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“Why’s it so damn cold in here? Jesus…”
Miles rubs at his arms as he brings his knees to his chest, trying to conserve as much warmth as he can while he waits for Miguel. In theory, he could solve this problem on his own. He doesn’t have to sit in Miguel’s room in lingerie that barely covers his ass. He could crawl underneath the comforter and hope his reflexes were quick enough for him to scramble back out in time.
“You shouldn’t be waiting much longer.” Lyla spawns a few feet away from Miles’ face. “He’s back on base from the last anomaly, so unless he really takes his time making his way back up here, I’d say you’ve got a couple minutes of shivering left.”
The latter half of what she says falls on deaf ears. He yelps and jumps back across the bed, swiping a nearby pillow to cover himself. Her hologram flickers as she chuckles into her palm, riling Miles up even more. “Lyla!”
“What?” she asks, hands on her hips as she looks him up and down. “You realize I hear everything on this base, right? Everywhere, all the time. I have to listen if I’m gonna spawn in whenever someone calls my name.”
“You could at least pretend to give me some privacy, goddamn--” Miles shrinks back even further. “Stop staring!”
“I’m not staring! You look cute, Miles!” She says. “Come on. I’m the one who told you Miguel had a thing for lingerie and now you’re acting shy? We talked about this for half an hour!”
“Talking about it is different than you being in front of me— can you at least turn around?!”
At that, Lyla rolls her eyes, waving him off as she turns away from him. “Forget it. I said what I needed to say.” She tells him. “Oh, and by the way, Miguel’s moving faster than I estimated. He’s about ten seconds away now.”
Miles jumps up. “Wait— ten seconds? ”
“Five seconds!” Lyla looks back at him over her shoulder and waves with her fingers. “Have fun!”
She de-spawns before he can get another word out, leaving him to his own devices as the sound of Miguel’s footfalls come closer and closer. It was almost impressive how easily she obliterated his concentration. He appreciated the warning, but now all the courage he’d mustered had drained out of him like a sieve.
Despite trying to reposition himself, Miles is unprepared when the automatic doors slide open. Miguel lumbers into the room, shoulders sagged and the bags beneath his eyes even more pronounced than normal. His exhaustion leaves him in a trance, so much so that he’s halfway through peeling his hero-suit off before even realizing Miles is there.
Miles, for the life of him, cannot read the expression that washes over Miguel’s face. It isn’t anger, and it isn’t confusion, but it makes his spider-senses tingle in the back of his spine. In Mile’s opinion, they worked like a stovetop burner, not a switch that flipped on and off at random. Sometimes certain situations could feel more dangerous than others and Miguel’s unwavering stare has them stuck somewhere around medium-high.
“....Sooo, how was the villain fight?” Miles does what he always defaults to in awkward situations— meaningless small talk. He stretches out across the bed, flopping down on his stomach as he props his head up on his hands. “A civil-war ghost anomaly sounds boring as hell, not gonna lie--”
“Shut up.” Miles flinches when Miguel breaks his silence. His suit hangs half off his body as he walks over toward his bed, broad shoulders and chest still damp with post-battle sweat. Miles swears he doesn’t see him blink the entirety of his stroll toward him. “Get up, now .”
Miles barrel rolls off the bed like it’s on fire, pushing himself up to his feet before stopping a step away from where Miguel stands. To his surprise, he can decipher his expression a little better now that he’s closer.
Hunger . He sees hunger in Miguel’s eyes.
“Where did you get this?” His gaze falls downward to scan over his body. He toys with the waistband of his cotton thong, snapping it against the curve of his hip before feeling his cropped sweatshirt. He seems transfixed by Miles’ outfit, despite how simple it is.
“A Nets game?”
“Not the shirt .” Miguel reaches under the frayed hem, jerking Miles forward as he reveals the baby blue sports bra underneath. “This .”
“Oh, uh,” Miles looks away. “I don’t really remember. Does it matter?”
“What do you mean you don’t remember? How fast could you forget something like that?”
“I mean I don’t remember. It was years ago, man.” He says. “Do you remember where you bought every single pair of boxers you have?”
Something shifts in Miguel’s face. His eyes widen and Miles swears he sees those pinprick pupils blow out like ink in water.
“... Years? ”
Right, he probably won’t let them skirt over that part.
“Yeah, uh, since way before I met you.” Miles rubs the back of his neck. “You know when you start doing something as a joke, but then after a while you kinda start to like it and suddenly it’s not a joke anymore?” Miguel narrows his eyes as he goes on. “Okay, so when I was a junior in high school, sometimes me and Ganke would hit up conventions if they came into town. I was really stuck on this one anime at the time so I was like, ‘hey, wouldn’t it be cool if we cosplayed the main characters’?”
“Christ— get to the fucking point, Miles!”
“Okay, damn! I went as the female protagonist. Short skirts and stuff were a part of her hero costume and the convention lasted a couple days, so I ended up wearing a lot of girly clothes that weekend. Enough for me to realize that I kinda liked it, so I just... kept wearing them.” He feels blood rush to his cheeks. “Underneath my clothes. Sometimes.”
Miguel goes back to staring at him, that same insatiable glint still heavy in his eyes. The red of his irises is imperceptible with how huge his pupils look. He stays silent for so long that it’s nerve-wracking. The rise and fall of his chest grows more pronounced with every breath and Miles wishes he would just pounce on him or tell him to fuck off already. Instead, all he can do is stare him down like he’s some sort of zoo exhibit.
“How long have I been fucking you, Miles?” The hand clutching his lower back slides lower, cupping the swell of his ass cheek with a grip firm enough to make him squeak.
“S—since my last heat.” He says. “Five months ago, I think.”
