The Catalogue

Apparently so because when the words, “Does it come out anywhere else?” slipped from your lips, Peter looked at you like he just watched his puppy get run over.

There was confusion, worry, and maybe a little bit of awkward ‘humor’ in his face. But even as he told you no, he didn’t look sure of himself anymore.

“Should we test that?” you asked, your voice low and sultry, trying to get the mood back. It worked, because you felt Peter’s still-hard cock twitch against your leg. “Yeah?”

He nodded, waiting for you to make a move.

If he was being honest, he didn’t know what you meant when you said to test it. He just knew that his very sexy girlfriend was talking about making him cum, so he agreed without thinking.

Watching as your hand snaked between your bodies, Peter’s heart was racing with anticipation. He wasn’t sure it would be safe for a normal person’s heart to be beating that fast.

Luckily, he wasn’t a normal person.

And he found that opened a lot of opportunities in the bedroom.

“You can go twice right? I still want you inside me after...” your voice was laced with need, almost pushing Peter over the edge right then and there. He nodded frantically, his hips twitching, pushing his aching cock against your palm.

“I can. I promise. Please just—” he cut himself off with a moan as your hand pumped and curled around his tip. “Fuck.”

Failing to hold in a giggle, a smile spread on your face that made Peter feel like he just fell in love with you all over again. Weird.

Your hand wrapped around him, giving him a few teasingly slow strokes before you scooted backwards enough to wrap your mouth around his sensitive pink tip. You started to up your pace while your mouth sank further down, taking more of him in.

Bringing him closer and closer to the edge, he felt the same internal panic he did when the webs came out of his wrists for the first time. But you didn’t stop. No. You only went harder.

Peter barely pulled you off at the last second, watching as webs came out of his cock and splattered on the ceiling.

It was probably the best orgasm he’d ever had.

The relief when it was over, the pleasure he felt during it. All of it. His curls were sticking to the sweat on his forehead, and when he looked over you were staring at him with wide eyes.

Wide, excited, horny eyes. (He could tell).

“That was so hot, oh my god,” you squealed, wiping off the last string of web from his extremely sensitive cock. A strangled noise came from his throat, overwhelmed by the strong feeling.

“Oh jesus,” he whispered, trying to catch his breath. “I think I need just a minute. It’s really, really sensitive.”

You nodded, running your hands over his curls. He smiled, his head subconsciously leaning into your hand. Before you knew it, Peter was pulling you down to kiss him again, all wet and open-mouthed. His hands were roaming your body, reclosing the gap.

One of your legs swung over him, straddling his abdomin that was glistening with a sheer layer of sweat. You were careful not to go too far back until Peter was ready, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t rock yourself against him.

The hard ridges of his ab muscles were perfect for grinding your clit against, and not to mention Peter loved it. He didn’t realize how much he liked the praise until he met you.

“That’s it. Uh-huh,” he mumbled as he helped you guide yourself against him. Sweet noises were falling from your open mouth as you ran your slick pussy over his stomach.

One of his hands ran up, kneading your tits while the other stayed and grabbed at your ass—helping spread you open to get a better feel of him. You could feel your second orgasm of the night quickly approaching, but you wanted to save it.

Halting your hips was hard, you really didn’t want to stop, but you knew you’d be happier if you came with Peter inside you.

“Are you ready?” your voice was breathless and whiney, your eyes hooded and glazed over with need. He flipped you onto your back, pulling a cute squeak from your throat.

“Uh-huh.” Leaving open kisses down your neck, he asked, “But are you ready?” against your sticky skin.

You felt yourself squeeze around nothing. “Yeah.”

He pressed one last kiss to your neck before you felt his long cock stretch you out. You could feel every ridge, every vein, as he slid into you so far you felt like it would come out your mouth.

Your mouth was stuck open, tears from the pleasure welling up in your eyes. Peter felt your nails dig into his back as he started at a slow pace. It wasn’t gentle, but it was just enough to refamiliarize yourself with him.

As the seconds passed, you needed more and more. Trying to grind your hips up and meet him halfway for more pressure, more speed, wasn’t cutting it. You needed his all.

“Peter. Oh my, fuck. Peter, please. I need more. I can handle it,” you moaned as he thrusted, your eyes meeting his so he could see the truthfulness in your eyes. That you would really be okay if he went harder.

He was always scared of hurting you, so he needed that confirmation every time.

His pace sped up along with his thrusts’ power. After only a few seconds, he was fucking you into the mattress. Moans and heavy breaths were spilling out of your mouth, along with Peter’s grunts and moans himself.

The bed was squeaking, a dull thud against the wooden wall for every thrust he gave you. “Shit,” Peter grumbled, looking at something behind your head for only a second.

