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Peter’s red cup crinkled in his grasp. Between the swarming masses of people in overlapped conversations and all those sloshing watered-down drinks from the keg's tube, he had lost Harry. Volume frictioned in his ears. People vomiting outside. Snorted and slurred laughter. A lighter’s flick. The stench of smoke in the back of his throat. Music pulsed in the walls, shaking the floor and rattling all the furniture. Warm bodies squished against him as he tried to crane his neck for a familiar back of a redhead.
He had no idea how he had let Harry talk him into this. It took everything to tamp down the urge to leap up and start monkey-pouncing over the crowd on the top of people's shoulders and scramble out a high window.
Instead, Peter muttered his “excuse mes” and “pardons” as he squeezed and shuffled through the crowd. He took another swig of his drink, something pinkish-red and tart. It tasted almost like the cranberry juice May used to buy for him.
Spider-sense tickled in his brain, and Peter barely dodged a drunken stumble that would have sent his face cracking against the stairs. He scrunched his nose at the blushed and dazed-eyes football player, and scurried up the stairs past a couple making out against the wall.
How strange it was that he’d rather be out getting slammed into a building by Vulture. Super villains were definitely less scary than that girl giggling and curling her fingers at him in a coy wave. Harry had pushed his arm and jerked his chin in her direction, but Peter had ducked his head to the ground and laughed it off.
It wasn’t like Peter didn’t want to talk to her. Dark ringlets and pouty pink lips. She sure was pretty.
At least less people clustered upstairs, but there were definitely a lot more wandering couples holding hands. He sipped at the juice sitting at the bottom of his cup. Third drink down the hatch.
Peter could proudly say that he knew he was a good kisser, and charming at the bare minimum. If blabbering until his ears turned red counted as charming. In high school, MJ had found it charming. Until she didn’t, and that was fine. So fine. The point being was that he could handle himself for the most part. Except for one eensy, tiny, little thing kept under lock and key that kept things above belt.
The lilt of Harry’s laughter bounced off the walls, so Peter picked up the pace in a sideways jaunt around a bathroom line. His name was on the tip of Peter’s tongue, but any excitement at finally catching up with him shriveled up at the sight of Harry, cross-legged, sitting on the edge of a dresser. With some guy standing right in front of him and leaning into his space.
Peter cleared his throat. The guy scattered backwards and whipped his head towards him, while Harry just leaned back against the wall and gave Peter an easy smile.
“There you are,” he said.
Something indiscernible rolled through Peter’s chest. It boiled under his skin as he snapped from Harry to squint at the guy scuffling his feet.
“Am I interrupting anything?”
Harry only waved a hand. “Nah. Nothing we were talking about was important.”
Stale air sat between the three. Peter swallowed. The guy’s shoulders deflated, his eyes flicking to where Peter stood in the doorway. Part of him almost felt bad for the guy, but that was completely overshadowed by the reward that was Harry beckoning him in. He dodged a shoulder check as the guy stormed out, and settled down next to Harry on the dresser.
“Did I just kill the vibe?” Peter asked and worried his hands together, empty cup set to his side. Two guys in an empty bedroom. It didn’t take much to put one and two together on that equation.
Harry tilted his head and scoffed, “Peter.”
He thumbed under the band of his webshooter, which was empty tonight. Both his webshooters were. This party was Harry’s one firm request he made after all the other times Peter had flaked, and he really really just wanted to make it up to him.
“Like I just don’t wanna get in your way—”
Harry scooted over until their thighs were flush. He kicked at Peter’s dangling ankle, and bumped his shoulder.
“Peter, he’s not my type,” he chuckled with upturned brows.
Peter’s eyes were stuck on where their thighs were connected. Heat pooled in his gut as Harry hooked their ankles together and kicked up and down.
“I—um. Really?”
Touch between them had never been a big deal. Casual shoulder touches, tugs on an arm and hand, and hugs were a thing of everyday life ever since they were just kids riding bicycles. But during high school some switch had just flicked, and it got harder to resist that urge to linger. Peter pressed into his side, and was all but leaning towards his shoulder to the point where he was jostled when Harry shrugged.
“Yeah, really. ‘Sides he was just passing on my pills,” he slurred and slipped out a small baggie from his diamond-patterned shacket.
Peter couldn’t help his full body flinch. “Oh.” He pulled back, unhooking their legs as well, and scratched the back of his head. Harry huffed out and clicked his teeth. Warmth plunged into frozen fluttering in his chest.
A whole overplayed argument passed between the silence they shared. Peter’s jaw tensed like it was held shut by taut rubber bands. Music pulsed through the floorboards. People distantly cheered outside the room.
His cup scraped against the dresser when he picked it up. “I need more punch, can you please come with me. And not leave this time.”
For some reason that sent Harry into a fit of high-pitched laughter. All hunched over and pink-faced when he pulled himself up. Glossy tears covered those brilliant green eyes of his, and Peter was all but helpless to allow himself to be limply dragged by his wrist.
—
Light reflected over the top of Harry’s curls, and Peter had to wonder what product he used to get them so shiny. They were standing in the kitchen now. Peter nursed his… Seventh? Eighth? Drink. Cranberry just tasted so good. And the refreshment table was so close for him to pace back and forth from. Right now though he was stuck to the wall. Literally. Guess he leaned too hard into it, and had resigned to his fate to just listen.
Harry was in conversation with this girl in his communications class, and Peter didn’t have much to add. He just hovered by Harry’s side, and watched as he talked. The way he wrinkled his nose. Light on his shiny, shiny hair. That dimple in his cheek in his smile when he indulged in a chuckle.
Peter could also tell the subtle drunken signs he was desperately trying to hide. How he scratched his cheeks, blush beneath his freckles. Stuttering over slurred syllables, and tacking on larger words at the end of his sentences. Beer on his breath. Haha, he was so wasted.
“Hey Peter, are you good?” Harry asked.
Both him and communications girl were giving him brow-furrowed looks, and Peter belatedly realized his mouth was hanging open.
“Mhsm s’m so good.” He took another sip from his cup, bobbed his head, and smothered down a giggle.
The communications girl blinked several times. “What?”
“How many of those have you had, buddy?” Harry put a hand on his shoulder and squinted. He grabbed Peter’s forearm, who let out a little involuntary shiver. But Harry just peered inside the cup he was holding.
