Doctor Doom was coming.
No one knew exactly when or where, but every hero on the planet was preparing for the inevitable. The New Avengers were—well, new. They were still getting to know each other, still figuring out how to work as a team. But if they had any hope of stopping Doom, they’d have to learn fast.
Peter had been assigned to "babysitting" duty alongside Wong. Would he rather be out in space with the Guardians—what was left of them? Absolutely. But there was no point in reaching out now, not when he had no idea where they were in the vastness of the galaxy.
And so, here he was, in a Tokyo tavern (courtesy of Wong), sharing a table with four kids who weren’t even old enough to drink, one young woman who was, and Wong himself. Never in a million years did he expect to be on babysitting duty.
The tavern had a strange charm to it—warm lighting, candle-like fixtures, a curved bar design that made it feel both old-world and futuristic at the same time. It was the perfect place for the Young Avengers and their mentors to gather intel on the looming "Doomsday" threat. Wong had insisted he knew a spot, and with a flick of his hand, they were here.
For the sake of discretion, they probably should’ve been in street clothes. But the team had insisted on wearing their suits, their colors marking them as exactly who they were. That, of course, meant Peter had to wear his own—the new blue-and-red suit that still felt like it belonged to another life.
It was weird, thinking of the Guardians as his past team.
Kate was the most on edge. Leading a team of teenagers came with its own set of challenges, and while she could relate to each of them in different ways—fangirling over heroes like Kamala, lacking superpowers like Cassie, dealing with family issues like, well, most of them—she was the one carrying the weight of responsibility. That was new. That was something she hadn’t truly faced until she met Clint Barton, her mentor-turned-partner. She wondered where he was now. If he and his family were safe.
Wong, unsurprisingly, didn’t seem the least bit concerned. He drank to his heart’s content while the Young Avengers stuck to water or other non-alcoholic options—not that their mentors particularly cared if they did otherwise. Wong, in particular, had caught the attention of Kamala, who hung onto every word of his rambling stories. She told her teammates weeks ago that he reminded her of that weird uncle on her mom’s side of the family—the one who only showed up for special occasions and always had the wildest stories. The kind of uncle she never had but kind of wished she did.
Meanwhile, Peter made his way over to Kate, whiskey in hand. She sat perched on a stool, surveying the tavern with sharp, calculating eyes, scanning for any potential threats. He noticed the lack of a drink in front of her and the tension in her shoulders. With a small smirk, he placed a hand on her shoulder.
Kate jumped, her reflexes kicking in as she reached for an arrow.
Peter quickly gave her shoulder a light squeeze. “Relax, it’s just me.”
She let out a breath, shoulders dropping slightly. “Oh. Hey, Peter.” A faint blush rose on her pale cheeks, more from embarrassment than anything else. She was the only one who called him by his first name. The others stuck to Quill, Mr. Quill, Star-Lord, or—his least favorite—Mr. Lord, a joke that had stuck ever since he told them about his first meeting with Tony Stark. Peter raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of concern and mild amusement. Kate knew that look. She hated that look. “Sorry,” she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck. “Guess I’ve just been a little on edge. New country and all. Clint told me how dangerous it can be—”
“Kate,” Peter interrupted, a faint rumble of jealousy and possessiveness stirring in his chest at the mention of the name. He knew he could never be the kind of mentor she needed, never live up to the role Clint had played in her life. The way she spoke about him, the admiration in her voice—it was almost like she was in love with the guy or something. The closer he got to her, the more he found himself wishing things had played out differently. That he had been the one to meet her in that alleyway instead of Clint. That he had been the one she looked up to, the one she idolized. But who was he kidding? Back then, he’d still been hopelessly in love with the Gamora of the past. Maybe fate had played its hand exactly the way it was meant to. “There’s dangerous people everywhere. Trust me, I’ve been across the entire galaxy—it’s the same story no matter where you go. Just comes with the territory of being a superhero.”
Kate pressed her lips together, biting the inside of her cheek. He had a point. He always had a point. And, somehow, he always managed to say the right thing to get her to ease up. She let out a small sigh, her posture relaxing as she glanced over at her team.
