It was the Flash, the star of the football team and his annoying bully that finally managed to push Peter over the edge.
He was having a terrible week. J. James Jameson, his boss and his biggest nemesis, had turned the intensity of his attacks to eleven, all because he had made the terrible mistake of breaking the arm of one of the criminals he had arrested. Of course, for Jameson, it was just an unimportant detail that the guy was trying to rape a woman while brandishing a knife, telling stories about how he was going to leave her bleeding if he doesn't find her tight enough. Still, that didn't matter for Jameson, nor for police, who had brought an arrest warrant for his name. None of the field officers actually tried to enforce it, of course, who had a different view about the rights of the rapists, but still, it was enough to damage his reputation significantly.
It was enough to make him angry, but the fact that Gwen Stacy, his crush and prospective girlfriend, started to date one of the jocks, making his mood infinitely worse. He understood where she was coming from. After all, he had ditched her during their first date with no explanation, and she had no idea that he was at the other side of the town, trying to save two children from a burning building. To her, he was just being an asshole. And to get revenge, she took the invite of one of the school jocks, whose favorite past time was trying to humiliate and bully Peter, to tonight's school dance, despite knowing the full history between them. A fact that Flash found very amusing, unable to keep himself from reminding Peter during each break.
He was glad when the last bell rang, announcing his freedom from the hellhole that the government, with all its infinite wisdom, called high school. He sincerely hoped that he came across a mean villain tonight, one with enhanced durability for preference, allowing him to cut loose, blowing some steam.
With his mind busy with the patrol routes, he wasn't able to react in a timely manner when he felt his danger sense going off. He realized Flash was trying to push him, but it was too late to react. He could have avoided it, his spider senses gave him sufficient time, but not without revealing that he was far more agile than a baseline human. So, he prepared himself for collusion, and a second later, the metallic noise from the locker rang in the corridor.
Peter felt anger tickling his heart. The push itself didn't hurt, but the laughter that followed it did. Several football players surrounded him, covering his escape route, while Flash and his best bud Jason took the center. "Hi nerd," Flash exclaimed, as he patted his friends, shoulder. "Jason had decided that you're not going to come to tonight's dance. He doesn't want your ugly mug to disgust the chicks. We want them appropriately horny for the after party. He is curious about how loud this Gwen chick going to squeal."
Peter gazed at the students that surrounded him. Some were snickering, clearly enjoying the situation, while others bore forced grins, happy that they weren't the ones that got the attention of the school kings. Still, nothing hurt as seeing Gwen on the side, watching the proceedings with a conflicted expression. She wasn't laughing, but she wasn't doing anything to help either. She just watched.
Then Flash spoke once more. "Come on nerd, answer, or are you going to go and cry to your uncle."
Peter felt something twisting and changing inside him irrevocably. He tried to help people to the best of his ability, day and night, risking his life in the trash-filled streets of New York, only to be vilified and insulted at each step, both by media and government. And here there was, people he was protecting, throwing the death of one of the people he respected most to his face. He stood up, his face twisted in anger. Flash proved that he had a brain and a survival instinct despite his stupid image, and took a step back, realizing that he had crossed a line that shouldn't be crossed, and awakened something that best left sleeping. Jason, on the other hand, didn't. He took Peter standing up as a personal insult, and took a step towards him.
He went down in a punch, unconscious.
Still, Peter didn't care much about Jason, and dashed towards his target. Flash tried to throw a punch towards him, but Peter dodged it negligently, then grabbed his arm, twisting until Flash was on his knees, letting out a shout filled with pain. The rest of the team started closing in, and Peter twisted his arm a bit more. "Stop, don't come any closer," Flash shouted.
"Smart boy," Peter whispered, his casual tone making it even scarier. "One more twist, and your football career is over. After all, this is your throwing arm." Flash whimpered. "So," Peter continued casually. "I wasn't able to hear the last thing you said. Could you please tell me again now that I'm close enough to hear it."
"I'm sorry," Flash whispered, genuinely sorry. It wasn't just from the fear, Peter could tell. It was one of the nifty benefits of his power set, ability to read people accurately.
