Tears clouded Marc's vision, and by the time he made it back to his quarters and was released from his jeweled shackles, Steven was left staring into the mirror at the finery adorning his body.
The next day, you awoke feeling lighter than you had since Marc left you in the mountains. Things should return to normal. Marc would remain in the palace as your prized concubine. Your alliance with your neighbors in the mountains stood stronger than ever.
After meeting with your small council, you cut your day short, summoning Marc to relax with you in the sun and perhaps swim, after you took his body, of course. You would settle for nothing slow and sensual this day. Hopefully he would be accommodating. You felt certain he would be.
You would give him so much pleasure that he would soon forget his silly request about love.
As you lounged in the sun, awaiting your lover, Tyree appeared, bowing deeply.
"Forgive the delay, Your Grace," she began apologetically, "but the concubine is not available at present. I believe I can only deliver the librarian to Your Grace this afternoon. Would you like him adorned in the concubine's finery?"
Ah. Steven.
"No," you sighed. "He may dress as he wishes, but please do bring him here to me immediately."
She returned a short while later with Steven. He was dressed handsomely, in one of Marc's newer outfits from your travels. He looked like a nobleman, except that his hands were drawn close to his chest protectively.
Nodding for Tyree to leave you, you beckoned him closer, rising to greet him.
Steven bowed deeply. "It is an honor to be summoned. I hope I have not disappointed Your Grace."
"Of course not," you graciously responded. "How are you? How do you find the royal library?"
His eyes lit up as his posture relaxed. He went on to delightedly relay to you every aspect he found fascinating about the library, as well to explain the improvements he wished to implement, with the permission of the Master of Scholars, and yourself, of course.
You let him talk, smiling at his passion. Eventually, your thoughts drifted to Marc. It was difficult to avoid thinking about him, since Steven shared his body. You wondered about Marc's passions. Had you ever asked him? Had you once ever regarded Marc with the same intellectual interest and patience you granted Steven?
Sure, you and Marc had spent hours talking about all manner of topics, but typically you were huddled in bed together, naked, when you did so. Did he feel beholden to speak to you out of obligation?
Of course you owed nothing to a concubine, but spending time with Steven did make you wonder.
Noticing that you seemed distracted, Steven eventually paused his rambling and asked after you.
"I am well," you half-fibbed. "I enjoy hearing you speak. You are very passionate," you complimented.
"Thank you, Your Grace," Steven beamed. "What do you like to do, when you are not running a country or...with Marc?"
"That is a bold question," you teased. "You wish to know about the queen's personal affairs?"
Realizing his misstep, Steven fumbled out an apology, but you laid your hand on his, assuring him you were not serious.
"I understand that I am only here because of Marc," Steven admitted. "And I realize I offer nothing to Your Grace to allow me to remain here. But I thank you for your kindness and thoughtfulness. Marc is very fond of you, and I see why he is."
Your jaw tensed at the mention of Marc's affection. Clearing your throat, you gazed out over the calm ocean. "You've spoken to Marc? I wasn't sure it was possible."
Steven nodded. "I believe you met him before I did, but...yes. I can hear him, sometimes, in here." He tapped his finger to his temple right as you turned to look at him. "Not always. But sometimes."
"I see. He did not mention it to me." You turned back to the water, releasing a sigh. "I hope you are both content here, if not happy. I truly do not wish either of you to feel forced into servitude."
"Oh. No, of course not," Steven assured you. "Your Grace is generous. We are very fortunate. Especially me."
"Because you are not required to be a concubine?"
"No, because, as I said, I have nothing of value to offer Your Grace."
"That is not true," you said firmly, angling your body to face him. "You are a librarian. You were not trained as a concubine, so I would never force you to be something you are not, nor any man."
For once, Steven fell silent. Thrilled by his new position, he couldn't help but wonder if you could ever see him the way you saw Marc. As someone to confide in, to share your time with. Someone to give yourself to.
"I almost sent him away, you know." Your voice drifted softly over the waves. The wind stirred around you, causing your robe to flutter prettily against your skin. Before Steven could respond, you added, "I am afraid I disappointed him. I wanted to give him the chance to live a different life."
"I think it would break his heart to leave you," Steven softly replied, his gaze catching yours. He peered at you so earnestly, but it felt so different from Marc. "I confess, I also wish to remain here, but I understand my opinion holds no sway."
"You wish to remain here because of the royal library," you responded. "That's understandable."
Steven smirked, amused. "Does the queen speak and think for all her subjects?"
You cracked a smile, shaking your head. "You speak as boldly as Marc sometimes. And even Elshal. Enlighten me as to why you wish to remain here, if not for the library."
"I should think it was obvious." His gaze bore into yours as he swallowed thickly.
"You flatter me," you replied dismissively. "Many clamor for a turn in the queen's presence, but no one really knows the queen."
"Does the queen allow it?" Steven challenged, drifting closer. "It must be lonely, at the head of the most powerful country on the continent."
Normally, his bold remarks would spark the fire in you, urge you to contradict him, to put him in his place, something. But a bit of the fight had gone out of you lately. You sighed tiredly, leaving Steven's earnest gaze and taking a seat on a bench swing. Pushing your feet listlessly, you drifted back and forth, considering his words.
"Elshal is my friend. My oldest friend," you offered as some sort of defense for your lonely state.
Steven approached you cautiously, nodding in agreement. "That is wonderful. She seems very devoted. And intimidating."
You chuckled, amused. "That is her job."
Noticing him tense at the thought of the captain of your guard, you patted the swing beside you. "Do not fear. I will not let Elshal hunt you again."
The two of you pushed your feet off the ground, swinging back and forth like childhood friends. Steven's presence felt comforting in that way.
"Would you like to make a journey with me?" You suddenly offered. "I took Marc to the mountains, but I could take you to the great library at Phollor."
Steven stopped the swing with his feet, gawking at the request. "Could I? That would be absolute heaven."
"Very well," you smiled at him sweetly. "But we must be careful. They are our allies, but they share a border with our enemy. You must do everything I command, and you must accept the protection of my royal guard, including Elshal."
Nodding eagerly, Steven agreed.
"There is one more thing," you slowly admitted. "Like the journey I made with Marc, you will need to be presented as my companion and not my concubine. It is not looked on favorably. Our allies there and in the mountains share a religion that forbids it. Even as a librarian, you would sleep in servant's quarters and might be expected to work during your stay. As my companion, you would be my guest."
Watching carefully for his reaction, you went on. "This means you would stay with me and attend functions with me. You will be treated as a nobleman, and be granted access to the library as much as you wish."
Steven swallowed hard. "I would stay with Your Grace?"
"Of course, I would not expect you to perform the role of concubine," you assured him. "Do you accept?"
Steven had never agreed to something so quickly or so wholeheartedly in his life.
Dressed in Marcâs finery, Steven gazed in wonder a the tower of books surrounding him, climbing to the heavens. The smell of worn pages lured him forward, temping him with ancient secrets and yet-unmade discoveries.
You first beheld the Library of Phollor as a young girl. Even by royal standards, the magnificent structure, with the mightiest gathering of knowledge on the continent, if not the known world, made an impression. Your mother the queen, your father and sister were given a tour. Your mother pulled you aside as you gazed from a third-level balcony down at the libraryâs splendor, at its multicolored spines and endless rows.
âYou must learn to love knowledge,â sheâd told you, resting her hands on your shoulders from behind you as you peeked over the steep edge. âYou must not hide from your tutors or be foolish. A queen who reads is a queen who can know her people, her allies, her enemies - their history.â
âYes, Mother,â you dutifully responded, mesmerized. âMay I explore for a while?â
Your mother turned you around to face her, grasping your shoulders. âOnly with Lux to accompany you,â she insisted, referring to a lieutenant in her Queensguard.
Your eyes sparkled, âMay Elshal play with me?â You requested, referring to Lieutenant Luxâs daughter. âWe shall find an adventure to read together!â
Your mother hushed you, reminding you to respect this place and to refrain from playing among the tall rows and endless spiral staircases.
Seeing you frown, she added, âYou and Elshal may select a book or two to read on our trip. See to it that you do not leave your sister behind.â
You groaned at the thought of dragging your sister around when you simply wanted to play and explore.
âMy love,â she went on, easing down to your level. âTry to select a book that will inform you about the people of this continent. Then select a book of stories. To know your people is to know their history, as well as their hopes and dreams and legends.â
âYes, Mother,â you agreed, then scampered away to find Elshal.
"Oh my days," Steven gasped, turning around in circles as he beheld the tower of books. "I could live in here. I never want to leave."
"Are you certain I couldn't persuade you?" You gently teased, breaking him out of his trance.
He grinned. "Of course, Your Grace." He sighed, shaking his head in wonder. "Besides, I do not think Marc would like to be cooped up with books for the rest of his life."
You smiled wistfully at the mention of your concubine. Placing your hand on his shoulder, you said, "I will see you for the evening meal. Tyree will accompany you at all times. Do not leave her sight."
"Yes, Your Grace."
You dismissed him, allowing him to begin exploring while you spoke to Tyree for an additional moment.
"See that he complies with my order," you told her gravely. "Failure is unacceptable. The stakes are too high in this situation."
That evening, Steven was dressed and presented to you before the two of you would be escorted to dinner. But as he bowed and gazed at you longingly, you could tell Steven was gone.
"Marc," you breathed, stepping cautiously closer to him.
"My queen," he smiled hesitantly, accepting the hand you offered him. Drawn together like the planet's magnetic forces, both hands touched, fingers lacing as you studied one another in all your finery.
You wore a gown of deep crimson with gold lace leaf designs to honor the forests of you allies. Gold body armor wrapped around your torso, adorned with rubies. Marc's flowing robe matched your gown exactly. A golden choker wrapped deliciously around his corded neck.
"You will be the envy of every person tonight," you whispered, tracing your fingers over the gold around his neck. "You are a vision."
"No one will notice me next to you," he softly refuted. His eyes dipped as he cleared his throat. "Forgive me if I have disappointed you by appearing here. I understand you asked Steven to accompany you on this trip."
Noticing the way his eyes flickered away from yours - so unusual for him - the way his throat bobbed in anticipation, or trepidation - stirred your heart, prompting you to comfort him.
Realizing you may have wounded him even further than you did that night in the mountains, you grasped his elbows, shaking your head. "No, I only wanted to show him the library. I wish for you to be here as well. You must know that."
"I do not mean to sound ungrateful," he went on, forlornly. "Steven said you will not send us away for now." His lip trembled as he squared his shoulders and met your eyes again. "I will do my duty. I will not disappoint you again."
Elshal appeared, clearing her throat. Normally, in your own queendom, you would not be interrupted during such a moment, but you were guests here, and did not want to appear rude to your hosting monarch.
Marc took your arm and followed your lead. The ease you felt with him on the previous trip didn't come so naturally this time. He tried, but it was as if the two of you had lost your synchrony. He remained quiet when previously, he would have spoken charmingly, as your companion. He seemed desperately afraid to misstep and incur your ire.
You reached for his hand underneath the banquet table.
Leaning discreetly close to his ear, you whispered, "Be at ease. We will retire soon."
He granted you a terse nod, swallowing thickly. You finished the evening without incident, asking Marc to join you in a dance. You danced with a few other noblemen, while Marc retired ahead of you, at your prompting.
Finally, you made it back to your chambers.
Marc surprised you by kneeling down at your feet, scantily clad, adorned in concubine's jewels. You didn't realize those items had even been packed. Since you were hiding the fact of his position in your palace, you expected him to be dressed as your companion, or dressed for bed.
Whispering his name, you lifted his chin with your fingertips. "What is this? Who dressed you this way?"
"I did," he answered, unwaveringly. He had made many mistakes of late, but this, he could do. "What does Your Grace wish of me tonight?"
Brushing your fingers across his cheek, you smiled down at him softly. "Come with me." Holding out your hand, you coaxed him to sit down on the bed's edge. "You surprised me. You look beautiful. Stay here for a moment while I change out of my gown."
As your ladies helped you remove your armor and dress, and slip into a sheer white gown, you couldn't stop your heart from thundering in your chest. Marc was ready to do his duty, as he should. But you felt as if you'd wounded him. He'd brought up old wounds for you as well, though he clearly hadn't intended to.
You returned to him promptly, emboldened by the way he rose from the bed to intercept you, eyes roving hungrily over your curves, evident to his view through the sheer, soft fabric. He reached for your hips, gripping them possessively and pulling you against his chest as his mouth met yours.
Wrapping your arms around his neck, you arched into him, causing the jewels adorning his body to scrape tantalizingly across your nipples. His tongue swept over yours, exactly the way you liked. He was no longer that sweet, prized virgin. Your bodies had memorized the other's, after countless days and nights tangled together as lovers.
He walked you back to the bed, whirling you around to lay you down, with your legs dangling off the edge. Standing upright, he stared down at you hungrily, eyes dark with lust. He loosened his jeweled robe, allowing it to drop to the floor. Your eyes devoured his bronzed skin, from the flush of his cheeks down to his hard, leaking cock.
Sweeping his fingertips up the length of your thighs, he found the ties holding your gown in place and pulled them loose. "Take this off," he told you. "Turn over."
"Marc-"
He maneuvered your body, flipping you until you lay flat on the bed, face down. Turning your head to the side, you craned your neck to get a look at him, but he was suddenly all over you, his body covering yours as he breathed on your ear.
"We were taught a great many things about how to please a woman at the House of the Tributes," he said, voice rough and low. He gripped the backs of your thighs and spread them apart, wide. "Many more still on how to please a queen." His fingers slipped underneath you, cupping your mound.
"I will please the queen tonight," he growled, sliding two fingers into your cunt, slick and eager, sucking his digits inside.
"Lie still," he added. Your walls fluttered as his voice rumbled on your ear.
He fingered you open, touching you with memorized precision, stroking and caressing every place inside you that urged your hips to shift against his hand. He sucked demandingly on the soft skin of your neck, nipping at your earlobe and swiping his tongue wherever he pleased.
You whimpered as he abandoned your neck, kissing a trail down the curve of your spine, losing his concentration, which stilled his fingers inside you. His mouth made it down to the curve of your ass, where he gently bit your lush skin, kissing a trail between your legs.
Pulling his hand roughly out of your cunt, he patted your ass. "Up." And without waiting, he gripped your hips and hauled you up to your knees, pushing you onto all fours. Before you could even think to respond, you felt the blunt tip of his cock prodding at your entrance. He used his hand to guide himself inside you, punching the air out of your lungs with one long, rough stroke.
Just that first thrust weakened your knees and you moaned as he hauled you back into place and started fucking you hard, but slow.
Whatever he was up to, whatever inspired this deliciously dominant session, you wanted to be fucked. You wanted to feel him stretch and split you open until it made you scream. A powerful thrust sated your lust for one moment, but he dragged himself back out of you so painfully slowly, your body went rigid with defiance.
"Faster," you panted, thrusting yourself back against him, hoping to feel more friction.
"It will be over too soon," he responded, hips snapping forward as he pounded into you again. Then came the slow, agonizing drag of his cock almost all the way out of your slick channel.
"Faster," you hissed, pushing back again, but slightly losing your balance which caused your bodies to disconnect. You growled in frustration and white hot desire.
Marc chased after you, easing back to where he was sitting on his knees. He wrapped his arms around your torso and hauled your back up against his chest. You felt him rubbing his cock against the curve of your ass. He held you there, pleasuring himself, while giving you nothing.
"Why do you fight me so?" He uttered in your ear, fingers trailing down to toy with your sex. "Why do you not let me bring you pleasure?" His other hand found your hip and he shifted you against him until he could slip inside you once more.
Your head fell back to rest on his shoulder as you moaned, deep and hungry. Digging his fingertips into your hip, he worked you over his throbbing length, teasing your aching core with his other hand.
The smell of his fine oils surrounded you. His hot breath fell heavy on your ear as growled your name. "You need it fast, take it, mi reina," he goaded.
You fell forward, bracing yourself on your hands, but he moved right with you, grabbing both hips and pounding into you so rapidly you shrieked in surprise and pleasure. He kept you there, thrust after relentless thrust.
"There's my sound," he panted, his voice smug and satisfied. "I've missed it."
Back arching violently, you collapsed against the mattress, but Marc stayed right with you, fucking you through it, letting you lay face down as your body melted into ecstasy. With a few more rough strokes, he spilled inside you.
You lay panting and spent, half underneath him as he kissed your sweat soaked neck and wrapped his arms around you completely.
You lay there with Marc long enough to doze, despite the mess the two of you made. He held onto you, gently easing his softened cock out of you, then listened to the gentle sound of your breathing. Perhaps you would allow him to stay the night.
You stirred only a few moments later, murmuring his name.
"I am here," he whispered, kissing your neck and then your cheek.
Rolling over in his embrace, you gazed at him, running your thumb along his kiss swollen lip before kissing his mouth. He tasted you back eagerly, thrilled to have your approval and attention.
"The wine has made me drowsy," you murmured, between languid kisses, "but I see it has invigorated you. Why have we never tried it like that before?"
The corner of Marc's mouth curled. "I only wish to please my queen. To bring you pleasure."
"You have," you purred, slipping closer to him, pressing your breasts against his chest. "You do."
Instead of self-satisfaction, you saw something like relief skitter across his handsome features.
"I am happy for it," he finally answered, stroking your side with his fingertips.
"You were quiet at dinner," you told him. "I was worried."
Dark eyebrows arched with concern. "Forgive me. I do not mean to cause you distress. Not ever."
"I know that." Reaching for his face, you caressed his cheek, touching your forehead to his. "It is I who should ask forgiveness."
"You?" He breathed, easing back. "Whatever for?"
"For...our time in the mountains."
He shook his head, "My queen-"
"I put my hands on you." Your eyes clouded with a hint of moisture.
He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. His arm flexed against your back as he found a reply. "We put our hands on one another constantly." He offered you a small smile, but worry lingered in his eyes.
"I shoved you. Frightened you." You paused, your voice choking for a moment with emotion. "After I swore to you that you were safe with me. I am sorry."
His head tilted curiously as he eyed you carefully. "You did not hurt me. I...I hurt you. My words. I was selfish-"
"No." You shook your head resolutely. "What you said makes no difference in this instance. I put my hands on you and I am so dreadfully sorry for it. You should never have to fear a woman's hands..."
"I do not fear you. Never you," he insisted, moved by your words and falling more desperately in love with you by the moment. But he would never again make the mistake of professing it.
Wrapping your arms around each other, you hugged so tightly, seeking and giving the comfort you both needed.
After a few moments, you asked Marc if he would bathe with you and spend the night in your bed. Since you were traveling together, he would remain in your chambers anyway, but you wanted to feel his body next to yours.
As you rested, soaking in a luxurious bath, curled against his chest, you offered something that made his heart stop.
"You may leave me if you wish to," you whispered against his throat.
The water sloshed as he sat up straighter. "I could never wish that."
Peering into his eyes, you smiled at him sadly. "If you wish for love, for a family, I would not keep you in service to me. You could be free to have whatever your heart desires."
Slowly nodding, Marc measured his words very carefully. "My heart's desire is to remain with my queen."
"Even if I cannot give you love?" You held your breath as he held your gaze, as he always did.
"Even then. I am yours." Feeling you tense in his arms, he pressed on. "That is what you said to me at the beginning. That I am yours. I belong to you. I will never again distress my queen with talk of love. But I do belong to you. I belong nowhere else."
Hearing him desire to stay with you, to let go of his notion of loving you, should flood you with relief.
But did he not deserve more than a concubine's life?
After your bath, you assumed you and Marc would fall into deep slumber, but he seemed eager and determined to re-claim his role as concubine. He ate you out for what felt like endless hours. He brought you to heaven with his mouth so many times, you passed out, exhausted from the overwhelming pleasure.
You slept soundly as he wiped you clean, folded you in his arms, covered your naked bodies and finally fell asleep beside you.
Steven awoke at dawn, instantly noticing the pulsing of his stiff, straining cock. He must have had a delicious dream. As his eyes blinked open, he realized that not only was he naked, but he was in bed with a naked woman.
This had happened before. He...overreacted and Elshal almost took his head off. Drawing a calming breath, he reminded himself that he did not have to panic upon waking up naked next to the queen herself. His body was your concubine - it was bound to happen from time to time.
Gods, you felt delicious - warm breath on his neck, breasts pressed against his chest. Your hair smelled divine. His thigh was wedged between your legs. He could feel your bare cunt rubbing him slightly as you shifted and stirred. Your thigh brushed his aching length and he breathed out a curse, squeezing his hands into fists so he would not touch you without permission.
You murmured Marc's name, your beautiful eyes blinking open.
"You flatter me," you replied dismissively. "Many clamor for a turn in the queen's presence, but no one really knows the queen."
"Does the queen allow it?" Steven challenged, drifting closer. "It must be lonely, at the head of the most powerful country on the continent."
Steven, asking the hard questions!!
"Even then. I am yours." Feeling you tense in his arms, he pressed on. "That is what you said to me at the beginning. That I am yours. I belong to you. I will never again distress my queen with talk of love. But I do belong to you. I belong nowhere else."
brb sobbing. Queenie, just let him love you! Marc is such a sweetheart.
OMG that scene was so hot and what a cliffhanger to end it on!!! omg I can't wait to see what happens next!
Gorgeous as always!!!! Your writing style is so beautiful, I devour each new installment as soon as I see it!
Summary: Reader gets tired of the rowdiness of the feast, and slips off to the library for some peace and quiet. Loki has the same idea, but things don't go as planned.
Word count: 4k
Warnings: Smut, sex, oral sex (female receiving), body worship.
Rating: Explicit (minors please DNI)
AO3
The sound of the merriment from the feast faded into the background as I stepped out into the corridor. It was far too loud for me to handle Thor and his friends loudly shouting over each other, smashing their goblets... They had always teased me about not caring much for parties and festivities, about always having such a low social battery. But it wasn't something I could help. I longed for the quiet and solitude of the palace library, preferably with Loki's company.
I quickly but quietly made my way down the corridors of the palace in case Sif came to look for me to drag me back to the feast to try and get me to drink more mead. I would fall on my face after two goblets. Me being a lightweight was another thing they liked to tease me about.Â
I made it to the doors of the library, hoping to slip in there without making too much noise, but the familiar sound of a silken voice caused me to nearly jump out of my skin.
"Tired of the festivities already, are we?"
I turned to find Loki leaning against the wall of the corridor, so still and casual, that I didn't know how long he had been standing there, watching me. I placed a hand over my heart, trying to calm myself.Â
We had been meeting each other in secret for the past couple of months, stealing kisses when meeting up in the woods and empty corridors. He never failed to make my heart race when he stood before me, appraising me with those smoldering green eyes.
"I wish you wouldn't sneak up on me like that."
"Sorry, love. I saw you leaving the feast and knew I couldn't leave you alone in such a big palace, and let you get lost..." he said while moving closer to me.
I rolled my eyes. "You were tired of the loudness of it all too, weren't you?"
"Of course. I don't like loud gatherings anyway... I can only handle so much of my brother's idiocy." He smirked, his gaze never leaving me.Â
I felt my cheeks heat up as my hands fidgeted. "I plan to spend the rest of the feast in the library... would you care to join me, my prince?"
A soft chuckle escaped Loki's lips as he stepped forward to practically tower over me. He never failed to make my knees weak with his height, when I was not even short myself. He brought one hand up to gently caress my chin as he lifted my eyes to meet his.
"Nothing would make me happier, love."Â
We snuck into the library together, the silence of the room during nighttime pressing down on us as we walked through the shelves of books together. The moonlight softly illuminated the large tomes on the towering shelves as it poured in from the tall stained glass windows. The absence of the librarian and other patrons browsing the books made the place feel like a desolate land, filled with forgotten stories.Â
Being in here alone at night always felt strange to me. It carried a serene peacefulness but at the same time, it felt eerie. Sometimes I could see the shadows dancing in the corners of the room as if the characters from the stories were trying to get free, but when I looked closer, nothing was there. But having Loki with me felt like we had an entire kingdom to ourselves.
I quietly made my way to my favorite armchair near the fireplace, picking up the novel I had been reading. I turned to the fireplace to light it with some flint, but Loki was already using his magic to instantly cause the hearth to burst to life, illuminating that area in a soft orange glow.
Footsteps echoed behind me as he made his way around my chair to peer over my shoulder. I blushed when I felt his warm breath on my neck as his lips ghosted over the shell of my ear. "Loki..."
"Yes, love?"
"What are you doing?"
I could feel him chuckle softly as he brought his arms around me and rested his chin on my shoulder. "I can't help myself, love. You look simply ravishing."
His voice seemed to go straight through me to the pit of my stomach. I sighed and closed my book, turning to face him. He didn't waste any time and crushed his lips into mine.
I brought my hands up to wound through his silken raven-black hair, kissing him back passionately. Despite our many meetings, his kisses never failed to make my heart race and my thighs tremble.
When I felt his tongue slither its way into my mouth, I couldn't hold back a soft moan. He made a soft sound between a moan and a sigh as his lips trailed down to my neck, leaving small bites there.
"Oh, how I love that sound..."
I shivered slightly. "Loki, don't..."
"Hmm? Don't what?"
"If you leave a mark on my neck, Thor, Sif, and the others are not going to let me hear the end of it."
Loki didn't relent with his kisses. "Mmm... maybe I want to leave my mark on you... let the others know who you belong to."
I couldn't resist him when he talked to me in that voice. It sounded like velvet to my ears, and I felt myself tilting my head to give him easier access to my neck.Â
"I want you," he whispered against my ear, his teeth gently tugging at my earlobe. The sensation caused a strange sensation in my loins.
I sighed, turning my head. Embarrassment filled me as I felt him leave more intoxicating kisses over my neck and up my face. He noticed my hesitation and looked at me, a frown creasing his handsome face. "Am I hurting you, love?"
I shook my head. "No... I want you too, Loki... but... I-I've never... I don't have any experience with..."Â
Loki smiled softly and pressed his lips to my cheek gently. "Such an innocent little princess... I know you don't, love... but I can teach you. But only if you want me to."Â
I closed my eyes and kissed him again, breathing in his scent, trying to memorize every little detail of him. I had always found comfort in his scent; warm and earthy, like the woods on a warm day, but also with sweet floral undertones. It was something no cologne or perfume could ever replicate.
"Yes..." I whispered against his lips. "I want you to show me..."
He smiled against my lips, his breath hot against my skin. "I can give you pleasure that you've never felt before..."
He took my hand and led me over to the sofa, pulling me into his lap. I gasped, wrapping my arms around his neck, trying to keep myself steady. When our lips met again, his hands gently stroked up my sides, as if feeling me up through the fabric of my dress.Â
When I felt his hands start to unfasten the back of my dress, I froze. He stopped.
"Do you not want to go through with it?"
I could feel my cheeks flame with embarrassment. "I-I do... but... here? What if someone walks in...?"
"No one is crazy enough to be in the library this time of night. No one except for us..." His smile made me melt like putty in his hands. He leaned forward to press his lips to my neck, and the feel of his lips made me shudder. "And if anyone does happen to walk in on us, I can use my magic to make us both invisible."
I closed my eyes, letting him kiss me again. I didn't want to admit that I was scared, but it all felt so strange to me. We'd never done anything more than kissing. But I wanted him, I truly did. Every fiber of my being craved him.
"You don't have to be afraid," he whispered while running his fingers through my hair before pulling me closer by the nap of my neck. "I'll take care of you. I'll guide you through the entire thing. You can trust me."
I nodded, resting my forehead against his. "I trust you..."
Loki's hands unfastened my dress, causing the snug fabric to loosen on me. He gently pulled the dress off my shoulders, pressing kisses to my skin as it was exposed. The warmth from the fireplace kept me from shivering, illuminating my skin with a warm glow.
A wave of self-consciousness came over me at the idea of being exposed to him, and my arms tightened around my midriff. He pressed gentle kisses to my exposed shoulders, his breath teasing my skin.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered against my shoulder as he trailed kisses up my neck. "You are truly the most beautiful woman in all of the Nine Realms. You are befitting for worship, like the goddess you are..."
His voice made me melt against him, my arms loosening from around me. He used this as an opportunity to pull my dress the rest of the way off my shoulders. "Says the god..." I whispered as he kissed down my back and he slid the sleeves off my arms, exposing my breasts.Â
My dress was now around my hips, and he pulled back to appraise me like he might a fine sculpture. My heart raced in my chest as I brought my arms up to cover my chest, but he shook his head, gently taking my hands into his to stop me.
"My love... if I had my way, you'd rule alongside me as my queen for all eternity. To me, you are a goddess." His lips pressed to my neck, and I felt like I could melt right into his hands. "Don't cover yourself. You're too beautiful. Allow me to worship you instead."
I couldn't speak, I was breathing too heavily, my heart racing erratically in my chest. Loki knelt before me like a devoted worshipper would to his goddess. It was such a strange sight to see him like this. He gently tugged the rest of my dress off my hips, causing it to fall into a pool around my feet.Â
My face was burning now, my hands covering my face so that I did not have to see his reaction to my naked body.Â
"My love... look at me," he said gently while taking my hands in his and kissing them gently. I looked down at him, my hair spilling over my shoulders and curtaining my face. He pushed a strand of hair behind my ears. "We can stop any time you want to."
I swallowed thickly. "I want you..."
"Then why do you hide from me? Why do you attempt to cover yourself?"Â
I bit my lip, bringing my eyes down to our joined hands. "I'm sorry, I just... I've never done this before... I don't... know how..."
He shushed me and gently kissed my neck, sending every nerve of mine on fire. "I'll show you how... but only if you trust me."
I tried to hold back my moan as he nibbled softly on my neck. "I trust you..." I whispered breathlessly as my hands wound through his raven locks.Â
His arms wrapped around both of my legs as he kissed down my neck until his mouth reached my breasts. I flinched when he took one nipple into his mouth, his green eyes glaring up at me as he gauged my reaction. My cheeks were aflame, and I knew it wasn't because of the fireplace. I leaned my head back, closing my eyes as I tried to focus on the feelings and sensations he was bringing me.
He spent time using his mouth on both of my breasts; kissing them and tugging the nipples into taut points with his teeth. The sensation was overwhelming for me, and I could do nothing but gasp and mewl, and then bite my lip in case someone might walk into the library and hear us.
"Please..." I whined, my hands fisting in his hair, unable to decide if I wanted to push his head away or pull him closer.
Loki brought one of his hands out from underneath my legs and pressed firmly on my clit. My eyes widened as an unbelievable amount of pleasure shot through me. When he started rubbing firm, slow circles, I thought I could see the Nine Realms behind my eyes. I couldn't hold my moans back this time. It wasn't as if I was foreign to this kind of pleasure. I had touched myself before; oftentimes when thinking about him. But the skill and pace at which he did this caused me to writhe and squirm in his arms.
"Does that feel good?" he whispered gently.
I nodded quickly, keeping my eyes screwed shut.
"And how many times have you touched yourself in this exact same way? While thinking about me...?"
I felt the color drain from my face. "S-Stay out of my head!" I snapped. I couldn't believe he was going to use his magic on me here.
A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he pressed kisses down my chest, traveling down between my thighs. "I apologize, my goddess. Will you forgive me for my transgressions?"Â
The moment I felt his mouth on my core, I gasped. I could feel his tongue probing at my folds, licking a stripe up my slit before settling on kissing and sucking on my clitoris.Â
I let out a sultry moan that I had no idea I was capable of making. "O-oh my gods..."
"Does this mean I am forgiven?"
It seemed like such a stupid question in a moment such as this. But he wanted an answer. When he pulled away briefly, I whimpered in frustration. "Loki... don't you dare stop..." My voice then softened. "Please..."
"You didn't answer my question. Am I forgiven?"
I gasped, my head falling on the couch. "Y-yes... just please... keep going..."
He hummed softly before bringing his mouth back to me, his tongue skillfully manipulating my clit. The pleasure I felt was nearly unbearable. My hands fisted back into his hair, and I pulled harder than I had intended. Instead of expressing pain, however, Loki moaned into my core, the sounds muffled by lewd slurping noises. I felt a tightening in my stomach as if I were a spring being tightly wound around the very being that was him. I didn't realize my legs were wrapped so tightly around his neck until I felt my heels dig into his back.
He continued to go down on me, glaring up at me occasionally as he watched my reaction. I let out a few soft moans, despite trying to hold back as much as possible.Â
I felt like the soft sounds that I was making would echo throughout the library, down the corridors, and into the feasting hall. I could just imagine Thor, Sif, and the warriors three overhearing us and coming to investigate, giggling and jeering like a group of drunken teenagers. If they caught me and Loki in here like this, they'd never let us hear the end of it.Â
I tried to shove those thoughts out of my head as Loki used both his tongue and his fingers to stimulate my clitoris, rubbing and licking faster. He used his fingers on my clit while alternating between giving my slit thorough licks and my clit firm sucks. He continued these ministrations until the tightening that had formed in my stomach unraveled, causing a wave of pleasure so strong to shoot through me, it felt like I had been taken under by a giant tidal wave, the ocean of ecstasy I was in throwing me around as I was completely powerless to stop it.
I heard an aria of moaning and mewling, and it took me a moment to realize that they were coming from my own mouth. I could feel Loki licking up every drop of my release as my hands convulsed in his hair, pulling hard.Â
The aftermath of my first orgasm left me dazed. I didn't realize how tightly my legs were wrapped around him until he had to pull them off his shoulders to pull away from me.
He wiped his mouth as he looked down at me, drinking in the sight of me lying on the couch. "Look at you... so limp and satisfied. You look so... exquisite spread out like that. Your breasts and cunt are swollen because of my attention. Your cheeks flushed and lips parted... your hair around you like a halo." He started undoing the buttons of his shirt. "You look every bit of a goddess as I am a god." He slid his shirt off his shoulders, revealing his lithe yet toned chest. I was still so dazed, all I could do was stare at him. "And now tonight, we will witness what happens when the gods make love."
He unfastened his belt, shimmying out of his trousers, the warm glow of the fireplace illuminating his divine figure. He was larger than what I had expected, and for a moment, I wondered how he was going to fit inside me. I wanted to get up off the couch and go to him, but my legs were so weak, I knew I would fall straight on my face.Â
Loki kicked his trousers to the side, getting down on all fours as he crawled towards me. The idea of what else he might have planned for us made my thighs clench in anticipation. He was soon kneeling in front of me, but instead of burying his face between my thighs again, he grabbed me by the hips and pulled me onto the floor on top of him, adjusting my legs to straddle his waist.
I clutched his shoulders to steady myself as he lifted my hips slightly off his lap to align his cock with my soaked slit. He pushed into me slowly, the feeling of him stretching me causing me to gasp, burying my face in his neck.
"Gods..." I moaned.
"Am I hurting you?" his silken voice whispered in my ear, warming my heart...and my loins.Â
I shook my head quickly, breathing in sharply, his warm scent filling my senses. He had stilled inside me, giving me time to adjust to his size. "No... I just feel... full."
He wrapped his arms around me, cradling my head like a child's. "I love you. Have I ever told you that before?"
I felt my heart skip a beat at this confession. "No. You haven't."
"Well, now you know. I've looked forward to this moment for so long... I've wanted to be tied to you in every way possible... both in mind... body... soul."
I gasped when I felt him thrust sharply into me, my hands gripping his shoulders. "L-Loki...!"
He groaned as his hands went down to grip my hips, lifting me only to push back into me again. "I love when you moan my name, love..."
I dug my nails into his shoulders, my breathing becoming more labored as his pace gradually increased, his hands controlling the rhythm even though I was on top of him.
Gathering my courage, I rolled my hips against his, a sharp sting of pleasure shooting through me as his cock pushed deeper inside me.Â
Loki stared up at me, his eyes glazed and his mouth open. "Gods... yes, love... roll your hips against mine... just... like... that..."
I gripped onto him, moving in time with his thrusts. All sense of insecurity or uncertainty had been peeled away from me, awakening a raw, primal need for him, and him alone.Â
Loki wound one hand through my hair before pressing his forehead against mine. Our breaths mingled together as our moans and heavy breaths made a symphony throughout the library.Â
My hips continued to bounce on top of his as if they were acting on their own accord. He was so deep inside me, I could feel the tip of his cock brush against my cervix.Â
I felt that familiar tightening in my stomach again, and the idea of having another powerful orgasm both scared and thrilled me. Loki's breath came faster, and his movements were more hurried as he must have been approaching the edge as well.
"Loki... I-I love you..." I broke out in a hushed whisper as I moved so fast, that my breasts were bouncing wildly.
He grunted, thrusting his hips forward at such a fast pace, my walls clamped hard around his cock while my back arched. I couldn't stop myself from screaming right in his ear during my second climax. One hand convulsed in his hair while the other clawed down his back.Â
He waited until I was in the throes of ecstasy before taking my nipple back into his mouth and biting down on it. He pumped his hips, allowing me to ride out my orgasm. He finally came, shooting his seed into me as he let the warm release seep through me. He groaned loudly, burying his face in my neck as he rode out his own climax.
When we finally stilled, I felt boneless and limp in his arms. We both lay there on the floor of the library, catching our breaths as we stared up at the ceiling that was adorned with intricate imagery during the daytime but was immersed in darkness with nothing but the dying fire in the hearth dimly illuminating our exhausted bodies.
"You were incredible, darling," he finally told me with his arms wrapped around me tightly. "A natural..."
I breathed in his scent deeply, burying my face in his chest. "Thank you... for showing me..."
His chuckle reverberated through his chest, vibrating against my ear. "You know once is never going to be enough, don't you?"
My eyes widened slightly. Loki took my hips and pulled out of me slowly before setting me gently down on the floor. "Not tonight, obviously. I don't want to render you unable to walk."
