Chapter Text
So – and I know I already did this premise with Bucky – but let's say Uncle Ben has a gambling problem, and he's into a lot of debt with Tony Stark.
One day, always-a-girl!Pete is walking home from school and a nice black car pulls up. The back window rolls down, and it's Tony.
Maybe Pete is already aware that her uncle gambles. Maybe she's met Tony a couple of times and he always scared her a little. Maybe she's aware, at least vaguely, that Uncle Ben owes Tony money but she's supposed to keep that a secret from Aunt May.
So when Tony shows up and says, "Hey – Pete, right? Let's take a quick ride, Pete, I have some business to discuss," Pete's stomach fills up with butterflies but she knows she doesn't have a choice. Not really.
She slides into the back seat with Mr. Stark, and puts on her seatbelt. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him smiling like her safety consciousness is adorable.
He tells her how cute she is in her school uniform. It makes Pete a little uncomfortable so she tries to ignore it. She wants this over as fast as possible, so she asks what he wanted to talk about.
Mr. Stark lets an uncomfortable pause settle for a moment, just to make it clear he controls this conversation.
Pete's stomach churns.
And then Mr. Stark explains about her uncle's debt.
When Mr. Stark reveals exactly how much her uncle owes, she's terrified. She has an idea of their household finances – money is always an issue, Ben and May talk about it a lot – and she knows they can never afford to pay that back.
Mr. Stark says, "Now normally, this is when I'd have to send a message. One night, when your uncle went down to the corner store, he'd stumble on a mugging or a robbery in progress, and whoops! What a tragedy. Someone else that owes – but not like your uncle owes – goes to prison but gets to clear his debt…it's a twofer."
Pete's panicked, trying to choke back tears, scared to even beg Mr. Stark to let Uncle Ben live.
"Do you want to avoid losing another parent, Pete? I know about your mom and dad, it was such a shame. I can see that you love your aunt and uncle so much."
Pete agrees: yes, she loves him, she doesn't want to lose him, and Mr. Stark explains that Pete is in a very special, very rare position to make sure she doesn't have to.
Pete nods – she's scared of what he's about to say. She has an inkling; her hands are shaking.
Then Mr. Stark reaches over and presses the button on her seatbelt, letting it unlatch so it can retract, and he says, "Come over here, honey."
And pats his leg.
Pete is terrified...but she crawls across the back seat and slips sideways into Mr. Stark's lap, stomach hitting top-of-rollercoaster position when his hand immediately settles on her ass. Under her skirt.
Mr. Stark starts talking about how pretty he thinks she is, how she's always caught his eye…
Which…she just turned 13. She's been visiting his office with Uncle Ben for years.
So that's…yeah. Fucked up.
"I was thinking, you could work off your uncle's debt. Come keep me company a few days a week – just me, honey, I'm not gonna turn you out – and if you're a good girl for me, I'll knock $3k off what Ben owes for every visit."
"Ten thousand," Pete blurts, not even sure what she's doing.
But Mr. Stark barks a laugh, looking pleased as he caresses her face. "Pretty and smart. $5,000, final offer. And I'll make sure you enjoy our time together."
....If she argues, does that mean he'll make sure she DOESN'T enjoy it?
Even ten is a laughably small number compared to what Ben owes. Her brain has already done the math but she staunchly ignores The Number.
The number of times she'd have to 'keep Mr. Stark company' to get Uncle Ben clear.
She ignores that number, because there aren't acceptable alternatives. She accepts the deal, and Mr. Stark seals it with a kiss.
"I'll tell you what – we'll count today as one, if you stay with me another twenty minutes – Hap can just drive around."
Pete knows from when he pulled up that the windows are too dark to see inside. Before she can even ask, the driver partition goes up.
Twenty minutes is probably less than what he'll want later. Anyway, she can't imagine waiting until the next time, with no clue what to expect from the man.
So, nervous, Pete nods.
