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“I brought root beer,” said Peter when Mary Jane opened Gwen’s door.
“Nerd,” said MJ, but she pulled him through the doorway anyway. She was wearing jeans and a tank top, with no bra, not that he was looking. But Peter wondered if she had showed up that way or if she’d lost it during the night and he considered exactly what kind of Welcome Back, Flash! party this was.
They walked through the expanse of Gwen’s apartment, past shiny marble surfaces and stainless steel appliances, over hardwood floors. If Aunt May’s place looked like this, she’d never leave Peter alone in it. But Peter supposed George Stacy trusted Gwen more. Peter was supposed Gwen was generally more trustworthy.
As they passed the balcony, he caught the strong stench of weed.
“Someone’s been having fun,” Peter said and MJ cast him a grin over her shoulder.
They entered Gwen’s bedroom, all pastel minimalism. Harry was in a bean bag chair, thumb running over the black lace of what Peter assumed was MJ’s bra. Gwen was reclined on her bed, pleather mini skirt showing an obscene amount of leg. Her eyes were closed and her ankles were crossed over Flash’s lap -- he was massaging Gwen’s feet.
Peter raised his eyebrows at the scene. “Looks like everyone’s been having fun.”
“You don’t get to show up late and judge us for how we passed the time,” said Harry. Mary Jane fell into his lap and they immediately began kissing. Harry’s hand was already creeping under MJ’s tank top.
Peter looked to Gwen, who had opened her eyes.
“They’ve been at it all night,” she said, not bothering to lower her voice. “Overcompensation much?”
Harry used the hand that wasn’t busy to give Gwen a colorful gesture.
“Hey, man.” Peter leaned over Gwen’s feet to give Flash a quick hug. “Good to see you.”
They had seen each other just the other day, but that had been a surprise, not a party, even though this hardly seemed like a party at all. Gwen and MJ were probably planning a bigger bash for the whole neighborhood. A welcome home celebration for every day he was home.
It was good to see him, really. You don’t realize how much you might miss someone until they go to war. Until they might not come home again.
“Thanks, bud. You too.”
Flash was grinning up at Peter and Peter found that, under the full force of his smile, devoid of any sarcasm or antagonism, it was difficult to avoid smiling back. Even with Gwen’s feet in his lap.
Speaking of which.
“You seem . . . loose,” he told her.
She arched an eyebrow. A perfect Gwen Stacy arch. “Meaning what?”
“Just. Relaxed, is all. You been smoking?”
“Nope. That’s all the lovebirds.” She raised her eyes to his. “Do you think I can only relax when I’m high?”
“Or when you’re orgasming.”
“ Peter ,” Gwen said with such fond exasperation that Peter had to grin. Her hands covered her eyes and she leaned her head against her headboard. He loved every moment that he broke her cool exterior, just a little. In the early days, it was like a game. What could he say to make her want to never speak to him again. What could he do to keep her circling back.
Gwen’s eyes peeped through her fingers, but she wasn’t looking at Peter -- she was looking at Flash. Peter glanced his way and saw a ducked head, pink cheeks under freckles.
“Aw, don’t be embarrassed because of Captain America here,” said Peter. “He always suspected I was amazing in bed, isn’t that right, buddy?”
“You wish,” Flash muttered. He nodded at the six pack in Peter’s hand. “That beer?”
“Of the root variety.”
“I’ll take it.”
Peter set the pack of root beer on the bed and Flash fished one out. He immediately uncapped it and began to chug.
“It’s a marathon, not a sprint,” Peter said.
“I’ve been on an army diet. I just want sugar. I want my body to be rotting away the next time the doctor goes to clear me.”
Peter laughed, just a little, at this version of Flash. He seemed more open than he used to. A little less censored. There was always some sort of barrier between them and as Peter grew closer to Gwen and MJ and Harry, or even Liz Allan from high school, he could never seem to bridge that gap.
Granted, he never tried that hard.
There was a noise from the mass of sweaty limbs on the beanbag chair, and when Peter looked -- yeah, that was definitely some hand to boob action going on.
A teddy bear soared through the air, past Peter’s head, and hit someone; it was practically impossible to tell who at this point, but Harry and MJ unattached their faces to glare at Gwen.
“Go do that somewhere else,” said Gwen, unflinching in the face of their wrath. “You are disgusting me. I am disgusted.”
MJ rolled her eyes and got to her feet. Harry’s bowtie was askew. He scrambled after her.
“See if I let you watch for free next time,” Mary Jane said. “Now we're gonna go have sex in your kitchen.”
“Please stay away from the stove,” Gwen called out, sickly sweet.