He lay down beside me on the floor of the library, using his magic to conjure a thin green blanket to cover both of us with. I was still dazed and exhausted from the evening's activities, but I used what little strength I had left to drape my arm around his waist and cuddle into him. I felt his strong arms encircle around me, pulling me against his chest.
I let out a breathless sound, too drained to laugh. "You're unbelievable."
"Oh? And why is that?" he asked while massaging my scalp idly.
"I had always thought my first time was going to be... painful. And you made me... feel things I never imagined I'd feel."
I barely registered his lips pressing against my forehead. "I guess your body is just made for mine, love... our souls were tailored for one another. And it does get even better than this... that I can promise you."
I tried to fight the sleep, but the steadiness of his heartbeat along with the blaze of the fireplace lulled me into a sated doze. I tried to tell myself that if we stayed here when dawn came, we'd be caught by the librarian, or even more embarrassing, his mother. The mere idea of the situation mortified me.
Loki must have been listening to my thoughts because he pushed a strand of hair over my shoulder. "Rest, little one. The feast is still ongoing, and I will have us out of here before dawn. You don't have to worry about us being caught."
I was too exhausted to snap at him and tell him to stay out of my head. I instead gave into the lull of his heartbeat against my ear as it started to slow, and the slow dimming of the fireplace as I gave in to my exhaustion and slipped into the comfort of sleep in his arms.
"Answer me one more question before you retire, Steven. Have you ever desired a woman? A real woman? One not perfectly printed on the pages of your books?"
Meeting your eyes, Steven stepped closer. "Not until this day."
You awakened to a welcome sight - your favorite sight of late. Marc, sleeping peacefully beside you. Unable to resist the urge, you twirled you finger in the curl falling over his eye.
His jeweled robes and chains lay in a heap beside the bed, discarded after he came to you adorned in finery, knelt and presented himself as your plaything.
You were tired last night, so you lay there as he pleasured you with his lips and tongue, before he buried himself so deep, the stretch of it still pulsed inside you even now.
It was rare that you gave up control in the bedroom, preferring to ride or bounce your way to satisfaction.
But not with Marc. His body entwined perfectly with yours, breath curling against your neck, your mouth, your breasts, hands caressing you like a treasure, touching you, pleasing you, tempting you. He listened for his sound, as he called it, then pushed your leg up by your ear, tilted his hips and hit that spot deeper. The corner of his mouth curled as you shrieked.
And he stared at you, always holding your gaze, never afraid to meet your eyes. Even your husband had shown deference to his sovereign, averting his eyes in a way that didn't demand.
Your eyes had squeezed shut in ecstasy, but he asked you to open them. He told you, actually, to look at him. You held his penetrating gaze, lost in the earthen warmth of his eyes until your head fell back in overwhelming pleasure.
Marc's eyes blinked open to your face softly smiling, your fingers toying with the curls behind his ear.
"Good morning," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his mouth.
"When I awaken like this, I always think I must still be dreaming," he confessed, his hand finding its way to your bare hip. He squeezed your soft flesh, guiding you closer to him.
"No, I am real," you purred, nudging this thighs apart with your knee and pressing your body temptingly against his. "Would you like me to show you?"
In a matter of moments, in between salacious kisses and scalding touches, you took his length inside you, easing on top of him. Pushing up on his chest, you sat up, rolling your hips slowly, drinking in the devotion in his gaze. His hips rocked up eagerly to meet yours, his hands reaching for yours.
You half expected him to palm or suck at your nipples the way he loved to do, but he intertwined your fingers, locking your hands together.
You peered down at him, skin flush with desire, soulful eyes heavy lidded with early morning lust, lips parted and panting, the corded column of his neck flexing as he held himself back from the edge of too much of his own pleasure, for your benefit.
He smiled at you tenderly, bringing each of your linked hands to his lips, to kiss them one at a time.
"Come here," you murmured, slipping your hand around his neck, coaxing him to sit up with you. This new position didn't hit quite as deep, but rubbed deliciously where you wanted it most. Arms wrapped around his neck, your bodies rolled into one another as your mouth found his.
Pressing his palms into the curve of your back, he hauled you closer still, helping your work yourself faster and harder against him. You broke the kiss with a whimpered moan, breathy and almost begging.
You felt surrounded by him, like you could drown in his arms, his scent of fine oils and a little sweat. He was everywhere at once. If you didn't remember your place, you could lose yourself in his arms, in his taste on your tongue, and in the now-memorized pressing and pulling of your bodies.
Your thighs locked around his waist, you squeezed, gripping a fist full of his hair and using your grip to tear his mouth from yours. You wanted him to look at you that way again, the way he did last night.
But as quickly as he did - just as his hungry eyes darkened, devouring your attention - you slammed your eyes shut, because it was too much. Your breathing grew shallow and your heart thundered in your ears.
"Look at me," he uttered, rough and raw on your ear, gently biting your earlobe and reaching up to grip your jaw.
"I-I cannot," you panted, your body beginning to sag against his, overwhelmed but not close enough to the edge to climax.
"Stay with me," he breathed against your mouth, one hand holding your jaw where he wanted you fixed on him. With his other hand, he slipped between your rocking bodies and rubbed you furiously.
You gripped his shoulders, fingernails digging into his flesh just to keep yourself upright, but it was too overwhelming. Nothing had ever felt so consuming, almost invasive. Marc must have sensed it too because he gently eased you down and rolled you underneath him, keeping your bodies joined.
"Do not stop," you begged, your body at his mercy.
He knew what you wanted. You wanted it hard. You wanted your pleasure, and control over it. You wanted it done.
He slowed down.
"My queen," he said softly, measuring the delicious rolling of his hips. He waited for you to look at him.
Your jaw clenched as your eyes flew open. "I said do not stop," you bit out.
He nodded, hand spreading around your hip. Touching his forehead to yours, he worked you against him, fucking you slowly, but devastatingly deep. "I did not stop. I am here." He pushed in harder. "I am here."
He kissed your mouth, steadily thrusting, but keeping you at his mercy somehow.
You clawed at his muscular back, desperate to come and frustrated at your desperation. You should have remained on top where you could control him. He was too soft right now, too intense, too tender.
"Marc, let me...I need..."
"I know," he soothed, with infuriating gentleness, even as he touched you, giving in to what you wanted, what you craved. You sobbed in relief as the dizzying sensations crested and overwhelmed you. As you clung to him, squeezing him with your thighs, he buried his nose in your neck, panting your name as your slick walls gripped him tight.
You excused yourself for a bath, sending Marc on his way, before proceeding with the day's affairs of state.
You sent for him to join you for a late supper, out on the terrace near your bedchambers. He came to you dressed in white silk, adorned in layers of pearls and jade, hanging from his neck and cuffed around his biceps and wrists.
He asked after your day, about your affairs of state. You asked after Steven.
"I plan for you to stay here in the palace indefinitely," you admitted, regarding him warmly. "But I realize you are not alone, so I thought Steven might make a useful addition to the royal library."
"You wish for us to stay indefinitely?" Marc beamed at the thought.
"Yes." Reaching across the small table for his hand, you squeezed it gently. "I am traveling soon, to our nearest ally inland. I would like you to come with me. Have you ever traveled to the mountains?"
"Not that I can remember." Marc's gaze dropped as his jaw twitched. "I do not know where I was born. I assume it was here, but my father..."
He stopped himself, eyes flying open wide as if he almost revealed a secret. "I would love to visit the mountains," he concluded.
"Very well," you agreed, choosing to ignore his comment for now. All tributes of the queen were vetted upon entering the House of the Tributes. You would send an inquiry to the master of the house regarding Marc's background.
"You will travel as my companion rather than my concubine," you informed him. "This will allow you access to me at all times. I'm afraid our inland neighbors do not look as favorably upon concubines as we do here. If you are dressed and addressed as my concubine, you will be required to sleep in servant's quarters."
"Whatever my queen wishes," Marc diplomatically responded.
"I will have you fitted for a new wardrobe immediately. We must leave your silks and jewels behind." Toying with the cuff around his arm, you sighed. "I will miss seeing you presented to me. But you are so beautiful, you do not need such ornaments."
Marc looked as handsome and regal as a nobleman beside you, dressed in the flowing silks and golds of his new wardrobe. Walking merely one pace behind you, no one dared question his presence. His belongings were placed in your chambers. He slept with you at night and attended functions and events by your side.
Admittedly, it felt good to have a companion beyond merely a lover. You enjoyed his company. He was a charming visitor, wisely following your lead socially.
The brisk, mountain air was a welcome, invigorating change. Your hosts took a small group of you hiking. Marc marveled at his first sight of snow. You even enjoyed a bit of fun throwing snowballs at each other. Even Elshal smiled a time or two.
Tonight you returned late and took warm soup by the fire, indulging in too much wine and making passionate love on the animal skin rug by the hearth.
If you weren't careful, you might start to believe Marc was truly your companion. Perhaps it was time to cut your visit short. But you were here shoring up relations with your allies and it was going well. The needs of your queendom came first.
So, you indulged yourself, remembering there was nothing wrong with caring for someone even if it couldn't be real, and it wouldn't last.
But as Marc rolled you underneath him once again, lacing your fingers together and taking your body agonizingly slowly, watching you fall apart, something must have changed.
As you lay together, a tangle of limbs and a mess of your lovemaking, he requested permission to ask you a question.
"Anything," you breathed with him, your fingertips stroking up and down his muscular back.
"I do not ask anything of you," he murmured, kissing your mouth tenderly. "I only ask your permission to love you."
You froze, your body tensing. "What did you say?"
Cupping your cheek, he eased back, peering unwaveringly into your eyes. "Would you let me love you? I ask for nothing in return. But I will. I do."
Your next breath shuddered out of you as your lips trembled. This had gone too far.
"My queen?" He whispered, his beautiful brown eyes wide and worried. "I have offended you."
Squeezing your eyes shut, you pushed against his chest. "You do not know what you are saying. You confuse intimacy with affection-"
"I do not," he refuted. "I am not confused. I love you, and if you will permit me, I will-"
"Do not interrupt me," you hissed, sitting up beside him. With a huff, you looked around for your robe, yanking it onto your arms and standing over him. "Concubines do not love. You should know this from your training. Your queen should not be bothered to remind you."
Marc climbed to his feet. "I asked permission of the queen," he boldly fired back. "I do not presume-"
"You do presume," you huffed, tying off your robe. Marching right up to him, your eyes flashed. "A concubine does not love." You poked your finger into his chest. "A queen does not love."
His eyes softened as he regarded you with something like pity. "You have not loved? I do not understand-"
"Clearly, you do not," you bit out. "A queen has a duty to the queendom, to the people. You have a duty to the queen, which is to satisfy my urges at my every whim, not to question my personal life, and not to vex me in the middle of the night during an important, diplomatic mission."
Marc's lip trembled, moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes as he stood before you naked and vulnerable. "I do not ask anything of you. Nothing. I only want to love you. You deserve to be loved, even by someone lowborn and unworthy as myself."
"No," you ground out. "How dare you? How dare you question if I have loved. My son..." Your shoulders slumped as a broken sob shook your body.
"Forgive me," he begged, gingerly reaching out for you. He meant to pull you into a comforting embrace, but you flinched and then glowered at him.
"Do not touch me again without permission!" Your eyes flashed with fury as you shoved at his chest, not enough to hurt him, but enough to send him stumbling back a step. "Do not speak of love to me. It is not your place. It is not your concern."
A singular, heavy tear dropped to his cheek as he quickly nodded. "Please forgive me. Please. I did not intend to offend Your Grace."
His tears cut you deeply, which infuriated you more. You demanded he dress as you called for Elshal, who was all too eager to leap into action. You demanded that Marc be escorted home and confined to his quarters until you summoned him.
"If you are satisfied with Tyree for the remainder of your visit, I am more than eager to return the concubine to his rightful place," Elshal sneered victoriously.
Marc's head bowed in shame, tears streaming down his handsome face. As Elshal led him away, you physically wilted to the floor at the sight. What had you done to such a gentle creature?
Many days passed before you saw him again. You extended your visit inland, often sitting for hours in the snowy outdoors, allowing the cold air to numb your aching heart.
Tyree urged you back inside constantly, making sure you warmed yourself by the fire.
Marc's words cut you so deeply but you couldn't understand why he held such power over you. With every moment that passed, remembering his tear stained cheeks, you resented him more. Your thoughts drifted to your husband, and you searched your soul for evidence of love in your marraige.
This inevitably led to remembering your sweet son, so innocent and young, but so loved.
Perhaps you were not a worthy queen. Perhaps you would never meet a worthy man of noble or royal blood and birth a strong daughter to take your place. How dare a lowly concubine prod at your deepest wounds and leave you reeling?
Why did his words affect you so?
Why did you miss him so?
Upon your return home, you struggled with whether or not to send for Marc. You decided to ask after him. Elshal revealed that Steven was in the library organizing the nonfiction books and manuscripts. You decided to not disturb him.
You grew more sullen, to the point that Elshal asked after you, as a friend.
"It is the concubine, is it not?" She asked as you walked along the seashore under twin moons' glow, flanked by her best soldiers, with just enough privacy to speak without them overhearing.
"I do not wish to speak of the concubine," you told her sullenly.
"Many before him would be dismissed for a far lesser offense," she reasoned. "Perhaps he should return to the House of the Tributes."
You sighed tiredly. "Perhaps the captain of my guard should do her duty and not play at being on my council."
"My duty is to protect you. That is what I am trying to do. It is a miracle I have not failed in my task as you fight me so hard at every turn."
You stopped cold, turning to glare up at her towering frame.
"Punish me if you must, Your Grace." She spoke softly, but boldly. "You are my sovereign, but you are also my very dear friend. Let me help you if it is in my power to do so. Let me rid you of this man who troubles you so."
You scowled irritably, shaking your head. "You would be only too pleased to send Marc away, as you have consistently voiced your distrust of him and your disdain of him every moment of every day since he arrived here. I grow weary of your concern, friend."
"What is the matter with you?" Elshal challenged, risking your wrath. "Who will you confide in, if not me? You are sad or angry, every moment of every day. What did he do to you?"
Seeing this display and hearing their captain raise her voice to the queen drew the attention of the rest of your guard. Lieutenant Rena called out, questioning if everything was well.
"Send them away," you quietly ordered, "and leave me alone."
Elshal gave the nod, dispersing the remaining soldiers, then fell several paces behind you obediently.
"I've never trusted him," she finally called after you, "but...if I speak truthfully, you seemed lighter in his presence. Perhaps even happy, at times. You defended him against my suspicions."
Her words lingered in the salty sea air as you trudged through the wet sand.
"So what could have happened to wound you so?" Elshal pressed, determined. "If he hurt you, I'm sure your dagger would find its way straight through his heart before I could even have the pleasure of removing his head from his shoulders. So he must have said something."
You stopped, your head bowed. Worn down from her insistent questioning and tired of feeling so alone, you cleared your throat, finding your voice.
"He said he loved me."
Elshal waited a beat, keeping her distance. "Love? That's absurd. He's a concubine."
"Obviously."
"He is lowborn."
"He said as much himself."
"What then?" Elshal walked up beside you. Placing her hand supportively on your shoulder, she leaned down to your level. "Why do the longings of a lowborn concubine vex my queen so?"
You answered more quickly than she anticipated. "I do not wish to send him away. But I do not wish for him to suffer in my presence."
"Why do you care what happens to him? A queen should not be troubled with such things," Elshal reasoned, "unless..."
"A concubine does not love," you chanted, your voice and eyes lifeless. "A queen does not love."
After Elshal's candid discussion with you on the beach, you decided it was time to see if you wanted Marc to remain in your palace. You had assured him he would remain here indefinitely, which both of you assumed meant for a long while yet.
Perhaps you could offer him a home here for a while longer, as well as the creature comforts that went along with it. But he was here to be your concubine, so you needed him to do his duty, so you could see if you could still have him in the way you desired.
Would he fulfill his duty or mope like a lovelorn poet, rendering himself useless as a lover?
He came to you bound, wrists and elbows cuffed behind his back in gold shackles. The young men who attended to his dressing knew you enjoyed a surprise from time to time, and you had not summoned your concubine for many days.
Glittering gold and colorful jewels wrapped around bronzed skin, accentuating the muscles of his neck, arms and back. Chains swept temptingly underneath his pectorals, down the center of his abdomen and draped over his broad shoulders.
When you saw him bound, kneeling before you, crown of brown curls falling over his ink-lined eyes, seeking your permission before he could move, you gasped at his beauty. The expanse of his chest rose and fell in anticipation.
You nodded to Tyree to haul him to his feet and instructed her to leave you.
His eyes found yours and he held your gaze as steadily as ever, but they didn't gleam like before. The warmth in his earthen eyes had cooled to something dull. His jaw twitched the way it did the first day he was presented to you, in a seeming streak of defiance. Yet he still held himself with a certain air of shame.
"Come to me," you bade him, stretching out your hand and easing down on the edge of the bed. As he neared you, you placed your palm on his hip, fingers toying with the taunting, sheer fabric covering his most private parts. Granting him a soft smile, you pushed your fingertips up, tracing his side. He sucked in a breath as your hand met his flesh.
"Are you comfortable, Marc?" You wondered if the cuffs bothered him, or if he wished to be at your mercy. Either notion dampened your undergarments. Admittedly, it would please you to watch him strain and beg to be set free while you pleasured him. At the same time, his complete surrender to your wishes, his ardent meekness and submission also fueled your desires.
Marc cleared his throat, finding his voice. "I am always soothed by your presence, my queen."
The concubine's words rolled lifelessly off his tongue. Still, it warmed your heart, as well as other parts of you that he felt safe with you - that he desired to be near you.
"You are very beautiful," you murmured, brushing your lips against the sun kissed skin just above his hip bone. He hissed as you sucked open-mouthed kisses across his soft stomach.
"Thank you...Your Grace," he gasped out as you gently pulled, ridding him of the scandalous garment barely covering him. It dropped to the floor with a thud, leaving him naked except for the exquisite chains he wore draped across his shoulders, which extended behind him, linking to the gold cuffs binding him.
His cock twitched as your heated breath taunted him. "Have you ever felt the pleasure of a queen's mouth?" Your eyes flickered up to his knowingly, longing for the surge of power you would feel as he melted into your mouth.
As you knelt before him, gently gripping his length, you showed him your tongue, laying his shaft there before slowly dragging your tongue toward his leaking tip. He moaned, struggling to keep his balance. You knew very well this was his first time feeling your mouth on his cock. Which made it so much more enjoyable when his knees buckled as you sucked him, fingertips toying tauntingly between his legs, leaving him completely at your mercy.
You worked up a rhythm, opening your throat and swallowing his tip, stroking the length of his heavy shaft unable to fit in your mouth. He moaned out a curse in the foreign tongue, gasping for air as you released him.
Yes, this could still work out. You would keep things physical. He still craved your touch and you needed him inside you.
"Do you wish for me to stop, Marc?" You murmured temptingly against his tip, licking it softly. "I will never force you, nor any man."
"Do not stop," he begged, echoing your frequently used command, but added, "...please."
Yes, his lust-glazed eyes suited your current mood better than the round, tear-filled eyes from your time in the mountains. You could sate his lust. His desire only asked for pleasure. You could avoid the simmering warmth and ardent adoration his eyes showed by the fire, when he asked to love you. Craving suited you better.
You stroked and sucked, showering him with carnal pleasures you'd never bothered to provide for any man, including your husband. He would not desire to leave you after he choked out a desperately wrecked moan, spurting hot and wet down your throat.
You gripped the solid width of his hips, steadying him as he drowned in ecstasy. He looked so beautiful straining against his restraints, corded neck bobbing as he gasped for air.
Yes, you would leave him pleased and require nothing of him this night. He would see that he could be satisfied here in the palace, with all the food, finery and pleasure a man could ever want.
You would not need to send him away.
As Marc was returned to his chambers, he felt crushing guilt over climaxing too soon, of taking pleasure from your delicious mouth without giving you any satisfaction in return. You sent him away for the night instead of spending hours with your bodies entwined before falling asleep together.
You would send him away.
Tears clouded his vision, and by the time he made it back to his quarters and was released from him jeweled shackles, Steven was left staring into the mirror at the finery adorning his body.
"When I awaken like this, I always think I must still be dreaming," he confessed
"I do not ask anything of you," he murmured, kissing your mouth tenderly. "I only ask your permission to love you."
I only want to love you. You deserve to be loved, even by someone lowborn and unworthy as myself.
How could Queenie turn away from all this????? He's so sweet and sincere. He just wants to love her đđ
Glittering gold and colorful jewels wrapped around bronzed skin, accentuating the muscles of his neck, arms and back. Chains swept temptingly underneath his pectorals, down the center of his abdomen and draped over his broad shoulders.
The outfit!!!!!! I screamed when I read this - it's so perfect for him!!! I love that you added that in.
And the extra little gutpunch at the end. Poor Marc! Poor Steven!
hi q! this is going to sound really weird but could you write a peter parker smut fic where his webs are bondage? iâve seen other writers do it but i really enjoy your writing so id like to see it from your pen (or keyboard) you donât have to do this if itâs uncomfortable and i totally get it no feelings attached
Oh my god, I wrote that đś. Anyway!! This request is really old, but I didn't know how to write it, couldn't come up with why the bondage would happen, I like to put a reason behind...well, BND trailer helped, so here it is!
Summary â Peter accidentally webs your hands while making out, which leads to a new experience.
It started like any other timeâsoft, hungry kisses that made your heart race. Peterâs hands were slow, careful, gliding over your sides as he tugged off your shirt, leaving you both breathless. He was only in his tight black boxers, the dim light catching the curve of his muscles.
You felt his lips trail down your neck, teasing, nipping, before he leaned back up to kiss you again. You gasped as he slid your wrist over your head, pressing you lightly against the bed.
And then, suddenly, something sticky started to wrap around your wrist. You froze.
âUh⌠Pete?â You murmured against his lips, pulling away, you looked up. Thin white webs had coiled around your wrist like it had a mind of its own.
Peterâs eyes widened. âOh⌠oh crap! I didnâtâI mean, it justâŚâ He stammered, clearly panicked. âItâsâuhâthe new organic webs. I didnât mean toââ
You blinked at him, your initial shock fading into a teasing grin. âHey⌠itâs fine. Really. Letâs⌠try something new?â
He hesitated, then chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. âYou sure?â
âYeah,â you breathed, heart still hammering. âLetâs see how it goes.â
He slowly leaned back in, pressing his lips to yours, his free hands running over your body while the web kept your wrist restrained. It wasnât tightâjust enough to make the sensation thrilling, a little electric. You shivered, leaning into him, letting him explore while the accidental bondage added a new, exciting edge.
The mix of soft kisses, teasing nips, and the webâs restraint had your senses heightened. Every touch felt sharper, every breath deeper. You couldnât help but let out a small, delighted moan when he tugged gently on your wrist, testing the webâs hold as his lips found your collarbone.
Peter grinned against your skin, eyes alight with mischief. âOkay⌠so maybe accidental⌠but I kind of like this.â
âMe too,â you whispered back, curling your fingers into the web. âDonât stop.â
Peter leaned down, his lips brushing against your collarbone, trailing soft kisses along the curve of your neck. You tilted your head back, letting out a shiver that made him grin.
Slowly, he knelt between your legs, his eyes dark with mischief and nerves. âYouâuhâyou okay with this?â He murmured, voice low, almost breathless.
âYeah⌠please,â you whispered.
Peterâs lips found your inner thighs first, kissing and nipping gently, teasing every inch. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, slowly sliding them down your legs before tossing them aside, the anticipation making your breath hitch.
The web on your wrist gave him a perfect excuse to play, nipping lightly to make you writhe just enough to heighten every touch. His tongue flicked along your sensitive skin, sending shivers straight to your core.
When he finally lowered his mouth to you core, your hips bucked instinctively, and Peter let out a small, surprised laugh before settling into a steady rhythm. He swirled his tongue over your clit, teasing, licking, sucking, while one hand reached up to play with your breast, the other playing with your slit before slipping in a finger.
You gasped, arching into him, and Peter hummed against you, the vibration making you whimper. âFuck, you taste so good,â he murmured between licks, slowly adding another finger, curling them just right, teasing that spot that made your back arch and your legs tremble.
The web held your wrist so you couldnât pull him away, but it also gave him the freedom to move, to explore, to drive you absolutely wild. Your moans growing louder as he alternated between tongue and fingers, teasing and overstimulating you perfectly.
Peterâs face was buried in you, flushed and desperate, his hands skilled, trying to balance teasing and pleasure. Every flick of his tongue, every curl of his fingers, had you clenching around him, whimpering, gasping, begging for release.
When you finally came, your whole body shook, and Peter groaned, tasting you fully, savoring the moment. He stayed close, lips pressed to your core, fingers still sliding inside you lightly, making sure every shiver and gasp was captured, the accidental web bondage making it all feel more intimate, more thrilling.
Finally, he pulled back, breathing hard, eyes soft as he met yours. âThat⌠was⌠wow,â he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
You laughed breathlessly, still tingling from every touch. âTold you⌠trying something new can be fun.â
Peter smirked, one hand still gently stroking your thigh. âYeah⌠okay, webâs staying.â
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his boxers clinging to him, teasing the shape of what he was holding. His eyes were dark, a mix of desire and excitement. âReadyâŚ?â He murmured, voice low, husky.
You nodded, chest heaving, fingers brushing uselessly against the web holding your wrist. âPleaseâŚâ you breathed, already trembling with anticipation.
He slowly slid his boxers down, hovering over you, teasing with the tip first, pressing against you, dragging it along your slick folds. You gasped, arching into him instinctively, hands useless, only able to clutch at the web above your head. Every tiny tease made your hips jerk and your thighs quiver.
âGod⌠you feel so good,â Peter whispered, leaning down to kiss your lips, one hand cupping your cheek, the other tracing along your jaw and neck. But his cock pressed against you, teasing just enough to make you whine, not yet letting you have him fully.
Then, finally, he positioned himself, slow and careful, sliding in inch by inch. You moaned loudly, clenching around him, the heat of his cock filling you completely. The web kept your wrist pinned above your head, making every buck of your hips feel electric, every touch from him more intense.
Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, dragging him deeper, your body desperate for more friction. Peter groaned, low and needy, pressing into you fully, letting the slow, steady pace build the tension until it was unbearable.
You couldnât touch him, couldnât guide himâonly clench and moan as he found the rhythm, teasing you with shallow, slow thrusts before going deeper. âFuck⌠you feel so tight,â he groaned, biting gently at your shoulder, holding you flush against him.
The web restraint made you feel helpless in the best way possible, heightening every sensation, making every thrust, every drag, every small jerk of his hips feel a thousand times more intense. You were wrapped around him, legs tightening as he pressed in deeper, slow and steady, exploring, making you squirm and moan without being able to stop him.
Peterâs grunts and groans filled the room, echoing off the walls, matching your moans perfectly. âYouâre mine⌠fuck... baby, you feel so good,â he whispered, voice shaky with need, and you could only whimper, shiver, and tighten around him, pulling him impossibly closer, legs wrapped so tight it was like you were bind together.
Every inch of him inside you, every sloppy, slow thrust, had your heart racing, your body trembling, every moan louder than the last. Peterâs hands slid from your face to your hips, holding you steady, letting you ride every movement as he leaned over you, lips brushing your ear. âYou like that, huh? Canât touch me⌠at my mercyâŚâ
Your reply was a strangled moan, body convulsing around him, every muscle trembling, every nerve on fire. And Peter? Oh, he was loving every secondâwatching you, hearing you, feeling you clencg, and completely at his mercy, all while he moved slow and steady, savoring the way the web kept you restrained to heighten every moment.
âYou feel⌠so fucking good,â he whispered, voice shaking, gripping your hips tightly. âIâI canât⌠Iâm closeâŚâ
You moaned into his lips, your body trembling, rolling your hips involuntarily, clenching around him with every shallow thrust. The friction, the restraint, the way you could only writhe and gaspâit was driving him insane.
Peter buried his face in your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he lost control. His hips stuttered, then started moving faster, deeper, desperate, letting himself fully give in. âFuck⌠Iâm gonnaâfuckâinside youâŚâ
Your moans turned frantic, every nerve on fire as he plunged fully into you, each thrust hitting deep, filling you perfectly. The web kept you pinned, just enough so you couldnât touch him, just enough so you could only ride him with your muscles clenching, legs squeezing him tight.
âOh fuck⌠Peter!â You gasped, fingers curling into the web as your body tensed, your walls fluttering around him. Your hips rolled with his, matching every thrust, every pulse, every needy groan he gave.
And then he shuddered, gripping your hips as his body tensed. A low, guttural groan escaped him as he spilled inside you, deep and hot, filling you completely. Your walls clamped down reflexively around him, squeezing, riding out the tremors as he shivered, letting himself collapse on top of you for a moment, gasping, his chest heaving against yours.
You were trembling too, body still wracked with aftershocks, shivering from the overstimulation. The web had kept your wrist pinned, leaving your body totally exposed to him, and every tiny movement of his cock inside you had pushed you over the edge, leaving you a panting, moaning mess.
Peter finally pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, sweat glistening on his skin, eyes soft and still dark with lust. âYou⌠you feel incredible,â he whispered, voice ragged, one hand sliding down to stroke your thigh while the other rested on your waist, holding you close.
You laughed breathlessly, voice shaky, legs still wrapped around him, chest rising and falling. âYou too⌠that was⌠wow.â
He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, letting his cock still sit heavy inside you, both of you melting into each other, the sticky web still holding your wrist above your head, a playful reminder of how⌠deliciously helpless youâd been.
âOkayâŚâ he murmured against your lips, smirking slightly. âMaybe webbing you accidentally wasnât so bad after all.â
You giggled, tugging lightly at the sticky strands, which only made him laugh. âTold you⌠trying something new can be fun.â
Peter collapsed on top of you, bodies sticky, trembling, hearts racing, tangled in each other.
A few seconds passed in quiet, broken only by your uneven breathing. Then you shifted slightlyâand immediately winced.
âUghâŚâ you whined, turning your head to look at him. âOkay, now take it off.â
Peter huffed out a soft laugh, still catching his breath. âYeah, yeahâhold on.â
He lifted his hand, snapping the webs away with a gentle pull. Then, after a brief pause, he carefully pulled out of you, both of you letting out a soft breath at the movement. The sudden freedom made you sigh in relief as you dropped your arm beside you. Peter then collapsed next to you, still catching his breath.
âBetter?â He asked, glancing over with a small, sheepish smile.
âMm⌠yeah,â you murmured, though your voice was still a little strained. âStill sore, though.â
He shifted, gently pulling you closer and letting you settle against his side. One of his hands came up to brush your hair back, thumb tracing softly along your cheek.
âSorry,â he said quietly. âGot a little carried away.â
You snorted lightly, resting your head on his chest. âA little?â
He laughed under his breath, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. âOkay⌠maybe a lot.â
You smiled, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers lazily traced patterns along your arm. The room felt calmer now, the earlier intensity fading into something soft and warm.
After a moment, you mumbled, half-asleep already, âStill⌠worth it.â
Peter grinned, pulling you closer, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. âYeah⌠definitely worth it.â
Hi! If itâs possible Iâd like to request Peter Parker x Stark!reader. People knew reader and spidey are dating. But someone spotted her with Peter looking unusually intimate. Then, people began to assume she was cheating.
Warnings â PDA, Fluff, Social media/viral drama, cheating mentioned.
Summary â Y/N Stark got caught kissing Peter; media assumes she's cheating on Spider-Man.
Gif not mine
It started with a photo.
A single, blurry, slightly angled photo that looked like it had been taken in a rush. Probably from across the street, probably by someone who thought theyâd just caught the moment of the year.
And, well⌠they kind of had.
You were pressed against a brick wall outside a quiet cafĂŠ in Manhattan, your fingers tangled deep in Peter Parkerâs hair, pulling him down into a kiss that was anything but subtle.
His hand was firm on your waist, fingers curled like he didnât plan on letting go anytime soon. Your body leaned into his like it was second nature, like you belonged there.
Like he belonged to you.
It wasnât just a kiss. It looked intimate.
By the time you woke up the next morning, it was everywhere.
News articles. Gossip blogs. Twitter threads. TikTok edits with dramatic music. Every kind of social media.
You didnât even need to unlock your phone fully, notifications were already flooding your screen.
âY/N STARK CAUGHT CHEATING ON SPIDER-MAN?â
âMYSTERY MAN IDENTIFIED AS PETER PARKERâ
âWHO IS THE GUY STEALING SPIDER-MANâS GIRL?â
You blinked at your phone, still half-asleep.
ââŚyouâve got to be kidding me.â
From beside you, Peter groaned, face buried in your pillow. âWhat?â He mumbled, voice rough with sleep
Instead of answering, you turned your phone toward him. He squinted at the screen. Then blinked. Then sat up so fast he nearly knocked foreheads with you.
âOh my God.â
Silence.
A heavy, stunned silence filled the room as both of you stared at the photo again. This time with full awareness of what it looked like.
To the public, it was simple:
Y/N Stark = dating Spider-Man
Y/N Stark = making out with some random guy
Conclusion = cheating
Peter ran a hand through his already messy hair.
âI meanâŚâ he started, weakly, âtechnically⌠you are making out with your boyfriendââ
âPeter.â
ââwho is also Spider-Manââ
âPeter.â
ââso like, morally, weâre in the clearââ
You smacked his arm.
âThis is not funny.â
âIâm not laughing,â he said quickly, even though there was the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
âIâm panicking internally.â
You narrowed your eyes at him, then grabbed your phone again, scrolling through the chaos.
Comments. Thousands of them.
Some are defending you. Most⌠not.
âPoor Spider-Man.â
âShe fumbled so hard.â
âImagine cheating on a literal superhero???â
You sighed, dragging a hand down your face.
âThis is so stupid.â
âYeah,â Peter muttered. âI mean, Iâm literally right hereââ
You shot him a look.
âNot helping.â
âRight. Sorry.â
The silence didnât last long. Because the next thing that exploded was your bedroom door.
âY/N STARK!â
You winced before Tony Stark even fully stormed in, his voice echoing through the room like a warning siren.
Peter froze beside you.
ââŚIâm going to die,â he whispered.
âYouâre already dead,â you muttered back. âJust sit still.â
Tony didnât even knock. He never did, but this time? There wasnât even the illusion of patience.
He walked in, tablet in hand, glasses pushed up, face tight with irritation.
âCare to explain why the entire internet thinks my daughter is cheating on Spider-Man withââ he glanced at the screen, ââPeter Parker?â
Peter raised a hand slightly.
ââŚhi.â
Tony stared at him. Then back at you. Then back at him.
âDonât âhiâ me.â
Peter slowly lowered his hand.
âYeah, okay.â
You rubbed your temple.
âItâs not what it looks like.â
Tony let out a sharp, humorless laugh.
âOh, really? Because it looks like you were eating his face in public.â
You closed your eyes for a second.
ââŚwe got carried away...â
âCarriedââ Tony repeated, incredulous. âCarried away? In the middle of Manhattan? In broad daylight??â
Peter cleared his throat awkwardly, âIn our defenseââ
âThere is no defense!â Tony cut in immediately.
You sighed. He wasnât wrong. That was the worst part.
---
You and Peter were careful.
Always.
No public dates as Peter and Y/N. No unnecessary risks. No lingering touches where cameras could catch.
Spider-Man and you? Public enough to be believable.
Peter Parker and you? Practically strangers in the public eye.
That was the system. It worked. Until yesterday.
Until one stupid, impulsive moment outside a cafĂŠ where Peter had said something dumb, you had laughed, and then he kissed you. And you didnât stop him. And now this.
---
Tony turned the tablet toward you, âDo you see this?
Memes.
So many memes.
Side-by-side comparisons. Dramatic edits. Headlines in bold fonts. People zooming into the photo like it was a crime scene.
âSPIDER-MAN DESERVES BETTERâ
âWHO EVEN IS THIS GUY??â
âPETER PARKER WHEN I CATCH YOUââ
You grimaced, ââŚwow.â
Peter leaned over your shoulder, ââŚokay, that last one feels threatening.â
Tony swiped again. Comments flooded the screen. Sympathy for Spider-Man. Hate for you. Even more hate for Peter.
âYou see the problem?â Tony asked sharply.
âYes,â you said flatly. âThe internet is stupid.â
âThe internet is not the problem,â Tony shot back. âThe problem is that you two forgot basic survival instincts.â
Peter winced, âYeah, thatâs fair.â
Tony started pacing, âIâve already contacted legal. Weâre working on taking the photos down, flagging reposts, limiting circulationââ
Peter nodded slowly, âYeah⌠I mean, people already saved it, reposted it, made edits, thereâs like⌠fifty versions of the same photo.â
Tony stared at both of you. Then dragged a hand down his face.
âI hate the internet.â
âSame,â you and Peter said at the same time.
Another notification buzzed on your phone. You glanced down. Then snorted softly despite yourself.
Peter looked at you.
âWhat?â
You turned the screen toward him.
A TikTok edit. Dramatic music. Zoom-ins. Slow-motion kiss.
Text overlay:
âTHE BETRAYAL đâ
Peter blinked.
ââŚI look kinda good though.â
You elbowed him.
âFocus.â
âRight. Sorry.â
Tony pointed at the screen, âThis is exactly what Iâm talking about.â Then, more quietly, âThis doesnât just go away.â
The room fell silent again. Because he was right. This wasnât some small rumor. This was you.
Y/N Stark.
Anything involving your name didnât fade; it multiplied.
You exhaled slowly, thinking.
âWe fix the narrative.â
Tony looked at you.
âHow?â
You didnât answer immediately. Instead, you looked at Peter. He already knew that look.
ââŚno,â he said.
âYes.â
âNo.â
Tony frowned.
