Salvation
Digital shimmers of neon oranges and purples burst into the living space of the apartment on Earth-65. Its unique metallic sounds of warping reality followed by the sounds of continuous arguing.
“If you had just stayed away from the fight this wouldn’t have happened!”
“You were pinned under a pile of rocks!”
“¡Ay por díos! You saw me come out of a pile of rubble the day I saved you from The Vulture!”
“You didn’t save me, I saved you! And you didn’t even need to be at that fight!”
“Really, this again? You’re kidding, Gwen.” Miguel groaned, hand running over his face as she rambled over the past. Spewing how it would have been better that he didn’t come through to help her, that her canon should have been ruined so they never met, that everything never happened. Exclaiming painful events that would never have led to beautiful memories like what they just had that morning. The man mumbled, hand resting on his face, partially shielding Gwen from witnessing his annoyed glare.
“Amor.”
She kept going.
“Kid..”
Not a stop in her speech. He was fed up.
“GWEN,” he raised his voice, lurching forward as he screamed her name. Fangs bared to puncture flesh, blonde’s eyes snapping open at the sight of the pearly whites. Her breath was shallow, startled by the aggression that surfed out of the six-nine man that loomed over her. A tightness took over the young woman’s body. Jaw clenching and flexing paired with gritting teeth. Pale and shaky hands balling up into a white knuckled fist. The fear that boiled inside was quickly replaced with an indiscernible rage.
Gwen leapt forward, smacking and punching his chest angrily, shouting louder and louder with each erratic hit. “You ruined everything! I wish I never fucking met you! I fucking hate you, I hate you!” Miguel stood motionless, small palms hitting his pecs while she screamed. For the moment, he allowed it; allowed the young Stacy to unleash her unbridled rage out on him.
“You broke the canon and you expect everyone else to fucking follow it except YOU,” Gwen threw her arms down to her sides. Frantically twisting and pulling the dimensional watch off of her wrist before tossing it across the room. The sharp sound of glass shattering rang out on impact. It had certainly broken something, something far beyond their line of sight, and something surely beyond their care at the time.
Her vindictive speech brutalizing the silent man. O’Hara felt as if he were a sitting duck. A prone animal exposed to fentanyl while it sits on used needles from prior addicts. Gwen’s continuously crude ramblings destroying him from the inside-out. Miguel’s lips curled up, wrinkles adding as he sneered. He was finally at his limit, entirely fed up with her childish arguments and negative attitude.
He extends an arm, reaching to Gwen and grabbing her shoulder delicately. A contrast to his following move of shoving her to the side before silently striding towards their bedroom. If Miguel had been gifted with the power of fire instead, he would swear there would have been flames singing the oak wood below his weight.
Gwen stumbled, nearly having fallen onto the floor as he shoved past. A deep and throaty scream exiting her lips in retort. She threw her mask across the room towards Miguel, the bedroom door slamming shut before her mask even reached him.
He could hear her cursing behind the closed door– Miguel’s holographic suit falling at the neck. The Spider-Man plopped himself down onto the edge of the mattress. Miguel allowed his head to fall into his hands, combing back his dark locks. He exhaled slowly in attempts to calm himself, mindlessly muttering his frustrations.
Gwen paced the floor of the living room, rage literally driving her up the wall. Grumbling incoherent expletives as she stood on the ceiling now, halting her steps. Her teeth grit tightly, scoffing as she turned her head to the side, glaring at the bedroom door that was only so far away. Despite the short distance, Gwen couldn’t help but feel hundreds of miles away from that shut bedroom door. It was like this each time they had a fight– anger and tempers flaring only causing the distance to grow just as large as their age gap. Her stick loosening as she clenched her hands into a tight fist, landing her feet onto the floor. The woman strut over to grab her mask, shaking her head and sneering as she did. Gwen ran to one of the windows in the apartment, yanking it open, throwing herself out of the tall building. Webbing shooting across the cityline and attaching itself to a nearby building, swinging across the painted city of Earth-65.
