Work Text:
Something was different.
Miguel couldn’t place it but–something in his lab smelled off.
It had smelled different for a couple days now, and he couldn’t understand why. There wasn’t anything new in his lab, there were no new recruits that had been brought on, they hadn’t even found a new universe recently, so it had to be something that had changed in his environment.
He snapped to attention and glanced around; he caught the smell again. He stood at his desk, stock still, sniffing the air, trying to figure out where it was coming from. Maybe they had a new item on the menu in the cafeteria that week?
No, it was too sweet, too–artificial.
He ignored it and kept working but the smell persisted. He couldn’t focus with how often little whiffs would hit him and he couldn’t identify where it was coming from.
He got hit with another wisp of the smell and turned his head towards it, looking right at Peter who was working on his platform a couple feet from him. He stared at the older man, trying to will the smell into existence.
Peter turned and moved a paper report to the other side of the desk that he was at when Miguel caught it.
It was Peter.
It was sweet, like fruits and flowers, but something more earthy, woodsy on the tail end.
He didn’t realize he had moved closer until he was in Peter’s personal space, his face looming closer to his hair.
Peter had stopped shifting papers around and turned his head to look up at Miguel.
“Hey, boss man,” he said, a smile on his face. “You alright, dude?”
Miguel didn’t respond, just stared at him, not really seeing Peter. His eyes zeroed in on Peter’s hands that were held in front of him, holding some old paperwork. He had always been fascinated by the older man’s hands; they were massive but so nimble. He could hold his little girl so tenderly one minute and then knock out the Green Goblin in the next. Miguel would catch himself staring at them sometimes and he would have to move so he wouldn’t embarrass himself.
Miguel plucked the papers and laid them on the desk before grabbing one of Peter’s ungloved hands, bringing it up to his face, and sniffing his wrist delicately.
His pupils visibly dilated and a fetching blush coated his cheeks as he inhaled deeper. He vaguely heard Peter inhale sharply as Miguel grabbed the man’s wrist with both hands, holding it to his face.
He came back to full awareness as he opened his mouth, intending to lick along the exposed skin there. He came to a full stop and stared at Peter for a beat before dropping his hand and taking a few steps back.
“Apologies,” Miguel mumbled as the flush across his face deepend. “I–I don’t–” he growled. “I didn’t mean–” a huff. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” He jumped down off of his platform and very swiftly walked out of his sanctum.
Peter stood still and watched Miguel leave, utterly fucking baffled as to what the hell had just happened.
-
‘What the fuck is wrong with you!?’
Miguel was taking a walk around HQ, trying to get himself under control.
He hadn’t had a reaction like that towards–anything or anyone. What was different about Peter within the last couple days that caused him to have that obscene reaction?
Peter was essentially his employee, and he had just invaded his space and smelled his wrist like a fucking weirdo.
Miguel sucked in a harsh breath, held it, then exhaled it slowly. He would just have to avoid Peter for a while, it had to go away.
-
It, in fact, did not go away.
He had to have his mask up basically anytime he interacted with Peter just in case. He still smelled the perfume scent through the mask, but it was dampened and he was able to stay focused.
If Peter stood too close to him he could feel his mind fogging over and he could hear Lyla in his ear telling him his vitals were spiking. He would snap back to attention and quickly bussy himself with something across the room.
This apparently didn’t sit well with Peter.
After a few more days of getting distracted in briefings and avoiding Peter, Miguel gets his shit rocked a little bit.
He was standing on his platform, watching and monitoring a universe that had just gained their Spider-Man when he caught a whiff of the smell.
He immediately put up his mask and turned around to see Peter walking towards him with purpose.
“O’Hara!” The older spider hollered across the space. “We need to talk.”
Miguel quirked an eyebrow under his mask but didn’t say anything in response. If the man stayed on the ground floor, he should be fine, the smell wouldn’t have as much of an effect on him if he was that far up in the air.
Peter walked forward until he hit the edge of the main floor then shot a web up, slinging himself up to the platform.
Miguel did not think this far ahead.
He took a step back as Peter approached him. He looked irritated, but like he was trying to hide it. Miguel sucked in a sharp breath and kept backing away until he was plastered against his console, the edge of it biting into his lower back, his hands gripping the edge hard, determined to keep his hands to himself.
“What is your damage?” Peter apparently did not believe in beating around the bush, getting right to the point. “You’ve been avoiding me for days.”
Miguel tried to keep his cool, but Peter was marching right into his personal space. Miguel shot a hand out and put it in the center of the older man’s chest, holding him literally at arms length.
“Don’t–” he breathed out, his chest stuttering. “Don’t come any closer, just–stay there.”
Peter looked at him, eyebrows drawn together and something close to confused anger swirling in his pretty brown eyes. “Miguel, what the hell is this?” He grabbed Miguel’s wrist and tried to pull it off of his chest.
Miguel gasped and thrust his other hand into Peter’s chest, matching the first. “Peter,” he said, trying to gain some of that gravel back into his tone. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Why?” Peter asked, exasperated. “What could have possibly happened that made you start acting so odd around me? First you smelled my arm and I thought you were going to bite me and now you won’t even stand next to me or look at me–like right now! Hello!?”
Miguel had his head turned to the side, chin resting on his shoulder, eyes cinched closed as he tried to keep the scent out of his system. He was starting to breathe faster, not wanting to inhale Peter.
“I–I don’t know,” he stuttered, figuring if it would be easier to climb over the console or just dodge around Peter. “You didn’t–you didn’t do anything, you just–your scent changed,” he was almost yelling at this point, like he was trying to cut through the fog starting to clog his mind. “You smell different, and it just–it messes with my spider instincts.”
Peter had stopped trying to get Miguel’s hands off of his chest and was just staring at the younger man, curiosity lighting up his features. “Will you look at me? WIthout the mask?”
Miguel sucked in a harsh breath and held it for a second before slowly moving his hand just enough to twitch his fingers, disengaging his mask.
