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#like laying on my floor painting my nails and watching movies with my roommate sounds LOADS better than partying and i think we shouldn't
kyunsies · 3 years
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why do we make people feel ashamed for not going out and partying ADKFJSD like why is that a thing 
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carelessannie · 3 years
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the five times steve gives bad dating advice, and the one time it actually works
Or, the Starker Shifter and College AU no one asked for
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Link to AO3 Main pairings: Tony x Peter, (background) Steve x Bucky Word count: 5.6k Major Warnings: smut (not shifted), everyone’s a complete idiot, discussion of canine and feline mating behavior, excessive cursing Aaaaannnnnddddd I’ll tag @the-mad-starker because I said I would and I really hope you enjoy it bb
---
The door slams, startling Steve out of his afternoon nap. Peter must be home. He’s pretty sure Sam said he was gonna be out until the evening, and the stomping, slamming of cabinets, and various clanging dishware are usual signs of Peter’s afternoon fury.
Steve shakes out his coat, rolling his eyes as he stretches in the sun— his roommate is a damn idiot.
He doesn’t even bother shifting as Peter storms in the room, throwing his backpack to the ground and perching on the nearby armchair. He’s learned by now that when Peter wants to talk, Steve doesn’t need to speak. In fact, his friend probably prefers it that way.
So instead, he lets Peter brew, slamming his fingers onto the keys on his laptop, and viciously eating apple slices and… nutella. Oh. One of those days.
They only bring the nutella out on bad days.
Steve throws him a bone— metaphorically— and opens an eye, making an inquisitive noise deep in his throat.
Peter looks up, his delicate features squished together in an angry pout.
“First of all, your boyfriend’s an idiot.”
Offended, Steve bares his teeth and squints his eyes, sending Peter a menacing snarl that the smaller man waves off. His boyfriend is an idiot, but Peter has no business noticing that.
“I’m right and you know it,” Peter sniffs, turning his nose and inspecting his nails, “and his roommate is the absolute worst. And I’m not talking about Clint.”
There it is. Steve chuffs, feigning indifference. If he waits long enough, Peter will tell him more. So he lounges back, keeping one eye open, and letting the sun warm his fur. As he watches, he sees the moment Peter gives up his act. He jumps off the chair, making his way into Steve’s sunbeam, and slowly curls up next to the larger wolf.
“I’ve never met another cat so absolutely infuriating, Steve,” Peter whispers, petting through Steve’s golden fur, distractedly, “I can’t stand it. Always purring at me and calling me fucking kitten— no sir! I’m not a kitten, and it doesn’t matter how… how…”
He trails off, gripping tight onto Steve’s coat. When Steve turns to look, he realizes Peter’s tiny fangs have lengthened, poking through his rosy lips, as he runs his tongue over them absentmindedly. If he looks close enough, he can even see where Peter’s small, shifted ears are pushing through his curls.
Peter mumbles something that even Steve’s enhanced hearing can’t pick up. He nuzzles under Peter’s arm, urging him to repeat it.
“It doesn’t matter...” Peter murmurs, “... how beautiful he is, right?”
Steve’s ears perk up.
“Don’t act so surprised. Bucky told me you guys talk about it all the time. I just… I didn’t see it, okay? Not until today. Not until Tony fucking brought me coffee. I had no idea he was so sweet, Steve. I guess I always thought he was a dumb male cat shifter, like the stereotypes paint us out to be. But… he’s not. He’s so kind and funny and sexy, and oh my god, I bet his shifted cat is absolutely gorgeous.”
Steve rolls over to let Peter pet his tummy as he continues, “So naturally, I cornered Bucky to get him to spill. To tell me more about Tony, and how to date him, and… and… how you guys got together. But he said to come talk to you—” Peter crawls closer and tries to look him in the eye, “pleeeeeease, Steve? Help me?”
With a sigh, Steve sits up, shaking out his fur and letting his wolf recede, until he’s stretching out long arms and wiggling his fingers. His gym shorts are nearby, so he slips back into them, doing a customary once over to check for a full shift. Then he settles against the couch, opening his arms in an invitation for Peter to curl up on him.
Peter scoots closer, marginally, and Steve chuckles, “Want some dating advice, Pete?”
“Mhm, yes please,” Peter hums, closing the distance and leaning into Steve’s leg.
“Okay, I’ll tell you some things that worked for me, when I was courting Bucky.”
