Odd idea MK. II
I always liked Anna Maria. She was one of the few things I enjoyed about Superior. Her and Peter seem to get along well enough in the latest volume, but once more, she never showed the requisite disgust or even shock for being lied to by a man who tried to murder the world.
Anyways, didn't plan the heavy-petting to go into lemon territory, so, yeah. That's what the rating is for.
Chapter 2: Anna Maria Marconi
My name is Peter Parker, and I used to be Spider-Man. I'm on a break now.
No, really.
After cleaning up Otto's mess, something that was remarkably easy with Doctor Strange and Miguel O'Hara's help, I went kind of overboard.
Normy! That ol' scamp not only changed his face, but he tried to get away from me. By running. When not one, but two Spider-Men, one considerably more amazing than the other, were after him. The dumbest idea in the history of dumb ideas.
Frankly, the Sorcerer Supreme being there was just overkill. That's the kind of overkill that I like.
Norman was a wild card that I had been dealt too much, and dealt with too much. He had escaped from prison too much, been let out too much, killed my sibling too much, orchestrated too much, had died and come back too much.
He was a cockroach, extremely hard to get rid of, and if he was capable of fooling the entire country when it was known exactly the type of things he had done, then I had not only had no choice, I had no faith in locking him up.
Norman deserved to die, but looking at him I didn't see the death of Ben Reilly or countless others. I was at peace, all the things considered, and Norman wasn't worth an iota of the effort it would have taken to start to feel offense, now.
I could have killed him, I really, really could have and Miguel and Strange wouldn't have lifted a finger to stop me. But Norman's frightening moments of lucidity, like when he looked up, realized I was me, or realizes that it's all not just some game anymore, have bad timing.
Or maybe he was just a sociopath that just knew how to get to me. This possibility surprises me even less.
But Norman, together with the Green Goblin, was too unpredictable to leave alone. Not again. So at my request, after curing him with the same serum we ended up using to revert Carlie Cooper back to her usual self, the good Doctor took that odd little psyche of Norman's and folded it into a neat little square.
Norman was effectively locked inside his own mind as a favor to me - let me tell you, having the Sorcerer Supreme at your back? Spectacular.
I hoped it would stick more than the previous punishments, but at the very least your run of the mill psychic wouldn't be able to get him out, so Strange assured me.
I trusted Strange implicitly, all things considered. He'd gone above and beyond for me, quite literally, and had consistently proven his desire to earn my trust back. To me, he had done so when he tossed Otto to whatever spiritual judgment he had in store, when he had chosen to save me from standing outside of heaven and being forced to wait for death so I could see my family, when he brought me back from the end of all things.
Strange was in my corner and he was batting one thousand, and I was a captive audience with a smile on my face. He was the Sorcerer Supreme for a reason, and it was my hope that, if nothing else, the use of magic would buffer any attempts of say, an evil version of a reanimated Charles Xavier from unlocking Norman's mind at some point in the future.
Thoughts of rogue, mercenary psychics aside, folding Normy's little mind was more humane than killing… but at the same time it was exactly what he deserved. Now Norman Osborn's mind was empty save for a tiny little box where his twisted self was now located. He was living in his own little world, little more than a vegetable, and to top it all off, no one knew it was Norman Osborn.
People may have had their suspicions, but Banks, Mason, had been admitted into the hospital later that day without anyone to claim him. Menace and the Hobgoblin, Phil Urich, escaped, but I wasn't worried. Menace was obsessed with Osborn, his little right hand twist, and Phil was a mercenary. The one would be helpless without Osborn ordering her around, and Phil would pop up eventually, gone to the highest bidder. When he did, I'd be there.
Next came the problem of explaining everything to the Avengers. I didn't bother.
Late as usual, they came up once everything calmed down. I wasn't there to greet them. I would explain what happened eventually, but not about myself – I didn't needto explain myself to them when I was the one that deserved an explanation.