“Hm? It’s not alcohol!” Peter snorted and raised it up. He didn’t drink, and didn’t exactly trust the keg the frat guys running this show dragged out here. Unfortunately, that did nothing to comfort Harry. His expression melted into something flat, and all color was drained from his face. Even his cute buzz blush. Peter wanted to pinch his cheek.
“Everything here has alcohol in it, Pete,” Harry slowly said. It took a minute for the words to settle in, and when they did the dam holding back his giggles burst.
“Oooh! That makes so much sense.”
And it really did! He couldn’t hear and smell everything in an overwhelming swirl of… People soup. He could even appreciate the thrum of the music when it wasn’t so loud in his ears. Alcohol was making him like a normal person. He was about to explain this when Harry turned to the communications girl.
“Hey, sorry. Can you excuse us?” She waved them off with a smile. Peter waved back as Harry peeled him from the wall, and guided him around the kitchen island. “C’mon let’s get some fresh air.” Peter grunted when Harry batted his hand away from scooping his cup into the punch bowl. “No, no more. Come on.”
They exited out back. Smokers mostly littered the lot. A big cloud hung overhead. Peter meekly coughed, so Harry dragged them all the way over to the sidewalk.
No matter how many times Harry asked, he dodged answering exactly how many drinks he had. Peter didn’t really remember, but he didn’t want Harry to worry. It took way too many to get him drunk, and he didn’t need his stomach pumped like a regular person. Or at least he didn’t think he did. This was the very first time Peter had ever been drunk.
He tried cataloging his sensations, but his mind kept drifting over it all. Attention stuck on how Harry sighed and sat down, reaching to rub at his head. Peter sat down next to him.
“Mngh, I've gotta headache. A killer headache.”
“How much did you drink?” Peter asked. For science. They needed to compare.
Harry twisted towards him with disbelief. “That’s what you! That's what I've been trying to get out of you!”
Peter blinked. That was right. Then he shrugged. “Probably over three,” he supplied as vaguely as possible.
Harry just rubbed at his head again and did a poor job at hiding his grin behind his arms. “Sorry I took you to this thing. It's not as fun as I'd like, as I'd hoped,” he mumbled. “And I know it’s not really your thing. Your scene I mean, uhm...”
Peter shook his head and scootched closer to Harry on the sidewalk. What he wanted to say was something comforting. Something about liking time spent with Harry no matter what, because he was his friend.
“You know, you know you're like so hot,” is what came out instead.
Harry's face twisted, and Peter felt the sudden urge to backpedal. Like his spidey sense was pinging so loudly, but it didn't help that the street lamp gave Harry such a nice golden halo that softened the edges of his frown.
“So hot,” Peter repeated. “Like you could have had that guy! The guy from before. He was totally into you.”
Thankfully, Harry's shoulders relaxed, but his pouty lips settled into a decidedly kicked puppy look.
So he lightly punched his arm and tacked on, “Coulda had anyone at that party.”
Harry burst into a squeaky chuckle, and then immediately cut himself off. He looked away from Peter and twiddled his fingers.
“So could you. That girl really liked you.”
He was almost flattered at the reminder, but Peter shifted out of his crouch to bend one knee up. He winced and shrugged at the same time when Harry looked at him from the corner of his eye.
“Not super confident about the coming out for third base.”
Harry fully turned back to him then. It was the most sobering sentence Peter had said in a while.
“Yeah, I can get that,” he said.
And usually Harry always could. Two pods in a pea. Peas in a pod. However the saying went, that's what they were. Peter probably would have never been brave enough to come out—to be who he was—if he hadn’t had the conversation with Harry, under the covers. Unsure what it meant to be a girl. Unsure of the instability under his feet. Harry had totally gotten it. He felt that way too. They were magnets, stuck together.
He rubbed his head against Harry's arm, and mumbled indistinguishable affections that had Harry looping his arm around to pet the side of his face.
Spidey senses tickled up his spine, and Peter was sitting ramrod straight even before sirens began wailing.
“Shit!” Harry cursed.
He was on his feet and angled in the direction of the noise, but Harry caught him by the elbow.
“What the hell do you think you're doing running towards the cops! We needa get out of here!”
It was easy to break Harry's grip, who swung forward as Peter stumbled off.
“But the police—”
Harry ran to circle around him. “Yeah, busting the party. Let's go!”
Swarms of college students and the like started to flood out the back of the house. Red and blue lights flashed against the neighborhood buildings. A voice called out through a bullhorn, and Peter turned to Harry, whose face was full of desperate lines.
They ran off together with the crowd, hand in hand. Too bad his webshooters were out. Drinking and swinging probably wouldn’t be his best idea anyway. Beside him, Harry's panting got haggard. People bled away in all directions. Sirens continued to chase. A stumble entered Harry's gait. Peter took executive action by snatching Harry and pressing him into the wall of an alley. No one seemed to notice them leaving, but he still blocked Harry's body from sight.
Footsteps stampeded by. A rat scuttled on the opposite side of them, and the nearby dumpster stunk to high heaven. Peter tried focusing on the smell of Harry’s cologne instead. Woodsy. Like wet moss or something. It was particularly strong along his collar. Peter breathed it in deeply, and pushed away the fabric so he could brush his nose against that sliver of open skin. Harry went stiff underneath him, but he pressed Peter closer with thumbs rubbing circles on his lower back. Peter sighed, breath hot against Harry’s neck, and melted further into the touch. Harry responded with a shiver, and wrapped an arm around his waist.
It happened before his sluggish brain could keep up with him. One moment he was scruffed by the neck. Looking down at Harry. When had he gotten taller than him? Green eyes wavered over his face. Then he had his tongue shoved in Harry’s mouth.
Kissing Harry had Peter seeing stars. His mouth was soft. Slick with Peter’s spit whenever they parted to suck in air. He would dive back with fervor, and Harry would meet him with the push of his tongue and the roll of his hips.
Every brush of Harry’s curls against his forehead. Nose against nose. Hands moving up and down his back. All clinging in the perfect way that had Peter’s heart soaring. Kissing Harry felt like web-swinging for the first time. Wind buffeting through his hair as he caterwauled. Except this time fingers knotted and pulled through his hair.
