PINK IN THE NIGHT | 04. THE SOUND OF THE WAVES COLLIDE
'Hey might have to do a rain check on that delta party tonight. Something came up and I doubt I'll be able to make it but feel free to go, I'm sure some of the guys will look out for you.'
You bit your lip, hesitating before typing out your reply.
'Yep, all good. Just lmk when you're around.'
The 3 dots to indicate he was typing popped up quicker than you expected and you waited on the chat for a reply.
'Atta girl.'
You smiled a little and reacted to the chat with a love heart before switching your phone off and setting it down on the bedside table.
It was finally thanksgiving break and you and Peter had been spending every waking moment together. Except, most of what you had dreamed of being romantic excursions were spent cuddled up in his dorm room watching cheesy old movies which eventually faded into background noise as you'd clamber on top of his lap, rocking yourself back and forth late into the hours of the night.
Like clockwork, when you'd awake the next morning, Peter wouldn't be there. Only the cold silhouette of where he should've been laid next to you and you'd spend at least 30 minutes working yourself up to opening your phone, usually reading the same boring message explaining how he had to run but you 'knew the way out.'
One day that week you had even dared to respond;
'How about I stay and wait for u? We could hop in the shower together once you're back ;)'
to which, he seemed to keep typing and deleting the same message over & over before replying.
'Not a good idea, Mouse. I'll see you tomorrow night.'
You felt like your heart had dropped to your stomach in the moment, but chopped it up to it being far too soon and your own fault for nearly scaring him off.
But, despite the fact you'd never admit it aloud, as long as the sun was still out and you weren't permitted to see him, you were lonely.
Whenever Gen wasn't with Danny, she was constantly coming up with ways to include him in your guys' plans. In truth, you didn't mind him one bit. At least, not since properly getting to know him. He was a decent guy and he treated Gen well, plus it didn't hurt that he was one of the only people thick skinned enough to take your humour without souring every time you'd make a sarcastic remark.
The problem was, in those quiet moments spent watching the two of them bond over mundane normalcies like hand holding under the table or sharing a quick kiss before departure, you could only think of Peter.
How you yearned to be in his life like that and how much you hated that he stopped you with what seemed to be no good reason, other than the fact he always seemed to have things 'coming up' last minute.
Aside from the obvious assumption, it killed you not being able to know what he got up to all the time while he was flaking on your plans, especially since he always seemed to be around before the two of you started whatever you had going on.
You had taken it upon yourself to inquire about it one day at some shitty little diner all the campus kids seemed to love going to, which Gen had explained was some sort of 'hang-out-spot' for college students. Gen had gone off in search of a menu and left you and Danny opposite one another in the cramped window booth.
"What's Peter up to today?" you asked, thoughtlessly, like you were just trying to make topic of conversation.
Danny quirked a brow, like he knew he was about to enter dangerous territory, but answered anyway.
"No idea. Why, is he ghosting you or something?"
"No." you snapped, defensively. "I just wondered."
Danny suddenly gave you a knowing look, nodding his head slowly while dragging out a long 'ohhhhh okay.'
"I see what this is." he said, wagging a finger at you. "Parker's cancelling on you and you think I know whether or not he's out fiddling with some sorority girls."
You grimaced at his choice of words but agreed nonetheless.
"Well, do you?"
"No, I don't." he dropped his hand against the rickety table and it shook the entire thing, making you jump. "But, I can tell you that Parker disappears all the time with no explanation. Been doing it since the start of the year. Nobody knows whether he's coming or going half the time."
You leaned in a little closer across the table, desperate for him to continue.
"Only person who might be able to tell you anything is Osbourne, but as far as I know even that guy struggles to get a word out of him."
You were in. Danny had just given you the golden ticket and all you had to do was cash out with Harry, which would be a piece of cake considering how easy it was to coax him to gossip. Plus, he had already established himself as being in extreme support of you and Peter's.. whatever you and Peter were.
So, now Peter was once again cancelling on plans tonight, it gave you the perfect opportunity to get Harry alone with you and lure him into confessing whatever secret, or secret side piece, Peter was keeping.
