Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/ works/11466612. Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Underage Category: M/M Fandom: Spider-Man_-_All_Media_Types, Spider-Man:_Homecoming_(2017) Relationship: Peter_Parker/Tony_Stark, Peter_Parker_&_Tony_Stark Character: Tony_Stark, Peter_Parker, Iron_Man_Armor, Spider-Man Additional Tags: Masturbation, Hand_Jobs, Naive_Peter_Parker, Starker Series: Part 1 of Spider-Man Stats: Published: 2017-07-11 Words: 1382 ****** Renovate Your Future ****** by forparadise Summary Peter wants to believe that all of this is okay. - Peter is on the roof of a rather tall building near his school; he often chooses this one specifically because there are no buildings around it that are taller, and the ledges are high enough that he can't see out over the city when he's lying on his back—which is the position he is currently in. He has both arms stretched out above his head and his face is turned so that his moans are muffled against his bicep; Tony urges him on quietly because he knows Peter is close to coming, although they haven't been there for very long at all. Peter hadn't even been on patrol for an hour that evening before making his way to the familiar rooftop, crawling up the crumbling brick wall and easing out onto the roof, staying unnoticed. Then with a whispered plea of—I need you, now... like, right now—he stretched out on the cool concrete and pressed his hand between his legs, his palm rubbing against his cock through the thin but sturdy material of his suit. He makes sure to look down and watch his hand work, because he wants Tony to see, too.  It's not long until he hears hydraulics and the Iron Man suit is settling itself down onto the roof next to him. Sometimes, on days like this one, he goes through patrol with his suit feeling just a little too tight, sometimes a little too warm, and he can't concentrate no matter how hard he tries to ignore it. When Peter questioned him about it, Tony had denied any fault regarding this, but Peter remembers the time Tony showed him that he was capable of controlling Peter's suit externally—and he likes to think that maybe Tony does it to purposely get him worked up. Whether it was the suits fault or not, Peter was frequently finding himself on rooftops—or against walls behind rows of dumpsters in poorly-lit alleyways—ever since turning down the Avengers position offered to him by Tony only a few months back. It happens mostly when he's spent the day distracted at school, unable to focus on menial tasks such as homework; or when he's out on patrol with nothing else to do except let his mind wander. He ends up in these places when he's too eager and doesn't think he'll be able to make it home in time, or when he's certain that his aunt is at the house. The rare times he does have the place to himself, Tony—or the suit that stands in for Tony, at least—will follow him in through his open bedroom window, usually making a comment about the pile of dirty laundry in the corner or empty cans of soda lying around. These times are Peter's favorite. He likes to be able to tangle himself in his own sheets, to hide his face in his pillow when Tony peels his suit off of him; he likes to be surrounded by familiar things when he moans and thrusts and begs. His bedroom is his sanctuary on the days when Tony can't get to him, too, or when he wants to remind Tony that he's thinking about him. Alone in his bedroom he can set the atmosphere—playing a song with heavy bass, candles lit on his dresser (at first he had stolen some clunky, beige ones from the storage cupboard in the hallway, but eventually had gone out to buy his own when he realized he enjoyed their ambiance—he now had some colored, scented ones that he thought were much nicer), moving his hips slowly with the music. He would face the full length mirror he had purchased for the back of his door so Tony (if Tony was watching through Peter's eyes, which he hoped he was) could see his mask pulled up over his nose, see the way his lips part when his hand finally falls into a good rhythm. Sometimes, when he's feeling theatrical, he'll tilt his head back and lick his lips slowly, bare his teeth with a sharp breath and pull his thighs further apart so he can slip a second hand into his suit, sliding it back, two gloved fingers pressing up between his cheeks. On the rooftop, though, it's nothing like this. They're exposed, and things need to move quickly, which is why Peter thrusts with abandon into the leather and metal of the Iron Man gauntlet closed carefully around his cock. Tony's voice urges him on from within the suit and Peter, of course, fantasizes that it's really Tony in there. He hates to think about it, but he can't really be sure if he's actually interacted with the real Tony at all since last seeing him at the new Avenger's base. More often than not, when the suit joins him, Peter has to ignore the fact that he knows Tony is busy elsewhere. He hears faint chatter in the background and knows that Tony has made his way out of a meeting into a private room, or maybe a restroom, or somewhere he can be alone so he can interact with Peter in this way. Tony will talk to him, as he is currently doing, but there is distance in his voice. He'll ask Peter if he wants it softer or faster, if what he's doing feels good, and Peter will say yes, god yes—but there is an analytical tone in Tony's voice, like he's making notes or checking off a list of do's and don'ts. Peter revels in the rare times that Tony has been completely present—silence in the background on his end and offering Peter his full attention—telling him he's beautiful, building him up. His voice sounding deeper and thicker as they carry on; faltering when he asks Peter if he's going to come. Tony's breath speeding up along with Peter's the closer he gets. Peter likes to imagine Tony touching himself, wherever he is. Trying to match the rhythm of the suit's glove on Peter's dick, trying to time it so they come together. He tells himself that it's enough for Tony to even make time for him at all, when he's busy so often. He doesn't have the schedule of a high-schooler, Tony likes to remind him; so Peter appreciates any time they have together. Despite this attempt at reasoning, Peter can't help but want more so badly; so when he finds himself in a situation like the one he is currently in, he tries to imagine those few rare times of having Tony all to himself. His feet are planted firm and his hips are off the concrete now, rolling into the touch, and he imagines Tony wanting it as much as he does at that moment. The suit holds his waist with one hand and strokes him expertly with the other, but Peter imagines Tony's actual hands on his face, calloused and warm. He brings a hand down to touch his own lips, slipping two fingers between his teeth and pretending it's Tony—this, to Peter's satisfaction, causes a short pause in Tony's ongoing words of encouragement from within the suit. Peter tucks this away under his own list of do's and don'ts. Peter finally comes with a shout into the crook of his elbow, and Tony strokes him until he stops shaking. – Ten minutes later Peter sits on the raised edge of the same building, feet dangling over the side. Tony had at least offered up a quick apology before parting—something about being late for a meeting—it's a big deal, he had said.Avenger stuff. Peter allows himself a bit of time to fantasize about being there himself; about what he'd say, what he'd have to contribute. He thinks it would be a lot. He thinks the others would like him. He wants to ask Tony about it, but doesn't want to seem pushy. He knows Tony will ask him again, when the time is right. He doesn't allow himself the time to over-analyze it, though; to think—maybe I've lost my chance—and instead pulls his mask back down over his chin, grabbing his backpack and heading out into the city towards the distant sound of a screeching car alarm. - Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!