Miguel nods. “Right, and yet somehow, I’ve never seen you like this until now. Why?”
Staying silent like Miles wants to isn’t an option. He didn’t realize one little lie— by omission at that— would be such a huge deal. “I mean, I didn’t know how you’d react. I figured it was best to keep it a secret rather than risk scaring you off.”
“Scaring me off?” He scoffs. “I’m a grown man.”
“Yeah I know, but still.” Miles doesn’t have much of an explanation beyond that. Lyla put him on to the truth of Miguel’s kinks, but he wasn’t about to throw her under the bus just to shift the blame from himself.
“You are one of the biggest damn headaches I’ve ever met, you know that?” Miguel yanks Miles flush against his body, leaning down to drag his fangs over the soft skin of his neck. “Half the time you can’t shut the hell up, but somehow you hid this shit for months from me? Because what, you thought I’d find it weird?”
“Can you cut me some slack? I— mmh —” His words become lodged in his chest when Miguel presses his lips to Miles’ throat, the chaste kiss serving as a warning for the rough, open-mouthed ones that follow. He recognizes the scent of Miguel’s arousal as soon as it reaches his nose. Notes of smoke and damp cedar fill every breath Miles takes, like a forest fire smothered by a rainstorm.
“No.” Miguel mumbles into his skin, sucking hard around Miles’ scent gland. His voice is still abrasive, but his actions don’t match. Miguel would’ve thrown him the hell out by now if he wasn’t a fan of his little surprise. “You sneak into my bedroom, reveal the fact that you apparently dress like this all the damn time, and then expect me to just gloss over that?”
"I'm sorry Daddy." Miles whines before he can stop himself, his submissive instincts overshadowing his self control. He hisses when a thick, knuckled finger dips beneath his thong, dragging through the thick layer of slick before gently tracing around his rim.
“Mhmm.” Miguel sounds unconvinced. “You still haven’t explained to me why you did this now.”
“S— someone may or may not have let me know you liked this kinda stuff.”
His eyes widen. “Excuse me?”
“And I’m not gonna say who because they trusted me— Miguel! ” A finger presses into his hole, shattering the little strength Miles had left in his legs to keep himself upright. He leans onto his alpha’s chest, his cheek pressed against sweat-cooled skin as he pants like an animal.
“You’ve got very little leverage to be telling me what you will and won’t do right now,” Miguel says. “especially with all this damn slick running down your thighs ."
It’s true. He’d started dripping like a faucet the second Miguel first grabbed him. There was something about his touch that made his spider-senses and arousal blur together. Miguel’s grasp stung, but the roughness of his calloused palms made him weak in the knees.
“Daddy, please .” He rocks his hips to meet the thrusts of Miguel’s hand. “Stop bein’ mean to me.”
For the first time that night, Miguel chuckles. It's cocky though, not warm or inviting like a laugh should be. “Mean? Oh, I can show you mean--"
"No!" Miles pries his face from his chest, peering up at him with wide, desperate eyes. "Come on! Quit teasing me and just fuck me already!"
At first, Miles tenses up. Raising his voice at Miguel was something he'd learned to stop doing in any situation, let alone during sex. Yelling got him nowhere in the past other than being spanked or denied an orgasm, and he might combust if tonight ends similarly. Miguel's fingers slow their motion and Miles pouts, only for his mouth to drop open as they curl against his walls.
"Fuck you where, baby?"
He trembles, spasming hard every time Miguel rubs at his sweet spot. "In m—my ass."
The alpha sucks his teeth, shaking his head as he clicks his tongue. "Nope, try again."
“… In my throat?” He doesn’t sound sure about his answer and it shows in his face.
Miguel rolls his eyes and grips Miles' jaw, squeezing with enough pressure to persuade, but not hurt him. “Come on. . Think harder and try again.”
He almost feels bad— and maybe a little dense— for missing whatever the hell Miguel is hinting at. The look of confusion on his face must say it all, because the alpha clenches his jaw, exhaling through his nose as he leans in even closer.
“Where do you think Daddy wants to fuck his baby girl, Miles?”
The pet name makes it click. He’s heard Miguel say it once or twice before, but he’d been too heat-drunk at the time to really register what it meant. He knows what Miguel wants to hear, but the idea of saying it out loud makes every drop of blood in his body rush to the surface of his skin.
Miguel keeps his hand on his jaw, unbothered and still waiting for an answer. “Well?”
“Fuck me...” Miles swallows. “in my pussy, p-please?"
Miguel flashes a wicked grin, one that lets Miles know he's said the right thing as his fingers resume their motions. "That’s my good girl. I can’t believe you would keep this from me, cariño . Keeping Daddy from that pretty little pussy when it's wrapped up so nice for me? What did I do to deserve that?”
Yep, okay. The lingerie kink ran a little deeper than Miles had first thought and caught him off guard. He knows now, however, that he only has one of two choices. He could tap out and risk souring this whole experience, or lean into whatever direction Miguel wants to take things in.
If Miles Morales is anything, he’s not a quitter. That’s for damn sure.
“ ” He lets his body weight fall onto Miguel, melting back into the heady feeling of being finger-fucked. His dexterity had always been Miles’ demise. Making him fall apart this quickly and with his fingers alone should’ve been a fucking crime. “ Y-- ”
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Miguel thumbs over his bottom lip. “I’m not happy that you hid this, but you can still make it up to me. Wanna know how?”
Miles looks up at him and nods, his doe eyes glossy and half-lidded. “Yes please.”