One.
Later that evening, Tony and Steve are set up in the dining room, comparing notes for their Econ class, and steadily working through their midterm project. Bucky and Peter should be back in a moment with pizza, and hopefully the four of them, plus Sam, will spend the night watching movies. It’s Friday, after all.
Steve hears the front door open and close, quiet conversation drifting down the hallway, but is surprised when just Bucky walks into the kitchen, setting down pizza and making his way over to where the two of them are seated.
Bucky leans down, planting a sweet kiss on his lips, before claiming a seat.
He opens his mouth to ask, but Tony beats him to it, not even looking up, “Where’d Pete get off to? You didn’t lose him, did you?”
Bucky just huffs, “No, you moron. He had to grab something from his room.”
Tony just shrugs, turning back to his notes. Steve spares Bucky a glance, curious about what Peter could be up to, and Bucky gives him a wink. Great.
It’s quiet as the three of them shift pages, typing gently on their laptops, and only exchanging conversation when there’s an issue with the material. Steve gets up once to grab a glass of water, and tries to look down the hallway— no sign of his roommate whatsoever.
With the smell of pizza filling the apartment, they decide not to wait any longer to eat. Steve hollers down the hall for Peter to come get some dinner, but still, his roommate is nowhere to be seen.
As he sits back down at the table, Steve can hear light footsteps coming towards them. He turns his attention back to their homework, and watches as Tony and Bucky pass out glasses, uncorking a bottle of wine.
“How fuckin’ fancy are we?” Steve wonders, giving Bucky a smirk as Tony starts to pour.
“Okay, there’s nothing wrong with a nice bottle of—” “YEEEEOOOOOWWWWWLLLL—”
Tony drops the bottle, flipping backwards out of his seat at the ungodly screech. Steve hops over into Bucky’s lap, picking his feet off the floor as his boyfriend flounders around, cursing and gasping for air.
“Holy shit, what the hell—”
“ReeeRRROOOOWWWWLLL—”
The noise continues, splitting through the air, and Steve watches Tony shift down, fangs lengthening, ears and whiskers emerging, as he drops to four legs. From where they sit on the dining room chair, neither of them can see what happens as the noise suddenly stops, a long, hissing growl taking its place.
Steve peeks under the table, and sees both cat shifters arched up, fur fluffed out in a clear challenge, teeth bared and hissing. Dammit. Peter’s cat— a yellow tabby— is slowly backing up as Tony’s cat— dark and tortoiseshell— follows him, spitting and growling, until Peter finally turns his back, relaxing his coat, and slowly retreats.
“Holy shit,” Bucky breaths, starting to laugh, “what the fuck was that.”
Steve just shakes his head in disbelief, watching Peter sprint down the hall to his room as Tony licks his paws, tail still fluffed in irritation, and eyes pinning them with a deadly glare.
The table is a mess— wine spilled across their notes, Tony’s laptop, and pizza overturned, smeared across the soaked pages. Once Tony starts shifting back, Steve slides off of Bucky’s lap and takes stock of the damage. What the fuck indeed.
He looks over at Bucky, “Can you… take care of this,” he gestures to the table, “I’m gonna go talk to Peter.”
Bucky nods, still shocked, and Steve turns to follow Peter back to his room. He stops outside, knocking gently— careful not to intrude into the shifter’s territory.
“Peter, it’s me. Can I come in?”
There’s a rumble, and then the lock clicks, letting the door swing open. Peter struts back towards his window seat, fully shifted back and wearing just a pair of black briefs, and curls up by the window.
“Uh, Pete? What happened?”
Peter sniffles, looking out the window, “You told me that you and Bucky like to show affection by making noises at each other in your wolf form. So why didn’t it work?”
“Oh my god.”
“He attacked me, Steve!” Peter whines, burying his face in his hands.
It takes everything in Steve’s power not to laugh. Poor kitten. He slowly approaches, sitting nearby and in Peter’s view, extending a hand for Peter to take if he wants.
“So… maybe that wasn’t the best advice. I swear, it’s one of the easiest ways we bond, as wolves. But not that screeching noise, Peter— more of a growl, or other small noises.”
Peter pouts, looking into his hands.
“Here,” Steve stands up, holding out his hand, “let’s go get some pizza and help clean up. You can apologize, come up with some dumb excuse, and we can find some other way to hit on Tony, okay?”