Stillness filled the home now– natural noise and faint ringing in his ears made Miguel fear that he would go crazy in the silence. Palms on the bed, gripping its edge with ridged claws that had ripped the plush fabric. The man knew she had left, the sound of the window opening and the bustling screams of the city having gotten much louder with it ajar. His blood was boiling, he hated when she left abruptly like that– he hated when she left, period. What if she broke the canon he had worked so hard to keep from breaking for them? What if she was traveling through the dimensions to one he couldn’t find her in? ‘What if–’ Miguel shot up from his seated position, bursting out of the bedroom and began scouring the living space for the watch. Would she do that, would she get up and just leave to go? No, she wouldn’t do such a thing. Gwen was loyal. She loved Miguel. Amber eyes with brown hues now delving into redder territory as he began to rip the apartment apart. It should have been right there by the shattered vase she hit, but it wasn’t. Couch cushions flying about, furniture strewn loosely like it weighed nothing, a wreck now becoming of the home he shared with his beloved.
“MIERDA,” he screamed, vampiric teeth protruding from his maw.
The emptiness of the apartment engulfed him with a feeling of pressing loneliness that he only felt when remembering his dear daughter. He threw items at random now– potted plants, picture frames, trinkets and lamps, anything he could get his claws on. The rage built so high that he let out an ungodly scream of frustrations and anguish.
He couldn’t lose someone else. Not when they were right there at the tips of his fingers and choosing to leave him. Choosing to abandon him. Maybe she was right after all..
Hours would pass before any sort of sound came from the apartment. Miguel had fallen silent, balling into himself as he sat alone in the mess that he created. He knew he could go looking for her but he didn’t even know where to begin at this point, even when he believed her to be with Miles. He could ask Lyla to track her but he knew doing so would only lead to another fight. The man looked up from his sitting position, face exhausted and still overflowing with anguish. Dark eyes scanning the living space, taking in Earth-65’s abstract artistic ways of depicting his emotions around him. Across the way among the desaturated colors and slew of shapes that surrounded him, the softest of saturated pastels leaked from a polaroid over on the wall. It stood out like a sore thumb against the depressing colors that circled his being. His bushy eyebrows furrowing as he glared at the picture from afar, slowly rising to his feet. Lips and face curled into a scowl as he approached the polaroid pinned to the wall amongst the picture frames.
Displayed in a forever perfect moment the framed images of Gabriella, George Stacy, Hobie, Miles, and others were scattered across. His hand delicately resting on the dark oak frame of his daughter’s image, her smile bringing a warmth back to him and a smile to himself. The saturated colors spilled onto her frame from the nearby polaroid, catching Miguel’s attention fully now. Pinned as close as possible was the first picture Gwen ever took of the two of them– She’s smiling in it, gap tooth smile and all right alongside Miguel’s fangs and crooked teeth. A rare sight to behold for anyone who knew Miguel O’Hara– a warm smile splayed broadly on his face, one that lacked sarcasm or disdain. He grimaced, reaching for the thin sheet, fingers barely touching its edges as they slid down the wall.
“Dios,” Miguel’s head hung as low as his broken voice, “Come home, Gwen.”
Time would fly for Gwen just as it did for Miguel. In that frame she’d even considered returning home. She knew she would have to but the idea of dealing with an enraged Miguel only distressed her more. Feet dangling off of the ledge of a building, she gripped her mask in her hands fiddling with the fabric. Blue eyes taking notice of her missing dimensional gizmo. “Shit,” she murmured, standing quickly and looking around. “It didn’t come loose did it?” Gwen’s head shot around before she exhaled loudly in a comedic breath. “Right,... I threw it across the room.” She looked up to the neon lights of the city, “Fuck.”
There was no way she could visit any of her friends– especially Miles. Miguel would have had her head on a plate if the thought even crossed her mind. But with no way to even hop dimensions Gwen Stacy was stuck in her own and with a very very angry Miguel O’Hara. She paced the roof, hands running through her blonde locks and occasionally gripping them with frustration. A scream expelled from her lips with a few swears as she kicked a bottle across the rooftop. With ocean eyes locked on a fluorescent skyline, Gwen braced herself for the worst before running right off of the building. Web shooting from her wrist as she swung herself out and around with the intent to make her way back home.
As cliche as his actions would be, Miguel sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded over one another as he leaned forward, eyes locked on the now ajar bedroom door. He waited and waited for any sound, the slightest peep from the open window that she had returned. Amber eyes widening and head lifting slightly upon hearing a faint scraping sound followed by a loud bang. Gwen winced as the object hit the floor. If he hadn’t heard her before, he definitely heard her now. Bending down to pick up the item, her stare met the mess Miguel had made in her absence. She clutched the item close to her chest, astonishment splayed across her face. Oh he had gotten mad.