Miguel’s face softens as he smiles, his free hand cradling the back of Miles’ head as he kisses his forehead. He enjoys it for the brief second before he remembers just how out of character it is. Miguel isn’t a very affectionate person, even in private. Maybe there’s some complex reason Miguel is so reserved, but Miles could never muster enough patience to figure it out. All he knows is that something’s not right about Miguel’s soft touches. He’s buttering him up for something that his spider-senses can’t make out yet.
He slips his fingers from inside Miles and he whines in response, only to be shushed before Miguel pats him on the butt. That alone makes him even more annoyed. What is he? A toddler?
“Go sit on the bed for me.” Miguel orders. “I’ll be right back, okay? ”
With an overdramatic huff, Miles complies, walking over and perching himself on the edge of the mattress. Once Miguel leaves, Miles feels the cold again, maybe because the warmth of their combined body heat was extraordinary. After what feels like ages, Miguel re-enters the room, somehow clad in more clothing than he’d left in— a dark undershirt and loose boxers.
“So, how exactly are you planning on dicking me down with clothes on?” Miles raises a brow as he tracks Miguel’s path. “Unless you got some special technique I’ve never seen before, cause if so, then go ahead and do your thing.”
“Be quiet .” Miguel doesn’t walk toward him just yet. He’s got something in his hand that Miles can’t identify from across the room. “I won’t be able to get anything done if I have to listen to your chatter the whole time.”
He frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean? What else are you about to do besides break me in half?”
Miguel answers by shooting a web from his wrist, binding Miles’ hands together before he can even register what happened. The sheer force of it knocks him onto his side and Miguel doesn’t miss a beat, webbing Miles’ knees together so tight that it almost hurts.
“Wha-- Miguel! What gives?!” He writhes against his restraints, unable to stabilize himself. “I thought I was making it up to you!”
Miguel turns his attention toward him, his brows raised high on his forehead. “What did you just call me?”
Miles goes quiet, slowing his struggle. “I didn’t mean to, really--”
“Uh-uh, don’t try to walk it back now.” Miguel tosses whatever he’d been carrying onto the bed, still too far outside Miles’ line of sight for him to tell what it is. He leans overtop of him, rolling him from his side to his back with one hand. “ Keep it up and you’ll be lucky if I let you come tonight.”
Miles feels his sinuses tighten, a familiar tension in his skull that lets him know he’s on the verge of crying over something stupid. Tears well up in his eyes and he turns his head away, sniffling as he glares at nothing. “I’m sorry Daddy. I won’t do it again.”
“Mhm.” Miguel’s gaze lingers on him. “Dime algo,” He lets Miles flop back onto his side, moving to knead at the swell of his toned ass. “What is it about lingerie that you like so much?”
His first instinct is to give a non-answer, that it’s comfortable and he’s a fan of how it looks on his body, but he already knows that’s not what Miguel’s getting at.
“... I dunno.” Miles glances away, his face hot. “It makes me feel... cute, I guess.”
“That’s all? Just ‘cute’?”
He deflates. Why did Miguel even care this much?
“Sexy. I feel sexy when I wear it.”
“Miles.”
“Daddy.” His tone is knowing and condescending, just like Miguel’s has been this entire night. Now is not the time for him to be sassy, however, and the look that overtakes Miguel’s face serves as a reminder of that. “Wait—”
“I'm gonna give you one more chance to answer my question, Miles—”
“There’s something really hot about the idea of being fucked while I’m in panties, okay?” Miguel seems startled by Miles’ sudden outburst, but shit, if he’s gonna keep prodding like this, he might as well lay it all out on the table. “I just— I want you to tell me how pretty I look in them while you fuck me stupid. Or tell me I look like a slut with your big ass dick half inside me— shit— I don’t know. I don’t fucking care, I just— I need you so fucking bad, Daddy . Please .”
Miles can’t make eye contact with Miguel after he finishes rambling, and he stays silent for far too long for Miles’ comfort. It isn’t until Miles hears him swearing under his breath that he realizes how deeply his words affected him, the arousal in his scent spiking to an intoxicating degree.
" Fuck-- Jesus Christ, Miles. Shit ." Miguel lets go of his ass, dragging him down toward the foot of the bed by his waist. It gives him enough leverage to lean over the omega, capturing his lips in a searing, sloppy kiss. His tongue needs little permission to slide past Miles’ lips, filling his mouth with the familiar sweetness of his own slick. The realization that Miguel had licked his fingers clean when he’d left the room stokes a heat so strong in Miles’ gut that he might combust.
He moans into Miguel’s mouth, struggling to speak between kisses. “ Please.”
“Soon, baby. Soon.” Miguel sucks at his tongue before pulling away. Miles wishes he would quit whining every time he stops touching him, but God, he feels so fucking needy right now that a punch to the stomach would hurt less.
Miguel reaches across the bed and clicks on an electric device, capturing Miles’ attention. He cranes his neck around to see a bright-blue silicone toy, L-shaped and much tinier than it feels like someone Miguel’s size would own.
“This is one of my favorite toys, you know. I don’t think I’ve ever used it on you either. Damn shame.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?” Miles’ optimism is short-lived as Miguel pushes his panties to the side, tracing his rim with the toy before pressing it forward. His muscles go taut like a stretched rubber band, the vibrations being a lot less ‘gentle’ than he’d thought. “Oh my God--”
“” Miguel tells him. “If you can take my knot, I know you can take this.”
“Y-- your knot doesn’t fucking vibrate--” Miles hisses. Even with all the slick, he’s still clenching too hard off instinct. “Just turn it down a little!”
Miguel grumbles in discontent, setting the toy down once he realizes Miles’ rigidity is going to be a problem unless he does something about it. The alpha drags him even further down the bed, giving him enough leverage to climb up and straddle Miles’ shoulders. He takes his jaw in one hand and tugs his boxers down with the other, reveling in how wide Miles’ eyes always get whenever he sees his massive cock.
