Chapter Text
Things had been different lately, to say the least. Peter had been around less, in all respects. A few weeks ago, he started running off with little to no warning and with even less reason as to why. As a result, dates were harder to plan, much less follow through with. It was customary for him to decide it was time to leave in the middle of a conversation he didn’t seem interested in in the first place, rattling off something about his new internship that started a short few days after his disappearing act began. So, you decided to let him ride it out for now. You had addressed this with him a couple times and he always seemed apologetic, promising to make it up in a way that…usually ended up happening. Recently, he had managed to forget about the dinner date you had been looking forward to all week. And when he realized he was still an hour away thirty minutes past when you were supposed to meet, he promised to do something grand to make up for it.
After promising something like that–and looking at his track record–you were skeptical. But your mind ran wild with the sentiment. Romance had died down, much more than you were comfortable with for such an extended period of time. You meant to bring it up, preferably in a more comfortable space than out in a public restaurant, so you resolved to bring it up the next time you both were alone. But your stomach turned at the thought of asking for more sex so plainly, you were more of an opportunist than an instigator. Given the right circumstances, you knew how to have a good time, and so did he. But now that you were spending less and less time together, the chances of that happening grew slim.
The evening had been wonderful so far. Peter took you out to a wonderful sit-down place on the east side of town, where the breeze off the Rockaway Beach still managed to whisper against your skin. With full stomachs and happy hearts after some slightly flirtatious dinner conversation, the couple opted to stroll around the nearby park. His hand in yours, it reminded you of just how touch-starved you had become these past few weeks.
“Peter,” you interrupted his explanation of a recent new study that proved how the human genome can be manipulated to include beneficial DNA from other species. “Can we go back to my place?”
His stunned expression lasted for a moment longer than it should have, which you found charming. It was nice to know that such a simple question of yours could still have such a strong effect on him.
After some casual banter and a change of clothes, you found yourselves settling into the easy and comfortable chemistry that attracted you to each other in the first place. This was nice. It was like things used to be.
So when Peter checked the time and rolled off the bed to his feet, it disturbed the peace you had settled into for the evening. You watched him start rolling his shoulders, lolling his neck to one side and the other.
“What are you doing?” you asked, unable to keep the unadulterated confusion from laying heavy in your tone.
He turned back to you and blinked a couple times, as though this was something you should expect by now, something he had grown so accustomed to in his routine that to deviate was the abnormality. “Stretching.”
With no further explanation, he proceeded to drop to one knee, reaching back to grab his ankle to enhance the stretch in his hip flexors.
“...Why?” you questioned further. It wasn’t that weird, you had to admit, but to say it wasn’t weird at all would be a lie. Though, the more you thought about it, you did recall him mentioning he would be starting a workout regiment.
“For my new job,” he supplied, bringing your assumptions crashing down. He brought his front knee down and to the side, stretching the other leg out straight behind him. Folding forward, he let out a concentrated sigh at his efforts.
“I thought you worked in a lab,” you replied, genuinely lost at this point. But stranger things have happened, and being Peter’s girlfriend, this wasn’t even the strangest. So you shrugged, opting to join in.
And it was only now that you realized the true absurdity of how your wonderful evening with your loving boyfriend led to what you were doing presently: bending him over backwards. You peered around his legs, which you held upright in front of you, to where he laid on his back. His face was screwed up in concentration as you helped him stretch his hamstrings. It was unexpected to say the least.
There was something encouraging about the touchiness of this. It was fun to push his ankles a little further every so often, testing his limits and watching how he reacted. And the way he breathed out in response to your actions was doing something for you. If only piecemeal, you were getting some of that pleasant intimacy that you so desperately craved from him.
“That’s as far as you can go?” you prodded, looking down at his strained expression.
“Hey! It’s not as easy as it looks,” he huffed in response. The breathy quality to his voice sent a tingle down your spine.
“All I’m saying is I bet I could go a lot farther. This stretch isn’t even that hard.” Your competitive nature shone through, as it often did with Peter. It was always good fun, though: seeing who could get the highest score on a test or who could find the best tasting ice cream combination at the local parlor. Often, you found you were all talk, unfortunately, but it got a delightful rise out of Peter that he didn’t let show otherwise.
