Gwen stood back and gazed upon her handiwork. Vulture had been taken down and was safely harnessed to what remained of the plane, Tony Stark’s inventory recovered and a nice little note pinned next to him from their friendly neighbourhood Spider-Woman. All she had to do now was wait for them to realise what had happened and come pick up the pieces. Even with everything he had done, she really didn’t feel right about letting him die. He was Vulture, but right now sitting on the ground with legs splayed, bound by webs and fluffy hair sticking out at odd angles around a thoroughly grumpy face, he just seemed to be Adrian Toomes, her friend’s Dad. It made her a little uneasy, the way you could only feel when angering a grown-up you weren’t related to. Suddenly child-like anxiety welled in the pit of her stomach.
“So now what, you just gonna leave me here with a damn note?” he growled. “What am I, a package the mailman left on the porch?”
It’s true, this was not the ideal solution, but she was tired after that battle and Stark’s men would spot where the plane went down pretty easily. All they could do was wait.
“I’m sorry about all this, but you gave me no choice.”
Adrian let out a bitter grunt of a laugh.
“You always have a choice, little girl. You’re just too cute and naïve to know how the world really works. One day, Stark and his buddies will have you right where I am now and you’re so dumb, you’ll probably say they were right.”
Gwen always prided herself on being her own woman, standing up for what was fair and shrugging in the face of peer pressure. Did he really have a point, was she taking it out on the wrong person? Still, being called ‘little girl’ in that tone irked her. She stood up tall and looked down at him.
“I am NOT a little girl. I’m a grown woman.”
Adrian snorted in derision and raised an eyebrow.
“Sure you are. Sure.”
With one hand now posed on her hip in what she hoped looked like sassiness but really felt like petulant irritation, she fixed a steely look into his mocking bright blue eyes.
“Well one of us is currently tied up and helpless, and oh look, it’s not me.”
Seemingly without moving a muscle, his stare shifted from derision to rage. If he hadn’t been tied so securely, she’d have felt terrified. More so than when he was flying around inside a deadly weapon of war.
Those same eyes had been picking her apart in the rearview mirror on their way to the prom. At first they seemed to be checking her out in her slinky dress, it was quite thrilling. Only as the car ride went on did she realise he’d figured out her secret identity. Even being threatened as he held a gun had an undercurrent of erotic tension. Now he was the one at her mercy.
It was a moment that had to be savoured.
“Now either you got your ass kicked by a little girl or you will have to admit I’m the WOMAN who kicked your ass.”
Amusement flashed through those deep blue eyes. He respected someone who’d stand up to him like this, and after all drag him out of a fiery grave to stop him burning alive. There was that too. With the lights of Coney Island behind them in the distance, Gwen wanted to get a closer look at her vanquished foe. It wasn’t easy when he was strapped to the side of the plane, one leg under him, another splayed out and jiggling with irritation. So she knelt down over that stretched leg to keep it still and focus his attention fully onto her face.
“Admit it.”
Adrian was a proud man, it’s a trait that often got him into a lot of trouble, but he certainly wasn’t going to back down to some punk kid, no matter how much superhero lycra she was wearing. Some things were just too important. So he smiled mockingly in her direction, thinking carefully what would annoy her the most.
“Poor little girl. Did Daddy not get you a Ken doll to play with so now you’ve got to mess with me?” he growled with eyebrows raised.
Oh she was irked. This was irksome.
Leaning into him up close, she put one hand on the plane behind him and scooted up, only realising when it was too late that now she was practically straddling his lap. Couldn’t back away now. Some things were too important. He tilted his head back instinctively. This was good, she had him on the run – as much as a man literally tied down could run.
“Fine. If you’re my toy, then I want to play with you.”
His brow furrowed. This conversation was not going the way he expected.
“Of course I had Ken dolls and Barbies. I shaved their heads. Looks like someone beat me to it with you, though.”
Gwen ruffled the hair on one side of his head, amusing herself at the way it stuck out at odd angles. Adrian jerked away with irritation and muttered something she didn’t quite catch, but sounded like it had to include at least one swearword. She giggled in his face, using both hands now to fluff up his hair, making him look like a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest.
He was in a bad mood already, but this was so much worse. Squirming in his captive state, he resorted to the only thing he could do in that situation: and bit hard on Gwen’s shoulder.
“Ow! What the hell?!”
“Fuck dollies, you need to learn some respect for your elders, little lady! Hell, I’d put you over my knee and spank you if I could.”
His face was so red, a vein throbbing angrily on his temple and all the way down his neck. Oh, he’d spank her, would he? As if! Without his glider and his weapons, he was just a man. She had superpowers and he was tied down at her mercy. Now she really had to mess with him for daring to say that.
“I bet you wanna spank me, you dirty old man! Is that why Liz didn’t want me sleeping over at her place, in case her filthy old daddy hit on her classmates?”
She was sure that vein was about to pop. He might not last long enough for Stark to find him, he’d be dead of an aneurysm if he got any angrier. But it was just far too much fun getting him this grumpy after what he’d said. She found herself shifting her body so she was genuinely straddling his crotch. He grunted, she assumed with irritation. She assumed.