“Open.” Miguel takes hold of his shaft, guiding the head toward his lips. “” Miles lets his tongue hang out of his mouth and braces himself for what always follows a command like that— his throat getting fucked within an inch of his life. It never comes, however, and he’s surprised when all Miguel does is smear a few drops of pre-cum on his tongue. “Now swallow.”
The tension in Miles' body fades in an instant, leaving a salty taste in his mouth as his eyelids become heavy. Miguel’s done this before. It’s hazy, but he remembers now. The first time he’d tried to knot him, he’d been way too tense for anything wider than a cock to push inside. Miles either needed to relax or get split open, and letting him kitten-lick the pre-come from his slit was the only method that worked. He’s so enamored with the pleasant rush that he tries to suck the entire head into his mouth, pouting when Miguel pulls away instead.
“There you go. Good girl.” Miguel smirks, patting his cheek before climbing down off his torso. “Now, let’s give this another try.”
It slides in far easier this time. Miles is still deep in his euphoria that he tenses when the widest point breaches him, croaking out a broken moan when his hole swallows the rest of the toy. Miguel groans from his throat, tugging on the end that still hangs out.
“Hngh— Papi~” Miles rocks his hips, whining as he squirms from the mild overstimulation.
“I need to make sure it’s all the way in, sweetheart. I don’t want it slipping out while I’m trying to work. If I have to leave my desk to push it back in, I’m not gonna be happy.”
Miles pauses, clearing enough arousal from his mind to process what he’s just been told. “Wait, what? What do you mean ‘while you’re working’?”
“You made me wait, so I’m making you wait, too.” Miguel shrugs his shoulders. “Consider this me returning the favor.”
Now it’s clear why he felt so suspicious of Miguel’s earlier behavior, why the sweetness felt so out of place for how irritated he seemed when all this began. He walks around to one of his nightstands, plucking a small white remote from beside the lamp.
“How about ten minutes for every month you hid this from me?” A sadistic smirk spreads across his face. “I think it’s only fair. I’m sure you’ll know not to keep secrets from Daddy after an hour of this, yeah?”
“Wait-- wait, no! No, no, no, please! I said I was sorry!” Dread overtakes Miles as his eyes dart between Miguel and the remote. “I didn’t mean to keep anything from you, honestly! I was just nervous about what you’d think! Come on! ”
“It’s cute how you think that’s a good enough excuse.” Miguel says, clicking the dial.
Miles’ eyes roll back in an instant and he cries out, rubbing his face into the duvet as the vibrator jumps in intensity. He tries to grip at something— anything to ground himself back in reality, but he can’t grasp the covers. They aren’t fucking. He can’t wrap his arms around Miguel’s neck and scratch at his back until he takes the hint to slow down. He’s stuck with his wrists and knees bound like a prisoner in his own arousal.
“Oh, ” Miguel watches as his omega writhes, rubbing salt into his struggle with faux-compassion. “I know you’re sensitive, but you can’t cry this early on. How are you supposed to get through an hour if you can’t even handle the lowest setting?”
Is he crying? Miles opens his eyes, flinching at the wetness stuck to his lashes. He hadn’t even noticed.
“…Daddy, come on . Not an hour.” He begs one last time. One last time to get through to Miguel’s kinder side. It’s disorienting how he could love Miles so tenderly one minute and show no mercy the next. “I— I just wanted to surprise you. I wanted to look good for you. Why are you being so mean to me? You don’t think I look good enough?”
Miguel studies him for a moment, and the brief silence almost makes Miles’ heart drop before his face softens. He leans over his body again, turning Miles’ jaw to kiss him gentler this time.
“ I just don’t like it when you keep things from me.” Miguel says as he pulls away. “Thirty minutes, okay?”
After a quiet pause, Miles nods, still fighting back tears. “Okay.”
The first ten minutes are uneventful.
Miguel left a few more love-bites on Miles’ skin before walking away, leaving him trembling in anticipation of what could come next. He’d dropped the toy back to a dull, low-grade hum, but still not low enough for Miles to relax. It felt like he was lying on a bed of pins. While none of them were sharp enough to hurt, hundreds against his skin lit up his nerves like a live wire.
He eyes Miguel at his desk, straining to look through his peripheral vision since he’s too sensitive to move around. This motherfucker was actually keeping his promise, paying Miles no attention as he types away about whatever anomaly needs to be reported on. He’s so desperate to call out Miguel’s name, to demand the attention that this outfit was supposed to earn him tonight, but what would that do? Good omegas don’t talk back, and they certainly don’t throw a fit when their alphas don’t give in to what they want.
“Wow,” Miguel’s voice pulls Miles from his thoughts. He doesn’t turn away from his desk as he continues on, his tone so pacifying that it sets Miles on edge. “I didn’t know you could be this quiet. You’re always running that damn mouth of yours about something.”
Miles swallows, his mouth dry. “I— I thought you wanted me not to talk.”
“I did. I’m just surprised, as all.” His fingers wander from the keyboard, hovering over the remote. “Because I know my baby can moan louder than that, right?”
“Y-- yeah. I can.” Miles watches his hand move in the corner of his eye.
“Then what’s got you so quiet now?” His tone is taunting, like he’s daring him to say something he’ll regret. “That toy not turned up high enough?”
He blinks. He knows what’ll happen if he’s honest, but the thought of it makes his heart race. “I... I don’t--”
There it was-- that demeaning pet name that told Miles which side of Miguel’s personality was talking.
“... No, it’s not.” He whimpers. “I think my body got used to it.”
