Sorry, guys, I got started and I couldn't stop with the porn. Tony made me do it. This is my first time writing explicit sex so don't judge me too hard. This is supposed to take place after Iron Man and Spider Man 2.

This was written for a prompt on livejournal for a crossover.

Waring: Graphic slash sex!

----

I like sex – plain and simple. Everyone thinks I'm some kind of complicated guy with this tragic past and overwhelming alcohol addiction, but the truth is I like sex. I like the chase, I like the foreplay, I like sex itself, and yes, I can stand a little cuddling after if I have to.

I don't know why I was thinking about sex now since I was giving a presentation in New York to about 3,500 scientists and medical people, except that on the front row, this kid was watching me with big, round, soft blue eyes.

I've done my share of ladies and guys – I'm pretty much up for anyone and anything as long as it involves me cumming hard at the end – and I'm used to people watching me carefully. Since I announced to the world that I'm Iron Man, I've pretty much had people staring at me for the last few months. And now that all the nonsense with S.H.I.E.L.D. was starting, I had resigned myself to the public keeping its eye on me for the rest of my life. I was filthy rich, and I had changed my weapons-manufacturing business into scientific and technological advancement ever since I had helped kill Iron Monger who was Obadiah, the one father figure in my life, and then I told everyone that I was a superhero. Not bad after being kidnapped in Middle East by terrorists wanting my weapons.

So yeah, everyone stares at me, and I shrug it off or ask them to join me in bed. But this kid was different. He couldn't have been more than 19 or 20, and he was staring up at me with this mixture of admiration and need. It went straight to my groin, and I felt myself growing warm and slightly hard, feeling glad the podium blocked my body from the crowd.

"As you can see," I continued glancing down at my notes, "the new reactor will push our achievements towards the limits of human science today, paving the way for eventual dicoveries in cold fusion. We think these scientific goals are impossible today, but may I remind you that fifty years they doubted we could ever bring computers to the ordinary person for a reasonable price. My friends, we are the future, and I am here to bring you my new reactor along with my faith in mankind and its ability to evolve to its fullest potential!"

As my voice rose, everyone leapt to their feet and began to clap and cheer like crazy. I managed to hide my grin and look pleasantly smug and cool. I let my eyes rove over the whole crowd until they settled on the kid again. He had stood to clap, and I skimmed over his body quickly. He looked like a computer dork with short brown hair and a light blue-and-yellow plaid shirt that hung lop-sided over khaki pants, but his body didn't look half bad. He was shorter than me, and I imagined how it would feel to have those pretty blue eyes staring up at me and those crooked lips moving into a smile.

After the presentation was over, I made myself meet and shake hands with everyone important. I miss Pepper when I'm at these events because she keeps such good records of everyone and can introduce me to people without making me look like an arrogant jackass who can't bother to remember anyone's names. But she had a meeting in LA about something important to her (I wasn't really listening when she told me), so I had flown out here to New York alone. I wanted to fly in my Iron Man suit just for fun, but Rhodey said no and then Pepper sided with him so I had to take my jet like an ordinary loser. I planned to have a wild, degenerate time in NYC just to stick to my friends and shock them when I got back.

It took a whole hour to talk to all the important people, and when I finally had a moment to myself, I was sure the kid had long left. But then I saw him there, standing in the back, still watching me with those pretty eyes. God, he looked so innocent. And here I was, probably old enough to be his father or at least a grouchy uncle. I should have walked away and let him be, but I started for him, wishing I had a glass of something to hold while I talked to him.

"Hey," I stuck my hand out when I got close enough, "Tony Stark."

"Peter Parker," he took my hand, and I felt surprised at the strength in his grip. His hand felt powerful and strong, like he worked out frequently.

"Enjoy my little presentation?" I asked, keeping my tone very casual.

"Yes, sir," he nodded. I watched his throat as his head moved. His neck was fuller than I expected it to me, tight lines running down into his shoulder. This kid was full of surprises.