ââŚwhy does this feel like Iâm missing something incredibly stupid?â
You ignored that.
âPeter, itâs the cleanest way.â
He pointed at himself again.
âYouâre asking me to go out thereâas Spider-Manâand say you and I werenât serious.â
âYes.â
âThat it was just a fling.â
âYes.â
âThat youâre actually dating⌠me.â
âYes.â
Tony blinked. Once. Twice. Then slowly turned his head toward Peter.
ââŚrun that back.â
Peter sighed.
âIâm Spider-Man.â
Tony stared at him, ââŚI know.â
âI meanâIâm Spider-Man.â
A pause.
âOh,â Tony said.
Another pause.
ââŚooohhh.â
You watched the realization settle.
Then Tony looked between the two of you, expression shifting from confusion to something dangerously close to impressed irritation.
âSo let me get this straight,â he said slowly. âThe solution⌠is for Spider-Man to publicly say he got dumped⌠by himself.â
You nodded.
âYes.â
Tony let out a short laugh, shaking his head.
âDid you two just talked telepathically?? That is the dumbest smart plan Iâve ever heard.â
âIâll take that as approval,â you said.
âI didnât approve anything,â he snapped.
But he wasnât shutting it down either.
Peter leaned back slightly, running a hand through his hair again, âI would be publicly humiliating one version of myself.â
âYouâd be saving me,â you said simply.
That shut him up. Then he exhaled, ââŚI hate how easily that works on me.â
Tony scoffed, âOf course it does. Youâre a teenager.â
âIâm eighteen.â
âExactly.â
Silence settled again. He looked at you. You held his gaze. You trusted him. That was clear.
And Peter?
Peter would burn down the internet if it meant you didnât have to deal with this.
So this? This was an easy decision.
He sighed, ââŚfine.â
You relaxed slightly.
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, âI cannot believe Iâm agreeing to this.â
âYouâre not agreeing,â you said. âYouâre just⌠not stopping us.â
âThat is not better.â
Tony turned away, already pulling up something on his tablet again, âIf youâre doing this, you do it fast. Control the narrative before it spirals again.â
Peter nodded, âYeah. Short statement. No drama.â
âGood,â Tony muttered. âFor once.â
As Tony stepped out to make a call, the room quieted.
Just you and Peter again.
You glanced at him, ââŚyou okay?â
He looked at you. Then smiled, small but real, âYeah.â
A pause.
âYou owe me, though.â
You raised an eyebrow, âOh?â
âYeah,â he said, leaning a little closer. âIâm literally getting dumped by my own girlfriend.â
You smirked, âTragic.â
âDevastating,â he agreed.
---
The next day felt⌠quieter.
Not outside, God, no. The internet was still loud, still messy, still obsessed, but inside the compound, things had settled into something more controlled.
You were sprawled across your bed, laptop open, phone in hand, refreshing the same page for the hundredth time while Peter paced near your window.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
âSit down,â you said without looking up.
âI am sitting,â Peter Parker replied without thinking.
You glanced up. He was very much not sitting.
ââŚyouâre literally walking.â
âIâm walking with purpose.â
âYouâre pacing.â
âIâmââ he stopped, exhaling, then dropped onto the edge of your bed. âOkay, yeah, Iâm pacing.â
You huffed a small laugh, then turned your phone toward him, âComments are still bad. Not as bad as yesterday, but still bad.â
He leaned in slightly, scanning, âYeah⌠people really love Spider-Man, huh?â
âYeah,â you said dryly. âAnd they really hate âthe guy who stole his girl.ââ
Peter winced, âYeah, thatâs⌠unfortunate for me.â
âYouâll survive.â
âI better. I just publicly upgraded myself.â
That pulled a smile out of you.
---
Tony had made it very clear. One statement. Clean. Simple. No rambling.
Peter had written it. Deleted it. Rewritten it. Deleted it again.
Now his phone sat in his hand, the post ready, caption typed, video attached, thumb hovering over the button.
You watched him for a second, âNervous?â
He glanced at you, ââŚa little.â
You tilted your head, âWhy?â
He hesitated. Then shrugged, âI donât know. Itâs weird.â
âMm.â
âLike⌠I know itâs fake,â he continued, âbut I still have to say it.â
You softened slightly, âThat we werenât serious?â
âYeah.â
You held his gaze. Then, quietly, âWell⌠you know thatâs not true.â
Something in his expression eased. âYeah,â he said softly. âI know.â
You nodded toward his phone, âDo it.â
He took a breath., ââŚokay.â And tapped post. It spread instantly. Of course it did.
Spider-Manâs official account wasnât just popular, it was global. Millions of followers. Every post dissected within seconds.
You both leaned in, watching as the views climbed.
1k.
10k.
50k.
100k.
Comments started pouring in.
The video itself was simple.
Spider-Man perched casually on a rooftop, camera angled slightly up, city stretching behind him.
âHey,â he started, voice steady. âIâve been seeing a lot of stuff online, so I just wanted to clear something up.â
A small pause.
âY/N and Iâwe werenât really in a relationship. It wasnât serious. We were just⌠hanging out.â
Another pause.
âShe didnât cheat on anyone.â
âSheâs with someone now. His name is Peter Parker.â
A slight shift, almost like he was adjusting his stance.
âAnd heâs a good guy, works for Tony Stark.â
You snorted at that.
Peter shot you a look.
âShut up.â
âI didnât say anything.â
âYou made a noise.â
Back on screen, Spider-Man continued:
âWeâre still friends. So⌠yeah. Thatâs it. Justâleave her alone, okay?â
The video ended.
Silence.
You and Peter stared at the screen as the numbers kept climbing. The comments refreshed. And refreshed again. And again.
âOH????â
âWait so she wasnât cheating???â
âOkay respect for clearing it upâ
âThat kid works for Stark???â
âShe downgraded tho đâ
âSpider-Man is so mature for thisâ
âNever thought Spider-Man would have a fling...â
You blinked.
ââŚthat was fast.â
Peter let out a breath he didnât realize he was holding.
âYeah.â
More comments. More reactions. The tone had shifted. Not completely, there were still a few haters, a few people clinging to the drama, but the majority?
They were moving on.
You leaned back against your pillows, shoulders relaxing.
âWell,â you said. âThat worked.â
Peter nodded slowly, âYeah⌠yeah, it did.â
Something in his expression changed. Peter looked at you. Really looked at you. A small smile tugged at his lips.
âWhat?â You asked.
He shook his head slightly, âNothing.â
You narrowed your eyes.
âPeter.â
He huffed a quiet laugh, then leaned back on his hands.
ââŚI can take you out now.â
You blinked, âWhat?â
âLikeâactually take you out,â he said, gesturing vaguely. âIn public. As Peter Parker.â
Oh.
Oh.
That hadnât even hit you yet. No more sneaking. No more carefully timed entrances and exits. No more pretending not to know each other in public spaces.
You sat up a little straighter.
ââŚyouâre right.â
âI know,â he said, clearly pleased with himself.
Your mind started running ahead.
Walking down the street together. Sitting in cafĂŠs. Holding hands and kissing without worrying about cameras catching something they shouldnât.
You looked at him again, ââŚthatâs actually really nice.â
His smile softened, âYeah.â
You smirked, âSo technicallyâŚâ
He groaned immediately, âDonât.â
âIâm dating Peter Parker now.â
He dropped his head back, âOh my God.â
âSpider-Man got replaced.â
âBy myself.â
âStill replaced.â
He turned his head to look at you, unimpressed but fighting a smile, âYouâre never letting that go, are you?â
âNope.â
He pushed himself up slightly, shifting closer to you. His knee bumped yours. âYouâre annoying,â he said.
âYou love me.â
âI do,â he admitted easily.
Your expression softened just a little at that.
Outside, the world was already moving on. New headlines. New drama. New distractions. The scandal that felt so huge yesterday?
Already fading.
Peterâs hand slid over yours. You glanced down at your joined hands. Then back up at him.
ââŚwe can actually do this now.â
âYeah,â he said quietly.
He squeezed your hand once.
And for the first time since that stupid photo went viralâ
It feels like a huge part of me is missing. And I donât mean just because my dad diedâI mean, it feels like I canât remember huge parts of my life.
The feeling had started small at firstâlike walking into a room and forgetting why you were there. Except it never went away. It lingered, growing heavier each time I opened a drawer, each time I passed a hallway, each time I caught a glimpse of something that felt important but meant absolutely nothing.
Any time Iâve looked through the photos my dad kept in his lab, I always seem to stare at the ones of him and the teenage boy who seems roughly my age, and I get a huge sense of dĂŠjĂ vu. He is so familiar; itâs like everything I know about him is at the end of a never-ending corridor in my mind, despite the fact I feel myself getting closer and closer to discovering something about him.
âI just donât understand it, Happy. Why does he have all these photos with this boy? Why do none of us know who he is?â I sigh, dragging Happy into my room for one of my daily sessions of just⌠annoying him.
Happy lets out a long, tired exhale before even answering, like he already knows exactly what conversation is coming.
âYouâve asked me this almost every single day since you saw the photo, y/n, and to this day my answer remains: I do not know,â Happy states, and I groan loudly as I flop onto my bed.
The mattress dips beneath me, and I stare up at the ceiling, willing my brain to just work.
âIs he AI or something?â I question. Happy just laughs, shaking his head, before exiting my room, leaving me searching my mind again for answers I seem unable to find.
The silence he leaves behind feels louder than the conversation.
âIâve asked everyone, guys. Nobody has a clue who he is,â I mutter, taking a sip of the coffee MJ just poured me, still going on about this mystery boy.
The cafĂŠ hums around usâsteaming milk, clinking cups, quiet chatterâbut my brain is miles away.
âWell, you clearly do,â MJ sarcastically says from the coffee machine. Ned smirks at her before shooting a look in my direction, which causes me to narrow my eyes at them, unsure of whatâs happening.
âCome again?â I say, a nervous laugh escaping my lips.
âI found my old SIM card from my phone. We all knew the boy, y/nâsome more than others, however,â Ned explains briefly, then slaps a binder in front of me and motions for me to open it. I reluctantly do, my eyes scanning printed-out photos of Ned, MJ, the boy, and me hanging out on numerous occasions, some with us even kissing.
The air in my lungs disappears.
âNice joke, guys⌠real funny,â I whisper, not believing whatâs in front of my eyes. None of this adds up. None of us remember this boy, and theyâre expecting me to believe he was in our friend group? Correctionâtheyâre expecting me to believe I dated him? Fat chance.
âWhy are you such a skeptic, y/n? We knew him,â Ned groans, snatching the binder back and carefully placing it in his bag. MJ smiles before a new customer attracts her attention.
âIf we all knew him, why canât we remember him at all? Thatâs what I donât understand,â I argue. MJ pauses briefly, making a drink for a customer at the opposite end of her barista area, and looks at me with a small chuckle.
âGroup amnesia or something?â she suggests, a smile growing on her lips. I scoff, my mind reeling, and decide to make my escape.
âListen, I have to go⌠I promised Morgan Iâd make her waffles for lunch,â I lie, glancing at my watch. âIf you guys want to come over for movie night later, Iâll let my mom know.â I finish, standing up and quickly exiting the cafĂŠ.
The bell above the door jingles as I step out, the cool New York air hitting my face like a reset button.
As I walk through the streets of New York, I actually feel at peace. The busy streets take my mind off the constant questioning thatâs been swirling through my head. As I stare up at the tall buildings, I notice the one and only Spider-Man swinging between them, and I laugh a little.
He was one of my dadâs Avengers, potentially his favorite, and also my favorite. Quiet, sort of nerdy in a nice wayâbut I canât ever remember seeing his face. He was always careful to keep his identity a secret.
The last few months, weâve grown closer. Itâs like he knows everything about me, yet he still hasnât taken off that godforsaken mask.
Iâm snapped back to reality when he swings down and lands beside me. I look at him and smile, hoping he can see it through his mask.
âWhereâs your chauffeur?â he jokingly asks. I sigh.
âHappy says I need to work on my independence since he wonât be here to drive me when I go to college, so now I walk,â I complain, making him laugh.
âStreets of New York seem pretty crime-free today. Want a swing home?â he asks. I nod, wrapping my arms around his neck as he shoots webs from his suit, swinging us building to building until we reach my home.
Wind rushes past us, the city blurring beneath our feet, and for a few seconds, the missing feeling fades.
âWhy do you have these photos out?â Spider-Man asks as he swings us through my bedroom window, stopping in front of my bed where he looks at the photos I collected from my dadâs lab.
The moment the word photos leaves his mouth, the heaviness returns.
âItâs a long story,â I say, shoving them all in a drawer, the slam sounding loud in the silence that fills my room as I sit on my bed.
âDo you know him or something?â Spider-Man asks, cautiously sitting on the edge of my bed. I sigh.
âThatâs the thing! I donât remember anything about him or who he is, but I know he was in my life. I mean⌠these photos with my dad are one thing, but today Ned showed me photos he found on his old SIM card. The boy used to hang around with Ned, MJ, and me. I dated himâthere are photos of us kissing!â I exclaim, my voice shaking. Iâm done feeling like a broken record, chasing myself around in circles for answers.
âWeird.â
âThatâs all youâve got to say?â I scoff, reopening my drawer and taking the top photo out with my dad and the boy, staring at it.
âItâs been haunting me ever since I realized I didnât know who he was. Itâs like I know him, but the memories are somewhere I canât reach. Iâve asked everyone, and nobody knows who he is,â I ramble.
âY/n,â Spider-Man says from the other side of my bed, but Iâm too deep into my rambling to look.
âI just want closure or something to stop this. Itâs eating me alive,â I finish.
âY/n,â he says again. This time I look at him, and my heart stops.
There, sitting on my bed, is the boy from the photos in the Spider-Man costume, mask in hand.
The world goes quiet.
âThis isnât funny,â I say, heart racing, the cold room now feeling like itâs boiling.
âIâm not trying to be,â he states. I shake my head, walking to my window to gulp in the fresh air, trying to make sense of everything.
âMy nameâs Peter Parker, and I think I owe you an explanation,â the boy who went from mysterious stranger to Spider-Man to Peter Parker says from my bed.
âI need you to understand that this spell didnât just make a few people forget me. The entire world forgot Peter Parker existed. When Mysterio revealed my identity, everything spiraled out of control. People blamed me for his death, reporters swarmed my life, and the danger of being Spider-Man started reaching the people I cared about. There was no way to fix it without making things worse, so Doctor Strange cast a spell that erased Peter Parker from everyoneâs memory. Every friendship, every photo, every moment. Staying close to you as Spider-Man was the only way I could still be in your life. Even if you didnât know who I was, being near you behind the mask was the only piece of my old world I had left.â
He explains, and I say nothing, staring out the window.
âPlease, y/n, I know itâs a lot, but I wanted you to figure it out on your own. I knew youâd be able to eventually,â he quickly adds. I turn to him, unsure where to begin.
âAnd how did you know Iâd figure it out when I canât remember anything about you?â I ask quietly, trying not to shake.
âI thought I was good at keeping my Spider-Man identity hidden. I convinced myself my story about writing an essay on your dad for English would be convincing,â he begins. I sit back on my bed, softening at the mention of my dad.
âTurns out you knew that I was Spider-Man pretty much the whole timeânot because your dad had told you, but because you just had a feeling, so you started doing your own digging,â he says. I let out a weak laugh. That does sound like something I would do.
âAnd the photos Ned showed me? I take it they were all real?â I quietly ask, staring at him. Itâs like cogs in my head have slowly started turning again, small pieces of memories working their way back into my mind.
âYeah.â
âSo we did date then?â I ask, my heart racing at the anticipation of his answer.
âFor like, over two years, yeah. I know you donât remember anything Iâm about to say, but just trust me. We dated for over two years. Half the time we were inseparableânot even your dad could come between us. One time you didnât speak to him for over three days until he let me have sleepovers where I could be in your room. My aunt adored you, like to the point where she had a photo of just you on her nightstand. Happy and I were extremely close, and he made me promise to never tell you this, but he used to warn me that if I ever hurt you, heâd ensure I got kicked out of the Avengers.â
Peter is rambling again, so I find a good place to cut him off.
âShit.â
He laughs, and I find myself watching his face, thinking itâs kind of weird that the laugh Iâve heard from behind the mask for so long is coming from the same boy Iâve been obsessing over.
Let me try to make this make sense: I used to date Peter. Peterâs identity got revealed; everyone hated him, so they started hating the people he was close to. Doctor Strange cast a spell to make everyone forget who Peter Parker was. Peter Parker is Spider-Man. Spider-Man has grown closer to me in the last few months since the spell was cast. Spider-Man is/was my boyfriend, who I cannot remember anything aboutâbut he used the fact that his identity was secret to get closer to me. The boy who felt like a stranger to me (even though I do know him, except my memory is messed up) was the boy whoâs grown closer to me.
âMy head hurts,â I quietly say, before yet another thought hits me.
âStrange cast the spell, right?â I ask, not even waiting for confirmation. âSo he can break it.â
And with that, Iâm sprinting out of my room, all the way to the front door of our building, before running straight to Doctor Strangeâs house.
By the time I reach the steps, my lungs burn, and my legs ache, but adrenaline refuses to let me stop.
When I pound my fists against the front door, Iâm a panting, out-of-breath messâbut I donât care.
âWhat?â he stubbornly asks as he pulls open one of his grand doors. I donât give him a chance to question further as I push my way inside.
âYou need to reverse this spell,â I say, pointing at my mind.
âWhat spell, y/n? Because believe it or not, Iâve put a lot of those on you,â he says, a weak attempt at a joke.
âThe one about Peter. Peter Parker,â I state, and a wave of confusion washes over his face as he leads me through his large houseâor whatever this place isâtoward the room he typically uses for spells.
âHow do you know about that spell? More so, how do you know who Peter Parker is?â he asks, staring me dead in the eyes. A cold chill runs up my spine.
âPhotos and stuff. Plus, he kind of told me earlierâheâs been sneaking his way back into my life through his Spider-Manness,â I say, shaking my head. âDonât try to distract me. Reverse it.â
He stares at me with a ânot happeningâ look, so I decide to use my trump card.
âPlease,â I whisper, fake but extremely convincing tears pouring down my face almost instantly.
âWhy are you crying?â he asks, confused but concerned.
âBecause ever since my dad diedââ (whoop there it is) âitâs felt like nothing in my life has made sense. And then I realized I canât even remember a single thing about the boy who clearly meant a lot to me, and I just feel so lost. Like Iâm running down an endless corridor searching for answers.â My sobs are real now; my fake ones have taken on a life of their own.
âAnd by looking at the photos my dad had of him and Peter, it seemed like he was extremely important to my dad, too. My dad would want me to remember him,â I finish. Doctor Strange lets out a huge sigh, frustratedly running his hand through his greying hair.
âDo you know how dangerous reversing the spell is?â he asks. I shake my head.
âIâm not asking you to reverse your full spell. I just want my memories of Peter back. Just me. Nobody else,â I quietly say. He begins grumbling, the orange glow of magic spiraling around us.
âYou cannot tell anyone what you remember here todayâapart from the obvious Peter. You cannot tell Ned or MJ. If they ask questions, you remain silent. If anyone finds out Spider-Manâs identity again, itâll be extremely dangerous for everyone involved. Thatâs why I cast the spell in the first place.â
My vision goes black, until memories begin to flash.
âY/n,â my dad says, clearing his throat from the doorway of my room. I snap my head up, confused. My eyes fall on an awkward boy beside him, seemingly my age but also extremely cute.
âHellooo?â I say, sitting up and slamming my chemistry textbook shut, slightly embarrassed that my dad caught me reading something educational.
âThis is Peter Parker. Heâs⌠uhhhâŚâ my dad trails off, nudging the boyâs shoulder. I instantly know somethingâs up.
âIâm writing an English project about your dad!â the boy chimes in. I furrow my eyebrows but canât help smilingâheâs really cute.
âSo Peterâs gonna be around a lot. Do not annoy him, y/n, Iâm warning you,â my dad says firmly. I laugh as he walks away, Peter lingering to awkwardly wave before following him.
This is definitely a new Avengerâthey must think Iâm stupid.
Maybe having Peter around these last few months hasnât been so bad. I didnât really have friends before, thanks to my dadâs helicopter parenting, but now Iâm almost always with Peter, Ned, and MJ. It feels like Iâve always been part of their friend group. Itâs nice.
âEw, Ned, stop!â I shriek, hiding into MJâs side as Ned shovels marshmallows meant for hot chocolate into his mouthâa pathetic attempt at Chubby Bunny.
âGross,â MJ laughs. We all watch in a mix of horror and amusement as he squeezes half the pack of marshmallows into his mouth.
âChubby Bunny!â Ned somehow says, making us all burst into laughter, including him, now a drooly marshmallow-firing machine.
âTonyâs so gonna kill you!â Peter yells, running around the kitchen, opening cupboards, scrambling for a garbage bag.
âKill him!? NoâI think you mean me!â I yell, and he looks over at me, our eyes meeting. A smile spreads across his lips. Thatâs when I realize Iâm in love with Peter Parker.
âYouâre awfully quiet,â Peter says, breaking the silence as we watch news coverage of the Avengersâ latest mission. My gaze focuses solely on Spider-Man. Over the last few months, Iâve pieced it together: Peter must be Spider-Man. Thereâs no other reasonable explanation for why my dad let this boy get so close to our family.
âJust stuff on my mind,â I quietly say, gently kicking him as he sprawls at the opposite end of my bed.
âSame, actually,â he responds. I gasp. Gossiping with Peter is one of my favorite things to do.
âLike what?â I ask.
âYou first,â he says. I groan.
âNo, I asked first,â I argue. He groans, sitting up from his sprawled position.
âTechnically though, I pointed out your quietness first, so if you think about it, I asked you first,â he jokes.
I sigh. âOkay, what about same time then?â He nods, holding up three fingers, lowering them one by one. Once heâs done, we both speak:
âIâm in love with you.â
âI know youâre Spider-Man.â
âWhat!?â we both exclaim.
âYouâre in love with me!?â
âHow do you know Iâm Spider-Man!?â
Shut the fuck up. No way. Peter, the boy Iâve been obsessing over since my dad introduced him to me, is in love with me.
We fall silent, waiting for the other to speakâor at least react. I notice Peter turning red, and I take a deep breath.
âI love you too,â I say. His eyes widen. He goes to speak, but I cut him off. âPlus, itâs obvious youâre Spider-Man. My dad doesnât just let randoms join our lives for an English project.â
âMaybe not that obvious,â he nervously says. We laugh.
All the memories crash back like a train. When I finally come out of the trance, tears pour down my face.
âThank you,â I cry, throwing myself into Strangeâs arms, hugging him tightly.
âYouâre welcome, kid,â he quietly says, patting my head awkwardly before letting me go.
âI need to go see Peter,â I gasp, leaving without checking if Strange is following. The minute I pull open his front door, there he is. Peter, standing and waiting.
âThe spell? Were you able toââ
I cut him off, grabbing his face and pressing my lips to his.
Summary: imagine you are the only daughter of a really rich man. To your father, there is nothing more important than you, so he decides to keep you safe in a way that you find excessive and unnecessary at first. You change your mind quickly, though.
AU, in which Marc got a timely chance to leave his mercenary job.
Warnings: alternative universe, description of sex scenes, superficial mention of injuries, swearing, mention of alcohol consumption, no mention of Marc's DID.
*Y/N - your name, Y/L/N - your last name
Another shot of whiskey was not a really good idea. Marc was well aware of that when he gave the bartender a sign to repeat. He was well aware of what a hangover awaited him tomorrow. Still, he drained the glass in one gulp - and yet felt disgustingly sober. He wanted - no, he needed to forget the last two days and this damned affair. He needed his head to shut off, at least for a while, but the alcohol was stubbornly refusing to work for its intended purpose, and Marc was already starting to get mad: at the bartender, at himself, at the whole world around him.
Out of his gloomy thoughts he was pulled by an ingratiating voice.
- Good evening, mr. Spector.
At the bar counter, to his left, settled a short man in a gray suit; he looked too groomed and tidy for this kind of establishment. Marc eyed him up and down, and then turned away again.
- Do we know each other? - he strained through his teeth.
- You don't know me, but I know a lot about you. I speak on behalf of my employer, who greatly values your expertise and talents, and is interested in you utilizing them while working for him, - his speech was soft but insistent, carefully rehearsed. It was obvious that the suit was a professional.
- Indeed? - Marc replied dryly, - and who is your employer?
- I'm afraid I cannot tell you his name now. You will meet him if you agree to accept his offer.
- And what exactly does his offer include? - Marc barely kept his remaining composure. The suit pissed him off so much that he wanted to smash the empty glass on the counter in front of him against his balding, egg-shaped head.
- My employer wants you to provide for his personal security. You may not worry about the pay - I assure you it will be more than generous.
- Not interested, - Marc snapped. The suit gave a feigned sigh of sadness, then pulled a pen and a white card from his pocket. Carefully scribbling something on its back, he pushed the card toward Marc and stood up from his chair.
- This is my business card. Please contact me if you change your mind. I've indicated on it the amount my employer is willing to offer you. And just to clarify, this is the monthly fee for your services. Have a good day.
Marc didn't touch the card and didn't even dignify his interlocutor with a sight as he left. Probably, he decided, he should go, too. On his way home he was going to buy a bottle of something cheaper and stronger at the nearest store and finally get properly drunk. Rising to his feet, he glanced again at the white piece of cardboard lying lonely on the bar counter, and curiosity took over after all.
- Fuck me... - he muttered to himself.
What did that moron say? This is how much Marc would get in a month..?
That's how Marc started working for your father.
He never found out how these people got to him, but it wasn't surprising: power at that level, and most importantly, money, gives almost unlimited access to any information.
Frankly, MarŃ was glad that he hadn't made a complete fool of himself and had accepted the offer. He finally got rid of the scumbag Bushman and all the crap they'd been doing. His job as a bodyguard allowed him to keep his hands almost clean, both figuratively and literally: he rarely had to use his fists, much less weapons, and even in such situations it was enough just to scare, but not to put it into action. And most often his job was simply to stand by with a stern look and monitor the occasion.
It had been just over a year since Marc had got this job when you came home.
After graduation, you could have got your own place, of course you were able to afford it, but your father insisted that you live in the family mansion, at least for a while, and you agreed. You loved your father, and, admittedly, you missed him very much - for during your years of study you had seen him only a few times. He had his quirks, but you two never had any serious disagreements. And, after all, he was the only family you had.
Since your father directed to have Marc around all the time, he was allotted a spacious room in the west wing of your mansion. Mr. Y/L/N never treated his bodyguard as a servant, and besides, they got along well - your father had also been in the military a long time ago, and it had brought them closer together. Marc was allowed to move freely around the house, to use the impressive library, the swimming pool (which he avoided because he hated any body of water and preferred not to get into it unless necessary), obviously the gym (which he visited with enjoyment). And, of course, the kitchen, which was the only one in the house. It was exactly where he saw you for the first time.
After the time zone change, you had a terrible night's sleep on your first night back home. Awakening at about 6 a.m., you tossed and turned all over in bed, but couldn't go back to sleep again. Resigned and sighed irritably, you climbed out from under the covers, slipped your bare feet into your fluffy slippers, and, yawning, headed for the kitchen in search of caffeine.
Marc always woke up at the crack of dawn - an old army habit. He knew no one would have got in his way at that time: mr. Y/L/N was still asleep, and the maid, cook and gardener's workday started much later. Yesterday he had heard bits and pieces that miss Y/L/N had come home, but had not yet had the pleasure of being introduced to you in person. And as he entered the kitchen this morning to have breakfast, he stood frozen in the doorway.
You rummaged through the top shelves of the cupboards looking for coffee beans. So far you'd only found a packet of your favourite almond biscuits, which you planned to do later, when you'd finally managed to brew some coffee. You stuck out the tip of your tongue and stood on your toes, trying to reach the cherished can. You didn't realise that at that moment there was a man standing behind your back, and your silk nightgown lifted slightly from your efforts, exposing, even just a little bit, the lower part of your butt to his gaze.
Finally coming to his senses, Marc coughed quietly, signalling his presence. You shuddered and turned round, holding your precious find - a golden-black tin filled with aromatic beans - to your chest. Marc realised that he was now staring at you in the most unconscionable way, but he couldn't find the strength to stop. Besides, he noted, you were staring back at him almost exactly the same way.
With a hoarse mumble of âexcuse meâ he disappeared out the door, leaving you, with your cheeks flaming in embarrassment, alone.
Hastily striding toward the west wing, Marc unsuccessfully struggled with the irritation and horniness that combined in a rather nasty way. How the hell is he supposed to work here if you're going to be carelessly strolling around, flashing your obscenely pretty arse left and right? No, seriously, he'd never seen such a perfect, such a..
- Fuuuck... - with a hint of despair, he moaned quietly, feeling his boner grow even harder. It had started out so well... Now he could only hope that you'd be busy with your own stuff, he'd be driving around to meetings and business trips with your father, and your crossing of paths would be kept to a minimum. Hope, and try not to imagine him kneeling behind you, covering your sweet butt with kisses and delightfully licking out your juicy pussy.
After lunch, mr. Y/L/N invited you and Marc into his cabinet. This time you had a sensible amount of clothes on, but that didn't hinder Marc's brain from relentlessly, over and over again, replaying in his mind the marvellous picture presented to his sight that morning. He was standing at attention with his hands behind his back at a respectful distance from you, comfortably nestled in one of the big armchairs. You furtively glanced at him, mistakenly assuming he didn't notice it, while your father talked on the phone. Studying Marc, you wondered how someone could be so sexy. No, seriously, dude just stood there, staring straight ahead with a frown, and you were ready to melt and spread yourself into a puddle at his feet, if it were physically possible.
Finished conversing, your father finally turned his attention to the two of you.
- Marc, I suppose you've already met my daughter, Y/N.
You looked over at each other.
- Actually, not officially, - you smiled. Mr. Y/L/N nodded.
- Y/N is my only child, she is the most precious thing I have, I live for her, - you felt tears welling up in your eyes, - MarŃ, I am extremely pleased with your service, and moreover, I trust you completely. So I've made a decision: now, that Y/N is back, you will be ensuring her safety, and not mine.
- Dad! - you threw up your hands, - we've already talked about this! I don't need a babysitter!
- Of course you don't, sweetheart, because you're a little too old for a babysitter, - you pouted, not appreciating the joke, - that's why we're talking about a bodyguard.
- But what's that for? No one has ever tried to harm me!
- And I want to keep it that way.
- Well, what about you? - you've been running out of arguments.
- I've already found a worthy replacement for Marc. It's my decision, full stop. And please don't argue.
You sighed irritably and scowled, crossing your arms over your chest.
- Marc, do you have any questions? - you gave him a slanted look. He didn't react to the news at all, didn't move, except that he didn't seem so composed anymore, as if his outward bravado had cracked. Like he was a little - bewildered?
- No, sir, - he reported, quickly pulling himself together again.
- Good, - your father responded contentedly and glanced at you again, - sweetheart, I'm busy today, but I'd like to spend more time with you tomorrow. I'll take you out to lunch, pick a place of your choice.
The next day, while you and your dad were enjoying lunch at a exquisite Italian restaurant, Marc was watching you closely. Of course he needed to realize, who he was going to be dealing with. And he couldn't help but admit that he liked you - really liked you. Sure, you were stunningly beautiful - in fact, you were probably the most beautiful girl he'd ever met. But that wasn't the point.
You were nothing like a typical spoilt rich bimbo. Every your step, every gesture, every look was full of dignity, but at the same time you never seemed arrogant. In addition, you were incredibly intelligent - Marc had realised that, when he listened up you two discussed your fatherâs work, and caught himself thinking that he had no idea what it was all about. And also you had an amazing quality: wherever you were and whatever you were doing, you seemed to light up the space and the people around you with your presence. It was as if there was a warm, tender sun hiding inside you.
After lunch mr. Y/L/N kissed you on the cheek and headed off to meet another business partner, leaving you and Marc alone on the street outside the restaurant. Your bodyguard, who was standing behind you, coughed softly.
- Where would you like to go now, miss Y/L/N?
You turned round, meeting the gaze of dark-brown, almost black, eyes that seemed to be studying you intently.
- Home, I guess. I have a job interview tomorrow, I want to get a good rest and prepare properly.
Marc nodded mutely, and, stepping around your car, opened the passenger door for you. Before you climbed in, you gave him a grateful smile.
The silence in the cabin was broken only by the quiet grumble of the engine, but this silence was not oppressive. Strangely enough, you were comfortable around this man. You'd met him only yesterday and knew nothing about him at all, but you liked the way you felt around him. He was enveloped in an aura of calmness and reliability. He reminded you of a majestic, monumental rock, with the ocean splashing at its foot; a rock that could withstand any storm and remain unbroken. And though, like that rock, he seemed as sombre, cold, and impregnable, it didn't frighten or repel you.
- Marc, - you called softly.
- Yes? - he echoed, not taking his eyes off the road.
- Please, call me Y/N.
He glanced at you briefly, as if in doubt, and then concentrated on driving again, and after a moment's silence, he uttered:
- Okay, Y/N.
At first, the only feeling you had about the idea of having a bodyguard was annoyance. You highly valued your freedom and privacy, and you weren't enthusiastic about the idea of someone looming around watching you all the time.
However, as you looked at MarŃ more closely, you decided that you probably wouldn't mind his presence around. The reason for that was not only the feeling of safety he gave you, which wrapped you up like a warm blanket, and not only the way he treated you like a princess, which was the dream of if not any girl, then almost any. The reason for that was also the fact that you'd never met a sexier man, the fact that you'd never been attracted to anyone with such a furious force.
Of course, you held your own as best you could - and usually you succeeded. But there were exceptions to that rule, like any other: the moments when you were alone together. As he drove, you stole glances at his focussed profile: the habitually furrowed brow, the large eagle nose, the strong jawline. You wondered: did his thick black curls feel stiff or soft to the touch? What his lips tasted like?
Within the walls of your home, away from prying eyes, the situation became even more complicated. Your roles seemed to smudge, their borders blurred, and you became essentially just a man and a woman living under the same roof. And no matter how much you wanted the opposite, you tried to avoid him by any means necessary, and when you did cross paths, you called on all your self-control. That self-control, however, was rather tentative: all your emotions were literally written on your face.
You absolutely knew that you would not take any action towards him, because in your âboss-subordinateâ relationship he might feel pressurised, if not coerced, and that was certainly not acceptable.
What you didn't know was that your feelings were 200% mutual.
You didn't know how strong was the desire that gripped him when you were near. The desire to lavish you with all the affection and tenderness he was capable of. To worship you. To give you as many orgasms as you could handle. And then fuck you roughly until you were hoarse from screaming. You didn't know you were causing his boner over and over and over again.
And you didn't know that he swore to himself that he would never cross that line with you.
After you graduated, your father persistently persuaded you to work in his company. You realised it was the path of least resistance. You weren't the slightest bit excited about the prospect of getting special treatment as the boss's daughter; you were determined to make it on your own.
Given the quality of your education and your extensive knowledge, you could apply for the most tasty vacancies, so you were very selective. Finally, after three months, you received an invitation to interview for your dream job in one of the largest companies in the country. The head office where the meeting was scheduled was located in another city, which meant a short journey ahead of you. And, of course, Marc had to go with you.
The flight was short and quite pleasant, and you rented a car on arrival. Your hotel was about an hour's drive from the airport; the interview was arranged for the next day, so there was no hurry. You wondered if you could have dinner at a nice restaurant. Having pulled your phone out of your purse, you started to look online for reviews of local places, when your black Audi was hit at full speed by a car that ran a red light at the intersection.
Marc was an excellent driver and reacted in a split second by swerving the steering wheel and turning the car so that the impact came to the rear part: thanks to this, as well as the airbags and seatbelts, you both received, apart from a slight shock, only a couple of bruises. But the evening was catastrophically ruined. No restaurants were out of the question - after a lot of paperwork with the police and the carsharing company, you got to the hotel only at 11 p.m., terribly exhausted.
After taking a shower, you crawled into the big, soft like a cloud bed and curled up in a ball. You couldn't forget those sensations: that horrible sound of impact, that disgusting scraping of metal against metal, that feeling of helplessness. It was the first time you'd been in a car accident, and, admittedly, you'd been quite brave at first, but the reason for that had been just the adrenaline rush. Now, that it's level in your body was back to normal again, you were scared out of your wits, even though your life was no longer in danger. Tears began to pool in the corners of your eyes, and you bit your lip, trying hard not to cry.
And then you did what felt most natural to you at that moment. What felt most right thing to do.
You got out of bed without bothering to throw on a dressing gown, walked out barefoot into the corridor, and stopped at the door to Marc's room, which was directly across the hall from yours.
Marc was your safety.
For a few seconds you hesitated, and then raised your hand to knock. But you didn't have time: the door swung open. Marc was clearly not expecting to see you, and he was a little taken aback. He was also taken aback because you were wearing only a silk nightgown, the same one he'd seen you in the first time.
- S-sorry, - you mumbled, embarrassed, - are you going somewhere?
- No, I'm... - the man cleared his throat, - actually, I wanted to come to you, to see if everything was all right.
You felt the unsolicited tears coming again. Sighed quietly, you shook your head in denial. The anguished expression on your pretty face and the pitying gaze of your amazing eyes made Marc's heart wistfully ache.
- Would you... stay with me for a while? - almost in a whisper you uttered, - please?
The man silently closed the door behind him, took your hand and headed for your room, leading you with him. Your heart did a joyous somersault in your chest - in fact, you doubted very much that he would agree to this.
- I'll be here, - announced Marc, removing the extra cushions from the neat sofa by the window to make space to sleep, - let me know when you want me to leave.
