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The gargoyle's stone head made for a lousy tripod, but Peter had worked with worse. He adjusted the camera, trying to frame the museum entrance where Batman had been spotted twice this week. The Daily Bugle wanted photos. This universe's Daily Bugle, which still threw him every time he walked into the office and nobody screamed about masked menaces.
His spider-sense prickled. Not danger, exactly. More like... awareness.
He lifted his head, scanning. There. Movement through the museum's skylight, a shadow slipping between the crisscrossing red lines of the laser grid with liquid grace. Black leather. Curves that caught the moonlight.
"Oh, come on." Peter stuffed the camera into his pack. "One night. I wanted one quiet night. Is that too much to ask? Gotham's worse than New York, I swear to….."
He fired a web-line and swung down, calculating the angle, the velocity, the exact spot where he'd need to—
Glass shattered around him. He'd feel bad about that later.
Peter landed in a crouch three feet from the display case, right as the woman in black lifted a diamond-encrusted cat statue from its velvet pedestal. She froze. Half a second, maybe less.
Then she smiled.
"Well, well." Her voice was smoke and honey, low enough to curl in his chest. "Did Batman get a new sidekick? I have to say, I like this color scheme better. Red's more my speed."
"Not with Batman." Peter straightened, keeping his weight on his toes. "Independent contractor. And, uh, not to tell you how to do your job, but a cat burglar stealing cat statues? Little on the nose, don't you think? There's cliché and then there's just... leaning into it."
She laughed. Actually laughed, the sound rich and genuine, her head tipping back to expose the pale column of her throat. The red goggles perched on her forehead caught the light like devil's horns.
"Oh, you're funny." Green eyes swept over him, sharp and assessing. "Are you new in town, spider-boy?"
"Out of town, actually. Way out of town. Like, you-wouldn't-believe-me-if-I-told-you out of town."
She circled him. Slow. Deliberate. Hips swaying with each step, the leather of her suit creaking softly. Peter tracked her movement, but his eyes kept catching on details. The way the zipper pulled low between her breasts. The curve of her waist. The confident set of her shoulders.
"Gotham eats pretty boys like you alive." She stopped behind him, close enough that he caught her scent. Leather and jasmine. "It chews them up and spits out the bones."
His spider-sense screamed.
Peter ducked. The bola whistled past his ear, close enough to ruffle his hair, and he was already moving. Web-line out. Snag the statue. Yank.
The diamond cat tore from her grip and sailed into his hand.
Selina hissed. Not playful this time. Genuine annoyance flashed across her face, green eyes narrowing.
"Look, the flirting was nice. Really." Peter tucked the statue under his arm. "But I'm gonna have to take you in. Property damage, breaking and entering, attempted theft of…."
"You'll have to catch me first."
Her smirk turned sharp. Dangerous.
She bolted for the skylight.
Peter swore and gave chase, webbing the statue to the wall before launching himself after her. She moved fast, faster than he'd expected, hauling herself through the broken skylight and hitting the rooftop at a dead sprint.
He swung after her across Gotham's skyline, and she was good. Better than good. She used every ledge, every shadow, every architectural quirk of this gothic nightmare of a city. Leaping between buildings with acrobatic precision, rolling under AC units, vaulting over railings without breaking stride.
But he was faster.
She knew it too. He could tell by the way she glanced back, by the flash of teeth in the darkness.
Damn her, she was enjoying this.
Three more rooftops. Four. She feinted left, went right, dropped down a fire escape and immediately climbed back up. Peter stayed on her, closing the gap inch by inch, his web-shooters singing with each line.
Selina landed on a flat rooftop and spun to face him.
Not even winded. Her chest rose and fell smoothly, that dangerous smile playing at her crimson lips. She stood in the center of the roof like she owned it, one hip cocked, arms loose at her sides.
Peter dropped down ten feet away.
"Okay." He straightened, rolling his shoulders. "I'll admit it. You're good."
She studied him. The suit. The build. The way he held himself, coiled and ready. Something shifted in her expression. Interest sharpening into intent.
"You know what?" Selina's voice dropped to a purr. "I think you might be worth playing with after all."
Selina didn't run this time.
