“Please, Peter?” her voice still hanging on to sleep, warm and tickling as she whispered; fingertips clever as they twirled through the curls resting atop a still pillow warmed ear. He couldn’t keep the corner of his mouth from quirking into a lazy grin as he shivered; tiny hairs standing on end, at attention, for more of her attention, as she moved down the length of his back with smooth, gentle strokes.
“Time to get up, sleepy boy,” a warm kiss finds his shoulder; skin igniting.
Her breaths were soft at his ear, eyelashes tickling at golden cheeks as she leaned in, and he was full on smiling now as her fingers tap danced over each of her favorite freckles, “I know you’re hearing me.” A thumbnail traces the curve of his lips to make her point.
“You’re a terrible actor, Peter Parker.”
A laugh escapes from between his lips before he can catch it, so he squeezes his eyelids together more firmly to make up for it.
“Peter.”
Soft fingertips now firm as they fight over the comforter, the full weight of her pinning him as she straddles his legs; bony knees astride the backs of his.
Well-worn fabric brushes over the bridge of his nose before she manages to tug it down again, giving up with a huff when he snugs it up around his chin, submersing himself in what was left of their shared heat before she’d shimmied out from under the covers.
“Peter.”
“I’m sorry, Peter can’t come to the conversation right now, please leave a message between REM cycles;” his voice scratchy, one eye peeks as she laughs; never one to miss an opportunity to catch her bathed in happiness, even if only through the sheer curtain of mischievous eyelashes.
Her laughter bleeds into his chest as she leans forward into him, the heated lines of her melting into him, filling him up as she always does when her body meets with his.
She knows; she feels full, too, always.
And for moment it’s quiet save for the pull of two pairs of lungs, two hearts, working in concert; both wide awake but drowsy with the feel of each other.
He feels her smile, lips pulling at the skin between his shoulder blades as they curve towards her cheeks.
“You really have to get up. You promised, remember?”
And he did, of course he did.
But he loved playing this game with her, too.
“But I’m really comfortable.”
“I’ll tickle you,” she threatened weakly, fingers already prodding at his ribs.
“That’s ok. No problem. Good night.”
He threw in a snore for good measure, eyes crinkling as she sucked her tongue at him in frustration.
“We can do this the hard way, Parker.” Jaw tensing as he bit down on his cheek to keep from giggling, doing his absolute best to keep from squirming as her fingers tickled at his sides.
“The hard way? Is that a challenge, sweetheart?” She pulled at his waist, motioning for him to roll over. When he did, her eyes met with his half-lidded ones; delicate eyebrow quirked as she adjusted her center to rest over his, knees squeezing blanketed hips.
Her fingers teased at the trail of hair below his belly button, every light touch coaxing more color to his cheeks.
“I can fight dirty,” she whispered; he was more focused on the way she moved against him as she leaned forward for emphasis, suddenly drowning in the heat of her; lungs heavy and forgetting how to work. He noticed her eyes, how they lingered on his neck, watching his throat trip over itself as he swallowed.
“Um, are you trying to get me out of bed or convince me to stay, because you’re doing a really bad job of the first.”
She smiled, her lips hovering over the base of his throat, hot breath teasing at the skin there; his eyes closing fully again, readying himself for the way he knew it would feel when she crossed that aching sliver of air between her and him, paving the rest of his body as thickly as she already had, as she was, hips pressing down, hips rolling as she preyed on his neck.
His hands were seeing themselves to her hips, blazing the trail to her hips.
“Please, Peter?” Her words and lips feather light as she seared heat into his skin.
He wasn’t breathing in the room anymore, just holding her in.
Please?
Yes, definitely. Yes.
But then it was cold, his hands were empty; throbbing, and she was laughing, already half way across the room by the time he’d released that breath in the shape of a frustrated groan, “Rude.”
“I warned you. Dirty, Parker.”
“Using your feminine charms against a poor boy who was just trying to get some much needed rest,” he mumbled beneath the arm he’d thrown dramatically across his eyes, “You know, being a super hero is hard work, especially in this - ”
“Get up, Peter.”
“OK, fine, but later –"
“That depends on how quickly you get ready now, sweetheart.”
They were both laughing as he tripped over himself, making a show of throwing his clothes on at warp speed.