- Nonsense! - you objected, - there's plenty of room on the bed for two.
The words were flying off your tongue before you could bite it down. Marc froze, looking at you.
- I mean, - continued you uncertainly, - you're not going to be comfortable in there at all, I mean, it's so tiny...
You could feel your cheeks flaming with embarrassment. Marc was still silent, not taking his eyes off you. Then, finally, he uttered quietly:
- Are you sure?
- Yes, - you nodded, and then added hastily, - unless, of course, you don't mind.
The man struggled with his own doubt for a few more seconds, and then headed for the bed. He lay down on his half, put his right hand behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling as if something incredibly interesting was happening there. You skulked under the covers on your half, turning toward the window, feeling every cell in your body vibrate with an overwhelming avalanche of emotion.
Obviously, neither of you could fall asleep.
Calmed down a little, you finally decided to turn to Marc. The gaze of his dark, almost black eyes met yours. It seemed as if time had stopped at that moment, as if the whole world had suddenly paused, frozen in anticipation.
- Come here, - finally exhaled Marc.
Without hesitation, you slid into his embrace.
You were still sleeping sweetly on his chest, watching your dreams, when Marc opened his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so well, so peacefully and deeply, as he had tonight, with you beside him.
You were so warm, your skin was so soft, and your hair smelt so pleasantly of... flowers, perhaps lavender, Marc wasn't sure. Mentally he admitted that if for the rest of his life he had the opportunity to just sleep with you, just sleep and nothing else, he wouldn't have thought twice about agreeing anyway. It would be damn hard of course, like now he couldn't stop thinking about your soft breasts pressing against his chest. And in addition, there was your leg, which you'd brazenly wedged between his own... Trying not to disturb your sleep, he slightly shifted the position of his lower body so you wouldn't feel his erection. He didn't give a damn. If that was all he could count on - he'd still accept it gratefully.
With a move and a quiet sigh, you woke up. It took you a split second to realise where you were, and whose strong arms were gently holding you. Hiding a dreamy smile, you bit your lip.
You still didn't know what his curls felt like to the touch or what his lips tasted like. But now you knew what he smelled like. His golden-olive skin seemed to hold the scent of a foggy November morning in the woods. God, how you wanted to press a kiss to itâŚ
- Good morning, princess, - quietly uttered Marc; his voice, a little hoarse from sleep, sent a wave of pleasant trepidation through your body. You looked up at him.
- Good morning, - you whispered, feeling his fingertips gingerly stroking your arm just above the elbow. Looking into his bitter chocolate eyes, it was as if you were speaking to him without words.
ÂŤYou can touch me. Please keep touching me.Âť
Your lips were only a few inches away from each other. It was the perfect moment for your first kiss.
And it was spectacularly ruined by a sudden knock on the door and a brisk voice announcing: ÂŤRoom service!Âť
You hid your face against Marc's chest in embarrassment; he pulled you tighter against him and nuzzled his nose into the top of your head. You could feel him smiling.
You two didn't discuss that night. And yet it had become a confirmation, your silent confession to each other of the reciprocity of your feelings.
You'd stopped avoiding situations where you could be alone together so diligently, and he'd let himself take off his mask of impenetrability and impassivity at those moments. And, God, the way he looked at you then... The purest lust and reverent awe. That delightful combination drove you crazy, and mixed with the accidental (non-accidental) touches, of which there were more and more, made you literally shiver with an arousal that became almost unbearable.
Marc couldn't believe for a long time that you shared his feelings. Everything that was going on between you two was literally screaming for it, and he still couldn't. But when he finally came to terms and allowed himself to accept that fact... damn, that was the best thing that had ever happened to him in his entire life. And every time he, as if by chance, touched your hand and you didn't yank it away, or when he was so close to you that the tip of his nose touched your hair and you didn't pull away, but instead leaned closer, or when you looked at him with your stunningly beautiful eyes that frankly read fuck me, he was convinced that he wasn't imagining it, that it was real, that he was desirable. And that made his heart turn over in his chest.
However, he didn't dare to take any more active steps, as much as he wanted to - he was too afraid of ruining everything. Alas, it almost happened anyway, when one sunny morning Nathaniel showed up at your house as an uninvited guest.
The young man unceremoniously, in owner-style, kissed you on the lips and then headed into your father's cabinet to greet him. Mr. Y/L/N was genuinely happy to see him, which was not the case with you. The mere fact of his arrival was an unpleasant surprise to you, but when he and Marc were introduced to each other... When you saw the icy stare with which your bodyguard pierced Nate, when you realised that now he wasn't looking at you at all⌠Your stomach twisted and you felt nauseous. What have you done? And how do you fix it now?
Nathaniel stayed over for lunch and ended up being stuck at your place until almost evening. When he finally deigned to leave, you rushed to the west wing of your mansion, hoping to find Marc there. You were sure he was holed up in his room, since he'd disappeared right after meeting Nate and hadn't shown up since. Alas, he wasn't there. Your thoughts were fussing inside your head in a panic, your heart pounding madly. Finally you realised where else he could be. Your second guess was correct: you found Marc in the gym, where he was furiously torturing the exercise machine. On shaking legs, you hesitantly approached him.
- Marc, - you called quietly. The man didn't react at all, concentrating on his activity, staring angrily at a single point in front of him.
- Can we talk? Please? - you made another attempt, which also failed - Marc continued to ignore you. You felt you were about to cry. Timidly reached out, you intended to touch his shoulder, but at that moment he let go of the handles of the machine, which clanked loudly behind him. You flinched and yanked your hand away.
- Please, - you whispered, - let me explain...
- You don't have to explain anything to me, miss Y/L/N, - coldly strained Marc through his teeth; the steel clearly ringing in his voice, - I just work for you.
It felt as if your heart had plummeted into the abyss. You knelt down and squeezed his big, rough palm with your cold fingers.
The man looked down at you, and the utterly miserable look in your marvellous eyes, which were now filled with tears, made his heart clench. Surrendered, he sighed heavily, shook his head, then rose to his feet and gave you his other hand to help you up.
Marc was in your room for the first time. Sitting at the foot of your bed, he watched you intently. You tucked your legs under you and, hugged your pillow, nervously rubbing the tassel on the corner of it. Finally, pulling yourself together, you spoke.
- My dad and Nate's parents have been friends for years. They've always had this idea-fix that he and I would get married one day and our families would merge. They've been blabbing about it since we were kids. We studied at the same school, then went to the same university. And at some point, we actually started dating. Our parents were thrilled when they found out. But I... I never really loved him. I think he didn't love me either. After a while, I realised it wasn't working for me, so I decided to break up with him. I don't know what stopped me from doing it, I guess I felt this pressure from both our families and I didn't want to be the one to ruin their longstanding friendship. Our studies were coming to an end, and I thought it would be a soft and painless ending for both of us: he would start his own life, I would start mine, and we both would just move on. And I felt like that was what happened, since all those months we didn't communicate with him at all. I was glad he got it right. But today... He just showed up at our house and acted like nothing was wrong. Like I was still his girlfriend. Maybe he wants something from my dad, I don't know... I'll definitely talk to him and clear the air. But first... I needed to talk to you. I needed to explain myself.
You licked your lips, dry from your long monologue, and glanced timidly at Marc, who remained silent.
- Please forgive me for this.
Marc sighed.
- I've already said - you don't need to explain yourself to me, miss Y/L/N. And you don't need to apologise to me either.
- Marc, - your voice was soaked with bitterness, barely contained tears sounding in it, - are we back to ÂŤmiss Y/L/NÂť again?
- Y/N. You don't need to apologise to me.
- I feel like I do.
- You don't.
- Maybe it's a lot to ask, but could we go back to the way things were before today? Please?
Marc was silent. But to you, his silence was more eloquent than any words. You felt all cold in your chest. You dropped your head; a a lonely tear dripped onto the pillow you were still clutching in your hands.
- Thank you for listening, - you whispered without looking up, - and I'm sorry for wasting your time.
Marc nodded, and without a word, left your room. Unable to hold back any longer, you lay curled up in a ball and burst into bitter tears.
Standing outside the door, Marc heard you crying. His first impulse was to come back and comfort you. But reminding himself that he was only your bodyguard, he gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, and strode away.
From that day on, it was as if a huge hole had opened in Marc's chest. He felt rejected, betrayed, even though he knew in his mind that he had no reason to be. There was nothing between you two except him working for your father. Yes, he wished it were otherwise - but his wish was irrelevant. A girl like you would never date someone like him. Girls like you date Nathaniels, people of their own circle, their own social standing. And he, Marc, was nobody. And he'd been reminded of that once again.
He seriously considered quitting. But, deciding that it would be a sign of weakness, he ordered himself to get his balls in a fist, pick up his snot and just do his job.
A few days had passed since your last conversation. In that time, Marc hadn't seen you once, and it was unusual. Perhaps, he surmised, you were ill? He had to admit that his anger had significantly cooled down, and now he was beginning to worry. Probably, he reasoned, it would do no harm to find out if you were all right.
Gathered his courage, he headed for your room. For a few moments he hesitated before knocked gingerly. There was no response. He was about to turn around and leave, but for some reason he knocked again, louder this time. From behind the door came your faint voice:
- I don't need anything, thank you.
- Y/N. It's Marc.
Silence again.
- Y/N? Can I come in? - without waiting for permission, he opened the door a little and peeked inside.
You were lying in bed, with your head covered with a blanket, and turned to the window. From the spot where Marc was standing, you resembled a sad little hill.
- Y/N? Are you okay? - indecisively he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
- I'm great, - the little hill replied wryly, - why, can't you tell?
- What happened?
- You know what happened.
- No, I don't know. Tell me. Is this your boyfriend? Did he hurt you?
- No, Marc, - you sat up sharply on the bed, staring at him, - he didn't hurt me. And he's not my boyfriend. That's what I've been trying to tell you.
The circles darkened under your eyes, and your eyes themselves were red from tears.
- You want to know what happened? I screwed up, and now you hate me, - you flopped back onto the pillow and covered yourself with the blanket again.
Confused, Marc just stood staring at you for a few seconds, but, came to his senses, he moved closer to your bed and sat down gently on the edge of it.
- I don't hate you, Y/N.
- Yeah, sure.
- It's true.
- You don't want to talk to me, you don't want to see me.
- I'm looking at you and talking to you right now.
- ...
Marc was already feeling terribly guilty about his reaction. For making you feel so bad about what happened. Why did you even feel bad about it? Did you really care about him?
- Y/N?
- ...
Marc sighed and, after a moment, lay down behind you, hugging you from behind, pulling you against his chest.
- I don't hate you, Y/N, - he repeated softly.
The little hill froze in his arms for a few instants, as if it couldn't believe what was happening. Then you hurriedly pulled yourself free of your blanket, turned to Marc and leaned desperately against him, wrapping your arms around his neck.
- I'm sorry, Marc, - you sobbed quietly.
- I'm sorry, princess, - he muttered, clutching you tighter into his embrace.
- I missed you terribly, - you admitted in a whisper.
- Oh, really, - the man grinned, - but what about that neat asshole Nathaniel? Maybe he's the one you missed?
You pulled away, looking at him indignantly, and slapped your hand lightly on his chest, pouting resentfully.
- No, he isn't! I missed you, silly.
- Not as much as I missed you, princess, - Marc uttered with a smile, drawing you closer again and kissing you tenderly on the temple.
Luckily for both of you, your relationship quickly got back on track. Some things had changed, though. Marc had become a little more cautious with you; he tried not to show it, but deep down he was afraid that after all one day you would choose someone else over him, someone more appropriate, and he would be hurt again. You, on the other hand, were now absolutely certain that you wanted him, only him and no one else, and that gave you a bravery that surprised you yourself.
In the mornings, you'd walk into the kitchen and kiss him sweetly on the cheek as he handed you a mug of coffee made just the way you like it. When, after overexerting himself in a workout, he suffered a minor sprain, you volunteered to ease his injury with a light massage. You'd make yourself comfortable on the couch, with Marc right on the floor between your legs. Your palms, smeared with fragrant oil, slid caressingly over his strong, broad shoulders, gently kneading the sore muscle; meanwhile Marc, completely relaxed, stroked your ankle and occasionally planted kisses on the inside of your naked thigh.
Both of you were no longer pretending that these moments were accidental-oh, they were more than intentional, and that was clear as day. And the longer it went on, the more unbearable the tension became: the air around you was electrified and sparking, as if before a massive thunderstorm. It was obvious to both of you that it would inevitably break. The only question was whether it would happen soon, or very soon.
There were only two days left until the birthday of one of your closest friends. Accompanied by Marc as usual, you headed to the mall - you needed to buy a present and a new dress for the party.Â
For Rachel, you chose dainty emerald earrings; you didn't have to puzzle - you knew they were one of the most desirable items on her wish-list. Leaving the jewellery store, you embarked on the more long and laborious part of your outing - the search for an outfit. You guessed that Marc, like most men, was not keen on this process, but to your surprise, he firmly rejected your offer to go for a coffee and wait for you in a more comfortable setting.
Marc didn't think you could be in any danger in a clothing shop. Of course, anything could happen, but that wasn't the point. To be honest, he just liked doing all the things, that normal couples did, with you - even if it was just shopping. He liked to forget for a while that your father had hired him, liked to imagine that he was just walking around the mall with his girlfriend.
With a solid pile of clothes you briskly headed to the fitting room of yet another shop; Marc, obediently following you, tiredly sank down on a small soft sofa opposite your stall and began patiently waiting. After about 20 minutes your excited exclamation reached him: ÂŤI think, this is it!Âť
With shining eyes and a satisfied smile, you emerged from the stall and strode past Marc, then twirled gracefully, giving the man a chance to get a good look at you. You were wearing an exquisite dress of pleated silk in a noble grey-blue with a damned seductive neckline.
- How's that?
Marc swallowed. He didn't know much about dresses, but he knew you were gorgeous. And also he knew you'd be gorgeous even if you were wearing a potato sack.
- You... - he licked his lips, - you're very beautiful, Y/N.
He was mentally berating himself for not being able to come up with anything more intelligible than such an obvious and banal compliment, unaware that his gaze was more sincere and eloquent to you than any words.
Satisfied with your choice, you went back into the fitting room, and Marc couldn't help but notice that the velvet curtain was not fully closed. His first inclination was to go over and adjust it. But when he saw your reflection in the mirror, he hesitated. And then looked round, making sure there were no prying eyes in the vicinity.
You stood with your back to the mirror, slowly undoing first the buttons at the back of the collar and then the zip at the waist. Finally, with your usual elegance, you slipped the dress off completely, letting the cool silk slide down over your soft skin.
Marc felt like a total pervert, but he couldn't, just couldn't stop looking at you. At your naked shoulders, at the seductive curve of your lower back, at the prettiest arse in the world, adorned by the white lace of your panties.
Taking a step to the side, you disappeared from sight.
Realising that he hadn't been breathing all this time, as if afraid to scare you away, afraid to reveal himself, Marc finally drew in air noisily and leaned against the wall behind him, staring at the ceiling, unsuccessfully trying to pull himself together. His throat was dry, his heart was pounding in his chest like crazy. ÂŤFuck, -Â was the only thought his brain was capable of right now. - Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fucking hell.Âť
With his side vision, he suddenly caught movement again. He struggled with himself for a few moments because he felt completely losing control. The right thing to do now was to get up and get out of here, to clear his head, to calm down. He knew that perfectly well. He knew exactly what he should do.
You were wearing a set of lingerie of a soft pink colour. The thin, veil-like material was decorated with handmade floral embroidery. And, being almost completely transparent, it hid absolutely nothing.
You examined yourself in the mirror with a completely innocent, unsuspecting look, turning to one side and the other, adjusting the cups of your bra. And then casually, without a trace of embarrassment, you met Marc's gaze in the reflection.
The man broke out in a cold sweat. He'd been caught. Caught in his dirty peeping.
But after a moment, he suddenly realised everything. Your calmness, your unspoken question he read in your eyes.
ÂŤDo you like it?Âť
You did it on purpose. This little show was for him. You knew he was looking at you. You wanted him to look at you.
When, finally got dressed, you came out of the fitting room, you gave Marc a charming smile, as if nothing had happened.
- I'll just pay up, and we can go home, - you informed him, heading for the cash register.
In the car neither of you said a word. You studied the streets outside the window with feigned interest, occasionally smiling at your own thoughts, while Marc tried hard to get his brain, which had shut down from lack of blood supply, to work. When he parked in front of your mansion, he opened the passenger door for you as usual, gave you a hand to help you out, and then hurried off in the direction of the west wing.
Now he seemed like he could cum even from the slightest whiff of a breeze.
Once in his room, he hastily pulled off his clothes and climbed into the shower; the warm, caressing jets of water rolled over his tense body. Resting his left hand against the wall, he dropped his head and closed his eyes. You stood there practically naked. Stood there and let him look at you. His cock, pressed against his stomach, twitched. With a low, hoarse groan that resembled a growl, Marc wrapped his palm around it. An orgasm ripped through his body, making him shudder.Â
- What are you doing to me, Y/N, - he whispered barely audibly, - what are you doing to meâŚ
Rachel's birthday party was being held in a luxurious, fancy bar, one of the most upscale establishments in your city. When the two of you arrived, the fun was already in full swing. Marc was seated on a lonely-standing sofa in a dully lit corner of the hall, as far away from the crowds of people as it was possible; no one would pay attention to him there, and yet he was quite convenient to watch the action from up there. And you dived instantly into the bustling throng, greeting your friends with smiles, hugs, and kisses on the cheek.
After an hour or so Marc felt that he was already terribly tired of it all: of the deafening music, of the noise created by dozens of not quite sober people. His head was beginning to split with pain. Perhaps, he decided, he should have a little drink, too. Only a little, just to dim the world around him a bit, to make the colours not so sharp and the sounds not so loud. Waiting until the bar was a little freer, he ordered a glass of whiskey, drained it in one gulp and straight away asked for a refill. Taking the second drink with him, he wandered back to his improvised lair.
You appeared beside him as suddenly as if you'd materialised out of thin air. Flopping down on the tiny sofa, you dropped your head onto Marc's shoulder.
- I'm tired, - Â you sighed.
- Wanna go home, princess?
- Maybe a little later. Can I stay here with you for a while?
- As long as you like. Just, um⌠is it okay if your friends see you with me?
- Well, let them. What's wrong with that?
You moved closer to him, making yourself comfortable. Marc could feel your breath on his neck. And your palm on his thigh.
A slow song began to play.
- Dance with me? - you whispered.
- Y/N, - Marc embarrassed, - that's not a good idea...
- Please.
- Look, I... I don't know how.
- It doesn't matter.
- No, I⌠I really don't know how. IâŚ
He stammered in mid-sentence, the words stuck in his throat. Your lips gently touched the sensitive spot behind his ear. It seemed to Marc that he was literally physically unable to breathe. Your insolent palm stroked his tense thigh unabashedly, inch by inch moving higher, getting disastrously close to his cock, which, obviously, couldn't remain indifferent, as it always was when it came to you.
- Y/N, - Marc finally muttered hoarsely, - don't get me wrong⌠I don't want you to regret it later... We've both had a few drinks, and...
You raised your head, meeting his gaze, full of pure, concentrated, burning lust. Drawing closer and touching the tip of his nose with your own, you breathed out, obviously not referring to the dance at all:
- Please... Pleasure me.
What happened next was akin to a dam bursting; carefully held back for months, the desire collapsed in a powerful wave, sweeping away everything in its path.
Abruptly rising to his feet and clutching your hand, Marc strode towards the small corridor where were located the washrooms, pulling you along with him. In the semi-darkness, out of reach of prying eyes, you found yourself pressed against the wall by his massive body; his left arm wrapped around your waist, his right palm sliding down your jaw to your neck, gently but insistently forcing you to look up at him.
- What are you doing, Y/N? - he growled, almost desperately, - what are you doing? I swear to God, I can't take it anymore!
You were all trembling from the overwhelming avalanche of feelings that flooded over you - you both.
- Marc, - you whimpered pitifully, - please. Please...
His kiss was so hungry, so greedy - but it wasn't rough at all. More like needy, begging you for more. And you let him know, kissing him back: ÂŤI'm here, I'm yoursÂť.
The soft, dim lighting of the small lavatory, into which you two moved slightly awkwardly a few minutes later, made what was happening between you a bit more unreal; to both of you, a little drunk with alcohol and drunk out of your minds with each other, everything already seemed like a sweet, delightful dream.
- Are you totally sure? - Marc broke the kiss for a moment, looking into your eyes, - we can stop at any time, just say a word.
- I'm sure, - in your quiet voice there was no sign of doubt, - please, Marc, I want you so bad...
The next second you felt his big, coarse palms slide under your dress, stroking your thighs. Your panties, already soaking wet, were pushed aside, and Marc finally touched you where you needed it most.
- Fuck, baby, - he whispered with undisguised admiration, - damn, you're so wet... Is this really all for me?
You were no longer able to respond as his fingers lightly and softly began circling your swollen clit, sending delicious waves of pleasure through your entire body. Biting your lip, you tried as hard as you could not to moan too loudly, but you were not very good at it. Your completely weak legs refused to support you - you stayed upright only because Marc was holding you tightly against him.
- Marc, - you sobbed, feeling his hot breath and wet kisses on your neck.
- Tell me what you want, babygirl, - he breathed out, touching his lips to your ear, - I'll do anything for you, just tell me.
Those sincere words almost made you cum in that second. But you wanted it differently.
- I want to feel you inside me. Please...
Marc let out a frantic sigh, and, reluctantly letting you out of his arms, began to undo his jeans. You, not agreeing to take a second's distance from a desirable man, pressed your lips against his, penetrating his mouth with your tongue. Suddenly Marc pulled away.
- Baby, damn it. I don't have any with me...
It took you a few moments to realise what he was talking about.
- I'm on pills, - you responded embarrassingly, - and I'm healthy. If you're healthy, we don't have toâŚ
The man swallowed.
- Come here, - he commanded in a voice hoarse with arousal, scooping you up in his arms.
With one powerful thrust, he drove his cock deep inside you, all the way up to his balls.
At the sudden sharp pain, you cried out loudly and squeezed your eyes shut. Marc, instantly realising that he'd obviously lost control, froze, staring at you in fear.
- Babygirl... - he muttered shamefacedly, -oh, shit, please forgive me... That was too rough... I'm sorry... Did... did I hurt you?
You shook your head in denial, took a deep breath, and opened your eyes. Probably you should have expected that.
- It's okay, - you whispered, - really. Let's just go a little gentler, okay? Please.
- Yeah, of course. Of course. I'm sorry, - you cupped his face with your palms and kissed him again.
With each thrust of his cock inside you, the pain gradually subsided, giving way to the pleasure that spread in warm waves throughout your body. Your lips didn't pull away from each other for a moment, your tongues caressing each other, your fingers burrowing into the thick, soft curls on his occiput. You felt again that sweet tension of an impending orgasm, twisting like a tight spiral down your belly. And to your surprise, Marc felt it, too.
- Fuck, baby, your tight, hot pussy is throbbing so hard around my cock, - he grumbled contentedly in your ear, squeezing your ass tighter, - come on, cum for me. I want you to cum on my cock.
His words, soaked in pure lust, pushed you over the edge; this delightful long-awaited orgasm Marc gave you was more intense and vivid than any you had experienced before. Marc, aroused to the limit and held back with all his might, cum right after you, filling you with his hot cum, and that incomparable feeling prolonged your climax for a few more moments.
Descending from the heights of pleasure, you both seemed to lose track of time. Marc was still holding you up in his arms, your hands affectionately stroked his shoulders and neck, slightly damp with sweat, his forehead pressed softly against yours. Your eyes were closed, your breathing gradually levelling out; you were slowly coming back to your senses.
- Babygirl... - the man's quiet voice called out to you, - are you okay?
You sighed and met his gaze.
- Yes, - you admitted honestly.
After what had happened, you absolutely didn't want to join the party again, so when you had cleaned yourself up a bit, you gently touched Marc's arm and asked:
- Please take me home.
Walking into the kitchen the next morning, Marc found you making french toast for breakfast and humming something to yourself. Frankly, he was quite anxious, not knowing how to behave and what your relationship would be like now. You, on the contrary, were in great spirits. For a second you looked away from the frying pan and gave him a radiant smile.
- Good morning! Help yourself. There's coffee too, just brewed.
The way you were at ease with him gave Marc a little relief, but he still needed a little more clarity. So when you were seated across from each other at the dinner table, enjoying your toasts, he, plucking up his courage, finally decided to ask a question.
- Y/N... could we talk?
- Sure, - you agreed, taking a sip of coffee, - I have one call to make after breakfast, and then come to my place.
About half an hour later, on his way to your door, Marc got pretty nervous again. And, as it turned out, your mood had changed radically too, becoming rather foul. Getting permission to come in, the man found you irritably pacing the room. For a few moments he stomped uncertainly in place, until you finally took a deep breath and flopped down on the bed.
- Come here, - you called, tucking your legs under you and making yourself comfortable, - I'm sorry about this. You wanted to talk.
Marc perched on the edge of the mattress, studiously looking at you.
- Did something happen? - he asked cautiously.
- No. Yeah. Sort of. It's nothing...
- Can I do anything to help?
You grinned bitterly.
- No. I don't need any help with this.
- You can tell me if you want to, - offered Marc; you could hear the genuine sincerity in his voice. You sighed again and stared at your own hands.
- You remember Nate, right, - oh, he definitely remembered Nate, he remembered him well enough, - I was going to talk to him and clear up this whole situation between us. I'd called him last time and asked to meet and discuss it in person, but by then he'd already left town, so we'd put it off. Now I called him again because⌠uh⌠well, I didn't want to drag it out any longer because of what happened yesterday. Told him that there was nothing between us for a long time, and that we both needed to move on, things like that.... And he⌠He said some really nasty things to meâŚ
- Stinking slug, - Marc growled through gritted teeth.
- You know, - you continued, visibly embarrassed, - we've never had sex, he knew I was a virgin and always said he respected my choice and was willing to wait... And now he stated that I wasn't worth messing around with, that other girls would do anything for his attention, and that the whole time we were dating he slept with them behind my back.
You fell silent, completely ashamed. It was as if Marc had been splashed with ice water; shocked, he sat staring at you dumbly, horrified.
- Of course, - you spoke again, - we aren't together anymore, I didn't want to be with him, I didn't love him... But it's still disgusting, you know? I feel disgusted by his words. They make me feel... dirty.
- You're a virgin?! - Marc finally exhaled barely audibly. You looked up at him and smiled shyly, shrugging slightly.
- Well... I was a virgin, - you corrected, biting your lip, - until yesterday.
- Good lord, you were a virgin! - Marc clutched his head in panic, - what have I done?!
You moved closer and touched his hand.
- Nothing I didn't want to.
Marc let out a doomed groan.
- Hey... - you called softly, - please look at me.
After a few seconds of hesitation, the man finally raised his gaze to you. And the indescribable guilt that filled it now made your heart ache.
- Marc, - you uttered affectionately, - you didn't do anything wrong. You didn't do anything against my will. I wanted it. I wanted you. I think it was obvious...
- I was rough on you, - Marc bitterly shook his head, - damn, I was too rough⌠I... I hurt you, you shrieked so bad at the beginning...
- Marc...Â
- Forgive me. Please forgive me... I didn't know...
- You have nothing to apologize for. Of course you didn't know, how could you, I didn't tell you that, - you sighed, dropping your eyes, - I was afraid you might react exactly this way if you found out. Afraid that it would push you away, that you wouldn't want to get involved with me⌠I already wasn't sure if you wanted me as much as I wanted you.
- You've got to be kidding me! - Marc marveled, - Y/N, I've insanely wanted you since the second I first saw you. It's some kind of obsession, I'm like an animal⌠Fuck, every time you're close, I get a hard-on!
You slyly glanced at him, smiling, feeling your cheeks and the tips of your ears burn with embarrassment.
- God, Y/N, - the man ran his palm over his face, - you're driving me crazy...
- Well, and⌠what did you want to talk about? - you reminded, remembering that he had come to you with a purpose.
- About all this, - Marc spread his hands, - I didn't know how I was supposed to act with you now, didn't know what it meant for us. I was afraid I'd ruined everything. I... I was worried, - he finally admitted, embarrassed.
Your palm slid gently into his big calloused hand, you intertwined your fingers with his.
- You didn't ruin anything, Marc. And I... I hope I didn't ruin anything either.
- How could you, - the man echoed quietly, looking down at your hands, stroking your knuckles with the pad of his thumb, - you're perfect...
You gave him a warm smile.
- I'd like what's happening between us to continue. I'd like us to get closer, - you took a short pause, and then added, - only if you want that too, of course.
In the sight of Marc's big, dark brown eyes flickered hope.
- I want it so damn much, Y/N.
You brightened, and he caught himself thinking that more than anything in the world, more than anything in his life he wants to make you happy. He wants your beautiful face to be adorned with that sunny smile, and to know that he's the reason why.
- Can I kiss you? - he asked timidly.
Sliding onto his lap, you settled on top of him, cupped your palms around his face and tenderly pressed your lips against his. His hands leisurely stroked your hips and wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. Finally, you were just enjoying each other - not worrying about anything, not doubting anything, not rushing anywhere.
- Your first time wasn't supposed to be in a bar restroom, - Marc muttered, moving away slightly.
- It doesn't matter, where. The main thing is - with you, - you touched his nose with the tip of yours, - I don't regret anything.
He looked into your stunningly beautiful eyes.
- Let me show you how it could be different. How it was meant to be.
The mesmerizing intimacy of the moment made you dizzy, and the genuine, pure sincerity of his words melted your heart.
- Show me, - you whispered breathlessly.
Gently Marc laid you down on the bed. He couldn't resist kissing you briefly again, then reached up, pulled off his t-shirt and began to free you from your home pants and top, and when he did, he froze for a moment. You were wearing that very same lingerie. That same one you'd unashamedly demonstrated to him in the fitting room three days ago. Weightless, almost transparent, hiding absolutely nothing from his hungry gaze.
It was impossible to put into words how much pleasure his reaction gave you.
- You like it? - you purred, biting your lip and smiling innocently.
- Fuck, baby... - his vocabulary temporarily ran out, but his loss of speech was probably the best compliment for you.
- Kiss me again, - you asked in a honeyed voice, bringing him to his senses. Oh, that was exactly what he'd planned to do, and he wasn't going to confine himself to your lips at all.
Marc had been waiting for this for what seemed like an eternity. He'd never craved, never longed for anyone in his entire life as much as he had for you. The feelings, like powerful waves on a high tide, came rushing in, sweeping him over his head; it overwhelmed him - doubly so, because he'd just found out he was your first man. The only man you'd ever trusted yourself to, the only man you'd ever let get this close.
Unlike Marc, you were completely calm. Of course, your arousal was off the charts - as if being with him could be any different. But you felt no embarrassment, no nervousness, no insecurity; completely relaxed, you were just enjoying the long-awaited caresses of the desirable man, savoring every moment of your intimacy.
His lips leisurely traveled over your delicate skin, seeking out the most sensitive places, his large, rough palms exploring the curves of your body; Marc was completely unable to tear himself away from you.
Decided to leave that damned beautiful lingerie on you, he gently slid down the thin material of the bra cups, left a string of wet kisses between your breasts, and then touched the bead of your nipple with the tip of his tongue. You moaned quietly and squeezed your eyes shut, slightly arching your back.
What his mouth was doing to your breasts was fucking perfect. Softly cupping them with his palms, he paid attention to one and the other in turn, tenderly sucking, rubbing the nipples with his tongue.
- Ouch... - you gasped quietly, feeling a slight bite.
- Sorry, - Marc embarrassed, immediately stopping.
- Careful, - you smiled, - they're sensitive.
- Accepted - no bites, - the man nodded seriously and nestled back against your soft hillocks, murmuring contentedly, - my tender girl...
- I want you so bad, Marc, - you breathed out, making his unbearably hard cock twitch in his pants. It seemed like he could spend all day playing with your perfect breasts, losing track of time, but your quiet confession reminded him, that there were many other, equally pleasurable things to do.
His lips touched your belly; moving lower, he could feel you faintly shivering with arousal.
- I'm here, babygirl, - he echoed hoarsely, - I'll do everything to make you feel good.
The answer was another quiet moan.
You lifted your legs, letting Marc rid you of your sheer pink panties, and then, surprised at yourself, spread them wider without a trace of shame. Noisily, frantically sucking in air, the man pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, but realized he couldn't hold back a second longer when you offered yourself to him like that, like the most delicious meal of his life.
His tongue slid along your pretty pussy, opened for him like a bud of a marvelous flower, gathering your precious sweet nectar from the delicate petals, softly circled your swollen clit, and then changed to his warm, moist lips, which closed around your sensitive bundle of nerves. The moan that escaped from your chest was the most beautiful sound Marc had ever heard in his life.
You were already on the edge, so it took you just a few minutes to explode with your first mind-blowing orgasm, on which Marc had absolutely no intention to stop. He let you catch your breath for a bit, kissing your soft belly, and then proceeded to lick out your pussy with relish while his two fingers gently slid inside you. Stroking and lightly squeezing your breasts with one hand, you let the other sink to the top of his head, tangled in his thick, pitch-black curls. You let your hips sway in time with his movements, let yourself not hold back the moans that sounded more like pitiful, pleading whimpers. The second orgasm, which came down on you soon after the first, was so overwhelming that for a few moments you seemed to fall out of reality. Back to your senses you were brought by the light as feathers kisses that began to travel down from your navel again, lower and lower.
- Marc, - you pleaded in a trembling voice, - wait, please... Let me recover...
Reluctantly, Marc pulled away from your dainty pussy, leisurely rose up, leaving sloppy kisses here and there all over your body, and finally covered your lips with his own. You felt your own taste on them, and your head went dizzy. Fumbling for his belt buckle, you started to yank it. The man smiled, pressing his forehead against yours.
- Babygirl, you asked me to give you a break.
- I changed my mind, - you whispered, smiling back at him and impatiently undoing the zipper.
Straightening up, Marc finally got rid of his jeans and boxers. You licked your lips in the most lewd way, your gaze sliding down his muscled body and finally, without remorse, settling on his cock. His ravishing, sturdy cock with its bulging veins and wet with pre-cum head. Your mouth filled with saliva, you swallowed. Marc hummed and kissed you again, caressing your tongue with his.Â
Timidly, you reached out and softly cupped his shaft; it felt so pleasant, so perfect in your palm - so hard, heavy and hot⌠Marc made a low growling sound.
- Baby, - he warned, - I'm at my limit and I can barely contain myself. Don't tease me.
- Sorry, - you raised your gaze to him, biting your lip.
- Without a condom?
- Yes.
This time his first thrust was smooth and cautious. You gasped quietly, digging your fingers into his shoulders. To be honest, you felt a little discomfort after last night, but the wave of pleasure that swept through your body made you instantly forget about it.
- Babygirl, - a big calloused hand affectionately touched your cheek, - everything's all right?
- Yes, - you covered his palm with your own and tilted your head slightly, pressing your lips against it, - everything's perfect.
Marc wasn't lying - he was really holding on with all his might. Luckily, pretty soon he felt your third orgasm coming. His fingers slid between your thighs and began lightly, quickly and rhythmically circling around your swollen clit. He softly drew into his mouth the top of one of your breasts, bouncing slightly with each of his movements, and ran his tongue over the pea of your nipple.
You cum brightly and loudly, arching your back. With a muffled groan, Marc followed you the second you did, splashing hot cum deep inside you while your muscles squeezed his cock again and again, literally milking every last drop out of him.
- Y/N, - Marc called quietly. His fingertips slowly stroked your delicate skin, traveling up and down your naked back as you rested, cozily snuggled against his chest.
- Hmm? - you lifted your head, meeting his gaze.
- You said you were worried about how I'd react when I found out you were a virgin. Thought it would push me away.
You pressed your lips together and averted your eyes.
- Yes.
- I want you to know. I'm honored to be your first man. Honestly, I can't believe you'd consider me worthy of your attention...
- Marc, you're the most worthy man I've ever met.
- There's a lot about me you don't know.
- I don't know, - you agreed, - but I feel so. I feel in my heart that you're a decent man. I feel I can trust you. I trust you.
Marc pressed his warm lips against your forehead.
- I will never betray your trust. I swear.
You smiled, and then whispered:
- I want to get to know you better.
Marc swallowed. He wasn't excited about the idea of opening up to anyone. Even to you. Especially to you. The fear of being rejected reached out its cold, clawed paws toward him again, trying to get at his throat. The fear of losing what he'd barely gained.
But he absolutely wasn't going to lie to you, either. He took a deep breath.
- Where do you want to start?
While telling you about his past, Marc was trying not to go into too much detail. And you, seeing how hard it was for him, didn't push, just attentively listened to what he was ready to share with you. And he was immensely grateful to you for that. For that, and for not pointing him out the door as soon as he was done.
The next day he arranged your official date, which became the first of many.
Since the two of you started dating, Marc literally had been going out of his way to please you. In his perception of the world, which was based on a foundation of old, but never fully healed emotional wounds, unconditional love didn't exist - it had to be earned. At the same time, this circumstance was relevant only to him - he was ready to roll mountains for the sake of your only smile, for the sake of the gaze of your marvelous shining eyes, directed at him. And if someone asked him if he thought you should make the same effort for his sake, he'd assume his interlocutor was out of mind.
Certainly you were pleased with his care and attention, his a bit old-fashioned courtship; but you couldn't help but feel this tension in him, as if he couldn't fully relax around you. Your attempt to have a conversation with him about it was not a success, but soon enough you noticed that physical contact grounded him a little, and you rushed to embrace him and give him a tender kiss as soon as you felt that anxiety begin to take over him. Eventually you realized, that he would need more time to get used to the fact of your relationship, and every chance you got, you just let him know: you're here, and you're not going anywhere.