“Fine.” Peter joins him, pulling on a sweatshirt and some shorts, “Let’s hope I didn’t spill all the damn wine. We’re gonna need it.”
Two.
A few days later, all of their friends are lounging across Steve’s furniture, taking a lazy afternoon after midterms to drink some Coor’s and watch Japanese game shows. Steve’s not even sure who’s interested in this, but doesn’t really care, as he lets himself drift off to the sound of Bucky’s deep breathing, his mate settled close on his chest.
It’s rare that everyone is in the same place, especially without homework or projects taking up their time, and Steve feels a deep sense of peace as his pack is settled, warm and safe, around him.
“Stop it, Stevie, you’re givin’ me thoughts,” Bucky mumbles, pinching him in the side.
Steve just hums, smiling down at his mate, and looks over to where Peter’s laying across the floor, partially shifted, and tail flicking slightly. On the other side of the room, Tony watches with his arms crosses, eyes following the striped tail.
“Let's go for a walk.” Steve announces, lifting Bucky off and getting a grumpy noise in protest. He makes a show of stretching, and gives Peter a wink. His eyes go wide in understanding.
“Fine,” Peter pushes off the carpet, shaking himself to shift back fully, “but only if I can get ice cream.”
Bucky ends up agreeing, and muscles Tony into joining them as well. Sam and Natasha decide to stay, enjoying the silence, but demand delivery from their friends. Clint stands up as they’re leaving, and follows them out the door.
It’s a quick walk down to get ice cream, just a block away, and Steve tries to make a show of brushing up against Bucky, reminding Peter of their last conversation.
Peter saddles up next to Tony, walking side-by-side only a few steps in front of them. He glances up, batting his eyelashes, and bumps his hips into Tony’s.
Tony whips around, on instinct, and pushes Peter in the chest, sending him careening off the sidewalk and landing in a heap, right in the middle of the road. All of them freeze, looking between Tony and Peter in disbelief, as the younger boy’s eyes brim with tears.
“Oh my… Peter, oh my god,” Tony shakes himself, and sprints into the road, thankfully clear of traffic, and pulls Peter to his feet, leading him back to the sidewalk. “I don’t… I don’t even know what happened, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, it’s fine,” Peter pulls away, giving Steve a dirty look, “can we just go get ice cream, please?”
Tony nods, sticking close to Peter as they walk away, and Steve can hear him promise, “I’ll buy yours, really, I’m so sorry.”
When they’re out of earshot, Clint ambling along after them with a shrug, Bucky turns to him and smirks, “What was that, Stevie?”
“I… I told him about the rubbing thing we do. You know… when we walk together?”
Bucky laughs all the way to the ice cream parlor.
Three.
It’s a week or so later when they have Tony and Bucky over for another movie night. Peter was mortified, and furious, about his latest attempt, but Steve can tell he’s determined to make a move tonight.
And Steve thinks this one will work, too. He’s not sure, at this point, if he should still be giving Peter advice, but he’s seen cat shifter mates do this, so he’s pretty sure it’s gonna work.
Bucky just smacks him in the head, annoyed that Steve wants to meddle.
The four of them are watching the Hobbit trilogy, per Tony’s request, and have piled blankets and pillows on the floor to lounge on. Steve takes the leads and shifts down, kicking off his clothes, shaking out his fur, and stretching out in his wolf form on the floor. He feels Bucky join him, the familiar warmth of his mate comforting against his side. They both look expectantly at their friends, hoping they take the hint.
Peter squints at them, irritated, but shifts down anyway, pushing out of his clothes and settling against Steve’s side, purring when the giant wolf starts to groom him, licking long strokes down his back.
Steve can see the adoration on Tony’s face. He’s completely captivated by the sweet kitten, and he shifts, stretching out and pacing closer to the three of them. Steve can’t help but wag his tail, bumping up against Bucky and wiggling closer to get a lick on Tony’s face.
Tony yelps, bouncing away, and pretends to clean himself. Peter just watches on, intently, as Tony takes his time to walk back over, carefully avoiding the wolves. His eyes are wide and unblinking. Tony curls up nearby, and Peter takes his chance, slinking closer, and reaching out to lick Tony’s cheek.
Tony shifts, moving out of Peter’s reach. Peter crawls closer and tries again, but Tony pulls away. One more try, and Tony stands, jumping up onto the couch and out of reach.
