#blooming-violets

She had told him once that she had never dated anyone before. Her parents had been really strict and kept a close eye on her. They had gone to a party one night. It was her first college party. She insisted he come with her. She was nervous because it was her first time drinking. He vowed to be the sober one to keep a close eye on her. She was getting tipsy and found herself talking to group of her girlfriends. Peter assumed it would be safe for him to sneak off to the bathroom to quickly relieve himself. When he got back she wasn’t with the group anymore. 

He had searched the whole house for her only to find her in one of the bedrooms with an upperclassman. The man had her pressed against the wall and was sticking his tongue down her throat. He was grabbing her breasts through her shirt. She was squirming and Peter couldn’t tell if it was because she was uncomfortable or from pleasure. Either way, he refused to let it go any further. He had practically thrown the guy across the room and pulled her out of there. 

While they sat outside in the backyard, she had teared up. She drunkenly told him she just wanted someone to love her. She confessed she had never had been with anyone before. She just wanted to feel desired. Peter remembered telling her that this was not the way to get that. She’d of regretted it in the morning. She tried to kiss him then but he gently refused. She was too intoxicated. The next day, he didn’t think she even remembered any of it. She never drank again after that. 

It was enough to fuel his secret fantasies though. At night, he liked to imagine her naked and splayed out on his bed. He longed to be the one to take her virginity. He wanted to be the first person to get the privilege to delve deeper into her most private places. He fantasied about the noises she would make as he played with her body. Her usually soft spoken voice unraveling into shrieks of pleasure. He would be the one to show her how good her body could really feel. 

He watched as she stretched her arms above her head and yawned. Her loose shirt pulled up and exposed her midsection. He could see the black elastic of her underwear peeking out over the waist band of her shorts. He licked his suddenly dry lips and forced himself to drag his eyes away from her skin. Peter turned his attention back to the computer as a distraction. God, he was too horny. Even the slightest bit of skin could set him off lately. She had cast her spell over him. Every little movement she made felt like she was purposefully calling out to him like a siren of the sea. Out of the corner of his eyes, he subtly watched as she adjusted her bra. It must have shifted slightly during her nap. He chewed on his top lip while envisioning what it would be like to hold her bare breasts in his hands. He longed to throw her down onto the bed and tear her clothes straight from her body. 

“Do you think I can take a shower here before I leave for the night?” She asked, cutting through his spiraling crude thoughts. “The showers in my dorm are so gross. Yesterday when I went to take one, someone had puked all over the drain. It was disgusting. Plus the curtains they have are about an inch too short on either side. It’s like they were designed by a huge pervert.” 

The idea of her naked, wet and soapy, in his shower caused his cock to twitch in his pants. He carefully maneuvered himself to hide his arousal from her. He kept his eyes carefully trained on his screen. Did he think she could take a shower here? Ha. That was only the greatest idea he’d ever heard. 

“Yeah, sure. That’s not a problem.” He tried his best to keep any excitement out of his voice. “Go right ahead.”

“Thanks, Petey. You’re the best!” She hopped off his bed, her shirt clinging around her chest and exposing her stomach for a beautiful moment before she tugged it back into place. She flashed him a charming smile and shut herself in the bathroom. 

If anyone else had dared call him “Petey” he would have launched them out a window. When it was her though, she could get away with calling him anything as long as it came out of those pretty lips of hers. 

The sound of the shower flooded his ears. His heart beat sped up at the thought of her stripping off her clothes mere feet away from him. He tried to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths. This was not how a good friend behaved. He was raised better than this. Apparently no one informed his cock though. It pressed uncomfortably in his pants. He was itching to touch himself. 

She was a girl and girls usually took a long time in the shower. If he was quick enough, he might be able to take care of the pressing problem at hand before she got out. Peter glanced towards the bathroom door and nearly had a heart attack. He had forgot to warn her that door was fidgety. If you didn’t close it in just the right way, it would fall open again. It was usually never an issue because he lived alone. A three inch gap was now beckoning his eyes inside. His siren was calling for him. From his spot on the chair he couldn’t quite see her. But if he leaned back just a little...

The chair almost fell over in his eagerness to catch a glimpse of her. He caught himself on his desk and pulled it back into position. What was he doing? This was so wrong. A sense of shame washed over him. This was not the kind of person he wanted to be. He should be a proper gentlemen and go close the door. He wasn’t going to be driven by his own horniness and greed. He was supposed to be respectful of her privacy. 

And, yet, what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. 

He grabbed a Chemistry book and brought it to his bed. He settled down and pretended to give it a read. From here, he had the perfect vantage spot. He held the book up to his face and peeked out over the top. His eyes hungrily searched through the gap for her. He had never bought a new shower curtain when he moved in. It was just the clear liner to keep the water from spilling out onto the floor. That meant he had a straight view right to her. The universe was aligning. This was their fate. This was supposed to happen. Peter was sure of it.

His heart was pounding out of his chest. His beautiful, wet angel stood before him. Her body was even more perfect than the one in his dreams. She had her back facing the shower stream. Her hair was full of suds from his shampoo as she massaged her scalp. He watched as the bubbles cascaded down her slippery body. Before he knew it, his cock was out of his pants and in his hand. 

Her ass cheeks were plump with cute, little dimples. He envisioned himself grabbing handfuls of the meaty flesh, his fingernails digging into her skin, while he pumped his cock through his fist. She had a slight belly with the cutest bellybutton Peter had ever seen. He wanted to bathe it with his tongue. Her breasts sat high on her chest. From the side view he got, he could see her perfectly taught nipples poking out. Fuck, she looked so inviting. 

He took a shuttered breath and licked his dry lips. The water glistened off her. He watched in a trance as it slid over her silky skin. A water droplet clung from the end of her nipple and dangled in the air before falling. He longed to catch it in his mouth and drink from her body. The steam clung around her like her own personal cloud. She really was an angel. 

His eyes follow the stream of water falling from her face down to her chest and between her breasts. It slid over her soft belly and spilled out to slide into the tight junction between her legs. Her beautiful, virgin pussy. Peter’s stomach flipped with excitement as he imagined pulling her legs apart to get a look at the place no one else had been granted permission to see. 

He could feel his climax growing. It was very apparent to him now that Peter could not just be friends with her. He needed more. She had tried to kiss him that one time. Maybe she wanted this too. He would need to make his move tonight. There was no more waiting. Taking her virginity was no longer a decision Peter could deny. It was purely a need. An unconscious need like food or breathing. He was starving for her. She had no idea what was in store for her when she got out. He would ravish her until she could no longer walk. He would spend all night feasting on her flesh. He would make her his. 

Peter let his hand fall from his throbbing, aching member. He couldn’t waste his load on anything other than her. She would be the one to receive him. He shuddered at the thought of being allowed to fill up her cunt with his seed. His sweet, beautiful, perfect angel dripping with this cum. There was no doubt in his mind that he would have her. Peter Parker was put on this earth for the sole purpose of taking this angel’s virginity. 

The Chemistry book he had planned to use as a cover to steal glimpses of her slipped from his chest and onto the floor. His body couldn’t handle little glimpses. He had needed so much more. The book hit the ground with a heavy thud. The noise caused her to look up.

She made eye contact with him through the crack in the door. Her eyes darted down to his exposed erection laying proudly against his stomach. 

Peter’s eyes widened and he quickly covered himself with his pillow. He jumped up and slammed the door shut. His heart was racing and he squeezed his eyes closed. The sudden humiliation of getting caught pulled him out of whatever obsessive trance he had fallen in to. He was such a creep. What was he doing? He had never been this horny in his life. She was never going to trust him again. 

He took a shaky breath and tried to compose himself. How could he salvage this so he could still get what he wanted? He needed her and only her. No one else was ever allowed to have her. She belonged to Peter. The images of her wet naked body fluttered back into his vision. They pushed out the shame and horror he was feeling for his own perverted thoughts. All he could see was her. A sense of calm settled around him. He stood up straighter. There was no doubt. If she allowed him, he was still going to go through with it. He just had to be smooth about it. He had to be strong. This was no place for shame. 

He knocked on the bathroom door and called out her name, “Hey, we need to talk when you’re done in there.” The head of his stiff prick rubbed against the smooth surface of the door. He couldn’t remember the last time he had ever been this hard. It was all her. His angel. He tried to tuck it back into his pants the best he could while he spoke. “I know what you saw. My robe is on the back of the door. Just put that on and we can talk about this.” 

He purposely didn’t want her to get dressed again. The less clothes she had on, the better. He heard the shower shut off. Her wet feet padded against the tiles. He could hear her grab the robe off the door and a smile crept onto his face. She was probably so nervous she wasn’t thinking very clearly. She had all her clothes in there with her but she listened to him instead. That was a good sign. “I’m gonna move back to the bed. So, you can come out whenever you’re ready.”

Peter sat on the edge of his bed and kept his eyes trained on the door. Butterflies erupted in his stomach the second he saw it creak open. She peeked her head out first then slowly shuffled out into the room. 

The white robe was tied tightly around her wet, glistening skin. Her hair was combed back over her head. The ends made little dripping noises as wet droplets fell from the tips and onto the floor. He could practically feel the heat of embarrassment radiating off her cheeks and she kept her eyes cast to the floor. He could hear her nervous heart beating out of her chest. 

Peter smiled sweetly at her, “Jesus Christ, you’re beautiful.” 

A little smile tugged at the corner of her lips and she looked up to meet his eyes. 

“Stop,” she whispered. 

He shook his head. He’d never stop complimenting her. She was the type of woman who deserved to be worshiped. “I should have told you about the door. I’m sorry. That was really creepy of me. You just looked so...” He swallowed his words. “You’re a vision. A perfect angel. I don’t know what came over me but I couldn’t stop myself when I saw you there. I need to kiss you. Please. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a very long time.” He sounded so desperate but he remembered how badly she said she wanted to feel desired. Well, this was him, shamelessly lusting after her. 

Her bashfulness deepened. He could hear her breath catch in her throat. She wanted to be kissed. He could tell. He wouldn’t dare keep her waiting. 

Peter stood up and moved directly in front of her. His hands reached out to graze over her wrists. His fingers entwined with hers. He pulled her against his body, pressing his hips into her so she could feel how hard she had made him. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. 

“Let me finally show you how good a man can make a woman feel,” he whispered into her skin. 

She shuddered under him. A little whine escaped her lips. Her breathe was already becoming ragged in anticipation. She was acting almost as needy as he was.

“Peter,” her voice was so quiet even he could hardly head it. “I haven’t ever...no one has...” 

She was too embarrassed to tell him she had never had sex before. She must not have remembered their conversation that drunken night but knew what path they were headed down. He smiled down at her and nuzzled his forehead against hers. 

“Shh, it’s alright. If you get uncomfortable or want to stop at any time, you just tell me, okay? My job is to make you feel good. If, at any point, I’m not doing that then you need to let me know.” He rubbed her arms soothingly as he carefully studied her face. 

She slowly nodded. Her eyes were glued to the tent in his pants pushing against her. He watched as she chewed her bottom lip nervously. 

He pressed his fingers under her chin and tilted her head up to him. He lightly kissed her full, pouty lips. She hesitated only a moment before melting into him. 

Peter started slowly, not wanting to startle her or move too fast. This was all for her. He would take his time and savor every moment. He gave her bottom lip a quick peck and then the corners of her full mouth, he moved to her jaw and cheeks. Even the tip of her nose. He could feel her tensing as he traveled around her face. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention. The moment he returned to her luscious lips, she relaxed again. A quiet moan pressed out of his mouth as his tongue pushed its way past her lips. He drew his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. Her hands reached for his hair and tangled his locks in her fingers. The more passionately he kissed her, the more she would tear at his hair. He adored the way it felt. The harder she pulled, the faster the fire grew in his stomach. 

Peter eventually pried his mouth away from hers. She whined in response. He chuckled under his breath as his lips traced up her jaw and found her cute, little ear lobes. He flicked his tongue over it then sucked it into his mouth, giving the lobe a gentle nibble. 

Her jaw fell open in pleasure, “Mmm.” She was practically purring in his arms. He had clearly found one of her erogenous zones. His lips curled into a smile at his find as he bathed her ear with attention. Her wet hair and the smell of his shampoo lingering on her hair filled his nose. The thought of her covered in his own scent was intoxicating like she was marked as his. 

Peter began moving his lips and tongue down her collar bone and into the hollow of her graceful neck. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” He mumbled into her skin.  

She replied with a far away groan. Her eyes were closed and a soft smile danced on her lips. He took that as a yes. He continued his decent. His tongue trailed down her neck and he slowly pushed the robe off her shoulders, leaving kisses on her newly exposed skin. 

When she felt the robe start to slide off her, she quickly caught it in her hands and held it up. Her eyes shot open. The dazed look on her face was replaced with one of anxiety. 

Peter pulled away at her sudden change in behavior, “Are you okay?” As much as he wanted to attack her body, it wouldn’t be worth it for him unless she was completely enjoying his advances. She needed to be fully on board. They were in this together. 

She shook her head no. Her eyes were big and round. They filled with worry. “What if you don’t like what you see?” 

He had to refrain from laughing. He already knew he liked what he saw. She was built just for him and nobody else. “That’s impossible. You could have full on lizard scales under that robe and I would still adore every inch of them.” 

She gave him a shy, breathy laugh, “Are you sure?”

Peter tried to soothe her nerves, “Did you enjoy me kissing you?” 

She nodded and sighed happily. 

“Good. Then what comes next is only going to be a better version of that.” He gave his lips a quick lick and smiled warmly at her.

He could tell she was thinking it over. No one had ever made her feel as good as Peter had in those sheer few minutes of heaven. She wanted to see what else he could do. He could feel it. Her hand reached out and their fingers brushed together. It was her way of letting him know it was okay to continue. 

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered. He could sense her arousal at his praise. He would lock that information in his the depths of his brain for later. 

Peter placed his hands on her shoulders and slowly pushed the robe off. His eyes hungrily watched at her bare shoulder’s were exposed, then her chest, his heart skipped a beat when her perfect tits capped with her hard nipples were releveled, then her abdomen followed by her soft stomach. Finally her hips and her pussy gave way for his eyes to feast on. The robe puddled to the ground around her legs and settled at her feet. His throat was dry as he stared longingly at the glistening, still wet pubic hair around her mound. He would burry his face in there soon enough. 

Peter reached for her hand, lifting her arm above her head, and gave her a slow twirl so he could take in every inch of her from all angles. 

“See? No lizard scales,” he was able let out a small joke to break the tension. 

Her body relaxed and she giggled. Her cheeks were burning but she seemed okay with his admirations. 

“Don’t let me be the only one naked,” she murmured. Her quiet voice was always so tantalizing. It made him want to lean in closer just to catch every word. This beautiful vixen was so unassuming and floated under everyone’s radar. Yet here she was, standing before him, with nothing pure grace and elegance. He was the luckiest man alive. He would bring her body to the brink of destruction tonight. A world of endless possibilities was laid out before him. Her innocence would play well with the dark, immoral places his mind was dragging him to. 

Peter tossed his shirt off with one fluid motion. His heart fluttered as he watched her eyes widen while she took in the muscles rippling over his chest. She had never seen him with his shirt off. She had yet to figure out his secret identity. His cut and muscular physique was a surprise to her. He hid it well under his clothes. 

His own pompous cockiness flooded his senses. He would show her exactly how strong he was tonight. Peter reached for her waist and pulled her tightly against him. His lips attacked hers as he kissed her deeply. Her supple breasts pressed against his bare chest and his fingers trailed down her spine until they stopped over her perfect, rounded ass cheeks. He gave her plump cheeks a squeeze. He was amazed at how silky and smooth they felt. His hands got to work softly kneading and massaging her ass. Her skin felt flush and warm in his greedy hands. She moaned in pleasure. 

Peter braced his arm under her bottom and hoisted her effortlessly into the air. A gasp fell from her lips and her eyes widened. She probably hadn’t been lifted like this since she was child. She instinctively wrapped her bare legs around his torso. He could feel the heat of her core boring into his skin. Her breasts were perfectly level with his mouth. No time was wasted in devouring her nipples while he carried her to the bed. Her body squirmed above him and he could see her head lull back with a low moan. She was truly a goddess. Did she have any idea how seductive her movements were? 

He threw her backwards onto the bed. The mattress shuddered under her as she fell and the cheap, college bed boards groaned. He’d be lucky if they didn’t completely break the bed in half tonight. She laid there watching him with her lips parted and her chest rising. He made a show of unbuttoning his pants. His cock was begging to be released from the confines of the fabric. He pushed his pants and boxers off, kicking them to side, and stood proudly before her. He let her take a moment to soak it all in. 

Her eyes feasted over his body and down to his bulging member. It was leaning heavily against his leg. Her bottom lip was sucked into her mouth and she couldn’t pull her eyes away. He wondered if this was the first penis she had ever seen in person before. Don’t worry, he thought to himself, she’ll get plenty of time to be introduced to it later. 

Peter climbed on top of her. She parted her legs as if she was ready to take him right then. He couldn’t help but give her a little smile. She was so eager. 

“Not yet,” he cooed. "Don’t be in such a rush. I have lots to do before I get to that.” 

He settled over her and his lips found her breasts again. Her breath caught in her throat and her back arched to push them deeper into his mouth. He softly kissed and licked at the tender, sensitive skin of her tits. Her nipples felt like they were sizzling with pleasure as he nibbled on the firm flesh. He made sure to alternate between the two twins. Each one needed to receive as much enjoyment as the other. 

“Oh, Peter!” She choked out when he used his teeth to lightly bite down against the hard nub. 

He had no idea what sort of kinks she might have. She probably had no idea herself. He’d work through her slowly and carefully to find exactly what she enjoyed. It seemed she responded well with light biting. He wanted to try and push it a little further. His teeth bore down on her nipple and pulled her breast away from her body. 

“Oh!” Her mouth fell open and her eyes widened. Her hips bucked up to grind against him as she let out a low moan. 

He watched her breast rise away from her body before releasing. The flesh jiggled as it settle back into place. He attacked it again. This time using gentle flicks of his tongue to stimulate her and help soothe the soreness forming around her nipple. She was loving it. Her hands entangled around the back of his head and held him tightly to her chest. 

He snaked a hand up her stomach to give love to her other tit while he nursed the one clasped in his mouth. His fingers pinched her nipple between them while he gave light, rapid strokes over the top. 

Her skin tasted like heaven. Just like an angel’s should. 

Her body was writhing under him. Her skin felt like it was burning against his. She was so hot he wouldn’t be surprised to see steam rising off of her. 

Peter stopped working on the breast in his mouth and switched over to the other. While he expertly used his tongue to pleasure her chest, his hand slid down her body, fingertips tracing lightly over her skin. He let his hand softly caress over her stomach, his fingers slowly circling her navel. He made wider and wider circles down the length of her until he he came to the warm, wet juncture between her legs. 