As MJ passed, she slapped Peter on the ass.
“Hey now,” he said.
Harry, right behind her, also slapped him on the ass.
“Okay,” said Peter.
They closed the door behind them.
Gwen rested her head back on the headboard. “Don’t tell them I said this because I’d literally never hear of the end of it, but the Harry-MJ soft porno that’s been going on all night has been making me so horny.”
Peter looked at her, but her eyes was closed. There really was something strange about her tonight. Everything she said seemed weirdly calculated. Like she was playing chess, only he couldn’t see the pieces.
Gwen’s feet shifted in Flash’s lap. He made a strangled noise, and then he was carefully removing himself from the bed. Peter’s eyes flew to Gwen’s face again -- she still refused to open her eyes, but she was smirking a little.
What are you planning, Gwendolyne?
“It’s so cool that you guys are still together,” said Flash, his voice oddly pitched. “Not that -- not that I thought you wouldn’t be. It’s just -- it’s cool. It’s cool. Harry and MJ though, that’s . . .”
He trailed off, seemingly unable to describe what exactly Harry and MJ were. Peter understood the feeling.
“I like your shirt,” said Peter. He was wearing a mesh football jersey, except it was light pink and cut off at his belly button and the back read PRINCESS over a 24. His jeans hung low, making his hip bones seem oddly sharp and Peter wondered how he got all those freckles on his lower abs. Flash startled a bit, smiling self-consciously, and obviously Peter was joking, but he wondered if he really said so little that was actually nice to Flash, that the guy was just taking the compliment for what it was.
“Thanks,” said Flash. “I, uh, it was a gift, a joke gift, for Christmas, from one of my army buddies. He likes to razz me about being a quarterback, ya know. And I’m kind of -- on the young side, so. I think I make it work though.”
He pretended to flex in front of Gwen’s full length mirror. But it was barely pretending, since the muscles were very real.
Peter glanced back at Gwen. At some point, she had opened her eyes.
They fell into a silence that was almost awkward but not quite. From the other room, they could hear Mary Jane and Harry’s noises, which seemed as full of laughter as they were of sex.
“You wanna play a game?” Gwen asked.
There was something in her voice, innocent but just a touch dangerous. Gwendy Darling, the ice queen, the puritan. She was a devil, really, and she had so many people fooled.
“What kinda game?” Flash asked, guileless.
Gwen pushed herself up from the bed. She was a tiny thing, but her legs seemed to stretch for miles under that skirt. It was all the sass, probably. She walked over to Flash and plucked the empty root beer bottle from his hands.
“Truth or dare or kiss.”
Flash scrunched up his face. “What?”
“Do I look fifteen,” said Peter.
“Please, like you went to high school parties, Parker,” said Flash.
Peter scowled at him. “Just because I had better things to do than get drunk in my dad’s basement with a bunch of burnouts.”
Anger flickered across Flash’s face, and Peter nearly felt regret. But before they could say anything else, Gwen said, “I guess if you’re too scared . . .”
She was a viper, Gwen Stacy. She knew where to strike.
“I’m not scared,” said Peter. “What are the rules?”
What game are you playing at? What are you asking of me?
“It’s just like regular truth or dare, except you can opt out of the challenge by kissing the other person.”
Flash was extremely flushed by now. It brought out the strawberry in his hair. “Should we -- should we ask MJ and Harry to come back? I mean -- with just three of us --,”
“Let them have their fun,” Gwen said like she was Mother freakin' Goose.
“But you’re the only girl,” Peter pointed out.
“And I’m as torn up about it as you are.” Her eyes twinkled. “Look, you don’t have to kiss each other. Just do the truth or dare.”
Peter and Flash briefly held eye contact. There was -- something in the room. Something charging the air between them. There was always something charging the air between them. Anger, jealousy, secrets. Only this time, Peter couldn’t tell what it was. He didn't think it was aggression. Not exactly.
“Then let’s play,” Peter said.
He knew, from the quirk of her lips, that whatever test Gwen was giving him, he passed.
Gwen took the bed, Flash took the beanbag chair, and Peter sat with his back against the door. Gwen placed the soda bottle on the ground. She spun it.
Around it went, until it pointed vaguely in Peter’s direction.
“Peter Parker,” said Gwen, “truth or --,”
“Kiss!” Peter launched himself at her, kissing her hungrily.
She pulled away after a moment, but she was laughing. Point for Peter.
“That’s not how the game works,” she told him.
“Who cares? It’s a made up game.”
“All games are made up. You still have to follow the rules.”
