#spideysjane

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Peter’s face lit up when MJ entered the room, and if he’d been able, she knew he would’ve rushed her. Beyond the change in expression, however, he didn’t move a single muscle. Miguel had placed him in the center of their bed, arms laid neatly at his sides. Noticing the pillow under Peter’s head, MJ smiled. What a softie.

“How ya feelin’, Tiger?” She sauntered over, taking a seat right beside her husband.

“Migs is mean,” Peter pouted. “I can’t believe he actually bit me.”

“Well, you did make fun of his fangs. Not your brightest idea,” MJ countered lightly. Peering at his neck, she soon spotted the bite marks. “Want me to kiss it better?” she offered sweetly.

Peter couldn’t nod but his gaze turned hopeful, and MJ leaned down to hover over the marks. Her breath puffed against them, and Peter would’ve shivered, but his muscles simply refused to respond. He smiled when he felt MJ’s lips, soft and warm against his skin. Then she began peppering small kisses along his neck, and he instantly remembered that kisses could tickle.

“Hmph!” Peter stifled the urge to giggle. The situation was already embarrassing enough. At least MJ would be pulling back soon. He just needed to control himself until-

“AH!” he yelped when kissing became nibbling, right where Miguel had bitten him before. “W-Wait, Em- Nohoho!” he cracked when he realized her true intentions.

MJ paused a few seconds later, shifting to whisper in his ear. “Do you remember that time you strung me up in the living room, then decided to tease me until the webs dissolved?”

Oh. Oh no. Peter did remember. He remembered that evening quite fondly, actually. MJ had collapsed into his arms afterwards, thoroughly flushed and swearing revenge. Of course, Peter had laughed it off at the time, doubting she’d ever catch him that compromised. It would be another decade before Miguel found them… and now, he’d served Peter right up for MJ.

“You’ve got to tell me the full story later,” Miguel interjected, done hiding his presence. Peter gawked as MJ patted the other side of the bed, giving Miguel a peck once he was close enough.

“Have you two been plotting against me?!”

“No, I specifically bit you for being a nuisance. The plan was to leave you in here alone… but MJ came up with a better idea.”

MJ beamed at Miguel, then focused her attention back on Peter. “Now, let’s find out where you’re most sensitive…” Peter cringed as his past words were echoed back at him.

Her fingers grazed across his ribs first, nails easily felt even through his shirt. It really wasn’t that bad a spot, but Peter’s breath still hitched at the touch. He had no chance of resistance, mouth curling up as nails dragged down. The fact he couldn’t even try to turn away made him overly aware of his own nerves.

MJ went from his uppermost left rib all the way to the bottom, then wiggled her fingers on the way back up. It was ticklish enough to earn a few snickers, but nothing too dramatic yet. That was until Peter felt a dig on his right, squawking when the tickling crept between his ribs.

“Wait- Wahahait!”

Miguel did not wait, fingers burrowing in without hesitation.

Peter’s mind demanded he move, but all he could physically do was laugh. It only spiraled when MJ switched spots, pinching at his much more ticklish side. The squeal he couldn’t quite suppress didn’t escape either tormentor’s notice.

“Shitshitshit! Thahat’s sohoho unfahahahair!” Peter swore when Miguel’s claws traced down his other side.

Claws and nails… it was a deadly combination. Peter couldn’t say which side was worse. If he’d been able, he would’ve been wriggling from one to the other, indecisive and frenzied. Unfortunately, as things stood, he had no choice but to endure both together. Miguel scratched carefully along his right flank, while MJ raked ruthlessly at his left.

“Mehehean! You’re bohohoth so mehean!”

“Pobrecito,” Miguel replied.

“Oh, babe, you think this is mean? Just you wait,” MJ promised.

A nervous thrill shot straight through him. How wrecked would he be by the end of this? He’d never felt so uniquely defenseless, safe from real harm, but not from this. His sides were bad, but not terrible. What would happen when they found his actual weakness?

All these thoughts were quickly halted by MJ poking around his waist.

