Archive of Our Own ^beta

You and everyone else knows how the story goes.

You were bitten by a radioactive spider that gave you incredible abilities unlike any other in your Dimension, which came with a price and a promise for great responsibility with that power. Your Uncle Ben would pass. Your Gwen Stacy would pass. Your everyday life would fight to find a balance between being an undercover superhero and a regular person, something you never entirely found a healthy mix of. Despite this, life has been going well for the past few years.

Then a portal to an entirely other Dimension opened up and you learned you were just a number in a module crafted by someone else similar to you.

To find out about the multiverse was a strangely devastating shock. To see other versions of yourself living out a completely different life in another scenario, sometimes older or younger, left you feeling light-headed. Discovering some of the Villains you had to deal with that were definitely not your own had, in fact, come from another Dimension left you feeling sick. Especially when you learned how delicate the balance keeping the system of multiverses stable actually was. So, when a tall, scary man in a blue with red suit stepped out of the portal and dropped the entire ‘as a Spider, it’s your responsibility to blah, blah, blah’ speech, you didn’t hesitate to agree and join.

“Duck!” Jess’s voice was sharp enough to almost come before your Spider sense, body immediately snapping back to an uncomfortable bend against the side of the building. A wave of sand grazed over the front of your body, crashing and rolling with enough pressure to steal the breath from you. As the pressure eased off you launched yourself high and out of range before the next wave attempted to swallow you whole. The Sandman you and Jess had been deployed to deal with was one from a future society. A society where he was experimented on, intentionally this time, and equipped in gear you had never seen before. He wasn’t the casually dressed store thief who ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time you were used to. He was a man strapped in metallic, glowing armor that reminded you of the sights of Nueva York at night. Every crevice of the robot-like gear he wore leaked sand, pouring through where joins should have joined. If you hadn’t seen his face earlier you wouldn’t believe that he was even once human under it. Hell, even now you hadn’t seen his entire face, just annoyed eyes that accompanied a raspy, worn voice.

“We can’t get anywhere near him.” You acknowledged first, landing at the side of Jess who cupped the handles of her bike tightly. Her frown turned sour.

“Well, we’re going to have to figure something out. Backup is heading this way, but it’s only us right now. If this guy gets away, again , Miguel will have us on a platter.”

Miguel O’hara, leader of this entire organization, was a man you worked hard to not get on the bad side of. For the few months you had worked there, you’ve managed to keep on his better graces. A combination of a clean record with on time reports and the occasional drop in of food or coffee could quell any negative thoughts he had on you. Only an occasional slip would have you facing his more upset glares, which didn’t seem to last long considering all of your slips could be fixed almost immediately. However, you’ve been unlucky enough to witness first hand what the man can do when he’s upset enough. Other Spiders weren’t so lucky sometimes. Which is why you knew you couldn’t afford to let this Anomaly escape again. The last Spider who did was still on forced leave while Miguel cooled himself off from dealing with them.

“How long until backup?” Jess tapped something on her watch you couldn’t see.

“Roughly ten, maybe longer.” Where you were perched at the edge of the building you watched how Sandman wobbled around. He had been on the run from you both for a while, now, meaning he wasn’t exactly fresh to keep dealing with you both. There was a chance he could try to escape, maybe rush off into another alley and find a scattered portal to end up in another Dimension. You couldn’t just sit around waiting for ten minutes.

“Alright, cover me, I’m going in again.” Jess didn’t argue. The sound of her bike kicking to life would be the Sandman’s only warning before she launched off the building’s edge, sliding along the side of it. Sandman immediately jerked to lock onto her, but not you. Having crouched low enough, in as dark of a suit as you were in, he wouldn’t immediately spot you, especially with Jess making as much noise as she was. With your hands on the edge of the building, you used another ability you had learned not as many Spiders had: natural webbing. It didn’t come from your wrist like you had seen for many, but it came from the heel of your palms instead. Sturdy, sticky, and fairly elastic, it was perfect to latch onto the edge and pull back as far as you could, feet digging in to keep perch. Tension made your palms ache and you wanted to ease up, but you didn’t. Just remaining poised and watching as Jess circled, a blast of her own web causing waves of sand to collapse. Sandman turned once more, just enough to keep his back to you. You could hear the waves of curses he let out, arms out-stretched to bring up another dash of sand to chase after your comrade.

You struck then.

Releasing the hold you held with your heels, you were launched with enough force that your webbing tore cracks into the building’s edge. At the speed you flung yourself the sounds of the city melted away, locked behind sounds of wind whipping past your masked ears instead as your eyes narrowed. Without your mask you wouldn’t have been able to even see where you were going against the pressure on your face. The sound of your collision would be the first thing you would hear, followed by the sudden static like scream of Sandman that would give you the only warning of what was to happen.

He glitched.

It could have been the collision of you both in a Dimension neither of you belonged in. It could have been anything, including your ability to horribly time situations, but whatever triggered it you found yourself swept into the glitching experience. And it fucking hurt. It hurt enough to have you screaming. The feeling of thousands of needles piercing you, puncturing every pore you had and opening you up just to pour salt in the wound. Pain gurgles mixed into your own scream from Sandman and the clanging of metal made you want to scream even harder. Despite the glitching, sand whipped up around you both. A rotating sphere, twisting and licking just over the edges of your suit, blocked out the city from sight. Blinding colors from the glitching suddenly faded, darkness of the sphere and the bright, angry eyes of Sandman looking back at you. You were trapped and the sphere was closing in more and more, tightening in. He was going to swallow you. 

So, you did the first thing you could think of: you headbutted him.

It didn’t exactly hurt him, but it did shattered whatever metal headpiece he had been wearing, a final strike needed to make it shatter and fall away. Whatever face you had been expecting could never compare to what you saw: a dry desert crafted vaguely into the shape of a person, with the eyes standing out bright against the grains. His mouth opened and you couldn’t see any teeth. Just sand. You brought both hands up and proceeded to shoot as much webbing into the face as possible, ignoring the ache that started to travel up your arms as your scream turned from pained to determined. He gurgled, the sound muffled, and sand broke apart as both arms rose to thrash against you, metal and grains hitting into you. Light flooded the sphere and you could almost see a building-

Pressure looped around your waist, tight enough to be noticeable as you were swept out in one harsh jerk, body flying away in time to witness the familiar electronic cage light up underneath him. It was familiar technology at this point. Welcomed in this moment, as Sandman let out the loudest scream yet, body thrashing and whirling into a twister of sand and metal inside the containment device, struggling to find even the smallest of cracks to free from. When you landed you stumbled for exactly two steps before the grip on your shoulder steadied you against something warm.

“ Joder, eso estuvo demasiado cerca. ” The rough voice, tucked just into the top of your head, sounded out of breath. When you angled to look up the familiar mask of Spider-Man 2099 greeted you: Miguel O’hara himself. He must have been the backup Jess had called for.

Explains why he seems out of breath. He must have ran from wherever he had dropped the portal. He wouldn’t risk putting it too close to Sandman just for him to use it, especially not knowing the situation. Sand trickled off your suit and he lifted his fingers slowly to acknowledge it.

“I had it under control.” When you spoke there was a shift on his mask. An expression you couldn’t see, which had your nerves lighting up. You could feel how it swirled in your stomach and moved to your chest, heart rate picking up as the silence followed for longer than it should have. Of course, there was the risk that he was upset with you. It had happened in small moments in the past, when you had thrown yourself into a fight with little to no regard for your own safety.

‘If a Spider-Woman dies in another Dimension, what do you think happens to her Dimension?’ Had been his question the last time, when he had just edged on being annoyed with you. Not annoyed, exhausted. You were prepared for another speech like that. Something to signify that he was now no longer worrying about you but growing annoyed with you, upset that you continued to ignore his warning.

It didn’t come. Just the brush of fingers over your shoulder to brush the sand from where it had settled as he released a low, interesting noise. Before you could place the feeling behind that sound the hand traveled up to the back of your neck, a far too intimate touch that had goosebumps breaking out as he angled down low enough to mutter to you.

“That’s my girl.”

What?

This was new. Miguel O’hara was a man of few words. Direct and to the point, he never beat around the bush in regards to how he handled people. Usually. There were times he was more vague than he should have been, but you blame that on him not being a people person who was able to communicate well enough. If someone deserved praise he would give it to them. If they deserved a punishment he was not above punishing them. You were no stranger to his strangely timed praise, mostly towards how efficient you were as an agent. Sometimes, on the rare chance, when you would visit him in between missions he would praise your work ethic, or that you were far too caring at times (mostly handed out when you tried to bring him some form of nourishment to keep him from starving himself). This? This was new territory. Whirling, you watched when he walked away from you to approach the Anomaly, tapping away to keys on his watch. Lyla would appear, not that you could hear her as you hadn’t moved to follow him. Not when you didn’t trust yourself to move closer to the man who had done something so…so…

Intimate.

It felt far too personal. Reserved just for you. ‘My’. He had said ‘my’, a possessive noun. A possessive noun over you . Maybe he didn’t mean it how you were taking it. Maybe he meant it in an entirely other way. Not the way that had your heart racing in your chest, a sound you tried to quiet before it became too noticeable to those with enhanced senses. These were moments you were thankful for the mask knowing that you couldn’t stop the blush even if you had actually tried.

Jess would break your thoughts as she brushed sand off the other shoulder.

“You’re an idiot.” She settled on after a moment, shaking her head. You lifted up the edge of your mask to watch as sand trickled out, lips quirking upwards.

“I know. But it worked, didn’t it?” She chose not to humor you. With Miguel on the scene, you would be dismissed almost immediately, set to return to HQ to fill out a report over the entire incident. These reports would never take you long. With great power comes great practice at filling out the paperwork Miguel always required, to which would leave you a chance to return to your home Dimension early.

‘That’s my girl.’

