"Y/N?" Peter called when he came through the front door of your apartment. "Y/N, you in here?"
Clattering out of the kitchen with flour in your hair and cupcake batter on your apron. Waving a hand that was holding a whisk, you grinned and replied, "Hiya, Peter, I thought you'd never come home! You said you were only stopping off at the publisher's to drop your photos off. Since when does it take an hour to do that?"
He chuckled and strided over to you, cupping both of your cheeks with his palms and landing a sweet, loving kiss on your lips. "I'm sorry, baby," he apologised, leaning back to dip a long slender finger into the mixing bowl in your other hand and suck the batter off it. "I didn't think it would take that long," he explained as he proceeded to dump his bags by the door and shrug off his jacket, "Murray wanted to talk to me about one of the articles."
"Which one?" you asked, hurrying back into the kitchen to finish whisking the batter as Peter disappeared into your bedroom to change into the clean clothes he'd left there this morning.
Reappearing in the doorway shrugging on a black t-shirt, Peter mumbled awkwardly, "Umm, something about Spider-Man...?"
As his words processed, your eyes widened and you spun around to find him nipping into the bathroom. Diving after him, you hammered on the door and exclaimed, "They don't know do they? They couldn't possibly. But then why were they asking you about Spider-Man?"
Opening the door and fixing you with a Look, Peter scrubbed his face and damp hair with one of your fluffy white towels and replied, "Of course they don't know, Y/N, don't fret. They just wanted to know if I could get some more pictures."
Groaning, you slapped his bicep half-heartedly. "Peter!" you whined. "That means I'm gonna have to take those photos, and you know heights freak me out. Especially when I'm suspended from them with spider web...ness!"
He chortled. "Don't worry," he assured you, "It won't be like last time. You can catch Spider-Man, I don't know, down at the grocery store or something."
Shooting your boyfriend a grin, you rolled your eyes and reluctantly agreed. "You can help me finish off these cupcakes for work then," you told him, handing him a glass bowl, a box of icing sugar, a tub of butter and a wooden spoon.
"Your school having another bake sale then?" Peter asked conversationally as he took up the equipment and went about pouring the icing sugar into the bowl before spooning the butter in with it.
"Yep," you said, beating the batter your whisk. "The Head can't seem to get enough of all these charity bake sales. What she doesn't seem to realise is that we're not made of money. I can't keep going out of my way to buy cake supplies. Does she have any idea how expensive Dr Oetker is? Even the Co-op's own is getting ridiculous."
Peter laughed at that as he beat the butter against the icing. "You're adorable," he observed, raking his eyes up and down your figure as he said it.
"Adorable?" you shot back, flicking batter at him with your whisk. He yelped and leapt to the other end of the room. "I'll give you adorable, Parker!" But when you went to flick him with the batter a second time, he dodged it quick enough to grab your wrists and pin your body to the counter.
"Maybe 'adorable' was the wrong choice of word," he allowed, stealing a quick kiss as he took the whisk and bowl out of your arms to place on the counter behind you.
"Oh?" you retorted, raising an eyebrow. "And what word would you use?"
"Sexy," he pressed a kiss to your temple, "smart," he pressed a kiss to your cheekbone, "an excellent baker," he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, "magnificent." He captured your lips in a passionate kiss.
Giggling into his mouth, you threaded your flour-covered hands into his chestnut locks and tugged him further down until his body was flushed with yours. Well aware that your actions would have the combined result of ensuring that this cake was never going to be made and that Peter's fresh, clean clothes would be covered in the cupcake batter that was spotting your apron in large dollops and in smudges of white flour, you continued anyway.
He kissed his way across your jawbone and down to your neck, gently pulling your head back with the hand he had tangled in your hair so that you stretched the expanse of your throat bare to him. Bending low over you, he fixed his lips over a spot just above your pulse-point and sucked a deep red mark into it.
In one swift movement, Peter had lifted you up off the floor, sat you on the counter and wrapped your thighs around his hips. Gasping, you chuckled and wrapped your arms around the brunet's neck. When he pressed his crotch against yours in a fluid roll of hips, you groaned loudly into his mouth and pulled him closer to you by his waist.
"Are you determined to stop me from baking these cupcakes?" you managed to ask jokily as you breath escaped you in huffs of arousal.
As a reply, he shifted your positions so that he could angle his hip gyrations right down onto your clit. After another minute, he snaked a hand down between your bodies, up the underside of your apron and down your jeans. Curling his fingers, he rubbed the pads of them up and down your vagina.
Groaning loudly, you tossed your head back and rested it on the cupboard behind you.
Peter chuckled and mumbled, "Quite the loud little minx, aren't you?"
"You have no idea," you purred, sliding one of your hands down his baggy denim jeans and grasping his half hard cock- a note of surprise, mixed with humour, struck you at the fact that he wasn't wearing any underwear.
He gasped loudly at your touch and bucked his hips into your hand. Curling your fist around his length, you stroked him softly to full hardness before adding a rougher tug that had him rasping your name and plunging his fingers inside you.
"Oh, god," you moaned, pulling him closer with your legs wrapped around his waist and squeezing his cock tighter in your hand.
He hissed and rocked against you and the pair of you struck up a rhythm as he fingered you with his long, slender digits and rubbed your nib in rotations with the pad of his thumb and you stroked his cock faster and faster.
Something deep and burning coiled in your stomach as you felt yourself getting nearer and nearer your orgasm. Then, with one final surge of fire, you crushed Peter's body to yours with your legs and felt your orgasm roll through your body as you shuddered and moaned loudly.
Peter followed only a second behind you, his come covering your hand and the inside of his jeans. A string of deep, animalistic noises drew themselves from both of your throats and, panting, you broke apart in a messy tangle of limbs and body fluids.
Peering up at Peter through half-lidded eyes, you saw that he was throwing slightly disgusted faces at the counter you sat on.
"What-?" you were about to ask when you turned around and saw what he meant. "Whoops," you mumbled through a sheepish grimace. All of your cake supplies were spread out in a mess along the counter, and tools were indistinguishable under dollops of cake batter thrown everywhere.
"Guess you'll just have to explain to the Head teacher that you won't be bringing in those cupcakes after all," Peter concluded, shrugging with a guilty smirk.
Eyeing the mess and working out just how long it would take to clean it all up and still survive one batch of cupcakes, you gave a half-hearted shrug and replied, "Fuck it. I'll just get my class to bring in twice as many."
"Like I said," Peter chuckled, kissing you chastely, "smart."