Peter just mewls, soft and sad, before tucking himself back underneath Steve’s front leg. Bucky growls, low in his chest, and Steve can tell it’s aimed at Tony. Dumb cat.
They stay shifted for the better part of an hour, grooming and cuddling together, until Tony finally comes back down from his perch. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve can see him approach, slowly, and try to get near Peter. Bucky growls again, not even opening his eyes, and the tortoiseshell cat scrambles away.
So much for that.
Four.
Spring break— fucking finally.
Classes have been hard this semester, and all of them are feeling it. Steve’s thankful that Tony’s parents have a place in the woods for them to escape to, because he’s itching to shift, let loose, and run away with his mate. Hopefully for the whole week.
Somehow, Steve got stuck driving their car, packing Bucky in the passenger seat, Sam and Peter in the middle two, and Clint, Nat and Tony in the backseat. He’s not sure how they make it there alive, with Bucky’s Cool Vibes playlist, Sam and Tony’s backseat commentary, and the thick mix of pheromones swirling through the air.
“What is that, Buck?” he murmurs in a low tone, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand over the center console.
“Hm?” Bucky looks over, blinking lazily.
“The… tension. The smell. What is it?”
“Oh, uh—” Bucky takes a moment, scenting the air and grimacing, “— yeah, that’s rut.”
Steve almost slams on the breaks.
“Rut? Like cat rut?”
Bucky just nods, making a point to roll down his window, “Yeah, Stevie. It’s springtime. We’ve got two, male cat shifters in the car. The rest of us ain’t gonna feel nothin’, but they’re definitely feelin’ it.”
He turns around and glances behind him, smiling at the sight of both cat shifters arguing and flirting behind them. Sam looks horrified.
Steve just rolls his eyes, “I’m tired of their bullshit. Hope they spend some time together this week, ya know?”
“Hope they spend more than time,” Bucky laughs, giving Steve’s hand a squeeze in return.
In the rearview, Steve can see Tony, fully turned around in his seat, gesturing wildly as Peter shakes his head, the two of them clearly caught in a deep discussion. When he looks closer, he sees the way Peter flutters his lashes, how Tony rubs up against the seat and the wall of the van.
Idiots.
Steve focuses back on the road, sighing and trying to enjoy how warm Bucky is next to him, how settled he is with his mate nearby.
Less than an hour later, and with every window rolled down, Steve parks the van outside of the cabin. If anyone would call it that. Three stories tall, the cabin looms over the driveway. Dark, aged wood is contrasted with sleek and modern architecture, blending back into the treeline and standing out of it at the same time. Gorgeous. Breathtaking.
As they carry their bags into the cabin, Steve catches sight of the lake in the backyard. Apparently Bucky and Clint see it as well, because all three of them are dropping their stuff, stripping out of their clothes, and racing to the water.
Steve shifts mid-stride, barking in joy as his pack follows him into the lake. Around the cabin, down the hill, off the dock— he’s first. First! And Bucky follows after him, their splashes large and in sync.
Clint ambles, albeit slower in his shifted golden retriever, and flops gracelessly in after them. The water is heavenly, and the three of them swim and play, bounding through the water and jumping off the pier.
That is, until their friends join them.
It seems as though Tony let the others into the house, put away their bags, packed a cooler, and found a few beach chairs and towels. The four of them set up a row of chairs and open an umbrella above them, settling down in skimpy swimwear to enjoy the afternoon sun.
Clint barks up at them, no doubt encouraging Nat and Sam to shift down and join them in the water.
“You guys are idiots,” Sam yells back, popping the tab on his drink, “the beer’s up here!”
Steve treads water, huffing a bit in amusement as he watches his pack— which is how he catches Tony moving closer to Peter. Tony passes him a beer, which Peter takes with a smirk and quick comment that makes Tony laugh.
Gag.
And he almost misses it— he goes to turn away, and sees Tony dart across, pressing a swift kiss to Peter’s blushing cheek. Peter gasps, meeting Tony’s eyes in shock, before grabbing his shoulders, leaning closer, and—
“Ow!”
“Oh my god, I’m sorry, Tony—”
“You bit me!”
Steve swims over to the ladder, shifting down as he goes, and grabs a towel as he climbs up to investigate. Both men are standing now, blushing and holding their faces— Peter in shame, and Tony in mock horror. So dramatic.
“— how could you think that was what I wanted?”
“I didn’t! I just… I asked Steve, and he said—”
“Woah woah woah,” Steve cuts in, hands up in surrender, “I never said to bite him.”