"How old are you?" I had to make sure he was legal. I made that mistake once, and Pepper chewed me out forever though I kept protesting that the seventeen-year-old girl looked every bit of nineteen.

"Twenty, almost," he replied.

So, a few years my junior. "Are you in college?"

"Part time," he replied. "I – uh, have trouble taking too many classes. I – I want to talk to you,

sir, about something . . . important."

"I'm all ears," I smiled to encourage him.

"It's about what you told the – the whole world."

"That I'm Iron Man?" I supplied.

He blushed, and I felt my heartbeat increase. We were so getting together tonight.

"Yeah, you told the whole world you were a superhero," Peter (God, what a beautiful name for such a beautiful boy) said hesitantly. "Aren't you worried?"

"No," I shook me head. "The whole superhero thing actually helps me, if you get my drift. You'd be surprised how many girls and guys are into the whole costume, vigilante role."

"But aren't you putting them in danger? The people that you love?" he asked. He looked worried, and it made him even more adorable. I wanted to kiss him right there in the middle of the conference room that still had people lingered about.

"I'm careful," I assured him. "And I get tested. And I usually ask people before we get it on. It's hard sometimes – when you have needs that have to be filled."

"You feel like you have to do it?" he asked.

"Sometimes the urge is overwhelming," I told him.

"I'm just . . . in awe here, sir," he admitted. "What you did – you have so much courage and bravery. Are you glad not to have to hide? Do you ever feel you can be yourself out of the costume and in it?"

"I prefer to be wearing nothing at all," I gave him a coy look, wondering if he would get the message.

"I know," he nodded. "I don't want to wear masks either, but it's freeing. Sometimes you can let yourself be someone else completely when you're behind the mask. You can do things you never imagined possible. Why can't you do that in real life?"

I wasn't sure exactly were he was going, but I liked listening to the sound of his voice and I was already seeing both of us naked so I just nodded sympathetically. "It can be rough."

"You're so awesome," he smiled, and it was like the sunlight breaking through the clouds and dazzling me. "I can't tell you how super cool you are, doing what you did."

I made a spilt decision. I took his elbow and stepped us both over to a nook behind pillar and protruding wall where no one else could see us. He had his back up against the wall and he looked confused.

"What is – mmphh!"

I leaned in to press my lips against his. They were so soft, so young and sweet and –

"Hey," he jerked back, smacking his head against the wall. "What the hell was that?"

"I'm seducing you," I said, feeling very obvious and wondering if this kid was slow or something.

"I'm straight," he squeaked. "I – I like girls."

"So do I," I faltered. "But I like boys, too, and hey, you were staring at me all day." I was beginning to feel like an idiot, but when you're me, that happens fairly often and you learn to get over it.

"I was not staring at you," he protested.

"And then you were flirting with me. You kept paying me compliments."

"Not because I wanted you to kiss me," Peter objected, looking very upset and confused. "I wanted to ask you about – no, it's not what you think."

"You never thought about being with a guy?" I pressed. "A pretty thing like you? Come on, you flash those doe eyes around and everyone is watching? You're asking for attention."

"No, I love Mary Jane," he protested, but I noticed he made no movement to get away.

"Your girlfriend?"

"Yes! Well, sort of. She kind of was engaged to someone else, but she's with me. I mean, we fight sometimes, but she's there."

He was so completely unconvincing that I wanted to laugh, but instead I decided to have a little fun with him. It was bad of me, but Pepper and Rhodey weren't here to keep me in line, so blame them for my behavior.

"You're interested in science, right?" I goaded him. "How can you be sure of something if you've never experimented with it? Before a hypothesis can be proved or disproved, it had to be tested."

"Tested?" he whispered between those soft lips.

"Yeah, otherwise it's just a bunch of ideas floating around. Do you think I made the Iron Man suit without testing it?"

He shook his head, keeping his eyes on my face.