A heavy silence falls between them. Miguel waits it out, letting Miles sit in the anxiety of not knowing what’s about to happen next. He lets out a small hum and cuts a glance over his shoulder, studying his body as he presses down hard on the dial.
Miles wails , straining against the web on his limbs as his muscles spasm all at once. His spine snaps straight like a bowstring and he’s bucking his hips, choking out strangled moans as each movement compounds the pleasure. This had to be the highest setting, right? He couldn’t handle anything higher than this.
“There we go.” Miguel sets the remote down again. “You sound so damn pretty when you moan like that.”
The words “fuck you” are on the tip of Miles’ tongue, but he values his life too much to spit them out. He can barely form a coherent thought right now, anyway. Ninety percent of his mental energy is being put toward keeping himself conscious and not coming so hard that he passes out. The mere thought of what Daddy would do if he came too quickly enough to keep him in check.
“Fifteen more minutes, okay baby?” Miguel turns back toward his computer. “I’ll knock off five since you were honest with me.”
It isn’t a consolation prize, but Miles will take it. Anything that’ll get him closer to bouncing on his alpha’s cock.
Miguel had called Miles a dirty slut earlier, and nothing makes that feel more true than the last five minutes of his punishment.
The third setting of the vibrator hits Miles like a punch to the sternum. Miguel turns it on with no warning and the scream that tears from his throat rings off the walls. Miles isn’t whining anymore, he isn’t whimpering and moaning and hoping that Miguel takes pity on him. He’s sobbing from overstimulation— hiccuping between pulses and praying that his body doesn’t betray him by coming against his will.
“Daddy--” His voice is so fucking raw by this point, ragged from choking on broken sobs. “I can’t-- I can’t fucking take it anymore, please . It’s too much! T-- too fucking much!” All of it is, even his cock rubbing against his panties.
Miles wants to throw something upside Miguel’s head when he still doesn’t react. He can feel that familiar warmth brewing in his gut, except it burns . Like hopping into a scalding shower with no way to turn the heat down. Before he knows it, Miles is curling in on himself, grinding his teeth together and trying to run away from the inescapable sensation of an oncoming orgasm.
“Fuck-- I’m gonna come! I’m gonna fucking come, I’m gonna--!”
And then, everything stops. The vibrations come to a screeching halt and Miles goes limp like a marionette cut from its strings.
There’s a few moments of silence, a few beats of his own heart thumping in his ears until Miguel’s voice cuts through the quiet.
“ God , look at this fucking mess you made.”
Miles pries open teary eyes to see Miguel standing over him, his pillar of a body blocking out the overhead light. When had he gotten up from his desk? Was Miles so out of it he didn’t notice this giant of a man walking across the room?
Miguel’s hand travels down to his ass, dragging his fingers through the mess dripping from around the toy. His legs tremble as Miguel lifts them, his inner thighs sticky and dripping down to his calves. His unwavering stare leaves Miles so painfully vulnerable, and Miguel already made him feel like an object to be ignored. Now, he has the nerve to examine him like he’s window shopping for a new sex doll.
“Qu— quit staring, man.” Miles can’t even pretend as if it’s a threat. He’s far too exhausted and sensitive.
“Aww, ” Miguel laughs through his nose, leaning in closer to get a good look at his face. “Is my baby girl embarrassed about how wet he is? About how he almost came all over himself?”
‘Yes’ Miles thinks, his eyes darting away. ‘You asshole.’
The words never leave his lips. God knows what would happen to him if he decided to talk back after all he’s been through tonight. Miguel seems amused by his silence, if anything. He takes hold of the exposed bit of the toy, tugging roughly on it until the bulbous end pops free from his hole. Miles lets out a pathetic mewl and curls in on himself, adjusting to the sudden emptiness.
“ Fuck , look at you.” His composure waivers as slick gushes from Miles’ hole. "Sloppy ass little cunt. Making such a fucking mess of those goddamn panties."
Heat fills Miles’ cheeks when a lewd slurping sound hits his ears, emanating from what he soon realizes is Miguel’s mouth. The sight alone of his alpha sucking up his slick like nectar has him hiding behind his hands, trying and failing to find relief from the unwanted attention.
“Wha--- stop!” He cringes harder when Miguel fucking moans before the next lick.
“Can’t. Pussy tastes too damn good .”
“Then stop trying to embarrass me!” He grits his teeth at another obnoxious slurp. “And would you quit being so fuckin’ loud?!”
Miles’ mouth snaps shut after he yells. He fucked up. He fucked up and now he’s about to find out just how badly he fucked up. Miguel doesn’t growl back at him, though. His scent doesn’t sour with anger and Miles jumps out of his skin when he chuckles instead, sucking the last remnants of his slick from the toy.
"Oh no, don’t get quiet on me now, sweetheart. Tell Daddy how you really feel.” His voice is so damn patronizing . “What is it that you want me to do? Stop embarrassing you?”
“Y— you heard me.”
Miguel gives another dry chuckle, tossing the vibrator aside as he takes hold of Miles’ ankles. A claw flicks out from his index finger, tearing a jagged line down the webbing holding Miles’ wrists and legs together. They feel like jelly as Miguel catches them mid-fall, slotting his own hips between his trembling thighs.
“You can tell me all you want how much you hate this, but your body is telling on you .” He isn't wrong. The warm, milk chocolate of his scent can’t hide the pungent citrus notes of his arousal, and he knows Miguel can smell it too. “If you don't like it when I talk down to you, then say it. Look me in the eye right now and tell me you don't get off on Daddy humiliating you.”
