honey (chempurse) wrote in onewaythreads, @ 2018-10-23 19:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | honey lemon, peter parker (spider-man) |
WHO: Honey & Peter
WHEN: Backdated, when Tony poofed
WHERE: Summerbridge; Honey's apartment
WHAT: Comforting, followed by woohoo
RATING: High
STATUS: Complete
The whole world had turned upside down. When Peter woke up this morning, the tower was quiet. He should have known something weird was going on, but he'd been a little late and in a rush to get to class... so he hadn't noticed the silence. He'd arrived home to scared people, confusion, lots of text messages, and a world of pain. Tony was gone. Steve was gone. So many people were just... disappeared. There were so many questions online, so much uncertainty. Sirius was gone, too? And... who else? His whole world? She was still in the process of rousing, an embarrassingly late wake-up after a night gone too long, when the knock came. Bleary eyed behind that pair of pink wayfarers, the orange juice she’d been ready to pour was set aside, a hand raking back the hair gone loose from the braid over her shoulder. “Hey.” Somehow he managed the word. Somehow he didn’t fall apart right there on the doorstep. “Can I come in?” Worry wearing heavily over her features, she felt her heart constrict anew as she looked upon that stylized mask, touch drifting to tug it away. Spider-Man was thrown aside, cast to the floor, Peter’s watering gaze sought. It was enough to make her own throat tighten. Peter let her pull the mask up and off his head, then toss it aside. The door was closed, they were in privacy. He wanted to tell her everything, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. Big, fat tears slid down his cheeks, though. He closed his lips, swallowed, then tried again. The how and why died before she could form a syllable. In any other instance, they would have been valid questions. But she had a hunch and, while it was better than something more grim, the feeling in the pit of her stomach didn’t do much to lighten. It wasn’t too long ago, after all, that people had been seemingly spirited away. The moment her arms wrapped around him, Peter broke down. If he’d been more aware of himself, he probably would have tried harder to hold it in. But as it was, the pain was too much. He felt like he was completely alone. That was ridiculous, as he still had Honey, and Ned, and Jan, and Scott and Cassie, and so many other people. But Tony had taken the role of his father, his mentor, his protector, his friend. And Steve was just as firmly in the father role as Tony--so he was basically losing two parents in one go, and it hurt. Honey swallowed around the growing lump in her throat, equally careless to that vice-like grip. She’d be the anchor he needed. Sinking the both of them to the floor, her embrace went as snug as could be managed, a hand pressing against the back of his head. It took a long while for him to calm down. He felt raw and sore, emotionally drained amid a little embarrassed. Something had been ripped from his insides, and he didn't want to feel it anymore. He couldn't feel it anymore. She’d eventually moved them to the sofa, a floor lamp offering some dim light in the otherwise dark apartment. When the wracking sobs began to relent, his arms loosening, she drew back slightly. Obliged his pride a little and stifled the urge to dry his tears for him. The tracking system. Peter still had a chip inside him somewhere. Fat load of good it did now, didn’t it? There was no finding them now. There was no tracking them now. Peter liked that a little wave of anger washed up inside him, it felt better to be angry than to be devastated. But he pushed all that aside. He didn’t want to feel any of those things. They clearly hadn’t just stepped out, but maybe Stark managed more with the program than he’d initially let on. Ethically questionable or not, it would’ve been welcome. Peter took a couple of minutes to just lay there, cuddled against her, arms tight around her. He was suddenly exhausted--probably due to all the ugly crying--and wanted nothing more than to sleep in her arms. But there was one more thing he needed to do before he drifted off. To say something his post-cry-drunk-mind was telling him needed to be said. Minutes, hours ─ it wouldn’t have mattered. Honey was a protective weight, eyes closed as she listened to Peter’s breathing, her legs stretched at either side of him. Despite the fact that she’d spent a good part of the day asleep, his weariness seemed contagious. Dragging. Peter’s eyelids were heavy with sleepiness, but those words seemed to perk him up a little. It felt like his whole body reacted to the way she said it. He leaned up and in to kiss her again, trying to convey all of the emotion he felt into one kiss. Lips, tongue, hands, body, face, all of it showing how much he cared for her. How lost he’d be without her. He only hoped he’d get some of it through. Caught in the afterglow of mutual proclamations, she was a touch bashful herself. It was a pleasant, nerve pulling rush that had Honey breathing something like a moan, muffled into the heat of his mouth. The dark seemed to melt, replaced by a stoking fire. It wouldn’t have been the first time for two young, healthy people, but they were both teetering on the cusp of something. Ah, so… this wasn’t one of those ignore it and it’ll go away deals. Shit. Honey could feel or sense that he was incredibly turned on by this whole thing, and she was going to put an end to it. Honey’s cheeks were pink, oversized sleep shirt slipping