A Bond Must be Consummated
Lips gently descend to glide against the back of your exposed neck, teasing, searching, and waiting for your reaction with a built-up tolerance you can’t compete with. It only takes a moment for you to squirm and bite at your red-tinted lips, literally biting back the groan moments away from pushing out of your chest. Fingers work in conjunction, feathery soft as they smooth down the delicious curve of your spine. It always starts this way, a surprise attack at home when your mind should be focused on your transcript, a little kiss or nip, and it leaves you pressed down into sheets. A groan sputters from your mouth as heat tickles against your bare flesh the moment he strokes over the stunning soul-bonding mark that proudly stretches along the swell of your ass. A rare placement, but he never seemed to have a problem with the location, considering he would be the only one to ever see your mark in the fluorescent light of your bedroom. God, it feels so exhilarating to feel his hands on you- but it’s been months and that’s as far as it ever seems to go. Hands. Mouth. That sinful tongue that likes to do that thing that drives you wild. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve sworn he was teasing you, but every time it gets to the well- you know- something comes up and you’re left excruciatingly unsatisfied.
If that wasn’t bad, consummation is the quickest way to solidify a true bond and makes it harder to break once the bond is in place and accepted by both parties. You had learned that during your Bond studies class in high school and it had always been revered as a sacred act to be cherished. Bond marks are a representation of a bonded pair and show their true selves reflected on the skin of their loved ones, this has been done since the beginning of time; The handwriting and location all hold complex meanings, sure, but it is encouraged to consummate as soon as possible. And consummation is just a pretty, big word for having sex.
Nerves tickled at the back of your lids as you tried to concentrate on the military file gracing your desk. After being discharged, you decided to stay on with the military and agreed to only use your powers in their field if it was a dire situation. Your free time was usually spent elsewhere, somewhere in Professor Xavier's mansion training with Kurt and the rest of your newly formed team: The X-traction Squad. It was your job to take on higher-level jobs that the original X-Men team could not directly handle in time without there being casualties.
Happiness came to you in the form of using your destructive powers for the common good and having a Bonded that was made perfectly for you. Your manipulation of radioactive energy was deadly, taking the chemical compounds in basically every ounce of yourself and turning it radioactive to make yourself and objects you spread your energy into a bomb. If you wanted, you could explode and destroy a place as big as Russia and Eastern Europe. Your powers had saved your life when they activated in the field, an EDM taking out the rest of your squad and leaving you bloody and alone, terrified of your own survival. It took being prodded and poked at, almost cut into pieces, and him finding you to set your world back into motion.
Peter Parker was just as much of your soul mate as you were his, and the thought caused your heart to lightly jump in your chest as you unsuccessfully peered down at the level 5 clearance military file. The Professor contacted you using Cerebro and asked for your assistance because you were one of the few X-Men with army experience. You were thankful that he could be so understanding; he didn’t request for you to go out into the field with the others, instead, your strategic expertise could be readily sought out merely by contacting you by thought. It was a much better trade than forcing yourself to go back overseas after your last stint in the army. And now, with Peter at your side and your newly forming Bond, it would be excruciatingly painful to be away from each other at a time like this. You needed him. A rare emotion that flitted through you, reminding you that there was someone who wanted you just as you are.
Peter had promised he’d go on patrol with Wade and then he’d be completely yours.
Yours.
You had come a long way from the girl who only found enjoyment during gym and science class. Your father, an army sergeant, was never around much, and your mother, a simple school teacher, was busy with her children and never took the time to raise the one she had. You were reserved, quiet, and always attentive whenever your father arrived home from a tour. You took after him, almost too much, following in his footsteps and going through the army to earn funding for college. And that single tour in Afghanistan- With a quiet huff, you closed the file and sat back in your comfortable rolling chair. Closing your eyes, you wiped your mind free of the distorted pictures and sounds racing past your closed lids. Dust, the air was so thick with dust that day. You remembered laughing with a squad member, he was driving the tank and talking about something silly he’d do once he’d made it back home to his girlfriend. Another member of your squad, a female with cropped red hair, rolled her eyes and talked about how many parks she wanted to visit when it was all over. She’d barely finished her sentence when the first explosion went off. That’s when everything becomes bright lights and white noise, the blast destroying your eardrums temporarily and tossing you off balance, your X-gene activating immediately with a blast to counter the second bomb.