She cringed a bit, stepping past skewed furniture and broken objects. The idea of how inappropriate his outbursts were making her shake her head as she trudged through the living room.
At first glance, Gwen couldn’t find her watch, given it was unintentionally hidden under broken glass and porcelain from the two’s outbursts. She was not ready to clean this mess, that was for sure. Despite the rough handling of the device, it still worked, something that Gwen was absolutely grateful for. Last time she asked Miguel for a new dimensional watch he almost snapped her in half out of pure fury. She latched it onto her wrist, head jolting up as her spider-senses sent signals throughout her as she forced herself to turn around. No one was there, but she knew why it had alerted her.
Creaking of wooden floorboards approached the bedroom, Gwen seeing the door wide open. The sight of her lover on the bed was reminiscent of a man knelt in prayer– silent with hands clasped together and head low. Miguel glanced to his left, acknowledging her presence finally.
“You went to go see him, didn’t you?”
“What?” Gwen walked into the bedroom, standing feets away from the man.
“You took your watch and snuck off to go see Miles.” His fangs were protruding with each damaging word.
“The hell? My watch was here in the apartment I–”
“Don’t! Don’t you fucking lie to me!” His head snapped towards her, eyes bloodshot from tears and anger. Brown eyes pouring with intense reds, his brows furrowed and wrinkles prominently standing out.
Taken aback by his outburst and crude assumptions, she huffed out, standing her ground now. “Do you seriously not trust me? I didn’t fucking leave, Miguel! I just went to blow off steam in MY dimension. I didn’t even have the watch until I came back through the window!”
“You’re lying. God, I knew it was always meant to go like this,” he stood up, approaching her. “Cheating on me, hm? Who’s next? Hobie, Pavitr, Jess, huh?” Each name that came out of his mouth he stepped forward, now towering over her as she stood still. “Who did you go fuck, Gwen?”
Her blood was boiling. No amount of proper verbage would describe the way she was feeling, though hurt and pissed off came exceptionally close. She grinded her back teeth, fists balled up and trembling, blue eyes locked with faint yet radiant red ones. “The only person I’m fucking is you.” Unlike her body, her voice did not falter as she spoke with fervor and brutal punctuation. “I didn’t even leave the dimension, Miguel.”
Double sided blades piercing both of their bodies would be an accurate description for how the couple felt in this moment. Tensions flaring rapidly, breaths held, eyes glued to the other, and the hesitant desire to approach the other. The man’s fangs bearing over his lips, mouth slowly opening as if to respond to the enraged woman standing before him.
How dare she speak back to him? How dare she lie to him, to his face at that? This woman, no, this girl, a child, speaking as if she didn’t just go sleep with another man. Miguel’s mouth opening, the brief audibility of some word coming out of his mouth before Gwen lunged at him. She was nowhere near as strong as O’Hara but she made do. Having caught him off guard, the man fell back roughly, body partially hitting the floor and gripping claws into the bed to catch himself. Small hands wrapping around Miguel’s throat as Gwen squeezed as tight as she could.
“Shut up! Shut up! I didn’t fucking cheat on yo–” Her vocalization ceased as Miguel threw his arm up and shoved her off of him, Gwen sliding on the bedroom floor. There was no hesitation this time in either of the spider folks movements. Miguel braced himself as Gwen stumbled her way over to him at full speed. Large hands reaching out to nab the Spider-Woman by her petite frame, throwing her back onto the bed behind him.
“You wanna play these games, niña,” Miguel yelled, “Hm?” He grabbed her ankles, blindly yanking her to him before clawing at her torso. The spandex of her Spider-Man suit torn across her stomach. Gwen’s eyes shot up, a tinge of fear filling the blue depths amongst the anger and growing arousal within her. “Tu puta,” he whispered harshly, spit hitting her face. Miguel took her ankles in one hand now, the other wrapping around her throat tightly. “I’ll teach you what lying does to little girls like you.” He squeezed, fingers overlapping his grip. Gwen reached up frantically at his hand, her body revolting against his hold. Flailing and kicking to the best of her abilities while in his grasp, she was going nowhere fast. Spots were appearing in her vision, the struggling steadily slowing the more they appeared. The room’s colors growing darker, flooding from the ceiling down to the floor like a cascade of fury in hue. Toothy smirk creeping onto the older man’s face before he released his grip on her neck.