Peter covers his face again with a groan, flopping down in his seat and throwing a towel over his face.
Tony looks down at him, bewildered, and back up at Steve, shrugging. “What did I do?” he mouths, lips turning down into a sad, sad pout.
Steve doesn’t even know what to say.
“Let’s go start the grill,” Sam suggests— thank god for Sam, and grabs Steve and Tony’s shoulders to lead them away.
A few minutes later, working over the grill together, Tony peers up at Steve, giving him a pointed look. Steve just sighs, again.
“Canines do this thing— instead of kisses on the cheek, when we’re shifted, we like to nibble on each other’s faces. It’s the same thing,” he pauses, taking in the disbelief written across Tony’s expression, “... for canines.”
“So he was… trying to kiss me back?”
Sam huffs, clapping Tony on the shoulder, “More than that, Tones.”
Tony sits down, hard, in light of this revelation.
Five.
Bucky corners him, later in the evening, and it’s not for a sexy reason.
“You’ve gotta stop meddling in their shit, Stevie,” he hisses, pinning Steve to the wall.
Steve looks down to where their bodies are pressed together and groans, “Buck, this is a serious conversation, but you gotta let me up, pal.” Bucky’s eyes go wide and he grimaces, letting Steve up.
The two of them take a deep breath before Steve continues, “I’ve got a plan.”
“No.”
“It’s a good one.”
“Absolutely not.”
“We should force them to sleep together.”
“...”
“I mean. Not like… Buck, not like that. I mean, like, den together, like how we did when we were bonding for the first time.”
Bucky crosses his arms, giving Steve a less than impressed look.
“So you think that would work? How would you even pull that off?”
“I told you, I have a plan.”
---
Steve and Bucky corner Tony, later, and tell him their plan. Steve explains how he’s spent almost a month trying to help Peter court Tony, and Tony, for the most part, looks absolutely baffled.
“Yeah, I didn’t get that.”
Bucky covers his laugh with a hand, turning away so Steve can’t see him. Idiot.
They try to convince Tony to go along with their plan— sneaking into Peter’s room, fully shifted, and curling up next to him.
“It’s not gonna work, Steve. Felines are territorial—”
“— so are canines—”
“— and he’s not gonna want me in his space uninvited!”
“— but it’s not his space! It’s yours, it’s literally your territory,” Steve insists, “and it’ll show him that you want more, Tony.”
Tony just sighs, looking off into the fireplace, roaring with life. Warm and inviting. Steve aches to get out of here, but he’s committed to getting his friends together first.
“Fine,” Tony concedes, rising to his feet and starting to shift. He points at Steve as he shrinks down, “but I’m blaming you when thisss goesss to shhit.”
Fully shifted, Tony stalks across the living room, disappearing up the stairs to the guest bedrooms. Steve pulls Bucky close, both of them nuzzling close and enjoying their shared scent, shared warmth. They hear a door shut. Silence. Bucky turns to dot a light kiss on Steve’s jaw, and Steve returns it with a teasing growl.
“When this is over,” he rumbles, “we’re shifting for days, baby.”
Bucky sighs and wiggles closer, “Can’t wait, Stevie. Been itchin’ for it. Needin’—”
BANG, CRASH!
MrrrOWWWWWWWW
“Not again,” Bucky groans, hiding his face in Steve’s chest.
Tony, still fully shifted, tears through the living room, tail fluffed out and fur raised along his back. He darts under their couch, breathing hard and hiding, as Peter stomps down the stairs. He’s half shifted— fangs and ears and paws and tail all displaying aggression and annoyance.
“I really like you Tony,” he hisses, crossing his arms and standing so that Tony can see him from under the couch, “but that was a real dick move. Sometimes I feel like you hate me, and want me to hate you. Don’t try to talk to me, Tony. I don’t wanna see you until the morning.”
Peter stalks away, leaving Tony under the couch. Bucky tugs on Steve’s sleeve, “We really shouldn’t be here when Tony shifts back.”
Steve spares a glance under the couch, watching Tony clean his paws and glare back at them, and nods. The two of them beat a quick retreat, heading for the kitchen to pack some snacks for their time in the forest. Tony said the deer in this area are free to hunt, but sometimes they like fruits and pastries for breakfast. It’s a whole thing.
Before they run off into the woods, Steve stops, looking back to where Tony, still shifted, is sulking under the furniture.
