CHERRY

MINORS DNI

PINTEREST

𝐂HARACTER LIST 𝐑ULES 𝐀BOUT ME

INBOX - OPEN

It was the most convenient resolution, upon finding a bug hidden in your apartment among you and Peter's ongoing investigation of morally bankrupt individuals dominating the hierarchy of New York City. You narrowly possessed the cash to burn on a hotel, much less the resources to safe house your livelihood for the better part of the week. It was, more or less, your only option.

“Is that my apartment?” you ask, pointing to the familiar lineage of streets and corners you recognized on the glowing bright computer screen at the not-so-far end of Peter's apartment. Four red dots pinpointed the buildings surrounding your place, blowing bright on the screen, a fifth blue dot marking your actual apartment.

“Uh, yeah,” his steps march up behind you, body brushing up to your side to use a long finger to trace the spots marked on the screen, “I set up a few sensors around your place. The idea is that if whoever bugged your apartment shows up again, these will triangulate the signal from whatever devices they’re using to tag the frequencies and help me figure out where to find them from anywhere in the city,” he flashes you a cautious eye from your side, a looming position he took often, “That’s…okay, right?”

You nod,, stepping back to let the back of your legs bump the low table ledge, only providing an inch of difference in space between you and Peter.

“How long will it take for you to find them?”

“Well, quick if they show up soon. By now they’ll realize the first bug is unresponsive and will probably try and plant a new one,” he explained, finger coming off the screen to tap on the table, a rhythmic habit he’d had for years.

“And you can’t use the original to find them because,” your voice trails off, head tilting as his lip pulled between his teeth.

“It sort of broke when you chucked it on the floor the other night.”

“Oh,” you shrink. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. They probably would have deactivated it once they realized I wasn’t the female reporter they were looking for—given that I am a man,” your lips curl into an easy smile, his eyes glinting with the pride that comes with amusing you, “And it gives me an excuse to show off how incredibly tech savvy your ex-boyfriend is.”

“Cause it wasn’t obvious enough,” you hum, your gazes meeting. His shoulders pull up into a shrug, lips curled into a lopsided grin.

“Yeah, well, the reminder doesn’t hurt.”

His shift in tone makes you swallow, weary of the way he easily manages to lull you into this back and forth. You side step him as he goes to speak again, pointing back to the general direction of the bathroom.

“I’m gonna shower, if that’s okay,” Peter’s startled expression at your sudden departure from his side makes him falter briefly.

“Now?” you shift on either heel, watching him clear his throat, gesturing vaguely to the wall opposite you both, “Yeah—yeah, that’s fine, towels are, uh, in that closet.”

You step out of the bathroom in a mist of steam, towel squeezing out the excess water from your hair. Your sleep top brushed the tops of your thighs where the hem of your shorts cusped the plush of fat at the seam of your hip. Your clean skin shuddered at the sudden briskly cool air outside of the progressively hot bathroom, eyes lured across the subtly changed scene of the living room.

The pullout bed took up the left side of the apartment, all neatly tucked together with sheets and two soft down pillows, and a familiar blue blanket. Peter’s broad shoulders were pulled up, seated in the chair that had often been tucked under the desk. His hands clasped behind his head, the swell of his biceps accentuated by the position, muscle rippling in the fluorescent beam of his table side lamps, the room cast in a yellow-white halo.

You swallowed, eyes trailing from his arms to the unchanged screen, “Anything?”

“No, not—” Peter sighed, head turning to look at you. His eyes set on your face, and quickly trailed down your bare thighs, lips parted in a subconscious buffer, “Yet. Uh, but, it’s only been a few hours. The system will alert us if anything changes.” You walked up to the table, whirring machinery masking the creaking sound of your steps, your hip jutted as you propped yourself on one leg, eyes peeling over the screen, arms coming to cross over your chest. Peter's eyes lingered on the sliver of skin that revealed at the raise of your arms. You looked down at him.

“What?”

“Nothing. You look cozy,” his lips curled up, looking back at the screen as it shone across his sharp features, “Cute shorts.”

Scoffing, you roll your eyes, seating yourself on the table edge, the fat of your thighs pushing wide with the cool metal pressing to the backs.

“Are you planning to sit there all night? Are you really that much of a workaholic?”

“You know what they say, do what your love never work a day in your life,” he jokes, but his plan is clear by the low settled position he has in the remarkably uncomfortable looking chair.

“Right. Can see that still holds true,” you note, head tilting to meet his resistant gaze. “Do you plan on getting any sleep?”

Peter's eyes meet yours at the brisk concern you exhibit, nodding a bit as his palm comes to cusp the back of his neck, eyes flickering back to the made bed.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll set myself up in a little bit. Got some blankets I can throw on the floor—get a few hours of sleep in case something comes up later tonight.”