His eyes stay locked on the dim glow of Miguel’s computer, hoping that if he focuses his attention somewhere else for long enough, Miguel will forget he exists. Silence is never a sufficient answer for him though, so he rolls his hips forward, pulling a desperate whine from Miles’ throat from the friction.
“Answer me, puta.”
Miles crumbles under his touch, tossing his head back as the single thread holding his composure together snaps. “I like it! F— fuck!”
“You like it? That’s all?” Miguel pants above him, his breath ragged. “Be honest with yourself. You fucking love it , and Daddy knows you do.” He presses Miles’ thighs back toward his chest, giving himself more leverage to rut against him. “You’re soaking my fucking bed . If you’re gonna lie, at least do it when the truth isn’t dripping down your legs.”
“Y— you’re making me ruin it...” He can’t muster any genuine anger. The seat of his underwear clings to his asshole, sealed with a layer of slick so thick it’s audible when Miguel grinds on him. “I liked this thong.”
“I can buy you a new one, baby.” Miguel keeps rolling his hips, eyes glinting every time he squeaks from the friction. He leans down when Miles makes a particularly pointed noise, his lips brushing against his ear as he goes on. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll get you a skimpy little bikini so you can get it as wet as you want.”
Miles’ jaw drops open as he lets out a guttural moan, and fuck did that idea go straight to his dick. “P— promise?”
“Mhmm,” Miguel’s voice sounds so tender when hums it. “Whatever you want, baby girl. Daddy’ll get you whatever you want.”
Miguel’s breath ghosts against Miles’ ear, diverting his focus away from the hand that creeps down between his legs. He drags a claw from his cock to his hole, carving a rip into the panties that Miles loved so much. He gasps at the feeling of Miguel's blunt cockhead prodding at his entrance, slick dribbling out in anticipation.
“You think you’ve earned it?”
“Yes-! Holy fuck —” Miles bucks against him, senses alight at the possibility of finally being fucked. “Yes, please -- fuckin’ please, Daddy! I need you! ”
“You’re so cute when you’re desperate.” Miguel grips his cock, tracing the head around Miles’ rim. The stimulation alone has his eyes fluttering shut, but a quick swat to his thigh snaps him back to reality. “ Look at Daddy while he fucks you open.”
Miguel’s hips move forward, pressing himself past the tense ring of muscle guarding Miles’ entrance. They’ve fucked plenty of times by this point, and that first push inside shouldn’t still be as satisfying as it is. Miles can’t help but toss his head back, jaw dropping open as his alpha fills him inch by inch. He’s been waiting for this moment all damn night. This is how Miguel was supposed to react earlier, by holding his legs back and driving his fat cock into him like nothing else mattered.
“ That’s it, baby. Take it nice and slow.” Sweat beads on Miguel’s brow, casting his flushed skin with a dewy glow. “You’ve been such a good girl for me— so patient. I need you to keep being good for me, okay?”
Miles blinks through his daze, nodding along. Whatever Miguel wants him to do right now, he’ll do. As long as he gets the knot he deserves. He slides home at an agonizing pace, groaning from his chest as his cock pushes past a brief snag of resistance. Miles spasms at the feeling of being so full all of a sudden, twitching every time Miguel moves even a millimeter.
“God, I never get tired of this shit.”
Miles follows his gaze and realizes he’s staring at his stomach, marveling at the bulge just that sits below his navel. He never tires of it either. If anything, the sight alone of his alpha resting so deep inside him could make him come if he isn’t careful.
“ Hnngh-- Papi,” He squirms, pawing pitifully at Miguel’s chest. “Move.”
His eyes linger on him before he lets go of Miles’ legs, opting to slip his arms beneath his torso instead. Miles feels shaken awake from a dream when Miguel lifts him off the mattress, pulling him flush to his chest instead.
“Wh— what are you doing?” He sounds disoriented, a bit delirious from the sudden change. “Why’re you moving me?”
“Because,” Miguel pulls them into a standing position, pulling Miles in close to support his weight. He clings to Miguel’s shoulders, yelping each time a step inadvertently bounces him on his cock. Fluorescent lights beam in through the windows as he walks them across the room, pressing Miles’ back to the cool, thick glass. “Why would I fuck you on the bed when I could give you the audience you deserve?”
Miles goes pale, his eyes wide as they dart between Miguel and the window. While the headquarters itself is massive, Miguel’s room isn’t anywhere near the top. They had a clear view of other buildings and anyone who glanced out their window would undoubtedly see them too.
“Wait, hold on--” Miles looks back at Miguel. “You can’t be serious! We can’t— there’s people right fuckin’ there!”
“That’s the point . You wanted attention, so I’m giving it to you.”
“Not that kind of attention!”
Miguel raises a brow, his eyes narrowing. His hand slides upward, running his thumb beneath the thick waistband of his thong. “You run around in lingerie all the time knowing your suit could get ripped at any point, and you expect me to believe you don’t want ‘that kind of attention’?”
Miles’ mouth opens and closes a few times, half-hearted protests falling from his lips. “Not... not all the time.”
“ Enough of the time.” Miguel laughs through his nose, smirking at Miles’ flustered expression. “See how you didn’t deny that last part, though? I know you, Miles. You’re an attention whore. You’ve probably soaked through your damn clothes thinking about what would happen if everyone saw ‘Thee Spiderman’ in some slutty little panties, haven’t you?”
That familiar feeling of embarrassment creeps up Miles’ neck again, pooling in his cheeks as he looks away. “Man, shut up.”
“Mm, that’s what I thought” Miguel draws his hips back, forcing their air from Miles’ lungs as he snaps them forward. He groans as Miles’ walls pulse around him. “ Fuck— see, that’s what I’m talking about. You can’t lie to me about this shit, Miles. Everything you don’t wanna say, your pussy says for you.”