“Alpha. Beta. Gamma. Delta…” You counted down quietly to bring yourself back to the present. The trauma had long since been dealt with- at least, that’s what you liked to tell yourself and Peter even if he could see through it a mile away. It was still hard to open up about what happened out there in the field, but even without using explicit words, Peter just had a way of knowing everything you never had to say. Or he’d press you into the covers and make you hold your legs up while he lapped at your sweet folds and nibbled on your clit hard enough to make you come so hard you couldn’t think anymore. Oh- now you can’t stop thinking about his tongue and his- pushing back from your desk, you stand and groan into the silent room. Peter was a horrible, horrible person for keeping you waiting like this. You could understand that he was a hero and he needed to keep everyone safe, but you had needs too, needs that only he could remedy.
Pushing yourself up out of your chair, you decide to get a drink of water and leave the file alone for the moment. You’re too hot and bothered to really concentrate and sitting still was starting to make you jittery. Darting out of the tiny study the two of you shared, you stalked down the small hallway and turned left into the equally small kitchen. The apartment was tiny, yes, but it made the both of you so happy just to have a place to share, to call your own. You were more than willing to move out of your parent's place and under your father’s thumb. He’d always been so… so scary. The thought of disappointing him was too much and the moment he found out about you being a mutant? You couldn’t stay in that house. They didn’t want you anymore, but it didn’t matter. Peter did and he always would; the decision to leave had been all too easy.
Stepping into your small kitchen, you can’t help but smile, Peter had written out a little note for you before leaving that morning, rearranging the various magnet letters to spell out “i luv you lots” and the note reading “Be home late, Beautiful.” And it was silly how such a small message had the ability to fill you up with such joy.
Tugging the fridge door open, you reached for an unfinished bottle of water, about 67% sure that it was yours. Shrugging, you used the back of your foot to close the door with a slight push as you turned, popping off the cap of the bottle and taking a quick swig of the cold liquid. It chilled its way down your throat and helped quell your nerves. Soon, Peter would be ravaging you and your bond, so strong already, would snap into place permanently. You reach for the bond unconsciously, easily feeling his threads across space and time, feeling his determination fill you up from wherever he was in the throngs of New York. As calm as you’d like to feel, after fifteen minutes, the nerves are back tenfold, and your stomach won’t stop quivering. The sun had begun to set as you curled up on the couch with a bad reality TV show playing the last new episode on repeat. Perhaps the only reason you knew was that Peter had taken off a night of being a hero to watch the premiere of the very same episode with you, the two of you curling up under a thick quilt from Aunt May and laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. And maybe the whole time you’d really been thinking about his hands running all over your heated skin, but you didn’t want to ruin his fun. He’d looked so tired for the past few days, and still, he’d promised to finally give the both of you the pleasure of a solid bond.
Maybe you were anxious because you were afraid. You and Peter had been officially Bonded for a while, and although the bond was very much present, the idea of an enemy destroying it while still in the beginning stages terrified you. Your being horny all the time had absolutely nothing to do with it at all. Shaking the thoughts from your head, you tried to relax again and let the time pass unceremoniously, the television show shifting into a news broadcast. The topic was some hold-up in the center of town between a villain and some idiot, Deadpool, with Spider Man's assistance. The news anchors were busy debating the pros and cons of the team-up instead of the crisis at hand, with various shots of Deadpool making obscene hand gestures to the masked villains flashing on the screen. You shook your head in disbelief, a soft smile tugging at your lips because Wade is much like the idiot older brother with the extra craziness very present. Peter had been extremely wary the first time he’d introduced the two of you to each other, covering up for Wade’s extremely inappropriate suggestions and explaining his condition.
As a reserve member of the X-Men and leader of the X-traction Squad, you had learned about Wade early on, but it did come as a surprise how much the hero and antihero appeared to get along. And truth be told, you had been a little jealous of Wade back then, jealous at how easily he could rile up Peter’s nerves and make him lose his composure with his outrageousness. You’d never admit to it, ever, but the jealousy was much less there; the more you’d gotten to know Peter and Wade, your grudge had shrunken in size by far. And now, you just wanted Peter home safely and Wade more or less the same, somewhere far, far away.
Closing your eyes, you let the sound of the news sink into the background, your breathing slowing after some time and evening out as the news became a steady emptiness in your head. You curled up more comfortably into the couch, no matter how much you fought sleep.
The gentle touch of fingers stroking over your cheek made everything inside of you awaken with a start, your eyes opening up to see a blurry rendition of your boyfriend.