A gasp exploded from her pale pink lips, hands coming up to touch her now bare neck as the color flooded back to her face. The deftone of creamed skin regained its color as the blue faded from her face. Pulling her by the ankles, Miguel brought her closer to him before leaning down over her. Eyes faltering over her face, enjoying every moment of intense emotion being displayed.
“My love,” he breathed, a raspy growl leaking from his throat. He was inches from her face now, “Mío, mío, mío,” Miguel buried his face into her hair, her neck, her cheeks. Nose flush against skin as he inhaled her youthful essence. With each word claiming her as his, pigmentation splattered the room in a vibrancy of sensual hues like droplets of coffee overflowing from its cup.
Gwen let out a faint moan, “Miguel..” Her voice that of honey to him and he an adoring bee. Beautiful colors now swarming the room to the brim, mimicking their growing lust over the anger and pain. Their speed that of hummingbirds and the bumblebees hungry for the sweetness of flowers. Gwen was that for Miguel, and he was starved with a sweet tooth.
The man loosened his grip ever so slightly from her ankles now. One hand snaking its way up her leg and the other grabbing her small face by the chin and cheeks– god his grasp made her look so small. Miguel shuddered, shoulders rolling, lasciviousness overtaking his entirety. Gwen could feel his claws slightly puncture the skin of her face while his trailing hand practically opened her legs. There was no resistance as Miguel delicately pushed her right leg to the side, hooking his own underneath. Index finger grazing the thin fabric between her legs, body reacting with an arch and her outreaching to him. She extended her arms, hands now softened rather than hardened like her own heart as she intertwined her fingers into the older man’s brown locks. Gwen’s universe highlighted the room with silver glimmering tinges as she grasped at Miguel’s brunette waves. Their silver fox stained strands flowing so beautifully across his scalp. O’Hara hummed at her touch, leaning in, the internal beast and demons raiding his mind silenced for the moment.
The claw on his index finger plucked the fabric of her suit. Dragging his finger down slowly, the audible sound of her suit ripping filling the partial silence of the bedroom. The woman’s breath hitched, the cool air hitting her exposed crotch. The man had even ripped her panties wide open.
“You owe me a new suit, asshole” her gaze shifted from her open suit to his dark calling eyes.
“Cállate, I’ll get you one,” his breath hitting her as he spoke. “I promise,” he pecked the corners of her thin lips, “I promise..”
Gwen could feel her soul warming up with each kiss. Colors of deeper feelings teemed out of her with each one, each being painted over her body with pinks and soft reds. Each indirect peck gingerly placed on her face before the hunger grew too great for the couple. Her grip squeezed, hands tightening to push Miguel to her, lips now smashing together. The gesture was just enough to finally make Miguel O’Hara’s will cave.
Suit now dissolving in glitches similar to the aurora borealis, exposing his bare flesh beneath the digital suit. It fell as gracefully as sand dripping from its timer, neck to toes, Spider-Man 2099’s toned and naked body was on full display for the petite blonde under him. Her hands slid down his back, the briefly cold and quickly warming body of her lover taking her aback as she broke the kiss to look at him. Body cased as diamond, rigid and with a stone-cold face that only fell around her. She felt his cock twitch slightly to her touch, the member lightly rubbing against her inner thigh.
“Looks like someone’s desperate,” Gwen teased, eyes looking back up to the lowly growling man. “Hot and bothered from what: Getting jealous? Fighting? Knocking me back?” Miguel rolled his eyes with each stupid question, his hand going to stroke himself while she mocked him. Length centimeters away from her entrance now– he could feel her dripping heat. The brunette let out a whimper of desperation, eyes roaming from her lips to her ocean irises and all the way down to her open legs and dripping pussy. “Oh! I know, it was you choking me into unconsciousness nearly,” she propped herself up onto her elbows, licking up his chin and bit his lower lip. “Wasn’t it, you fucking sadistic abusi–” Gwen let out a loud moan, the filling pop of Miguel’s large fingers delving into her. Slick sounds of his digits moving in and out echoed throughout the room, though compared to the moaning coming from Gwen, they were almost inaudible.