It was about 12am when you finally caught glimpse of Harry.
You had spent the entire night walking the unfamiliar house in circles, checking every room only to be met with a few unsuspecting couples that had gotten away from the party in the hope of a little alone time, when you found him pretty much lounging around the heart of the party.
He was laid back across an expensive looking chair, one arm wrapped around a skinny brunette while his other rest comfortable behind his head. He was laughing along with something another possible suitor in his crowd of women was jabbering on about while they all begged at his feet, waiting for their turn on his lap like children queuing for a guy in a santa suit.
You grimaced slightly, but began to make your way over, praying to avoid any sort of interaction with any of them. You simply wanted to get an answer to your burning question and leave as quickly as possible, though you expected at least a little consideration from Harry.
His head shot up as soon as he saw you, a devilish grin spreading across his face. He rose up so far from his original position across the seat that the girl in his lap nearly toppled over onto the floor and shot him an irritated look; "Mouse!" he sang out and you forced a little smile, not really focused on greetings, "I didn't think you'd show after Peter cancelled." he said, matter-of-factly. It made your stomach drop a little. Had you really spent that much time pining over Peter that even his closest friend believed you were just an extension of him?
You halted in front of him, a decent gap of space between the two of you, and eyed the girls around him nervously; who were very clearly listening to whatever conversation the two of you were about to have. You thought about asking them to leave, but decided each of them seemed too drunk to really care, and it's not like you and Peter were a secret, right?
"The man of the hour." You laughed, dryly, in an attempt to open your end of the conversation a little lighter than its purpose, "I wanted to ask you about that, actually." you said, straightening up; Harry craned his neck to show he was listening, raising his eyebrows to initiate you should continue. You paused for a moment, your mouth suddenly felt a little dry. You wanted to choose your next words carefully, almost like coaxing him into telling you something he would've thought you already knew: "It's a shame he couldn't make it, y'know with that.. thing he has going on."
You expected some sort of nod, or any indication of understanding, but instead he furrowed his eyebrows at you like you had said something a little insensitive. You watched the cogs turn before he spoke again; "Yeah, it's pretty hard for him. But I'm glad he finally spoke to someone about it." Harry was wicked smart and it was foolish of you to have even thought you could fool him, even while intoxicated. He was assessing your reaction and the way your eyebrows raised a little in shock was a dead giveaway of whatever you were trying to do. Now, he looked a little annoyed.
You blinked at him, the guilt finally settling in that you had no actual idea what he was talking about. That you had tried to manipulate him into telling you something that perhaps Peter hadn't told you in good reason. That it was his thing to tell, when he wanted to, in his own time, not yours. You knew Peter was careful, that he picked each thing he said with so much intent sometimes it made you a little angry. He usually always said the right thing, and when he didn't, often times you even felt like it had been something you needed to hear, that it was always purposeful. You felt like an idiot, and to be a honest a little cruel for discarding his own feelings and focusing so selfishly on your own. Sometimes you forgot he was his own person with the same complex emotions you had; not just some hero you could lean on whenever you felt like it.
Harry sighed, clearly trying to find a kinder alternative for what he really wanted to say, but you could tell he was irritated. "He likes to keep things to himself, probably more than he should. If there's something he's not telling you, just know there's a reason for it." and your heart sunk at the empathy in his voice. He was pleading with you on behalf of his friend and to be honest, you were a little jealous that somebody cared so fiercely about him. He deserved it, though. Peter deserved all the flowers he could get, you knew that much.
"Yeah.. I.. I will." You were utterly embarrassed, and a little hurt that Harry had been so dismissive with you, so you chose to bid him an awkward goodbye; "Thank you, you know, for humouring me. I'm glad he's got someone looking out for him." to which Harry tipped his head to you in a sort of salute, understanding the conversation was over and affirming you were free to leave to drown in your humiliation. You raced through the house, pushing and elbowing past shadows of figures as you looked the for the nearest place to get some air. Too far from the backyard but close enough to the front door, you made a beeline straight for it, weaving through the crowds and making a strategic exit while the train of people leaving and entering paused and making your way down the concrete steps onto the grass.