Specifically, how none of them took notice of the fact that someone had body snatched me, but Norman did. I wasn't going to forget that delightful little tidbit any time soon, no matter how 'heartwarming' it may be.
Unfortunately and unsurprisingly, that wasn't all there was to the fallout. The city not only saw Spider-Man as the man that went off the deep end and held it hostage and fought the Avengers like your stereotypical supervillain, it also saw him as the man who willfully ignored their cries for help as Osborn's gang terrorized the city and essentially abandoned them when this happened. Then, there he was wiping the streets with the Goblins, but the damage had already been done. Repeatedly.
Jameson had a field day. His new spider-slayers roamed the streets; their official designation was to help law enforcement deal with the Goblin gang and help with repairs, but their purpose was obvious. He still called them 'Spider-Slayers' and his name was J. Jonah Jameson. The guy whose coffee mug said "I Hate Spider-Man."
It's safe to say that he had a field week, all the way until I left the city. Even after I left Earth, I think he was still complaining. I did end up giving him a lot to complain about.
Luckily I wasn't entirely alone. Miguel O'Hara was in my corner; I had known the Spider-Man of 2099 for a while, and pretty well too. For him, it'd been in the space of two years getting to know a man near a century his senior, for me it had been around five. He's not the biggest talker.
Evidently, in the time we'd known each other, he knew me better than heroes and friends I've known for twice as long. Miguel and I had been through a bunch of scraps together, from being tossed around the universe and meeting alternate universe versions of me, to fighting a slightly evil, but mostly deluded older me from 2099, but still.
Miguel had definitely jumped feet first into the weird life and title of Spider-Man. He had seen enough, trusted in me enough, to fully accept my story. As a matter of fact, he worried if my luck was contagious.
"Is your luck a Spider-Man thing, or just you? Shock, I hope we're not related. If it's hereditary, then…"
I thought of Ben and Kaine and couldn't come up with a good answer. "…I think it's a bit of both." I had replied.
"No offense, but I really hope we're not related."
"None taken. For your sake, I hope so too."
I confided in Miguel. When I told him I was actually dead, and in heaven and everything, he was shocked.
And if shock is the futuristic equivalent of fuck then it is still applicable, because that was his expression. It drove home the point that for a year someone was wearing my skin and living my life, and aside from a veritable handful of people, no one had noticed.
Miguel was one of those who had, and I was relieved to give him his due credit. He had noticed right from the second he ended up in my time that something was wrong. The first meeting he'd had with the 'Superior Spider-Man'. Miguel was apparently far more familiar with the contemporary genuine article and how an imposter does than my fellow teammates… and he wasn't even a part of my fanclub, I don't think.
But the Superior Spider-Man avoided him like the plague, and he wasn't close to Peter Parker, and it was only through a handful of encounters that his suspicion had reached the tipping point, leading into a confrontation that ended up with the both of them captured by Jameson's spider-slayers before Otto left him high and dry.
Under the circumstances, noticing the discrepancies was impressive. Miguel and I totally became Spider-Brothers at that point. He hates that name.
This all occurred as a conversation told as conversations are told best. Beating the snot out of and breaking something – in this case it was very expensive robots. I had become the Spider-Delinquent, apparently.
It wasn't an entirely bad conversation though. Miguel was extremely relieved to know that heaven existed, and I was touched that he trusted my word that much. It was something to shoot for, and I agreed wholeheartedly.
Elsewhere, I had the city against me again, so… that was nothing new. I was still me, and I was back and eager to reclaim my life with all of the relief and closure being literally dead had brought me. That was kind of difficult to do when Otto had erected Parker Industries.
It was a company that made me roll my eyes at the arrogance of the name. Leave it to Otto to impress his ego upon everyone else, even if it was technically in my name, and in his death as well as mine. I was saddled with not only Otto's mess now, but his responsibilities too.
I didn't know what to do. Despite the knowledge of my future CEO-of-Alchemax-self taunting me that I did, in fact, know how to run a company, did have that ability, I didn't think I had the capability. But, I was never anything if I wasn't stubborn and unable to back down.