At this point, she was practically vibrating under Peter’s knowing fingers. He seemed to know just where to touch or kiss her. It was like he already knew every inch of her body. She was trusting him more and more with each passing minute. He could tell she wanted desperately to open herself up to him. He urged her legs apart and she obliged. She spread them wider for his hand to easily tuck between her thighs. Her fear was being replaced with lust. Peter only wanted to make her feel good. 

There was no doubt in his mind that her body was made for him. From the way her skin tasted of his soap, to the way her thick ass cheeks filled his hands, to the way she held his head to her ripe tits, down to the way she opened her legs just enough for his hand to be a perfect fit. She was his. He traced her wet slit with his fingertips causing her to tremble. As he slowly started sliding his fingers up and down, coating him in her wetness, he leaned his head back up to kiss her. 

Peter’s finger carefully parted her virgin pussy while his tongue slid past her lips and into her mouth. She was panting harder into him the deeper he sunk his finger. He had never felt anything so tight before. It was like her cunt was trying to squeeze his finger from his hand. He wondered if she had ever even had her own fingers in here. He almost doubted if he’d even be able to get his dick past her walls. He’d have to remember to move very delicately. 

Her body was on fire. She broke the kiss to call out in pleasure which gave Peter time to go back to nursing her tits. 

“Oh god, Pete,” she whimpered while his long, skinny finger probed into her until she had completely swallowed it whole. 

She was so wet he wasn’t worried about it hurting with just one finger. He’d have to work carefully before adding a second though. She would need a lot of warming up if he wanted to properly fuck her. His thumb found her clit and he traced delicate little circles over it. 

“Oh yes, Pete. That feels so good...” She hissed through clenched teeth. Her eyes had closed in bliss. 

A smug smiled pulled at his lips from her words. She was panting and squirming while his finger worked around inside her impossibly tight cunt. He was almost giddy with excitement for when he would finally get to slide his cock into her. Gradually he started to push a second finger in. His eyes stayed on her face to watch how she’d react to more stretching. A quick flash of pain hit her features but he didn’t pull out, only held his fingers steady for a moment. 

“You good?” He asked. 

She took a second but nodded, “Keep going.” 

He returned to massaging her clit with his thumb. He waited until he watched her body relax again before continuing to push in the second finger. Eventually, she had swallowed them both. 

Peter felt a bit of pride on her behalf. She was doing so good. His tight, sexy angel stretching to accommodate him. He felt her body respond the moment he located her G-spot. Her back arched and her breath increased. He kept a steady pace as he slowly pumped his fingers back and forth, curling them upwards to brush over that special spot each time. He wanted her to cum for him. He could tell she was getting closer. 

He wished he had a camera set up so he could keep this moment with him forever. Her first time orgasming from him. If he had his way, there would be many more times, but this time was special. It would be what he would use as late night material for many nights to come. His eyes were plastered to her face. He didn’t want to miss a single moment. 

“Look at me,” he whispered. 

Her eyes fluttered open. They had a bleary, dazed look in them. Pure pleasure filled her face and a dopey smile crossed her lips. Her nipples were rock hard against his chest. She was so close now.

“I’m going to make you feel good, baby.” He smiled down at her. All at once he slid his two fingers slowly against the rough patch of skin buried deep in her pussy while he pressed his thumb to her hard clit.

A quiet yelp burst out of her, she was still trying to keep her voice reserved, and an orgasm thundered through her. Her already tight pussy clenched down on his fingers and he felt warm wetness flow out of her spasming hole. Her legs trembled and her knees rose up while her hand reached over her head to grip onto his headboard. Waves of pleasure continued to flow back and forth like the tide inside of her. Her hips bucked against his hand while she worked to fuck his his fingers deeper into her. He didn’t even have to move, she was doing it all herself now. 

“Oooohh...” she moaned as she slowly came down back to reality. 

He was so pleased with her. She pulled his neck down so his body would be pressed against hers. Her face nuzzled into his cheek. Reluctantly, he pulled his fingers from her clutching hole. She moaned and shuddered when he did then melted into him. 

“Such a good girl,” he mused at her. “My beautiful angel.” He lovingly stroked his hands up and down her smooth arms. 

She shuddered one last time and leaned back into the pillow to gaze up at him. Peter had a twinkle in his eye as he admired her back. Perfection. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. She tugged his back of his head down to her lips and kissed him deeply. The action took Peter by surprise. She was so forceful in the way she pressed him to her face. She had known exactly what she wanted. It made his heart flutter with excitement. She was getting so confident. His special girl. 

She broke the kiss and whispered again, “Thank you.” 

Peter wasn’t sure why she was thanking him but he would give her a million more orgasms if it meant receiving her praise. She now owned his soul. He would do anything to please her. Only she had other ideas. 

A fiery look flamed behind her eyes. Peter’s brow furrowed trying to figure out what she was thinking. He didn’t have to wait long to get the answer. Her hand pressed against his shoulder and she flipped him onto his back, taking his place above him instead. His eyes widened. It was like her orgasm had released a wild animal inside of her. He could only imagine what kind of person she would be with a few months of practice under her belt. Oh, he had so many future plans for her. 

She settled between his legs and gawked down at his cock. He could see her confidence falter a bit at the sight. His hand reached up to brush her wet hair back from her face and he smiled. 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he murmured. Obviously he would adore her swollen lips wrapped around his member. The thought alone was enough to make his hips tremble but he didn’t want to push her too far. 

She shook her head, her voice back to it’s soft, timid tones, “I want to.”

Tenderly, her hand gripped around the base of his cock. Her eyes peered back at him from behind her lashes and he gave her an encouraging nod. She leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to the tip of his throbbing head, tasting his salty pre-cum on her lips and tongue. 

It was singlehandedly the hottest and most adorable act he had ever witnessed. She licked her lips in preparation and carefully placed her mouth around the head of his cock. She ran her wet tongue all the way around the tip and sucked it into her mouth.

Peter’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, “Fuck yes.” He was officially in love with her. All it took was a little attention from her mouth for him to fall head over heels. He’d do anything she’d ever ask of him for the rest of time. Anything she wanted was hers. 

She slowly started moving her hand along with her bobbing mouth. She seemed to be able to only able to get the first few inches into her mouth before it bumped against the back of her throat. He could tell she almost gagged a few times when he hit too deep. 

Peter strummed his fingers through her hair, “Take your time. There’s no rush, baby. Don’t worry about getting it all in there.” He placed a hand over hers and helped show her how to move it over the base of his cock. “Like this. Then you can just focus on sucking on the head. Use your tongue a lot. You’re doing great.”

In truth, she wasn’t the best at sucking a dick, but he knew she would learn with time. It was hard to complain when her mouth felt so warm and inviting. One day, he’d get her to deep throat the whole thing. For now, he’d be happy just letting her play around with him. It was their first meeting. She had to get used to the way he felt in her hand and mouth. Even if her technique was nearly non-existent, Peter loved the sight of his prick sliding past her lips. As her inexperienced head rocked up and down in his lap, he felt his balls begin to draw up and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he exploded. He was already so tender and ready from his interrupted masturbation session earlier. 

“I’m gonna cum soon,” he prepared her. “Do you-” He had to swallow and close his eyes in an attempt to hold back his body before he could ask her. “Do you want me to cum in your mouth? ‘Cause, if not, you might want to move.”

Her eyes widened a little at his question but she kept her mouth over him. She worked him deeper into her throat. That was all it took for his first shot of hot cum to erupt into her mouth. She jumped at the sensation and started swallowing. She might not of have the best blow job skills but she sure knew how to swallow like a pro. Load after thick load shot into her mouth and with pride she swallowed every last drop. Her eyes were locked to his face, waiting and watching for his approval. 

Peter shuddered in bliss and gazed with half closed lids down at the beautiful, naked angel with the head of his dick still resting between her lips. He loved her. 

She let his softening cock slip from her mouth and wiped the drool from her chin with the back of her hand, “Did I do good?”

She wanted his praise. He wouldn’t ever deny her that. He wanted her to crave his compliments. 

“Best little cock sucker in the world, angel.” He grinned down at her and pulled her back over him. He adored the way her breasts felt pressed against his bare chest. He loved the way he could feel the heat coming from between her legs. 

A huge smile broke out over her face at his admiration of her. Her cheeks burned with pride. She was beautiful. He kissed her mouth and grabbed a handful of her ass cheeks. He was such an ass man. Her legs fell to either side of his hips so his cock nestled under her pussy lips. He was already hard again. One of the many perks of his spider bite was his ability to rejuvenate with ease. She also had that effect on him. 

Peter took his time to simply kiss her while they both relaxed from their orgasms. He wanted to space hers out enough that she didn’t become overstimulated and call it quits too early. He nibbled and sucked on her bottom lip while massaging her ass. Eventually he released her cheeks from his grasp and instead cupped her face in his hands. His brown eyes studied her delicate features with adoration. He tucked her drying hair behind her ears. 

“Beautiful,” he breathed while staring at her. 

He knew the moment he said it, the timid look would appear back on her expression. He wasn’t wrong. 

“Peter?” She whispered. 

“Hmm?” His eyes closed while he grazed his lips over her burning cheeks. 

“I’ve wanted this for a really long time,” she confessed to him. “Since the first day I saw you. I’ve dreamed about this moment.” 

His eyes opened to stare into hers. There was no hint of deceit hiding behind them. She meant every word. He smiled at her. 

“I guess that makes two of us then,” he placed a soft kiss to her lips. 

She deepened it. Her tongue slid past his lips and danced around his. His hands returned to her ass while hers tangled in his hair. The longer she kissed him, the more her hips began to grind against his dick. He helped glide her along the length of him by gripping tightly onto her cheeks and pushing or pulling her. She was already sopping wet down there and she slid over him with ease. She broke their kiss for her back to arch as she pointed her hips down to maximize the amount of stimulation her clit was receiving. A whimper rumbled in the back of her throat. Peter could do nothing but stare up at her in awe. He couldn’t even fully appreciate the feeling of her cunt rubbing against him. He was too worked up at just staring at her face. A virginal seduction goddess was hovering above him. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, and her head was hanging back while she worked her hips to create her own satisfaction. He wasn’t even helping anymore. She was doing it all on her own. He could only watch while she used him for her pleasure. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. She was completely lost in her own feelings, rubbing her clit faster against his dick. Her hands were braced against his chest. The rolling of her hips sped up. Her panting got heavier. Peter stared in wonderment as her second orgasm of the night hit her. 

Her entire body shook and convulsed over him. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Her mouth hung wide open in a silent scream. Her hips gyrating and trembling until she collapsed on top of him. Her whole body crumbled over his chest. He wrapped her up in his strong arms and held her tightly there. His hands stroked over her hair and down the back of her head to soothe her. 

“Wow,” was all he was able to breathe out. 

He heard her laugh quietly and it only made his love for her grow. She kept her head buried in the crook of his neck. She was breathing heavily. 

“You keep that up and you’ll be too tired for me fuck you,” he joked. 

Her head peeked up at him and she kissed under his jaw, “No way. Give me a minute and I’ll be ready. I want this.” 

She truly was his gift sent from the heavens. 

“I haven’t ever felt like this before,” she lamented. “I never even really touched myself. I mean, I definitely I have a little, but not like this. Nothing ever came of it. It’d just make me more frustrated that I couldn’t find a release to all that tension. I thought I was broken. I feel like I’m being woken up to a new revelation.” 

Peter traced the tips of his fingers up and down her spine, “You’re not broken. I don’t think you have any idea how incredibly sexy you are. The way you lose yourself in your orgasm, the way your body moves, it’s something else. If this college thing doesn’t work out for you, you should try porn.” 

Her light laughter filled the room. It was heavenly. 

“I’m serious,” he said. “I’ll film it for you. I’ll be the best director you’ve ever seen.” 

The thought of cameras popped into his head. He wished he could have a picture of her to remember this night by. Something to look back on. He was unsure how revolted by the idea she might be. He was afraid to ruin their perfect mood.

“I’m not sexy,” she whispered.

It was Peter’s turn to laugh now. He carefully rolled her off his chest and onto her back. 

“Wait right there,” he said as he climbed out of the bed. 

He grabbed his polaroid camera out of his closet. He held it up to show her and stepped onto the bed. Peter stood over her and pointed the camera down at her. 

“Just stay still, exactly as you are, and I’ll show you what I see,” he ordered. 

She made no protests to being photographed. The act of the polaroid was probably less of a scary thought. It wasn’t something that could be shared on the internet. It was more intimate which was exactly why Peter loved them. He snapped the pic. The flash went off to illuminate her body lazily draped over his bed sheets. Her arm was resting above her head causing her breasts to be lifted. Her back was slightly arched and twisted so you could get a great glimpse at the roundness of her bottom. Her bedroom eyes were piercing up at the camera. She was posing like a nude model without even releasing it. He grabbed the picture when it emerged from the camera and placed it on his bedside table to develop. If she was willing to let him take photographs of her now, he could only imagine what the future would hold. He predicted the back of his closet door would be covered in her nude photos in no time. 

Peter took advantage of the fact that she was now under him. He could spend all night just staring at her beautiful naked body but he still needed to sneak a taste of her before he claimed her virginity. He trailed wet kisses down her neck only for her to respond with soft moans. If he didn’t eat her out soon, he thought he might die of starvation. He felt her small intake of breath as he reached her perfect breasts. He kissed all around the firm flesh before dragging his tongue across the sensitive nipple. 

“Yes,” she hissed and pushed her chest forward. 

He didn’t stay there for long though. He had other appointments to make. She closed her eyes as he worked her way down her body. Peter slid down the bed until he was practically kneeling on the floor with his upper body draped across the foot of the bed. The college mattress they were given always felt so small compared to his one at home. 

She knew where he was going, knew what he was planning. Her legs fell open for him. For the first time, he got a proper peek at her hidden treasure. He took a beat to simply admire the beauty before him. He longed for his polaroid again but knew that would be taking it one step too far for her. 

While he took in the sights, he was pleased in knowing that she was finally his. This beautiful pussy was going to belong to Peter Parker tonight. He greeted it by sticking out his tongue and licking the length of her slit. Her body jumped at the touch. 

“Peter!” She cried. “Oh...please...” 

With a finger from each hand, Peter opened up the pretty, little flower of her heated pussy. A trickle of her juices trailed out of the tight hole and her hard clit stood out from beneath its hood. She was most certainly still a virgin. He licked his lips, his mouth was watering at the sight. Peter lightly licked the flesh between her swollen lips and gave a small kiss at the entrance to her hole just like she had for him. He felt her hips start to roll against his face, begging for more attention. His tongue slipped inside of her. 

“Yes, Peter,” she panted. 

His eyes flicked up to catch her playing with her breasts. She was pinching her nipples hard between her fingers and tugging her breasts away from her chest. She liked them to be played with more roughly he could tell. He’d keep that in mind for another night. His tongue probed into her as deeply as he could reach. She tasted absolutely divine. The only time he pulled out was to bathe her clit with mouth then he’d dive back in again. Her panting was getting louder and her hips were starting to lift off the mattress as she humped his face. He could tell she was nearing her third orgasm. He debated it he should allow her to ride it out but decided against it. He wanted her needy for him. The hungrier her pussy was, the easier it would be to swallow his cock. 

Regrettably, Peter pulled his head away from her. There would be times in the future when he would spend the entire day doing nothing but eating her out. Today was not that day though. Her slick juices coated his chin and he licked them off of his lips. She wailed in displeasure as he left her cresting on the verge of euphoria. Her hips bucks against the empty air and she pouted down at him.

“No!” She cried at him. “Why did you stop?”

He gave a breathy laugh and climbed up her body, pecking her lips, “Because I think it’s about time I made love to you, don’t you think?” 

She seemed to accept that idea. A tiny smile hinting on her lips. She gave him a little nod and a slow, sweet kiss. He could tell she was starting to get nervous. 

Peter gently pulled away from her and grabbed a condom out of his bedside stand. His eyes caught sight of the now developed polaroid sitting there. He smiled as he picked it up and handed it to her. 

“Look at you,” he mused. “An angel.”

She took the picture in her hand and studied it over. It was a good distraction for her while he placed the condom onto himself. It was one of the rubbers that was already pre-lubed. It was nothing ribbed or special, just a simple, basic condom. He figured that would be easiest for her. 

“Are you sure that’s me?” She asked. 

He plucked the picture from her hands, glancing between the two, and nodding, “Yep. I’d say they’re a perfect match.” He put it back on the bedside table. He looked deep into her eyes and asked seriously, “Do you trust me?”

She nodded silently, her apprehensive eyes searching his. 

“Then I trust you to tell me to stop if it hurts too much. We can go as slow as you need but you have to tell me.” He bent down and pecked her lips. “Now spread your legs for me, baby.” 

She did as she was told, her legs spreading wide to accommodate him between them. She suddenly looked so vulnerable. His confidence flew out the window when he gazed down at her. He wanted nothing more than to protect her. It made him nervous just looking at her. She was too beautiful for him. What was he doing? 

“Peter?” She questioned him when he had hovered there frozen for a beat too long. 

He snapped out of his daze, “I...I want you to say it.” He wanted to hear it from her. He wanted to make sure this was all okay. He was scared he was taking advantage of her.

She brought her lips up to his ear and whispered with hot breath into him, “I want you to fuck me, Peter.”

His confidence came rushing back. This was exactly what he was meant to be doing. She was made for him and he was made for her. He needed to savor this moment. He would be the first person to fuck her. It was all him. 

He positioned the head of his cock at the entrance to her wet cunt. He leaned down to kiss her when he started pushing the tip inside. She cooed at the feeling of him parting her lips. He knew the pleasant feeling wouldn’t last long when he reached her hymen. At least he could rest in knowing that her body was still in heat from the assault of his tongue. If she was ever going to be ready, now was the time. 

“I want you all the way inside me, Pete.” She breathed. “Please. Please. I can’t wait anymore. I need you.” 

He wouldn’t argue with that. Peter kept his slow, diligent penetration. Inch by inch he would burry himself into his beautiful angel. He felt her tensing when he hit a certain point. He stopped to check on her. 

She shook her head, “Keep going. Don’t stop. It hurts more when you stop.” 

He continued even when she let out a loud yelp and hissed under her breath. Her body was tensing and he could tell she was extremely uncomfortable. Peter slipped his hand between their thighs and found her clit. It was a little awkward of a position for him to reach but he did his best to keep a finger flicking over it in an effort to soothe her. His mouth also found her nipple and sucked it against his wet tongue. Anything to try and help bring her more pleasure than pain as he continued to stretch her open. She was just so tight. He had heard the term “like a glove” before but she was tighter than that. Her pussy was like a velvet vice, squeezing him harder than anything ever had before. She seemed to be drawing him deeper into her depths. His whole life had lead up to this exact moment. He was cherishing every second. 