Free hand roaming up and down her textured spandex suit, claws carefully peeking from their sheath. Fingertips hooked a shredded section across her torso and with the aid of his claws, Miguel clutched the spandex. With a swift movement of his hand, Miguel ripped the torn suit attached to her small body. Pale and malleable form visible to the drooling animal before her. The Spider’s soft lips wrapping around Gwen’s breasts, his tongue flicking perked nipples. Retractable claws akin to daggers unsheathed fully to pierce her skin. The faintest of whimpers leaving her pursed lips, sensation of her lover’s claws digging into her flesh.
Miguel was fixated on her.
Gwen’s petite body wiggling in his clenched grasp. She always seemed so much smaller when he was this close to her, when his hands were wrapped around her form.
“Pequeña,” he whispered.
Worshipping with every suckle and nip, every scratch and tear, every twinge of his moving digits. Gwen felt herself teetering on the edge with each curl and stroke of his fingers. Head thumping against Miguel’s as she threw it forward, headbutting the man unintentionally. Not a halt in his pace as their foreheads pressed together. Arms draped over his shoulders, clutching at his olive skin, desperate for a release.
“Miguel—,” she screeched, “I- I’m gonna—!” Gwen could barely form words, hips riding his fingers shakily.
He pulled himself up slightly, markings and punctured skin adorning her small tits. Brown eyes locking onto her bright blue irises. “Did I say you could cum?” Emphasis to his question punctuated by the withdrawal of his long fingers. Gwen whined pathetically, attempting to push and smack the man in protest. Right on the cusp and of course he had to be controlling now. After all, control was what he strived for in his life. Controlling Gwen Stacy’s orgasm was simply one of the “fun things” Miguel enjoyed about his innate desire to always maintain control.
“I fucking hate you,” she sticks her tongue out. Miguel let out a chuckle, leaning down to kiss her slowly. He knew just how to butter her up. Miguel cupped her cheek, forehead pressed against hers yet again. Same hand now wrapping around the nape of her neck, the other holding her waist. Soft and long kisses, the roughness of Miguel O’Hara’s five o’clock shadow brushing against her face. His warm hands latched to her figure adoringly, steadily pulling her closer to his nude body.
Miguel could feel her drip onto his cock, each kiss only driving him more mad with lustfulness. He moaned faintly into her mouth, the grip he held on her hips tightening slightly. Brownish-red eyes enraptured by her beauty, petite body responding to Miguel’s actions like a well trained dog.
“I love you,” he whispered, fingers overlapping to grip her throat. It always astounded him to see his hand wrapped around her throat, the tiny thing so breakable with one wrong move. Plump wet lips brushing against one another, Miguel’s top lip slipping off of Gwen’s lower as a soft breath escaped her’s. Moaning his name with such a tone that only said back ‘I love you too.’
His claws pinch at the thin skin of her hips, fingers grazing over the protruding ilium. Pressure against Gwen’s entrance made her gasp, bracing herself by grabbing onto any part of Miguel’s broad shoulders that she could get ahold of. She bit her lip, eyes watching him push himself slowly into her. The fulfilling warmth similar to hot apple cider spiked with a rich whiskey.
Sweet salt upon supple flesh, a soft tinge of gardenia perfume, and faint aromatic cologne saunter across the bed. The heat between the two rises as Miguel cautiously begins to move his hips. His head leans back, lips arching as he grits his teeth. Those vampiric teeth of his catching Stacy’s lustful eyes.
She loved seeing Miguel get all worked up, especially when they hadn’t even really started. The visible restraint he held as he clenched his jaw, gritting those perfectly crooked teeth of his, was all she needed. An obvious indicator that Miguel was ready to cum with one early movement. Gwen smirked, fingers looping up into his wavy hair again. “Are you seriously going to already cum?” She teased, making eye contact.