Higher and higher his mind went. Harry’s toes dangled off the ground, and a small part of him recognized he accidentally picked him up. At least it didn’t seem like he minded it all too much, with the way he attacked Peter with quickly punctuated kisses over his brow and cheeks.
They both jumped when a siren whooped nearby. Peter dropped Harry unceremoniously on the ground, and they shared a wide-eyed and open-mouthed moment of shock. While Harry was panting, Peter brought a trembling hand to cup his face. To rub a thumb over his lower lip.
His muddled brain couldn’t get out the words he wanted. He was bursting. Hot all over and breathing much too heavily over his friend while a cop car rolled much too close by. A steely look overcame Harry, and he snapped away from the brick wall to snatch Peter’s wrist. And they stumbled over each other all the way back to their dorm.
—
“Fu-fuck! Fuckfuckfuck! Ngh—Harry!” Peter mewled out his name as he tongued deeper into Peter’s cunt. Tip curling into a spot that had his vision hazy, while his cock glided perfectly against Harry’s nose as he rocked forward.
It was almost like the room was spinning all around him. Actions blurred in his mind. Running across campus, Harry nearly eating shit because he couldn’t let go of Peter’s ass. Struggling with the building’s keycards. Pawing at each other in the elevator. His hips stuttered when Harry groaned into him. The hum sent a pleasant vibration that buzzed all the way into his sternum.
“C’mon go f’ster,” he slurred between his slurping, and Peter wouldn’t even have been able to distinguish the demand if his senses weren’t so heightened. Thank you spider powers.
Still, slowed down from his drunken haze, Peter paused to process. His hands were bracing himself on the headboard. Harry was underneath him. He’d dropped to his knees the moment they got back to their dorm, and fumbled with Peter’s belt for long enough that Peter almost tore off his pants. He’d begged Peter to ride his face, hard and rough. Please, Peter. Please. He'd pushed his nose into his thighs and then his pubes before Peter guided them to bed.
Suddenly Harry latched onto Peter’s thighs, fingers digging in deep enough for Peter to let out a sharp moan, and egged him to move with his failed attempts to lift him forward. Harry slurred again, “Y’cn go f’ster!”
A thought flitted through his mind about holding back his strength, but all it took was a quick swipe of Harry’s thumb on his cock for Peter to abandon all reason and listen. The headboard slammed against the wall. Harry continuously groaned into him, his legs squirming against the sheets from behind. Peter responded with his own high-pitched mm, mm, mm’s!
Any other time all the noise he was making and the wet, slick sounds would have been beyond embarrassing, but he was beyond caring when Harry reached to hold onto one of his elbows. Peter let go of the headboard to interlock their fingers, everything tightening in him as he neared the edge of his peak.
—
Throbbing in his head. Like a bruise pressed down. Right behind his eyes. Peter shifted, and felt a body beside him. His brow wrinkled, and a hand came to brush his bangs. Harry sleeping over in his bed wasn’t abnormal, but usually he’d remember the active decision. Whether that be falling asleep after studying together, or simply because their dorm’s heating was broken and Harry ran cold.
A finger stroked over his bicep. “Jesus, I didn’t dream that. You really are that jacked.”
Peter snapped forward. He was shirtless. Harry stared up at him, elbow on his pillow. He was shirtless too. His eyes dipped to Harry’s open chest. Drool pooled in his mouth. Thin mauve lines of his top surgery matched the color of his pert nipples. Peter screwed his eyes shut.
“Oh my gosh.”
Flashes of last night returned like a freight train. Kissing in an alley. Being felt up in an elevator. Little kitten licks lapping at his hole. The sounds he made. Peter hid his face behind his fists.
Harry scoffed, “Seriously? That’s your reaction?” His tone was light, playful, but an underlying hurt edged the way he audibly swallowed. Peter let the fists slip away. Purple-yellow bruising dotted all over the ridge of Harry’s nose.
“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” he scratched out and dove to hold Harry’s face in his hands. Peter twisted him from side to side to observe the damage. Harry went still, like he wasn’t breathing. He didn’t blink either. Peter grimaced. “I hurt you.”
Harry finally relaxed, chest curving inwards. “I’m… I’m fine. I don’t even feel it.” His hands went to Peter’s wrists, as if he were going to pull them away. But instead he just let them sit, thumbs rubbing those comforting circles. “I had a really good time, Pete.”
And didn’t that just stroke Peter’s ego? Harry’s half-lidded smile twisted a knot in his stomach. Peter hissed to himself. Harry’s thumbs came to rub over his knuckles. Peter hummed. It would be so easy to surrender in basking in that glow of Harry all satisfied and stretched, but that angry dappled purple just had his heart all squeezed.
He pulled Harry closer, for observation. “Your nose looks broken.” Peter twisted his chin back and forth. No such slant or curve to the slope of Harry’s ridge. Some swelling. A small bump. Peter thumbed it and Harry flinched.
He smacked Peter’s hands away. “It’s not! Just bruised, it’s okay. I asked you to be rough, and besides we were wasted.” Harry sat up, blankets falling to his waist so that Peter could spot his dark ginger happy trail perfectly trimmed even over his stomach. Of course Harry would be a well-groomed kind of guy.
Window light shifted over his face. Peter scowled at its presence. His brain still felt like it’d been thrown into a blender. Harry smirked and raised his arm to shadow Peter’s eyes.
Peter scowled up at him. “Ugh… Don’t remind me. How are you not hungover in the slightest?”
“Oh I was. Five hours ago. You’re just a heavy sleeper.” Harry prodded his side, which sent Peter flipping away to bury his face under the covers. “I got up to spew chunks like three times already.”
“Gross,” Peter mumbled into the mattress. “What time is it?”
“Eleven twenty-five.”
His gut seized harder than if he was poisoned by Scorpion. Peter scrambled out of bed. Sheets flying as Harry squawked. Papers flew into the air as he crumpled the rest into his bag, and hissed through his teeth, “No, no, no! I have a class in fifteen minutes!”
This seemed to activate Harry, who picked up the covers and sat up straighter on the bed. “Shit. Anything I can do to help?”
Peter hovered. Buck-naked, in broad daylight. And yeah, they were in their locked dorm room, and he doubted anyone could see inside the window with how high their floor was. But that did not change the fact that the space was cramped, and that Harry sat naked right in front of him too. His backpack hung from his hand as he struggled to open and close his mouth.