from a tan shoulder. Her sexual experience narrowed down to one humid evening last Summer, when her heart, among other things, beat out her head. Here and now, holding his gaze amid the tickle of arousal, she felt remarkably clear. Certain. Well. Jeez. Okay. So this was happening. Peter had been dreaming about it, imagining it, longing for it for like, as long as he could remember. Every day since his voice dropped and he started having those kind of Dreams. But now it was really happening. And as much as he thought he was ready, he was remarkably unprepared. Despite the circumstances, or perhaps because of them, they were really doing this. Flowery ideals were all well and good, but Honey couldn’t say she minded. In the end, it was Peter, not the set up, that got her going. “No. No, God, no.” Peter’s weight settled down between her thighs on the sofa. He’d have to lose the Spider-Man uniform asap, and it would be easier for him to take it off than for her to. Though, he’d be lying if he tried to say the idea of her stripping off his clothes didn’t make him even harder than he already was. She didn’t even know how he got into the form fitted suit. A very well hidden zipper, probably. Honey would have to make sure to take notes, because there was a certain appeal to undressing ones partner that she greatly enjoyed. Peter thought maybe he had the willpower enough to pull out of her embrace. But he wouldn’t have it for long, so he’d have to act fast--the thing that kept him going was knowing they could sttrip down and get under the blankets or sheets, and he could feel her naked body against his-- Already into sensory overload, Honey’s little sounds of enjoyment wouldn’t be helping his control any. It’d been easy to fall into something of a rhythm as they laid there, enjoying the rush of moving together. Even as she told herself they should definitely get up and move this to the bedroom, she continued to lavish him with affection, the press of her clothed form. Oh, the clothed rubbings and kissings and whatnot were so good. So so good. But there was more, right? So much more. For someone whose hero-ing suit went on the old fashioned way, it was an impressive, and amusing, show. It was also quick, which she was infinitely grateful for. The words sent a shiver through him. Peter loved hearing her say it. For a moment, all his troubles were forgotten--he wasn’t thinking about Tony or Steve, he wasn’t thinking about losing Vi, or that Sirius was gone… he was just thinking about Honey and how amazing her body felt against his. As Peter’s head lowered, Honey cradled the base of it, fingers scratching through that mess of hair. Her own had drifted obligingly to the side before falling back, thighs squeezing around him. When he gingerly found the swell of a modest breast, her breath hitched, a noise of encouragement whimpering into the air. The encouragement was just what Peter needed to have a little more courage. He gently squeezed and kneaded her breast under his hand. She felt so good, so soft, so warm, so smooth. His lips found hers once, gently, before his forehead came to rest against hers again. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” Whether he meant generally or specifically, it didn’t matter. All she cared about was them here, now, the emotion as much behind his touch as his eyes. Feeling Peter further acquaint himself with that tender curve, her nipple going tight, she thought her heart might just break right through. Less because of his technique, more because, well, it was him. “Mmm hmm.” Peter responded. His hands were a little shakey as they traveled down her body, trying to rid her of whatever she had left. His own boxer briefs needed to come off, too. It was probably quite comical how quickly and desperately he tried to get those last few items of cloth off of their bodies. Peter couldn’t stop a shudder from shaking his body at the feel of her hand against his bare skin, the rock hard length under her fingertips quivering. His eyes fell closed and he tried his best not to give in to the sensation right then and there. Release was threatening at the corners of his consciousness, tugging on him. He really didn’t want to let go. The reply earned a smile, her fingers still cradling him. “So, we don’t need protection.” No protection. That was okay. Peter didn’t have to worry about--well, anything. He couldn’t worry about anything, because a moment after her words she was on top of him, riding him, and Peter’s toes curled. His breath caught in his throat. Pleasure shot through him, hot and strong, waves washing over him. She wouldn’t say so, but his quick finish wasn’t much of a surprise. Honey had hitched a sound as he spilled into her, sure, but the startle was short-lived, her movement slowing as he gave one last twitch. Longer usually came with practice ─ an undertaking the young woman was pretty certain he wouldn’t mind. Peter was breathless as she slowed, the sensations nearly overwhelming. His hands came up over her hips and sides, holding her against him. His length was rapidly deflating inside her, but he didn’t want her to move. He didn’t want her to leave him. He wanted to wait a few minutes, to try and will it hard again, to try and please her the next time. No attempt needed. As Peter held her to him, she cupped one of his shamefully burning cheeks and met his lips halfway, hoping to ease some of that fresh embarrassment. Honey couldn’t blame him for it, but she didn’t want him to think she was disappointed in him. Peter was still embarrassed. And wanted nothing more than