“Fine, fine.” Peter made a big show of sitting back, away from Gwen and her smeared lip gloss. “Dare.”
“Put your leg behind your head.”
Peter pulled a face. “Seriously? But you already know I can --,”
“Entertain our guest, Peter.”
There was something about the way she said “our” guest. Like they were living sometime in the future, and they were still together, not torn apart by spiders or lies or any of it, like they were living in this beautiful apartment with hardwood floors and stainless steel appliances, and not like Peter was simply a visitor passing through his girlfriend’s dad’s place while he was out for the night. Flash was their guest. Entertain him.
Not breaking eye contact with Gwen, Peter reached down and grabbed his ankle, maneuvering it behind his ear. And then he twisted himself into a backbend, just because he could, and because it looked cooler than sticking a leg behind his head. He somersaulted over, falling gracefully back into pretzel-style.
“Whoa,” said Flash, staring with wide eyes. “You’re like -- Mr. Fantastic, or something. Where'd you learn to do that?”
“I took gymnastic in fifth grade,” said Peter.
Gwen nudged the bottle to Peter and he spun it. Around and around it went, until it landed on Flash.
“Truth or dare, buddy?”
“I . . . um.” Flash swallowed, like even this single choice was something to be nervous about. Maybe this, too, was Peter’s fault. “Truth, I guess?”
“Hmm.” Peter thought about it. Gwen was watching him. She wanted something from him, something he wasn’t sure of. “Ever jerked it to Spider-Man?”
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Gwen smile, and he knew another test had been passed. And she didn’t even know the half of what he was asking.
Ever touched yourself while thinking about me, Flash? Ever screamed my name, Flash? Ever wanted me without even knowing you did?
“I -- what, ” said Flash. His whole face was red, and his neck, too. “You mean, like -- masturbated?”
There was something so charming in the way Flash gasped out the word, lowering his voice, as if they were at a sleepover and he was afraid his mom would walk in. Peter supposed he projected a lot onto Flash in high school, that he had all these ideas about him, about what his life was like. Like he sort of thought Flash was some debonair ladies’ man, rubbing all the chicks he was getting in Peter’s face, when in reality, he had one girlfriend for most of high school and other than that, it was just football and his Spider-Man club and the army. Maybe Flash was shy about sex, or something. It was a strange thought. Sweet, too.
“Yeah, Flash,” said Peter, trying to contain his smile. “I mean like masturbated.”
“You can take this kiss,” said Gwen gently.
“I have.” Peter’s eyebrows flew up and Flash ducked his head, perhaps surprised by his own admission. “I mean, I was drunk or whatever. But like -- I mean, I just think he’s really great -- so -- yeah.”
Peter couldn’t even contain his grin anymore. He imagined Flash, buzzed, stretched out on his bed with pictures blown up on his phone -- pictures Peter had taken -- his hand drifting down, into his boxers, thinking about what it would be like to be webbed to his bed, taken from above, Spider-Man's gloved hand, covering his mouth. No one can know I'm here, Flash. You have to be quiet for me, baby.
Peter blinked the images away and there was Flash in real time, the tips of his ears red enough that Peter knew they’d be hot to the touch.
“There are, uh, superhero sex forums on the Internet,” Flash was still prattling on, not looking at them. “And like -- fanfiction, I guess. But it’s all really weird. There are people who, like, want to be choked? And they call The Thing ‘Daddy’ and it’s just really weird.”
Peter and Gwen looked at each other with wide eyes. A smile tugged at Peter’s mouth, he couldn’t help it. Jeez, Flash Thompson. Maybe he'd gotten high off second hand smoke.
“You’re adorable,” said Peter. Flash stopped mid-sentence about bondage and finally raised his head. His cheeks were still blindingly pink, but he was smiling, laughing at himself.
“I don’t know why I said all that. I should have just kissed you.”
His grin was half-joking, but his eyes were bright. There was something in the air, something electric. Peter thought that maybe he knew what game Gwen was playing after all.
“Maybe you should have,” said Peter, holding eye contact. Flash swallowed.
“Your turn, Flash,” said Gwen.
Flash reached for the bottle. He spun, and it landed halfway between Peter and Gwen. He looked to Gwen for guidance.
“Spin again.”
He spun again. It drifted to Peter.
“Truth or -- or dare,” said Flash.
“Truth,” said Peter.
Flash’s eyes met his and then danced away. Gwen leaned forward, just a little. They were surprised. Peter wasn’t a “truth” kind of guy.
“Why -- uh, I mean, where, where do you go when you’re darting off all the time?”