“Peter?” You grumbled softly, shifting to sit up but Peter beats you to it, easily lifting you up in his arms. You curl your arms around his neck and snuggle into his chest, nose carefully nudged against his neck. He’s still cladded in red and blue attire, you can tell that much, but with the mask gone, you’re free to rub the tip of your nose against his bare flesh, taking in deep breaths of it with a low hum.
“Did you stay up waiting for me?” His voice comes out soft, full of guilt, you can tell he has that scrunched-up expression on his face as he carries you into the bedroom. With how agile he is, you have the sixth sense that he didn’t sustain too many injuries if Wade got his hands on the enemies.
“Mmm, wanted to. Wanted to wait for you. Want you.” You murmur out in partially complete sentences, softly nibbling at his skin, the saltiness of his sweat palpable on every inch of your tongue. You’re still full of sleep, but having him so close, able to feel every emotion swelling up in him, is waking you up rather quickly, and awakening the low burn in your stomach from earlier. Peter chuckles softly, lowering you onto your back slowly, taking his time while peering at your gorgeous face. He still couldn’t believe that he’d managed to hold onto you for even this long, that somehow, the universe had decided that even if he had no money, barely a job, and people against him from all sides of life, he deserved someone like you by his side for the rest of his life. He keeps his eyes on you and loves the way you watch him through half-lidded eyes, the way your tongue unconsciously laps at your lower lip, as he works on getting out of his suit.
He’s so pale, even with small bruises littering his firm chest, and you reach up to lightly drag your fingertips down the expanse of his abdomen, that fire turning towards a boil. All of this belonged to you.
He belonged to you.
“Are you sure?” Peter asked softly, ever the gentleman, his fingers carefully inching up to curl into the spaces between yours, giving your hands a squeeze. You give a firm nod, your hair splayed out against the sheets as you eyed the bond tattoo peeking out over the hem of his briefs.
“Always. I want you.” You feel no shame at being so blunt, only a happy spike in the bond between the two of you, turning your grip tight on Peter’s hands to draw him in lower. Your lips find purchase against his jaw, peppering the skin with light, teasing kisses that make him go slack in your grasp. You can’t help the way your body wants to dominate him, mark him up, and leave him breathless. Blame it on the years spent with pent-up emotions being under your father’s wing or how the army almost stripped you of your identity. You wanted to bruise his skin with your teeth and mouth so that everyone knew you existed there in his soul, on his body.
Maybe some of your silent wants rub off on Peter by the way his hands leave yours and shift to the hem of your loose tank top, smiling to himself as he easily uses his strength to tear it to shreds, the chilled air swarming to your heated breasts once they’re free. Perhaps forgoing a bra had worked in your best interest after all.
“H-Hey… I liked that shirt,” You grumble, unable to hold back a soft laugh at how quickly Peter blanches with embarrassment, cheeks flushed in the moonlight streaming in from your cracked apartment window.
“Not sorry,” Is his poorly thought excuse as he leans a knee onto the bed and hoists himself up, your eyes following all of his movements. He’s nervous about making this perfect, but what he lacks in understanding is that it couldn’t be any more perfect. He’s safe, here, nearly naked. It was honestly going according to your plan. You spread your legs to give him more room and he takes advantage, crowding you in and staring down at you as if you set the world in motion. It’s a sensation that makes your core throb almost painfully and you can tell that by the time he gets to really touching you, your panties are going to be a soaked mess.
“Peter,” You whisper softly, cheeks flushing under his gaze as he leans in and presses a soft kiss against your forehead, lips descending downward painfully slow to kiss against your chin, taking in a deep breath before his weight carefully presses you into the sheets. Fuck. Peter is heavier than he looks, his skin hot as it presses against every inch of you, dragging you deeper into your lust. His fingers brush against your side as they ghost lower, lower, a high-pitched whine escaping you as a hand slips between your legs and into your yoga pants with ease. You can feel your sensations and his and it's so much lust filling you up that the second a finger glides over your slit through your panties, you’re keening quietly and angling your hips upward for more.