"So I want you to give me a chance, just one, to prove my hypothesis. Come to my hotel suite for supper tonight. We'll eat, hang out, talk about stuff. Give me three hours and if you don't want to do anything with me, you can leave and I'll never talk about this again. At the very worst, you'll have an evening with Iron Man and Tony Stark. Come on, people would kill for that."

It was shameful to pimp myself like that, but he paused like he was seriously considering it.

"Just three hours and I can ask you anything?" he pressed.

"Anything," I agreed. "Except insider trading stuff which might get me sent to jail, but that won't be a problem because I have no information about trading."

"Okay," he finally said.

"Here," I whipped out one of my cards. Thank goodness Pepper had enough sense to stuff a dozen of them and a small pen in my coat pocket though I told her I would never need them. I scribbled my hotel and room number on the back of the card and gave it to him. "See you at eight."

He made no reply, and I turned around with a satisfied smile. I really should have gone into sales. I can convince people to do anything.

"Oh, and one more thing –" I turned back.

The nook was empty. I blinked, trying to figure out where he could have gone to. There was a door along the wall, but it led to an outside balcony that was empty. The balcony was three stories up so he couldn't have gone there.

Sneaky kid. But that would be the last time he got away from me so quickly.

center---/center

That night, I went all out. And I mean all out. I had them set up the living room in my suite to the tee. A lavish table was put up with a tablecloth, candles, flowers (red, red roses that I had requested, with the thorns still on), china plates, champagne and ice, and silver utensils. The food was the most costly the hotel offered, four courses of savory bliss. I requested soft music on the stereo, and the light bulbs changed to a softer glow.

In all, I spend over $2500 on this evening, and I took an hour showering, shaving around my moustache, choosing my clothes, and then changing several times after that. I thought about a black suit, but that might be too dominant and overwhelming so I went to a soft gray suit with white pin stripes. However, I didn't like it so I changed to a brown and then finally decided that I would wear a dark gray suit that wasn't quite black and didn't have stripes.

While selecting a tie, I reflected that we were just having dinner together – I wasn't interviewing him for a job. So I ditched the jacket and left the tie off, choosing a medium blue shirt with the collar unbuttoned, shirt tucked into my dark gray pants, and black shoes.

At 7:58, I took one last glance in the mirror, and at 7:59, a soft knock sounded on the door.

I grinned and couldn't help swaggering over to the door. Everyone always shows up for Tony Stark. They might not want to, but they always do.

I opened the door and had to bite my lip to keep from smiling. He was wearing dark pants and a red button-down shirt with a sports jacket over it and looked as nervous as hell. My first girlfriend was more confident of herself, and we had both been fourteen and dorky. Peter looked like some Victorian virgin on her wedding night. I wanted to seduce him, not rape him.

"Hey, come on in," I held the door open. "You have any trouble finding your way?"

"No, the bellhop said . . ." Peter trailed off as he took in the living room, the table, and the light.

"I guess . . . I – I –"

"Let me take your coat," I offered me hand.

He shrugged out of it and handed it to me.

"Don't be so nervous," I said to reassure him. "We're just having dinner, nothing serious. We didn't even dress up."

He blanched, and a split second later, I kicked myself mentally. The kid was probably wearing his nicest clothes. Man, I'm so clueless sometimes.

"You look great," I rushed to say. "Really cool, I promise."

"I don't go a lot of places," he looked down at the floor. "I wore my suit today and then I changed into . . ." he gestured down at the clothes he wore.

"They look great – very dressy and comfortable at the same time," I said. "I want you to be comfortable."

The pause that followed was not comfortable at all. I made a big deal of hanging up his coat and then motioning to the table.

"They're coming up at eighty-thirty to serve dinner," I said. "I thought we could have a drink and chat until then."

"I'm not twenty-one," he said automatically.

"I won't tell anyone," I smiled.

"No thank you," he replied.

What a goody-two-shoes! At his age, I had started drinking the hard stuff, and by twenty-one, my friends were urging me to join AA. If Peter wasn't such a tasty treat standing there in his best clothes with those beautiful eyes, I would have kicked his angelic ass out of my suite and proceeded to drink myself stupid for the rest of the evening. Damn those blue eyes and that innocent mouth.

