Raising Hybrid Puppies [a Starker coffee shop AU]

Chapter 8

Peter sees it coming – in the shift in Tony's attention, the darkening of his eyes and the split-second glance at Peter's lips – long before the man brings his hand up and pulls him in.

The moment's long enough for Peter to panic briefly because he's definitely not as smooth and graceful as he is in his fantasies and Tony's way more experienced, like, exponentially more and Peter's never gonna measure up –

But then Tony's lips meet his and all that's left in Peter's mind is 'Finally!'.

It's better than he ever could have imagined, from the firm, confident press of Tony's lips to the scrape of his goatee against Peter's skin that he thought about so often. The kiss is demanding and hungry and makes Peter's wires cross from its intensity. He's never experienced anything like it, nothing so, so primal and, and – oh.

Peter whimpers when he feels Tony's tongue lick into his mouth. There's a hand on his hip, pinning him in place and encouraging him at the same time to reach for the lapels of Tony's suit and pull himself close until their bodies connect.

"Ngh," Tony moans against Peter's lips, which Peter takes as permission to shift even closer, the cheap fabric of his work tee at odds with the tailored material of Tony's waistcoat.

Peter can't resist sliding his hands down Tony's chest, fingers brushing over the rim of the arc reactor until they reach the first button of the waistcoat. Coordinating the incredible kissing with hand movements is a challenge, so it's probably better that Peter's in no rush to remove any clothing...

That's when another tilt of his body shifts his hips. The pressure of Tony's thigh against his growing erection distracts Peter enough that his lips lose the rhythm of their kiss. His gasps morphs into a low moan cause Tony – deliberately, based on his smirk – starts moving his leg in tiny increments.

"Tony," Peter half-gasps, half-whines, and watches Tony's pupils dilate even further and his smile widen before his own eyes flutter shut when Tony increases the pressure.

One of Tony's hands is still at Peter's neck, a warm, heavy weight that centers him. Up close like this, Peter can smell Tony's cologne, a complex, spicy scent on top of the flood of sensations that sends jolts of pleasure down his spine.

As the next moan rises in his throat, Peter doesn't stifle it. Instead, he rides it out, letting his head fall forward onto Tony's shoulder. From this new position, it's hard to miss the defined line of Tony's erection straining against his quality dress pants. The shaking in his hands stroking Tony's chest grows more pronounced then, anticipation and lust and friction and just Tony getting hard from Peter all proving a bit too much for his overactive brain.

A burst of desire urges Peter forward – moving means that Tony's thigh slips from between his legs but it's okay cause a moment later, Peter captures Tony's lips again. Their noses bump awkwardly but before Peter has time to worry that he's embarrassing himself, Tony shifts his stance and presses their bodies together, chest to groin.

Peter doesn't know where to direct his thoughts – the expert tongue in his mouth, the thumbs on his neck, the rim of the arc reactor poking his chest or, oh god, the feeling of Tony's erection against his own.

"Shit," he gasps, pulling back slightly cause he needs a second.

He doesn't know what he wants, just that he needs more, more kissing, more friction, more Tony. Peter's lips have to be swollen from all the making out and he's sure his eyes look wild. But Tony seems to like the look cause suddenly there's a hand in Peter's hair as Tony pushes him back and turns him slightly until his shoulders connect with the wall.