Work Text
Peter is late tonight. There’s nothing on the news yet, he won’t answer your texts. The Chinese takeout is getting cold and you’re starting to worry.You’re about to call him when he barges in the door and practically collapses on your carpet. “Honey, I’m home!”Hearing his voice is the biggest relief and you’re about to leap into his arms like you do when he’s been out patrolling for too long, but seeing his state, it doesn’t seem like a great idea.He’s battered up, for lack of better words, mask already abandoned on the floor and a look of exhaustion painted on his handsome face. A bruise is starting to form on his jaw, from what you can tell, and you can’t help but wonder what injuries are hiding under that suit of his.“I thought you were supposed to beat up the bad guys.”He laughs, his chest rumbling and making pain shoot throughout his body.“Shut up, sweetheart.”You smile up at him, hands grasping his face to inspect the bruising.“Anything that might need stitching?”The man simply shakes his head, too tired to speak. He’s busy marveling over how soft, how warm your touch is.“Then you can take off your suit and head into the shower while I fix you something to eat. Does that sound good, honey?” Your fingers tangle in his hair, nails scratching his scalp in the way that he loves, making him nod like a child at your suggestion. He’s putty in your hands all the time, bless his soul.When he steps into the shower, the stream of water is so strong, it’s almost painful how it hits his skin. Still, he swears this is heaven. It does wonders to soothe his aching muscles and he’s way too lost in the moment to notice the curtain being drawn back. The only thing he feels is warmth on is back, the kind of warmth he knows too well from the dozens of nights he’s had it under him, next to him, on him. Your breasts press against his back, nipples standing out from the cold and softening as you absorb the heat of his body. Your arms wrap around his waist, careful not to brush against injuries you haven’t yet spotted.One of his palms comes to rest on top of yours on his stomach and it makes you smile, all the more encouraged to go through with your plan. With one hand trapped under Peter’s, the other is bound to do all the work.Ever so slowly, you caress the skin there, inching down by the second until you reach the peak of his pubic hair, so close yet so far. You hear him hiss at the contact, his body shooting up when he realizes where this is going.“Sweetheart-” his attempt to stop you turns into a moan when you do it again, this time letting your fingers brush against the upper part of his manhood.“Shush now, I’m trying to work, Peter.”“I-I can’t…not today…” you know what he’s thinking. He thinks you want more, and you do, God you always do, but today it’s not about that, you’ve decided. Today is about him.“You don’t have to do anything, honey. Just relax and let me do all the work.”And he does. He focuses on the feeling of your touch, slow but effective as you tease him. Within seconds, he’s hard in your hand, member standing gloriously in the dim light of the bathroom. You can’t even see past his shoulder and you’re drooling at the thought.The sounds coming from his mouth are heavenly and sinful all the same, echoing in the room. Your hand hovers over his length again, only starting to stroke when he bucks his hips.You draw your thumb up, circling over his slit, collecting the precum that’s now leaking all over. His legs shake at your attention and it’s a miracle he’s still standing, really. He tries to kiss you, whipping his head around to attack your lips, one hand gripping your hair and the other the wall to balance himself. Your hand is still rubbing long and slow strokes and he grunts against your mouth. When you finally pay attention to his balls, he almost collapses. His body leans forward as he moans in pleasure, hands finding the wall in front of him for support.You smile and shower his back in sweet kisses and whispered words of affection, not once ceasing your actions, never speeding up as much as he begs. You’re going to take your time with this. Your touch is bliss to him and in his state of exhaustion, it doesn’t take long for him to lose control. His back arches and your bodies press together again as he spurts out every curse word he’s ever known.Peter comes all over your hand, some of it missing and hitting the wall. It takes a while but when it’s over he relaxes in your arms like a ragdoll, worn out and yours in every way. When he finally finds the strength to turn around, he’s a sight for sore eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the heat and from your actions, his breathing labored and a grin on his face.You want to kiss him silly and he could say the same for you. Especially when you’re licking his essence from the dips of your fingers, humming like it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted.“You’re trying to kill me but I love you so much.” He pants, making you flutter your eyes in feign innocence.You laugh.