You could feel your second orgasm coming back, along with Peter’s antsy hands. They were moving from beside your head, to your waist, to your legs—pushing your legs further apart and hitting an even deeper angle.

Your moaning only spurred him on, his hand coming to rub circles to your clit. He felt you squeeze and flutter around him, your eyes and face scrunched up.

He felt his own orgasm coming up, but he was determined to focus on you. Your shaky legs and light knuckles from gripping the sheets too hard. Your short breaths and teary eyes.

“C’mon. Come for me,” he whispered as you felt yourself go over the edge. Your hips twitched and your pussy squeezed him unbearably tight, followed by his warm liquid leaking inside you.

The thought of his web-sperm mix you saw earlier being inside you made you flutter around him again.

He had the same sensitivity as before, hissing through his teeth as he dropped his head to your neck. He relaxed his body on top of you, too sensitive to move or pull out yet.

His weight and heat on top of you was a common feeling, but it was one of your favorites.

You loved having him lay on top of you, especially right after sex. “Thank you,” you mumbled against his hair, your fingers gently rubbing up and down his rigid back muscles. You could feel him twitching and softening inside you, an almost ticklish feeling.

Peter hummed before laughing and whispering, “Also, uh, we might need a new bed, by the way.”

masterlist

being ryland's girlfriend is perfect.

he's the sweetest man you could have ever wished for. he waits on your every word, holding your hands constantly and always ensuring he's doing everything he can to make you happy. he brings you flowers every Friday after he's finished at the school, showcasing the fact that he can't wait to spend the weekend with you doing anything and everything you could ever wish for. he listens to attentively. you tell him over text that your day was kinda shitty, he's waiting at home to meet you having cooked your favourite meal and already laying it out on the table with your favourite beverage alongside it.

he's everything you wished for and more.

but there's just one thing that irritates you about ryland.

his twin brother.

colt (or colt seavers as he's known in Hollywood anyways) stays with ryland between jobs to give him time to save to get his own place. and it didn't bother you at first because it was only for a few days at a time with months between them so you didn't care!

colt was the complete opposite of your beloved ryland.

colt was sarcastic and short with you. he constantly flirted with you despite seeing you and ryland cuddle on the couch and he occasionally 'walked in on you' making out while you sat on his brother's lap. he was smug about everything. absolutely everything. he loved to tease his brother about how obsessed he was with you and how you weren't as welcoming as colt had dreamed of, especially when ryland had told him of the way you both were in the bedroom.

so when colt returned back to your shared apartment and confessed he'd be staying for a month, you had to bite your lip to hold back from calling him a slew of names that would just make this time even harder for all of you.

you recalled the first night you went to bed with ryland and sighed as you got under the covers. "a whole month ry?"

"he's my twin, it'll be over before you know it!" he'd smile at you, offering a kiss to your lips to take your anger away.

the month was not over before you knew it.

that was the first time ryland had ever lied to you.

and colt really started to get on your nerves after the first week.

it started when you were showering and he would use the tap to make the water run cold, knowing you would jump out of the shower and yell at him while you stood in a towel. he would sit smugly at the kitchen table as you tried your best to keep covered by the towel and you reiterated how he couldn't use the tap while someone was in the shower. but he knew that, and was doing it to purposefully annoy you.

or when you were laying in bed with ryland, one hand in his hair and the other beneath the blanket while you moaned against his lips, colt would open the door to talk to you about something completely unrelated. it could be about the water pressure, grocery shopping, him wanting to go buy blankets or to decorate your shared apartment. ryland would push your hand away and indulge the conversations of his twin brother, which only caused you to turn over and go to sleep, completely ignoring the stuntman who sat at the foot of the bed.

or when you'd come home from work after a shitty day and ryland had made your favourite meal and you were so excited for it! only to open the door and see colt grinning with an empty plate in front of him, telling you "that was so good I can see why you like it!" and when you asked where ryland had gone, he confessed "he went out to get more ingredients to make you yours, this was it but I was hungry, hope you don't mind." he'd wink at you as he dropped the plate in the sink.

or when you'd called and asked him to tell ryland meet you after work because it was dark, and colt showed up in his car with a wide, shit eating grin that told you everything you needed to know. he hadn't even told ryland that you had called, just came out to pick you up and made you sit in the passenger seat while he drove home with the most annoying look on his face. he was happy that you were so angry at him.

so that night when you got home, you took yourself straight to bed and ignored any and all conversation with the twins. even ryland, despite it not being his fault. ryland came to bed shortly after you, tucking himself under the covers with his arms wrapped around you, apologising from not meeting you after work because of colt. you turned over to him with a sigh and explained that you just wanted ryland.

no interruptions.

just him.