Once you were sure you were reasonably out of sight of the party, you allowed your heavy chest to drag you to the floor, collapsing against the curb with your knees hugged to your chest. You hadn't been this embarrassed since high school. Though, you were definite lunches in toilet cubicles hiding away from the various spouts of abuse from peers about your sexual progressiveness was easier than whatever this was.
You fought back the tears, however hard they pushed and swallowed your heart back down to your chest. You wouldn't cry over this. Not now. You buried your chin a little further into your knees, shying away from the bitter cold. It was starting to reach peak winter temperatures and you had stupidly decided to forego a jacket on the terms you would remain inside, except the night hadn't really gone how you planned.
You were staring at the concrete beneath your shoes, praying it would open up and swallow you, when you were sure the gates to the underworld must have opened up around you and call down to you in a voice that arguably resembled very closely to Peter's.
"If I had known the real party was out here I would've brought myself a rain coat."
You drank in his words like you had gone months without them, nuzzling your nose against the scrapes across your knee. You hadn't noticed, but it was starting to rain. It was only spitting, but enough to make the ends of your hair a little damp. You didn't dare to look at him, afraid he might disappear into smoke if you acknowledged his presence.
"You're gonna catch a cold sat out here." the humour he had started with was changed for a bit more concern after your lack of reply, expecting at least some sort of sarcastic rebuttal from you over his previous comment. His hand was outstretched to help you up, but you kept your arms hugged tightly around your shins, head darting up at him with an expression so tender it scared him a little.
"I thought you weren't coming." you were thankful for how steady you managed to get your voice out. Your cloudy eyes had started to clear and you were now able to take in the oracle in front of you, possibly back from some sort of underground fight club. You had been running through all the possibilities in your head, and you were sure that had to have been plausible. Tonight, he bore no bruises. Only a few scrapes across the bridge of his nose and the same disheveled hair hidden under a cap like it had been messed up under a beanie or something for a while.
"Neither did I." he took a seat next to you against the curb, resting his elbows on his knees in a similar, less guarded, position to you. He didn't look at you. Instead, he stared out at the various college students getting in and out of cars around you. You were a little offended at the idea he found them more interesting than you, but a little grateful that you didn't have to perform under his gaze any longer.
The rain was starting to pick up a little and you couldn't help but shiver, the red in your tight fitting shirt beginning to turn a deep maroon under the droplets and sticking uncomfortably to your wet body. Peter didn't look at you, he simply nudged you with his elbow in your arm, indicating you to move a little closer to him and lifted his arm up to create space for you in his side. You hesitated for a moment, but gave in to the chill beginning to spread throughout your body and shuffled a little closer, burying yourself under his armpit and sighing at the warmth it gave off. You didn't bother questioning how he was so warm, it was just one of those inexplicable Peter things that weren't worth trying to figure out.
"You sure you wanna spend the rest of the night sitting on a curb outside a party?" he asked, but in the way that you knew if you decided that's what you wanted, then that's what he would do. No complaints. He was happy to sit out in the rain if it meant he got to sit with you.
"What do you suggest we do instead, Parker?"
"Well, I do have an entire frat house to myself since all the guys are at this lame party."
You pulled your head from against his chest and furrowed your brows at him; "You think this party's lame?" you wondered if that was why he hadn't decided to come initially.
"Any party without me and you there is pretty lame." he affirmed, like it was an obvious fact.
"Oh yeah, I'm sure they're all really missing you sneaking me upstairs after 5 minutes of socialising."