But that wasn't the end of my inner troubles. If I wasn't angry at anyone else then I was absolutely disbelieving at everyone. From May, who was now back to deriding Spider-Man at every turn as if he had never done anything good, to what I felt was worse: not seeing the obvious change in Peter Parker. The woman who raised me was able to tell when I was being imitated by the Chameleon, for Christ's sake, and I've been putting up with her opinion of Spider-Man since I was fifteen.
MJ got tired of the life I lived and simply left, after everything else, when I needed a shoulder to lean on the most. Carlie Cooper walked out as well.
Once more, the heroes I fought alongside had noticed nothing, and now blamed me for it. Granted, it was due to ignorance, but my point still stands. Their only suspicions had been soothed by machine testing when they know several different ways of being mind-controlled, and have themselves been mind-controlled or possessed by Octavius himself!
Logan had suspected something, at least. Had the right idea siccing a telepath on Otto, too, and unsurprisingly, Otto smashing his face into the pavement helped those suspicions. Logan could smell that Otto was wrong, but Ock's instinct for self-preservation is as big as his ego. He avoided that too, and that was the end of it.
… Really?
I started to make a list: Who caught on to the fact that I was dead. Let's see… A woman a coma, for all the good it had done me. A man from the future. One of my worst enemies. And a Doctor who only found out for sure when he was literally knocking on a dead man's door and staring him in the face.
You cannot make this shit up.
Unsurprisingly, Jameson descended into a full on hunt for Spider-Man with his slayers, for all the good it did him. He claimed he had been blackmailed by Spider-Man, and before even taking into account the shady things JJJ had done in the past, I didn't care in the slightest.
I had an axe to grind myself and the Spider-Slayers were the perfect stress-toys. They were child's play for me, thank you very much, and the scrap metal they became after I was done with them, I appropriated.
I hadn't needed Miguel's help with them, but it was a good, Spider-Brother bonding experience. I was considering on getting us matching sweaters but didn't know if he preferred cassimere or unstable molecules.
I settled on a baseball cap. The guy didn't even know what the World Series was.
Miguel was my partner in crime through it all, and among our crowning achievements were gumming up the NYC skyline, and having it stay that way, for a week in gigantic, eloquent wording. For seven days the entire city could see, "Go fuck yourself JJJ/ Otto."
The next was leaving a scrap-metal effigy of what remained of the slayers in his office. It was crafted in the vague image of Spider-Man, complete with a Hitler-stache and a cigar, and hung from the ceiling.
I still have the picture of Jonah's face. I think he actually liked it, because he quieted down a bit after that. Or he had a stroke.
In my free time Miguel helped me manufacture a version of that anti-grav cloak of his that he used, allowing me more control over my freefalls – I wasn't much for the half cape look, but it gave me an excuse to get my faithful web-pits again.
By myself, I was trying to piece together what was left of my life. May's rants on Spider-Man became grating extremely quickly, and I distanced myself.
There was the Horizon labs staff who felt that Peter Parker had betrayed them. They could get in line.
The thought of speaking with MJ left me feeling cold. I thought of little Mayday, could only imagine what our daughter would think she saw her just leaving like that, but took heart that at least I had her and Leah, and my entire family.
But I didn't even have that anymore. I was alive again, and I went home to an apartment I had never seen, never slept in, never known, to find myself alone. It was… sobering.
Making my way through the emotions that came up from this was new. Admitting I deserved to feel let down for once. Anger, indignance, and disappointment. In my experience, indignance and bitter sarcasm makes for excellent company. I'd been through worse, but that knowledge didn't help at all.
But I would see my family again, could still see them, and that was more than enough for me. That helped, and because of it, because of them, my happiness returned when it mattered most. I slept better than I had in years.
Finally, there was poor Anna Maria Marconi, Otto's girlfriend. She was a darling woman, beautiful, for her size, considering, and as sharp as a tack. She was caught up in one man's lies and another's misfortune, and since saving her from the Green Goblin I had yet to speak with her.