He craned his neck downward, head pressing against her forehead. Squeezing her tiny throat to shut her up before slamming himself into her. Gwen squeaked at the grip, his singular hand choking her tightly. Miguel wanted to give her the same tight feeling his cock felt as he thrusted in and out of her. He watched as her eyes quivered with fear and pleasure, dainty hands grabbing at his fingers in desperation for air. Brown and silver locks falling gracefully in his face, slightly covering his eyes, and the sweat dripping down his chiseled body. He groaned quietly, watching her plead for him to choke her harder— any harder and Miguel knew he’d crush her throat. Fingers loosened their hold, running through blonde and pink locks. Gwen let out a loud gasp in succession that shifted to an overzealous moan.
“You’re so fucking loud, shit,” he huffs, burying his face into the crook of her neck. The sweet floral aroma mixed with sweat causing Miguel to whimper out between thrusts. Licking to taste the salt of her skin before biting the crook of her neck; hard. Suckling at skin, tugging and nipping to ensure he marked his territory. She was no different than he– Scratching up O’Hara’s back with deep marks that almost made him bleed. Gwen’s nails were far from the claws of Miguel, but she made do with their jaggedness. Picking at them from anxious times left them sharp enough to place her intimate signature across the man’s shoulder blades. She could feel herself clench around his cock, a sheer sign to Miguel that she was close. That and her incessant moaning in his ear, díos, she was loud.
But oh, how she moaned for him.
His tongue lapped at her neck, lips kissing the damaged skin before readjusting himself. One arm extending onto the sheets, the other cupping the back of her head. Gwen’s hands wrapping around his neck and waist. Pace quickening and losing its structure.
“Fuck! Shit,” she sharply whimpered out. The distinct sound of skin to skin contact echoes out with each rough and jagged movement. Gwen’s high pitched moans ringing out alongside the wet noises.
“Una boca tan bonita y jura tan sucia, ¿eh?” O’Hara spat out slowly, guttural groans following suit. Large hand wringing itself over her cheeks, squeezing them together. Playfully twisting her head slightly side to side like a doll, admiring how cute she looked getting fucked senseless.
Such a frail thing… He reminded her of the innocence springtime carries. Sweetly pink lips puckered between his index and thumb. Digits raising her chin to look him in the eye. He needed her to look at him. Lively blue eyes shining like polished larimar compared to his rusted colored ones. Miguel didn’t want to deny himself any longer.
He kissed her— the taste of iron invaded the young woman’s mouth after Miguel pried it open with some light squeezing and his tongue. Gwen’s body seized for a moment, a flood of pleasure washing over her. Spine arching upward into the Spider, deepening their already passionate kiss. “Cum for me, mija… Cum para tu papí,” Miguel coos, her spider-sense kicking up as he whispers. Erotic words like velvet and melting wax, soft on her soul and overly sensual to the body. Tingling sensation rushing through her body with an electric frequency of pleasure and ecstasy. Gwen cried out for him, arms looped over his neck, face buried in his hair as she came around O’Hara’s cock. Orgasmic screams of a well-deserved release poured from her mouth. Lips parted, outcry of colors only visible to Gwen popping out with her vocalization. Daunting colors evocative of stars and watered down paints. Straining pleas and begging all music to 2099’s ears.
Nails dragging themselves down and across his skin while her climax continued. He pants, hot breath hitting Gwen’s ear. Already erratic thrusts diverged from any sense of consistency. Miguel O’Hara was losing composure. “Gwen,” he choked out weakly. Beads of sweat dripping onto the sex stained sheets decorating the mattress.
“Miguel,” she stifled a ‘fuck’ back before continuing. “Oh my god shit— I love you, I love you.” The older man felt like his knees would buckle beneath him. Pit of butterflies swarming his stomach akin to rats in a small cage; relentless and fighting for freedom. Those doe eyes he deeply adored carried the thinnest line of tears, their eyes meeting again. By god, he loved her so much.
Gwen Stacy detested eye contact during sex. But when it came to Miguel O’Hara and his feverishly burning gaze, she couldn’t help but gawk. Perhaps it was the unspoken click of fated love or maybe it was his fixated stare on her contorting face. Auburn irises lingering on her pleasure filled expressions. Heart thumping aggressively against its bone prison. Palpitations thumping parallel to drumsticks hitting her worn down set. To be genuinely loved– no, genuinely loved and seen. Past the duty of being Spider-Man and Spider-Woman, past the domestic struggles, past the brewed rage, and past the makeup sex… She loved him. She loved this man endlessly.