He was quiet for a moment His lips pulled into a thin line and those treacherous lines started to appear on his forehead again which made your stomach ache a little. He turned away from you then, when he noticed you studying him with that familiar confused, but equally concerned, look on your face, like you worried you had said something wrong, as if that were even possible. You were right, it was dickish and unfair of him. He hadn't even noticed, but he had been so wrapped up in aching to get you alone, using your gentle touch as a means of healing himself as often as possible that he hadn't considered maybe that wasn't what you wanted. Peter was sure that the only way you could hurt him now was by channelling whatever self respect he knew you must have been pushing aside to be here with him and kicking him to the curb, no pun intended. Part of him, that felt like an onlooker, wanted that for you. But mostly, his selfish tendency to hoard you all for himself clouded any thoughts of what was best and he couldn't help but feel a little comforted by the fact you were so sure on sticking around. At least, that's how it seemed.
He must have been quiet for a long time because your gentle hand found his forearm and he jumped— "Peter?"— his eyes settled on you again and he managed to muster up a small smile, if that were possible of appeasing you, and thought carefully before he opened his mouth again.
"Do you wanna go back inside? I've got some people that I want you to meet."
It was undeniably late now, though you weren't exactly sure of the time. Your phone had been comfortably sitting in your back pocket for at least the last couple hours or so, ones you had spent happily engaging in, albeit not the most riveting, conversations with various frat guys, girls and even a couple nerds from science conventions that seemed to know Peter from study sessions at his permanent spot in the library. A couple weeks ago the concept of Peter hanging out with such.. under dogs would have surprised you, but you had grown to know how terribly on brand it was for him to geek out about science with the right people, ones that needed a friend or two.
His arm had been slung around you almost the entire night, guiding you from one introduction to the next, most of them met with 'Parker's Girl' rather than your real, government name, though you didn't mind being claimed by him if it meant he'd continue to hold you like he had been.
Now, you were back to the wall, listening to some sorority girl Peter knew drone on about her 'bullshit ex boyfriend', though by the sounds of it through her swinging jaw and blown pupils, he wasn't really an ex. More of a casual hook-up on his part, but you didn't bother trying to talk any sense into her. Instead, you were focused on watching the way Peter was moving from a distance. He had previously left you with a kiss on the head, promising he'd only be about 5 minutes and that he just needed to say hi to a couple of guys he knew from 'back home.' The first mention of 'back home' for Peter intrigued you, be it that he never seemed to bring up anything other than his current life at NYU. Come to think of it, he had failed to ever mention any immediate family too, let alone friends from high school.
You were studying the group of guys, one of them being rather fat and a little red-faced while the other tall and skinny. They looked like what you would imagine two sidekicks from an old cartoon resembled. Peter was talking rather animatedly, the beer in his hand gifted by the rounder guy threatening to spill if he kept throwing his arms around. You tried to listen, but they were too far away, and it was hard to focus with the girl next to you still jabbering on. As if he noticed you eavesdropping, Peter suddenly turned to face you, his expression fading a little, before bidding the two goodbye and making his way over to you and the girl beside you.
He stopped in front of you, turning to give the girl a slightly judgemental once over, who quickly stopped speaking upon noticing him, and snaked an arm around your waist. "You ready to go?" the question was simple, but a part of you was a little upset he hadn't come to explain who those guys were or why he was speaking to them alone, but you decided you'd pry during the walk home instead.
You nodded, desperate to get out of the stuffy house and back to Peter's undeniably comfortable bed, and the two of you made your way out of the house and across the lawn. Once the two of you had found a comfortable pace along the sidewalk, you decided to open your questionnaire; "How did you know those two? Did you go to high school with them?"
Peter opened his mouth to speak, the sound of saliva in his mouth smacking against his tongue a little, before pausing to evaluate his answer. "No." he replied, honestly.
"So, what, they're old neighbours?"
"Not exactly." he shook his head, but didn't add anymore, like he was waiting to only supply a sufficient amount of information you asked for.
"I don't understand." you huffed, looking down at the cracks in the pavement beneath your converse.
He sighed, like he was willing to be honest with you but the cost was weighing on him; "I don't know them, not personally anyway. They know a couple of guys on the robotics team at MIT." he left it at that and you quirked a brow at him, urging him to continue, like you still didn't quite understand where he was going with this. "They knew my Aunt May, and she would skin me if she thought I wasn't keeping tabs on them, so I was just seeing how they're getting on."
