AHS shithole

But then, he met you. You were a fellow professor at Charles Xavier’s School for Gifted Children, and were renowned across campus - if you weren't teaching music theory, you could either be found giving study sessions for students falling behind or making your famed lasagna bake whenever the Xmen came home from a mission - and you were loved for it.

And you were pretty. Like, shit! Hella pretty. Whether it was your skill at engaging everyone in your lectures or your jaw-droppingly gorgeous face, you held the unofficial record for the most loved on campus. Peter, as the school’s physical education teacher, was second place, and for once he didn't mind getting the silver medal.

He'd heard about you in the staff room one morning. All good things. A real glowing report card. Everyone loved you and for good reason, apparently. But you hadn’t met yet.

That was until Peter realized your class was in the morning and an hour before his PE lesson began, so he decided to snoop around to check out if you were as good as everyone said you were.

Arriving at the back of the classroom, Peter pushed his goggles up to his head, tufts of silvery soft hair coming with it.

And there you were in all your glory, sitting back on your desk and waving to everyone as they walked in, the occasional student getting 'Love your new look, Cynthia!', 'Ready for class, Michael?' or a giant grin and the sporadic finger guns.

Okay, so you were kind too. Kind and pretty. Kind and pretty and obviously smart enough to get a doctorate. Though, how hard was it to get a degree in music; what did you even have to know? Def Leppard formed back in ‘77, Neil Peart is the best drummer of all time, blah blah blah. Pssht, enter Peter into an exam and he’d have a degree in lickedey split!

The fact you had devoted your life to getting a music doctorate compelled Peter to wonder what your taste in said music was. Admittedly, he wasn’t so keen on the idea of you lecturing if Charles had formulated the curriculum himself. What did that old man even listen to? Peter found it hard to imagine his higher up rockin’ it out to Journey.. and God forbid- Black Sabbath?!

Definitely not. Xavier would be limited to the likes of Beethoven. Peter's skin crawled at the thought. Expand your horizons, you powdered-wig wearin’ maniacs!

No matter. If you did turn out to be some kind of sonata orchestral devotee, you wouldn’t be able to resist Peter’s charisma and persuasive techniques. Said persuasion would be helluva lot of nagging in your ear until you subsequently cave; and you would, because everyone does. And eventually you would join the light side of the force, and Peter would teach you the music ‘way of the jedi.’

"Hi! Hello everybody!" You greeted cheerfully and stood up, waving your arms around for emphasis. “It’s great to see you all back looking nice and refreshed!”

Peter normally would have snorted in irony. In most cases, an hour-long lecture at six am in the morning wouldn’t have people ready to learn and raring for the day ahead. In Xavier’s literature lectures, one could easily mistake the students to be flesh-eating, grumbling zombies who hadn’t seen a ray of sunlight in a millennium.

However, as he looked around the room from his seat in the very back, the students filing in had almost cheshire grins on their faces, smiling eagerly at your buzzing figure and sitting up straight in their seats.

Peter’s eyes flitted back to you. The bell bottom jeans you were wearing were dark and fit you perfectly, the flare swishing around as you slowly paced around the room. For the first couple of minutes, he didn't hear a thing you were saying because the swaying was far too distracting.

His eyes trailed upwards. A faux shearling collared leather jacket hung off your frame, belt loose at the hem and clashing against your hip when you took a step. You looked like something straight out of the 60s: and Peter was totally diggin’ it.

The zip was undone, allowing a slither of your t-shirt underneath to show the letters “ardbi” peaking out in a red font. His heart leapt. The Yardbirds, nice, and fitting. Right this second Peter’s walkman hummed the tune of ‘Layla’ by Eric Clapton through his headphones. Quiet enough so he could hear your voice, but loud enough so his head could bop along to the instrumental. Shuffling in his seat, Peter adjusted his RUSH t-shirt, as if wanting him to catch your attention so you could strike up a conversation about it.

What would he say if you did? He needed to impress you, stat; before Scott could find you and chat you up with his extensive motorcycle knowledge that seemed to be all the rage nowadays. Pfft. RUSH was cooler anyways.

All in all, you didn't look like the stereotypical lecturer. Your outfit was far from professional attire, but it didn’t matter; the kids loved you.

Peter was addicted to all of you; from the browline glasses on your head to the Mary Janes on your feet. It was comforting.

"I know you’ve all been working so hard this past semester," you began, leaning against the podium casually, your arms folded as you eyed the students. "And the lovely gentleman that is Professor Xavier would never allow this, but I've decided we can allow ourselves a breath of fresh air and watch a film today."

Cheers and excited whispers rang out in the room as the students smiled impossibly harder, rushing to shove their textbooks into their bags so the film could start.

“Now hold on!” Your laugh graced Peter’s ears, holding your hands up to settle the class. “We haven’t yet discussed the film options! How do we feel about ‘Bobby deerfield’?”

Groans and scoffs resonated through the classroom, and a girl with pigtails a few rows in front of Peter spoke out. “You’re not kiddin’ anybody miss! Everybody knows that film is wack!”

You laughed and stood off the podium, moving towards the open window that was letting in a cold draft. “You know me too well, Jubilee. No one likes that film.” You bent over an empty desk to reach over, closing the window and turning the lock to the right “How about The Empire Strikes Back?”

In a moment of total stillness in the classroom, Peter let out a choked-off groan. Whether it was the sight of you bent over a desk or the mention of that god-tier film, he wasn’t all too sure.

Silence.

Peter knew he had royally embarrassed himself yet again when howls and giggles erupted in the classroom, some students convulsing in laughter and others wolf-whistling as you paused, turning to look back at him.

Jubilee turned around in her seat to stare at her PE teacher, ponytails swinging wildly as she covered her mouth with her hand and guffawed. Peter’s cheeks burned.

"Excited for the film are we, Mr Maximoff?" You quizzed, bemused.

Oh, you noticed too. Great. But you knew his name. Cool, less sarcastically speaking. You were both staff members of the same school so it wasn't that outlandish, but Peter’s stomach still flipped nonetheless.

"Yeh.. aha.. Erm- yunno Luke became a Jedi master in this film, right?" Peter blurted out instinctively, his thoughts in overload under your stare. He kissed his teeth and nodded his head in affirmation. “Pretty.. Pretty cool stuff.”

Congratulations, you thirty-somethin’ year old virgin. You have well and truly out-nerded yourself. This chick will certainly be beggin’ for you to burrow yourself between her thighs now.

Peter swallowed, waiting for someone to say something. Literally anything. All he was met with was muffled giggles and snorts echoing around him. He teaches people in this lecture, dim-wit! How were they gonna respect him and do laps in his classes now, O’ Jedi Master connoisseur?

You grinned sweetly, amused, silently waving your hand for your students to quieten down "Thank you for sharing that, Mr Maximoff, truly. Although I have seen this film before." You nodded in acknowledgement to his RUSH shirt and then returned your focus to the class before Peter could word vomit anything else.

You began to ramble on again. It made sense. Why would you pay attention to him when you had a job to do?

What could he do? Embarrass himself further by standing on his desk and demanding that you have a conversation that ends with you saying, 'Wow, Peter, you're so smart and fast and criminally handsome. Would you like to go to a record store so you can continue to impress me with the sheer amount of knowledge you have stored inside that adorable silver-haired noggin’ of yours?'

A mumble still traveled across the class, primarily because one of their teachers is a raging airhead, but you shushed them quickly by clapping your hands together. It was a casual movement, but one that got everyone's undivided attention again.

"Can anyone guess what year it came out?"

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the blur of a hand go up but you weren’t going to call on them, and so, Peter was left with his palm awkwardly facing towards the stage. You reiterated your question, "Can any of my students take a guess? Mr Maximoff, I'd appreciate it if you could give my class at least 2 minutes so they can discuss the answer."

Peter’s hand lowered slowly and he narrowed his eyes at the person snickering next to him.

“Don’t make me give yer extra laps next lesson, Christopher, the weather forecast ain’t lookin’ so good fer this Friday.”

Christopher abruptly stopped and faced back to you.

Once again, silence met your question until it was broken by a timid voice. A boy in the front row with curly brunette hair was looking at you unsure. You smiled encouragingly and nodded for him to speak up louder.

“1980?"

"Like always, Bobby, you are correct!" You exclaimed happily. Bobby blushed, embarrassed by the attention and compliment but smiling nonetheless as you moved on to another question. "The film came out in 1980. Does anyone know who it starred? Don’t be afraid to speak up!”

The film started soon after and for the entire time, Peter was completely transfixed by you. You leaned against the door and peered up at the projector screen, a smile on your face as you snuck a few handfuls of popcorn out of Bobby’s grasp as he watched the film intently. He now understood the enthusiastic compliments from the staff room, and why you were so loved by everyone. You were infectious.

He couldn't help himself, Peter found his eyes wandering over every part of your body, studying every inch of you before he'd had the chance to properly comprehend that he was being a creep. Appreciating beauty was one thing, leering at women he hadn't met before was another. Keep it in your pants, Maximoff.

As the students piled out of the lecture hall, all chatting loudly as they walked out, Peter waited. A group of girls surrounded you and asked you a bunch of questions, and you answered them all like you were their cool older sister rather than someone who was paid to teach them things. Then they left too, and you were alone.

"Did you enjoy the class, Mr Maximoff?" you asked kindly, a smile tugging at your lips as you turned around slightly. You sat on top of the nearest desk and folded your legs under yourself, resting your elbow on your knee and your head on your fist.

Blinking, Peter froze before nodding vigorously. So vigorous, in fact, that his goggles slid from his head down to the apex of his nose. He huffed in irritation and the exhaled breath fogged up his lenses completely. Peter bets he looks so irresistible right now.

Say something- think of something fast, moron! Isn’t that your whole gimmick? Impress her with your natural God-given charm!

Who are we kidding, this is Peter Maximoff. Master of the Jedi’s and embarrassing silences.

He wiped his goggles with the end of his shirt "I would think a music teacher would be lecturin’ about music, not films.. But yes, yer were- the film was.. very entertainin’."

Shit. Your lip twitched. Did he do somethin’ wrong? Of course he did- he just insulted a Professor’s lecturin’ to their face, ewok!

"You're a professor of...?"

"Err, I teach PE.. yunno.. I just make the kiddos run laps ‘n kick a ball around, basically." No shit, doofus! Maybe stop mansplainin’ what workin’ out is and apologize? “Fuck i’m so sorr-”

You cut him off with a simple wave of your hand, that gorgeous smile of yours decorating your face once again. “It’s alright, honest!” You say, observing his exasperated look as his mouth parts, ready to apologize “Jean told me that your mouth moves faster than your brain sometimes, I don’t take any offense to what you said.”

Peter sighs, relieved yet processing your words. “So, uh..” he hesitated, an awkward yet boastful smirk building then “Yer talk about me? All good things, I hope.”

You felt a heat rising to your face immediately and you looked around the room to avoid his intense stare, your eyes falling to another window you had yet to close. The cogs in your head turn and you whip around to face Peter, fanning yourself with your hand and beginning to shrug off your jacket. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” You faux panted, moving away from him to open the window like you needed a cold breeze.

Peter watched as you bent over, much closer now and able to see you from straight behind. His eyes grazed your body with a suggestive smirk.

“Just you, babe.”

Okay, babe?! Not helping your flushed state, at all!

You muffle your sputter by coughing, turning around once again and sitting on the desk. You watch as Peter walks up to you, standing close enough that his thighs force your legs a little wider around him.

The silence is unbearable, so you break it. “I mean, of course I've mentioned you once or twice, dude!” You chuckle nervously, “It’s hard to miss someone that looks like you speedin’ around the mansion.”

You register the confused shift in his gaze and now it’s your turn to run back on what you said, jumping in realization and your knee knocking into his trouser-clad outer thigh. “Not that you look weird in any way! I just meant the whole ‘silver’ aesthetic is totally bitchin’! And obviously I’ve heard about that whole Apocalypse fiasco in ‘84. It was really brave, what you did, and I can’t help but thank you for savin’ the whole world.. and whatever..”

You trail off as you babble yourself into a frenzy, Peter’s delighted grin humiliating you further as he wiggles his eyebrows.

“Thanks, babe.” You let out a shuddery breath. Again?! Where was this confidence when he was making a fool out of himself not just a minute ago?

Peter gave in at your pleading gaze and stepped back, a sheepish smile on his face as he looked down to the floor, shoving his hands into his pockets. He swayed back and forth on his heels. “I better go anyway. Places to be, worlds to save.. Y’know how it is, babe.” The uneasiness on his features left as soon as it came, now replaced with a cocky smirk and a sly wink.

“Well, if you come back in one piece, maybe we could, I dunno, go out for a movie or somethin’?” You ask apprehensively “since you seem to like Star Wars so much.”

“Y-yeah!” Peter said almost too quickly, clearing his throat before gathering his thoughts and masking the elated grin battling to appear. “I mean, only if yer gonna be makin’ that lasagna, right?” He quipped, stomach rumbling at the thought.

You nodded in answer, grinning. “Just come stop by whenever you’re free and we’ll figure out a date, yeah?” Your eyes widened. “I mean date as in time!”

Peter wiggled his eyebrows again, speeding to the door and saluting you before making his way to the training room, fistbumping the air. Fuckin’ score!

For the remainder of the day, Peter couldn’t keep his mind off of you and the promised movie date you were set to have after his mission, uncontrollably vibrating in excitement whilst boarding the X-jet the day after.

“Promise me you’ll stay safe, yeah?” You ask him, standing on the runway as you smooth out the wrinkles in his uniform, your palm flat on his chest.

A broad grin spread across Peter’s face as he placed his own hand above yours, running his thumb smoothly over your skin.

“Don’t worry about little ol’ me, ‘kay? A promise is a promise, sweet-cheeks.”

——————————————————————————

Peter’s not a jackass. He would never intentionally go back on his word.

But that was a pretty damn hard promise to fulfill.

As soon as the jet landed four hours too late, Peter crashed into the living room couch, ignoring any questions of passers by for medical assistance. He practically melted into the linen cushions, exhaling deeply.

The kid previously sitting on the couch scowled as Peter stretched himself across the furniture, waving the younger student off with his hand. “I’m an Xman, I have the authority here.” The cushions muffled Peter’s grumble.

All in all, he wasn’t that hurt. In reality, the mission was fairly easy-going. Peter was barrelling through an evacuated suburban village, rescuing any stragglers that had found themselves lost or stuck under rubble, whilst the other Xmen dealt with arresting the rogue mutant. Blurs of grays and browns passed him at rapid speed as he did one last sweep of the area, confident in the fact that all people had been safely vacated.

Leaning onto a particularly large mound of debris, Peter swung his leg in boredom, waiting on Charles to give him the go-ahead to start the X-jet back to the mansion. The wind picked up, sending his tufts of hair back and away from his forehead.

Abruptly, a flurry of white flew into the air, startling Peter as he whipped around, ready to attack.

The sight wasn’t as menacing as he thought, though. Small seeds dispersed across the terrain, each carrying a bundle of fluffy white bristles in its wake. He looked down to the sparse grass and was met with a patch of green stems, like a blossom without its petals. Peters brows furrow. What a funny lookin’ flower.

Crouching down, Peter plucks the base of a stem with all its remaining puffballs, cupping his hand in the direction of the wind so it wouldn’t fly away. He grinned, standing up again and inspecting it. It looked peculiar, and rather outlandish. Just his style.

He was halfway through tucking the flower carefully into his back pocket before something slammed into him, sending Peter tumbling into a jagged pile of rubble and fragments of serrated wood.

Motherfucker! He groaned, feeling a searing pain shoot through his stomach. A pile of dust shot up into the air almost comically, leaving a tangy taste on his tongue. Bleh. With feeble limbs, Peter lifted himself onto his elbows, looking down from his cracked goggles to shakily unzip his uniform halfway, revealing a hefty patch of crimson fluid staining his white undershirt. Scraps of wreckage tore holes through the fabric, revealing shallowish wounds littering his chest and stomach. Fuck!

Peter blinked slowly, turning his gaze to try and detect who or what had struck him. Just to the right of his aching body, a sizable slab of concrete stuck out of the ground, that had presumably collapsed from a nearby building.

How fuckin’ embarrasin’! Peter was probably gonna scar from this incident, and he would have to tell people the ‘heroic’ tale of how it went down? That he was assaulted by a chunk of rock? The students barely respected him from the whole classroom debacle with you the day prior; how were they ever gonna treat him with high regard now?

That’s right. You. How were you gonna react when he tells you? ‘Oh, How am i doin’, sweetcheeks? Thank yer for askin’, i got a real wild story fer these battle scars. What was it, ya ask? Hand-to-hand combat with buildin’ material. Sexy, right?’

Yeah, no. He had already embarrassed himself enough around you.

Once he had been strapped back into his seat, with the help of Hank, Peter now had to endure two hours of throbbing pain, and Scott giggling next to him.

Peter slumped into his seat, whining into his dust-cracked hands. “What the fuck am I gunna tell her, man? I can’t keep on embarrassin’ myself like this!”

“Don’t worry too much, dude, you’ll forget about this in no time.” Scott assured, smiling and placing a hand on his shoulder, before screwing his face up and wiping the dust frantically on his sleeve. Peter hummed, albeit confused. When was Scott ever the one to give Peter actual reassurance?

“All in all, it’s just another brick in the wall, man.” Ah, there it was. Peter slowly turned to face Scott, deadpanning and watching the boy’s shoulders shake from silent laughter.

Scott shrieked as Peter shook his head like a wet dog, showering his best friend in a flurry of dust.

Once the flight had come to a halt, Peter limped through the mansion's corridors, hobbling to the living room couch as he was in too much pain to climb the few flights of stairs to his room.

Peter grumbled into the couch, eyes hooded as he melted into the material, ready to fall asleep.

And then you came barreling into the room. Peter sat up as you rushed into the room, nudging him into the back of the couch and placing your knees either side of his quivering hips, clutching his face. Peter really wished he had showered now.

“Take off your shirt.” Come again? Were Peter’s wounds making him hallucinate some filthy apparatition?

He blinked. “Eh?”

“When did you get back? No one told me you got back and I've been worried like crazy. You were four hours late, Peter!” You stressed, eyebrows furrowed and eyes wide. “Kurt told me you were injured! Did the mutant hurt you? He said you went flyin’ into rubble and practically got impaled!”

You were speaking in such quick succession that it had impressed Peter by your pace. He merely blinked once more, too caught up with your smooth hands against his cheeks and your frantic words. You were worried about him?

“I’m fine, babe.”

You glance down to his stomach, however you couldn’t see much of anything due to the dark hue of his uniform. “I can’t believe you were impal-”

“Not that I don't appreciate yer concern fer me babe, but 'm fine.” You glared at him “Honest! It’s just a few scrapes. Nothin’ i can’t handle.” he grinned, attempting to ease you up a little.

Despite Peter’s best efforts, you still seem just as on edge as before. Taking your hands off his cheeks, he whined at the loss of warmth, chasing your touch. Instead, you reach down to grasp hold of the zipper at the top of his ensemble, zipping it down to just above his hips. His mouth makes a small ‘o’ before contorting into a lazy smirk, glancing up at you.

“Easy there, tiger.”

A glimpse of his stained undershirt tells you all you need to know. You meet his gaze anxiously as Peter gives you a guilty grin, shrugging his shoulders at being called out. “Okay, maybe it’s slightly worse than i let on but-”

“Take your shirt off.” You urge imperatively, and he flushes.

“I dunno babe, I'm like, supeerrr sore. I don't think I can do it by myself, yer gonna have to help me.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. It was blatantly obvious Peter was flirting, any common idiot could tell. But he looked pretty beaten up, and you were mostly sure that moving him around too much would not feel too great for the speedster, so you obliged.

You lift his shirt up in gradual intervals, keeping your focus on the garment as he grins straight at you, clearly wanting to catch you peeking a glance at his body.

“Normally I'd be buyin’ yer dinner before showin’ off the goods… but-” Peter cuts off as you peel the shirt away from one particularly deep wound, the skin sticking to the material. You whisper apologies, lifting the shirt off his head and discarding it to the side. You glanced back down.

Peter noticed your blatant staring and looked up at you, tilting his head to the side. "So are you goin’ ter look me up and down like that ‘er are yer gunna patch me up?"

“Shush, ‘m not looking at you like anythin’!”

“Mhm, sure yer weren’t sugar.” He beamed. You redden, his thoughts transmitting like a beacon through his facial expression.

“Dont make this sexual..” You mutter, avoiding his gaze as you look around for the medkit you brought with you. Peter follows your movements with his gaze, head leaning back to rest of the edge of the couch whilst you shuffled about the room.

“Now what fun would that be, hm? Can’t I enjoy some attention from a beautiful woman like you?”

With the supplies you return to your earlier position, standing over his shirtless body and desperately trying to keep your thoughts at bay.

Finally taking a closer glance, you see his wounds, shallow, but littering his stomach and chest. There was a fairly large but not too serious cut on the right side of his abs and you lightly gasp, your fingertips reaching for it. “Can I touch you?”

Peter groaned “Ooh, yer can touch me anywhere yer want sugar.”

Choosing to ignore him, you open the first aid box with a satisfying click, taking out a roll of bandages, cotton pads and a bottle of rubbing alcohol, placing it down on the couch next to you. As you do so Peter takes a deep breath, letting him savor the scent of your perfume before the alcohol’s smell eclipsed it.

“So are ya my nurse now?” Peter observes “Kinky. Didn't know yer were into roleplay, but i'm not gonna lie, im kinda diggin’ it babe.”

You choke, smacking his arm. Too far, maximoff.