Harry waited with a patient tilt of his head. He really was a pretty guy. Peter also thought this when he all dressed up in his tailored outfits. Wool or cashmere sweaters that would hug his stomach and chest just right. Peter especially enjoyed summertime, when Harry would sweat through his white linens. Right now though, he could see his dick.
Peter dropped the bag. “Wait. Did you—did. Did you even… cum last night?”
He’d seen it last night too. Some vague memories bubbled up over sticking his fingers in Harry’s pants while his fingers stuck into Peter’s. His bottom growth didn’t have as much girth as Peter’s, but that didn’t matter in his mind. Not when Harry looked so good with it sitting between his perfectly trimmed bush and his perfectly bare stomach and his perfectly freckled chest.
“Peter,” he said flatly, unbelieving. His brows raised as he picked himself off the bed.
Peter backed himself into their desk. “I mean I just. Harry.” He raised a hand to gnaw on his fingernails. Peter was a poor comparison with his tangled mess below, and pitiful chest hairs above.
“It really doesn’t matter Peter, not to me at least. Like I said. I had a good time.” Harry sauntered over, and huffed out when Peter twisted his head away.
A pencil rolled to the floor as Harry perched beside him. Like it was the most normal thing in the world. Standing side by side like this. After a night of… That. Only a half inch separated them, but Peter leaned away. He refused to continue glancing at Harry’s pinky itching towards him. His every subtle movement had Peter’s hair standing on end.
“Was it bad for you?” Harry asked, soft enough for the words to rasp. Peter jerked his head at the sound of his breath hitching. Harry slightly hunched in on himself. His frowning lip worried between his teeth.
Peter groaned and hit his forehead. “Right. I’m being a total ass.” Harry watched on as he contorted his face. Trying to get a sense of what he was feeling. Just being near him had the power to send all logical thought out the window. Like a magnet to a compass.
Harry pursed his lips when Peter finally scratched his nose and huffed, “No, no it was good. Really good. I’m just. I just. Hm. You know, I just.” He opened his hands out and flailed about, mouth down turned in one direction.
Whatever jumbled garbage he just spewed must have been translated, since Harry got caught in a fit of laughter. His shoulders rose and fell, unbundled from that hunch. One hand rubbed at his collarbone, while the other went to wipe tears away. Peter watched all of it, while Harry finally scooted over to bridge that half inch gap.
He gasped. Goose flesh rose at the feeling of Harry stroking along the ridge of his spine in dainty, light touches.
“Well then if you’re really worried about it… How’d you feel about skipping class?” He looked at Peter from behind fluttering eyelashes. Up and down. “Have you ever taken a strap?”
The question was so casual it almost slipped through his fingers. No of course he hadn’t, when would he have time to do that between throwing super villains in jail and getting his ass kicked by finals. But Peter nearly blue-screened at the image in his mind of Harry holding him down and making him take it. Not that anyone could make Peter do anything.
Not many people had touched him like that before either. He’d engaged with heavy-petting after a make out session got too heated. Thanks, Felicia. Had explored fingering himself in private, on occasion. No way he was going to admit that out loud. The closest anyone had gotten was last night. With Harry. Peter turned the image of them together around, considering it from all angles. How much did he actually care about that exam in Calc?
Eventually, he swallowed, “I want you to get something out of it… too.”
Harry smirked. “Oh I will. If you’re up to it, that is.” He didn’t change the pressure of his stroking, but his hand expanded its wandering. Over his shoulder blades, cupping over his side, and dipping lower and lower. But not enough.
Peter shuddered and leaned into him. “Yeah.” He kicked the backpack under the desk. “Okay, yeah.” Maybe Harry had been right about math being stupid. So stupid, Peter would take back every argument they had about multi-step vectors.
Harry chuckled into his scalp, “Really?”
Smarmy, full of himself, and a spoiled brat. These are all things that Harry had been accused of by the public, and Peter couldn’t exactly say they were wrong with the way Harry hummed all self-satisfied. But he could also recognize the air of relief. The following sigh against his skin. The “you want me too, huh.”
Peter twisted against Harry’s shoulder, and looked up at him all wide-eyed and no doubt pathetic. “Yes, please.”
Harry pecked the side of his head. “Think you can wait on your bed for me?” Something about the lowered reverberation of the question tickled Peter. He couldn’t hide his grin at the thought of Harry trying out something more dominant for him. How spoiled.
“Of course I can!” He did a poor job of stifling his laughter. “I can wait all day. I'm the most patient person in the world.” Peter swiped his hair out of his face and tapped his feet against the floor.
Harry groaned, rolled his eyes, and tilted his head. One hand on his waist.
“What! I’m totally so patient! Do you want me to be a good boy too, or something?” Peter backed off the desk and trotted back to his bed with exaggerated little kicks. As if he hadn’t been saying his pleases and thank yous. Like he totally didn’t want to be a good boy. “Want me to beg?” he asked, sat down, and crossed his legs.
“Jackass!” Harry laughed and swiped at his nose. Peter leaned across the mattress to watch Harry take long and graceful strides to his side of their dorm room.
He didn’t turn back once. Not a single coy look over the shoulder. But Peter could read those twitches that jumped between his shoulder blades as he bent over, slowly and gratuitously. Spoiled, teasing, and impatient. Harry made a ruckus of rummaging through his nightstand.
Peter clasped his hands over his stomach. His organs felt like they were being pulled taut the longer he thought about Harry and his cute little butt. Worms wriggled under his skin. His lungs burned. Peter dug deeper into his stomach, and tried for a normal smile as Harry sauntered on over.
“Everything okay?” Harry asked, and set some items down on the desk that had Peter swallowing. He turned his attention to Harry instead, coming in closer with a bottle. Of lube. Even with the cap twisted tightly Peter could practically smell how expensive it was.
“Yeah, I’m just… Nervous.” He ducked down when Harry’s brows furrowed together. Fiddled his thumbs together and bumped his knees.
Harry sat down on the bed. “We don’t have to do this.” Peter could feel the weight of his presence, glimpse him from the corner of his eye. About an inch of space between them. Harry had his hands on his lap as well, withholding from touching until Peter said something. The consideration thrummed against his heart strings.