“Nonono- Dohohon’t!” Peter giggled uncontrollably.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re helpless,” MJ cooed, kneading his love handles. Her hands slipped under the hem of his shirt, bypassing his only means of defense. It tickled so much that Peter’s laughter pitched higher, which didn’t escape Miguel’s notice.

“Que precioso,” Miguel teased, knowing it was a phrase Peter would understand. Right on cue, Peter blushed, and Miguel smirked in satisfaction. It was the exact reaction he’d been seeking, after so many instances of Peter flustering him.

Revenge garnished with extra affection, easily shared among three.

Peter flushed even further when MJ proceeded to lift his shirt. She pushed the hem all the way to his chest, exposing his pale abdomen. Just like that, he was on display for his equally gorgeous wife and boyfriend… and then insecurity reared its head, reminding him of his current physique.

Objectively, it was absurd. They'd both seen his gut before, and he was hardly one for bashfulness nowadays… but still, to have all their attention focused right there, while he couldn’t even cover his face? Apparently that was just a bit too much. Peter didn’t tense up, mainly because he couldn’t, yet his partners still noticed the shift in his mood. Of course they did... observant as ever. He shut his eyes to avoid examining their expressions.

There was a beat, then finally movement, but not from the direction he'd been expecting. Instead of MJ, sweet and familiar... it was Miguel whose lips brushed bare skin first. Peter's eyes shot back open and MJ caught his gaze, understanding reflected in her own. Then she glanced at Miguel, her lips quirking, and Peter’s attention jumped to him.

His heart skipped when he found Miguel staring, intense and analytical. Then it dropped as Miguel inhaled deeply, before blowing the most devastatingly ticklish of raspberries.

Peter screeched, barely calming when Miguel ultimately switched to nibbling. The tips of Miguel’s fangs grazed against his belly, pressing down too gently to break any skin. That was when MJ joined back in, too, peppering tickly kisses wherever Miguel wasn't. Peter giggled, then released a squeak when she poked at the softest part of his stomach.

If Peter had been a luckier man, the pair might've concluded around there. He rarely was, though, so of course they weren't done. MJ's next statement sealed his fate.

"We should lift his arms," she suggested to Miguel, and Peter nearly broke into a cold sweat. He didn't say a word as they guided his limbs. Miguel raised an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic silence.

"Hold on, are you nervous?" he had to ask, curious amusement coloring his tone.

"Wha- No! I'm just... getting tired?" Not entirely false, but not convincing either.

Indirectly calling his bluff, MJ reached out a hand, watching Peter's eyes. He anxiously tracked her slow approach, worsening the suspense for himself. Abruptly, Miguel inched forward, and Peter would've flinched if he'd been able. There was no way to track both of them.

Not that it mattered, once the tickling restarted.

"NOHOT THEHEHERE!" Peter screeched after a swear unbecoming of the Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman. MJ's nails scribbled at his left underarm, while Miguel's thumb massaged his right hollow. “DOHON'T- I CAHAHAN’T!" He wanted to thrash, but he couldn't even manage a twitch. "PLEHEHEHEASE!” It was a maddening experience. Being tied up had nothing on this.

If only he could lower his arms, or twist away, or struggle at all. It didn't help that he was just too damn ticklish in that spot. Miguel and MJ exploited his weakness in distinctly different ways, and thus it didn't take long at all for the contrasting sensations to overwhelm him.

As soon as tears rolled down Peter’s cheeks, they both pulled back to let him breathe.

“Alright there, Tiger?” MJ pet his hair, a hint of worry entering her voice.

“…Could I get some water?”

His partners relaxed, and Miguel nodded. “Be right back.” He returned a minute later with a bottle and towel, first wiping Peter’s face, then sitting him up on the pillows, then carefully lifting the bottle to his lips.

“Thanks,” Peter said after a long drink. “You two are weirdly diabolical.” He glanced at MJ. “Especially you.”

“Just means you have a type,” MJ countered smoothly.

"Hot and sadistic?"

"You said it, not me~"

And then before his brain could stop his mouth-

"Just as ticklish, too." Why would he say that.