Peter winces, “Hey! Do ya hit all yer patients? This is medical malpractice right here! I was just sayin- this is like the start to every porno ive ever see-” he hisses as you press down the alcohol soaked cotton pad on his wound.

“Sorry, this may sting a little.” you say half apologetically.

“Well it don't mean anythin’ if yer warn me after, babe!” He whimpers, reaching to grab your hips for support from your position above him. You suppress the urge to rut into his lap, continuing your cleaning as you feel an onslaught of slick ooze from your core. You tried to keep in the sigh, but it fell so easily from your mouth at his touch.

“Ouch. Ow. Ow, ow oW OW!! Babe?! Does the word ow mean anythin’ to yer? Ye- agh-OW!” Peter shrieks, and you wince at the voice crack “Jesus christ! Who taught yer how to tend to people’s injuries? A construction worker with a jackhammer? OW!”

Despite his clear pain you stifle a laugh, swiping more gently this time. “It’s all part of the process, Peter. I’m trying to help you here.”

“Oh really? Are yer tryna help me or finish the fuckin’ job, babe?!”

A moment of tranquility passes, and just before you think Peter will stay quiet and let you get on with your work his voice drops, a sultry tone now teasing your ears. “I've got ter say babe.. when I pictured ya with yer hands roamin’ my chest, the wound was conspicuously absent.” You failed to keep in your reaction this time, a shuddery whimper leaving your mouth as you tense. Peter bites his lip, grin impossibly wide and his hands snaking around your hips.

You feel him pull you in closer and you oblige, facing him as you sit down onto his lower thighs as carefully as you can, not wanting to cause him any further strain. He grins.

“Okay, one more cut to clean and I'm done, yes? Then you can be bandaged up.” Clearing your throat, you await his response.

Peter inhales, screwing his eyes shut in preparation “M’kay, ‘m ready. Jus- FUCK.” You press the cotton ball onto his wound, watching as his muscles tense up and he grips onto your hips for support. Chewing on his lip in anguish, his head throws back once more. You refrain from looking at his adam’s apple bobbing up and down his throat.

His tight grip on your hips loosen after a minute and you hum, proceeding to unravel the bandages and wrap them around his torso.

Peter looks at you seriously for a moment, breaking the silence in a much more apologetic way this time. “ ‘M Sorry about blowin’ the whole movie thing, I know yer wanted to go out after i got back.. I guess this will have to be our version of a first date, huh?” He chuckles half heartedly, but his eyes oozed regret and mourning for your date to the theatre.

You move a slither of hair out of his eyes, smiling. “I don't mind either way, we could always go out another time, yeah? And no one predicted you were gonna get hurt like that, it’s not your fault, Peter.”

“Yeah, thanks babe.” your heart clenches as his dimples show through his toothy smile.

Clearing his throat, Peter’s large hands splayed across the small of your back, sliding you from his lower thighs to be flush against his crotch. He grins cheekily as you gasp, feeling his semi hard cock through the soft material of his unzipped uniform.

Hands laying to rest on his bare shoulders, you smooth your thumb over his collarbone. You move your other hand down from his left shoulder, your fingertips grazing down his arm before reaching his hand. Gently coaxing his grasp away from your hip, you interlace your fingers, clasping them together as his other hand frames your jaw.

“Hey.. uh, I think I might have a little scratch up here on my lip. I don't s’pose yer would be interested in checkin’ it out, doc?” Peter’s sweet, chocolate browns shed a spicier shade when he captures your gaze.

Your body answers before you can talk, tongue wetting your lips, leaving him in suspense for a moment.

You faux sigh in thought, “I guess I can’t leave a patient suffering. It would be medical malpractice, and I always make sure my patient gets the care he deserves.”

Peter’s eyes dilate then, and you begin to question whether or not he was joking about the roleplay kink. Alas, you had no more time to ponder as he didn’t waste a single second, bumping your nose against his before seizing your lips.

Kissing him sensually, your tongue swims smoothly against his as you move to scrape your fingers across his scalp. Whining in response, Peter’s head lolls back at the stimuli as you nibble his lower lip. You could feel Peter’s cock twitch and you grind slowly against it, eliciting a filthy moan from his mouth into yours.

As you swallow and get over the initial wave of adrenaline, a bitter and rather tangy taste invades your mouth, forcing you to pull back as Peter chases your lips. You place a hand to his chest, breathing hard and scrunching your face up. “Bleh!”

Peter’s half lidded gaze snaps back open as he observes your clear disgust, swiping his tongue over his own lips in questioning. “Uh- yer.. yer alright over there? I know ‘m sorta outta practise but-“

You swipe your thumb over your lips, noticing a few specks of dust covering them. Peter notices and brings a hand to his forehead, slapping himself at his idiocy.

“Shit! Sorry, babe. I totally just crashed here when i got back, forgot about the whole.. grime situation.” Peter grimaces, cursing himself under his breath, “Way to kill the fuckin’ mood, Maximoff.”

To his surprise, you only lean in closer, batting your eyelashes at him. “Patients have to be clean before assessments can begin. Standard procedure. I hope you don’t mind if I scrub you down?”

Your sultry voice forces a heat to pool in Peter’s belly, and he chokes on his own groan, pupils dilating further.

Fwip. You don’t even get the chance to scooch off his lap before Peter had you in his bathroom, shirtless and with his navy uniform dangling around his v-line. Another Fwip and Peter turned on the shower before pulling your back against his chest, tugging at your t-shirt as a silent plea of desperation and unbridled horniness.

Your mouth parts as his head dips into your shoulder. You swore you could hear the faintest of whimpers leave his mouth as he tenderly kisses your clothed shoulder, his lips humming small vibrations of aroused distress.

What choice did you have but to comply?

As you turned around, undressing yourself before him, Peter’s eyes drunk you in, his eyebrows twitching and his teeth sinking into his lip at your little strip show. Down to the last few articles of clothing, you removed your underwear slowly, a thread of wetness connecting your pussy with the soaked fabric.

“Jesus Christ.” He muttered, his hands quivering as you then slung your t-shirt somewhere around the room, eager to surge forward and grasp at every part of your body.

You smiled, flattered yet unsure of what to do, your eyes too preoccupied with Peter’s uniform, of which was slowly sliding down his hips, revealing the black band of his underwear.

“So.. nurse, I think 'm ready fer my physical.” Peter chuckled, observing proudly as your breathing sped up rapidly, gazing at his torso.

“Need any help undressing?” You asked, motioning to his bandaged chest and bruised arms. “It must be sore.”

“Yes please, nurse.” Peter replied flirtatiously, maintaining his character as patient. You stalk over to him, getting on your knees as you start pulling his uniform and boxers down as slowly as possible without Peter getting frustrated. As you do so, you notice his painfully hard dick slapping upwards from its confines. Smiling, you innocently glance up at Peter’s blushing state, inching forward as if you were about to…

Peter’s cock twitched and he gasped as you surged forward, only to completely pass where he needed you most as you teasingly peck the inside of his thigh, eyes still boring into his own.

“C’mon babe.. That ain’t playin’ fair.” A mix between a whine and a growl left Peter’s throat as you stood up to face his pleading eyes. Taking his face in your palms, your soft lips tease him by brushing against his lips, but not yet giving in to kissing him.

“I think It’s best if I check your temperature orally first.” You mumble. Capturing his lips roughly, your kiss turns into a wet, dueling passion. As you battle for dominance, Peter kicks off the clothing pooling around his ankles, guiding you backwards and into the awaiting shower.

Hot water cascades over you as he pulls you close again, diving in for another heated kiss that you’re all too eager to return.

You have no idea how long your tongues swirl around one another, but eventually a hand grips your wrist and tugs you away. You go easily, and when you look up at Peter, he grins giddily and places a bar of soap in your hands. You lick your lips, this time no longer unwelcomed by the taste of dust and plastering, but of Peter.

The room becomes stuffy as the water from the shower starts to get hot. You sigh as the hot water caresses your skin, or maybe it was from Peter running his hands over your body. They stop on your breasts before gently squeezing them, looking down at you with a dopey grin. You throw your head back as the water runs over your chest.

As Peter prodded and squeezed your tits like they were some new gadget you began the slow, worshipful task of running your soapy hands across his chest, making sure to leave the bandaged areas alone.

"I would really appreciate it if you communicated every ache, any pain that needs tendin’ to, sir." You say, moving to whisper the words in his ear sweetly, the filthy undertones dripping from your tongue.

Peter pauses briefly before managing to regain control over himself, grabbing your arm and pulling you impossibly close. He nuzzles into your neck as he whispers back in a playful manner. "I've got one in a specific place. Maybe yer could help me by usin’ those magic hands of yours, doc?"

"Mhh, or do you need me to kiss it better, Peter?" You tease, licking your bottom lip suggestively before biting the plump flesh with a wink.

Peter’s face turns into a huge blush and his heartbeat starts accelerating even more as he watches you move in close, staring into his eyes. His mind goes absolutely blank and he can only stare at you in shock. His breathing becomes heavier as he looks at your lips and how you bite them; and with that a strange flurry of stammers leave his mouth.

“Nghnaawhaaaaat?”

"Peter? Can you show me where it hurts, honey?" You continue to tease him with a pout. God, you were such a fuckin’ brat.

He can't help but feel both embarrassed and surprised at how forward your question is. He clears his throat "Uh... R-Right here, doll..." He says in a nervous manner as his blush deepens even more, then he points at his twitching cock. You follow his line of sight and smile, watching as beads of pre-cum drizzle out of his tip.

"Aww, poor baby. How long has it been hurting?" You furrow your brows, a mischievous look in your eyes as you place your hands on his chest, traveling downwards.

Peter looks at you with a shocked expression for the fifth time that night, tilting his head much like a puppy as he watches you in awe.

Shiit... Are you really doing this? It’s a good thing you didn’t fully embrace the doctor-patient performance with a stethoscope and all, because you’d certainly be worrying about the freakishly-fast roadrunner beat Peter’s heart was jammin’ to. Fuck.

"Do you want me to kiss it better, baby?" You quiz sweetly.

Peter starts to feel his breath getting heavier as his heart is racing faster, wayy too fuckin’ fast. "Ah... Y-Yeah..." He replies softly, still feeling his face turn into a brighter red as he slowly nods.

Every nerve in his body went on high alert as Peter watched your fingers close around his aching cock and move over the swollen flesh. A tortured gasp escaped his lips, and he threw his head back against the shower wall, panting; it felt so good, your smooth palm creating a delicious friction. He thrust forward into your hand, wanting you to continue, his shame at being naked and aroused gone entirely.

Your face was still close. Close enough to observe his face, fascinated at the raw sensuality flickering across it. Drops of water freckled Peter’s cheeks and forehead; you weren't sure if it was the spray from the shower or his own sweat. His mouth was open slightly, and his rough breathing was causing yours to speed up as well. You smoothed your hand back down his wet length and drew the other hand down to cup his balls.

Peter hissed loudly and pushed his hips forward again, cursing. You couldn't tear your eyes from his profile; he was flushed, his lips dusky and moist, the silver of his eyelashes standing out against his fevered cheek. Simply delectable, and you wanted to have a taste.

The touch of your lips on his neck brought Peter to the surface as you pressed your breasts to his chest, your lips everywhere. They ghosted over his collarbone, shoulder, neck and jaw before closing over his earlobe. He moaned, turning, seeking out your lips.

Peter's eyes opened as you released your hands from him. In no time Peter had locked lips with you once more, in a clash of teeth and moisture; whether it was spit or water you weren’t entirely sure. He raised his hands to your breasts at the same time your tongue parted the seam of his lips, and the two of you moaned together before fusing your open mouths.

Your eyes fluttered closed as Peter ground the raised centers of your nipples into his large palms, then rubbed a thumb over each in rhythm. Your initial intentions were to tease the ever-loving shit out of the speedster, but you couldn’t but melt into a puddle at his tender touches.

Peter’s erection was pressing into your belly, hard as steel. You ground against it, wanting it lower and inside, quickly losing your intention to mess around. Abruptly breaking the kiss to breathe, you quirked an eyebrow at Peter. "So, have you made up your mind?"

"Wha-?" He was adorably confused, his pupils dilated in the shadowy light. You grinned and reached between yourselves to stroke along his cock lightly, picking up the trickle of pre-cum on his cockhead and rubbing it around the smooth, ragingly red area.

Lightly pushing Peter back under the full spray, you sank to your knees in front of him. Handling him gently, you sucked the tip of him into your mouth, savoring the much nicer tangy sensataaion.

"Oh Fuck," The speedster moaned on a sharp inhalation of breath. This was progressing past the realm of sweaty-palm fantasies and straight into the embodiment of every pornographic dream he'd ever had; only those dreams had never felt quite so hot.

Your mouth was liquid fire over him, your tongue circling and teasing, making him grow even larger.

He resisted the urge to grab your head and thrust into your mouth like he had seen in the pornos, giving you free reign over his pleasure. Instead Peter coursed his hands through your damp hair, giving you wordless pats of praise when you traced up a particularly sensitive vein.

Already weak at the knees from your mouth, Peter nearly shot when he looked down and caught you watching him with feverish eyes. The image was so blatantly erotic, he couldn't help but complete it by curling his fingers deeper into your hair.

The slight jerk of his hands on your scalp told you that Peter was close to going completely out of control. His slight grunt and increased participation, in turn, increased your enthusiasm. Releasing your grip around the base of his cock, you tried to take him deeper. This you had tried before with varying amounts of success, usually gagging as the overzealous recipient tried to choke you.

However, with an untried Peter, you were having a great deal more success with the technique.

After figuring out how to time your breathing with the motions, you crept forward and began in earnest, taking Peter in until your nose touched his silvery pubic hair. His hands tightened again, and this time his whimper of pleasure was louder, needier.

He was so close, water pounding his chest, blood pounding in his ears, lips, tongue and friction at the center of it all.

Nearly mindless now, searching for that sweet release, Peter thrust forward a bit, searching for the movement that would send him over the edge. When he encountered no resistance from you, he thrust his hips in rhythm with your mouth until he could take no more.

You could feel Peter's flesh tightening and knew he was ready to blow a load. He tried to push you away before he let go, but you gripped the back of his thighs tightly and sucked hard, an explosion of cum shooting down your throat and tongue.

You gagged a little when the first stream hit the back of your throat, but you recovered enough to hear the incoherent whines Peter made. Another grunt escaped from him as you rubbed your soft tongue over the underside of his dick, moving over the pulsating veins there.

It was all Peter could do to keep from crumpling as he shot harder than he ever had in his life, knees weak from the sheer force of it.

If you hadn't been there to maintain the grip on his legs, he would have melted into a pile of jelly at your knees.

Once you had ridden out his orgasm and released him you stood back up, pushing back the soaken strands of hair that hung off his forehead. Peter grinned, chest heaving as he watched your tongue come out, licking a spot of his release you had missed on your lip.

“Feeling any better, sir?”

Again, Peter felt tongue-tied. He wasn't sure what to say or do. Even though he'd had the most soul-sucking orgasm of his life, his dick was still half-hard. Typical speedster sex drive.

The water was still hot, yet wouldn’t be lasting for much longer. He had to make this count.

Your breasts brushed his chest again when Peter leaned in to capture your lips with his. A slight squeak of surprise escaped you when he separated the seam of your lips with his tongue and pushed forward aggressively. Your tongues duelled, battling for position. Peter could taste the musky odor of his own arousal on your lips, strangely exotic. His hands were tender when he lifted the weight of your breasts in his hold.

Nothing in his fantasies matched the feel of your nipples as he circled over them. Softly puckered flesh dragged under the smooth calluses of his thumbs, causing you to moan softly and push your torso against his.

Straightening up, Peter grasped your waist tightly and with a smirk, swiftly spun you around, pushing you forward into the shower wall.

You let out a hiss as your nipples came in contact with the cold tiles, them becoming painfully hard. Peter gently pushed your hair aside before placing a chaste kiss on your neck; you moved your head to the side, allowing him better access.

Peter rested his forehead between your shoulder blades as the water ran down his back. He took a deep breath in, trailing a hand down your back before pulling back and slapping your ass. The loud moan that fell from your lips made him chuckle, "You've done yer job doc, now yer need payment.”

You nodded your head as you whimpered, feeling yourself become more and more turned on and unbelievably wet. You feel Peter’s tip rubbing your folds, spreading your moisture around as you whimper in anticipation.

You looked back over your shoulder to Peter glancing down at where you two meet. Raising an eyebrow, you went to say something but Peter's quick thrust into you made all the air in your lungs escape. You were wet enough that it didn’t hurt, but the delicious stretch it provided you made your eyes roll back into your head.

Hands slipping as you try to hold onto something, your breasts bounce into the wall as you whimper, legs spreading further so Peter could fully enter you.

Without stopping and with a thoughtful hum, Peter reached up towards the detachable shower head and flicked the setting to a steady stream of fast water, pulling it down.

You could hear him doing something and looked back over your shoulder to see him messing with the shower head, "Are you about to-" You let out a cry as you felt the pressure from the water on your clit, "Shi- shit! Peter!" The pleasure making your eyes roll back.

You attempt to snap your thighs shut, trying to escape the intense pressure on your bundle of nerves. Peter, however, had other plans as he huffs breathlessly, lips dragging up the sensitive skin of your neck. He nips at your ear, using a free hand to spread your legs apart.

“Yer need to keep ‘em spread for me. Y-yer can do that fer me, can’t ya, babe?” He grunts into your ear. You whimper, nodding.

“That’s a- f-fuck.. good girl.”

In a carnal rage, a clatter sounds as Peter drops the shower head, gripping your hips with both hands as he fucks up into you, leaning his bodyweight onto yours to give him more leverage. The faster he fucked into you, the faster the feeling of your climax crested. This one felt different, more intense, and you both knew it.

You make a pitiful noise, again and again as Peter drives his cock into your cunt, hitting your G-spot every single time.

“Therrre she is. Is that it, yeah? That spot feel good, honey?” You could feel Peter’s grin against your throat. “Yer squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight. Can yer hear that?”

The slick sounds of his cock fucking into you was loud over your pants for air, and you nodded weakly. You felt slick and pre-cum run down your thighs as Peter moved in and out of your heat in rapid succession, much like an animal in heat. "I think yer might even squirt fer me, doc.”

A shuddered moan fell from your lips before you agree. Sharp, white hot pleasure tore through your body, from head to toe, and you keened as Peter forced himself deeper. "Yer pushin' me out, babe-lemme in, need to feel it," he moaned. "Fuck, yer so pretty; that's it, that- Fuck!"

You felt the dampness of your thighs before you could comprehend the heightened pleasure, and you glanced down to watch Peter’s lower half become soaked from your climax. "Oh-" You turned your head as much as you could to face him, eyes half lidded.

From his position behind you, Peter crashed his lips to yours and forced his tongue into your mouth, fucking it languidly while his hips stuttered in their rhythm. You panted as he pulled back, his breath fanning over your spit-slick lips.

"I need ter cum, baby-" he pleaded, thrusting deeper.

"Please, please-lemme cum in-"

"Yes," you rasped, nodding. “Please- i need you to cum in me so bad-”

Peter groaned and shuddered. He lowered his head to your shoulder and rested his forehead on vour collarbone. You could hear him panting over the slapping of skin and slick noises of his cock in your cunt, and you matched his thrusts in an attempt to bring him closer to the edge.

"Oh, fuck," he rasped. Each thrust sent a shock of pleasure curling up your spine, but you brushed it off, intent on making Peter cum - you squeezed around him and circled your hips. The whimpery noises he makes only make you clench harder, wrapping him in a vice you never want to let go of.

Suddenly, the hot spray of water turns cold and you gasp, arching your back and clamping yourself down on Peter’s cock with all the strength you could muster, tipping him over the edge.

“I-ngh.. Shit!” Peter panted and his hips faltered, a warmth soon blooming in your cunt, filling you up to the brim and leaking out of your quivering body.

The slow, rocking rhythm Peter set with his hips soothed you, bringing you slowly down from your high while he descended from his. "Fuckin' hell, babe," he murmured, and he kissed you on the lips, then the forehead.

The room is full of the scent of arousal, and it makes you feel high up in the clouds, filling your head with the syrupy-sweet fuzziness of speedy contentment.

You must have zoned out for a little bit, because the next thing you’re aware of is the sound of the shower being turned off, and strong yet shaking arms scooping you up off your feet. You were deposited outside the walls of the shower, and then a soft towel is being worked around your body, collecting the droplets of water falling off your hair and frame.

"Let's get yer warmed up, babe."

Before long, you’re bundled up in a bathrobe, hair perfectly brushed out, and being placed gently onto the couch you had been making out with Peter on not too long ago. The volume of the TV had been lowered, allowing you to hear Peter's soft mumblings of praise in your hair as he lays below you, arms cradling you to his chest. His sweatpants feel comfy against your bare legs, and your palms rest on the cotton of his white t-shirt he had changed into.

“Can we watch The Empire Strikes Back?” Peter murmurs into your hair, making you grin as it takes you back to the day you met him in the auditorium. Humming contently, you fish your hand down the side of the sofa in search of the tv remote. You furrow your brows however as you feel something rather furry brush against your fingertips.

Pinching it between your two fingers you pluck it out of the couch, inspecting the small… seed?

Peter’s eyes follow your gaze as he gasps softly in remembrance, craning his head to the side to see an abundance of dandelion seeds littering the couch. Peter frowned. He had forgotten about the strange flower he had plucked due to the abrupt slab of concrete disrupting his day. The seedlings must have fallen out of his uniform when you were tending to his wounds.