"Just guys?" you teased, alluding to a possible ex girlfriend. But to your surprise, Peter was transparent once more.
"One girl." your face dropped a little and he smiled, squeezing your hand a few times to reassure you, "No one you have to worry about, though."
You smiled back and there was silence for a few moments, before you decided to finally bite the bullet and ask him the question you had been dying to ask since the first night the two of you spent together in his room— "The woman. On your wall. That's your Aunt May, right?"
He smiled again, but this time it was slightly solemn, like it was something bitter sweet he didn't often get the chance to talk about. "Yeah."
You nodded, looking away from him and back out onto the road like perhaps it would help him to not have you staring into his soul while he spoke, "She's hot."
He laughed at that, "Yeah, she used to get that a lot."
"Used to?" you spoke without thinking, saving yourself with a little sarcasm, "What, is she all old and withered now?"
"No." he replied, simply. "She died about a year ago."
You nearly choked, stumbling over your steps a little and staying back while Peter walked a few steps ahead, remaining his normal stride like he hadn't just confessed something deeply emotional and possibly uncomfortable. He turned back to look at you, still smiling, both at being able to talk about May and your reaction.
"Peter, I.. I'm so sorry." was all you could manage, giving him the same pitiful look he was used to getting a year later, practically all his life if you took his late parents and Uncle Ben up and leaving into account, though he thought that might've been a bit too heavy for this moment.
"It's alright." he said warmly, indicating it wasn't as raw as you'd expected it to be. Once you taught yourself how to walk again and the two of you regained your original pace, he took hold of your hand once more and brought it to his lips, kissing it. "I think she'd like you."
"You do?" it was an odd compliment, but weirdly possibly the best one you had ever gotten.
"Probably a little too much. She could be kinda.. a lot." he smiled, like he was reminiscing, and you let him have the moment, uninterrupted, until the two of you made it home.
The bed creaked again and you held your breath, turning back to check the stiff body next to you was definetly still sleeping. He riggled around a little, finding a more comfortable place to rest his head against the pillows, then fell back into the steady snores that had been leaving his lips for the last half hour or so.
You couldn't sleep. Wouldn't sleep. Too busy perched on the very end of the bed like some pervert, studying the same photograph pinned up on the wall a million times, looking for some sort of answer in the unmoving faces.
You had been following the there, but just barely noticeable, wrinkles under May's eyes for the last 10 or so minutes. She looked young, though obviously much younger than she should have. Much too full of life for somebody that would never be anything outside of a photograph on a wall again.
Your eyes flicked down to Peter's, or a much younger, livelier version of Peter. You wondered about the story behind the picture; had he protested against taking it, unknowing it could possibly be the last untainted memory he had of his Aunt? You grimaced and shook the thought from your head, too morbid and too personal. You decided you would imagine he hadn't, that he had obliged with no complaints and a happy smile, his pale face lighting up in comparison to the various layers of bronzers masking his Aunt's worn down cheeks.
You didn't know why the admission that his Aunt was dead unsettled you so much. Maybe it was guilt for the way you had been demanding so much from him so soon, or maybe just plain pity for someone close to you. All you knew is you were starting to feel a little sick, deciding you should probably get up and stretch your legs.
"Mouse?" a groggy voice called out behind you, the bed beginning to jostle under his weight as he pushed himself up by flat palms. You turned around and managed to get sight of him just as the covers dropped to his waist, revealing that godly body you had grown not to question anymore. However, a sight that usually would have excited you in seconds, now only made your thoughts grow ten fold. He had been so skinny in the photograph you studied, so fragile and boyish. Now, he was broad and muscular and looked as if he could fight off a grizzly bear if it came to it. You couldn't understand how or why he had managed to change so much in only a couple of years.
He noticed your silence, his eyebrows furrowing in concern as he reached out a hand to cup your face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear in the process. "What're you doing up?"
"Couldn't sleep." you muttered into his palm.
He sighed, his voice audibly strained from having just woken up, and shuffled a little closer to you as you turned back around to face out to the photograph; "I know the feeling." and you believed him. "Anything I can help with?" he asked, carefully.
