Chapter Text
The first time Miles Morales saw Peter Parker he was gone, and how inappropriate was that? Bombs had been set off at the Osborn rally. He and his mother were cut off from his father. People were dead, dying and injured. Yet somehow his mind kept going back to the beautiful man that had been dragged next to him, unconscious and bloody. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking such things in such a dire situation where his father’s fate was so uncertain but that face lingered. He remembered hoping they would see each other again.
And they did.
Standing next to his father’s grave, his mother off to the side as if one wrong move will send him running, the beautiful man approached him just the same. The conflict in him was confusing; the majority of him was overwhelmed with grief over the loss of his father while a smaller but not quieter part was so happy that he was able to see him again. He introduced himself as Peter Parker, attempted to give his condolences, and Miles threw them right back in his face. How wrong he was assuming that Peter didn’t understand his grief. Even in the face of his misplaced anger, the man had been understanding, compassionate and didn’t run away. And that made Miles want him even more.
Miles had made up his mind the day at F.E.A.S.T. when Peter swooped in and stood up for him against the old man attacking his father. He thought he would be fine watching from a distance. Peter was such a sight to be seen as he recognized and talked with the people there, giving a kind smile to anyone he saw. Pining had always been his go-to. Until the man got angry, insulting his father’s memory. Miles wanted to say something — anything, but his mouth wouldn’t work properly. Then the hand touched his shoulder and there he was, Peter Parker, with a smile and slightly tense look in his eye as he introduced him, effectively shutting the man up and even getting him an apology. It was then that Peter had wormed his way into Miles and he decided that he needed to make him his.
For a while, an opportunity never presented itself. Peter was gone a lot, and May got sick. He was left almost running F.E.A.S.T. by himself, not that he minded. Spider-Man saved him again and left him with the suspicion of who was behind the mask. (And if he thought about Spider-Man sneaking into his room late at night, the smooth voice thanking him for his help and “How can I ever repay you?”, that was his business and no one else’s.) He would never tell anyone that he only noticed Peter was Spider-Man from watching him constantly, focusing so much on every word he said like it was gospel and piecing things together from when Spider-Man had saved him from getting mugged. The final piece, however, was when he watched as Spider-Man stood at May’s side as she was dying. MJ had ushered Miles out before he could see anything incriminating but he knew. That was his Peter.
Miles stuck like glue to Peter’s side at May’s funeral, now knowing from personal experience how important it was not to be left alone at times like this. Peter needed to know that he had someone to lean on. Miles wanted so desperately to be that person. His fingers brushed Peter’s as their hands hung between each other, itching to thread them together. MJ stood on Peter’s other side. Her gloved hand was wrapped around his arm as she hung onto him. He shouldn’t have felt so jealous, but it was a feeling impossible to quell. Peter was his. Not hers. She just didn’t know it yet.
Finally, a few months later, the opportunity presented itself. Peter had finally found an apartment and was moving in. While they had been volunteering together, he had asked for Miles’ help moving the furniture in, to which Miles happily agreed. Several hours alone with Peter with the promise of pizza afterwards. What more could he ask for? It hadn’t taken as long as he would have liked. Being bitten by a spider that gave him inhuman strength made carrying a mattress and desk up the tight stairs of a typical New York apartment building with another inhumanly strong person made it a far easier process.
It was almost cliche how fast his heart was racing as he looked at Peter. He had been dressed in a threadbare Empire State t-shirt and jeans, and Miles hated how much he loved it on him. The way his muscles pulled the shirt taunt in the shoulders and arms. The way the denim curved around his ass and thighs. The idea of making his intentions known flitted through his mind only briefly but knew he had to wait. With Peter being twenty-four and his being fifteen, he needed to be very delicate with how he handled this. It was like hunting an animal; one wrong move and Peter would quickly turn tail and run. No, he was going to have to be very strategic with everything.
“Hey, so Pete?”
Peter busied himself with moving his desk chair out of the way, comfortable in Miles’ presence that he didn’t sense anything off. Perfect. “Yeah?”
“I, uh,” Miles started, “kinda gotta talk to you about something I can’t tell my mom about…”
He couldn’t tell if Peter was avoiding his eyes out of nervousness or if he still hadn’t picked up on anything yet.
“What’s up?”