“Shit! That was meant ter be a surprise, babe.” Peter frowned sulkily, plucking the puffball from your fingertips. “I found these weird lookin’ flowers on the mission and wanted to show them to yer. Thought i discovered a new species er somethin’.”

Despite your heart warming at the kind yet failed gesture, you laughed. “Peter, honey, they’re dandelions. Weeds.” You grinned, watching as his mouth forms an ‘o’ in realization.

“But.. at least they’re rare, right?”

You thin your lips out into a line whilst shaking your head, trying not to laugh as the speedster groans, throwing his head back.

“Ugh, I could’ve totally avoided that wall if it weren’t fer these fuckin’ things,” Peter drops the dandelion seed, letting it float to the polished wooden floor. “All that fer nothin’!”

You snuggle further against him, grazing around his bandages with a confused expression. “I do appreciate the gesture, but I thought you got these from the fight? Not from.. A wall?” You appear more perplexed as you try to imagine the scenario. “Did you.. run into it or somethin’?”

Peter sighed. Another point to add too his ‘you royally suck, dude!’ tally chart. How many times had he embarrassed himself before you now, five?

“No, it-” He grimaced “-it slammed into me.” He watched as you squinted your eyes, picturing how it went down. “Don’t fret though, babe, I totally showed it who’s boss. Knocked some sense into it.” He grinned, stroking your drying hair.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” You grin, tracing further down the trail of wounds and scratches. “Seems like it knocked more sense into you, though.”

Peter scoffed, waving his hand in dismissal before looking down at you, smiling lopsidedly. “Do I get a lolly fer bein’ so brave, doc?”

He smirks at your flushed expression and you still for a moment, before reaching into your bathrobe pocket and pulling out the panties you had strewn across the bathroom earlier. Peter's eyes widen.

“Here, take these.” You say simply, lazily dropping the material into his hand. Peter beams, face dusted pink. He’ll find some use for those, you’re sure. It won’t be a surprise if you find them framed up in his room, next to his Greta Van Fleet poster.

The next morning you change, treading down the corridor into the living room. Scott is slung across the sofa’s armrest watching the news as Jean sits on the other end by his socked feet, reading a book. Kurt and Ororo share a large armchair nearby, also watching the TV as Peter leans against a wall, sipping a steaming cup of coffee. Not like he needs it anyway.

As you walk in Peter raises his mug at you, nodding and grinning toothily as you greet him back. You silently hope he hadn’t mentioned the prior events to the others.

You ask Scott to turn the volume up and he groans tardily, reaching down the back of the sofa to fish for the remote. You go into shock, however, when he furrows his brows, pulling out a lacy pair of underwear instead. Your underwear.

Scott holds them up in the air with his index finger and thumb, flushing wildly and looking around the room in search of answers. Jean lowers her book, giving you a disapproved stare before continuing her new read of the day. Ororo squeals in laughter and Kurt goes a deep shade of bluey purple, his gaze anywhere but your panties.

“Well, what do we have here?” You could hear the smugness through Scott’s voice as you look wildly across the room to Peter. He only hums, as if in question, no doubt reminiscing on the memories of last night as he sips his coffee, pleased.

You meet his eyes, desperately searching for something to say as he winks at you, strolling up behind the couch to inspect your underwear like he didn’t know whose they were.

Sighing in relief, you thought you were going to get away with it, the embarrassment slowly ebbing out of your head; that was until Peter’s voice piped up.

“Babe, I swear those are your panties, right?”

Chillaxing on the sofa in his mom’s basement, Peter drew out a sigh. His hooded eyes gaped at the TV screen. As he channel surfed, his thumb tapped lazily on the remote. Peter stopped to check each channel in abrupt intervals. Afternoon cable was boring as hell today. It failed to grasp his short lived attention span.

Seinfeld reruns? He saw just about all of ‘em. Soap Operas? Those were more his mom’s thing. Huge pass. Nature documentaries? Could be cool. Guess it depended on which one, though.

Oh. It was the one about the polar bear’s great journey across the arctic! Nifty enough. Except, Peter saw that one three or four times already now. Скучный (boring). Так скучно (So boring).

‘Kay, soooo…TV was kind of a no-go. Instead, Peter popped on the PS1 and settled for a game of Metal Gear Solid. The game’s opening intro was a little too slow for his liking, but Peter forced himself to focus. It sucked he was so antsy today, so fidgety and impatient. He needed some kind of distraction. Any distraction. And he needed one fast.

Peter bounced a leg, half invested in the game’s dialogue. His fingers absentmindedly flicked the controller buttons. Not even five minutes into playing, he found himself frustrated and bored again. This time around, he figured some company might ease his ennui.

He darted across the arm of the couch to a side table. Over a stack of comic books and empty cans of soda, he snatched the receiver to a Garfield phone. Peter dialed a number in less than a second. Too fast, at first. The phone didn’t even register his request. Rolling his eyes, he dialed the number again. Slower this time.

Peter kept the vibrant hunk of orange plastic between his cheek and shoulder. Buzzy ringing echoed on the other end of the line, as he waited for the recipient to pick up. The time it took for a voice to finally respond felt like fifty billion years. Your voice. One of Peter’s closest comrades. The pal he shared most, if not all, of his free time with.

There were days when you visited, and you laid back on the sofa with him. With your legs stretched over his lap and a magazine in your hands, you relaxed. Peter would always do his usual, playing whatever game he ‘bought’ from the local K-Mart. Every time he cursed himself for making a misstep, you giggled. You knew how frustrating it was for him, if he wasn't a hundred leaps ahead of everything. And just to get back at you - but also to hear you laugh again - he’d reach over and dig his fingers into your belly.

He loved that it took such minimal effort to make you laugh. You always had an easygoing warmth about you. And maybe you were also pretty cute too. Sometimes, the crook of your smile made him blush. Oh, and you didn't mind duking it out in Mario Kart sometimes. That was also kinda cool. What more could a lonesome guy ask for? Просто друзья. Ничего больше (Just friends. Nothing more). Yeah. He could be content with that. No problem.

Ten minutes into conversation with you, Peter breathed a yawn into the receiver.

“You know, I’m surprised you have the patience for talking on the phone.” You joked.

The speakers roared with a soft buzz in his ear. Peter didn’t register your words at first. Blinking lazily, he tapped the PS1 controller buttons at rapid speed. In the game, Snake fought off an onslaught of bad guys. Peter faked his offense with a scoff.

“Seriously? Man, what’s up with that? It’s like everyone thinks I can’t do stuff at normal speed without goin’ berserk.” He said, cursing under his breath as Snake got gunned down again.

A small part of him wished you were there, with your legs over his lap, cracking jokes at his expense. Over the phone, you emitted a gentle laugh.

“Because you have? Multiple times, dude!” You said.

Surely you could hear Peter’s eyes roll in his skull.

“Oh, yeah? Name five.” he pressed.

The fast paced clicking of the buttons echoed like a trill in the basement. He overheard the sound of rustling as you shifted in place. If Peter had to guess, he’d bet his left foot you were still lazing around in bed. It was a Saturday, after all. With the hour tipping on the edge of late afternoon. You always moved at the slowest of speeds on your off days.

“I’m just saying! I totally get it. Even I don’t have the patience for chats on the phone sometimes.” You said, and a squeaky yawn followed.

More rustles scuffed from your end, as if you moved to stretch. Keeping his gaze fixed on the flickering, CRT screen; Peter followed flashes of light from each grunt’s gun. His reaction time proved effortless as always. His methods, not so much.

“Nah, it’s cool.” Peter mumbled after a beat, “Doesn’t bother me much if I’m talkin’ to you.  You’re not boring, first of all. And on the off chance I do get bored, I can just say - hey, babe, I’m gonna hang up. And you won’t get-uhhh…” He lingered on his next thought, distracted with gunning down more masked baddies, “You won’t get, like, butt hurt over it."

“Why would I?” You laughed, “Did someone seriously get offended by that?”

“My aunt did once. She got mad pissed ‘cuz I told her I was ‘kinda bored’ on the phone. She made me pass it to my mom, so she could rat me out. Said I showed a ‘lack of consideration'; ‘er whatever.” Peter paused, brows furrowed. In Metal Gear, Snake perished yet again. Peter rolled his eyes once more, “She’s kinda mental, though. это возмутительно (it’s outrageous).”

Your only response was a quiet hum of acknowledgement. Peter broke the silence that followed.

“Hey, you’re not busy today, are you? Wanna do somethin’ later?” He asked, knowing full well you had jack shit to do.

“I don’t know. I’m feeling soooooo lazy today.” You playfully teased.

The soft pattern of your breathing sent electric tingles down Peter’s neck. Shuddering, he shook off those unexpected chills. Another beat, and Peter groaned, as Snake perished over a low poly landscape. You gotta take it slow and stealthy, man - Peter reminded himself.

“Хорошо (okay)? So? Come be lazy over here then.” He replied, “Tell you what. If you do, I’ll go ‘n snag some of those Turkish delights you like. The same ones my mom gotcha for your birthday. Remember? From Sokovia?”

Your voice perked up instantly, bringing a cheesy smile to his face. Homely fondness simmered in his chest, and Peter felt himself blush. He pulled his lip between his teeth, pausing his game to focus more on conversation. Leaving Snake stranded in the middle of the snow.

“Oh my gosh!! No way?? I haven’t had those in forever! Seriously, the ones from Sokovia?” You chimed.

“Hell yeah! But you gotta get outta bed first, dingus. C’monnnn.” Peter whined, “I’m so bored here, babe. Oh! I totally forgot. I finally got my hands on a Gameboy Color too. Swear on my life I paid for it this time. You could come over ‘n try it ouuuuuut.” He teased in a sing-song voice, wiggling his brows.

“Gameboys and Turkish delights? You’re spoiling me today, Peter! What’s the occasion?” You joked over the line.

He shrugged, forgetting you couldn’t see him, “Bored outta my friggin’ skull. That’s what.” After a beat, he awkwardly added, “And maybe I like hangin’ with you? Do I even need a reason?”

“Well, I gotta admit…you had me at Turkish delights.” You feigned a dreamy tone.

Peter chuckled again. Under his breath, he muttered softly, “ Это все, что тебе нужно, да (That’s all you need, huh)?”

“Huh?” You asked, oblivious to his comment, “What’d you say? I didn’t catch that last part.”

Peter ran a hand through his silver locks, leaving his hair loose and messy. Cradling the phone in his other hand, he knitted his lips to one side.

“Nothin’. Don’t worry about it. You want me to come get you? ‘Cuz I can.” He checked his digital watch, decked out in a Star Wars theme, “I can right now, if you-”

“It’s fine. I love going out with you, but I really don’t wanna deal with motion sickness today. I just had lunch too. No offense!” Another yawn rang over the phone, hitching into a squeal at the end. Peter didn’t realize he was smiling so big until his cheeks started to hurt, “I’ll just drive over. Sound good?”

Peter rolled his eyes, sarcastically groaning. He threw his head back into the sofa cushions, playing up his fake frustrations.

“Auuuuuuugh! But that’ll take years.” He dragged a hand down his face, pulling his cheeks under his fingertips, “Is this ‘cuz you blew chunks last time?? You know that doesn’t bother me, right? Everyone does it, babe.”

You made a noise of disgust. Something like an eugh , “Please, don’t remind me. That sucked so much. Yeah, no, I’d rather not. I really need a break from it.” You sighed again. Kind of a bummer, but he could deal.

“It’s whatever you want, I guess. So, when are you gonna head out?” Peter asked, sitting up on the sofa and putting the controller aside.

He bounced a leg at rapid speed, his knee moving in a flesh tone blur of motion. Less from agitation, more due to anticipation.

“I’ll leave soon. Just give me a few minutes. Think you can wait?” You chuckled in that sweet, quirky way again. The melody gave Peter butterflies. Ignoring the fluttering in his belly, he pushed himself off the couch. Grabbing the base of the Garfield phone, Peter cradled the lil guy in an arm. He figured he may as well get dressed, and freshen up before you arrived, “It’s so cold today. I haven’t even gotten out of bed yet! I’m still bundled up in my undies. Got your jacket on too. You left a Game n Watch in the pocket, by the way. I didn’t even know they still made those!”

“Yeah. I totally called that one. Get up already, ya slacker.” Peter joked trapping the phone between his cheek and shoulder again. He scratched his bare chest. His fingertips grazed the sparse covering of white hairs there. Yawning, he nodded, “Okay. Okay. Okay. Sure, just-”

Something about your last statement finally clicked in Peter’s brain. He rapidly blinked, shaking his head fast enough to give himself whiplash. Peter did a quadruple take.

“Подожди (wait)! Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, waiiiiiit …hold on a sec.” He narrowed his eyes, “Say that again?”

“Say what again? The part about the Game n Watch?” You asked, and Peter’s brows furrowed.

“N-Nah. The…did you just…have you been lyin’ around in your underwear this whole time?”

“Uh, yeah? Why? Is this revolutionary information?” You chuckled.

“In my jacket? Like, I didn’t hear that wrong? What’d you like…sleep in it ‘er somethin’?” Peter arched a silver brow, pressing the phone handset closer to his cheek. As if doing so might somehow help him hear you more clearly.

It really wasn’t that big of a deal either way. You borrowed his jackets all the time. Peter never thought anything of it before this conversation. Aside from the fact that - when you did return them, he loved the sweet scent you left behind. The smell of your perfume, with the added bonus of your natural pheromones…

Ебать (Fuck)! Why was he even thinking about this? The two of you had such a casual thing goin’ on. But now, Peter thought of you in a different light. Something friskier. Not that he meant to. Maybe killer boredom + cute friend = horny speedster. Or perhaps the planets aligned in some totally off-the-wall way.

Whatever the case, Peter’s mind raced on autopilot. He pictured the way you might look right now. In your room, spread across your bed in nothing but your underwear and - Ебена мать (Holy shit) - his jacket. With your long legs bare, your knees bumping together as you squeezed your thighs shut. Tummy exposed. And your tits-

Woooooooah there! Slow down, casanova! Peter shouldn’t be…nah, he really shouldn’t be wondering what your breasts looked like. Ppfffbbbbt …’kay, so, maybe in the past he thought about it once or twice. But what dude wouldn't contemplate the hidden mystery of a pal's titties sometimes, ah?

“Well, so what if I did? That doesn’t weird you out, does it?” You asked, a careful waver in your voice.

“Uhhhh…nahhh, babe. Just…” Peter shifted in place, rerouting his thoughts, “Just…got one hell of an image in my head. Might’ve pictured you like that for no particular reason at all.”

Lucky for him, you didn’t seem to think anything of his confession.

“Not much to imagine…” You replied. Сомнительно (Doubtful).

“I mean…pffbbbttt…sure, yeah. Maybe not.” Peter awkwardly laughed, scratching the back of his neck. His voice dropped, a little more hushed, “Unless…you’re wearin’ some really cute panties over there.” Again, he laughed, rushing out a quick, “I’m kiddin’. I’m kiddin’. I’m kiddin’. I’m totally messin’. Just bustin’ your balls, babe.”

Except…he sorta wasn’t. Peter found himself oh-so curious. Twisting the phone's orange wire around his finger, he anticipated your reaction. Anxious you might think him weird for pushing things too far. Never had the two of you charted this kind of territory. It was a minefield, with a 95% chance neither one would make it out unscathed.

“I guess? I think they’re kind of cute.” You added, innocent as ever. Awesome. You weren’t peeved at him, at least. Peter brought the phone to his chest, exhaling an anxious breath to calm his racing heart. When he put the phone to his ear again, he figured you’d moved on. But your cadence shifted. To test the boundaries of your friendship, you teased, “They’re pretty small on me, though.”

Ah. Ah. Интересно. Очень интересно (Interesting. Very interesting). What an unexpected but totally wicked development. Peter lowered himself slowly onto the couch, setting the phone's base on the side table. He eased backwards into the cushions, and tightened his twisting of the phone wire. Swallowing hard, Peter found he had difficulty focusing. Especially with his imagination running so goddamn wild.

“Yeah? …How small is pretty small?” He dared to ask.

Long seconds of silence ticked by at the pace of a narcoleptic sloth. If Peter weren’t so eager to hear what you had to say, he may have torn his hair out. Over the line, you laughed.

“Small enough they barely cover my ass? Why are you so curious all of a sudden?” You cooed.

Peter fluttered his inky eyes, nibbling chapped skin on his lip. Fuzzy pink swarmed the rest of his face, as his mind conjured images of you so effortlessly. Clear as day. Heat stirred to life in his groin, and Peter pictured the way your plush cheeks might hold in tight painties. His breath hitched.

“I-uh…” Peter felt the heat in his cheeks creep down his neck, flustered at lightspeed, “Just thinkin’...maybe you should do somethin’ about that?” He gritted his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. What a lame response, “Черт возьми (damn it)!” He huffed under his breath, too quiet for you to hear.

Toying with this newly discovered sexual tension, Peter humorously asked-

“Sooooooo…what color?”

You giggled into the receiver, airy and light. His body registered the noise somewhere , down south of his belly. He wondered if you were as flustered as him. And the visual of your bashful face and shy smile had his heartbeat ramping up to mach 10.

“What? A-Are you for real asking me…oh my god, dude!” Your giggles turned into goofy snorts. Which he found so endearing. Once you composed yourself, you spoke again. Though, your tone came off as more flirtatious, “If you really wanna know so bad…then fine. They’re black. Lacy. With a little bow on the front.”

Дерьмо (Shit)...

His silver brows soared high, disappearing under his bangs. Paying little attention to his instinctive actions, Peter guided his free hand between his thighs. Inwardly, he told himself he was only adjusting his uncomfortable hard-on. ‘Cuz it’d be totally weird if he did anything else…right? Best to ignore the movement of his thumb, as it absentmindedly circled his bulge.

“Huh…that’s so…” Peter blinked, clearing his throat and masking his nerves with a chuckle, “‘Kay, I’ll be up front with you, babe. That sounds cute as hell. Very nice.”

“Really? Oh, please, Peter. They’d be cute on anybody.” You scoffed.

“Uh huh…” He smirked, dropping his tone even lower, “‘Cept, now that I’m really thinkin’ about it? I’m bettin’ they look criminally cute on you.” Peter lazily smirked.

You laughed, breathless like you ran a thousand miles, “Wh-...what are we even doing right now? Seriously, why am I talking to you about my-” The uneasiness in your voice bled through the line.

Your concern was for good reason. Nevertheless, Peter interrupted you mid-sentence.

“Easy there, chuckles. We’re just chatting. Nothin’ too unusual, right? We’ve had some seriously raunchy conversations before. Remember? That time I got laid on a golf course? You told me about that time some dude shot a load in your eye. What’s the difference, anyway?” Peter grimaced, as he recalled your story from eons ago.

You giggled yet again, “Peter, you know damn well what the difference is!” You clarified with a sigh, still playful. The phone wire went slack around his finger, as Peter second guessed himself. He parted his lips, on the cusp of apologizing. Bringing one hand up to the phone, he held it loosely. Your sugary voice chimed again, “I’m kinda wondering, though…what would you think if I told you I’m topless right now?”

His grip compressed around the handset.

“Topless, huh?” Peter cast a quick glance at his hard-on, twitching painfully under his boxers. His mind jumped straight to sinful places again. Peter thought about what your tits probably look like, embraced in his jacket. Nipples hard, grazing the inner-lining. He swallowed, “What’re you tryna tell me? You gonna drive over here in nothin’ but that?” Peter quipped.

A more sultry laugh melted through the receiver. Peter trembled, as your smooth voice coaxed him like a tempting song. His free palm squeezed his bulge, putting pressure to his length over fabric. Peter’s brows turned inward, and he fluttered his eyes shut.

“I guess that wouldn’t be so bad, if it wasn’t so cold outside. It’s freezing today. I don’t know how you can run as fast as you do when the weather’s like this.” Your tone disguised itself with lighthearted innocence again, “It’s not any warmer in my room either. My nipples could cut glass. They’re, like, soooo hard.”

Peter adjusted himself on the sofa, giving the swell of his bulge another teasing squeeze.

“ Ты маленькая соблазнительница (you little temptress)...”  His hot breath fanned the phone.

“I love it when you talk like that…” You replied, “Even if I have no idea what you’re saying. It sounds really hot, to be totally honest.”

“Oh, yeah?” Peter teased his lip with his teeth, speaking in a more flirtatious voice; buttery smooth, “ Я забыл вынести мусор (I forgot to take out the trash)...” For added effect - just to embarrass you more - he tacked on a husky moan.

Peter made himself blush, as the sound came out far more pornagraphic than he intended. The rasp of his voice scraped through the line in a hushed, “ Oh, yeah, baby. ”

The erotic tension you felt from his teasing was palpable, even over the phone. Peter could sense the shift in the way you gasped. So faint, so shy, so cute.

“Oh…oh, wow...uhm…” You tried concealing your bashfulness with more of those candy coated giggles. But Peter could practically hear the blood racing to your cheeks, “What’s that mean? Something good, I hope.”

Peter bit his tongue, lips turning in a cheeky grin.

“It means you’re really turnin’ me on…”

Another hesitant pause fell between the two of you, before you scoffed.

“Oh my god, no it doesn’t! I can hear you laughing!” You griped, snickering along with Peter. A few more tension heavy beats pulsed over the line. You spoke again, “Hey…I’m sorry. Can I put things on pause for a sec? I just wanted to ask…are you okay with this?”

“Are you?” Peter gently asked, giving you ample time to think about it.

“I don’t know…maybe…” You whispered, “Isn’t this, like, super weird for you?”

“I mean…suuuuuuure. It’s totally weird. If you kept goin', I wouldn't be into it...at all...” He bullied you with a playful edge, hoping you could read the flirtatious undertone in his voice.