You couldn't help but smile a little, feeling him delicately brush your hair from your shoulder, leaning down to pepper equally gentle kisses along the exposed skin. "Can't shut my brain off." you sighed, scrubbing at your forehead with your palm and feeling the sticky residue of sweat there.
He snorted a little at that, dragging his nose along the dip between your neck and shoulder like he had the first time the two of you slept together, before placing a wet kiss right below the tip of your ear. "I know that feeling, too." he kissed your jaw and your neck tilted upward to give him more room to slot his face beside yours, "Y'know what helps me sometimes?" you hummed, awaiting his answer. "Sex." he whispered, whistling the word through his teeth to emphasise it and you broke out into a fit of laughter, though you knew that had really been his main goal in saying it.
"You've just woken up and you're already trying to have sex with me?" you teased.
"Is that you saying no to me?" he muttered into your jaw, running his hand through the lengths of hair trailing your back and making you shiver.
"As if any girl in her right mind could ever say no to you."
He laughed, "You talk like I couldn't say the same about you." He was beginning to twirl a strand of hair around his finger, resting his chin against your shoulder and placing the occasional kiss there.
You were suddenly a little shy now he had called you out on it, but part of you was leaping at the fact you had finally been validated. "Well, I'm not an objectively hotter-than-average frat guy studying nanotech at NYU." you had to admit, you were somewhat fishing for compliments with your reply, but you couldn't resist wanting to hear him say it over & over again.
He stiffened, taking hold of your face and squeezing the pudge of your cheeks a little as he forced you into facing him, "You're the most challenging, yet beautiful thing I think I've ever laid eyes on, y'know that?" and your stomach did backflips. You caved, diving in for a sloppy kiss, which he returned gleefully.
In what must have been seconds you were on top of him, running your hands over any bit of bare muscle you could get, practically moaning at the feeling. He was completely giving into you, two strong hands caressing your thighs as he swallowed up any noise you made into him. You sinfully wished he would grip them a little harder, but fought to push the thought down by rolling your hips over his obvious bulge a few times which made them fly up to steady you by your hips.
He used them to hook under your thin tank top, pulling it up and over your head before reconnecting your lips and darting his tongue into your mouth. It coaxed over yours, caressing one another, while one of his hands found its way to the base of your scalp but he didn't tug, just rested his palm there as a means of holding you close to him.
You ran a strategic fingernail along his waist band, feeling him tense at the touch. He stopped to look at you for a moment, reaffirming this was what you wanted, before hurrying to rid himself of his pajama bottoms and clamber on top of you. You smiled, still just as excited by the thought of Peter, now your Peter, undressing himself in front of you and being the lucky girl beneath him. "Someone's eager."
"Can't blame me." he huffed, practically bear hugging you as he dived to suckle on one of your tits, making you sigh and cross your legs around him in content.
"You're right, I wouldn't be able to resist me either."
He hummed around your nipple, indicating he agreed with your comment, before releasing it with a wet pop sound and moving over to give equal attention to the other one. You nudged him with a shoulder to the face and he looked up, grumbling a little about having to leave his current most prized possessions and climbed back up your body, giving you enough kisses to satisfy you before you were practically throwing your own shorts off your body.
"That's my job." he muttered, though he didn't stop you, too eager to have you naked to do anything that might slow the process.
To his surprise, you didn't return to your original position. Instead, you did something that, despite his ample experience, had Peter racking his brain for any idea of what the appropriate next move would be. There you were, glistening and perfect, spread out in front of him like a platter, your knees pressed firmly into the bed as your back arched into nothing, giving him a perfect view of your dripping cunt seeping through your thin panties. When he didn't move, you threw him a daring look over your shoulder, "C'mon, Parker, are you gonna make me wait here all night?"
He scrambled to his knees, racing to get behind you with a little uncertainty but kept just about managed to coax himself into you with enough restraint that he was sure he hadn't hurt you. He started off with a pretty steady pace, building you up for what he was sure must have been everything you wanted, but you didn't seem as satisfied as you usually were. You weren't throwing yourself backward, arching impossibly further into him and clawing at the sheets like you were having the time of your life. Instead, you were reasonably still. And silent.
