Work Text:
It started with him touching you.
It was always gentle, absent-minded touches. It was in his nature to give you a pat on the back or bump you to congratulate you.
But when his hand lingered, every finger lain on you was like another flaming torch to your skin. It made your breath heavy and unable to focus. A part of you hated him for making you act like this, but the irrational part of you loved the thrill he gave you. With every look, grin, and word he gave, your heart grew. So did your desire.
Did he realize? Was he doing this to tease you? The smirks he gave seemed like there was a secret hidden underneath, like he just wanted to burrow deeper into you.
Things came to a head when he sat with his legs spread in your living room, Spider-Man suit still tight on his skin. You could smell the sweat and hard work on him-he kept apologizing- and it made you weak in the knees. How his breath was still catching, his face still red, and he’d let out little heavenly whines every once in a while. They were out of pain, but Peter made himself so, so irresistible.
You watched him out of the corner of your eye. Your rationality had flown out the window when you asked him, “Do you do this on purpose?”
He turned to you with tired eyes, but the slight smile on his face made his teasing all the more evident, “Do what on purpose, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart.
His stupid nickname he’d given you. You couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be an insult or a genuine term of endearment, but now it was all clear.
He was being a bastard.
You shook your head knowing now that he’d spun a web knowing just how to trap you. You dismissed him, but now he was oh so intent on getting you to answer clearly. Who knew Spider-Man was the sadistic type.
His smirk grew when your eyes pointedly turned to the TV, “Please, enlighten me,”
You waved your hand dismissively as if there wasn’t a deep crimson on your face, “Nothing, Peter,”
Peter let out a hum as his body fully turned to you, hand resting on his cheek like he knew something you didn’t. Like he was really taking control of you.
Was he?
You didn’t dare turn to face him. You could already feel the gload radiating off of him and you did not want to encourage him. He was too much of an asshole when he was given ammunition to be.
You felt nimble fingers suddenly brush your cheek as they messed with the hair behind your ear.
God, he was determined to embarrass you.
“Why are you blushing so much? Hmm? Was it something I said?” He mumbled. You could picture the lazy smirk perfectly.
Peter realized this wasn’t going to work. You were too stubborn. He paused for a second, pads holding their place above your hair. Perhaps he’d misread things. Maybe you really weren’t into him and he was just some sick old man.
But he noticed the way your fists clenched and the way your chest heaved.
Jesus. You weren’t even wearing a bra.
Before he could do anything else, he heard you silently whisper. It was probably involuntarily, the way your eyebrows furrowed and your mouth immediately shut. But he still heard it. A silent ‘please’ that had fallen off your lips so delicately. The smirk returned.
“Please, what? ” He whispers so only you can hear. So you know that all of his attention is solely on you, that he’ll give you anything you want.
As long as you ask nicely.
You give a hum of annoyance, side eyeing him as he continues to only caress your cheek. His touch is usually grounding, but now all it did was make you well aware of Peter’s unmoving, dark eyes. The pressure is too much. Like he knows that keeping you on your toes is just making things worse.
He chuckles softly as he leans in, finally , and kisses down your neck. His lips make you sigh out in relief like they’re a balm to a stinging wound. The noises he makes are outrageously vulgar, suckling like your neck is a sticky peach. The fact that he’s laughing at the way you unravel just from his kisses just makes you all the more embarrassed.
Peter’s all over you now. The TV’s left entirely forgotten as he starts groping and kissing every part of you he can. You almost start to ask yourself if he’s secretly a vampire, moaning at just the taste of your skin. He’s holding himself back, although, trying to drag this out as long as he can. You can tell by the way his hips jolt every so often, revealing just how eager he is to get inside of you.
“Pete-“ He outright groans when he hears his name sound so sweet from you. He’s dreamt the way you would say it in a situation like this, but his wet dreams could never amount to the real thing.
“You’re being mean-“
He chuckles into your lips, “‘M being mean? Sweetheart, I can’t get enough of you,” His sentence is spoken between broken kisses.
“ Please, Peter,” You’re so breathless and he thinks that, Wow, you could ask him to burn the world in that tone and he would.
He’s blindsided as you push up into him and lay his back against your silken couch. Really, he’s just mesmerized by you and lets you do whatever. He doesn’t mind.
Your desperation makes him let out a soft chuckle, helping you to slip out of your red panties. Cute, he thinks. He’s breathless at the sight of your pussy though. It’s in his face while you’re busy taking your shirt off and he can’t help but swipe a finger over your slit, just to watch your reaction.
And, God , his cock has never jumped harder. You’re so slick and he can’t really believe it’s all for him. Peter’s eyes look up at you from below as he lets his hands grip your thighs and presses soft kisses all over you, marking you invisibly so you’ll remember what his lips felt like.
You whine as his lips come dangerously close to your clit, “Need me inside you that bad, sweetheart?”
You don’t dignify his teasing with a response, simply pumping his already leaking cock and leaning down just enough that your hole kisses the tip. The both of you groan incessantly at the feeling, his hands coming to hold you steady over him.
As you sink down into him, Peter can’t help but whine like a man in desperate need. Like he’s never felt anything as astounding as your pussy. He’s gripping you like a lifeline when you finally take him all in, leaning his head on your chest. You take a second to get used to him, to let your body memorize how he feels.
As you start moving, Peter just can’t take his eyes off of you. Watching the way your tits bounce and the way your pussy just takes him so well is just too overwhelming, he thinks he might cum before you can even mutter his name.
His lips are parted and he has a dazed look on his face as he watches on, “So good f’ me,” He doesn’t miss the way you tighten around him at his praise, “Sweetheart, you don’t know what you do to me.”
His words come out slurred. He’s absolutely out of his mind right now, drunk off of you and the way you ride him. You think the only thing that’s grounding him right now is the harsh grip he has on your thighs.
He mumbles out loose “Keep riding me, sweetheart,” “just like that,” and other lewd phrases as you clench around his cock. Sooner than later, he’s moaning non-stop and close to his climax. Peter’s too lost in the pleasure to warn you he’s close, his head lolling around on the couch. You can only tell he's cumming when he starts desperately pleading for you to squeeze every last drop of cum out of him.
Pleasepleaseplease.
As he finishes inside you, his pleads die out on his tongue and end in a soft whimper. He’s sweat-covered and flushed but you’ve never seen anything prettier.
Peter whimpers at the stimulation when you get off of his cock, kissing his cheek as you do so.
He’s smiling shyly at you and still reeling from his orgasm as you hastily wipe yourself off, “Thank you, sweetheart,”
“Anytime, Pete.”