Miles has never been more annoyed with his own body. He’s already a terrible liar, but Miguel keeps making it worse by harping on it.
“Now, I’m gonna give you a choice.” He slips his cock from inside Miles, hushing the expected noises of protest he makes. He sets Miles down on his wobbly legs, unfazed by the disapproving brown eyes that stare up at him. “If you really don’t want me to fuck you here, then I won’t. I’ll carry you back to the bed and finish you off over there.” He takes hold of Miles’ shoulders, turning him around fully to see the bustling city below. “ Or , I’ll press you up against this window and let everyone see just how pretty my baby girl looks in his skimpy little lingerie.” Miguel’s hands slip down to Miles’ hips, pulling his ass back against his crotch. “And I think my princess wants everyone to see how much you fall to pieces on Daddy’s cock, don’t you baby?”
Miles stares outside, his eyes darting from the street below up to the offices opposite the window. His lips part as he understands Miguel’s proposition, shivers running down his spine like lightning on wire.
“I... I have to watch?” He blinks, his pupils the size of pinpricks. “You never said I’d have to watch--”
“And I’m saying it now.” Miguel says. “Make your choice, Miles.”
Too many emotions run through his head for him to process them all at once, and he’s never felt so vulnerable in his life. His rational side wants to drag Miguel back over to the bed so they can have normal fucking sex, but his rational side isn’t in the driver’s seat right now.
What if someone saw them? He pales at the thought of someone stuck in their office after hours, looking up to see Miles' face pressed against the window. He’d be flushed and sweaty as Miguel rails him from behind, his mouth open in a silent cry of pure ecstasy. What would they think? What would they do? Would they run away disgusted, or would they stare? Revealing themselves to be as much of a freak as he and Miguel were? The thought makes Miles shiver, unable to stop the slick that runs down his thighs.
Miguel is right. He is an attention whore, whether he wants to admit it or not.
“You win.” He blurts out, looking back over his shoulder. “Fuck me. H-- here. Where everyone can see. I want everyone to see.” Miguel looks taken aback, like he hadn’t expected such a blunt answer. Miles doesn’t know if he’s on autopilot or acting on impulse, but he leans forward regardless, pressing his chest to the glass as he presents his ass to his alpha. “Remember what I said earlier? So let me be your good fucking girl already.”
Miles wonders if he’ll regret letting his attitude slip into his voice, but he doesn’t really care anymore. Miguel could be predictable, too. It was rare, but it happened, and he knows even he doesn’t have the willpower to walk away from an omega submitting to him so willingly. There’s still a hint of hesitation on Miguel’s face, however, and Miles cuts loose any thread that tethers him to his pride. He reaches around to spread his ass cheeks open, eyes still locked on Miguel’s.
“Fuck my pussy, Daddy.” His eyelids droop lower as he tilts his head, seizing his small window of opportunity. “Unless you were bluffing.” He smirks. “Don't worry. I wouldn't judge you for it if you were.”
And then, that window slams shut.
Rough hands grasp so hard at his hips that he cries out, not even giving him the chance to register what’s happening. Miguel’s palms dwarf his thin waist, holding him in place as he drives his hips forward with no warning. Miles screams . The sound tears from the deepest pit of his stomach as he slams his eyes shut, scrambling to readjust to Miguel’s cock in his fucking stomach. He can hear the cotton fabric of his thong ripping with every thrust, eviscerated from the force of Miguel’s hips slapping against his ass.
“God, you’re such a fucking brat!” He growls. “You’ve got some fucking nerve thinking you can talk to me any way you want.”
There’s no air in Miles’ lungs for him to get a word in, and every breath gets punched from his chest whenever he tries to speak. All he can manage is a throaty, guttural whine, his voice breaking like it’s being raked over coals.
Miguel sounds like a fucking animal behind him— his breath ragged between moans. He leans further over Miles’ back, taking hold of his jaw before jerking his head back. “You don’t have anything else to say now, do you?”
Drool runs down his chin, another bodily function he can barely control while his alpha is so deep inside of him. His cheek collides with the window when Miguel lets him go, pressing him against the glass instead.
“ Fuck , look at that.” Miguel grips Miles’ hair and angles his head downward, redirecting his attention to the street below. “If only all those people knew who you were— knew that their beloved Spider-Man can’t fucking think straight without his alpha’s cock in his guts.” Miles whimpers at that, the sound so pitiful it eggs Miguel on to pound him harder. “Fuck, cariño . You’d drive other alphas crazy in this outfit. You know how many of them would die to fuck an omega like you? With a pussy this tight and wet?”
“D-- Daddyyy--” Miles draws it out like he’s sobbing, his words slurring together in a jumbled mess of syllables. “ Don’ want anyone else. Don’need no other alpha.”
“I know , baby. I know I ruined you for anyone else.” Miguel’s voice is breathless, saccharine sweet with a desperate undercurrent. “And that’s okay, because no one’s gonna fuck you like I do.” He picks up his pace. “No one’s gonna have a knot big enough to keep your slutty ass satisfied.”
Miles’ knees buckle. He feels like a teenager swooning over a pretty alpha, but he can’t help himself. Miguel runs purely on instinct when he grips Miles’ thigh, lifting one leg up to give himself better access to his gushing hole.
“Dios, you and this fucking thong.” He plunges in deep, pulling Miles flush to his waist. “I should knock your ass up for keeping this shit from me.”