Peter was mortified. You had never been this displeased with him before and he was sure it must have been the fact you were losing interest. He wondered if maybe there was someone else, some guy who was drilling you way better than he ever could and now he would never be able to fuck a sound out of you again. After about the 4th minute of all but radio silence from you, he stopped.
"Am I.." he swallowed down anything else he wanted to ask, " Am I doing something wrong?"
You whipped round to face him, horrified he would even question himself and shook your head furiously. "No! Not at all!"
He still didn't look convinced.
"It's just- you could be a little.. rougher, y'know?"
He blinked. "You want me to manhandle you?"
You suddenly felt stupid for even asking, shameful and wishing you could rewind time and never mention it again. Peter's stomach lurched when he saw your rosy lip begin to pout, noticing the way your arms came to defensively wrap around your body, the way they did whenever he had upset you.
"It's okay, It's just.. you're not worried I'm gonna hurt you?"
At first, his gentle nature during times like these had scared you. But since growing use to it, you realised you yearned for a little more. Something familiar. The way a frat guy should perform. You wanted to feel the sting of his touch after he left, more so in that way he would always be with you. There would be remnants of Peter Parker that followed you everywhere, as if just his touch wasn't enough. You smiled, carefully bringing one of his hands to tangle itself in your hair, pulling at his wrist to give it a sharp tug and he didn't miss the way your lips parted when he did so.
This time, when you returned to your position in front of him, Peter knew what to do.
He worked his way into it, but eventually one of his strong hands had a bruising grip on your hip while the other had tangled itself in your hair, wrapping the strands around his fist and giving a hard tug which made you cry out, involuntarily tipping your head back to bump with his chest. The new and exposed planes of your throat made him a little weak, wondering if he should take it that far, though his thrusts never seemed to falter and his pace was relentless.
The hand that had been secured around your hip travelled up your front, his nimble fingers making a purposeful show of grazing past your tits a couple times, though really was trying to give you as much time in the world to shut him down, before landing around your throat. You gulped down a few last breaths of air, which he graciously allowed you to have, but you didn't argue. Then, you stayed still as his slender hand wrapped completely around your jugular, squeezing tight enough to restrict your breathing a little but not so much you would begin to struggle, though he wasn't really sure if you ever would.
"So pretty, baby." he was already showering you with praises and you felt you had barely proved worthy yet, but to Peter just the sight of your pretty lips parted from him in a silent obey as you gazed up at him from your compromising position was more than enough. "You take it like such a big girl, huh?" it was rhetorical, but you gave what little noise you could muster in reply and his heart tugged a little at how hopeless you looked, but his dick only seemed to get harder. He felt like a sick fuck, but yet when you parted your lips a little further and he watched your tongue flop out your mouth, smacking against your chin and wet with spit, he couldn't help the way he let a fat glob of spit pass through his lips and into your mouth, reeling at the way you swallowed eagerly, before displaying your tongue to him once more as proof of your obedience.
"God, you really are a slut." he tugged on your throat a little, pulling you tighter against his chest and you gasped. It was nastier than before and much crueler, but every fibre of your being perked up at the nickname. He watched the way your perky tits bounced when you seemed to straighten up a little at his comment, groaning at just how much pride you took in this. It was filthy and downright disgusting.
"You love this, don't you?" he leaned down to speak a little closer to your ear, his harsh words sent heat prickling up your spine, "Love me treating you this way." he loosened his grip on your throat to almost nothing and you hummed, "Answer me, tell me how much you love my cock, baby." and he practically choked at your reply; "Yes, sir." That was it. You cracked the code. His entire brain short circuited for a moment and you were sure you watched his pupils dilate, the lust blown look in his eye growing tenfold as he gawked down at you.
