it sounds like a bad joke

[watchesthewatchers]

A genius and a spy walk into a grocery store.

Comments

[watchesthewatchers]

"Groceries in fridge. Head against fridge. Back into car. Then skinny dipping."

He ticks off for him.

[profiteering]

Tony purrs and pulls away, giving him permission to take them home.

"You're good."

[watchesthewatchers]

"Thank you, sir."

He purrs at the praise, stepping on the gas.

[profiteering]

The moment they're home he scrambles out of the car and carries more than half the groceries on the first trip in.

[watchesthewatchers]

Peter snorts, and pads after him, a great deal more sedate.

Tony is sweet when he gets eager.

[profiteering]

Sweet, but also disorganized, because he's just stuffed the perishables in either the freezer or the fridge. He'll flip out about it later and spend an hour reorganizing the kitchen, but right now his focus is all on Peter.

[watchesthewatchers]

"You're in to duplicity, Mister Stark?"

He breathes, watching him from the doorway.

[profiteering]

"As a rule? No."

He finishes shutting the freezer and leans against it, facing Peter.

"But something about it from you is very sexy. In theory."

In reality, he would be livid and, yes, deeply hurt if Peter turned on him.

[watchesthewatchers]

"You like watching me do it to them."

He pegs, biting his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Like a tiger on a chain."

[profiteering]

"Like a tiger who decides it likes the way I scratch its ears."

He smirks, and reaches out with a hand.

[watchesthewatchers]

"So, paint me in stripes."

He proposes, taking his hand, sinking down onto his knee.

[profiteering]

Tony has taken to caressing him lately, like he can map things away in his mind. He runs his thumb along Peter's bottom lip, affectionate but also in a way that suggests he has every right to be.

"Thin belt? Or finger paints?"

[watchesthewatchers]

"Both."

Then he's sucking on his fingertip, elegantly foreshadowing.

[profiteering]

"I want to paint you at the lake. In your na-ahh"

Damn his tongue.

"--natural habitat."

[watchesthewatchers]

He whimpers, and leans in, reaching for his fly.

Needing him now.

[profiteering]

"Wait, wait--can you take two lashes for me first?"

He has a hunch. Part of him wants to scream at himself for choosing to test it now, but he's also sure it will pay off.

[watchesthewatchers]

"Of course, sir."

He tells him, practically panting. Needing him.

"On the floor?"

[profiteering]

"Yes. Perfect."

He'll use his own belt for this; besides, he's too desperate to make Peter undress for it.

[watchesthewatchers]

He still scrabbles his shirt off, since that's all he's wearing on his back on the warm day, baring narrow, strong shoulders to him, turning to present it to him, peering up at him in fear for a quick second before looking back at the floor.

His hands are still tangled in his shirt sleeves, trying to tug it off gently.

[profiteering]

"Just two. I need you right now, but if you can do this for me, I-"

He'll leave that unfinished, let it hang, and then slap the first lash across his shoulders.

[watchesthewatchers]

He yelps, but recovers, breathing out a sob, shifting, bracing again, ready to take the second one.

[profiteering]

Watching Peter brace himself for it, to please him, makes it difficult to even land the second blow. It would be so much easier to just strip him down...

The second comes quickly; Tony wants him badly.

[watchesthewatchers]

He looks up over his shoulder at him, eyes stinging with pain.

"Can I suck you now? Please, sir? I've been good?"

[profiteering]

"So good."

Whispering, leaning down to kiss him.

"Do anything you want to me."

[watchesthewatchers]

He makes a noise so needy it sounds wounded, and is on him in an instant, driving him back against the fridge, getting his pants down just far enough, tongue dragging along the skin above the waistband of his underwear. Scrabbling those down too.