Peter’s eyes met his own and Miles couldn’t help the butterflies that erupted at the sight. His eyes were so warm and welcoming. The crooked smile he gave felt so special, so just for Miles that he knew he wasn’t going to give up.
“Well, um…” Miles turned around and closed the door to Peter’s apartment, making the space feel so much smaller. “Weird things have been going on.” Turning to face Peter, he watched his expressions carefully. “Like, physically.”
“Oh.”
A pink tinge flooded Peter’s cheeks. Anyone else might have missed the way his eyes ran over Miles’ frame but not Miles. No, Miles caught the way they lingered just a second too long on his crotch. An imaginary lightbulb went off and set their path in stone.
“ Oh… uh…” Peter cleared his throat and attempted to play off his nervousness. “Well, you know, you’re at that age where your body starts to change, and, so you may be noticing some… areas… for exam—”
Peter was simply too easy to play with. He felt the corners of his mouth tug at a smile but controlled himself. It did give him an idea to use later once Peter was more open to the idea so he tucked it away for later.
“No, no,” he said quickly to save the clearly struggling Peter. “Not that. I think that I should just show you.”
He turned his back towards Peter, taking a deep breath. It was the right move to ease Peter into it as the moment he turned around he was freaking out. He remembered the metaphor about a frog and a pot and almost laughed. Instead of pushing the poor man further, he decided to be honest with him in another way. Miles jumped up and stuck to the ceiling. Gone was the worry on Peter’s face, now replaced with shock and wonder at another person just like him.
The day Miles found out that the spider that bit him had turned him into another Spider-Man. Peter didn’t have to do this alone anymore. This was going to be their thing. Not even MJ could share this thing between them. A gleeful smile broke out across Peter’s face as he jumped to join him on the ceiling.
“Pretty weird, right?” he asked, the double entendre lost on Peter.
“Not that weird,” replied Peter.
From that point on, Miles got to spend a lot more one-on-one time with him. He loved every second of it. The feeling of Peter’s hands on his wrists when he helped him with his web-shooters, his fingers touching him ever so gently as he made sure that they fit right and didn’t pinch when he moved. If his abilities were anything like Miles’, there was no way he didn’t feel his heart skipping a beat.
Miles kept things normal for a little while, albeit a little pushy. Perhaps he did reckless things to get Peter’s attention. It wasn’t entirely for his romantically selfish reasons. He really did want to help Peter out with his Spider-Man responsibilities. So sue him if it also meant being with Peter more often.
They kept things very basic in the beginning per Peter’s request. It started with swinging practice in the ESU gymnasium. Peter had brought extra web fluid and the web-shooters they had made together, Miles sitting so close that their thighs touched. He knew how the web-shooters worked. He had spent a lot of time watching any videos of Spider-Man before and Peter demonstrated them as he shot up a web and swung across the length of the gym. However, Miles was ready to start the first step of Operation Make Peter Fall In Love.
“I don’t think my web-shooter is working.”
Peter swung back over to him. They were in their Spider-Man suits apart from their masks. There was no need to hide his identity with Miles. They could be themselves with each other. He couldn’t help but long to leave pretty little bruises along the skin that would just peek out from the neck of his suit.
“What? I swore I checked them before we came.”
Peter held out his hand so he could take a look. Instead of taking it off, Miles dropped his hand into his palm. The move didn’t seem to bother Peter at all, taking it in stride as he held his wrist so delicately and turned it back and forth to investigate the supposed problem. Even through the suit, the touch felt hot. He shifted his weight as heat grew between his legs at the thought of Peter’s hands on him.
“I’m not seeing anything wrong,” he muttered. “Can you try and shoot a web for me?”
Making sure to place his fingers in the wrong spot, he attempted to send a web at the ceiling. Nothing came out. Peter huffed in his cute, frustrated way and took Miles’ wrist again. He wrapped his hand around the back of Miles’ and guided his fingers down, applying just the lightest amount of pressure on the button. A translucent rope shot out and attached to one of the pipes running along the ceiling.
“Okay, that worked.” Peter took a step back. “Now try to swing to the other side.”
Miles fidgeted. He hoped it came off as nervous. “Do you think we could do it together? At least the first couple of times? Just until I get into the swing of things?”
The pun got a smile out of him. “Okay, I think I can make that work.”