The older spider’s sharp auburn eyes glued to her as her thoughts and emotions ran rampant. Glued to her in such a way that wordlessly told her all she needed to hear. ‘I’d die without you. I love you no matter how much we fight. I love you more than I breathe.’ She could hear his voice loud and clear as he pumped himself full of her. Painfully rough slaps filled with agitation from a day’s worth of heated arguing and crime fighting. Physical movements contradicting the devoted silent worship of her being.
“Corazon,” Gwen’s heart almost leapt from her chest. Whispering the pet name with a conviction she’d only heard him carry out in prayers for Gabi.
Gwen’s hands snake their way towards his jawline, tracing the bone briefly. ‘He loves me.’ She feels him slow in response to her touch, yet never stripping her of that full feeling. Stubble prickled the tips of her fingers while they slid down the sides of his face. The scratching of stout hairs against her palms carving a memory of touch into her brain. Guiding hands soothing the fiendish beast above her, drawing him closer. The magnetic nature of human intimacy luring the man down to her honeyed kiss. Lips curving into a smile as their faces met in unison. Lissome and peachy maw reminiscent of silk sheets and tres leches– both things Miguel O’Hara felt were undeserving to a man of his caliber. An everlasting craving, a need, an exasperated aching for things he felt he should not adore. He knew somewhere deep down he would never truly deserve her, yet here she was, all his.
There was a brief pause between the two, hips and moans ceasing with it. He was buried deeply into her, base flush against her wet cunt. The quiet sounds of panting inhales and exhales broke the silence surrounding them. Miguel’s fever stained lips parted in an effort to speak but fell short of forming any utterance. Fire and brimstone circles waterfalled into angelic sky blue pools below. The pits of Hell were nothing compared to the internal blaze O’Hara felt caging his heart; fire opal irises amorously gawking at the young woman below. A boilover bellowed through Miguel internally. One akin to the thrillingly darkest part of a predator’s nature: Hunting.
Blood as bright as Miguel’s neon red and orange webbing paired with an atmospheric soft gasp from cupid-puckered lips. A gasp so angelic to Miguel O’Hara, the man would have sworn the scene before him wasn’t real. She reminded him of those raunchy films from his younger years, the kind he more than not should not have seen at his age. A cliche slow motion sexual climax that has an ungodly filter yet has the most dazzling glows. Earth-65’s watercolor world speckling the snow white and lightly saturated features of her face. The accented hues of Gwen Stacy shimmered like stars across her body. Miguel clutched her close to his chest. Illuminated teeth prominent from her agape jaw, blonde stray hairs, and pastel colored eyes enraptured the man. Face burying into her dangerously sweet neck, whispering sweet incoherent nothings. Guttural and stuttering sentences spilling from dry lips, hips abruptly resuming to a reckless pace. Gwen’s neck cranes, eyes rolling back before she cries out a heavenly distressed moan. A distress that didn’t last past the first three humps.
Her words are broken up by rapid thrusts, “Mi- ig–,” there’s a struggling pause to get more out. She could feel his weight a bit more now, his grip and speed pushing Gwen more and more into the mattress. Her sloppy attempt to say his name made Miguel unintentionally pop out from her sopping pussy. There’s a cuss spat out by O’Hara into Gwen’s ear. The desperately horny pants from the large man thrumming against her eardrum. They fiddled for a second, adjusting while broken dirty words left each other’s mouths. Swiftly, Miguel glides back inside her, the vulgar sounds of rough makeup sex breaking the momentary silence.
Sounds which find themselves echoing in artistic ways around the room. Splatters of lilac, paint droplets of an off-white cascade in a room once sporting nothing but red. He can feel her nails brush colors of loveable proportions down his back. Moans bubbling out similar colors as she buckled beneath him. Their bedroom ravaged with an intense rave of colors that Stacy sees far too often in their relationship.
She bites his shoulder, or what she can reach of it, and is met with a loud grunt from Miguel. In an odd descriptive way, he almost trips on himself with his thrusts. Haphazard and– fuck, she could feel him thicken inside.
He was close.
“Mija,” he chokes out, “I’m gonna– fuck, gonna–” Gwen cuts him off with a kiss.