"You know, I could order sparkling cider instead," I said before I could stop myself.

His face brightened up with the compromise. "Oh, thanks."

Feeling like a saint rather than a lecherous old man who seduces young boys, I grabbed the phone and called the front desk, requesting that they sent up a bottle of sparkling cider to Tony Stark's room.

"Yes, Mr. Iron Man," the female clerk responded automatically.

I laughed as I hung up the phone. "It's crazy – no one can seem to get over the idea that I'm Iron Man. You can be a billionaire playboy all you like, but you build an indestructible suit to fight crime, and suddenly everyone's paying attention."

"I know," Peter nodded. "And that's kinda why I wanted to come tonight."

"Moving a little ahead of ourselves, aren't we?" I smirked at him. "Not that I'm disagreeing with what you want."

He blinked unsure of what I meant, and then realization spread over his face and he blushed to the root of his hair.

"Sit down," I motioned to the sofa that was back from the table. He sat on the edge of the sofa, his back ramrod-straight and his hands clenched together on his knees. He looked like he was about to go see the dentist for a root canal.

"Relax," I reached out a hand to push his shoulder and ease him back on the sofa.

He jerked back so fast I stepped back, startled.

"Lean back," I told him. "Relax – I'm not going to hurt you. Come on, Peter, I'm trying to show you a nice time. Remember our deal – three hours and you can leave and I won't stop you."

"I'm not scared of you," the kid protested which seemed like a straight-out lie to me. "I could handle you if you got too . . . you know."

I seriously doubted that, but I knew better than to challenge his claim. I had once gotten into an argument with a girl about whether or not she could fend me off if I really wanted to have her. It ended with her spraying me in the face with mace and flouncing off and I spent three hours in the ER with Pepper lecturing me about boundaries.

I doubted the kid had mace on him, but I wanted him to sleep with me because he wanted to, because he wanted to be with me, because he wanted to have just as much pleasure with me as I wanted to have with him. I didn't want to force him. Even if he felt nervous now, I wanted the night to end with him demanding we sleep together.

I sat down on the sofa, giving him enough space to relax. "So go ahead, ask me what you want."

"When did you decide to tell everyone that you were Iron Man?"

"Two seconds before I did it."

"No, really," he insisted, his nervousness beginning to fade.

"Really," I nodded. "I looked out at the crowd and the cameras and I thought 'Hey, I can keep this secret and deal with the problems that come with pretending to be two people, or I can just come out and tell them and deal with the grief.' It's easier to deal with the truth than try to defend a lie, always. Believe me, lies come around to bite you in the ass. I've lied to people, lied to myself, lied to my friends, and I couldn't face lying to the whole world. I'm Iron Man, I created the suit, I fight crime – get over it."

"But what about the people your enemies might hurt, the people who love you?" Peter asked. He leaned forward and his eyes looked desperate. "Aren't they going to be in danger because your enemies could use them to get to you?"

"The one man that I considered a father sold me to terrorists in the Middle East and tried to arrange my death. My two best friends think I'm a careless alcoholic who only wants sex and that my need to put on the suit and save people is just an attention-getting ploy for me to show off. I care about them, but I want to help those who are suffering and hurting. My enemies need to know I'm watching and if they even think about hurting Pepper or Rhodey, they're going to get a bootful of Iron Man up the ass."

"Yeah," the kid nodded slowly. "I guess that makes sense. But the money helps, right? With money, you don't have to worry so much."

"What's going on?" I asked, narrowing my eyes in concern. "Are you trying to get me to give you money?"

"Oh, no, no," Peter shook his head hastily. "Nothing like that."

"Then what?" I lowered my voice a notched, hoping a sterner demeanor might prompt him to explain his weird behavior.