“Yeah?” There it is. “Then show me,” he slowly eased out of the stretch, taking care to not strain the sensitive tendons. As you swapped places, you were surprised to find that things were a lot more…interesting down here. Lying on your back in the warm spot he had left behind, looking up at him, it was hard not to let your mind wander. You set your heels on the floor close to your butt while Peter sat on his legs in front of you. He shuffled forward for a better point of leverage and his knees brushed the backs of your thighs. Instinctually, you tucked your hips and lifted your legs in the air, muscle memory from when he’s been in this position before. Actually, this was beginning to remind you a lot of those more intimate nights with him: when he would lean over you, bracing his arms by your head as your hips slotted against his. You shook your head; it was almost criminal how suggestive this was becoming, and you had to at least pretend you weren’t so desperate. But then he hooked his hands under your knees, spreading his palms over the back of your legs and running them up to clasp your ankles together, your stomach fluttered and a shiver ran down your spine.
Oh good lord, it has been awhile.
You blinked to clear your head as he slowly eased your straight legs towards your head. You took a deep breath and felt the stretch tighten along the back of your knees and thighs. A long exhale followed by another deep breath. You tried your best to relax into it, having something to prove. And when you glanced down to see your progress…
There wasn’t much progress at all. If anything, you were only as far as Peter had gotten, and that was being generous with your estimation.
“Not that hard, huh,” Peter jested, a knowing look mocking you. You felt the burn of defeat and had to put a stop to it.
“Fuck, I swear I’m flexible! Here, try it with my legs bent.” Famous last words.
As he shifted his hands back down to the backs of your knees and rose up on his own to get a better angle, your bent legs afforded you a lot more give. Much more than either of you were prepared for, and as Peter’s grip slipped, you thanked your lucky stars you were very flexible like this.
“Ugh!” “Ow.” You both grunted on impact.
Your knees were at your shoulders, your hips pressed slightly upward to follow the stretch. Peter was sprawled on top of you, his own hips firmly meeting yours. That familiar broad chest settled on you, his forearms were braced on either side. In this position, your arms were trapped beneath your legs, which are unfortunately hooked over his shoulders.
You were folded under him like a pretzel, and you found yourself liking it, a lot. In that instant your traitorous mind wondered what this position would be like without clothes on, and your face burned with embarrassment.
“Ah, fuck, sorry,” he muttered as he sat up, using her legs as leverage. This only proved more humiliating, as you were now on greater display without his body shielding your own.
“HEY!” you protested. You were not happy with the situation, especially because you were still pinned by his hold. At your objection he took greater notice of the situation, only worsening your blush as you could only imagine how provocative you must look splayed beneath him.
After a moment of thought, he piped up. “Ok, I’ll admit you’re pretty bendy like this,” he announced as he bounced your legs in this position. That’s what he’s focused on?! You were downright indignant at that, and secretly pissed that he didn’t mention how sexy you thought you looked. His words only added to your embarrassment and you were getting flustered, but your arms were still trapped and his grip, surprisingly strong. He continued before you could argue: “But you have to admit, I went farther than you did with your legs straight.”
“What? No way! I definitely got farther,” you opposed, willing to die on this hill. So prideful, so foolish you were.
“Admit it! I’m more flexible than you!” He teased, not wavering his hold in the slightest.
“Never!” You started struggling against your own legs like a buffoon, your hands clenched into fists as you failed to escape the prison your own body had become.
Peter observed your sorry state, and you cursed his intellect as realization dawned on him.
“Admit it,” he requested again, this time paired with an upped ante. He spread your legs so they were farther apart, now resting firmly on your biceps and trapping you more effectively. Unintended consequences followed: this new stretch came with a whimper at the bloom of discomfort along your groin, but you could take it. Although, now you were spread-eagle beneath him, unable to do anything about it. That wasn’t even the worst of it. You could feel a persistent heartbeat between your legs after all this manhandling, flushing your face an even darker red. Your rapidly deteriorating hope held onto the possibility that it could just be a result of the uncomfortable position, but your mind knew the unfortunate and embarrassing truth.
“Oh, you’re such an ass!” You struggled harder, not giving up. You needed to escape with your dignity, and he was unintentionally chipping away at it.
Just as you felt some elating give for your right arm, you grunted out. Peter’s full weight collapsed onto you again, but this time it was on purpose, and you were sure he was trying to make you burst into flames. His face was mere inches from yours, a stupidly excited grin beamed back at you. His entire body was flush with yours, chest to chest, face to face, and his inner thighs pressed on the sides of your ass. You couldn’t ignore the degenerate thoughts that flooded your mind anymore.