You spent together every night, and yet couldn't, just couldn't get enough of each other. And it wasn't just about sex.
You talked. For hours, you talked about everything in the world. Admittedly, you were a little surprised at first, because in the time you'd known Marc, you'd gotten the impression of him as a rather taciturn person, who, as a rule, spoke little and only to the point. Turns out he just needed a safe space to be himself. The knowledge that you were that safety for him filled your heart with warmth and an indescribable tenderness for this man. You were his safe as much as he was yours.
Also Marc loved it when you read aloud to him. His head rested on your lap, your fingers playing lazily with his curls as your quiet, soft voice enveloped him, transporting you both to the another story living in the pages of the book.
And a special pleasure for both of you, especially for your man, was sleeping in each other's arms. Next to you Marc hardly ever had nightmares. When it finally happened the first time, he gave you a good scare; and yet calming yourself and then calming him down was much easier than getting him to stop apologizing. The next night he even went to sleep in his room, after waiting for you to fall asleep, afraid that the situation would be repeated. And a couple hours later he woke up to you ducking under the covers, hugging him from behind.
The two of you were driving back home from the cinema when your phone came alive with an incoming call. Out of the corner of his eye, Marc watched your face light up with a happy smile. After thanking the caller and saying goodbye, you turned to your man, shining like the July sun.
- I got the job! - you squealed, unable to contain your excitement. Marc gave you a smile in return, genuinely happy for you.
- Congratulations, babygirl, - he reached for your hand, softly squeezed it, then brought it to his lips and placed a warm kiss on it, - that one?
- Yes! I got my dream job! - you were literally bouncing in the seat with excitement, - they took so long to give me an answer, I almost gave up hope!
- They'd be idiots not to hire you, - Marc echoed, stopping at a traffic light; taking the opportunity he gently touched your cheek, - come here.
You reached toward him for a kiss, which was all too soon rudely interrupted by the honking of the car behind you. With a giggle, you pulled away, and Marc pushed on the gas pedal.
- Drive me to dad! - you got enthusiastic again, - he's in his office today. I can't wait to tell him!
- As you wish, ms. Y/L/N.
About 10 minutes later, you were there - or rather, almost there. Marc was forced to park on the curb a block away from the business center building; to get closer was impossible because the road was blocked by police automobiles.
- Marc. What's going on here? - you uttered quietly as he turned off the engine.
- I don't know, - the man gritted through his teeth, reaching for the radio. On the fourth try, he managed to find one of the local stations that was broadcasting breaking news.
â...at this moment, the police are not making any comment regarding what is happening. We still do not know how many hostages are in the building or what demands the hostage-takers are making. We will keep you updated...â
Marc abruptly turned it off. You shouldn't have heard that.
- My dad's in there, - you breathed out. Â
- Y/N... - Marc started, when there was an insistent knocking on the side window - at your car suddenly appeared an officer. Marc rolled down the window.
- Sir, you aren't allowed to be here. You must leave immediately.
- What's going on? - your man asked the question dryly, almost rudely.
- My dad's in there, - you repeated pitifully; the way your voice sounded now made Marc even angrier. He wanted to wring this uniformed guy's neck - as if that could help.
- I'm sorry, miss, - politely, but disgustingly formal reported the policeman, - you will be contacted if necessary. But you can't stay here, it's dangerous.
Without saying a word, Marc started the motor and turned around; years of military service had undoubtedly left their mark on him - now his brain was actively analyzing the situation and calculating possible developments. He wanted to help and was pondering how he could do it. But first, he needed to get you away, to a place where youâd be safe. You had a different opinion on this matter.
- Marc, stop, - no reaction followed your words, - do you hear me? Stop!
- I won't let you stay here. It's dangerous.
- I don't care! My dad's in there! Don't you dare drive me away! Stop right now! - close to hysterics, you were literally shouting at him; large tears were already starting to roll down your cheeks one by one.
- No, - he cut off. For a moment, you froze, staring at him with eyes wide open with panic. And then the words rolled off your tongue. The words that you knew he'd probably never forgive you for.
- I'm your fucking employer, you work for me and my father, and I demand that you stop right now!
Marc felt as if he'd been slapped in the face.
He braked so sharply that the car slightly wiggled its back. For a few seconds he sat silent, still viciously clutching the steering wheel, unable to force himself to look at you. You, on the contrary, kept your eyes on him, feeling your mouth fill with bitterness - you were pretty sure you'd just ruined everything.
Finally stopping the engine, Marc unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door.
- Where are you going? - now your quiet voice sounded timid and frightened.
- Stay in the car, - the man threw, getting out of the automobile.
- Where are you going? - you repeated a little more insistently.
- I don't know, okay? - Marc snapped at you.
- I'll go with you.
- I SAID STAY IN THE FUCKING CAR! - he barked, finally glancing at you - and you could have sworn there was genuine hatred splashed in his eyes. It made you squirm, and you started crying again.
Marc headed for the trunk, remembering that there was supposed to be the bulletproof vest he'd been issued when he just got this job, which he'd never had to put on yet. He wasn't lying - he really still hadn't decided what he was going to do. The only thing he knew was that there were people in trouble. Mr. Y/L/N was in trouble. Fastening his vest as he walked, he strode toward the business center building.
Of course, there was no way the police would have allowed a civilian to intervene - it would have been foolish to think otherwise. But after a couple of minutes, it didn't matter anymore.
As Marc came closer, he saw four masked men, hung with weapons, with their arms raised, one after the othercoming out onto the porch. ÂŤThey're surrendering, - flashed through his mind, - it seems to be overÂť.
The next second, the police automobiles blocking the road were rammed at full speed by a gray armored van that appeared literally out of nowhere. Gunfire erupted. In the ensuing chaos, the masked four still managed to escape into the depths of the van that had picked them up; with a deafening screech of tires, it tore forward.
Marc turned around. Of course you didn't obey him, and now were standing a few feet away from your car, frozen like a small, frightened beast. ÂŤFuck!Âť - the man exhaled, rushing toward you.
He pinned you to the vehicle and covered you with his body, wrapping his arms around your head.
Behind his back several police cars raced after the van with sirens blaring; the criminals kept shooting back, trying to get away from the pursuit. After a couple of minutes, things quieted down.
The danger had apparently passed, but Marc still wouldn't let you out of his grip. In fact, he didn't move at all, just strangely, heavily breathed.
- Marc... - you mumbled into his shoulder, making attempts to free yourself. Finally, you succeeded. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the trembling and pounding of your heart, and looked around. All you could think about was your father, who obviously still was somewhere in the building. Turning to Marc, you opened your mouth to say something, but the next second the words were literally vaporized from your head.Â
The man was still standing, awkwardly leaning against the car body. His posture was stiff, unnatural, and now you saw the reason for it - the dark stain spreading across his shirt, on his side, just between the sections of his bulletproof vest.
- No, - you breathed out, rushing to him, - no, no, no...
When you touched his shoulders, he finally moved and slightly turned his head; he had the gaze of a hunted, trapped wild animal - frightened and embittered, begging for mercy.
- Marc, - you sobbed, - oh, God, no. Honey, come on, just like this, lean on me...
You helped him gently to lower himself to the ground. As he passed out, he could hear you calling for help.
The steady, slightly annoying beeping of the devices was the first thing Marc's awakening from anesthesia brain picked up. He opened his eyes.
You were sitting next to his hospital bed, with your head resting on your own arms folded on the edge of the mattress, and seemed to be dozing. Even in your sleep, your palm was gently squeezing his, big and rough. With the pad of his thumb, the man gently stroked your soft, warm skin. Your eyelids fluttered. You blinked away the remnants of sleep and, seeing that Marc was awake, jumped to your feet so sharply that nearly knocked over the chair behind you and ran out into the hallway.
- Nurse! - you shouted, feeling a shiver run through your whole body, - nurse! He's awake!
As the short, chubby woman checked his vitals, you nervously stomped in place, keeping your eyes on Marc. He was staring at you too, absent-mindedly answering the nurse's questions, who, finished, nodded in satisfaction:
- It's all right. The doctor will be in to see you a little later.
- Thank you, - you squeezed out a tired smile.
When you two were left alone, you sank back onto the chair and, taking the man's hand in yours, pressed a kiss to the back of his palm.
- Hello, - you whispered quietly.
- Hello, princess, - hoarsely echoed Marc. You felt tears come to your eyes.
- The doctor said you would make a full recovery. You had a lot of damage to your internal organs, but they operated on you and... - you couldn't take it anymore and burst into tears. Marc's heart clenched.
- Hey... - he tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in his stomach made him realize it was a bad idea, - don't cry, please.
- I was so scared, - you sobbed. The man's hand touched your cheek, gently wiping the tears from your skin.
- I know, - his memory slowly recalled the events leading up to the injury; suddenly he frowned, - but where's your dad? Is he okay?
You nodded vigorously.
- He's fine. He came by to check on you a couple hours ago.
- How long have I been here?
- Three days, - Marc couldn't help but notice that you were still wearing the same clothes, and that distinct circles were darkening under your eyes.
- And how long have you been here? - you lowered your gaze.
- Three days.
- Shit. You shouldn't have to...
You looked up at him, tears rolling down your cheeks again.
- Forgive me, - you breathed out convulsively, - please forgive me for everything.
Marc's mind seemed shaky and foggy now, but he remembered what you'd said to him that day in the car very well. He gritted his teeth and swallowed.
- Don't. It's all right, - his words sounded colder than he would have liked. Of course you noticed that.
- No, it's not, - you looked absolutely miserable, - you're here because of me.
- I did what I had to do.
- I understand that you were doing your job, butâŚ
Those words were the last straw, and Marc exploded.
- My job? Yeah, that's what it's all about! I just work for you and your father. Obviously, there's nothing else tying us together! - he tried to get up again, but the pain that pierced his body made him grimace and collapse back against the pillows, - look, if you don't see or don't want to see the obvious, if you don't realize that I would have taken bullets for you anyway, then...
Moving forward, you pressed your lips to his, making him silent. And then, pulling back a little, you whispered:
- I love you.
Marc looked confused.
- What?
- You heard what I said.
- You're saying this only because you feel guilty? - the man's voice sounded distrustful.
- I'm saying this because it's true, - you felt your cheeks and the tips of your ears burn with embarrassment. It was the first time either of you had ever said the L-word.
Marc scrutinized your face, as if trying to find a catch - and he didn't.
His big palm slid to your nape, and he pulled you in for another kiss, but quickly broke it himself.
- Shit, I've been lying here for three days - I need to brush my teeth.
- I don't care, - you purred, kissing him again.
- Come here. Lie down with me.
You shook your head.
- No. I'll hurt you.
- I don't give a damn. You're worth it.
You carefully settled down next to him on the bed, resting your head on his shoulder, avoiding touching his stomach.
- I have to start my work, - you spoke again after a short silence, - I wanted to stay with you at least until you woke up, and they agreed to wait, but they want to see me in the office as soon as possible.
Marc nodded and swallowed.
- That's good, isn't it, - he was already guessing what would follow those words.
- Yeah, - you sighed, - I'll visit you as often as I can. And when you get better... Well, I was thinking that you could, uh... move in there with me? If that's what you want , of course.
- Wait, you⌠You want me to move in there with you?
Lifting up on your elbow, you looked into his eyes, frowning slightly.
- Of course I do. But... If you don't want to, if you have a reason to stay here, I understand.
- I don't have any reason. It's just⌠I guess part of me was preparing for the fact that you moving out would mean the end of our relationship.
- I just confessed my love to you, and you thought I was going to break up with you?! - your surprise was bordering on outrage. Partly also because he didn't answer you back.
- Sort of...? - Marc shrugged. Pulling you to him, he forced you to rest your head on his shoulder again, - when I get discharged from here, I'll quit.
- Đh...
- I'll talk to your father. And if he doesn't kill me, I'll go with you wherever you want to.
- Well, uh... Dad kind of already knows about us.
- Are you kidding?
- He was with me during your surgery trying to comfort me, and I told him everything.
- And how did he take it?
- Well, he wasn't thrilled, but he wasn't surprised either. I think he guessed.
- I'm gonna talk to him myself anyway. And I... I want you to know that I've got enough in savings to provide for both of us at first, and when we get settled in, I'll figure something out.
- Marc, - you shook your head reproachfully, - that's something I don't think about at all.
- But I think about it a lot. I'll do anything to take care of you.
- You're already doing that. You literally almost died saving my damn life.
- And I'll do it again if necessary, - he tiredly ran his palm over his face, - and now, if you don't mind, I'm going to take a nap. I don't know what they're drugging me with, but I'm literally knocked out.
You reached up to his lips and kissed him again.
- Sure. Get some rest. I'll be here when you wake up.
Marc nuzzled his nose into the top of your head and closed his eyes.
Synopsis: after a friendship afflicted by mutual pinning, you make an unsuccessful attempt to become more
Masterlist
Staying friends is safe.
But he made it so hard.
It was the first nice weekend in New York, so your friend group was taking advantage and heading to a lake. MJ drove while you, Peter, and Ned crammed in the backseat of her car. Your knees were touching Peterâs from how full the backseat was, but you liked it that way. The passenger seat was full of towels, a cooler, and various recreational activities for your day at the lake. You stared at the way the wind from the open window lifted Peterâs hair off his face and felt an ache in your chest. Staying friends was safe. But did that mean you should?
âWhat were you thinking about?â You asked when Peter turned from the window to look at you.
âSeeing you in your bathing suit.â He signed back in response before pulling his shirt back and forth to fan himself, his way of saying you looked hot. You smacked his arm but couldnât hide the smile that put on your face.
âItâs the red one.â You informed him, making his face turn a color nearly identical to the suit in question.
âI remember that one from Spring Break last year. I donât stand a chance.â He signed back. You shared a smile with him before making eye contact with MJ in the mirror. Sheâd been watching the whole exchange in a rear view mirror with a knowing smirk.
âWhat?â You asked her, but you already knew what she was thinking.
âNothing.â She shrugged. âI just think you guys are cute.â
âI second that.â Ned chimed in from your left side. You looked over at him for butting in, and he stopped mid chew of his gummy bears to stare back at you.
âBoth of you be quiet. You know how well Peter can read lips.â You said out of the corner of your mouth.
âHeâs not looking.â MJ replied after checking on Peter in the rearview mirror. He was back to looking out the window and letting the sun warm his face.
âStill. I donât like taking about him as if heâs not right here.â You reminded them.
âOkay. Youâre right. Weâll stop.â Ned said and held up his hands in defense. He held his gummy bears out to you as a peace offering, and you took a few while narrowing your eyes at him. The car was silent for a moment, aside from the quiet music MJ was playing from her phone.
âBut you should probably just date him, right?â Ned said to break the silence. You threw a gummy bear at his head in response, catching Peterâs attention.
âWhat are you guy talking about?â He signed to you and Ned.
âHow MJ and I want you two to date.â Ned said out loud while signing. He then pointed to you and Peter so there was zero confusion about what he was talking about.
âWere you really?â Peter signed to Ned in your peripheral vision.
âNo. Heâs joking.â You signed to Peter before turning back to Ned to throw two more gummy bears at his head.
Ned pelted one back, and soon a full on war started in MJâs backseat. Peter pulled you closer to him and wrapped an arm around you to swat the bears away from your face. You laughed and leaned closer to Peter to get away from the flying bears, all while very much aware of how good it felt to be close to Peter.
As soon as MJ parked at the dock of the lake, you were out of the car to stretch your legs. Peter scooped up your things, despite your protests, and carried them to the lake. Ned dropped his stuff on the sand and ran straight to the water, with MJ and a boogie board right behind him. You and Peter hung back to set up your umbrella and towels, sneaking glances at each other in your bathing suits the entire time you did.
âCan you rub this on my back? Canât reach.â Peter signed to you before handing you a bottle of sunscreen. Your eyes dropped to the bottle and a loud gulp escaped your throat. He had that cocky look in his eye he had from time to time when he knew he was being cute.
âThat depends. Can you ignore how turned on Iâll be while I do it?â You signed back, making sure your face conveyed the teasing manner of your response.
âWhy would I ignore that?â Peter teased back before turning his back to you.
You began to rub the lotion into his skin, which was already warmed from the blazing sun. The quiet intimacy of touching his skin in this way gave you a rush of emotions. Part of you yearned to turn him around and tell him that you longed to be more than friends, but the other part of you was grateful to have him in your life the way things were. Unbeknownst to you, Peterâs face was flushed from having your hands on him. A lack of communications and a mutual desire to preserve your friendship led to you and Peter never admitting your feelings to one another. You finished applying sunscreen to Peterâs back, taking a little longer than needed.
âIf I get a sunburn, youâre getting sued.â Peter signed to you once he turned around. You rolled your eyes at him and started applying sunscreen to his chest. He could do it himself, and you both knew that. And yet, neither of you did anything to change what was happening.
âIâve seen you get a sunburn inside. You have no grounds to sue me.â You signed to him after setting the sunscreen bottle down in the sand.
âMaybe Iâll get a tan this time.â He signed back and gave a sarcastic shrug.
âThatâs a sight Iâd like to see.â You answered with the smile.
âThen put your towel next to mine.â Peter signed with his signature flirty smile. You smiled back and flung your towel out to lay next to where Peter had put his.
âWhere else would I put it?â You signed before laying down on the towel.
You laid on your front and Peter on his back, heads turned respectively so you could look at each other. You played a few games of tic tac toe in the sand and beat Peter each time. He focused more on blocking you than getting three in a row, so he always lost. After a few games, you both laid back on your towels to get warmed by the sun. Like a perfect movie cliche, you played a game of eye tag and snuck glances at the other, but only when the other wasnât looking. On your fourth stolen glance at Peter, you noticed a couple waking up to you.
âExcuse us?â One of the girls asked. âWould you mind taking our picture?â
âOh, of course.â You said and sat up to take the phone that the other girl was holding out. You snapped away and gave them a variety of camera angles and orientations before giving the phone back.
âThank you so much.â The girl said. âDo you and your boyfriend want a picture?â
You smiled at her mistaking you two for a couple and gently tapped Peter to get his attention. He opened his eyes and sat up on his towel.
âWant a picture?â You asked Peter. He nodded his head and moved over to your towel. You handed the girls your phone while Peter wrapped on arm around your shoulders. You smiled and leaned into him while wrapping two arms around his waist. The girls snapped a few pictures before handing your phone back.
âYou guys are a sweet couple.â One of them said, making you smile once again.
âSo are you two.â You returned the compliment instead of correcting them. They waved goodbye to you and Peter, unaware of how happy their mistake made you.
âWhatâs funny?â Peter asked once they were gone.
âThose girls thought you were my boyfriend.â You signed to Peter before pretending to throw up. His jaw playfully dropped and he gave you a gentle shove.
âIf I was your boyfriend, you would have let me win at least one game. Out of your love for me.â Peter signed back before pointing to one of your games of tic tac toe.
âAnd yet, I love you despite how bad you are at games meant for children.â You replied. Peter rolled his eyes at you and looked towards the water before you could catch his blush.
âIâm going in the water. Are you coming?â He signed to you before standing up.
âI donât know. It looks cold.â
âIt does. Letâs find out if it is.â He signed and then promptly scooped you up from your towel. You tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he was too strong. He carried you to the edge of the water and gently dropped you on the sand before running in. He motioned for you to follow him as the frigid lake water lapped over your feet.
As cold as the water was, Peter looked too good not to join him. And so, you gingerly stepped into the water and made your way to him until you were both waist deep. Peter wasted no time in grabbing you by the waist and pulling you deeper into the water. You laughed and splashed him until he let go of you. Ned and MJ werenât far from you, but neither of you felt inclined to leave the little bubble youâd created. You intertwined both your hands and faced each other in an attempt to overpower the other. Peter ultimately won and you fell backwards into the water, making sure to take him with you. He collided into you and you both went under, feeling his hands on your skin the whole way down. When you came up for air, you rested your hands on his shoulders to catch your breath.
âAre you cold?â He asked you as his teeth chattered.
âNot at all.â You signed back and then promptly put your hands back on his shoulders. You were too busy admiring the way droplets of water clung to his eyelashes to feel the chill of the lake.
âMe either.â He signed, but you knew from his face that he was joking. You smiled at him and stayed in comfortable silence for a moment, just enjoying each otherâs company under the beating sun.
âIâm excited for this summer. Thereâs a lot I want to do together.â He signed to you, making your heart skip a beat.
âTogether?â You signed with a smile.
âYeah. I like seeing you in the sunshine.â
âI like seeing you in all kinds of lighting. I think I just like seeing you.â You responded with a soft smile. To your relief, Peter returned the smile, giving you hope that maybe he felt the same.
âI like seeing you too.â He signed back, making your hope grow just a little more. He was so close to you now and the rest of the world was miles away. You gulped and tightened your grip on his shoulders, wondering if you were finally going to ruin the friendship and be something more. Peterâs face suddenly changed as if he remembered something he didnât want to. He gulped and backed up a little, causing your arms to limply fall off of him.
âIâm getting cold. Iâm gonna dry off.â He signed and quickly swam back to the shore. You watched him in confusion, wondering what went through his mind that made him pull away. You shrugged it off and went to going MJ and Ned, but the sight of his face falling stayed in the back of your mind.
A few hours later, you and your friends were at an outdoor bar populated by the other college students with the same idea to escape the city. You were sat next to Peter as Ned tried to convince the DJ to play Katseye and MJ danced with a local girl. You drummed the beat of the song playing on Peterâs arm while you both surveyed the crowd. No matter the setting, you both had more fun when it was just the two of you.
âCan I try a sip?â Peter asked you after watching you take a sip of your drink. You handed it over to him and laughed when he gagged after one small sip.
âWhat is that?â
âI donât know. But I think it would take my nail color off if I dipped my finger in it.â You signed in response. Peter took your hand to examine your nails before ultimately shaking his head.
âDonât try it. Your nails look too pretty to be floating on top of that battery acid.â He signed once he let go of your hand. You narrowed your eyes at him as you wracked your brain for the meaning of one of the things he signed. You sighed âagainâ and shook your head to let him know you didnât understand. Peter finger spelled âbattery acidâ out for you and you laughed when you realized what he had said.
âThank you for teaching me.â You signed to him.
âThank you for always wanting to learn.â He signed back and then squeezed your shoulder affectionately. You had another one of those moments where you stared at each other with dopey smiles, only interrupted by a waitress coming over to your table.
âCan I get either of you anything?â She asked while looking at both of you. You asked Peter if he wanted anything to drink and he nodded.
âCould I please have a diet Coke with a lemon in it?â Peter ordered and you translated it for the waitress.
âIs a lime okay?â The waitress asked you. Once you asked Peter the same question, he nodded and smiled at the waitress. But much to your irritation, the waitress was no longer looking at him now that she realized he was Deaf.
âCan you ask him if he wants any alcohol in the coke?â She asked you.
âYou can ask him. I know Iâm the one interpreting, but you should look at him if you have a question for him. You know, since heâs the one youâre talking to.â You said in as polite a tone you could muster. The waitress gave you a fake polite smile and repeated her question to Peter. You signed after she spoke and he shook his head no in response. He had a half smile on his face because even though your back was to him, he knew exactly what you had said to the waitress. When she walked away, he gave you a knowing look. You pretended not to know what he was talking about.
âYou totally told her off.â He signed with a teasing smile.
âNo, I politely corrected her. Just because you canât hear her doesnât mean she canât look at you.â You signed with a prolonged roll of your eyes.
âAt least she didnât shout at me and think it would magically make me hearing.â Peter replied, making you laugh. That was something youâd witnessed people do more times than you thought possible. You gave Peterâs leg a pat and stood up from the table.
âWhere are you going?â
âTo pay our tab. When I start to think about the scene in the beginning of Titanic when they show a dog boarding the ship and I get emotional about how he probably died, I know Iâve hit my drink limit.â You told him. Peter reached for his wallet and tried to hand you money to cover his portion of drinks.
âPut that away. Iâm buying.â
âNo way. Pretty girls are not supposed to buy drink. Pretty girls should have drinks bought for them.â He signed to you, making you smile at the indirect compliment.
âThen what do the pretty boys get?â You questioned.
âFlustered when the pretty girls compliment them.â He responded with a pink blush now present on his face.
âStay here.â You instructed and left for the bar. As you waited for a bar tender to come over so you could settle your bill, a guy in Bermuda shorts and a tiny tank top approached you.
âHey.â He said, and you politely returned the greeting.
âCan I ask you a question?â He asked, making you frown a little at the thought of what he could possibly ask.
âUm, sure.â
âDid I get a sunburn?â He asked before turning around. Sure enough, the manâs back looked like a red Starburst.
âOh. Oh wow.â You said through a laugh. âThat is pink.â
âIâll take that as a yes.â He sighed. âMy back feels like TV static.â
âWell it looks like you just escaped the air fryer. Did you wear sunscreen at all?â
âYes. Everywhere on myself that I could reach.â He said and held out his unburned arms.
âLooks like youâre gonna be sleeping on your front for the next few weeks.â You clicked your tongue.
âDamn it. At least Iâll have a really tan back afterwards. Girls like that, right?â He asked, making you laugh.
âMaybe some of them do.â You shrugged and turned back to the bar.
âLet me buy you a drink.â The guy said, the very words you were hoping not to hear. He seemed nice enough, but you were too enamored with Peter to entertain anyone else.
âThank you, but Iâm okay.â
âThatâs cool. Self-sufficient. Could I trouble you for a dance then?â
âMaybe later. Iâm with my friends right now.â You answered and nodded in the direction of your table. You could see that MJ and Ned had returned to the table and were all staring at you. You gave them a little wave, and Peter was the only one that didnât wave back.
âThatâs okay. If you change your mind, my sunburn and I would love to have a dance.â He replied and then left you alone. You paid your tab after that and headed back to your table.
âThank you for the drink.â Peter signed and then held up the Diet Coke with lime the waitress had brought him.
âI only paid because Iâm trying to take you home.â You signed in response.
âItâs working.â He replied, and you pretended to fan yourself.
âWhat did that guy want?â Ned asked you and pointed his thumb back towards the bar. You stole a glance at Peter, but he had an unreadable expression on his face.
âHe asked me to dance. But I said I wasnât interested.â
âWhy not?â MJ asked you. âHeâs cute and heâs been looking at you all night.â
âI hadnât noticed.â You answered, which was the truth. Youâd been too busy hanging out with Peter to notice the guy.
âIf MJ thinks heâs cute, then you know itâs true.â Ned snorted. âOnly the finest men can penetrate her lesbian field of vision. She doesnât even register men are around half the time.â
âThatâs true. I didnât know Ned was here until five minutes ago.â MJ shrugged.
âNot a good enough reason to use the word penetrate.â You said while shaking your head.
âI think you should go for it. Go dance with the penetrative lake guy.â Ned told you.
âBut Iâm here with you all.â You insisted. You all signed as you spoke so Peter was included in the conversation, but he didnât choose to participate until he signed, âI think you should go for it.â
You blinked a few times in surprise while Ned and MJ made faces behind Peterâs back. You were stunned and a little hurt that he would suggest you dance with another guy.
âYou do?â You signed with a forced smile.
âWhy wouldnât you?â He questioned. âHeâs interested in you and you donât have a boyfriend. You should go for it.â
You knew you had to get out of there before you made it obvious how upset you were by his encouragement. You had too many drink to keep your subtly, and Ned and MJ were looking at you like the could read your mind.
âOkay. I guess I have no reason not to dance with him. Iâll go.â You signed and promptly stood up. You left quickly and went right up to the sunburned guy, whose name you soon learned was Eddie.
Eddie brought you to the dance floor right as the DJ decided to play a slow song. You wrapped your arms around Eddieâs neck, careful not to touch his burnt skin, but left enough room for Jesus between you. As you danced with him, all you could think about was your interactions with Peter from the day. You had tried to brush off his sudden departure from the water earlier, but now he was actively encouraging you to dance with other guys. It just didnât make any sense to you. Over Eddieâs shoulder, you caught a glimpse of Peter at the table. His eyes are locked in on you, which only made you more confused. You quickly looked away and did your best to focus on the guy you were dancing with.
âWhy did you tell her to go over there?â Ned signed to Peter back at the table.
âShe can do whatever she wants. Itâs not like weâre together.â Peter signed back with a pout on his face.
âArenât you, though?â MJ asked him, making Peter look away. He looked back at you and Eddie, and his heart nearly shattered when he saw that you were laughing. Ned and MJ could see the look on Peterâs face and exchanged a sympathetic look.
âShe didnât want to go dance with him.â Ned reminded him.
âThen why is she?â Peter signed with the angriest expression his friends had ever seen on his face.
Back on the dance floor, previously friendly Eddie was getting ahead of himself. He leaned in for a kiss right when you least expected it, but you were too quick. You pulled away with expert timing, but not fast enough to go unnoticed by your friends. You shot a panicked glance at their table, just in time to see Peter leaving the bar area. You looked at your friends curiously, but they just gave you unhelpful shrugs.
âExcuse me.â You said to Eddie and made a quick escape. You headed in the same direction you saw Peter leave in but didnât see him anywhere. After a few minutes of searching along the shore of the lake, you found him sitting on a hill of sand. He didnât look up at you when you sat down beside him, but you knew he knew you were there.
âI was looking for you.â You signed to him, but his distant expression stayed the same.
âHere I am.â He unenthusiastically signed back.
âWhy did you leave the party?â
âToo loud.â He signed with a sarcastic but weak smile on his face. You gave him a tight smile in return before turning to watch the moonlight dance in the lake. You decided to leave him talk to you when he was ready. After a few minutes, he turned to face you with a sadness is his brown eyes.
âDid you kiss that guy?â He asked you.
âNo way. I pulled my head away so fast that I think I pulled a muscle.â You responded, making an involuntary smile tug at Peterâs lips.
âWhy didnât you let him kiss you?â
âBecause I didnât want him to kiss me. I didnât even want to dance with him.â
âThen why did you?â
âYou didnât give me a reason not to.â You signed back as you stared at him with furrowed eyebrows. In the heat of your conversation, you hadnât realized how close you and Peter were to each other. His eyes dropped to your lips just long enough for you to notice. All his weird behavior from the day could be excused if he finally crossed the line and took your relationship beyond a friendship.
âDid you want a reason?â He asked you before resting his hand on your knee. You looked down at his hand and then up in his eyes. If he wasnât going to cross the line, you were. You finally made the move youâd been waiting to make and leaned in to kiss him. But just like youâd done to Eddie, Peter pulled away.
Peter looked horrified at his own behavior while you just looked stunned. You were almost positive you saw the moonlight reflecting off tears that had welled in his eyes, but you didnât point them out.
âIâm so sorry.â He signed to you, and then ran away.
It was awkward on the car ride home. MJ hadnât been drinking and no one wanted to stay in a hotel room, so you made the two hour drive home. You kept your head straight the entire way, never once looking at Peter.
It was awkward at school too. Peter had decided to take the route of pretending nothing ever happened between you. He seemed perfectly content to operate as if the day at the lake was just that and nothing heartbreaking or life altering had taken place. You didnât dare tell Ned or MJ what transpired on that little hill of sand, but they could sense there was an iciness between the two of you. On top of pretending nothing ever happened, you and Peter were the most distant you had ever been. You felt like strangers more than ever before and it was killing you slowly. What killed you most of all was how okay he seemed to be with it. After a week of dancing around each other, you reached your limit. When you passed him in the hallway at school, you grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him into the nearest supply closet.
âWhat is wrong with you?â He signed with tight knit eyebrows. âThat was a hate crime.â
âAre we seriously going to pretend like nothing happened?â You furiously signed back.
âWhat do you mean?â
You stated at him in bewilderment and he instantly looked guilty. He knew his behavior was wrong. Heâd known it since he left you in the water at the lake. Standing in front of you now, neither you could ignore the question that was begging to be answered. What would happen if you were more?
âI think we should just be friends.â Peter signed without meeting your eyes. It sent a wave of mixed emotions through your body. Part of you was relieved to finally know how he felt, but the other part of you was flatlining. You both stayed quiet for a minute and looked at anything but each other.
âThis whole time, I was worried if I finally went for it and kissed you, it would ruin our friendship. Now itâs ruined anyway, and we never even kissed.â You signed as you looked up to try and beg the tears in your eyes not to fall. Now that all these things were coming out, you could never put them back in.
âI know. Iâve been worried about ruining what we have too. But I shouldâve kissed you anyway.â He signed, piquing your interest. Your eyebrows knit together as you stared at him. Once again, he was being as clear as a jar of ink.
âWhy would you kiss me if you donât feel the same?â
âI do feel the same. I think I fell for you the day we met.â He confessed. A second wave of mixed emotions washed over you. You were so confused by the discrepancy in Peterâs words and actions, but he had finally told you how he felt about you. It was a start.
âBut you just said we should just be friends.â
âI do think we just be friends. But thatâs never been what I wanted.â He answered. You gave him a look that told him you had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.
âStaying friends is safe.â He signed, making you a little fearful that he could read your mind. Youâd thought the same thing yourself many times.
âWhat does that mean?â You asked him. Peter pulled his bottom lip between his teeth before letting out a deep sigh. He looked widely uncomfortable, so much so that you nearly stopped him and told him to forget the whole thing. But youâd already gotten this far and did not want to turn back now.
âDo you remember when I told you about my ex girlfriend from high school?â He asked, making your stomach do a flip. You remembered a brief mention of her, but you were never given many details.
âI never told you why we broke up.â He continued.
âWhat does this have to do with us?â
âIt will make sense. Let me explain. Please?â He requested, so you nodded your head.
âWhen we were together, my ex invited me to dinner with her family to celebrate her birthday. It was my first time meeting her family and I could tell she was getting very irritated that she kept having to translate. She eventually stopped. She just turned her body from me and pretended I wasnât there. Most of her family did the same.â
It was hard to keep a straight face as Peter relayed this to you. You wanted to cry for him. The thought of him sitting alone at a table full of people with no one making an effort to include him, not even his own girlfriend, made you sick.
âI hate her already.â You signed. âBut go on.â
âAt one point, I started to tell a story to her family. She asked me to slow down so she could keep up and translate. And then asked me again. And then again. Then she slammed her hands on the table and yelled at me.â
âWhat did she say?â
âI have no idea. I wasnât that good at reading lips yet.â Peter signed with a sad smile. You could tell he was reliving the memory of that night, so you put a hand on his cheek to comfort him. He leaned into your hand and wrapped his fingers around your wrist. He wasnât crying, but looked very close to it.
âYou never told me this before.â You signed to him.
âItâs hard for me to talk about.â He answered, but you could see that without him needing to tell you.
âI appreciate you telling me now. Are you okay telling me happened next?â
âShe realized the whole restaurant was staring at her since she yelled, so she ran out. When I went after her, she told me she didnât want to be a translator for the rest of her life. She said it would be too hard to stay together because we were too different. Then she said some other things, but I couldnât read her lips and she stopped signing. I guess Iâll never know. I did understand when she told me to leave the restaurant. We have not spoken since.â
You both sat with his confession for a long time. Finally, you pulled him into an even longer hug. He held you tightly and nestled into your shoulder. You held him as long as he needed it.
âIâm not telling you this to excuse my behavior towards you for the last week. There is no excuse for that. I am truly very sorry.â Peter signed to you once he let go. You waved your hand to show him that that was in the past now. Even though it didnât justify his behavior, you had a deeper understanding of him that helped you understand his hesitation to enter another relationship.
âThere are words I want to say right now that I donât know the signs for. And they are really bad words.â You told him, making him laugh softly.
âI can guess.â
âDo you want me to kill her?â You asked him, and he pretended to consider it.
âNo. Thatâs okay. I have forgiven her. Just not to her face.â
âHow can you forgive her? She was horrible to you. That story just kept getting worse.â
âShe should have done a lot of things very differently. But I can understand feeling frustrated by not being able to communicate with your partner. We were too different. So I forgive her.â
âYou can forgive her, but Iâm hunting her down and jumping her as soon as we leave this closet.â You informed him. He halfheartedly laughed but there was still a sadness in his eyes.
âI feel horrible for how Iâve been treating you. You must be so confused. I meant it when I said I fell for you the day we met. And I have always wanted more with you. I was just so afraid that if we dated, I would make you feel the same way she did. And now, I have.â
âIâm not her. I know we are different. That does not matter to me.â
âBut what if one day it does?â He asked. âWhat if you get tired of having to translate everything for me the rest of your life?â
âWhat if a meteor hits the earth right now? What if I discover Iâm a secret genius and invent a nasal spray that actually works and doesnât just make you cough? What if I kill your ex and make it look like an accident? Where you did you say she lived?â
âI am being serious.â He insisted. âI care about you too much to hurt you.â
âThe only time you have hurt me is when you dodged my kiss. Because it was going to be a really good one.â You signed with a slight teasing smile on your lips to lighten the mood. It was enough to break through Peterâs melancholy and smile back, even if it was just a little.
âI bet it was.â He signed back with his eyes on your lips. You were feeling highly inclined to forgive Peter for his behavior and took a step closer to him.
âYouâll never know.â You signed with a look on your face that said âyour loss.â
âI want to know. But I donât want to subject you to a life of not understanding each other every time.â
âDoes any couple understand each other every time?â You asked him. This seemed to stump Peter and you felt proud for asking such a thought provoking question. Since you could tell you had the upper hand, you decided to double down.
âEven when I donât understand you, I understand you. Even when you donât understand me, you understand me. And if we have moments where we donât understand each other, that would make us no different from any other couple.â You continued. Peterâs face showed that he was thoughtfully considering what you were saying. You knew he knew you were right, but you wanted to see if he was going to do anything about it.