so when ryland awoke the next morning to get ready for work, you were still sound asleep ready to enjoy your day off. you'd forgotten that he was on the breakfast club duty at school to help all the kids that came in early so when he kissed a press to your forehead to say goodbye while you slept, you fell back into a sense of relaxation and tuck yourself back under the covers.

that's when colt walks past your bedroom.

ryland has left. it's just the two of you.

colt knows its wrong, and knows how pissed ryland would be if he found out. but he can't help but indulge in this little fantasy.

he takes off his shirt and joggers. he strips down to his boxers. just like he knew his brother did every night, only last night colt heard far more than the snores of his twin echoing through the walls. he gently lifts the cover with more care than he's ever treated anything in his entire life and lays where ryland once did.

the bed is still warm.

warmer than the double bed he takes up by himself in the spare room.

he lays beside you and breathes steadily, praying he won't wake you. he just wants long enough to lay beside you. long enough to indulge in his little fantasy before you wake up and yell at him.

you turn over and he's greeted with your sleeping form. your chest rises and falls softly, quiet breaths escape your lips and you lay your hand on his chest, still sound asleep. you don't know that he's not ryland.

It’s late when he arrives home, so he goes as quietly as he can, keys lowered in the bowl gently, sneakers toed off onto the mat so he can walk to the bedroom in his socks. It doesn’t matter that you’re not awake, just seeing you makes it better, just you being there—

His eyes go wide when he gets a glimpse of you. 

You’re laid out on your back. Posed, honestly. Nobody can look that inviting unless it’s planned, hands rested peacefully upon your chest with legs splayed open ever so slightly towards him. You’re in one of his old t-shirts from an early stunt gig, the one where you can barely see the writing on it any more from all the times it’s been through the laundry, only fit for him to sleep in nowadays. Or, he thinks with a grin, you to sleep in, you gorgeous little thief. 

And you’ve got the panties on. 

The little ones, blue, with a bow on the front. The “do what you want to me” panties. The “it doesn’t matter if I’m fast asleep, I’m yours to play with” panties. His favourite panties. You’re all wrapped up like a gift.

Colt shucks off his jacket and his jeans, leaning down towards you in just his shirt and boxers which are already beginning to grow tight and damp. How can he help it when you look so fucking good? A perfect present to take apart, just for him to enjoy for as long as he wants.

Carefully he tugs the panties down. He knows how much force you can take without waking nowadays. You shuffle a little in your sleep but don’t stir, even when he has to handle your ass in his strong, callused hands to slip them off your legs. He spreads your thighs just enough to see the glimmer of your cunt in the low lamplight, left on to guide him to you in the dark.

“Already wet,” he chuckles to himself, swiping a thumb across your folds. He laughs to himself when a sleepy moan catches in your throat. You must have gone to bed soaked, poor thing. It’d be mean for him to leave you unsatisfied.

Colt reaches forwards for a quick taste - he can never resist knowing your tang on his eager tongue - before replacing his mouth with his fingers. One slips in easily, two without issue. Three is burgeoning on a stretch but you take it like a champ; he swears he can see a grin on your face as he begins to fuck you like that, in and out, down to the knuckle then out to the nail. Your greedy cunt swallows him so easily. He could do this to you for hours, he thinks, it’s his favourite goddamn sight right there between your legs. 

He wants to try something, though.

Colt keeps his fingers buried deep and starts to crook them, aiming for that sweet gummy spot which makes you arc your back when you’re awake. It appears to work when you’re asleep, too; he can see how you shift unconsciously into his grasp, searching out pleasure without even opening your eyes for it. Colt’s grin is lupine as he drops a kiss to your thigh. If you were awake he’d tell you how good you’re being for him… as it stands, he praises you silently instead, and commits this image to memory. 

Another hand comes round to help the first, one adding pressure from the outside, the other beckoning an orgasm from your sleeping body. He can feel your legs begin to shake around him, the sweet little twitches of your thighs. He’s never been able to get you to do this when you’re awake, but asleep? He might get away with it, your body so soft and compliant, god you’re so gorgeous like this, so gorgeous all the goddamn time—

He feels your cunt contract around his knuckles as you squirt all the way up his arm. As you do, he comes in his underwear from it like a fucking horny teenager. 

You gasp in your sleep, a tiny line of wanton drool passing from your lips, and Colt can only stare in rapture.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, amazed. He made you squirt. He made you squirt and you’re asleep. He’s the best at fingering there’s ever been, fuck.

You won’t believe him if he tells you so he decides to leave the evidence coating his forearm, instead wiping himself off the best he can and throwing his boxers into the laundry. He climbs into bed beside you, locking you against him with the bicep covered in your orgasm, and he drifts off with a proud smile plastered on his lips.

Tomorrow night it’s his turn to wear the panties. He doesn’t think you can outdo him, but he’d love to see you try…