Out of curiosity, have you ever thought about how Peter would moan as he felt Steve's beard against his ass while he was getting eaten out? Do you ever wonder how Peter would squirm later, unable to sit straight because every time he moves he's reminded of what Steve did to him? Do you ever imagine Peter begging Steve for days to do it again because he can't think of anything else?
WELL I HAVE NOW
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“Can anyone tell me what system the spleen belongs to?”
Peter certainly couldn't. Or at least he probably could have had he been listening. He had an A in the class so far (if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be getting laid) but today he was extra distracted. MJ had already elbowed him twice but it was useless. His head was in the clouds and his hormones... they were on the fritz thanks to the beard burn between his ass cheeks and the session he’d had with Steve - his extremely hot, extremely tattooed friend with benefits - two nights ago.
He shifted in his seat just to be reminded of the night once more. Thank God for Steve’s mirror on his wall - Peter wanted to thank whoever had suggested the purchase to the man. If it hadn’t been for that, he wouldn’t have any images to replay over and over again. But he did now. The view of Steve’s bearded face buried between his cheeks, his eyes closed in bliss as he positively wrecked him was a sight he never wanted to forget.
And the feel of the beard, the scrape of it against his skin, the way it hurt so good, making him all but cry when he put his boxer briefs back on…. he was still in the best kind of pain. It was glorious.
Peter hadn’t ever experienced that particular act before. It had been an exciting turn of events for him that night, when Steve had bent him over on the bed and suggested they try something new. Peter would try anything for Steve, with Steve. His tongue though...had he been warned, he very possibly may have declined out of sheer nerves. But God he was glad he hadn’t. Going through life without experiencing that? It would have been damn travesty. Truly.
He’d come from it, all over Steve’s sheets, unable to stop himself. It had been too much but in the best way, and it hadn’t stopped Steve from railing him after. And that only exacerbated the pain of the beard burn, but Peter didn’t care one bit. He didn’t think he was being dramatic to call it one of the best nights of his life. Steve had a knack for giving those to him, after all.
MJ elbowed him hard once more and his elbow, supporting his head, fell off the desk, which caused his metal water bottle to follow suit with a loud clang. Fidgeting frantically, he realized belatedly that he had a ridiculous hard on in his gray sweatpants. Bad time to fantasize, Parker, he chastised himself. Red-faced, somehow he made it through the rest of class and his erection mercifully subsided.
But as soon as he was free, he hid around a corner in the hallway and typed out a message that mirrored five others he’d already sent in the last 48 hours.
Please eat me again, Daddy. I can’t stop thinking about it…