#tasm 2

Sunlight filtered through your window and hit your face, making you scrunch your nose and pull the blanket over your head as you turned onto your other side, trying to shield yourself from the light.

When had it even become morning? You could’ve sworn you had just fallen asleep.

You could hear Peter shifting beside you and the TV still playing softly in the background, the movie you had been watching before you fell asleep now finally finished.

You heard Peter yawn, then felt him roll toward you in bed, wrapping his arms around you from behind and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Baby.”

“Hmm..?” you mumbled, still half-asleep and absolutely unwilling to wake up.

“Come on, it’s time to get up.”

You whined, burrowing yourself deeper into the blanket. “Five more minutes…” you muttered. The TV was still making noise in the background. “Ugh… turn that off…”

Peter chuckled, the vibration of his chest rumbling softly against your back. “Okay, okay.” He pulled his arms away from you. You listened to the mattress shift and his footsteps as he got up. When the TV finally clicked off, you let out a tiny victorious sound.

Meanwhile, Peter moved to the side of the bed you were facing and sat down on the floor. “Come on, you already slept through most of the movie last night and we didn’t even finish it. How are you still tired?” He tugged at the blanket covering your face.

“It was boring anyway…” you mumbled sleepily, trying to pull the blanket back over your head. “Stop that…”

“No, I won’t. And you didn’t even watch it properly, how would you know if it was boring?”

This time you buried your face into the pillow. “I just know…” you said, your voice muffled.

“Well, I didn’t watch much either. I was busy watching someone snore on my chest instead.” He laughed.

You lifted your head, propping yourself up slightly on the bed but not fully sitting up. You squinted at him and frowned. “Hey! I do not snore!” you pouted.

“Oh, you think so?” he continued laughing. “Hey, don’t pout. You were adorable.” He grinned.

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly hid your face in the pillow again. “Shut up…”

“Ouch, that was rude.” he said in a teasing tone, gently holding your chin and turning your face toward him. “Ah, someone’s blushing.”

“Shut up…” you repeated.

He chuckled but then added in a slightly more serious tone, “Hey, we really need to get up. We have plans, remember? You promised me.”

“You made the plan… And you tricked me into promising… It wasn’t fair…” you complained with a pout. “Can’t we just stay in bed?” you whined.

“Since when is kissing considered a form of trickery?” Peter gently stroked your cheek with his fingers. “Stay in bed, huh? Hmm…” He pretended to think. “Sorry, but no. Get up.”

You made a dramatic whining sound. “You know I can’t think properly when you kiss me…” you protested. “And I only want five minutes… I swear.”

His expression softened, but after you begged him for just five more minutes, he sighed. “Baby…” he protested.

“You’re so cruel. All I asked for was five minutes…”

He raised his eyebrows and looked at you in disbelief. “What? Me? Cruel? Morning five minutes never stay five minutes, and that’s not my fault.” He paused. “Besides, if you get up, I have a surprise for you.”

“I don’t want a surprise.” you grumbled. “All I want is me, the bed, and you. I don’t need anything else.”

“You’re such a sleepyhead.”

“I’m not. Sleep is a basic human need, and depriving people of their needs is a crime against humanity.”

He laughed. “Anyway, fine. You can sleep a little longer while I make breakfast.” When you made a small triumphant sound, he grinned and stood up.

Half-asleep, you listened to Peter’s footsteps heading toward the kitchen and the clatter of kitchen utensils. You heard him chopping ingredients and the sizzling of oil in a pan.

You had no idea how much time had passed, but after a while, Peter came back.

When he leaned over you and said, “Baby…” you groaned. He finally huffed. “Not getting up? Fine. I’ll get you up myself.”

With the blanket being pulled off you and two arms lifting you into the air, you cracked your eyes open. In a sleepy voice, you mumbled, “What are you doing…?”

He gently set you down on a chair and announced enthusiastically, “Breakfast time!”

“Ugh… Who even has breakfast this early in the morning?”

“Breakfast is literally meant for this time of the morning, sweetheart.” Peter said with a laugh.

“It’s not nice to laugh at my suffering, Peter…” you pouted.

“I’m not.” He grinned. “Enjoy!”

When he placed a plate of fries in front of you (with ‘Good morning, my sunshine’ written on top in ketchup) and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, you shook your head but couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.

“Thank you.” you finally said, fully opening your eyes and looking at him.

“You’re welcome.” He grinned. “Glad to have you back in the world. It’s nice seeing you awake again.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so annoying.”

He sat down in his own chair, pouring himself some juice and taking some fries. “But you love it.” He kissed your cheek and smiled at you.

“You look really pretty trapped like this.” He dragged a knuckle down the slope of your jaw. Cocky smirk still on his face, but that was fine by you, he was handsome. “Say the word and I’ll set you free.” He offered you an out, but you didn’t want that.

You grinned and exhaled. “I’m fine right here.” His smirk only grew and you blushed in anticipation, both at the position you were in, and at the sight of the growing bulge in his jeans.

Peter had this way of making you feel so safe, so relaxed, but perfectly overwhelmed and on edge at the same time, in a way that you’d always appreciated.

He moved in closer to you, his hand skating up your side, the fabric your shirt moving upward with it. Goosebumps covered your skin under his gentle touch, crawling up your sides and drenching your chest as his lips found your neck.

“Always so pretty for me.” He whispered, voice light and boyish in a way that felt like home to you.