Peter took another swig of his whiskey before setting the glass down. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Kate shot him a look, one eyebrow arching. “We’re on duty.”
“And?” Peter shrugged. “Oh, sorry Hawkeye. I forget how much of a lightweight you are.” He paused. “Come on, it might help you loosen up about this whole thing.”
She huffed a laugh. Maybe he had a point. Everyone else was here for the same exact mission, and everyone else was at least trying to enjoy themselves. Why couldn’t she? Kate huffed a quiet laugh. Maybe he had a point. Everyone was here for the same mission, yet somehow, they were all managing to enjoy themselves. Why shouldn’t she? “Okay,” she relented with a small sigh, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “Can I get a mixed drink? One that doesn’t taste like shit.”
Peter smirked, already knowing exactly what she meant. Over the past few months, he’d picked up on little things about her—some general, some more personal. One of them? She hated the taste of alcohol but didn’t mind a drink as long as it was masked with enough fruity flavors. He returned a few minutes later with a tall glass filled with pineapple and mango, setting it down in front of her as he slid into the seat next to her. “Where’d everyone go?” he asked, glancing around at the now-empty table.
Kate took a long sip, sighing in content as the sweetness hit her tongue. “Wong took them to do a little sightseeing before our contact gets here with the intel.”
Peter nodded, drumming his fingers on the table. Silence settled between them. It wasn’t exactly awkward, but there was an unspoken question lingering in the air—what did they even have to talk about? He was an ex-outlaw turned superhero. She was a rich kid turned superhero. They didn’t use the same weapons, didn’t share the same background. Hell, he barely knew anything about archery. Maybe Clint would’ve been a better fit for this conversation. After a beat, Peter pulled out his Zune.
“Wanna listen to some music?”
Kate chuckled, nodding. She still didn’t fully get his music taste, but the more she listened, the more she could appreciate the classics. And lately, every time she heard an older song, her mind immediately flicked to him.
As he placed the Zune on the table, Rich Girl by Hall & Oates started playing. The familiar melody filled the space between them, the lyrics slipping into her ears. The longer she listened, the more it started to sound like… her.
She glanced at Peter, wondering if he’d picked it on purpose.
Music filled the space between them, but after a moment, he decided to break the silence himself. “Well, an embarrassing secret I don’t tell too many people is that I named my blasters after the singers in this song—Hall and Oates.”
Kate snorted, trying to hold back a full-on laugh. “You’re joking.”
“Nope.” He took a sip of his whiskey, nodding. “I’ve got this weird habit of naming things after singers I like… or, you know, celebrity crushes I had.”
Kate rolled her eyes—hard. Not in an amused, aww, that’s cute kind of way, but in a way that was… almost jealous. And that was ridiculous. Jealous? Of what? It wasn’t like Peter would ever be interested in her. He was twice her age, for one thing, and even if he was interested in someone younger, she was the exact opposite of the type of woman he’d been with before. Gamora was the deadliest woman in the galaxy—strong, stubborn, dominant. Kate? Yeah, no. She was outgoing, friendly, maybe a little too nice for her own good. She was not his type. No way. Still, she felt the heat rising to her cheeks—though that could’ve been the alcohol.
She’d finished her drink, and while she wasn’t completely buzzed, she was definitely teetering on the edge of tipsy. “Yeah, well, I have secrets too,” she muttered, turning fully toward him on her stool. She leaned forward, hands on her thighs, a small, drunken giggle slipping past her lips. “Once, the team and I were bored, so we played Smash or Pass. A lot of Avengers came up.”
Peter immediately raised a brow. He wasn’t sure where this was going, but he had a feeling he was about to hear way too much about his colleagues.
Kate, oblivious or just not caring, kept going. “Can you believe Billy said he’d fuck Banner? And—the worst part? Not even in his human form. Hulk form.”
Peter grimaced, bringing his whiskey to his lips as if it could somehow wash that image from his brain. “Yeah, uh—don’t think I needed to know that.”
But Kate was on a roll. “And then, you came up.”
