ll be your server today.” Tony glanced over and spotted a young man beside their table. “What can I get you to drink today?”
“We’ll take the Pinot,” Tony said. “And we're ready to order, too.”
“Great, what will you be starting with?” The server asked.
“We’re gonna start with the pull-apart bread,” Peter said. “And I’m gonna have the citrus chicken.”
“And for you, sir?” The server asked.
“I’ll take the pork Katsu,” Tony said.
“Great, I'll be right back with your drinks,” the server said, not questioning Peter’s age, accepting the menus back and turning on his heel.
The wine was fine, but Tony had definitely had better. Peter's face scrunched at the first taste, and he kicked Tony's shin when he laughed. They continued their conversation from the car as their appetizer was delivered, and Tony was grateful for the table between them when Peter moaned in delight at the first burst of flavor.
“Daddy, let me try some,” Peter demanded, reaching for Tony's plate with his fork.
“You’ve got your own food, you menace,” Tony grumbled, tugging his plate closer to himself. Peter pouted, jutting his lower lip out. Tony sighed, pushing the plate forward again.
“Thanks, Daddy!” Peter chirped, spearing the piece Tony had just cut for himself and popping it into his mouth. “Mmm, that’s so good!”
It was good, but Tony would let Peter eat the entire meal if he got to keep hearing that sound. Dessert was worse. The sinful little moans Peter let out went straight to Tony's aching cock, and he hated himself for letting the boy eat the majority of the pudding.
“God, Daddy, this is so good,” Peter moaned, licking his spoon clean.
“Yeah, it was great,” Tony grunted.
He wondered what to do about the bulge in his jeans as the server came over with the check. He signed his name as Peter stood and headed for the door. With the boy in front, Tony was less worried about hiding his current state. He tossed some bills on the table and followed Peter out to the valet.
When Tony slid into the driver's seat, he glanced over to find Peter already buckled. His cardigan was missing, and Tony frowned before spotting it behind the passenger seat. Without the cardigan, Peter's tank top seemed smaller. It clung to Peter’s small breasts, and Tony hissed out a breath when he spotted the small nubs poking into the fabric.
He fell into his seat and took a deep breath through his nose. Naturally, all this accomplished was to fill his lungs with Peter’s scent, not helping his situation in the slightest. Still, Tony started the car and put it in gear, determined to focus on the road and not his son beside him.
Peter shifted, lifting his right foot to rest on the seat. Tony spotted a flash of white before he forced his eyes back to the road. He tried to will down his erection, but every time Peter moved, Tony’s eyes inevitably landed on him.
When Peter's skirt slid down his thigh, Tony squeezed his eyes shut. He pressed the button for Friday to take over, no longer trusting himself to drive.
“You okay, Daddy?” Peter asked, laying a gentle hand on Tony's arm.
The contact sent a ripple down Tony's spine, and he grunted, nodding his head.
“Yeah, baby, I’m fine,” Tony promised.
“You sure? You look a little upset,” Peter said. His voice was soft and closer than Tony expected, but he could feel the heat radiating from the boy along his arm.
“I’m okay, baby, I promise,” Tony said, keeping his eyes closed and focusing on his breathing.
Peter's fingers danced along Tony's skin, gliding up to his shoulder. The boy squeezed lightly, sighed, and then Tony felt Peter's head come to rest on his shoulder.
Tony sighed, dropping his head back against the seat. Peter was humming, and the sound was soothing but not enough to make his erection die down. The thought that Peter was close enough to see the bulge in his pants registered at the exact moment he felt Peter's hand press against said bulge.
“Pete!” Tony exclaimed, eyes shooting open as he jolted forward. “What are you doing?”
“Is this because of me?” Peter asked, not answering or removing his hand.
“Pete-” Tony choked. Peter locked eyes with Tony, pressing his hand more firmly into Tony's erection. “What- Baby, what are you doing?”
“Are you hard because of me, Daddy?” Peter asked, moving his thumb up and down over Tony’s cock.
“Peter, please,” Tony said, his voice a strangled mess. “You shouldn't be doing that.”
“Answer me,” Peter demanded, leaning closer and pressing his hand down harder. “Are you hard because of me, Daddy?”
“Fuck,” Tony breathed. He held eye contact with his son as he confessed, “Yes.”