Otto's mind had been transferred back into his own corpse and mine back into my body – it was very fortunate that Osborn had stolen Octavius's corpse, but I know Strange would have been able to pour some magical mumbo jumbo to get me back into sorts.
As it was, I did not know Anna. I had seen glimpses of her relationship with Otto, but none of the grueling particulars. All I knew was that she was one of Otto's last thoughts, and I was forced to begrudgingly admit that for all of his faults, the man did have a heart… somewhere.
He cared for her and, knowing she was in danger, he thought desperately for her. All while searching frantically for some fragment of Peter Parker to shove his duties off onto and do his job so he could save Anna. What a guy.
Making it all the more difficult was that she showed a care for Peter Parker that I hadn't expected, but sorely envied and desperately needed when no one else in Parker's life seemed to possess.
So I had avoided her. With my mind back where it belonged, Otto's memories were just gone. The last living memory I had was my death in his body, with him standing over me; so, the shock of coming back to life and finding out that everything has changed, your friends either walked out on you or didn't notice you had been body snatched was compounded to the fact that I now had an unknown in my life – a woman who apparently so cared for Peter Parker that she'd been driven to tears at the thought of him being in danger, but who was unknown to Peter Parker.
The shock was substantial, and to say I was apprehensive was putting it lightly. Multiply that by one-hundred.
I would still have to eventually face the Avengers, the superhero community at large. I was being childish, I knew that, but I had reason for it. My reputation being put into question by others was widely known and probably unsurprising, but I was also Spider-Man, and my reputation for making it through difficult times wasn't simply because of propriety.
I would deal with all of that. Just not then. I needed a break.
But Anna Maria didn't deserve to be strung along. She was a woman caught between one man's lies and another's misfortune, and none of this was her fault.
I had learned, and if nothing else, I had a responsibility to myself not to let this get big enough to blow up in my face.
With great power… I had power over my life, but that also meant I had responsibility for it too. Great responsibility… to myself. To handle my own affairs so that not only would those near me would not suffer, but so that I would not either.
Mary Jane, at least, wouldn't have to worry about that anymore. She had made a good argument. I wished her the best.
It was on a day that the streets had been cleaner than they had in months, Otto's Big Brother program aside. Miguel was adjusting to being in the past at my suggestion, becoming more familiar with the city, and as such, I decided it was time to prioritize my goals.
He took patrol for me and I, for once, was catching up on a much needed break. I waited until four in the afternoon to bite the bullet, one of several, and called Anna Maria over to my apartment.
It… didn't exactly go how I expected it to. But who says that's a bad thing?
Anna Maria Marconi was a brilliant woman. Since I've fought long and hard to obtain the good habit of giving myself credit where it's due, I won't say she's smarter than I am, but in her chosen field, she is brilliant. As it was, we were in different fields. My passions may have lay with a wide array of sciences but the chief of them was biochemistry. I had long ago suspected it was Otto's passions for his chosen fields that attracted her, but was proven wrong.
Anna Maria, while attracted to intelligence in general, was attracted to Peter Parker, and more specifically, his history. I take no shame in admitting Otto's intellect and behavior had kept her interested in a confused way, esoteric as it was to how Mr. Parker was said to behave and how he actually did; after all, it's not something I could exactly help.
She's also a hell of a damn cook, too, and loyal to a fault. She'll stay with you while building burns down if you refuse to move, and go out with a healthy dose of sarcasm. It's refreshing.
At the time I briefly wondered how a man like Otto had managed to attract her. Of course, he hadn't – Peter Parker had. Along with stealing my life, Otto had stolen my body, and all of the perks that came along with it, including my physique and my relationships, the latter of which he had systematically rendered null.
My confidence in myself had never been good. I was past humble, apathetic to my good points – the fruits of 'guilt-full' labor, a life blaming myself for Ben's death and everyone else's. Of 'taking great responsibility'. It took my own death, the latest in a string of them, and subsequent time with my family to put an end to that.
