Tom Holland/Peter Parker

Involved 02 P.P

Warning: Hmmm... 😏😉😝 warning~

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"Fancy seeing you here." Peter's voice fills your ears and a giggle of his own follows soon after. You turn towards the window of your bedroom to see him climbing over your windowsill, and you smile.
"Hey, what's up?" You ask, and he chuckles, walking towards you with his arms outstretched. You follow his silent orders,moving from your spot and letting his hands grip your hips.
"I think you know." He murmurs, his voice low. You feel a small tingle of excitement and rush of satisfaction wash over you at the way he looks at you, his eyes full of both lust and adoration. Pretty often, you were sure that the look of adoration was just in response your breasts, but you accepted it anyways. Ignoring the nagging feeling to tell him what you've been meaning to tell him for the past three weeks, that you were breaking things off with him, you tilt your head back to allow him to kiss softly over the marks he had made just two days prior. He hums in satisfaction at the sight of them, running a calloused finger over the bruised skin.
His grip on your hips becomes a little tighter and he pulls you flush to him, your chests pressed together; he presses a firm kiss against your lips, parting his own in order to deeper the kiss. Amongst the sound of the two of you and your breathy moans and light sighing, Peter mumbles against your lips, "Your parents home?" To which you shook your head. A devilish grin overtakes his features and he pushes you to the bed, which you fall not so gracefully against. He runs a teasing finger down your face, to your neck and leading to your side before it's hooked in the waistband of your jeans. "Peter, come on." You complain, and he chuckles.
"What? What do you want?" He asks playfully. You glare down at him.
"Peter, take them off." You say desperately. He smiles in triumph and unbuttons your jeans, pulling them swiftly down your freshly shaven legs. Not wasting any time, Peter is immediately lying between your legs on his stomach, his finger leisurely tracing over your underwear. You groan impatiently as he pressed his finger harshly against your covered clit. Taking matters into your own hands, you reach down and push the elastic of your underwear down, ignoring the look Peter gives you.
"Hey, now, little miss impatient. You know who's in charge here." He says, and you sigh, throwing your head back against your plush pillow. He drags a finger up your slit and you sigh in contentment. You have to admit that it isn't everything you want, not even close, but it is something and that's more than you've gotten in the past 48 hours. Peter slowly pushes his finger into you, dragging it out and pushing it back in teasingly. Eventually, after yet another groan of indignance, he chuckles quietly and picks up his pace, using his free hand to rub fast, sloppy circles against your clit.
"Peter, oh my god." You exclaim under your breath, but it's enough motivation for him to go faster. His hands speeds up and he removes his other hand from your clit, instead sucking the little bud into his mouth and rubbing your thigh. With a cry of his name, you're coming and he's grinning with pride.
Sitting up on his knees, he pulls his shirt and sweatshirt off over his head and starts unbuttoning his jeans, watching you pull your own top off. Pulling the worn leather wallet from the pocket of his jeans, he grabs the little metallic packet and tears it open, hurriedly putting on the condom. "You ready?" He asks, leaning over you. You nod and grip his biceps, squeezing tightly when he pushes in. "Shit, (Y/N)," He whispers, his voice breathy.
You bite your lip when he pulls back and pushes forward again, building his speed. He stares down at you, your face scrunched in pleasure, and he isn't sure if he's clouded by his own pleasure or if he's just feeling strange after the intimate night the two of you had shared last week, but he finds his heart beating faster.
"Peter, please. I need more." You whisper quietly, your hands moving from his arms to his shoulder blades. He grabs your leg, and though he knows you aren't nearly as flexible as you like to claim you are, he lifts it over his shoulder. Gasping at both the stretch of you muscles and the new angle, you dig your nails into his shoulder blades as he pounds into you, the sound of skin echoing off the walls of your bedroom and you suddenly find yourself grateful for persuading your parents out of the apartment for the night. "Fuck, Peter. I'm close." You whispered, and true to character, the arm that isn't simultaneously keeping your leg in place and keeping him above you flies down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles.
"Come on, (Y/N), let go." He whispers, biting his lip to keep any of his own needy moans from falling into the thick air. You drag your nails down his back and he lets out a loud groan at the thought of the marks to come. The sound that falls past his lips is enough to push you over the edge and you clench tightly around him, chanting his name. This triggers his own release and though he pushes you both through it, when he collapses on top of you, you can tell that he's tired. He presses an uncharacteristically sweet kiss on your collarbone and you rest a hand on his back lightly.
After a few minutes of laying there in silence, Peter pulls out of you and buries the condom in your trash can, making sure he couldn't see it before he pulls on his boxers, laying beside you in the bed.
It's at this moment you come to a conclusion; you had to break it off with Peter. It was something you already knew, but tonight had just confirmed your theory. You were under his thumb, and you were finally really to get out.
Beside you, Peter has come to his own revelation; he had feelings for you.
Of course he did. He was ignorant to not notice them until now. How else would he have ended up in your bedroom on a night where he couldn't even think straight, and why else would he have started hating Adam McCall, someone he'd been friends with since he could remember, after he had seen Adam staring at you a little too long in the hallway.
So, on the same mattress on the same cool night in Queens, you and Peter may have been in the same place, but you were on completely different pages.

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