She stood there with her hip cocked and her whip coiled loose in her hand, watching him with those cat-green eyes. The Gotham wind tugged at her short hair, and she made no move to fix it.
"You're fast." Her voice was silk and smoke. "What else can you do with those reflexes?"
Peter recognized the play. He'd danced this dance with Felicia too many times to count. The tilt of the head, the deliberate drop in register, the way she angled her body to catch the light just so.
"Look, the seduction thing?" He held up a hand. "Not gonna work. I'm immune. Totally, completely, one hundred percent immune. Built up a tolerance. Like snake venom, except with attractive women in leather."
Selina raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like a challenge."
She prowled toward him. Slow. Deliberate. Hips swaying with each step, leather creaking softly. Peter held his ground, but his spider-sense hummed with awareness of every inch she closed.
"You sound young under that mask." She stopped just outside arm's reach, head tilting. "Are you even legal?"
Peter snorted. "I'm older than I look. Trust me."
"I hope so." Her voice dropped to a purr that curled low in his gut. "I'd hate to corrupt a minor."
His hands moved before she could close the last gap. Twin streams of webbing shot from his wrists, catching her hands and pinning them to the AC unit behind her with a solid thwip-thwip.
"Stay." Peter stepped back, putting distance between them. "Please? Just... stay there while I figure out what to do with you."
Selina laughed. Rich, genuine, utterly unworried. She flexed her claws, the wickedly sharp points catching moonlight, and started cutting through the webbing with eager strokes.
"Your silk is strong." Slice. Slice. "Better than anything I've felt." Slice. "But not strong enough."
Peter watched her work. The way of her movements, the economy of motion. She wasn't panicking, wasn't straining. Just... methodically solving the problem.
"Okay, that's actually impressive," he admitted. "Like, genuinely. Most people just flail around until they tire themselves out."
Selina paused mid-cut. Her green eyes found his mask, studying him with new interest. This strange hero who didn't posture or threaten, who sounded almost earnest under the quips.
She tore free the last strand. Then froze.
Her claws. The tips were damaged. Actually chipped, tiny fragments of reinforced polymer clinging to the broken edges.
"What the hell?" She stared at her hand in disbelief. "What are your webs made of? These cut through Kevlar."
"Oh, that's a fun one actually." Peter's voice brightened the way it always did when chemistry came up. "So the base polymer is a proprietary blend I developed, kind of a cross between nylon and spider silk proteins, but the tensile strength comes from the molecular structure which….."
Selina closed the distance.
Fast. Faster than he'd expected. She pressed against him, all soft curves and hard leather, and ran her gloved hand down his chest. Mapping the muscle beneath the suit.
"I'm going to find out what else is impressive about you."
Her hand slid lower. Over his abs. Past his belt line.
She squeezed.
Selina went very still.
Peter tensed, every muscle locking up as her fingers explored, mapped, measured what she was holding through the thin fabric of his suit. Her composure cracked. Just a fraction. Her lips parted, breath catching.
"How..." Her grip tightened, testing. Confirming. "How the hell do you swing around with all this?"
Peter's brain short-circuited. Completely. Just white noise and the pressure of her hand and the scent of leather and jasmine filling his lungs.
"Very..." He swallowed hard. "Very supportive underwear."
Selina looked up at him. The playful seduction was gone from her eyes, replaced by something rawer. Hungrier. Her pupils had blown wide, green reduced to thin rings around black.
"Where have you been all my life?"
Peter's spider-sense wasn't screaming danger anymore. It was screaming something else entirely. And he realized, with a mix of alarm and anticipation, that the dynamic between them had just shifted completely.
"Take off the mask."
Peter's breath caught. "That's... I don't... secret identity, you know? Big thing in my line of work."
Selina's hand tightened around his cock, stroking slowly through the thin fabric. Her thumb traced the outline of his head, and his hips jerked forward involuntarily.
"I want to see who's about to make my night." Her voice dropped to a purr. "Consider it... payment for the chase."
Peter's brain scrambled for reasons to refuse. Secret identity. Gotham. She was a criminal. He didn't know her. She was still stroking him, slow and deliberate, and rational thought was becoming increasingly difficult.
Then it hit him.
Fuck it.
