Chapter 1
The timer dinged on the oven and May Parker put down the last of the dishes she was washing. Walking over to the oven, she carefully took out the walnut date loaf she had been baking for the past hour.
It didn’t look bad. There were no obvious flaws, at any rate.
Smelled good, too.
Not bad for a first try, May.
It was hot to the touch, so she couldn’t exactly verify that it tasted okay… but May had years of experience in the kitchen. She was confident it would be fine. She set the walnut date loaf aside for later, and supporting herself against the counter, stretched, trying to work off the stress that she was feeling throughout her whole body.
Lately, she had been feeling wound tighter and tighter.
How could she not be? She had heard tell of the Queens vigilante, and with it, increased reports of violence. Like everyone else around the world, May appreciated the Avengers and their heroics. But having a vigilante in the neighbourhood was a challenge to the local criminals. A challenge that they couldn’t resist. May’s work in the Salvation Army, though satisfying, was hard enough without increased criminal activity complicating matters further. Then there was also the fact that Peter had recently developed a habit of being out of the apartment more than he was in.
May was constantly worried.
Worry has been a key part of her life ever since the death of her Mary and Richard. Young Peter had had no one else and though May had never wanted children, she had wholeheartedly supported Ben’s decision to take his sister’s son. But up until a while ago, she had Ben to rely on and things, though hard, had never been too much.
Then, Ben had died and in the last few months, Peter was all hers and May just wasn’t equipped to raise a teenager alone. At times, it frustrated her to no end, but still, she did her level best. She loved Peter with all her heart and wished nothing for him but a great future.
Still, her unconditional love didn’t make it any easier to be his guardian. Now, with everything the way it was, all she could do was worry.
Thus, the stress.
Over the past few months, May had tried nearly every single method in the book to deal with it. She’d taken up jogging, drawn herself long baths, joined a Zumba class, tried sleeping more… Sure, they all provided some relief. But the stress never left her alone for too long. It always returned. The walnut date loaf was part of the newest attempt at stress relief: baking. She had read in some magazine or another that trying new things might help and she had never baked a walnut date loaf, so she’d given it a try.
The magazine had lied. May didn’t really feel any better.
If anything, she was feeling more frustrated.
There was, of course, the other option.
The one that she was consciously ignoring all this time because she didn’t have the time for it. With the Salvation Army taking up a large part of her day and the other time being spent at home being Aunt May, it wasn’t like she had a lot of alone time. And she was often too tired at night to do anything but sleep. Even when Peter was out of the house, she could never do it. For one, her mind could never stop worrying about Peter and two... there was no telling when he would return.
But now…
Now, perhaps she could indulge. Peter was at school, which meant he couldn’t get himself in trouble and she didn’t have reason to worry. He wasn’t one to play hooky, so she was safe to actually relax. Till the classes were over, at the very least. She bit her lip and took a quick glance at the clock.
There were forty-five minutes until Peter’s classes finished. Which meant she had a little over an hour till he would be home. Even if she were to err on the side of caution, she had about fifty minutes all to herself. That made the decision for her.
Quickly covering the cooling walnut date loaf, May made a beeline to her bedroom. She pulled her t-shirt off and threw it on the ground as she entered, and then shuffled out of her pants. Naked now except for her cotton panties and the blush that was coloring her cheeks, she stood at the foot of her bed for a second before climbing in.
Maybe, she thought as she settled in, a good orgasm will be just what I need.
She was in her bed now, snug and comfortable, and she could already feel a growing warmth between her legs. That was good. Last time she had tried this, a few weeks after Ben’s untimely death, she couldn’t reach climax and had cried herself to sleep, feeling weak and guilty and frustrated.
Not wanting to linger on that, she got to work. She had toys, every woman did, but she didn’t want them now. Instead, she let her hands roam her naked form as her mind searched for a simple fantasy to fuel her pleasure.
Her right hand cupped her left breast as the other one inched ever closer to the edge of her panties. Already, she could feel all the tension in her body pool at that single point. She still needed her fantasy fuel and the Avengers come to mind. They were in the news recently, in a piece about the tragedy in Lagos. The whole incident was horrible, an unexpected explosion caused by–
No.
May couldn’t afford to get distracted. Getting off. Yes.The Avengers. Moving past the Lagos news, she let her mind wander further back, recalling clips from the New York incident showing Captain America in action, along with the Norse demigod Thor.