He held his breath as he looked at Peter, trying so desperately to keep it together. His eyes sliced over to meet Peter’s, a red flush decorating the tips of his ears, coming down to his cheeks.
Miguel swallowed harshly. “Please, Peter,” he choked out, still attempting not to breathe in the intoxicating scent. “I–I need you to leave.” He’s pleading.
Peter’s expression relaxed as he searched Miguel’s face; he saw the pinched, almost pained look on his face, saw the way his eyes were almost too bright, saw how he wasn’t breathing.
Peter disengaged and pulled away, taking a step back. Miguel immediately slumped and put his mask back up, breathing heavy.
They stared at each other for a moment before Peter put his hands up and laughed, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.
“Alright, I’ll go check if I accidently grabbed the wrong body wash or something when I get home,” he said with a smile. “I’m sorry I threw you off.”
Miguel didn’t buy that he was willing to drop it that easily, but he was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He nodded, short and sharp, before turning back to his screens, effectively dismissing the older spider.
He heard him swing down to the floor and close the door behind him.
Miguel dropped his mask and sucked in lungfuls of air, tearing at the neck of his suit. He had been so fucking close. He steadied himself on his console, his claws threatening to dig into the metal surface.
“Lyla,” he croaked out.
She appeared just to his left, a worried expression on her small face. “Boss, what is happening right now?”
He waved her off. “I need you to pressurize the room, clear it out.”
She squinted at him for half a second before pulling up a control panel in front of herself. He heard the fans kick on above his head and heard the pull of the air through the vents on the ground level.
He brought his head up slightly and scented the air; no sign of the smell. He sighed, his head dropping in relief and held a hand up to Lyla, who shut off the fans.
“What was that all about?”
He flashed one red eye at her, the menace completely feigned. She just stared at him, unimpressed.
He needed a new AI.
“He just smells different,” he said, exasperated. “It sets the spider instincts on edge.”
She hummed non committedly; she didn’t believe him.
Whatever, she could believe what she wanted.
He straightened back up, shaking his head and rolling the tension out of his shoulders.
He had work to do.
-
Miguel hadn’t been with Peter in a couple days and he hadn’t noticed the smell in any other parts of HQ.
Menos mal.
He was with Jess, Ben, and LEGO in the sanctum, going over the trajectory of a new anomaly and where they thought it might go with the help of Lyla laying on Jess’ shoulder, kicking her feet in the air.
The doors banged open and they both looked up to see Peter walking in, a to-go container in his hands, shoving god only knew what in his mouth.
“Howdy, friends,” he said, through his mouthful. “How’s it hanging?” He swallowed, snorting to himself. “‘Hanging’, god I’m funny.”
Miguel sucked in a breath, intending to sigh and roll his eyes, when the scent hit him, and hit him hard. He covered his nose with the back of his hand and nearly stumbled back with the force that it went through his olfactory system.
He looked up at Peter and he felt his eyes dilate.
“Everyone out,” he growled, hand still in front of his face, fangs starting to peek out. “Now.”
Lyla and Jess gave each other a look before she dissipated. The woman looked at Miguel, a brow raised before she shut her watch down, ending the projection of the graphs they were going over before grabbing Ben by the forearm and dragging him out, LEGO holding onto his hood.
“Come on, Peter,” she called as she and Ben walked out. “Miguel needs a minute.”
Miguel let out a low snarl. “Not Peter.”
She stopped and glanced at the older man as she stood next to him before turning and looking at Miguel again. She gave him a once over, a concerned look on her face before nodding once and continuing towards the exit.
Peter watched them leave before slowly turning to look back at Miguel. He made careful movements as he set his food down on a nearby table.
“Hey buddy, what’s going on?” He asked, tone soft and placating.
Miguel moved his hand away from his face as they just stared at each other for a minute.
He moved and was suddenly looming over Peter before he even knew what happened. He felt like he was moving through cotton as he grabbed Peter’s arm and pulled his glove off, staring at the pale hand before bringing it up to his face and inhaling deeply.
Déjà vu; that’s what was happening.
Miguel knew he needed to put Peter’s hand down, put it down and leave, go literally anywhere else, but he couldn’t stop smelling the man. He felt his mouth open, just like last time, but this time, he actually licked Peter’s hand, a long stroke up the side, his tongue rolling around the older man’s pinkie.
Peter sucked in a breath and just watched him.
He grabbed the front of Peter’s robe with his other hand and turned him, putting his back against the table he had just set his food on. Miguel’s hand dropped his wrist and grabbed a handful of the older man’s hair, pulling his head to the side so he could stick his face in Peter’s neck and inhale against the sliver of exposed skin, finding the scent there too.
“What did you do?” Miguel growled against his neck, his fangs fully extended and dragging across Peter’s skin.
“N-Nothing, I swear,” Peter stuttered as he pushed into Miguel.
The younger spider pulled back slightly, just enough to catch Peter’s gaze; light brown meeting deep, hazy red before he shoved his face back into the older man’s neck, almost nuzzling the skin there.
“H-Hey man, what’s this about? I’m not complaining per say, but I would like to, you know, discuss things first honestly.”
Just like last time, the question snapped Miguel out of the fog in his mind.
He blinked and exhaled sharply, looking down at Peter.
He shot back, stumbling over his own feet before he ran into his platform that was raised a couple feet above the ground. His hands shot behind him and grabbed the surface, his claws digging into the metal, making it creak from the pressure.
They stared at each other again; both breathing heavily.
Miguel’s eyes darted around Peter, trying to figure out if he had hurt him. The older man was just watching him, his chest moving with his panting, his robe sliding down his arms, his hair sticking up at odd angles. He brought his hand up to his nose and smelled it, his eyes widening before he brought the glance up to Miguel.
“Miguel–” Peter started, reaching his hand towards the younger spider.
Miguel twitched, his eyes widening, before he shot an electric red web upward and pulled himself into the dark ceiling, running away.
This had to stop.
-
Miguel had holed himself up in a lab that was off the beaten path, not many spiders knew where it was, let alone that it existed.