Miguel's eyes narrowed dangerously.

“You know, we’ve still got time before the venom wears off.”

“Doesn’t seemed like he’s really learned his lesson, huh?”

Peter squeaked when something soft caressed his ear. MJ had a feather… no, make that two.

“W-When did you get those?!” He watched helplessly as she handed the second feather to Miguel.

“Aww, did you think I came unprepared? I knew you’d talk back enough to earn this~”

Miguel had to force the words out of himself, every vowel demanding a strained squeeze in his chest. He couldn’t talk about this. What would he say? He’d combust from pure mortification before he could ever explain why he enjoyed this… his self-indulgent little secret.

Miguel’s mind swam with anxiety, spilling over until the room felt like it was filling with water. The distant dripping of his bathroom sink echoed in his ears, and he felt the dull pain of having bitten his own lips.

Red hair. All he could see was bright red hair peeking out from behind the pink of Peter's robe.

This was so much worse than Miguel had thought.

“Hi honey…”

A soft smile accompanied Mary Jane’s words, while a glint of wonder shone in her eye.

Before he could register what he was doing, a huff of air left Miguel’s nose.

“Go away.”

The command felt unnatural on his lips. Some small part of him, some ever so tiny voice, cried out, pleading for Miguel to let himself be open. Even so he couldn’t listen, shame and fear nestling its way into his heart. His chest felt heavy until he heard soft steps approaching, and a gentle voice soon soothed his psyche.

“Hey.”

MJ’s small form settled on the edge of Miguel’s mattress. Miguel bit back a scoff, only just realizing how ridiculously large his bed was.

“It’s alright, Miguel.”

Delicate hands gently held his own. Looking at MJ, he felt an unexpected burst of amusement, as he saw her arm straining to reach across the long gap between them.

“You aren’t in trouble. There’s no need to be embarrassed.”

Her voice soothed the sores of Miguel’s conscience. Was it really okay? To do something like this? To engage with such childish acts in (what Miguel had assumed to be) complete solitude?

Miguel had to stop himself from flinching when another weight was added to the bed, conspicuously closer to him than MJ. Lacking the courage to fully turn his head, he simply glanced in its general direction.

That robe was starting to get annoying.

“Yeah, I mean, come on, Miguel, it’s not like we didn’t already know you’re ticklish.”

Miguel furrowed his brows at Peter's failed attempt to lighten the mood. Resisting the urge to pout while simultaneously finding his words out of sheer irritation, Miguel spoke up.

“That's not the point, and you know that.”

Miguel's attempt at sounding venomous failed. The steadfast blush on his cheeks, along with the lingering image of his smile and his own fingers skittering along his torso, voided any semblance of intimidation.

“What I think Peter’s trying to say is-”

MJ scooted forward, closing the gap between herself and Miguel to spare her arms further strain.

“There's nothing to be ashamed of, Miguel.”

She brushed a stray hair away from his forehead, cupping his cheek and rubbing her thumb along the contours of his face.

“Actually, it’s pretty cute!”

That singular comment, laced with such confidence, finally made Miguel’s blush melt down to his neck. Everything felt hot… but now a pleasant kind of hot. Something invigorating that he’d never really felt before, or perhaps only in a faded memory.

“I don’t-”

Miguel cut himself off before a river of words could run out of his mouth. He was feeling so many different things at once. Joy, frustration, confusion… even shame still lingered, like a fine mist clinging to his very being.

“You don’t?”

Miguel could practically hear the smirk plastered on Peter's face. He suppressed a growl, trusting that Peter was acting in good faith and not just his usual teasing self. Taking a few deep breaths and rolling his shoulders gave Miguel the nerve to continue. He looked at Peter with knitted brows.

Miguel narrowed his eyes, and his jaw tightened. Confliction painted his face. Looking unable to decode what he was truly feeling in the moment. So many possibilities, so many things to say, to do. Too many things.

The tension festering inside Miguel was apparent. His shoulders rose up around his neck, and while his hands were open to accommodate MJ’s, his arms nearly shook with how flexed they were.