As Peter carefully filled her up, her moans started to switch from unease to pleasure. His added ministrations must be providing some much needed relief for her. She started to raise her hips to meet him more and more. He felt wanted. By the time his balls were resting against her ass cheeks, she gave him a little smile. He waited there. Letting his cock stretch her out and better accommodate him. He released her nipple and turned back to her mouth. 

“Are you okay?” He asked between kisses. 

She nodded, “It wasn’t as bad as I thought.” 

His tongue swirled around hers. She was okay. She wasn’t in pain and she was no long virgin. That belonged to Peter now. He wanted to fuck her. He couldn’t keep waiting inside of her without doing anything. Slowly, he pulled back just a few inches and pushed into her again. She sucked in a sharp breath of air. 

“Oh, yes.” She moaned. “Again.”

Peter began his slow and rhythmic thrusts, gently but deliberately fucking her now. Her breath became rapid and her beautiful tits were moving along with each thrust into her. His cock felt wonderful filling her, stretching her tight walls, and scraping over her sensitive flesh as his dick rubbed against her G-spot with every inch. There was nothing in the world that could possibly feel better than this. They both wanted each other. Needed each other. He was in heaven. 

Her hot cunt was a velvet fist gripping his cock as he drew it in and out of her. He loved the sounds of her deep moans. They were getting less reserved with each passing minute. Every new thrust, Peter would pull out further and push in deeper. Soon he was able to slide through her without any restrictions. He could tell she was falling deeper in love with the act of sex too. Her hips would roll up to meet him. They both fell into a perfect rhythm together. 

“Peter, oh, Peter,” she kept moaning his name with her eyes closed. He could listen to that sound forever. His name never sounded so good. 

Peter increased his tempo, plunging in and out, harder and faster, his own needs taking over. He felt her hands slide up his arms and wrap around his neck, his body pressed flat against hers as he fucked her into the mattress. 

“You feel so good, baby. Such a good girl. My sweet angel. Look at how well your pussy is taking me. It feels so good. So tight,” he grunted out the words, not even fully knowing what he was saying. He just wanted to praise her and remind her how lovely she was. 

He felt like a steam engine, slowly starting then picking up the pace as he plowed along. Her rock hard nipples scraped against his abs. He attacked her neck with wet, heavy kisses to leave little bruises over her perfect skin. 

She couldn’t speak as the erotic sensations coursed through her body. She could only moan. Her voice was getting louder. Surely, everyone on the floor could hear her now but that only made Peter want to fuck her harder. Let everyone know. She was his. He was the reason she was screaming like that. All his. 

The sounds she was making was a good hint that she was about to cum soon. Peter could last a long time if he tried but he wanted to climax along with her. He closed his eyes and focused on the feelings electrifying his body. He could feel it building. He pumped harder. His hips were working over time to drive himself into her as far as he possibly could. 

Her grip around his neck tightened and a loud shriek burst from her throat, “I’m coming! Oooh!” Her pussy clamped down on his cock as she spasmed around him. She continued shrieking as pure bliss washed through her body. Her pussy rippled around him like it was trying to milk the cum right out of him. 

That was all it took. Peter sucked in a breath as he buried himself balls deep into her tight, little cunt and shot his load deep into the end of the condom while she drained him of everything he had. A low growl escaped his throat and he bit down hard on her shoulder to keep from screaming. 

The bite must have unlocked something in her because her dying orgasm suddenly flared back up. She rocked her hips harder against him and thrashed her head back and forth against the pillow. Her entire body trembled underneath him. She was gasping for air. 

Peter finally felt himself relax. He was finding it difficult to hold himself up over her any longer so he rolled off her, flipping her over to spoon naked together in the small bed. His hand found her breasts and he palmed it lazily while he closed his eyes. She was panting heavily, having trouble catching her breath. 

She lay there stunned, unable to move or form words, letting Peter pull her into whatever position he wanted. He buried his face in the back of her neck and breathed her in. At some point he pulled off the condom and tossed it into the trash by his bed. Now his freed cock laid nestled between her ass cheeks while she dozed in and out of sleep. Anytime she’d move, she’d brush against his dick. He was already hard again. She was in a for a treat when she realized just long he could really last. He gently grinded his hips into her while his dick slipped between her cheeks and his hands toyed with her breasts. 

“That was the best moment of my entire life,” he mumbled. 

She responded with nothing but a sleepy, “Mmm.” 

He’d let her rest for a little while longer but he knew the night would be one with no sleep. 

You shot him a smile and gave an innocent shrug, "Hearing you talk about the chaos made me excited. I want to see you in action. Super dad, Peter Parker. It has a nice ring to it."

He groaned and hid his face back into the blankets, "I don't think I could even handle one. These children are crazed. They're taking over. They know I'm weak. They can smell my blood in the water and they're circling into attack mode. They're going to eat me alive. One day someone will check in on me and my half devoured body will be staring lifeless up at the ceiling while the children have gone completely feral as they feast on my flesh for snacktime. It's Lord of the Flies in there. My head has been pounding all evening."

You chucked at his over exaggeration of the situation and patted his back, "Such a drama queen. My day was lovely, thank you for asking. I got to sit in a quiet library and sort books."

He rolled over and flopped his head into your lap, staring up at you, "That sounds wonderful. Wanna trade?"

"You wish." You brushed your fingers through his thick hair. "Want me to give you a massage? I'll go grab some ibuprofen for your headache and massage away your troubles."

He responded with a pathetically sad whine, "Please. I'm dying."

You scooted out from under him to go grab a bottle of pain meds from the cabinet, along with a glass of water, and your cooling eye mask from the fridge. When you returned, Peter was laying in his boxers and had half unbuttoned his shirt before giving up. His arms were flopped onto the mattress and spread out to either side of him while he stared in a daze up at the ceiling.

"Help me," he croaked, his voice clearly strained from trying to speak over boisterous four year old's all day. "'m so tired. Can't even finish taking my shirt off. Just wanna be comfy..."

"Oh, honey, you poor thing," you chuckled under your breath. "Come here."

You placed his things on the bedside table and quickly made work of unbuttoning his shirt. He shrugged it off his shoulders, grabbing the pain relief next to him and chugging the entire glass of water with it. You helped fix the eye mask around his face and he rolled back onto his stomach.

You climbed up on top of him, straddling your legs on either side of his hips, and started to rub your hands over his bare shoulders. Peter let out a low groan of approval.

"Your hands are so cold," he mumbled.

"Aren't they always like that?" You replied, working your fingers into his large muscles with circular motions.

"Yeah but they feel nice now. You should quit your library job and work as a masseuse. Libraries are a dying breed."

You gasped in feigned outrage, "How dare you speak of my beloved library like that?"

He shrugged his tense shoulders, a tiny smile gracing his half hidden face, "Truth hurts, baby."

"Yeah, well, at least I know I'll never become a preschool teacher."

"Hey, don't mess with us teachers. We're hardcore."

You laughed, "Says the man who couldn't even take off his shirt tonight."

He gave a sly smile, "Maybe I wanted you to be the one to undress me? Maybe I knew exactly what I was doing?"

"Or maybe you were exhausted and lazy?" You patted his shoulder and rolled off him, sitting upright on the mattress. "Turn around and roll over. Put your head in my lap. I'll massage your head."

He did as he was told and settled nicely into your lap, a lingering smile on his lips. You gently took the eye mask off his face to have better access to him. You started with a gentle pressure, circling around his temples and working your way up his hairline to his forehead.

"Imma fall 'sleep," he mumbled.

"Go for it. You deserve the rest."

You continued to work on massaging his scalp, listening to his breathing get steadier and softer, when you looked down and quietly gasped at what you saw. As you ran your fingers through his thick hair, you noticed a patch of gray glinting under the dim light. The more you brushed through it, the more single strands of gray you saw. It wasn't immediately obvious unless you were up close and grooming him like you were doing but, there was no denying it, Peter was graying.

"Well, shit," you whispered under your breath.

Peter peaked a sleepy eye open and mumbled, "What? Don't tell me a kid gave me lice again."

"Not lice. Did you know that you're graying?" You couldn't hide the tinge of amusement in your voice.

His eyes snapped open, the sleep vanishing from his face, and he shot up right.

"What? I'm not going gray! Don't say that!" He gasped, putting a protective hand to his precious hair.

You laughed at his over the top reaction, "Sorry, Pete, but go look in the mirror."

He rolled off the bed and ran to the bathroom. You laid down to curl up in the warm spot his body heat had left on the bed and smiled when you heard his yelp of horror from the other room.

"No!" He yelled. "Those damn kids! This is their fault!" He shuffled back into the bedroom with a pout. "Am I old?"

You rolled your eyes, "You're 35, Peter."

"Is that old?" He sank to knees beside the bed in front of your face and looked up at you with pleading, but playful, eyes.

You nodded, taking on a serious tone, "Very. Oldest man alive."

"Oy vey," he stifled a laugh with his hand. "Might as well get me a cane and call me grandpa. Now that I think about it, my father grayed really early and so did Uncle Ben. At least they both still had a full head of hair. I'd rather be gray than bald. If I start to bald, I need you to put me out of my misery."

You scooted over to give him space to climb into bed with you, "Come on, old man. I promise if you go bald that I will make you a wig out of my own hair."

He rolled into bed beside you and snuggled his face next to yours so your noses were brushing against each other, "I have gray hair."

"I know," you whispered back. "That's so fucking hot."

"Really?"

You nodded, "Oh yeah. You're giving off serious daddy vibes right now." You gave him a sneaky smirk. "Is this old man too tired to please his wife tonight?"

His smile matched yours as you watched his eyes spark to life, "Wow, look at that, I suddenly feel fully rested. You're the perfect cure to a crazy day."

Peter was afraid of her flying off without him. He didn’t want her to leave him behind so he climbed onto the adjacent swing. He backed up and tried to match his swinging pace with hers. He longed to be right by her side as she flew but, every time, they’d fall out of sync with each other. Peter could never keep up. She was too fast. Already higher than he was.

“Do you think I can swing around the bar?” She asked him. Her eyes opened and she gave him a lopsided smile every time their swings passed each other. Her two front teeth were missing. He thought it was funny because they hadn’t even been wiggly the day before they fell out. She told him that the tooth fairy stole them straight out of her mouth in the middle of the night. He didn’t think that was very fair. He always had to be stuck with an annoying, wiggly tooth for days before it came out. Hers got to come out by magic overnight. Apparently teeth coming out by magic also made her top lip get all swollen and bruised. It looked like it might hurt but she never complained. 

Peter nodded his head, admiring her toothless smile, “Of course! You can do anything.” It was true. He really believed she could do anything she wanted. He held her in such high regards. His best friend. His only friend. 

“Okay! Let’s try it.”

They both pumped their legs a little harder and moved their bodies in motion with the swings to get up as high as they could. Peter could feel the flurry of nerves in his stomach the higher he got. The slack in the chain would loosen at a certain height and gravity would pull him back down again. His knuckles were white with the death grip he had on the chains, so afraid that if he let go he’d fall and hurt himself. Meanwhile, she continued to toss her head back and laugh with a wild abandon. This is where she felt the most free and this was where he fell in love. 

She never made it over the bar.

Fourth Grade: The Broken Princess 

It had been a week since she was in school. Peter missed her. He’d wander aimlessly around the playground at recess, kicking stones, and making up conversations in his head that he’d have with her. Sometimes he’d forget they were supposed to stay in his head and he’d find himself talking out loud to no one. The other kids would mock him whenever they caught him mouthing the words to an imaginary conversation. Nerdy Peter Parker and his girlfriend were always the butt of their jokes. They sneered at the word “girlfriend” as if that was a bad thing. He’d have to control his anger when he heard them laughing. It was okay if they were laughing at him but he hated when they made fun of her. He had promised Aunt May and Uncle Ben that he wouldn’t get into any more fights. It was becoming a hard promise to keep. 

She was notorious for being absent from school but she’d never been out this long. He wondered what kind of sickness she had. She must be dying. That was the only explanation he could think of. She would die just like his parents had and he’d be all alone again. He decided that after school, he was going to go to her house to check. He’d never been inside her apartment building. She’d always come to play at his if they hung out. Uncle Ben had dropped her off at home before so Peter knew where it was. It shouldn’t be too hard to get there. He’d have to learn how to use the subway by himself eventually. This afternoon would be as good a time as any. He’d done it with Ben hundreds of times, he could figure it out on his own. 

By the time school was over, Peter had already rushed through his homework and burst through his front door, tossing his bag on the ground and shouting for May. 

She poked her head out of the kitchen and gave him a warm smile, “How was school?”

“I already did my homework!” He was out of breath from running all the way home. “Can I go out to play? I want to go to the skate park.” That was a lie. He didn’t like lying but sometimes it was necessary. 

May gave a little shrug and nodded, “I don’t see why not. I trust that you actually finished all your homework and aren’t lying to me?”

He eagerly nodded.

She gave him a doubtful look but let it slide, “Be home by 6, that’s when your uncle gets off work. We’re having meatball subs for dinner.” 

“Thank you! Love you! Bye!” He sprinted towards the front door.

“Peter!” She called after him. 

He skidded to a stop and poked his head back around the corner into the kitchen, “What?” 

May pointed her finger to his brand new skateboard sitting propped up against the living room couch, “Aren’t you forgetting something important for the skate park?” 

His face flushed crimson, already having forgotten his cover story, “Oh ya. Can’t do much without that.” 

“And bring a helmet, for heaven's sake. If I catch you riding that death trap without one, you will be in big trouble!”

-

Peter stood in front of her old, rundown apartment building. Her neighborhood scared him. It felt different when he was walking alone instead of sitting in the back of Uncle Ben’s car. He had kept his head down, the helmet dangling from his arm, and clutched his skateboard close to his chest. He was terrified of someone trying to steal it from him. The second he stepped out of the subway, he started to regret coming here. If Ben found out he lied to May about where he was going, Peter would be grounded for the rest of his life. Worse than that, he would have disappointed them. He never wanted to disappoint anyone. 

The front door to the building was propped open with a cinder block so he didn’t have to ring her unit to get inside. There was a hole shattered through the glass that resembled too similarly to a bullet hole for his liking. Peter shivered at the thought of his friend living here. This was not the fairy tale castle she liked to pretend she lived in. 

Peter quietly entered inside, his heart beating faster, like he was stepping into someplace he wasn’t allowed. The yellowed wallpaper was peeling off the walls and there were dark stains over the carpet. He didn’t want to inspect those too closely in case they were old blood stains. The air smelled thick with mildew. First floor, apartment 1F, he repeated in his head. Her wooden door was cracked with splinters. It looked like it had been painted a shade of a deep red once but was now faded and scuffed. He gave a quick knock, hoping it would be her who answered. 

It took a few moments before a man opened the door. He towered over Peter, taking up most of the door frame. He had a large, hairy pot belly that stuck out from under his wife beater shirt and a scraggly brown beard peppered with grays. Peter scrunched up his nose at the smell that hit him. He smelled heavily of cigarettes, sweat, and alcohol. The scent was so strong it was making his eyes water. He was fairly certain this must be her father. He couldn’t remember if she ever told him her dad’s name. 

“What do you want?” He spoke in a gruff, tired voice. 

Peter straightened up and smiled at him to cover his anxious fear, “Hi, I’m Peter. Can I come in to see your daughter? I’m her best friend. She hasn’t been at school for a while so I thought I could give her some homework that she missed.” The lie fell out of his mouth without thinking. He had nothing else on him besides his skateboard and helmet. It was obvious he wasn’t carrying any extra homework with him. 

Her father snorted, letting out a loud cough without covering his mouth. Specs of foul smelling spit showered down over Peter. He did his best not to flinch or grimace.

“Hell no. She knows she’s not allowed to hang out with boys. Don’t want her getting knocked up early like her momma. She don’t need no homework, anyway. She’s too dumb for that shit. What’s the point of even sendin’ her to school, ya know? Waste of damn time. Git outta ‘ere kid and don’t fucking come back.”

From under the man’s right arm, Peter saw her peek her head around the hallway to see who was at the door. Her eyes lit up when she saw him. On her arm was a large, bent, white cast that went from her wrist all the way up to her shoulder. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her. She was alive. She wasn’t dead. Relief flooded through his chest. 

Her father must have seen his attention diverted and he glanced behind him, letting out a booming yell, making them both jump, “Get back to your room! I didn’t say you could come out! When are you goin’ to learn to fuckin’ listen, you dumb bitch?” 

She ducked back into the hallway, out of sight, and the door was immediately slammed shut in Peter’s face. He stared at the cracking paint as a long breath of air exhaled through his lips. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath the entire time. Something about her dad made his palms feel clammy and his stomach feel sick. He immediately hated that man. All it took was a fifty second conversation for Peter to make up his mind. That man wasn’t anything like Uncle Ben or the vague memories of his own father. That was a bad man. No one had to tell him, he could feel it. A very bad man. 

He wanted to run home and cry to his uncle. He wanted to tell him about how this man spoke to his friend. He wanted to tell him that he was hurting her. He wanted Ben to know so he could fix it. 

But then he would know that Peter lied to May. He would be in trouble. 

What if Uncle Ben came to this house? What if he met her father? What would her father do to him? What if he hurt him like he hurt her? What if he killed him? He didn’t want Ben to die. 

His stomach ached. 

She liked to make up stories about the big, bad giant that would keep the princess hostage in his tower. He would lock her up and throw away the key. Sometimes the giant would hurt the princess whenever he was angry. Peter would always play as the knight who came and rescued her. He would save the princess from any giant that wanted to take her away. This afternoon, as he stood staring at her closed door, the skateboard clutched in his hands turned into a sword. He would bash down the door, stab the giant through the heart, and steal his princess back to safety. In his mind, he was the hero who saved her. In reality, he swallowed the lump in his throat, a heavy pit settling in his stomach, and he shuffled back out the door without another word about what he witnessed. 

He was starting to think that maybe her stories weren’t all make believe after all.

Sixth Grade: Star Gazing

“That’s the Big Dipper right there!” She pointed up above them.

They were sitting in his driveway on the hood of Uncle Ben's mustard colored Oldsmobile and reclining back against his bug splattered windshield. Night had fallen around them and a handful of dull stars blossomed up to speckle the navy blue sky. 

“Or maybe it’s the Little Dipper. I can never remember which one is which.” 

Peter didn’t think there were actually enough stars visible to be able to point out a constellation but he didn’t dare correct her. For all he knew, her vision was far superior to his. Besides, he liked to hear her talk. She doesn't talk very much these days. He missed the sound of her voice. 

“The Big Dipper isn’t even the full constellation,” she went on to tell him. “It’s actually part of Ursa Major, which is a big bear.” 

He noticed her interest in the stars had peeked this year. He wondered if it had anything to do with her desire to fly away. When she looked up in the night sky, did she wish to find a new home hidden amongst the stars? 

Peter wanted to please her. He wanted to make her happy. 

“I have an idea,” he whispered with enthusiasm, hoping she would appreciate it. “Let’s each pick a star and name it after ourselves. We can make our own constellations out of it.” 