He was still doing his work to help protect the Arachnid Humanoid Poly Multiverse, he had to.
He was giving direction through his watch, making sure things were running as smoothly as they could. He could not risk running into Peter again. It was too much.
“Boss,” Lyla chimed before popping up on his side, scrolling through her own screens. She looked over at him as she adjusted her glasses. “Peter is asking where you are again.”
Miguel huffed and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. The man had been asking around for him, even trying to message and call him directly. Miguel had shut down every attempt, giving him the run around or giving him vague answers through Lyla or Jess.
He didn’t know what had changed with the older man, but he couldn’t be trusted around him anymore, he didn’t know what he would do the next time.
“Tell him I’m dealing with something,” he mumbled as he watched footage of a spider training video, writing notes and critiques of the spider's form. His people were getting better honestly, it made a spark of pride light in his chest.
Lyla sighed. “I’ve used that excuse,” she said as she shut down her screens and stared right at the side of Miguel’s head. “Why don’t you just talk to him?”
Miguel glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “You know damn well I can’t do that. I can’t be within ten feet of him right now, not until I figure out why I’ve been–acting that way around him.”
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her holographic chest. “You avoiding him is not going to make the problem go away, Miguel.”
“Dios mio, I know that, but,” he huffed out a short breath. “I don’t want to hurt him,” he closed his eyes, a tense expression crossing his face. “I can’t hurt him, Lyla.”
She blipped out before reappearing on his shoulder, laying a hand on his face. “You won’t, Miguel. You need to trust yourself.”
“I can’t,” he said in a voice so small and so broken, it didn’t seem like it came from him.
Lyla was quiet for a minute before she suddenly perked up and turned to look at the closed door.
Miguel shot her a look. “Pray tell, what is it now?” He groaned.
“Peter’s outside the lab,” she said, looking at him, seeming to search his face.
Miguel’s eyes widened and he turned to look at the door too before whipping around on Lyla, teeth bared. “Who told him? Did you?”
She rolled her eyes and cocked her hip. “I would tell you if I did, I’m not that malicious.”
“Miguel, man, I can hear you in there.”
Miguel jumped at the sound of Peter. He kind of thought Lyla was just fucking with him for, her own enjoyment, or some shit, he didn’t know.
But now he was faced with the reality of the situation.
“He cannot come in,” Miguel murmured, turning back to his work.
She whipped around on him, blipping so she was in front of his face, blocking his work. “You can’t just avoid him forever, Miggy,” she stage whispered. “You work with him, you’re going to have to face him at some point.”
Miguel just waved his hand through her, making her flicker and blip out. “Yes, but it’s not going to be today.”
“Miguel, open the door or I will,” her disembodied voice threatened.
He froze, real panic going through him. “You wouldn’t,” he breathed, eyes wide.
“You have ten seconds to figure it out.”
“Lyla–”
“I will do it Miguel, don’t test me.”
“Please, what–”
“You have seven seconds.”
“What!? No, Lyla–”
“Five.”
“What if–”
“Three.”
“Fine!”
He stomped over to the doors and ripped them both open.
Peter stood on the other side, hands in the pockets of his robe, an easy smile on his face as he looked up at Miguel.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Peter said, an ease to his tone, something lilting that made Miguel’s insides lurch.
He held his breath as they just stared at each other.
“What do you want, Peter?” Miguel asked, voice strained, his hands gripping the double doors so hard, he was afraid the metal was going to buckle.
Peter’s grin got wider, something akin to a Cheshire smile. “I was just wondering if you wanted to come to dinner at our place. MJ and I thought you might need a break.”
Three things happened in quick succession.
Miguel sucked in a harsh breath, shocked at the offer.
A flash of panic trickled down his spine at the idea that he was going to hurt Peter this time.
He didn’t smell the oddly sweet, earthy smell.
Miguel’s eyes fluttered slightly as the revelation passed over him.
He didn’t smell the oddly sweet, earthy smell.
He was still nervous; maybe it was just less obvious today. He tilted his face up slightly, eyes still on Peter as he scented the air once, twice, three times.
Nothing.
Not a goddamn thing.
“You doin’ alright there, big guy?” Peter chuckled.
Miguel’s eyes zeroed in on the older spider. He wanted to know what had changed.
“You smell–like you did before,” he mumbled as he shifted closer, smelling the air around Peter.
The older spider laughed and leaned towards Miguel, almost like he was willing to let him scent him. “Oh, do I not smell as good now?” He laughed. “You want to go back to putting your face in my neck?”
Miguel flushed a deep red. “No–I–that’s not what I meant,” he said, turning his face away, trying to hide the blush. “You always smelled divine, but whatever that was made you irresistible,” he mumbled. The neck of his suit was starting to flicker, like he was thinking about activating his mask.
Peter sucked in a breath as his eyes widened, his gaze locked onto Miguel’s face.
Miguel cleared his throat, desperate to fill the awkward silence. “What was it?” He croaked, tone low, afraid that if he spoke too loud, the smell would suddenly appear and he would jump Peter again.
Peter shrugged. “I’m not sure. Nothing in the house has changed, I even checked Mayday’s stuff just to be sure, but everything in the house is the same brand and same smell.”
Miguel knew he was lying.
Peter was a terrible liar.
But he didn’t smell it anymore, so maybe it was something that Peter was too embarrassed to admit or something that just wasn’t Miguel’s concern.
So he dropped it.
He nodded once. “I have some tests to run, so I won’t be able to make it tonight, maybe next–”
“He would love to go,” Lyla popped up on Miguel’s shoulder, her legs crossed, hands clasped over her knee, way too perky.
Miguel sputtered and looked over at her. “Lyla, no. I have work that–”
“Work that I can do, without you here, thank you very much,” she huffed, adjusting her coat. She looked over at Peter, a bright smile on her face. “He can be ready in an hour.”
“Perfect,” Peter said, his grin becoming more predatory.
“Hey, Lyla, I said no–”
She clapped her hands together and squealed. “Perfect!” She mimicked. “He will see you then!” She said musically.
