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"Well isn't this cozy," Peter deadpans as his back hits the van's metal flooring. Something rattles on the walls when Frank slams the backdoors shut behind him and for a moment Peter is a little worried that some knife or bat will come off its mount and knock him out.
"If you want a suite at the four seasons, go find someone else to fuck you," Frank replies in the relative darkness of the back of the van.
The vehicle is parked in a dark alleyway on the outskirts of New York where both Peter and Frank had ended up toward the end of their respective nightly patrols. They'd both been on the heels of some wannabe street gang and ended up catching up to them behind some abandoned factory buildings. And despite these idiots being nothing more than some loser wannabes, things had gotten a little too close to comfort because, apparently, that abandoned factory was their hideout and more of their little posse had been hiding there, ready to open fire. In the end, the gang still got dealt with and Peter and Frank got out of there once police was on their way. And, apparently, that moment of danger had sparked something inside them both. If the way Frank had slammed Peter into the side of the van to make out the moment they'd parked in that alleyway was anything to go by.
But despite all that, something still wasn't right.
Usually, Peter's spider sense would have picked up on an ambush from miles away. Why it didn't work this time is beyond him. Surely, it wasn't because he was just too excited to run into Frank. Yes, they'd been hooking up occasionally for a while now and while they weren't really dating or anything of the sort there was definitely some tension between them. But there was just no way that all of that would override Peter's spider sense just like that. Right?
At any rate, he doesn't feel like thinking about any of that much more when he makes out the silhouette of Frank crawling towards him in the dim light of a streetlight not too far away. Goosebumps break out all over Peter's skin and he just barely thinks to tear his mask off and toss it to the side before Frank is above him. A moment later, the older man bends down and catches Peter's lips in a searing kiss.
A shiver runs down Peter's back at the press of lips and then Frank's tongue forcing itself into his mouth only a moment later. God, Frank is a phenomenal kisser. He is phenomenal with his mouth in general - but Peter likes his kisses above everything else. Call him a sap. It's just how it is.
Sighing into the kiss, Peter wraps his arms around Frank, burying one hand in his hair and attempting to drag the other down his back. That proves to be difficult, though, with a bulletproof vest in the way.
"Take that off," Peter demands and breaks the kiss. "I wanna touch you."
"Says the guy in the full-body suit," Frank snorts but sits back up and works his way out of the vest.
Peter wants to protest but before he can think of anything to say, Frank is back on top of him and the kissing continues. This time, Peter can thankfully run his hands all over Frank's broad back. The fabric of his shirt is clammy with sweat and heat pours off of him in waves and Peter absolutely loves it.
A whine escapes him, when Franks lowers himself further and grinds his clothed erection against Peter's. Fuck. He's going to lose his mind. Peter tries to grind back, get some sort of action going of his own. But he's too caught up in the pressure of Frank all up against his front. It's like nothing he's ever felt before. It makes his head spin when Franks pulls back just enough for their lips not to touch.
"You like that?" he all but purrs, then grinds his dick against Peter's harder. A moan escapes the younger man. The grin Frank flashes him at that reminds Peter of a Great White. Fuck. Why is that hot?
Frank grinds his hard cock against Peter's again and Peter's hips buck up involuntarily. He didn't even realize he's this high-strung - and yet here he is. Any other time he'd probably be embarrassed but right now, he can't bring himself to care.
"W-wait," Peter gasps out when Frank grinds against him again. "Don't wanna come in my suit. It's a bitch to clean."
Once again, Frank snorts out a laugh but obediently sits back up to give Peter the room he needs.
Peter feels strangely exposed when he has to peel the suit off his body all the way from his neck down to just above the knee.
"You really need to get yourself some two-piece ensemble," Frank comments, clearly amused. As if to show off, he opens his own jeans, pulls his dick out and gives it a handful of firm strokes.
"Or at least a couple zippers for easy access."
"Oh yeah, that's gonna be fun to explain to all the kids and their parents," Peter shoots back with a roll of his eyes while he pushes his bunched-up suit the final few inches down.
"Hey, Spidey, how do your powers work and also why does your suit have a zipper right over your bum?" Peter continues in a mocking high-pitched imitation of a child's voice. By his legs, Frank bursts into laughter.
For a moment, Peter considers flipping him off. But then he only pushes his boxers down to mid-thigh too and lays back down. He hisses at the cold of the metal below him but thankfully, Frank - hot and solid - is above him again a moment later, distracting him from the cold.
With a contented sigh, Peter runs his hands up Frank's arms - then stops abruptly when Frank hisses above him and the fingers of his right hand touch something wet. Even with most of the blood in his body being between his legs, it doesn't take long for Peter to put two and two together.
