You barely get the door shut before Peter slams you against it, his mouth crushing yours with that raw, desperate hunger he only shows after a long patrol. His hands are everywhere, yanking your shirt up and off, fingers rough on your skin as he palms your tits and squeezes hard. "Fuck, I need you right now," he growls against your lips, voice low and filthy. You feel his cock already hard and straining against his suit, grinding into your thigh like he can't wait another second.
He spins you around, pressing your chest to the door, and rips your pants down with zero patience.
Cool air hits your bare ass, then his hand slaps it once, sharp and stinging. "Look at this pussy, already wet for me." Two thick fingers shove inside you without warning, pumping deep and fast. You moan loud, pushing back on his hand as he curls them against that spot that makes your knees shake. Peter laughs, dirty and satisfied. "Yeah, that's it. Take it."
He doesn't bother with the full suit. Just enough comes off—his cock springs free, thick and veined, the head already leaking. He spits on his hand, strokes himself once, then lines up and slams into you in one brutal thrust. Your cry echoes off the walls as he buries every inch, balls deep, stretching you wide. Peter doesn't ease up. He fucks you hard against the door, hips snapping forward like he's chasing something only you can give him. Each thrust knocks the breath out of you, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room.
"Goddamn, you're so fucking tight," he pants, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise, the other reaching around to rub your clit in fast circles. You clench around him, dripping down his shaft, and he groans like he's losing it. "Squeeze me just like that. Fuck, I'm gonna fill this pussy up."
He pulls out suddenly, spins you again, and lifts you like you weigh nothing—Spider strength making it effortless. Your legs wrap around his waist as he impales you back on his cock, bouncing you on it while he walks you to the couch. He drops you on the cushions, shoves your knees to your chest, and drives back in. The new angle hits deeper, his cock pounding that perfect spot over and over. Sweat drips from his chest onto your tits. You reach down to feel where you're joined, fingers slick with your juices around his thick shaft.
Peter leans in, biting your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. "You love this dirty shit, don't you? Getting fucked senseless by Spider-Man." His thrusts turn erratic, faster, rougher. One hand pins your wrists above your head while the other works your clit again. You come first, hard, walls fluttering and gushing around him, vision whiting out as you scream his name. He doesn't stop. He fucks you straight through it, chasing his own release with filthy grunts.
When he finally comes, it's with a low, animal groan, cock pulsing thick ropes deep inside you. He stays buried, grinding slow as he empties every drop, your mixed cum leaking out around him. But he's not done. Peter pulls out, flips you onto your stomach, and spreads your ass cheeks. His tongue drags through the mess between your legs, licking up the cum dripping from your pussy before he pushes two fingers back in and starts eating you out from behind.
You moan into the cushions, hips rocking against his face as he tongue-fucks you filthy and thorough. His free hand strokes his cock back to full hardness, and soon he's sliding in again, slower this time but just as deep. He fucks you steady and hard, one hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head back so he can growl right in your ear. "Gonna make you come again. Then I'm putting it in your ass."
By the time he's done with you—hours later, both of you wrecked and sticky on the sheets—your body aches in the best way. Peter pulls you against his chest, cock still half-hard against your thigh, and kisses your forehead like the hero he is. "Round three in the shower?" he murmurs, already sliding a hand between your legs again. You don't say no.