He heard her give a quick inhale. It was the most excitement she would allow herself to show but he knew it meant that she loved his idea. Pride swelled in his chest. 

“I choose that one,” she pointed, without hesitation, up to a pin prick of light hovering above a tree branch. There weren’t many stars to choose from but it didn’t matter. She found the one she wanted. “That’s my star. It’s the tip of the nose to a dragon. Big and strong. She blows fire out of her mouth at anyone who tries to mess with her. She’s not afraid of anything or anyone.” 

Peter had the sudden itch to reach over and hold her hand. The tip of his pinky finger brushed up next to hers, subtle enough to seem like an accident, but he knew the truth. When she didn’t pull away, he kept his hand resting there.

“I’ll pick that one,” he gestured to a random, faint star near the one she chose, with the hand not begging to be held. “It will make a castle constellation. Big enough for the dragon to come inside whenever she needs to rest. Maybe it can be her home. That way me and you can live together in the stars forever.” 

From the corner of his eye, he saw her smile. 

“I like that idea.”

Seventh Grade: Cotton Candy Crushes 

“Hurry up!” Peter yelled over his shoulder as she trailed behind him. 

Her thirteenth birthday was supposed to be special. She was finally a teenager and leaving childhood behind. At least, that’s what Uncle Ben told him a month before on Peter’s own thirteenth birthday. It was supposed to be special because it meant they were finally growing up. He didn’t feel very grown up but he liked to pretend. Part of pretending to be a responsible teenager was planning her entire party for her. He knew if he didn’t do it then she wouldn’t get one. Both his aunt and uncle were in attendance as he led the three stragglers down the pier straight towards Coney Island. It was a small group to celebrate but he knew she wouldn’t want anyone else beside them there. His family was her family and everyone wanted to celebrate her. They didn’t have any other friends anyway. 

“We’re coming, Peter! Not everyone has the same amount of energy as you. Some of us are getting old,” Ben chuckled, his arm wrapped around May’s shoulders, as they brought up the rear. 

Peter slowed his pace only long enough to allow her to catch up and then kept in stride beside her. She had a growth spurt earlier this year. Now she was about a head taller than he was. It made him nervous because he was afraid she wouldn’t like him anymore if he stayed short. Despite his aunt’s assurance that girls often started puberty faster than boys, he was certain he was destined to stay at this height forever. 

He also took notice that she started growing in other places. He tried his best not to stare at her chest when they were together but sometimes he couldn’t help it. It was like he would go into a trance and not be able to pull his eyes away. Even with a face full of acne, she was the most beautiful girl he ever saw. 

She glanced down at him and stuffed her hands deeper into her sweatshirt sleeves. Her shoulders hunched in embarrassment. 

“What? Is there something on my face?” She quickly rubbed her hand over her mouth as if she was worried she missed some leftover tooth paste. 

Peter’s ears turned red, “No! You look great! I mean…you look fine…not fine but you look…normal…like you normally do…which is good…” 

She grabbed her hood and flopped it over her head, pulling the strings tight to encase her face, clearly embarrassed, “Stop looking at me then. I didn’t say you could look at me.” 

He immediately turned his eyes straight ahead, “Sorry. I wasn’t looking. Well, I was, but I don’t know why.” He quickly changed the subject, dragging Ben into the awkward conversation as an attempt to save himself from drowning any further. “Are you going to go on any rides, Uncle Ben?” 

He smiled, “I think I might convince your aunt to get on the carousel with me. We can pretend we’re kids again.” 

May shook her head, “I don’t know about that. I don’t think I can spin like I used to.” 

“It goes so slow though. You’ll be fine,” Peter chimed in. As he spoke, he kept his friend locked in the side of his gaze. Her shoulders had relaxed once more and the sides of her lips twitched into a tiny smile. He let out a soft sigh of relief for navigating them out of whatever weird, uncomfortable banter they had fallen to. He felt like that was happening a lot more lately. 

“Let’s go on the swings first!” It was the real reason he wanted to bring her here. Her childhood days of losing herself on the swingset were behind them but he knew she would appreciate that feeling of flying once more. He had this vision of her tilting her head back, hair flying in the gust of the wind behind her, as she closed her eyes and let her mind fly free. Peter wanted to give her every bit of comfort he could, especially today. It was her birthday and she deserved to get lost in it. 

Swings, carousels, tilt-a-whirl, wooden coasters, overpriced carnival games, junk food, and many laughs. 

His heart even nearly gave out when she reached for his hand during the drop of the coaster. Her palms were sweaty and she fit so nicely locked in his grasp. He wanted to protect her. Wrap an arm around her. Keep her forever. Tell her how much he adored her. He held on tightly to her hand until she took notice and quickly pulled back, placing them on the bar instead. 

Now, as they sat with their shoes off and feet buried in the sand next to the pier, watching the sunset, Peter passed her his stick of pink, fluffy cotton candy. She plucked off a piece and stuffed it in her mouth, giggling at how it stuck to her lips. 

He loved her. He didn’t care if he was too young to understand what love meant. He loved her. 

When she took her eyes off the sunset to stare back at him, instead of becoming flustered like earlier in the day, she only smiled back. Pink coated, sugary lips as sweet as her. 

He wanted to kiss her. 

But the fear of rejection was too strong. 

He stuck out his tongue to tease her and snatched back his cotton candy, the moment lost to time.

High School - Sophomore Year: Not Today

Gwen Stacey. 

The girl of his dreams. 

She was beautiful, intelligent, kind and quick witted. Her 70’s chic style of clothing was unlike anyone else in the school. She didn’t care what others thought of her. She was strong and confident. She was perfect. That’s how he would describe her to anyone who asked. Perfection. 

“You’re staring again, dumbass.” 

The familiar snarky tone broke through his daydreams. 

He pulled his sights away from the golden haired beauty sitting across the lunch room and turned them onto a different one instead. 

Then there was her. 

She wasn’t perfect. Far from it. She was broken. Sullen. Quiet. She never spoke to anyone else besides him. Never even tried to make other friends. But she was just as intelligent as Gwen. Smart but sad. He noticed that more and more. As the years went on, she lost more of the spark in her eyes. She retreated further into herself. Away from him. Away from everyone. 

He sensed jealousy in her tone whenever he talked about his crush on Gwen. She was afraid to lose him. Afraid that he would leave her behind on her own. Without him, she would have no one. He knew that. 

Peter forced a tired smile, lying, “I wasn’t staring.” 

He used to stare at her that way when they were younger. Funny how time works. He didn’t see her like that anymore. Not really. Her personality shift since entering high school helped push his sights onto someone new. He missed who used to be before she walled herself in and blocked him out. 

“Whatever you say, fuckin’ lover boy,” she rolled her eyes, giving him a scowl. She felt meaner than usual today. Irritated. On edge.

He wondered if something had happened. He had stopped asking about her home life years ago. It was a lost cause. He knew she was getting bullied at school, probably at home too. There were a myriad of reasons for her bad attitude. 

He chose not to dig deeper. 

She needed an outlet but he didn’t want to give her one. Not today. He was feeling meaner than usual, too. 

Peter turned his gaze back to Gwen. 

She was easier to look at. Softer. Happier. When he saw her, he didn’t have to see the years worth of baggage dragging behind her. There was just her and nothing else but his fantasies. 

Perfection.

High School - Junior Year: Spider Bite

His body hurt. 

Fire. He felt like liquid lava raged through his veins. His skin was clammy. Sweaty. His lungs constricted in agony with each breath. He could hear everything. Feel everything. Every hair was standing at attention. Every alarm in his head set off at once, alerting himself to dangers he couldn’t even see. Dangers he didn’t think were actually even there. Like having a panic attack for no apparent reason. 

His body was eating him alive and, yet, he never felt stronger in his life. 

The door to his bathroom lay propped up against his wall after he had accidentally ripped it from the hinges. 

He sat perfectly still on his bed. Terrified to move. 

There was a fluttering sound. Tiny, soft wings against a glass panel. Each smack of the wings reverberated like church bells inside his skull. A moth was stuck inside his room, trying to get out, trying to escape. He could hear it from his place on the bed. He could hear the flap of a moth’s wings. That was not normal. 

Something was wrong. 

He was sick. 

He needed…a doctor…a scientist…an arachnologist…

His best friend. He needed his best friend. 

Peter grabbed his jacket, getting it stuck to his fingers - why was everything so sticky? - as he tried to pry it from his grasp and onto his body instead. 

He hadn’t been inside her apartment building since he was a kid. She never invited him. Sometimes he would walk her home but he stayed on the street corner until he saw her disappear inside. She moved apartments a few times but still remained inside the same building. He couldn’t remember which one she was in now. He knew she was back on the first floor though. That would be enough. Something told him that he would be able to find her regardless of his lack of knowledge. 

Every sound of passing cars felt like his ear drums were being shattered. He could hear muffled conversations from people too far away. He could feel every drop of humidity on his skin. The putrid stench of garbage left on the street clawed up his nostrils. The smells, the sounds, the heat boiling inside his body was too much. Hot tears pricked at his eyes. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. The world was closing in. He couldn’t breathe. His throat constricted. His vision blurred. He was floating away. Getting lost in the overwhelming sensations of the city. 

Then he smelled it. 

Her body lotion. 

The faint smell of coconut as she applied it to her skin. 

From an entire block away. 

Peter picked up the pace until he was nearly sprinting towards the smell. He didn’t need to know which apartment was hers. It didn’t matter. He could hear her inside. Her steady heart beat. Her soft breaths. He’d never felt her so viscerally before. It felt like she was merging with his every cell. Drawing him closer. Calling him to her. 

His safety. Everything would be okay once he was with her. Everything would make sense again. She would know what to do. She always did. 

The tears streamed freely down his face as he turned the corner, down the alley, to the back of her building. She was three windows in. Metal bars fixed over every window on the first floor. Her own little prison cell. He could smell the thick odor of rust as he grabbed the bars in his fist, ripping them straight from her window with little effort. He heard her gasp. No screams. Just a shocked inhale. She never screamed. Never showed her fear. She kept it bottled up inside the safety of her chest. 

The rapid quiver of her beating heart slowed when she saw his face appear through the grimy glass. Her eyes were wide with shock. Confusion. He didn’t care. Peter pushed the window open. It had probably never been opened in its life, painted over countless times, but he forced it to bend to his will. He crawled through. Head first. Tumbled onto the floor in a heap. 

And then she was there. 

He was lying at her feet. Curled up tight. Tears spilling down his flushed cheeks. Jittery uncertainty behind fearful, honey colored eyes. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. A scared, little boy seeking the comfort of a life long friend. 

She fell to her knees in front of him, ignoring the fact that he had just ripped metal bars from the bricks, and gathered him to her chest like a mother protecting her young. She didn’t need to know what was wrong. She didn’t need an explanation. All she knew was that he needed her. She held him tightly, there on the floor, under her broken window. 

He relaxed into the safety of her grasp. Ragged, husky sobs shaking his body. It would be okay. Everything would be okay now. They could figure this out. Whatever this was. Together. 

Even as he thought it, she whispered the words to reassure him. To make sure he knew.

“It’s okay, Pete. I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re okay. I have you.”

A Week Before She Left: Nothing but Death

Gwen Stacy was dead. 

George Stacy was dead. 

Uncle Ben was dead. 

He couldn’t save anyone. There was nothing. Nothing but grief. Nothing but hate. His heart had turned cold. Empty. Shriveled. 

He looked down at the letter clutched in his hands. May had taken it from her as an act of courtesy and slid it under his bedroom door. 

Pete, 

You can find me at the Empire State Uni off campus apartment housing. Building 5. Room 212. I’ve got two roommates but I have my own bedroom. 

My window will always be unlocked for you if you ever need me.

Come find me when you’re ready.

Love,

Your Fire Breathing Dragon

She kept knocking at his front door. Day after day. Kept trying to come inside. Kept trying to get him. He wouldn’t let her. Couldn’t. He refused to let anyone else die. 

He was no knight in shining armor riding into an imaginary battle with his dragon. He wasn’t someone who could save her. He wasn’t her friend. Not anymore. The boy she knew was gone. 

He was a murderer. A killer. 

He wouldn’t kill her. The best thing for her was for him to disappear. Erase himself from her life. Fade away in the darkness where he belonged. 

He crumbled the letter in his fist, letting it fall to the floor by his feet, along with the shredded dreams of his future.

Eight Months Since She Left: A Decaying Corpse 

How many slutty blondes could Peter Parker fuck in a single week? 

Eleven. That was his current score. Last night he had two at once. He buried his face between one’s thighs while the other sucked him off. No one tasted as good as Gwen. No one looked as beautiful naked. No one could ever come close. 

Except for maybe one. 

Peter pushed that thought out of his brain as quickly as it entered. She was gone. They both were. She died along with Gwen. That’s how he tried to frame it in his head. Somehow it was easier to accept. If he killed her off in his heart then he wouldn’t be tempted to find her. He couldn’t follow the dead. 

No matter how badly he tried. 

These women he surrounded himself with were nothing but a distraction. Half the time he couldn’t even finish. He could fuck them until they couldn’t stand but rarely found his own satisfaction in it. That was how he liked it. The more rough they let him be, the better. A sadistic side to him had formed these past few months. Part of him wanted to hurt them. Truly hurt them. They meant nothing to him. He liked to see how far he could push them, how hard he could slap them, how loud he could make them shriek before it became too much for them to handle. He wanted to push them past the limits they thought they had to show them how much they could really take. A test of their strength, of their will to live, how far they could go before tapping out. 

Once he choked a woman so tightly, he almost couldn’t stop. For a moment he wanted to feel his fingernails break through the barrier of her delicate skin and sink into the viscera of her insides. He wanted to tear her vocal chords from her neck. He wanted to feel her blood soaking into his skin. He wanted to kill her. She didn’t deserve to live. Why did she get to live while Gwen had to die? What did she do to deserve this life? 

It had taken everything in him to pull back. Before she could even fully catch her breath again, he was gone. Naked. Lost into the night. Didn’t even stop to grab his clothes. 

He didn’t know the person he had become. 

He wasn’t eating. Wasn’t sleeping. 

He had killed more bad guys this month than the month before. His body count was rapidly rising. It didn't matter what they did. Rapists, killers, and bank robbers were all the same in his eyes. No crime was less than the one before. They all got the finality of death. He didn’t care. The friendly neighborhood Spider-Man no longer existed. He died along with the old Peter. If the police thought he was a menace before, he was now actively wanted. A warrant was out for the arrest of the Spider-Man. Had been for some time. They would never catch him, of course. He’d snatch their life from them before he let anyone take him in. It wouldn’t be the first time he had a cop’s blood on his hands. 

A vigilante turned villain. 

A decaying corpse of the man he once was.

Nine Months Since She Left: We’re All Dead

“Where the hell have you been?” 

May sat in the dark at the kitchen table. It was 3am. She was still awake. She usually never waited up for him anymore. He thought she had stopped asking questions months ago. 

Peter stood in loose fitting, dirty clothes. Fresh blood dripped down his chin from his split open lip. His right eye was starting to swell shut. He refused to look at her as he gave a half-hearted shrug. 

“Out.” 

“Out? It is three in the goddamn morning, Peter!” Her voice was shrill. She was masking her fear for him with anger. “This is the fifth time this week you have disappeared like this. Do you understand how worried I get? You come crawling home every night covered in more bruises than I keep track of. Where are you going? What are you doing? Who is doing this to you?” 

He swallowed. His throat felt dry. He wished he could feel the familiar pang of guilt he used to feel whenever he would upset May. Instead, he felt nothing because there was nothing. He was nothing. A corpse. 

“I said I was out. I’m not a child anymore. You don’t need to wait up. I can take care of myself.” 

He pushed past her towards the stairs, making the climb to his bedroom. She followed closely behind him. 

“You think you can take care of yourself? Look at you, Peter! You are wasting away into nothing! I can’t find you behind your eyes anymore. It’s like there is nothing left inside of you. You need help. Let me help you, please. I can’t keep sitting around watching you slowly kill yourself. I can’t lose you, too. You are my boy and I refuse to let you continue down this path.” 

An angry beast raged inside his chest as he stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to growl in her face, “I am not your boy! I am not your son! My parents are dead with the rest of everyone else I ever gave a shit about! Ben is dead. Gwen is dead. You’re dead.” His eyes fell to an old picture of his friend hanging on his bedroom wall. They were kids. Smiling with arms wrapped each other’s necks. “She’s dead. I’m dead. Everyone is dead, May. Don’t you understand? Everyone is dead and there’s nothing left. I have no one! I am nothing. I don’t exist.” His bottom lip quivered but no tears formed. He had lost the ability to cry long ago. 

Her face broke in anguish, “Oh, honey.” Her voice was nothing more than a hushed whisper. “Oh, Peter.” She tried to wrap him up in an embrace but he pulled back. 

He shook his head, looking at her through pained, dead eyes, “I think it would be best if I moved out.” 

He closed the door in her face before she could reply.

-

“Peter?” 

He didn’t remember coming here. 

After his run in with May, he had started emptying out his drawers. He hadn’t known what he was looking for. Probably nothing. He just needed to be doing something. Anything. He had thrown his dresser drawers open and flung out his clothes. They lay scattered at his feet. Papers from his desk slowly fluttered back to the ground as he tossed them over his shoulder. A tantrum. That’s what he was reduced to. A tantrum where he needed to destroy everything he touched. 

And then her crumbled letter was somehow in his hand. His last contact with her. He didn’t even know he had kept it. 

You can find me at the Empire State Uni off campus apartment housing. Building 5. Room 212. 

His safety. His best friend. He had abandoned her. She wasn’t dead, just forgotten. He had killed her in his mind to make the separation easier. He was protecting her. He was keeping her safe. He didn’t want her to die. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t bury another person he loved. 

My window will always be unlocked for you if you ever need me.

“Peter?”

He blinked, his mask was on. He was in his Spider suit. He didn’t remember putting it on. He didn’t remember how he got here.

Come find me when you’re ready.

He reached up to pull the mask from his head. His eyes bore into her. He wasn’t sure if she was real or not. He couldn’t feel her living inside his senses like he used. They had become so dull since Gwen died.

“What are you doing here?” She looked nervous like she was encountering a ghost. 

Maybe she was.

His voice felt like a distant echo in his ears as he spoke, “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Summer: Why? 

Her roommates hated him. 

He could hear them constantly bitching about his presence through the walls. He was a dark cloud of depression hanging over their apartment. 

It only got worse after he fucked them. Not at the same time. Separate occasions. He thought it might shut them up for a bit but, once they found out he was sleeping with them both, all hell broke loose. 

They were screaming at each in the next room. 

Somehow she had gotten involved in the mess, too. He hadn’t intended for that but there was no stopping it now. They were yelling at her for letting him live here without paying rent. He didn’t even go to their school. They felt betrayed and used and they weren’t wrong. A man whore. That’s what they were currently calling him. 

