All I Have is your Fire and the Place you Need to Reach
The next two days are pure agony. Sure, Peter could just message Parker. He has his phone number, his email, and even his address. But he doesn’t.
It’s not that he regrets anything. No, if anything he’s never felt more sure in a decision before. But he’s afraid. He’s not sure he can handle Parker’s rejection, or him calling what happened in his car a mistake. Fear paralyzes him whenever he thinks about sending him a message so instead Peter waits until he has class and hopes for the best.
There’s a saying about the best laid plans. Peter tries to remember how it goes as he dresses haphazardly, gulps down some leftover coffee, and runs out the door. He had woken up to an urgent message from one of his many bosses: tech emergency in lecture hall, support needed for afternoon speaker series — can you cover?
Normally, Peter would decline a Sunday job. It’s an hour-long subway ride to campus and he has better things to do (like lay in bed and fantasize about a hot professor), but the time and a half pay is nothing to scoff at. Also, there’s the (hardly important, really insignificant) fact that the professor requesting the support is none other than Professor Parker. So, yeah — that’s a no brainer. Peter takes the job less than a minute after receiving the email.
Peter spends his commute nervously bouncing his leg, anxiously anticipating seeing his professor. Don’t make this weird, he repeats to himself every few minutes.
By the grace of some New York miracle, he not only manages to catch his transfers, but also makes it to the lecture hall early. It’s enough time to mentally prepare himself to see Professor Parker and not make an absolute fool of himself (or at least not any more than he already has).
He’s practically vibrating with anticipation as he sets up the cables. Tech support is an easy job — just check the microphones and speakers work, power up the projector, hook up a laptop — but Peter’s hands don’t stop shaking the entire time he’s working. Keep it together, man. He’s kneeling by the speakers on the top row of the lecture hall when he hears a tentative voice.
“Peter?”
He looks up and sees Professor Parker standing at the foot of the stairs, looking up the aisle at him in disbelief. Peter feels the air rush out of him — this was a mistake.
“Yeah.” He almost doesn’t recognize his own voice with the way it trembles.
Parker walks up the steps and Peter feels time slow down with each row of seats he passes. He cranes his head up as Parker stops two steps below him. They’re not quite level, but he appreciates the effort from Parker. An agonizing eternity of silence passes before he finds the courage to speak.
“Hi, Professor Parker.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Um. I’m your tech support for today?” He waves weakly with an awkward smile. “Surprise.”
“Peter…”
He prepares himself for Parker to say it: what we did was a mistake. He steadies himself against the speaker and prepares for the inevitable. Peter half wonders if he can run out of the lecture hall and avoid this awkward confrontation, but then realizes that Parker is blocking the aisle and his one way out. Damn it, he’s going to need to hurdle over the seats. He’s got the leg span for it though, and he probably wouldn’t break any-
“Peter?” Parker hisses, eyebrows furrowed. “Did you hear me? Meet me in the bathroom on the third floor. The one at the end of the hall.”
Peter nods dumbly as he watches Parker stride away. He lets his eyes linger on his backside, fully enjoying watching him leave. He blinks out of his reverie.
Nerves suddenly steadied, he connects the final cables, gives a quick once over at the speaker system, and dusts off his sweaty palms against his jeans.
He’s barely through the bathroom door when he feels Parker press his body against his, lighting up every single cell inside him. Peter’s back is pressed against the door and Parker snakes a hand around his waist to check that the door is locked.
Up close, Peter realizes that he has a solid two-three inches on Parker and that those beautiful blue eyes (he’s seriously never going to get tired of them) are already dark and filled with want.
“Did anyone see you come in?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Parker presses his lips against his, this kiss is almost as ferocious as the one from the car, and Peter’s brain struggles to catch up to match his rhythm. Parker’s lips are firm and commanding, and he bites gently at Peter’s bottom lip, eliciting a moan — there’s no doubt about what he wants. With that invitation, Peter allows his arms to encircle Parker, presses at his shoulder blades to bring them closer, and widens his stance to slot Parker’s leg between his thighs. He needs to feel every curve, every angle of his body.
They stay like that for what feels like forever, Peter in absolute bliss for every second.
“I missed you.” Parker breaks the kiss and silence first. He looks up at Peter with excited eyes.