But those words burned at the forefront of your mind just as you paused over the holographic keyboard, final sentences of your report just in sight. It hadn’t been anything worth writing paragraphs over, as you were certain Jess could handle any missing information you didn’t have. Yet, his words had you pausing. Miguel was back in your mind despite having gone almost an hour without seeing him now and it was proving torturous for your focus as your heart picked up a furious pace again.

“Fuck.” Your curse went unheard in the dark room you had tucked yourself into. While Miguel hadn’t designed the building personally, it had come stocked similar to that of a modern Nueva York company building.  This meant there were layers of multiple rooms suited to be miniature offices. Instead, they were treated like private hideaways, with a handful of chairs and tables for whoever to use them. There was an unspoken rule to use them for writing reports or focusing on something that requires you to be left alone, such as this moment with you curled up on one chair and the holographic report before you. You really did try to focus back on the report, fighting with the same four words over and over as you paused to delete and retype them again and again. Finally, you caved and slumped into the seat.

“Fuck!” You cursed, louder this time, as a startling realization took up your attention.

You liked Miguel’s words.

Despite the encounters you both had in the past, nothing came past the common praise he gave. There were moments you both could relax in the silence of each other’s company, but for no longer than a breath before you were both back to work. It wasn’t anything to be considered a friendship, barely above the professional line you both toyed with. More polite than anything, you had never thought of looking at him in any other light other than as your boss. There had been no reason to view him in any light relatively close to romantic, fully aware that he, as many other Spiders, had his own tribulations of the past that would make it hard to pursue any such relationship. That and, of course, there came the risk of upsetting the delicate balance the multiverse relied on. Could it even work out between two from two separate dimensions? Well, the only man you could pose that question to was definitely involved enough in that question that you decided smothering these feelings in the deepest, darkest parts of your heart would work out better in the long run.

Maybe something casual wouldn’t upset the balance. The stray thought came when you deleted the last sentence once again and you paused. Where had that thought come from? This train of thought would lead to something dangerous and you knew it. So, with some force, you shoved those stray thoughts back with the warning of ‘there aren"t enough modules to say it wouldn’t destroy everything around you’ and forced out the last sentence for the report. Once it was submitted you slumped back into the chair and buried your face into your hands with a sigh. Regardless of if you enjoyed his words or not, or these strangely developing feelings that came with them, you could not allow yourself to complicate the situation at all. The weight of the multiverse was resting on his shoulders and spread out through the shoulders of everyone in HQ. One wrong step and you’ll risk everyone over some nice words.

I can be casual. You promised yourself silently, breaking from the room after a moment. It’s no problem. None whatsoever.

Except it was, in fact, a problem.

You would last exactly one day before it became a problem. Having just downed your first cup of coffee in your own Dimension, you would receive a message from Miguel through your watch. A new mission with a familiar Anomaly; the Green Goblin of your Dimension. A sore spot considering how close you had once been with Harry Osborn (if you count on again off again friends as close), but it was a welcome change of pace to fighting something you were familiar with. Now, the downside?

Miguel O’hara would be partnered to come along with you.

It was a two person job, he would say the moment you stepped through the portal, thankful for space between you both and the mask you wore to hide your reactions. Of course, he could have sent anyone else, but he just evaded that accusation by simply saying you both should hurry to restrain him. Assuring yourself this wouldn’t be a problem, since you and he had shared missions before, you took the lead on your familiar Villain. For the most part, it was simple. The Green Goblin fought in the familiar way you had expected, chucking bombs and curses and blame that sometimes dug a little too deep for comfort. That glider of his also proved dangerous with blades extended at the edges. It wasn’t anything you weren’t fit to handle and you even began to wonder if Miguel was necessary to have. Miguel himself didn’t seem to want to interfere much. Content with lingering around the edges and mostly serving to keep civilians unharmed and making sure he didn’t do damage to the environment. You, however, fought. 

Launching splatters of webbing to stick the man to his glider, you ignored the curses he threw your way and how the blades threatened to splinter through the restraints and lurched yourself up from where you dangled just off the front. With your legs looping around his torso you ignored the digging of his suit’s claws into your legs and hissed out.

“Fuck you, Harry, just go down already-”

“I should have snapped your neck when I first found out who you were.” It was another personal jab, one you wouldn’t fall for and you focused your strength into arms and legs. In a suddenly twisting motion, you were both left to plunge to the ground. Green Goblin desperately grappled with your legs, nearly tearing through the edges of the suit if it hadn’t been reinforced. At the height you both had been flying, New York was a sight to see. Now?

Now it was a blur of colors and shouts as you launched the two of you to the cleared out street. You were definitely going to be chastised for the damage caused to the city, but you wouldn’t lie and say the sound the Goblin made when he shattered asphalt would definitely make up for any bitching coming your way. That famous glider of his crackled and sparked without shattering and you just felt you were going to smash into the ground alongside him.

That impact never came, instead replaced by the warmth of another encasing you while taking the main force of your launch. Against your shoulder, where you felt breathing, a curse was muttered in Spanish and you had to blink to steady your vision until you realized just who was holding you. Not that it should have been a surprise. Miguel O’hara, genetically built differently than any other Spider out there, had managed to not only react fast enough to catch you but withstand the force of your own launch with seemingly no damage to himself. Even the ground beneath his feet had taken more damage as he shuffled his grip on you, turning until his chin bumped your forehead as he looked you over in one sweep. The hair on your body stood at attention and you tensed, something he noticed.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.” The cuts on your legs were small, possibly healing within the next hour if nothing happened to them. Bruising everywhere else would linger possibly a day, but with enhanced healing every Spider had you never had to worry about being hurt for long. Another look, as if he didn’t believe you, then he was releasing you to stand on your own.

But one hand lingered.

It wasn’t settled on your shoulder or the top of your head this time. No, this time his hand hovered just over the middle of your back, as though he were keeping you steady with his touch. In reality, his touch was weakening your knees enough that you did have to lean into his touch just a little. Miguel watched from behind his mask a moment longer. Then he tilted his head to mutter words once more to the back of your head.

“Esa es mi chica.”

‘That’s my girl.’

Despite how rusty your Spanish was, you understood enough to go tense until his touch slipped around your side and vanished as he walked to approach the Green Goblin. Despite the Villain being knocked out from the blow, he put him in a container before poking and prodding at his watch, unaware of your gawking at his back as you remained unmoving. Once again, within such a short time, Miguel had said the words that seemed to have you in a chokehold. Another minute passed and you choked a breath in, realizing you hadn’t been breathing the entire time you were staring. Miguel didn’t seem to notice the turmoil he had left you in, focused entirely on tapping at his watch and delivering the final order for an evac portal to take you both back to HQ. It opened shortly after and he vanished into it with the Green Goblin, finally giving you a second to breathe as you felt tension fall apart. Sparks were still dancing along your spine and settling at the very spot he had touched you. When you finally stepped through you couldn’t even spare a glance at the man, pretending to be distracted by the Green Goblin before you. You felt when he spared you a glance. It vanished the moment others approached.

Other Spiders who were tasked with the containment portion of HQ intercepted Miguel with questions, speaking fast and low enough you didn’t exactly pick up on it. Immediately Miguel’s body language shifted, shoulders pulled back and head angled down to eye those around him with a sharp enough glare it could be felt through the mask. Green Goblin would be sectioned off to be sent back to your familiar Dimension where he would find himself placed right back into the jail he had managed to escape. You weren’t exactly needed for this process, but you still found yourself lingering just behind Miguel, almost like an observant shadow. You watched how he spoke to the others, edging closer to pick up on the tone and wording he used. Nothing seemed different. No difference in tone, actions, or words to suggest anything was different about him. He seemed agitated, though you assumed that came with the job and dealing with too many people at once.

So, why did he continue to say those words to you like he did?

Observing him proved difficult considering how quickly your heart sped up when your gaze lingered for too long. It didn’t help that it started to travel, taking in how his unstable suit clung to him tighter than any other suit you had witnessed. Every inch of muscle he had crafted through hard work was on display and you couldn’t deny how built the man actually was. His talk to the other Spiders ended quickly and he whirled to face you, suddenly aware that you were still at his side. You noticed how his mask shifted; an eyebrow raised. Silence filled the space between you until you cleared your throat and managed to croak out;

“D-Do you need anything else, sir?”

Sir?!

You winced. The last time you called him ‘sir’ had been the day he had appeared in your Dimension, to which he had scoffed and crossed his arms in response. He hadn’t said a word then, emotions as unreadable as always, but now he simply cocked his head. You were thankful for the masks you both wore, your own twisted and flustered expression hidden from whatever face he was making. A blessing and a curse: you didn’t have to see his reaction, but you also had no idea what he was feeling in the moment. The pause lasted even longer and you almost debated throwing yourself through a portal to escape when he released a quick huff of a breath.

“I’ll handle the report. You’re dismissed.”

Just like that. He was professional where you were failing to be and you simply hung your head in preparation to scamper off. Then a whisper.

“Good work, as always.” 

More praise that had you unable to speak, simply nodding before you were running away, for lack of better way to put it. Maybe it was a blessing he was so casual in how he handled the situation. He definitely didn’t appear bothered by his choice of wording or how you were reacting to said wording. Keeping distance between the two of you would be the best option to handle this…what? Growing crush? Affection? Attraction? You yourself didn’t even know how to label whatever was happening. All you knew was the praise he offered you in random moments did funny things to your heart and sometimes had you imaging his hands on your body-

Fuck.

You were screwed. Which became much more obvious over the next few days.

