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Gwen grunts when her back hits the wall, tossing her head to grant better access to the hot mouth sucking along her throat. Peter has just returned from patrol and he was clearly feeling a need. They hadn’t even peeled out of their uniforms yet, barely ripping off their masks before they were on each other. She loves it when he gets like this, does everything she can to ensure it.
“Are we still pretending he doesn’t get you hot and bothered?” She teases breathlessly, arms wide to cling to the wall, her legs wrapping around her lover’s hips. It both pulls him closer and allows her to limit his motion, which always winds him up further.
Peter growls his response, grinding into the hot cradle of her thighs in silent answer. Silent answers don’t count, and he knows it, but she’ll let it slide for the moment.
The thin spandex of her uniform is fantastic for flexibility, but it does delightfully little to shield her from the pressure of his trapped arousal sliding against her own. Yeah, he was hot and bothered alright. It must have been good, whatever got him into this state. Pressing kisses to her jaw, sliding his hands down her waist to curl around her hips, flexing and moving against her, he shook with the the force of it. She wants to make it worse.
“Use your words baby, tell me what he did that has you all worked up.” She rocks in tiny increments, using her powerful thighs to push and pull him at her own pace and only a scant few inches. Peter makes a desperate sound in the back of his throat, one that turns pleading towards the end. He never wants to admit to the effect that the mercenary has on him. Well, not at first. Gwen has gotten good at this game in the months they’ve been playing it. If he is going to come home eager to slack a lust fueled by another, then Peter is damn well going to tell her the story of what’s got him in this state in the first place.
Okay, and maybe it gets her hot too, hearing all the ways her boyfriend is molested and teased. She loves how he trips and stutters over his words, reliving the humiliation anew for her. The way he can’t help but respond physically, blushing and growing hard in a uniform that hides nothing from her knowing gaze. The way that it makes him so eager to flee the source of his embarrassment and arousal, only to experience it again once he is home with her.
Gwen thinks Peter is gorgeous when he is mortified. She and Deadpool obviously have that in common, the way the hired gun has been progressively teasing Spider-Man over the past few weeks. Perhaps they share a mutual admiration for Spider-Man’s ass, too.
“He,” Peter’s words grind to a breathy halt as he rocks his hips into her but she locks her thighs around him and he can no longer move enough to get any friction. Super strength has it advantages, and he knows the rules: Gwen runs this show. She waits him out.
“He pinned me to the wall.” The superhero admits in a rush, his cheeks reddening as he forces the story out. “Face first, to the wall, and grabbed my ass Gwen!” The sound that follows this confession might have been one of agony if it weren’t for the way his hands clutch her hips and his mouth pants against the pulse point of her throat. She can feel a shiver wrack his body and he flushes in a way that she knows is traveling down to pinken even his chest. Gorgeous.
She takes pity on him and loosens the death-grip of her legs. Peter instantly slots himself close and resumes the desperate grind against her welcoming flesh.
She could see it, in her head, Deadpool’s big form pinning the smaller Spider-Man to a wall. The obvious strength of his arms caging in the spandex clad superhero. Gwen knows how he operates, Deadpool wouldn’t have just gone for a grope, he would have said something teasing first. He would have drawn it out until Peter was stuttering out a sassy reply, and then he would have cupped that perfect bottom and given it a nice purposeful squeeze.
“Was that all he did?” She barely contains her triumphant laugh when Peter bucks forward with a sudden jerk, shaking his head against her shoulder and whimpering when she prompts, “What else then?”
“Please, Gwen...” His voice is cracking, and she threads her fingers through his sweat-dark curls, tightening them threateningly. She knows it’s so much worse for him if he has to look at her while he confesses, but she’ll make him do it if he continues to stall. He crumbles instantly,
“He called me ‘Spidey-slut’ and said,” Peter sounds wrecked, no longer thrusting but instead rocking in a full body grind against her to prolong the moment. He’s getting close, just by retelling the story of his abasement. She can hear him swallow before croaking out, “He said he knows I like it.” His motions devolve into jerky pushes and she momentarily loses her breath with the force of them.
“Did you like it?” She asks, her voice going low and demanding, as if she were not already experiencing first hand how much Peter enjoys the mercenary’s coarse treatment. If they keep up this frantic pace they are going to have to wash their suits before going out again. At this point, she was probably going to have to wash hers anyway. The musky scent of her arousal was thick between their bodies.
Hissing out her pleasure, Gwen releases the wall to wrap both arms around her lover. Peter responds by leaning in to brace them even harder and doing some ass grabbing himself. Yeah, today was definitely going to be a laundry day.
“Did you like it?” She repeats even louder, her voice rising with her pleasure and the slick, hot seam of her sex sliding perfectly against the two layers of cloth separating her from Peter’s own blatant response.
“Yes!” He jerks against her and she knows he is coming in his pants, his face searing hot where he’s tucked it at the join of her shoulder and neck. Yeah, her lovely spider was a shy one, but he liked it when he was forced to admit that he enjoyed the humiliation. It makes it so much worse for him. So much better. Such a good boy. She makes sure to tell him that.
“Good boy.” She breaths out, rocking him through the shuddering aftermath of his orgasm, “You are such a good boy. You did well.” When he relaxes against her, tension seeping out of him with her praise, she unwinds her legs and gives him a little push. “Go on then, finish up.”
Peter sinks gracefully to his knees, pulling the waist of her suit down to the middle of her thighs. She combs her fingers through his hair again, fisting the soft curls when he buries his face in her cunt and laps worshipfully at her clit. Such a good, good boy.
Gwen holds him to her when her own powerful orgasm hits, riding the blushing face that is mostly hidden amongst the golden curls between her legs. Even as she arches forward over his head, Peter’s tongue continues curling into her, making her legs shake weakly. He knows how to wring every ounce of pleasure from her.
Sated, Gwen sinks back against the cool wall and turns her heavy-lidded eyes towards the living room window, still cracked from Spider-Man’s hasty entrance. The warm tones of the floor lamp reflect back on the smooth glass, making it difficult to see outside now that the sun has set. Her enhanced vision allows her to pick out the dark shadow of the mercenary on the fire escape, however. She can just perceive the faint movement of him slowly stroking himself. She pets her lover’s hair in a mimicry of the motion.
She cannot wait for Peter’s birthday next week, when he learns that his girlfriend and his crush have been plotting on him all along. He’ll be so embarrassed.