"Those guys shot you?!" he shouts, trying not to panic. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Just grazed," Frank replies with a shrug, then winces.
When Peter opens his mouth to protest, Frank interrupts him.
"Stop worrying. It's no big deal. You can patch me up all you like when we're back at my place. Do you wanna play nurse now or do you want me to get us both off?"
Unfortunately, Peter doesn't have to think too hard about that. He knows that it's far from the first time Frank's been injured and that the other probably wouldn't be so horny if he was genuinely in pain or worried about his wound. So who's Peter to make a big deal out of it, right? Besides, his dick is still twitching quite insistently against his stomach and he's not sure he could even focus on first aid right now, anyway.
"Fine," Peter says, pretending to be all huffy about it. "But I'm gonna lecture you the whole time I patch you up."
"What else is new," Frank deadpans. Before Peter can complain, though, he's captured the younger man's lips in a kiss once more and all protest drowns in a litany of sighs and moans.
A moment later, Frank lowers himself further so their naked dicks are now pressed together. Peter whimpers into the kiss. Frank maneuvers his right hand between them and gives Peter's dick a couple strokes first, then gathers the precum drooling from the tip and wraps his hand around both their lengths next. Any other day Peter would have been embarrassed by how wet his dick gets - but right now he can't rub enough braincells together for that.
He breaks their kiss to moan as Frank strokes both their cocks together, occasionally running his thumb across the tips. Shudders chase each other up and down Peter's spine and he can't say if it's from arousal or the cold. It doesn't matter either way. Not when Frank grips them both so tightly it almost hurts while his lips ghost along Peter's collarbones, leaving featherlight kisses.
Peter's nails, in the meantime, dig into Frank's back, trying to pull the older man closer and closer. Every inch between them - no matter how needed it is for Frank's hand to move - is agony. Peter wishes there was a way for them to touch all the time. But the world is cruel and unjust as ever and Frank needs room to jerk them off so Peter settles for what he can get.
A sob tears itself from Peter's throat, when Frank focuses on the heads of their cocks for a moment. Peter's dick is insanely sensitive as it is. The head even more so. And Frank knows that. He loves to torment the younger man with it. He'll tease the tip until Peter's on the brink, a desperate, sobbing mess, then withdraw. Peter hates how much he loves when Frank does that.
Still, he's relieved when Frank doesn't do that right now and instead focuses on a fast and steady rhythm once more. It probably doesn't make much of a difference either way. Peter can feel his orgasm building up somewhere in the pit of his stomach, spreading from there until every curl on his head is on fire with it.
In the end, a brush of Frank's calloused fingers and a grunt from the older man is all it takes to catapult Peter over the edge. His back pushes off the floor, hips rising and stuttering as they seek more and more of the seemingly unending pleasure. Somewhere at the edges of his consciousness Peter feels his cum dripping down onto his belly. Judging by the slick noises he can barely hear above the sound of his own heartbeat thundering in his chest, he figures that most of it got on Frank's hand, though.
That's just about all Peter thinks for a substantial amount of time. His brain is effectively knocked offline when Frank follows him over the edge a couple of moments later, adding to the mess on his own hand and Peter's belly. It sends one last, violent shiver up Peter's spine. His dick twitches, spent and overly sensitive, and a whine escapes him. Then, Frank thankfully lets go of him.
If Peter got what he wanted, he'd drift off right then and there. But Peter almost never gets what he wants and just when he's sure he's about to pass out, something hits his belly, startling him.
"Clean yourself up, we're not spending the rest of the night here," Frank orders. When Peter blinks his eyes open, he sees the older man already somewhat cleaned up and dressed again. How is he doing this when Peter's entire body feels like jelly?!
"Fine," he mutters regardless. "Gotta get to your place so I can patch you up and cuss you out, anyway."
"Attaboy," Frank replies and Peter hears more than sees the smile in his voice as he grabs the piece of fabric Frank apparently tossed at him to clean up the mess on his belly. Then he pulls his boxers and the suit back up.
"Have you seen my mask?" Peter asks after several moments of patting along the van's floor with no success.
"Are you seriously gonna put that back on?" Frank asks, incredulous. "Why the fuck would you need that thing right now?"
"I can't wear the suit without it. What if someone sees us? That's not how a secret identity works," Peter huffs, fingers still moving across the floor.
"And what do you think's going to look weirder if someone sees us: The Punisher driving around with Spiderman in the passenger seat or The Punisher driving around with a random twenty-something year old in nothing but his boxers sitting in the passenger seat?"
Frank is quiet for a second.
"Fine, I'll help you look."