“Fuck-- oh shit, fuck, fuck-- ” He trembles in Miguel’s grip, fingertips slipping uselessly against the window. His skin is on fire and he’s slicking even more now, heightening the obscene sound of Miguel’s cock thrusting into him. The warmth in his gut builds without his consent, threatening to bubble over if he so much as thinks about being bred by his alpha. “ I’m gonna come, I’m gonna --”
For the first time that night, Miguel doesn’t deny his orgasm. He lets Miles convulse under his touch, his jaw fixed open as pump after pump of come stains his underwear. It pools under his cock in a sticky, hot mess, effectively ruining his thong for any future use. His breath fogs up the window as it huffs from his mouth, the last few jolts of pleasure running their course through Miles’ body. If it weren't for Miguel supporting his weight, he would’ve crumpled to the floor the second his orgasm tapered off.
“... Shit.” Miguel’s hips falter, like Miles had mis-stepped from the script he had in his mind. “All that from me threatening to breed you? Seriously?”
Miles lets out some unintelligible noise, still twitching from the aftershocks of his climax. He feels like a doll that’s run out of batteries or short-circuited from overuse. Miguel reaches around to fondle his cock, smearing the shaft with cum as he strokes him through his panties.
“ Hngnh, stop— “ He doesn’t relent, even when Miles tries to swat his hand away. “ T— too much—
“And you came hard too. You want Daddy to get you pregnant that bad?”
“‘F course I do. You're my alpha.” Miles slurs his words together. “Can’t though. Not… not now— hnngh!”
He seizes when Miguel starts fucking him again, his hips slapping against his ass so hard he knows it’ll be red tomorrow.
“You are so fucking lucky you’re on birth control.” He pants, ignoring Miles’ choked out pleas to slow down. “I’d have you pupped faster than you could even think about it. Imagine that shit, fucking Spider-man knocked up at nineteen .”
Miguel doesn’t seem like he’s even talking to Miles anymore, just airing out the feral thoughts in his mind while using him like a cocksleeve. He knows Miguel means everything he’s saying. The only thing stopping him from breeding his ass— his cunt— is one measly little pill. It’d be so easy to “forget” about it. To give Miguel what they both want and accidentally miss a dose--
Suddenly, the sensation of something thicker pressing against his rim snaps him back to reality, and Miles almost cries tears of joy. This . This is the shit that he’s wanted all night.
“Daddy?! Daddy— fuck, please .” Miles braces himself against the window, meeting Miguel’s thrusts with a vigor he hadn’t had before. “I want it. I want your knot so fuckin’ bad it hurts!” He croons as it pulses near his entrance. “I’ll do anything. I swear to god, I’ll do fuckin’ anything! Knock me up— pump me full of pups, shit, I don’t fuckin’ care. Just knot me already!”
Miguel slams a hand down on the glass, pistoning his cock into Miles like he doesn’t care if he breaks him in half. The room sounds obscene, echoing with wet squelches and skin slapping against skin. He yanks Miles back onto him like he weighs nothing at all, growling out Spanglish curses until his knot starts catching on Miles’ taut rim. His voice cracks in high-pitched whines, incoherent and overstimulated as Miguel’s half swelled knot pops in and out of him.
“Come on, come on! I’m so fuckin’ close! Please, Daddy!”
“Fuck, Miles!”
Miguel slams home, forcing his knot into Miles with enough force to crack the glass in front of him. The stretch and release of it popping inside has him coming again, shaking and gripping Miguel’s bicep for dear life. Barely a drop of come dribbles from his cock, the lot of his orgasm gushing from his hole before Miguel plugs him up completely. It’s bone-deep and raw, leaving Miles a trembling mess as his alpha moans behind him. Miguel keeps bucking against him, fucking his come deep into Miles’ ass like a single drop escaping would end the world. Miguel is always so carnal when he comes; his instincts overtake his self control and leave Miles a gaping, well-fucked mess.
He collapses against Miles’ back, panting as he slots his chin in the crook of his neck. He’s sweaty, but so is Miles, and he can deal with that minor inconvenience after everything that’s happened tonight. After what feels like hours, Miguel breaks the silence, speaking through a sex-battered voice.
“It’s one-way glass.”
Miles perks up, his head whipping toward the window. “Wait, what?”
“One-way glass.” He repeats. “No one can see in from the outside, so don’t stress yourself out over it.”
“Are you fucking serious?!” Miles tries to turn around but fails, still stuck too tight on Miguel’s knot. “Why did you lie?! I thought I’d never be able to walk outside in this city again!”
“I saw the opportunity and took advantage of it.”
“You literally made me think that the whole world could see me getting fucked like a bitch.” He feels Miguel chuckling against him and huffs like a child, leaning away when he tries to pull him in closer. “God you fuckin’ suck, you know that? You’re so damn mean to me for no reason!”
“I’m mean to you because you like it.” Miguel lifts his head, pressing a kiss to Miles’ cheek. “Don’t try and act like you don’t.”
Miles rolls his eyes. So what if he was right? He isn’t about to give him that satisfaction. “Whatever. You owe me some new lingerie since you ripped my damn thong to shreds.”
“Miles, you shouldn’t get attached to anything I buy you because I’ll ruin it.”
He thinks about it for a second, smirking when he speaks up. “Yeah, you’re right. Probably wouldn’t fit anyway if you knocked me up.”
“Hey, watch it. ” Miguel warns. “Keep teasing me and see what happens.”
Miles snickers in response, relaxing in his alpha’s hold when the tension finally dies down. He presses his back firm against his chest, nudging them both away from the window. “Can we take this to the bed? My legs hurt and I don’t wanna be here for an hour while your knot goes down.”
“It does not take a fucking hour. ” Miguel sounds offended but complies anyway, lifting Miles by his waist to carry him across the room.
It definitely will take an hour, but that’s okay.
Maybe he can bask in the afterglow of being Daddy’s good girl a bit longer.