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The sound of Johnny's squeak when Peter pushes him down onto the bed echoes in the spacious, dark bedroom, followed by both their giggling as Peter climbs over Johnny to bring their lips together. It's warm and safe and mushy in their little cocoon of limbs, tender despite the heat of their actions.
It's not like Peter and Johnny haven't kissed before; the two had known each other since they were teenagers half a decade ago. Johnny was Peter's first boy kiss, and Peter was Johnny's first kiss at all.
Maybe that's why they kept going back to each other in some way or another after every new failed relationship.
This is new territory, though.
Johnny wraps his arms around Peter's shoulders. "I think this is the fastest you've ever managed to get here," he says in between kisses.
"Yeah, well," Peter murmurs, nuzzling his nose against Johnny's. "This is the first time you've ever texted me saying the Baxter was empty."
Peter's been over thousands of times when it was only Johnny. The difference now is that they're in some kind of situationship and down to fuck.
"So you just want me for my body?"
"I was planning on sticking around to hog your PC and play Valorant."
Johnny lets his head fall back against the bed with a scoff and an eye roll. "You know what, I'm actually not in the mood anymore," he retorts, "I had a long day, I'm tired, I should sleep early."
Peter laughs against Johnny's throat. "I'm sorry," he coos, "I mean to say, I was planning on romantically cuddling with you all night after." His hands squeeze Johnny's hips gently before smoothing up under his shirt.
"That's better."
They kiss some more before Peter's had enough, pulling the zipper at the nape of his suit down to wrangle out of it, mouthing lewdly at Johnny's neck and jaw until he has to stand up to take the Spider-Man suit off.
Johnny watches him undress and mentally high-fives himself at the sight of Peter's abs and biceps. "Hot," he states, letting his eyes linger down, down, down. He double high-fives himself when his eyes land on the monster Peter's packing in his briefs.
"You're hot," Peter replies easily, sliding his hands under Johnny's shirt and up his warm chest. "You gonna let me fuck?"
"Yeah, duh," Johnny exhales, hips twitching when Peter rolls his thumbs over his nipples and pinches them. "I just— let me tell you something."
Peter hums, pulling Johnny's shirt up over his head and tossing it to the floor. "I'm all ears, Blondie," he states, leaning back down to resume his make-out session with Johnny's neck, hand trailing down to the button on Johnny's jeans.
"I'm serious."
Peter lifts his head, warm brown doe eyes meeting Johnny's. "I'm listening." His voice is earnest, his hand stops trying to undo Johnny's jeans and flattens against his abdomen. "Tell me."
"Maybe I should've told you this before," Johnny begins, stroking his thumb over Peter's cheekbone and smiling when Peter turns to kiss his palm. "I don't have a dick."
Peter blinks. "What?"
"I don't have a dick," Johnny repeats, "I never said anything because I didn't have a reason to at first, but I figure this is a pretty good reason to tell you."
"What do you have, then?"
Johnny makes a face. "There's not that many options. Guess."
Peter seems to genuinely consider the options before putting his hand over Johnny's crotch and pressing down. He's not a virgin— he knows what he's touching, even through layers of clothing. He closes his eyes and exhales. "I'm gonna nut in my fucking underwear, holy fuck."
Peter's slept with girls before. Johnny didn't think him having a pussy would've been a complete deal breaker for Peter, but it was nice to know for sure that Peter was into it and into him (and in his jeans).
Johnny lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, smiling as he squeezes Peter's shoulders. "Yeah?" Any worry he previously felt was gone out through the window.
"Don't sound so surprised. I still would've smashed in the hypothetical situation that you had a tentacle dick or something."
Johnny stares at Peter, the incredulity on his face making Peter stop, the room silent for five seconds before they both start giggling again.
Peter kisses Johnny again, nudging his nose against his cheek. "Shut up, you know what I'm trying to say."
"Go to outer space, get tentacock surgery," Johnny replies, "got it."
"You're lucky you're cute." Peter pops the button on Johnny's jeans and pushes his hand past the waistband of Johnny's underpants.
Peter's fingers are cold and calloused against the skin of Johnny's folds. He teases his fingers over them until Johnny makes a noise of complaint, then dips his fingers into the searing warmth of Johnny's slit.
"Fuck," Peter mumbles, pressing a finger into Johnny's core then trailing it up to circle Johnny's clit. "You always get wet like this?"
Johnny inhales shakily. "Not usually this fast."
"What makes me special?" He increases his pressure on the little bud, turning his head to look at Johnny, pupils blown out from sheer arousal despite the lights being off.
A shudder wracks through Johnny's entire body at the sensation, mouth falling open with a breathy moan. He feels Peter's lips brush against his temple. "Probably the fact that I've been plotting on you for years."
Peter snorts, shifting in the bed to get a better angle when he slides a finger into Johnny. "You had a crush on me," he singsongs, fingering him for a bit until Johnny relaxes enough for him to put a second finger in.
"Yeah, if you took your head out your ass for five seconds, you'd realize everyone has a crush on you. As Peter, not just Spider-Man."