Peter smiled not with smugness, but with a certain kindness that made Miguel's chest feel fuzzy.

He placed a hand on Miguel’s lower back and started to soothe small circles with his palm, shushing and cooing as if Miguel were at risk of being spooked away. MJ and Peter briefly locked eyes, before pink lips mirrored the same gentle smile and MJ’s fingers began to massage Miguel’s palms.

After a few moments, the tension coiled up in Miguel’s body began to dissipate. His forearms and wrists relaxed first, followed by his lower back. All strain was eventually massaged or caressed away, leaving Miguel’s brain to gently buzz.

“Aww listen, he’s purring!”

MJ’s giddy remark snatched Miguel back to reality, the apparent buzzing in his skull was actually the reverberations of his purrs. How lovely. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he laid back in defeat. These two would be the death of him.

Almost in perfect synchronization, both MJ and Peter leaned down, ever so carefully resting their heads on each of Miguel’s shoulders. Miguel glanced down at both of them. It was almost as if the pair could read each other’s minds. Through sheer force of will, he made the rumbling in his throat stop, ceasing the purrs that’d gotten him into this cuddly predicament.

Peter placed his palm on Miguel’s chest, leaning in further to kiss the junction between his neck and shoulder. Miguel had to muster every bit of strength not to twitch or smile. Damn that suit of his… He was so covered up all the time that even Peter’s gentle gesture felt far more sensitive than it should have.

In an attempt at self-preservation, Miguel turned his head toward MJ, unintentionally exposing his neck even more. MJ’s eyes sparkled with admiration as she drew little circles on Miguel's shoulder with her index finger.

“You stopped purring.”

MJ whispered, her soft hair falling delicately around her shoulders. She no longer looked at Miguel, choosing instead to focus on the shapes she was tracing as she went on.

“Do you think we can make you purr again? Make you happy?”

Miguel’s stomach churned, and he bit the inside of his cheek to avoid an uncharacteristic whine of humiliation. This didn't feel real, two of his favorite people on either side of him, kissing him, offering him what he’d been craving for longer than he could remember. Not simple pokes and prods but full, knowing intent to drive him to hysterics.

“You can try.”

Miguel surprised himself with the remark that left his lips. A newfound faux confidence bloomed in his chest, and he leaned his head back, resisting the urge to shy away from the kisses Peter was planting on his throat. Damn that facial hair.

Maybe he could let himself enjoy this, maybe he didn’t need to let shame and fear rule his life, just for this one instance. Miguel wanted to indulge in this newly realized fantasy, finally tangible.

Peter pulling his lips away was a bit of a shock, yet all surprise dissipated when Miguel felt nimble fingers wiggling into his abdomen. He choked back a giggle, the sensation already so prominent. Was he really this sensitive?

Miguel’s query was swiftly answered by manicured nails scratching up and down his side. Biting down on his bottom lip was his only hope at warding away the giggles he felt bubbling up in his chest.

“You don’t gotta hold it in, you know.”

Peter’s slightly raspy mumble interrupted Miguel’s thoughts, sending shivers down his spine. Then as if that weren’t enough, Peter’s hand trailed down to Miguel’s stomach, pinching the softness below his belly button with fervent curiosity.

Miguel's abdomen flexed, stomach shaking with resistance. He couldn't break now, not when the sensations were so gentle and curious. He was better than that, he would not be reduced to blubbering giggles at this. No, he would hold out until his partners really showed him how ruthless they could be.

That sentiment held strong until he felt MJ shift, and in turn Peter followed her movements. Ever so slowly, Miguel watched as Peter shifted his weight, moving to straddle one of Miguel’s thighs. MJ went with a different approach, sitting up cross-legged next to Miguel’s chest, close enough for both her hands to potentially roam his ribs and underarms.

The pair wiggled their fingers menacingly at Miguel, though most of the intentional menace was radiating from Peter alone. Even so, Miguel couldn’t ignore the playful gleam in MJ’s eyes, or the way her cheekbones became more prominent as she grinned.

Teasing fingers soon became tickling ones, as both Peter and MJ quickly descended on Miguel’s rigid form.