"I – I want to tell you something," Peter said. He twisted his hands together. "I really want someone to know, and you would understand. It's so frustrating, but someone needs to know besides MJ. I want to tell the world, but I'm scared."

I opened my mouth to ask what his awful secret was when a knock sounded on the door.

"Just a sec," I said. I went to the door. The bellhop was there with the sparking cider in a silver ice urn and asked when we wanted dinner served. I told him in about thirty minutes.

Peter was sitting on the sofa, biting his lip in concentration when I got back

Though the sparkling cider had no alcohol in it, it still had a wooden cork in the top just like a bottle of wine, probably to make the underage rich kids feel better about themselves. I grabbed the top and gave it a tug.

Instead of easing out, the cork flew up, propelled with force of the carbonation, and hit the wall with a loud pop almost like a gunshot.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Peter jump up at the sound. But when I turned to him, he was not on the sofa.

He was hanging upside down from the ceiling, his hands and knees against the white sheetrock, turning his head to look down at me.

I had never seen a guy hang up on the ceiling with nothing to hold him up, but as I took in his position, I realized where I had seen that pose before – on the cover of the Daily Bugle.

I stared up at him for a second, and then I said, "We have a lot to talk about, Spider-Man."

center---/center

And talk we did. Or rather he did. Through drinking the cider (which wasn't half bad) and on into dinner. We stopped talking when they came to serve us, but I had them bring all the courses at once and put them on the side so they could go and leave us alone. I told them we would put our stuff outside the room once we were done; I got up and served us each course as Peter kept talking.

He talked about how he got the spider bite, how he made the suit, who he had saved, how he felt about being a superhero. He told me about Marry Jane and Harry, his aunt and his uncle – he teared up when he talked about Uncle Ben, and I put hand on his while he worked to get the words out.

"It was my fault," he sniffed, those pretty eyes full of tears. "He died because of me, and then I ignored everything he taught me, and I miss him so much. I told – told him he wasn't my father right before he died, though he totally was for, like, my whole life." He blinked and two huge tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Hey, hey, shh," I tried to sooth him. "He knew you loved him. He had to. No one has a son like you and doesn't know how much you care about them. You were his son and he was your father, and you could not have been a better son or had a better father."

He ducked his head down as several more tears spilled down his cheeks.

I left the remains of my dessert on the table and stood up, keeping hold of his hand to lead him over to the sofa. I sat down and then I pulled him down against me, letting him lean his upper body against my chest. I wrapped both arms around him as he kept crying and talking. He felt warm against me and his hair was soft with his head tucked under my chin, but I could feel the strength in his body. There was no doubt in my mind that he was Spider-Man.

He could throw me out the window with one hand, and without my suit, I would be weak and pathetic against his superstrength, but against my chest, he seemed very small and vulnerable. I raised one hand to sooth down his hair as he talked.

"It's so hard," he choked out, pressing his fisted hands against his mouth to keep the sobs down. "I want to help people and save them and stop the bad guys, but I hate having to keep a secret. But they would hurt Aunt May and MJ, and I couldn't live with that. I can't stop being Spider-Man because I have to take pictures of him to make money and survive, but I hate leaving a double life and – and it isn't fair!"

He wailed the last bit and reached down to clutch my shirt so tightly that my eyes widened at the hard tug.

"Shh," I kept petting his hair. "Just calm down. It's okay – it's going to be okay."

"I just want someone to tell me what do to," he laid his cheek against my chest, right over my breast bone. "I feel so lost sometimes and all alone. I have great days sometimes and then it all goes wrong. I want you to tell me that I'm not a fr-freak or a huge mistake."

I should have tried to talk to him and reason through what I thought he should do. I should have given him the old superhero speech about how we serve a greater good and we strive to make the world a safer place. I should have philosophized about good and evil in mankind and all that mentor nonsense that young people need to hear. But I didn't.

I put two fingers under his chin and tilted his head up. And then I lowered my head to press my lips against his.

We kissed very softly for a moment, his wet cheeks damp against my scratchy facial hair.

