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The dining room in the Baxter building was as lively as ever. Reed had insisted on wearing a suit even though it wasn't a formal dinner at all, Ben was cracking jokes, Susan was telling Johnny to finish the green vegetables on his plate, and Peter was quietly eating his food because he'd come from not only preventing a bank robbery, but also working for, like, 5 hours in the daily Bugle. He had to leave early to prevent said bank robbery, but he's not any less exhausted today.
Johnny is way quieter than usual. He's either also tired, or scheming something. Knowing the brat, it's probably the latter.
Peter is chewing on a peice of broccoli when his phone lights up with a notification. Just in case it's something important, he picks it up.
—> Matchstick 👎🏼 (my baby) has sent an attachment.
—> Matchstick 👎🏼 (my baby): Whaddya think?
Peter blinks. Once, twice. 'What's he up to now...?' He wonders, looking up from his phone to his boyfriend across the table, who is currently arguing with his older sister about green vegetables.
Johnny glances at him, smirks, and goes right back to arguing.
Peter sighs and opens the attachment.
He drops his fork IMMEDIATELY.
Heads turn in his direction. "Ya' okay, Web?" Peter heard Ben ask.
Peter picks up the fork again, flustered. "Y-yeah— yeah! I'm okay! All good! Nothing— nothing's wrong. I just... Food went down the wrong windpipe. Yeah. Continue, please, I- uhm- yeah." He stammers.
Johnny giggles at Peter, and Peter shoots him a look. "Tell us if you feel ill, Peter." Susan quips. Peter nods in acknowledgement and everybody goes back to their own buisness.
The picture Johnny sent Peter is a picture of him wearing Peter's shirt, nothing else, on Peter's side of the bed ontop of Peter's pillow and—
God. There's slick on the Pillow and Peter just KNOWS Johnny grinded on it when Peter was away. Peter isn't sure whether this picture is old or from earlier today, but he doesn't care. Of course he doesn't care, Johnny is looking more edible than ever.
His soft blonde curls are all messed up— tounge out in a cheeky expression on his face. His dimple is showing in his smile and Peter just KNOWS from that eye-to-eye grin alone that Johnny knew this picture would have Peter stumbling over his feet. The shirt he's wearing— Peter's— is slightly damp at the ends. Either he jerked off and that's his come, or it's the same slick thats coating Peter's pillow. That he's sitting on. That he was probably grinding on. That he—
"Fuck." Peter mumbles, pinching his bridge of his nose. He quietly groans to himself; shutting his phone off.
He can already feel blood rushing south.
Peter picks up his fork again, and absolutely FEASTS on the food on his plate like all the hunger in the world hit him just now, 2 hours into the hang out with the fantastic four.
Peter wipes his hands off with a napkin and pushes his chair back to stand up. "Hey, guys, I think me and Johnny're gonna go now."
Everybody hears that and also gets up. Johnny is a little more delayed, probably realizing he's gonna get it.
Oh, he's gonna get it.
"I see! I hope you enjoyed the food, Peter. Me and Herbie made it together." Reed says, proud of himself.
Peter smiles, "I did! It was awsome!" he chuckles. It WAS awsome, especially the tomato soup. Yum.
They all exchange a slow goodbye— Ben smacking Johnny upside the head for insulting Reed's salad, Reed himself asking Peter all about work, and Susan telling Reed to 'let the boy rest'.
They all hug eachother and Peter tells everyone to take care, before walking off towards the elevator; Johnny behind him.
The ride home was... Quiet. Johnny didn't DARE bring up the little moment at the dinner table, knowing better than anyone what's about to happen the second they both step inside their apartment. Peter was either staring out the window, deciding on what song to put on, or scrolling on his phone and messaging his friends.
Then they arrived, took the elevator to their floor in silence yet again, and—
As SOON as Peter stepped in behind Johnny, the door was clicking shut and Johnny was being grabbed and shoved against the door with a loud //THUMP//.
Peter had both of Johnny's wrists pinned besides his head; one knee shoved in between Johnny's spread thighs as Johnny awkwardly chuckled. "Uhhhh— hello to you too, Pete—?"
"I know you know what the fuck you did." Peter groans, voice low and dangerous as he gets close and personal.
Johnny giggles, ABSOLUTELY knowing what he did. "Uhhhhh— you know I know you know we know know know I kno— mnnh!" and he's being kissed stupid.
Peter kisses him like a starving man, lips sliding against Johnny's aggresively, biting at his bottom lip in between kisses until Johnny opens his mouth in a gasp; allowing Peter to slide his tounge in.