This is what he’d been looking for. The near-ruthless scribbles and scratches. MJ focused on wiggling her hands between Miguel’s ribs and arms, climbing up to his armpits before dragging her nails back down to his lowest rib, repeating the motion indefinitely. Meanwhile Peter squeezed at his hips, thumbs circling Miguel’s hip bones as if using a pair of joysticks. The joint sensations caused waves of ticklishness to crash over Miguel, and his giggles finally erupted. Uncharacteristically exuberant, Miguel’s laughter rose and fell inconsistently. It was a complete turnaround from his usually irritable and standoffish demeanor.

“Wait! Hold on- Ah, guys!”

Miguel spoke frantically, not really intending to mean anything, but needing an outlet. That was until Peter moved one hand off his hips, and instead reached behind to squeeze rapidly at Miguel’s unstraddled thigh.

“Cut it out, cut it out!” Giggles broke through Miguel’s words, as he found himself unable to cope with the new ticklish bursts zipping up his leg.

He hissed quietly, swiping at Peter's hands. He didn’t want Peter to stop, though, and felt his stomach drop slightly when Peter signaled for MJ to stop as well. What followed was an odd silence, an obvious attempt by Peter to seem intimidating. Miguel couldn’t help but shut his eyes. As childish as it was, he couldn’t bear to see the expression on Peter's face.

Miguel kept his eyes firmly closed, that was until he felt a handful of rapid little pokes aimed directly at this midsection. His eyes flew open as his back arched outward, inadvertently pushing his stomach up. The barrage of pokes felt electric, causing him to kick his legs out in surprise.

“Hey, don’t start ignoring us now!”

Miguel felt a new rush of warmth in his cheeks. He wasn’t trying to disregard them. He simply couldn’t stand looking at his tormentors for another second.

“I didn't! That’s not what I-”

Miguel’s futile attempt at explaining himself was cut short, the poking undergoing a metamorphosis. Peter now caged Miguel’s stomach with a clawed hand, squeezing rapidly.

“What, you didn't start ignoring us? Because I’m pretty sure that’s what you did~”

Peter taunted Miguel playfully, letting up on his squeezes for just a moment to engage MJ in their lovely (albeit one-sided) conversation.

“So, how do you think he should make up for being so rude?”

Peter's eyes were half-lidded, and his brows wagged playfully. MJ laughed quietly to herself, peering down at Miguel’s squirming frame. He was gripping Peter’s wrist, wiggling his hips back and forth in an attempt to quell Peter's tickle attack. The scene gave MJ the perfect idea to make Miguel behave.

“How about we have him keep his hands behind his head?” MJ smiled, freckles shifting with her grin. “That way he can’t, uh, do that.”

Miguel had shoved a palm into Peter’s face, attempting to push the older man away. He’d bared his fangs as he growled, a newfound flame of rebellion burning inside of him. Even so, at MJ’s suggestion, his grimace faltered and his eyes opened wide. He choked out a quiet sound of surprise, a shiver running down his spine at the notion.

Peter’s eyebrows raised, accompanied by a knowing smirk. He removed his hand from Miguel’s midriff, theatrically flexing his fingers as they retreated. In a show of dexterity, he leapt from Miguel’s thigh towards his upper body, grabbing Miguel's wrist in the same motion.

“Now keep this… here.”

Peter maneuvered Miguel’s arm over his head, planting his palm behind his slightly curled locks. Given Miguel’s refusal to help at all in the matter, Peter almost had to puppeteer him. MJ giggled, nose scrunching in delight. Mimicking Peter’s movements, she managed to place Miguel’s other hand behind his head.

With both arms now raised, Miguel was fully exposed to any tickling fingers that might come his way. He felt like he was burning from the inside out. Peter and MJ’s casual manipulation of arms had been indescribably mortifying. His eyes darted rapidly between the two of them.

The couple glanced at each other, silently agreeing not to point out that yes, while Miguel was practically scowling, he’d made no attempt to return his arms to his sides.

“Are you ready, Migs?”