"Good," Peter said in a false jovial tone. "But still, I think a similar punishment is in order. I will break your legs if I see either of you on the ball, understood." Flash nodded, still shocked that their favorite target was much stronger than his frame suggested. "Neat," Peter commented. "Still, it's a pity if Liz spends the ball without a date, right?" Peter commented, pointing at the blond girl next to Gwen who was watching the proceedings with an astonished expression. Then, he looked directly at her. "I'll pick you at eight, is that okay for you?"
Liz nodded, shellshocked, and Peter stopped holding Flash's arm, stepped over his collapsed figure, and walked away from the crowd, which exploded into shocked whispers. He could see Gwen trying to catch his gaze, but he avoided hers, knowing that he was far to pricky for either of them to enjoy the talk.
Four hours later, he was riding on a recently purchased motorcycle. For once, his luck struck true when he came across two rival gangs, trying to gun down each other, and managed to set fire the warehouse that served them as the battlefield in the process. He barged in the middle, immobilizing both groups almost trivially and saved them from the fire. And if he had hit a bit harder than he was supposed to, no one was willing to complain. But the true windfall came in the form of two briefcases, one filled with drugs, the other filled with cash. He let the drug-filled one to burn, but the cash-filled one was too good to pass. It was the least the city owed to him for all the stupid shit he was doing at least.
The fresh injection of a hundred grand was the thing he needed the most. He decided to treat himself. The first thing he did was to visit a secondhand dealer, and picked a decent bike, sold cheaply because of an unreliable engine. Peter didn't care about it, as he was able to fix much more complicated issues when he was trying to come up with his little inventions. He also picked some new clothes, complete with a leather jacket that cost more than the bike. An hour in his garage, and the bike was sliding on the ground like a dream.
Which was why he was speeding through the highway, enjoying the wind around his body. It wasn't as fun as flying across the buildings, but the lack of responsibility as he swerved through the traffic was more than enough compensation. Soon, it was five to eight, and he was in front of Liz Allen's house. He removed the helmet, and honked. A second later, Liz appeared at the door, dressed in a sexy red dress. "Peter," she exclaimed in shock. "I didn't know you had a bike." Then she dragged her gaze over his body. "And nice clothing."
Peter shrugged. "I decided to do something for myself for a change."
"Good choice," she answered. "It fits you." She stopped for a moment, looking deeper than her vapid attitude suggests. "Somehow, you seem more real on it than in school, where you just disappear at the background."
Her answer was another shrug. In the end, she was right. Peter's actions, even before his transformation, had been tailored to avoid attention. He was quite young when he learned the benefits of keeping a low profile. But he wasn't willing to suffer the consequences of his forced anonymity anymore. "Are you ready for a fun night?"
"Of course, though I can't ride your bike dressed like that."
"Why not," Peter said. "A little preview wouldn't hurt."
She laughed even as she walked closer. "Cheeky, Mr. Parker. Be careful though, no one likes a braggart."
"It's not bragging if you can back it up, honey," he said, then waited until Liz carefully sat, displaying nothing, then placed her helmet on. "Hold tight," he said before cranking up the engine, cruising through the streets of New York in a neck-breaking speed. Her cries petered out, but her arms kept their hold around his chest, keeping her breasts pressing on his back. An enjoyable presence, he decided.
Liz's face was burning bright with excitement as they finally pulled in front of the school, half of the school already there. The sight of Liz Allan behind Peter Parker, driving an impressive bike was enough to send a wave of silence across the crowd. Admittedly, Peter didn't care much. The crowds lost its effect on him quite easily after all the exposure he received as Spider-Man, both good and ill.
Instead, he turned and presented his hand to Liz, and took a strategic position in front of her that no one would see the erotic sight she displayed as she tried to dismount the bike wearing a mini dress. No one but him, of course, but that was a given. "Cheeky," Liz said, but did nothing to protect her modesty as she threw her leg, gifting Peter with a spectacular sight, that she had neglected to wear any panties.