“You should do it.”
Both Tony and Bucky look at him in shock, the latter already protesting.
“No, no— you don’t have to take my advice, Tony. I know I’ve screwed a bunch up already. I’m just saying, you should talk to him tonight, show him that you care. Follow your instincts— because they’re obviously different than ours. We know…” he glances over at Bucky, who nods, “we know you love him, Tony. Go fight for him.”
Tony just turns around, showing his back.
Bucky grabs Steve’s hand, “Let’s go, Stevie.”
One.
Tony watches them retreat out the backdoor, letting it close with a soft click! He slinks out from under the couch and sits by the fire, thinking about what Steve said.
Follow your instincts.
He thinks about the kiss earlier. How pretty Peter’s blush had been, how much he wanted to rub up against Peter’s cheek and mark him, claim him. He wishes they got to run together, fight and wrestle away their pent up energy. He knows both of them are rutting, he just thought… he really thought…
It doesn’t matter now. He closes his eyes, lets his ears twitch in thought, as he focuses on his instincts. He lets the rage and the desire and the animal need wash over him, and all he can think, all he can feel, is chase.
Chase. Catch.
Chase. Catch.
He doesn’t even register getting up, prowling up the stairs, moving down the hallway.
Chase. Catch.
Chase. Catch.
The door to Peter’s room is open.
Chase. Catch.
He creeps inside, taking a peek over to the bed.
Mate.
Peter turns his head, making eye contact.
Run.
Tony leaps into the air, sprinting out the door— Peter hot on his tail. He flies down the stairs and slides around the corner, slamming into the trash can. Dammit. Why is that always there? As he growls at the metal can, Peter catches up to him, tackling him to the ground with a loud shriek.
They wrestle, growling and biting, until Peter breaks free with a hiss, bouncing on the pads of his feet to assert dominance. Oh no. Not in Tony’s house. Tony spits, rising up on his toes, until Peter freezes— both of them growling, low and angry.
Peter takes off. Spinning on his feet, the yellow tabby slams, hard, into the wall— fuck, he’s so strong— and bounces off lightning fast, out the door and into the front yard. Tony runs after him, dodging bushes and trees to follow Peter’s agile trail, secretly admiring his speed and the cleverness of his path. Beautiful.
He follows Peter all the way up a tree, forcing him out on a limb. Tony arches his back, sending a signal of dominance across to Peter, but Peter refuses to back down. He meets Tony’s gaze, raises his haunches, and spits back. Holy shit.
Tony leaps, tackling Peter off the branch, and sends both of them tumbling into the grass. In a flurry of nails and teeth and yowling, they fight for dominance, pinning and repinning until they come to a stop, teeth mutually clenched in the other’s scruff, and completely tangled together.
They’re breathing hard. Tony can feel it on his neck, and realizes both of their penises have unsheathed, rubbing together and catching on the barbs. It’s a crazy sensation— ramping up both of their rut pheromones.
As they lay there together— intertwined in the dark of the spring night— Tony feels himself start to shift back. He closes his eyes, gripping tight to Peter’s neck, his bare skin, as he flexes his fingers. He feels Peter shifting in his arms, and they hold on tight, neither willing to give up their prize.
“Mine,” Tony growls, unlatching his jaw as he feels Peter do the same.
His friend, his new mate, smiles— his gorgeous, bruised lips pulling back to reveal delicate and deadly fangs, “Mine,” he agrees, leaning forward hesitantly.
Tony closes the gap, rubbing their cheeks together and earning a satisfied purr from deep in Peter’s chest. He rolls them until he’s on top, and takes a few moments to kiss and lick around Peter’s chest, his tummy, his neck.
He grins mischievously before biting down on a pale pink nipple, earning him a gutted moan in response. Peter’s definitely hard against Tony’s thigh, but he’s been waiting way too long for this to rush it. Damn if he isn’t gonna take his time tonight.
“Mine,” he growls again, fiercer, and drags his nails up Peter’s hips, down his back. He drowns in the small gasps and moans he’s able to coax from his mate, marveling in the way his pale skin glows in the moonlight.
Peter paws at his back, spreads his legs wide, and grinds up against Tony’s erection, desperate for his touch. Every Mine is echoed between them, sung like a mating call for all to hear in the thick, springtime haze. They dance together, flipping time and time again for dominance— although, this time gentle. Caring and full of playful adoration.