This question had piqued Gwen’s interest, he could tell, hearing the rustle of clothes and limbs as she shifted. But Peter couldn’t very well tell them the truth. He supposed he could lie. But why should he?
Gwen wanted to play a game? He’d show her a game.
He shifted forward onto his knees and crawled until he was right in front of Flash. Flash couldn’t seem to meet his eyes.
“Look at me, buddy,” said Peter.
Flash’s eyes drifted up, over Peter’s neck, his jaw, his lips, finally resting on Peter’s eyes. Flash’s eyes were clear blue, but there were specks of muddy brown flecked through them. Peter had somehow always missed this small detail, in all the years they'd known each other. He'd never bothered to look this deeply into Flash's eyes.
“You good?”
Flash nodded. His voice cracked as he said, “It’s a game, right?”
“Just a game,” Peter agreed and then he was closing the distance and kissing Flash Thompson.
Peter had never thought much about kissing boys, except in the absent way everyone thought about it, but he supposed he always figured kissing a boy would be different than kissing a girl. Girls were kind and soft and delicate and small in his hands. And Gwen, Gwen was a powerhouse, she would hate being thought of as soft or delicate, but he could break her so easily. With the flick of a wrist.
Maybe, due to his own internal biases, he always saw guys as different. Tougher. Especially Flash Thompson, the kid who used to make fun of his weak knees, the quarterback of the football team, the only thing that made their crappy high school special. Flash Thompson, the soldier. But when it came down to it, being a soldier, being Flash Thompson, was not the same thing as being unbreakable.
Peter lifted his hands along Flash’s neck, feeling the rapid flutter of his pulse. He cradled Flash’s jaw, smooth like a girl’s, and thought, I could rip his head off if I wanted.
Flash Thompson, the soldier, the gold standard of what Peter thought being a man was when he was sixteen, Flash Thompson was kissing him and he was soft and delicate and small in Peter’s hands. Utterly breakable. He made Peter want to be gentle.
And then Flash was breaking away with a gasp, his head turned so Peter’s lips skimmed across his jaw.
“I think -- I think that’s good,” said Flash, his voice ripped from him like he wasn’t even making the choice to speak.
Peter settled back against the door. He turned to Gwen to find her eyes were on him already. Her cheeks were flushed, she was biting her lip, her legs were pressed together. He raised his eyebrows.
“Your turn,” he told her.
Gwen reached forward and spun the bottle. It landed on Flash.
“Truth or --,”
“Dare,” said Flash. Maybe he’d had too much truth for one night.
“Are you hard?” asked Gwen and she asked it desperately, like she had to know, like her entire life depended on knowing if Flash Thompson had gotten hard from making out with her boyfriend. Peter admitted he was kind of curious and he snuck a glance, but the careful placement of Flash’s legs didn’t let him get a peek.
“That’s not a dare,” Flash said with a scowl.
“I dare you to tell me if you’re hard.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m hard. Okay?”
“Okay,” said Gwen.
“Is this -- look, I don’t know what’s going on, but if this is some kind of weird thing for you guys -- if you’re making fun of me --,”
“We’re not,” said Gwen quickly.
“I'm just saying I don’t think it’s funny.”
“Who’s laughing?” asked Peter. “It’s my turn. You still playing?
Flash’s eyes darted to him and then away. He nodded once.
Peter spun the bottle. It landed on Gwen.
“What’s it gonna be, Gwendy Darling?”
“Dare,” she said, eyes alight.
“I dare you to give me your underpants.”
Flash made a choked sound. Gwen stood slowly. She walked over to Peter and, oh, she was gonna give him a show. But then she was bending down and kissing him instead.
As much as he liked this kiss, he found himself confused. He thought he knew what she wanted. He thought he had passed the test.
When Gwen pulled away, she walked over to the bottle again.
“It’s not your turn,” said Peter.
“It’s my game.” She bent down and and Peter caught a flash of the panties he asked for. Baby blue.
She barely nudged the bottle. It drifted to Peter.
He raised an eyebrow, but there was no backing down. “Dare.”
“If you want my underpants so bad, come get them.”
Oh, okay. So she was playing the long game now.
Peter pushed himself to his feet. He met her in the middle of the room and placed his hands on her hips. And then he kissed her.
When he pulled back, Gwen was very clearly trying not to pout.
“It wasn’t your turn,” he told her and then bent to spin the bottle.
It pointed at Flash, like it was magnetic, like it was fate.
“I --,” Flash stared at the bottle. Peter could see the rise and fall of his chest. “Dare.”
“Take Gwen’s panties off.”
