[ Peter's got a hard one, alright. Oh, not what was meant? Thing is, Uatu's just trying not to look.
God, though. For as much of a dweeb that Peter used to be, and despite the utter dweeb that he is now, Felicia's right to ponder. How often has Peter allowed himself to be this vulnerable in front of another, to give his trust in such a compromising way? How often has he done so despite everything that's happened to him, everything that would've eroded the conviction - the compassion - of a lesser man? Though "lesser" might not be the right word, here. "Realistic," maybe. But it's hard to call someone "realistic" when he's devoted himself to an ideal: the very same great power / great responsibility Peter's repeated to himself and others ad nauseam.
It's almost like he can't lose faith in people. Least of all Felicia, despite everything they've been through-- all the ways they've hurt each other. Moments like these that they share, home to the smallest of intimacies and sweetest of nothings, occur to Peter as opportunities for reinvention. The mending of the past, the building of a path forward. But that takes vulnerability. That takes the possibility of inviting yet more pain. But if there's one thing Felicia knows about Peter, it's his ability to take that pain and still move forward.
Which might not be readily apparent the moment he edges her... but that's a risk in itself. A playful gesture he'd only commit if he was comfortable enough. The threat she issues is a nice touch, well-earned in the way it manages to titillate him.
So he returns the favor a little bit. Resumes his course, drawing out the cruelty by starting slowly. Fingers inside her curl gently against her walls, failing to meet the intensity of moments prior. There's a deliberate, torturous slowness here, for as much Peter makes himself known and felt yet again. Here he is listening intently, amusedly, for any of Felicia's tortured moans. To see her come undone not only by anticipation, but by the knowledge that satisfaction is imminent. It's just a matter of when, really, wholly predicated on Peter's whim.
So what does his spider-sense tell him?
Well, nothing. He can only sense danger on his own behalf. Which might lead an unsuspecting Felicia to be caught off-guard, as Peter doesn't just pick up the pace. In a fraction of a second he not only picks up speed, but musters power. With every abrupt thrust of his hand, his fingers pummel against Felicia's walls, this violent rhythm reaching a fever pitch as Peter - with all his endurance - proves unrelenting. He shows no signs of stopping, here, not even so much as quipping while he brings Felicia back to the edge. The next horizon, the height of her climax, is only steps away.
As if to compensate for the momentary absence, Peter gives this all he has. Doesn't stop, no matter how much Felicia gasps and trembles under the deluge of his ministrations. He has every intention of utterly spoiling this cat. ]
no subject
God, though. For as much of a dweeb that Peter used to be, and despite the utter dweeb that he is now, Felicia's right to ponder. How often has Peter allowed himself to be this vulnerable in front of another, to give his trust in such a compromising way? How often has he done so despite everything that's happened to him, everything that would've eroded the conviction - the compassion - of a lesser man? Though "lesser" might not be the right word, here. "Realistic," maybe. But it's hard to call someone "realistic" when he's devoted himself to an ideal: the very same great power / great responsibility Peter's repeated to himself and others ad nauseam.
It's almost like he can't lose faith in people. Least of all Felicia, despite everything they've been through-- all the ways they've hurt each other. Moments like these that they share, home to the smallest of intimacies and sweetest of nothings, occur to Peter as opportunities for reinvention. The mending of the past, the building of a path forward. But that takes vulnerability. That takes the possibility of inviting yet more pain. But if there's one thing Felicia knows about Peter, it's his ability to take that pain and still move forward.
Which might not be readily apparent the moment he edges her... but that's a risk in itself. A playful gesture he'd only commit if he was comfortable enough. The threat she issues is a nice touch, well-earned in the way it manages to titillate him.
So he returns the favor a little bit. Resumes his course, drawing out the cruelty by starting slowly. Fingers inside her curl gently against her walls, failing to meet the intensity of moments prior. There's a deliberate, torturous slowness here, for as much Peter makes himself known and felt yet again. Here he is listening intently, amusedly, for any of Felicia's tortured moans. To see her come undone not only by anticipation, but by the knowledge that satisfaction is imminent. It's just a matter of when, really, wholly predicated on Peter's whim.
So what does his spider-sense tell him?
Well, nothing. He can only sense danger on his own behalf. Which might lead an unsuspecting Felicia to be caught off-guard, as Peter doesn't just pick up the pace. In a fraction of a second he not only picks up speed, but musters power. With every abrupt thrust of his hand, his fingers pummel against Felicia's walls, this violent rhythm reaching a fever pitch as Peter - with all his endurance - proves unrelenting. He shows no signs of stopping, here, not even so much as quipping while he brings Felicia back to the edge. The next horizon, the height of her climax, is only steps away.
As if to compensate for the momentary absence, Peter gives this all he has. Doesn't stop, no matter how much Felicia gasps and trembles under the deluge of his ministrations. He has every intention of utterly spoiling this cat. ]