I would immediately ask him the stupidest questions. “Did you have toilets back then?” “Do you know what an oven is?” “Things must’ve been great before guns were invented, huh?”
bloody knuckles, stickers all over the punching bag, and most of all, salty kisses. 6 days a week you each produce at least a liter of sweat, bruising your knuckles with each punch and dirtying your knees with ever fall. the best part? the cuddles and kisses after.
notes miles g morales (earth-42 miles) x reader. miles and reader spar (post-cuddles and kisses included). "i love you but i still pretend i don't despite having very concrete plans to cuddle and kiss you senseless later" dynamic. established romantic relationship. warnings hardly violent sparring??
♫ ˚. ᵎᵎ now playing.. you - radiohead
hot.
hot is all you feel with each punch you throw, with each turn of your hip and with each twist of your supporting leg for another bashing kick. you and miles had been at this for, what? an hour now? you weren't sure, your mind was a haze as you focused purely on the boy in front of you--hurling each hit with as much precision as one could after sparring for so long without any breaks. oddly enough, it was exhilarating. you felt a rush in your bones every time you did this, like the blood flowing through your veins was somehow full of electricity, sparking your brain into a sort of high that was even better each time. you couldn't tell whether the aching thump in your ears was coming from your head or your chest, but you didn't care, a grin spreading across your lips as you dodged the roundhouse kick miles sent your way with a deep huff.
"tired?" you teased with a raise of your eyebrow as you two continued to spar, neither of your attentions wavering as you threw hit after hit. to him, the curve of your lips was almost roguish, and he couldn't help the grin that cracked his own lips, mirroring yours.
"shut up, i'm not tired." he groaned, flashing a string of fairly messy punches. his balance faltered as he responded with a final side kick, clearly proving otherwise.
"oh, i'm sure you aren't." you snorted. to be frank, you weren't sure what happened next; irritatingly, miles was far too quick. he caught you off guard in that moment, the curve of his lips widening as he ducked down in a sweeping kick. naturally, your knees buckled and you fell to the padded floor with a muffled thump and a groan. that little prat, he didn't even bother catching you. for a moment, all you could see was the graffiti-littered ceiling of the abandoned office building you and that stupid prowler had declared your "sparring arena" before miles came into view above you.
with a scowl, you pushed yourself up onto your forearms, looking up at miles who had the smug expression of a child who just built the tallest lego tower in the playroom, his hands on his hips. "such a gentlemanly move." you drawled, rolling your eyes as he extended a hand to pull you up.
"you know, you didn't have to make me fall, you could have just admitted you were tired." you grumbled as you wrapped your arms around miles's sweaty torso with a pout. you had returned to his uncle's little training room/tinkering-place/prowler hideout which miles had claimed as "half-his" since he was, well, the prowler. there was a fraying, dull green couch in the middle of the room--as littered with numerous stickers as the punching bag a few feet in front of it. various posters which ranged from miles's favorite rap artists to his uncle's favorite pop idols (he loves katy perry with unmatched pride) littered the wall, a family polaroid or a string of graffiti lyrics here and there. he popped open a plastic bottle, chugging it all down in one messy gulp.
"well you could have formulated another attack in response, but you just laid there. admit it, you were tired too." he said in retort, a scowl on his face you knew was clearly fake.
you chortled in response, unlooping your arms from his waist to sprawl yourself across the tattered couch with a roll of your eyes. almost instinctively, miles turned around too. "okay, fine, i was tired." you admitted. "at least i've got the balls to be real about it." you scoffed with fake annoyance, turning your head away from miles.
as you glanced back, the snort that escaped your lips really couldn't have been helped. the look on his face was pure gold--much cuter than miles had intended it to be, surely. his eyebrows were furrowed, his nose all scrunched up and his lips parted in a scowl. you doubled over in laughter, holding your stomach in an attempt to ease the piercing pain that emerged from, if you'd like to be poetic about it, pure joy.
this, as expected, further deepened the adorable look on miles's face as he crossed his arms. he took a few steps, standing in front of you on the couch.
"i'm sorry--" you somehow said in between laughs, leaning back against the sofa's back. "i'm so sorry," you shook your head, wiping the tears of laughter from your eyes as took a shaky breath, stifling even more laughs. "i'm sorry babe, i really am." you smiled up at him. the edges of your eyes crinkled--a sign of the laughing fit that was threatening to unearth beneath them.
this seemed to soften miles's expression, though only for a quick moment, as his face gleamed with smugness akin to the self-satisfaction he showed earlier at the end of your spar. he plopped himself down on the couch atop you, burying his face in your lap with a sigh. "you better be." he grumbled, placing his chin on your abdomen as his fingers danced across your thighs. content, he closed his eyes, almost like a dog.
"you're like a little husky." you said softly, a small smile on your lips as you ran your hands over his fishbone braids. he hummed in response, not seeming to mind the comment. he pressed a soft kiss to your inner thigh, then another before pushing himself up. he pulled you gently by the wrist, lying back against the couch to bring you into his lap. sighing, he brushed his lips across your jawline your breaths mingled as you did so, your fingers moving to cup his face.
"beso?" he asked, the tone in his voice more vulnerable than he wanted it to be. smiling, you pulled him in gently in a soft kiss--at least, at the start. he could still taste the salt on your lips, could still feel the warmth in your cheeks and the half-dried sweat dripping from your hair. as you sighed with a part of your lips, well, who could blame him for tilting his head to the side? for deepening the kiss? for sliding his tongue into yours? for the hum that escaped him as you nipped on his bottom lip? he did all of this with pride swimming in his brain, the blood in his veins more electrified than it could ever be even in the worst of fights. he felt on fire with you like this. all alone with just him and the city-stained sunset light seeping into the windows, just so, so--
"miles, you there?" aaron's deep voice echoed down the hall, earning a groan from both you and miles as you pulled apart. the door opened with a light click, revealing aaron's tall frame behind it's tattered wood, his eyebrows raised in amusement.
"oh? did i interrupt something? didn't know you were getting it, kid." he chuckled, clearly amused. your mouth laid agape as miles buried his face deep into your neck, mumbling something about how he should have just stayed in his room.