He could hear the hitch in Gwen’s breath, which he took to mean he had surprised her. Good.
“What?” Flash asked in alarm. “But you’re -- I mean she -- what?”
Gwen walked over to Flash, standing over him with her legs spread. He stared up at her, neck arched, like he was in a church, or a museum, or under the night sky in the middle of nowhere and Gwen was all the stars.
“It’s just a game, Flash,” said Gwen, soft and sweet and completely at odds with what she was asking of him. “Are you still playing?”
Flash’s throat bobbed. He nodded.
Gwen reached for a hand, guiding it over her thigh, and his other hand followed on the opposite leg. Magnetic. His hands rose under Gwen’s skirt and still he looked into her eyes. Gwen Stacy was not a tall woman, but in that moment, she seemed to tower over Flash in his beanbag chair and his joke shirt that he liked enough to wear to his welcome home party. She seemed impossibly giant. A statue of a woman. All the stars.
Peter thought maybe he should be jealous right now and maybe, deep in the core of him, he was, but it was like watching a movie, or a dream. Like seeing strangers across a room. The soldier, praying to the stars. For a moment, he was wholly separate from them. This was an entirely new game.
And then Flash’s hands were sliding back down Gwen’s legs with her panties and she was stepping out of them and Flash was looking at Peter and he was a part of the story again.
“Catch,” said Flash and he tossed the panties to him.
Peter caught them. Baby blue. Lace.
“Who’s turn is it?” asked Gwen, a little breathless.
“Mine,” said Flash. “It was mine two turns ago. Toss me the bottle, Pete.”
When Flash caught it, he didn’t bother with a spin, simply pointing it at Gwen.
“Truth,” said Gwen.
“What the hell is going on?” demanded Flash. “I mean -- I can see what’s going on, I’m not an idiot. But how far are we taking this? When do we stop?”
Gwen considered this before bending over at the waist and kissing Flash. In her miniskirt, without her panties, Peter could see her bare ass and a hint of her pink center and Gwen did nothing by accident. Maybe it was pervy, but no more so than watching his girlfriend make out with the guy who knocked him around in high school. He drifted closer to them. He let himself look.
Gwen pulled away from the kiss and over her shoulder, Peter could see Flash, his lips wet and smeared with lip gloss. And Peter found he wanted to kiss him again, just for fun, just to make him even more dazed and his lips more wet. But this was Gwen’s game. Her rules.
“We stop when someone wants to stop,” said Gwen. “Do you want to stop?”
Flash shook his head.
“Good boy,” Peter said. He placed his hand on Gwen’s waist, drawing her up and into his body. He smiled crookedly at Flash. “You’re taking this like a champ.”
“You both are,” said Gwen. She tilted her head and Peter took the invitation to kiss her neck. “I love a man who won't back down from a dare.”
“Almost as much as she loves coming up with the dares,” Peter told Flash. Flash smiled, relaxing. “I completely recognize that when it comes to Gwen’s sexual fulfillment, I’m a dildo with nice hair.”
“Shut up,” said Gwen, but he could hear the laughter in her voice.
Peter licked the shell of her ear. “Truth or dare me, baby.”
“Take off my shirt,” Gwen gasped. “Dare.”
“That’s so much better than when my cousin used to dare me to lick the toilet.” Peter cut his eyes to Flash. “Little help, princess?”
“Oh, uh, sure.” Flash pushed himself to his feet. His hands shook and he laced them together.
Peter placed a hand on the back of Flash’s neck. “Relax. I’m not gonna beat you up.”
Slowly, steadily, Flash undid the buttons of Gwen’s blouse. Peter and Flash’s hands brushed, electric, and they pushed it off her shoulders.
“Bra?” Peter asked.
“Yes, please.”
With deft fingers, Peter unhooked the bra. He flung it over his shoulder. It hit a lamp.
“Careful with that,” Gwen said, turning to glare at him. “It cost seventy bucks.”
“Being a girl is expensive,” said Peter. “Makes you grateful, doesn’t it?”
Peter grinned at Flash, but Flash had his eyes firmly on the ceiling, nowhere near Gwen’s bare-breasted body.
Gwen ran a hand through Flash’s hair. “I dare you to look at me.”
With a visible breath, Flash’s eyes drifted down until he was taking in Gwen, all of her.
“Nice, right?” said Peter, reaching a hand around to play with a nipple. “Only reason I stay with her.”
Gwen elbowed him in the gut, hard. She should teach his Rogues gallery that move.
“Let’s make it a little more even, shall we?” asked Gwen, pulling at Flash’s top. “As much as I love this.”