Oh? Now this was getting interesting.
“So, there’s this shirtless photo of you floating around the internet—”
“I’m not even gonna ask,” he muttered.
“—so I showed them,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Tommy and Billy kinda got it, but I was the only one who said I’d smash.” She absentmindedly twirled a loose strand of hair around her finger, elbow resting on the table. “I guess they all thought it’d be weird since, you know, you kinda look after us or whatever. But, like, that doesn’t bother me.”
Peter just sat there, smirking, letting her dig this hole deeper.
Kate, completely unaware of her own impending doom, kept rambling. “Now they won’t shut up about it. They’re always like, ‘Kate, you so have daddy issues,’ and I’m like, shut up, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Can’t a girl just appreciate a guy’s good looks?”
And then—silence. Kate blinked.
Peter was still smirking at her.
The realization hit her like a truck. Her eyes widened. A tiny hiccup escaped her. Then, with a sharp gasp, she slapped a hand over her mouth, horror flooding her expression. Her face turned a deep shade of red, eyes welling up—not from sadness, but from sheer, soul-crushing embarrassment.
Oh.
Oh, she was so fucked.
Kate’s brain short-circuited. “I… uh…” she stammered, scrambling to her feet. Too fast. She swayed, gripping the table for balance before quickly straightening up. “I’m getting another drink. Bye!” And just like that, she bolted, heart pounding in her chest.
Peter watched her go, amusement flickering across his face. Well, that was new information. His gaze followed her retreating figure, trailing down—because, really, how could he not? Those tight black leggings of hers had a way of holding his attention. He wasn’t proud of it, but sometimes, Wong had to snap him out of it when he caught him staring a little too long at her round, juicy ass. Not that Wong seemed to care. He made a habit of steering clear of team drama—especially whatever the hell was brewing between Kate and her so-called mentor.
Peter smirked to himself before pushing off the table, sauntering after her. And there she was, standing at the bar in all her oblivious, flustered glory. Back slightly arched, head in her hands, elbows resting on the counter as she waited for the bartender to finish her drink. She had no idea he was behind her until his hands—gloved, warm, and just a little rough—slid down her sides, stopping at her waist.
Kate flinched, letting out a small, breathy squeak, but didn’t pull away. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. She knew his touch now. His scent—leather, whiskey, and something unmistakably him.
Peter dipped his head lower, his lips just shy of her ear. “So,” he murmured, voice laced with amusement, but something darker, too. “What was that about wanting to fuck me, Kate?” His fingers toyed with her belt, teasing, never quite crossing the line.
Kate swallowed hard, every nerve in her body lighting up. Her face was on fire, the blush creeping all the way up to her ears. And worse? The heat pooling low in her stomach, the ache between her thighs just from his touch alone. She’d been deprived of this kind of attention for years, left alone with nothing but her own fantasies to get by. And those worked—mostly. But nothing could compare to the real thing. “I…” She sucked in a sharp breath as she felt him press against her—clear as day, unmistakably hard. Reflexively, she arched back against him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Peter groaned, low and throaty, his grip tightening just slightly. Kate exhaled shakily. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” she murmured, eyes fluttering shut for a brief second. “It was… ah… stupid of me to tell you that. Something so—so wrong. So personal.”
Peter chuckled, the sound vibrating against her skin. “Oh, sweetheart,” he purred, fingers trailing just a little lower. “You think I mind?” Peter could feel the heat radiating from her, even through the thin barrier of her black leggings and her purple panties. His fingers traced slow, teasing patterns over the fabric, skimming along her most sensitive spot without giving her nearly enough pressure. Kate was a mess. Barely holding it together, her breath coming in short, desperate little gasps. Her mascara had begun to smudge, a telltale sign of just how badly she was unraveling—and he’d barely even touched her.
This is going to be a long mission.
Her knuckles went white against the counter as she fought to stay composed. Hard to do when Peter finally found what he was looking for, rolling slow, deliberate circles against her clothed clit. Kate sucked in a sharp breath before a very audible moan slipped past her lips. Her head tilted back, just slightly, completely lost in the sensation.