“I missed you, too.” Peter lets himself admit. He ducks his head, suddenly embarrassed. “I was so scared you were going to say that night was a mistake.”
“Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know? You’re a hot professor and I’m a trainwreck of a person.” Peter gives a little self-deprecating laugh, hoping it comes off as charming rather than just plain sad, and strokes Parker’s chin to see if it’s as soft and smooth as it looks. It is.
“You’re not a trainwreck.” Parker’s blue eyes shimmer with kindness. He takes Peter’s stroking hand and gives each knuckle a kiss. “You’re amazing.”
Peter’s not sure if his heart is going to give out from the sweetness of this moment, or if his brain is going to explode at hearing Parker say those words. “Uh, thanks? I’m glad that you still think that even after seeing me be a crying, drunken, glittery mess.”
“No, you’re amazing.” Parker presses a kiss to the juncture of his jaw and neck, drops his voice so that it’s practically a growl. “And so fucking hot.”
Actually no, Peter’s cause of death will be that voice and those words. He feels the blood from his body pool downwards and he wonders if it’s possible to die from a bloodrush to his dick, especially as Parker continues peppering kisses along his neck. He hopes not.
“Can we move off the door?” He gently brings his hand to Parker’s chest to press him back, a little paranoid at being overheard, and thoroughly enjoys seeing Parker’s flustered little frown at being separated. Peter crosses over to the sink counter and hops up to sit down. From there, he’s a little more level with Parker and has a better angle to admire the sweet flush across his cheeks. He strokes his face again, still feeling like he’s in a dream.
“What?” Parker tilts his head, adorably confused.
“You’re just…” Peter can’t find the right words to describe Parker because none of them do him justice. “So real.” He laughs quietly at how dorky that sentence sounds and his heart soars at the dopey smile Parker gives him in return.
He kisses Parker languidly, bringing his arms up and over his shoulders to guide him closer, slowly taking in the broadness of his shoulders. It’s a soft and sweet kiss that quickly evolves as he feels Parker press at his hip bones and ruck at his shirt. Peter barely has time to react as Parker’s hands skim his sides.
Peter does his best to mirror his movements, but is acutely aware of the fact that Parker still has to look somewhat professional once they’re done. He wishes he could roughly untuck that crisp white shirt off Parker to leave a trail of kisses down his chest.
Almost as if they share one desire-fueled brained cell, he feels Parker’s hungry mouth settle down on the crook of his neck and roughly move the collar of his sweater to leave a rough kiss with a little too much teeth. His mind completely reboots as he feels Parker suck.
Peter feels Parker’s hands trail downward, pause expectantly at the top of his pants with fingers twitching as if asking for permission to keep going. Peter nods and makes a keening sound that he hopes counts as a (very enthusiastic) yes and Parker takes the invitation. He feels Parker palm his already hard dick, above his boxers, and suck in a sharp breath of air before reaching in under the cloth.
Parker gives a tender stroke, swirls the rough pad of his thumb around the head before moving up Peter’s length in one swift motion. The moan Peter lets out would be delicious any other moment, but given where they are it’s a little too loud for comfort. He bites down on his lip, hoping it’s enough to muffle the sound as Parker jerks his hand up and down sinfully. Peter lets his head loll back in sweet bliss, nearly blinding himself when he accidentally looks directly into the bright lights above the bathroom mirror.
He lets out a hiss when he feels Parker’s nails gently skim the sensitive skin and presses his own jagged and bitten down nails firmly to the base of Parker’s neck. He gives a soft tug to Parker’s hair and enjoys seeing the bewildered look in his eyes as he pulls away from his neck.
“This is too fast isn’t it?” Parker’s pupils are blown out and Peter wishes he had the selfishness to say not fast enough and encourage his full debasement in a campus bathroom.
“The lecture — you’re going to be late.” He reminds Parker in a steady voice and hates that he somehow manages to grow a sense of responsibility in that moment.
“Right, right.” Parker nods, eyes still clouded over. He presses another kiss, less hungry or desperate than before, to Peter’s neck before tenderly cradling his chin and looking at him directly with those eyes that reveal every single thing he wants to do to him. “Come to my place. Saturday night. Please.”
“I’ll be there.” Peter nods enthusiastically, earning a brilliant and breathless smile in response.