Why can’t he rip that stupid algebra shirt off?
He looks so good over me like this.
How full would I feel if he was inside me right now-
“Bad girls lose moving privileges,” he smirked.
Holy fuck.
You know it’s just a simple jab at you. You know he didn’t mean for it to be sexy, especially because of how dorky it should have sounded. You know it shouldn’t be getting to you so much, but you were too riled up to ignore the implications of his words–or the way you clenched around nothing just now.
“Peter Parker, you get off of me right now!” Your voice squeaked out an octave higher than you intended, and your voice cracked on the last word. This was getting dangerously arousing and you were getting worse at hiding it.
“Or what?” That’s fucking it.
You struggled against him with more feral exertion than before, but much to your chagrin you realized the only part of you that had any give were your hips. How foolish you were to even try.
He rested all his weight on you, hips now flush to the back of your thighs and the spark of arousal it zapped down your spine could not be subdued anymore. You wanted to jump his bones for doing all this, and even more so because he didn’t even realize what it was doing to you.
“We can’t stay like this forever!” You used anything to bargain at this point, hoping he didn’t notice the horny desperation in your plea.
He pulled his head up and looked you square in the face, and your heart leapt in hopes that he was about to free you, and fear that he noticed your tone. But as the moments passed and a smirk stretched across his face, you knew neither were right—and that you were done for.
You felt him shift around you, still not giving you an out in the slightest. At first, you couldn’t tell what his goal was, but as his hands tunneled under your back and his knees came forward to rest near your hips, it dawned on you. There’s no way he’s actually trying this. To your utter shock, he was easily able to pull you upright using only his back, still secured in the same pretzel position he refused to release. The two of you are still face-to-face, and your arms are still clasped to your sides, but now you’re both vertical and he’s laughing like a madman at his success.
“I think we can,” he spoke with an air of haughtiness, knowing he had won this battle. “Unless you can admit that I’m more flexible.” He rose up on his knees, planting a foot, and hoisting your weight up to stand.
“Peter!” You practically whined out, a tinge of warning in your tone. Internally, you knew it was because all this manhandling was getting to you. Your blood was pumping far too fast and you’re getting far too wet far too quickly for your own liking. Whatever this was, you were more into it than you could have imagined. But Peter wasn’t privy to any of that. He remained blissfully unaware of your plight, giggling as he easily manipulated you like a ragdoll.
“Y’know, I’m starting to like you like this–all bundled up. It’s like we can go anywhere!” He started walking around your room, and the way his hips shifted boldly against you was almost sinful. He was parading you around your room like a trophy.
“Jesus, fuck!” you can’t hide your arousal any longer, gasping out at the intimacy and the manhandling and his casual teasing and the feel of his skin dragging hotly against yours.
“Hahaha you should see your face! You’re so red!” He stumbled, but caught himself, arms still gripping you tightly. It’s only now that you consider the possibility of his strength running out. You were still entirely immobile and if he falls, your back is done for.
“Peter, c’mon, please I need to get down!” You’re begging. You hate to admit it, but you’re begging pathetically, squirming in his hold more fervently than you had this whole time, but he was just too damn strong.
“Say the magic words!” He boasted in a sing-song voice. He held you prisoner with no effort, not even breaking a sweat. “C’mon princess, you know them!” You were about to burst into flames with this playfulness and he wasn’t even aware of it. You could barely form coherent thoughts, your brain was still processing how good it felt to be called ‘princess’.
And it’s then that he loses his footing. You brace for impact, but it doesn’t come nearly as hard as you expected. In fact, when your back made contact with the wall, what you felt most was the way Peter’s hips pressed into yours, thighs framing you perfectly to support your weight. His broad body and strong biceps flexed to stabilize himself beneath your thighs and you were done for. A loud moan escaped your lips, entirely by accident, and you snapped your mouth shut as soon as you regained clarity of mind.
He was right in front of you, face to face. His lips were parted slightly, and he had that naïve wonder in his expression, eyes full of warmth and eagerness, as though he was looking at you for the first time in his life. He’s breathing heavy, and so are you, and your mind wanders to how this is just as intense and sensual as if you had both just climaxed together. Your face is as red as it could get, but it burns with renewal now as he studies your hungry expression.
You’ve been found out.