"I don't care about everyone, I care about you," Peter says, then proceeds to fingerbang the fuck out of Johnny.
The sound is loud and wet, filling the room alongside Johnny's whiny moans and their loud breathing. Peter's fingers pull wetness out of Johnny with each stroke out, soaking his whole hand and the soft cotton of Johnny's underwear.
"God, you're perfect," Peter murmurs, kissing Johnny's temple as he gives Johnny a third finger, using his thumb to rub at his swollen clit. "So fucking wet."
Johnny wails, thighs trying to close shut in attempt to stop the relentless pace of Peter's hand. "Pete— Peter—"
"Hey, no. Nuh-uh." Peter uses his spare hand to keep Johnny's legs open. "Take it, Blondie. You can do it."
"I'm gonna come," Johnny sobs, "I'm gonna— fuck, wait, wait, waitwaitwait—" His hands scrabble at the waistband of his jeans, trying to push them off for a good five seconds before he comes with a cry.
It's so fucking wet. Johnny comes like a fountain, rivulets of squirt soaking Peter's hand and through his jeans, trembling through his orgasm.
"Christ," Peter exhales, eyes shifting between Johnny's face and the darkening fabric on Johnny's crotch and ass. "Fuck, Johnny." He pulls his fingers out and gives Johnny's clit a few extra rubs, mesmerized by the subsequent gush of wetness that leaks out and adds to the mess growing under Johnny.
Johnny hiccups, grabbing Peter's hand and pulling it out of his pants. He's flushed pink and still shuddering through the waves of pleasure, glassy blue eyes staring up at Peter.
"You're so hot," Peter murmurs, leaning down to kiss him properly, running his fingers through Johnny's loose golden curls. "So pretty, baby."
Johnny pouts. "My jeans are ruined," he complains.
"I'll put them in the wash later," Peter promises, "tell me what you want now."
"My pants off."
Peter kisses him again before pulling down Johnny's pants— his underwear is soaked together to the denim fabric, both of them coming off together. "Got it."
The hair on Johnny's belly leading down is very blonde— just like the hair on his arms and legs, just like the endearing curls of Johnny's hair Peter likes running his fingers through— however, Johnny's pubes are a kind of mousy shade of blonde.
"Huh." Peter runs his thumb over the wispy patch of hair.
"What?"
"Carpet doesn't match the drapes," Peter states, laughing when Johnny grabs a pillow and throws it at him. "Sorry, sorry! I just think it's interesting."
"You're so fucking weird, Peter."
"Can you blame me? I know you don't dye your hair and this is the only part of you that's not super blonde."
Johnny rolls his eyes. "It's 'cause the sun doesn't shine there."
"It's cute."
"Shut the fuck up."
Peter gives Johnny's clit a light pinch, smirking at the way it makes him squirm. "Be nice," he warns, using two fingers to spread Johnny open and get a good look at him. He's still soaked and quivering, hole clenching around nothing. Peter absolutely wants to eat him out. "Tell me what you want."
Johnny considers, lets his legs fall open as Peter pumps two fingers into him again. "Your, mmh, dick inside of me," he states.
"Got it, Blondie."
Peter removes his fingers from Johnny and wipes them on his briefs before tugging them off. His dick is so hard and heavy, dripping at the tip no doubt from how long he had to wait to get to this point.
Johnny mentally high-fives himself a third time.
"Where are your condoms?"
Johnny huffs. "No condoms, just fuck me already," he begs.
Peter raises an eyebrow cautiously. "Think with your head, Flame Brain. Is that a good idea or are you just horny? What if you, y'know..." His eyes flick down to in between Johnny's legs.
"You can't catch anything, I can't catch anything, and I don't have the internal equipment to get pregnant. Three for three, get that dick in me now."
Peter rolls his eyes but leans forward, pressing the head of his cock against Johnny and sliding it through Johnny's wetness. "Demanding little brat."
"I'm taller than you."
"Yeah, but I'm older than you."
"By two months!"
"I was already holding my head up by the time you were born," Peter boasts, then clicks his tongue and coos at the adorably annoyed expression on Johnny's face. "Aw, baby, you're so cute. I'm sorry, let me dick you down."
He pushes into Johnny slowly, groaning at the tight heat enveloping his cock. There's no escaping it— all he can do is lean forward and press his forehead against Johnny's as they both get used to the feeling.
Johnny wraps his arms around Peter's shoulders, exhaling loudly. He smells amazing, like toasted ambery vanilla and sweat and pussy. He sounds amazing, too.
Peter starts off slow, thrusting his hips at a steady pace until he finds something they both like— fast and rough. His pelvis smacks against Johnny's ass, the sound becoming increasingly wet as Johnny gets worked up again.
"You're so pretty," Peter whispers breathlessly, grabbing one of Johnny's legs by the back of the knee and pressing it to Johnny's chest to go deeper. "Fuck, I could watch you forever."
Johnny's brows are furrowed together, hands clawing at Peter's back and shoulders as pathetic whiny little uh, uh, uh noises leave his mouth.
