Note: As a reward for your patience in enduring such a long build-up for my little PWP, this final chapter is over twice as long. :)
Gwen raises an eyebrow. "Really?" she teases. "I thought every teenage boy carried a condom in their wallet just in case."
"I don't even carry a wallet," Peter shoots back, cutting his eyes toward the Spidey suit discarded on the floor. Then he sits up, moving back a couple of inches on the bed, and runs his hands through his hair. "Sorry..."
Feeling bad for teasing him, Gwen reaches out and slides a hand down his forearm. "That's okay. I shouldn't have assumed anything."
His smile lets her know he took no offense. "You don't have one either? Not in your bedside table? Not even a sample left over from health class?"
She shakes her head. "Confiscated."
"My mom. My dad probably would have taken me to the drugstore himself - as long as he approved of... the boy..." Her mouth goes dry then, the mood completely killed. Her father did not approve. He had wanted nothing more than to have his daughter date a nice science major and stay out of his life of law enforcement and danger. But he should have known that she was too much like her father.
Peter's eyes go distant. She's sure he's remembering the conversation on the rooftop, the one she'd only heard about secondhand. "Oh..." he says, his eyes dropping. "Maybe we shouldn't..." He starts to turn away.
She stops him with a hand. This conversation is going downhill fast. "No, Peter. He respected you. He would have come around, I know it." He doesn't look convinced, so she continues, "Besides, it doesn't matter what he said, what he made you promise. This is my decision to make, and yours."
His eyes meet hers again, the ghost of a smile returning. "But still, there's no condom. It sort of looks like the decision is being made for us."
"Maybe..." She glances out the window. "Maybe not."
He follows her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Can't you, you know..." She scoots closer and lays a slow kiss on his cheek. "...swing out and get some? There's a drugstore just around the corner."
He leans into the kiss, but then seems to realize what she's asking. His eyebrows nearly climb into his hair. "In my costume?"
"No! I mean, you've got a change of clothes somewhere, right? You don't just swing into your bedroom in Queens dressed like that..."
"I keep them in a backpack." He grimaces. "Which I left on a rooftop halfway across town."
"Well, then." Gwen stands up, all business, and walks to her closet. She throws on a sweatshirt over her skirt, and starts digging. "I must have something..." There's a couple of oversized T-shirts in there, some gym shorts that might do - she briefly considers seeing if there's anything in her mom's closet, a few things of her dad's not packed away or given to Goodwill, but after the last topic of conversation... She looks harder.
She finally comes up with a stretched out T-shirt, an old chemical-stained lab coat and some baggy pink sweatpants. Tossing them to him on the bed, she says. "Try these."
He looks at the clothing dubiously. "You want me to go into the drugstore... looking like a homeless person?"
"Homeless people don't have sex?"
"They..." He shudders. "Ugh. Thanks for that image."
She huffs. "Do you have a better suggestion?" She glances at the time - if he hurries, he might be able to get to his backpack, get condoms, and return before her mom and the boys get home, but...
"Yes." Instead of the castoffs she'd thrown him, he reaches for his suit on the floor, then smiles. "You go in to get them."
Gwen colors. "My mom gets all our prescriptions there."
"So?" he says, but before she can find something to throw at him, he adds, "Kidding!" He's almost back into his suit - faster than she can believe. She supposed the quick-changes are essentially to his whole secret-identity schtick, but she really misses the sight of all that muscled bare skin.
"I suppose there's another one over on the corner of Church and Reade, where they don't really know us..." Though it isn't cold out, she throws a jacket on, shoves a twenty into the pocket and tucks her hair under a baseball cap, to help with the disguise. She stands there a moment more, musing. "Maybe I should put on some sunglasses, too?"
"Nah, don't bother."
Suddenly she finds herself spinning toward him. He presses her against him so tightly that the suit feels like a mere formality. She swallows, then breathes out, "Why?"
He's completely suited up now, mask and all. Opening her window one-handed, he explains, "They'll only fall off on the way."
Then they are rushing through the air, speeding toward the drugstore as only Peter can. Though he has a firm hold on her, she almost loses the hat.