He reached over. Harry was silent as Peter rubbed a thumb up and down over his knuckles. Skin on skin contact itched at something satisfying the same way picking his hair out was satisfying. The worms in his stomachs seemed less frazzled at Harry twisting his wrist to take Peter’s hand in his own.
“But I wanna.” And he totally did. If he could just get that across to Harry by just staring at him, but his stupid eyes kept dropping down to Harry’s lips, which began a slow upwards curl.
“Okay,” Harry snorted. He climbed over Peter, kissed his cheek, and nuzzled into his shoulder. “Anything I can do to help then?”
The vibration of his voice against his throat felt nice, so did his weight. Harry was a bit smaller than Peter, but that didn’t matter. The anxious bird caged in his brain felt pleased over the draping on his body.
“Kiss me more. Please.”
He didn’t have to ask twice. Harry leaned into his space, gave him something short and sweet. Their lips audibly clicked at the contact. Harry dove in again, but Peter rested an arm over his neck to make it last longer. Soft puffs of Harry’s breath tickled over his cheeks. Peter’s eyes fluttered at the languid movements of Harry’s mouth and hands moving up and down his side. He could feel his muscles unwinding as Harry worked at them with careful and concentrated rubbing and squeezing.
It didn't take much prodding for Harry to let him lick inside. Fuck morning breath, Harry tasted divine. Logically he knew that there were biological chemicals at work to make swapping spit feel this good, but there had to be a bit of magic behind the way Harry groaned into him. Peter took his time exploring every crevice and every molar.
Harry pulled back to murmur against his cheek, “Can I touch here?” His fingertips barely skirted across the center of his chest.
Usually, he didn’t like attention on that part of his body, but Harry was already molding him so nicely… Harry waited for his answer by brushing Peter’s bangs over his forehead. Rubbing over his cheek. Pressing into the dip of his collarbone.
“Mh, mhm,” Peter hummed. Would it be greedy to say he wanted Harry to touch him everywhere?
Still, the hand proceeded slowly. It trailed down in meandering circles. The other curved around his back to squeeze his ass, which Peter couldn’t help but snort at. Harry smirked, but continued on. Peter tilted his head back against the pillow. His legs shifted against each other between the soft touches over his breasts and the hard clench on his ass.
Harry brushed his thumb over a nipple. Peter bit his lip. Harry dipped down, thumb adding more pressure. Sweat rolled down his back. His breathing picked up in airy whimpers, and he couldn’t stop shifting in tandem with Harry’s whims. This close he could feel Harry’s heartbeat. Every inhale he took. Their shifting against the sheets. Harry dipped. Lapped and kissed over Peter’s skin.
“So handsome,” he whispered. That was the only warning granted before Harry swirled his tongue around one nipple. “So, so handsome.” He latched on and Peter let out a keen. The hand on his ass drifted to cup the other side of his chest.
Now between the tweaking and the sucking and the switching between the two, Peter could not shut up. Wow. He shut his eyes to put effort into breathing in and out at a normal rate. To stop himself from rocking Harry completely off. Time drifted by in a heady blur before those hands wandered anywhere else. One traveled the slope down his abdomen, and the other cupped his cheek.
Peter cracked his eye open to Harry smiling down at him. He tugged and pinched at Peter’s cheek and giggled at the grunt given in return. One hand tugged on his pubes.
“Can I touch… here?” Harry asked, eyes flicking down and then up to watch Peter’s face flush red enough to give him a head rush.
“Uh-huh,” is all he could squeak out. The corner of Harry’s lip quirked up. One brow raised. An are you sure? How torturous. Peter huffed and repeated, “Uh-huh.”
This rewarded him with a stroke along his cock. Peter shifted his hips up, and arched into Harry. Drool pooled in his mouth. More slow circles. It spun his mind round and round. He twitched and shuddered. Harry knew exactly how to read every movement. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Peter squirmed and kicked like a rabbit. Squealed like one too. Somehow Harry managed to push him down, and worm his way in between his legs.
Peter’s mouth parted as Harry’s finger pushed inside his hole. His toes curled. Warmth spread through his abdomen, and spilled into his buzzing skull. His thighs squeezed around Harry, who barely even thrusted in and out.
“There we go, just relax huh. Just like that,” Harry blabbered and used his other hand to rub circles into Peter’s waist.
Peter responded with a breathy gasp, twisted his head against the pillow, and gave a shallow thrust of his hips. Harry’s hand moved up and down his side. Hot touches—soft touches. The finger in him reached deeper and crooked right as Harry squeezed his breast. Peter barely held back a high-pitched yelp behind his teeth.
He had to cover his mouth when a second finger was added. The corner of Harry’s eyes crinkled as he grinned. Peter blinked back, but broke on in a hand-muffled whimper. Harry leaned to peck kisses all over his cheeks.
“Wow, Pete,” he murmured out, breathless. “Do you think you can cum like this?”
Embarrassment prickled in the back of his mind at how easy he was giving in to Harry’s fingers picking up the pace, giving in to Harry’s near-silent little gasps as Peter rutted his cock into Harry’s palm, giving in to Harry’s flushed face. He let Harry peel away the hand covering his mouth.
“Hngh, Harry!”
Thankfully his mind was read and Harry took the cue to kiss him. Peter sighed as their tongues slotted together. Man, he really liked doing that. Why hadn’t they ever kissed before?
He remembered idly thinking about it. Watching Harry chew on a pen and sputtering when the ink exploded on him. How he’d whined and complained and scattered about for wipes and paper towels. Watching him eat a peach, cheeks chip-munk full as juice trailed down his chin. So sticky and gross.
He whined when Harry pulled away, but was gently “sh, sh, sh” shushed. Their foreheads butted together. “Come on, you’re close aren’t you?” Despite tightly clenching around a third finger, Peter shook his head. Harry snorted, “Oh, really? See, I don’t think I believe you.”
Peter rolled his eyes and panted, “Nuh-uh, you don’t even know me—hah! Right there! Please!”
It took everything in him to not grab and steer Harry’s arm. Warmth in his skull. Buzzing. He didn’t want to bruise him more—didn’t want to mar Harry’s perfect lotion-pampered, smooth, unblemished skin worse than he already had. Peter twisted and dug his fingers into the bed sheets, fighting that desire to touch and cling, and whined as Harry hoisted one of his legs higher by a thigh.