It would take a week before you became apparent how much of an issue this actually was. Although you hadn’t managed to keep it as casual as you had been hoping, Miguel’s standoffish attitude definitely had perks to the situation. Did it sting when he didn’t spare you a single glance when you passed by the office he worked in, or when he only nodded in thanks when you brought him a drink or something to eat after he had spent hours working away? You wouldn’t admit that it did. Promising to keep it casual fell flat by day three. On the third day, you found yourself wondering what you could do to get those words from him. Before you hadn’t even been trying when he had handed them out like little treats. Perhaps if you did enough tricks you could get those words again? It sounded good on paper. A theory to be put to the test. Considering you only had free time when not dealing with your own Dimension or missions, you didn’t mind spending time after a mission with Spider-Ham to write up a very detailed report. Four paragraphs later, whereas one could have easily summarized it, you were proudly submitting it from one of the little offices you hid in.

Then you waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Nothing. Two hours would pass and you knew he had to have seen it. No ‘good job’ or ‘wonderful report’ to be seen in sight. Nothing to scratch that itch his words had started. Just a silent acknowledgement. You decided the next day to use another tactic: his lunch. Miguel normally ordered something around the same time every day, having it delivered either via Lyla’s own technological doing, or Jessica Drew herself if she had to speak to him on something. On that day, however, as you finished your own lunch you offered to take it for her, who appeared immediately thankful. With a stack of papers and a neatly packed lunch, you eagerly made it to the office in record time. 

Only to be given silent acknowledgement and a look you hoped was softer than the mask could convey.

You spent the rest of that day lingering around HQ, bringing papers to him from other Spiders and occasionally just lingering in the nearby hall. Whether he noticed or not, you would never know, because he didn’t even verbally acknowledge you after spotting you the fourth time that day. Lyla did. And she enjoyed every second of it, peering at you from Miguel’s side with the brightest grin on her face. Something told you she just knew something.

It was starting to get bad enough that by day five, after another mission with another Spider in another Dimension, you were personally going to tell him your report. Deciding that writing it up wasn’t good enough, maybe speaking to him about all the details would get you something in return.  You honestly didn’t know what to expect from this encounter. Perhaps he would finally grant you the strange relief of scratching that itch that has grown over the last few days with a few nicely placed words. Maybe he’d actually acknowledge you this time. What you didn’t expect was for him to not even turn around to speak to you directly, simply informing you that you ‘both’ handled the situation well. At least with his back to you he didn’t see how you visibly deflated. Lyla did. And she grinned a little brighter.

Day six came and you were pushed to desperate tactics: you asked for a solo mission.

“No.”

“What, why not?” The shock in your voice was very real, head perking up as your crossed arms dropped. The immediate denial had you reeling back while Miguel didn’t even pause in his typing. His many monitors were rolling in front of him, different images of different Dimensions pulled up. The very mission you had asked to handle alone would be displayed on the center: Rhino. As you expected, this was not the Rhino you were used to. Although they were both draped in a strange robotic armor, this Rhino’s armor was glossier. New in a way your Dimension could never provide. A muzzle cupped his crazed face, wide eyes visible from the paused clip.

“You can’t handle him alone.”

For some reason, those words felt like a knife. His casual tone did nothing to ease that stabbing pain, as if he was confident that this was something out of your league. You narrowed your eyes and felt the urge to tug your mask up just to show how upset you were, but reacting in such a way would not benefit either of you in the slightest. Instead, you swallowed a deep breath and re-crossed your arms over your chest.

“Says who?” He paused. Finally, turning to face you with a glimpse of the maskless face you so rarely saw, watching as it settled into an expression you knew far too well. With an eyebrow raised and no longer focused on his work, his hands settled on his small waist, which briefly drew your gaze down.

Wrong time and place.

“Do you forget that I’m in charge of this?” He waved a hand almost dismissively, towards all the technology around you two. When his eyes sharpened you felt goosebumps. “I make the decisions around here for a reason. I know who can handle what, it’s all in the database and it’s all based upon how you’ve done in the past.”

“I think you’re wrong.” Miguel’s pupils sharpened, almost reminding you of Lizardman with how they settled. A challenge turned the brown red and his lips twitched slightly.

“Oh, you do?” This was a dangerous game. One he edged playing as well, stepping one single step closer, a silent test of your resolve. You remained planted where you stood, hiding how your hands shook by tucking them further into your crossed arms.

“I do.” You had to angle your head up to keep a gaze with him when he took another step forward.  He was close enough to touch you if he wanted to. “I’ve been doing excellent since I’ve joined, you and Jess both have said so. I’ve not had a single Anomaly get away from me and you know this.” 

“That’s why you’re not going out there alone.” You frowned, yet he continued without pause. “You’re a great agent, but you’re new. You’ve not even been here a year. Despite how capable you are, I don’t want that capability getting squashed because you were caught off-guard without someone to watch your back.”

He was making sense, but you weren’t here for sense. You were here for the words he unknowingly held over you, just out of reach with every conversation you both shared. But you knew it was a losing battle to keep arguing with him. Miguel was pig-headed enough that he would rather turn this into a screaming match before he would accept his defeat in the situation. You also knew if you pushed too much he could just keep you on ‘temporary leave’ meaning you wouldn’t have a chance to chase any words for a while. 

“Who are you sending?” You finally asked, glancing past his side. At this proximity he was no longer blocking the smaller screens he had pulled up, meaning you were able to just spare a glance past his elbow to-

Earth 9391.

Miguel said the names of the Spiders he was sending, but you didn’t entirely pay a lot of attention. He noticed, or course he did, but he just sighed and finally turned around, giving you another chance to glance over his back. The conversation was over, you knew this, so you didn’t bother to speak any more. Not wanting to push your luck, you mumbled you would see him around and used a shot of web to swing off the platform, scrambling out the doors. You checked around to make sure you were alone and started down the hall, fingers already tapping away on the watch.

“Ohhh, you’re going to be in so much trouble.” Lyla’s voice in your ear had you screaming, flinging yourself to the ceiling before you realized just who had materialized at your shoulder. Lyla, as holographic as ever, didn’t appear phased by this, just grinning a little brighter as you cursed slowly before dropping down.

“Fuck, don’t do that.”

“Whatcha’ doing? Something secret? Something a certain big brooding man shouldn’t know about?” Her accusing glance, both amused and knowing, peered past the tops of her glasses and you looked away. It felt like you were caught with your hand in the cookie jar. Again.

“Don’t tell Miguel.” She was smiling when she appeared on your shoulder again, a tiny hand-sized mirror held out as she adjusted the style of her hair.

“Oh, this is a treat! You’re cute, but I don’t think going to go fight a big scary Rhino guy is the best way to get Mr. Broody’s attention-” You swiped at her and watched as she appeared before you now, arms crossed and cocky grin on display. Even with your mask on, something about Lyla’s gaze told you she just knew how flustered you were.

“Knew it.”

“Just…look, I promise I’ll be done and back in less than an hour.”

“Miguel would reprogram me if I let you go.” Lyla said. Her charm was still there, but her smile was edging away to something else. You groaned and brought a hand up to continue typing at the watch, moving through the different Dimensions listed there.

“Come on, Lyla. You know my record, you know what I can do. Just an hour, if something goes wrong you can do your amazing AI magic stuff you do.” You waited on a breath, watching how she looked you over then sighed, flickering to existence over the watch you were cupping.

“One hour.” She finally offered, settling back to fixing her hair in what you would have called a nervous tic if you knew AI could have those. “I will check in and the moment I see something is wrong you’re getting Miguel personally sent on you like the hound he is.”

“I could kiss you right now.” Lyla’s mirror vanished and she looked you over briefly.

“Well, you are my type.” A wink and she gave you the best finger-guns an AI could. “If things with Miguel don’t work out, you could always give me a call.”

And she vanished with a laugh and a solute. As you looked back to the watch you noticed a new thing: a countdown. Numbers trickling backwards from sixty, tucked into the corner of the watch.

Your countdown began now and you scrambled for one of the abandoned office rooms to quickly open a portal and throw yourself through it.

It would take you record time to find the Villain.

Not that he was trying to hide to begin with. This Dimension’s Spider-Man, as you would learn from a quick report reading on the Dimension, was out of commission temporarily. A Canon Event had occurred not long ago, leaving him injured enough that he was supposed to remain in bed for at least another week or two. Meaning you were completely alone with this. That explains why Miguel was trying to pull together a team to handle it instead of sending a couple of agents to find Spider-Man of this Dimension. Oh, how you could already imagine him eating his words when you contacted him to tell him you had caught the Anomaly. Then you would have the chance to hear those magical words once again.

Or, just maybe, he would be twice as upset as before.

It was a risk you were willing to take, apparently, because the moment Rhino tore himself from the dust of a fallen building you didn’t hesitate to yell his name. Knowing just how destructive an 8-ft tall two ton walking tank of a Villain could be, it was not your goal to fight him in the middle of New York. The chase started downtown, surrounded by crumbling buildings and destroyed cars, but it would end up at the abandoned docks underneath the large, intimidating bridge that connected the island to the mainland. A perfect location to deal with something like this. Little activity, no civilians, and few risks associated with disrupting this Dimension the longer he was there. Steam poured from the twisting gears of the Rhino and you shivered when he panted. He was definitely more bestial than the Rhino you were used to, reminding you somewhat of Miguel when he was upset enough.

“You’re not the Spider I want.” He was low when he spoke. Annoyed. Something that definitely reminded you of a Rhino’s warning call on the Savannah, just before it charged after the lion attempted to ambush it. Rhino shuffled, one foot dragging over the ruins of concrete and you grinned bright under your bask.

“That’s very rude, you know. I came all the way out here just to greet you myself. That, sir, should be considered a privilege.”

“Enough!” When Rhino roared, it sounded similar to gears grinding, more mechanical than man at this point, and the steam that poured from his knees as he took off in a charge only confirmed that. He moved like a thunderstorm, loud and obvious, with enough force to crack the ground with just his steps. Your Spidey Senses tingle just in time to launch yourself off the street lamp he would crash into, tearing it up and apart as though it had been wet paper. You flipped to another lamp post only to bounce to another, watching how he swiveled and slid into a charge to take down that one. A trail of steam followed as he moved.