He was in a different universe. No one here knew Peter Parker. No Aunt May to endanger. No friends to protect. Just him, alone, on a rooftop with a beautiful woman who wanted to see his face.
He reached up and pulled off the mask.
Selina's breath caught. Her hand stilled on his cock as her green eyes traced his features. The tousled brown hair, damp with sweat. The hazel eyes, warm and open. The stubble along his jaw. The scar through his eyebrow.
"Damn." She sounded almost annoyed. "You're handsome."
"Thanks... I think?"
"I expected some scarred veteran under there. Not a pretty boy with messy hair and kind eyes."
"Is that a compliment or….."
Selina shut him up.
Her lips crushed against his, full and soft and tasting of something sweet. Her tongue demanded entry, and Peter gave it, his hands finding her hips, her waist, pulling her closer. God, she felt good. All curves and leather and heat pressed against him, her breasts soft against his chest, her hips rolling into his.
She kissed like she fought. Aggressive. Demanding. Taking what she wanted.
Peter kissed back just as hard.
When she finally broke away, they were both breathing heavy. Her lipstick was smeared, her eyes dark with want.
"Prove you're worth the packaging."
Peter grinned. Actually grinned, wide and genuine and slightly dangerous.
Then he dropped to his knees.
Selina blinked. Whatever she'd expected, it wasn't that. "What are you…."
His hands ran up her thighs, leather warm under his palms. He found the zipper at the front of her suit, worked it down past her navel, peeling the material aside just enough to expose her.
No underwear. Just smooth, wet heat.
Cool night air hit her pussy, and Selina shivered.
"You're soaked." Peter's voice had dropped low, rough.
"Shut up and do something about it."
He did.
He buried his face between her thighs, tongue finding her clit with skill that made her gasp. No teasing, no hesitation. Just focused, deliberate pressure exactly where she needed it.
Selina's hand flew to his hair, gripping hard. "Not bad, but I've had…."
Peter did something with his tongue. Some swirl and press that hit exactly right, flicking over her clit while his lips sealed around it and sucked.
Her words died in her throat.
"Oh... fuck..."
He ate pussy like he was starving for it. Like he had something to prove. His tongue worked her clit in tight circles, alternating pressure and speed, reading every twitch of her hips and adjusting. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as her legs started to shake.
"God... damn..." Selina leaned into him, one hand braced on his shoulder, the other fisted in his hair. Her head fell back. "Right there... don't stop..."
Peter didn't stop.
He added fingers. Two, sliding into her with obscene ease, curling forward to find that spot inside her that made her whole body jerk. His tongue kept working her clit while his fingers pumped, and Selina's composure shattered completely.
"Fuck fuck fuck, don't stop, don't you fucking stop, I'm... I'm..."
She came hard. Harder than she'd expected. Her pussy clenched around his fingers, walls spasming, and she cried out into the Gotham night.
"FUCK! Oh god, oh fuck, I'm cumming, I'm... AHHHHH!"
Her thighs clamped around his head. Her back arched. Her fingers yanked his hair hard enough to hurt. And Peter kept going, working her through it until she was shaking, until she had to push him away because it was too much.
Selina looked down.
Peter looked up at her, lips wet and glistening, a satisfied smirk curving his mouth. His hazel eyes crinkled at the corners.
Cum dripped down her inner thighs.
I may have underestimated this one badly.
Selina caught her breath. Pushed off from Peter's shoulders. Turned around.
She braced her hands on the AC unit, the metal cold under her gloves, and looked back over her shoulder. Green eyes locked onto his. Pure challenge burned in them.
"I hope you fuck as well as you lick."
She arched her back. Presented her ass to him. The leather strained over those wide hips, that round curve, the material pulled taut across flesh that begged to be touched. Moonlight caught the sheen of her suit, outlining every inch.
Peter's cock throbbed. Painfully. Still trapped in his suit, hard and aching from watching her come apart on his tongue.
"I'm going to ruin that catsuit."
Selina purred. The sound vibrated through her whole body. "It's replaceable. You better make it worth the expense."
Peter grabbed the back of her suit with both hands. The leather was thick, reinforced, designed to take punishment.
He ripped it anyway.
