the last of the real ones | tom holland & peter parker x reader

first kiss | p.p.

"So, you were his first kiss? You were eleven?"

"Yep."

"Was he yours?"

"No," I said. "That honor goes to Elliot Thrushwood. I was six." You finished dreamily, "That seven-year-old had the prettiest blue eyes."

Peter laughed, a little. You smiled, a little, remembering the happier time. Your parents had died when you were eight; you had nearly lived longer without them than with them. You spent years in foster care. Finally, your Uncle Scott got out of prison. After proving he deserved custody, you moved in with him. Now he was in prison again, but you were living in upstate New York with Earth's Mightiest Heroes.

"What about you? Who was yours?" you asked, getting back to the conversation.

Peter looked away. You noticed a slight blush rising to his face.

"Unless you've never had one?" you asked. "That's okay. It's really not a big deal. You're waiting for someone special." You shrugged.

"See, I'm not though. Necessarily. I don't know, it's just this annoying thing that I know is going to happen eventually that's just hulking in the back of my brain."

You smiled again, discreetly. He was adorable. Then you looked up at him again. "I'll do it," you volunteered. Peter looked at you, confused.

"If you really just don't want to think about it anymore," you continued. "I've been someone's first kiss enough times before. What's one more time?"

"Romantic," he squinted his eyes at you.

"You said you didn't want romantic," you reminded him. "Look, if you don't want to, you won't hurt my feelings. It was just an offer." You raised your eyebrows slightly, waiting for an answer.

Peter looked at the ground for a second, then met your eyes again. "Yeah, sure, okay. I mean, if you want to."

"I offered," you reminded him with a smile. He smiled back at you awkwardly.

You grabbed his wrists and backed against a wall in the empty hallway, pulling him with you.

You leaned against the wall, his hands in yours, your faces inches apart. Your sight darted from his lips to his brown eyes, making sure they said 'yes'. They did. They screamed it, louder than you were expecting.

You kissed him.

Softly, like all first kisses should be. You hadn't planned on anything special: three to five seconds, gentle and sweet.

But then there was more, and it was longer than you planned. Warm and slow, soft and deep. The shock of it was strong, overpowering. He pulled one hand out of yours and placed it on your jaw, tilting your head, stroking your skin with his thumb. You realized he wouldn't break and stopped kissing him like he might. You twined your free hand under his arm and ran it up his back, then reminded yourself to breathe.

The sensation spread all throughout your body to the tips of your being. Instead of satisfying you, each kiss had the opposite effect, making your wanting greater.

Soon, though, you pulled away, barely. The two of you stood there, gasping for breath, your faces inches from each other's once again.

"Is it always like that?" Peter asked.

"No," you murmured, your eyes still closed, trying to save the moment. "It's never like that."

You opened your eyes and saw him looking at you, something akin to laughter in his brown eyes. The edge of your lips curled into the smallest of smiles, then you leaned in to kiss him again.