Peter moved to stand next to him and shot his own web with one hand. The other found its way around Miles’ waist, holding him tightly against his side. He became painfully aware that only the thin material of their suits separated them. Peter was so warm . His hands were also much bigger than he realized — or maybe his waist was smaller — as his thumb brushed Miles’ ribs and his pinky Miles’ hip. It made his mind go fuzzy.
“All right,” Peter said with confidence. “On the count of three. One… two… three!”
They jumped, pulling up on their webs and swinging smoothly across the length of the gym. Being able to swing in the air like that was impossible to describe. The experience itself was unimaginable. He had never experienced anything like it before and doubted anything would ever come close in comparison in the future. Swinging with Peter added a special type of intimacy that Miles wasn’t sure he would ever be willing to share with anyone. He was almost tempted to ask if Pete would just swing across while holding him just for the fun and closeness of it but refrained.
He was able to pull a couple more assisted swings from Peter before he swung on his own. It was a shockingly short amount of time before he got the hang of it. In no time, he was swinging with ease. He swung around in circles, cheering and flipping to the ground.
“You’re doing fantastic, Miles!” Peter laughed as he swung alongside him. “You’re practically a natural. It’s incredible!”
The words had an immediate effect on his body. He felt hot all over, suddenly weak in the knees as he stumbled his landing. With the parents he had, praise had been no stranger. They never missed a chance to tell him how proud they were of him. Something about Peter made him dizzy.
Peter landed behind him, having clearly seen him unsteadily hit the floor. His hands held him by the arms and it was too easy to fall back into the embrace.
“Are you okay?”
At that moment, sane Miles remembered his plan and thought this would be the perfect moment to drop the first hint. His eyes droop sleepily, faking a yawn. He let his head fall back on Peter’s shoulder.
“I just suddenly got really tired,” he lied, yawning again. “Hey, Pete, do you think I could sleep at your place? I don’t wanna try swinging home when I’m this tired.”
This caused him to hesitate. He could see Peter working over it in his head. His thoughts were so loud that he might as well have been speaking. His apartment was closer than Miles’; it was Saturday night so there was no school to worry about in the morning; and he had finished his homework as it was the biggest stipulation Peter had for allowing Miles to come along with him. He could almost see the scales shifting in his favor. One of his classic sweet smiles that worked on everyone finally won Peter over.
“Okay, yeah.” He nodded to himself. “I can crash on the recliner so you can take the bed.”
Not yet . “No, no, I can’t do that. It’s your apartment, Pete. I can’t take your bed.”
“I can’t make you sleep on a chair, Miles,” replied Peter as they left through the vent they came in.
Miles smiled at him. “Don’t worry. I’m young. There’s nothing I can’t handle.”
Peter laughed and together they left. They swung through the city, whooping and laughing as Miles tried to turn it into a competition. Looping around corners and seeing how far he could swing up before needing to let go, it was an incredibly freeing experience. Every perfect swing-and-release got him another shot of appraisal from Peter. Plan aside, it was nice to have someone beside his parents believe in him wholeheartedly.
They landed on Peter’s fire escape almost silently — Miles hadn’t quite gotten that part down yet — and slid through the window with ease. The apartment had gotten more life to it since Peter had moved in. Pictures of May and who Miles assumed was Ben lined the walls and his desk. One of MJ, Harry and Peter was bittersweet but the one that made his lip curl in disgust was one of just MJ and Peter at Coney Island. It was clearly a selfie that someone had gotten printed. They looked happy with MJ kissing his cheek and Peter’s eyes crinkling as he smiled. One day that photo would be replaced with one of them.
With the clothes he had in his backpack, Peter allowed Miles to change out of his suit in the bathroom. It didn’t take long until he was in sweatpants and a hoodie. Peter’s bathroom was more barren than the rest of the apartment. He had his toothbrush in a little blue cup and a tube of toothpaste laying right next to it. Spearmint. Looking underneath the sink revealed normal stuff like cleaning supplies and toilet paper. A box of condoms peeked out from the back, the top haphazardly ripped off as if it had been opened in a rush.
Miles looked at the door for a moment before reaching in and tearing one off of the strip. The foil package got quickly slipped into his pants pocket. Folding his suit up in his arms, he stepped out of the bathroom to see Peter laying in bed with one arm tucked behind his head. He had changed into his clothes, and he was scrolling through his phone. The homemade quilt he used as a comforter was draped across his lower half. He was the pinnacle of relaxation.