Your eyes narrow at the implication.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“Peter, we can share a bed, it’s fine,” you explain as though it’s obvious. Peter’s expression turns up amused, head tilting to look at you with a teasing lilt to his voice.

“I thought you were Miss ‘avoiding confusion’?”

“Well then keep your hands to yourself and save the trouble,” you leaned over as you said it, Peter's lips parting in a sheepish scoff, eyes trailing down to the scantily clad fold of your shorts riding up to bite between your thighs.

“Right. You do know how I like to stay away from trouble.”

The soft haze of light from the dimmed computer screen is all that casts over the room as you and Peter settle into bed. It’s a low hue of light, barely casting enough light to hold a shadow over Peters features as he shifts and turns at your side. You tuck yourself under the sheets, shifting a few times as Peter stills beside you, settling into a comfortable position.

“Comfortable?” he asks, voice hardly above a whisper. You nod, a soft hum rumbling in your throat, Peter's own breath exhales softly through his nose, “Well, don’t let the…” his words trailed off, the verbal implications catching on his tongue as the words died out in his throat, “Uh, goodnight.”

It’s strange to lay beside Peter. You remain still as the mixture of your soft breaths travel between you both in the vacant room, the soft cast of moonlight shining in across the opposite wall just below the window is the main fixture your open eyes focus on. After a long while you sigh softly, sheets rustling beneath your body as you turn onto your side, hands coming up to rest under your head as you face Peter, his own head turning toward you at the sudden shift.

“Hi,” you murmur quietly, like someone might hear you if you spoke any louder. Peter’s body shifts to move onto his own side, pushing the edge of his pillow down to see you.

“Hey.”

“Thank you for letting me stay here,” you whisper, your fingers plucking the seam of your pillow case, lashing fluttering across your cheek. “I know I gave you a hard time about it the other night.”

“Yeah, of course,” his gentle voice rasps. “Makes me feel better to know you’re somewhere safe. Somewhere where I can…” he swallows, your heart racing at the vulnerability of his words. “In case anything happened.”

“It makes me feel better too,” you admit, eyes lowering to his hand as it moves to push the hair at your temple back behind your ear. You sigh at the touch of his warm skin grazing yours, his palm moved to hold under your jaw, thumb pressed to stroke the apple of your cheek.

“This is nice,” he hums, thumb pulling down the soft plush of your bottom lip, “Having you here.”

“Peter,” you sigh, his broad hands caressing down the soft arch of your throat. You breathe heavily at the feeling of his fingers dragging down the neck of your shirt, dancing down along the soft curve of your hip, fingers balling up the fabric of your shirt hem in his hands.

“This is soft,” he breathes, nose nudging yours, tongue coming out to wet his lips as he urged your body closer, “You smell nice.”

“We should sleep,” you tried, eyes closed to the feeling of his breath against your lips, chin tilting up to feel the brush of his lips on yours.

“Yeah,” he huffs, fingers peeling off your hip to curl around the back of your throat, surging forward to slot his lips with yours. You moan openly into his mouth, fingers coming to clutch the loose fabric of his own shirt, tongue slipping against his with impatient breathes, bodies slotting together, his hot hand tugging your thigh over his before wrapping his hand back against the back of your skull to wind into the tufts of hair splayed across your pillow.

“Peter,” you part briefly, eyes fluttering as he licked at your parted lips, “We can’t.”

“Shh, we're sleeping,” you smiled against his mouth as he pulled you into another open mouth kiss, panting as your tongues swirled, spit seeping to the corners of your mouths, the obscene sounds of your mouths smacking filling the room.

“Yeah—yeah, just like that, god,” Peters nose nudges with yours as he pants against the swell of your cheek, eyes darting down to the vague shape of your hands pushed past the seam of his boxers, the achingly hard outline of his cock morphed by the shape of your small hand stroking the twitching length. His own fingers plunge into your eager cunt with measured strokes, palm slapping your puffy clit to spread the slick over your cunt. Your thighs clam down on either side of his wrist, hips rolling into his open palm as he fucks his fingers up into you, methodical in the way he curls and strokes your insides.

“Feels so good, oh—fuck, Peter,” you moan, fingers stroking the blushing tip of his leaking cock, licking the open parting of his lips, sighing when he surges forward to push his tongue into your mouth, hips stuttering into your closed fist as you mangle spit between your messily open and closed kiss. The tip of his tongue slips behind your teeth, moaning when your lips wrap around the muscle to suck on it, fingers curling up into your cunt in a way that has you body lurching against him, taut forearm tensed as his fingers make a slick squelching sound as they piston in and out of your pussy. “Oh—my god.”

“Have dreams—mm—just like this,” Peter groans, cock pulsing in your palm, rumbling in his throat as he pants against you, cum spilling out into your eager hand. He shakes his head, hips moving to fuck against your palm, “Can’t beat the real thing. S’too good—you’re too good.”