The first time they went swinging like this, just for fun, she had been in awe of the way they glided through the nighttime streets, buildings rushing by, lights blurring together like a kaleidoscope. This time, she focuses on the way his arm feels around her waist, the way his corded muscles move as he shoots out a line and smoothly changes direction into another swing. How his legs kick at the air with fluid grace and control. She remembers how those muscles felt under her hands... and sighs with impatience.
Peter turns his masked head toward her. "What's wrong?" The rushing wind and spandex distort his voice somewhat, but she can hear the concern.
"Just..." She moves her lips to the side of his head, and says in a low voice, "...eager to finish what we started."
She might be imagining it, but they start to move a lot faster.
He sets them down in an alley around the corner from the drugstore. She presses closer, sliding a hand down his firm ass. "I'll be just a minute," she murmurs with a goodbye squeeze, and walks away from him.
Behind her, Peter clears his throat. He says, "Hurry back..." and it's almost a squeak.
She walks with quick steps around the corner, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Who knows which of her neighbors might be around? Or one of the beat cops who knew her father? She quickens her pace even further.
She slips into the drugstore and takes the first aisle she sees. She has no idea where they keep the condoms... The health and body care section? Next to the pharmacy? She giggles to herself - with the baby care? She decides to wander the aisles in a logical zigzag pattern. She finds them, of all places, next to the beer, which embarrasses her more than the condoms do. A couple of college-aged guys start coming down the other end of the aisle, and she reaches out and grabs the most likely looking one with words like "extra strength" and "XL" stamped on the sides. After all, he is super-strong, and well, she doesn't want to take any chances.
Keeping it by her side and mostly tucked under the edge of her jacket, she strides to the register. There's a youngish woman on duty, thank god, she might have chickened out if a man had been there, an older man might have made her stop, drop and roll - right on out of there empty-handed.
It seems to take forever to pay for them, and to top it off, she hears the sound of sirens in the distance, getting closer. What if there's a mugging nearby and one of the cops recognizes her? The woman, bless her, places the box into a small paper bag and doesn't try to make small talk. She's out on the street without hearing her cheery, "Shop again at Duane Reade!"
She sees the flashing lights of the police cars she had heard down Church St., but not in the same direction as the alley where she left Peter. She sighs with relief. Walking toward the alley entrance as quickly as possible, she turns in and...
He's not there.
She looks up and down the alley. She can't see him anywhere. There are fire escapes, leading up to upper floors, a couple of doors into the adjoining building. "Hey!" she calls in a loud whisper, avoiding saying either of Peter's names. "I'm back!"
There's no response.
A little further down, there is a dumpster, and a pair of shoes sticking out from behind, but they are white and mud-spattered, not red and shiny. Who would be hanging out in an alley, alone? She walks the other way, breaking into a run after only a few steps.
And then she's flying through the air again, borne above the rooftops in moments. "Sorry," he says, hugging her to him tightly. "I couldn't just stay there, bored and looking suspicious."
She looks behind her at the flashing lights. "And I bet you found a way to keep yourself occupied."
He's quiet for a moment. "Um..."
"That's okay," she says, and she runs her hand down the front of his Spider-Man logo. "I like that in a superhero boyfriend." She's more than ready to peel the suit off of him again, this time, a lot faster.
She can see her apartment building, and the floor where her family lives in the distance. The light is still on in her room; they'd left so quickly that she hadn't thought to turn it off. But then she sees that other lights in the apartment are also on.
"Crap!" she says, cringing into Peter. "My mom is home!"
Peter makes a sharp turn, and they land on the top of the building facing hers. He puts his hand on her shoulder. "Looks like the ol' Parker Luck strikes again."
"What?" she says, distracted. How is she going to explain her window wide open, her lights on, and no one home? Gwen doesn't even have her cell phone on her - it's sitting in her purse on top of her desk. She tries to see through the sheer curtains - are they just getting home? It looks like her mother is taking off her coat and hanging it on the hooks by the front door. Maybe she can sneak back in and pretend like she was somewhere else in the apartment and didn't hear them come home. She hates the subterfuge, but she's gotten better at it the longer she's been with Peter...