The material parted with a satisfying tear, exposing her bare ass to the night air. Pale skin, round and full, framed by ragged black leather. No underwear. Of course no underwear.
Peter groaned. Low and rough. "God..."
"Stop staring." Selina's voice had an edge now. Impatient. Hungry. "Start fucking."
He freed his cock. Hard and heavy and leaking already, the head flushed dark, precum beading at the tip. Ten inches curved up toward his stomach.
Selina glanced back.
Her eyes went wide. Wider than before, wider than when she'd felt it through the suit.
"You're ridiculous," she muttered. "That's just... ridiculous."
Peter lined up. The head of his cock pressed against her entrance, slick and hot from her first orgasm. He pushed in slow.
Letting her feel every inch.
Selina's fingers dug into the metal. Her claws scraped grooves in the AC unit as she was stretched, filled, split open in a way she hadn't been in longer than she wanted to admit. Her breath came in sharp gasps, her body tensing and relaxing in waves as she adjusted.
"You're big." Her voice cracked. "Fuck, you're big."
"Can you take it?"
Selina laughed. Breathless, wild, a little desperate. "I can take anything."
Peter bottomed out.
They both groaned. His hips pressed flush against her ass, his cock buried to the root, her walls clenching around him like a fist. He held there for a moment, letting her feel it. Letting himself feel it.
Then he started moving.
Slow at first. Testing. Drawing back and pushing in with careful, measured strokes.
Selina pushed back against him. Hard.
"I'm not made of glass." She looked back, green eyes blazing. "Fuck me like you mean it."
Peter gripped her hips. Hard enough to bruise. His fingers sank into soft flesh, holding her in place.
He gave her what she asked for.
Hard. Deep. Thrusts that slammed into her with enough force to make her ass ripple with each impact. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed across the rooftop, mixing with the distant sounds of Gotham below.
Selina was loud. Louder than she meant to be.
"Yes... fuck... there... harder..."
Her moans broke into curses, her composure shattered completely. She wasn't performing anymore. Wasn't playing a role. Just raw, honest pleasure ripping out of her with every thrust.
"You feel incredible." Peter's voice had dropped low, rough with effort. "So fucking tight."
"Prove it." Selina clenched around him deliberately, her inner walls squeezing his cock. "Show me what you've got."
Peter's rhythm stuttered. Just for a second. His hips jerked, a groan tearing from his throat.
Then he recovered.
And fucked her even harder.
The AC unit rattled under Selina's grip. Her whole body rocked with each thrust, breasts swaying beneath her torn suit, ass bouncing against his hips. Peter's fingers dug deeper, holding her steady while he pounded into her with superhuman stamina.
Selina's second orgasm hit without warning.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, I'm... AHHHHH!"
Her pussy clamped down on his cock, walls spasming, and she screamed into the Gotham night. Her back arched, her head thrown back, her whole body shaking.
Peter didn't stop.
He kept fucking her. Right through it. His hips never slowed, driving into her while she came, extending her orgasm until her legs shook and her screams turned to whimpers.
Selina's claws gouged deep scratches in the metal.
I'm not in control of this anymore.
The thought should have scared her. Should have made her fight back, reassert herself, flip the script the way she always did.
Instead, she pressed her forehead against the cool metal and let him take her.
Hell. I don't mind.
Peter pulled out.
Selina whined. Actually whined, the sound escaping before she could stop it, her pussy clenching around nothing.
"What the... don't you dare stop..."
Before she could finish the complaint, his hands gripped her hips and spun her around. Then he lifted her. Like she weighed nothing. Like gravity was optional. His hands cupped her ass, hoisting her up, and Selina's legs wrapped around his waist on pure instinct.
"What are you doing?"
Peter's hazel eyes met hers. Warm. Intense. That crooked grin spreading across his face.
"I want to see your face."
He slid back into her. One smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
Selina's head fell back. "Oh... fuck..."
This angle. God, this angle. He was deeper than before, his cock pressing against spots that made her vision blur. Her back arched, spine curving, and she clung to his shoulders because there was nothing else to hold onto.
Peter held her up with ease. No strain in his arms, no tremor in his grip. Just solid, effortless strength supporting her weight while he fucked up into her. Gravity worked with every thrust, driving him impossibly deep.