And, of course, that’s when the bartender turned around.
"Here’s your drink, ma’am! Have a great day!"
Kate froze.
Forcing herself to straighten up, she reached out with trembling fingers, gripping the glass like it was the only thing keeping her upright. She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way her ass had shifted against Peter in the process—because the friction? Oh, it was dangerous.
Peter exhaled a quiet chuckle, his hands slipping away from her, but not before letting his fingers trail just a little longer than necessary. When she turned to glance at him, the look on his face was unmistakable—cocky, satisfied, like he’d been waiting a long damn time for this moment.
And, if she was being honest, so had she.
She cleared her throat and spun on her heel, heading back to the table with as much composure as she could muster—which wasn’t much, considering she nearly tripped twice and had to steady her drink more times than she cared to admit. Peter, of course, was right behind her, probably enjoying the hell out of her flustered state.
Before either of them could say a word, Wong reappeared—alone. Peter raised an eyebrow.
“I thought you were supposed to be on babysitting duty?” His voice carried its usual cocky, Star-Lord charm, but Kate could hear something else in it—something she definitely wasn’t going to acknowledge with Wong sitting right there. Still, the way he shifted in his seat told her all she needed to know. He was still hard.
And, well… she definitely looked at how big the tent in his pants was. More than once.
Wong, meanwhile, simply shrugged and took a seat across from them. Without even asking, he refilled his cup with a flick of his wrist—cheater. The little bastard didn’t even offer them a refill, leaving them to actually pay for their drinks. “I let them go explore on their own,” he said casually.
Even in her wrecked state, Kate shot him a look. So did Peter.
Wong sighed. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. They can handle themselves. And if not, I’ll just portal them back here.” He took a deep sip from his cup before setting it down with a thud. “Now—tell me about the contact.”
As Peter explained the details of the contact he and Kate had uncovered, his fingers idly traced the waistband of her leggings under the table. His movements were slow, deliberate, just enough to make her aware of his touch without drawing attention. Kate inhaled sharply, her posture stiffening as she shot him a glare—a warning, sharp as a blade. But to Peter, it was cuter than intimidating.
His smirk deepened as he grazed his pointer finger over her clit, teasing but never committing, the anticipation thick between them. Kate’s fists clenched beneath the table, her nails pressing into her palms. He could feel the heat radiating between her thighs, the slight, involuntary shifts of her body as she tried—and failed—to ignore him.
Peter relished the tension, the unspoken challenge in her eyes. He leaned in slightly, his voice smooth, unbothered, as he continued speaking. Yet, his true focus remained on the way her breath hitched, the way she bit her lip in a feeble attempt to maintain her composure. He was pushing her to the edge of control, and they both knew it.
Kate’s glare was laced with fire now, promising retribution, but Peter merely chuckled under his breath. This was a game, one he had every intention of winning. She shifted in her seat, subtly pressing her thighs together.
Kate, having already brought her drink up to her lips in an effort to distract herself, took a sip at precisely the wrong moment. The second Peter’s finger dared to travel just a little lower. When he shoved it aggressively in her tight hole, her body betrayed her, and she choked on her drink, coughing as liquid spilled past her lips. Her face flushed instantly, both from the sudden fit and mix of pain and pleasure hitting her core at once.
He had managed to find her sweet spot just like that and made her unexpectedly come undone. Peter took a risk in fingering her without any warning, unsure of her past sexual experiences.
Had anyone ever truly touched her like this before? A part of him wanted to believe he was the first, that she was pure. But another part of him thought it knew better, and that everyone would be lining up to fuck a pretty girl like herself.
That part was wrong.
Peter raised his brows, surprised himself. But fuck, if it wasn’t the hottest thing he ever felt. Cum seeped out of her hole and coated his glove in undeniable proof of her virginity.
In that moment, Kate wished she could see the mess she made on his glove. There was something about them—those black, fingerless gloves—that had always captivated her. Whether paired with his signature red leather jacket or not, they had a way of creeping into her late-night fantasies, a symbol of the control he wielded so effortlessly.