"It's just I'm cursed with this bad luck. Something good happens, then something terrible comes along to mess it up. Happened even before I got the powers." He puts his arms around her shoulders. "Sorry. It just wasn't meant to be, I guess."
"No!" she says, clenching her fists. "I refuse to accept that."
"If I could just get in there long enough to lock the door and turn off the light, she might think I'm asleep.."
Without another word, Peter launches himself across the street. He lands on the side of her window, and shoots a couple of strands out through the opening. Her light goes out.
"Get my cell phone out of my purse, too!" she whisper-shouts, hoping enhanced hearing is part of the superpowers package. If her mom tries to call her, she can answer sleepily to continue the ruse.
He shoots another strand out and snags the purse. Then her window slides shut and he's back across the street in seconds. Handing her the purse with a gallant bow, he says, "Your belongings, mademoiselle."
"Thank you, kind sir," she says with a smile. "New York City is lucky you use these powers for good, isn't she?"
"Tell that to the Bugle."
She sidles up to him again, and peels back the bottom of his mask. Pulling his head toward hers, she kisses him fiercely, not caring where they are. It's dark, she tells herself, they can't be seen from the street, and who is really looking out their windows at this time of night?
He turns his face slightly to speak around her kisses. "Not here. I know a better place..."
He doesn't replace the mask over his mouth, and she nestles into his neck as they take once again to the skies. He travels several blocks faster than anyone could, even birds, she suspects, and sets her down on top of the observation deck of the Woolworth Building, 58 floors up.
She's never been up here before - no one has in years. The observation deck has been closed to the public since before even her parents could remember. She turns in a slow circle, never removing her hands from around his neck. "Wow, what a view."
"It's one of the places I go to think," he explains. "Plus, there'll be no interruptions, no prying eyes..." He kisses her between each phrase.
She kisses him back. "...no place to lie down..." she points out.
"Hmm," he says. "I think I can fix that."
Using both wrists in tandem, he weaves a layer of webbing between two beams until it forms a makeshift hammock. "Cool," she says, fascinated. She steps up to it, and tests the give. "It will hold?"
"On my honor as the number two science student at Midtown High," he says behind her.
Gwen turns into his arms and pulls him downward with her, onto the web hammock, her baseball cap tumbling to their feet.
As slowly as they had taken things in her bedroom, Gwen now wants Peter out of his clothes as quickly as possible. He seems to agree - she pulls his top over his head, leaving the web shooters in place, as he slides down the zipper on her skirt. She grabs the edges of his pants and peels them down his hips, his erection springing free. She shrugs out of her jacket and sweatshirt and then there they are. He breathes heavily as he hovers over her, as ready to go as she is. It's as if it's been forever since they were at this point, and yet no time at all as well.
"Gwen," he sighs, looking down on her. "You're so beautiful." He buries his head between her breasts, his hands coming up to cup them. He slides one knee between her thighs, and she opens them readily to him.
Her own fingers scrape through his hair, down his back and he groans, the vibration warm against her nipple. She trails her fingers down around his hips to take his penis in her hand again, thrilling at its smooth hardness. As she tightens around it, he suckles harder on her nipple, and it shoots a white bolt of desire through her.
She's wet now, so wet that she can't believe it, dipping the fingers of her other hand to coat them in her own secretions. She rubs them over the head of his penis, earning another groan. "Are you as ready as I am?"
In answer, he snags the small paper bag from her things with a strand of webbing, never removing his mouth from her skin. Then he places the box beside her, letting her take the lead.
She's only happy to oblige. "Lay beside me," she says, and as he does so, she opens the wrapper. She's hoping that she hasn't forgotten anything from health class. Holding his eyes the whole time, she pinches the bubble at the top and slowly rolls it over the head and down the shaft. It seems to fit, despite her lucky guess at the drugstore.
He starts to turn toward her, to mount her from above, but she stays him with a hand. "Let me," she says, and straddles his waist. Gwen's done her homework. If she's on top, she can control things better. Taking his penis in her hand, she guides it to her entrance and then slowly lowers herself onto him.
She gasps. It feels so different from a finger or two, either hers or his, and it fills her up so exquisitely than she keens lightly with pleasure. But before he can enter her fully, it stops. "I'm a v-" she starts to say, but he already knows.