Suddenly, the doors were wrenched from his hands and he was faced with the metal.
He whipped around on Lyla who had gone over to his makeshift console, shutting everything off.
“Lyla–what–why–” He couldn’t even get his question out, he was so confused with what had just happened.
And mildly angry.
“What the hell!? You know I’m running diagnostics and also working on that update for the watches–”
“Oh yeah, the projects you kicked me off of so you could stay busy?” She barked out a laugh. “Yeah, no, you’re done with that. You’re going to Peter and MJ’s tonight and you’re going to have dinner like a normal adult and you’re going to have fun.” She poked his chest to emphasize her point. “Understood?”
Miguel opened his mouth to argue but the last screen on his console flickered out and went dark.
“I will shut down anything you get a hold of,” she threatened.
Miguel closed his mouth so hard, his teeth clacked together. He sighed. “Fine.”
Lyla squealed and immediately started pulling up pictures of his wardrobe.
It was going to be a long night.
-
He showed up on the doorstep of the Watson-Parker household on time in civilian garb; a pair of dark jeans and a cream turtleneck that he kept tugging at.
He’s rolling a bottle of wine between his hands, trying to work up the nerve to knock on the door. Why was he so nervous? He and Peter were friends, this shouldn’t be an issue.
Peter was his friend.
This wouldn’t end badly.
He knocked on the door before he could think better of it.
There was a beat of silence before he heard approaching footsteps.
He almost portaled out of there, right in the doorway.
It opened to reveal MJ in a pair of blue jeans and a sky blue crew neck with the sleeves rolled up. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail, her bangs parted in the center to reveal a gentle flush. She smiled wide at him, reaching up for a hug.
“Miguel!” She said, voice soft and melodic. “It’s good to see you again.”
They had met a handful of times in the past and she had always been nothing but kind to him. He liked her a lot; she was a genuinely nice person that had a wicked sense of humor.
He leaned down so she could wrap her arms around his neck when he smelled it.
No. No he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t hurt her.
But she was already hugging him, his face right next to her neck. He didn’t want to scare her, so he solely focused on keeping his fangs tucked away and his head still.
He could feel the fog creeping in when she pulled away.
“Come on in!” She said, cheerful and unaware of Miguel's internal struggle. “We’re just finishing up dinner.”
He nodded mutely as he stepped across the threshold and was hit square in the face with the scent. He pretended to wipe his face so he could cover his nose and breathe a little bit.
He couldn’t hold his breath all night. He had to leave. But MJ was already pulling him to the dining area, two small hands on his forearm.
“I—“ Miguel started to say.
“Just hang out here, we’ll start bringing dinner out,” she said as she got on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
He held his cheek as she walked back into the kitchen, her voice carrying through the doorway.
He gingerly sat on one of the chairs at the dining table, hands wringing in his lap. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t fight the fog in his mind all night. He caught a whiff of it and nearly lost his mind on Peter that first time.
No, he was stronger than that. He could handle a little bit of torture. He was going to be fine.
-
He was in fact, not fucking fine.
He didn't know who the hell was fooling; he could barely hold a conversation. He would just hum or give one or two word answers. He could feel the flush on his face and he knew it wasn’t from his couple sips of wine.
The only saving grace were Peter and MJ. They didn’t seem to mind that he didn’t have much to add to the conversation, still acknowledging him and including him in what was being discussed.
By the time they finished dinner, Miguel was gripping his thigh so hard, he was surprised he hadn’t ripped through his slacks. He was so on edge, he needed to get out of there.
MJ and Peter stood up and started clearing dishes, piling them on their hands. Miguel stood and started grabbing them as well, still willing to help out since they cooked.
“Oh no you don’t,” MJ said to the two men, grabbing the plates they were holding. “You two go sit down in the living room, I’ll grab the other bottle of wine.”
Peter smiled and kissed her cheek before pulling Miguel into the living room by his forearm, just like his wife had an hour ago.
He sat on the lone armchair, praying he could stay far enough away from them.
He had his knees pulled together and his wine glass gripped between his hands like a lifeline, trying to keep his hands off of himself.
Peter glanced into the dining area, making sure MJ was in the kitchen before settling his glance on Miguel as he sat on the couch. “Thanks for coming over, man,” he said, voice easy. “It means a lot to me. I missed hanging out with you.”
A pang went through his chest. He knew he had been distant from Peter since everything with Gabi. He hadn’t wanted to be so aloof, but it was just easier. He still had a lot to work through, but he had been trying.
“Of course,” he croaked out. He cleared his throat quietly. “Thank you for having me over,” he hesitated. “I’m sorry I’ve been so—quiet tonight. I’m–a little foggy.”
Peter gave him a knowing glance and hid a smile behind his wine glass as he took a sip. “You alright?” He asked when he pulled it away.
Miguel nodded loosely, the smell suddenly settling over his mind like a blanket, worse than ever. He startled when MJ swung over his shoulder and refilled his wine glass that he was still clutching in his lap. She was absolutely coated in the scent.
She was so close.
Miguel could just lean in and smell her wrist, it would be so easy.
He startled back to awareness by MJ giggling behind him.
He blinked a couple times and saw the bottle of wine on the little table next to his chair, her arm gripped in his hand, and his nose buried in the pulse point in her wrist. He could feel his fangs digging into his lip.
He dropped her arm like it had burned him and mumbled an apology, making an excuse about why he had to go under his breath.
“I—I have something that needs my attention—I’m—again I’m so sorry, it won’t happen again—“
He felt like a such a fucking idiot, why did he think this would go differently? He had been acting so odd around Peter, if he smelled different, of course the house and his wife would smell like him.
He should have just slammed the doors in Peter's face.
He was stopped mid standing up by small hands on his shoulders, pushing down. He slowly dropped back down to the armchair, confused and very nervous.
They were going to berate him. He just needed to leave. He could feel how hot his face was, he was fucking embarrassed already, why couldn’t they just let him leave and go lick his wounds in peace?