Peter moves one of his hands from gripping Johnny's wrist to now holding his jaw; practically shoving his tounge down his throat as Johnny grabs at his hair and moans into the kiss.
Peter pulls back only to lean down and suck a bruise onto Johnny's neck; high enough that no collared shirt or T-neck would be able to cover, before licking over it in a shameless apology and letting go of his jaw to wander his hand under Johnny's shirt.
Peter lets go of Johnny's other wrist and lets him grip at his shoulders as Peter's own caress his torso; hands moving up and down, feeling Johnny's skin heat up. "Calm down," he murmurs in Johnny's ear. "S-sorry." Johnny's voice is trembling. Peter's making Johnny hot all over— literally. Johnny can control his powers pretty well. But sometimes, when too strong a emotion hits, in this case how flustered he is— his body temperature begins to rise up, very rarely (yes, rarely. It has happened before) actually flaming on, but just... Becomes hotter.
"All good, love." Peter sucks a hickey on Johnny's throat, licking over it.
"We- we gon- we gonna fuck in the foyer?"
"We could."
"Maybe some other day—?" Johnny giggles.
"Sure, however you want it." Peter smiles at the cute giggle. As hot as Johnny is, he can be so cute sometimes.
Johnny pushes Peter off and Peter raises an eyebrow in confusion, before Johnny's pushing past him and dragging Peter with him towards the bedroom.
As soon as the door opens and they step inside, Peter shuts the door behind him (although they don't really need to, they live alone) and watches as Johnny lets go of his hand to sit on the bed; legs crossed and slowly but surely undressing himself. Peter watches with lustful eyes as he undoes his own belt; the buckle opening up with a clank as Peter drops it off somewhere over the floor.
Johnny's fully naked on the bed now, and Peter has just his boxers on. They both just... Stare. At eachother. For a bit.
"...You comin' over?" Johnny asks.
Peter snaps out of his mind and nods, murmuring a quick apology for getting lost in his thoughts and quickly makes his way over. Johnny says it's just fine, and watches as Peter sits besides him.
Silence for a little bit.
"Uhhhhhh..." Johnny is geniunely confused on what's got Peter so lost today.
He's about to say something else, before he's suddenly being tackled and thrown onto his back whilst Peter begins kissing all over his body out of nowhere.
Johnny doesn't even GET to have a word in, because Peter's already licking over his nipples and it has Johnny squirming.
Peter kisses Johnny's temple oh-so-sweetly; like he isn't about to rearrange Johnny's guts in a few minutes. He interlocks their lips together— shoving his tounge in Johnny's mouth and licking around, holding Johnny's hips down as he tries to arch into the feeling. He kisses down Johnny's jaw and throat; leaving a few hickies on his way. How can he not? Johnny's got such soft skin, perks of being a model— he's got to take care of himself. Peter's lucky.
Peter sucks one of Johnny's nipples into his mouth, and then Johnny has a fist in his hair, tugging. Peter knows how sensitive Johnny is here— hence why he doesn't always pay attention to his chest as much. Not that Johnny hates it, but it just overwhelms him sometimes. Peter always has to take a 50/50 and guess which one it is that day— if Johnny'll squirm from pleasure or from distress.
It seems like a mix of both today, so Peter pulls away, leaning back up to press a kiss to his forehead as an apology. Johnny sighs endearingly and lets go of Peter's hair.
Peter goes back to his lovely slaughter on Johnny's skin again; this time kissing down his arms and pressing his lips to Johnny's palm before going over to pay more attention to his waist.
God, his waist.
Johnny is not, by any means, skinny. He's not as muscular as Peter is, but both of their bodies are built different— Peter has broader shoulders and more of a rectangular figure, whereas Johnny has more of narrower waist and god-carved thighs which he knows drive Peter insane.
Peter holds Johnny's waist in his big hands— kissing all of Johnny's scars from fights, kissing every inch of skin he can because he's convinced Johnny deserves it.
Johnny eventually starts squirming under all the attention, and Peter chuckles. "You're so cute, hothead," and Johnny whines in return.
Peter eventually pulls away and looks Johnny dead in the eyes. "Whatchu want?"
Johnny makes a confused sound.
"Tell me what you'd like me to do, baby." Peter asks, thumb caressing the skin at Johnny's hip.
"Uhmmmm... Anything."
"Anything?" Peter smiles.