I'm… handsome. I still don't enjoy saying it, but in my history enough women have told me so numerous times, and looked at me like I was.
I take no pride in it.
Okay, yes, yes I do, as well as a not insignificant amount of comfort. After all, I was once the nerd from Queens with no friends. That I ended up being a late bloomer is a relief to me, but Otto Octavius couldn't say the same.
He was overly mothered, beaten by his father, and bullied. I wasn't ignorant to the similarities between us, but one or two things in common does not a parallel make. I pitied the boy that Otto had once been, but he had long ago exhausted any goodwill I had toward him.
Past that, for much of his life Otto had been overweight, and later on he had been egotistical to a fault. That he at the very least didn't pay attention to looks, probably because pickings were slim for him came as a surprise to me.
I refused to be shocked or humbled in this, though. The man killed me and stole my body. As Kaine would say, "Fuck him." It was needless to say that being Peter Parker for a year had opened new doors for him.
Anna arrived at my apartment extremely punctual and brushed past me with overt familiarity and had her arms full of groceries. She immediately went to the kitchen. While it took me a long time to get used to this new apartment, which was much nicer than my last, mind you, Anna was obviously familiar with it.
This was the apartment that Otto had rented, which I had yet to leave. It was not as difficult of a choice as I had first thought. I had wanted nothing else but to be rid of everything he brought into my life. Unfortunately, that also included Anna, but not because I had any negative feeling toward her. That she cared so much for 'Peter Parker' already put her in good standing with Peter Parker.
A meaningful discussion with Strange and Miguel changed my mind and I realize I was being stupid and stubborn. I'm sure any of my other friends would have said the same, but as I've mentioned before, I didn't make a habit of listening to people when it came to myself.
I could imagine Johnny Storm saying, "…You're telling me you got a fancy apartment that you didn't have to pay for… and you want to get rid of it?" He would narrow his eyes and spit fire at me. "…Are you brain damaged?"
Logan, however, would glare at me patiently. Patience and Logan is an oxymoron, though, so just imagine him pausing mid swig. "…" He'd shake his head and return to his bottle. "Kid, get the fuck outta here."
The point is that if Otto could use my life to his own ends, then I could do the same. I would, and with extreme prejudice. Turnabout is fair play after all.
The suit he had made, for example, was admittedly brilliant, in a utilitarian way, so I did not scrap that. I didn't care for the color scheme at all though, and after implementing some 'minor' shape-shifting capabilities, similar to my stealth suit I had made at Horizon Labs, the suit could now change into any of the suits I'd worn in the past, but the default one was chosen with one man in mind: Ben Reilly. As far as I was concerned, if there was any 'Superior Spider-Man' at all out there, it had been the man I'm proud to call my brother, blonde though his hair may be. We're not all perfect.
This was all done, of course, with the labs provided by 'Peter Parker' and materials from Parker Industries. In addition, I had grown really tired of just using the basic red and blues, cloth only. Totally not because Ben had chased me out of our home with a couch on one hand and a chair in the other for doing exactly that.
Otto had made some additions but it was still loathingly light on defensive capabilities. Using schematics from my second Spider-Armor, it hadn't been hard to add protection against high caliber firearms at all and I was banging my head against the wall for not doing it sooner.
I was able to think of all this as Anna made dinner, breakfast, and lunch at once because she just looked, and felt, familiar. My mind wasn't used to seeing her work but my body was, and that was confusing. My body was used to the cues that Otto had likely developed, habits he probably didn't realize he had gained, and watching Anna flit from the sink to the stove, or stir a pot or chop vegetables was just as hypnotizing as simply watching her body move.
Otto had definitely cared for Anna Maria, and now my body was telling my mind that it also did by subconsciously biting my lip or impatiently tapping the table in a staccato rhythm I had never heard while I watched her move in, frankly, unfairly tight fitting yoga pants.