“Ohhhhh…you wouldn't be?” Judging by the saucy lilt in your voice, you most definitely caught on, “You know what would be even weirder?”

Peter adjusted on the sofa again. Getting comfortable, he laid on his back. His taut legs stretched across the cushions, and Peter propped his head on the couch’s arm.

“Whazzat? Enlighten me, babe. I’m listenin’. You got my full attention.” He teased.

“Your full attention, huh? I must be doing something right.” You snickered, “So…you know how I said I love it when you talk…like that?” Your voice wavered, “What I really meant was-uhm…when you do that on the phone…it makes me kind of horny.”

His brown hues burst open, wider than ever. Peter’s pupils dilated, expanding as far as the universe itself. He swallowed again, his mouth falling open. Your filthy confession set his arousal ablaze, making his dick twitch. As heated desire took over, Peter couldn’t restrain himself. He snuck his fingers under the waistband of his boxers, fingertips gliding over silver hairs. A small piece of him almost felt guilty for doing so.

“It does, huh? Хорошо знать (Good to know).” Peter whispered, tenderly grasping his shaft.

You made a naughty squeak of a noise in response, “Y-Yeah, Peter, I’m serious. You really have to stop doing that.”

“Почему (Why)? Are you soakin’ yourself over it? Gettin’ a lil wet? It’s cool. You can tell me…” Peter heckled, expelling a breath as he gave his dick a single tug.

“Oh, I bet you wanna know all about that, huh? You’re so bad, Quickie...” You teased, clicking your tongue.

Peter’s ears burned, turning pink as he took in the coquettish nature of your voice. Scoffing, he feigned his indignance.

“What?! Hey, nah nah nah! You started this! Это несправедливо, черт возьми (it’s not fair. Dammit)!” Peter laughed, carefree with you as always, “You can’t seriously drop a bombshell like that and expect me not to-”

“Not to come running?” You hummed, sweet tempered, “I’m just messing with you, baby. But since we’re on the topic…I made such a mess of these little panties. Just from listening to your voice.”

Peter couldn’t even pretend he didn’t like the sound of ‘baby’ on your tongue.

“Oh, man…anything but the panties…” He joked, “You should-uh…you should save yourself some trouble. Y’know…take ‘em off, maybe? Might be more comfortable.” Peter hinted, playing nonchalant, “Just tryna be a good friend. Give you some advice. You should for sure take it.”

“But I’m already so cold…” You whimpered, “Your jacket’s so warm. Smells good too. Really good. But it’s not enough to keep me covered.” You spoke with flirtatious innocence, and Peter played along.

“No harm done, принцесса (princess). I’ll warm you up if you need me to.” He reassured, sweet talking you over the phone, “Ты думаешь, что я не позабочусь о тебе? (Do you think I won't take care of you)?" Peter mumbled again. He listened to your sickly sweet laughs, before asking, “So…do you get like this every time we talk on the phone?”

“Mmmm…maybe.” You hummed, “What if I said yes?” You shuffled around again, and Peter’s mind jumped elsewhere. He imagined you shed yourself of damp, black lace. Leaving you wanton and needy in nothing but his jacket, “You know…we’ve been talking about me a lot this whole time. You wanna tell me what you’re wearing? I don’t really have a visual.”

“Oh…me?” Your request caught Peter off guard.

“Yeah, you. Who else, blockhead?” You playfully quipped, smoothing your voice to say, “You don’t have to be shy. I just wanna know, so I can think about taking it off of you.”

Peter didn’t know he could blush this much. Puffing a bashful laugh, he looked down at his body. Mostly nude and toned enough. He had his x-gene to thank for his pecs and hard abs. A fluffy bouquet of silver hairs peeked out from his boxers. Underneath, his dick throbbed, pressing eagerly into fabric.

“Uhm…I’m not wearin’ a lot? Nothin’ special. Just some black, boxer briefs, I guess. Wait, no-” Peter lifted a foot, his lips curling in a goofy smile, “Got my Star Wars socks on too.”

A sensual moan graced his ears, “That’s so hot.” You softly whined, “Star Wars socks? Peter, just take me now.”

Despite the fact you were totally messing with him, that playful comment made his chest tight. 

“Nothing else though?” You pressed.

“Nnnnnnnnnnope.” He drew out the word, popping the P, “Just the-uh…yeah. Boxers ‘n sexy socks. Not much to take off.”

“And you’re pretty fit, aren’t you? You always looked really jacked to me, so-” You said.

Peter cocked a brow, snickering to cover his embarrassment.

“Wooooahhh…you been checkin’ me out, babe?” He asked, darting his dark hues across his athletic bod. Peter flexed an arm, “Sure, I guess I’m in decent shape.” He found he couldn’t dismiss your compliments. Peter looked good, and he knew it. But he preferred hearing it from you, “Hey, you wanna know somethin’, like, way crazy?”

“This? What we’re doing right now is so crazy, right?” You laughed, sounding as bashful as him.

Peter snickered, “True. Truuuue. But, uh…” He shrank in his spot on the couch, pressing the vibrant handset closer into his cheek. Pre-cum seeped through his boxers, as Peter tugged his dick steady and slow. Careful not to stimulate himself too much yet. He dropped his voice to a hushed rasp, “I’m kinda in the same spot you are right now. If you-uh…if you catch my drift.”

The two of you knew each other for a long time. Several years, in fact. But never once did Peter think he’d hear his closest pal say-

“Ohhhh. Are you hard right now, baby?”

Oh. Yeah, this buddy-buddy friendship was in major trouble. Doomed to crash and burn. As soon as the words fell from your lips, spoken in your honeyed voice; Peter’s breath hitched in his throat. He sank his teeth so hard into his lip, he almost broke skin.

“Y-Yeah. Since you-uh…started talkin’ about your panties. I’m sorry, babe. Just been kinda bored and worked up all day.” He sheepishly chuckled.

“You poor baby…” You coddled him over the phone. And while he should’ve been embarrassed, Peter had no problem with you talking like that, “Can I ask how big you are?”

Peter stalled for a moment, before pulling the front of his boxers down. His hardness flopped against his belly, pulsating and ruddy from his teasing. Taking his aching length in his hand, he rubbed the underside with his thumb.

“You mean my dick? It’s-uhhhh…like six, maybe seven inches almost?” He squeezed his cock, milking beads of pre-cum, “But size doesn’t matter, yeah? It’s the motion of the ocean, babe.”

“Noooooo, baby. You’re so perfect. Wish I could see how good you look like that…” You cooed over the phone.

Your kindly words and airy tone made the veins in his dick throb with electric heat. Peter clutched his cock tight, pumping the velvet skin a touch faster. Giving himself just a simple taste of relief. His stomach clenched, hardening his abs.

“Не так идеально, как ты выглядишь (Not as perfect as you look)...” Peter muttered, drawing in a shallow breath, “Babe, I gotta tell ya, I’m really feelin’ this. I’m so into you right now. W-Want you to keep talkin’ like-uh...”

His imagination took his depravity to the next level. Now, Peter thought about joining you in your room. He wondered how soft and smooth your skin would feel. Supple and hot under his fingertips. What might you look like writhing under him, whimpering as he played with you? As he teased you? Man, you were both so screwed.

“Never thought dirty talking with me would turn you on so much…” You giggled.

Peter secured the handset between his cheek and shoulder. With both hands free, he raised his palm to his lips. He drew a long stripe with his tongue, bringing his damp hand to his cock. The slick lubrication pulled a gentle moan from his throat.

“M-Maybe a little bit. Ебать (Fuck), maybe a lot.” Peter groaned, labored in his breathing, “Can you - Ебать (fuck) - you wanna do somethin’ for me? Just a little favor between friends? S’all I’m askin’, baby.”

“Anything you want, Peter.” You mewled.

“Can you- mmmmohgod -” Peter choked up. He almost chickened out, but pushed himself to ask, “Can you touch yourself for me? Please? Пожалуйста, моя маленькая принцесса (Please, my little princess)...” His foreign whispers weaved pretty whimpers from your lips.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that, if you want me to. But you have to do the same for me too. It’s only fair, right? Equal exchange?” You whispered, acting playful again.

Peter breathed a guilty chuckle, “Uhm…yeahhhhh…about that…”

You softly gasped, “Have you been-”

“Playin’ with my dick this whole time? Maybe.” Peter admitted. His thumb caught another pearl of pre, spreading the slickness over his sensitive head, “But I’m not, like, totally jerkin’ it yet…” He lied, pressing you to encourage him.

“Oh, you’re not, huh? What are you doing then?” You asked, “Are you being a bad boy, Pietro?” The abrupt drop of his given name shocked him into silence.

Peter felt his groin tighten, and an exhilarating rush electrified his nerves. For the thousandth time, you giggled. And for the thousandth time, Peter’s heart leapt. Dumbfounded, he gathered his composure and played along again.

“Y-Yeah. So bad. You gotta help me, babe. I’m just-...I’m so hard. Don’t think I can stop myself if you keep talkin’ like that.”

Through the receiver, Peter’s ears caught wind of a needy mewl. He gripped his cock hard, guiding his fist in firmer strokes. His legs quivered, and the heels of his Star Wars socks slid across the couch.

“Does it feel good when you touch your pretty cock like that, sweetheart?” You cooed.

Peter almost went straight into cardiac arrest. He jolted in place, feeling his cock stiffen in his grasp.

“Святой трах (Holy fuck)..." Peter suffocated on his own groans. For an instant, his words failed him, “Uhmmm…hah…wow-uh…Ебать (fuck). Feels good, yeah. Don’t think it’s enough. I need-...uhm…I want-uh…”

“Yeah? What do you want, baby. It’s okay.” You spoke so sugary sweet again.

“I-...Я просто хочу увидеть тебя (I just want to see you)...” Peter’s veins tingled under his touch, as he tugged his dick with more urgency, “Shit! I-...how come I never knew you could be like this-” And to Peter’s ultimate humiliation, he whimpered your name. Along with another whiny, “ Ебать (Fuck). ”

“Like what?” Your coy voice teased him over the line.

“I dunno…so-uh…so damn nasty.” He joked, and even through the phone; he knew he had you flustered again.

“I guess we all have our secrets, hmm? Tell me more, Pietro. When you touch yourself like that. With those big, strong hands…how’s it feel?” You asked, driving him to keep going.

Peter snorted a laugh, “Strong hands? What??” His endearing playfulness took a backseat, as he grunted into the receiver, “God…feels like my strong hand’s not enough. Мне реально тебе нужно прямо сейчас. Нужна так сильно (I really need you right now. I need you so much).” His voice fell to a whisper. Pumping his slick, crimson cock through his fist, he breathlessly pleaded, “Talk to me, baby. Please. Tell me-ohhh…tell me what you’re doin’ over there.”

You squealed a sultry giggle, further igniting Peter’s pleasured frenzy. He squirmed in his spot on the sofa, forcing himself to stay put. Battling the forces of the universe, it was all Peter could do not to race to your room. Just to spread your legs and hump you like a speedy bunny.

“Mmmm…I’m just doing what you asked me to…I’m being so good for you right now.” You whimpered.

“Oh. Okay…uhm…far out. Uh…wanna gimme the steamy details?” He heckled again, fumbling his words in his nervousness, “Please, don’t hold off on me, baby.”

“I’m…” Your precious voice wavered, teeming with awkwardness as your confidence dwindled, “I’m playing with my little pussy. Just for you. And I’m so wet. I can’t stop thinking about your hands…so big…”

“Боже мой (my god).” Peter muttered. Combating impatience brought upon by his genes, he willed himself to take things slow. His strokes became steady and teasing, as he edged his aching cock, “Holy shit, babe. Yeah? Keep goin’...”

You moaned soft squeals into the receiver, “I want you so bad, Quickie. Please, baby, don’t make me beg. Can you touch this little pussy for me? Please? Your fingers are so big. I don’t think they’d fit all at once. It’s been a while, and I’m so tight.” Your naughty voice pleaded.

“God, I wanna touch you so bad. Я хочу прикоснуться к этой сладкой киске (I want to touch that sweet pussy).” Peter’s impatience got the better of him, and he quickly gave in. He grasped his cock hard, wringing himself fast enough to make his balls bounce. Creasing his brows, he groaned, “Ohhh..What’re you tryna to do to me, babe? Talkin’ about how tight you are…Ебать…”

“But I ammmm.” You whined again, “I’m squeezing my tiny fingers so tight. It’s so soft and hot for you. Bet it’d feel really good if you stretched me. With your fingers, with your cock - fuck, Pietro. I just need you, baby.”

“Please, baby, oh, please? Wanna be inside you. Wanna feel you. I promise I won’t go too fast. Я обещаю (I promise).” Peter whimpered. But as you mewled again, another forceful wave of carnal heat crashed over Peter. In a quieter tone, he choked, “Нет, я могу. Я пойду так быстро (No, I can. I’ll go so fast).”

“Pietro, you can go as fast as you want, baby. I won’t stop you.” You pleaded, your broken voice so kittenish and wanton, “F-Fuck. I’m rubbing my clit. So sensitive. Thinking about you. Thinking about your mouth on me.”

“Ебать!!” Peter moaned through clenched teeth. His self control rapidly abandoned him. Speedily rutting his sore cock through the squeeze of his fist, his body refused to slow down, “Говоря о скорости (Speaking of speed)...” Peter craned his neck back, raising a hand to keep the handset to his ear, “You gotta stop makin’ all those cute noises, baby. Please…I can’t-”

As surges of horny pleasure circulated through his body, Peter thought of you again. He imagined you on your bed, caged under him between his arms. In his daydreams, he kissed you intimately, touching your pretty, naked body. Peter wanted to feel how wet you were for himself. And hell, the danger of pushing your friendship past its limits made you more tempting. Such a lewd, risky thought pushed him closer to the edge of something righteous.

“Baby, I wanna see you. Can I? Can I see you stroke that thick cock? Would you let me? Ohh, fuck, Pietro.” You whimpered. And your noises were so shamelessly lecherous, you could’ve made a pornstar blush, “Can I kiss it, please? Can I kiss your big cock?” You whimpered.

“О боже мой, пожалуйста (Oh my god, please)!” Peter choked, every word hitching in his throat, “Baby…babe, you can’t do this. Ya really can’t be-” He laughed lazily, his dark eyes falling half lidded. His cock throbbed, bright red and turning purple at the tip. He rutted in a speedy blur, “Stop. Stop. Stop. I’m gonna…babe, I’m gonna bust-” He slurred.

You squealed his name as loudly as your hushed voice would allow. And Peter swore he could hear the slick sound of your fingers. As they played with your pretty, little cunt.

“I’m gonna cum, baby. Please cum with me. Please? Pietro, OH~!”

“я кончаю, я кончаю (I’m cumming, I’m cumming)! ‘M Gonna-” Peter’s moans seeped through the receiver, his wet lips parting and mouth hanging open.

His swollen cock erupted in white-hot jets, coating his pecs and belly. With all his muscles tensed, Peter’s legs trembled. He rode out those lusty waves in tandem with you. The pleasure of orgasm sounded leagues more intense on your side. You took longer to cruise through it, whimpering and moaning Peter’s name. As you did, Peter basked in his momentary afterglow. Keeping the phone pressed to his ear, his head resting on the arm of the sofa; he listened to you with a smirk on his lips. At the end of your journey in ecstasy, your moans turned into flustered giggles.

Peter's thoughts reeled him in again. Imagining you, looking so sheepish and fine in his jacket. Now, he desperately wanted the real deal. To see you in all your post-nut glory. Mere seconds later, his sore cock pulsed to life again. As his hardness squirmed on his belly, Peter breathed another sigh.

On his end, you heard nothing but silence. You kept calling his name, your tired voice infused with anxiety.

“Uhm…Peter? Hey…are you there?” You asked.

Being the relative of John brought a heavy amount of shame from the public. Your cousin was a murderer. But the lull of the Hotel Cortez that you visited with his daughter truly hypnotized your desire to stay. You knew the ghosts. Liz, Elizabeth, Sally and the ones who were more malevolent. Your laced sleeves and skirt were fancy compared to your mundane job as a singer but the Hotel drove you to look your best.

But there was another reason you were here. Every time you arrived and drifted to the room where John laid with his family; a note and a small gift was left on his table. With your name on it. And it was always signed. JPM. James Patrick March. The murderer who still roamed the walls but never showed himself to you.

The notes were similar.

“For you. A sweet little gift for a sweet little girl. Yours, JPM.”

“Little mouse, here’s a necklace that reminds you of who’s heart belongs to you…JPM.”

The gifts you collected were necklaces, bracelets and occasionally silver trinkets that were molded animals. An elephant, wolf and then a crown. You kept them safe in your bedroom at home. You sighed to yourself when you once again saw another note.

You wanted to see him. So badly and you didn’t understand why he never made himself known to you. You’d seen portraits and heard descriptions from other people but you wanted to look into his cold dark gaze yourself. He was a mystery ghost.

You were a singer, a good one at that after years of practice and the sheet music he provided among his gifts. Sometimes you just spoke aloud to him. About your troubles. Your family and lack thereof as you sat down.

You opened the elegant envelope and the paper crinkled underneath your fingertips as you read the cursive lettering.

“My sweet little mouse. Looking so petulant and lonely. Give me a song, yes? I want to hear your breathless whimpers as I devour you and make you a part of this hotel…forever.”

Your entire body had chills. Gooseflesh prickled your arms as you glanced around the room. He was still watching you and then you noticed another note that appeared on the floor. You immediately rose off the chair and picked up the material.

“Come to my room. You know exactly which one…discard your clothing. I want to see what’s mine.”

Your breathing quickened but no fear pertained to you as you scurried down the halls and then met the door of his room. It was cracked open and you allowed yourself to step inside without knocking.

James' bedroom was spacious, adorned with newspaper articles about his crimes. Such things he viewed as vile accomplishments. You hugged yourself as you breathed in the chilled air.

But you were obedient as you stepped to his large mattress and took off your clothes. Including your underwear and bra.

This was more nerve wracking than a performance in front of a growing crowd as you laid down on the soft, comfortable bed.

“Hello, my dear.” You jolted to your elbows when you heard a voice, one that was admonished with depth, richness and a dash of danger. “You look absolutely devilish laying there for me.”

His jet black hair was slicked back and his white dress shirt and pants were pressed perfectly. His thin mustache was curled with his soft smirk as his dark eyes swept over your naked body. While his voice was calm, you didn’t mistake the apparent growing erection in his pants.

Your rose lipstick was nothing in comparison to the heat in your face. James circled with predatory determination as he traced the sheets with a ringed finger. Almost touching you but a hair away from your skin. “Oh, how I’ve longed for this moment, my little mouse. Frankly, I couldn’t speak through notes anymore. Do you know what I want from you?”

You shook your head, eyes wide with anticipation as he started to kneel. His long fingers gripped your thighs as he pulled you forward, your cunt glistening in front of his face. “I want to taste you. I want to enjoy what’s been waiting for me…”

His tongue laid flat against your clit as he then focused on kitten licking the underside before he delved inside; before starting all over again repeating the motion. Your fingers clawed at his hair, messily feeling the cast of gel that kept it in place. He moaned against your pussy, clearly enjoying the sensitivity as you bucked and rolled your hips against his sharp face. Your slick coating his entire mouth as he sucked the center.

“James-I-I can’t stop it-“ His only response was to dig his fingers deeper into your flesh as you rode his face.

Your stomach's tension released the overwhelming pressure and white hot pleasure burst through you. You breathed heavily as you calmed from your high that left you twitching with your eyes squeezing shut as he continued before slowly stopping and pulling back.

“Don’t worry, dearest. That was only the first of the letters I didn’t send. We’re just getting started, darling.” James undid his pants and boxers, letting his heavy cock with a red tip move towards you as he flipped you on your stomach.

Your hands were holding your weight as he slipped inside easily, thrusting his hips so hard you had to prevent yourself from falling. His hand wrapped around your neck as his dick reached the spot that caused you to curl, your hair was messy, causing sweat to grow around your head. James' breathing was quick and sharp. He wasn’t making much noise so you grinded against his movements.

“You. Belong. To. Me.” James growled as his grip tightened and you couldn’t breathe enough to respond.

His release coated your cunt and your thighs as he let out a heavy cry and you followed. James cum aided in him slipping out and let him insert three fingers, plugging you up. “No, this doesn’t get to go anywhere but your sweet cunt.”

You shuddered at his filthy words and your gaze cast to the forgotten letter on the floor as you settled on your back. James pulled up his boxers and laid beside you. You didn’t take him as an affectionate man, but his hand found your arm and he traced and leaned in.

His lips were tender as he kissed you and you were almost in shock as you understood you were kissing and fucked a ghost you’d transpired with for years. And it was better than any sort of fantasy that kept your hand busy during lonely nights.

“I never want to leave you, James. I want to stay with you forever.”

James cast you a glance. “Forever, my dear? Once you decide your fate, you can never go back.”

But your resolve was there. “I mean what I say.”

James smiled at you and stroked your cheek as he grabbed a pillow. “Close your eyes, dearest. It’ll be over soon. And we shall spend an eternity together.”

The disco ball twirled above, casting little squares of light over all the skaters like pieces of confetti. You grooved to the music while carefully maintaining your balance. The rink was buzzing with celebration; at least three birthdays amongst other parties were being held there.To you, it was merely another Saturday night. Skating had become more or less a therapeutic activity for you; it was a way to unwind after the day. The stresses floated away behind you as you circled the rink. Thankfully, it was also aerobic in nature, so you were getting your daily exercise in as you decompressed. Not to mention, it was funner than hell.