“Here?” Harry asked lightly, teasing with his fluttering eyes. Peter huffed as those fingers curled just against the edge of his g-spot. He tried to help by stretching his other leg further apart. But Harry just pulled his fingers back, and had the gall to laugh at the angry string of noises Peter made in the back of his throat.
“Guh, mnrgh please? Please? Please.” He could hear the hitch in Harry’s lungs, his stuttered inhale through his nose. Peter gave a pitiful buck into his touch. This time Harry stayed still, and let Peter rock into that spot that had the corner of his vision whiting out. “P-Please!”
Harry shuddered. “Hooh-boy, well since you asked so sweetly.”
“I’m—not—sweet!” Peter grunted out between gasps as Harry finally finally focused on that spot. Drool pooled in his mouth. Whines slipped out from behind his gritted teeth. Over and over.
“Gonna have to agree to disagree there, Pete,” Harry breathed out, voice low and casual. His thumb swiped over Peter's cock. Something tight contracted in his gut. Peter's body jolted—the skin on his stomach twitching. With his thigh securely hitched over Harry's waist, sticking in a way impossibly too convenient, Harry moved a hand to cup the back of Peter's head.
Fingers threaded through his hair, petting and gently pulling. So much more gentler and softer than the treatment of his cunt. Sloppy wet noises brought a burning heat to his reddened cheeks. Harry grinned down at him, stroking over his hairline and jaw. Pleasure rolled out of Peter's abdomen. He could feel it reaching his curled toes. Swirling in the back of his skill, where Harry kept pulling and tugging. His eyes rolled back.
Harry leaned to kiss the tip of his nose, not stopping that swiping over his cock nor the insistent and steady curling inside his hole. Peter nearly didn't register cumming—mind pulled so taut that when it finally spilled he became a writhing, whining, puddle of warmth.
"Now look at that," Harry huffed out smugly, one corner of his lip pulled up high. "So, so handsome. So sweet."
Peter's legs began to tremble as Harry kept up the pounding. Let out a meek little noise at the push against the hood of his cock, to which Harry tutted and finally had the mercy to ease away.
With their curtain open, there was enough daylight to see the strings between his fingers. Kind of web-like… Eugh, gross. Peter didn't have the proper energy to kick himself over the thought. He just watched Harry lick away at those digits, who then froze… and gave a head-tilt to Peter puffing out his breath on the bed.
"Wanna taste?" he asked all raspy—eyes dark with the roundness of those blown-out pupils.
Peter opened his mouth, brain still gooey. The desire to please Harry thrummed through him. Harry, who frustratingly remained unmoving. Unblinking as he apparently waited for a greater response. Peter widened his mouth. His arm glided across the sheets, reached up slow, slow, and carefully pulled Harry closer.
Harry chuckled, and finally stuck just the index and middle inside. Feeling those fingers press down against his tongue firmly sent a satisfying crawl down his spine. Like a scratch being itched. Harry shifted. He lowered down to lay over Peter. Chest to chest. Head slotted against his shoulder. Peter let out a soft sigh from his nose.
Tasting himself felt odd. In the way explaining paradoxes were odd. But the weight and the scent of Harry blanketing him slowed the patter of his heart to a sluggish pull. In the back of his mind he could hear Harry whispering and running a hand down to cup over his ribs, but Peter drifted off away into a pleasant buzz.
He dropped back into himself the moment Harry rolled over and ripped away—now Peter's spit stringing along his fingers that Harry wiped off on his own freckled skin. A complaint lodged itself in his throat about being torn in half, but his teeth clicked shut at the sight of shiny wetness damp in his bush and smeared all over his thighs.
Peter's cheek twitched. “Ungh, that was so embarrassing.” He smashed his face into the pillow when Harry laughed. How thin were these walls? His thoughts spiraled of all the possibilities of students or RA's coming to knock on their door. He could only hear the regular pitter-patter of feet. Someone starting their shower across the hall. How fast would it take to get dressed before someone knocks with a complaint? How much time did they have time to get Harry to orgasm…
Harry prodded his side. Peter kicked back. Harry tangled their legs together and kissed his shoulder. Peter twisted away from the pillow—gaze hesitantly tracing over the red blush on Harry's face mixing with the purple over his nose.
"I don't know about embarrassing, but it was pretty hot. Really hot in fact, kinda hurts how hard I am right now," he admitted with a low whine paired with a forehead-crinkled wince.
Peter's heart jumped at the insinuation. Was he giving Harry blue balls?
"Really?" he asked a little too loudly, and immediately cringed at the volume. His eyes dipped down, but Harry's crotch was hidden from Harry curling around Peter's back.
"Oh my god, Peter Parker. You have no idea what you do to me. Feel. Here." Harry shuffled to untangle their legs. Peter let his arm be grabbed and guided. A thrum of excitement jolted through him like lightning. Harry paid the shiver no mind as he spread his thighs, and Peter didn't need any more tugging to reach down and dutifully stroke over Harry's cock.
Harry bucked into the touch, and cursed under his breath. Peter continued his ministrations, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, and felt his own stomach clench over how Harry had swollen with his arousal. Dripping all shiny and white. He explored around. Parted and rubbed between his folds. He watched Harry's expressions carefully, and only continued pushing where his breathing got choppy. Peter draped himself over Harry's legs, and circled over Harry's cock again.
Surprisingly, he was a lot quieter than Peter. Definitely more squirmy. Despite this, Peter's weight kept him from kicking away. Harry let out a deep huff. Peter could tell by his furrowed brows that it was starting to irk him. He let Harry shudder under him with twisted, desperate movements against the sheets until he screwed open one eye.
"Hah—Are you up for more? I don't want to o-overwhelm you."
Harry pushed at Peter's chest, but his hand wandered. Moved tantalizing over his skin. Soft, light, touches that had Peter shuddering too. Harry pushed against him, more firmly this time, and Peter finally eased away.
"I'm up. Literally and metaphorically," Peter breathed out heavily. "Do you want me to make you cum first?"
He let his hand be moved again—batted away by Harry, who interlaced their fingers. Peter ducked down to rest his forehead against Harry's forehead.