“Is that why you keep calling me a little girl? Cos it turns you on? You like getting your ass kicked by a little girl, hmm?”
The sing-song nature of her mocking tone made her swerve and sway on his lap. He was gritting his teeth so hard, she feared they might crack. But he wasn’t saying anything. Just breathing so heavily. Maybe he was so angry that he couldn’t even speak. Maybe.
Or maybe it was that she felt something harden under her. He was looking away, trying desperately to avoid her gaze. She felt so powerful in that moment. Had to make him admit it. She grabbed his face with both hands and turned it towards her, so he had to look her right in the eyes up close. That was anger in there alright, but she swore she could see lust too.
“Still think I’m a little girl?”
She pushed down hard on his crotch, making him groan. The hard-on beneath her was now undeniable. It was all playing across his expressive face. How he was fighting this, the anger and lust and grudging respect and frustration swirling together. His arms were trying to break free, to push her away, or grab her and fuck her on the beach right there. He wasn’t sure what he would’ve done if given any choice in the matter at all. All he could do was lie there and take it. He hated that more than anything.
“You wouldn’t know what to do with a man,” he spat out through gritted teeth, trying desperately to hide how turned on he was. “Go home and play with your dollies.”
He had guts, she’d give him that. And Gwen could never back away from an argument, not when she knew that she was right. Having this much power over someone who had seemed so intimidating only a few hours ago. It was intoxicating.
“Oh you think so?” she smiled, pulling down the zip on the front of her suit, just enough to show some cleavage. He was trying so hard not to stare. But looking up at her face or any other part of her wasn’t helping to calm this raging fire in his loins either. She wanted to lunge forward and bury his face in her breasts, but was rather justifiably afraid of more biting. Not that it would be too bad if he did that…
He might be a biter, but she wasn’t. She wanted to make him admit she had bested him, that she had the power. She’d make him beg for mercy. So she reached down and unzipped his tactical pants.
“What…” his breathing was so ragged now, he couldn’t get words out. And when her hand stroked along his length, his head flew back, smashing against the fuselage. She wasn’t sure if the noise he let out was pain or pleasure. He was right about one thing, her experience of men was largely teenage boys and they were not that fussy, pretty much coming in their pants the moment she got near their crotch. This was different. This really was a man. And a big one. She glanced down and saw the size of what she was dealing with here. She licked her lips.
“Little bitch,” he spat out. She’d have to make him pay for that. She leaned down, still glancing up at his face, that bulging vein in his neck seeming like it was directly connected to the bulging vein in her hand, now encased in her lips.
“Fuck.” The more he tried to wriggle free of his restraints, the more it excited and amused her. Try doubting her womanliness now that she was drawing a symphony of groans out of him. She decided to go as slowly as possible, sensing how desperately impatient he was. It also wasn’t a luxury she had enjoyed with teenage boys, who tended to either grab the back of her head and start ramming into her throat or ending just as she was getting started. Either way, it wasn’t conducive to practice.
“Oh God…”
She wasn’t ready for this to be over. Not so soon. Not when she still had to torture him for being so mean. Gwen pulled away and looked at him, sweat running down his face and neck, hair ruffled like the collar of his jacket. His eyes snapped open from their erotic reverie as the cold night air hit his cock.
“What are you doing?”
He sounded so… indignant. Furious. Frustrated. A smile crept across her lips. It made him even angrier. Damn, he was cute when he was angry.
“Bored now,” said Gwen, standing and walking away.
She could hear the spluttering rage of more likely swearing, his voice going from that low growl to a high-pitched whine and back again.
“What the fuck?! You can’t do that to me!”
She called over her shoulder, still walking towards Coney Island.
“I just did.”
He was incandescent with rage. But above all so horny that he was about to spontaneously combust like a misfiring chitari weapon.
“Please!”
The word burst out of him before he had time to realise it. Gwen stopped dead in her tracks. Back still turned, he could nonetheless feel the grin on her face. She put one hand on her hip and glanced over her shoulder.
“Say that again.”
He was fuming, but desperate. And with a grudging sense of respect. This was no little girl.
“Please.”
The need in his voice was palpable. Even when she’d discovered her superpowers, it was nothing on the sense of control she had right now. She turned and walked back towards him, as slowly as she could, swinging her hips all the way, watching the desire in his eyes. She knelt down beside him, looked straight into his gaze and ran one fingertip all the way up his shaft, making it shudder under her touch.
“Beg me.”
He was beyond pride now, he was her slave.
“Please,” he growled. “I’ll do anything you want. God, I need this. I need you.”
How could she resist an appeal like that? After all, he was about to go to jail, so may as well give him one final thrill.
She bent down and enveloped him whole in one swoop, forcing a desperate howl out of his throat. Still taking it slow, she didn’t move her head an inch, just using her mouth muscles to suck and release, driving him insane. Half words managed to escape his lips, but they were all he was capable of forming as he accepted his fate and fully lost control with a scream.
As she rose up and wiped her mouth, she gazed upon the face of her captive. His anger had gone, his countenance almost serene. His eyes glanced over at hers and he let out a low chuckle.
“You’re quite a woman.”