âBut maybe youâre right. Maybe staying friends is safe.â You signed and then reached for the door. You were quickly pulled back by your waist, which Peter had wrapped one arm around. He used the other arm to press the door shut behind you, pressing you up against it in the process.
âThat doesnât mean we should.â He signed before finally and officially ruining your friendship with a long-awaited kiss.
Iâd like to request a Peter fic where the reader is an intern in SI and theyâre in a relationship but they keep it a secret because they don't want anyone to tease them about it. One day, Tony accidentally find them hanging out in queens and make it a mission to find out the reason of it.
Summary â Tony catching you and Peter out on a date.
Gif not mine
The rule was simple.
No one finds out.
Not Tony Stark, not the other interns, not even the AI that probably already knew and just hadnât said anything yet.
Your relationship with Peter Parker existed in stolen momentsâquiet smiles in hallways, brushing hands when no one was looking, late-night texts that turned into calls that turned into âI miss you, come over.â
You worked at Stark Industries as an intern. Peter was⌠well, Peter. The other intern. The one Tony had taken a very obvious liking to because well ahem Spider-man.
Which also meant: danger.
Because Tony Stark noticing anything was basically the beginning of the end.
---
âDonât look at me like that,â you whispered, not even turning your head as you stood beside Peter in the lab.
âIâm not doing anything,â Peter muttered back, eyes glued to the tablet in his hands.
âYouâre literally smiling.â
âI am notââ
âYouâre doing the soft smile.â
âI have multiple smiles!â
âYeah, and that one is reserved for me.â
Peter choked on air. Actually choked. You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing.
From across the lab, Tony looked up.
Suspicious. Very suspicious.
-----
Queens was supposed to be safe.
That was the whole point.
No labs. No interns whispering. No Tony Stark lurking around with that knowing smirk.
Just you and Peter walking down a slightly crowded street, plastic cups of iced coffee in hand, fingers brushing every few seconds like you physically couldnât help it.
âThis is nice,â you said, glancing at him.
Peter smiled, soft and a little shy. âYeah?â
âYeah. No pretending.â
âNo pretending,â he echoed.
And just like that, his pinky hooked around yours. It made your chest warm.
---
You ended up sitting on a beach near a corner store, drinking iced coffee and sharing fries.
Peter had his arm slung behind you, not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the warmth.
âYou kept staring at me in the lab today,â he said.
âYou dropped a screwdriver twice,â you shot back.
âIt slipped!â
âYou were too nervous.â
âI was notââ
âYou were blushing, Peter.â
âThat is slander.â
You laughed, leaning into him slightly. âYouâre cute when youâre flustered.â
He groaned, dropping his head back. âYouâre evil.â
âAnd you love me.â
ââŚYeah,â he admitted quietly. âI really do.â
That wiped the teasing smile right off your face.
He did that sometimesâjust said things so simply, like it wasnât a big deal, even though it was.
You softened, nudging his shoulder. âCome here.â
He turned just enough for you to close the gap, your hand sliding into his hoodie as you kissed him.
Slow. Gentle.
Just⌠yours.
---
âWow.â
You froze.
Peter froze.
You both turned at the exact same speed like your lives depended on it.
And there, just a by the roadâ
Standing next to a very expensive car that absolutely did not belong in Queensâ
Was Tony Stark. Sunglasses on. Coffee in hand. Watching you like this was the greatest entertainment heâd had all week.
ââŚNo,â Peter whispered.
ââŚNo,â you echoed.
Tony lowered his sunglasses slowly.
âOh, itâs a yes,â he said, all smug.
Peter immediately stood up. âMr. Starkâwhat are you doing here?!â
Tony gestured vaguely. âDriving. Existing. Accidentally discovering that my two interns are apparently in a secret rom-com.â
You covered your face. âOh my God.â
Peter looked like he might actually pass out.
âYouâhow long have you been standing there?â He asked.
Tony checked his watch dramatically. âLong enough to see the hand thing, the fry sharing, andâoh yeahâthe kiss.â
Peter made a sound that wasnât human.
Tony casually walked over to you guys. Of course he did. Because peace was never an option.
âRelax,â he said, stopping in front of you. âIf I wanted to ruin your lives, Iâd have taken pictures.â
âYou didnât, right?â You asked quickly.
Tony smirked.
ââŚYou did,â you realized.
âFor research purposes.â
âDelete them!â
âConvince me.â
Peter looked like he was about to cry.
âWait,â Tony said suddenly, looking between you. âSo this is why you two act like weird magnets in the lab.â
âWe do notââ Peter started.
âYou do,â Tony cut in. âItâs subtle, but not that subtle.â
You groaned. âWe tried to keep it lowkey.â
âYou failed.â
âClearly,â Peter muttered.
Tony studied you both for a second.
Then unexpectedly he softened just a little.
âHuh,â he said. âDidnât think you had game, kid.â
Peter blinked. âWhat?â
âGood choice,â Tony added, nodding at you.
You raised a brow. âI feel judged.â
âYou are,â Tony said. âBut in a supportive way.â
Peter sighed. âYouâre not gonna tell everyone⌠right?â
Tony scoffed. âPlease. I live for secrets.â
ââŚThat doesnât sound reassuring.â
âItâs not meant to be.â
You and Peter exchanged a look.
Yeah. You were doomed.
Tony started backing toward his car.
âBut just so weâre clear,â he added, pointing at both of you, âthis is now my favorite thing.â
âNo,â Peter said immediately.
âOh yes,â Tony grinned. âIâm invested. I want updates. Weekly minimum.â
âThatâs not happening,â you said.
âWeâll see.â
He got into his car like he hadnât just completely derailed your entire secret relationship.
The engine started.
Thenâ
âOh, and Parker?â Tony called out through the window.
Peter looked exhausted already. âYeah?â
Tony smirked.
âNext timeâpick a less obvious date spot.â
And then he drove off.
Silence.
You looked at Peter.
Peter looked at you.
ââŚWeâre never hearing the end of this,â he said.
I like your fics, and I really enjoy the way you write â¤ď¸ I have a request if youâre willing.
I have this little thought of Peter Parkerâs girlfriend coming back to her and Peterâs shared apartment expecting him to be on patrol but for whatever reason heâs not and she bursts through the door, head phones on singing her favorite song really really well. Maybe even a dramatic twirl happens and she stops mid belting to find her boyfriend staring at her and gets embarrassedâŚthen Peter is like totally impressed but also has to hard core tease her of course đ
Thanks for reading my silly little request đđ
Summary â You thought you were home alone, so started singing out loud, only to be caught by Peter.
The hallway outside your apartment was quiet, which was honestly a blessing.
You were exhausted.
Classes had been brutal, your professor clearly woke up and chose violence, and all you wanted was to collapse face-first into your bed and pretend the world didnât exist for at least eight hours.
You fumbled with your keys, finally unlocking the door with a tired sigh.
âPlease donât be homeâŚâ you muttered under your breath.
Because if Peter was home, you wouldnât get peace.
Not because he was annoyingâGod, noâbut because he was⌠Peter. Sweet, clingy, distractingly cute Peter.
And you were too tired to function properly around him.
The door creaked open.
Silence.
You blinked.
ââŚOh.â
Okay. Apartment empty. Perfect.
A slow smile spread across your face as you stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind you with your foot.
You dropped your bag onto the floor, already reaching into your pocket, turning the volume of your music up.
Instant mood shift.
Your shoulders relaxed, your head tilting as your favorite songs filled your ears, loud enough to drown out every single thought in your brain.
âYeah,â you mumbled to yourself, already swaying a little. âThis is what I needed.â
You tossed your keys onto the counter, completely in your own world now.
A few steps into the living room. A spin. A dramatic little arm movement.
You grabbed an imaginary mic, singing out the lyrics with full confidence, your voice echoing through the apartment. You didnât even care if it wasnât perfect, you were alone.
Or⌠so you thought.
You moved across the room like you were on stage, pacing, gesturing dramatically, pouring your entire exhausted soul into it.
You hit the high notes. Honestly? Kind of impressive.
You turned, did a full dramatic twirl and froze.
Peter was standing there. Right by the kitchen. Just⌠staring at you.
Silence crashed over everything.
Your voice died instantly. Your brain short-circuited. You yanked one side of your headphones off, like maybe, just maybe, heâd disappear if you moved carefully enough.
ââŚHow long have you been standing there?â You asked, your voice suddenly very small.
Peter blinked. Then his lips twitched.
âOh, you know,â he said casually, leaning against the counter like this was the best day of his life, âlong enough to hear that insane high note.â
Your stomach dropped.
âOh my God.â
âNo, seriously,â he pushed off the counter, walking toward you, eyes bright with something between amusement and genuine admiration. âI didnât know I was dating a pop star.â
âStop.â You covered your face immediately. âStop talking.â
âI mean it!â He insisted, grinning now. âThat wasâwow. Likeâshould I be worried? Are you gonna leave me for a world tour?â
You groaned into your hands.
âIâm actually going to jump out the window.â
âIâd catch you,â he shot back instantly.
You peeked at him through your fingers.
He looked way too pleased with himself.
âYou werenât supposed to be home,â you accused weakly.
Peter shrugged, completely unapologetic. âPatrol was quiet. Came back early.â
ââŚSo you could emotionally ruin me.â
âSo I could witness the best concert of my life,â he corrected.
You dropped your hands, glaring at him.
âPeter.â
âYes?â
âIf you say one more wordââ
âYou did a spin,â he said immediately.
You gasped. âI hate you.â
âYou did a full spin,â he continued, stepping closer, his grin widening. âLikeâBroadway level commitment. Should I clap? Do you want a standing ovation?â
âShut up!â You grabbed a pillow from the couch and threw it at him.
He caught it easilyâof course he didâstill smiling like an idiot.
âYou had choreography and everything,â he added.
âI did notââ
âYou pointed at an imaginary audience.â
Your jaw dropped. âYouâre making things up!â
âIâm not! It was very convincing, actually. I felt personally called out.â
You lunged for the pillow, trying to snatch it back so you could hit him again, but he held it just out of reach, laughing.
âGive it back!â
âNope.â
âPeter!â
âSing again.â
You froze. âWhat?â
âSing again,â he repeated, softer this time, but still teasing. âI wanna hear it properly.â
Your face burned,âAbsolutely not.â
âCome on,â he nudged, lowering the pillow but not giving it back. âYou were really good.â
You narrowed your eyes. âYouâre making fun of me.â
âIâm not,â he said quickly, shaking his head. âOkay...maybe a little. But also⌠Iâm serious.â
There was something different in his tone now. Less teasing. More⌠genuine.
You hesitated.
ââŚYou actually think Iâm good?â You asked quietly.
Peterâs expression softened immediately. âYeah,â he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. âI do.â
That did not help your embarrassment. At all. You groaned, turning away from him. âIâm never singing again.â
âTragic,â he murmured.
You shot him a look over your shoulder.
âPeter.â
He raised his hands in surrender, but he was still smiling.
âOkay, okay. Iâll stop.â
ââŚYou promise?â
ââŚNo.â
You huffed, grabbing another pillow and smacking him with it.
This time he let you.
âWorth it,â he said, laughing.
You tried to stay annoyedâyou really didâbut it was impossible.
Especially when he stepped closer, gently catching your wrist before you could hit him again.
âYouâre cute, you know that?â He said, softer now.
Your heart did a stupid little flip.
âI just publicly humiliated myself,â you muttered.
âYou gave a private concert,â he corrected.
âWithout my consent.â
âI didnât interrupt,â he pointed out. âI was being respectful.â
âYou watched the whole thing!â
âI was captivated.â
You stared at him. He stared back. Still smiling. Still way too entertained.
ââŚI hate you,â you said again, but there was no real bite to it this time.
âYeah, yeah,â he said, rolling his eyes fondly.
And then, before you could react, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. Soft. Warm. Annoyingly sweet.
When he pulled back, his grin was smaller now. Softer.
âSing again later?â He asked.
You shoved his shoulder.
âGet out.â
âI live here.â
âThen go patrol!â
He laughed, catching your hand again before you could escape this time, tugging you closer instead.
âNope,â he said. âI think Iâll stay. Maybe Iâll get an encore.â
You groaned, hiding your face in his chest this time.
âNever happening.â
ââŚIâll wait,â he whispered.
And judging by the way he held youâlike he had all the time in the world, yeah. He absolutely would.
Warnings: light bondage, consensual non-consent, p in v, light touch on horror themes(?), Marc being scary, light threats, soft-dom Marc, smut.
You didn't do alot of roleplay with the boys, only some Moon Knight roleplay with Marc and some Professor Grant roleplay with Steven. Jake isn't into roleplay, but he is the one who would give ideas to the other two, and that's exactly what he did to Marc.
It was a stormy night, the wind and rain hitting the window in waves. But what made this a bit more scary was you on the couch, wrapped up in a cozy blanked while watching Terrifier 2. You sipped on your hot chocolate, the storm outside and the horror movie making you cuddle yourself in the blanket. As the movie progressed, your eyes began to grew heavy due to almost being 1 AM.
But suddenly you heard a crash coming from the kitchen. You jumped in your seat, your brain whirling with 'Did that just happen or did you imagine it?'
So you paused the movie, your heart went to your throat as you felt the adrenaline floot your system. You slowly got up, grabbing your phone and clutching it tightly. Looking into the small dark hallway, you suddenly heard the floor squeak, heavy steps coming towards you. You thought about turning on the flashlight on your phone, ready to scream. But then the person flicked on the light in the hallway, a figure dressed in black, wearing a balaclava stood before you. You could only see the eyes, the brown eyes.
You started backing off slowly, but the intruder did the same, slowly walking towards you. "Don't even think about it." He said threatingly as he saw your gaze fell upon the mug with the still hot chocolate in it. You froze in place immediately, watching as the man advanced to you. Only then did you notice the hunting knife in his hand.
The man stopped a couple of steps away from you, "Never thought you'd experience what it's like to be in a horror movie, did ya'?" He asked amused, nodding towards the paused horror movie, meanwhile you just stood there, unable to move from being shocked and scared at the same.
"Don't piss your pants yet, I only broke in and you're shaking like a leaf." He chuckled, leaning down to your level, his brown eyes looking straight into your eyes as his other gloved hand came up to pinch your cheek softly.
After what felt like hours you finally spoke up, "What do you want?" your voice trembling in fear as the man straightened up again, reaching behind himself, reaching for handcuffs before showing them to you, "Turn around and put your hands behind your back." Was the order he gave. You complied, slowly turning and putting your hands behind your back. He grabbed your wrists and clicked the handcuffs around them, but making sure they had enough space as to not scrape against your skin to hurt you.
He leaned down and placed both his gloved hands on your shoulders, making you jump slightly "I assume you'll be good for me, right? Don't wanna end up like that girl in the movie, hm?" He whispered into your ear, his hands on your shoulders squeezing gently as his breath ghosted over your shell through the balaclava.
"N-no, sir..." You replied, shaking your head. The man stepped back, his eyes roaming over your body, "You got quite the beautiful body." He began to whistle teasingly, making the hair on your neck stand up.
"And now, tell me where you hide your good valuable stuff, princess." He demanded in a firm tone, crossing his arms over his chest as you slowly turned around, unsure if you were allowed to.
"I don't have anything valuable." You murmured, eyes flicking to his brown ones before meeting the ground.
He tilted his head slightly, definitely not buying your excuse, "Who are you kidding? Nothing, eh? Bullshit."
"You can turn the whole place around if you want, I got nothing." You defended, trying to reason with him.
He uncrossed his arms and began swiping his fingers across the sharp blade of his hunting knife before looking at you, "You're telling the truth and got nothing, huh?"
You nodded, looking back on the ground.
"So you're telling me I just wasted my fucking time breaking into this place, only to find you here telling me you got nothing?" He asked frustrated.
You remained quiet.
The man stopped playing with the knife, "You know...you're wrong about that."
You looked up, giving him a puzzled expression "What?"
"You said there is nothing..." He trailed off. "But who do I got here standing infront of me?" He asked, the grin in his voice was audible. "You..." He pointed to knife at you.
"No-wait..." You backed off as he walked towards you, quickly stopping you by grabbing your shoulder, "Ah-ah, no running off for you tonight, come with me." He scolded gently, dragging you towards the bedroom.
Inside the bedroom he gently pushed you towards the bed, locking the door afterward. "You know what comes now, don't you?" He walked over to you, grabbing your cuffed wrists with one and your chin with the other hand, "I'm gonna cuff your wrist to the headboard now. And you'll be a good little captive and do what I say, alright?" He informed before freeing one wrist and forcing you to get on the bed.
He knelt behind you, taking your wrist and leaning over you to cuff it to the headboard. Your backside accidentally brushed against his crotch, letting you feel the notable bulge in his pants. "From now on you keep your eyes infront of you. Don't look back or things will get pretty ugly." He warned, patting your ass cheeks before giving each a soft squeeze.
The man slowly removed his balaclava, keeping his eyes on you to ensure you didn't look before grabbing your ankles, tugging at them to make you lay down on your stomach.
"You do got something for me, sweetie." He removed his gloves, throwing them onto the floor before undressing your lower half. His warm fingers sliding along your skin. "Since you've been so good for me, I'll be gentle with you." He assured softly as he removed the last piece. His fingers ran up your spine with just enough pressure to make your back arch as he leaned over you, his fingers tangling in your hair, holding your head gently in place "This is how we will start; I'll get you all dripping wet and ready for me before I slide my cock into your tight little pussy inch by inch..."
You nodded, accepting whatever is going to happen, feeling yourself getting wet by even thinking about it.
Marc pulled back, his hands trailing down your back, earning a small squirm from you. He pulled off his shirt and undid his pants, sliding them off, only wearing his boxers and returning to his position behind you. He slowly ran his hand upwards along your inner thigh, feeling the heat from your core. He chuckled when he discovered you already dripping onto the sheets.
"Does that turn you on?" He ran two fingers along your wet folds, making you choke out a moan
"Fuuck~" Your back arched on itself, trying to get more friction.
"Yeah it does turn you on..." He drawled, moving both his hands to your hips to pull your backside up. His fingers returning to your core, moving to rub your clit slowly.
"Feels so good-please don't stop~" You moaned as he pressed down slightly before removing his fingers from your clit.
"Relax, or I will fuck you so hard, so good, you'll either beg me to make you cum or to stop." He chuckled, reaching inside his boxers, pulling his rock hard cock out. Marc got closer to you, rubbing his entire length along your slit, slicking himself up with your wetness.
Your eyes rolled back, arching your back instinctively as the tip of his cock pressed against your entrance.
"It gets you all dripping, hmm?" He pushed inside, "Knowing that," he pushed another inch inside "if you tell the intruder," another inch of his thickness, "there is nothing to grab," he pushed another inch into you, "that he will fuck you." His hips snapped suddenly, burying his whole girth into your pussy.
"O-oh my g-" You cried out, your mind instantly getting fogged with the sensation of him.
"Mhhmm, you dirty little thing..." He pulled out almost entirely, "I'll fuck you senseless." He pushed inside all the way once more, grinding his hips against you.
A loud moan escaped you, his hand swiftly came up to shush you gently, "Shh, you gotta stay quiet for me." He slowly started moving, making you moan against his hand with every drag of his shaft inside you. "Oh no, imagine what people might think what's happening inside here..." He started moving faster, the volume of your moans got more silent again "There you go." Marc stopped, making you whimper at the loss of friction.
"Please..." You whined. He leaned closer, "Please what, princess?" He teased, starting to thrust into you again.
"Want me to fuck you, huh?" He increased his pace, his hand retracted from your mouth to grip your hips along with the other hand.
"Fine, I'll give you what you want." He warned, using your hips as leverage to slam into you again and again. The only sounds louder than your moans and his grunts was the storm outside. Marc didn't slow down, continuing to pount into you. After some time, you felt your orgasm approach rapidly, "I'm close, I'm so close!"
"I gotcha. C'mon, give it to me." He incouraged, his hand moving to stroke your clit, he felt your walls squeezing him tightly, making him lose it. Just as you came you turned your head to look into his brown eyes. With a grunt and a final, hard thrust, Marc filled you up, looking down and catching your gaze, "Thought I told you to keep your eyes ahead, baby." Marc chuckled, pulling out.
"Sorry, couldn't resist." You collapsed onto the bed. Marc collapsed beside you, "You okay?" He asked, with a note of concern in his tone.
You nodded, "Yes."
"That was quite intense." Marc remarked, "But you did great." He kissed your forehead, pulling you close.
You tugged at your cuffed wrist, "Marc, the handcuffs."
"Right, sorry." He laughed, sitting up to grab the black pants to search for the keys for the cuffs. He frowned, looking back at you, "Crap...I uh, lost the keys."
"You serious?" You sat up.
"You bet your ass I am." Marc grinned, pulling the keys out from the pocket.
"Dick." You smacked his shoulder lightly.
"For you." Marc teased, unlocking the cuffs, rubbing your wrist. "Let's go clean up." He smiled, pulling you up.
"And after that we continue with the movie, right?" You smiled, grabbing your remaining clothes. Marc grabbed his own, "Absolutely. Though, your hot chocolate isn't hot anymore." He replied, giving you a grin.
"I got you. No need for the hot chocolate." You giggled.
Marc raised an eyebrow teasingly, "That means we can get to shower cold, right?" He grinned.
"Nooo!" You laughed. "But I gotta ask, how the hell did Jake come up with this whole thing?" You asked.
Marc shrugged, "It's Jake. But he loves witnessing the show, that's for sure."
Summary: Marc brought you out of your miserable life, he provided for you, gave you everything, and in return he only wanted you to stay with him.
This fic is heavily inspired by dark Joel Miller (Pedro Pascal)
-> buckle the fuck up because If you donât wanna imagine Marc being like that use your hand and keep scrolling like a good reader <-
Cw/triggers: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, possessive Marc, blood, reader hurt herself and Marc patched her up but wasn't nice about it, smut, p in v, (extreme) dub-con, Marc is unhinged and sarcastic as hell, potential typos, Marc's first time fucking reader after he took her.
A/n: Marc has blood kink??? MARC HAS BLOOD KINK! đŤľ
Before Marc your life wasnât the best. Marc found you and offered help, which, obviously you accepted.
At first you thought Marc was only taking advantage of you, but he quickly proved otherwise, heâs been very protective of you, showed empathy and gave affection in ways nobody could has given before.
To say he protected you is an understatement, he really does keep you safe. As long as you play by his rules that is. Those werenât the typical âbe nice to me and follow my command without hesitationâ, no, Marc actually preferred you to act like you do, in that way you could be yourself and he can be himself.
But even though Marc took you under his wing because he felt bad for you, you couldnât shake off the feeling that it wasnât right. Sure you were thankful and everything, but when you told him you wanted to go back to your home, he insisted that youâd stay with him.
It began gnawing at you, the thought of going back home. Sure enough leaving Marc a note stating that you went home would perhaps make him sad but he knew where you live and you wouldnât mind if he would visit you from time to time.
So one day while he was out you packed your stuff and made your way outside.
The chilly breeze hit you but it was quite refreshing for your somewhat tensed nerves.
Marc didnât tell you when heâd be back, usually it would be only a couple hours, and if he comes back seeing you left you couldnât imagine how heâd feel, perhaps heâd be sad? Probably angry since you ditched him just like that.
After walking for a while you couldnât shake the feeling that your mind is playing tricks on you, it felt all too easy, and considering itâs with someone like Marc, it shouldnât be easy.
You occasionally checked your phone in case Marc sent you a message asking where you are, which would actually be an opportunity to talk your way out with going for a walk and hope heâd believe it so you could get another chance.
Itâs already getting dark, which signaled Marc would return soon or probably he already returned and is now seething.
You shoved all worries aside for now and only thought about being back home soon.
Soon you came across a darker street. The last street lamp wasnât bright, making the street look like something straight out of a slasher movie.
But after taking a breath, you confidently walked through the street and pushed all paranoid thoughts off to make yourself feel better.
As the path before you became brighter lit once more, you let out a relieved breath that youâve come so far.
You quickened your pace slightly, your doubts turned into positive thoughts of soon arriving home,
Rounding a sharp corner, your optimism shattered the moment you heard glass crunching under your shoes, followed by due to your fast pace, you colliding against something hard, causing you to lose balance and tripping backwards onto the ground.
You felt a sharp stinging in your upper arm, followed by the sensation of something thicker and rather warm running down.
The impact blew the air out of your lungs with a sharp gasp.
Bright white eyes watched you, the obstacle you collided with was the hard chest plate of the suit. He didnât say anything, just watched you with his head tilted slightly.
âThe hell you think youâre going?â His tone was ice cold.
Everything came crashing down on you, your injury, the pain, the adrenaline, and now that heâs standing right in front of you made rational thinking impossible.
âGet up.â He told you with the same coldness.
When you didnât get up, only stared up at him petrified. He un summoned the suit and crouched down to you, grabbing your healthy arm and pulled you up with ease.
âI said get up.â He dragged you along with him, his grip on your arm was firm, his pace fast and no intentions of letting you get away.
Your hope literally got snatched midway, the way back seemed to take an eternity.
When you got back he lead you to your room, making you sit down on the bed. Marc crouched down in front of you. âSee that? Thatâs your fault.â He pointed at your injury. âWanna do it yourself or should I do it?â He questioned with his eyebrow quirking up in a challenge.
Your answer came out in a shaky voice. âYou.â
The corner of his mouth quirked up in a slight smirk, he gave a pat on your knee then got up to get his things.
He came back shortly afterwards, sitting down next to you. âSo youâre still dependent on me huh?â He asked rhetorically, inspecting your wound.
It wasnât something life threatening, just a cut. He cleaned the wound from the dirt then applied disinfectant, making you hiss.
âEasy there. You wouldnât have that cut if you stayed here.â
âFuck!â You cussed under your breath as the disinfectant kept burning into the fresh wound, mixing up with your blood and ran down your arm.
Marc held your wrist to keep you from squirming around. âLet that be a reminder of what happens when you try to leave me.â
You scowled at him. âI wanted to go home. To my home.â
Marc breathed out a dry and sarcastic chuckle. âHome? Honey this is your home.â
He stood up and put everything away, then returned to stand in front of you with his arms crossed. âCome on, you left while I was away and didnât even let me know? Really?â
âI wanted to let you know once I was home.â
Marc raised an eyebrow. âOh alright. Well, youâre home now, let me know. Tell me why you left.â He challenged.
Your eyes darted down to the ground.
âThatâs what I thought.â Marc sneered, then he reached out and wrapped his hand around your throat, not tight enough to cut off oxygen flow but firm enough to remind you of whoâs boss.
âSweetheart, you really wanna go back to your old pathetic life, hmm?â His face was close to yours now. âRemember that I saved your ass, and now you want to go back?â
âPleaseâŚâ you pleaded.
âPlease what?â He rasped.
âJust let me go.â
Marcâs lips quirked up into a slight sadistic smirk. âSo desperate to go, hm?â
He began pushing you backwards until you laid on the bed and he was hovering on top of you. âLet me make this clear, honey,â he got close to your face again âyouâre not going anywhere.â
He swiftly started undressing you. âYou belong to me.â
Once finished undressing you Marc pushed his pants down far enough to get his half hard cock out.
His hand was back around your throat, he could feel your pulse pounding against his palm, his other hand snuck down to tease your clit, earning a gasp from you and increased breathing.
âYou may want to get away but your body loves me.â He said into your ear, feeling your pulse now hammering against his hand.
Marc was about to run his dick against you when he noticed something on the arm you had the injury.
Your bloodâs running out of the scab that recently stopped your bleeding.
âFuck..â Marc groaned at the sight, his cock immediately leaking onto the sheets.
He teased your hole with his tip, entering you slightly to make you gasp at his intrusion.
âTrust me baby, instead of having to chain you up Iâd rather make sure you canât walk straight!â He pushed inside slowly to make sure youâre feeling everything of him.
He stopped moving as soon as he bottomed out inside you, finally getting to feel what it feels like being inside you, in which he let out a long sight of relief. âFinally⌠mmm you feel so good babyâŚâ
He began moving in slow thrusts, letting his head drop into the curve of your neck. âI should have fucked you way earlier.â He admitted, groaning softly against you skin.
He angled his hips so his cock is hitting that spot inside you that made you flutter around him, causing you to let out a sweet moan.
Marc grinned against you. He got you now. âEnjoying yourself babe? Wanna stay now?â
Despite your earlier unwillingness to stay, you found yourself nodding and squeezing his dick with your slick hole.
Marc groaned when he felt you squeeze him. âFuck yes you do.â He started peppering your neck with kisses, his lips found your pulse where he sucked at, and in response you arched into him.
He couldnât help himself, he was getting desperate, but it was just because you felt like heaven to him, and he began thrusting into you faster now.
Your moans are enough to make him cum, but he wanted to make you cum first, to show you that you need him and how good it feels being with him.
âFuck honey youâre making me lose it.â Marc groaned hotly against your skin, pounding into you even faster. He made sure hitting every spot inside you, and he did, making you bite your lip hard in order to suppress the moans threatening to come out of your mouth.
Your hand moves to his arm, squeezing it hard, but Marc didnât mind, if anything you gripping him like that made him want to fuck you into a senseless mess.
Marc panted against you, biting softly into your skin, which caused you seeing stars and finally coating his cock with your orgasm. He wasnât far behind, within seconds he spilled his hot cum into you and collapsed on top of you.
He pulled out of you and supported himself on his elbows, looking down at you, feeling pleased that he made such a mess of you.
âAll it took for me to show you your place was me fucking you into your place.â He chuckled darkly.
He looked at your re-bleeding wound, seeing it had stopped now then back at your face.
âLet this be your first and final lesson that you wonât get to leave me.â He rasped before giving your sweaty forehead a kiss.
someone suggested this so this can be considered a part 2 to this!
tw: explicit sexual content, consensual but intense and urgent, first-time overwhelming spider-enhanced urges, semi-public setting (school locker room after hours), strong language, dirty talk, and mild superhuman strength.
Peter had been acting weird since third period.
By the time the final bell rang, he was practically vibrating beside your locker. He caught your wrist gently but urgently and tugged you toward the quieter side corridor near the science wing, away from the main crowd.
âPeter, whatâs going on?â you asked, letting him pull you along.
He backed you against the lockers, eyes wide and pupils blown dark. His hands settled on your waist, thumbs slipping under your shirt like he needed to feel your skin right now. He was breathing shaky, a fine tremor running through his shoulders.
âOkay, so⌠this is new,â he whispered, voice already rough. âLike, brand new. Never-happened-before new. I donât know whatâs wrong with me.â
You frowned, concerned. âAre you okay? Is it a spider thing?â
He let out a nervous laugh and pressed closer so you could feel him â rock-hard against your hip through his jeans.
âI don't know. Definitely nothing I've felt before." He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks flushing. âAll day Iâve been⌠hyper aware of you. Your smell, the way you move, everything. And now my body is screaming at me that I need to... take care of thisâŚLike, right now. Insanely. It feels like if I donât get inside you in the next few minutes Iâm actually going to combust. Or swing around the city until I pass out. One of the two.â
His words hit you hard â heat flooding through you mixed with surprise. Youâd only been officially dating for a couple of weeks. Sweet, shy Peter who blushed when he held your hand and asked permission for everything was suddenly looking at you like he was one second away from losing control.
âPeter⌠I canât right now,â you said regretfully, sliding your hands up his chest. âI have practice. Coach will kill me if Iâm late again. Championships are coming up.â
He groaned dramatically, thunking his forehead lightly against the locker beside yours.
âOf course. Practice. Perfect timing. I can feel the universe laughing at me right now, I can feel it.â He gave you the biggest puppy-dog eyes. âCanât you fake a sudden illness? Iâll even write a doctorâs note in my best handwriting.â
You laughed softly and kissed him quick, trying to ignore how desperate his hands felt on your hips.
âIâm sorry, baby. After practice, okay? Iâll text you when Iâm done.â
Peter sighed, long-suffering and tragic, but nodded. He stole one more deep, needy kiss before stepping back and tugging his hoodie down to hide the very obvious bulge.
âFine. Go be all athletic and bendy and unfairly hot. Iâll just be here. Suffering in silence. Because my girlfriend hates me.â He shot you a crooked, sarcastic little grin.Â
You rolled your eyes fondly and hurried off to the gym, heart racing from the intensity in his eyes. This was definitely new territory for both of you.
Practice ran long â an extra hour of stunts and conditioning that left you sweaty and exhausted. The girlsâ locker room was almost empty by the time you finished showering. You were the last one there, towel-drying your hair and the other wrapped around you, when the door creaked open.
You turned, expecting a teammate.
It was Peter.
He slipped inside quietly and locked the door behind him with a soft click. His backpack was slung over one shoulder, hair messy like heâd been running his hands through it, cheeks flushed. His eyes were dark and hungry in a way youâd never seen before.
âPeter?â you startled. âHow did you even get in here?â
âSpider-Man privileges,â he said with a nervous, boyish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. âI may have been waiting on the ceiling outside the gym for like forty minutes. Like a total creep. In my defense, this spider thing has been driving me crazy since lunch and your voice during practice only made it worse.â
He took a step closer, voice dropping.
âThis has never happened before. Ever. I swear. One minute Iâm normal Peter â doing calculus, avoiding Flash, the usual â and the next my entire body is yelling that I need to have sex with you. Badly. Like, canât-think-about-anything-else badly. If this is too weird or too fast, just say the word and Iâll leave. Iâll go home and take seventeen cold showers and maybe hide until it passes. No pressure. Well⌠some pressure. A lot of pressure, actually.â
The raw desperation mixed with his awkward sincerity made your stomach flip with heat.
You dropped the towel and crooked a finger at him.
âCome here, spider-boy.â
Relief flashed across his face. Peter crossed the room in two strides, mouth crashing into yours with frantic hunger. His hands shook as he shoved your shorts and underwear down your legs, lifting you effortlessly onto the wooden bench between the lockers.
âGod, thank you,â he mumbled against your lips, fumbling with his jeans. âYouâre seriously the best girlfriend in the history of girlfriends. Most people would have run away screaming by now.â
He freed himself â hard, flushed dark, already leaking â and stepped between your spread thighs. No slow teasing. He lined up and pushed inside you in one deep, urgent thrust, both of you groaning at the feeling.
âFuckâ you feel incredible,â he gasped, forehead pressed to yours. His hips started moving immediately â deep, fast, desperate strokes that rocked the bench beneath you. âThis is exactly what I needed. All day. Just you. Like this. I couldnât focus on anything else.â
Even lost in it, Peter couldnât stop his nervous rambling, voice breathless and nerdy between moans:
âBeen thinking about this nonstop since third period⌠couldnât do my lab worksheet⌠youâre so warm and tight andâ shit, do that thing with your legs again, thatâs perfectââ
You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders. The sheer overwhelming need rolling off him pushed you over the edge fast. You came hard, clenching around him, biting his shoulder to muffle your cry.
Peter followed right after with a broken groan, burying himself deep and coming hard inside you, hips jerking with every pulse.
For a long moment he just held you there, panting against your neck, body trembling while his cock still twitched inside you.
Then the sweet, embarrassed Peter returned.
He pulled back enough to look at you, cheeks burning red, eyes soft and worried.
âOkay⌠wow. That was intense,â he said with a shy, self-deprecating laugh. âDid I hurt you? Was I too rough? Because this whole âinsane spider sex driveâ thing is brand new and I have no idea how to control it yet. If it freaked you out, Iâm so sorry. I can try meditation or⌠science experiments or something to fix it.â
You laughed breathlessly, cupping his face and kissing him softly.
âYou were perfect. It was a lot, but⌠really good.â
Peter grinned, boyish and relieved, carefully helping you down and fixing your clothes with surprisingly gentle hands.
âNext time this happens â if it happens again â maybe give me a heads-up so I can prepare. Or at least not ambush you in the locker room like a horny spider.â He peeked out the door, then took your hand, lacing your fingers. âCoast is clear. And as an apology I was thinking maybe we can see a movie?â
You smiled with a nod, heart still hammering, and squeezed his hand as you slipped out together.
summary:Â after a mission leaves peter shaken and unstable, (y/n)âs told to keep her distance for his safety and hers. but when he shows up at her door in the middle of the night, trembling and barely holding on, it becomes clear: this is more than just recovery. whateverâs happening to him, itâs changing everything. and he only wants one thing to feel whole again â her.
pairing: peter parker x fem! reader
genre: SMUT, little bit of angst and soft post-chaos fluff
word count:Â 4.2k
warnings:Â sex pollen, explicit smut, soft!dom peter, praise kink, overstimulation, (mild) feral behavior, public(ish) elevator sex, avengers cameos lol, mentions of broken furniture (rip stark tower)
a/n: i'm sorry this part took so long. uniâs been hectic, but weâre finally on break YAYY. i really hope this chapter was worth the wait. thank u so much for all the love on part 1. feedback is welcome, and i love hearing from you guys. enjoy the chaos, the smut, and the soft moments. luv yâall <33
MINORS DNI
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(Y/N) had always considered herself fairly resilient.
Sheâd once broken her wrist during a Krav Maga sparring match and didnât even cry. Sheâd stared down a HYDRA drone at age sixteen. Sheâd even taken a punch from Flash Thompson in tenth grade and had the satisfaction of watching Peter make him regret it thirty seconds later.
But this?
This was worse than all of that combined.
Because (Y/N) â twenty, deeply in love, and sore in places she didnât know could be sore; was now sitting in a wheelchair. Wrapped in one of Peterâs too-large MIT hoodies. Looking like sheâd been hit by a truck. Or, more accurately, Spider-Man on sex pollen.
And worst of all?
The Avengers were here.