A malicious smile grew across his lips as he laid in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. He liked the chaos that he caused. He wanted her roommates gone. Peter knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted her for himself. All they did was complain anyway. They never liked her. They made fun of her behind her back. They didn’t like her anymore than they liked him. 

Once they were gone it would all be okay again. 

They could go back to how things used to be. Just the two of them against the world. Two kids, with no other friends, clinging to each other as tight as they could. 

Her bedroom door opened. Her eyes were puffy. She was trying not to cry. For the first time in a long time, he felt the sharp slashing of guilt slice through his heart. An overwhelming sadness washed over him. It had been so long since he felt anything besides anger or bitterness. His jaw clenched as he sat up, mulling over the new emotions bubbling under his skin.   

“Why did you do that? Why are you doing this?” She asked weakly. 

Why am I taking advantage of your kindness by having you house me for free? Why am I letting you take care of me without giving you anything in return? Why am I sleeping with your roommates? Why am I sleeping with them instead of you? Why am I torturing you like this?

“I…I don’t know,” he replied. 

He knew how she felt about him. He could see it in her eyes. He knew that look. He’d seen it in Gwen’s eyes once upon a time. She loved him. More than a friend. More than family. 

Maybe she always had. 

He’d always loved her. Even when he loved Gwen. 

He couldn’t love her though. Not like she deserved. That part of him was gone. 

She sighed and wiped the tears from her eyes, a steady resolve settling over her, “They’re pulling out of our student housing next semester. I’m not going to have anyone to live with. You need to enroll in the school. It’ll qualify you for housing. We can move in together. I want to see it done by next week or else I’m done. I can’t do this, Peter. I took care of you all summer. You hardly speak to me, you don’t look at me, you give me nothing. I do everything for you because I know you’re hurting but this is enough. Enroll in the school, Pete. Get your life together. Try and make something of yourself. It’s time.”

Early Fall: Triggers

School was easy. It always has been. This was no different. He understood the lessons and could pass the tests, he merely struggled to attend the classes or pay attention. No one seemed to mind too much as long as he was passing. He wasn’t doing this for him. He was doing it for her. 

Little by little his feelings started to unthaw from their frozen state. College gave him a taste of normalcy back. There was a schedule to follow, whether he chose to or not. There was food always available and safe places to find silence when he needed to. He hadn’t spoken to May since he left but he kept telling himself one of these days he would reach out. 

He was trying to mend what shred of friendship he had left. She was very forgiving of him despite everything he put her through. Every day he saw the love in her eyes grow stronger. It scared him. Two steps forward, one step back. He wanted to keep her close but still hold her at arm's length. She couldn’t love him. He wasn’t ready for that. 

He would keep their conversations based on easier things. School work, Spider-Man, any lighthearted topics that involve little effort. Spider-Man was getting back to his old self, too. Peter hadn’t killed anyone since he found his way back to her, inadvertently or not. She was building new gadgets for him. Part of him felt like he was back in high school, popping by her bedroom window for a drink of water before swinging back into the night. It was nice. Familiar. 

Tonight she sat cross-legged on the couch, a pint of Ben and Jerry’s in her hand, as she watched Hook. 

“I haven’t seen this movie since I was a kid,” he lamented. 

Peter hopped over to her and plopped down beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She happily snuggled into his side. It felt right having her there. She scooped up a spoonful of the chocolate chip cookie dough and held it up to his mouth which he gladly accepted. 

“Do you ‘member what you asked the first time we met?” He asked her through his mouthful of ice cream. 

She frowned, trying to remember. The top of her nose wrinkled in concentration then relaxed, shaking her head, “No idea. I was, like, six years old or something. How do you remember that?” 

He smiled down at her, “You asked me if I was named after Peter Pan.” 

“Sounds like something a child would ask. He was the only other Peter I knew.” 

He nodded, pondering it over, “I told you that I wasn’t because I couldn’t fly.” 

“Look at you now,” she laughed. “I think swinging through the city is the closest you’ll ever come to flying. You almost got there.” 

His smile faded, only part of her words still ringing in his ears while the rest was drowned out. Look at him now. Look at him. Who was he? Nobody. Who did he want to be? Nothing.  Why was he alive? Because he was too weak to take his own life. What was his purpose? There wasn’t one. What was he doing here? Hurting her. 

He was hurting her. His abilities to feel proper emotions were still miniscule. They weren’t thawing out as fast as he would have liked. He was still cold too. Too mean. Too selfish. His mere presence in her life would only ever drag her down. 

Rufio was fighting Captain Hook. Going one on one with their world’s most dangerous pirate. Too cocky for his own good. Too young for the responsibility he was given. The Lost Boys looked to Rufio when Pan left them. He was placed in charge. He was given too much power, too young. Got too full of himself. Thought he could defeat the evil without any consequences. It would be his downfall. 

Peter’s eyes stayed trained onto the television, utterly absorbed in the story playing out before him. His own emotions started to spiral. He could feel the panic rising up his throat. Snuffing out his air. He knew what was coming next. He knew how this story ended. 

“Lookie, lookie, I got Hookie.”

His eyes slipped close. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t watch the sword pierced through his chest. 

“Do you know what I wish? I wish I had a dad like you.” 

He wished he could turn back time. He wished he could have been faster. Stronger. Better. 

Pan held Rufio in his arms as the young boy died, the life fading from his eyes, just like he had held Gwen. Forever young. Frozen in time. 

Even the giant clock lodged between the crocodile’s toothy jaws reminded him of her final moments. Tick…tick…tick…her time was lost. 

Peter blinked through half spaced out eyes, straightening up, and removed his arm from around her shoulders. They shouldn’t be cuddling like this. This was how couples sat. This was how he used to sit with Gwen. He was giving her the wrong impression. He wasn’t helping her. He was being a bad friend. Always hurting her. 

“You okay?” She glanced between the scene playing and himself. She could sense his coldness settling back in around them. 

He gave a stiff nod, forcing a half smile, “Yeah. I’m alright. I think I’m going to go out for a bit. I’ll see ya later, yeah?” 

He needed to find someone. A blonde. Someone skinny with a pretty face. He needed to find them and dominate them. He needed them screaming so loud as he relentlessly pounded into them that she would hear. He had to show her that he wasn’t interested. He had to crush her love. That love would only lead to death. He couldn’t do that again. He wouldn’t bury her. He wouldn’t. Not to her. Never her. 

Late Fall: A New Seed

It worked. Whatever depression fueled scheme he had come up with to stop her from loving him, it was working, he was fairly certain. She seemed distant. He knew he was breaking her but he couldn’t stop. It had to be this way. How could he ever love someone again? It would shatter him in two if he even dared to entertain the idea. The further he pushed her away, the more she overtook his thoughts. 

Every time he plunged into a woman, he pretended it was her. Every late night session with his right hand was fueled by his desires for her. Every time he closed his eyes to sleep, she was the subject of his dreams. He breathed her in with every breath he took. 

She was so beautiful. 

She always had been but, the more she matured into an adult, the more in sync everything felt on her face. It was like she fell perfectly into place. 

Sometimes when he looked at her, he felt like he was eight years olds again, falling in love with her on the swings. 

The object of his desires. The one he wanted. The one he refused to reach out for time and time again. Only this time he wasn’t afraid of being rejected from a kiss. He was afraid of death. Afraid of the pain that would follow. 

His whole life she had been his. She never had anyone else. He never had to share. He made her have to share him but never the other way around.

Until now. 

It was only a matter of time until someone finally saw her the way he did. He was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. The guy seemed nice enough. She lit up when he looked at her. A tiny spark of fire blazed behind her eyes with each word she spoke to him. There was something there. A seed being planted. One that could grow if she let it. He planted a seed and started to nurture it with someone else once. She should be able to do the same. 

Gabe. 

Gwen. 

This was what she deserved. To be loved by a nice man. Someone who would cherish her. Someone to see her potential. Someone to care about her. 

Someone with the ability to love. Anyone but Peter would do, he couldn’t give her what she needed. 

Then why couldn’t he stay away? 

He saw them together and his heart screamed out. His skin seared with heated inferno. Green with envy. 

Gabe. Gwen. Gwen. Gabe. Their faces flashed rapidly before his blurred vision. Gabe. Gwen. Gabe. Gwen. GabeGwenGabeGwenGwenGwen -

Her. 

He couldn’t lose her. Not like this. He couldn’t watch her disappear from him with another man. Is that how she felt all those years ago as he fixated on Gwen in the lunch room instead of her? Is this what her heart felt like when she looked at him? No wonder why she used to be so fucking mean. If her heart felt anything close to what he currently felt, it was a miracle she was able to keep herself so composed. 

Drawn to her like a magnet, he couldn’t control himself. He had to follow them. It wasn’t an option. His feet carried him straight to the shadows of the underpass. 

Gabe didn’t know her like he did. He didn’t play make believe with her. He didn’t pass notes with her in class. He didn’t devote his life to being her best friend. He didn’t know about her father or how she grew up. He never had to kill her off in his mind to even bear the thought of letting her go. They never manifested themselves into constellations so they could live together, forever, amongst the stars. 

He wasn’t there like Peter was. Peter knew her. Every part of her. So deeply. 

They were kissing. He was kissing her. She was kissing him back. 

The earth crumbled under his feet. 

He should be able to let her go. This was what he was trying to do. This was exactly why he was trying to push her away. This was his stupid plan. He had wanted her to move on. Anyone but him. Anyone…

Then why couldn’t he stop himself?

Like a jealous, angry, cocky boy given too much power before he was ready to fully bear the weight of it, he had tased her date and got him sent away in an ambulance. 

Just like that he was gone. 

Disappeared from their lives as quickly as he came in. 

Nothing but the two of them now. 

Like it always had been. Like it always will be. 

She was furious. Livid. But, worst of all, she was heartbroken. Completely and wholly heartbroken. 

“He made me feel special. He looked at me like I was beautiful. Why couldn’t you let me have that? Just once. Just once I wanted to feel like someone could love me. You gotta have that so why couldn’t I?” 

She was beautiful even through her pain. 

The city lights reflected off the water beside them and bounced back up onto her face. They glinted like tiny sparkles off the tears in her eyes. 

He hurt her. 

He broke her heart. 

His best friend. 

His only friend. 

Peter closed his eyes, letting her words wash over him and absorb into his pores. She had never once felt beautiful before tonight. How he had failed her. All these years she had looked in the mirror and never saw what he did. All these years he had loved her and never dared to say it. She was right there in front of him and he had chosen someone else. Loved someone else. He was the one who broke her. The one who abandoned her. The one who exploited her generosity and friendship. 

What had he become? 

He let himself die with Gwen when he should have kept living for the person who needed him most. 

“I love you,” the words he spoke were hardly above a whisper. 

They fell from his lips with a raw honesty he wasn’t used to. Pained like it hurt to physically say them. 

He loved her. Always. 

Even still, she couldn’t comprehend how true his words were. That’s how deeply he had failed her. 

“No. You’re not hearing me.” He reached for her then. He couldn’t stop himself. The emotions were too strong. He touched her cheek. Softly turning her face towards him, “I love you. I’ve loved you since the day you fell off those monkey bars in the first grade. I just…it was just too much. I was scared if it didn’t work out then I would lose you from my life forever. I’d rather keep you as my friend where you’re safe with me forever. But after Gw-” He still couldn’t say her name out loud. His heart stung. “-after everything, I don’t want to have anymore what ifs or what could have been. I saw you with that guy and it made me realize. Everything snapped into place. I love you. I don't want you to be with someone else. I want you to be with me.”

She was kissing him. 

Her lips were chilly. Soft. Her tongue warm and wet. A perfect blend to awake his senses. He felt alive. For the first time since allowing parts of him to perish, he was reborn. Awake. Whole. 

His arms were around her waist. Drawing her closer. He could smell the soft, lingering scent of coconut on her skin. The smell was as familiar to him as May’s light, floral perfume and the musty backseat of Ben’s Oldsmobile. One he could never forget. His home. His childhood. His everything. 

He loved her. 

He wanted her. 

He…

Gwen’s face exploded into vibrant color behind his eyes. 

…couldn’t do this. 

Peter gently pulled away. 

Her fist was balled up in her sleeve and pressed against the infamous spider symbol on his chest. Her eyes fluttered open. They gazed up at him with years of unexpressed love. She was too pure. Too good.

He gave her a sad smile, “I’ve thought you were beautiful my entire life. I’m sorry I never told you sooner. I should have told you every single day. But…this…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing himself. “I’m a broken man. I’m not okay. I’m not done healing. I don’t even think I’ve started. What I did tonight proves that. You are the most special person in my life. I’m sorry I keep hurting you. My head, it's…it’s not right…after everything…I’ve done terrible things. Things you deserve to know about before you choose me. I can’t steal you away like this. You deserve to make the choice yourself. After you know everything. When I’m done, whatever you want, I’ll do it. If you want me to drop you off at the hospital to see Gabe, I’ll do it. If you want to never see me again, I’ll go. If you want to keep me, I’ll stay. Everything is in your hands. It’s where it belongs.” 

She stayed silent. Listening. Processing. 

And nodded. 

-

There’s no good way to tell the person he loves about all the people he’s killed. It didn’t matter if they were bad guys, he was no better than them, he killed them quick and swift before the cops could arrive. There had been no more cute notes stuck to a webbed up, squirming criminal. Instead, all they’d arrive to was a bloody, broken, still warm corpse. If they were dead, there was no chance they could ever hurt anyone again. There was no more chance of anyone innocent crossing paths with the danger they brought. He gave them no chance for redemption and he felt no guilt for them or their lost lives. 

He couldn’t look her in the eyes when talking about the sexual abuse he inflicted on his sex partners. Most of the time they asked for it, agreed to it, but there were times when he went too far. Times they weren’t always asking to be slapped around that hard. Times he had lost himself. Times he wished they were dead. For them, he felt guilt. A deep-seated cavern full of it. He’d rather be ripped apart, limb by limb, than explain in detail how far he fell after Gwen’s death and witness the horror etched into her features. 

But he did it.

Because she deserved to hear it. All of it. Every dark monster lurking deep behind his closet door. He ripped open his chest and presented her his bloodied, broken heart without anything to hide behind. 

She cried. He cried. The tears felt foreign in his eyes but she had held his hand and he willed them to fall. It was a mess but they came out the other end more in sync than when they entered. 

A start.

A new seed being planted in fresh, overturned soil. 

The love was there. Nervous and shy, hiding behind their legs like a scared child. It needed time to grow, to blossom, before it was ready to stand on its own. 

It was decided that Peter needed to focus on himself first. A relationship now would be too fragile. There was no foundation for them to build on if Peter was broken and cracked. 

The anger couldn’t go away overnight. The shame and guilt lived on too strong to allow for much else. He’d have to pick away at the vines wrapped tight around his castle walls if he’d ever want to create a warm home for her to curl up inside. 

Their conversation lasted all night. They hadn’t moved from their spot standing above the river. He stood directly over the place he had tased a man simply because he saw her kissing someone who wasn’t him. They hadn’t moved an inch. Night turned into day. Dark to light. The early morning work folk started to take to the streets. No one looked twice at the maskless Spider-Man leaning against the railing, dried tears on his face, next to the girl of his dreams. It was too early for anyone to care. 

They watched the sun steadily rise over the buildings in silence. 

They had been silent for a while now but neither one wanted to move. It was comfortable here, side by side, with everything laid bare. No more secrets. No more hiding. 

“Therapy.” 

She was the one to break first. 

He blinked a few times to wash away the sleepy, mindless state he’d fallen into, “Hmm?” 

“Therapy,” she repeated. “That’s what I chose for us. You are going to get therapy. Me too. We need it.” She let out a soft exhale. “Badly.” 

Peter responded with a tired chuckle, “Therapy. I think I can manage that. Therapy, it is, then. That’s what we will do.” 

She nodded in confirmation, “I want you to keep living with me. Keep our separate rooms. I want to keep being friends and supporting each other while we do this. But, Peter-” Her tone shifted into something more serious, her body shifted to face him. “I do not want to ever listen to you have sex with someone inside our apartment. I won’t ever sit through that again. I love you, you know that, and I will not be tortured with that shit anymore. In return, I won’t date anyone else until you’re ready. Not that I have a line of suitors waiting out the door anyway…” 

The morning, golden sun highlighted the frizz that settled on top of her windblown hair after her stressful night. 

He wasn’t ever planning on sleeping with anyone again unless it was her. 

“And,” she continued. “I want you to visit Gabe with me to give him a proper apology. We both owe him that. He’s a good person. He deserves an explanation. Just, like, leave out the part where you’re Spider-Man and I created the Bug Zappers that nearly killed him.”

A lazy, crooked smile formed on his face, “Okay. Anything you say, I’ll do. Therapy, apologies, and abstinence.” 

She mimicked his smile, the love never once fading from her eyes, “Only for now.” 

One day, he would be able to give her everything she wanted. One day, she would be able to accept it. 

One day but not today. 

Today, they would walk arm and arm back to their home and fall asleep against each other on the couch. Today, they would skip classes and order in food. Today, they will be friends. 

Tomorrow, they could be whatever they wanted. Tomorrow, he might even continue with the apologies and give May a call. He’d gone too long without speaking to her. Maybe they could visit. All three of them together. Like older times. Times when everything seemed less big. Less scary. Less real and final. 

The future was theirs. 

Peter nodded, reaching out to take her hand, “For now.”

i’m still #teamgabe 

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Peter shook his head, keeping up the pout, "Not when I don't have a suit on. Now I'm just a normal person who's cold and sick of walking." He shuffled up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, hiding his face into the collar of your jacket. "Carry me the rest of the way."

You gave him another laugh, "You should be the one carrying me." You untangled yourself from his grasp and bent your knees. "Hop on, Spidey. I'll piggyback you. It's only two more blocks."

His amused giggle filled you with joy, "I'll squish you."

"Give it a try! I'm stronger than you think."

Peter didn't question you further and he carefully hopped up onto your back with a kind of grace that only Spider-Man could manage. The second his weight hit you, you took a few running steps forward to keep your balance, before quickly finding your footing again. He wasn't as heavy as you thought he'd be but it was still a struggle to stay up right.

You gave a grunt and attempted to stumble onward to your destination, "Alright. I got this."

His laughter filled your ear and tickled your cheek as he nuzzled his head next to yours, "I'm impressed you didn't immediately fall flat on your face. I should travel like this more often."

You responded with another grunt, struggling to get any words out as you concentrated on not dropping him. The two of you made it approximately one full block before your legs gave out. Peter jumped off and wrapped a protective arm around your waist right before your knees could hit the concrete.

"Careful," he warned with a smile. He steadied you back on your feet and planted a kiss to the top of your head. "I told you I would squish you. Come here, it's my turn now."

He bent down nice and low for you to scramble onto his back instead. You clambered on top of him, a lot less graceful than he had been getting onto yours, and wrapped your legs around his waist. He hoisted you up higher with ease and started a steady jog down the street.