When Tony finally takes them in hand, Peter throws his head back, yowling into the open air— “Tony! Tony, fuck fuck, touch me, goddammit, please touch me,” and Tony bends to his wishes, stroking their cocks together, long and firm.
He loves how Peter feels next to him, a tiny bit smaller, but the perfect size to compliment Tony’s own length. Tony spits down into his hand, slicking the way, and thrusts forward, urging Peter to follow his lead as they fuck into his grip.
“C’mon Pete, c’mon love— fuck me, baby, please.”
“Yeah, oh Tony, please. Need more, Tony,” Peter begs turning his wickedly innocent doe eyes on Tony in desperation.
Tony grips tighter, thrusts harder, and returns Peter’s molten gaze. What can he… oh.
He throws himself forward, bracing with one hand above Peter’s head, and seals their lips together. Peter gasps, stuttering his hips, and Tony can feel the warmth spilling over his palm, coating both of their cocks. He strokes Peter through it, kissing him deeply, thoroughly, until his mate starts to whine in discomfort.
Tony pulls away, feeling his orgasm pooling deep in his belly, and crawls up closer on Peter’s chest. His eyes are half-lidded, lips swollen and hair matted and messy— and Tony’s never seen anything more gorgeous.
“Please,” he pants, speeding up the stroke on his cock, “Pete, please let me, let me come on you, please. Mine. Mine, Peter. Let me mark you, please.”
“Yes, yes—“ Peter moans, reaching up to cup Tony’s balls, “mine, give it to me, Tony— it’s mine.”
At his words, Tony lets out a breath, crumpling forward as his release drains him, throwing him over the edge and right into Peter’s waiting arms. He watches as hot stripes of cum paint Peter’s chest, drip down his chin, and even land in his mouth. It’s too much to see his mate, covered in him, licking it off his fingers— so he falls to the ground, exhausted and spent.
A moment later he’s grabbing for Peter, humming in pleasure as his mate saddles close, burying his face in Tony’s neck.
And then Peter giggles. A soft, barely there laugh that tickles the side of Tony’s throat.
“What?” Tony rasps, looking down at Peter in amusement.
Peter keeps laughing, sitting up fully to bury his face in his hands and get out full, gasping belly laughs. He holds onto Tony as he wipes away tears, and Tony just chuckles, happy to see his mate so joyful.
When Peter settles down, he sighs, giving Tony a lopsided smile, “I can’t believe what just happened,” Tony shakes his head, returning the smile, as Peter continues, “I’ve been taking dating advice from a fucking wolf for a month— when all we had to do was,” he gestures wildly, “whatever this was,”
Tony laughs, he gets it now, “Well, it was kinda inconvenient that every suggestion they had was actually a severe act of aggression between male felines.”
“Oh my god,” Peter giggles again, “what the hell were you even trying to do tonight? When I found you in my bed?”
Tony blushes, looking away, and mumbles, “Steve and Bucky thought if we slept next to each other—“
“— but that’s a breach of territory for unmated felines!”
“— that’s what I said! Somehow they convinced me otherwise, and… well…”
Tony trails off, letting his words fade to a comfortable silence. Peter snuggles closer, letting Tony wrap and arm around him. It’s chilly outside, but until they go and lay by the fire, both of them are content to find warmth in each other.
“I’m glad you came to find me,” Peter whispers, dotting a kiss onto Tony’s collarbone.
“I’m glad I did, too,” Tony nuzzles into his curls, inhaling the new scent of mate and home that he’s come to associate with Peter, “and you know what? In the end, that idiot’s dating advice ended up bringing me to you.”
“We don’t have to tell him that do we?”
Tony shakes his head, “No. No we don’t.”
Bonus:
Clint and Sam and Nat stare at each other in horror, refusing to acknowledge what they just heard going on inside and outside of the house.
“Do you think the coast is clear?”
“Can’t be certain. It’s way too quiet out there.”
“They’re both in rut, it could be days.”
“Maybe we should go find Steve and Bucky, they’d know what to do.”
“If I know them at all, and I think I do, those two are gonna be knotted up for the next few days. I don’t wanna witness that.”
The three of them are silent, listening for any movement or sign that their newly mated friends are alive.
“I vote we shift down and doggy pile.”
“Yes, okay.”
“Fine.”
“And in the morning, we can talk about feline mating patterns.”
“... and boundaries.”
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