A Bad Idea (Spideychelle)

Ch. 7: Feel Frozen And Alone

Peter POV

I stayed with her again that night. She tried to hide it, but she was still a little feverish.

Plus, it meant I got to hold her all night.

I didn't get much sleep, though. She was having...fever dreams, or nightmares, something like that. She kept wiggling in my arms, whining and whimpering in pain. At first, I thought she was dreaming about her dad, but then she mumbled, "fuck off, Uncle Antonio."

Her hands were balling up the fabric of my shirt, and she was crying. She kept trying to curl up, pull her knees up to her chest, but my body was in the way.

I wanted to wake her up, but I was frozen, watching her face twist in agony and body writhe next to mine.

"Stop touching me," she whimpered, hands pulling at my shirt.

For a moment, I thought she meant me, so I let go of her and started to pull away.

That's when she woke up. When her eyes opened, they were glassy, staring through me. She blinked a couple times, and then almost started to cry. Her bottom lip trembled and her breath was shaky and uneven, and I wanted to pull her into a hug and tell her that, whatever it is, it's okay.

But she got up, turning away from me. "Sorry I woke you." Her voice was a little deeper than usual, and even. She was overcompensating.

"MJ-"

She left her bedroom, door closing behind her.

I laid there for a couple minutes, in shock, maybe. Then I got up and left the room. She was sitting on the couch in the living room, leaned forward, elbows on her knees, hands locked together, eyes closed, breathing.

I didn't want to interrupt, so I went back into her room.

She came in a couple minutes later, looking calmer.

"Hey, are you-"

Before I could finish the thought, she was crawling on top of me, lips landing on my jawline.

"MJ-"

"I don't wanna talk," she mumbled against my skin. Her lips grazed over me, and for a moment, I almost forgot what was going on.

I was gonna say something, but then she was kissing down my neck and her hand was sliding under my shirt, gliding over my stomach. I lost whatever thought I'd been formulating, and found myself gripping her waist. Her hand slipped lower on my stomach, until her fingers were dipping under the waistband of my sweatpants.

"Em," I breathed, trying to lift her shirt a little.

"Don't." She moved my hands away. "Just relax."

She rested her forehead on my shoulder as she untied the drawstring, pushing my sweatpants down. I lifted my hips to let her pull them down.

"Do you have any idea how hot you are?" she mumbled, kissing down my neck. "It's almost stupid, that's how fucking hot you are."

It was a miracle I didn't have a heart attack and die, there and then.

Her fingers dipped under my boxers, running over my skin, making me shiver.

"MJ," I muttered, slipping my hands into her hair. She moved down on the bed, lifting my shirt to kiss my stomach. "MJ." My voice sounded embarrassingly urgent and desperate, and I couldn't be bothered to care. I was tired and she was killing me.

I lifted my hips again, and she pulled my boxers down. She kissed down my stomach, and I found myself squeezing my eyes shut, groaning. I was a few seconds away from begging.