A grin spread across Peter’s face, and before Tony registered what was happening, he had a lapful of his fourteen-year-old son. Peter’s arms wound around Tony's neck, and he leaned forward.
“I was hoping you'd say that, Daddy,” Peter said.
“Baby, what the fuck are you doing?” Tony asked, trying and failing to sound authoritative.
“I was really hoping the outfit would do the trick,” Peter said as he began rolling his hips. He ground down into Tony's lap as he continued, “Wanted you for so long, Daddy. But I wasn’t sure you wanted me.”
“That’s because I shouldn’t, baby. I’m your father, for Christ’s sake,” Tony groaned.
Still, his hips moved of their own accord, grinding up into Peter. The friction felt incredible, and Tony couldn’t stop himself if he’d tried.
“I don’t care, Daddy,” Peter said. He leaned back, accidentally landing on the horn and startling them both. “Shit.”
“Baby, stop, get back in your seat,” Tony said, sucking in a deep breath.
“Daddy, no, please,” Peter started.
“Baby,” Tony said, voice firm. “Get in your seat.”
Pouting, Peter obeyed. Tony took control back from Friday and pressed his foot to the accelerator. Peter's eyes widened as the numbers on the dash climbed higher and higher, but a grin replaced his pout.
“You're a fucking menace,” Tony muttered.
“You love me,” Peter retorted.
“Of course I do,” Tony scoffed, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.
They made the rest of their twenty-minute drive in sixteen minutes. Tony slid smoothly into his parking space, shifting into gear and then reaching over to grab Peter. He pulled the boy across the center console and back into his lap before leaning forward. Their mouths collided, and Tony demanded entrance. Peter granted it, and Tony plundered his son’s mouth.
Small sounds filled the car, but Tony quickly grew frustrated with the small space. He tore his lips from Peter's and shoved the car door open, helping Peter out and following close behind. He tugged the boy toward the elevator, which opened as they approached, and then shoved Peter against the wall to claim him in another searing kiss.
As the elevator ascended, Tony’s lips drifted to Peter’s throat. Peter gasped and whined as Tony took his time marking his son up. His hands found Peter’s waist, holding him tightly against Tony's body.
“Daddy,” Peter gasped.
“Fuck, baby,” Tony groaned. “What you do to me.”
The elevator opened, and Tony pulled Peter into the penthouse. They made it as far as the living room before Tony stopped them, tugging Peter’s shirt over his head. He wasn’t wearing anything under it, and Tony feasted his eyes on all the displayed skin.
“God, baby, look at you,” Tony breathed. “My perfect son.”
Peter tried pulling his arms over his chest, but Tony held his hands.
“Let Daddy look at his most perfect creation, baby boy,” Tony said.
“Daddy,” Peter whispered, biting his lip.
“You want this, baby?” Tony asked. He needed to be sure, beyond any doubt.
“Yes, Daddy,” Peter said. “Please.”
Assured, Tony pushed Peter onto the sofa. The boy let out a soft “oof” as he fell back, eyes widening. Tony dropped to his knees, spreading Peter’s and gliding his hands over his son’s thighs.
“These fucking stockings,” Tony muttered, hooking his fingers beneath the fabric. Changing his mind, Tony slid his hands up further, pushing the fabric of Peter’s skirt up. His heart beat faster with every inch of skin he revealed, and Peter squirmed under his touch.
“Daddy,” Peter whimpered, thighs trembling.
Tony locked gazes with the boy, leaning down to press kisses on his knee. He trailed more kisses along Peter’s thigh, climbing further and further. His hands pushed Peter’s skirt up, up, up until it circled the boy’s waist. Tony’s nose brushed the fabric of Peter's white cotton panties, and he inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of his son’s arousal.
“Fuck, baby,” Tony murmured.
He twisted his face, nuzzling into Peter’s groin. He laid a kiss on the fabric covering Peter’s pussy, and couldn’t wait to taste it for real. Peter’s breath hitched, and Tony did it again. His nose bumped into Peter’s clit, and a soft whimper filtered down to Tony.
Flicking his gaze up to Peter’s, Tony pressed an open mouth kiss against the fabric again. He mouthed at Peter’s pussy lips, feeling the fabric grow wetter and wetter from Peter's arousal. He added his tongue, which only made it wetter.