So, this wasn’t Peter’s usual hangout. But, the rink had a Centipede and a Dig Dug machine, so why not? The light from the machines blinked, reflecting off his eyes. New highscores were easily beaten when the bar was set so low. Come on! Did they even try!? 

To his right, he heard a cacophony of giggles and chattering as a cluster of young girls sped his way, their hands full of drinks. To avoid a collision, Peter was forced to turn around, making way for the girls as they passed. And as he did, two flashes of silver caught his eye. 

Those same two flashes of silver zipped around the rink, catching the neon lights from above. Peter’s dark eyes followed them as they circled and eventually, trailed up the shapely legs that they were attached to. You had a bangin’ body, that much was evident. He watched you as you skated around and around, your legs weaving in and out of each other with skill. You weren’t hugging the perimeter, scared like some of the other girls. You were confident, and in your own, bodacious skating world.

Nah, he thought. No way. But… What if fate is totally intervening, dude? What are the chances that I clock a girl with silver roller skates if it wasn’t meant to be? C’mon… 

As his thoughts raced, you veered off from the throngs of skaters, heading towards the wall near the tables. Chalking it up to destiny, Peter couldn’t argue with himself any further. It was now or never. The moment to strike, the moment to make his move…was right now. 

Your skates hit the wall with a thunk-thunk. Your drink was right where you left it, and still cold enough to sweat. As you sipped, you spotted a guy on a mission, making his way in your direction, maneuvering through people as they passed him. Silver hair? Silver… everything, really. Interesting coincidence. You turned around, unsure, but nobody else was seemingly aware of him. So, you weren’t mistaken, he was headed straight for you. 

Once he got to you, he said two words. Two words.

“Bitchin’ skates.” 

That same dorky smile that he wore as he made his way over to you was still plastered on his face as he stood in front of you now. The same one that, contrary to his probable assumption, you weren’t turned off by. Quite the opposite; you thought it was adorable, endearing even. 

“Uhh…” You brought the plastic straw to your lips, buying yourself time. You sucked in a mouthful of soda, raising your eyebrows at him and he raised his back, grinning inwardly. Something about you had clearly caught his attention; he wasn’t leaving. Unfortunately for him, you were ten kinds of anxious and fourteen kinds of nervous when it came to talking to guys. You leaned over the wall, looking at his feet; a pair of silver shoes. You gulped down more soda, and pulled the straw from your lips.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, babe. Just cause I’m not skatin’ doesn’t mean I’m uncool.” 

You sniggered, rocking back and forth on your skates. You set the soda down on the same table you retrieved it from and gave him your undivided attention. Even though you hadn’t really thanked him for the compliment, it didn’t matter, he wasn’t deterred. “So uh…” He leaned in, angling his face towards yours. Your gaze flitted to his lips for a nano-second, before you darted back up to his eyes. “My name’s Peter.” 

He’d clearly expected you to tell him your name, but you remained silent, clamming up at the very heavy flirtation that he was laying on you. Had you really just forgotten your own name? Clearing his throat, Peter inched closer still, now practically leaning over the wall that separated the rink from the dining area. 

“You come here often, nameless cutie?” Okay… that was cheesy. Too fast for you to notice, he rolled his eyes, silently chastising himself. Much to his delight though, you didn’t skate off, laughing hysterically, shucking him off like some idiot on the school yard. You stuck around and gave him a cutesy, coy little nod that went straight between his legs. 

“Yeah… I do. Every Saturday night. Um… My name’s Y/N.” 

“Guess I need to start comin’ around on Saturday nights…” 

“Why’s that?” You questioned, pumping the straw in and out of the lid, the plastic creaking with the action. You knew the answer. You were willingly lining him up for a compliment that you’d let land real nicely. “Hm?” 

“Well…” He shifted his weight, leaning his elbow on the railing. “Clearly all the babes come through on Saturday nights. Case in point.” He gestured to you with a nod of his head. 

“Thanks,” you muttered to the floor. Some people scooted around you, bracing themselves on the wall. New skater, obviously. Peter paid them no attention; his gaze was iron-locked on you. 

“For the compliment on your skates or that absolutely bogus pick-up line I just tried?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a blush crawling up your neck. “Both… actually. Silver has always been my favourite colour.”

Now Peter was the one blushing. “Was that a… compliment? Or uh…” 

“Could be.” 

“Could be?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What do I gotta’ do to make it one?” 

You considered this. Really, he didn’t have to do anything more than what he’d already done. He was silvery and ultra-cute, and the way his lips curved up into a smile every time he looked at you had your knees turning to Jell-o. Plus, he was wearing a RUSH shirt. RUSH was cool. 

“Skate with me.” 

Say less, he thought. Before you had a chance to process it, Peter raced over to the rental counter, coming to a halt just before the swinging door. The girl behind it was too involved in a fashion magazine to attend to him - and if he was polite enough to wait, the speed at which she was gonna’ move would’ve been excruciating. Peter snatched a pair of skates in his size, tucked his shoes in one of the empty cubby holes and took off back towards you. You had just barely finished blinking by the time he was sitting at your table, arms folded on the railing.

When you opened your eyes, he was sitting instead of standing. You furrowed your brows and peeked over the wall. He was laced up, ready to go.

“How did you…” 

You knew. Even though he hadn’t disclosed it and you hadn’t really seen him move, you knew. You’d heard about mutants, but the thought never captivated you enough to look too deeply into it. To you, they were just regular people – well, not regular people – but people all the same. People with lives, people with feelings. 

But this guy… this guy was really cool.

“Well, come o–” 

Again, before you’d even finished blinking, he was in front of you, cheesing. “You were saying?”

You weren’t sure how else to acknowledge his power, so you’d do it honestly. You nodded once and said: “Bitchin’.” 

“Bitchin’,” he affirmed. “Bitchin’.” 

You dipped forward, reaching for his fingers. His large hand was warm and inviting, and immediately enveloped yours. For a moment, the two of you didn’t move. The second he laced his fingers in between yours, your arm went numb, buzzing with electricity. You weren’t sure whether or not that was a part of his mutantness, or just… your own body responding to this very cute guy touching you. Probably the latter, but you weren’t about to sever the connection to discuss it. 

Peter looked flushed, but masked it with a charming smile and a quirked silver eyebrow.

“Oh, we’re holdin’ hands now?” 

“Well, yeah,” you started, dismissing it as though it was the most normal thing in the world. You beamed, flashing him a smile before pulling him into the flow of skaters. It was hard to imagine that you, with your utterly awkward sense of self, had suddenly taken the lead and were now in control of the situation. “You know how to skate?” 

“Uh… sorta.”

“Well, here.” You spun around, now skating backwards. You held out your free hand, wiggling your fingers towards his. Peter did a double-take – was he really going to be holding both your hands? No questions asked? His already-fast heart thudded in his chest. This was too easy. Fate, man. It’s fate. 

“Come on, don’t be shy. You had enough confidence to come up to me earlier… don’t back out now.” 

“Wha-?! I’m so not!” He looked offended. You couldn’t help but laugh at that, and grabbed his hand at the wrist, pulling him closer to your body. You then noticed that his knees were locked in true beginner form. He looked stiff and slightly unsure. 

“Relax, baby…” You cooed, coaxing him through the motions. “Just move with the groove…”

Slowly, Peter’s dilated eyes crawled up from his skates to yours, and up your divine lookin’ legs. They made their way up your torso before finally coming to a stop on your face. Inside, his heart was hammering against his ribs. Had you just called him baby? Baby? Hoh’ boy… 

Peter composed himself from the impromptu melting you’d caused, he straightened up, relaxing his knees to push into the skates. As the two of you had abruptly picked up speed, you glanced behind you to make sure you weren’t going to run into anyone. Thankfully, he seemed to be navigating pretty masterfully. Peter had his bearings. In fact, thanks to his quick reflexes, he’d gotten his bearings approximately seventeen seconds ago, but you didn’t need to know that. That might’ve prevented the absolutely stellar physical contact he was experiencing now. 

“Yeaaaaaahaaah, Peter! Just like that.” You cheered him on, happy to see that he was loosening up and moving in a much more natural way. For Peter, your smooth voice was doing wonders… but in the wrong way. Or the right way. No. Right way for the wrong situation. Okay, so what? Your syrupy, praising voice was going straight to his crotch. 

“Hey, can we uh… Can we go faster?” He asked. You nodded, preparing yourself to take the lead, but before you could make the necessary changes in speed, Peter spun you around, snaking his arms around you from behind, hands resting gingerly on your abdomen, just above your hips. It was a risky move, he knew it, but it just felt so right to do… and after a few seconds, waiting on bated breath, no protests fell from your lips.You weren’t about to shoo him off, not with the way his grip was sending shivers up and down your spine.  

“Ready?”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure what you were agreeing to. He continued moving his feet, skating them back and forth. With a quick motion that pressed his chest into your back, Peter took off, narrowly avoiding some dude in neon dolphin shorts. He pushed you, navigating both your bodies around the rink at record breaking speeds, speeds so fast that nobody else even registered you two moving. Around you, people were still moving, but slowly. So slowly. You were nothing but fluffs of air as you passed them. It was terrifying; you’d never moved that fast on roller skates in your life. 

After a few laps, you gripped his veiny forearms pressing them tight against your hips. “Okay! Okay!” 

Peter tipped his toes, letting the stops drag against the polished linoleum floors. You two slowed down abruptly until you were back in sync with the rest of the rink’s patrons. Your hair was wind-blown, tousled locks fluttering back into place. 

“You okay?”

“Oh my god,” you breathed. “That was…” 

“Wicked?” 

“Y-yeah.” You swallowed, wetting your throat. You had some other choice words, but you weren’t about to crush his spirit. His toned chest was rising and falling into your back, and for a second, you leaned your head backwards onto his shoulder. You caught yourself in that embarrassing moment of weakness and jerked your head forward again. “S-sor–”

As quickly as you two had stopped, Peter pivoted you on your skates, and crushed his lips against yours, pressing into them tightly. His lips were warm and melted into yours, but the shock of the kiss had you frozen. After a few painstaking seconds, he pulled away, a look of terror plastered on his face. His eyes searched yours, desperately. 

“Shoot… Did I totally misread that?” 

You licked the remnants of him off your lips, humming in satisfaction. “No… no you didn’t.” 

Peter bounced on his heels, nodded, and glanced at your lips again, wanting so desperately to be back against them, but he’d play it cool, and wait for you to make the next move. 

“Peter, I um… think you’re really cute. But next time… can you give me a warning when we’re gonna’ go hyperspeed?” 

“Next time?” He chuckled low, rubbing the back of his neck. He liked the implications that there’d be a next time. “Y-yeah, sure, babe.”

Silence fell between you two, and while neither of you spoke, a lot was being said. The way he gazed into your eyes, the way that you gazed back… that was the thing about chemistry. It found its way in, no matter how quiet you were. Your heart fluttered in your chest, your stomach muscles tightening instinctively as you looked at him. Peter’s strong hand flexed on yours, gripping your fingers and yanking them towards him. The stops on your skates bumped into his, knocking him backwards slightly. 

“Peter...” you started, nervously chewing on the inside of your cheek. 

“Yeah?” Bless him. The eager, almost desperate look in his dark brown eyes told you he was ready for whatever you were gonna’ throw his way. Preferably, another heated kiss. 

You wanted to, desperately, but swallowed that fiery urge, suddenly hyper-aware of the people zipping around you. At  present, no one was tossing insults your way, but if you two lingered on the rink any longer without skating, you suspected they would. Nervously, you chewed your lip. “We should probably um - get off the rink...”

He agreed with an excited but wordless nod, and towed you in the direction of the opening. Adjusting to the feeling of carpet beneath your feet, you moved behind him, thankful for his hand.

As you passed the video games, both of you stopped in front of one of the party rooms. This one, unlike the others, was off to the side, and dark. Inside, there was nothing but a table with some chairs, and a few leftover party decorations pinned to the walls. Both you and Peter stared at the empty room.

“Are you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” 

“I dunno. Just what exactly are you thinkin, Peter?” 

He smirked.

By the time you’d exhaled, Peter had twisted the handle, tugged you inside, and pressed your back gently against the door, shutting it. He hovered over you, face inches from yours, looking down at you with a wanton, heated gaze. With one hand flattened against the wall by your head, Peter flexed the muscles in his forearm, showing off just slightly. 

“Hey,” you said, gazing up into his dark, inky pools. 

“Hey back.”

You wasted no time in kissing him. This time though, you went at him with parted lips, exhaling over his lips. Peter moaned softly into your mouth, overcome by your scent and taste. Everything about you was unreal; from the way that you tilted your head to get close to him to the way that your fingers clawed at the front of his jeans, desperately hooking into his belt loops to pull him closer to your own hips. Coming up to you was the best decision he’d made in weeks. Maybe months. Maybe even friggin’ years. 

Peter’s tongue swirled around yours, pausing to pepper softer kisses on your plush lips every few seconds. “Mmmm-hm…” Another eager kiss. “Babe, you’re totally…”

“What, bitchin’?” You finished for him, teasing.That had been the word of the night, seemingly. 

In response, Peter kissed you again, pulling you in at the waist. He rutted his hips against you desperately, grinding his half-hard cock into your groin, hungrily seeking out friction. At the whisper of his powerful thrust, you paused, flattening both hands on his chest. 

“Wait, lemme take off my skates,” you started. “I don’t want to fall…”

“If you do, I’ll catch ya’. Promise.” 

The confident lilt in his voice was enough to make you trust him, or maybe it was the way that he completely wiped your stream of consciousness by brushing the bridge of his nose against the nape of your neck, peppering tiny kisses along the feverish flesh. 

Peter bucked his hips against you again, forcing himself against your fingertips, pressing them into the denim. You took his enthusiastic dry humping as a green light, and unbuttoned his pants. You followed with the zipper, and you heard Peter mutter something under his breath. Whatever it was, it sounded massively excited. 

“What was that?” You asked, coyly.

You wrestled with his jeans, fingers exploring deeper, slipping through a bush of silver and  ventured further down, stopping only to take hold of his cock at the base. It was hot to the touch, and now, rock hard. Really…. You thought, smirking to yourself. His interest in you wasn’t superficial, this dude really wanted you. You gripped a little harder, watching intently as the muscles in his jaw feathered and clenched. 

“I said uh, um… it was… Hoh’, babe…” You started stroking and Peter’s head lolled back between his shoulders, a broken moan hitching in his throat. “Hoh’ my god…” 

You kept stroking him, your thumb massaging the veiny underside of his swollen cock. Every pass of your fingers brought another breathy whimper from deep within his throat, and your core tightened further. He was putty in your hands, desperate, whining and begging for more. 

“Just like that, babe…” He bucked his hips rhythmically and brought his other hand to the door, bracing himself. 

“Want me to go faster?” 

He looked at you, quirking a brow as if to say, “Really?”

So you did. It took all of three seconds for Peter to start quivering above you, almost vibrating. Peter dropped one hand, his thick fingers dragging across the ruched elastic of your shorts, pads fluidly slipping over the satin fabric. 

“Can I…” He paused, clearing his throat. “Can I touch her?” 

You loved that he called her her. Cute. You exhaled a moan through your nose and bit down on the corner of your lip. Meeting his gaze again, you nodded excitedly. Peter’s hand pressed against your stomach and dove downwards, slipping over the front of your shorts. At first, he stroked her from the outside, feeling the warmth that radiated from between your folds. But he moved fast, in all ways, and soon, he craved a different sensation. Quickly finding the waistband of your shorts again, he dipped inside to find the hem of your underwear, pausing only to run his finger along it, before slipping past it.

“Ohhhh…” He groaned, feeling the blistering heat of your cunt, and the beginnings of the pre-cum that had made its way up to your folds. “Oh, okay. Silver really is your favourite color.” 

You laughed into his neck, walking your feet out slightly to spread your cunt for him. His fingers grazed your clit, circling it delicately a few times before he moved to your slit, manipulating the wetness that greeted him and coated his fingers. Peter inserted his middle finger, pumping it in and out carefully a few times. You moaned through closed lips, a weak attempt at muffling the sounds, should anyone hear.

“Wanna’ see something cool?” 

You, breathless and starting to sweat, nodded. 

“Fffuck, you’re so wet… uh, sorry - okay. Prepare to be wowed.” He hoped. At least, he was fairly certain that you’d never experienced what he was about to do. 

Half a second passed. Then Peter’s finger slid in and out of you so fast it almost felt mechanical, drilling into you at inhuman speeds. Your jaw dropped, pupils dilating. He wasn’t joking – but maybe selling himself short. You were a little more than wowed.

Abruptly, you pressed your ass against the door, pulling his slippery fingers from you. “St-stop, I’m gonna’ c-cum if you keep doing that.” Shocked at your honesty, you felt your face flush. 

“Oh?” He slipped another finger in, murmuring happily at the way your slick walls clenched around them. Peter brought his thumb forward so that with every pump of his fingers, the pad of his thumb bumped into your puffy, tender clit. You couldn’t help but whine then, the dual-stimulation overwhelming your senses. 

He continued, winding the coil in your tummy tighter and tighter. You moved into him just a little bit closer, plunging him in just a little bit deeper and wrapped your free arm around his broad shoulders, desperate to bring your bodies tighter together. Although his hand enveloped your pussy, you could feel the repeated grind of your own hand as you jacked him off. 

Peter continued, mercilessly, delighted that he had you coming undone in front of him. Sweat streamed down your neck, winding its way down into your cleavage – which, by the way, he was absolutely devastated he couldn’t see. His gaze was locked on your tits then, watching as they rose and fell with each laboured breath you took. Suddenly, your hand went slack around his dick. You focused on nothing in particular as white hot flashes darted across your vision. Peter groaned into your neck as you came around his fingers, warm, wet… 

Your knees buckled, the wheels of your skates rolling forward. Just as he promised, Peter caught you strongly with his free arm, and pinned you against the door with a soft thud. You gasped, gripping him hard, pleasuring him with a new found fervour. You stroked his cock with long, deliberate strokes, paying special attention to his reddened head. Pre-cum, lots of it, leaked from the slit, and you eagerly spread it until his whole cock was slippery. Peter squirmed against your body, his fingers still slipping in and out of you at high-speed. 

“I’m gonna’... I’m gonna’....” 

“Oh, so you cum fast too?” 

Your teasing was all it took for Peter to lose it. Every muscle in his body clenched, his eyes rolled back as his dick spurted sticky, white ropes over your hand and into the fibres of his jeans. You loosened your grip, letting the natural throb of his cock bump into your stomach, leaking against your skin.  

Knock. Knock. 

In a nanosecond, Peter had both of your appearances returned to normal as though a mutual jerk-off session hadn’t just happened. But ohhhhhh, it had. It definitely had. Even though the boner had totally faded, his cock still felt like it was throbbing. He laced his fingers with yours, and threw open the door, pretending to search for the light switch.

“Hey, this room is off-limits…” The girl said, looking slightly annoyed. Peter recognized her; the same one from the rental booth. Guess she finally had to make her rounds. 

“We were just – “ you stammered, trying to find a feasible excuse. 

“Checking out the room for a party.” Peter interjected. “Is food provided?” 

The girl seemed taken aback by such a simple question. “Uh… y-yeah. We do pizza or hot dogs.” 

“Sick, thanks.” 

With that, Peter yanked you from the room, skating back towards the arcade machines. You looked out towards the rink; it had slowed down substantially, and likely, would close soon. Time had flown while you were in there with him. 

Once you two had stopped, you turned to him, running a single finger down the front of his shirt. It was still damp and warm with his sweat. A small smile curled its way onto your pink lips. 

“You got a pen?” 

Thwip. Thwip. He was back, fingers wrapped around a blue pen, which he held out to you proudly. With a satisfied smile, you took his hand, flipped it over, and wrote your number on the inside of his palm, near the meat of his thumb.

“Call me?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Not maybe. He was for sure gonna’ call you. He’d call you the second he got home – well, no. Maybe not because he’d get home way before you. But. He shook his head slightly, dislodging the distraction.

If Peter had his way, he’d bust his next nut inside of you.

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @garykingz / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @demxnicprxncess / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @babygorewhore / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randominstake / @throwinginmythai / @slvt4jamesmarch / @poltoreveur / @feefymo / @evpeters87 / @lacucarachapisser

Warm sun filtered in through the canvas, warming your exposed limbs. Lids peeling apart, your first visual was red and white stripes, and the second visual was your own body. You’d woken up in nothing but a satin robe that didn’t belong to you. Still muzzy from sleep and whatever else you’d done, you stumbled around to find your dress and thankfully, it had been thoughtfully draped over a nearby bench. You replaced it with the robe, and made your way outside, pushing the flaps of the tent aside.

You weren’t sure how it started, or what was said specifically to cause your lapse in morals. Normally, you’d never do something like that. Honest. In fact, you were always such a good girl that if you ran home and told your friends what you thought you’d done, none of them would believe you. Not you, they’d titter. You can’t even tell a fella that you think he’s cute!

Last night, once the crowds had cleared the field, leaving nothing but crumpled tickets and popcorn bags, you remember wandering into the main tent. They were all there, the freaks. You remembered the way they’d looked at you, all of them smiling dangerously at you as you stood in your pretty mint-green sundress. For whatever reason, you’d been persuaded to take one, maybe two, maybe three, hits of whatever the nice German lady had offered to you - and that’s where it all went wrong. Or perhaps where it all went right. You didn’t remember much else after that.

Shading your eyes from the sun, you peered out into the fairgrounds. They were empty, save for the smaller tents and caravans that encircled the main big-top tent. Dabbing at your forehead with the back of your hand, you trudged through the high grasses. An eerie feeling settled over your shoulders, sending a chill down your spine despite the heat.