Wong furrowed his brow in concern, looking between them. "Are you alright?"
Kate cleared her throat, waving a hand as she dabbed at her lips with the back of her sleeve. "Yeah, yeah. The drink just—" She coughed again. "Guess I wasn’t expecting it to be that strong."
Wong chuckled, seemingly satisfied with her response. “A strong drink can sneak up on you.” He leaned forward slightly, his focus turning to Kate. “So, what else do we know about this contact? Do we have a confirmed meeting time?”
Kate exhaled sharply, shifting in her seat as she struggled to regain control.
Peter, meanwhile, leaned back in his chair, completely at ease, his expression nothing short of smug. “Might be a good idea to pace yourself,” he murmured, amusement dripping from every word.
Kate shot him a sharp, warning glance, but Peter only grinned.
While one hand gripped at his cup, lazily tracing the rim with a finger, Peter grew bolder. Now that he knew just how much of a virgin she was, he slowed his pace, pumping his finger in and out of her, drawing out every reaction, savoring every shudder than ran through her.
Kate’s breath came out in uneven gasps, her body betraying her despite her desperate attempts to hold it together. She barely managed to choke out a response to Wong’s question.
“The contact.. mm, fuck.. said that they would be here around 8 at night.”
It was barely seven, not that she was keeping track of the time anymore. She was too caught up in the game he was playing, the way he had her squirming in her seat, thighs clenching around his wrist as she fought to remain still. Every so often, he found that spot—the one that had her letting out a silent scream, her thighs snapping shut around his wrist as if she could block him out. And when he pulled back, softened his touch, she parted them again, a silent plea for more.
Peter wasn’t faring much better. There was no physical pleasure being brought to him, and yet, he came once already. The way she responded in the soft, breathy sounds she tried so hard to keep in, her silent pleas for help he wasn’t going to give her—it was intoxicating.
So, maybe he had a thing for other people in pain. We listen and we don’t judge.
Wong paused mid-drink, his brow furrowing as he took in Kate’s disheveled state. His eyes flickered between them, suspicion settling in.
Peter began to finger her mercilessly, adding another one inside her, the squelching of her pussy filling the space between the two. His cock twitched with every sound that came from her, and with every drop of arousal that leaked from her hole.
Kate was never good at being quiet in general. She’d talk too much and too loudly. As Peter crooked his fingers inside her, angling consistently at her sweet spot, she absolutely lost it. Kate let out a sharp gasp, her nails digging so deep into her skin that a thin trickle of blood surfaced, staining the crescent-shaped imprints she had left behind.
She shattered beneath his touch and came, her body trembling as a breathless, pornographic sound escaped her lips. Her head tipped back, eyes rolling as waves of pleasure crashed through her, leaving her utterly undone.
“Fuck, Peter!” The way she moaned his name sent a sharp thrill down his spine, her pussy clenching around his fingers as she came.
The sight of her like this was too much. His breath hitched, a low groan catching in his throat as he struggled to steady himself. He had never imagined he’d hear her like this, not here, not now, and certainly not when they were supposed to be focused on a mission.
He came in his pants to the sight of her. Knowing he was the reason for her current state—there was nothing sexier. His smirk deepened, but he stayed silent, watching as realization dawned on poor Wong.
“You two are disgusting,” Wong muttered, standing abruptly, and shooting them a glare of pure exasperation. “Get a damn room!”
Kate, still breathless, barely registered the looks they were getting from a few nearby patrons. She slumped against Peter’s shoulder, her body weak from the intensity of it all.
He chuckled under his breath, tilting her chin up between his fingers. Her half-lidded eyes met his, pupils blown wide with something he couldn’t quite describe—desperation, surrender, maybe both. Her lips parted just slightly, a breathless, silent plea.
“Shh, it’s okay, princess,” he murmured, voice smooth, laced with something dark and teasing. “I barely did anything to you and look at you. Completely fucked out for me.” His thumb traced down, skimming her bottom lip before toying with it, pressing lightly, testing.