“I hate to tell you this but I don’t have much time.” You spared a glance at the watch and frowned. Thirty minutes. No, twenty-nine. Over half of your time was used and you had to start getting serious quickly, meaning when he tore through another street light you didn’t hesitate to throw a splatter of webbing into his eyes, watching how he tumbled over his steps and snarled, grasping desperately at it. With his strength it didn’t take him long to tear it off, which you took advantage of by lassoing more webbing and launching yourself into his side. The kick you delivered was hard enough to dent the metal attached to him, yet the weight he carried kept him grounded and you had to swing to the side to avoid a solid swing of his fist. Your Spidey Sense became your greatest tool in this scenario. Body swirling and twisting to avoid punch after punch, with the occasional thrust of his ominously twisting horn spicing up the choreography you both fell into. The ground was falling apart under you at this song and dance, a combination of his weight and attack doing it in.

Another well-placed kick to the knee shattered something there. Your short-lived confidence met a sudden force when your Spidey Sense didn’t alert you in time to the swing of his head, horn catching your side with an ominous grinding sound ringing in your ears. Immediate pain tore a gasp from you before you found yourself being launched, flying through the air before the solid contact of a building would break your fall. That attack held enough strength to not only knock the air from your lungs but definitely possibly break something, if the burning pain in your side was enough to go back. You could hear how the wall behind you fell apart, chunks of the now crumbling building collapsing along your back and shoulders. You only steadied yourself just enough to avoid another strike.

“You’re sloppy compared to him.” The Rhino’s insult hurt more than it should have. He reared his head back before slamming it down. Hard. Rolling saved you from an impalement. A shot of web to the nearest building would have pulled you away if a pressure around your ankle didn’t suddenly ground you. Fear rippled just as your Spider Sense warned you of the hit that would catch the center of your back. It was too late to dodge it, the brunt of the force bouncing your body completely off the now shattered asphalt. A pained noise was swallowed up by another when a hit to the side brought with it white hot pain that blossomed through your ribs, accompanying the previous pain. You were skipped like a rock, bouncing across the ground until you caught the edge of a building, which sent you twirling until you ended up flat on your front, choking and wheezing out wet breaths. You could taste your blood before you felt it trickle down your chin, a split lip the source. At first you couldn’t move, only keep your head raised to watch as Rhino balanced on his feet, stirring up more dust and steam with him ominously. Stomping. Preparing for something. Then you had to move, the warning creeping down your back almost overshadowed by the pain in your ribs. 

Rhino’s first charge shook the ground, barely avoided only by throwing yourself to the side and wobbling up to a knee. The second charge was avoided by a jerk of your web, pulling you to the top of one of the buildings where you flopped onto your back. It hurts to breathe. Hell, it hurt to even think about moving, but a glance at your watch had you forcing yourself to a stance despite your gasps and groans of pain. 

Five minutes.

You had five minutes before Lyla sent Miguel after you. Spitting the blood from your lip, you immediately turned just in time to feel the building being caught in his path. Walls collapsed and the roof disappeared out from underneath you, making you move despite the aches burning through your body. Swinging high, you watched how Rhino shook off the debris as though they were nothing and locked eyes onto you, watching you land on another building. Steam hissed as he turned.

“Bring me the real Spider.” He demanded once again, crouching low.

“Take a number, I think he’s busy right now.” Rhino’s snort turned into an agitated baring of teeth.

“I bet killing you and waving your body around like a flag of war will put me up on his priority list.”

What could you say to that? You’ve faced hearts before, certainly, but the genuine fury he conveyed in that one sentence promising your death had chills breaking out through your body. This was no longer something to try and win Miguel’s attention with. No.

This was a life or death situation.

Cover shots of web to the face and ankles tripped up his next charge, making him stumble as you angled yourself behind him. With how big he was climbing up his back felt similar to rock-climbing, hands latching onto edges of metal with the webbing of your palms your only lifeline. It didn’t take him long to figure out where you went once he tore the web from him, which set into motion an immediate motion of thrashing and kicking. Had this been any other situation you would have made a joke of ‘lasting eight seconds’, but there was an inkling of fear that the moment he got you off would be your last that made you hold your smart comments. It took all the strength your tired body could manage to cling to him, fighting against the jerking motions and his cluttered attempts to grab you. Curling low behind his back you angled just behind his hand, hands raised up in a cupped fist that you brought down in a single hit, right where the armor had a weakened split in it. You hit flesh, feeling how it gave under your touch. You knew he should have gone down with that hit.

He didn’t.

You let loose a barrage of strikes and hits, desperately aiming for those weakened areas between joints and spots of armor. You were hitting flesh. You could feel it. Even felt when you dented parts of his metal, but it did nothing to slow him down. Exhaustion finally peaked and you grew lazy, a noticeable shake obvious when he grabbed and threw you to the side, swatting you away like an annoying bug. Rhino’s steps were slow. Hammering nails in the coffin he had built for you until he finally caught you, dangling you up by both arms grasped in one massive hand. You wiggled and kicked until his other hand snatched up the leg and gave a firm tug.

“Would you grow your limbs back like a real spider if I tore them off?”

For the first time in a while, you felt like crying.

Miguel was right.

You wouldn’t get to tell him now, but he was right and you were about to face the ultimate consequence for it. You decided on closing your eyes, focused not on the pain from his grasp and tugging but on anything else you could. If you were going to die you didn’t want to die suffering. You could only hope that his slaughter would be quick. It wouldn’t be entirely painless, but if it was quick you wouldn’t have to suffer.

But it never came.

Rhino heard it before you did. The familiar grinding of particles on particles that happened when a split occurred in a Dimension. A low, humming sound much like a machine starting up before neon orange webbing shot from the portal that had appeared directly above. Rhino’s arms were looped and when he looked up it was in time to find a new figure latched onto him.

Miguel O’hara came out of the portal maskless, fangs bared, and showcasing enough raw strength that you would have been impressed if you could keep awake. But the moment you were dropped, slumping with a soft thump, you were lost to a growing darkness. Through your blurry vision you could make out figures. Then Miguel’s back through his suit. Then Rhino, pushed to the ground under the man above him, who was absolutely shredding through the armor the man wore. A combination of the talons on his hands and feet and the blades out of his arms did a number on the Villain, who turned from screaming in anger to anguish. Then asking for mercy.

A dry sensation settled in your throat and something in you absolutely throbbed at the scene.

Miguel, while not known for his calm disposition, had always remained mostly in control. You’ve seen him get upset enough to throw things or curse, or even bare his fangs, but you had never seen him assault someone like he assaulted the Rhino before you. The sounds made from how his armor was being shredded hurt your already pounding head, but Miguel didn’t seem to care. Tearing piece by piece until the front half was exposed, all bruised and cut flesh as the Rhino screamed for mercy. Gone was the beast who threatened you and instead was the man who begged for his life. With him so exposed Miguel reared back, fangs bared bright under the moonlight, and latched himself directly to the exposed portion of the man’s neck.

And he was not gentle.

Blood spilled around his mouth, pouring like a river of red as the pained screams turned into a weak, terrified gurgle. You closed your eyes, certain Rhino was dead. You could hear and feel when his body was completely dropped, followed by the deep, frantic breaths of Miguel that followed. Then silence.

Then the sounds of shuffling and you were picked up despite your grunt of complaint at the pain in your sides-no, your entire body. 

“ Está bien, lo prometo. ” The soft mutter didn’t seem to fit the Miguel you had seen a moment before, something that urged you to try and open your eyes. Although he was blurry, he was there. Fangs still exposed, though only the tips past bloodied lips. Those eyes were still a blazing red and you could see the anger still simmering underneath. But beneath it was something else. Another emotion you couldn’t place before you were closing your eyes again. Your mask was tugged up slowly, a chance for you to argue, before Miguel completely removed it and looked you over. Even with your eyes closed you could feel his stare and knew it was definitely directed to the split lip.

“Where hurts?”

“Everywhere.” A small noise, unamused.

“Lyla.” A pause. No real sign that the AI had appeared, but you heard her the moment she did.

“Shit.” Her worry made you feel sick. You tried to turn your head away from the voice but a hand stopped you. Miguel’s hand, who was absently stroking at the hurt lip with his thumb, ignoring your slight hisses of pain.

“Open a portal directly to med. And do a full scan.” Lyla gave no smart comment. Behind your closed eyes, a brief flicker of orange light had you wincing and you shifted, tried to settle up further. Miguel’s body, almost bent over your own to steady you, kept you grounded and still.

“Broken rib.” She finally said and you sighed. “Almost got your lung. Going to need some bedrest for sure.” At that you groaned loudly, annoyance heavy. You hated bedrest. You and every other Spider there, because it meant it wasn’t something your enhanced healing could just deal with with a couple days of light duty. It was something serious and nobody liked it when it was serious. You heard the opening of another portal before Lyla spoke again.

“What about the big guy?”

Rhino.

“He has enough venom in him to be out for a day at least.” Miguel sounded certain, a slight hiss to his words. The grip on you as he curled his arms to lift you tightened just a hare and you winced. It softened immediately. “Call Jess to pick him up.”

“Aye, aye.” You knew Lyla was gone then, the portal swallowing you both as Miguel carried you through. You wouldn’t bother trying to open your eyes, content with turning to press your cheek to the collarbone of the surprisingly warm man carrying you. Miguel didn’t nudge you off or speak about it, but you felt how he tensed when other Spiders took notice of the two of you. Despite appearing before the medical wing of HQ, there were still a handful of Spiders there. Nobody is as serious of a condition as you, so it definitely drew attention when Miguel O’hara came in carrying an injured you. If they tried to approach you wouldn’t know, but you had a sneaking suspicion the way Miguel’s muscles tightened under your cheek as he turned his head had something to do with how unbothered you both were. 2099’s technology would provide top of the line, especially in this HQ. Miguel spared no expenses in that regard, knowing what it means if a Spider gets gravely injured. There were no Spider Doctors or Nurses, just AI programmed bots that provided the necessary care, stocked tight with the technology Miguel himself had messed around with. A few more steps then you were being shifted. You tried to cling to him for a moment longer, nerves lighting up but he shushed and dropped you further.