“Couldn’t wait to get home to you,” Peter groans out, pressing you back into the bed by his hips as he busies himself with the smooth column of your neck. He laps at sweet skin before biting into a sensitive patch and sucking harshly with the intent to bruise, ignoring his own pleasure in place of your own. He’d been thinking about this for a long while, to finally spend a night making you feel as beautiful as you are in his eyes. Your quiet moans goad him on, make him want to make you scream by the end of the night as he unconsciously grinds his hips into yours, fingers trapped tight between your bodies and carefully pressing circles against your clothed clit. It isn’t fair, how easily you jerk and melt further under his touch, mind a happy hum of moremoremore and pleasefuckmePeter all jumbled up with sweet whimpers in the air. Your neighbor can probably hear you through the thin, plaster walls, but you don’t have a care in the world right now as you arch your back and present your breasts for inspection. He’s falling right into your very capable hands, tongue darting out to taste your delectable skin before latching on to the valley of your breasts. And doesn’t that just kill you? Your eyes flutter closed and you sigh, wondering where in the world he learned to-
“P-Peter!” You jerk in surprise, keening loudly as your figure trembles and your eyes snapped open. He’d been sneaky about it, biding his time until you’d relaxed before easily pressing your thin panty aside to run two fingers along your slick folds, pressing inside to his knuckles with no preamble. Shit. Shockwaves wrack your body and you pant quietly, biting at your lip as he begins to move his fingers the way you like it, pushing in deeper and brushing up against your tight walls before slowly pulling out to circle your labia with your own slick. He knows how much you love it when he fingers you slowly before building up a quick pace and finger fucking you until you cum hard because it’s all the time you can afford, but you know he’s going to drag it out now that you can afford the luxury.
“You’re so wet,” He murmurs against your flesh, nipping at the side of your breast playfully. Your breath hitches on a moan at the sound of his voice, deep, gravelly. You’re about 89% sure he’s merely stating a fact but dear god it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard in your existence and it’s the moment you learn you want him to whisper nasty, dirty things in your ear. Then again, you’re sure you could get off to him talking about the Pythagorean Theorem or chemistry. You can feel it deep in your throbbing clit when you become wetter, pushing up into his fingers as they delve back deep into your core. It’s almost too good, your hips rocking to a sloppy pace as he fingers you slow, but deep, so fucking deep your toes curl.
Blame it on your high-strung libido, but it only takes a few minutes for you to feel the telltale signs of an impending orgasm on the rise, your stomach clenching, back arching slightly as your voice reached a quivering fever pitch. Peter ignores it, doesn’t say to stop, merely latches his lips onto a pert nipple needing attention to suckle it gently as he fingers you to your first orgasm, releasing your nipple and blowing a warm breath against it as everything goes white. He raises his head to stifle your loud cry with a bruising kiss, stroking your tightening walls as they drench his hand with your release. You shudder and whine as he keeps moving his fingers, the overstimulation making your limp limbs spasm sporadically. You huff out a breath and try to form words as Peter’s fingers slip free from you and your way too constricting clothes, and you can’t help the whine that passes your lips when his comforting warmth is suddenly gone, too weak in the knees to even move your head and watch him as he stands. Oh. He’s pushing down his briefs with ease, freeing his engorged cock for you to feast your eyes on. Your pussy gives a weak throb, and you want to touch it, want to run your tongue all over the tip until he’s fucking into your mouth and coming with a cry down your throat. You kind of want all of that right now if you’re being honest with yourself. Peter can feel it through the bond, how badly you want him to bruise your jaw and pull at your hair with all his control, a little smile peeking from the corners of his mouth. You can’t hide your thoughts, you’re much too brazen and honest to bother trying.
“L-Let me taste,” You manage to get out, voice almost whiney with how much you want it. He shakes his head, staring at you through the moonlight and raising his wet fingers to his mouth, humming as he sucks them into his mouth. When he’s satisfied with your tortured expression, he reaches to easily tug your pants and sopping wet panties down, tossing them aside.
“Not tonight, sweetheart. Tonight is all about you. Do you want me to fuck you with my tongue next or?” He’s never like this- Maybe it’s the bond. Everything is so amped up between the two of you that you think just one more touch and you’ll come undone all over again. And you know he’d enjoy it just as much as you. Peter has this thing about eating you out where he can’t help himself anymore. For one straight week, he’d distracted you from military matters by making it hard to walk with how often he sucked at your clit until you couldn’t feel your toes. It’s enticing, so much so, but you don’t want to wait another moment without having him finally inside of you. Who knows when another villain could suddenly burst through your window and front door right now?