He pulled back and looked up at me with blue eyes framed by damp lashes.

"I can't change what you are or where you come from," I said, my voice barely over a whisper. "I can't bring back your uncle or tell you if you should reveal your secret identity. But what I can do is offer you friendship, compassion, and warmth for tonight. I can offer you myself and my bed and my company and you can be anyone that you want to be. I wanted Peter Parker tonight, but I'll take Spider-Man, too."

Peter paused for half a second, and my own scared heartbeat filled my ears in the silence.

He pulled up off my chest, and I lowered my head in resigned understanding.

But rather than stand up all the way, he shifted his body and straddled my hips. Suddenly, he was on me again, chest to chest, his mouth hot and heavy on mine. I reached up to grab onto him, and he fisted one hand in my hair and wrapped the other around my right shoulder.

I've gotten busy with a lot of women and men, but I had never had sex with a superhero before. Back when I thought he was just Peter, I had planned to jerk him off, take him on his hands and knees, and then probably blow him off once he had recovered enough to cum again. Once I had gotten two orgasms out of him, I planned to tuck him into bed with me and let him sleep off his exhaustion, and then we might do it again in the morning.

But now that I knew he was Spider-Man, I felt slightly less aggressive and a bit apprehensive. I've never put much stock in the news, but the Bugle kept reporting that Spider-Man was a crook. I didn't think he was a bad guy then, and when I had my arms full of crying superhero, I wasn't really worried, but the way he was kissing me, I felt slightly scared. Didn't spiders bite the heads off their mates once they were done or something freaky like that?

Or what if he spun a web and trapped me somehow and I begged to get free while he did sexual things to my poor, defenseless body . . .

Hell, that would be hot! And it wouldn't be such a bad way to die – sexed to death.

"Oh, Peter," I moaned into his neck as I began to kiss that warm flesh there.

His grip tightened in my hair. "Mr. Stark," he whispered, his face tightening as he struggled to deal with all the pleasure he was feeling.

"Call me Tony," I ordered. "Bed – now."

We headed towards the bedroom, not willing to break apart as we went so there was lots of bumping into tables and corners and knocking things over. Peter stood a few inches shorter than me, but he was heavier with all the spider muscle so I couldn't carry him, and no way was I letting him carry me.

The bed was already turned back, and I had set condoms and lube on the nightstand beside the bed earlier in the afternoon, and thank goodness, or I would have had to go search for them and I refused to take my hands off Peter. If I had anything to do with it, he was never leaving my side again.

We got the foot of the bed and started tearing off clothes. I started swearing at all the buttons and finally I tore his shirt open, popping buttons everywhere.

"Hey," he pulled back to frown at me. "This is my nice shirt. I don't have another one."

"You're getting my entire wardrobe!" I declared as I ripped my own shirt off, spilling more buttons. "And I'm buying you a tailor, too, to fit everything on your beautiful body. Now get those pants off."

"I think you should know," Peter swallowed as he unzipped his pants and eased them down his hips, "I'm a virgin."

"With guys or girls?" I pressed.

"Both," he blushed again, dropping his gaze.

"I promise I'll be gentle," I said. "Promise me you won't eat my head when we're done."

"Huh?" he lifted his eyes up to be again.

"Like a spider. Or that mantis thing. And what's with your boxers?" I glanced down.

Embarrassed, he dropped his hands to cover his obvious erection, but I was referring to the actual white fabric that was stained with blotches of blue and red.

"I washed them with my suit," he confessed. "It's hard to remember to separate the colors."

It was so adorable. I smirked at him as I tugged my own pants off. I was wearing black silk boxers, but I was just as hard as he was.

"Last chance to walk away," I said, cursing my own gentility.

"Hell, no," he declared. "Let's see what Iron Man has to offer."

He gave me what was supposed to be a roguish grin, but it looked more like a high school boy about to score his first beer and looking half-worried he'd get caught. I laughed and pulled him in for another kiss.

When we broke apart for air, he glanced to the bed.