Peter moaned, arching into the touches. His hands fisted in his wig, and he gasped when it dislodged. Tony chuckled, and Peter tossed the wig aside. Tony preferred the boy’s natural curls and vowed to tell him so. Before that, Tony wanted to make his baby fall apart.
Tony focused on Peter’s clit through the fabric, wondering if he could make the boy come without skin-to-skin contact. The boy's noises suggested it was a distinct possibility, spurring Tony on.
“Oh, god, Daddy,” Peter cried, arching up and pressing his pussy into his father’s face and shuddering in pleasure, pulling a satisfied grin from Tony.
The fabric was sheer when Tony pulled back, giving him the first hint at his baby's pussy. He feathered his fingers over the messy material, humming thoughtfully.
“Dad, god, that was so good,” Peter breathed.
“It’s gonna be so much better, baby,” Tony promised.
His hands slid up to Peter’s waist, and he tugged the panties down. Peter lifted his hips, not in the least self-conscious after his orgasm. Tony took his time admiring his son. The rosy glow spreading from Peter’s face down his chest was perfect. His tiny little tits - stunted but not prevented with the use of puberty blockers - were a perfect handful. The boy’s waist was the perfect size for Tony to wrap his hands around, and his pussy was perfection.
“You're perfect, baby,” Tony breathed. He caught Peter's gaze and repeated, “Perfect. My perfect son, my little prince.”
“Daddy,” Peter whispered.
Itching for a proper taste of his son, Tony leaned forward. He skipped straight to his prize, flicking his tongue out to lap at Peter's cunt. He moaned, savoring the taste of his baby. He dove in, using lips and tongue and teeth to make his kid fall apart again.
Peter moaned, gasping and crying out. His fingers tangled in Tony’s hair, and he pushed his father down even as he thrust his hips up. A babble of incoherent words fell from Peter's lips as he writhed in pleasure. Tony did his best to make the boy feel good, desperate to make him come again.
He mouthed at Peter's pussy, sucking his clit into his mouth. Tony reveled in the sounds he pulled from his son as more whimpers and pleas fell from Peter's red lips. He shifted, focusing his lips and tongue on Peter’s clit to give himself room to press his middle finger slowly inside his son.
A gasp sounded above him, and Tony slowly eased his finger in and out, opening the boy up. He worked his finger steadily until he felt Peter was ready for a second
“Daddy, fuck,” Peter gasped.
Tony hummed, pumping his fingers in and out. Peter tasted amazing, fresh and perfect. But he felt incredible around Tony's fingers. He was hot, and so wet, and Tony couldn't wait until it was his cock buried deeply in his only child.
He took his time, adding a third and then fourth finger to open the boy. Peter's whines filled the room, making Tony glad for his soundproofing. He crooked his fingers, pressing into Peter's g-spot and nibbling on his clit at the same time.
“Fuck, oh- oh god, Daddy, fu-” Peter gasped, back arching and body tending.
With another hum from Tony, Peter shattered into a trembling orgasm. Tony worked him through it, licking at his clit softly. Finally, he pulled back and slid his fingers free. Peter was a wrung-out mess, panting harshly. His tangled and sweaty hair splayed over the cushion, and the flush had deepened and covered his entire chest. His pussy was puffy, drooling, and red, and Tony was more than ready to sink his cock into it.
Standing, Tony shoved his jeans over his hips, kicking his shoes off. He rearranged Peter on the sofa before climbing over him. Tony bent to steal another kiss from Peter, sliding his hand around the back of his neck and holding him close. His bare cock rubbed against Peter’s body, and Tony paused.
“Daddy?” Peter asked, frowning. His eyes traveled back up Tony’s body from where he’d been staring at his father’s cock. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, baby,” Tony assured, remembering the puberty blockers Peter had been on for years. Though the idea of knocking his son up made a spurt of precome leak from Tony’s tip as he leaned back and spread Peter’s thighs apart. “Daddy’s gonna take such good care of you, baby.”
“You always do, Daddy,” Peter said, canting his hips up.
Tony’s cock dragged along Peter’s pussy lips, and he groaned. He gripped it in one hand, holding Peter’s leg with the other. Torn between watching Peter’s face and watching his cock sink into his son for the first time, Tony decided there would be plenty of opportunities to watch Peter’s face. There was only one first time he would sink into his child, and he didn’t want to miss it. His cock kissed Peter’s hole, and the boy’s breath hitched. Tony’s eyes flashed to Peter’s face.