"Me too, Gwen. We'll take it slow." He rocks in and out of her gently, an inch at a time, pushing up against her hymen a little more with each thrust, until she feels something give. There's a burst of pain, but she bites her lip and moves past it.
And now that they're both moving freely, she lets out a low moan. It feels unbelievable, him inside her. She takes a moment to see how he's doing. He lies there, mouth slightly open, face contorting with an odd sort of concentration. "God," he says, "Gwen..."
He looks up at her, moving above him. He places his hands on her knees and caresses his hands up her legs. His fingers find her clitoris, and he begins a counterpoint in rhythm to their movements.
She suddenly has to feel him up against her. Reaching down to encircle him in her arms, she pulls him up to a sitting position, devouring his mouth with hers. Her breasts rub against his chest, and the friction adds to the sweet ecstasy that just keeps building. She throws her head back, and cries out loudly. No one can hear them, no one can see them; her body locked with Peter's she feels freer than she has ever felt in her life.
He grasps her arms then, stilling and groaning as he climaxes. She can feel him pulse within her, and his grip relaxes. She stays there on his lap, enjoying the feel of him filling her as he comes down. Matching her breathing to his, she smoothes her palms across his back in slow circles.
When he speaks again, it's a little ragged. "Gwen, did you...?" Did she come, he doesn't say.
She shakes her head against his forehead. "No, but I did earlier, remember?"
He pulls back and frowns. "I can..."
She stops his hand. "No. This feeling, just like this, is perfect."
She's relieved when he doesn't press the issue. "Okay."
Pulling her down on top of him, he shifts to the side, keeping their bodies enjoined. They lay like that for several long minutes, the air slowly cooling atop their perch. She shivers slightly, and snuggles into him. He's so warm - she wonders idly if the superpowers make him run a little hotter than normal.
Without explaining what he's doing, he lifts one wrist and sprays a cocoon of webbing around them on three sides, blocking the wind. She feels safe, protected, loved. Her eyes slip closed, and she drifts off.
When she awakes, the sun is shining brightly behind her eyelids. Sitting up in a panic, she fumbles around for her clothes... but she finds that she is at home, in her own bed, in her favorite pajamas, no less. Peter is not beside her. She can't remember coming home at all - how soundly was she sleeping, anyway?
Shaking her head at herself, she turns to her bedside table to look at the clock, and a small box is beside it. For Gwen, the note reads in Peter's handwriting, This was supposed to be for your birthday, but I couldn't wait. Her birthday isn't for months - she doesn't even remember telling him the date.
Suddenly there's a knock at the door. She drops the box into her lap in surprise. "Gwen?" her mother calls from the other side of the door, "Are you awake?"
"Yes, Mom," she calls, covering the box with her comforter.
Her mom opens the door (Peter must have unlocked it when he tucked her in) and pokes her head in. "I didn't want to wake you last night when we came home." She nods over at Gwen's desk, where books and papers are strewn across in disarray. "Were you studying for the SATs again?"
Gwen shakes her head before realizing she is throwing away a perfectly good alibi. "No, I was... developing a hypothesis for... a science experiment." That doesn't sound lame at all. She grimaces.
"On a weekend?" Her mother gives her a pitying look. "Oh, Gwendy. Take a break sometimes, okay? You should go out with your boyfriend today. See the city, do something fun."
"Yes, Mom," Gwen says, a broad smile growing on her face. "We promise to have as much fun as two science geeks can have on a Saturday."
Her mom nods, satisfied. "Good. Breakfast is in thirty minutes!" The door closes behind her.
Gwen pulls the box back from under the comforter and turns it in her hands. Lifting off the cover, she sees another note inside, which reads: For the scientist who has (almost) everything. , Peter. The heart is red with Spider-eyes and webbing. "You dork," she whispers fondly. Nestled within is a pair of metal bands with a LED device and a trigger attached to each one.
She gleefully straps them on; they fit perfectly. To herself, she says, "Oh, I think today is going to be very fun."
End Note: I do have another kink_bingo idea in the works - a short one. Keep an eye out!