“Do you want this to continue? MJ’s soft voice asked from behind him, her hands rubbing soft circles into his broad shoulders.
What the fuck?
This was the last thing he expected.
“I—I don’t—“ he stuttered out, looking at Peter, desperate for help, a lifeline, anything.
But the man was just staring at him, a stupid, lazy grin plastered on his face.
Cabrón .
“Come on, Miguel,” the woman purred. She had slunk around to his side, tilting his chin up with two delicate fingers, making him look at her.
She was an absolutely beautiful woman. And how she smelled. He could feel his pupils dilate, he was sure he looked intimidating; pools of black ringed by a bright red.
He inhaled sharply and he felt his fangs poke out from his lip.
“Do you want this to continue?” She asked again, nothing chiding or taunting in her tone. “You can say yes, and we see where this goes.” Her eyes traced his face, soft, but something hungry underneath. “Or you can say no and we pretend this never happened and we go about as friends.” She leaned down, her lips a breath away from his. “Your call, love.”
Miguel swallowed so hard his throat clicked and MJ smiled as her hand tracked the movement, fingers dragging from his chin down his neck, settling in a loose grip around his throat making him whine high in his throat.
She gave a low chuckle. “Oh you will be very fun to play with.”
Miguel gasped quietly, his entire body taut like a bow string, waiting for her next move. He didn’t dare initiate; he didn’t know where this was going or what to do. No, he was going to let her lead.
“Do you want me to touch you?” She tried again, hoping asking something more specific will help him stop floundering.
“Y-Yes, please,” he said, voice so soft, so quiet, he was surprised she heard it.
“Oh, what a good boy,” she cooed as she shifted to pluck the wine glass out of his hands and sit sideways on his lap, her legs dangling over the arm of the chair. “Such nice manners for us.”
She reached over and pulled Miguel’s face around to her, a gentle smile on her lips as she shimmied to get comfortable. Her thumb rubbed Miguel’s jaw softly, a hint of her nail scraping the skin there.
Miguel felt heat and panic swirl in his gut. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. Without moving his head from the hold MJ had on him, he looked over at Peter, panic swirling in his eyes.
He cursed inwardly as he was met with a heavy lidded stare, something mean in the gaze, something demanding.
Miguel could feel his breathing hitch in his chest.
MJ squeezed his jaw to get his attention, his gaze sliding back to her with a gentle exhale. “What’s going through that beautiful head of yours, hmm?” She asked, her tone light but holding promises.
He could feel the gears trying desperately to turn, wanting to give her an answer. He was begging them to give him something. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth when he finally had a response.
“I–is this–” he took a breath that should have been calming. but just put more of that mouth watering smell into his system. He fought with himself to keep his fangs and claws in check. “Is this–okay? I don’t–” his gaze darted to Peter again before bouncing back to MJ. “I don’t know what to do.” His voice was so small, it shocked him, and he could see MJ’s face softening from an appreciative leer to something softer, something kinder.
“Oh, you poor lamb, yes of course it’s okay,” she cooed, her hand sliding from his jaw up to his hair, running her fingers through it, making Miguel’s eyes slip closed. “You don’t have to worry about anything you don’t want to.” She leaned forward, her breath puffing across his lips, making his eyes drift open again. “Do you want Pete and I to take the reins?”
His eyes widened slightly, looking back at Peter, looking for an answer, looking for confirmation. Peter just stared back at him, his posture relaxed as he leaned into the couch, his legs spread, arms on the back of the couch.
He looked back at MJ, a flush overtaking his complexion.
“Y-Yes–please,” he repeated, not sure if he was capable of saying anything else.
“So polite,” she cooed, looking over at the older spider. “Don’t you think, Pete?”
Peter chuckled darkly. “Oh, he is very polite when he wants to be.” It was the first thing Peter had said in a while and it startled Miguel to hear how rough his voice sounded.
MJ shifted, bringing Miguel’s attention back to her. He sucked in a loud breath as she slid down on the floor to sit between his knees.
“We can start slow if you want darling, no need to rush,” she said, voice rolling through Miguel, making him shudder violently.
He touched her shoulder softly with his fingertips, prompting her to stop and look up at him, gaze open and caring.
“I–I don’t–” he didn’t know how to tell them. He didn’t think it would ever come up.
She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, rubbing a soothing circle into his wrist, a glowing smile on her face. “We do what you want, sweetheart.” The pet names just rolled off her tongue like they belonged in her mouth. “This is all about you. We just want to take care of you.”
“No, I just–I don’t have–” he stopped again, huffing slightly and turning his head. He could feel the red stain on his cheeks and ears getting darker.
She looked up at him for a minute before realization seemed to hit and she slid her hands up his thighs to hold his waist, making him jolt. He felt the arms of the chair creak under the white knuckle grip he had on them.
“Offer still stands if you want,” she said smoothly, like nothing even happened.
Miguel keened. It was so loud in the quiet space and he cupped a hand over his mouth to stop any future noise as he nodded minutely, gaze locked on the woman between his legs.
MJ just smirked at him before reaching up to his belt, working the leather out of the buckle. She popped the fly and button easily enough, tapping Miguel’s hip to get him to lift up so she could slide his slacks down his legs.
“Oh, look at you” she breathed, voice awestruck and reverent. “So worked up over me just talking to you and sitting on your lap?”
He squeezed his eyes closed and gripped his own warm face harder to prevent any more embarrassing noises through. He startled when he felt a hand grab his and looked up over his shoulder to see Peter standing behind him, grabbing both of his hands and holding them above his head.
When had he moved from his spot on the couch?
“No hiding, baby,” Peter purred smoothly as MJ licked a stripe up his folds.
Miguel’s back arched beautifully as a moan was torn from his chest, loud and uninhibited.
Peter held his arms tightly as MJ continued her work on Miguel’s cunt, eating him out within an inch of his life as Peter whispered the dirtiest, most depraved things into his ear, making Miguel flush but want more.
