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Peter watched as the sleek black car pulled up to the curb, primly picking a grape off and bringing it up to his mouth.
He purposely lowered his gaze when he saw the car door open, furrowing his brow like he was concentrating on the food rather than the man who was nearing him. He didn’t say anything until he stopped in front of him, eyeing his shiny black shoes for a few moments, then sniffed. “You’re late.”
Tony hesitated, then sat down across from him on the blanket like he always did. “I know. I’m sorry.”
It was almost laughable, hearing an apology leave the mouth of Tony Stark, the most feared mafia boss in the entire fucking city, for someone like Peter.
But that was because Peter was special, and Tony told him so all the time.
“I’m sorry,” the man tried again.
Peter tried to hide his smile behind the bread he daintily brought up to his mouth.
“I can see you smiling,” Tony accused.
“Can you?” Peter finally met his eyes, then let the smile pull at his lips even more. “I guess you can.”
“I guess I can.” Tony’s eyes lingered on his lips.
Peter pointedly ignored it. “So, are you gonna tell me why you’re late?” He handed Tony a plate. “The bread’s cold now. I brought it fresh out of the oven for you.”
“Baby, I’m sorry.” Tony sounded genuinely apologetic. “You know it gets busy; I was—”
“Tonyyy,” Peter whined, and Tony held his hands up in a surrendering gesture. “You know I don’t like hearing about your— work. And I’m not your baby.”
Even though he wanted to be.
But no. He wouldn’t let that happen, because Tony and Peter, they were both— too eager, too much.
That was why they did this—their little picnics together every week, an excuse to meet up under the semblance that everything was cool and calm when they were both dying from the hot coils of desperation and want and need that bubbled inside of them.
“I know, I know, I’m sorry, it slipped my mind.” Tony huffed. “You gonna throw a fuss all day?”
“‘m not fussing.” Peter sniffed. He picked up his drink and struggled with the opening.
“Oh, yes, you are.” Tony smirked. “And we both know it. Bet it’s ‘cause I haven’t told you what you wanna know yet.” He snatched the can from Peter, fingers brushing against his and sending electric shocks jolting through them at the contact, before he easily popped it open. Handing it back to him, he added, “You’re so impatient today. You usually wait till the end of our meal to ask.”
“I didn’t ask.” Peter pulled a face.
“Maybe not with your words, but your face says it all.” Tony rolled his eyes. “Open book.” He tossed a grape into his mouth and chewed, considering, then took a look around them. No one else was near. He lowered his voice as he said, “We tracked him down and found him. He was snivelling like a little rat by the end of it, and he’s never gonna bother you again. I made sure of it.”
And the words should’ve felt more ominous, but it didn’t. Instead, Peter felt warmth spread across his chest at the idea that Tony, without even a guarantee of payment, had done exactly what he’d requested.
There was a reason Tony was known as the wolf of New York.
There was also a reason Peter had the wolf wrapped around his finger.
He took a bite of his bread, then said, “That’s good. That’s great, actually. Um, thank you.” And then he fumbled in his bag for a few moments before pulling out some crumpled bills.
Tony let out a bark of laughter, and Peter felt his cheeks begin to heat up, feeling small, like he always did whenever he tried to— to pay Tony back for what he did. It didn’t make him feel dumb, or shy, just… small.
“Nah, I don’t need money, baby, especially not from you.” Tony’s eyes burned into his when he glanced up, and their gazes locked.
I’m not your baby, danced on the tip of his tongue, but instead, Peter breathed, “Then what do you need?”
“Well, I don’t think you’re as pure and innocent as you think you are.” Tony’s gaze didn’t waver.
“What?”
“I mean, here you are, sweet little lamb, sitting with me, the wolf, having a picnic while discussing the not so bloodless task you gave me. And now you want to pay me upon completion of this task.” He raised an eyebrow at Peter. “Sounds a little… sketchy to me considering you’re known as the neighborhood angel with all the pretty flowers and bouquets you sell in your shop, doesn’t it?”
Peter sucked the inside of his cheek, considering, then asked lowly, “Are you blackmailing me?”
Tony laughed. “No, why would I need you?” His lips twitched. “I’m just… providing an incentive. There’s something else you can give me besides a wad of bills, baby.”
And Peter found himself breathing, “What exactly is that?”
Tony leaned forward slowly, then said softly, “A kiss.”
“A kiss,” Peter repeated. His heart skipped a beat, the rhythmic thumping building up until it felt like it was rattling his ribcage, and Tony nodded slowly.
“A kiss from the sweet little lamb.”
“You want a kiss from me?” Peter’s eyes flitted down to Tony’s lips involuntarily.
“I do.” Tony’s tongue poked out to wet his lips. “I wanna see if you taste as sweet as all those pretty lies that come out of your mouth.”
Peter’s breath caught in his throat, and he let himself sway forward the slightest bit. “I think,” he said, then swallowed hard. He shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t. This was the wolf. He could come up with ten fucking reasons on the spot to prove why he shouldn’t do this.
But he wanted to.
And that overrode everything else.
Peter swallowed, then whispered, “I think I can do that.”
“Good,” Tony breathed. “I was hoping you could. Pay up, baby. I’ve earned it.”
And Peter let his lips tenderly brush against Tony’s before his eyes fluttered shut, and he basked in the feeling of the big bad wolf’s lips on his, hot and wet and luscious.