Briefly, Miles thought about just abandoning the long game. He could just climb right into the bed and straddle Peter. However, he knew it wouldn’t end well since Peter was still technically with MJ. If there was one thing Miles knew about him, it was that he wouldn’t cheat. Guess he was just going to have to work hard and make himself more desirable than Mary Jane Watson.
The recliner had been made up with at least two blankets and a pillow. Miles dropped into the chair and curled up under the blankets. Everything smelled like Peter: the soft scent of laundry detergent, the ocean, lavender and something distinctly Peter. His newly sensitive nose could pick out the sea salt and just a hint of sweat on the pillow. No doubt this was one of the pillows from Peter’s bed. Miles held it even closer and breathed in deep.
“Thank you for today, Peter,” he said as they settled in for bed.
Peter looked over at him through the dark. Another thing that was nice about being Spider-Man, their eyesight in the dark is so much better. Before he was bitten, there was no way he would have been able to see the way Peter’s cheeks dimple or the droop in his eyes from where he sat.
“It’s nice to have someone who gets it,” mumbled Peter. His mouth stretched with a yawn. Sleep was taking hold. “I like you, Miles.”
Miles buried his face back into the pillow. He couldn’t help the huge smile those words gave him.
“I like you too, Pete.”
It wasn’t too much longer after that Peter fell asleep. Miles’ ears picked up the sound of his breathing hitch before it evened out. For a while, he just watched as Peter slept. The rise and fall of the toned chest in that steady, slow rhythm was almost hypnotic. As he pulled the hem of his hoodie up to hold between his teeth and slipped his hand down his stomach, Miles watched him and wondered what he would look like when they were fucking.
He imagined Peter kissing up his legs before eating him out, tongue so expertly taking him apart. His own fingers moved between his lips in amateurist circles. Peter would know how to touch him, would know how to press and twist and curl his fingers just right to have Miles’ back arching off the chair. It was almost impossible to keep his voice down as his fingers pushed into his wet heat, the squelch so loud in the silence.
At one point, Peter shifted in his sleep. He had been on his stomach but turned onto his back. The quilt that had kept whatever modesty he attempted to have moved with him, getting rolled beneath his body. Now Miles had the perfect view of Peter. The t-shirt he had worn rode up to expose the smooth valleys of his stomach. That was when he saw that Peter wasn’t wearing pants. Instead, he was just in his underwear. They hugged his body like a second skin, drawing Miles’ eyes to the muscles in his thighs. Sure, the Spider-Man suit left little to the imagination but being able to see just how much dick Peter was hiding had his teeth biting down into his hoodie to repress a moan.
His fingers moved faster, thrusting as deep as he could reach inside of him. Peter let out a little groan and draped his arm across his stomach. Miles should have stopped. Any normal person would not have done this to begin with, but something about the possibility of Peter waking up and seeing him had him dripping, soaking his pants. His body trembled at the idea of Peter watching him fucking himself just a couple feet away.
They were so close. It would take nothing to climb into Peter’s bed and wake him up. Maybe he wouldn’t even wake him up and he could straddle him, rubbing himself against the bulge until he toppled over in ecstasy. Or, even better, he could take Peter’s limp hand and use him like his own personal sex toy. His stomach suddenly tensed. He lurched forward as he came into his hand, his entire body wracked with tremors. It was hard to keep quiet but he managed.
When he flopped back onto the chair, he let the hoodie fall from his mouth so he could catch his breath. His fingers slid out of him with a slick wet sound. Then, imagining once more that it was Peter, he sucked them clean. Peter seemed like the type to enjoy that kind of show.
It didn’t take long to fall asleep after that with the smoothing smell of Peter around him, the strangely comfortable chair and the relief from the three hours of horny torture he’d suffered through wrapping him up like a safety blanket.
When he woke up, Peter was gone. The sun was streaming in through the window in warm yellow streaks. The bed hadn’t been made up with the quilt tossed to the side. His one pillow laid at an angle like he had been holding it in the night, only to abandon it once morning came.