Steve Rogers stood frozen near the doorway, blinking slowly like heâd walked in on something unseeable. Clint was choking on his own laughter in the corner. Bruce had turned pink and immediately started scribbling on a clipboard, eyes anywhere but on her. And Tony â oh, Tony â was pacing in front of her like a dad trying not to explode after catching his teenage kid sneaking in after curfew.
(Y/N)âs face was in her hands.
Peter, for his part, stood behind her chair. His hands gripping the handles like she might try to escape which was hilarious, considering she couldnât feel her legs. He looked suspiciously proud for someone who was technically in trouble.
Tony finally turned to him.
âKid. The hell.â
Peter cleared his throat. âSo uh⌠Funny story.â
âNo,â Tony said immediately. âNo stories. I donât want the details. I can see the details. Theyâre written all over her face and, Jesus, is that a bite mark on her neck?!â
(Y/N) groaned. âPlease kill me.â
âYou broke containment,â Tony continued, glaring now. âYou ignored protocol, FRIDAYâs lockdown measures, and about five separate international-level agreements about containment of extraterrestrial biological influence-â
âI was fine Mr. Stark,â Peter insisted. âFRIDAY ran the scans. The compound was harmless once uh⌠once the effects wereâŚâ He paused, glancing down at (Y/N), and his voice dropped into something almost sheepish. ââŚresolved.â
âI hate that you used that word,â Clint muttered.
Steve sighed deeply. âHow many rounds?â
(Y/N) made a sound of pure horror.
Peter blinked. ââŚI lost count after four.â
Bruce made a tiny squeak. Tony pointed at the ceiling.
âFRIDAY, disable his access to the main lab for a week. And get this boy a goddamn chastity belt.â
âI hate all of you,â (Y/N) mumbled into her hoodie.
âYouâre still glowing, by the way,â Clint added helpfully. âAnd is that bed frame broken? Did you â oh man.â
Peter rubbed the back of his neck. âIt was an accident.â
âIâm never looking either of you in the eye again,â Bruce muttered as he fled the room.
A heavy pause followed. Thenâ
âSo,â came Thorâs booming voice from the hallway, âis this what Midgardian mating rituals typically entail? Because I must say, I am very impressed.â
(Y/N) groaned louder. âOh my God.â
The God of Thunder stepped into view, completely unbothered, munching on a Pop-Tart like he hadnât just wandered into post-coital ground zero. âTruly,â he added, nodding solemnly, âa bed shattered by pure passion is the mark of a warrior. I applaud you both.â
âThor, stop,â Peter hissed, mortified.
âDonât encourage them,â Tony snapped, spinning toward the Asgardian. âThis was your idea, by the way. âLetâs bring the sex pollen infested kid back to the lab, Stark! Heâs perfectly harmless!ââ
Thor looked affronted. âI said it was harmless in theory,â Thor repeated indignantly, waving his half-eaten Pop-Tart. âHow was I to know Midgardians lacked the willpower to resist such effects?â
Tony stared at him. âThey just turned 20, Thor. Barely adults, still act like teenagers. Their willpower barely exists on a good day.â
âI am standing right here,â Peter muttered, red-faced.
(Y/N) buried her face further into her hoodie. âThis is the worst day of my life.â
Nat leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, smirking. âIâm just surprised Peterâs still standing. You looked like youâd been folded in half, (Y/N).â
âI was,â Y/N muttered, drawing the hoodie tighter around herself like it could erase her from existence. âMultiple times.â
âJesus Christ,â Steve muttered, now holding a hand over his eyes. âIâve seen war. Iâve never seen anything like this.â
âOh, weâre never letting this go,â Tony declared, already pulling up the holographic footage of the compound logs. âIâm naming this Incident Spider-Bang. Donât test me.â
Peter groaned. âPlease donât name it.â
âToo late,â Tony said smugly.
âIâm going to die,â (Y/N) muttered. âRight here in this wheelchair.â
Thor clapped Peter on the shoulder so hard he stumbled. âWell done, son of Parker. You have honored your lady most gloriously. Truly, this day shall be sung about for ages.â
âNo one is singing about this,â Peter said, face red as his suit.
âOh, I am absolutely writing a ballad,â Clint said, taking out his phone. âDo you rhyme anything with âbroken pelvisâ? Because I feel like thatâs important context.â
Steve let out a long, long breath and rubbed his temples. âI miss the days when the biggest scandal was someone stealing Capâs shield to impress a girl.â
FRIDAY chimed in politely, âWould you like me to initiate a search for suitable chastity belt models, Mr. Stark?â
Tony blinked. âYou know what? Yeah. Go nuts.â
Peter muttered something unintelligible and slumped further behind (Y/N)âs chair. She reached up to squeeze his hand. Both of them humiliated, exhausted, and deeply aware that this would never be forgotten.
The moment was silent for a beat.
Then Clint snorted. âSo, what youâre saying is⌠sex pollen actually works?â
Tony turned to him slowly. âGet. Out.â
And just like that, chaos resumed.
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Once the room was cleared â save for Peter, who looked like he couldnât decide whether to laugh or kiss her forehead again â (Y/N) rolled her eyes.
âI canât believe I let you touch me.â
He leaned down, brushing her hair back gently. âYou did more than let me, baby.â
âShut up.â
âYou came so hard you saw stars.â
âPeter Benjamin Parker-â
âYou said I could break you and worship you,â he whispered, lips near her ear. âAnd I did both, didnât I?â
Her body betrayed her with a shiver.
Peterâs expression softened, guilt flickering in his eyes.
âBut seriously⌠are you okay?â
She nodded, more or less. âSore. Emotionally scarred. But fine.â
He knelt beside the chair, resting his head on her thigh. âIâm sorry I scared you. And for everything else⌠the mission, disappearing, the tower locking you out. I wanted you near me so bad it felt like I was dying.â
âI know,â she said softly. âYou didnât choose what happened to you. But you still asked for consent. Even when your body was screaming for it.â
He looked up at her, eyes wide. âOf course I did. (Y/N), I would never touch you without-â
She kissed him, shutting him up. âI know. Thatâs why I trusted you.â
His cheeks flushed.
Then, after a beat: âDoes this mean Iâm not in trouble?â
âNo. Youâre in so much trouble,â she said sweetly. âBut weâll circle back once I can walk again.â
He groaned and kissed her knee.
Two hours later, MJ and Ned showed up.
(Y/N) was still in the wheelchair, now in a different hoodie (Peterâs, of course), with a pillow wedged under her thighs, sipping tea like her dignity hadnât just been shattered. Peter sat beside her, one hand gripping hers like he was afraid she might float away.
Ned entered first. Cheery and oblivious, and then immediately stopped.
MJ followed. Looked between them. And smirked.
âOh my god,â Ned whispered.
Peter cleared his throat. âHi.â
âYou broke her pelvis,â MJ said flatly, one eyebrow raised.
âI did not-â Peter started, scandalized.
âI literally had to be wheeled in,â (Y/N) muttered into her tea.
Ned choked on his own spit. âWhat the hell did you do to her, dude?!â
Peter turned bright red. âOkay â look, itâs a long story, but-â
âYou went full freak mode, didnât you,â MJ said, narrowing her eyes. âThe spider-senses. The pheromones. I knew this would happen.â
âActually, it was due to a sex poll-â (Y/N) started, only for MJ to wave a hand.
âSave it. Honestly, Iâm not even mad. Iâm just surprised the tower is still standing.â
Peter buried his face in (Y/N) shoulder. âIâm never living this down.â
MJ smirked. âCorrect.â
Later that night, after MJ and Ned had left with entirely too much ammunition, Peter helped (Y/N) into bed.
His eyes were softer now. No hunger. Just devotion.
âYou okay?â
âStill canât walk. But youâve asked me that six times.â
âIâm just making sure,â he said quietly. âBecause part of me is still terrified that I lost control.â
She touched his cheek. âYou didnât. You were you, Peter. Even when you were wrecked.â
âI didnât mean to break the bed.â
She laughed, even as her hips protested the movement. âWeâll bill Mr. Stark.â
He smiled faintly, then lay beside her, arms wrapping gently around her waist. His hand found hers under the covers.
âI love you,â he murmured. âI said it a hundred times last night, but⌠Iâll say it again. I love you.â
She turned to him, heart full.
âI love you too, Peter. Even when youâre feral.â
He kissed her shoulder.
And despite the soreness, the exhaustion, the lingering embarrassment â she felt safe.
Like maybe, in all the chaos, they were exactly where they were supposed to be.
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By the third day, (Y/N) was walking again.
Not well. Not fast. But upright.
She shuffled down the Stark Tower hallway in her softest sweats, hair piled in a bun, and a slight wobble in her step in which Peter noticed instantly.
He nearly dropped his breakfast burrito.
âAre you â wait, are you walking?â
âIâm limping,â she corrected, gripping the wall as she moved toward the kitchen. âThereâs a difference.â
Peter was at her side in two seconds, one hand on her lower back, the other hovering like he wanted to catch her if she so much as sneezed wrong. âYou shouldâve called me. You didnât have to walk all the way here.â
âYou were across the hall, not on Mars.â
âYou limped across the hall,â he murmured, voice low, soft. âBecause of me.â
She turned to him slowly. âYeah. Because of what you did to me.â
He froze.
Her voice was different this morning. Still soft, still teasing. But there was an edge to it. A heat beneath the words. And Peter, hypersensitive still from the leftover side effects of that damn alien pollen, felt it.
Felt her.
Her scent, warm and familiar like home, wrapped around him like a noose. Not the choking kind, but the kind that tugged him closer, coaxing him to lean in and never pull away. It was her, entirely her, and it hit him like gravity, pulling him down. Every nerve in his body lit up. The air between them thinned.Â
(Y/N) smirked. âYouâre thinking about it again, arenât you?â
Peter swallowed. âI â uh⌠maybe-â
She stepped closer. Her fingers danced along the hem of his MIT hoodie â her hoodie, technically, but it had always smelled like him. âYou broke the bed, Parker. Left me walking funny for two days.â
âI know, and Iâm sor-â
âI didnât say I minded.â
Peter blinked. ââŚwhat?â
She pressed up onto her toes, whispering into his ear, âI liked the way you begged. I liked when you asked for permission to wreck me. Like you couldnât breathe until I said yes.â
His knees nearly gave out.
âBaby,â he whispered, jaw tight. âPlease. You canât do this right now.â
âWhy not?â
âBecause Steve is in the other room. And if you keep talking like that, Iâm gonna throw you on the nearest surface and-â
She leaned in closer, lips brushing his jaw. âYou think Iâd mind?â
Peter whimpered.
They didnât even make it out of the hallway.
(Y/N) shoved him into the elevator with trembling hands and fire in her eyes. She pressed all the buttons in a hurry. The doors slid shut, sealing them inside that small, mirrored box; and she didnât hesitate.
She grabbed his hoodie, fisting the fabric, and kissed him like sheâd been holding her breath since the last time their bodies collided. Peter responded instantly, lips crashing against hers with a bruising, aching need. His hands flying to her hips, gripping like she might vanish.
Her hands were everywhere â on his jaw, in his hair, under his hoodie. She tugged it up, fingers skating along his stomach, memorizing the planes of muscle like sheâd been starved of him. And maybe she had. Three days of tension, of silence, of his gentle hands and guilty eyes, had burned between them like a fuse. It was snapping now. Loud. Violent. Beautiful.
âYouâre so mean,â he gasped between kisses. âYou know what you do to me. You know.â
âYouâve been babying me for days,â she whispered, licking into his mouth. âI needed to remind you I can make you fall apart too.â
He shuddered.
âYouâve been so sweet,â she continued, brushing her lips along his ear. âSo careful. Like Iâm glass.â
âIâm trying to behave,â he panted, forehead falling against hers. âI told myself Iâd let you rest, give you time, be good-â
âBut youâre not good, are you?â she said sweetly, grinding her hips into his. âYouâre so close to snapping.â
Her hips rolled against his, deliberately slow, deliberately cruel. The friction was just enough to make him whimper.Â
âI needed to remind you,â she said, eyes locked on his. âThat I can take it. That I want all of you.â
She ground against him again, slower this time, letting the drag of her body against his show him exactly what she meant. His breath hitched.
Peterâs whole body shuddered. âIâm gonna fucking cry.â
âYouâre holding back,â she whispered. âBut I donât want you to.â
He dropped to his knees. Not out of dominance. Not even out of lust. It was reverence. He looked up at her like she hung the stars, hands settling on her hips like they were meant to be there.
âWait, Peter â what are you ââ
âIâve missed this,â he whispered as his hands wrapped around her thighs, pushing her up against the wall as he nuzzled against her center through her sweats. âIâve been aching for this. Let me make you come. Please. Right here. Just one. Just let me taste-â
âPeter,â she gasped and stared at him, shocked by the sheer desperation in his voice, the way he trembled under the weight of wanting her.
âSay yes,â he begged, looking up at her. âSay yes and Iâll be gentle. Iâll be sweet. Iâll lick you until you forget where we are.â
Her breath caught.
âSay no,â he whispered, âand Iâll stop. I swear. But please donât say no.â
Her fingers threaded into his curls. âYes,â she said, voice barely more than a breath. âYes, Peter.â
That was all he needed.
Her sweats were gone in one swift pull, her underwear with them, and he didnât waste a second. His mouth was on her, hot and soft and relentless. She gasped, knees buckling slightly as his tongue parted her, licking slow and deep. He moaned like her taste was everything heâd ever wanted, like it had been haunting him since the moment he walked out of that bedroom.
The elevator kept rising, but she didnât care. Couldnât even think. Peterâs tongue was hot and wet and sinful against her, licking and sucking like he was worshipping, and she felt herself coming undone fast â faster than she expected.
His grip tightened on her thighs as she rocked against his face, her fingers buried in his hair, anchoring herself to something real while the world spun.Â
Her hips bucked. He held her down.
âYou taste so good,â he groaned, licking deeper. âYou always do. Iâll never get enough.â
âPeter â someone might ââ she whimpered, voice cracking.
âI donât care,â he said, voice raw. âLet them see. Let them see how good I make you feel,â he murmured between strokes, his lips slick and reverent. âI could die right here and not regret a thing.â
She was already close. Too close. It was overwhelming; his tongue, his praise, the look in his eyes every time he glanced up at her. And when he moaned again, dragging the flat of his tongue against her with long, desperate strokes, she snapped.
Her back hit the mirror. Her hips jerked. She cried out, clutching his curls and Peter just held her there, groaning against her as if her pleasure was enough to undo him completely.
She came with a sharp cry as her orgasm hit like a tidal wave, legs trembling, and Peter moaned against her. Seeing her become undone fed something inside him.
When he finally pulled away, his lips were swollen, cheeks flushed, and breathing ragged.Â
And he was so hard it looked painful.
â(Y/N),â he panted, standing slowly, hands finding her waist again like he was afraid to let go. âPlease.â
âWhat do you need?â
âYou. All of you. Right now, please.â
âThen take me.â
They didnât make it to a bed this time.
He spun her gently, pressing her against the mirrored wall. She could see their reflection now. Her flushed cheeks, his blown pupils, the way his hands trembled slightly as they gripped her hips.
He pulled his sweats low enough, lined himself up, and pushed inside with one slow, careful thrust. They both gasped â not from pain, but from relief. From finally giving in.
Peter stilled, forehead resting on her shoulder. His hands held her hips like glass. âTell me if I go too far.â
âYou wonât,â she moaned, backing into him. âI want all of it.â
He moved slowly at first, savoring the drag of her around him, the sounds she made, the way her breath hitched every time he bottomed out.
But (Y/N) pushed back harder. âMore.â
He gripped her hips tighter.
âSay it again.â
âHarder, Peter. I can take it. I want it.â
That did it.
The pace shifted; deeper, rougher, desperate. Each thrust came with a groan, a whispered confession, a kiss to her shoulder. His grip was bruising, but careful. His mouth trailed along her neck as he moved, panting her name like it was the only word he remembered.
âYou feel so good,â he panted. âSo perfect. You were made for me.â
âYouâre ruining me in an elevator,â she gasped. âWhat would the Avengers think?â
âThat Iâm the luckiest man alive,â he whispered, leaning down to kiss her neck. âAnd that youâre everything.â
She clenched around him â tight, pulsing â and he lost all rhythm.
âIâm close,â he gasped, voice breaking. âI love you. I love you so much, I â â
He came with a cry, buried deep inside her, his whole body trembling as he wrapped his arms around her from behind like she was the only thing holding him up.
The elevator dinged.
Peter caught her before she could collapse, holding her against his chest, breathing her in.
âI didnât mean for it to be like that,â he whispered. âIâm sorry if-â
She silenced him with a kiss. âYou donât ever have to apologize for loving me like that.â
His eyes were glassy. âI just wanted to be good.â
âYou are, Peter,â she promised, and smiled. Her hands went to cup his jaw. âYouâre the best thing thatâs ever happened to me.â
ŕŠâŠâ§âËŕźşâŕźťŕŠâŠâ§âË
For once, Stark Tower was quiet.
Peter sat in Tonyâs office, fidgeting with a stress cube that clicked with every twitch of his fingers. Across from him, Tony stared silently, sipping scotch at ten in the morning like it was coffee.
âYou done wrecking my furniture?â he finally asked.
Peter coughed. âYeah⌠For now.â
Tonyâs brow raised. âSo youâre saying youâre open to a payment plan.â
âI can⌠fix the frame?â Peter offered. âAnd the wall. And the door. And probably part of the ceiling.â
âYou dented the ceiling?â
Peter turned red. âI had enhanced strength and a biological mating drive, Mr. Stark. What do you want from me?â
âControl,â Tony said, setting the glass down. âWhich you miraculously still had, apparently. You couldâve hurt her.â
âIâd rather die.â
Tony didnât smile. But his expression softened just slightly.
âLook. Iâm not gonna give you the sex talk. God knows your girlfriend already limped through the aftermath, but if youâre gonna keep getting tangled up in Avengers-level bullshit, you need to be prepared for what happens when biology, stress, and superpowers mix.â
Peter nodded.
âDoes she know what she signed up for?â Tony asked.
Peter thought of (Y/N)âs hands. Her voice. Her eyes when she told him yes, every single time.
âShe knows,â Peter said. âShe always knows.â
Tony grunted. âGood. Then stop breaking my elevators.â
Meanwhile, MJ had cornered (Y/N) in the media room with a chai latte and a face that screamed weâre gonna talk about it whether you like it or not.
âSo,â she said, sitting cross-legged beside her. âYou okay?â
(Y/N) blinked. âYou mean emotionally? Or like⌠still wobbly from getting my soul rearranged?â
âBoth.â
âIâm okay,â (Y/N) said softly. âTired. Sore. And a little stunned that Tony didnât have me escorted out by force.â
MJ smirked. âHe likes you. Hates to admit it, but you ground Peter. He gets⌠weird without you.â
âYeah,â (Y/N) whispered. âI noticed.â
MJ nudged her shoulder. âWas it weird weird? Or like, âyouâd do it again if no one was watchingâ weird?â
âMJ!â (Y/N)âs hands flew to her face as it flushed bright red.
âWhat? I was just asking.â MJ grinned unapologetically. âYouâre glowing, babe. I had to check in.â
(Y/N) gave her a look but then her expression softened. A shy, faraway smile tugged at her lips.
âIt wasnât even about the sex,â she murmured. âI mean yeah, it was insane, but it was how he looked at me. Like I was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.â
MJâs smirk faded into something gentler.
âHe begged for my consent like it was air,â (Y/N) continued. âEven when he could barely think straight. He couldâve snapped, but he didnât. He held on for me.â
âThatâs love, babe,â MJ said quietly. âThe real kind.â
(Y/N) nodded. âIt really is.â
MJ handed her the chai. âYou deserve it.â
(Y/N) smiled. âSo do you.â
MJ leaned her head on her shoulder. âOkay, well now Iâm gonna cry. And you still look like youâve been thoroughly railed, so letâs call it even.â
They both burst out laughing.
That night, (Y/N) found Peter on the rooftop, hoodie pulled up over his curls, the wind ruffling the hem as the lights of New York buzzed quietly below them. He stood near the edge, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched.
She stepped beside him, the cool air catching strands of her hair.
âYouâre brooding,â she said gently.
âIâm recovering from being the Tower menace.â
She smiled. âYouâre not. Well⌠maybe a little.â
He glanced at her, his expression serious. âI keep thinking about what couldâve happened. If Iâd lost control.â
âBut you didnât.â
âI could have.â
She reached up, cupping his jaw. Her thumb brushed along the edge of his cheekbone.
âYou gave me the choice. Every time. You never took.â
Peterâs eyes searched hers, shimmering in the rooftop glow.
âI wanted to make love to you,â he whispered. âEven when I was losing it. Especially then. It was never just about the heat. It was you. Itâs always been you.â
âYou did,â she whispered back. âYou made me feel safe. Wanted. Like I was yours⌠in the softest way.â
A long silence fell between them, full but comforting.
Then she tilted her head. âCome to bed?â
Peter took her hand, kissing the back of it. âYeah. Okay.â
This time, there was no frenzy. No tearing of clothes. No desperation.
Just quiet hands. Warm skin. Deep breaths in the dark.
They laid tangled in the sheets, their limbs wrapped around each other like vines. Peter pulled her close, bare chests pressed together, and kissed her temple.
âYouâre my home,â he whispered.
(Y/N) smiled sleepily, resting her head against his chest.
âThen youâd better get used to me being around,â she mumbled. âBecause Iâm never leaving.â
He didnât say anything. Just held her tighter.
Outside, the city kept buzzing; neon lights flickering, taxis flying past, voices echoing through the streets.
But inside, in the quiet of her arms, the world slowed down.
It was warm, gentle, and safe.
She was curled into him like she belonged there, like sheâd always known where to fit â and Peter didnât need spider-sense to feel it. He just knew.
Her fingers rested over his heart. His breathing matched hers.
And for the first time in a long, long while, he wasnât thinking about saving the world.
He was thinking about her laugh. Her skin. The way she looked at him like he was worth loving, even when he didnât believe it himself.
And just like that, with her heartbeat beneath his fingertips, her presence filling every quiet corner of him â Peter finally, finally felt like he wasnât falling.
ËËË As a villain, you've been causing trouble for Spider-Man, but lately, things have taken a turn. There's a growing tension and attraction between you two. Spider-Man is torn between his heroic duties and the desire that's building inside him. You decide to use this to your advantage, taunting and toying with him as you plot your possible escape.
⤡ Oneshot, smut, oral sex, very detailed so hereâs the warning!
⤡ A/N: I saw that yâall liked my Peter Parker/Spiderman story so I wanted to make another one! I also want to do something different. And heâs aged up to 20! This is for my bestie Mia-Mia as well!! I know you're gonna love this one.
⤡ Word count: 2,795
⤡ Special song to add spice: Harleys In Hawaii by Katty Perry
âŚďžâĄď¸
Youâre trapped. His webs cling to your arms, and your legs, pinning you against the cold brick wall of the alleyway. The rain is coming down in sheets, soaking through your suit, and you can smell the metallic tang of the city mingling with the earthy dampness around you.Â
Spider-Man. Of course, itâs him. Always him. He lands in front of you with that infuriatingly confident stance, his mask hiding everything but the tension in his jaw. You know that tension isnât just about stopping you. Itâs different tonight. Deeper.
"Well," you drawl, your voice dripping with mockery, "looks like the neighborhood hero finally caught me. Whatâs the plan, Spider? Take me in? Lecture me about how Iâm on the wrong path?"
He doesnât respond immediately. Instead, he steps closer. His red and blue suit glistened under the dim streetlight. His gloved fingers twitch slightly, and you can feel the heat of his body even through the rain.Â
Heâs hesitating. Youâve seen this before, the way he lingers just a little too long, the way his eyesâthose damn eyesâseem to linger on you even when heâs trying to focus on the mission.
"Youâre not getting away this time," he finally says, his voice low and strained. Itâs not just determination in his tone. Thereâs something else. Something youâve been intentionally stoking for weeks now.
"Oh, Iâm not?" You tilt your head, your lips curling into a smirk. "You sure about that, Spider? Because youâve had me in this position before, and yet⌠here I am again. Funny how that works."
He growls a sound thatâs more frustration than anger and takes another step forward. The rain is plastering his mask to his face, and you can see the outline of his lips, the way theyâre pressed into a tight line. Perfect.
"Youâre playing a dangerous game," he warns, his voice dropping even lower.
"Dangerous?" You laugh, the sound echoing off the walls of the alley.Â
"This isnât dangerous, Spider. This is⌠fun. And I think youâre starting to enjoy it too."
His hands clench into fists, but he doesnât move. Youâre close enough now that if you leaned forward, you could kiss him. Not that you would. Not yet.Â
Youâre savoring this, the push and pull, the way heâs fighting himself more than heâs fighting you.
"You think I donât see what youâre doing?" he snaps, finally breaking the silence. "Youâre trying to mess with my head. Itâs not going to work."
"Is that what Iâm doing?" You feign innocence, batting your lashes.Â
"Because from where Iâm standing, it looks like youâre the one who canât keep his eyes off me. Or is that just the hero complex talking?"
He exhales sharply, a sound thatâs almost a growl, and then before you can react, his hand is on your throat. Not hard, but firm enough to make your breath catch. Finally.
"Youâre pushing me," he warns, his voice almost a whisper.
"Or maybe," you purr, your voice trembling slightly but still laced with defiance, "youâre just tired of pretending you donât want this."
For a moment, thereâs nothing but the sound of the rain and the ragged rhythm of your breathing.
Suddenly he pulls his mask halfway up. Only exposing his lips. Then, his lips crash into yours, rough and desperate, and you can feel the heat of him through the suit. His other hand is on your waist, pulling you closer, regardless of you being trapped in his webs. You can feel the hardness of him pressing against you.
Itâs not gentle. Itâs not sweet. Itâs raw, animalistic, the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless and aching. His tongue invades your mouth, and you bite down hard, drawing a low groan from him.
He pulls back, his chest heaving, and for a moment, you think heâs going to stop, to walk away. But then his hands are on your hips, lifting you effortlessly, and your back is hitting the wall again, the cold brick a sharp contrast to the heat of his body.
"Spider," you gasp, your voice trembling, "youâre going to regret this."
"I already do," he growls, and then his mouth is on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as his hands work to free you from the webs. Theyâll take a while to dissolve, but he doesnât seem to care, his hands slipping under your clothes, his fingers rough and demanding.
"Youâre going to hate yourself tomorrow," you whisper, your nails digging into his shoulders.
"Maybe," he says, his breath hot against your ear, "but right now, I donât give a damn."
His hands are on your ass now, lifting you higher, and you wrap your legs around his waist, grinding against him. The friction is electric, and you can feel the tension in his body, the way heâs holding back, barely.
You were getting wetter by the second.
"Fuck me," you demand, your voice low and throaty. "Right here. Right now."
He growls a sound that sends shivers down your spine, and then his fingers are working at the bottom of your suit. Pullingthem down just enough to expose you. Heâs fumbling with his suit, his movements hurried and clumsy, and then heâs inside you, filling you in one rough thrust.Â
You cry out, the sound swallowed by the rain, and your nails dig into his back. Heâs not gentle, not this time, his thrusts are hard and unrelenting, each one driving you closer to the edge.
You can feel the tension building in your body, the heat coiling in your core, and you know heâs feeling it too, the way his breath is coming in short, ragged gasps.
"Look at you," you whisper, your voice trembling, "the great Spider-Man, fucking the villain heâs supposed to stop. What would your fans think?"
He growls, his hips slamming into yours with even more force, and you can feel the sting of the brick wall against your back, the ache in your legs as you cling to him. But you donât care. You donât care about the pain, the rain, the danger. All you care about is the man in front of you, the way heâs losing control, the way heâs giving in to the desire heâs been fighting for so long.
"Harder," you demand, your voice breaking, and he obliges, his thrusts becoming even more brutal, driving you closer and closer to the edge.Â
His moans were like a drug, and the feel of his hands on you was intoxicating. His possessive and affectionate touch was both thrilling and comforting.
You can feel it building, the tension in your body, the heat in your core, and then itâs too much, too overwhelming, and youâre coming, your body shuddering against his.
He follows you over the edge, his body tensing, his thrusts becoming erratic, and then heâs collapsing against you, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. For a moment, thereâs nothing but the sound of the rain and the pounding of your heart.
And then he pulls back, his mask still plastered to his face, his eyes dark and unreadable. "This doesnât change anything," he says, his voice low and dangerous.
"Oh, Spider," you whisper, your lips curling into a smirk, "I think it changes everything."
ââ .âŚ
The rain had stopped, leaving the streets glistening under the dim glow of streetlights. Spider-Man stood there, his suit still clinging to his skin, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. You, the villain, leaned against the damp brick wall, your smirk never wavering. The air between you was thick with tension, a dangerous cocktail of desire and rivalry.
"Youâre always so predictable, Spider," you purred, your voice low and sultry. "Always chasing after little old me. But tell meâŚ" You stepped closer, your hips swaying with every step, the sound of your heels clicking against the wet pavement echoing in the alley. "What would you do if I stopped running?"
His eyes narrowed under the mask, but you could see the flicker of curiosityâand something darkerâbehind them. "What are you getting at?" he asked, his voice steady but with a hint of intrigue.
You reached out, your fingers grazing the fabric of his suit, feeling the heat radiating from his body. "Come with me," you whispered, leaning in so close that your breath ghosted over the edge of his mask. "Just for tonight. Let me show you what it feels like to let go."
He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he weighed his options. You could see the conflict in him, the struggle between his duty and the pull of whatever this was between you. Then, finally, he nodded. "Lead the way."
Your smirk widened as you turned, walking confidently down the alley, knowing he would follow. The city buzzed around you, but it felt distant and irrelevant. All that mattered was the game you were playing, the one you were determined to win.
Your lair was hidden in plain sight, an unassuming building in the heart of the city. Inside, it was a different storyâa sleek, modern space filled with cutting-edge technology and decadent touches.
You led him through the dimly lit rooms, the air thick with the scent of leather and something faintly floral. Finally, you stopped in a room dominated by a large, circular bed, the walls made entirely of glass, overlooking the city skyline.
"Impressive," Spider-Man said, his voice tinged with caution. "But this doesnât mean I trust you."
You laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down his spine. "Oh, Spider, you donât have to trust me. You justhave to let go."
You moved closer, your body brushing against his as you reached up to trace the edge of his mask. "Take it off," you murmured, your voice dripping with temptation. "Let me see you."
He hesitated again, his breathing growing shallow. Then, slowly, he peeled the mask off, revealing Peter Parkerâs faceâyouthful, vulnerable, and undeniably handsome. You stared at him for a moment, savoring the way his eyes flickered with uncertainty and desire.
"Beautiful," you whispered, though you knew better than to let him hear it. Instead, you closed the distance between you, your lips crashing against his in a searing kiss. He groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you closer.
The kiss was fierce, and desperate, a battle for dominance that neither of you was willing to lose. Your hands slid under his suit, feeling the hard planes of his chest, the way his muscles tensed under your touch. He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he stared at you, his eyes dark with hunger.
"Tell me what you want," he growled, his voice rough with need.
You smirked, your hands trailing down his chest to the waistband of his suit. "I want to see you beg," you whispered, your voice a low, dangerous purr.
He let out a choked laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Youâre playing with fire."
"And yet," you murmured, your fingers toying with the edge of his suit, "youâre the one whoâs burning."
Before he could respond, you pushed him down onto the bed, climbing on top of him with a predatory grace. You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear. "Let me show you what it feels like to lose control."
And then you kissed him again, harder this time, your hips grinding against his, feeling the way he hardened beneath you. His hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you closer, his body arching against yours.
This is it, you thought, your mind hazy with desire. This is the moment Iâve been waiting for.
You pulled back, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. "Take off the suit," you commanded, your voice firm and unyielding.
He hesitated for only a moment before obeying, stripping off the suit and tossing it aside, leaving him bare before you. You took in the sight of himâhis lean, muscular frame, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the way his cock stood hard and ready against his stomach.
"Perfect," you murmured, more to yourself than to him. Then you leaned down, your hands sliding up his thighs, feeling the way they trembled under your touch. "Now, letâs see how long you can last."
You wrapped your hand around him, stroking him slowly, savoring the way his breath hitched and his hips bucked into your touch. His hands gripped the sheets, his knuckles turning white as he tried to hold back, to keep control.
"Donât fight it," you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. "Let go."
And then you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip before sliding down the length of him. He moaned, his hips jerking upward as you took him deeper, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. He was thick, his cock filling your mouth as you worked him, every stroke driving him closer to the edge.
"Fuck," he groaned, his hands perfectly grabbing your braids as he tried to hold you still, but you pulled back, teasing him with the tip before plunging down again. He cried out, his body tensing as he tried to control himself, but you were relentless, your mouth and hand working in perfect sync.
"Youâre so close," you murmured, pulling back to look at him, your lips swollen and glistening. "But Iâm not done with you yet."
You climbed off him, ignoring his protest as you turned around, straddling his chest. You leaned down, your breasts brushing against his face as you whispered, "Your turn."
He didnât need any more encouragement, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you down onto his face, his tongue delving into you with a hunger that matched your own. You moaned, your hands tangling in his hair as he licked and sucked, his tongue driving you wild.
"Donât stop," you gasped, your hips grinding against his face as his tongue worked its magic. You could feel the heat building in your core, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable.
Iâm so close, you thought, your mind hazy with pleasure. Just a little moreâŚ
And then he slid a finger inside you, curling it just right, and you were coming, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. He didnât stop, his tongue and fingers continuing to work you through your orgasm until you were a trembling, gasping mess.
You rolled off him, your body still trembling as you caught your breath. He stared at you, his chest rising and falling, his eyes dark with hunger.Â
"Youâre insatiable," he muttered, his voice rough with need.
You smirked, your hand trailing down his chest to his cock, feeling the way it twitched under your touch. "And youâre far from done," you murmured, your voice a low, dangerous purr. "Now, letâs see how much you can take."
You climbed on top of him, guiding him into you, your breath hitching as he filled you completely. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips as you moved, your bodies sliding together in perfect sync. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with your breathy moans and his choked gasps.
"Fuck," he muttered, his hands sliding up your body to grip your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "Youâre⌠unbelievable."
You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear. "And youâre mine," you whispered, your voice a low, dangerous purr. "Even if itâs just for tonight."
He groaned, his hips bucking upward as you moved, your bodies sliding together in a perfect rhythm. The sound of skin against skin filled the room still. Mingling with your breathy moans and his choked gasps. You could feel the tension building inside you again, your body coiling tighter and tighter as he thrust into you, his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside you.
âSurrender to me,â he growled, his hands gripping your hips as he thrust harder, deeper. "Let go."
And then you were coming again, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. He followed you over the edge, his body tensing as he spilled inside you, his grip on your hips almost painful as he held you still.
You collapsed on top of him, your bodies still trembling as you caught your breath. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your breathing and the steady thrum of your hearts.
And then he spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "This doesnât change anything."
You smirked, your lips brushing against his ear. "Oh, Spider," you whispered, your voice dripping with amusement. "I told youâit changes everything."
HAHAHHSHDDHSHDHUWDHU. IM BITING MY LAPTOP RN- THIS IS SO GOOD. I hope you all AGREE!!!
cw: MDNI!! dubcon (bc there's an aphrodisiac involved), oral (f!receiving), fingering, lots of dirty talk, unprotected p in v, mating press, creampie, multiple orgasms, friends to lovers!!, HUNGRY peter
masterlist, taglist, and kinktober 2025 masterlist!
you weren't sure when it became a habit to sneak into the chemistry building after hours with peter to help him work on his web fluid; all you knew was it was your turn to pay for the pizza.
it was nearing midnight as your full belly laughs echoed through the empty lab, crusts long forgotten on the table behind you, as you lost yourself in a story. peter's smile was visible through prickling tears.
he knew it was a bad idea to invite you from the start â there was no shot in hell he'd get any work done as long as you were around him. peter had figured that out by the senior year of high school: he just couldn't seem to focus on anything other than you. he began to lie and say he was finished with his homework whenever you would hang out, covering his lack of progress in your presence.
peter had been distracted by you for the last few years, yet he could never seem to resist your company anyway. he beamed as you laughed at your own joke, relishing in the alone time he got to spend with the one person who made him feel like himself.
you let out a snort, and peter was done for, tears in his own eyes as he joined you in hearty laughter. he reached down and grabbed a vial through blurry vision, adding the final touch to his web fluid 3.0.
except that, instead of a sticky web-like substance, peter was met with a bright flash of hot pink from the liquid in the beaker before a cloud of magenta powder exploded from the glass, dusting the room, and in turn, you and peter.
he was on you instantly, shielding you from the flying shards of glass before the beaker even burst, though the aerosol impact was inevitable. the reaction was quick to hit your lungs, dragging out hoarse coughs, rough and heavy in your chest as you fought to regain a sense of your surroundings.
the headache was almost immediate as peter leaned down to say something, and you winced as you looked up at him.
"what?"
"are you okay? did you get cut at all?" peter frantically examined for any tears in your sweatshirt, checking your hands for any possible nicks.
"i'm okay, reaâwoah," peter placed a hand on your jaw to inspect your face, and the touch activated something deep inside of you.
suddenly, you felt the hottest you'd ever been, and the headrush made you weak in the knees. your vision began to cloud, senses on overdrive as you felt an aching pain rising in your chest. meeting peter's gaze with panicked eyes, you began to really take in the state of the situation.
"peter, what did you just mix?"