“ Estás bien. ” 

Those words were warm enough that when you touched the bed and the bots around you injected you with something, you were out like a light.

You woke up startled, voice raspy and hand desperately reaching for the water the bot at the side of the bed was offering you. The lighting of the room had been lowered, possibly to make it easier to sleep. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust and you settled slowly. You were in HQ. You weren’t underground, dead, in some Dimension that wasn’t even your own. The bot at your bedside rounded and glanced over vitals before moving towards the end of the bed, where it seemed to mess with something connected to the end. Your chart. It was updated and then the glowing eyes settled on you.

“You have been ordered to bed rest. Two days minimum.” You blinked and shifted higher up, releasing a soft hiss at the pain in your side. Your suit had been removed, more than likely by the bots, and you were in a gown with easy access to the injured areas. A glance caught an IV strapped to the back of your right hand, which you held up in question.

“What is this?”

“Pain medication.” The bot answered with a smile on its face. “You will be on that for only one day. Your enhanced healing means the bones will mend quickly, but it will be painful.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t exactly been this hurt before. In fact, this would be the first time you had found yourself staying overnight in the medical unit at HQ. It was strangely lonely. Filled with bots that moved around, but empty beds to accompany them. Besides you, nobody else was there. Not that you could get up to look around. At the thought of your bones mending you knew you wouldn’t be moving for the next day. Hell, sitting up already winded you and took more energy than you had hoped. 

“You’re lucky that’s all it is.”

Miguel.

You jerked immediately as you had started to relax back into bed, body lurching awkwardly. The pained noise you let out immediately had the bot at your side, sparing concerned glances over your body. But you paid it no mind. Not when you were looking at Miguel, unmasked and standing stiff in the entrance of the room. The bots didn’t spare him a glance even as he started to walk past them, marching a clean trail to the side of your bed. 

“Lights, twenty percent.” They raised slightly and you could make out the frown on his face clearly. Not just the lingering red in his eyes, swirling with that tamed anger lurking beneath the surface. He settled into the chair at the side of the bed and crossed his arms, watching you.

You squirmed.

“Sir, I-”

“No.” A hand was held up and you immediately closed your mouth. “You’re not going to speak. You’re going to listen for a moment. One moment. Can you do that?”

It pained you to not give him a smart retort, but you settled for a nod instead.

“You left on your own after I told you not to.” Your eyes dipped away, but a hand found your chin and he ‘tsked’ lightly. “No, look at me. You ran away and nearly got yourself killed for it. Mierda. If I hadn’t gotten there when I did, what do you think would have happened?” When you didn’t respond his thumb lightly dug into your jaw. 

“I would have…”

“Yes, you would have died. Muerta. ” He frowned harder and you noticed the darkness under his eyes then. Stress lines made him look older than he was and you wondered if they would go away at a gentle touch.

Bad time to be thinking about that.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” You blinked and he brought his hand down, letting it hover just under your chin. Hovering to touch or pull away. “Why did you…?” He fought. A moment of struggle on not what to say but instead to reign in the edging of anger in his eyes. Red turned vibrant and you looked down when you noticed the poking of fangs just barely in sight.

“I…”

I wanted to impress you.

I wanted you to be proud.

I wanted to hear you call me ‘my girl’ again.

What was there to say at that moment? Nothing. There was nothing you could say that wouldn’t dig you further into your own grave, so you looked away again. That had been the wrong answer. Thick fingers and a firm grip turned you back to him and you felt that heart-racing feeling claw its way back up to your throat, suffocating under his wide-eyed look.

“Tell me.” An order. No longer a question, but a demand you inform him what pushed you to disobey him. Panic rose when his grip tightened. Nerves edging on too much as you couldn’t take a deep enough breath to even calm yourself without pain. That panic pushed you suddenly and your eyes snapped shut as you blubbered out a handful of words, barely pieced together to form a sentence.

“I liked it when you said ‘that’s my girl’!”

This was it. No chance to take the words back. Even though you refused to open your eyes, too focused on the thundering of your heart and shaking of your hands on your lap, you could feel his stare on your face. You wouldn’t dare to look at him. You were terrified of his reaction. Would he be disappointed? Would he discharge you, possibly for good? There was no logical reason you could think of for him to keep you. In all honesty, discharging would be the better of the two options. At least then you wouldn’t have to look at him again, instead left to swallow your shame and guilt in the privacy of your own Dimension.

The silence that followed was definitely not helping.

“That’s it.” A statement. A shocked, wide-eyed statement followed by the slightest cock of his eyebrow. The moment he spoke you opened your eyes and found his face much closer than you had realized. You almost jerked away had he not held you firm enough. At this angle you could see how the red bled from his eyes, edging away back to the familiar brown they were. Surprisingly, he wasn’t angry. Not in the way you had been expecting, at least. There wasn’t even disappointment in his eyes. Just a curious look edged with worry whenever he looked down for far too long and caught the split in your lip, something that reminded him of how injured you still were. You swallowed and his eyes caught the motion.

“That’s…it.” At your response he pulled back slightly, fingers ghosting over the bruising of your jaw as if fully registering he had been touching you this entire time. Silence again. You could hear the monitor picking up on your racing heart. Miguel noticed it too, though he didn"t look at the machine. Just you. 

Then he laughed.

It wasn’t loud like Peter B’s laugh, but it definitely wasn’t reserved like most of his displays had been in the past. A rolling laugh that started low in his chest and turned into a soft rumble, lips barely parted and head tilting down as he finally pulled away to stroke strands of his hair back from his face. When he settled a look on you again you were easily flustered down past your throat.

“You…put yourself in danger to hear me say, oh, what was it again?”

“Don’t.” You were mortified. Was this your punishment? Was this really going to be a teaching moment? You would rather have house arrest or being fired than deal with the look he was giving you now. While it had been a personal goal to make Miguel laugh or smile when you could, to see if it could be done, this wasn’t what you wanted. Miguel didn’t listen to your words, bending close once more that you caught his gaze. Trapped. A loose grip on your jaw from his hand held you steady.

“That’s my girl.”

Immediately, the monitor hooked up to your heart startled to life once more and an alarmed bot came over to investigate. Your eyes closed in mortification. Even now, in such a moment, those words felt intimate. Private. Reserved just for you with a special tone to boot: a warm, lowered voice like a whisper through parted lips, practically kissing the words into you. Being as observant as he was, he spotted everything. From the monitor to your hands tangled in the sheets to the sweat on your neck. Everything.

S-sorry, sir.”

“Miguel.” He muttered. You stared at him. “I wasn’t…aware such a thing would affect you so strongly.” At his admittance you tried to avert your gaze. A thumb stroked along your cheek and urged you to look back. When you followed the touch his lips lightly twitched up.

“Please, can we just forget about this and you put me on community service or something?”

“Oh, no.” Miguel released you, standing full height suddenly and crossing his arms as he caged you in. He was bent over you, trapping you beneath presence alone without having to touch you. “You risked your life. I hate to tell you this, but your life is worth more than community service.”

“Then what is it worth?” You asked. Miguel didn’t answer at first and you began to wonder if he was going to. The brown in his eyes danced back to the ruby that edged just before crimson before he blinked it away, simmering down the wave of anger before it broke through. You weren’t entirely sure why those words seemed to burn him so much, edging him towards a new wave of anger, but they did. He didn’t speak, instead moving towards the end of the bed to glance at the chart down there.

“When you’re dismissed from here, come see me.” He didn’t immediately move.

“Yes, sir.”

“Miguel.” He corrected suddenly and you felt your mouth snap shut. He waited again and you took a deep, painful breath.

“Miguel.” His name felt weird to say, almost forbidden in a sense. However, there must have been something about the way you said it that Miguel liked, because his eyes flickered between that red and brown for a moment and his lips twitched upwards. You expected him to speak, but he shocked you once more by turning and leaving without another word.

What the fuck?

The bot who administered care to you would try to push programmed concern onto you, urging you to relax, but its words went in one ear and out the other. Even as you dropped back to the bed with a pained noise, caught between a cough and wheeze, you found yourself drifting. Whatever happened had definitely happened. You weren’t asleep and you weren’t dreaming.

Miguel O’hara now knows your dirty secret.

Treatment would prove a wonderful distraction. With the most up to date technology there was, you found that the pain edging in your ribs could definitely be ignored after a constant stream of painkillers being dosed into you. Nobody else would come to visit. Whether that was based upon orders or they were all too busy you wouldn’t know, just that you were bored for the next two days without any interaction outside of the tumbling robots around you. Your watch did, in fact, have games attached to it that provided some entertainment. You were able to catch up on the news from your own Dimension from it, something you were thankful for. Nothing seemed to be happening as of the moment. Another thing you were grateful for.

A mixture of enhanced healing and miracle drugs from the future proved to be the necessary cocktail needed for you to heal up quickly. Those two days took forever, but the moment you were cleared and able to move with only a little bit of tightness in your body were you immediately out the door. Only then would you be confronted by others, all of whom were immediately greeting you with worried hugs. It seems Miguel had ordered you to be left alone while you recovered, something you learned when Peter B. had popped up immediately, Mayday thrust to your arms. It was a temporary reunion between you all, broken up by the memory of Miguel’s order: to come see him. Although you wanted to linger and see everyone, you knew making Miguel wait wouldn’t be the correct move. So, you found yourself nudging through Spider after Spider, politely promising you would catch up with everyone at another time. It was easy to tell them a simple ‘mission gone wrong’ had been what happened, but the lingering Jess who watched you pass by seemed to be the only one who looked at you with something different. Not worry like the others. Something almost like amusement as you edged towards Miguel’s office.

