Pairing: Tony/Peter (/Mike)
Summary: Mike doesn't know how he fits here, but he's here, and that counts. (sequel to "watcher of the skies")
Disclaimer: : Any similarity between the fictional version of the person or persons portrayed here and the actual person or persons is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person(s) on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person or persons). I am not casting aspersions on the sexual orientation or activity of the characters represented within, and furthermore if Mr. Peter Gabriel ever stumbles across this, I'm very sorry sir. You're just so hot.
There was a chair next to the bed, and Mike slid into it without asking, watching as Tony all but threw Peter onto the bed. Peter wriggled out of his shirt immediately, while Tony took his time unbuttoning his, teasing – well, teasing everyone in the room, really.
“Tony,” Peter groaned, frustrated.
“Patience, patience,” Tony counseled, and rolled his eyes at Mike, who grinned back automatically, as if they were in the studio and faced with a broken string. Peter wasn’t at all good with delays.
Finally, Tony’s shirt was gone too, and he leaned over Peter, supporting himself on surprisingly muscular arms as he brought their lips together once again. Peter made a happy little noise and Mike couldn’t help the dopey smile that came to his face. Sometimes his friends were just too damn cute.
Sexy as hell, too, he thought, observing the contrast between long, sinewy Peter and smaller, more muscular Tony – all those years of lugging heavy instruments had clearly paid off.
After Tony had settled one of his legs between Peter’s thighs – causing him to grind up against him eagerly – Tony backed off for a moment.
“What are you-” Peter began, but his words ended in a choked gasp as Tony ran his nails none-too-gently down from the side of Peter’s neck all the way down his chest, stopping only at the waistline of his very tight pants. Mike watched in fascination as five slightly raised lines appeared on his milky skin.
Tony looked damn pleased with himself, and it was no wonder. With his lips swollen, skin marked, and hair splayed out over the pillow, Peter looked every inch debauched, although the real debauching had yet to occur.
“Very pretty,” Tony whispered, bending over to examine his handiwork and letting his long hair trail up the welts he himself had put there. Peter gasped, hips automatically lifting, but he was still pinned in place by Tony. “Eager boy.” He unzipped the trousers and pulled them off slowly and wow, no wonder they were so tight, Peter wasn’t wearing anything under them.
“Why don’t you show Mike how you get yourself ready, hmm?” Tony suggested in a voice that implied it wasn’t a suggestion. Peter obeyed, reaching under the pillow for a small bottle of lube – god, they kept it under the pillow? How often were they going at it? – and poured a liberal amount over his fingers, lifting his hips and slowly beginning to finger himself open.
By this point, Tony was standing on the other side of the bed, divesting himself of the rest of his clothing. “He’s had quite a bit of practice,” Tony grinned, wiggling his long, tapering fingers that played the keyboard so well and hmm, Mike was wondering what else they did so well, but his attention was turned back to Peter when Tony simply said, “another.” Mike watched, looking Peter in the eye as he added a second finger, neither of them breaking the eye contact even as Peter whimpered with need, sliding his fingers in and out. The implication was clear – look how tight I am, it was as if Peter was whispering in his ear come find out – and maybe, just maybe, Mike would, someday. Maybe he would be allowed to touch.
For now, however, he was quite happy to simply watch as Tony climbed back onto the bed, looking for all the world like some great jungle cat, all sleek strength and power.
“Hands off,” he ordered, and Peter obeyed instantly, in a way that Mike had never seen the stubborn man do before. “Mike, if you’d be so kind as to pass me that tie?”
Mike tore his eyes away from the sight in front of him to the night table, where there was, in fact, a silky red tie lying in wait. He handed it to Tony, who took it and ran his fingers over Mike’s wrist as well – a teasing touch that may well have been a promise for the future. “Thank you.”
“Hands above your head,” he ordered, and wow, with that tone of voice, Mike could see why Peter was being so cooperative. Hell, he’d be willing to do anything Tony said if it was spoken like that. Of course, he’d probably do anything Tony asked anyway…
Tony wound the tie around Peter’s slim wrists, tying them together with one end and attaching the other end to the headboard skillfully enough that it was clear he had done this many times before. Once he had finished, Peter gave the binds a tug, testing their strength. They held fast.
“Very nice,” Mike found himself commenting.