"You're strong." Her voice came out dazed. Dreamy. She barely recognized it.
Peter grinned. "I work out."
Selina would have rolled her eyes. Should have rolled her eyes. But his cock dragged against something inside her that made thinking difficult, made words harder, made everything narrow down to the relentless rhythm of his hips.
"Right there." She gasped it out. "Right... there..."
Peter adjusted. Angled his hips, changed the thrust, and gave her exactly what she needed.
"Like that?"
"Don't... stop..."
She bit his shoulder. Hard enough to taste suit material, to feel the muscle underneath flex. Her claws raked down his back, the fabric parting under her damaged but still sharp tips.
"I'm going to leave marks." She panted it against his neck between thrusts. "All over you."
"I heal fast."
He fucked her harder.
Selina's tits bounced with every thrust, barely contained by the stretched leather of her ruined suit. The zipper had crept up during the position change, and Peter noticed. One hand left her ass, gripping fabric, yanking down.
Her breasts spilled free. Full. Heavy. Pale in the moonlight.
Peter palmed one roughly, callused fingers squeezing.
Selina moaned. "Yesss..."
"God, you're gorgeous."
"Shut up and fuck me."
Peter did both. Didn't shut up. Kept talking while he drove into her, relentless and deep.
"You feel incredible." His voice had gone rough, strained. "So fucking tight. So wet. Can feel you squeezing me every time I..."
"Don't stop don't stop don't..."
"Not stopping. Not until you come again. Want to feel it..."
Her fourth orgasm hit like a freight train.
Selina's legs tightened around him, thighs clamping, heels digging into his lower back. Her nails broke skin through the suit, drawing blood she couldn't see but could feel by the way his breath hitched. Her pussy spasmed around his cock, walls clenching in waves.
She screamed into his neck. "FUCK! Oh god, oh fuck, AHHHHH!"
This stranger. This ridiculous quipping hero from nowhere. Fucking her better than anyone had in years. Making her scream on a Gotham rooftop like she'd never learned to be quiet.
The orgasm rolled through her in waves. Aftershocks that made her twitch and gasp. Peter held her through it, still buried inside her, still hard.
Selina panted against his throat. Her lipstick smeared on his skin, red on fair.
"I need more."
Peter carried her across the roof. Still inside her, still holding her up, walking with her wrapped around him like it was nothing. He found a wider section, flat and clear, and laid her down on the cool surface.
Selina flipped them.
One moment Peter was lowering her to the rooftop, the next she'd hooked her leg around his and rolled, using momentum and surprise to put him on his back. She planted her hands on his chest, palms flat against the torn fabric of his suit, and sank down onto his cock with a low, satisfied moan.
"My turn to drive."
Peter's hands found her hips, settling there without resistance. His hazel eyes crinkled at the corners, that crooked grin spreading across his face.
"Show me what you've got."
Selina started to move.
She knew what she was doing. Years of experience had taught her exactly how to roll her hips, how to grind and squeeze, how to set a rhythm that kept her in control while driving men out of their minds. She rose and fell with skill, taking him deep, clenching around him on every upstroke.
"I'm going to make you beg."
Peter watched her. Those warm hazel eyes tracked every movement, every bounce, every sway of her breasts. His hands slid up from her hips, cupping her tits, thumbs circling her nipples until they peaked.
"You look incredible riding me like that."
Selina ground down hard. Clenched deliberately. Squeezed him with everything she had.
Peter groaned. Low and rough and genuine.
But he didn't beg.
Didn't even look close to breaking.
Selina's rhythm faltered. Just for a second. She recovered, bouncing faster, taking him deeper, working her hips in that sinuous figure-eight that made men lose their fucking minds.
Peter met her thrust for thrust from below. His hips rose to meet hers, matching her rhythm perfectly, driving himself deeper every time she came down. Like he'd been reading her movements before she made them.
"You're gonna have to try harder than that."
"Damn you." Selina braced her hands on his chest, nails digging in through the suit. "You're supposed to be falling apart."
Peter laughed. Actually laughed, warm and genuine and infuriatingly composed.
"I've got stamina."
She could feel that. Could feel that he was nowhere near done, that his cock was just as hard as when they'd started, that his breathing hadn't even changed. Whatever superhuman abilities he had, they extended to this too.