MJ pinched his cheek playfully, smiling at how obviously rhetorical her question was. Miguel could only huff as he leaned his head away from her teasing fingers.

The initial pounce made Miguel jolt, lifting his hips up and off the bed in shock. Wordlessly, both MJ and Peter had begun scribbling and scratching at his underarms, taking advantage of the newly accessible spot. A grin instantly spread across Miguel's face, and he found himself erupting into elated giggles as the sensations proved too much to resist. Fleetingly, he pondered if he’d actually ever been tickled there before. When he attempted to conjure up some memory of fingers wiggling under his arms, though, nothing came. The blush on his cheeks spread across his nose before migrating to his ears, the thought of being tickled somewhere no one had touched before enticing that odd, tickle-hungry voice in his head.

The scratches and scribbles refused to let up, leaving Miguel to grab fistfuls of his own hair and drum his legs against the mattress. Obviously it wasn’t unpleasant, but the tingly shocks running through his body gave him excess energy.

“Gehehet out!”

Miguel began to struggle, the mirrored scratching proving too much for him to handle. Regardless, he still kept his hands behind his head in a strange form of obedience. He arched his back, leaning away from MJ’s manicured claws just to make contact with Peter’s intruding stubble. The prickly feeling made him flinch back, effectively stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Then as if they were never there to begin with, the fingers dispersed, leaving Miguel to pant and fight off residual laughter.

“Where to tickle next…”

MJ smirked, rouge bangs falling over her eyebrows. She made eye contact with Peter for a moment, placing two fingers on Miguel's chest and walking them down his torso, causing him to exhale with a shudder.

“How about... here?”

MJ seized the hem of Miguel’s shirt, holding it up to peek at his bare skin. The cool air of his bedroom made goosebumps emerge, and Miguel had to forcefully steady his breathing, not wanting to reveal how giddy he was at this new prospect.

Peter only chuckled in response, nodding his head and pinching the opposite side of Miguel’s shirt. Slowly, he inched the garment up to display Miguel’s tanned stomach, intentionally dragging his fingers along skin as he went.

Soon enough, Miguel’s shirt was pushed up past his abs, leaving him open for Peter and MJ to explore to their hearts’ content. His stomach quivered with anticipation as he watched the pair through narrowed eyes. He switched between them in quick succession, almost as if to keep them, and their tickling fingers, at bay. Though all three knew that gaze meant nothing.

Peter slowly started inching his hand towards Miguel’s midriff, as if his cautious movements would go undetected. The pair locked eyes and Miguel bared his fangs, attempting to intimidate Peter out of teasing him. Despite his efforts, Peter hovered his fingers right above Miguel’s stomach. Their gazes remained locked until Miguel felt a hand grab his side and squeeze. The sensation caused Miguel to lash his head toward MJ, her shameless grin communicating that he’d played right into their trap.

As soon as Miguel processed the pair’s plan, he felt the bursting sensation of Peter wiggling both hands into his torso, one hand squeezing his flank while the other skittered up and down the side of his stomach. Simultaneously, MJ began to scribble her nails along Miguel’s abdomen, tickling and exploring and occasionally migrating to his lower tummy.

Miguel arched his back, biting down on his lower lip. His efforts proved fruitless, however, as the combination of sly scribbling and firm squeezing was simply too much to ignore. He threw his head back in hysterics, eyebrows turned up in pure delirious glee. His eyes went wide as a snort escaped him. He hadn’t even realized he could still do that.

“Was that a snort?”

MJ’s question seemed to slip by, with Miguel too deep in the throes of frenzied laughter to register much beyond the persistent tickling.

“I think it was! Hey, do you think we can make him do it again?”

Peter's words fought to be heard over Miguel’s babbling giggles. MJ nodded, smiling wide, both of her hands focused on fluttering just above the hem of Miguel’s pants. The pair began to whisper to each other, never ceasing their tickly assault.