Kate let out a soft, needy sound, her lips parting wider in invitation. When he slipped his thumb past them, she hesitated for a second, the taste of herself on his skin making her cringe. But she didn’t pull away.
He pressed in further, against the back of her tongue, watching as her lashes fluttered, her breath coming out in shaky little gasps. The sound sent a sharp thrill through him, and before he could stop himself, he did it again. Her throat tightened, her body shuddering ever so slightly, and when she gagged around him, his restraint nearly snapped.
“Fuck,” he exhaled, cock twitching wildly under the constraints of his boxers.
Then it happened.
“Daddy,” she moaned, voice small, pleading, as if she hadn’t meant to say it. “It’s too much.”
His breath hitched and shock flickered through his bright blue eyes. That was new. Gamora had never let him take control like this, never called him anything close to that.
And yet, the way Kate looked at him now—innocent, vulnerable, sweet—made something inside him tighten. “Such a poor thing, aren’t you?” He murmured, slipping his thumb from her lips, cradling her face between his hands. He tilted her head side to side, watching her carefully, drinking in the way she practically melted under his touch. He leaned in, his breath ghosting over her skin, his voice just above a whisper, dark and full of promise. “How are you going to handle daddy’s cock in your mouth when you can barely handle my thumb?”
Kate’s eyes widened, realization dawning in the haze of her mind.
She barely had the strength to move on her own, so when Peter scooped her up effortlessly, carrying her bridal style, she didn’t resist. Taking Wong’s advice—getting a room—wasn’t exactly an option, but he found the next best thing: a dimly lit hallway, secluded and silent, far from prying eyes.
Lowering her to her knees, he tilted her chin up, making sure she was looking at him—really looking at him. “You’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you, Kate?” His fingers gripped her face, thumb brushing against her flushed cheek before pressing lightly against her lips. “You’ll take what I give you?”
She nodded slowly, her focus not entirely on his eyes but rather on the way the fabric of his pants strained with every passing second. Her breath hitched, pupils blown wide with anticipation. Before she could even unzip his pants, she flattened her tongue and dragged it along the hard outline beneath his clothes.
It wasn’t exactly what he asked for—more of a tease, really—but damn if he didn’t feel it. His fingers tangled into her ponytail, pulling her closer, his grip tightening as heat shot through him.
Kate moaned softly against him, the vibrations sending shivers up his spine. She kept going, teasing him with slow, deliberate movements, until he was painfully hard, his breath coming in uneven bursts. Satisfied with how much she’d wound him up, she reached for his zipper, trying to tug his pants down—only to be met with resistance. Apparently the pants were attached to his stupid undershirt.
Peter groaned, exasperated. “Yeah… don’t look at me. I didn’t design the suit.”
Kate huffed in amusement, deciding that unzipping would have to do. As she worked, her fingers brushed against his skin, teasing, exploring, until finally, his cock was free. He was already leaking, desperate, his breath hitching when she leaned in, her lips parting as she ran her tongue over the glistening tip.
His grip on her hair tightened instinctively, a curse slipping past his lips. He tasted salty and slightly bitter—something rich and addictive that had her wanting more. Inch by inch, Kate took him in, her lips stretching around him as she tried to accommodate for his size. But when he pressed deeper, testing her limits, she choked, pulling back with a gasp.
Peter let out a low, pleased sound, his fingers threading through her hair as he guided her back. “Come on, baby,” he murmured, voice laced with teasing mockery. “I’ve seen you take down entire gangs with a single trick arrow, but you can’t handle this?” His thumb brushed against her cheek, a faux sympathy in his tone. “Don’t you want to be my good girl? My favorite girl?”
Kate nodded eagerly, an enthusiastic little "Mhm!" leaving her lips before she took him in again, more determined this time. She moved with purpose, her tongue swirling, her movements slow and deliberate, savoring every reaction she could pull from him. His grip in her hair tightened, knuckles turning white, low groans slipping past his lips. She hadn’t expected him to sound like this—so raw, so undone. The deep, desperate sounds of pleasure had wetness pooling between her legs at just the thought of how much she was affecting him.
But she needed more.