Well, his cave would be more accurate, not that you would call it that to his face. The doors opened and snapped quietly behind you, a hiss the only warning they had even sealed properly. It was dark, as it always was for this man. You and many others knew of his sensitivity to light. This left only the ominous glow of orange on the monitors being the only source of light. You could hear him typing away above you on the raised platform, muttering to what you assumed would be Lyla, not that you heard her responding. Even with your enhanced hearing you couldn’t make out what was said until it was too late and he silenced himself, the only prominent sound now the typing. You wouldn’t wait for him to lower the platform, not that he was going to lower it to begin with, so you swung yourself up quickly with a jerk of webbing. Lyla was over Miguel’s shoulder with her back to you. She wouldn’t look back, instead flickering the moment you touched down and you found yourself drawn to Miguel. He was still typing and you tried to be polite to not look at the monitors pulled up, aware of what sensitive information could be on display. But this time, there was no sensitive information.

There was you.

Something sour formed in your throat at the image of you being dangled from Rhino’s grip, bleeding and on the edge of death. From an outsider’s glance you realized just how badly he had actually managed to damage you, bruising and blood splattered across your body. Even your suit had taken damage to it.

‘Would you grow your limbs back like a real spider if I tore them off?’

That one line continued to replay, the same ten seconds of torture burning bright before you on the big screen. It always stopped just before Miguel had appeared, resetting back to the moment Rhino caught your kick. You felt sick. No, you felt guilty. Clenching your hands, you tried to steel yourself and stand to your full height. On another screen there was a report. A report on the mission that you couldn’t write after having been put to bedrest. Miguel’s body was tense, muscle poised tight and rigid, and you hoped it was from the replaying scene on the screen. However, the goosebumps traveling up your spine told you it was more than that.

“Miguel.” It felt weird now to say his name, but he acknowledged you with a grunt, his hands finally pausing over keys. He straightened to his full height, shoulders squared back to show the muscles that danced, then turned to look over his shoulder at you. You didn’t know what you were supposed to expect. Those red eyes trapped you where you stood, bright and deadly in the darkness of the room. A hiccup of nerves was swallowed down and you fought to not lose his graze. The corners of his eyes crinkled when they narrowed.

“Lyla.” The AI immediately appeared once more, a nervous look on her face when she caught sight of you and him. “Leave. Lock the doors to this room and make sure if anyone wants in that someone else better be dying or the multiverse collapsing.”

Shit.

“Sure, boss man.” A glance was spared your way from the AI, a final ‘sorry’ mouthed as she flickered away. 

And suddenly you were alone with Miguel O’hara, who moved with the grace of a predator. It reminded you of the freshly opened New York Zoo in your home Dimension, when they had imported a tiger from someone’s home. It was to be rehabilitated and used as an education animal for the lessons they offered throughout the week. During the learning session, where an experienced keeper stood in the center of the open area and spoke about the tiger, the beast circled him. Constantly. Simply watching him. It would never strike, but the way it watched set your nerves on edge that the man could be in very real danger. That’s what you felt now as Miguel began to circle the edge of the platform, hands on his waist and gaze never once straying.

He was definitely upset.

“Do I get a chance to defend myself?” You asked, hoping at least one joke to lessen the tension. At the cock of an eyebrow, you realized it wouldn’t.

“You’ve already given your reasoning.” Your cheeks immediately burned. “Now, all that’s left is to punish someone who decided to go against my word and run off on their own and almost get themselves killed for it.” As he spoke he drew closer, each step reminding you briefly of when Rhino approached you. A nail hammered in your own coffin. You wouldn’t back away, remaining poised and watching him. As his steps grew louder the edges of those familiar fangs poked out over his lower lip. Red was overtaking brown in his gaze and you could only keep up with his pace, turning to watch as he circled closer and closer. Never letting him get behind you.

“I would have been fine if-”

“If someone else had been there.” In a sweeping, fast motion he was closer. Coiled tight, like he was actually ready to strike, you found yourself pausing in movements. Annoyance filtered into concern then back to a steadily rising anger on his face, emotions surprisingly obvious on his face. “Do you know what would have happened if I hadn’t been there?” He never waited for a possible answer, swooping in behind you. His speed reminded you that while you weren’t exactly human anymore, Miguel was something different. With strong hands he turned you to face the monitor of yourself strung up and dripping blood. If his touch didn’t kickstart your heart into a fast beat, the image before you did. Miguel nudged you closer to the desk, keeping you just in front of him. Only when your thighs brushed the table, nose practically at the monitors, did he stop and catch you by the jaw again. His right arm curved around you, practically cradling you to him as he angled your jaw up to look at the image. You felt his breath on your ear before you heard him speak, making you tense. In this position you could really feel how much taller he was than you. A blanket of warmth and anger that swallowed you whole.

“If I hadn’t shown up, you would have been torn apart before I realized where you were. I wouldn’t be here with you like I am. I wouldn’t be writing a report about how you almost died, it would be about how you died.” He was hissing, sudden desperation underlying his tone. The words hurt him to say, made obvious by the talons now edging at your jaw, threatening to puncture if he increased even just a bit of pressure on his hold of you. For once, you did what was smart and held your mouth shut. You dared a glance up to catch Miguel’s own face.

He was staring down at you.

“I was angry.” Not a shocking admittance, but his hold softened further and you felt how his talons shifted off. “But I was…more terrified than angry, querida .” His gaze shifted to the image before you both and you caught the way he looked…tired under the orange light of the monitors. Exhausted. As if he hadn’t been sleeping well. “You could have died and I wouldn’t have…” You became aware of something then. The way he held you and talked to you wasn’t something of anger or disappointment, despite knowing you deserve both, his frustration didn’t come from just that.

He was worried about you.

This definitely felt like a punishment now. Guilt settled heavily into your chest and stomach, twisting into a devastating sour feeling that had you closing your eyes. Miguel released your jaw and reached over to turn off the monitors, light fading and leaving you cast in a broken darkness only disrupted by the handful of low lights. He didn’t let you go, not yet, with his freed arm dropping to further cage you against the desk. Both arms latched onto the edge and you heard how it dented slightly under his grip.

“I’m sorry.” The words were whispered and you heard how the table took more damage as his grip increased. Even if his senses weren’t as enhanced as they were he was close enough that you could whisper those words into his ear. “I didn’t…I wasn’t thinking. I was so caught up in gaining attention from you that I...didn’t…well.”

“Sólo te he mirado aquí.. ” 

“I can’t speak spanish.” You admitted softly and something seemed to shift. Miguel laughed again, low and rumbling like the one from before and you felt the sour feeling in your stomach lifting. As well as his arms, which lifted to curl lightly around you, clutching you back to the warmth his chest offered you. A warmth that settled heavily in your chest, spreading out even to the tips of your fingers in gentle shocks. Both of his hands traversed down to your sides, just above your hips, to hold you firmly as he muttered into your neck.

“You already have my attention.”

No response could have come before he was already moving, far too fast with his experience and genetics to have been deterred as he spun you to press your lower back to the table. It hurt when he pressed you further into it by folding his body into yours, but you didn’t have a second to focus on that before you were being kissed. You’ve imagined kissing him before. You thought maybe he would one day lean down, say those magical words and kiss you on the forehead, or maybe the cheek. Perhaps he would wait until you were alone and pull you into a gentle press of lips, to convey just how much you meant to him in a private display meant for only you two.

The real experience of kissing Miguel felt like the last time you would ever kiss him. A starved man given his final meal before deathrow, offered up the finest of dishes with the promise he would never have it again. He kissed like he knew this could be the only time it would be shared and he was going to get every bit of pleasure he could from it, teeth and tongue working to milk sounds from you that he swallowed. Any hope of keeping pace with him flew out the window when his tongue brushed over your teeth, tasting all corners of your mouth he could. When you tried to mimic his movements, head growing dizzy from lack of oxygen and the overwhelming pressure his mouth gave, you found yourself choking on a shocked noise: his fangs. They were out, curved and sharp enough to prick your tongue lightly when you licked them. But licking along them brought from Miguel the most delicious of shivers: a full body spasm as his hands released you to settle on mauling the table behind you instead, bending the edges with a deep grasp of taloned fingertips.

He broke the kiss first and was panting into your neck, lips and fangs and tongue working to scrape the flesh there.

“I should wait.” He admitted, yet he didn’t stop. His fangs scraped a path up, threatening to puncture and never doing so, which he followed with a swipe of his tongue to taste the goosebumps. “You deserve a proper bed. A proper date. A proper night out not-”

“Fuck, just. Don’t stop, please.” Miguel, who only had the briefest pause as though debating in his mind about how long it would take for him to actually get you both to his room, fell into your words easily. Mouth fitting to your neck, he followed a blazing trail up to tenderly nip and kiss at your ear, practically purring when you arched after his mouth. One hand broke free of the deadly grasp on the table to grip at your waist and pull you to press completely on him, bodies curved into one another so that you could properly feel him. Hands on his torso you traced the muscle there, feeling the slightest twitches where your fingertips touched. His suit was thin, pliant enough you could easily feel him through it, made obvious by the press of hardness to your thigh that had you facing a startling realization:

You were about to fuck Miguel O’hara.