You blushed deeper, if that was possible, his lips kissing down your neck before finding your nipple after he’d succeeded in pushing your shirt up your body.

His lips pressed against the skin of your breath, tongue flicking over the tip of your nipple as it hardened in his mouth. One hand held your shirt up and the other had a death grip on your hip, keeping you in place while all you could do was stay still and whimper behind your closed lips.

You ached to have your hands in that messy hair of his, to hold him in place or push him toward his bed. But like you said, you were fine where you were, content to be stuck against his wall like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

“Peter-” You said his name in a hushed tone, back arching slightly. He looked up at you from where he was, only doubling down on his efforts to use his tongue against you.

After you whined for what was probably the third time, he finally relented. Pulling off and moving back slightly, he hooked his fingers in your jeans and behind your panties, stripping them down your legs.

He’d seen you bare like this a million times, yet that fact didn’t stop the blush that painted your face and chest, or the blush that darkened his cheeks as he kicked your feet apart.

His eyes never left your pussy, his nimble fingers reaching down to spread your soft folds, to discover how wet you already were. He smirked slightly. “I wanna taste you so bad” He groaned and you nearly whined impatiently, but he was already rolling his eyes. “Fine, I’ll wait. Tomorrow or somethin’” He smirked and then his jeans and boxers were dropping to the floor, and kicked away to join yours.

You whimpered just from the prospect of what was about to happen, his smirk growing and his strong hand pulling your leg up onto his hip.

You looked down, unashamedly admiring him, his length and shape- Peter was long, not too thick, and his tip was the prettiest shade of pink you’d ever seen, already leaking, proving to you that you weren’t the only one so worked up.

He moved in even closer, finally closing you in, the walk against your back and your chest against his. His tip slid through your lips and his eyes found yours, foreheads pressing together as he looked at you, confident, yet pleading. “Good?” He asked in a whisper, and you nodded, giving him the permission he needed before he pushed into you, rocking his hips slowly until he was buried fully, pulling your breath from your lungs.

Both of his hands held each of your legs, holding them up on his hips. You were fully caught by him, wrists bound against the wall and his fingertips bruising the fat of your thighs.

You moaned when he began to move, uselessly trying to rock your hips to meet his. However you didn’t have much leverage, and you didn’t need to, as he was almost immediately fucking up into you with an impressive force that had you reeling.

When you moaned again he shushed you, lips brushing against the column of your throat as he whispered, “Quiet, May downstairs”. You obediently chewed your lip to silence yourself as he groaned quietly, breaths shaking with each thrust.

His lips parted, eyebrows pinching together as he fucked you and he just looked so, so pretty it was almost unfair. You couldn’t hold back, a long drawn out whine falling from your lips, sounding louder to him due to proximity than it really was. That didn’t stop him from dropping one of your legs to raise his arm, and before you could really see anything, there was web fluid, firmly holding your lips together.

You clenched around him, that was so hot. All you could do now was whimper weakly, exhaling soft and short huffs through your nose as sweat started to paint your forehead. The heat of being so close together was so hot and it seemed to be affecting him too because he was soon ripping off his shirt, naked in front of you except for those web shooters, and that was even more hot, almost disgustingly so.

You clenched hard around him, eyes closing as you leaned your head back. Just looking at him was bringing you to the edge embarrassingly soon. You thought maybe closing your eyes would help you prolong the experience, but that didn’t seem to matter because just as quickly, the hand that wasn’t holding you up had found your clit, rubbing it tenderly.

Really he was just craving the sounds you make when you cum, or whatever he could hear behind the webs. That and the rythmic clenching around his dick.

He chased it as he slid his fingers over your clit, over and over again, looking for that feeling of you milking him- and he found it, because soon enough you were whining against the web over your lips, squirting over his dick as the feeling of your orgasm made your skin tingle, vision going white.

“Fuck- ah, fuck-” He gritted his teeth as his dick twitched before he was cumming into you, fucking you almost violently as he rode out both of your orgasms, painting your insides white and filling you with that warm and satisfied feeling.

He stayed inside you for a moment, allowing you each time to catch your breath before he pulled out and let your legs down. “Shit.. I’m sorry, I’ll buy you one of those pills real soon.” He said, half laughing and half guilty.

You didn’t mind, you’d never say it because he’d become ravenous, but you loved that feeling of being full of him, full for him.

He kissed your forehead, looking down your body, his softening dick twitching, nearly coming back to life as he saw your thighs, soaked with your arousal, slick from squirting, and soon being mixed with his cum.

“I’m sorry, I can’t wait till t’morrow to taste you..” He smirked, dropping to his knees and throwing your legs over his shoulders.

Before you could even process any of that, his mouth was on you, digging into you and lapping up the cum that he’d just fucked into you.

Peter loved going down on you, he’d made that abundantly clear to you, he did it for his own pleasure sometimes. This was one of those times, that was prevalent by how instead of focusing all of his attention on your clit, it was instead focused on your taste.

He only cared to swallow your arousal and his own cum, moaning against you until he’d gotten his fix. Until he was looking up at you on his knees, wiping the wetness off of his chin.

He stood finally and slid his fingertips behind your wrists before breaking your hands free from the web he’d trapped you with. “Did so good.” He’d whisper as he walked you over to his bed, sitting you down and bringing over a solvent that he’d use to free your lips from the web.

“Thank you” You’d whisper as you lean in to kiss him gently, blushing, bashful like he wasn’t twice as dirty as you were.