Thor was tall, rugged, handsome and built like a… well, a demigod. His long locks of perfect, flowing hair made even May jealous but it was the Captain who got her excited. He was handsome, there was no denying it, but more than that, he was strong, capable, reliable and he was good with no need for any qualifiers. The man was a beacon of hope and exactly what May Parker liked. He was the perfect choice for a fantasy.
And the biceps on him… Phew.
Yes. Captain America was a good choice indeed. It was very easy for her to imagine Steve Rogers in her bed, lying next to her. Blond hair perfectly coiffed, piercing blue eyes laser-focused on her, a firm but gentle voice whispering sweet nothings in her ear as his hands roamed her body… May could feel the tension give way to excitement. She could feel her blush spreading all over her body as she grew wetter down below.
She had earlier felt unsure about it, but she needn’t have worried. Her body seemed to remember what to do, without her needing to consciously contribute. The hand cupping her breast took her hardened nipple between its fingers and gently pulled at it. The other hand was already underneath her panties, one finger slowly teasing her entrance. May relaxed completely as the finger grazed over her clit and let her body take control. She submitted herself to the pleasant feelings that pulsed at the pit of her stomach.
She moaned as she imagined the hand currently making itself intimately familiar with her downstairs belonging to Steve. Steve, with his broad chest and powerful arms. In her head, Steve inched closer and kissed her right on the lips as he let his finger slide in. May continued playing with her peaked nipples and imagined fantasy May reciprocating Steve’s kiss, hard. When he pulled back to start kissing his way down her body, May let another finger slide inside her, almost embarrassed at how wet she was.
“Well, you’re absolute soaking for me, aren’t you?”
May paused at that whisper in her ear, her second finger halfway in. What in the world? That was not something her fantasy Steve would ever say. He was a gentleman. And it certainly wasn’t his voice. No, this voice was rough, smug, laced with a large dose self-assuredness and a sense of superiority– Ugh. May groaned. She knew who the voice belonged to.
Tony Stark.
Tony. Fucking. Stark.
Playboy billionaire. Wunderkind. Heir to a grand fortune. The kid who had inherited his father's empire and broadened its to cover the whole world. The captive who had clawed his way out of an Afghan cave and become a globally recognized superhero. The inventor of the arc reactor that was currently powering nearly all of New York City with clean, renewable energy. The man who had once saved Peter’s life.
The Invincible Iron Man.
Fuck him, May thought, venomously.
The better part of the world loved Tony Stark. People were enamored by him and why wouldn’t they be? The man didn’t have the height advantage – not next to Captain America, Thor or the Hulk – but he was attractive, even at his age– Gods, how old was he now? Tony was also charming, intelligent, rich beyond human belief and a superhero. The world had its reasons to love Tony Stark, but not May Parker.
May Parker despised the man.
Because May Parker knew who the man really was. It didn’t matter that he was an international icon or that he was well known for his altruism as much as his superheroism. Recently, he had even funded some MIT students’ projects. When the Stark Expo 2010 had turned into a complete shitshow, he had swooped down from the sky to save Peter.
But Peter wouldn’t have needed saving if not for Tony Stark’s tendency to annoy and piss off everyone. The altruism – funding MIT projects and providing clean energy and all that? Just good PR to hide the man he was underneath.
Anthony Edward Stark began his career as a weapons-dealer, one who had once taken pride in being called the Merchant of Death. Sure, he was now a superhero, but it didn’t do much to change who he was underneath it all. He was still an attention-seeker, a wealthy man-child with too much money to spare and not enough thrills to pursue, no matter the cost.
More than anything, May Parker knew that Tony Stark was an arrogant, selfish and shallow man. She knew it because she knew him. Intimately, from a time long past. She didn’t want to dredge it up now, but it was a time she very much regretted.
It had taken a lot of effort for her to get over him, even though it wasn’t easy to avoid him. She had actually long since given up because she knew it was impossible.
It was bad enough before when he was just a really popular celebrity. But ever since the cave, he was everywhere. Iron Man this, Iron Man that. Then the Avengers became a thing and there was barely a day went by without him being mentioned in the news. Whenever the Avengers made an appearance on the news, he was almost always there. Sometimes, it was as Iron Man in his high-tech red-and-gold suit and sometimes it was as Tony Stark in his ridiculously expensive, well-tailored ones.
Fuck.
It was fair to say that Tony Stark infuriated her. Yet, for reasons she didn’t want to explore at the moment, just his whisper in her head had caused an immediate spike in the pleasure she was feeling. It sounded exactly like him, straight out of her repressed memories and she could feel herself grow slicker. She didn’t like it, having moved past Tony Stark, but her body didn’t have her principles.
