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His mind was numb, being buried so deep inside your cunt like this – watching the back of you bounce up and down so effortlessly on his cock as he sat leaned back in his desk chair. He was paralyzed there, not risking moving a muscle, afraid this moment would slip from his grasp if he made even the slightest adjustment. Everything was happening before his eyes in slow motion. His hand seemed to move so intolerably slow as he reached to flip up your skirt to see your ass, watching his cock split you in two underneath it. His length and his lap were glistening in your juices. You were so warm, so soft… it was getting to be too much for him to bear. His eyes drew heavy as he watched, slack-jawed, hypnotized by your hips, helplessly lost in your rhythm as his hips rutted upward gently to meet yours at every fall. He was so fucking close. Your name fell from his lips softly, barely above a whisper.
“Peter?” you had raised your voice slightly to gain his attention, facing him as you stood over his desk, the notes you had been going over still in your hand.
At the sound of his name, Peter is ripped back into reality, sitting straight up in his chair. His eyes frantically meet yours, his heart pounding in his ears, becoming a stuttering mess of apologies and excuses.
You had been reading a part of a dissertation to Peter for your paired research when he had grown quiet, his occasional verbal cues of acknowledgement to your side of the conversation ceasing. You had simply continued until hearing him softly moan your name. You swore you misheard him, but once you craned your neck around to look at him, he was quite obviously lost in another world; his eyes were clouded over, and it wasn’t very hard for your gaze to be drawn down to the tent forming in his lap.
That’s when you had said his name aloud, startling him out of his daydream. He was visibly flustered, his cheeks flushing as he tried to compose himself. You couldn’t help but smile as he spewed apology after apology for not paying attention.
It was way too easy for Peter’s mind to run so far off course when you were around — especially when you had been right there, facing away from him, bent slightly over his desk as you took a closer look at the material. The way you were essentially between either of his spread legs as he gazed from his seat. How your skirt was just barely long enough to cover your ass… but not when you bent over.
You tossed your papers to the side and shook your head, chuckling lightly to yourself. Peter did not know how to take your reaction, the feeling of his rigid cock so painfully present in his lap was so blatantly obvious in the room, he couldn’t focus. His eyes met yours in a panic, analyzing them for what he should word-vomit next.
“Oh, Peter Parker,” you sigh lowly at the exhale of your breath, gaze not breaking from his as you drift closer to him. Taking a hold of the arms of his chair, you sit down on his lap, legs draping over either side of him, hands gripping his shoulders as your thumbs massage gently into the muscle. Your core aligned with his cock. “You got something for me?”
His body flinches at the contact. You shift your hips down further into his lap, antagonizing him, your lace-clad cunt tracing the length of his throbbing cock. His moan plays so pretty in your ear; you can’t help but pause, freezing in place, just to earn a whine from him. And he does, subconsciously and desperately, at the loss of your movement, fueling your ego.
You lean in so you’re at his ear, fingers running up the span of his chest underneath his shirt. “Beg for it.”
His cock twitches underneath you, a stifled, heavy breath escaping from his chest. His hands hesitantly find your hips, unsure of himself. “Pl – please, Y/N – please, touch me.”
At his request, you’re grinding down into his lap, sure he could feel you soaking through the material of his pants. You feel his sharp moan hot on your neck as you throw your head back, fingers interlocking behind his neck.
“You want to fuck me, Peter Parker? You want your cock buried deep inside my pussy?” you’re rutting short thrusts on his groin as you egg him on, feeling his breaths quicken with each rut. Your mouth finds the pulse point on his neck, leaving a long, open-mouthed kiss there. Peter sighs heavily, his hands resting at your hips. A smirk toys at your lips, eyes flitting down to watch his face. “What, Parker? Does that feel good?”
He tenses under you suddenly with urgency, freezing in his position. “I— I’m— Y/N, I—”
You take his hands in yours and attach them to your bare ass beneath the material of your skirt, rolling your hips back into his hold. “You want me so full of your cock? Fucking up into me ‘til I’m seeing fucking stars, filling me up to the brim, my walls squeezing your cock so hard, so tight—”
“Y/N, please, I— I think I— I’m gonna—” he’s pleading with you, voice taut in his throat, his muscles involuntarily contracting beneath you in his seat.
He was barely holding on. Peter didn’t not want to come, just not like this nor this quick, but you had other plans for him. And you were relishing in the power it gave you.
“You gonna come for me, Parker?” your hips continue to hump his rigid cock, milking him for all he’s got, your lips grazing the shell of his ear as a grin forms. “Say it.”
Peter doesn’t have time to stop himself before he’s cumming. It was just too fucking easy for you. He was wrapped around your finger, double-knotted and topped with a bow. His mind was racing, but — Jesus, fuck… he felt so good. He could feel his cum pooling in his lap in thick, hot spurts. It wasn’t until just now that he realized his fingers were digging into your hips, knuckles straining, likely trying to tie him down to reality as he came so violently.
You had watched in awe at your own handiwork on Peter, not able to take your eyes off his pretty face as he struggled to put off his orgasm. And fuck — you could have came just watching him fall at the mercy of you. The sounds that fell from his lips were ethereal. You continued to rut on his cock as he rode out his orgasm, your lips meeting his for a sweet kiss toward the end of his high.
Breathlessly, you pull from the kiss to meet his eyes. He looks at you like you are a fucking angel.
You take his jaw gently in your hand. “Hope you’re ready to buckle down and listen now,” with a solid pat on the tops of his shoulders, you step away from him and back to the papers you left at Peter’s desk. “We, like, really need this A.”