“You sound so fucking good, baby,” Peter groaned. “Can’t wait to get my hands on you next. Think you can take both of us?” An answering whine from Miguel. “Of course you can, I know you can, you’re such a good boy for us, handsome.” He looked down at MJ, a smirk on his face as he rested his chin on Miguel’s shoulder. “MJ, my love, I wanna see how many times we can make him cum tonight.”
Miguel threw his head back against Peter, crying out as he came on MJ’s mouth, his legs shaking with how hard he was trying not to squeeze her head. She pulled back panting, a wild grin on her wet face.
“Think I can get another from you, pretty boy?” She asked, fingers already working themselves into his heat.
Miguel sobbed at the overstimulation that was screaming through his limbs. He nodded furiously, desperate to be good for her, for them both.
“Sound so pretty when you’re coming apart,” she murmured as she dove back in, fingers still keeping pace inside of him.
Miguel keened loudly in the quiet room, desperately wanting to cover his mouth so the sounds would stop, but Peter had a good grip on his hands, lacing their fingers together as MJ brought him to the edge again.
“Think you can be a good boy and cum again?” Peter whispered into his ear, keeping Miguel still through the jolting and writhing. “Want you wrapped around my cock later so I can feel you lose it, wanna hear all those pretty little noises I know you can make for us,” he breathed, kissing Miguel’s neck softly, his teeth grazing the skin there as he grinned wide. “Come on baby, cum for us.”
Miguel couldn’t believe how fast he was falling apart just from some filthy words and fingers in his cunt. His eyes rolled back in his head as he came again on MJ’s skilled fingers, her lips wrapped around his cock. He fought to stay seated, trying to make sure he wouldn’t move. He knew he could crush her if he shifted wrong.
She slipped her fingers out of him and pulled off of his cock with a lewd pop and sat back, wetness dripping down her face onto her crew neck. She gave a wicked smile up at the two men and Miguel flushed, looking away, while Peter just matched the energy.
“Come here babe, holy shit,” he said, breathlessly as she stood up, leaning over Miguel to give Peter a filthy kiss. Miguel just looked up and watched them, in awe that he was able to see this, that they wanted him there.
Miguel bit his lip to hold back an obscene noise as MJ brought a hand down and started to feel over his pec, slipping her fingers over and around his nipple through his sweater. He pressed his chest into the hand, his mind getting even more foggy as he felt his mouth hang open, fangs on full display.
The smell was surrounding him, it was almost too much. It was cloying in his throat, in his lungs, in his bones. He panted, trying to clear his head, trying to gain his faculties back, but it just made it worse, the air saturated with the smell.
He felt like he was drowning and he was happy to go down with it.
Peter and MJ pulled away from each other, looking down at Miguel’s fucked out face, twin smirks on their faces.
The sliver of Miguel’s mind that wasn’t a pleasure filled waste land had the thought that they belonged together, they were the same fucking person.
Peter gently set Miguel’s arms down, laying them in his lap before circling around the chair to squat down low, looking up at Miguel who leaned forward, pawing at Peter’s shirt.
“P-Peter, por favor, please, I–it’s too much, please,” Miguel panted. He could feel drool trailing down his chin but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Peter shushed him gently, sliding his hands under his turtleneck, petting the skin he found there as he worked it up and over Miguel’s head, leaving him completely bare. He didn’t have the brain power to be embarrassed.
“Why don’t we move to the bedroom,” MJ suggested, her hands petting through Miguel’s hair again, making him purr and lean into the motion. “Get him more comfortable to take your cock, Pete.”
Miguel felt his hole clench around nothing at the idea. He hadn’t realized how empty he felt until she suggested he be stuffed full of the older man’s dick.
“I–I–” Miguel stuttered, trying desperately to get his mouth to work. When nothing came out, he whined pitifully, squeezing his eyes closed.
“Hey, hey,” Peter soothed, sliding a hand over Miguel’s cheek, prompting him to open his eyes. “You’re okay, I promise, baby.” He leaned up and kissed Miguel softly. “Just let us do the work, okay?”
Miguel nodded mutely. He started to push up so he could stand, but his legs felt like jello and he flopped back into the chair. He huffed and tried again before Peter laughed and stood up, wrapping his arms around Miguel’s middle and pulling.
Miguel yelped as he was thrown over Peter’s shoulder, hinged at the waist, Peter’s arm wrapped around his thighs. He fisted his hands in the back of Peter’s henley, looking up at MJ who was following them.
She giggled. “God Pete, you should see how red his face is.”
He lowered his head to Peter’s back again, his flush traveling down to his shoulders and across his chest. He sucked in a harsh breath as Peter brought a hand up to slap his ass.
“Bet I can make it worse.”
Miguel was going to die, of embarrassment or orgasms, that was still to be determined.
They passed the threshold of the couple’s room and Miguel scrambled again as Peter threw him like a sack of flour onto the bed. The younger spider shook his head to try to gain his bearings again and when he finally looked up, Peter was prowling toward him on his hands and knees. Miguel’s breath stuttered and he slid back until his back hit the pillows at the top of the bed, his knees bracketing Peter as he made his way forward until his face was buried in Miguel’s neck.
“God, you look so fucking pretty like this,” Peter groaned as he brought his much bigger hand down to pet through Miguel’s folds.
Miguel’s head tilted back against the headboard, his hands fisting in the bedsheets, foul noises leaving his mouth.
Peter sucked marks into his neck as he slid two fingers into his heat, curling in and out, making Miguel tense and writh under the man.
“Fuck, babydoll,” Peter growled, his teeth scraping against Miguel’s neck with each word. “Can’t believe it took me so long to get you here.”
Miguel just panted out his pleasure, his fangs aching with the need to bite. His hazy eyes looked over Peter’s shoulder, spotting MJ, who was sitting at the end of the bed, her sweater gone, sitting in jeans and a bra, as she stared at Miguel with something so dark in her gaze, it made him jolt.
That may have also been three of Peter’s fingers sliding into him, but he wasn’t keeping score.
Miguel cried out as Peter sped up, his legs starting to curl up and in, holding Peter against his body.