"Well—" Johnny looks to the side, "Want— want you in me." He murmurs.
"Hmm? What was that? Didn't quite catch it, sweetheart." Peter DEFINITELY caught it.
"Want you innn meeee..." Johnny groans; covering his face. Peter's hands pull his away— Peter laughing lightly at that, at how stubborn and cute Johnny is whenever they're about to have sex. "Atta boy," and he's reaching towards their bedside drawer for lube and protection.
Johnny watches with dazed eyes as the veins in Peter's neck stretch a little and become visible with how far he's reaching; REALLY wanting to sit up and lick down his throat. But he can't, because Peter's ridiculously large hands are pinning him down by the hips. He could escape the grip if it was ANYONE ELSE, but Peter has that stupid spider-man strength and it sucks. (No, it doesn't. Johnny loves it.)
Peter comes back with a bottle of lube and 2 packs of condoms. "You're a pussy if you use a condom tonight." Johnny frowns.
Peter raises an eyebrow at that. "How does being a pussy and using a condom correlate to one another?"
"Just put that down."
"...why??"
Johnny groans again, frustrated at how STUPID Parker is. "Cause I wanna feel you skin on skin, you absolute fuckin' dumbass."
Peter sighs. "Be nicer to be me... I was trying to be responsible."
"Hell if you're ever responsible..." Johnny murmurs.
"What was that?" Peter chips back, and Johnny giggles to himself. Smiling— Peter throws the condoms somewhere onto the pile of clothes on the floor, a mess for future Johnny and Peter to worry about.
"Said you're neverrr responsible," Johnny laughs and Peter does too, leaning down to press a quick peck to Johnny's lips before opening the bottle of lube.
He squirts out more lube than necessary; clearly worked up and trying to get his dick warm as soon as possible; rubbing it onto his fingers. He lifts up Johnny's thighs, and not without giving the back of it a quick kiss— he presses it down against Johnny's chest. "Hold still, love," he prompts.
Johnny holds onto the leg as Peter teases his rim with a lubed up finger; clearly trying to provoke a reaction out of Johnny. And provoke he does, when Johnny moans loudly and Peter decides it's the perfect moment to slide a finger in.
It's not really a tight fit, which has Peter confused. They haven't done this in a few months— they don't necessarily get the time to do so. Which means...
"Did you stretch yourself out earlier?"
"G-guess, dumbass." Johnny grips onto Peter's shoulders.
Peter leans down and shoves his face in Johnny's shoulder; "Fuckkkkk." He groans, clearly turned on. Johnny burries the balls of his feet into Peter's lower back, urging him to continue with the fingering.
Peter whines but obliges, adding a second finger although he really doesn't need to. He's curling and scissoring his fingers on autopilot— Peter is currently only thinking about Johnny, sitting on Peter's pillow, in Peter's shirt, fingering himself open because he knows he'll convince Peter to fuck him the same night. And he was right, the brat always is, because that's exactly what Peter is about to do.
Peter pulls his fingers out of Johnny and pushes back in with a third, wiggling them around to find his prostate and when he feels Johnny clench down HARD around his fingers, he knows he's succeeded.
Peter rubs against Johnny's sweet spot, watching his thighs quiver and hands try to find purchase wherever they can. Johnny's hand grip onto the sheets, Peter's biceps, shoulders, or the pillow beneath his head. He's clearly impatient but it just feels so good.
"P-Peter! Please!" Johnny whines, drool slipping out from his lips a little.
Peter looks at him, chuckles, and leans down to kiss him whilst he gives a few last pumps of his fingers before pulling out, leaving Johnny's hole to clench around nothing.
Peter pulls away from the kiss to pull down his boxers. Johnny cranks his head up just to watch the way Peter's delicious cock springs free, big and thick— already knowing that monster is about to ruin his insides. And he can't wait for it to do EXACTLY that.
Peter wraps a hand around his own cock and gives it a few pumps— just to relieve the pressure, so that he doesn't cum as soon as he pushes inside that perfect ass.
Johnny watches, swallowing thickly, and spreads his legs wider in a silent invitation.
Peter smiles and takes the invitation, settling in between Johnny's knees and making it so that Johnny's legs are wrapped around his waist. "Green?"
Oh my god, WHY is Peter always so careful! Johnny wants nothing more than Peter's cock pounding him into next week right now. "Yes, yes! JUST GOOOO!!" Johnny groans. He is VERY impatient right now. You can't exactly blame him, they almost NEVER get to have sex, and Peter is an absolute angel in bed.