to please her. He just had no idea how now. He’d read enough about sex to know that this was… well, there was more than he should be doing for her. He just… wished he knew what to do. “Lay down with me.” Peter moved with her on the bed. How could he not? He wanted to be near her and to make her feel good, and she was willing to show him how it was done? Hey, he was all for that. Once they were settled against the pillows, Peter slipped his hand between her legs, following the way she showed him. He was clumsy and awkward at first, but soon he got the hang of it. And as she reacted to his attentions, he learned how to touch her. Slow at first, tentative, but soon he was a little more forceful with his fingertips, much faster as he pumped them against her. Wound especially tight, it was a gladly given lesson and Peter was an unsurprisingly quick learner, soon rendering her a clinging, shaking mess. Eventually leaning into his shoulder, she panted, moaning softly as he rubbed her further and further toward sweet release, her body tensing. Honey was just on the edge of it when she pulled back, features flush and sweat damp, his second rise to the occasion not going unnoticed. Moving was a little difficult while Peter was trying to focus on his hand’s movements against her… but somehow he managed to climb with her. This was absolutely amazing, and Peter still couldn’t believe it was happening. His name was a muffled sigh as she tilted up into that kiss, a hand grasping for his, her legs wrapped around his waist. Giving him more control, Honey encouraged Peter to set the pace and met him halfway, pressing up with every push he gave, her lips never quite leaving his. Their bodies met together, over and over, growing in urgency and speed. Peter found he was getting pretty good at this--at least, he thought he was doing good things. It felt good. She felt good. And he liked the sounds she was making, too. His mouth stayed attached to hers as best it could, but finally he had to break away and pant. His fingers laced with hers, and lifted to press her hand into the pillow beside her head, giving himself more leverage. He was an athletic sort to begin with, and on his second wind he could hold out. Not for too much longer, though, because he could feel her pleasure building to a peak. Maybe it was the spidey-sense, and maybe it was intuition, or maybe it was something else entirely, but he knew when she was about to break. And he pushed her just over the edge as best he could before his own pleasure started to tear at him. She wouldn’t have recalled feeling quite as euphoric the first time she’d done this. There was something wholly different about the way her heart thudded, the spin of her head. Something better, deeper. Every throb shook her, limbs squeezing as they desperately writhed until, with a crooning little noise, she finally came around him. As much as he wanted to enjoy this--to focus solely on the way she looked, sounded, felt, tasted, and smelled against him when she finished (that’s what she was doing, right?), he had his own orgasm to tangle with. It made him tense and shudder, his muscles contracting before the release made him spill deep inside of her. He gave a gentle grunt and groan, now covered in sweat, slick and slimy and deflating as the climax slowly ebbed. His breathing came in gentle gasps against her neck, his arms lowering to wrap around her. Her own breath labored into the seemingly thick air, body gingerly shifting beneath his with a contented noise as he finished. Honey draped an arm over him, that previously held palm going to the back of Peter’s head as her legs adjusted. Pleasure twinged in the afterglow and, as he found his voice, she gave a smile, shaking with soft laughter beneath him. “Can we do that every day? I want to do that every day. Forever.” Peter said, almost completely unable to suppress his excitement and enthusiasm. Even though he was completely sated now, he was still Peter. “Please?” Further amusement colored her. She could relate, though. There was a lot to be said for sex, more so when it was with someone you felt such a remarkable connection with. “Pretty please?” Honey added, her elation laid just as bare and laced with unmistakable emotion. “You’re stuck with me, Parker. Good luck getting out of here later.” Peter laughed. He could just imagine her trapping him in her apartment and having her way with him. ...and the thought was a little arousing. But they’d done enough of the sex for now. He didn’t want to get sore. Or to make her sore. “Sounds good, Lemon. I’m all yours.” Crashing sounded good right about now. Turning to settle onto her own side, she nudged a hugging arm under his and tucked in close, sharing the pillow. “Mm… not a bad idea. I could sleep.” Even if she’d spent much of the day catching up rest. After all that vigorous activity, cuddled warm in his embrace, Honey’s eyelids were contentedly heavy. After all that, Peter could absolutely sleep. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d fallen asleep wrapped up in Honey’s embrace, though it was absolutely the first time they’d exhausted each other in this way. He was pleased--more than pleased, really--and pleasantly exhausted. He didn’t really want to sleep, because he wanted to spend every minute with her. But he knew it was coming. He was fading horribly fast. “I demand waffles,” she murmured, a smile perking as his kisses traveled. After that, Honey wouldn’t recall much. The faint sound of his voice before sleep claimed her, hand still faintly rubbing the length of his back. |