“There you go,” he panted out, his other hand coming up to start playing with Miguel’s nipple. “Come on baby, you can do it, I know you can, wanna make you feel good.”
Miguel couldn’t keep himself in control, he was a writhing, sweaty mess under Peter. He arched his back as he came again, a loud squelching noise echoing in the room that made Miguel hide his face in Peter’s neck, letting out breathy little punched out noises.
Peter slowly slid his fingers out of Miguel before sitting back and staring at Miguel as he slid those same fingers into his own mouth, moaning at the taste. Miguel just gaped at him, his breathing still coming too fast.
“I don’t–” Miguel tried, eyes still trying to focus, mind foggy. “I didn’t–what is–”
Peter sat perfectly still and waited for Miguel to finish a fucking sentence, a soft smile on his face.
“Why–” he huffed out an irritated sound. “What’s going on? Why do you both smell–” like sex and desire and want and need and lust. “You both smell different. Why?” He finally finished, swallowing so hard he almost choked.
Peter laughed as he sat forward again, putting his face into Miguel’s neck. “I actually figured it out,” he whispered like it was a secret.
Miguel tilted his head to look at him, a confused sound coming out of his throat.
MJ cackled as she set a purple container on the bed, as if that was the answer. Miguel looked at it before shifting his gaze up at MJ, a brow quirked.
“Open it,” Peter said as he pushed the container into his hands, sitting back up. “Is this what you’ve been smelling?”
Miguel looked at him warily as he unscrewed the lid and gave a tentative sniff.
It felt like somebody punched him square in the gut, the screaming arousal coming back with a vengeance. Miguel moaned as he pulled it away from his face, trying to keep it together, but failing miserably.
Peter huffed out a laugh as he took the container back and scooped some up, putting it on his arms. “I’m taking that as a yes?” He asked coyly.
Miguel was panting again as he laid himself back against the pillows, his body on display, waiting for someone to touch him.
“MJ got it a couple weeks ago, and would use it before we went to bed, so it must of transfered to me while we slept,” he said, cocking his head at Miguel. “It was when I accidentally grabbed some of it one morning before coming in that it clicked for me.”
Miguel really wasn’t intaking anything Peter was saying, his body feeling like it was on fire.
“P-Please, Peter,” he gasped out, hands running anxiously across himself. “Mary Jane, I–I need you, please, por favor, fuck me, I need it, need it.”
Miguel heard twin inhales and things hitting the floor in quick succession.
He tilted his head up, eyes lidded as he watched Peter stripping as fast as he could, throwing clothes in every direction. MJ on the other hand, had her eyes glued to Miguel as she slid her jeans and panties down before her hands curled behind her to undo her bra, sliding it down her arms.
“Come here, princess,” Peter purred as he pulled Miguel’s attention towards him, kissing him as he brought the taller man to his knees.
Miguel moaned into the kiss, his hands skimming along Peter’s body, not sure where to set them, not sure what to do. He couldn’t focus on a goddamn thing.
Peter eventually pulled away from the kiss, shifting to the side so he could lay Miguel down on his stomach. He looked up to see MJ standing at the end of the bed and just stared at her. She was absolutely beautiful. She had freckles everywhere and stretch marks and reddish blonde hair and Miguel knew he would do anything she asked of him.
“You ready, handsome?” She asked, tilting his face up with the tips of her fingers like she had done in the living room.
Miguel could only nod.
She let out a tinkling laugh as she got up on the bed and laid on her back, adjusting so Miguel’s head was in between her thighs. He blushed furiously and looked away, not used to people being so forward with him.
She put a hand on his face and turned it back so they made eye contact.
“You say the word, it stops,” she said, tone serious, eyes searching his face for anything indicating he wanted out.
He nodded loosely before keening and dropping his head when he felt Peter slide his hands up his hips.
“Fuck, you both look incredible,” he breathed as he slapped his cock against Miguel’s folds, making him cry out and shift his hips back, trying desperately to get friction.
MJ hummed lightly. “I could say the same from my angle.”
Miguel just panted and moaned pathetically, suddenly shy at all the attention being directed at him. He wasn’t used to being seen like this, so fucked out and vulnerable.
A hand slid into his hair and he looked up at MJ who was smiling at him. He just stared for a second before leaning down and licking a stripe up her cunt. She gasped and tangled her fingers in his hair, shifting her hips to get more friction.
Miguel did not want to disappoint her.
He threw himself into eating her out, wanting her to feel as good as she made him feel.
He cried out into her folds, making her moan in turn, as Peter slid into Miguel’s clutch in one smooth thrust.
“Fuck, Miguel,” she cried out. “Feels so fucking good, holy shit.” She suddenly looked up at him, a fetching bright red color dusting her cheeks. “You better watch the fangs.”
Miguel panted, his mouth already sopping wet. He just nodded mutely as he dove back in, licking into her, cinching his eyes closed and whining high in his throat as Peter started up a steady rhythm; something smooth and pleasurable, but not in any hurry to get anywhere.
Peter leaned down and caged Miguel in with an arm, the other fisting in his hair next to MJ’s and holding him into her cunt, whispering filthy words into his shoulder as he sucked mark after mark into the tan skin there.
“Does it feel good, hmm?” He asked, sounding completely unphased at the fact that he was buried inside of Miguel. “She tastes so good, doesn’t she? One of my favorite things in the world.” He slid his hips back before bringing them forward harder than before, making Miguel moan into her. “Oh look at that, I can control how you both feel now, this is amazing.” He sat up, releasing Miguel’s hair, and started up an uneven pace, like he was trying to figure out how to get the best noises out of Miguel.
At one particularly hard thrust, Miguel slid forward, dragging his nose across MJ’s clit. Her reaction was something Miguel wanted to see again; her back arched and she gripped Miguel’s hair hard between her fingers, grinding her hips up into his face. He could barely breathe and he was getting foggy spots in his vision, but he wanted her to feel just as good as he did.