Peter laughs at the way Johnny is rushing him, seemingly needing it so bad— and presses the head of his cock against Johnny's hole.
He watches as Johnny's rim clenches around nothing at just the feeling, and Peter bites his bottom lip as he slowly pushes inside. "Fuckkkk, you're tight..." He moans.
Johnny gasps at the feeling of Peter inside him— hot, thick, and heavy. He wants Peter so deep that Johnny'll feel him in his THROAT. He tightens his legs that around Peter's waist; squeezing them together as best as he can, silently urging Peter to go deeper.
And Peter surely got what Johnny was trying to say— because he pulled almost all the way out, until only the tip was left inside— before slamming home.
Johnny's hands fly up to grip Peter's shoulders; digging his nails into hardened skin, not even TRYING to muffle the slurry moan he just let out.
Peter repeats the motion, pulling out, pushing in, pulling out, pushing in— until he finally tilts his hips and hits dead centre on Johnny's prostate.
Johnny practically kneels, wayy too overwhelmed with the way Peter's currently pounding into his prostate like there's no tommorow.
Peter leans down, one elbow besides Johnny's head to keep himself up, the other gripping Johnny's hip so hard it'll surely bruise (Not that Johnny's complaining).
Peter plants open mouthed kisses on every inch of Johnny's skin that he can reach— shoulder, upper arm, collarbone. God, how he loves this man...
"Fuck, you absolute whore..." Peter groans, "F-fucking- fucking grinded on my pillow while fingering yourself o- ngh- open- couldn't even wait for me."
Johnny whines at the sudden use of dirty words, digging the balls of his feet into the small of Peter's back.
Peter pulled out, kissing Johnny to muffle his whine of protest, then proceeded to grab Johnny's legs to pull them from around his waist, making sure to give the inside of Johnny's thigh one last kiss before shoving his thighs up to chest— practically bending him in half.
Johnny made a oh-so-lovely noise when he realized what's about to happen, and— "ANNGH!" Peter slammed inside him so hard that Johnny swears he saw his brain with the way his eyes rolled to the back of his head.
Peter grinded the thick head of his ridiculously big cock against Johnny's prostate, and Johnny couldn't hold it in anymore.
He came with a noise that was either a whine or a moan, or both, Clenching tight around Peter. Johnny swears he saw all white and heard nothing but heavenly trumpets for a few seconds, before he was pulled back from his high to the ever-arousing realisation that Peter's still pounding into him mercilessly.
Peter gave Johnny a cute kiss on the knee before driving home over and over, fulfilling Johnny's wish of wanting Peter to go so deep that Johnny practically feels him in his throat.
"F-face time me the next time you pull off a stunt like that, sweetheart." Peter huffs, out of breath.
Johnny nods the best he can, still dazed from the mind-blowing orgasm.
Peter's thrusts are starting to go sloppy now, a tell-tale sign that he's close. And if THAT wasn't obvious enough, he's licking his bottom lip, too— and Johnny knows better than anyone that he's thinking about cumming inside.
Before Peter can even GET the words in, ask Johnny is it's alright to paint his insides— Johnny's deliberately clenching down around him, making Peter groan and still his hips.
"J-Jus' do it, P'ter," Johnny mumbles out, not sure if he even said a coherent sentence at all.
Peter whines so pretty before nodding, grabbing Johnny's hips again and thrusting his hips forward a few more times.
One, two sloppy more thrusts and Johnny can feel hot ropes of cum fill his ass, and he moans at the feeling. God, he missed this.
Peter pulls out and catches his breath before falling to his side besides Johnny, pulling him in to his chest. "Love you, baby..." He quips into Johnny's shoulder.
"Love ya more," Johnny affirms, tucking his head into Peter's chest.
Peter slowly rubs Johnny's back, nuzzling his nose into his soft blonde hair— breathing in the lovely smell. "What shampoo of yours lasts THIS long?" He asks. He geniunely wants to know.
Johnny huffs, proud, "A magician never reveals his secre..."
....Andddd he's drifted off.
Peter chuckles, pulling back a little to kiss Johnny's forehead. "Idiot," he smiles.
He loves his Idiot.
And he's probably gonna have to bathe his Idiot now.
Well, this IS what he signed up for.
Peter sighs fondly before pulling back a little more to sit up, yawning from exhaustion. He stretches his limbs a little, before plopping back down onto the mattress.
He pulls Johnny in again, "The bath can waittt..." He says to particularly no-one, nuzzling back in.
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