Just like a thread unraveling, Miguel unraveled with that kiss. She held him in place with delicate hands and pressed hard into that chiseled face of his. Gwen’s legs bent back, Miguel’s spine curling up like a stretching cat, and the two remain lip locked as he cums.
Warm cum spilling inside of the young woman as her legs quake in response. Light sources around the room appear hazy and blurred upon opening her eyes. A ringing sound pierces her ears momentarily as the soft repeated words from Miguel O’Hara breach her dazen state. “Mi querida, querida, aye,...” he murmurs, still flush against her. “Gwen,... Shit,” he lets out a breathy chuckle and flashes a softened smile.
His hand gingerly brushes the loose hairs from her face while she looks at him in awe. A gap toothed smile breaking her stare before laughing alongside her partner. Sweaty foreheads pressing against one another, laughter subsiding into a tender smooch. Miguel whispers an ‘I love you’ against her lips, kissing her button nose and then thin lips again.
Cleaning the bedroom would be a tomorrow task. Buying a pregnancy test would also be a tomorrow task.
Gwen slowly climbed back into the shared gray bed sheets where Miguel laid. An arm behind his head and the other opening just for her. The blonde soon found herself cuddled against O’Hara’s radiating warmth. He loosely tugged the sheets over her now completely nude frame and wrapped an arm around her torso. There were silent breaths from the two while Gwen rested her head upon his prominent clavicle. Craning her neck upwards she watched as he breathed in slowly, exhaling through broad nostrils with eyes closed. Miguel can feel her bolden stare along with her hand mindlessly rubbing across his chest in an endearing way. The vibrating hum of pleasure escapes his throat, acknowledging her graceful touch.
“Hey Dark Garfield,” she starts.
There’s a groan in response before he speaks, “I told you to not call me that.” A weak and playful smile crosses her face.
“Right, you preferred Blue Panther,” he pinches her above the sheets. “OW!”
He nasally laughs. “What is it, Gwen?” Miguel is met with silence.
His eyes unwillingly open, irises set directly on the surprisingly soft spoken woman in his grasp. “Gwen,” he asks once more, searching for a response.
“What do you think the others make of us?” An odd question, but he humors it anyway.
“Who? The other Spiders?”
“Yeah,” she drifts through the spaces of her own thoughts before continuing. “Or even the public, I guess.”
“I thought you didn’t care what anyone thought of us?”
“I don’t! I don’t– I was only thinking of us and–” she bites her lip, hesitant to speak further.
Miguel sighs, extending his right arm to the ceiling. He waves gesturally with his retort, “There’s infinite canons, kid. Canons that make no sense and canons that make a lot of sense. Hell, life doesn’t ever make a damn bit of sense but we keep doing it. We just keep going day by day.” Her eyes search for answers in the wrinkles on his face, in the curvature of his muscles, in the crinkles of the bedsheets holding them together. Gwen’s eyebrows scrunch in such a poignant way it makes Miguel take notice of her displaced attempt to focus.
A skinny arm reaches up to meet O’Hara’s extended one. Her hand resting against his callous palms, relishing their rough exterior and warm interior. “Do you think there’s an Earth out there where any of this makes sense?” She pauses, lips chapped and throat dry. “Where,.... We make sense?” The man’s bushy brows furrow, lips cocking up to speak. His words feel caught in his throat just as her own probably did half a second ago.
“Yes,” oversized fingers interlocking with her tiny digits. “No matter what Earth we are in, I think we’ll make our own sense of things.” A punctuating kiss to her temple alleviates the tension of the conversation at hand. “Te amo, in this world and the next.”
There’s a gap in time she thinks.
She knows there was a meaningful conversation full of comforting lines that were straight out of a cheesy romance movie. Sentences which made her heart swell and provided a sense of relief to hear them. Words she so desperately needed to hear in that moment– a sense of aftercare if you could call it that. So why now, in this dingy yet homey apartment, did Gwen Stacy feel so broken? So absolutely decrepit internally despite being so full of love.
The love of her life nestled into her bosom with a bear tight grip holding her close. The rhythmic tapping of his pulse against her fingertips. The gray and dark shades of blue shadowing downward, eating the room whole in a wave as Gwen brings a hand to her face. Choked back and broken sobs yearn to be freed from her throat as she stifles them down for the man she says she loves eternally.