What had happened last night? You racked your brain. Tent full of people… German lady… that guy. The handsome guy with the … oh. Jimmy. His name was Jimmy.  

As you rounded the corner, recalling the most you had since you’d stumbled out into the morning, coincidentally, he was there. Across the field, The Lobster Boy bent down to hoist a heavy-looking bag over his shoulder before straightening back up. He caught your gaze with a grin and winked. The boyish charm he presented skilfully extracted a carnal reaction from your body. Suddenly, you remembered a whole lot more.

Last night…

As someone undressed you, carefully, you stared up at the massive inside of the tent. It seemed to go on forever. You had been looking at - no, gazing dreamily at the world through a sheer, white curtain, like the ones your mother hung up during the summer time; the ones that fluttered in the hot breeze and seemed to make the air that filtered through smell sweeter. Everyone was moving slower than they should have, and you leaned your head back on the curve of the chair, inhaling a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

It felt like there were a dozen hands on you, petting you, skimming the ticklish flesh of your inner thighs and the crooks of your arms. Some of them were cold, some of them were clammy, and some of them felt like they didn’t belong to humans. Everyone was murmuring and someone called you an angel. You threw your head in the direction of the sound, hoping you smiled. Another person caressed your cheek, cupping it tenderly. You hmm’ed in adoration, trying desperately to discern figures. You’d never felt so venerated in your life; everyone was obsessed with you. The star of the show. 

One figure that you could recognise, solely because of the height of them was Eve. Amazon Eve. The tallest woman you’d ever seen, and possibly the most beautiful. She, who you had immediately taken a liking to during the show, was now caressing your bare chest. The delicately explorative way that she handled your breasts, rolling your nipples in her thumb and index finger made you whimper in delight, squirming helplessly on the chair. She pressed a few delicate kisses along your jawline before pulling away to look at you, letting her hands ghost over your exposed flesh. She softly trailed her fingers along your ribs and your sides, fluttered over your hips and neared your centre before sweeping back up along your stomach. Your lids drifted shut, revelling in the sensation.

“Little pretty thing,” she said, very close to your ear. Your brows lifted high on your forehead, pathetically trying to pull your eyelids open again. Eventually, the seal broke and you looked around, focusing gradually.

She was above you with one knee on the chaise, towering like a building. A building that smelled like cherries and flowers. Behind her, blurred dots of string lights, framing her like a picture. She had a pretty face and a warm hand that stroked the side of your cheek. She leaned down, pressing her lips against yours. You melted, wrapping your arms around her soft neck to bring yourself closer, and deeper into her mouth. You’d never really thought of kissing a woman, but the warm, honeyed way that she tasted had you craning your neck to follow her as she straightened up, wanting more.

Eve leaned down, kissing you again. Her large, soft hands dipped in between your legs, and as soon as she felt the slippery warmth that met her fingertips, she looked off to someone. For a fiery moment, her middle finger encircled your clit, sending shivering waves through your body. But too quickly, the moment ended, and her hands gripped your wrists, fingers overlapping as she pulled them from her neck.

“My friend Jimmy is gonna’ take care of you now. Okay, sweetheart?” As she moved off the chair, she brought your hands down to your sides where you flattened them against the textured velvet. You babbled, protesting her leaving, but she shushed you with a single finger, assuring you that she’d be right there. You didn’t want her to – a thought that tantalized you. She was so gentle, but so commanding in her motions. 

At the sound of a belt buckle clanking, your head lolled sleepily to the side, lids heavy. Jimmy? Jiiiiiiimmmy…. you tried to remember who Jimmy was, but your mind was far too busy sounding out the name syllable by syllable, repeating it over and over again like a mantra to even conjure up any mental pictures. Thankfully, standing behind her was an attractive man with thick fingers. Long fingers. But something looked off.

You lifted your head off the chair and blinked heavily, giving him a woozy, half lidded look. His caramel locks were separated with sweat, a few stray strands hanging in front of his brow. You blinked again, clearing your vision. Open pants hung at his hips. Fused fingers wrapped around the base of a thick, red-tipped cock, hand pumping it slowly to keep it hard. Though, as soon as he saw you, naked and sprawled out on one of Elsa’s luxurious chaise lounges, with your legs falling open slightly to expose your cunt, he had little issue with that. 

C’mere, doll face.

He closed in the distance between you two, letting his erection guide him like a compass to what it wanted most. Another man and Jimmy exchanged some words that you couldn’t understand. Frustrated by the lack of attention, you reached out for him sloppily, like a sleepy child. Your hand slapped the air until it found the warm fabric of his cotton undershirt.

“F-feels…. mmmff…”

He chuckled at your avidity, glancing down at you. “Alright, baby, alright…”

You looked dreamily up at him, wanting him to fall on top of you and shower you in kisses. He had the darkest eyes you’d ever seen. The darkest eyes. Like two cups of black coffee, warm and inviting.

Jimmy’s thumb found its way into your mouth, pulling your bottom jaw down to make room for his cock. With peaked brows, you mewled dreamily, wrapping your lips around his single digit and sucking hard. His skin was salty, the sweat of the day settling in the creases of his hands.

“Ohh, god damn - you’re so eager…. Suck on this instead, huh?”

Again, he used this thumb to manipulate your jaw, tugging on it. You opened it further, your tongue lolling out hungrily. The corners of your mouth were pulled upwards; you felt so good, so light and breezy. He was so handsome and you’d do whatever he wanted you to.

You blinked, watching as his cock neared closer. You’d never given a man a blowjob before. For a brief moment, your eyes were wide, pupils dilating in concern, but as soon as the head of Jimmy’s cock was hot against your tongue and warm, salty pearls of pre-cum oozing from the tip, glistening and catching the reflections of the string lights from above, you eased into the action. Your mouth stayed open, as Jimmy was the one guiding his dick inside, knowing full well you didn’t have the strength to do it yourself.

Your lids drifted shut. For a second, he felt bad. You were real out of it, but before he had a chance to dwell on it, a wanton haze consumed him as your pretty lips closed around the blisteringly hot tip, your precious flushed cheeks caving in. Inside, your tongue caressed the slit, lapping up the pre-cum like it was ice cream. You hummed around his cock as he began pumping it in and out. You may have been out of it, but boy were you going at his cock. Your tongue flattened against the thick vein on the underside of his cock, rubbing at it.

He groaned low in his throat, caressing the underside of your jaw, all the while resisting the urge to bring his hand to the back of your head and guide his cock deeper into your mouth. He was weak with arousal. In truth, he was almost embarrassed at how badly he wanted to lose it in your pink, waiting mouth.

“Baby, baby….” Jimmy’s head lolled back on his shoulders, his lids fluttering helplessly as you sucked. You mewled again, the vibrations sending a shockwave through his cock. He bucked his hips in and out of your mouth, focusing hard on the way that your plush, soft lips popped over the head every time he pulled back.

“Take her, Jimmy,” someone said. It was a male’s voice, low and gruff, a slight accent to it.

Though you didn’t know who the voice belonged to, Jimmy hurriedly obeyed it. Whether or not he wanted to stop, the reality was that you had him wound up too tight; he was ready to bust and needed to quickly change positions before the inevitable happened. Sucking in a deep breath, he withdrew his cock from your mouth. Long, sticky strands of saliva and cum strung from your lips, dribbling onto your chin. Moving quickly, Jimmy took hold of his cock and crawled onto the chaise, on top of you, looking fixedly down at your form. You hadn’t quite recovered from the position change, and needed a little help; he let go of his cock, gently pressing his fingers into your cheek, and pulling it to face him. You blinked a few times, before smiling brightly.

“ H-hii …..” You breathed, woozy. “Hi Jimmy…” You were very proud of the fact that his name came out normal. In your current state, it felt like an arduous task. “Hi Jimmy,” you said again, delighted. You laughed girlishly, and Jimmy felt a pulsing heat in his groin. He hadn’t heard a sound as sweet as that in years.

“Hey, baby…” He smiled crookedly at you. Warm and soft like honey. “You want this?”

You knew what he was asking. Your weighted gaze dropped between your bodies. The feverish, scarlet tip of his cock was leaking beads of pre-cum onto your bare tummy, bobbing heavily up and down with each breath he took. You felt your pupils dilate again, hungrily, craving the monster in front of you. You knew what it tasted like, you now wanted to feel it ripping you in two. You gave him an excited nod. The inside of your brain felt like it was jostled around by the action, so you huffed out a steadying breath.

Excited by your consent, Jimmy wasted no time and reached down. The pads of his fingers found your slick entrance, toying with it slightly to spread the slippery, clear fluid around your cunt. He slipped one of his pincers inside, bringing a gasp from your throat. “You like that?” 

You nodded again, much slower this time and reached for his bicep. Once you found it, you gripped it tightly, readying yourself for the oncoming storm. He lined his dick up and brought his eyes back to you.

“Look at me, baby.”

You did. He grinned.

Watching you, he stuffed himself inside, swallowing dryly. His eyes danced over your face, picking up all the subtle, lustful little changes; your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, your brows peaked together in an expression of slight discomfort, your lips parted with a delicate whimper as your slick walls swallowed him whole. This pulled a throaty groan from Jimmy. It was such a display, and for a moment, he wondered if you’d ever been with a man. How obedient and pliable you were underneath him… was that pillowy soft virginity or just the drugs kickin’ in?

Thinking was hard and instinct took over again, wiping all thoughts from his mind, save for the way you felt. You were warm and tight, clenching around his shaft. He jerked his hips up into you, protruding veins massaging your walls. Your attention dropped between you two again, eyes glazed over as his thick cock disappeared inside you, bottoming out each time.

Jimmy, on the other hand, had moved to focus on the way your tits bounced with the power of his thrusts. The visual drove him crazy. Made him hungrier. Craving your taste, Jimmy’s mouth was suddenly on yours, sloppy and hurried. His greedy tongue felt around every inch of your mouth and slipped wetly along your tongue. You did your best to keep up, tasting him all the same, but he was taking the lead. You inhaled a big breath through your nose and moaned into his mouth.

There was a cacophony of pleasure around you, coming from every direction. Wet sounds and hushed moans, peppered with lewd mutterings. Somewhere in your mind, you knew what you were a part of, what you’d stumbled into. Had you been more coherent, it might’ve embarrassed you, but the deep, carnal sounds that Jimmy was making were the only ones that mattered. Suddenly, you furrowed your brows, frowning into the kiss; someone was incessantly petting your hair and grumbling excitedly behind you. You tried to wave them away, but when you lifted your hand above your head, Jimmy reached for you, pinning your hand there.

“Mmmhh…” Breathless, Jimmy pulled away to look at you again, breath rushing out from between kiss-swollen lips. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

His hands dropped to your hips, pulling you harshly onto his cock. You winced, but pressed your legs open further, hungry for the sensation. Eve came from behind Jimmy, pausing to run her hand through his caramel coloured hair, gripping it tightly briefly before letting go. Jimmy moaned above you, and before you could protest someone took hold of your hands at the wrists, holding them firmly above your head. With a little whimper, you tried to wrestle around from them, but failed. Eve’s sweet voice came from behind the chaise then, praises drifting down atop of you. Your head rolled upwards to the sound of the woman’s voice, again trying to find it. You couldn’t, and it didn’t seem like Jimmy wanted you to. His conjoined fingers were on your face again, gently pulling you back to face him.

“Eyes on me, baby… right here… that’s it. Atta’ girl.”

You blinked a few times, refocusing on his face. His tanned skin had a blush to it now, covered in sweat. He humped you furiously, his dick slipping in and out of your weeping cunt, rocking your body back and forth. You were close, there was an unmistakable tightening in your abdomen. Jimmy seemed to know this. More than knowing it, he could feel it; the way your tight little cunt quivered, clenching tighter and tighter around him. “C’mon baby, lemme’ hear that voice of yours…”

You opened your mouth, letting the whining moans free. 

“Good girl,” Eve cooed above you. “Such a good girl…” 

 As you continued meeting Jimmy’s thrusts with moans, he picked up his pace, hands snaking around the back of your body to take greedy, punishing fistfuls of your ass. His hands were so big and seemed to envelop you entirely, kneading your soft curves like dough. He came with a low grunt, gripped you hard and pulled himself into you as he climaxed. Jimmy coated your insides like the glaze on funnel cake, and you got to feeling even woozier than before. The feeling was too much, and pushed you over the slick edge. You let out a shrill cry, pulsing around him, fighting against Eve’s grip, who held you fast. There were sounds all around you as you came, excited murmurs and whispers. As your orgasm ebbed and Jimmy softened inside of you, finally, your hands were freed, and they found Jimmy’s florid, sweaty neck, pulling your forehead to his chest.

You remembered the way his chest heaved laboriously above you with each breath, shaky with expelled lust.

You blinked, your jaw hanging slack. He was still standing there, looking at you with that syrupy flirt in his eyes. You were suddenly dizzy with need. The ache between your thighs was no longer inexplicable, and your heart thudded in your chest.

“Hey!” Jimmy called across the field, one hand extended in a friendly wave. “We oughta’ do that again sometime, baby!”

[Photo ID: A ripped piece of notebook paper with the following note written in messy handwriting and doodled hearts:

"Hey babe!

I hate that I can’t be home right now. My first mission since we got married. I know it had to happen eventually, but it still sucks. I miss you so much already, and I haven’t even left yet. I know you’re going to miss me, even if you don’t want to admit to it. So, I made you a playlist to help you not miss me so much. All of these songs make me think of you, and everything we’ve been through together.

I love you- ROMANTICALLY -, in case you needed the reminder!

I promise I’ll stay as safe as I can. See you soon!

Love,

Peter"

Next to the signature is an arrow with the words "your husband" written with more doodled hearts.

What day was it again? Why were you at a party? Oh right, it was New Year’s eve and Charles had decided to host a party at the school for the mutants and others who resided there. As a way to celebrate the progress that had been made in the last year and to hope for a good year to come. 

You never really felt like you fit in with the other mutants. Sure you had a power, and if that’s what people thought deemed you a mutant, then yes, you were one. You wouldn’t even consider it a power, it was more of a curse. A turn off to just about all men who found out about it one way or the other, despite it not affecting them in any way. They just saw you as different and decided you weren’t worth the time of day. Too much work. Whatever. 

Speaking of time, that had everything to do with your power. You were able to slow down time, practically freeze something in the moment.Unlike a certain silver speedster who was able to move  at the speed of light, you were only able to freeze a moment for a certain amount of time, and it took a lot of focus. It was a dumb power, you always thought so, and you weren’t sure it would ever even be useful to the x-men, despite protests from Charles that everyone is important in their own way. Sounded like a load of bull shit.

Figures that one of your only friends was the silver haired speedster himself. Your powers were similar but yet so different, and sometimes it led to arguments between the two of you. You always managed to get over it though.

Peter Maximoff was one of the first friends you’d made when you joined. Around your age, a cocky super speedy mutant definitely caught your eye.

The two of you had been friends for a few months now and had gotten closer quicker than you imagined. Peter and you staying up late to have secret movie marathons, with him always insisting you rewatch Star Wars despite your strong dislike for rewatching movies when you could watch new ones. You did it anyway, being with Peter suddenly made those movies bearable, as if he possessed some other kind of power than his super speed. The power to make any situation a little more bearable. 

You hadn’t seen Peter yet tonight, strangely, and wondered if maybe he wouldn’t be attending. He had no reason not to but as you wracked your brain for an answer, you couldn’t come up with one. Odd. Maybe he was with his family? His mother and little sister? Perhaps he enjoyed spending time with them more. Psssh of course he did, that was his family that he loved, so why suddenly did you feel so jealous. 

Finishing the last of your lemonade you made your way back over to the drinks table to pour yourself something stronger. Maybe a little rum and coke would solve all your problems. Hell, maybe you’d even be able to chill out enough to find someone to hook up with. Lord knows you needed it. You’d been unusually uptight lately and the only thing you could think of was the fact that you hadn’t been laid in a milenia. 

It wasn’t like you to do the dirty with some person who you didn’t even know, but if the night led up to that, you’d have no qualms as long as said person knew where the clit was and how to make you feel good. Was that too much to ask for? 

You were knocked out of your thoughts when a harsh breeze whipped by you, followed by the slight color of silver.

Peter… So he was here. 

A few seconds later and your cup was snatched from your hands and in the hands of someone else who sipped from it. When he put the cup down you saw his familiar deep brown eyes and silver hair. You would be annoyed at the fact that he’d stolen your drink if it wasn’t for the fact that you were actually quite happy he’d finally showed up. 

For being a speedster, he sure was late to a lot of things. Odd, wasn’t it?

“Miss me?” He asked, snatching a cookie from the table and biting into it, a few crumbs cascading down onto his Pink Floyd shirt. He obviously didn’t care as he took another bite and the same thing happened. His silver eyebrows were raised, waiting on an answer from you.

What had he asked again? Oh right, if you missed him…

“I thought you weren’t coming,” You said, avoiding his question. Had you missed him? You weren’t really sure the answer to his question.  It was something you’d have to ponder on for a while.

“Where else would I be on New Year’s Eve?” He asked, finishing off his cookie and scanning the table no doubt for what he’d eat next.

“I don’t know, maybe your mom’s place?” You shrugged. To be honest you didn’t know, you were just guessing. 

“Nope, her and my lil’ sis are at a friend's house celebrating I think. I wasn’t invited. No one wants a freak at their new years party, right?” He chuckled, but you knew inside he didn’t find it very funny.

“Maybe they didn’t want you stealing anything-” You teased, trying to lighten the mood, and it seemed to work. Peter laughed once more, real this time as he shook his head.

“Yeah that’s probably it, never thought of that. Yer a genious” He said, and you noticed another cookie in his hand, already half eaten. 

You took this chance to get a good look at the man in front of you. The silver haired mutant of which you harbored a very secret obsession. How could you not? Anyone who didn’t was either lying or blind. He was perfect in so many ways. From the way his silver hair sometimes fell into his face, to the way his brown eyes sparkled whenever he saw you. 

As much as you’d love for something to happen between the two of you, the risk was just too high. You couldn’t in good intention do anything and risk your friendship with the speedster. It was too risky.

Still, sometimes the way he looked at you had you wondering how he felt. Where his feelings lay. Was there something more or were you reading too far into it all? Probably the latter…

You glanced at the clock ticking on the wall. Thirty minutes till midnight. Thirty minutes till the new year. It felt so close but seemed to be an eternity away. You wondered what this new year would bring you. What you’d accomplish within the x-men. Maybe you’d find a more useful way to use your powers. One could only hope. 

While you were zoned out on the clock Peter had stuffed multiple things into his mouth and now when you turned back to him you saw the corners of his lips were covered in white cream. Jesus…

You raised a brow, shaking your head as you brought your thumb up to wipe the corners of his mouth before wiping said thumb on the sleeve of his silver jacket, much to his dismay.

Peter let out a quiet chuckle and the rest of the world seemed to fade into the background. It felt as if the rest of the world had slowed around the two of you but you knew for certain you weren’t using your powers right now. It was just the effect Peter had on you. Damn it was strong. 

Peter met your eyes before looking away and if you weren’t so distracted by the way his hair fell in perfect waves over his forehead, you’d have seen the way his cheeks darkened and the way he shoved his hands into his jean pockets, clearing his throat.

The odd wave of feeling faded between the two of you and it went back to normal. You chatted and laughed over drinks until the both of you were tipsy, you much more so than Peter considering his metabolism, and by then it was only two minutes until midnight.

The rest of the party had party poppers and noise makers in their hands, read for the clock to turn to 12:00, but you and Peter were still talking to each other, too caught up in conversation to get with the flow of things.

“You know, I’ve never had a New Year's kiss.” Peter blurted out, setting his solo cup down to look at you. His expression was soft and you could see the way his body was burning through the alcohol he’d drank as if it was nothing.

What an odd thing to tell your friend two minutes before midnight. I mean, he wasn’t insinuating anything, surely? He was known to over share many things, including the women he’d had sex with, which keep in mind had not been many these days, and the pornos he’d rented that week. That’s just the kind of dude he was. Absolutely no shame in his game.

You let out a surprised chuckle. Quicksilver had never had a New Year’s kiss? Such an odd thing for him to have not experienced.

“That’s a shame.” Was all you said, setting down your own cup, the drink in it now long gone and deep in your system. 

Peter seemed surprised by your response, as if he was expecting you to reassure him and tell him you hadn’t had a New Year’s kiss either, but that hadn’t been the case.

He opened his mouth to speak once more when people began to cheer around you. 11:59. 60 seconds…

Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he chuckled, wishing he hadn’t just told you about his lack of New Year’s Eve smooching. 

30 seconds. The pull to Peter was so much stronger now, as if the universe was pushing you together like opposite sides of a magnet. 

25 seconds.

Why did you feel this way? Jesus Christ what was wrong with you? Surely you wouldn’t…

15….

The faint sound of Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here could be heard and you were surprised that Peter hadn’t pointed it out yet, considering he was at the moment wearing a Pink Floyd shirt..

How I wish,

How I wish you were here 

We’re just two lost souls 

Swimming in a fishbowl 

Year after year…

10…

No you couldn’t

9…

Get it together!

8…

He’s just your friend! Nothing more!

7… 

But god the way he looked at you..

6…

No, Don’t give in. Don’t ruin what you already have 

5…

Fuck. Screw it. Screw it all.

With a heavy breath you grabbed Peter by the front of his jacket and pulled him down into a kiss. He hadn’t expected it and to be fair neither had you. Time did seem to slow around the two of you now as you felt a surge of electricity crackle through the air between you as Peter finally knocked himself out of his dazed confusion and kissed you back.