Peter helped her pull off the crop top, exposing Flash’s freckled, muscled body. Maybe they should parade him through hospitals as an act of charity. Get a tax break.
Gwen twisted in his arms and started undoing the buttons of Peter’s shirt, rapidly, like they had spent too long with the game and now she was finally getting what she came for. She pushed his shirt from his shoulders.
“Wow,” said Flash. “You are. Wow.”
Peter didn’t want to admit to preening, just a little, but he was only human.
“Maybe we should go to Italy,” said Peter. They stared at him. “For, you know, the topless beaches --,”
And then Gwen was kissing him hard, her arms around his neck, her whole body pressed into his. Peter hiked one of her legs up to his hip, but that was apparently invitation enough: she jumped and he caught her other leg, wrapping them around his waist.
She broke the kiss, laughing. “Nice catch.”
“I’ll always catch you,” he said, rubbing their noses together.
With a sweet smile, she kissed him again. His hands rested on her ass under the skirt and he could feel the bare, hot wetness of her rubbing against the front of his jeans and he was hard, he was so hard, he loved her so much.
His eyes fluttered open and met Flash’s. Flash Thompson was watching his girlfriend dry hump him and god, it was doing it for him. It was really doing it for him. Like, really doing it for him. And it looked like it was doing it for Flash too.
Peter broke the kiss. “Touch yourself,” he gasped at Flash.
Flash immediately unbuttoned and unzipped his jean, reaching a hand into his pants and Peter thrilled at his obedience. When Flash touched himself, he gasped like a salve was being applied to a burn.
“Is this what you wanted?” Peter breathed into Gwen’s ear. He held her with one hand and with his other, he undid the buckle of his belt. “Someone to watch? Flash Thompson touching himself while I fuck you?” He nipped at her neck. “God, I bet he wishes he was me.”
“Peter.” Gwen leaned into him, her hand working its way into his pants. She wrapped his hand around him as her tongue flicked at his ear. Oh, yes. “If you honestly think you’re the one he wants to trade places with . . . babe, you’re not as smart as you think you are.”
It was like pieces slotting into place. As Flash stroked his own cock, Peter could see the way his eyes followed Peter’s hands, his lips, his tongue. This wasn't only Gwen's fantasy after all. And of course Gwen didn’t get off on being wanted. No, that was too -- simple, too cliche, not Gwen Stacy at all. Gwen chose Flash for this game because she didn’t want someone to want her. She wanted someone to want to be her.
It was a night of dares and Peter was in far too deep to back out now.
He carried Gwen to her bed and dropped her onto it.
“Hey!” she said, bouncing. Her face and breasts were flushed pink and her lips were turned into a scowl. “Where are you going?”
Peter threw open the door to Gwen’s walk-in closet and reached for the shoebox on the top shelf. He pulled out her vibrator and tossed it to Gwen.
“Have fun,” he said, and before she could respond, he was slamming Flash against the wall and kissing him for all he was worth.
It was hard and hot and Flash was making these incredible noises and he still tasted like Gwen. He didn’t fight back, he didn’t try to take control, he just yielded to Peter completely. Good boy.
Peter pulled away just as suddenly. Flash blinked at him.
“You good?” Peter asked.
“Hell yeah,” said Flash.
Peter flashed a grin and then he was dragging Flash closer to the bed.
“Kneel,” said Peter and Flash immediately obeyed.
“You’re so good at taking orders,” said Peter, dragging a hand through Flash’s thick hair. “Bet your captain loves you.” He rubbed his thumb across Flash’s lower lip. “You could use a touch up though.”
Peter went to Gwen’s vanity, frowning at the variety of glosses organized by color. “Which did you use today?”
“Philosophy,” said Gwen breathlessly. “The raspberry sorbet, it’s in the -- the red tube --,”
Peter snatched the tube up and went back to Flash. He uncapped it and then ran it along Flash’s full lips. They parted under his fingers.
“There’s a song about this, isn’t there?” asked Peter. “Cherry lipstick? Harry made me watch the music video, I think there were lesbians.”
“Katy Perry,” Gwen said distantly and she she hummed a few bars.
“That’s the one.” Peter capped the lip gloss and tossed it aside. He took Flash’s jaw in his hand, examining him. And then he yanked Flash's jaw around to look at Gwen, spread out on the bed, still holding the vibrator. It was remarkably unlady like. In porn, the girls were always posing and there was something way too sexy about her splotchy skin and her skirt scrunched up around her waist. “He’s almost as pretty as you, isn’t he?”
Gwen turned on the vibrator. He could read her like a book.