She had made a feast and in the last few days I hadn't eaten much. I must have looked like a husk, because I certainly felt like it. But Anna worked efficiently, unobtrusively, and I just couldn't find fault with her presence. It was too familiar, too gentle, and full of concern. Every once in a while she'd look at me and stare, and I knew she could tell something was wrong. Of course, it may have been because whenever she caught me staring, my eyes had been on her ass, but that's neither here nor there.
A lot of things were wrong. Looking back on it, the fact that my balls were bluer than the ocean proper probably had something to do with my staring. I was naïve then, and didn't attribute my problems to the lack of sex in my life. Kaine would say, "Peter, what the fuck."
But I wasn't the only one at fault. Her yoga pants were just unfair, and I ate in silence, still trying to figure out how I was going to break it to her that I wasn't the Peter Parker she knew, which I guess isn't something Otto did. He likely talked and talked about how brilliant his ideas were.
I don't care how much truth there is to that, even Doom doesn't do that. Of course, he won't hesitate to put himself above all others, but he stows it unless prompted, which is why he's my favorite megalomaniac next to Magneto, who at the very least is courteous.
My behavior was the first red flag. I could feel Anna's eyes watching me harder. The second flag was my clothes. While Otto had a closet full of formal suits and dress shirts - it seemed like he never dressed casual – I limited myself, unthinkingly, to a t-shirt and boxers. The suits were nice, and once again I had decided not to sell what technically belong to me and not me at the same time, but they just weren't… me.
For the first time Anna noticed that I was wearing nothing but a t-shirt and boxers, and my hair was a mess. Which exactly why she was staring at me. Leering might be a better word. Hindsight sense: twenty for twenty.
I've been Spider-Man since I was fifteen, and that's plenty of time to build up plenty of muscle. I was a far cry from the scrawny kid who got bit by a spider and gained super strength, now, and always wore long sleeved clothing for that reason. I could never showed off my body, though I hadn't the confidence or desire to do so.
There would have been far too much attention if people saw that Peter Parker, demure, nerdy kid, had exactly the same physique as Spider-Man in his skin-tight costume and was cut like a gymnast or a professional fighter. Two things I could have claimed to be, except that I didn't exactly get paid for being Spider-Man. Ever. So, 'professional' vigilante wasn't something I could put on my resume.
Anna watched me like a predator. She drooled a little, and like someone who had their brain jumpstarted, her eyes glared at me with a hunger now.
Otto had his priorities on his work, obviously, because it looked as if Anna had never seen me, which was true, or him, thankfully, naked, or near naked. The latter would have made her claw her eyes out, I'm sure.
"Whoa, Slick," She said, licking her lips. She swallowed thickly. "You're… nice."
I paused. She had made a pretty delicious chicken soup, and French toast and a sandwich, all of which I had turned into a horrid gestalt and began eating them whole- After thanking her gratefully, of course. The Parkers didn't raise a barbarian.
I snorted, dunked the half toast half sandwich abomination into the soup, currently far more concerned with my body's cries for more of her food than being watched like a piece of meat.
Any shame I might have had for my body in the past was long gone, even at that point in my life. Running around in a skintight suit does that, but I had nothing to be embarrassed about concerning my body. My hangups laid with my deeds, which, after literally coming back from the dead, I realized weren't that bad.
My romantic life? Different story. I can accurately tell you that in the previous year of my life, I didn't have much sex. Carlie Cooper, the darling gal, was as shy in the bedroom as a wallflower. She mewled and cooed, but was delicate.
If the way my body was reacting to Anna Maria's generous proportions, Otto hadn't taken my body for a spin either, thank God. So this left me, mentally, one year sex starved, and physically, two. I didn't want to know what Otto did to my body himself. The thought repulsed me, but not enough to stave off my appetite. I could only hope the thought of doing that made him one-hundred times more ill too.
It would explain why I was feeling so pent up. 'All work, no girlfriend' wasn't the best recipe for easy nights. I had, sadly, gotten used to it.