Something in her shifted.
The need to control him cracked. Splintered. Fell away.
And underneath it, something else rose up. Something she hadn't let herself want in a long time.
Selina leaned down. Kissed him messy and desperate, tongue sliding against his, all pretense of control abandoned. Her hips kept moving, grinding against him, but the fight had gone out of her.
"I can't break you," she admitted against his lips.
Peter rolled them.
Smooth. Easy. One fluid motion that put her on her back with him between her thighs, still buried inside her. He braced himself on one arm, looking down at her with an expression she hadn't seen before.
Confident. Hungry. Nothing like the nervous quipping hero from the museum.
"Maybe you're not supposed to."
Selina's breath caught. Her pussy clenched around him involuntarily, and she watched his eyes darken in response.
Peter captured both her wrists in one hand. Raised them above her head. Pressed them down against the cool rooftop.
"Ready for me to take over?"
Selina spread her legs wider. Hooked her heels behind his thighs. Pulled him deeper.
"Wreck me."
Peter folded her nearly in half.
Her thighs pressed against her chest, knees hooked over his shoulders, and he drove into her deep enough to make her vision white out at the edges. Stars burst behind her eyes. The angle was impossible, devastating, his cock hitting places she'd forgotten existed.
"Too much." Selina gasped it out, her voice cracking. "Too deep, I can't..."
But her hands weren't pushing him away. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, claws pricking through the suit, pulling him closer. Deeper. Her body betrayed every word leaving her lips.
Peter's mouth found her ear. "You can take it." His voice was rough, strained. "You told me so yourself."
He fucked her slow. Deep. Devastating.
Each thrust ground against her clit, his pubic bone pressing down with deliberate pressure. He pulled almost all the way out, then sank back in with agonizing control. No rush. No frenzy. Just relentless, methodical destruction.
Selina broke.
"Fuck... please... oh god... don't stop... harder... no, slower... fuck, I don't know... please please please..."
Words spilled out of her without permission. Curses. Pleas. His name, even though she didn't know it.
"Spider... Spider, please..."
Peter laughed against her throat. Low and warm and genuine, the vibration humming against her skin.
"Peter."
She blinked. Dazed. "What?"
"My name." Another devastating thrust. "It's Peter."
"Peter." She moaned it like a prayer. Like something sacred. "Peter... Peter..."
He kissed her.
Soft. Deep. Nothing like the relentless pace of his hips. His tongue slid against hers with tenderness that made her chest ache, while his cock split her open with every stroke. The contrast shattered something inside her.
"I'm close." Her voice broke on the words. "So close... Peter... I'm..."
"Come for me."
Selina came.
Her pussy clenched around him like a vice, walls spasming, her whole body shaking. She cried out into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his kiss, her back arching off the rooftop.
"FUCK! Oh god, Peter, PETER!"
Peter followed her over.
He buried himself to the hilt, grinding deep, and came hard. Hot. Thick. Flooding her with pulse after pulse, his cock twitching inside her as he groaned her name against her lips.
Selina whimpered. The heat. The fullness. She could feel every twitch, every spurt, his cum filling her until she was overflowing.
"There's so much." Her voice came out dazed. Wrecked. "God, there's so much..."
Peter groaned. "Can't help it." Another pulse. Another flood of warmth. "Fuck... you feel too good..."
He kept cumming. Kept filling her until she could feel it leaking out around his cock, hot and slick, dripping down between her thighs. The obscene wet sounds of their coupling filled the night air.
Peter stayed inside her through the aftershocks. His lips traced her jaw, her throat, pressing soft kisses to sweat-damp skin. Selina ran her fingers through his hair, damp and tousled, and let herself float.
"That was the best fuck I've had in years." Her voice was raw. Honest. "Maybe ever."
Peter lifted his head. Those hazel eyes crinkled at the corners, warm and satisfied. "I aim to please."
Selina laughed. Actually laughed, relaxed and genuine in a way she hadn't been in too long. Something in her chest unknotted, tension she'd been carrying for months bleeding away.
"You hit the target."
Peter started to pull out.
Selina clenched around him. Hard. Her legs locked behind his back, holding him in place.