4…

His lips were so soft

3..

You could find yourself getting used to this.

2..

He pulled you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist as you wrapped your own around his neck

1..

A deep breath, never breaking the kiss and there it was.. Peter’s New Year’s kiss. Finally, he had what he wanted, and so did you. 

Once it hit midnight the two of you didn’t break away. You pulled at each other, urging the other to come closer. You wanted to crawl into each other's skin, get as close as possible. You didn’t care who saw, who judged. The only thing that mattered in that moment between you two was the other. 

You felt Peter’s Hardness against your inner thigh as you leaned against him, coaxing a moan from his puffy lips as he glanced down at you, swallowing hard. That was all the warning you got before he sped the two of you off, time slowing back down once you were both safely in his room at the school. It was just as oddly decorated as his basement-room at his moms house. Obscure posters and gaming machines like Pinball and pac-man. 

Peter attacked your neck with his lips, urging you towards his unmade bed before pushing you down onto it. Rushed  and messily he tore off his jacket and shirt, tossing it to the floor. He paused, glancing down at you beneath him.

“I- is this okay?” He asked, his hands creeping up under your shirt and tickling your rib cage with his long, slender fingers.

“More than okay,” you laughed out. Yea, it was way more than okay. What wasn’t okay was the fact that he stopped. That just wouldn’t do.

You glanced down at the ever growing bulge in the front of his too-tight jeans before your hand cupped him gently, causing him to jut into the feeling.

“Shit- really? We’re really doing this?” He asked, grinding his lower half into your hand for more friction.

You used your free hand to pull him down into another kiss full of teeth and tongue, gently massaging his length through his clothing, causing small whimpers and whines to fall from his parted lips, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“Fuck yeah we’re really doing this, here- just-“ you urged him off of you until the two of you had switched positions, Peter laying against the bed, you leaning over him.

“Please-“ He mewled, looking up at you with his desperate dark brown eyes, begging for the slightest touch. 

Hearing him beg was music to your ears and as much as you wanted to get him to beg more, you were also impatient and wanted to tear his clothes from his body. You’d waited too long for this, you were not going to waste a second. 

You palmed him over his clothing one more before undoing the zipper and button on his jeans, trying to get them down his legs.

“Peter- a little help?” You asked, brow raised as you glanced at him.

Peter, who had previously been in his own little world refocused on you, jumping at the sound of his name coming from your lips. It took him a moment to register what you were asking from him and then, the clumsy idiot he was, in a desperate attempt to kick off his pants, he ended up kicking you off the bed. 

Landing with a thump you gasped, not expecting it and not being able to do anything to prevent it. You peeked up over the edge of the bed to find a mortified Peter who was frozen in place with his pants halfway off his legs as he looked at you.

“Shit- are you okay? I’m so sorry oh my god-“ He helped you back on the bed and despite your giggles and light reassurance he felt bad. 

“Let me make it up to you?” His tone dropped at this and you knew he had an idea. A devilish idea. He picked you up like you were nothing and laid you back on the bed, settling between your legs as he carefully hiked up your shirt until it had revealed your bra, and inside of said bra, your bomb ass titties.

Peter would never lie, and your boobs were absolutely smoking. He was a tits expert after all, from watching hours of pornos, he’d still never seen one’s as pretty as yours, and he had an idea that it was probably because they were yours, and he was now beginning to realize his true feelings for you were much more than just ‘friends’

He practically ripped off your pants, tossing them onto the ground next to his own clothes before his hands traced your thighs.

Your panties were soaked and you were sure there was a wet spot on them that Peter would soon see. It was embarrassing how fast he had gotten you so worked up.

And just like you expected, Peter’s eyes locked onto your clothed cunt, nearly drooling as his thumb brushed over the wet spot in your panties.

The touch felt electric and so, so damn good which was ridiculous because he’d barely touched you at all.

He gently rubbed his thumb across your clothed clit, loving the way that you reacted to his touch.

“Poor thing, need quickie to make you feel good?” He chuckled devilishly and you so badly wanted to kick him. Now was not the time to tease.

“Peter! Please!” You huffed, wriggling around underneath him as he slowly and teasingly pulled your panties down your legs, throwing them over his shoulder. He parted your thighs further to give him better access to your core.

His pupils seemed to dilate as he zoned in on your throbbing cunt and with a shaky breath he leaned forward, parting your folds with his tongue.

Your hands found their way to his hair as you tugged gently on the silver strands, urging him closer.

Peter got the hint and buried his face further into your pussy, moaning at your taste and wetness. All for him. 

It had always been all for him.

His pink tongue jabbed at your clit several times before his lips gently wrapped around the nub, sucking gently, but enough that you could feel it. Hell could you feel it.

Your head fell back into the pillows, unable to keep it up anymore as your legs quivered around Peter’s head. The sight was heavenly. A head of silver hair lapping at your cunt, dark brown eyes glancing up at you as he flicked his tongue inside of you before pulling out to give attention to your clit.

You were surprised by how well he actually ate you out. Most men you’d been with were messy and not in a good way, totally missing any points of pleasure down there, but Peter. God was he good at it. 

He continued his actions, speeding up every now and then until your whines became more desperate and your hips bucked up against his face. Somehow, without ever being together intimately, Peter just knew your tell tale signs that you were close. Maybe the porn had paid off.

“Peter!” You squealed as he pulled away for what felt like the fifteenth time. Your body was shaking with pleasure and a layer of sweat covered your skin, making you glisten. 

“What baby girl? What’s wrong? Doesn’t it feel so nice?” He asked, pressing kisses to your inner thigh as he teased you, his palms rubbing over your knees as he peeked up at you through his eyelashes.

You totally wanted to kick him right now. He was being such an ass.

“Peter! Please- fuck I was so close! This isn’t fucking funny anymore!” You groaned, urging his head back down to your pussy and finally he followed your lead.

He let you guide him back to your core and he began to lap away at it once more, closing his eyes as he moaned against you. His tongue moved inhumanly fast and it was quite literally the best thing you’d ever felt. Better than any store bought vibrator that was available. 

“Fuck! Oh s-shit Peter- feels so good please don’t stop- please please don’t stop this time baby please-“ you begged, holding him by his hair, tugging hard on it as he groaned, open mouthed against you. 

With a few more flicks of his tongue and sucks against you, you were cumming, your release coating Peter’s lips and chin as he did his best to clean you up, moaning against you.

Eventually you had to pull him away because he was so lost in your taste. Carefully you pulled him up by his silver locks, seeing the fucked out, happy expression on his face. 

“So fucking good-“ he wiped his mouth on his arm before sitting up a bit, coming to himself as he finally got enough oxygen.  

Catching your breath, you pulled your shirt and bra fully off, finally being fully naked before you pulled Peter into another kiss, getting on top of him.

He looked up at you with the softest brown puppy dog eyes he could muster, chest heaving as he let a quiet whine slip past his lips.

“Definitely getting much more than a New Year's kiss.” You laughed, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down while keeping eye contact with him the whole time.

“Fuckkk- please touch me- I’m literally throbbing baby you’ve got no idea how much I need you-“

“I think I have some idea,” you gently wrapped your hand around his red leaky cock once his boxers were off, and the sound that Peter made was something straight out of a porno.

“Shhh, Peter you’re really loud-“ you shook your head as you thumbed over the tip of him, watching as your thumb spread the opaque fluid across his pretty pink head.

“Really really want a new years kiss somewhere else-“ Peter panted, despite how desperate he was he was still cracking jokes. Of course. You wanted to slap the smirk off his face, but you had a better idea. 

Rolling your eyes, you leaned down, face to face with his throbbing dick as you pressed a soft feather light kiss to the tip, watching the way Peter’s breath hitched the second you did.

You had him wrapped around your finger, and it was everything you ever wanted and more. Finally, after all this time. You had him. He was yours.

“Oh f-fuck I’m gonna cum- I’m gonna cum-“

“Peter I’ve barely touched you-“ your brows furrowed at his admission, honestly surprised. You had gotten him that worked up from barely touching him? To be fair he had done quite the same thing to you previously.

“Don’t- wanna cum yet- wanna fuck you please?” He asked, batting his eyes in a much too innocent way for how sinful the situation was.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to fuck you. As much as you wanted to explore his body, there would be time for that later. You too had all the time in the world now.

He pulled you down with him onto the bed as he tried to manhandle you down onto your back and before you knew it he was over top of you, leaning in between your legs, nudging your core with the tip of his cock.

“Can I?” He asked, looking up at you, his hair a disheveled mess of silver on top of his head.

“No condom?” You asked, brushing your thumb across his cheek as he shyly nodded, not meeting your eye, his next words surprising you.

“I-if that’s okay- I saw you were on birth control I was snooping around your room the other da-“

“Wait, pause right there, you were snooping around my room? Peter!” You shoved at his shoulder, an annoyed look settled on your face “what’s wrong with you? Creep!”

Peter put his hands up in surrender as he blushed hard, becoming shy now at his confession.

“I’m sorry, I was just curious! You know me! I'm a snoop!”

“Peter I cannot believe you right now but- dammit, yes. Yes just fuck me already please or im going to explode.”

Peter chuckled, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he slowly slipped inside of you, your slick mixed with his saliva from Peter’s previous actions with his tongue making him glide inside easily. 

The both of you gasped in unison at the feeling of being so close together in such an intimate setting. It was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. There was almost no pain, despite how deeply he was stretching you out. It was like the two of you were meant for each other.

You clutched onto Peters shoulders as he gave a few experimental thrusts into you, shaky breaths mingling together in the air between your bodies. 

Peter breathed out your name through a moan and you were sure it was the most magical sound you had ever heard and would ever hear.

“Fuck- to be fair I had no idea this was how the night was going to turn out-“ Peter cursed, sweat forming on his brow, not from exhaustion but from pleasure and the restraint it took to hold himself back from fucking you so hard the bed broke.

You laughed lightly, moaning as he hit a spot even deeper inside of you before pulling back out and repeating his actions.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Perfect way to start the New Year in my opinion.” You grinned before your smile was replaced with a gasp as Peter began to speed up his thrusts.

You didn’t fail to miss the way that his body vibrated with each thrust, fucking into you with purpose as he planted kisses and love bites all across your neck and shoulders before sucking one of your breasts into his mouth.

He hummed around the hardened bud before letting go of it with a pop.

“I just gotta say baby- these titties- you’ve been hiding them from me for tooooo long. They are bangin!” You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his choice of words.

“F-fuck-“ he cursed again, his thrusts becoming erratic as he fucked into you with a kind of desperation you’d never seen from him before.

You didn’t even need him to tell you, you just nodded in understanding, biting your bottom lip between your teeth.

The two of you were close and your bodies were racing to the finish, chasing your euphoric highs.

“I-I-I’m-“ he choked out, unable to form the words.

“Shh, shh I know Peter, I know, me too.” You reassured him. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking him in place and making him go farther inside of you, surely bruising your cervix.

Peter froze against you, humping against you twice more before stilling, filling you up with his warm seed.

The feeling finally threw you over the edge, your body seizing against his, arching up against him before collapsing limply back against the sheets.

The two of you caught your breath before Peter pulled out and laid next to you, tracing your stomach with his finger.

“Holy shit- that- Jesus that was- wow-“ Peter couldn’t find the words as he stared at you in disbelief.

You didn’t really have the words either so you just looked up at him and said,

“Happy New Year’s Peter.”

And he simply responded with

“Happy New Years.”

You were sitting on an old, yellow 70's style vintage leather couch. Its material was ripped in various places, allowing bits of white fluff to peak through the tears. These fissures in the leather scraped across your bare legs, leaving little red marks each time you moved.

Peter was the one to ‘buy’ the couch for you when you first moved into the mansion, arguing to your horrified self that the piece of furniture had ‘character and personality’ to it.

The couch was tatty and torn apart, but you couldn’t find yourself able to get rid of it, despite Charles’ frequent offers to replace it free of charge.

It was by no means comfortable, but you found that you were able to sit back and relax soon enough.

As you heard the finishing beep of the microwave and Peter’s elated exclamation of delight, you got up to rifle through a box of DvD’s, searching for the first movie of the night.

Peter, busy with squirting a sickly amount of caramel sauce on his popcorn, gave you a bit of time to get ahead and choose the movie before he could pipe in with something like E.T. You swore you could recite that film backwards from the sheer amount of times Peter forced you to watch it.

Kneeling in front of the cabinet you began to sift through your collection.

The shining? You cringed at the thought. Granted, you absolutely adored the film, but watching it with Peter was something you wouldn’t wish upon your worst enemy. You were jumpy enough without Peter’s sudden ‘BOO!’ yelled down your ear just before a scare.

Pretending to be scared and cuddling into your best friend was pretty nice though; that boy had enough body heat to put Lucifer to shame.

You grab a pile, rifling through them in quick succession. Ghostbusters? You had watched that last week. Grease? No one wants to see Peter’s Danny Zuko impression. E.T? Think again, motherfucker.

By the time Peter had proudly walked in with his creation, you had narrowed it down to 2 films. You turned to smile at him, and he flashed you a broad grin as he tossed a piece of popcorn into his mouth before appearing next to you.

Fwip.

The speedster peered over your shoulder at your movie picks and cocked a silver brow.

“Can’t we jus’ watch E.T?” Crunch.

You shudder. Whether it was due to the abominable mention of that ghastly excuse for a film, or the obnoxious chewing in your ear, you weren’t sure.

You gaped up at him. “Whaddaya mean? Carry on films are classics! Better than a film we’ve seen 12 times already.”

You weren't even lying.

“I dunno, it’s jus’ the same sex-crazed people recitin’ the same half-arsed scripts for 30 films straight. Don't even get me started on the laughin’ tracks, babe.”

You shoot up and point an accusing finger at his pajama-clad chest. “This film deserves way more respect than the utta bullshit you’re tryna spew!”

Peter presses his lips into a line to avoid a snicker, smirking knowingly at you and holding up a caramel coated finger to your own chest.

“One word. Emmannuelle.” Crunch.

You whine and Peter smirks at catching you out, raising his eyebrows and walking backwards onto the couch, licking his finger and closing his eyes to relish in the sugary goodness.

“That’s not fair!” Your voice raises a few octaves as you eye his adam’s apple in motion, before continuing to search through your stack, “There’s 30 films and you picked the worst rated one!”

“Princess, don’t hate the player, hate the game.” Peter responds nonchalantly, hand reaching into the popcorn bowl that he had already ingested three-quarters of. “Once yer’ve seen one, yer’ve seen them all, really.” He shrugged.

You couldn’t really fight his reasoning, instead settling with a short huff. Finally, after a quick eeny-meeny-miny-mo, you picked one of the films and popped the disc into the DVD-player.

“Buuut it is yer turn to choose. And i guess yer did sit through the last one.”

You turn to him. “‘Sit through’? I liked it!”

“Yer eyes were glazed over not even 10 minutes in!” Peter chuckled, “It’s alrigh’, babe. It’s not to everyone’s taste.” Crunch.

“Well atleast i’m not the one geekin’ out the whole way through!” You scoffed, plopping yourself on the couch and knocking knees with your bestfriend “You fuckin’ clapped when RD-23 came on the screen!”

“R2-D2.” He corrected under his breath, his unoccupied large hand moving to rest on your lower thigh.

Peter loooved Star wars and it clearly showed. In this moment he was adorned in a plain black t-shirt and stormtrooper pajama pants, of which hung deliciously on his hips, showing off his V-line which had you watering at the mouth. God, he had such a slutty waist.

He ‘bought’ you a matching pair like ‘all best buds do!’ except yours were little shorts and a smaller black t-shirt.

“We could just watch Revenge of The Sith instead yunno?” You offer, eyeing the slither of skin where his shirt had ridden up.

Peter shook his head, his soft silver locks moving with it. He was still hung up on when you “fainted” at the sight of Harrison Ford. You wouldn’t shut up about how good he looked for his age.

For his age? Pfft! He’s got nothin’ on a mutant with his slow-agin’ genetics!

Clicking play on the remote, you settle back into the cushions with an eager smile as you subconsciously snuggle into your best friend’s right side, easing him into a lying position.

You grin up at him and nuzzle your nose in his cheek. He tickled your side in response, making you erupt in small giggles at the feeling.

Peter happily grabbed another handful of popcorn as he watched the film, looking for a piece drizzled with extra caramel.

“Oi, not gonna share?” You jokingly pout, tugging on his wrist to take it out of the bowl.

Peter froze as he realized he had just grabbed the last of the popcorn.

Whenever you had movie nights in either of your dorms, Peter always fought you for the last of the popcorn. You always acted upset, but he knew you always saved the last bite for him.

He hadn’t thought twice, assuming you left it for him, but what if you were actually angry?

But when he tore his eyes from the comedy and peeked over at you, you were grinning teasingly at him. Peter relaxed, and threw the popcorn into his mouth. When he bit down, he winced as his tooth nearly cracked on an unpopped kernel. Curse that goddamn microwave.

“Serves you right!” You snort, sticking your tongue out at him and laughing at the speedsters' screwed up expression.

“Go ahead, princess, laugh at my pain!” Peter groaned, rolling the kernel around in his mouth until he had positioned it just right so he could spit it out at you.

You shriek as it catapults onto your cheek and bounced off somewhere in the sofa. You grab the decorative pillow you had been hugging and hit him over the head with all the strength you could muster.

When you aimed another blow to his chest, Peter caught it, and easily tugged it out of your unsuspecting grasp. You huff and lay down on the armrest, snatching a quilt laying over the back of the couch and smothering yourself with it.

Peter dove down into the back of the couch beside you and pulled the quilt over his legs, his sock-clad feet sticking out of the material and over the other side of the furniture.

His mood changed quickly: energetic and playful, and in mere moments, calm and collected.

It was helpful, sure, as he could match your energy easily and keep a conversation going.

But it’s not that great having to take over as tour guide for new students when their prior escort falls asleep whilst showcasing the professor’s english lectures. Or perhaps that was a fault of Charles’ monotonous presentations?

“Ready?” You ask, spreading the comforter over the two of you.

“Ready,” Peter affirmed with squinting eyes, and you chuckled at his tone. You knew how he took movie marathons, claiming it to be an ‘olympic sport’.

Clicking play on the remote, you settled back again, this time into his chest as he wraps a strong arm around your waist.

It still made your heart all fluttery when he did so, and you thanked the lords above you weren’t facing him, revealing your cheeks dusted with crimson.

Peter tilted his head. “What’s this one?”

“One’a my favourites.” You answered quietly.

By 20 minutes in, all soda bottles had been drained (courtesy of Peter) and abandoned in the middle of the coffee table. You had intertwined your legs with him, and Peter’s arm was now slung over your hips.

A yawn slipped past your lips, which you thought was a miracle that it had taken this long for your first sign of weariness, and your best friend glanced over at you with a knowing smile.

“I thought yer said that yer weren’t tired.” He teased, tongue in cheek.

“I never said that,” you yawned again, “I said I wanted to do movie night.”

“We can do this another time–”

“I wanna do this.” You placed your hand on his arm along your body to stop him from talking. “I’ll stay awake.”

Peter gave you another knowing look and you stared right back at him. After a few moments, he sighed and gave in.

“Alrigh’, alrigh’.” He put his hand up in mock defense. After a moment more of looking at your heavy blinks, he sighed softly. “Oh, c’mere.”

As if you weren’t already impossibly close, Peter slid his left arm under your body, moving you further towards him with a grunt and practically cradling you. You rest your head against his shoulder, melting into the familiar position with ease.

Anyone who walked in on you would think you were in your honeymoon phase, but you knew better than that. What you had didn’t need a label. You didn’t even know what label you could put on yourselves. But it didn’t matter. You were best buds. And that was enough for you.

You weren't entirely sure when you had closed your eyes. The movie was like white noise in the background, unintentionally lulling you off into sleep. You heard a soft chuckle and knew Peter had finally noticed that you hadn’t kept up your end of the bargain.

“Jus’ restin’ my eyes…” you mumbled as an excuse, yet failing to open them.

“Mhm.” Peter hummed, clearly unconvinced.

You were right on the cusp of conscious and unconscious, and right as you were about to topple over, you felt his lips on the top of your head. They lingered for 5, 10, 30 seconds. Your smile didn’t fade the entire time his lips were touching your head, nor did it fade when he moved away.

‘I wouldn’t mind if you kissed me in other places.’ You thought to yourself with a sigh.

You were aware of Peter shuffling to get comfortable and pressing into your side, lingering a light boop to your nose with his finger and observing your features as you teetered off the brink of consciousness.

——————————————————————————

Soft, supple lips fluttered down the side of your neck.

You smiled and squirmed at the pleasure brought on by the teeth that slowly scraped along your collar bone and gently nipped across the front of your throat.

The hot breaths that caressed your skin with each sensual kiss and nip set your blood on fire and forced moisture to pool between your legs.

Looking up, you saw twinkling chocolate brown eyes behind sections of silvery hair staring down at you. Your eyes widened with embarrassment when you realized who was on top of you, grinding into you slowly.

Peter ran his hand through your hair and placed a tender kiss on your forehead. He ran his lips down the sides of your crimson cheeks and down the front of your neck, biting the sensitive flesh where the neck and shoulders meet. You tilted your head to the side and sighed.

The speedster ferociously claimed your lips once again. He pressed himself between your legs and teased your center with a purposeful, slow grind. You moan, wrap your arms around him and rake your fingernails up and down his back, deep and hard enough to leave proof of the sinful pleasure building inside you.

Suddenly, Peter tore his puffed lips away from you. You gazed into his eyes and watched him smile a surprisingly effective seductive smile, nothing like the attempted smolders he had sent your way before. He slid down your body and stopped by your feet. He spread your legs wide before him.