Tony turned to him, smiling. “Thanks! I’ll teach you sometime, if-”
“Would someone just bloody bugger me already?!” Peter howled suddenly – not an unwarranted outburst, as he was hard and, quite literally, quivering with need – but Tony’s eyes turned playfully dark and his attention went back to the trussed-up man on the bed.
“Be polite, we have a guest,” Tony reprimanded, hauling Peter’s legs up around his waist and giving his arse a smack.
Peter’s eyes flicked to the chair by the bed. “Oh, sorry, Mike, I promise I’m-”
He didn’t get a chance to finish that sentence because at that moment, Tony, having slicked himself up a little extra, plunged into him, harshly and unexpectedly and exactly what Peter needed. He groaned, long and loud, his head falling back against the pillow as Tony began fucking him, swiftly and surely, each thrust angled to hit the sweet spot deep inside him.
It was the most beautiful thing Mike had ever seen, actually, and he couldn’t not help but lean forward a bit, hands clutching at the armrest, looking for something to anchor him down before he was swept into their whirlwind.
Peter, normally so articulate and well-spoken, with an impressive vocabulary, seemed to be unable to babble anything other than various combinations of “yes” “fuck” “more” and “please,” his arms straining against the knots and his legs wrapped around Tony’s waist.
Tony was, on the surface, more controlled, but Mike could clearly see where his fingernails were digging into Peter’s hips as he gripped desperately for an anchor. There would be bruises, after, and maybe even a little blood, but Peter either couldn’t feel it or he liked it – Mike was inclined to believe the latter, watching as Peter strained and shook and finally came apart, his orgasm ripping through him and leaving him a shaking mess. Tony came a moment later, biting fiercely into Peter’s shoulder, leaving a clear mark.
After a moment of heavy breathing, they slowly began to disentangle themselves, and Tony untied Peter before padding to the bathroom for a wet cloth to clean them up with, which he did, touching Peter so gently that if it hadn’t been for the marks, Mike might not have believed that Tony could have been capable of such dominance.
But Peter, though sated, was not sleepy yet. He turned towards Mike, eyes glittering mischievously, and suddenly Mike – who until then had been so completely focused on the two of them and their actions – realized that he was hard. Harder than he could ever remember being in his life, and, wow, he needed to come up with some excuse to get out of there and take care of that because surely –
“Tony?” Peter asked, almost managing to sound innocent. “Tony, someone needs to take care of our guest.”
Tony grinned. “An excellent point, Peter. Thank you for mentioning it. Would you?”
Peter nodded happily, sliding off the bed as elegantly as he could and landing at Mike’s feet, looking up at him like – like – oh hell, Mike couldn’t exactly think of an appropriate metaphor when Peter was unzipping his trousers.
“Oh, very nice,” Peter breathed, and Mike felt a smirk of masculine pride. “You’ve gotta give me a ride sometime.”
Mike was pretty sure he could do that. With Tony’s permission, of course.
His eyes flicked to the man in question, who was lounging on the bed, when suddenly he was engulfed in warm, wet heat. He gasped, hands automatically settling in Peter’s hair and tugging, which made Peter moan happily around him which oh god.
“He’s very well trained,” Tony commented as casually as if they were at a garden party.
Mike made some sort of unholy choked-off noise, but Tony took that as an agreement.
What with Tony smirking at him from the bed, and Peter on his knees with his pretty lips wrapped around his cock, Mike came in record time. Peter, to his everlasting credit, and impressively, swallowed everything, leaning back on his heels and grinning, wiping the edge of his mouth.
Now he looked properly debauched, and Tony looked like sin itself.
Mike wasn’t exactly sure what was supposed to happen next, and he started to think about worrying, or making some sort of incredibly awkward and transparent excuse to leave, when Peter hopped back on the bed and scooted over, patting the space next to him.
“Cuddles!” he announced.
Mike tilted his head to the side, slightly confused and still a bit woozy from the orgasm.
“You will join us for the cuddles, won’t you, Mike?” Tony asked, humor in his voice and a hint of shyness in his eyes. Because clearly, epic sex was one thing, but cuddles were altogether more complicated.
Deciding to put a little carpe in his diem, and feeling way too tired to make the walk back to his own room, Mike quickly shucked off the rest of his clothes – he didn’t want to be the only clothed person, awkward – and slid next to Peter, who made a happy little noise and yanked both Mike and Tony’s arms over him. Tony chuckled at the grabbiness, and so did Mike, their fingers twining effortlessly together with Peter tucked in between them.
They smiled as they drifted off to sleep.