"Ngh, no. 'S too fast. C'mere." Harry tilted back his chin to catch him in another kiss.
Peter got lost in the sensation. Harry's warmth against his… He could hear the staggered air in the lungs in the body underneath him. Lips slotted against lips. Pulling. Guiding. Harry squeezed their clasped hands, and rolled Peter over so smoothly and carefully. Almost like his body wasn't as heavy as a good barrel full of cinder blocks. Harry pressed against his mouth with a throaty, needy sound, and Peter let him in.
This was so so worth skipping Calc over. Peter might drop Calc if Harry asked. Just so he could taste him like this more. He wanted to cry when Harry's warmth disappeared. Fingers unwinding his hold on Peter's, and slipping back and away.
"Mind helping me get this on?" Harry asked, sitting up on the corner of the bed. A black harness dangled from his pinched hold and limp wrist. One leg after another slipped under each other so he could stand beside the bed. The harness was thrown at him.
Peter caught it effortlessly, a black tangle of leather bunched up in his fist. He unwound it, and couldn't help but turn it all around. The leather felt pleasant against his hands. Moleskin smooth, lined with a softer material on the inside. Harry bent his leg in the air like Cinderella presenting her foot to fit the shoe. Peter straightened out the harness, and slipped it on him.
He wondered about how long Harry had been hiding it in his nightstand. Black looked good on him. He thought about the Spider suit tucked behind a panel in his own nightstand. Harry twisted so Peter could adjust the little belt straps around his hips. He could hear Harry's breath getting choppy again, and if he spared a glance up he could see Harry watching and biting his lip. Peter let his adjustments linger. If only to keep those eyes on him. He circled a finger through the inside of the thick metal o-ring.
"I could make you something better…" he murmured, half to himself. That harness definitely cost more money than what Peter would spend on food in six months. He could feel it was fancy by pure touch. But he could make something better. He had made the suit, hadn't he? Dark red would be a much better color on Harry than sleek black.
Harry scoffed, "You could make me a better harness?" The drawn out way he said harness echoed though Peter's mind. Harness. Har-ness. Har-ness. An unbelieving tone. Bafflement.
Peter wrinkled his nose at this. "Yeah."
But Harry just shook his head. "Of course you'd say that." Any argument that threatened to rise and bubble up got cut short by Harry raising a finger. "Oh hold on." He reached to loosen all the work Peter had done, and all of a sudden his nerves were jumping up and down under his skin again.
Peter put a hand to his chin. "Was it too tight—"
"No, hold on. Just watch this." Harry plucked up the dildo. It was blue. Smooth silicone. Curved upwards. A large flat part at one end. Peter's hand dropped from his chin to his lap so he could claw into his other palm.
Harry just had that hanging around in their dorm. Sure it was hidden and tucked away, but how many times had he used it? And with how many people? His anxiety began to rattle around in his rib cage. He pushed his thighs together. Too overheated. Too nauseous. He'd never been this wet in his life. His mouth felt dry.
Peter wished his faculties were in full function. He might have had the bravery to ask Harry if he could inspect the toy like he inspected the harness. Instead, he watched Harry slide it through the o-ring.
"Okay, now. Yeah. Check it out, Pete!"
It took a moment for Peter to register what the hell Harry was doing with his hips. They swayed in a circle in a way that slightly jostled the loose harness. This caused the dildo to bounce. Harry smirked with open arms. His brows were lifted up high and desperate. The joke landed hard enough to knock out the anxiety from his stomach. Harry was trying to helicopter his dick.
Peter snorted suddenly. His laughter came in a high-pitched fit as if it were ripped out of him, and he doubled over struggling to breathe. He snapped upwards, eyes watering, red-faced, and lip-trembling from trying to hold it all in. Harry leaned into his space. He sat on the bed, and reached to hold Peter by the chin.
"And there you are," he cooed and smiled at Peter shaking through his remaining giggles "How are your nerves? Better?"
Peter sniffled. Whimpered. Leaned into Harry cupping over his cheeks, his thumbs rubbing away at his tears. That was so, so dumb. He nodded, reached to hold one of Harry's forearms, and let his eyes flutter shut at more of Harry's wordless cooing.
"There we go. Good boy. Ready?"
Peter could feel himself burning, probably bright-red, at the praise. It did just did something to his brain, and he was all melty in Harry's hands as he bit his lip and nodded. He allowed himself to be arranged to how Harry saw fit. On his back, a pillow under his waist. He wanted to squeeze his legs together again, or to reach down and alleviate the burning of his need.
But he waited patiently as Harry readjusted the harness to where Peter had tightened it before, and took the strap in hand. It was unfair how easy it was for Harry to switch from idiot to sexy. Like what the hell. His internal system kept swinging from one way to the other, senses overloaded, and here Harry was. Effortlessly suave. He had to remind himself of Harry practicing his audition to Glee club as he guided the tip of the silicone to rub against Peter's cock.
The moan he let out was reflexive. His heels dug into the sheets, bracing as Harry gratuitously dragged the strap through his folds while pouring on an excessive amount of lube. The bottle's lid clicked shut, and it made a light thunking sound after Harry threw it. Didn't matter where it landed, all Peter could focus on was the low muttering coming from Harry's mouth as he finally aligned the strap with his hole.
Peter grit his teeth. Screwed his eyes shut. Thankfully Harry knew how to pull at his strings, and massaged circles against his hip, rubbed over his stomach, and tweaked his nipple to ease the slide in. His nerves started to ebb as a wave of pleasant heat fanned through his body at the stretch. Peter's mouth parted.
"How does it feel?" Harry asked against his throat, kissing and sucking over the ridge of his adam's apple.
"Ngh," Peter intelligently supplied. "Ngh," he said again, when Harry pressed down on his lower abdomen.
He twitched, which made Harry move deeper. Which made Peter feel more full. Which was starting to make his head all floaty and stuffed with cotton and air.
"Ngh." He lifted his hips up, and grinded into Harry. Peter twisted his head against the pillow, and watched Harry from the corner of one miserable eye. "Mm, please. Harry, I can't."
Harry's hands roamed over his sides. His chest. He purred at the weak whimpering Peter supplied.
"Can't what, Pete? Do you need something?" He kissed over Peter's collarbone. Lapped up the sweat accumulating on his skin.