Her mind, too, turned on her. It recalled heated nights from a lifetime ago. Tony’s hands gripping her waist, holding her body tightly against him, his eyes peering into her very self and his mouth repeating her name like a mantra– No. May gritted her teeth and tried to redirect her mind, but she didn’t succeed.
The bastard had sauntered into her fantasy and was now perfectly content with where he was, reclining next to her, expensive shirt half unbuttoned and a maddening smile on his face. May wanted to throw him out, pull Steve back in and return to her safe fantasy. But she couldn’t ignore the fact that she had two fingers pumping inside her and the other one playing with her clit. Her hands – damn the godforsaken things – had taken a life of their own while she had been working herself up mentally ranting about Tony Stark.
As annoying an asshole as he was, his unwelcome presence had done nothing to dampen her arousal.
Truth was, she had only grown wetter. She was dripping, imagining Tony Stark’s stupid face and him growling at her side. The Tony in her fantasy continued whispering dirty things to her and she had to bite her lips to avoid moaning out loud. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of having this effect on her, not even if he was just the product of May’s fucked up imagination.
Somewhere deep within her, May also felt pangs of guilt. Fleeting feelings of betraying Ben. Bitterness about Tony. She almost wanted to stop the whole thing, get up, get dressed and– And what?
I need this. She had been avoiding her own needs for far too long, built up too much stress. She knew it was probably what had gotten her to the historically low point she was in now: fantasizing about the one man she had actively worked to forget. May made up her mind. She was going to give in, see the fantasy through and actually have her release. Pausing for a moment to take off her damp panties, she took a deep breath and settled back into the bed.
Whatever guilt she had soon dissipated as her hands resumed their delightful distractions.
“That’s a good girl,” Tony whispered in her ear again. If he was smug earlier, he was outright cocksure now. He drawled, “That’s it. You know you want me. Not Mr. Boy Scout.”
May nodded eagerly. Too eagerly, and she hated herself for that. No, she wanted to say, I do not want you. But her hands hadn’t slowed down a bit and she was getting closer and closer to her long-deserved climax and she just couldn’t fight whatever part of her that was still attracted to Tony, so she went along with it.
“You’re close,” Tony observed, his voice low. “Perfect little Miss May Parker… Look at you, you’re putty in my hands. Just like I remember.”
Gods.
“I missed you.” Now his voice was softer and took on an almost reverent quality. “Missed having you underneath me, missed your body in my hands.”
Her nipples were hardened little pebbles and she was this close to her release. So close that she preemptively bit her mouth shut to avoid screaming in ecstasy as Tony continued his filth. “I missed hearing you scream my name. But you’re going to. Now. You’re going to scream my name because you know you’re my–”
The front bell rang.
Tony disappeared in a flash and her rocketing rise to the peak came to a jerking stop. May cursed out loud. Fuck. A quick glance at the digital clock on her bedside table told her it couldn’t be Peter, he wasn’t due for another thirty minutes at least and he had his own key, but then who?
Whoever it is can go fuck themselves, May thought as she clambered off the bed, grabbed a tissue to wipe her hands and put her panties on. They were ruined, yes, but wearing wet panties was the preferred option when the alternative was soiling her pants with her wetness.
The bell rang again.
She pulled on her pants and then her plain white t-shirt. Stopping at the mirror for a second to ensure she didn’t look too flustered, she made her way out of the room. The t-shirt rubbed against her painfully hard nipples and barely hid them, but she didn’t have time to hunt for a bra. Not with an impatient asshole at her front door, who had just rung the bell again. Her face was red and there was a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead that she wiped with the back of her hand. She was also acutely aware of being denied what would have been an explosive orgasm and was tense all over again – for entirely different reasons now – as she reached the front door.
Fuck a fucking fuck. Fuck.
After an unsuccessful attempt at calming herself down, she resigned herself to being uncomfortable. She gave herself another once-over and realigned her t-shirt before opening the door just as the bell started ringing for the fourth time.
“Sorry for the intrusion–” The man at the front door looked up from his phone as the door opened. May barely had time to register who he was before he took off his sunglasses and gaped at her. One second stretched into an awkward infinity as the man’s tired face took on an expression of visible shock. When he spoke again, he sounded like he didn’t believe what he was seeing. “May? May Reilly?”
May Parker was equally as surprised and just as disoriented.
Tony Stark was standing at her front door.