"Now you're just showing off," you rolled your eyes but smiled as you tighten your grip around his neck.

"I'm making up for the lost time. It took you a solid five minutes to walk one block. Slowest horse I've ever ridden."

You gently slapped his chest in protest, saying sarcastically, "You ride a lot of horses, Peter? And, relationship tip, never refer to your partner as a horse."

He chuckled, "Yeah, the second it came out of my mouth, I regretted my choice of words." He slowed his jog as he approached the party. "Oh god, I can hear the music already. Terrible choice. Awful music. Let's go back home instead."

You couldn't hear what he could but you tried to protest, "No, we came all this way. Your antisocial behavior and disagreement on music choice is not an excuse to miss out on our friend's party."

You felt him tighten his grip around your legs and could see the glint of a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Who's riding who?" He asked.

"What are you talking ab-"

Before you could finish the question, he spun around and started a swift walk back in the direction you came.

"Peter!" You gasped.

"This horse says that it's time to go home. You have to be better at controlling your animals if you want them to listen to you!" He quickened his step. "Hold on tight."

He didn't have to tell you twice for you to know what was about to happen. You tightened your arms around his neck and braced yourself for the inevitable jerk as he shot the two of you up into the air. Taking the time to get dressed up, just to skip out on your friend's party right as you arrived, wasn't the sort of disappointment you would have felt a few years ago. Instead, you were relieved as the wind tossed back your hair and you clung to your boyfriend's back. Even hurdling 50 feet above the ground, you felt safe tucked against him. If Peter didn't feel comfortable being somewhere, he would simply just not go. It was a quality you had learned to admire about him even if it often led to moments like this.

"Promise me that the music was actually insufferable and that we would have had a terrible time," you shouted over the wind whistling in your ear.

He nodded, calling back, "They were playing Cotton Eyed Joe, babe. I promise you, this is for our own sanity. I'm saving you from a night of pain."

"Ew," you grumbled. "Fine but at least swing us to the nice Mexican restaurant instead. We look cute. Let's not waste it. Might as well make use of our night."

Your husband is oblivious to your new tormentor. If you really wanted Peter to stop, you would have told your husband. You never do because you like the secret. You like never knowing where he’ll show up next. It keeps you on your toes. It makes your boring life as a housewife have a bit of excitement. As much as you’ve become Peter’s plaything, he’s become yours as well. You can feel him watching you around every corner and peering through every window. His eyes follow you everywhere you go. Yet, no matter how fast you turn around, you can never catch him. He’s good at this game. He’s able to keep you in an almost constant state of arousal by simply existing. 

Tonight he’s found you at the hotel. You never know how he’s able to find you like this. You never once told him that your husband’s company was hosting a conference here. He shouldn’t have any idea what room you’re staying in and yet, somehow, he’s managed to book the one directly next to yours. He knows when you’re coming and when you’re going. It’s baffling how he’s able to exude such confidence in his game. 

The quiet smirk shot straight to your clueless husband as Peter slipped his hand between the elevator doors, at the very last second, to get inside. The way he forced himself into the back behind the two of you. How you can feel his knowing eyes burning a hole into the back of your head as you stand perfectly still, loosely hanging on to your husband's arm. The light brushing of his sneaky fingers up your inner thighs as he lurks behind you. The way they graze over the damp patch of your underwear just to check that you're responding correctly. The way you keep your eyes trained directly ahead of you to not draw your husband's attention to the assault happening directly beside him. The way Peter never purposefully looks in your direction but always keeps you in his sight. 

He knows exactly what he’s doing. 

As strong as you pretend to be, as smartly as you try to avoid him, as dedicated to the fight as you can be…the moment Peter wants to take you…he will.

Your husband lay snoring in the bed in front of you. He promised after visiting the hotel bar that he’d treat you to a fun night. You told him you wanted to take a quick shower first and, by the time you got out, he was passed out in front of the tv. You were wearing a brand new set of lingerie you’d bought for this very occasion and he wasn’t even awake to take notice. That was when your eyes started to travel to the wall behind his head. On the other side of that wall was Peter. He was waiting for you. He wouldn’t be asleep. You weren’t sure he ever slept. He’d want you, because he always wanted you, but this wasn’t right. This was wrong. You didn’t want to see him. You hated him and his stupid game. 

Then why were you throwing a silk robe over your scantily clad body, grabbing the ice bucket, and walking out the door? There was no reason to leave the room at this hour of the night, especially in your lingerie. 

At the end of the hall, tucked into its own private nook, sat the ice machine. You placed the bucket under the nozzle and turned it on. A loud grinding filled the quiet air as chunks of ice fell into your bucket. The noise was enough to muffle the scream you let out as a body shoved you against the machine. A hand snaked around your neck to clamp tightly over your mouth. You struggled against the hold but it was no use. You didn’t need to turn around to know exactly who it was. 

“Pinned ya,” he triumphantly growled in your ear. His voice sent a shiver down your spine and a flood between your thighs. “What’s a pretty lady like yourself need ice for at this hour?”

Peter released his hold on you. You tugged your robe tighter around your body and backed up into the corner. He gave you a lazy smirk, knowing you’d refuse to answer him, and grabbed the bucket of ice, “Is this for us to use later? Are you into ice play now? That could be fun.” 

You sneered at him, the sight of him filling you with a mixture of hate and lust, “There’s cameras in here. You can’t do anything to me.”

He gave a light chuckle and glanced up to the camera on the corner of the wall, “Oh. You mean that camera? The one I already took apart and disabled over five hours ago? I don’t think that’ll be much of a problem.” He tucked the bucket under his arm and walked back towards his room, “Are you coming or are you going to make me throw you over my shoulder?”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you spat out in his direction. “Give me my ice back. I have to get back to my husband.”

Peter held the bucket over his head, never once looking back at you, “You want it? Come and get it.” 

By the time you reached him, he already had his hotel door swung open and was stepping inside. You refused to follow any further. You watched him disappear into the room and stood there as the door closed in your face. Your heart was beating too fast at the entire encounter. This shouldn’t be happening. Not again. You needed to go back to your own room. 

You quickly turned around, fishing your hotel key out of the pocket of the robe, when his door swung back open. A large hand clasped around your wrist and he dragged you inside. It happened too fast. You didn’t even have time to scream for help. His arms were around your waist as he carried you, kicking and fighting, deeper into his room. 

This is what he wants. You keep up your struggling, grunting, and hate behind your eyes. He wants to stare into the burning fire with his perfectly calm gaze to demonstrate that you’re being taken. You have no choice. No matter how tightly you clasp your legs together, he’ll pry them apart. No matter how hard you punch or shove him, he can take it. No amount of digging your fingernails into his skin is going to stop him. You are powerless to his advances. 

You are his for the taking. 

And you love it. 

Peter is the monster that follows you through the shadows and you are the helpless victim destined to be eaten alive. 

He pins you to the floor. His knees dig into your kicking thighs and his hand pin your wrists above your head. The strength of his single hand is stronger than both your arms combined. Your robe had fallen open in the struggle. It revealed the secret lingerie you’d hidden beneath it. 

It was never meant for your husband. 

It was always meant for Peter and he knows it. 

You can tell by the way his eyes flash with a hungry excitement at the sight. He rips the robe off of your body and tosses it behind him. The second his hand releases your arms to reach for your breasts, you slap him hard across the face. 

The slap elicits a haunting smile from him and you knew you messed up. The tiniest trickle of blood appears on the side of his bottom lip where your wedding ring had caught the skin. He slowly licks it off. You watch his tongue dart out of his mouth and are already craving the feeling of it on your body. He tastes the blood, pursing his lips, and stares back down at you with a new determination. His look rekindles your fight. 

You thrash against him, trying desperately to get out from under him and back to your feet. You turn to crawl away when he grabs your ankle and drags you right back to him. His large hands ensnare your waist and flip you back onto your back, pinning you into the exact same position as before, with your hands above your head and your legs crushed under his weight. Your chest is heavy with quick breaths and you glare up at him. No matter what you do, he will always win.

Seeing you lose the fight is his second favorite part. 

He loves to watch the struggle leave your body as you go limp under him. The resignation of your fate. The knowledge that there is nothing you can do. The monster wins again. Peter Parker always comes out on top with you pinned under him. There was never any other outcome.

He removes his hands from your wrists, giving you a watchful eye, as if to dare you to try and hit him again, and scoots down your body. He wonders what you’ll do. You always react differently depending on the occasion. Are you planning on being a sour bitch in need of punishment or a good girl in need of praise? It’s your choice. He’ll gladly side with either. 

Tonight, you simply breath heavily, eyes ignited, and watch him with a quiet loathing. You still haven’t fully decided yourself. 

Your resigned, passive hatred of him is his sign that you’ve fully submitted. He succeeded in tiring you out. He takes the opportunity to admire the outfit you’ve presented him with. A soft pink and white babydoll style of lingerie. A silk pink bow ties the front together at your chest and does little to hide the pink lace underwear underneath. The entire look gives off the illusion of someone sweet and innocent. Peter couldn’t be fooled though. He knew you too well. 

“What did your husband say when he saw you wearing this?” His fingers teased at the bow, grabbing the end and very slowly loosening it. 

Heat rushed to your face and you clenched your jaw, “I wouldn’t know. He has yet to see it.” 

“Then I’m honored to be the first one,” he hesitated, thinking over what he said, then gave you a questioning look. “I am the first one, correct?”

You scoffed, “Do you think I’m some cheating whore? I don’t want this. I never wanted this. What you’re doing to me is shameful. You’re nothing but a disgusting pervert.”

Peter chuckled. So, you were playing the bitch in need of punishment tonight. That was good to know. He gave the bow a final tug. Your dress popped open and the thin pieces of sheer cloth fell to the side to expose your bare chest. He leans down to kiss your stomach. His tongue slipping out to trail over your skin. As he gets to your thigh, his mouth opens, and bites down on the soft flesh. He wants to hear you acknowledge him. He wants you to sing him his praises through moans and gasps and screams. He wants you to admit that this is exactly what you desire without actually having to say the words. 

You gasp, your back arching at the quick pain of the bite, and your hands fall down to his neck. You can feel him smile against your skin. You’re giving him everything he wants and you hate it. His head dips back down to nibble softly up your inner thigh. You know exactly where he’s headed. 

“Stop it! This isn’t right!” You cry to him. “You can’t keep doing this. I’ll start screaming. My husband is right next door and he’ll wake up. He’ll hear me and he’ll come to my rescue.” 

If you really wanted him to stop, you would have used your safe word. The lack of it only proves Peter right. You’re craving this as much as him. You always have been. He is as much yours as you are his. He wants to please you which is why he plays his games. He is tied to this outcome with all his being. He needs you to cum for him to feel his own satisfaction. He requires it. You’re not allowed to leave until he’s satisfied with what he’s achieved out of you.

Peter turns to look at the wall connecting your rooms. The mischievous glint in his eyes only serves to scare you more. He pulls you to your feet in one swift movement. His large hand grasps around the back of your neck as he shoves you towards the wall. 

“Show me,” he growls in your ear.  

Your brows furrow together in confusion, “What?” 

“Show me where the bed is. Where on the wall. Show me where your husband is sleeping.” 

You shake your head, “Absolutely not.”

Your defiance is met with a hard slap against your ass cheek. The force causes you to stumble forward. It never fails to surprise you how strong this man is. You have no idea where that strength comes from. It’s a kind of power that doesn’t come from simply working out. There was more to Peter than he let on. Your skin feels like it’s on fire from the sting and you want him to do it again. 

“I asked you a question. Are you going to answer it or do I need to remove my belt, bend you over my lap, and teach you a lesson?” You heard the jingling sound of the belt buckle being removed behind you as he spoke. He’d done that before and you had no doubt he’d do it again in a heartbeat. A part of you was craving it to happen but you gave into him. 

You close your eyes and picture your hotel room. You point to the spot right next to the tv where the bed should be. Peter steps over to the spot and presses his ear against the wall. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear your husband’s loud snores penetrating through the thin walls. 

“And which side is your husband asleep on?” 

You swallow, catching onto what he’s getting at and hating it already, “There.” You point to where you estimated he would be sleeping right this very second. 

Peter smiles, a wicked smile, and grabs your hips. He spins you around and shoves you hard against the wall. “Right here?” He asks. “Is your husband right on the other side of this wall? Sound asleep in bed? Completely unaware that his wife is pinned up right behind him about to be ravished by a stranger?”

Tears prick at your eyes from the agonizing guilt. You hate that this turns you on so much. Peter wasn’t the monster. You were. 

You nod and let out a tiny whisper, “Yes. Yes, he’s right behind me.” 

“Good,” he lets out a low, long breath. His thumb reaches up to brush away the tear that’s fallen down your cheek. “You’re a very good actress, you know that, right?”

Your breath catches in your throat, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Peter smiles, “Yes you do. You’re trying to force yourself to feel guilty. Trying to pretend that you don’t love this.” He lowered his voice to a whisper and brushed his lips over your ear. “Pretending that you don’t love me.” 

Your eyes slipped closed with a swallow. It was lies. All lies. You shook your head. 

“No,” you whispered back. “No. I feel nothing for you but contempt.”

He raised his eyebrows in amusement, “Oh? Is that so?” He slipped his leg between yours and pushed them apart. His hand slipped under the lace to slide over your slit. 

You felt his long finger easily push inside of you as your mouth fell open to let out a quiet, “Oh.” 

Peter presses his lips to your neck, mumbling against your skin, “If you feel nothing but hatred…why are you so wet? Do you get this wet for every man you hate?” 

You refused to answer that. Your body was betraying you. It wasn’t your fault. 

He slowly pulled his finger out from inside of you and hooked them onto your underwear. As he lowered it down your body, he bent down along with it, until he was kneeling in front of you. 

“We both know your body is unable to deny me anything. Be a good girl, for once in your life, and spread your legs for me, baby.” 

You reluctantly did as you were told. Your thighs spread to accommodate his body between them. Peter’s arms wrapped around your legs and he wasted no time burying his face into your cunt. His tongue slipped along your slit and dove deep into your folds. The stubble of his mustache tickled your clit. It took every bit of willpower you had to not start grinding on his face. Even if you had the will to resist him, his broad shoulders wedged firmly between your thighs prevented you from closing your legs against the tender exploration of his tongue. Blood thrummed between your thighs as his tongue delved into your damp fold, seeking to lick up every last drop of honey. Your knees started to buckle. It was getting harder to stand. Your whole body screamed with tension at the assault happening between your thighs. Your hips arched away from the wall to unwillingly push yourself closer to his face. 

Peter latched on to your pulsing nub and sucked it inside his mouth. His fingernails grazed up your thighs to come to a rest over your ass. He grabbed handfuls of each cheek in his grasp and held you tightly in place on top of him. You could hear the moans of pleasures rumbling out of him as he feasted on you. The sound felt like it was vibrating straight into your core. 

“Oh,” you gasped. He was winning this fight. He always won the fight. His tongue worked like magic over you to subdue you into a submissive lover falling to his every whim. Your mouth fell open in gasps of pleasure. You were so close.

Your eyes snapped open the second you felt the delicious warmth of his face scoot out from under you, “No…” 

Peter chuckle. His chin glistened with the remnants of you. 

“Eager now, are we? Is that all it took? A little pussy licking to win your heart? I didn’t take you as someone who gave up that easily.” He stood up before you. 

Your eyes narrowed, hating what he was saying, but wishing to keep him pinned between your legs a little longer. You had barely enough time to draw a breath to respond before a hard mouth was crashing over yours. Hungry, needy kisses attacked your lips as your tongues collided. Peter pushed you back further against the wall as he explored all your mouth had to offer. You moaned against his lips, fingers tanging into his dark mane of hair. You could feel him, full and hard, nudging at your naked thighs. He was still fully clothed compared to your stark nudeness. 

“Peter,” you breathed between kisses, desperately trying to reason with him as his mouth recaptured yours in more drugging kisses. “I can’t…my husband…” 

He pulled away, a fiery passion flaring behind his amber eyes. Without a word he tossed his shirt off his body and threw it behind his back. He started on his pants next. Pulling open the belt and loosening the zipper. You were drawn into a trance as they slid down his muscular legs and were kicked to the side. You were forced to lick your drying lips. No matter how hard he tried, your husband could never look half as good as Peter.

His palms lifted to either side of your head, slamming against the wall, and pinning you between them. He leaned in close when he spoke, his hot breath tickling your nose. 

“That man,” he rapped a hard finger against the wall. “That man, the one asleep on the other side of this wall, has no idea what he has. He has no idea the things you can do to a man. He has no clue what he’s got. If you think he deserves a second of your time then you need to raise your self-esteem. If he truly knew what he had then he wouldn’t be the one sleeping right now. He’d be the one fucking you against the wall of this hotel. Because you are leagues above what he could ever offer you. ” 

You swallowed, his words touching you more than you wished to let on, “And what is it you think you could ever offer me then?” 

A lazy, cocky smirk tugged at his lips, “I can offer you night after night of nothing but pure pleasure. You know this, darling. We’ve been through this before. You know exactly what it is that I offer you.” 

Your eyes closed. Your heart ached for him. It ached for him the moment you caught eyes across the room almost a year ago now. He became your obsession. Your craving. The reason for every breath you took. If he ever asked, you would leave everything behind for him. 

But he never asked. 

He didn’t want you in that way. He wanted the chase. The excitement. He wanted the feeling of taking something that wasn’t his. And so, you let him, because you loved him. If this was the only way he’d let you keep him then you continue to play this game until he eventually tires of it. You steadied your breath and opened your eyes to glare at him. 

“I want nothing that you have to offer. I don’t need you,” you spat at him. 

Your words bounced off him like nothing. He knew the truth. Peter took your arms and wrapped them around his neck. He pressed his sculpted chest against yours, enjoying the feeling of your nipples grazing over his skin, and softened his smile. His lips brushed over yours with soft kisses. 

“Let me prove you wrong,” he murmured. His hands found your hips. “Wrap your legs around me.”

You gave no thought of resisting and did what he asked as he easily lifted you up against him. Your legs locked around his hips, your trembling breasts crushed against the solid wall of his chest, as he pins you between himself and the wall. The same wall your husband is snoring peacefully, completely unaware, directly on the other side of.

Peter’s tongue gently caresses yours, his kissing turning from hungry to tender. You tried to tell him you loved him through your kisses. Your words might speak differently but you wanted him to know through your body. You loved Peter Parker. You’d love him forever. Even if he could never be yours. 

You stilled your kiss when you felt him prodding against your dewy gate. 

“Peter,” you whispered. “You don’t have to do this. Let me go. I’ll return to my husband. We can pretend this never happened.”

His jaw tightened and he responded by ramming the full length of his thick cock deep into your cunt. You let out a shrill yelp, eyes wide, and clung tighter onto him. You were lucky he’d worked you so beautifully with his tongue moments ago or else that would have been more painful than it was. He could fill you like no one else. Your walls stretch around his invading thickness as he impaled you with his length. 