"i-i don't know, i must've grabbed the wrong thing..." he trailed off as he turned to search through the drawers, but the movement stopped him dead in his tracks.
peter was instantly met with a rush of vertigo, the room spinning violently around him as he braced himself on the countertop. he felt like he did when he was first bitten: hypersensitive and overwhelmed. fuck, what did he mix?
amidst the rest of the world in his ears, peter picked up on the sound of your heartbeat and immediately knew something was wrong. really wrong. he took a moment to analyze you, everything moving in slow motion as he fought to figure out what the hell he mixed together, and where these symptoms were headed.
your current state didn't give him much comfort; peter quickly noticed how you were starting to sweat, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath, despite not having left your chair. your full-body flush made him wonder if he looked just as disheveled.
"are you feeling okay?" peter asked, heavy with concern and guilt.
you shook your head at him, words fighting to escape your trembling lips. "i-i don't know. i feel... warm. i don't know."
and then peter felt it. his cock twitched, and he realized for the first time how painfully hard he was. he looked down in horror, hoping you hadn't yet noticed in your own haze. peter quickly sat down again to cover the evidence, praying to any god who was listening that this wasn't happening.
while successful in his concealment, the slight friction in the movement of his pants was enough to elicit a groan from his throat; he hoped you didn't hear.
but you did. because each little noise he made, conscious or not, egged on every dirty fucking thought you were having right now. and about peter. in front of peter.
"maybe we should get some... some fresh air, or something," peter says weakly.
as you nodded in response and moved to get up, it became horribly apparent to peter that he had to stand up with you, and not only would you also know just how hard he was, but the friction alone might be enough to kill him.
and then he had a thought:
are you feeling this way too?
no, don't think like that. that's your best friend, and whatever's happening, clearly neither of you was in your right mind.
but peter had always felt this way about you. this time, it was just so physically painful for some reason. what the fuck was in that beaker?
he didn't have any more time for his mind to race, as you stood from your stool and he watched your knees buckle underneath you. peter rushed to stabilize you, grabbing your shoulders and keeping you steady. it was pointless, though. somehow, the feeling of peter's hand against you knocked your breath out, far worse than falling ever would've.
you had no idea what was going on, but it was getting harder and harder to think about anything other than peter (as if that wasn't the norm anyway, bffr). but this was heightened. this was all of your wildest desires pulled to the forefront of your mind in the middle of your ochem 403 lab at 11pm on a tuesday night.
what the fuck was going on with you?
you tried to shake off the way peter's touch relieved some of the haze clouding your brain, and tried to shake off the feeling that maybe he was also feeling this way. your thighs clenched at the thought â that peter was also thinking of every possible way to take you on this counter right now.
but this was your best friend, and you needed to get your shit together long enough to handle whatever this feeling was on your own.
"woah, are y'okay?" peter slurred, your body heat under his palms radiating down to the rest of his body and nearly sending him down as well.
"i... i don't know, i think..." you stuttered out, not trusting anything coming from your mouth right now. "i-i think i have to go, i'm, i'm not feeling well."
you turned to make a run for it, hoping to get out of peter's sight before you either passed out or pounced on him. he stopped you, though, grabbing your hand with a pleading "wait!" falling from his lips.
before you could stop it, a whimper escaped from your lips at his touch, and you went bright red in seconds, hand flying up to cover the unexpected noise.
peter didn't help as he stared at you with his mouth agape, pupils blown to shit. he looked fucked out beyond belief and you'd barely even touched.
you cleared your throat, hoping to get out as coherent and PG a sentence as you could. "peter i-i feel really weird. a-and, i think i'm freaking the fuck out."
knowing you were hurting as much as he was broke his heart, and peter struggled to put all his energy into focusing on you. "i know, it's okay, bug. just take some deep breaths, a-and let's try to make it outside, yeah?"
he tried to pull you, but your legs forgot how to work, and you were frozen where you were, breath quick as everything grew downright painful.
peter's breathing picked up as he heard you hyperventilating, panicking himself as he watched you crumble in front of you. he needed to find out what was in that vile, and fast.
but all he could fucking think about was being on his knees in between your thighs.
fuck.
"p-peter, please. please, i-i, i need your help. you have to make this stop."
"fuckâ it'll be okay, i promise. i'll do whatever i need to get you better. i-i just..." he clamped his eyes shut, desperately trying to come up with a way to make an antidote of some kind without dying or ruining your friendship along the way.
"peter... iâ"
"what?" he cut you off, concern heavy in his tone.
despite his ever-growing problem, peter reached out to cup your cheek, and though not an unnatural thing to do, it was one definitely influenced by a gravity drawing him towards the feeling of your skin on his.
you stared at his lust-blown eyes, wondering if yours looked the same. wondering if he felt the same.
peter spoke your name softly, his thumb grazing your cheek softly and lingering far too closely to your lips to not mean anything.
fuck it.
you grabbed his shirt and pulled him forward, nearly headbutting him in the process as you locked onto his lips, surprised when you felt him immediately reciprocate and tangle his hands in your hair. everything about the kiss was desperate, and the feeling of peter all over you was fucking radiant.
peter was nothing but a moaning mess against you, sloppy and wet against your lips as he pleaded your name as though each time he said it, it took away the pain in his chest. truthfully, it did.
peter pulled away to take a breath, and the lack of contact brought the sharp pain immediately back, earning a whine to fall from his lips. he shook it off, grabbing the sides of your face and doing his best to refocus.
"f-fuck, should we talk about this?" peter asked relectantly.
"i-i don't know. i don't know what's happening right now, pete. all i know is that i need you to touch me. anything, please. i'm sorry. just, please make it go away."
yeah, you could talk about it later.
"nonono, hey. im so sorry, baby, this is all my fault. i'll do whatever you need, i mean it. i'll make it better, i promise."
peter pulled you back into a hungry kiss, rough hands roaming your body in a way he'd never touched you before. the feeling of your curves under his palms was only something he'd dreamed of, and peter was insufferably hard as he pulled you into him further.
there was a nag in the back of his mind, something telling him to stop before you did something you'd regret. because there was no possible way he had you, his best friend, tangled in his arms and lips heavy on his own. and yeah, peter had been smitten with you since the day you met, but he was never going to do anything about it. you didn't feel that way about him, of course. right?
cause right now, you kinda did.
no! fuck! just the chemicals! this was a one-time thing, friends helping friends.
yeah, friends helping friends.
but the pretty little moans that came out of your mouth as peter trailed his way down your neck? those sounded awfully more than just friendly. and the way you whined as he moved his hands up your waist, palming your tits through your shirt as he growled for permission in your ear? peter was never going to be able to look you in the eyes after tonight.
but right now, he was entranced as you bunched his shirt fabric in your hands and begged for it off, pulling the material over his head and immediately attacking his firm chest with a series of hickeys. you shifted your hands down towards his waistband, tugging him by his belt loops as you left a wet, hot trail of kisses down his abs. peter couldn't help but cant his hips forward into you, absolutely fucking losing his mind.
his own hands made their way around your frame, trailing down to your ass and grabbing hard. you gasped at the feeling, then lost your breath fully as peter nipped at your ear and told you to jump. he caught your thighs, shifting to set you on the lab counter and wedging his body between your legs.
everything was hot and heavy, and the effects were evolving and worsening. it was growing stronger with each touch, and though feeling each other was helping ease the pain, the need for more was growing too strong to ignore.
you pulled away from him, tears threatening to spill from your doe eyes as you stared up at peter, who didn't look much better.
"what? what is it, what do you need, baby?"
"i-i... i need you to touch me, pete."
peter went pale at your confession. it was asked so quietly, but it held so much weight. weight he'd think about after he got to find out what you tasted like.
with a deep rumble in his chest and another sloppy kiss to your neck, peter began to fumble his way around your waistband, asking you a thousand extra times if this was okay.
yeah, i fucking think so.
peter's index fingers hooked the hips of your pants; feeling his hands on your bare skin for the first time covered you in goosebumps. it was numbing the pain in your chest and igniting something in it all the same. you were so caught up in the moment, gobsmacked over peter parker, your best friend of six years, tugging your pants down, that you almost didn't notice that he'd pulled them back up.
your cheeks instantly bloomed in mortification. "fuck, i-im sorry, i-i don't know what's come over meâ"
"no! stop apologizing, please. i just..." peter took a dramatic pause, and the only thing that could be heard was the two of you heavily panting, taking in the scene unfolding before you as the pain hammered in each of your chests.
"i need to tell you something before anything else happens."
you gave him a worried look, and peter returned it with a heavy sigh.
"i don't know what the fuck is happening right now, and why i feel like im fucking going to die if you don't touch me right now, and this is all my fault and i'm so fucking sorryâ"
"peter. what's wrong?"
well, we're already in this deep.
"i don't know what fuck-ass aphrodiasic i just created, but i need you to know that the real me means this too. i can't let anything happen without you knowing that i love you, and this still means something to me. even if i'm not myself right now. a-and i'll do whatever you need me to do, and we can never talk about this again, but you don't deserve me keeping that from you."
you sat on the counter, stunned, as peter anxiously bit his lip, worried he'd just fucked up one of the best relationships that had ever happened to him. and he was still so fucking hard.
the only response you gave him was hopping off the counter and taking your bottoms off for him.
and peter was immediately on you again.
he had a hand rough in your hair as he kissed you, his other firm on your bare ass as he kneaded the soft flesh with a hunger. through his moans and downright whines, he almost missed it:
"i love you too, peter. so fucking much."
something inside of him snapped, and this time he didn't even ask you to jump, wrapping his hands around your waist and lifting you to the counter like you weighed nothing. you wrapped your legs around his hips and pulled him close, the make-out nothing short of a frenzy.
the entire time, peter was in your ear, moaning things into your mouth you only ever dreamed you'd hear:
"this. this isn't how this was supposed to happen."
"you deserve better than this, fuck. deserve better than an empty fucking chem lab, christ's sake."
he was quick to get his hands back on you, traces of mischief left behind as he massaged your thighs and stared at your lace thong with a look you'd never seen from him before. peter had been so caught up in it all, he'd almost forgotten the effects of the reaction. his actions were genuine and intentional. but as he pulled back to get a proper look at you, the pain in his chest settled back in, and his senses reheightened to a million
"fuck, i need to touch you. please, can i touch you?" peter whined.
you were breathless in response, "please peter, do whatever the fuck you want to me. just please, do something. anything."
he groaned and ran his hands up your thighs till he reached the delicate lace, teasingly tracing the hemline. "don't fucking say that. i-i don't think i can control myself right now."
"pete, i don't want you to control yourself," a shudder ran down his spine.
"please. fuck me."
peter didn't have the energy left in him to delay this any longer.
he ripped the underwear clean from your body, pulling you to the edge of the counter and dropping to his knees in front of you. he wasted no time running his tongue through your glossy folds, latching his lips over your clit.
peter was so hungry, and the mixture of the fading pain in your chest and the pleasure blooming inside of you was an insane feeling. he added a finger? oh my god. you were fucking incoherent. he added another? you were pretty sure this rivaled the time you tried molly.
you pulled at his hair, begging him (to stop or to go harder, you didn't know). it was all so overwhelming, and every time you looked down to see the source of your pleasure and remembered it was your peter parker? you were close to the edge the quickest you'd ever been.
"pete, i-i..."
"what is it, baby?" he breathed, quickly returning to your dripping cunt.
baby. jesus fucking christ. that almost did you in right then and there.
"i wanna touch you too."
peter groaned deep inside you in response, and the vibration was enough to send you over the edge. you felt your body fly over the moon as you came, peter not letting down for a second as he fucked you with his tongue so you could ride out the high, lapping up every drop you gave him.
he stood up, breathless, glistening, and a little cocky if you knew peter the way you thought you did. "how are you feeling? did that help, d-does it still hurt?"
you were panting as you came down from your high, taking a second to be aware of your body and headspace again. you couldn't help but feel emotional as you noticed the effects starting to creep back in. you shed a tear and nodded as you felt the headache thundering in the distance.
peter pulled you into a hug, and it was almost enough to sober you up again, because something about this one felt different. more weighted.
"im sorry, baby, fuck. i-i'm sorry, what can i do? how can i help?" fuck, this was all his fault.
you sniffled in his ear, but the movement of your hips against his contradicted your melancholy demeanor. "it's better when you're touching me. please, just don't stop."
between your words and you snaking your hand down to palm him softly, peter parker was a wreck, and wrapped around your finger.
he was quick to envelop you in a kiss and drink you in, and you moved to claw his shirt off of him. you pulled back to look at him, and it wasn't like you hadn't seen peter shirtless over the years, but you'd never seen him this close, in this context. it made your chest hurt in a different way.
"fuck, you're so hot," you groaned, almost as though an inside thought had slipped out.
he snickered. "me? are you kidding me right now?"
peter roughly kissed you before tugging your shirt off, absolutely elated at the discovery you'd forgone a bra under your crewneck. he stared at you like a deer in headlights, starstruck as he saw you for the first time.
"jesus christ, you're a fucking dream."
his hands were on your tits before you could even register it, but the feeling only made you crave him more. you messed with his pants, and he took over amidst your frustration. boxers and all, he sprang free in front of you, and Holy Shit Peter Parker. that's fucking obscene.
"this is your last chance to change your mind. because once i start, i dont think i'll be able to stop," he warned.
"please fuck me, peter."
he attacked your chest with his lips, hands firm on your hips as he shifted you again to the edge of the counter. you wrapped your soft fingers around his leaking cock, and he was almost done for before you'd even started.
peter moaned loudly and moved to put his large hand over yours to line himself up. you were still soaked from peter's previous meal, making it easy for him to slide his head through your slit. you were a begging mess in his ear, nails scraping down his back in anticipation.
peter nudged your entrance and pushed in easily (whether from the pollen or his ample prep, no one knows). the two of you moaned in filthy harmony, the feeling a definition beyond indescribable.
his legs were shaking immediately, and despite his inhuman strength, it became apparent that he couldn't do this standing for much longer if you felt this good.
"fuck, sweetheart," peter grabbed you roughly and pulled you towards him, pushing to the hilt and pressing hip to hip with you. he picked you up, spun you around, and laid you on the cool tile
"this isn't what you deserve, fucking you on the ground like this. fuck, baby."
and then peter was relentless.
he pounded into you with such a force, his mouth still focused on your tits and how they bounced for him. both of you could breathe again, the pain lifting and now replaced with a newly discovered pleasure that made you emotional again. you looked completely fucked out, tears streaming down your cheeks as peter lifted your thighs higher to get as deep in you as possible.
"fuck, please don't cry," he begged, though he kept drilling into you, knees now meeting your own chest. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry."
you pulled him down, his chest pressing against the back of your thighs, and your foreheads connected as you breathed him in, exhaling a rough "i love you so much, peter".
he stuttered for a moment, eyes as wide as they were the first time he heard you say it. not for long, though, as he stayed pressed against you and picked up the pace like never before.
"oh my god, i fucking love you."
peter had you seeing stars, and you didn't know how long you'd even been in the lab. five minutes could have passed, maybe three hours. all you knew was that you didn't care, and you were close. peter knew it too.
"babe-baby, you're close. i-i can feel it, you're so fucking tight around my cock." you couldn't help but clench him in response.
"fuck, yeah-y-yes. god, squeezing me so good. god, i knew you were made for me."
it was the sentimentality of everything that sent you over this time. hearing the way he talked about you, you came around his cock, and it felt so fucking magical. but peter didn't slow down, determined to ride out your orgasm. he was quickly losing his composure, though, at the feeling of you fluttering around his cock.
"sweetheart, w-whereâ"
"inside, please."
peter didn't even have time to question the outcomes to his actions because the second he heard you, his best fucking friend, moaning for him to cum inside of her? oh fucking hell.
he let out such a guttural moan as he came, hot and thick, deep inside of you. you felt so warm and full, so much so that it triggered a third orgasm, sobbing peter's name as he just kept going. mixed arousal spilled down your thighs as he continued to fuck you, and through your fucked out haze, you could feel his cum drip down and pool around your ass.
you were barely conscious at this point, but peter kept going as he muttered "i'm sorry" over and over again.
luckily, he'd released the goddamn mating press and released your legs, allowing you to stretch out. peter was able to cover more of your body with his, lying chest to chest with you as his hips rutted into yours. the new position was so much more intimate as he leaned in to capture your lips in a kiss again.
"please. please, just one more. one more and i'll stop."
peter said that three more times that evening before he was done, and he felt like himself again.
he looked down at you in awe, though concern slipped through his fucked out eyes. "you okay, bug?"
"i can't believe you really just gassed us with an aphrodisiac."
peter laughed, a blush creeping on his cheeks at the memory of his fatal mistake. "yeah, that was, uh... that was my bad."
pairing: college!Peter Parker x Reader: 18+; academic rivals to lovers
word count: 5K
warnings: smut; slight angst; unpotected sex
summary: You start your new life at college, expecting it to be the most exciting time of your life, only to be met with Peter Parker, who decided to dedicate his free time to making your life a living hell
a/n: I've been dying to write an enemies to lovers type of fic, it's also my first time writing anything with suggestive content in it, so bear with me please. The heading is the most random thing I could come up with I'm sorry
College was the place you were looking forward to the most since you graduated high school. It was supposed to be a place where you met people with similar interest, went out with them to have fun and engage in intellectual converstaions. And it was exactly like that, for the most part. Growing up as a natuarally intelligent kid had you been putting little to no effort in school and always got you good grades. This quickly escalated into you trying a bit harder with each test and striving for more academic validation. At some point you even managed to become the best student in your class. But sitting hours on end on a desk and studying was still something very foreign to you. Sure, you would revise from time to time on topics that were harder to remember or things you couldn't recall from class, but it never went further than that. And maybe a degree in Biophysic was not the wisest idea given that backgroung. So, when college came around and you started the new classes on topics your common knowledge could barely help you keep up with, things went downhill very fast. For the first time you were faced with faliure, hard work and putting hours on end to study. It felt like everyone around you was more knowledgeable, more prepared, more educated on literally any topic that was discussed in and outside of class. Being at the bottom of the academic foodchain was mildy infuriating, to say the least.
And after the first few months of sleepless nights, filling up all of the holes so you could catch up to speed, you finally did it, and it felt more rewarding than anything else. This assisted you into making casual conversations with so many people from your different classes, one of them even inviting you to a study group that had been going on for months. You happily agreed to that idea, thinking it would be the best way to keep up with everyone in the class, not only academically but socically as well.
The day of the study group finally arrived on what seemed like the most normal, yet the most exciting Tuesday. They added you to a groupchat, everyone texting back and forth until all of you had agreed to go grab a coffee before heading to the library. You had tried your best to look presentable for this study date, putting on some white wide-leg dress pants and a neat navy blue t-shit that hugged your body very well. You hair was in a sleek bun, having a white buttonup because the weather was slightly chilly. Almost everyone had arrived there on time, which took you by surprise since you were used to being the only one being on time. After the cheerful greeting and formally learning everyone's names, you went inside and grabbed a coffee, returning to them promptly. You stood by the door, since the group had formed a circle around the entrance of the small shop.
"Was I the last one?" You asked concerned, looking around and counting the people.
"Actually, we're waiting for Peter" Someone said, everyone giggling softly and shaking their head.
"Who's Peter?" You asked, and as soon as you did, you felt something push againt your shoulder, sending you a step forward so you wouldn't come crashing down from losing your balance.
"I'M SO SORRY" you heard from behind you, turning around to see a boy with a worried expression on his face, paper cup in his hand. He was handsome, hair pushed back, warm eyes and nervous smile, leather jacked over a black t-shirt.
"That's Peter" someone stated, pulling you out of your trance. Peter chuckled, moving past you and motioning for everyone to go, since he was the one you all had been waiting for.
On the walk there you kept staring at the back of Peter's head, annoyed that he pushed you with the door, frusrated because he didn't even bother to introduce himself to you. Not that he really had to, you already knew well enough who he was. The guy who always came in rushing because he was late, somehow still managed to sit directly in front of you, blocking your view, no matter where you sat. He was the guy that would beat you to every question, the one who would always have the best grade on the tests. He leaned way too back in his seat, back pressed to your desk, pushing it, as you would try to keep up with writing everything down. And he would always ask you for a pen, every single time.
The study room was spacious and bright, it had a big round table for everyone to sit at, as well as two whiteboards and plenty or outlests for chargers and what not. It looked like the perfect place to study with a large group, excluding the fact Peter was there as well. You all took random seats around the table, Parker sitting across from you, almost as if it were on purpose. You held back an eye roll when he smiled at you cockily, making you look away and take out your laptop and notebook from your bag. The screen managed to block out most of Peter's face if you sink into your seat low enough. The conversation in the room flowed naturally, it was so interesting and engaging and you were having a blast speaking to these people. Soon enough all of you had solved the first homework questions, you quickly grabbing a pen and writing it down in your notebook. As you were in the middle of writing, an outside force closed your laptop. Your eyes looked at the laptop, seeing a pale male hand, fingers spread. You stared at it for a few seconds, noticing how pretty the hand actually was, long and straight fingers, follwed by a slim wrist and a muscular forearm. Your gaze trailed the hand up to Peter's face, looking into his eyes with annoyance already.
"Hey, do you-" before he even managed to finished his sentence, you had taken out a pen from your pencil case and placed it on your laptop, next to his hand.
"Thank you" he muttered, you not even looking back at him. This routine, as much as it was annoying, gave you some kind of comfort as well.
"How come you never have a pen with you?" You asked after a while, your curiosity getting the better of you.
"Oh, well actually I do have one, it's easier to just use yours"
''Unbelieveble"
"Come on, like you would ever need a second pen for anything"
You hovered over the table and grabbed the pen from his hand in a swift motion, he looked a bit taken a back, as well as the few people following your interaction.
"Actually, I need it now" you said, putting the one you were using away and continuing your writing with the one you just got back from him.
"You're being unbelieveble now" He said slightly irritated, reaching to get his won pen from his backpack.
"The two of you, cut it out, you're acting like children!" someone shushed you, making you blush when you realised it wasn't just you and the curly-haired boy in the room.
You gulped softly, mummbling a sorry to everyone as you kept writing down.
"Us cut it out? She was the one acting like a child, making a big deal out of a pen!" Peter whined and complained, starting to write down things in his notebook after he got a few angry glares from other people.
Around the time the group got to the third and final question for the homework you were feeling confident enough to try to contribute to the assignment.
"So you're basically saying that principle of hemodialysis is the same as other methods of dialysis - it involves diffusion of solutes across a semipermeable membrane?" you asked, as you were brainstorming through the question.
"Oh come on, y/n, this is the easiest question so far!'' Peter said, leaning froward, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Ever since the pen situation, he's been worse than ever before, taking every opportunity to show of how much smarter he was, followed by a cocky smirk.
"Intermittent dialysis therapy is used in chronic uremia to re-establish body water solute concentrations that cannot be achieved by the natural organ. In this sense, the dialyzer becomes an artificial kidney and it is through the transport of substances by this device that chemical and biophysical control consistent with continued survival is achieved." He explained, solving the question for you.
"She had it figured out, you could have let her be" Someone you didn't remember the name of said to him, making Peter's head turn in that direction.
"She obviously didn't, keep in mind her highest grade is my lowest" He snapped back.
You could feel the tension in the atmosphere thicken with each second, things were about to escalate very quickly. His words stung a bit and you felt something like a ball stuck in your throat after he said them. He didn't know how much work you had put in and he was incosiderate enough to just assume the worst of you. Before things managed to get any further, or worse, out of control, you slammed your thick notebook shut.
"Since Peter was kind enough to solve the last question, I think I'm going to call it a night" you said, fighting back the tears. Your voice gave you away as it wa slightly shaky, earning a few sympatheric looks.
You shoved your things in the bag as quickly as you as possible and walked out, trying to get as far away as possible. You were trying not to break down the whole walk back to your dorm, bitting your lip, brushing away some stray tears that ran down your cheeks with your sleeve. You were mentally blaming yourself for everything, for not walking fast enough, for not knowing enough, for deciding to join the study group, for even deciding on this degree to begin with. By the time you made it to your room, your phone was already blown up by text messages from Natalie, the person who originally invited you. She was a small blonde, blue-eyed beauty that was just as smart as she was pretty. You could bet on your own life that she was class president and the prom queen in high school. She was more than kind to you this whole time and her text messages suggested that she was worried about you too. With a quick click you deleted all the messages from your notification centre and threw the phone on your bed, followed by your bag. Hot tears ran down your face, breathing heavily as you were preactically sobbing at this point. You sat down on the floor, not being able to hold in the frustrstion anymore as you finally broke down, letting all of the shame, pain and anger flow out of your system through your tears.
A couple of hours had gone by, your tears were dried up on your face and neck as you lay on the floor and stared at the ceiling. Your phone kept buzzing from time to time and you finally gathered the emotional strenght to reply to the messages. Sitting on the bed, you unlocked the device and scrolled through the unred chats. The groupchat had sent the written solutions for the questions. Natalie had probably sent you 20 messages apologising and asking if you were okay. The guy who defended you had also sent you a message. His name was Brad and he looked like any normal person did. You texted him first, thanking him for standing up for you even though he did not need to do that. After him it was Natalie, who called you immediately after you hit send to reply to her first message. You picked up hesitantly, since you knew your voice was definitely going to sound like you had been crying.
"I am so sorry for everything! If I knew you and Peter were on bad terms I wouldn't have done this to you" She immediately spat out
"It's okay, I we aren't on bad terms, well... weren't"
"Have you been crying?"
"No..."
"I'm really sorry! I spoke to him after the whole thing, he's usually nothing like this! He himself couldn't explain why he acted like this"
"Nat, I really, really don't care"
"He said he wanted to make it up to you! He asked me himself for your number and your dorm room!"
"Please tell me you didn't give him any of that information"
"Well..."
"Oh my god now he knows where I live" you whined, bringing your knees up to your chest and hugging them.
"He wanted to apologise! He looked very sincere and worried"
"Yes, all the psychopaths do, that's why they're so hard to recognize!"
"I'm sure he wouldn't just show up at your door trying to make amends, you'll be fine, plus he's a really cool dude, give him a chance to prove he's not an asshole"
"He had his chance, it was today"
After you two said your goodbyes and hung up, you deicided it was finally time to take a relaxing shower. As you walked out, you heard a knock on your door. Still wrapped in a towel, one hand holding it in place, you opened the door to a Peter Parker, leaning on the doorframe. You blinked a few times rapidly, trying to process what you were seeing.
"Why are you here?" You asked, after carefully calculating your tone and your words
"You weren't picking up your phone" he replied, trying to step a foot inside. You blocked his action with the door.
"I didn't say you could come in"
"Can I come in then?"
"No, good night Parker" With that you tried closing the door on him but he grabbed it, not letting you close it.
"Look, I'm here to apologise for what I said earlier. You don't have to forgive me"
"And I don't, go Peter"
He looked shatter at your words looking into his brown eyes, you almost felt sympathy for him, like he really did feel sorry about what he did. Despite that, you kept your composure, looking at him with all the resentmet you had for him, a sigh leaving his lips as he let go of the door. He didn't need superpowers to know he fucked up, so he left. And you on the other hand, were more devistated than before, but your ego was bruised and your self-esteem ruined. The only person, no matter how annoying, you didn't want to think less of you, thought less of you. Yes, it was good that he wanted to apologise but this was not going to undo his words and the image he obviously had. You didn't even know if the apology really was his idea or was forced on him by the others in the group. You shook you head, dismissing the thoughts as you got ready to sleep. Sleep always helped with heavy emotions and you hoped you would feel better in the morning.
A few weeks went by and you still refused to forgive Peter for what he said. In your heart, you knew he was really sorry at this point but you enjoyed his suffering as you roasted him slowly on low heat. He tried all the clichĂŠ ways, buying flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals, buying you coffee before every study date. Your neighbours were convinced that the two of you were dating and would always ask about him when you gathered in one of the rooms to eat together or drink. You denied that but they rolled their eyes and never believed. In the mean time Brad tried to get closer to you, even inviting you on a date. You accepted hesitantly, since your heart seemed to be someplace else, liking all of the effort and attention from Parker more than it should. You told Natalie about the date, the two of you had become very close, spending a lot of time together, which often resulted in Brad and Peter tagging along. To say the boys were not getting along would be an understatement. Eyes throwing daggers at each other with every glance, snarky, rude comments were exchanged back and forth. But when you told the pretty blonde about Brad, she was more than excited about it finally happening . She would go on and on about how she knew he liked you ever since the first study session you had together and how he had a very heated fight with Peter after you left. You were grateful for him and what he did, and somehow it still felt wrong to be going out with him.
The night of the date had arrived and you were almost ready, putting in your earrings as you heard a knock on your door. You took a quick look in the full lenght mirror, fixing the long black dress you were wearing. It had a long slit on the left side, exposing your leg, no sleeves and a turtle neck. You had tied your hair in a ponytail, so your light make up would be more visible in the muffled evening lights of wherever he was planning to take you. You opened the door, still not wearing your chunky leather boots but just stockings.
"I thought we were going to meet in front of the library" you said as you opened the door but to your sursprise, someone else was standing there.
"You're not going on that date" Peter said firmly, almost as a command
"You're the last person that's going to tell me what to do" You snapped back at him "Why are you here Parker?"
He walked inside, closing the door behind himself. Peter seemed slightly distressed, looking you up and down with a dark expression.
"Do you really hate me that much?" he asked, leaning his back against the door, his arms behind him as he looked down at his feet. "Or do you just want to hurt me by going out with the guy I like least? Like really? All the guys are in your feet and you decide to go out with Brad, and look as gorgeous as this."
You could hear the annoyance and sadness in his voice, a bit taken a back from all of the things he just said to you. He just loved doing that, didn't he? Saying the most obnoxious things to make you feel bad about yourself.
"Wait, what?" was all you managed to say, taking a few steps back until your butt pressed agains your desk, making you stop. Books and make up palletes were scattred on it. Peter looked up at you, smiling weakly.
"I've liked you, this whole time" he confessed, staring directly into your eyes "Please, don't go on that date"
"Make me" you said faintly, surprised by how you almost whispered it. There was no way he could have heard that. But somehow he did, taking a few rapid steps towards and wrapping an arm around your waist.
"I'll make you forget everyone else but me" he whispered in your ear.
Feeling his hot breath near your face made your heart beat faster, one of your hands resting against his upper arm, looking up into his eyes. You were having a hard time processing what was actually happening, a sudden fear it was one of his games to make fun of you. You tried pushing him away after the realization, but his grip on your waist tightened.
"I'm serious, y/n" he said "I've liked you since I saw you, and I would make everyone sit away from you so I could be near, I would ask you for a pen so I could talk to you. And I tried to show off because I wanted to impress you, I wanted you to think I'm smarter so you could ask me for help in class."
For some reason you believed him, nodding lightly to let him know that. He lifted you up with one arm, sitting you on top of the desk. You were having a hard time vocalizing what you were feeling but you didn't want him to feel awkward because of your silence. Your arms wrapped around his neck, his hand falling on your exposed leg. You looked down at where his hand was, your skin burning with desire to be touched by him more. Your eyes met his again, his filled with hopefullness and lust. He got closer, titling his head to the side and he kissed you softly and sweetly. You returned the kiss, hands cupping his face and bringing him closer to you. Peter deepened the kiss, turning it in a heated make out session as one of his hands romed around your leg, going up your dress so he could touch more of you and the other one placed on the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. You spread your legs, pulling him by the belt so he could position himself between them, your hands going to his hair and playing with his messy curls as your lips and tongues danced against each other. After what seemed like a forever of heated, hungry kisses and filty touching, you broke the kiss so you could catch your breath. You panted havily, chest rising up and down rapidly. Peter pressed his forehead against yours, both of you closing your eyes to collect yourselves.
"Should I at lest text Brad and tell him I'm not going?"
"Well, there goes my hard on"
You hit his chest lightly, both of you giggling at his stupid joke. He looked around, noticing your phone that was charging on the bed, moving away from you to grab it and hand it to you. You unlocked the phone trying to find your chat with Brad while Peter found his previous position, viciously attacking your jaw and neck with kisses. You tried your best to be concentrated and write a normal message, but made a few spelling mistakes nonetheless. Peter nibbled on your neck, which earned him a slight flinch from your side.
âPeter, please, weâre not 16, no hikeysâ
He ignored your words, continuing his act the way he had planned it, kissing, licking and sucking on your soft skin while you begged him to stop. His hands were all over your body once again, touching everything that was exposed to him, one hand travelling further up your leg than before, almost landing on your ass but hesitantly stopping. You noticed his uncertainly, pressing your cheek against his so you could whisper in his ear.
âDonât stop now, Peterâ you breathed in his ear, your own hands exploring his body.
He didnât waste a second after that, grabbing your butt in his hand and pressing his lips against yours. Your hands moved under his shirt, touching his toned stomach. Your were quite shocked to what your fingertips were pressed up against, not expecting him to be as muscular as he actually was. You knew he worked out because you had seen his toned arms in a t-shirt too many times for your own good, but you were definitely not expecting that. Hands quickly slipped him out of his jacket, reaching to pull up his shirt in the heat of the moment but he stopped you, moving slightly away. Your lipstick was smudged all over his mouth and it made you giggle.
âAre you sure you want to do this?â He asked you, his hands finding their way back to your waist. You nodded, undeniably longing for him and his touch, his presence.
âGood, because if we keep this up any longer, I probably wonât be able to hold backâ Peter muttered, removing his shirt and tossing it on the floor before he pulled you in again, kissing you.
You took that as a signal that you had to get undressed as well, reaching for the hem of your dress pulling it up. He grabbed your hands when he noticed the act, stopping you from doing what you had planned so he could do it himself. Suddenly you felt the cold air from the room against your skin, along with Peter's warm hands, making you shiver. You undid his belt, helping him pull his pants down, breaking your kiss in the process. You laughed soflty at how he was jumping on one leg while he was trying to kick his pants off, shaking your head.
"What?" He asked
"Nothing, nothing, I'm really missing a date right now for you jumping on one leg to get out of your pants" you bursted out laughing, him joining you shortly after.
"No, it's going to get so much better, trust me" He stated, grabbing you and lifting you up, throwing you on the bed. You squeaked softly from his actions, not expecting it. Soon enough he had your hands pinned down with his, hovering over you. A soft gulp at the sight from you made him chuckle, kissing on your neck once again. He had already left a mark there, starting to suck on a second spot next it.
"Peter really! It's going to be so hard to cover them up" you whined, secretly enjoying his lips and teeth on your skin like this.
He looked at your face, smiling viciously at you.
"I just want people to know you had a good time"
"Yeah, with Brad? I was suppsed to be on a date with him" you teased him, chuckling softly. His expression changed suddenly, he seemed almost angry. His hands let go of your wrists, travelling down your skin as he reached the hem of your panties. His fingers played with the hem of them before slipping in under the thin fabric, the middle finger going between your folds. He could feel how wet you actually were, making him smirk with that cocky smile he had, looking into your eyes. You were holding back a small moan from his touch, looking at his pretty face.
"Can Brad make you this wet baby?" He asked.
You shook your head no, keeping eye contact with him. His middle finger started moving up and down tesing your clit before entering you slowly. This time you couldn't hold back and you moaned, closing your eyes. His smile remained present as he insedted a second finger inside of you, starting to move his hand teasingly slow. Your body squirming underneath him, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, rocking his hips against your leg while he fingered you. You could feel his erection through his boxers, making you even more needy than you already were.
"Parker" you moaned out softly, remembering your hands were actually free and you could move them, immediately attaching to his shoulders, which was the closest body part besides his head. He looked up at you after you called out for him, grabbing your face with his hand and kissing you.
"Peter" you moaned again against his lips, feeling his skin shiver from that. I never considered what effect you actually had on him. "Please, I want to feel you."
After you begged him, he wasted no time pulling your panties down, unressing himself as well. His arms spread your legs forcefully, positioning himself between them. You didn't really manage to follow everything he was doing because you were too eager yourself, pushing up against him in hopes to speed up the process. He pinned you down by the waist, shaking his head in disapproval at your actions. Peter didn't like it when you disobeyed him, even though it was the only thing you were good at doing. He lined himself up to you, teasing you lightly with his tip as a warning before he inserter himself inside, both of you moaning from the act. You felt something like actual electricity when he did that, making you breath heavy from the ecstacy. His hips moved rythmically, along with yours. He was still holding you by the waist, standing on his knees while he fucked into you. You moved your leg up on his shoulder, making him smile and kiss it, one of his hands running up and down it while both of you looked into echother's eyes. You enjoyed the view, so much, his naked toned body, his messy hair, that gorgeous face, your leg on his shoulder while he moved. It was hypnotysing, breathtaking, made your legs shake alone. He could feel you tighthen up around him, making him laugh softly.
"So soon?" he asked, noticing how you started squrming more than in the beginning, legs shaking from time to time, moans becoming more freaquent
"Peter, I'm really close" you managed to say, hands gripping on the sheets around you. His grip on your waist taightened as he went faster and deeper, making you whines more prominent than before. You walls started clenching around him, feeling yourself already starting to cum on him. He placed a hand on your lower stomach, applying slight pressure on it which really sent you over the edge, whole body shaking, heavy breathing and moaning uncontrolablly. He had to hold you down while you came, leaning forward and pecking your lips after you calmed down.
"I need a moment too" he whispered against your lips "Can you handle it for me?"
You nodded, letting him continue rocking his hips into you. You were covered in sweat and so was he, bodies pressed against eachother as he moaned softly in your ear, your legs wrapped around his waist to stop the shaking from the overstimulation.
"Peter" you mumbled against his ear ''I think you're really hot... like, way hotter than I expected''
"Fuck" he replied, pulling out of you and stroking his lenght a few times before he came on your stomach, both of you panting. He lay down next to you for a second, kissing your forehead and hugging you.
"You did so well" he praised you, starting to leave small butterfly kisses all over your face. You laughed softly, cuddling into him.
"We should go take a shower"
"Are you suggesting a second round in your shower?"
"No! Well... maybe, okay, yes"
He laughed at your reply, shaking his head.
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