"...Peter, what...?" you began, but your words caught in your throat.

Peter arched your leg over his shoulder and began to softly place deliberate kisses up your leg. Each graze of his wet lips scorched your skin and left a trail of endless fire burning in their wake.

You laid beneath Peter's touch, flushed and writhed in torturous pleasure. Bolts of what felt like lightning shot down your spine. Heavy pants escaped your body, chest heaving, as he kissed higher and ran his tongue along the inside of your thigh until he reached the apex of your trembling limbs.

“Peter.. Ngaah- wai-!”

Without warning, Peter latched onto your swollen clit and pulled it between his lips.

You arched off the sweat slicked couch and shoved your hands deep into his ruffled, untidy hair. You cried out and yanked his hair each time you felt him wrap his powerful tongue around your clit. The pleasure he built inside you was intoxicating and frankly, dangerous. You felt as if you might burst into heavenly fire.

Peter looked up at you through heavy lidded eyes. He gently removed your leg from his shoulder and slid up your body once more. He trailed kisses up your stomach and pinched a hard nipple between his fingers. You quietly moaned, silently hoping this would never stop.

Breathing heavily and licking his lips, Peter settled himself on top of you. He kissed your bare shoulder and ran his teeth up your throat as he did prior. He pressed a soft kiss behind your ear.

"Princess..." he whispered. You could feel hot breath caressing your neck.

You squirmed beneath him, reveling at the feel of his hardness pressed against your center. You felt his dick twitch when it came in contact with the slick dripping from your core.

"Babe..." soft moaning graced your ears. He tugged on your earlobe with his teeth.

He reached between your thighs. You bucked against his hand as you felt him slide his long finger inside you.

"C'mon," Peter begged, pleading for your sweet noises.

He slid in a second finger. You arched your back and moaned when his fingers began teasing the spot that would send you over the edge. He used his thumb to push down on your clit, vibrating it delicately. You closed your eyes as you threw your head against the rough couch, Peter wrapping his hot mouth around your swollen breast.

“..-up” You furrowed your brows at his inaudible whispers, mumbled against your supple skin.

“Wake up..” heh?

"C’mon. Wake up!"

Your eyes snapped open, alarmed and chest heaving. Your body was flushed, covered in sweat. Hair was plastered to the back of your neck and your hands were fisted in your lap. Sitting up onto your elbows, you look around the room with wide and confused eyes.

"Nice dream, princess?" Peter asked, cheeks flushed, yet smirking knowingly.

Oh. OH.

—--------------

Sharing a room with you was normal. It was. Peter knew that. Sure, it wasn’t exactly a thing that platonic friends would partake in, especially comfying up on the couch together, but whats the harm in it?

So okay, it wasn’t normal by definition. But he wasn’t going to make it weird . Just because he had a small crush on you did not mean that he would let it be weird. You were colleagues, Xmen, and you even spent time together outside of work too! Peter would come to your room to watch old movies, and you would go to his so you could cook and listen to music with him. So he knew he could spend time with you alone, that wasn’t the problem.

It was the sleeping that was potentially the issue.

His little crush had been invading his subconscious almost constantly nowadays, and peter was notoriously known to talk in his sleep. He was so scared he would say something wrong whilst snorin’ away next to you. If you overheard something like that, he knew your friendship would never recover. How can you act normal around someone who said your name in their sleep?

Good thing you did it before him then.

Peter was just doing his own thing, flicking through channels on the 70’s style television on low volume so as to not wake you. Dynasty, Seinfeld, Star Trek… not tonight.

He yelped quietly as Return of The Jedi appears on the screen, changing the channel in quick succession. You had yet to watch the film with him, and Peter didn’t want to ruin it for you by watching it beforehand.

He sighed, shoving the remote down the side of the sofa, nothing seeming to catch his attention.

Nothing, before you let out a low whimper and shuffle back into the heat of his chest.

“Babe?” Peter called quietly into the dark.

You were sleeping soundly, the muted reflection of light streaming in from the TV casting thin slivers of white across your face.

Peter rarely had the opportunity to watch you as you slept, normally being out like a light long before you and not waking up until hours into the afternoon, so he took a moment to indulge himself.

Your hair was an utter mess, with it falling into your forehead and sticking out from where it was smooshed against the pillow. Your lips were slightly parted and dry, and Peter shivered as he finally attuned himself to the soft whisper of your breath hitting his shoulder.

You were beautiful, and his heart clenched with adoration for you. This wasn’t at all what he had expected when he began his job with the Xmen, but he was not complaining in the slightest. Free food, permitted to use Charles’ credit card whenever he pleases, and a smokin’ hot, funny girl cuddling up to him every night; what's not to like?

On second thought, scratch the former two benefits. Peter was quickly banned from using Charles’ card, ever since he took advantage and bought enough cake snacks to put Hostess out of stock for three weeks. He had the best four hours of his life that night.

Peter sighed contentedly, and unthinkingly reached back to brush a few strands of hair from your forehead. Your hair was so soft and smooth and he wanted to run his fingers through it, but even the gentlest touch of him moving your hair from your face had stirred you.

Peter reluctantly curled up on his side with his stomach facing your own, in an attempt to bury his desire to keep touching you. You snuffled out a breath and shifted around, and Peter held his breath, hoping you would fall back to sleep. He was pleasantly surprised when you continued shuffling until your sleep-heated body came into contact, flush with his.

You exhaled deeply and nestled your face into Peter’s neck as his arm came up to drape across your hip. He smiled into his own pillow, pleased with this development, and he relaxed back into your embrace…

…And then nearly rolled out of it again when your pelvis brushed something between his hips. Holy fuck!

Peter immediately thrust his hips forward and away from your jutting, not wanting to take advantage of you in your sleep-induced state, but you grunted in dissatisfaction and thrust your hips closer to him until the burning heat through your shorts was trapped right against Peter’s length again.

As if just feeling that you were horny and dreaming about somethin’ naughty wasn’t enough, you then began to rock your hips into his. Fuckin’ hell!

“-agh-.. princess?” Peter whispered, panic-stricken, feeling his cheeks flame in a combination of embarrassment and excitement. He groaned as his dick twitched in interest in an attempt to reach your alluring heat.

You let out a soft sigh, and the rocking of your hips slowed. Peter wasn’t sure if he was grateful or disappointed, however he ultimately decided it was for the best; he’d rather you to be conscious if you were about to make a massive jump in your platonic relationship to physical.

Despite the already raging boner that was growing and painfully restricted by the confines of his stormtrooper pajamas, Peter let his eyes slip closed, content to cradle you in his arms and go back to sleep. However the solid pressure of your heat on his thigh kept the speedster wide awake.

Then you began moving again.

You pressed your pelvis forward, rubbing your clothed core onto the muscled thigh of Peter’s mid-thigh. Then, you let out a shuddering moan that made all of his wild fantasies about the way you sounded seem entirely tame in comparison.

Your hips were no longer rocking, but they were actively grinding and stuttering against him. Peter could feel the exact shape of your pussy through the scant layers of fabric separating you from him.

Your hand moved to curl around his bicep, firmly anchoring yourself to your best friend. You were breathing raggedly and the motion of your hips was getting faster and deeper, more sensual than ever.

Peter’s own noises failed to be kept silent, as he whimpered in response and rested his forehead into your hair as you frantically humped his thigh.

Jesus fuck, how were you still asleep? And what were you dreaming about that got you this riled up?

Even if he wanted to move, Peter was effectively trapped between your weight and the back of the couch, your motions making the old thing squeak and groan in answer.

Warm, wet heat throbbed between your legs, and Peter desperately wanted to flip you onto your back, rip off your tiny shorts, and fuck you until you both passed out from exhaustion.

You were making the most devastating noises as you rutted your heat against him harder and faster, whining in desire as you worked for your release.

Peter had half a mind to reach down and give you a hand, but he instead gripped on tight to the couch cushions, eyes wide and lips parted in astonishment.

Ohh, he shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t be lying here, practically taking advantage of you whilst you rubbed yourself upon him. If you were awake you’d be mortified, ohh-, but you sound so good and feel so good and, really, it would be cruel to stop you. Especially when you were enjoying yourself sooo much…

Peter lay there for a few more moments, swallowing the lump in his throat and trying to ignore the burning want in his rock hard cock.

Then, you moaned something that had him spluttering in surprise .

“Nghnaa- Peterr,” you whimpered.

Peter came instantly, covering a guttural moan with his hand.

Holy. Fuck.

You were dreaming about him? Your best bud since forever?

You whined in pleasure as you felt the surge of heat from Peter’s load. Frantically, you arch your hips into his again, once, twice, three more times, before you let out a wrenching moan and stilled behind him.

Peter shivered as he felt his cock throbbing against your core, and as he felt a wet warmth seep through your pajamas and onto his clothed thigh.

Holy-

Peter panted harshly for a few moments as he stayed tightly pressed against you, large hands coming to grip on your arms. Him, really? Of all people you decided to get off to, you chose him! Frankly, he was flattered; and clearly so was his dick.

The fuckin’ thing seemed to have a mind of its own! The sticky, burning mess that had erupted in his Pj’s made him grimace uncomfortably, knowing it would soon dry into a crusty disaster. But the thing seemed to get hard and stay hard whenever he was around you. How embarrassin’!

A glance towards the clock; 12:43. Peter hummed, turning back towards you and lightly squeezing your arm. As you stirred he put on a lazy smirk, hoping the flaming blush in his cheeks had subsided enough by now.

As your eyes snapped open, disoriented, Peter propped himself up on his elbow and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Nice dream, princess?"

Ooh, he is gonna ruin you.

—-----------------------------

Trying to collect yourself after being awoken, your eyes landed on your best friend, inches away from your own face and wiggling his brows. For mere moments you were puzzled, wondering why his cheeks had more of a reddish tone than normal, then you came to a conclusion.

Oh fuck.

You nearly jumped out of your skin as you realized what you had done, placing a hand over your chest and taking a deep, panicked breath. It took a few pounding heartbeats to get the courage to look at Peter. You prayed your demeanor wouldn't give anything away.

"H-Huh?" You replied, braving a glance at him. Oh wow, real smooth.

"I asked, 'nice dream’?" Peter repeated, nonchalantly. His fingers tickled down your arm, only aiding in the nervous sweat that dripped down from your hairline.

"What makes you think that?" You stuttered.

"Well, yer were talkin’ quite a bit, babe. There was a moan a’ two thrown in there. Oh! And a 'Don't stop, Peter!' happened, too." He winked. “I must’ve given you a hella good time, princess.”

Ok sure, maybe he was exaggerating a little. But he reallyyy wanted to know exactly what happened in your dream..

Your cheeks flamed beyond recognition. You were fucked. Or rather, about to be.

"Hmm..." He looked at you with a piercing stare as a dimpled, wry grin split across his face. Before you could react, Peter laughed.

"Oi, shut up!" you giggled, slightly relieved at the humor that came out of this.

Your giggles came to an abrupt stop, however, as Peter shuffled impossible closer to you, his lengthy erection threatening to tear his pajamas. You fought with the Gods themselves not to look down, knowing the tent in the material would expose something you have thought of everytime you’d touch yourself.

A grumble erupted from Peter’s throat, his cocky facade crumbling away with every involuntary rut of your hips.

"How ‘bout yer show me what happened in yer dream?" he suggested, hand snaking around the small of your back as Peter sat up, pulling you into his lap.

You squeaked, nibbling your lip nervously. Peter pressed himself flush to you, his cock pressing against your pelvis angrily. A familiar aching tingle took up residence low in your belly, and you huffed out a shaky sigh as you pressed the ache closer to him.

“I’m gonna kiss you now.” He whispered, his breath fanning over your lips as he said it, albeit very shakily. Before you could even nod, his lips pressed to yours.

You instantly relaxed into his lap. Peter’s lips were soft and urgent, catching your bottom lip between them.

Your hands pulled him closer by the neck, and he let his hands mold against your waist, urging you closer. Your hands roamed into his hair, pushing it off his forehead and carding your fingers smoothly through it, causing him to let out a muffled moan into your mouth. You hummed.

Experimenting, you clumsily tugged at his silvery strands with fevor. With a whimper that had your walls clenching around air, Peter’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he let his hands drop to your ass.

He squeezed and pulled you down onto him, letting his lips find your neck. You let out a loud groan as he sucked a mark into your pulse point, but you pushed him away with both hands on his cheeks.

“Not above the collar,” You reminded meekly. He smirked at the idea of everyone on the team knowing what you had done. And everyone knowing that someone like you wanted to do this with someone like him. Take that, Scotty.

“But.. what if I want people to know yer mine?” Peter asked, pressing a quick kiss to your lobe as he said so, nibbling it carefully. You grinned.

“I think you’ve got this whole thing wrong then.”

“Hm?” You smiled as you felt Peter’s brows furrow against the side of your head.

“You belong to me.”

He whimpered. Your eyes lit up, and you simply smirked at him.

“Good boy.” You whispered, and pressed down hard with your hips, rolling them once.

Peter came in his pants. Again.

With a loud groan and a thrust upward, he shot into his pajamas. You chuckled through flushed cheeks as he shuddered through his orgasm, and leaned down to kiss him. As soon as he came down from the high, embarrassment overtook him.

He had a chance with his dream girl, and he literally blew it not five minutes in. Literally and figuratively. And all because you called him a Good boy?

Peter brought his hands up to cover his face, but you caught his wrists before he could reach. He closed his eyes and turned his face away, breathing heavily, not ready for the ridicule that was sure to follow.

“Awh, did I make you cum?” You rolled your hips a few times, and he hissed at the oversensitivity. “That’s so fuckin’ hot.”

“Yer- W-What?” Peter asked, turning back towards you slowly. You were beaming at him.

“The cutest boy, all worked up, jus’ for me.” You arched your back so your clothed tits were shoved closer to the poor boy’s face, yunno, just for good measure.

He blushed again, and swallowed as he grinned back at you. “But what ‘bout yer?”

“What about me?” You asked. Peter’s hands danced along your sides, cupping your breasts and teasing your nipples through your shirt.

“Wanna make yer feel good.” He whispered while you gasped.

“What’s stopping you?” You asked with a whisper. Peter surged upwards and began kissing you again, only stopping to finally rip your shirt off and get his hands on your bare breasts.

Peter’s tongue flicked against your own as you moaned against his lips, the feeling of him kneading your tits too much to bare.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot. Such a good, good boy.” You praised, stroking his hair.

He whines, playing with the hem of your shorts and his hips rut, seeking for friction. You take the hint, shimmying your pajamas down off your legs whilst helping Peter with his own.

You salivate at the sight of his lengthy cock, slapping up to hit his abs and glistening from the pearly white release running down it. Thick veins traveled upwards, buzzing from the speedster gene and throbbing with anticipation. His angry red tip leaked, twitching and begging for your warmth.

You use a hand to grip the base of your best friend's cock, his fluid running over your knuckles and providing you with a natural lube. Peter hissed with gritted teeth, watching as you slowly jerked him off with a tight embrace, circling the tip of his dick with your other hand.

“He-hey! Too much!” Peter yelped, bucking his hips up despite his protests.

You complied, stopping your actions briefly before sitting up, aligning your dripping wet entrance with his tip.

Schweeeett.

You laid a hesitant hand over his chest, and gooseflesh sizzled across his skin, sending another bolt of heat to his already overheated cock. He bit his lip to keep himself grounded and to keep from dropping his hand to his pants and rubbing himself to relive the pressure.

He felt so shaky and on edge and so, so horny.

Your lips pressed lightly against his, and while Peter’s brain seemed to short out, his body and his hormones knew exactly what to do and took over. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, anchoring you to him as he flipped over so he was laying on top of you.

You made a breathy little noise, and Peter’s brain finally started up again.

“This okay?” he panted between the gentle little kisses he was peppering across her jaw.

“Almost,” you teased.

Before he could ask what you meant, you looped your leg around his Peter’s and tugged so that he was fully nestled in the cradle of your thighs. He groaned as he felt his aching erection settled against your heat.

He could feel the heat radiating out from your center, and Peter grew impossibly harder.

“Princess” he whimpered, rutting restlessly against you. “Please… fuck, yer feel so good…”

You arched up into him, grinding yourself equally as wantonly against him.

“So do you,” you hissed, tightening your hold around his hips for more leverage.

Your hands wandered aimlessly, but Peter was too lost in the feel of you beneath him, so soft and warm and beautiful. The pressure in his abdomen deepened until it almost hurt.

“I need… I want… Please, babe.. I’m gonna…”

He was well aware he was babbling, but his brain was a little more occupied by the delicious friction his cock was getting against your hot and damp center.

Peter tucked his face into your neck as he focused on the pleasure burning through him, soaring higher and higher until he could barely take it anymore.

You arched up hard against him as your fingers raked through his hair once more, and he was lost.

Deciding he had enough, Peter aligned himself with your entrance and slammed into your wet cunt with one thrust, eliciting a moan from you that threatened the coil in his lower stomach to snap already.

He kissed you once more, this time taking control as his tongue glided across your lips passionately, far from the blubbering mess you made him previously. The taste of caramel and sugar invaded your mouth, trickling down your throat with the same side effect as an aphrodisiac.

With every kiss Peter sped up his frantic motions, rendering you brainless on his dick as you could only focus on the slapping of skin and wet noises of your soaking pussy.

You were about to open your mouth to tell him to hurry up when Peter’s fingers reach between your folds, circling your clit with a steady pace. A loud, shuddering moan echoes around the room.

You don't even realize the noise came from yourself until you feel Peter’s shoulders move against your own because due to his cocky laughs. Airhead.

He was going so fast you couldn’t tell whether he was thrusting in or out, you could only feel an overwhelming pleasure consuming your mind and body.

Just when you thought you were on the brink of feeling the epitome of heaven itself, a buzzing vibration echoed deep within your walls, sending you into a frenzy.

You writhed and clawed at Peter’s back, a wordless plea for him to continue. Faster, Faster. Please.

He mumbled incoherently, which would’ve made you chuckle if you had the ability to do so, as his hips stuttered against your own, hitting a spot that had you clenching his buzzing cock like a vice.

With the remaining piece of consciousness you had left, you reached up to yank on Peter’s hair, forcing his head back as the building pleasure inside you exploded.

Peter let out a wordless cry as the hot coil of tension in his belly snapped, and white hot pleasure took its place.

He was dimly aware that you let out the most beautiful, sexy noise he’d ever heard as you tightened your hold around him, but he was more preoccupied by his cock filling you to the brim of cum that splattered your pulsing walls.

His skin prickled pleasantly, his ears ringing and his vision blurred, and he felt completely weightless. His vision darkened and he held you tight and panted his release into your neck.

“Shiiit,” he gasped, lifting his hips away from you as his cock softened and became too sensitive to be touched.

His arm muscles shook as he hoisted himself away from you, and collapsed onto the couch beside you.

Staring up at the ceiling, Peter let an exhausted grin cross his face as a few aftershocks rolled through him. Gaze shifted, He admired you as you came down from your high, moving to the bathroom to wash your hands and get a rag to clean yourselves up.

When you came back you went to wipe you down, but Peter took the rag from you.

“Sit. I get to take care of yer now. I owe it to yer, babe.” Concentrated, he wiped your dripping cunt with the rag, then making his way to the bathroom to get rid of the dirty towel.

When he came back you were still sitting on the edge of the bed. You smiled meekly up at him and reached out a hand, which Peter eagerly took, gladly letting you pull him in for a hug, with him standing between your knees.

“I really like you, you know.” You said, head resting on Peter’s chest as he stared down at you.

“I know. I really like yer too, babe.”

In answer, you shifted slightly and tilted your head up to face Peter’s flushed cheeks as he pressed a kiss to your nose. You couldn’t help but giggle softly, and you felt his smile as he pulled away. You could feel his breath as he moved to the side of your face, and placed a kiss on what you were sure was a very rosy apple of your cheek.

As you settled down together for the remaining hours of the night, the tense air between you and Peter had diminished, morphing into one of that had you giddy and excited.

You needed to bring out the movie nights more often.

~~~~

When morning rose and you walked into the briefing room the next morning, you were wearing a scarf, despite the hot Westchester heat. You hadn’t quite caught Peter in time, and he had in fact left a mark.

Of course the whole team noticed.

“Hey, twinkles toes, did you guys have another movie night?” Scott asked from his seat at the back of the room. Luckily Peter was facing away from him, so Scott didn’t see how his immediate reaction was to blanche at the memories from the night before. He gathered himself quickly.

“Yer, of course, what’s it to yer?” Peter asked shortly as he turned around, stirring a coffee with six sugars mixed into it.

Scott’s attention was on you, as you were talking to Kurt on the other side of the room.

“That scarf is only there to hide something, I think our lovely lady might’ve got some last night.” Scott said with a smug smirk. “Don’t let it break your heart, you still have a chance!” He turned to Peter and clapped him on the shoulder, who was blushing intensely at the tease. You had, in fact, ‘got some’, and he was the some she got with.

Scott soon noticed Peter was off, as normally he would be granted with some teasing retort or slap against the back of the head.

“C’mon, I’m just teasing. She probably didn’t get a chance to-” While he was talking, Peter caught your eye from across the room.

You smirked at him and waved, and he smiled and waved back.

Scott cut himself off when he saw Peter’s wave, turning to see just as your face turned back to Kurt. “Oh my god. You crazy man, you actually did it!” Scott exclaimed, shaking Peter by the shoulders. Peter pursed his lips to try and contain his smile as he nodded. “My man!” Scott exclaimed, pulling him into an awkward hug.