P.P. - Something Familiar

Ch. IV

You lay there, chest rising up and down, slowly but rhythmically. Your heartbeat finally slows to a healthy pace as your eyes find the clock. Peter has been gone for over an hour now and part of you wanted to believe Y/H/N did show up and that you were not her. Of course you knew the truth. But in this moment, you wished to be a normal college girl. A girl whose only worry was if she would end up passing that bio final. Suddenly, your daydreaming was cut short by the smell of Peter's cologne, "shit, shit," you breathed out over your, once again, racing heart. Closing your eyes, you heard the soles of Peter's suit tap against your apartment's old, worn wooden floor.

Peter stood in the quiet room as he observed you through the white lace curtains that blew in the night air. You did not meet his eyes, the room echoed with your racing heart. He had waited for Y/H/N for over an hour, and she was never late. Peter's eyes traveled along your body hungrily, not knowing what was coming over him.

Peter was not inexperienced but he sure as hell was rusty and, well, he was Peter Parker. MJ was not the most physically affectionate, but for the years they were together, they had found themselves in some 'intimate situations.'

For a year now, Peter had been thinking about being in similar situations with Y/H/N, and now you. Peter's eyes rolled back, closing slowly as he thought about having his way with you, and he was damn satisfied that you were indeed his "masked mistress." A hunger stirred in Peter's stomach as he slowly approached you, presented so beautifully before him. Your hands rubbed against each other as he watched you squirm. Your wrists held in place by the web fluid he had shot you with before he left. Peter licked his lips as his throat began to feel dry, out of nervousness. Fearful that his voice might crack, he cleared his throat, "Y/H/N," your hero name rolled off his soft lips, slightly turning you on.

What the hell was wrong with you. Sure, you were literally just tied to your bed by the guy you have been dreaming about for two years. But feeling aroused by hearing him call you by your hero name, the girl he had been infatuated with, a girl who up until now, was just a faceless heroine. That was drawing a line.

Peter watched as your head rolled, turning towards him, finally opening your y/e/c eyes. He took you in, as you did the same with him. Peter was now sporting a worn backpack. You watched as it fell to the floor with a quiet thump. He melted under your gaze and before he knew it, he found himself on the mattress, straddling your hips, "Y/H/N," he repeated, his voice was more demanding. Peter needed an answer from your soft lips, his heart ached every second that he waited for a response.

You felt your heart skip a beat, seeing Peter Parker above you. Something about that sight made you give into him, "Did I disappoint you," your soft confirmation set arouse off in Peter like fireworks. You could swear you saw a change in his eyes, as if his pupils dilated. You did not get to study his eyes for long before your eyes fluttered closed as Peter's hands met your cheeks roughly. His lips pressed against yours.

His lips, cold like the night air, melted against you. A small, unannounced groan passed through your lips as Peter allowed an inch to find its way between the two of you.

"I would have been disappointed if it wasn't," Peter spoke against your lips, "then I would have been in love with two girls," his words began to fall from his lips in between peppered kisses, in an attempt to cover up his sudden confession.

'Love.'

Many words fell from his lips, but only one word occupied your mind. The smallest word stopped the world from spinning, and suddenly, it was just you and Peter, "fuck," you hummed against his kiss. Peter was surprisingly handsy. He was hungrily grabbing at you, as if he did not want to leave an inch of skin untouched. You let out a small groan, wishing to feel his touch without the barrier of his suit. Peter's hands had found their way under the thin fabric of your shirt, its buttons restricting him. The cool air draped against your heated skin as you radiated sensuality.