“You want this just as much as me,” he grumbled, nipping his teeth along your neck. “Stop fighting. You know this is what you need.” 

He quickly slid out and lunged back in. Forceful, long strokes of his cocks. You could feel every bit of his dominating, possessive claim over you with each thrust. Just as you send your love through kisses, he sent his ownership through fucking. You couldn’t help but moan. He knows how to break down your walls and claim you as his own every single time. 

Your name falls from his lips. It’s the most delicious sound you’ve ever heard. Hearing your name on his lips makes you hate your husband. You despise his very existence. He could never sound that beautiful speaking your name. Nothing he does is ever good enough. Peter brings out the part of you kept buried deep in the chambers of your mind. All those years locked into a loveless marriage come rushing to the surface with each thrust of his hips. The bitter, angry nights wishing the man sleeping next to you was someone else.

“Fuck me harder, Peter. I want him to hear. I want him to hear my cries,” you gasp. 

Your eyes lock with his and he sees the resentful hatred burning there. The hatred you pretend is reserved for Peter himself. The hatred that really lies solely with your husband. He understands exactly what you need when he sees that look. He knows you better than the man you’ve been with for nearly ten years. He knows what his job is. 

You whimper as he plunges into you with a series of sharp, searing thrusts as he holds you prisoner against the wall. The harder he slams his hips into you, the more the wall shakes. You let out loud, long moans, not caring for any noise complaints. You want the entire hotel to hear how well Peter Parker can make you cum. You quiver against him, feeling the heat pool between your thighs, as your body welcomes each brutal stroke. His relentless thrusts push you closer and closer to losing all reason. 

“Oh, yes,” you cry. “Yes, yes, yes!” 

“Does that feel good, baby? You like how good my cock makes you feel?” He growls, breathing panting breaths against your shoulder. His nails are digging into the flesh of your ass cheeks as he supports your weight. You hope they leave marks for your husband to find later. 

“You feel so good, Peter. I need you. I need you so badly.” Tears spring to your eyes at the sheer amount of pure pleasure that is coursing through your veins. You cling tightly onto your lover, wrapped around his body like he’s your only life line in a flood. Your muscles clench and unclench around his cock, feeling the rising tide of pleasure build in your stomach. 

He felt like he was melting against you, becoming one, and pushing you harder against the wall. The rough wall paper scrapes up your back. You could feel it burning your skin but the pain only mixes into the thrill. You gave a guttural moan as he increased the urgency of his motions. His mouth found yours to cut off your cries and he sucked out any breath you might have left with his kiss. 

The pulsing, burning sensation slowly begins to unravel you. Your eyes squeeze close and you let yourself just enjoy the building of your own frenzied need. Your body tightens. Long nails digging into the back of his neck and dragging along his shoulders. Waves of pleasure fan through you. The walls of your pussy palpitating around his hard cock as your hips arch against his. 

Feeling you orgasm around him is too much. He can’t hold back any longer. You feel a warmth of explosion inside of you, his seed spurting deep into your pussy in long, jerking thrusts. Peter groans, low and drawn out, eyes rolling closed as he cums. His body loses some of the stamina it had moments ago. Still buried inside of you, he carries you over to the bed and gently places you down. Your hair fans out around your head and your eyes close in bliss as you feel him crawl into bed beside you. He pulls you into his arms with soft, tired breaths tickling over your neck. You know the moments with him after don’t last very long so you try to relish in them while you can. 

Peter’s fingers graze down your stomach, traveling over your navel, and coming to a resting stop cupping your sore pussy. He gently strokes it as he speaks, “When you go back to your room, I don’t want you to shower. I don’t want you to freshen up. I want you to crawl into bed, exactly like this, and I want you to go to sleep with my cum still filling your pussy. I want you to sleep next to your husband with me still inside of you. I want you to keep me there for as long as possible. That’s an order. Promise me.” 

Your stomach flips with excitement at the thought of crawling into bed with your husband, holding onto a part of Peter as you fall asleep beside him. 

Her memory was nearly nonexistent. She kept getting her dreams confused with reality. She would wake up and be absolutely certain that she had spent the evening dining on a cruise ship in the Alaskan waters. She would excitedly tell him how her boyfriend had managed to win the cruise tickets after competing in a pie eating contest and dominating the other competitors. Then she would pause, blink a few times while staring at his face, and laugh about how he looked just like her boyfriend. Peter would smile and tell her that he was glad she enjoyed her cruise ship dinner. And he was glad. If she got her dreams confused with reality, at least she was having good dreams, and he was present in them…even if she couldn’t make the connection between her dream boyfriend and himself being the same person. 

A week after she woke up, her memory was still not right, but it was slowly getting better. Yesterday she had successfully remembered Peter’s face as being someone she knew. It was better than nothing. He pushed the elevator button to her level. Now that she was awake and stable, he felt less guilty running home to shower every few days. When the doors opened to the neuro recovery ward, he stepped out and smiled at the nurses behind their station. 

“Hey there, Spider-Man!” One of them looked up with a sly grin. “Save any people last night?”

Peter’s smile faltered and his face immediately flushed as the panic rose, “...What?”

Alarm bells rang in his head. His heart pounded in his chest. How did they know? Did that paramedic say something? He should have never told her his name or taken off his mask in front of her. He thought he could trust her. If his secret got out- 

A chorus of laughter followed his panicked spiral. 

“Your girlfriend has been telling anyone who will listen that she’s dating the infamous Spider-Man. She claims that he once brought her on a rooftop date overlooking Rockefeller Center during the Christmas tree lighting. We never knew you were so romantic, Spidey.” The nurses giggled, clearly assuming that her words were nothing more than another confused, dream infused reality instead of the actual truth. 

Peter forced a smile and took a shaky breath, “Ha, ya got me! It’s me, you’re friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, just swingin’ in to check on my girl.” 

“Aww, that’s sweet. How lucky she is to have a real life superhero looking out for her,” she winked at Peter to indicate she was only teasing. “She’s doing well today! Go see if she can remember your face this morning. Don’t want her actually falling in love with Spider-Man instead of you.”

He let their jests fall into the background as he swiftly walked to her room. His heart was pounding in his chest. Not because he was angry she was out here spilling his secrets but because she actually remembered something. Last December he surprised her by setting up a rooftop picnic as they watched the giant tree light up. That was no dream she was recalling. That was a memory. 

Peter burst into her hospital room to find May sitting by her bedside and speaking softly to her. He beamed at the two of them, jogging over to his girlfriend and planting a big, happy kiss on her cheek. 

She made a face of disgust and turned to May, saying sarcastically, “Who does this nurse think he is? Personal space much? They’re gettin’ real friendly here.” 

May chuckled under her breath, “Nurses these days are very hands on. Peter, honey, why don’t you have a seat? I was just about to leave and I’m sure she’d enjoy the company.” They often took turns watching over her as she didn’t have any family of her own. 

She studied him from her hospital bed with wide eyes, analyzing his face, “Hey, I know you. Has my boyfriend ever saved you from a disaster? He’s Spider-Man. He saves people. We’re going to get married someday…probably…if he wants to. I’m going to have his Spider babies.” 

May suppressed another laugh and patted her nephew’s arm, “She also had a very good dream about Spider-Man last night. I think you might have some competition on your hands.” She gave Peter a quick wink. “I’ve got to get home. I had a full night shift but I couldn’t leave without stopping in to say good morning to my favorite girl. You take care of her, honey. I’ll see you later.” 

Peter waited until they were alone in the room before he turned to her with a big smile, pulling up a chair to her bedside, “You are an absolute nightmare, you know that? Almost gave me a damn heart attack today. Could you please do me a giant favor and stop telling everyone you meet my biggest secret?” 

“Okay,” she stated with vacant ease. “What’s your secret?” 

He laughed under his breath, “You’re lucky you’re cute.” 

Her smile faded the longer she stared at his face. Her brows pinched together in thought. He could tell she had just remembered something and was working hard to put it into words. 

“...Peter…” She whispered. “That woman called you Peter. That’s my boyfriend’s name. You look like him. You come here every day. You sit by me. You bring me flowers. You talk to me. You fall asleep in that chair every afternoon. You look just like him.” 

He held his breath and nodded, silently watching her try to put the pieces together. It was like he could see her bruised brain starting to heal in front of his eyes. 

“Why do you look like him?” She asked.  

He blinked back the tears starting to press into his eyes, asking softly “Why do you think?”

Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes intently studying him, “You’re Peter, aren’t you? My Peter. I think I know you. I think you might belong to me.”

His smile broke through the tears and he quickly cleared his throat, “Yeah. I belong to you.”

“Cool,” she sighed, sinking back into her pillows. Her face settled back in its placid, nearly vacant expression once more. 

“I love you,” he whispered to her, terrified of letting the moment pass.  

She turned her head back to face him, confusion pulling at her brows, but she flopped her hand out on the bed for him to take. He gladly accepted the offer. It was the first time since she woke up that she willingly reached out for him. His thumb brushed over her fingers as he relished in the feeling of holding her again. He would wait for her forever. 

“Aylin,” a deep, gravely voice fell over her shoulder. “Are you preparing for your hunt tonight or are you daydreaming again?” 

Aylin wiped the growing scowl from her face, replacing it with a passive smile, before she turned to greet her intruder, “Sergei. Good morning to you, too.” She shoved the ziplock bag of berries back into her pocket and stood up, brushing off her damp bottom from the rotten log she was sitting on. “I’ve been preparing my whole life for my first solo hunt. There is not much else I can do but wait.” 

Tonight was the night she would become a full member of the hunting party. At 21, those with the talent would be given a test. They were to track down and successfully eliminate a single werewolf on their own. Up until now, she had been hunting with a group. She participated in helping kill a total of five wolves so far. Now it was time to prove that she could be of use on her own. It was the highest honor a young person could receive in the guild. 

Sergei ran a hand through his long, scraggly beard. His dark hair reached to his shoulders and hung in wild waves framing his square face. The black pelt of a werewolf hung like a shawl around his shoulders. As leader of the Silver Colt Guild, he held the respect of everyone under him. The Silver Colt’s history dated as far back as the first known existence of a werewolf. They’d been around for centuries, culling the werewolf problem the best they could before it ever reached the public eye. Sergei, known by his enemies as his alias Kraven the Hunter, inherited the guild from his father. He ran with an iron fist to keep his people safe. They were the outcasts of modern society, taking on the burden of protecting those they would never meet from the horrors of evil that walked among them. 

“Being prepared does not mean you are ready to complete the actual task,” he chastised her. “Going one to one with a wolf is harder than you could ever imagine. In their wolf form, they are ten times stronger than you could ever be. In their human form, they are the master of manipulation. They would say or do anything to keep you from slaughtering them. The second you let your guard down, they will strike. There will be no help to back you up. Failing means death. A beast won’t hesitate to rip you limb from limb. Mindless, heartless killers. They are not guided by morals. They will not hesitate. I don’t want to lose you tonight.”

Aylin held her tongue for fear of talking back. Sergei always got under her skin. Still, she believed he deserved the title of their leader and, therefore, was worthy of her respect. He was easily the best hunter of them all. He could take out a wolf with nothing but his bare hands. No one else was able to compete with his sheer strength. At times, he seemed almost like an enhanced human himself. She often wondered where he pulled his abilities from, though she would never dare question him. He was a good leader but a boastful one. His hubris clashed with her humbled outlook. Aylin had no need for cockiness. She believed one’s skills should silently speak for themselves. There was no need to talk herself up. She knew what she could do and that should be enough. 

“If you are successful tonight then I could see you entering as the frontrunner to become my protégé,” he raised his thick brows at her, as if that was supposed to be the most enticing offer of her lifetime. “Don’t let me down.”

The leader of the guild would always choose the strongest new hunter to personally train. She would be forced to move into Sergei and his wife’s home to study his every move. Whoever was chosen as the leader’s protégé would one day take over as leader themselves. Some of her peers would slaughter each other for the chance to claim that title. Aylin saw it as a chore. Calypso, Sergei’s wife, was someone she’d rather avoid. The woman could easily stand on her own with her husband but didn’t possess an ounce of empathy. She was cruel, boarding on psychopathic, and the thought of having to live under the same roof as her sent a bolt of dread through Aylin’s nerves. She had no desire to lead anyone, either. All she wanted was to sit in her quiet woods, undisturbed, but there was no point in arguing over a centuries old tradition. If Sergei chose her then that’s what she would have to do. 

“I think I’ll be alright. You don’t have to worry about me. I’ve been tracking this wolf for some time. She works as a night security guard up at the old Eagle Peak Camp. I’m not entirely sure what she’s guarding there but, whatever is, I’ll be sure to report back to you with what I find. I think it’s where a pack has been meeting. If I can get information on them, our guild could potentially eliminate an entire group in one go. She’ll be an easy enough target for my first solo hunt. There shouldn’t be any civilians around and there's a lot of places to take cover. All my weapons are prepped and ready. I’ve been training for months. I will come back with her silver pierced heart in my hand. I’m confident in this.” She straightened her spine as she spoke to appear taller than she was in an attempt to see eye to eye with Sergei. He towered over anyone he stood in front of and she didn’t like feeling small.  

He gave a light hearted chuckle and slung his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into his side, and dwarfing her against his large body, “I believe you. I’m the one who trained you, remember? I know you have the skill. Doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you anyway.” The coarse fur of the wolf pelt tumbling down his shoulders tickled her cheek as he held her close. “Your mother is looking for you. She made you breakfast. Let me walk you back to town and we can discuss your strategies for tonight once more.” 

Even as she stood crouched under the shadows of a large pine tree, Aylin silently trailed her fingers over each of her weapons. She’d taken count of each one about fifty times in the last hour but it still helped quell her nerves. The tree she took shelter under protected her from the downpour of rain as she raised her binoculars to observe her surroundings. Eagle Peak was once a bustling summer destination for hundreds of children, aged 6 to 16, to attend a four week camp program in the mountains. Their days were filled with non stop fun canoeing on the lake, hiking through the forests, singing around a campfire, and making a lifetime of memories. That was until the wolf incident of ‘74. Three campers were found torn apart, their cabin broken into, and their bloodied bodies dragged out into the forest. Their deaths were chalked up to a pack of rabid wolves which had wandered into camp. While the pack was never actually found, the camp still closed down. Children being mutilated while they slept didn’t send out a great impression to other potential camp goers. The Silver Colt’s knew the truth. It wasn’t rabid wolves. At least, not how the public perceived it to be. One of the counselors was a beast in disguise. He was slain by Sergei’s father in the summer of ‘75. Sergei still wears the necklace of claws his father made after tearing them from the counselor's paws before he drove a silver dagger into the beast’s blackened heart. 

The camp had sat abandoned for years, left for nature to reclaim, until a private owner bought out the land. That was when the suspicion began. Hikers were going missing more often than usual. Strange howls could be heard at night. A heavy sense of foreboding hovered in the night air. The werewolves were making a return and it was up to Aylin’s people to stop them. Tonight, she would start their quest by taking out the guard and retrieving as much information as she could. 

From the outskirts she couldn’t see much. She’d been staking out this location for weeks. Besides the patrolling woman, she never saw anyone else move around the camp while she was there, but it was clear that there was something worth guarding. She would need to infiltrate closer to get a better look. While the night rain ruined her views, the sound would help mask her footsteps. Werewolves had particularly precise hearing. Sergei purposely chose a rainy night for her first hunt and she would take any advantage she could get.

Aylin mentally planned out her route. The main lodge sat in a large clearing overlooking the lake. A crack of lightning pierced through the clouds and reflected off the darkened waters. It was the only source of light she would have tonight as the moon was blanketed behind the storm. Surrounding the lodge on either side was a small office building and a nurse’s station. The lavatories were a little ways behind the main lodge and, down a wooded dirt path, held the bulk of the camper’s cabins. According to her old map, they used to refer to the cabin’s sleeping area as the Whispering Pines. A boathouse sat on the lake, still fully stocked with rotting canoes. That was thirteen buildings in total. She would have to search each one before she returned home. Once her target was removed, it would allow her the time she needed to properly investigate for any details on the pack that roamed these areas.

Sierra Molina was who Aylin was currently searching for. A 28 year old, gorgeous woman with thick, long black hair who moved to upper New York three years ago. She started out as a model in the city, gaining a good amount of success, when she suddenly switched career paths. A successful model in the big city to a solitary, private security guard for an abandoned summer camp in the Adirondack Mountains could only mean one thing. She was a wolf. She wasn’t born one, she was bitten. That was Aylin’s theory, at least. It would have been hard for a wolf to have a career in the limelight. Wolves and cities don’t usually mix unless they’re using them as a hunting ground. That would mean, at some point three years ago, a wolf managed to find its way into the city. It was growing its pack and Sierra was merely a victim of the beast. Victim or not, she had to die. 

There was not much luck for Aylin tonight. She had yet to catch sight of the woman. The heavy storm was probably compelling her to keep shelter in one of the buildings. A light was on in the back of the main lodge so she placed her bets on that. She wouldn’t be able to take her out with an easy scope shot. She’d need to get in closer. 

Aylin took a deep inhale, preparing herself, and stepped out from the protective shadows of her pine tree. Her old leather boots lost traction as she descended down a slippery slope towards the main lodge. The grass turned to slick mud under her and she silently cursed as she felt the cold, wet dirt coat down her side as she skidded to a halt at the bottom. If anything, the mud might help hide her scent too, though it made it harder to grip her weapons. She did her best to wipe her hands off on her black combat pants before continuing. 

She kept her body ducked low while she gave a light jog towards the lodge. There wasn’t much she could do about the squelching mud under her feet. All she could hope for was that the rain hammering on the roof was loud enough to cover whatever sounds she couldn’t hide. The second she reached the lodge, she pressed her back against the dark wooden panels. Her hand grabbed behind her to pull the crossbow from her back. She carefully loaded it with a silver tipped arrow, letting the rumbling thunder overhead mask the sounds. The crossbow was her weapon of choice. It was fast, powerful, and quieter than a gun. Unlike the colt revolver strapped to her thigh, she had more stealth advantages with this. The gun was for the final blow if she needed the added weight and her dagger was her very last chance of survival should things come down to hand to hand combat. She was no Sergei. Her strengths lay in long range and stealth. 

Aylin moved along the length of the outer wall until she was perched under a cracked open window. From inside, she could hear someone moving around. The smell of cooking chicken hit her nose. This must be the kitchen of the lodge and where her target was taking shelter. 

Sierra spoke to someone inside as she banged around the room, slamming cabinets in her wake, “I think he needs more food. The man is wasting away. Kateri hardly ever feeds him. I don’t know how she expects him to keep on giving her what she wants if he’s nothing but skin and bone.” 

She waited, listening for a secondary person to reply. When she heard none, it gave her the confidence to know that Sierra was still the only here. She was on the phone. 