Oblivious to the scheming happening before him, Miguel nearly shrieked when a dual buzzing sensation appeared, mirrored on the left and right sides of his stomach. The tingling reverberations nearly drove him mad. His fangs unsheathed themselves and extended as loud, ecstatic laughter burst from his chest. In an act of self-defense, he attempted to buck off his tickling assailants, only to find the action to be impossible. Peter had hooked an arm under one of his thighs, holding the limb close to himself as an anchor. MJ had done the same.

As another round of maddening buzzes occurred, Miguel simply couldn't hold back the shrieks and snorts of laughter fighting to escape him. Embarrassment infested his mind, goading him to hide his face in the crook of his arm.

“Aww, look who’s trying to hide~”

MJ had pulled away from Miguel’s stomach, pausing her ticklish torment. Instead she soothed the attacked area with her palm, cooing at Miguel with an air of flirtatious sympathy. Peter had halted as well, resting his cheek on Miguel’s belly. His prickly stubble still kept Miguel on the edge of laughter.

Miguel forced himself to suppress a whimper, suddenly aware that all eyes were on him. He was stuck in limbo, having to either stay partially hidden and admit the tickling was too much, or face his partners head-on and endure their endless teasing.

After a long pause, Miguel finally uncovered his face, staring MJ and Peter down. His brows furrowed and his lip pulled in a slight frown, thick eyelashes coming together as he narrowed his eyes as well.

“Oh, don't be like that,” MJ scoffed, scratching momentarily on Miguel’s stomach, making him exhale shakily. “Your tooth is stuck on your lip… It makes you look like a cat.” MJ smiled as she pointed this out. It only deepened Miguel’s frown, before he adjusted his lips to return the fang to its proper place.

“Speaking of cats…” Peter began, rubbing Miguel’s stomach with his palm. “How about we try getting you to purr again?” He beamed at the suspicious look on Miguel's face. “For real this time!”

Peter’s rubs turned into gentle, soothing scratches. Miguel, being the ball of sensitivity he was, still had giggles bubbling out of his mouth, though they were less frantic and more content. MJ took on her own initiative, crawling up to Miguel’s shoulder and peppering his neck with gentle kisses. Simultaneously, she traced circles against the junction between his chest and collarbone.

Miguel felt pure bliss. The juxtaposition of the rough working over he’d just undergone with this more gentle, affectionate tickling had turned his mind to mush. Without considering the implications, he tilted his head back to provide MJ more room for kissing. In the same motion, he returned his arms to their original resting position. One hand wandered to hold the small of MJ’s waist, while the other played with Peter's scruffy hair.

Much to his embarrassment, Miguel once again produced crackling purrs that rumbled through his chest. Giggles emerged through the purring when Peter resumed nuzzling his cheek into Miguel’s belly. Miguel couldn't help but let his eyes close, fully savoring the light sensations washing over him.

The line between tickling and cuddling blurred, the trio falling into a soft, comfortable silence. The only consistent sound was the purring Miguel continued to emit. Before he knew it, Peter had crawled up next to him, placing his head on Miguel's shoulder. Now sandwiched between two of his favorite people, Miguel felt the claws of sleep latching onto him.

A few rapid blinks kept him conscious, but they couldn't erase the pressure behind his eyes. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table, seeking one last excuse to not drift away from this tangible nirvana he’d achieved. It was late, not extremely so, but late enough for staying in bed to be the most sensible option. Despite his typical long hours, he was still aware that any attempt at getting up would be met with a lecture about healthy sleep schedules.

That's when Miguel heard Peter's soft snores.

The rhythmic grumbles of sleep lulled Miguel into an even drowsier daze, the sweet smell of MJ’s perfume only contributing to the spell being cast upon him. Both senses were engaged in a calming dance, beckoning Miguel towards slumber.

At long last, Miguel let his eyes fall shut, deciding he could enjoy this with them… just as much as he’d enjoyed letting them share in his secret.

—————-

I want to give a huge thank you to @tickly-tufts and @tickles-tea . They both beta read, and edited my fic, and even encouraged me to write it in the first place!! They’re both amazing writers and creators and i cant thank them enough. Not to mention both of them gave me wonderful ideas for discriptions and dialogue.