Peter wiggled uselessly. Too afraid to properly move and dismount Harry's perfect weight over him.
"Hm. Is this what you need?" Harry indulged in a shallow thrust. Peter let out a sharp yelp at the shock of stimulation, and locked his legs around Harry's hips. Harry continued his shallow movements. Slow and indulging. "Is this better?"
Slick sounds began to increase in volume every time Harry's crotch pulled towards Peter's. He could feel himself gush and drip around Harry, but it wasn't enough. He needed. Needed something more. Faster. Peter tried making this known, but he'd bitten over his arm to keep his noises quieter.
But it seemed that Harry took his squirming into consideration anyway. The fierce grip over his waist was the warning he was given before Harry started moving in faster and harder. Peter mewled into his arm. Arched. Squeezed his thighs tighter.
Harry grunted in time with his thrusts. It was cute. Endearing in a way that it made Peter want to burrow even closer to Harry. But he remained firm in keeping one hand clenched in the sheets, and the other in a tight fist. Peter dug his teeth deeper into his arm to muffle his high-pitched keening.
This seemed to unsatisfy Harry. He picked at Peter's arms. Tried to sneak in between his tightly curled fingers. Peter shook his head. Harry huffed.
“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he slurred out past the meat of his arm, thick spit drooling down his lip and smearing against his skin.
This close he could see the little dappling dots of Harry's bruising. Guilt swirled in his stomach, but the sliding against his g-spot was more distracting. Peter rutted up, gasping, and pliant enough for Harry to at least pull the arm away from his mouth.
“Peter, you can bruise me. Scratch me. I don’t care, feels good when you touch. When you hurt me too,” his voice was raw as he begged. Wanton. Needy. Just like Peter was for him. It sent his heart fluttering. The trembling of Harry's lip as he adjusted Peter to hold him over his back. How could he say no to that? “There we go, good boy. Hold on as hard as you need to.”
Still, he curled his nails inward and made use of his stickiness, so he wouldn't tear up Harry's flesh as he started to ream into that perfect spot. Fuck. Peter babbled on. Bobbed like a rag doll. Harry responded with a stream of praises that didn't quite reach his ears. The dorm bed rattled under all their movement.
Peter could feel the rise. A tickle at the base of his spine. Harry tucked a hand between their tight bodies. Pressed into peter's cock. Warmth exploded.
Peter squealed. Kicked his legs. He couldn't get away from it. His eyes rolled back, and liquid spurted from him when he came. Harry crooned. He drew it out, splashing Peter's cum against his stomach. Every thrust squelched. Peter couldn't stop panting, gasping out for air when he wasn't given a break. Did he… Did he just squirt? He could feel the bedding underneath him soaked.
"Pete," Harry groaned, "Pete, I'm close."
Peter's only verbal response was his shallow mm, mm, mms, but he opened up his legs wider for Harry to roll against him easier.
"Ugnh. Thank you. Thank you, Peter. Thank you so much."
Overstimulation itched up and down his body in violent twitches, but it didn't take long for Harry to cum. Peter watched through filmy, wet vision. The pinched furrow of Harry's brows smoothing out. His open mouth and red-flushed face. His elbows buckled and he collapsed onto Peter's chest, who welcomed the weight and held Harry close.
They panted together. Catching their breath. Peter's mind drifted as he played with the back of Harry's curls. He was loose. Couldn't feel his bones. A blob of sweaty, sticky flesh entangled with this other blob.
Time drifted on. Unmarked and unnoticed. No clocks in sight. Still, Peter knew he had definitely missed his Calc exam. Eventually the burn in his lungs faded, and he was able to properly breath through his nose. Similarly, Harry's breathing evened out and he untucked himself from the crook of Peter's shoulder to grin.
"Ugh. Well, I'm… Whoo. I'm wiped," Harry yawned and sat up. "We should go out. Do something. Would you be up to walking in a few?"
Peter's response was delayed at sensation of Harry sliding away. His ears turned pink at the initial reflexive clench and grunt he made, which had Harry smirking once the strap was out.
"You just said you were wiped, Har," he huffed. Tried not too feel too weak in the knees over Harry plopping right back down again. If he was being honest. His legs were a bit too jellied to be doing anything immediately after. He was also still a bit mortified from squirting. They would have to haul these sheets to the communal laundry room. And take showers. Peter squinted at down at Harry, who curled like a cat trying to get attention. Where the hell was all this urgency coming from?
Harry tutted and pushed, "Yeah, but. I wanna take you out. We could go out to eat." A twinkle entered those glossy green eyes of his, but Peter was more focused on that nervous twitching in his chin.
"I don't have the money to eat at a restaurant. I'll make food for us later," he tried to offer, tone a bit flat. But it was a logical alternative. A budget-favorable one as well.
Harry shook his head against him. "I'll pay! Let me treat you. Let me take you out."
Those green eyes widened a bit more intensely as the smile slipped from his face. Peter mirrored his frown. Uneasiness settled into his muscles, so he sat the both of them up. Harry blinked several times at being pulled up, but quickly set his hands in his lap. They fiddled there for a moment, before he reached out to grab at Peter's hand. His thumb rubbed over Peter's knuckles. He didn't make eye-contact as he spoke.
"Look… I. Well, I really like you, Pete. Like a lot."
It took a second for the words to really set in. Peter needed to sit with them for a moment. Usher the meaning past his brain pin-balling with anxiety. Harry was blinking hard, and still looking down to where he played with Peter's hand. Oh. Oh.
The grin that bloomed across his face was uncontrollable. He wanted to sing Harry's name over and over, but instead he leaned to peck him on the forehead. He finally looked up, all wide-eyed and twitching. The bruise still stuck out quite strongly on his face. They really needed to grab an ice block or bag of peas for that thing.
"I like you too," Peter admitted. He squeezed his hand. Harry's shoulders lifted up. He squeezed Peter's hand back.
Harry whipped his head away, facing the door, and inhaled in a big, deep, staggering breath. The fingers of his other hand thrummed over Peter's thigh.
"Okay. Whew. Okay. Let's go out then."
Deciding to let Harry have this one, and that maybe the rest of his afternoon classes didn't matter as much either, Peter asked, "What'd you have in mind?"