"I want more."
Peter's eyes widened. Surprise flickered across his face, followed quickly by heat. "More?"
"Take me home."
"Where do you live?"
Selina gave him the address. East End. Sixth floor. The window with the broken latch.
Peter scooped her up like she weighed nothing. Adjusted her in his arms, tucked his cock away with one hand while supporting her with the other. She wrapped around him, arms looped around his neck, thighs gripping his waist.
He fired a web-line.
They swung out over Gotham, the wind cold against her flushed skin, her ruined suit flapping around her. Peter moved with impossible grace, launching from building to building, and Selina pressed her face against his neck and breathed in the scent of him.
Clean sweat. Polymer. Something warm underneath.
His cum leaked out of her with every swing, hot and slick against her thighs. A reminder. A promise.
How many more times can I make him fill me before sunrise?
She intended to find out.
Morning light filtered through the grimy windows of Selina's East End apartment, casting warm stripes across tangled sheets and bare skin. Peter blinked awake slowly, muscles pleasantly sore, mind hazy with the kind of exhaustion that came from being thoroughly, comprehensively fucked.
Then he registered the wet heat around his cock.
His eyes snapped open. He looked down.
Selina lay between his legs, raven hair mussed and wild, last night's crimson lipstick smeared across her cheek and chin. Her green eyes crinkled at the corners when she saw him watching. Her lips stretched around his morning hardness, full and soft, and she looked... content. Lazy. Like a cat with cream.
She pulled off with a wet pop.
"Good morning."
Before he could respond, she swallowed him back down. Slow. Loving. Nothing like the desperate, frantic fucking from last night. Just savoring him. Tasting him. Taking her time like he was breakfast and she intended to enjoy every bite.
Peter groaned. His head fell back against the pillow.
"I should..." His voice came out rough, wrecked. "I should probably go. I have a job. Article to write."
Selina hummed around his cock. The vibration traveled up his spine, and the sound was distinctly disagreeable.
"Really." Peter tried again, even as his hips twitched up into her mouth. "I should leave. Work. Responsibilities. Rent's due."
Selina pulled off. Looked him dead in the eyes. Those green irises pinned him to the mattress more effectively than any web.
"You're not going anywhere until we cuddle."
Peter opened his mouth to argue.
Selina took him deep.
All the way. Past her tongue, into her throat, her nose pressing against his pelvis. Her throat worked around him, swallowing, massaging, and Peter's protest died in a strangled moan.
"Oh fuck... Selina..."
She deepthroated him like she was proving a point. Like she was staking a claim. Her head bobbed slow and deliberate, taking him to the root with every stroke, her throat constricting around him in ways that made his vision blur.
Peter's hands fisted in the sheets. His abs tensed. His thighs trembled.
"I'm close." The words came out strained. Desperate. "Selina, I'm... fuck, I'm gonna..."
She didn't pull off.
Just looked up at him. Those green eyes locked onto his, heavy-lidded and satisfied, and she swallowed around him.
Peter came.
He groaned, low and rough. "Selina... fuck... Selina..."
His cock pulsed in her throat, thick cum spraying out in hot spurts, and she drank every drop. Swallowed around him again and again, milking him dry, her throat working as his load sloshed into her belly. A thick Protein breakfast.
When the last pulse faded, she sucked him clean. Gentle now. Almost tender. Her tongue traced every inch, lapping up the remnants, leaving him shuddering and oversensitive.
Selina crawled up his body. Draped herself across his chest, her breasts soft and heavy against him, her legs tangling with his.
"Now we cuddle." Her voice was a satisfied purr. "And when I wake up, I'm calling my friends Ivy and Harley. You're going to give them a good dicking too."
Peter blinked. "Wait, what?"
But Selina was already settling against him, her head tucked under his chin, her thighs wrapped possessively around his leg. Warm. Soft. Claiming him without words.
Peter wrapped his arms around her. Pulled her closer. Her heartbeat thudded against his chest, slow and content.
Ivy and Harley. Friends. Good dicking.
He should probably ask questions about that. Should probably be concerned. Should definitely leave and write that article.
Instead, he pressed his lips to her hair and closed his eyes.
Maybe Gotham isn't so bad after all.