There's innocence dripping from the soft, slightly kiss swollen lips that reside on the face of Peter Parker, a face blushing the color of carnations and a face you'd be happy to continue to smear kisses across for the rest of your life. If not for the rest of your life, well then at least for another couple of hours whilst May was very, very absent from the Parker apartment.
He has to pull away for a moment, he's so breathless and his world is spinning around him as he leans his forehead against yours. He needs a second to regain his composure- but he's never been calm, nor patient, to begin with. His mouth is still parted just a bit because he can't control his breathing yet, and the loud exhales that slip past his lips are concrete proof that your kiss is enough to send him into a frenzy that ends with disheveled curls and erratic heartbeats through shirts still firmly in place. Neither of you had ever made much of a move to push the boundaries of the kisses that slowly twisted into something less demure as the relationship itself and the feelings gathering between you built up. Times were changing, though. He needs to take a breather, you both do, but you're staring into each other's eyes with hungry gazes that say you could go on forever, so you kiss him again with hands curling through his soft hair.
Peter groans quietly into your mouth, but he's too preoccupied with shifting you into his lap and winding his arms around your waist to be embarrassed by it the way he would be on any typical day. And just like that you leave him hanging, his lips still puckered and trailing after yours as he whines softly, "Where'd you go, pretty girl?" He's clingy and you love it, but you're busy with lending another press of your lips against the base of his throat instead. "Y/N," a warning, a low moan, and his Adam's apple bobs slightly. "M-May can't see- oh, God," his eyes close and he tilts his head back, he can't just not let you continue doing that thing you're doing with your mouth- the nipping at his neck feverishly accompanied by a sweet kiss to soothe the flushed skin. "Never- never mind- don't care, keep going." He can cover up it in the morning. He'd wear a sweater, a turtleneck, a scarf, something.
You glance up and grin, hooking a finger under his chin to bring him level with your gaze. "That's what I was planning on doing, pretty boy," your laugh is gentle and teasing as he blushes again, shaking his head and tapping his neck for a second demandingly. "Not very patient, are we?" Your hands rest against his cheeks when you pull him in for a kiss again.
"Nope, never been patient," he squeezes your hips. Then, he tugs you even closer, his face glowing happy and bright and with endless amounts of adoration for you and you alone. "Need you. Like, right now. I'm dying here, babe. Please," he says it in a murmur so shy, lower lip jutting out pleadingly that you can't resist him and you don't want to resist him. He continues, "But, for real this time. For the first time. If you're okay with it," Peter's fingers brush your hair back behind your ear in an effort to see your shy grin better. It wouldn't just be your first time with him or his first time with you, it'd be your first time having sex in general. If you were going to be with anyone in that way, you knew you'd only want it to be Peter.
"Yeah, yeah I want to," you reply with another sweet smile, ruffling his hair and making it even more of a mess than it already had been. "You sure May's not gonna come home in the middle of this?" Peter nods vigorously, adjusting you on his lap because even now, in this moment before the intimacy, he's nervous and there's a bulge in his pants that keeps growing the more you push yourself against him and he can't really control it.
"Positive," he breathes, and with that final word of confirmation you're awkwardly but giddily stumbling toward his bedroom whilst trying to keep your lips connected. He carries you there in an effort to be romantic but instead he bumps into the wall and nearly drops you, and he's lucky that in itself doesn't kill the mood. And you're on the lower bunk of his bed with your shirt discarded on his floor and you're pulling his sweatpants down his thighs and you know that when you do this you're supposed to feel your world stop, tilt on its axis, but yours just starts up again. He's sworn fealty to you and there's nothing in this world that could rip him away from whom he's pledged to. You move to shut the light off at one point but his hand circles around your wrist. "If we're doing this, I'm admiring you. All of you. Keep the light on." Confidence replaces the reserved, innocent and hesitant Peter, but you're not complaining. Not in the slightest.
It's a little while later and you're curled up in his bed with one hand tucked underneath your cheek and the other running through his hair in the way that he loves so much. You've pulled your pajamas back on at this point, Peter is back in his sweats but his shirt is still cast over the top bunk of his bed because he knows May won't find it weird if he's asleep without his shirt on considering that's how he sleeps pretty much all the time. His fingers are tracing over your face back and forth in soothing motions as his sweet gaze fills your heart with such love and feelings of safety. "I. Love. You." He grins each time he says it, in between kisses swiftly left on the tip of your nose. "That was... awesome." It's probably a dorky thing to say in the moment, but you've always found the inherent, babbling side of him endearing. That's why he knows he can say it without you teasing him.
"I agree completely," you sigh, kissing his lips one final time before untangling yourself from his tight, warm embrace. "And I love you, too. But I'm gonna get on the top bunk before May comes home and we give her a heart attack. I don't want her to hate me and think I've corrupted her sweet, innocent nephew." Peter whines protestingly and sits up, hitting his head against the top bunk and letting out a yelp.
"That's your fault," he says, watching with distaste as you pull yourself up to the top bunk. "If you hadn't gotten up I wouldn't have hit my head." Your hands grip the bar of his bed as you swing your head down, allowing him to see that you're rolling your eyes. "May won't care, Y/N. Come back doooown. Pretty please, my love?"
He can't see it, but you shake your head exasperatedly, and you can't see it but Peter beams so widely and so smugly when he hears the clang of the metal bars as you climb back down again. He opens his arms for you to crawl back into, his soft grin nestling against your hair as his arms enclose around you. May doesn't even mind what she sees when she comes home, because it's innocent enough from what she can tell, and she can't see the purple bruises littering her nephew's neck just yet. If she had, she'd have definitely fainted on the spot, because what you had done to him and what he had done to you was anything but than chaste.