On the desk that they had once carried in together, Miles could see a piece of folded paper with his name on it. That could wait for a minute. What he wanted to do right now was look around at the things he could look at before with Peter there. There was no actual closet; instead Peter had a clothing rack tucked away. A laundry basket sat in a corner with clothes haphazardly thrown into it. He knew that Peter had quickly picked up while he had been in the bathroom. Looking through the rack first, he quickly turned his view on the basket and dug around until he found an old hoodie. Miles stripped down until he was in just the hoodie and nothing else before sprawling out on Peter’s bed and grabbing the note.
Peter’s messy scrawl and drawn spider brought a smile to his face as he read:
Miles,
Hate to leave you alone in the morning but duty called.
I made you breakfast — it’s in the oven for whenever you wake up.
You did fantastic yesterday! We can practice swinging a bit more and move
onto combat. Shouldn’t be too hard for a natural like you.
You can let yourself out through the window, just how you came in.
See you soon, Spider-Man!
Peter
Setting the note back on the desk, he spread out across the mattress and squirming slightly at the cool air on his cunt. He tossed himself onto his stomach to bury his face into the pillow that Peter had used the night before. It smelled like the cheap berry-scented Spider-Man shampoo that he had spotted in the bathroom. Only Peter would buy his own merch. He adjusted himself so the pillow was propped under him as he went back to snooping.
In the bedside table drawer, there was a case holding Peter’s glasses.
“Pete, your eyesight was really bad,” he laughed as he tried them on.
Putting the glasses back in the case, he went back to snooping through the drawers. Physics journals, pens, tissues, completely normal and boring stuff. He was about to give up and move on to the other drawers when he found it.
Porn.
There were a few old school porn magazines tucked in the back, hidden away like a dirty little secret. He immediately took them out and flopped on his back to look them over.
“What is Pete into?”
The first magazine had a couple of women on the front dressed in schoolgirl outfits. They looked like they could have been teenagers as they looked into the camera, wanton expressions clear as day. Their shirts were holding on for dear life over their chests and mini skirts revealed plenty of leg. A couple flips through the pages showed that this magazine was clearly themed after teens. Lots of pink clothes and pigtails and stuffed animals. Not Miles’ taste but interesting nonetheless.
The second and third magazine, however, is when it clicked. These were newer. They were filled with men in similar situations. All young and slim — muscular but not overdone — while in school uniforms. The only difference was this one was young black men. He couldn’t help the smile that broke out across his face. Oh, this was perfect.
After tucking the magazines back where he found them, he didn’t find much else that held his attention. A couple loose condoms, more science journals, a couple of things that clearly belonged to MJ. It took everything in him not to get rid of MJ’s things, but it likely would have brought too much attention. The breakfast that Peter had made him was a handful of pancakes and bacon. Miles ate it happily, feeling special that he had breakfast made especially for him.
Eventually he had packed up his stuff and the couple things of Pete’s he decided he was going to keep, and he slipped out of the window they had come in through.
They began training semi-regularly after that night. They would use the ESU gym or random factories after closing to practice swinging and combat. Combat became Miles’ favorite pastime. He got to touch Peter almost unrestrictedly for hours on end until they were both sweaty, panting messes. The amount of times he pinned Peter down or vice versa was enough to fuel his wet dreams for years. He made sure to wiggle his hips or grind back against him whenever he got the chance, delighting in the way he could feel Peter stiffen against him. Sometimes it seemed like too much for the man as he would call training sessions short, those days being the only ones that Miles couldn’t stay over.
That had become their routine. Training and patrol on Tuesdays and Sundays until nine pm, and Fridays and Saturdays he could crash with Peter. Miles started stashing clothes and a spare toothbrush at Peter’s apartment. It had become second nature to slip into his apartment after him and have dinner together. As the weather grew colder, he started to “borrow” more of Peter’s clothes and leave more of his own behind. The plan was to get Peter to inevitably need to wear a hoodie or shirt and Miles’ would be there, leading him to hopefully forget that they were Miles’ and wearing them when they were together.
Unfortunately for Miles, the first time he finally saw his plan come to fruition was the day that Peter was leaving to go with MJ for a job overseas. He had climbed through the window, a smile on his face at the expectation that they would go on patrol. What he saw instead was Peter packing a suitcase while wearing a hoodie that Miles had left there a few days ago. His thighs pressed together at the thought of it still smelling like him.