“W-Want you… n-now. Can’t wait.” You spread your legs, knees bending, breathing growing labored as the love of your life stalks towards you, eyes ravaging your body and making it impossible to look away. He’s so pale, so bruised up on the outside and inside and his eyes are dark as he raises one of your legs to rest on your shoulder. Your face flushes with warmth as he leans over you, so wet that you don’t need any lube, no more preparation, limbs soft and more than pliant. You moan softly as you feel the tip of his cock nudge against your wetness, brushing along your swollen lower lips for a few moments before-
“I love you, (y/n).” There it is. There’s that boyish smile you love so fucking much, his eyes growing soft as you open your mouth to respond in kind. The only thing that escapes you is a hushed groan as he starts to press inside, watching the way your nose scrunches up and your jaw goes slack as he bottoms out, his hips flush against yours. He’s big, stretching your walls and leaving a delicious ache between your legs. He handles you with care, keeping his hips still until he feels you relax around him, leaning in to press soft kisses against every part of your face he can reach. You kind of want to cry, overwhelmed with so much emotion and pleasure and want for this man that it hurts; it fills up your chest with love and heat and it feels so good.
You feel so full, curling your arms around his shoulders to pull his body fully against yours, lips seeking out his in a frenzied kiss of teeth and tongue as he starts to move his hips. His thrusts are shallow, testing the waters, and you don’t need that shit. You don’t want it. You’ve been in the army and you blow up things with your body; you don’t need to be treated like some delicate flower.
“F-Fuck me, ah, P-Peter- fuck me.” You murmur into the kiss, brushing your lips against his before nibbling on his lower lip, tongue quick to smooth over the same spot.
He listens a little too well. He pulls back to the tip before thrusting inside of you hard, punching a moan straight from your gut before he repeats the motion until he’s pressing you into the sheets and fucking into you with vigor, the only thing separating your scream from the air being his lips. He slams home once again, one hand reaching to push your hair back as he kissed a trail over to your ear, his voice accented with groans as he starts to murmur praises.
“My beautiful girl, so good for me.”
“Moan for me. Louder.”
“Should’ve done this sooner.. You’re so damn tight.”
He’s babbling and you’re clawing your way down his back as each thrust rocked your body and the bed frame, the tip of his cock rubbing dangerously against your sweet spot. You angle your hips as high as you can get them, taking every inch of him buried deep inside you like it’s the answer to all your prayers. Because it just might be. And the more he fucks into you, the harder it is to breathe for the pleasure has expanded through your body and over your body, making every feeling echo through you twice as hard. You feel your orgasm rushing toward you and you just want it so badly. The sound of skin meeting skin, high-pitched moans, and panting encase you in a cocoon of your own, and you don’t care if the whole building hears you or if your neighbor complains to your superintendent because you are being fucked so hard that you won’t care in the morning.
With every press inside of you, you begin to keen, growing closer to the precipice of what will be the hardest orgasm of your life. Peter’s hips begin to jerk and sputter as his kisses grow sloppy and uncoordinated, his hands touching all over you as you grind back against him, your clit rubbing between your bodies.
“S-Shit… g-gonna come..” You whimper, every nerve in your body alive and racing as Peter moans lowly.
“Then come.” It’s instantaneous, your thighs shaking as your world tilts over, the scream ripped from your throat surprising you as you meet your release, thighs growing wet from your gushing. Peter’s thrusts slow, hips sputtering as they bump into yours with a squelch, both of you moaning as his release floods your system. You pant softly as he nuzzles his nose against your cheek and closes his eyes, pressing a kiss to your quickly heating cheek as he carefully pulls away, noticing your shudder as he leaves your body. He moves to your side, pulling you in close and tight, and that’s when it clicks.
You can hear his thoughts as little images flick through your dazed mind. It’s images of you in your military uniform on the first day he saw you, the first date that turned into a disaster because he had to keep stepping out to handle crime, that time you’d fallen asleep and Wade had drawn a mini mustache on your top lip. There’s more, trickling in like water right before a dam breaks and you feel every ounce of him right there inside of you and beside you at the same time. It makes you feel whole.
“I love y-you too,” You mumble into his skin, tired, a bit embarrassed at how loud you were being so late into the night, and so thankful to have finally solidified your bond. You curl into him comfortably, body so worn out and pliant that you don’t think you could move without your legs shaking if you wanted to.
A success. A smashing success.
Peter strokes a finger down the length of your side, feeling your energy wafting off your skin from being so close to you. He’s happy to have this moment with you, in this tiny apartment in a not-so-great part of town, still pretty poor and virtually jobless, but as long as he had you?
He’d be invincible.