"How do we do this?" he asked. "I mean, do I lay on my back or my side or my stomach or upside down or –" he glanced nervously at the items on the bedside table.

"How about on your back first?" I suggested. "Let me tend to you before me."

"They were wrong about you," Peter said as he quickly scooted back on the bed and rested his head on a pillow.

"What?" I tossed my pants on the back of a chair before starting towards the bed.

"They said you would be a selfish ass in bed, but I didn't think so."

"Who have you been talking to?" I demanded, standing over him with a frown.

"Just some people at the conference. They said you were a sex addict or something like that. I almost didn't come up – I've never been around a sex addict before."

"I'll show them," I growled, ticked off that people were spreading true rumors behind my back. I might be an addict, but have the courage to say it to my face. "Hips up," I ordered.

"Is this what sex with you is like?" he asked as he lifted his hips slightly. "You telling me what to do and me just laying here like a – oooohhhh!"

I had tugged his boxers down and taken him in hand, all the long length of him. His eyes went wide and he tensed, not even breathing.

"Relax," I said softly. "Come on, kid, this is supposed to feel good."

"It does," he whispered. "It really, really does."

He was so beautiful on the bed, his strong, compact body against the white sheets, one hand thrown out in abandonment and the other across his stomach protectively. As I began stroking him, he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and his mouth convulsed as he tried to deal with the pleasure I was piling upon him.

I kept my hands gentle, but firm, reaching down to dig deep into the sensitive skin around his cock, stroking his balls and rubbing up and down his hard shaft. I varied the pressure, noting when I hit a sweet spot because his legs kicked out restlessly and his breathing quickened.

I had to give Spider-Man kudos for his control. Anyone else would have leapt up to grab me to make it go faster or started telling me what they needed, but not Peter. He laid there, putty in my knowing hands, willing to let me take him wherever I wanted and trusting I would take care of him. It was all so hot that I nearly came without touching myself.

I was achingly hard, and I used my own need on him, touching him how I wanted to be touched and where I needed to be touched. After a minute, he tensed and then held his body stiff, a sign that he was close. I dropped his cock, and immediately he gave me a worried look.

"Don't stop," he lifted his head up off the pillow a few inches as he panted for air. "It was – really – good."

"You're not cumming until I'm inside you," I said as I reached for the condoms and lube.

"Hurry up," Peter urged. "Just rip it open already."

I tried to hide my smile at his eagerness. Innocent virgin, my ass. He might not have had sex before, but he knew exactly what he wanted. Just to torture him, I slowly took out the condom and then slid my boxers down. He flushed dark red at the sight of me, and one of his hands trailed down to his own erection.

"No touching," I said, pointing a finger at him. "That's mine to touch tonight."

"Fine but I get to touch yours," he shot back.

"You're going to feel all of me inside you in a second," I promised him. I pulled the condom on and then spread the lube over it, slicking it good and well.

He made a motion to roll over onto his stomach, but I shook my head. The thought of him on all fours was enticing, but I wanted to be able to see his face when I brought him to the brink of pleasure and then right over the edge. Peter stayed on his back, but his blue eyes questioned me, trying to figure out the practical physicality of our bodies.

"Spread your legs," I requested, and when he did, I knelt down between them. I scooped up his legs, keeping each of his bent knees in the crooks of my elbows. I was about to lift him up so I could have better access to his ass, but Peter surprised me by scooting up to me and opening himself so wide my mouth dropped open.

"You slut," I shook my head.

He smiled, and he was so divinely beautiful I caught my breath. After that, I had no choice but to plow into him.

The smile disappeared and he gave definite whine as I worked my way into him, careful not to tear him but moving steadily until I was several inches in. Then I pushed hard and worked my way until I was hilt-deep into him.

"Tony," he groaned as I hit his prostate. "Tony, please."