"Wanna keep you like this forever," Peter continues, "fuck you whenever you want, eat you out whenever you want. This pussy's so damn tight and wet." He reaches between them, tapping at Johnny's clit once, twice, then rubbing at it with no mercy.
"Shit," Johnny wails, "shit, Peter!" His eyes roll to the back of his head, moans getting louder and louder at the endless onslaught of pleasure on his sensitive little nub.
"Wanna suck on this clit 'til you're coming and squirting on my face." Peter hisses at the way Johnny clenches around him. "Gonna make you come every damn day from now on no matter what, keep you feeling good for the rest of your life."
He leans impossibly closer to Johnny until they're sharing the same air, mesmerized by the way his face scrunches in pleasure. "You fucking own me, Johnny," he breathes out, "my dick, my body, my heart, my soul. Whatever you want, it's yours."
Johnny barely manages to look at Peter, tears brimming his eyes as he mewls pathetically. He can't even open his mouth to reply before his second orgasm hits his body, just comes again, squirting everywhere between them where they're connected, keeps coming as Peter continues thrusting into him.
Peter comes a few thrusts later, and it's probably the most intense but he's ever busted in the history of ever— he feels it rippling from his head to his toes, feels it shooting down his spine like ice, swears he feels it in the air around him as his Spidey senses go berserk.
He's panting heavily. Peter's pretty sure he went blind for a few seconds.
Johnny straight up might have died and come back to life.
Peter opens his eyes.
Johnny's laying under him. He's breathing weird, not like he's exhausted, and his bottom lip is jutted out and trembling like—
"Are you crying?" Peter asks dumbly.
"No," Johnny chokes out, then starts bawling.
"Shit." Peter's hands are in the air and twitching as he tries to figure out what the hell went wrong and what to do. "Shit, shit, you're okay. You're okay, Johnny."
Great. He broke the situationship.
"Baby, did I hurt you?" Peter asks gently, pulling out of Johnny with a wince to gather him up in his arms and cradle him. "What's wrong? Show me where it hurts, I'm sorry." He does his best to look Johnny over but finds nothing wrong.
A slight feeling of terror fills him as he thinks of the possibility of having to tell Reed or Sue that he cracked Johnny so hard, they need to take him to the hospital or something.
"Johnny, babe," Peter begins, trying to not sound overly panicked. "You're scaring me a little." He smooths Johnny's hair out of his face, pressing their foreheads together. "Please. Tell me what's wrong."
Johnny seems to start calming down at the close proximity, looking into Peter's eyes. "I don't know," he sniffles.
"You don't know," Peter repeats, "does it hurt anywhere?"
Johnny shakes his head. "No."
Peter exhales in relief, kissing Johnny's forehead. "Okay," he murmurs, "okay. It's okay, baby. You cry if you want to, I'll be right here."
It takes Johnny a while to stop crying and calm down completely. Peter just stays cuddled right next to him, running his hands down Johnny's back and through his hair and kissing him until he's okay again.
"Sorry," Johnny murmurs wetly. "For freaking you out."
Peter shakes his head. "Nothing to be sorry for, Blondie." He nudges their noses together. "You wanna talk about it?"
"I don't know what that was. I just felt everything for one second and started crying for no reason."
"Just a case of post-nut clarity, I guess. Yours just comes in the form of crying."
"Did I give you the ick?"
Peter scoffs, cupping Johnny's face gently. "No, Johnny, you did not give me the ick. I still think you're hot as ever."
Johnny holds Peter's wrist. "Did you mean what you said? When you said I owned you?"
"Yeah," Peter sighs, "yeah. I failed the situationship thing on our first time messing around, you're just too..." He looks at Johnny, really looks at his sweet, teary, angelic face. "Perfect. I think I knew I was bound to catch feelings, I just didn't think it would be so soon."
Johnny wraps his arms around Peter's midsection. "That's fine," he murmurs, "I've just been in love with you since we were sixteen."
"We met when we were sixteen."
"Yeah."
Peter kisses him gently. "Let me take you out on a date."
"Can the date be a shower?"
Peter laughs. "Yeah."
"Okay, coffee. Bakery. Museum. Froyo. Park. More coffee. Restaurant reservations at nine. Sound good?"
The Baxter was full of people again, all sitting around the kitchen island with some form of breakfast.
Reed sits down in his seat across from Peter, leaning over to kiss Sue. He doesn't seem to consider Peter being there a disruption to his morning schedule anymore. "Hello, Peter."
"Morning, Reed." Peter sips from his mug of coffee and nods at Johnny. "Sounds perfect," he agrees, "I'll get dressed after I finish this."
He watches Johnny slide off his stool and walk away a little awkwardly, then watches as Sue walks out of the kitchen with the same exact gait when one of the kids calls for her from the living room.
Huh. Now we know what they did last night. Gross.
Reed reaches out for the coffee pot, glancing after the siblings absentmindedly as he fills his own mug with coffee.
Peter brings the mug back to his mouth and takes another sip.
"The crying unnerved me the first time, too," Reed states simply.
Peter chokes on his coffee.