"Cheeky," he whispered, leaning into her ear.
She blushed prettily. "You looked pretty down, and I decided you could use something to cheer you up." Then, she smiled sinfully. "Did I do something wrong."
"No," Peter said with a matching smile as he wrapped his arm around her waist. "You did nothing wrong." Then, they walked into the gym, the music blaring loudly. "Drinks first, or would you prefer dancing," Peter asked.
"Let's go with the dance, refreshment would be better after we build up a bit of a thirst. Also, I'm curious about your moves."
"I aim to satisfy," Peter said, and they walked towards the middle of the court, which was re-purposed as a dance platform."
The dance was short, but heated. Peter could feel the crowd falling silent around them, but he didn't care much as they jumped and twirled, her well-developed body pressing to her in a frequency most would classify as inappropriate, all while somehow managing not to flash the crowd despite her short dress and a certain absence of underwear. But the opinion of most, Peter had decided never to listen, so they continued to dance with a reckless abandon.
Soon, they were walking towards the table that held the drinks, Liz's face shining with sweat. Not enough to damage her make-up, of course, Liz had proved pretty careful about that particular aspects. "How can you be so fresh," she said in astonishment. "We're dancing for half-an-hour, and you're not even breathing hard."
Peter shrugged. "I'm fitter than I look," he said. Dancing was nothing compared to his usual daily activities. Swinging across the buildings were far more exhausting than most would have thought. Also, he had a feeling that Liz wasn't as tired as she displayed, but using the opportunity to take deep breaths, which had a very impressive effect on the cleavage of her dress.
"You are really full of surprises today, aren't you," Liz answered with a smile that filled him hope about the trajectory of their date.
But before he could say anything, he saw Gwen walking towards him, with a sad expression on her face. On his side, he felt Liz stiffen. "Peter, can we have a talk," she said with a sad voice.
Peter could see that she could feel genuine remorse, but he wasn't feeling particularly forgiving. "Not tonight, Gwen," he answered, and she flinched. It wasn't a surprise, as Peter had never used such a cold tone on her before. "Maybe tomorrow during the lunch," Peter answered, feeling a bit of pity when Gwen looked like she was about to cry. "I don't think we can have a talk tonight without saying something that's best left unsaid." Gwen nodded, her eyes shining sad.
However, it was Liz's reaction that surprised him a bit. She took a hold of his arm, pulling it towards her until his forearm was comfortably seated between her spectacular tits and whispered in a tone loud enough to be heard by Gwen. "Come on, Peter," she whispered. "It's a bit stifling in here. How do you feel about a quick stroll on the roof." As she said that, she sat on the table, and her legs parted slightly, but enough to make Gwen's eyes grow. Peter inwardly smiled, enjoying the way Liz decided to stake a claim in the territory.
Gwen looked angry and hurt, but Peter didn't care about it tonight. Tonight was about him, and if Gwen couldn't handle it, it was her problem. She should have thought about it more carefully before choosing her method of revenge, one he had no problem of replicating. "Let's go," he said, took a hold of Liz's hand, and started walking towards the stairs. He noticed the victorious glance that Liz sent towards Gwen, but he elected not to comment on it. Tonight, Gwen was in the doghouse, so he wasn't very inclined to pity her.
Instead, they passed though the tunnel that linked the Gym and the school, climbed the stairs leading to roof silent. They arrived at the door, and Liz tried to open it, only to realize it was closed. She turned towards him, half teasing and half-disappointed herself. "It doesn't seem like your lucky day, stallion," she said, followed by a soft laugh.
"Don't be so sure," he said even as he pulled a small piece of wire from his pocket, and pushed inside the lock. A second of struggle, and the lock clicked. "Tadaa," Peter said, pushing the door open.
"You're full of surprises, aren't you," Liz said, genuinely impressed. "I should be happy that I'm living on the third floor, as you proved the locks aren't enough to protect me from your hungry paws."