“Yeah, I know it keeps him weak, but it’s also killing him. Call me crazy but I actually feel sorry for the bastard. I’m the one who ends up having to take care of him. He’s not my pet! If she’s so obsessed with him, you’d think she would actually take better care of him. It wouldn’t hurt to bathe him either. He’s starting to really stink. I wish Kateri would actually do something about that. The whole cabin is disgusting. I hate having to go in there.” The name Kateri was new to her but, the way Sierra talked about her, made it seem like she was the one who called the shots. The name of the pack's potential alpha. “Maybe I’ll let him run around in the rain for a bit. Let the storm hose him down.” Sierra laughed, “I’m joking! Calm down. I’m not going to let him out. He wouldn’t know what to do out of chains anyway. Kat’s got him fully conditioned to be her omega bitch.”

Aylin silently shifted her crossbow to get a better feel for it in her hands. Her curiosity peaked at the thought of who they were speaking about. It sounded as if they currently had someone hostage. She didn't dare peak through the open window for fear of being seen. 

“I cooked him some chicken. Kat can scream about it all she wants. He needs the protein. I didn’t even season it or anything. Just straight up dry chicken. What’s sad is that it’ll probably be the best damn meal he’s had in a year. Better than the dog food she’s been forcing him to eat.” The sound of her zipping up a bag reached Aylin’s ears. She was getting ready to move. “I’m going to even brave the rain for this loser. See? I’m not a heartless bitch after all. Who would have guessed? I’ll talk to you later, babes, once I’m back inside. See ya.” 

The sound of Sierra's footsteps disappearing followed the end of the phone call. This was her chance to move. Aylin crept around the side of the building, crossbow held up at the ready in front of her. She watched from the shadows as Sierra popped out the door and into the rain. Her peripheral vision was covered by the large, dark green hood of her rain jacket pulled loosely  over her head. She wore a black bag over her shoulder as she jogged towards the Whispering Pines. She had no idea that she was now actively being hunted.

Aylin’s  heart began to race as she trailed after her prey. When she joined the hunting party on their excursion to take out other wolves, they had already been in wolf form by the time she caught sight of them. Large, raggedy, snarling beasts. Blood had dripped from their jowls and matted into their wild, unkempt fur. They had been untamed, savage, violent creatures. It was easy to see them as a predator in need of putting down. They weren’t human. 

Sierra Molina was human. At least, how she looked now. A beautiful woman trying to make it big as a model. Her dreams of the future were snatched from her at the hands of true evil. She was dragged up to the mountains and forced into a new life. She ran through the rain, her shoulders hunched up in her oversized coat, her body shivering from the cold, to bring food to whatever neglected hostage her alpha had locked up. She was going against her orders to feed the poor soul. An act of kindness. A very human act. 

Her stomach ached at the thought of having to look this woman in the eyes as she killed her. She’d rather her be a wolf. It would be more dangerous but slaughtering an animal was better than murdering a human. The reality of what she was about to do came crashing down around her. The fear set in. 

Aylin slowed her pace, ducking behind a tree. Sergei was right, the rain would help easily conceal her from all sounds and smells. Sierra had no idea she was being followed. It felt almost unfair. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to do this anymore. She was born into this life. Raised to be a killer. It should be easy. She shouldn’t be this sacred. Fear and doubt were weaknesses. Those weaknesses should have been beaten out of her as a child yet they somehow still prevailed, stronger than ever. 

As her prey approached the last cabin along the path, the one tucked further back into the forest than the rest, Aylin raised her crossbow and took aim. There was no time for over thinking or panic. She had to act on instinct. This was her moment. It was now or never. She couldn’t return home without a wolf’s heart in her hand. She couldn’t fail her people. 

This was it. 

The familiar, loud thwip of the bolt leaving its home echoed off the trees. Before Sierra even had time to react to the sound, the silver tip buried itself straight into her lower spine with a sickly, crunching thud of bones being ripped apart. She dropped hard and fast. Crumbled to the ground in a heap, her bag slipping from her shoulders to fall beside her broken body. Her piercing howl of pain filled the air. Aylin made quick work to start loading up the next bolt while she still had the element of surprise on her side. 

“My legs,” Sierra cried out. “I can’t feel my legs! I can’t move them. Please. Help! Someone help!”  Her pleas for rescue were useless. There was nobody around to listen but Aylin. Her body flopped onto her side, teary, terrified eyes desperately searching for her assailant. “Who are you? What do you want?! What have you done? You-” 

Aylin approached, a black cowl mask hiding her lower face, and the end of the crossbow pointed at the other woman. Her target was in sight but she wasn’t ready to pull the final trigger just yet. She wanted her to turn. She needed to see the beast before she took her life. It was the only way she'd be able to follow through. 

Sierra caught sight of the golden, rising sun emblem carefully stitched into Aylin’s dark jacket. Realization flashed across her spasming face, contorting between pain and fury, “You.” Her voice lowered into a dangerous rumble. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” Her words spit like fire out of her mouth. “That sun. You’re one of Kraven’s hunters! Kateri said you would come eventually. You have no idea how this will end for you. You have no idea what you’re walking into!” 

A low, threatening growl thundered in the back of her throat. It was followed by a quieter whimper like she knew how this was going to end for her. She was scared. A cornered animal ready to go down fighting. Death was the only future she held. Her pupils began to stretch, causing her tawny colored eyes to fill with a voidless obsidian until there were no remnants of her human soul. The growl grew deeper, more animalistic, as she started to shift. 

“That’s it,” Aylin whispered to herself. “Turn for me. Show me who you really are.” 

Like a firework bursting in the night sky, Sierra’s body exploded into a massive wolf with an angry howl, sending shreds of her green rain jacket and a spray of water droplets flying into the air. She nearly tripled in size. Silky, jet black fur, as beautiful as her own head of hair, settled down into place as her transformation completed. Saliva clung to her thick, pointed ivory teeth, black lips pulled back into a snarl, and her ears pressed flat against her skull. Steam puffed from her panting jaws, highlighting the chill in the air. She was savage. Desperate. Ready to kill. Her blackened sights set directly onto Aylin. 

This was the beast she was ready to hunt. This was exactly what she had trained for. Sierra Molina no longer existed. In her place was a raging, furious wolf ready to be slain. There was no more need for humanity for she was not human. A hunter and her prey. A tale as old as time. 

Sierra’s hind quarters remained crumbled under the weight of her body like a stray dog who had been hit by a car. They were as useless to her in wolf form as they were to her as a human. Aylin had managed to sever her spine with her first hit, rendering her weaker and taking away some of her power. It didn’t make her any less dangerous, though. She lunged at the younger girl, thrusting her massive body down the muddy path towards her as claps of loud thunder cheered on the upcoming fight. The muscular power of her front legs dragged her forward in jerky, pained movements, back legs dangling helplessly behind her. The coarse fur of her hackles stood on end. Teeth bared. She was ready to die fighting. 

Aylin released the trigger. The bolt shot out like a bullet and lodged itself deep into her foe's shoulder. The silver tip sizzled in her thick skin, the metal burning into her flesh. She doubled over with a howled cry, whipping her enlarged head back and forth in an attempt to reach the burning arrow piercing her skin with her long snout. While she fought with the pain, Aylin quickly tried to reload her bow. She had the arrow half way in, foot holding down the stirrup, and desperately trying to force the strong string back into position when Sierra noticed she was distracted. Ignoring the searing pain in her shoulder and crippled back legs, she lunged herself at Aylin. 

The force knocked her to the ground, tossing her bow off to the side, and pushing the air out of her lungs. The heavy weight of the wolf pressed down on her chest. The smell of wet dog filled her nostrils as Sierra leered down over her. Steamy, hot breath blew in her face. Black, leathery lips pulled back to reveal snarling teeth. For a breathless moment, Sierra thought she had the upper hand. 

And then a loud, cracking pop rang out, breaking the wooded silence, sending a flurry of terrified birds out of the trees and straight to the stormy sky.

In Aylin’s hand was the colt revolver, slipped out from her thigh harness, already prepped and loaded with silver bullets, now pointed directly under the wolf’s jaw. 

The bullet shot straight through Sierra’s thick skull, ripping through her brain, and forcing a bloody exit out the other end. A cloud of misty, hot crimson rained down onto Aylin’s face. Bits of fleshy brain matter scattered to the ground around her. A sharp fragment of Sierra’s rose tinted skull bounced off her forehead, slicing her skin, and tumbled into the mud. The wolf went completely still, the life snuffed straight out of her, as her heavy body slumped on top of Aylin, pinning her in place. 

The silence that followed was deafening. Not even the rumbling thunder or shower of rain seemed to dare make noise. All she could hear was the ringing in her ears. The echo of the gunshot reverberating inside her skull. 

Her heart was racing. Her lungs struggled to breath under the weight on top of her. Her mind desperately tried to catch up with the events that just unfolded. 

Her first solo hunt. Her first kill. 

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, protected from the shower of blood thanks to her mask. The rain slowly washed the rest of the red from her vision. 

She had done it. 

She had killed a werewolf. 

She was alive. She was the victor. 

Aylin let out a grunt, grasping a fistful of Sierra’s fur in her shaky hands, as she wiggled her body out from under the enormous carcass. The slippery mud helped assist her as she slid her legs out of the furry prison. Her clothes were soaked through. Mud, rain, and blood all mixed together to seep into her frozen skin. She forced herself onto her feet and took a stumbled step backwards to examine her work. 

Sierra remained in wolf form after her death. They rarely ever changed back once their life was gone. Despite her blown open skull, she looked rather peaceful. Cute, even, if you looked from the right angles. Like a giant, sleeping puppy. They were beautiful creatures, werewolves. It was hard not to respect their strength and power. Sierra still nearly got the upper hand even with her paralyzed hind legs and silver burning her flesh. If it hadn’t been for the colt, she probably would have won. 

Death suited her, Aylin concluded. 

She turned from the corpse to pick up her crossbow off the ground and slung it back over her shoulder. She took a moment to gather herself, both her racing thoughts and her scattered belonging, before she attempted to continue. The adrenaline coursing through her veins made it difficult to think straight. The wolf was dead, the major threat eliminated, but there was still work that needed to be done. Cabins needed to be searched. Clues needed to be found. And a heart needed to be cut out as proof of her win. 

Aylin shuffled over to the bag Sierra had dropped. It lay at the bottom steps of the smallest cabin. A simple, faded, forest green wooden shack. While the other sleeping quarters looked like they could hold at least ten people total, this one could probably only handle four. She bent down to unzip the bag. A clear tupperware of cooked chicken, a bottle of water, and a ring full of keys were all that remained inside. Aylin glanced up to the cabin. That was where Sierra was headed to deliver the dinner. That was where they were keeping their pet. 

She snatched up the ring of keys and made her accent up the rotting wooden stairs. A screen door filled with holes stood in front of her. Behind it was another, solid metal door. It looked out of place, newer than everything else, as if someone had specifically installed it within the past year. A heavy padded lock bolted it shut. The kind of lock meant to keep something in. She tested out each key until she found the perfect fit. The lock popped open and she slid over the dead bolt, allowing the door to slowly creak open, unsure of what she would find on the other side.

The thick stench of musty sweat hit her nose as her eyes adjusted to the dark. It was pitch black inside. The windows had been boarded up and covered with heavy, old blankets. They would keep out the light and help dampen any noise. A set of two wooden bunk beds stood on opposite sides of the walls, built straight into the floor, but Aylin’s attention sought to what was chained between them. 

A man was naked, crouched on his knees, back curved forward, and head hung low. He was facing the blank wall across from her. His arms hung up above his head and stretched out to the side, forced into place by the bulky chains around each wrist. The sickly pale skin under the wide cuffs was rubbed raw. A trickle of dried blood caked down his forearm. His back was covered in a myriad of scars. Welts from a whip. Some new. Some old. All painful. She could see the perfect ridge of his spine protruding from under the scarred skin, each vertebrae clearly on display. The marks of a starving, tortured man. 

He head jerked to the side when he heard the creak of the floorboard as she took another step inside. His hair was down to his shoulders and hung in wild, greasy, matted stands. His skin was speckled with dirt and old, dried blood. Wheezing breaths struggled out his lungs. 

Aylin breathed through her mouth, trying to keep her nose blocked from the horrible smell wafting off of him. The closer she got, the worse it became. Not even her mask could help block the smell. He had been locked in this room for a long time, rotting away with no flow of air, no sunlight, nothing.  

“What have they done to you?” She whispered, horrified by what she was seeing. “Who are you?” 

The sounds of shifting chains filled the quiet shack as he came more alert. She stayed in the shadows behind him, just out of his eye sight while he tried to crane his head around to see who was speaking. This was a new voice, one unfamiliar to him. 

“Who are you?” He croaked. His voice was deep and scratchy like a rusty tool he no longer had any use for. 

“I asked you first.” She listened to the sound of the rain hammering against the wooden roof. It helped soothe the quickened pace of her heart. “Are you one of them? Do you…belong to them?” A pet. That’s what Sierra had called him. 

She had only been taught how to kill wolves, not what to do when she encountered a hostage they were keeping. This was new, uncharted territory. Sergei would probably want her to kill him and move on with her task, get home safe without any added baggage. Her mother would tell her to free the starving man and find him help, her humanity being more important than a flawless hunt. She chewed on her lip, silently weighing her options. 

The man gave a breathy, weak laugh. It sounded dark and ominous. 

“I…belong to them…yes.” He hesitated, defeat dripping in his tone. “Are you here to kill me? Please say yes.” 

Aylin swallowed, unsure. Was she? Her hand was clutched to the hilt of her knife. He could be dangerous. Or useful. There had to be a reason why a pack of wolves had him locked up. He belonged to them but was he one of them? It didn’t sound like he was part of the pack. A rival, maybe? Whoever he was, he wanted to die. He wanted her to kill him. Her heart sank in her chest. He looked so weak. His head had fallen back against his slumped over chest, his neck unable to support it upright for long. They had tortured him, starved him, until he was a broken shell. 

She took a deep breath and pulled her knife from the holster. He shuddered at the sound. She held it at the ready as she crept closer, ducking under one of his chains, to stand directly in front of him. He lifted his tired head to look at her. Her eyes widened at the horrors. Gaunt, pale cheeks caked in dirt. Untamed, wild hair like a mane framing his skeletal face. Dark, sagging circles embedded around hollow, red tinted eyes. His scraggly chestnut beard stuck out in all directions to hide his dry, chapped, pale lips. Every rib stood out against his grimy chest. She forced her eyes from traveling down any further, wanting to allow the naked man whatever shred of dignity he had left. 

“Well?” He asked again, watery eyes boring into her. “Are you going to kill me or not?” 

Aylin locked her gaze with his. It was the look of hope that softened his sharp features that simultaneously broke her heart and made up her mind. 

“No,” she declared. 

She couldn’t kill him. She didn’t care who he was or what he had done. Anyone chained up and begging for death deserved a second chance. 

A frown darkened his sweat dripped brow, “You're a hunter, aren’t you? I know that symbol on your coat. I heard you outside. You killed Sierra. That’s what you do. You kill werewolves.” 

Aylin nodded, “Yes.” 

“Then kill me,” he stated. The finality of his statement settled in the stale air around them. 

He was a werewolf. 

She should kill him. She should hate him. She should claim his life as a second victory. Two for one. It would secure her spot as Sergei’s protégé. She would be revered as a hero. A future candidate to lead the Silver Colts. Her destiny would be written in stone. 

Which was exactly why she wouldn’t. 

When she didn’t respond, he clenched his jaw, anger flashing across his broken eyes, “Kill me! I’m one of them! Do what you’re supposed to do and kill me!” He threw himself at where she stood, unflinching. The chains caught him before he could reach her and yanked him back into place as a sob escaped him. The fight immediately left his body. He was too weak. He curled up as best as he could with his arms hung weakly above his head. He let out a pathetic whimper. “Please…do it…please…” He whined. “Please. Help me. Make it end. Let it be over.”

He was a werewolf. A predator. A freak of nature. The one thing she was supposed to despise most in this world. Her enemy. The one she vowed to eliminate even if it cost her own life. She was raised to do this. Raised to be a killer. 

“No,” she whispered. 

It’s not a fair fight. He was too weak. Bound to chains. Already beaten into submission. She’d have to be a monster to pierce his heart now. He was supposed to be the monster. Not her. The plans of what to do next began swirling around in her mind. Crazy, ridiculous, unheard of plans. 

Aylin slipped her knife back into its holster. She had made up her mind. She was going to take him. Steal him from the pack. Bring him back with her. Hide him away from her people. Use him to get information. He was weak enough that she could control him. In the state he was in, his fragile mind could be easily manipulated. It was insane, yes, but it was her plan and her mind was set on it. 

The ring of keys were still stuck inside the lock of the door. She ducked back under his arm chain and retrieved them, starting to test each key until she found the right one, while he studied her with a quiet, sleepy, curiosity. She carefully unlocked each cuff, setting him loose. 

The wolf man fell to the ground the second his arms were free. He crumpled into the fetal position, chest heaving, unable to do much more in his feeble state. Aylin squatted down in front him. His knees were more raw than his wrists, almost worn down to the bone, as if he had to spend most of his time on them. It was then that she noticed his pelvic region. She only took notice because it stood out. While the rest of him was covered in grime, his pelvis was meticulously clean. Spotless. Perfectly cleared of any dirt, sweat, or blood. She couldn’t see anything more revealing as he tucked into himself but it was an odd observation, the kind that made her stomach lurch. Whoever Kateri was, she only seemed to care about one specific part of him. This hostage had a purpose. One she was going to take away from them. Cut off their supply and use him to lure them out into the open. 

He was the key to eliminating the entire pack. 

“What’s your name?” She asked softly. She could pretend to be nice, gain his trust, have him work for her. She could use him to bend her guild in the right direction. Think of all the information that could be learned by having an actual werewolf on their side. 

He peaked his eyes out at her, his lids hanging heavy like he hadn’t slept in days, “It’s-” He hesitated, having to think, to try and remember that part of himself. A part he lost long ago. “Uh, it's…Peter….yeah, that’s it. Peter.” Even though he was free, he made no attempts to move. Completely broken like an abused, unleashed dog sticking close to his master because he knew of nothing else. Kindness didn’t exist in his world. All he knew was pain and suffering. 

She reached out her hand, gently placing it against his cheek, even as he flinched and cowered away, she held steady, “I’m not going to hurt you, Peter.” She removed her hand from his scraggly beard and tugged down the dark cowl and mask to reveal the rest of her face for him to see, “My name is Aylin. I am a hunter but not to you. You no longer belong to these sadistic people. Now, you belong to me.” 

[Chapter Two]

A/N: A reblog will automatically put you onto the chapter two tag list. If you enjoyed what you read, please leave a comment! It would make this writer very happy and more likely to continue writing. I hope you have a lovely night/evening/morning/afternoon/day.