“I promise I’ll take you to bed tonight.” He whispered it like praise, voice running low. Desperate. Heated. He spoke like he kissed in this moment, like these would be the last moments shared between you both and his words could mean nothing tomorrow. A hand fought to find the slit in your waist where top and bottom of the suit separated as he continued to mutter between mouthing affections. “I’ll take my time with you there. I’ll worship you. Haré lo que me digas , but I can’t-I don’t want to wait. I almost lost you before I had you, please, let me-”

Begging. Miguel O’hara was begging, his pleas turning to near blubbering when his hands couldn’t find the edge of your suit. A frustrated noise left and before your offer to remove it could even leave your lips he was tearing it apart with talons, relishing in the shocked gasp that came from the action. Miguel for as hot as he was naturally kept the room surprisingly cold, which immediately chilled your body with it pressed to the desk. Miguel didn’t care. He offered up enough heat for the two of you. Feeling bare and exposed, your hands drifted off his chest to cover yourself almost without thought. He was quick, a hand already coming up to touch at a breast and feeling the hard nipple underneath, hissing words into the skin under your jaw.

“Don’t.” A warning, low in his throat, and he was kissing at your collarbone, body lowering bit by bit. But you couldn’t focus. Not when fingers edging too sharp the appearance and disappearance of talons prickled at your flesh, rolling a breast between fingers. Your gasp and immediately clench on nothing had you arching off the table and a hand curving up to the back of his neck, the other reaching back to hold you upright for him. His hand on the table shattered part of the edge and he was groaning in time with your sounds, as if the pleasure you felt was burning through him as well. Rolling your nipple he dropped lower and finally brought it to his mouth.

“Mig-Miguel-” You were gasping for his name. His mouth was somehow hotter than the rest of his body, fangs cupping around the hard nipple like a brace while his tongue swirled and brushed over it. He sucked on one as the hand previously occupied moved over to the other breast, nearly knocking you back with the pressure he provided. No longer did he try to hide his talons, fully aware of them and trying to keep the light scratches to a minimum. The twinge of pain in your ribs at a particularly rough movement was drowned out by pleasure.

You were dripping.

There was a moment you could tell Miguel became aware of this fact. How his mouth and hands had worked you to a new edge, legs shaking and cunt pulsating on the bare table, slick starting to puddle between your thighs. When the first drop hit the ground his ministrations stopped and he pulled back to pant, drool on his lip. He inhaled deeply, taking in a scent you couldn’t find and looked up at you with wide, bright eyes that shone through the dim lighting.

“You’re so wet.” He spoke as though it was a new revelation to him that you could possibly be turned on from his touches. A solid reminder that this was real. Your fingers nervously played with the shorter hair at the base of his neck and you flushed bright, looking to the side.

“I-, well, you’re making me feel good, so-”

“Let me taste you.” You blinked. Taste you? Did he mean?

“You don’t-”

“Please.” It was strange. Watching this large man, who had been a tornado of emotions earlier drop to one knee eager, head arched up and flushed so pretty like before you. His hands dropped to your thighs and rubbed circles with his thumbs, trying to open you up slowly for him. “Please, let me, I can’t. I need to taste you.” He was certainly convincing when he wanted to be. You couldn’t trust your words, so you nodded, bringing a hand up to the top of his head to gently guide him. Miguel’s smile was low, almost awkward on his face. Like he didn’t do it enough to know how it set and he brought a hand up to curl over your own, urging you to grip harder. Then harder. Then-

“You can pull.” 

Oh. Oh.

A gentle tug at his hair and he hissed, smile dropping to a bare of teeth and you could see the hardness between his kneeling, spread legs twitch under the thin material of his suit. At this angle, you could see just how big he was, with the tip reaching far enough up it would have peaked out if his suit was anything like your own.

“Harder.” He ordered, but it broke into something weak when you did just as he asked. In return to his moan you moaned as well, a squeaking sound when he forced your legs open and finally dove in.

Miguel ate you out like a starved man too. The groans and wet sounds he made the moment his tongue came into contact with you could only confirm how desperate he had actually been for such an activity. He was gasping and moaning his relief into you, vibrations burning hot on your already swollen clit as he lapped loosely at your clenching hole first, edging around it and pressing in to feel how tight you were. Satisfied, and shivering from how tight you promised to be, he pulled up to press his nose at the top of your pubic bone and swirled that tongue harshly around your clit.

The fire he had burned into you turned into a thunderstorm, bolts of lightning dashing through every nerve ending you had. Your sounds were edging onto your own form of desperation, broken words turning into gasps of his name and loud, whining sounds that bounced from the room. There were the briefest of moments you worried someone could hear or Lyla was still around, but a particularly harsh press and roll of his tongue absolutely destroyed any worries you had. Both hands focused on his hair, tugging and twisting the strands to urge him further into you, feeling how his hands clasped tighter and tighter around your thighs. The talons on the pads of his fingers dug in harsh enough to finally pierce skin, pain blending into the perks of pleasure. So far gone as you were, you wouldn’t have noticed if he had turned and decided to lay fangs into your thigh, something you thought he was going to do when he did pull to turn and lap at slick that had spread to one thigh. But one hand on your thigh pulled back and the talons of two fingers retracted as he continued to kiss motions into your thigh, mouthing lines along. He grunted when pressing both fingers along your slit to wet them with the slick there before he edged towards your opening.

“Fuck, why are you so tight around me?” One finger alone of his filled you up, the other wet finger brushing just at your clit. When he looked up at you, face wet and a flush burning up to the tips of his ears, you moaned. “You’ll need to take three of my fingers first, love. Okay? Think you can do that for me?” You wanted to say no. One finger had filled you up enough, you could only imagine what three would do for you, but the look in his eyes was a wild, eager one and you found yourself nodding.

“That’s my girl.”

Your first orgasm came through without warning at those words. Maybe it was because he turned to kiss at your clit again, spurred on by both your taste and scent to immediately dive back in, but you fell apart immediately. It felt draining when it poured through you, starting from a light-headed feeling to the burning pressure of your toes curling into a painful arch. Both hands pulled him flat to your cunt and he was pumping that finger loosely, enjoying how your walls fluttered around him. His tongue resumed the harsh pace from before and somewhere in the orgasm the second finger finally broke through, filling in next to the first and you were throwing yourself back to the table, unable to hold up anymore. Miguel didn’t relent. Although his torture on your clit haulted long enough for the tears in your eyes edge away, heart falling to a calmer pace, his fingers remained planted up tot he knuckle in you, wiggling occasionally whenever you clenched a little too hard.

“Shit, I don’t-” He moved his fingers once more and your tender moan was almost drowned out by the squelch. There was so much slick now he had hardly any resistance when he moved his fingers, something that had him aching. He spread his legs further to ease up the ache below. “I won’t last inside of you, love. Fuck, I’ll have to- mierda, te lo compensaré esta noche, lo prometo. ”

“Please, just-”

The third finger was wet and edging around your hole, but your nervous whine had him shushing you with a free hand moving to touch your lower stomach.

“Shh, you’ll handle it just fine. You’re my girl, all mine, you can handle it, right?”

Fuck with your weakness exploited, and your body so loose and pliant from your first orgasm, all you could do was cross both arms over your face to hide your blush and nod.

Miguel went back to work almost immediately, mouth opening to practically swallow your cunt.

Those two fangs brought a new danger to the game. Both outlined around the edges of your clit, hanging just out of reach in the most dangerous game of edging you could have engaged in. A warning to not thrash or move too much despite how sensitive you were. Despite how his tongue burned a hot path around your clit, the tip barely touched you before the flat of it slapped into the bundle of nerves suddenly. You still tugged at his hair, urging him closer as his two fingers picked up a quick pace. That third finger was still there but forgotten about as another orgasm was being forced out of you, his pace never letting up. He had a goal in mind and no amount of tears starting to gather or your loud, aching moans could convince him to stop. That familiar coil started to gather again low in your stomach and he became aware when your body began to curl, tightening and spasming lightly around him.

He pulled back.

Despite having fingers buried deep inside you, without the stimulation to your clit you were left hanging over the edge, hips raising to chase that mouth once more as he gasped and panting. Gyrating up, your hips desperately sought out relief he wasn’t immediately giving, no matter how much you tugged at his hair and began to beg.

“Miguel, no, please, wait keep- don’t do-do that, come on.” Those whines, that begging went straight to his cock, finally getting freedom when he released the groin of his suit. Going commando under such a suit had benefits to it, something not just you and Miguel could appreciate. And in this moment it was the greatest idea he had ever had. His hard cock bobbed with a slap of pre-cum dribbling to the ground, his thighs clenching when the cool air hit him. It was lewd to see the man"s knees parted open, cock draped down and leaking, and mouth curved open as he gasped your name in return.

“Come on my face.” He ordered, but there was the hint of something else there. No longer was the man someone in charge of you. Not now, as this man was kneeling before you, worshiping you with his mouth and tongue and fingers, and finally pressing that third finger in so suddenly that he drowned out your uncomfortable pain with an eager, pathetic noise of content at tasting you again. This time he was unstoppable, hips twitching in small, barely noticeable thrusts that made his cock bob. With three fingers inside you he could imagine your cunt around his cock now. He could imagine how you would absolutely milk him with every thrust and how he could only barely fit in you. The sound he released edged onto pathetic, something close to a sob lost in the sloshing sounds of him pleasuring you, his only free hand gripping your thigh with enough force to bruise his handprint into your skin. Urgently he tossed one of your legs over his shoulder and angled his head just right to swirl his tongue over your clit in such a way you finally saw stars, body thrashing on the table.

He didn’t stop.

Where as he had edged away from the previous motions, he didn’t this time, mouth angling to fit more and more of you in, his fingers desperately curling and finding that perfect, spongy spot to draw out your orgasm into something fierce enough that you were coating his face in slick now, drenching him.

He moaned so loud it traveled from your cunt to your chest, where you couldn’t breath. Stars behind your eyes turned to bright lights and there was the very real worry that you were going to fall into a state of unconsciousness right then and there because Miguel was not stopping. Not until you were curling up, gasping like you had breached the surface of the ocean and jerking almost in panic at his hair. You managed to wrangle him off once, slick pouring off his chin mixing with drool, but he choked on something of a whine and growl and immediately dove back in, fingers torn from inside you to spread that slick across your thigh as he pulled you even closer to him. You just knew you were smothering him between your thighs, but he didn’t care. God, he didn’t care, driven to some state of insatiable lust from whatever was eating away inside him, mouth curving so he could swipe from hole to clit.