“Where are you going?” he asked, climbing into Peter’s bed.
“MJ is gonna be working over in Europe for a few weeks and got me a spot as her personal photographer.” Peter gave him an apologetic smile. “I meant to tell you, but it slipped my mind.”
Miles’ lip threatened to curl into a sneer. He turned on his trying-not-to-be-sad voice and said, “Oh. Well, when will you be back?”
“Well, we are leaving soon and should be back right after New Years.”
Miles fell backwards so that he was lying down on the bed. He was wearing one of his more cropped shirts so a bit of his stomach was exposed as he stretched out. It was quick. Just a run down of the eyes that lingered on that peek of tawny skin for a second too long. He wiggled his hips in a way that looked like he was trying to get comfortable but knew that it brought Peter’s eyes right back down.
“You need the break,” Miles gave in. “I can handle New York on my own for a few days.”
“I’m just a phone call away if you need me. Just let me know and I’ll be on the first flight back.”
Before he left, Peter pulled Miles into a hug. It was tight. Like Peter wanted to make it last. So Miles returned it tenfold. He wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist and buried his face into his neck. His smell filled his nose. It both served to satiate his need to be close and toe the line of platonic and romantic as he brushed his lips against the warm skin. When they separated, there was a pink tinge to Peter’s cheeks that made him smile.
The first week Peter was gone was uneventful. He called every other night to check in on things. Pete said it was because he felt bad for leaving but Miles knew the truth. He couldn’t stop thinking about Miles either. Peter was enjoying the sights there; he was getting lots of good pictures and was able to try lots of new foods. Not once would MJ come up in the conversation.
It wasn’t until the end of week two that Miles started with the questions. They had been texting one night with the usual check-ins. Miles was staying at Peter’s place again, dressed in Peter’s clothes again. He had chosen a sweater that fell over his hands and halfway down his thighs and a pair of boxers. It felt so good to lounge in clothes and a bed that weren’t his. It had basically become his second home. The only thing that would have made it better was if Peter was there with him.
As he readjusted himself so that he was lying on his back on top of the quilt, he looked at the last message Peter had sent. It was a selfie he had taken in front of a statue, his smile so bright in the European sunlight. The apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose had turned pink from a slight sunburn that would no doubt be gone by morning. Around his neck was the strap to his camera that no doubt was filled with photos for and of MJ. Biting his lip, he made up his mind.
MILES : hey can i ask u a question?
PETE : sure! what’s up? do you want me to call?
Miles smiled to himself. It made him giddy when Peter was willing to drop everything for him.
MILES : no no it’s fine
MILES : it’s a bit of a personal question but i didn’t know who else to turn to
The three little dots appeared, disappeared then reappeared again. He could almost see Peter writing out a reply then overthinking and erasing it. It took another couple minutes before the response came through.
PETE : oh you do?
PETE : you can ask me anything miles i’m always happy to help
“Hook, line and sinker,” Miles chuckled. His fingers flew across the screen as he typed back.
MILES : you know how you have a lot of experience with girls right?
PETE : you could say that lol
MILES : there is this girl in class who invited me over this weekend
MILES : and i’m really nervous i dunno what to do
PETE : what do you mean?
Miles laughed. Peter’s cluelessness was one of his favorite quirks sometimes. It was endearing to watch whatever point fly over the head of a genius. Other times it could be frustrating because he would miss signals and subtle things Miles tried to do to get his attention.
MILES : pete
MILES : are you gonna make me say it
A minute passed. Two.
PETE : oh i see
PETE : uh
PETE : what do you want to know?
MILES : what are you best at?
He imagined what Peter looked like on the other side of the phone. Were his cheeks even pinker, the sun burn lost amongst the shyness? Was he next to MJ, hiding his phone from sight? Or was he acting like nothing was out of the ordinary? Did he see this as a purely educational situation? Miles liked to think that he knew Peter well enough to know.
PETE : and you’re asking for educational purposes?
MILES : of course
And the next message Peter sent made him squirm.
PETE : i’ve gotten good reviews for my mouth and hands
PETE : 5/5 stars
PETE : at least that’s what felicia says
Miles’ eyes fell shut. All he could do now was imagine what it would be like to lay where he was but with Peter’s face between his legs. His hazel eyes, usually so full of warmth and light, would be dark with lust. His mouth would be on him, licking and teasing and sucking until Miles was a begging, dripping mess. His fingers would bury themselves into that soft brown hair to hold him closer. That would be for another day.