He was able to hold his weight up on one hand and brought the other up to slide two fingers into her. He pulled his mouth off panting, inhaling more of the intoxicating smell of the lotion and MJ’s arousal. She cried out and tugged his hair, making him whine, thin and needy.
“Fuck, Miguel,” she whimpered out, her thighs shaking around his head. “I–I’m gonna–holy fuck, you feel so good, I’m gonna cum please, please, please.”
Miguel was high on the praise being thrown his way as he nipped and sucked on the skin on her soft thighs, licking the lotion off of her. He finally slid his mouth back around her clit as Peter gripped his waist and started a harder pace, making him moan around her.
She held him there as her thighs clamped around his head, her whole body shaking as she moaned and cried out, her body twitching as she came down. Miguel stayed where he was being held, licking her clean and trying to prolong her orgasm, her pleasure everything to him.
She finally pulled him back, her hand shaking in his hair as he looked up at her, a hazy look in his eyes. She panted as she smiled down at him before thunking her head back down to bask in the afterglow.
Miguel just laid his head on her thigh, still leaving little nips and kisses there as he tensed and keened at every thrust from Peter.
“Jesus, Miguel,” he panted out, slamming in just to hold there and grind. “That was so fucking hot. How are you feeling, baby?”
MJ sat up on an elbow as she gave a solid thumbs up, still gasping for air. “He is–very good at giving head.”
Miguel flushed bright red at that, burying his face in her plush thigh.
MJ shifted again, pulling her legs under her as she sat on her knees and brought Miguel’s head up so she could look into his face. “You want Peter to make you cum? You wanna cum on his cock? You gotta say it, love. How else will we know what you want.”
Miguel bit his lip as Peter grinded against that bundle of nerves that made stars dance across his vision. “P-Please,” he begged.
“Please what, sweetheart?” She asked as she pet her hands down his face, leaving little kisses in their wake.
Miguel cried out as Peter pulled out and slammed back in again. “I–I want to cum–I want to cum on your cock please, por favor, preñame, preñame, por favor.”
Peter hummed as he tightened his grip on Miguel’s hips, pulling him back harder into his thrusts. “Oh listen to that babe, I think we broke him.”
MJ kissed Miguel soundly, swallowing all the desperate noises that were leaving his mouth.
He ended the kiss as he yelped, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. His arms were shaking violently, desperately trying to hold himself up, trying to be good for them, wanting the praise.
MJ laughed lightly as she pet a hand down his chest, looking over him at her husband. “I don’t think he’s going to be able to hang on for much longer.”
Peter grunted as he leaned forward and planted a hand in between Miguel’s shoulders, pushing him down so his chest was flush with the bed. He brought a leg up to thrust harder into the younger spider, making him scream into the sheets.
“Good god, Miguel,” Peter commented, breathing harshly. “Look at you, you’re doing such a good job.” He grabbed Miguel’s arms to tuck them into his lower back, using the hold he had on him to pull him back into his thrusts.
“P-Peter, papi, pro favor, te necesito, te necesito,” Miguel mumbled into the sheets, his fingers flexing, claws popping out. “Cum in me, please, need it, need it, c-can’t anymore–I’m gonna–!”
He screamed as his eyes crossed from the intensity of the orgasm that slammed through him. He felt slick run down his shaking thighs, trying so hard to stay upright so Peter could finish.
“Such a good boy, aren’t you?” Peter groaned as he put both hands on the bed, framing Miguel’s slim waist as he slammed into him.
Miguel whimpered brokenly as his legs finally gave out, making him lay on the bed, Peter still between his thighs, thrusting into him. He gasped and gripped the sheets as Peter wrapped an arm around his hips and pulled up, making him stay put so Peter could use him.
Miguel wasn’t sure, but he was pretty sure that he came again, just from the rough handling.
Peter’s thrusts started to falter, his voice growing louder. “Oh my god Miguel, baby, I’m gonna– shit I’m gonna cum,” he leaned down until he was close to Miguel’s ear. “Can I cum in you? Huh, princess? You want me to fill you up? Stuff you with my cum?”
Miguel jolted and gripped the sheets harder, distantly hearing them rip with his claws. He nodded furiously, an unending stream of garbled words pouring out of his mouth.
Peter pulled back as he shifted Miguel onto his side, lifting his leg over his shoulder before continuing his brutal pace.
The new angle made Peter fuck into him deeper, making Miguel’s mouth drop in a silent scream, tears misting his eyes from the overstimulation.
Peter leaned down again, putting his face next to Miguel’s. “You wanna bite me, baby? I’ve seen your little fangs out all night, you wanna sink your teeth into something?”
Miguel nodded dumbly as he brought shaky hands up to the back of Peter’s head, pulling him down. Miguel nosed along Peter’s pulse point, puffing breaths making goose bumps scatter across the skin. Miguel opened his mouth and sank his fangs into Peter’s neck, moaning as the spider in him hummed with satisfaction, the need to bite, to claim, calming.
Peter cried out and stilled as he filled Miguel to bursting. He could feel Peter cum in him, the warmth blooming in his abdomen. He whined as Peter went limp on top of him, pinning him to the bed.
He released his jaw, letting his fangs retract as he laid under the older man, basking in the relaxation and bone deep exhaustion.
He wrapped shaky arms around Peter before he closed his eyes.
-
He came back to himself after what felt like hours and heard soft voices above him. He opened his eyes to a darkened room, two figures sitting beside him, his head in one of their laps, fingers brushing through his hair. His legs were tangled with the other person's, their fingers trailing lazy patterns on his back.
He shifted his head and whined. The hands simultaneously become more firm in their touch, the voices increasing slightly in volume as they shushed him gently.
“Go back to sleep, love,” MJ murmured, her fingers running along his cheek bone, tracing the lines of his face.
“We’ll be here when you wake up, don’t worry,” Peter whispered as his fingers massaged the muscles of his back.
He didn’t argue, didn’t say anything snappy, just made a high, soft noise in his throat before snuggling back into the legs he was laying on and falling back into an easy sleep.