Peter let out a genuine laugh. The idea that a couple of floors providing him with a barrier was frankly ridiculous, not that Liz knew it, of course. They stepped on the roof, and before even closing the door, Peter pushed her on the wall, preventing her routes of escape by placing his arms on both sides of her. "Slow down, stallion-" she started, but Peter elected to silence her with his lips.
For a second, she tried to push him away, but just for a second. His lips started to caress hers, enjoying his first kiss. He knew that he was inexperienced, so he shifted to his usual behavior, letting his instincts to take control. The result was spectacular, first, any attempt of creating a distance stopped, then her lips started to answer, slowly at first, slowed by his aggressive shift, but soon, she started to match his aggressiveness, her hesitation deserted in a corner.
Peter brought his hand down, driven by desire, about to push his hand under her skirt, when his spider-sense warned him that it was a bad idea. Neat, he thought. Sometimes, his powers were really convenient. Instead, he let his hands caress her back through the dress, its fabric providing little barrier to his touch. On that, he realized the benefits of his powers weren't limited to warning him about the mistakes he was about to make. His ability to read body language was very helpful in showing which touches worked the best, and which didn't. As a consequence, he was playing Liz's body like an upright bass without even moving to the real sensitive spots.
"This is ridiculous," Liz whispered during a lull they pulled away to catch their breath. Her face was crimson in arousal, her eyes shining with a hunger that would have scared Peter before today. "How can a boy could be that good in his hands."
"So," Peter answered with a smug smile. "From that statement, should I understand that there are girls that are better than me when it comes to it." Her expression, akin to a rabbit caught in headlamps, was enough of an answer for him. "How interesting, Mrs. Allen. It seems that it's not only I that's hiding some enticing surprises." Before she could gather herself enough to put a false defense, he locked her lips in a kiss once more, continuing his relentless assault. Soon, he could feel her legs starting to tremble, and he slid his hands to her hips, purely to support her, of course. The fact that his hands had slid under his dress was a result of an accident.
A few minutes before, Liz might have pushed him away, not wanting to be put out in the first date, but Peter strongly doubted she had the ability to reject anything with the orgasm she was about to experience. And Peter, it felt amazing to keep her under control, stripping her defenses with just making his fingers dance. He decided a climax deserved a proper sendoff and brought one of his hands over her entrance, teasing her in a way that destroyed any control she had. The only thing that prevented her cries to bring a teacher was Peter's lips, muffling her cries. Soon, her arms pulled his body tight, letting him feel her trembling body with its full intensity, his fingers stained with her juices.
"That was amazing," she murmured, but Peter's attention was on Gwen, who stood at the doorway, looking at them with a confused mixture of arousal and tears. On any other day, Peter would have been more sympathetic, but today, he only bothered to raise his hand and gave her a little wave. Though he had to admit, using the hand that was stained with Liz's juices was a true asshole move.
Gwen turned and run away, her sound of crying reaching to their ears. "That was cruel," Liz managed to say, though her euphoric expression suggested that she approved the cruelty he displayed.
Peter just shrugged. "She deserved it," he said. "So I decided to make her struggle a little before I fuck her tomorrow and make her forgive me."
A shocked but amused laugh escaped Liz's mouth, though it had enough edge to suggest that he would have received a much more violent response if he tried to utter that statement before he gave her an earth-shattering orgasm. "You're very cocky, Mister Parker. But careful what you wish for, you cannot handle two gals of our caliber."
"Really," Peter said, his tone deceptively calm, instead of squeezing her tit to communicate his perspective. "How about if I prove it to you."
"Okay," Liz said with a smug expression on her own. "Give me two orgasms before I make you cum, and I don't raise a stink when Gwen slaps your ass to Los Angeles when you try to make a move on her after tonight's spectacle."
"Deal, but with a modification." Liz raised her eyebrow questioningly. "Make it three orgasms, I don't want any doubt to remain."
"Cocky," Liz said with a smirk. "Too bad that you're going to fail. It would have been fun to watch Gwen slapping you in the school."
Peter smiled even as he grabbed her shoulder and pressed her against the wall chest first. "How about I show you just how cocky I'm…"