Without hesitation, Kate shuffled forward, pressing herself down against the firm leather of his boot. It was desperate, needy, and she knew it—but she didn’t care. The friction sent shivers up her spine, pleasure rolling through her in waves as she moved in time with every flick of her tongue.
The sight of her, the way she was completely lost in the moment, wrecked him. His head fell back against the wall as a guttural moan escaped him. Kate barely had a moment to react before he tensed, cum shooting into her mouth. She swallowed as much as she could, her lashes fluttering at the taste. When she pulled back, her gaze flicked downward, catching the mess he had left on the fabric of her suit, dripping down her chest.
Peter breathed unevenly and heavily, his hands still tangled in her hair as he looked at her—really looked at her. And just like that, he had to fight the urge to come again.
Peter watched as a pout formed on Kate’s lips, frustration evident in the way her breath came in uneven gasps. She was still wound tight, aching for relief she hadn’t yet found.
“Up,” he commanded, voice low and firm. With shaky legs, she obeyed, rising as best as she could.
He was on her in an instant, pressing her back against the wall, his hands making quick work of undressing her from the waist down. His gaze flickered over her, lingering on the purple lace that stood out against her pale skin. The sight alone had him gripping her thighs tighter before hoisting her up effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist.
“You want my cock, princess?” His voice was thick, rasped with need, but there was something else in it too—genuine.
Her answer came in a breathless whine, her head falling back as she nodded frantically. “Yes… yes, please.”
That was all he needed.
He started slow, his movements deep, deliberate, savoring the way she unraveled beneath him. “You’re so fucking tight, babygirl. I can barely fit my cock inside you.”
His lips found hers, swallowing every desperate sound she made as their kiss turned messier.
She clung to him, fingers twisting in his curls, pulling, anchoring herself as he picked up his pace. The sounds she made were pure bliss—his name spilling from her lips in a mix of moans and incoherent pleas, her body reacting to every movement, every touch.
And he wasn’t any better. He wasn’t used to this, to being so completely consumed by someone, to losing himself so entirely in the way she felt, the way she responded to him.
“Gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart,” he murmured, his grip tightening possessively as he pounded into her with no mercy. “You understand me? I don’t want to hear Clint’s name for a good long time.” He growled, his eyes darkening with lust. “I’m going to fuck you so good you forget you ever met him.”
Truthfully, Peter had nothing against the guy, respected him even. If anyone else was to have the title of ‘legendary’, he’d give it to him in a heartbeat. But the way she spoke about him, the admiration in her voice, it had lit something in Peter that he hadn’t expected—something raw and territorial.
And he wanted to erase it.
“Say it.” His voice was rough, edged with darkness.
“Yours,” Kate gasped, her head falling back against the wall. “I’m yours, daddy. Always.”
That was all it took.
Her body tensed around him, the heat, the tightness, the way she trembled in his grasp—it sent him spiraling. His name tore from her lips as pleasure crashed through her, and he followed right after, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he shuddered against her.
For a long moment, they stayed like that—breathing in sync, bodies tangled, foreheads pressed together in the quiet aftermath.
Then Peter let out a breathy chuckle, voice lighter now. “You’re on the pill, right?”
Kate, still blissed-out, smirked playfully. “Guess we’ll find out in nine months.”
Peter pulled back, narrowing his eyes before delivering a sharp slap to her ass, making her squeak.
“Okay, okay,” she laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Yes, I’m on the pill. You’re lucky, though, because I was gonna let you come inside me anyway.”
Peter rolled his eyes, pressing a lazy kiss to her nose. “Not even a little surprised. You’ve been wanting this for way too long.”
Kate giggled, pressing one last lingering kiss to his lips before she let him help her get dressed. Once she was back on her feet, she tugged at the front of his suit, pulling him in for another searing kiss.
“We should go, Star-Lord.”
She turned, striding away with an exaggerated sway in her hips. Or at least, she tried. The wobble in her step completely gave her away.
Peter smirked, watching her with amusement before shaking his head and following after her.
Yeah, she was definitely getting it again once this mission was over.