He moves to the door before turning to look at Peter one last time, blue eyes softening just a bit, before turning the doorknob. “Leave five minutes after me. If anyone asks where I went, tell them I went outside to smoke.”
Peter shakily nods. Once Parker is gone, he turns on the faucet, still in a daze and mind reeling from the searing kiss and the heat from Parker’s roaming hands. His head feels full of fluff and Parker’s words continue ringing in his brain as a sobering thought forms.
This feeling, previously a crush or infatuation or misplaced desire, is much more than that. Peter’s not sure what it is, but he knows it’s something all consuming and it scares him. This isn’t a love story, Peter assures himself as he splashes water on his face and carefully cleans up the bathroom. His heart beats in doubletime. It can’t be a love story because he’s not sure he’s going to like the ending very much.
It takes Peter three days to finally fall from the high of the previous weekend. His Wednesday is full of shame, jitters, and a pit full of dread in his stomach. This thing with Professor Parker has him on edge and he’s full of questions about the whole thing. He can barely concentrate in class and he’s grateful that it’s only the first week of the new semester as he spends his lab and lecture biting his fingernails.
“You okay?” Gwen shoots him a worried look as they walk across campus to the library.
Peter nods hurriedly. He briefly considers asking Gwen for advice as they walk and thinks about her reaction. He imagines it going one of two ways.
Option 1) “You gave Professor Parker a blow job in his car? What the fuck, Peter! He’s going through a divorce! What the actual fuck?”
Option 2) Or (he lets himself hope) maybe she’d be impressed? Her mouth would drop in amazement, she’d give him a high five, maybe jump around in excitement with him before congratulating him: “Wow! Look at you! Way to go, Peter!”
Yeah, no — Gwen doesn’t really do high fives.
“Sorry, I think I’m catching a cold.” Peter sniffles convincingly as Gwen tilts her head, not really buying his story.
It’s not that Peter particularly enjoys lying to Gwen. No, he hates it (it's so hard), but partway through their afternoon class and the quiet subway ride home he remembers that Gwen is leaving soon. It’s already marked on their shared calendar in big red letters.
While he’s sad that his best friend is leaving for the summer, it reminds him that Gwen has her own life to worry about. He can’t continue to rely on her to make decisions for him or to serve as an unwilling guide (and accomplice) in this messy situation with Parker. No, he decides during the train transfer, he’s going to be an adult about this and he’s going to make a plan.
He waits until nighttime, when his best ideas happen, to go on a long walk and clear his thoughts. He even leaves behind a sticky note for Gwen with his general route. See, he tells himself, I’m responsible.
Peter walks around his neighborhood, scarfs down a chopped cheese, immediately regrets eating that chopped cheese, and then holds his stomach uncomfortably as he makes a pros and cons list for sleeping with his professor on a borrowed sticky note. Most of the pros center around Professor Parker’s ass.
“We need to talk.” Peter waits in front of Professor Parker’s office the next morning before office hours and manages to ambush him as he arrives. He ignores the way Parker’s hair is delightfully disheveled and his cheeks pink and chapped from the cold.
Parker simply gestures to come in.
Peter makes a beeline for the couch, collapses on it, and holds his elbows to keep himself together. He watches Parker carefully close the door and tiredly rub his eyes.
“Do you want coffee?” Parker asks, sounding utterly miserable.
“I’ve already had three cups.”
“Oh god.” Parker groans as he starts up his tiny coffee machine. “I need to catch up, don’t I? Give me a second.”
Peter waits in awkward silence, biting his lip. He can’t help his heart leaping to his throat at the sight of a barely awake Parker bumbling through his morning routine, waiting impatiently for his coffee. It’s a different kind of intimacy than he’s used to.
“Alright.” Parker starts once he’s had his first sip of coffee and is comfortably perched on the edge of his desk. “What did you want to talk about?”
“About this. About us.” Peter has already spent the better part of the night and subway ride over rehearsing what he’s going to say. “I have a few questions.”
“Okay.”
Peter nods. “Good. First off, you’re actually divorced right? I just want to make sure. I don’t need that on my conscience.”
“Yes, I’m divorced.” Parker laughs and holds up his hand, waggling the bare finger for emphasis. “I’ve been divorced for a few months actually.”
“Really?”