Peter pushed his jeans and boxers down just enough that his cock sprang free. Flash licked his lips, then seemed surprised, like he’d forgotten about the lip gloss. Raspberry sorbet.
“Truth or dare,” said Peter.
Flash kept staring at Peter’s cock. “Truth.”
Peter tilted Flash’s head back until their eyes met. “Do you want me as much as I want you right now?”
Flash stared up at him and it was like he was in a church, in a museum, underneath the night sky.
“I think I probably want you more,” Flash said, voice cracking beneath the weight of his honesty.
“You have me,” said Peter. You are safe. I will not break you. Not now, not ever. “Tonight, you have me.”
Peter guided Flash to his cock and he took him in, hotter than Peter could have thought he’d possibly be. With a sigh, Peter let his head loll back, his eyes fluttering closed as Flash Thompson, nervous and inexperienced and hot and eager, sucked his cock.
Oh, if his sixteen-year-old self could see him now. He’d be -- well, once he got past the initial shock, he’d be horny probably. That guy got horny over everything.
“Truth or dare,” Peter heard Gwen saying, as if from a distance.
Peter hummed. “Truth.”
“How’s he feel?”
“Oh, beautiful, Gwendy. He’s soft and warm and being so good for me.” He could feel the way Flash reacted to that, feel the vibrations through his mouth, sending shocks all up Peter’s own body. “Good soldier boy. Doing your country proud.”
Gwen laughed and Peter imagined Flash was making some pained face.
Peter opened his eyes to look at Gwen, who was rubbing her vibrator along the lips of her pussy in an almost lazy fashion, the hint of a smile still on her face. Her other hand thumbed at her nipple.
She was beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. He could watch her make herself feel good forever.
“He likes it so much,” Gwen said, watching Flash’s mouth work.
“You know what this means, right? Now that we’ve given him this? For the rest of our lives, every time we leave together, every time we’re alone for too long, Flash is gonna be wondering what it is we’re up to. He’s gonna be wishing he was you. That he could have this one more time.”
“You’re so conceited,” said Gwen, but she was breathless as she rubbed the vibrator over her clit.
“Wow,” said Peter. “Oh, Flash, buddy, you’ve gotta see this.”
Peter anchored a hand in Flash’s hair and pulled him off his dick. Flash gasped for air and Peter turned his head so he could see Gwen, fucking herself exactly the way she liked it.
“ Peter, ” Gwen moaned, covering her eyes.
“Oh, now you’re embarrassed?” Peter asked. “Can you believe this, Flash? She seduces us into a threesome with high school party games and now she has the nerve to be embarrassed about it.”
“Can you just -- shut up for one minute please.”
“Unlikely.”
“Your voice is turning me off.”
“I like his voice,” said Flash.
“ Thank you .” Peter had to kiss him for that.
When Peter pulled away, Gwen was watching them again, her lips parted, hair plastered against her forehead and fanned out on her pillow.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” Peter said. “Flash, tell Gwen she’s gorgeous.”
“You’re gorgeous,” Flash said.
“Don’t you wish you were as gorgeous as her?”
“Yes.”
“Everyone does. Everyone wishes they were Gwen Stacy.”
“Oh, god,” said Gwen. She watched them through hooded eyes. “Flash, can you -- please --,”
Flash took Peter into his mouth again and Gwen made a noise of approval.
“Oh, sorry for taking too long a break from your HD gay porn --,”
“Peter, I swear if you say one more thing, I’m kicking you out.”
“I dare you,” said Peter, grabbing onto Flash’s hair as he made some kind of move with his tongue that almost killed Peter on the spot.
Gwen’s noises were getting louder and more desperate and Peter thought he could help her along a bit -- he thrust, just a little into Flash’s mouth. Gwen gasped and Flash -- Flash moaned.
Peter raised his eyebrows at Flash, whose cheeks were bright red.
“You like that?” Peter asked. He thrust again, a little harder. Flash’s eyes fluttered shut. “Want me to use you, soldier boy?”
Peter thrust again and again and again, fucking Flash’s mouth well and good. And the whole time he watched Gwen, the way her perky tits bounced as she moved her hand over her body, the way her lips moved around silent words, the flush in her cheeks that went down her expanse of skin. The way she wasn’t trying to look good for them. Like she was watching a movie. Like they were strangers across a room.
And then she let out a cry and even Flash’s eyes flicked over to watch Gwen Stacy falling apart, completely in the moment, completely out of control. Her back arched off the bed. She threaded a hand through her hair like it was an anchor. And Peter thrust in time to her heaving chest.