Another jerk and he finally paused to rest his soaked chin on your lower stomach, blinking up at you as the glowing red numbed to a soft almost maroon color.

“Y-you’re going to kill me with your mouth.” You could barely speak. Your voice felt raw from the noises and you had to fight the full body tremors to get them out. Miguel blinked and you could tell he was finally back in the moment, releasing a slow, calming breath that did nothing for the bobbing cock below.

“I won’t last.” He almost sounded apologetic, but you were nudging him up by tugging at his hair, relishing in how his eyes fluttered shut at the action.

“I don’t care, just…you’ve made me feel really good, I want you to…”

How do you politely ask someone to fuck you? Hard.

Miguel moved with your hands, standing over you as you tucked your mouth against his neck, using blunt teeth to give him the same treatment he had offered you earlier. He hissed, whined, moaned, and so much more, delicious noises falling like rain from his parted lips. That untouched cock bobbed once more and you felt it soaking against your wet thigh, pulsing heat into the tense muscle. Miguel felt a twist in his chest when he dove to kiss you and you stopped him, hands on his chest pushing him away. There was a panic in his eyes suddenly. Confusion blurring to fear that you quieted by standing off the table on shaking legs and turning, bending to lay stomach down on the chilled furniture and spreading your legs open to give him a very good view of puffy, dripping lips.

“Can you…?” You didn’t want to say it, so you wiggled your hips just enough to catch his eyes and turned away, face burning bright enough to travel down your back.

Miguel didn’t hesitate to blanket himself over your body, his cock already notching between opened legs to search for your offering. He was panting, mouth opened to press blots of wet, drooling kisses at the muscle of your back. Settling on the back of your neck, he fought with the strangest urge: to bite. To mark you. A display of possession that would leave nobody questioning who you belonged to.

Dangerous thoughts those were, much like the other rawest form of possession he could give you.

“Where do you want me to…?” He wanted to make sure. Mistakes couldn’t be made, not in the heat of the moment, and he was barely in his right mind right now with his cock just gathering juices between your lips in gentle grinds. Talons caught your hips and you couldn’t speak, mind fogged with the temptation of angling your hips just right to have him pressing deep inside. The idea of a condom briefly fluttered through your thoughts.

“Inside.” You were on the pill, something Miguel should be aware of considering your medical file on record. The grip on your hips turned painful, marks digging in to bleed and scratch and he hissed suddenly, voice coming out so wrecked you almost fought another orgasm right there.

“Fuck, that’s my girl.”

Then he was inside you.

It took some work, the fat tip alone a hint at the girth to come following. You gasped at the first sign of penetration, then broke into a long, whining moan that broke into a near sob at the end when he paused: halfway through. Miguel was gentle despite how he was shaking. Something in him edged on snapping, made obvious by how he had to turn to snap briefly into the air, fangs giving a dangerous display of the control this man could lose. You couldn’t speak. Just grip at the table and nod when he could inch further in, pausing only when you made a noise of pain or distress.

When he finally made it to the base, you felt the table give way to the hands he placed beside your own, talons breaking through the steel of it.

“I-I won’t.” At the shattering tone he used, he whined and dropped his head to your back, hips twitching to move. He didn’t. Not at first. “I can’t. Fuck, you’re gripping me so tight, do you know how you feel around me? Please, I can’t last, I need to move, but I can’t-”

“F-fuck, Miguel, just come in me.” You pressed your hips back when you spoke. The table groaned under the pressure of his hands. “Y-you have more than earned t-that.”

“I earned it?” Something shifted in his tone, body laying flat to cover your own. Muscles were twitching all through him, small movements barely noticeable. “Please. Please let me-”

“Move.” You said. “Fuck me, come in me, we have all night to-”

Miguel’s first thrust rocked the table forward.

If you were anyone but a Spider-Person, you wouldn’t have survived having sex with Miguel. When he fucked you, he fucked with power. Stress bled into his movements, relief his own salvation that he fought to chase. He treated it almost like a fight, similar to how you had seen him wrangle Rhino into submission with webs and strength alone. You suddenly realized why Rhino had been so desperate for mercy, because Miguel was not a man to give any. Both of his arms locked around your torso, just under your out-stretched arms. You almost felt like you were reaching for something, maybe for your own version of mercy that wouldn’t come, but the almost immediate burning pleasure engulfed you. Tears were freely pouring now, body trapped between the rolling mass of muscle bucking against you and the table. If the table wasn’t bolted down or made into the platform you were on you were certain the would have fucked it completely over the edge. That girthy cock of his reached places you didn’t know a cock could read, wide tip smashing into something deep and aching with every thrust. The burning ache was numbed by the two orgasms you had experienced before, but it couldn’t nullify the intense pleasure.

Miguel was a monster when he fucked. Clawing at the table, biting into your shoulder with the tips of his fangs, only barely aware to keep from injecting you. Droplets of venom did burn over your shoulder, but he licked them away almost immediately, hot heat following where they were. You could only assume it didn’t affect him because for as much as he was ingesting he should have stopped moving long ago.

“This pussy is milking me so well, fuck, look at you. Taking me so well. Should have done this sooner. Could have avoided everything if I had just bent you over and fucked-shit!” You were massaging him, walls fluttering and slick dripping off his cock to the ground below. Whenever you tried to arch into his touch to angle him deeper his body folded. “I-inside you, right? ¿Puedo correrme dentro de ti ?”

He sounded so desperate, how were you supposed to tell him no? He was begging, a whine burning in his chest as deep, breaking breaths broke up all the sounds he made. Panting, choking, gasping: he couldn’t focus. Sweat burned like tears over his eyes and he was drooling into your back, fangs just pressing as he continued to beg you.

“Please, please, please-inside. Need to fill you. Need to.”

Whatever expectations you had about having sex with Miguel could not compare to this: to the desperate man who was baring all strength he could into his legs, slapping into you. He wasn’t even thrusting anymore, hips pressed flat against you and rolling his cock in deep, striking motions, just helplessly grinding. Both of his hands reached out far past your own and tore long, shredding lines through the table. A strong pulse of his cock inside you would serve as an undoing motion, especially with your clit forced so roughly against the edge of the table you were pinned to.

This time, you were certain you blacked out for a second, all sound and feelings being swallowed up by the wave of nirvana that took hold. Your heart slowed suddenly, the frantic beating settling to a low throbbing in your throat and clit, mouth hanging open to release some type of scream you couldn’t stop. Vaguely you were aware of Miguel saying your name. Of him still begging.

You nodded to the best of your ability and he folded completely, arms flattening alongside your own as he laced sharp fingers to your hands. The sensation of being filled would be the first physical sign to drag you out of your daze. Then the sounds of his whimpers that mixed into ‘thank you’s that burned hot on your shoulder, where his face was pressed harshly against. It took several more seconds of feeling him shakily grind, fucking his cum into you, for you to finally come entirely back to your body. A prickling sensation of nerves lit up your entire body and the ache in your ribs finally earned attention. Miguel was fighting something, arms shaking to keep his entire weight off you as he shook, vibrating with the feeling of his cock still lightly pulsing. Every three beats you could feel more cum loosely filling you until you were vaguely aware of it leaking out around him.

“Fuck.” When he cursed this time he sounded more like himself, voice still on edge of too rough and too high to completely be unbothered. Both of his hands came up to smooth along your arms and up to your face to turn you, where a thumb brushed over your lip. The split had reopened at some point. Miguel blinked the red away completely from his eyes and worry filtered in after a moment. “Are you still injured? Shit, I shouldn"t have-”

“Feels good.” You slurred the words, still dazed from everything that had happened. Miguel tensed, watching your face for something, then slowly relaxed as he chuckled low into your shoulder.

“I, ah, I see.” Miguel, with the stamina of some kind of monster, stood up on slightly shaking legs and made sure to ease himself out. Your whimper was soothed by a hand on your back.

Talons lightly prodded the flesh of your back when he watched cum leak from your abused, opened hole.

“Lyla.” When he said the name you immediately tried to get up, body twitching to stand but far too slow to react. Miguel’s hand spread out and the strength he had to exert was little to none to keep you pinned. 

“Yes boss-oh.” Hearing the AI above you, more than likely on your back, had you hiding your face in shame. “Damn, didn’t you had something like this in you-”

“Tell Jess she’s in charge for the next day, I have something to deal with.” His hand spread out to your side and the second one joined it, cupping on opposite ends. “And open a warp to dimension 11514.”

That was your dimension. Something settled heavily in your chest. Before you could speak, or question this, you were hauled up and pressed to Miguel’s body, his suit already replaced into form neatly. No mask, still, to see how soft his eyes had grown when he caught the bruising on your neck he had caused. Not remorseful by a longshot, proud even, but still such a gentle look. Lyla was on his shoulder now, purposely looking up like she couldn’t see anything despite her grin. Tucked against him like this, you could barely stand. If he decided to let go you would definitely drop.

“Gotcha’. Enjoy your vacation, boss.”

“It’s not a-” But she was gone and he sighed, turning to press his nose into your neck instead of arguing with the air. Behind him a portal whirred to life and he adjusted to look at your ruined suit behind you, an almost sheepish look in his eyes. Your hand came up slowly after a pause to hold his cheek, thumb edging along the prominent jawline he held.

“Don’t worry, I have other clothes.” You grinned. “And you can make me a new, better suit too.”

“As long as you don’t do what you did today.” There wasn’t exactly a promise, but you did relent with a nod, too fucked out to try and push his buttons. Miguel sighed, held you tighter to him, then dipped through the warp portal with you clinging to him, legs still refusing to work.