“She filed in September.” He shrugs sadly, looking at the floor. “We finished the paperwork right before Thanksgiving and then she packed up all of her stuff. It was an, um, uncontested divorce.”
“Oh.” Peter doesn’t know anything about divorces, but the resignation in Parker’s voice pulls at something in his chest.
“Yeah. She said it would speed up the process.” Parker tiredly brings his shoulders up and looks away, “I guess you’re wondering why I kept the ring on for so long? It just didn’t feel real…I know I signed everything and agreed, but still. It’s hard to forget four years of marriage just like that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I mean, we also tried to keep it very private. MJ’s an actress — you know how the tabloids are. I didn’t want…” Parker sighs and his mouth shifts into that familiar sad smile. “I don’t know, I felt like it was the right thing to do. If I couldn’t be a good husband when we were married, I could at least be a good husband during the divorce.”
There’s a heaviness to Parker’s voice that Peter recognizes as guilt and in that moment he wishes he could provide the same comfort Parker’s provided for him before. It’s strange to see Parker humanized that way — he looks so sad and defeated and Peter wishes he could just give him a hug. While he feels a little bad for dredging up the past, Peter’s glad to have resolved that burning question. He presses on.
“Thank you… you know, for the honesty.” He bites at his nail. “I guess I’m also curious, what about your job?”
“Oh.”
“Yeah — isn’t this very muchnot allowed?”
Parker pauses and takes a sip of coffee, before giving him a so-so gesture. “Having a relationship with a student is… frowned upon but it won’t-I’m not going to get fired if that’s what you’re asking. I checked my contract last weekend.” Parker’s cheeks are aflame and Peter can hear the subtext in his words.
“Besides this doesn’t have to be a relationship or anything. We just need to be discreet — I could always help you transfer out of my class if you’d feel more comfortable. Or we could not do anything and wait. There aren’t any rules about seeing ex-students but I mean-I don’t want to assume that’s what you want or if you’re even interested in…” Parker rambles on while Peter stays stuck on a previous sentence.
“Oh.” Peter feels his eyebrows shoot up. “A relationship, huh?”
“A half-handjob in a campus bathroom doesn’t count as a relationship.” Parker snorts, sneaking in another gulp of coffee.
Peter, feeling bold, gives him a teasing smirk. “What about fucking in your office? Does that count?”
“I’d say that’s heading into more slippery territory.” Parker quips. “What are you getting at?”
Peter sighs and shrugs with a quirk of his lips, unable to beat around the bush. “I just want to know what to expect. I meant what I said last weekend to you. I’ve had these feelings for you for a while.”
“Oh.”
He presses on, aware that he’s laying it all out for Parker and risking losing it all. “I know I may seem like a mess but it’ll be okay. I want this. I want you. I just-I just want to prepare myself.”
“For what?”
To get my heart broken, Peter thinks instinctively. “I don’t know. I just know that if you expect disappointment then you can never really be disappointed.”
“Peter…” Parker’s voice goes soft and his eyes fill with a compassion that makes Peter uneasy. It feels too much like a spotlight.
“I’m not expecting you to be my boyfriend or anything if that’s what you’re afraid of. You said it yourself, this can’t be a relationship or anything. I just want-” Peter takes a deep sigh, “I just want honesty. That’s all.” He hopes he sounds convincing; he’s completely unattached and down for anything. Peter hopes that Parker catches what he really wants to say: I know I’m not a catch, but if you’ll have me — I’m here.
Parkner nods, “Okay.”
“Good. So, any other deep dark secrets I should know about?”
“Um, I’m a masked crime fighting vigilante?” Parker gives him a serious look before breaking out in laughter, sweeping away the earlier tension. Peter lets himself smile, drawing in a deep and relieved breath.
“Haha. Very funny. But seriously, I want this and I want you.” Peter repeats plainly as he stands up, ready to leave (and I’ll take whatever crumbs I can get).
“And I want you, too.” Parker moves off his desk and closer to Peter. “But I don’t want to rush you into anything. I want to make sure you’re okay with all of this.” He’s so close that Peter can feel the warmth radiating off Parker, those deep blue eyes still full of concern for his well being.
Peter shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me.” Before he can overthink it, he presses a quick peck to Parker’s cheek and heads over to the door. Peter looks back with pleasure, seeing a blush quickly bloom on the spot that he kissed as he turns the doorknob. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”