His thrusts grew intentful, each one a declaration of his ownership over you as he hissed through gritted teeth next to your ear; "Fuckin' hell." while his touch seemed to harden around you, his presence unmoving. "You're so fuckin' good f'me." he babbled, totally pussy drunk and speaking almost nonsense into the dimly lit room around you. When you didn't answer, he yanked the hand in your hair backward and nearly sent you flying into him.
"I love being good f' you!" you yelped, an almost pained howl leaving you which dissipated into a sea of moans and gasps. One of his hands dropped down to your thighs and gave a hard squeeze which you were absolutely sure was going to bruise later, his supernatural grip getting the better of him as he drowned in the euphoric pleasure of it all, this totally foreign side of him finally being released felt unnerving; but freeing all the same.
"Yeah, I bet you do." he huffed, the evident strain in his voice giving away how hard he was holding back, trying to keep himself from slipping over the edge and spilling inside of you right there, before he had truly had the chance to give you what you needed. The hand that had been draped in your hair dropped down to travel along your belly, curling down to come in contact with your sore clit under the fabric of your too-impatient-to-be-discarded underwear. You whined and he shushed you with a trail of kisses from the fat of your cheek to the tip of your ear, drawing steady circles around the bud with the sort of trained precision only Peter was capable of.
You leaned back to meet his chest once more, your knees digging into the hard mattress beneath you as you sunk further down, resting your heavy head against his shoulder. You brought up a hand to tangle itself in the one that was resting against your throat, keeping you stable, squeezing his fingers a little and implying you wanted more pressure again. He obliged, willing to do whatever it took to please you, and felt a sick delight in the way you gasped for just enough air to push out a little moan of his name before his hand fully closed in around your neck once more. He was working his fingers so diligently he had almost forgotten about his own release, which he was so close to he could only pray he could have you coming apart before he would inevitably become a twitching mess behind you.
"I know, love." he cooed, "Feels so good, doesn't it?" and you nodded a little against his shoulder, turning to bury your cheek in the taut muscle. He leaned down and rest his head against yours, speaking into your face; "You gonna cum for me?" to which you could only gasp another moan of his name, 'Pete', and the new found nickname you had chosen to use over the last few weeks still made his chest feel a little warm when you said it.
The movement of his fingers sped up and in seconds you were arching against him, the knot in your stomach snapping so incredibly fast you were sure you were seeing stars, your sudden release surprising you almost as much as it did Peter, who was frantically pulling out of you and spurting in hot ropes all over your back and a little across his navy sheets. The two of you stayed there breathing heavily for a long time before you tried to collapse back against his chest, to which Peter held your entire body weight up with a finger against your upper back, muttering something you barely caught through your popped ears about making a mess.
You barely registered being laid down against the pillows, only that Peter wasn't where he should be as you reached out into the air next to you, feeling the empty space and whining dramatically. He returned shortly after with a towel to wipe down your back and do what little cleaning he could of his sheets before you were practically hauling him into bed, burying yourself in the sweaty spot under his armpit and inhaling deeply, before you erupted into open-mouthed snores in what must have been seconds.
Peter laid there for a while, bathing in the aftermath of the entire ordeal, one arm tucked tightly under his head against the pillows while the other drew soothing circles into your scalp in a similar motion to the one he had been using on you not too long before. He couldn't help but feel dirty; and maybe a little bit of impending doom as he realised how weak he was to your advances. It was too easy for you to make him lose control, dangerously easy, and he could only hope what he had allowed himself to do tonight hadn't scared you off any more than it should have. But what sickened him most, is that he feared he knew the answer to that. You were an immovable object. Much too hellbent on pleasing him and gasping to fuel your need for validation, and much too enticing for him to ever resist. Now, there was absolutely no way of ever getting rid of you, whether it be what's best for you or not. He would have to start finding new ways to exhibit a little self control, or maybe even sway you as much as he could.
When he fell asleep, he dreamt of lifeless cottages and screaming children, with mysteriously you shaped holes in every part of it. He was aware of the fact it was his own fault, that you were gone and that he should have done more to protect you. It was the first nightmare he had in weeks, since meeting you, but the warning it held wasn't lost on him. Not at all.