I loved the sound of my name on those pretty lips. I thrust again, and he cried out, his whole body shaking with what I was doing inside him. I began the rhythm of fucking him, slow but deep, rocking both of us back and forth. He tried to be still, but he got restless the longer I drove into him so I finally I pushed his legs up and balanced them on my shoulders. I wrapped my arms around his trembling thighs to pick up his cock. I began to stroke again.

He felt so good around me. Spectacular Spider-Man.

He was young and inexperienced, and the sensations were too much for him. He threw his head back on the pillow and cried out my name as he came, splattering both of us with his seed. A moment later I came as well, still grinding into him to help prolong his orgasm. It felt so good to cum that hard after working so long and slowing myself down for him.

When I pulled out of him, he stared up at me, blank and dazed.

"Never felt that before," he whispered. He looked nearly traumatized as he struggled to regain control of his body. If his orgasm was anywhere as fantastic as mine, then I could understand his astonishment.

I drew out of him and pulled off the condom as I went to the bathroom. I threw the condom away and then wet a washcloth to clean him up. He lay still on the bed, silent as I wiped him down and then lifted one of his legs to inspect the damage done to his bottomhole. There didn't seem to be much, he wasn't bleeding that I could see, but I wiped the cloth down his crack to make sure.

"Hey!" he yanked away. "Cold!"

I laughed before I could stop myself, and he gave me an impish look for his childish response. I had a wild desire to start tickling him until he begged me to stop, but I reminded myself that Peter could easily beat me in a physical tussle. He had held himself still this long because he wanted to, not because I had any physical power over him. So rather than tickle me, I crawled up on the bed and placed both hands over his pelvic bone. I gave him a long look before I lowered my face down and licked the side of his cock.

Peter groaned again, a long deep noise of agonized bliss. As I began sucking, he reached out to grasp at my shoulders. I felt him hardening in my mouth – youth really is glorious in its vitality and virility. For the next few minutes, I alternated between sucking, licking, and then nibbling. He managed to keep control of his body for the first two actions, but when I started to nibble, he began to writhe. He grabbed at my hair – I grimaced at the pain, but I kept going.

This was supposed to be pleasurable for both of us, but now it seemed to be a contest to see who could weather out the painful sensations the longest. I've never been able to back down from a contest, and I took this as a challenge to make him cum before he could make me stop by pulling out all my hair.

"Tony, Tony!" he gasped as he got harder and harder in my mouth. "Oh, it's too much – I'm – I'm cumming again."

I closed my mouth around his cock and made deep humming voice from the back of my throat to help vibrate him towards orgasm. He grabbed both my ears – ow! – and clung to them as he came again, groaning out his pleasure as he spurted in my mouth over and over.

After that, he was trembling so hard that I lifted my head up to see if he was still conscious. He smiled at me, but his eyes were slowly closing in exhausted bliss as he kept himself propped up on his elbows.

I glanced at the clock. Barely ten.

"You still have an hour," I told him. "Then you can leave of your own free will."

He collapsed back on his back and held his arms out to me. I obliged him by crawling up beside him and tucking him tight against my side before covering us both up. I ended up spooning him, pressing my arms around his hard body. Refusing to let him drift off to sleep just yet, I began nuzzling against his ear, and he responded by tightening his grip around my hands.

"So what do you think?" I whispered. "Do you like this kind of attention from me?"

"I like you," came his hesitant answer. "I think I might even –"

"Shh," I quieted him. "Don't ruin the moment by saying something you might regret later. Sex makes people say all kinds of crazy things."

"But it was more than just sex," he insisted. "We connected – we did."

"You're just an innocent child," I said to hide my racing heart. He was yawning, and I waited, hoping he would decide to stay here with me for the night and not leave at all.

"I'm not innocent," he snuggled into me. "But I wish we could stay like this forever, you and me."

"That," I gently nipped his ear, "is a very tempting idea, Peter."

"And next time I get to touch you," he mumbled as he settled

He didn't move, and a few minutes later, he breathed deeply in sleep. I kept my grip around him, glad to drift off to sleep with my arms full of a most amazing Spider-Man.