“You sure about this, baby?” Tony asked.
“Yes, Daddy,” Peter said, nodding emphatically. “Please.”
Nodding, Tony’s eyes drifted back down, and he pressed his hips forward. The head of his cock spread Peter open before, finally, popping inside. Tony groaned as he sank inside to the hilt, slowly filling his son. The boy was tight.
“Fuck, baby, you take Daddy so well,” Tony groaned.
“Daddy, oh god,” Peter cried, arching his back and forcing Tony in further.
“That’s it, good boy,” Tony cooed. “You just wanna swallow Daddy up, don’t you, Bino?”
“Daddy, please,” Peter cried.
Grinning, Tony wrapped his hands around Peter’s waist. They fit perfectly, and he held Peter still as he slid out. Locking gazes with his son, Tony slammed forward, fucking roughly into him. Peter cried out, hands flying to his hair. His tiny tits bounced as Tony continued fucking into him, pulling more and more cries from the young boy. He felt incredible around Tony’s cock. Wet, and hot, and so tight and perfect.
Tony fucked Peter hard and fast, wondering if he could make the boy come again. He’d lost count of how many he’d already given the boy, but he just wanted to keep going and going until Peter begged him to stop. He angled his hips, thrusting and using his grip on Peter’s waist to pull him into each thrust.
Peter babbled mindlessly as Tony fucked him, fingers tangled in messy curls. Sweat glistened on Peter’s skin, and Tony bent to lick a stripe from Peter’s stomach to his chest. He wanted to fuck his baby for hours but knew that would be impossible without help. The idea of taking a pill to fuck his boy to complete incoherence made it to the top of Tony’s to-do list.
“Daddy, oh god, fuck, Daddy!” Peter screamed, walls tightening around Tony as he convulsed in yet another orgasm.
“Fuck, that’s it, so good for me, Petey,” Tony groaned. “Gonna give me some more, baby?”
“Daddy, wh- mo-?” Peter gasped, unable to finish a thought.
“Hmm, yeah, baby,” Tony cooed. “Gonna come for Daddy some more? You feel so good when you come on Daddy’s cock.”
A wordless moan bubbled up Peter’s throat as Tony continued fucking into him. The sad reality was that Tony was already nearing his end. He hoped to hold out for one more orgasm from Peter. The boy was babbling again, but Tony wanted to fuck him stupid. He snapped his hips harder, pressing his thumb into Peter’s clit. Peter squealed, clenching around Tony and jolting. Tony grinned, repeating the motion several more times.
“Daddy, oh fuck!” Peter cried. “D-d-da-ah!”
“Fuck, that’s it, sweet prince,” Tony encouraged. “Come on Daddy’s cock again for me, baby. Let me feel you.”
And oh, did Peter come for Tony. His voice cracked on a moan as his body went rigid before shuddering and suddenly falling limp.
“That’s it, good boy, fuck,” Tony grunted. “Gonna fill you up now, sweet thing.”
Peter whined, unable to form a word. Tony gazed down at his son, pumping his hips steadily. Peter’s hair was a wreck, his face streaked with black lines from where his mascara had run. His lipstick and bruises littered the lower half of his face and down his neck. Bite marks and more bruises dotted Peter’s chest, a perfect imprint of Tony’s teeth circling each nipple. He was flushed red, sweating profusely, and his chest rose and fell rapidly. His skirt twisted around his waist, and his stockings had slipped to his knees.
He was perfect, and Tony couldn’t hold himself back anymore. As Peter’s whines turned pained, Tony’s hips stuttered, and he grunted, hilting himself inside his son. With a deep groan, Tony painted his only child’s insides with his brothers and sisters. More tears fell down Peter’s cheeks as Tony finished, collapsing to his arms over the boy.
Tony panted and dropped his head to rest on Peter’s chest. They stayed like that for a while, coming down and catching their breath. Finally, Tony sat up and pulled his cock free. He watched it slide free, a trickle of come leaking out after it. The thought of trying to force another orgasm out of the boy was discarded - for now.
“Baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Tony murmured, glancing back up at Peter’s face. “I love you so fucking much.”
“L’ve you, too, D’ddy,” Peter slurred. “Hmm, wan’ do ‘gain.”
A dark grin spread across Tony’s face. Oh, they’d be doing this again. And again, and again, and again, and-