"Hap'll keep track of the time, you just relax," Mr. Stark says. "Do you have a boyfriend, sweetheart?"
Pete feels her face heat – from the question, and from the way his hand is slipping up her back, under her shirt. His fingers stroke along her spine and it actually feels good.
"No, sir."
"Ben's got lousy luck, but he taught you manners. I'll give him that. Why no boyfriend, honey? Pretty thing like you must have boys all over her."
Pete shrugs, not wanting to have this conversation – it's embarrassing. She's still treated like a boy by all her friends.
Thankfully, Mr. Stark seems to accept the brush-off. Or, she thinks that he does before he says, "Have you ever kissed a boy?"
Oh, God. "No – nothing...nothing." Then, not wanting to draw this out: "I've never done anything before."
Mr. Stark nods, unsurprised. His fingers skim back down her body, down her thigh…then up. Up the sensitive inside until he's stroking here there, just barely, through her underwear.
She's so embarrassed and nervous, she tucks her face against his coat and takes a deep breath.
"What about masturbation?" Mr. Stark asks. "Do you touch yourself, Pete?"
His voice is low and close to her ear, and she's mortified to realize she's getting wet. Can he feel that? Is she leaking through her panties?
Her throat feels too tight to speak, so she just nods yes against his clothing.
Mr. Stark hums, fingers brushing her a little more firmly between her legs. "How often, baby? Use your words."
Pete swallows and whispers, "Every day."
Mr. Stark hums again, and then she's surprised to feel him press a kiss to her forehead – gentle, almost sweet. "Do you use your fingers?"
Pete nods, hand curling around Mr. Stark's lapel as his fingers slip into the leg of her panties.
He finds her clit right away, strokes around and near it. It's embarrassing, but she knows she's breathing louder, heavier, now.
"In the morning or at night?" Mr. Stark asks.
"Night," she manages.
She can feel Mr. Stark's smile against her temple. "No better sleep aid, right?"
Pete nods, gasping and clutching at his coat when he starts stroking her clit more directly.
"Ever put anything inside?"
Pete squirms, panting against Mr. Stark's neck.
"I tried – it didn't...it was okay but...."
A little noise slips out and she chokes it back, used to practically holding her breath while she comes so no one can hear.
"No need to be quiet with me, honey – I want to hear how good you feel, so I know I'm keeping my promise."
Mr. Stark's fingers move faster and she hears herself making slutty high-pitched little sounds against his coat as everything coils up.
It's weird, how much better it is to have him touch her. She knows how to make herself feel good, sure, but he's touching her with an intensity she'd shy away from, by herself. As it is, all she can do is clutch him and hold on, unsure how to feel.
The sounds she's making…
It's all – it's all –
When she comes, she's almost as tense during and after as she is before.
Mr. Stark keeps touching her, kissing her face, until she's sweaty and exhausted. Then he eases her panties back in place, and her skirt.
He sucks his fingers clean, humming like she tastes good.
Pete knows her face is red.
"This is you," Mr. Stark says, and she's so dazed, the words don't sink in.
He smirks and nods towards the window – they're parked in front of her building.
"Oh – oh, uhm." He sort of helps her off of his lap and urges her to scoot towards the other door, so she does. "When, uh. W-when...?"
Mr. Stark shrugs, sliding tinted sunglasses onto his face. "Happy will come pick you up when I want you. From the school, most of the time."
He's looking at his phone now, a clear dismissal. Pete climbs out of the car on shaky legs, shuts it behind her and watches it drive off.
She feels...her body is....she wonders if it's obvious what she was just doing, if anyone can tell.
She feels like it's a big neon sign above her head: "Just let a grown man touch me for $5,000."
Oh, God.
There's a WORD for that.
Before she can fall too far down that rabbithole, a gust of the fall wind catches her skirt and makes her acutely aware of how messy she is, between her legs.
She shoves aside those thoughts and rushes inside, to do her homework.