She flopped back onto the bed, eyes closed, mouth parted to gasp in air. And Peter stilled, his eyes dropping to Flash, who was looking up at him.
Gwen had come. She had won the game. It was just the two of them now. Which suddenly made things . . . much more complicated.
Flash pulled off Peter’s cock and Peter thought, well, I guess that’s it.
But Flash wasn’t moving. “Truth or dare,” he whispered.
Peter swallowed. “Dare.”
“Keep going. I dare you to keep going.”
Peter’s breath whooshed out in a laugh. He ran a thumb along Flash’s cheekbone, along his nose, along his lips.
“Okay,” Peter agreed, and then he was wrapping his hand around himself, stroking long and slow. “Can I come on your -- look, I don’t want you to choke or anything --,”
“Yeah,” said Flash. “Whatever you want.”
Peter groaned, just a little, Flash’s pretty face turned up to him, his voice echoing, Whatever you want.
Flash leaned forward and, with his full, glossed lips, kissed the head of Peter’s cock. Like he’d been waiting all night to do just that. It was unbelievably sweet. It was unbearably sexy. And then Peter’s abs tightened and he was spurting come across Flash’s freckled cheeks, his glossy lips, his muscled chest.
Flash blinked up at him like he couldn’t believe that just happened. Peter knew the feeling.
“Holy shit,” said Peter. He dropped to his knees and kissed Flash, tasting raspberry sorbet and his own come. He broke away from him to drag Flash’s pants and boxers down his thighs.
“You don’t have to --,”
“Are you kidding me?” asked Peter, wrapping his hand around Flash’s cock. Flash’s eyes fluttered. “That was awesome. Well done, lieutenant, that deserves a gold star and as many orgasms as you want.”
Peter glanced up as Gwen sunk to the floor on Flash’s other side.
“How quickly I’m forgotten,” she said with an arched eyebrow.
Peter grinned at her. “Baby, it’s not what it looks like, I swear.”
“What they all say.” Gwen wrapped a hand around Flash’s cock from behind. She hooked her chin on his shoulder and Peter leaned forward to peck her on the lips.
They watched their hands move together, Gwen’s soft and manicured and Peter’s large and calloused. Encasing Flash’s cock. Flash’s head rested on Peter’s shoulder, his little gasps strangely cute in Peter’s ear.
“I love you,” Peter said.
“I love you,” Gwen said.
Flash said nothing, but he kissed Peter’s neck, and Peter hoped that meant that a part of Flash knew that they were talking to him, too.
And then he was shooting come onto Peter’s abs, dribbling it onto Peter and Gwen’s hands, and his heavy, strong body was sagging against Peter and Gwen. Peter wrapped his arms around the two of them, holding them together. It was strange, wanting this moment to last forever. He had never expected it to happen. Never even wanted it to happen. But it had and now he didn’t know how to go back to whatever the three of them had been before.
For a while, no one said anything. Maybe they felt the same as him. Content to just stay in this strange, post-sex cuddle on the floor of Gwen’s bedroom.
“Harry and MJ have been gone for a while,” Flash said at last.
“I should probably make sure they stayed away from the oven,” said Gwen.
“I think we’d have noticed if the place burned down,” said Peter.
"Somehow, I doubt it," Flash said and they all collapsed into laughter.
As they cleaned themselves up, there was something new hanging over them. Something like embarrassment, but not quite. Did I really just do that? Was that really me? Do I kind of want to do it again?
When they were dressed, Gwen back in her underpants, Flash back in his stupid and awesome shirt, they left Gwen’s bedroom.
Harry and MJ were on the couch in the living room, watching Shrek on the flatscreen. MJ was wearing Harry’s shirt.
“Oh, hi guys,” MJ said, beaming up at them. “ Shrek is on.”
“Wat are you doin’ in meh swamp?!” Harry asked in a bad Scottish accent. So, still a little high probably.
“Also we made nachos.”
“Score.” Flash catapulted himself over the back of the couch to sit in between them, every bit the confident man he’d been for most of Peter’s life. The hesitant, boyish words, “ you mean like masturbation?” almost seemed to belong to someone else Peter had known long ago.
But when Peter settled into the loveseat and Gwen sat on his lap, Flash’s eyes flicked over to them. He smiled, just a little. Peter smiled, just a little, back.
As Peter tried to pay attention to the movie, Gwen nuzzled at his neck.
“Is that donkey gonna fuck the dragon?” Peter asked, face resting on her soft hair.
“Kiss me?” asked Gwen.
Peter pulled back to look at her. “That a dare?”
She rolled her eyes. “A question, dumbo.”
And who was he to refuse?