“Is it? Well then, I’ll make sure to have a dirty mind more,” Again, joking as he shook his head, “I do not need that image though. Ugh, Doc Ock… nope… it’s official, my dirty mind is gone and all sexual desire has completely left me. Broken entirely now.”
He shuddered and shook his head, “I might need to bleach my head. And no punching, I’ll dodge it, you’ll hit the tub and hurt yourself, and then I’ll feel bad.”
--
“Bad enough for makeup kisses?” she asked, looking at him with a tilted head as if actually pondering the idea, giggling. “So, would you sleep with another male who wasn’t Doc Ock?” she asked, curious, tracing her fingernail over his chest again, first drawing a web, and then her Sparrow symbol.
--
“Probably, yes, but I don’t think you need to hurt your hand to get me to kiss you, I’m kind of addicted to it now,” then a brow shot up and he shrugged, “I uh, doubt it? Not really my cup of tea, not to mention--wait, why? Are you trying to get me to sleep with another man, because I’m pretty sure that’d be cheating.”
--
“Would it still be cheating if I was watching?” she asked, not looking at him, still playing with his chest, her face turning redder and redder, bypassing tomarrow and settling somewhere around ‘Dear God She’s About to Burst Into Flames.”
“Umm, not that I would, or would want you to, just curious,” she looked up, flashing him a bright, wide grin, before kissing him, hoping to distract him.
--
“I don’t know, would you want to be watching? Are you asking me something, Effie?” He grinned and was about to press on before she kissed him. Quite the good distraction really, kissing her back as his hands gripped back into her all that much tighter. Fingers massaging into her skin before he pulled his lips back.
“Right, so uhm… what were we talking about?”
--
She grinned. “Nothing! Not my sexual fantasies or anything, so! Baff time, getting clean and all that...do you want me to wash you down?” she fluttered her eyelashes at him, grabbing her luffa and her most manly scented body wash...which was Tim’s old apple scent.
--
“Oh I have a feeling your hands all over me is just going to be teasing, because it’s you, but yes go ahead. Then it’s my turn to wash you down,” retorted Parker before leaning back against the tub and shook his head, “Is that apple? I’m going to smell like an orchard.”
--
“Would ya rather smell like a tub of cotton candy?” she asked dryly, pouring a large amount of soap on the luffa, squishing it to make it foam before gently working on Peter’s neck, using slow, gentle circles to clean every inch of it. She moved down to his shoulders, keeping to the front. One hand resting against his chest to steady herself, the tip of her tongue peeking out from between her teeth as she focused on cleaning every inch of him down to the water line.
:”Uh...you’re goin’ to hafta stand up…” --
Peter watched her as she washed him, chuckling to himself at the image of her focusing so hard on cleansing him until she mentioned him having to stand up. Clearing his throat, he nodded and pushed her up and away from him enough so that he could then grab the back of the tub and push himself up to his feet, clearing the waterline before looking down at her, “Better?”
--
“Yes,” she said, working her way down the rest of his stomach, down over his hips, making sure to get both sides, before she shifted, working on first his left leg, then his right, scrubbing every inch of the front and sides before she stood. “Turn please!”
--
Peter grinned and then turned around to face away from her, “Never been washed by someone before, have to say it’s quite the experience. Does this mean I get to wash you off too?”
He then crossed his arms over his chest, “What should we do about breakfast by the way? I hate cooking, as it were.”