MILES : i don’t think im ready for mouth stuff
MILES : but i would like to know about the hands
PETE : ok where to start…
As his hand slid down his front and his fingers danced around the waistband of the boxers, Peter’s voice was in his head, whispering the instructions in his ear. His fingers were no longer his own; they belonged to Peter. They dipped below the elastic just a bit to brush the top of the hair there.
“First, I always start with kissing,” he said. Miles imagined lips pressing into his plush ones. “You have to take it slow. Always warm up the engine before you start driving.”
The fantasy screeched to a halt. There was no doubt in his mind that Peter was sitting wherever he was and laughing his ass off. Miles took a moment to breathe and roll his eyes because it was endearing in the right situations. Who would Peter be without making some kind of joke at an inappropriate time? It was likely that he was feeling nervous and trying to compensate so Miles could forgive him. A shake of his head got him back into the fantasy where he took Peter’s face in his hands and shut him up with a kiss.
“Then, once everyone is nice and in the mood,” Peter continued, “I like to touch around the… area. Tease it a bit. This usually goes on for a while until the person is kinda…”
Miles moved his fingers down, feeling his breath hitch at the idea of Peter’s hands on him and touching everything but what he wanted him to touch.
“Kinda what?” Miles replied. It took a couple of tries to get the words spelled right.
“How do I say this professionally?” The dots appear for a moment. Two. “It gets them ready for you. Makes it easier for your fingers.”
“Okay. And then?”
“Then you start small and work your way up.” The Peter in his head slowly pushed a finger in. “Stay with that for a bit. Let them get used to that.”
One finger was not enough. He wanted — no, needed more. He had been ready since he put on Peter’s clothes. His hips bucked up against his hand, pushing it deeper. He was already so wet and open that there was barely any resistance at all.
“Then you go to two, repeat the process to three.”
A moan broke through his lips. His Peter’s fingers felt so good. They filled and stretched him out.
“You curl them on the way in, maybe even twist them a bit.”
Fantasy Peter followed instructions perfectly. They pressed and twisted. They curled inside of him to touch every inch. He clenched around them, creating a beautiful tightness that had his toes digging into the bed.
Texting was becoming impossible. His hand shook too much, and it was getting harder and harder to focus on the letters and create coherent sentences. Just as he was about to put his phone down, it buzzed with another text.
“Almost forgot! Make sure to give the magic little spot some love as well,” Peter added. “I use my thumb or my mouth usually. Since you aren’t ready for mouth stuff yet, your thumb or the heel of your hand should work just fine!”
Miles tossed his phone to the side after that. Peter had given him enough to keep the fantasy going to get himself off. The Peter in his head smiled down at him from where he would have been between his legs. His fingers never stopped moving. True to his word, Peter used his thumb to rub circles around his clit. There was no way to stop the yell that ripped its way from his throat. His legs shook as he felt the knot get tighter and tighter in his gut. The sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of him were obscene. It brought a smile to his face that it all reminded him of that night from a few weeks ago.
With his free hand, Miles pulled the sweater up to his face. Peter’s scent was like an aphrodisiac the way it had his eyes rolling back. His Peter kissed his throat, whispering sweet nothings into his skin. He would tell him how pretty he is, how good he feels, how he took his fingers so well.
Right before he came, he grabbed his phone and opened it to the picture Peter had sent him earlier, smiling at him through the camera, the sun in his face. He couldn’t wait to see that smile again. Everything that Miles did belonged to him. It was his hands he thought of. It was for him that Miles would do anything. He loved Peter Parker.
When he finally did come, it took a moment for his body to gain feeling back in his limbs. It was still slightly difficult, but he managed to type out a text to Peter telling him thank you and good night. To top it off, he threw a heart emoji on the end and promptly fell asleep with the sweater pressed against his nose and the pillow squeezed tight to his chest.
The following weeks went without another incident. Peter still called him every night and texted him throughout the day. Miles still told him about his patrols and school. He even told him about his new venom powers. And if he forgot to mention that he also had invisibility, what was so wrong with that? It was right back to their regularly scheduled program.