Mouth full of an aberration of food, I blinked innocuously at Anna. Her eyes were half lidded, but I took it as surprise at my body at the time, and only that. I wasn't really smart around women.
"I… I've been hitting the gym, I guess." I said, mouth full, knowing it wasn't believable in the slightest, or if she could even understand me.
But she did, and apparently was used to the sight of Peter Parker inhaling her meals and talking with his mouth full. Or she was just that smart. Anna smiled at me, and then her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, but spider-reflexes and instincts honed from years of razor sharp decision making made it too easy to see. She didn't believe me, and raised her eyebrow slightly. It was a simple, calculating gesture, but she had very cherubic features which made it just look innocent, if not cute.
"Gym, huh? Is that why you've been avoiding me and not answering my calls?" She asked casually, but there was an accusing tone to her voice, and it was one that I knew well.
Debra Whitman, Felicia Hardy, Mary-Jane Watson… More. My own Aunt, but not in the same context. Obviously, and unfortunately for Otto.
I was familiar with Anna's tone, tiringly so. I could see how this conversation was going and from the look on her face, Anna saw it too. I had a secret. One that I wasn't telling her, and that expression nine times out of ten preceded hurt, a package deal for whosoever dared care for the amazing food-inhaling-man.
Anna's expression softened, and I could see clear in her eyes that she did care for Peter Parker. Unfortunately, that didn't help me in the slightest and made the delicious meals that much harder to swallow. It made me feel nice at first, and then worse. I was Peter Parker, but I wasn't the man she knew.
It was with a guilty feeling that I realized it was how Ben and Kaine must have felt years before: imposters in their own body. We had all felt like we were imposters at some point.
Huh, must run in the family, was a bemusing thought.
Anna grabbed my hand and tried to smile, but was caught half between that half lidded look and a look of concern. As it was, she bit her lip, which did nothing to help me. "Slick, what's wrong?" She asked. "You know, when a gal comes over and cooks a full course meal for her boyfriend, and he's just about naked, the guy is usually pretty excited and upfront at that point."
She rolled her shoulders and exhaled. "Forthright, grateful, horny. Go ahead, take your pick."
-Boyfriend. I hadn't heard that in a while. Jean and Silver made it a point call me… alright, to be honest, it was more of a guttural moan than anything, but Parker and Spider were common variants.
I smirked humorlessly at her. "Speaking from experience?"
She scoffed. "No, unfortunately. The only action a girl like me gets comes from fetishists." I kicked myself for the comment. "I have standards," she said proudly, "and my boyfriend, though really fucking hot," her eyes started to roam me once again, "is a damn prude."
She scowled cutely at me, showing that any hard feelings of her height was long gone and buried by eye rolling experiences. I could honestly relate, though obviously on different matters. Her eyes glazed a bit and she swallowed. "But lordy, does he have a nice body. Obviously nothing to be worried about… which makes me wonder why he's waited so long."
I blinked, because it was about at that time that I realized why she was looking at me. Anna Maria, extremely intelligent woman and girlfriend of Otto Octavius, was horny.
Not just. She was panting. Leave it to – notParker luck, my entire family told me to stopcalling it that – leave it to some weird twist that I just so happened to be a man of morals, who had just regained his body only to find a woman who so wanted to have sex with me unable to do so because that was the fucked up equivalent of misrepresentation.
I grit my teeth, my thoughts summed up into one appropriate, age old word. Fuck. And I wouldn't be able to do that much.
Two years…
Anna backed up a bit, frowning worriedly. "Oh God…" She gripped my hand tightly. "Please don't be gay."
The food went down the wrong way and I choked a little. The misfortune was working overtime, apparently.
It could have been worse. She could have assumed I was and tried to set me up with someone. I was feeling pretty bemused at that point, if not downright jaded, and quickly recovered. "I'm not gay, honest." I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. "I have a list of women you can call if you don't believe me."
She blinked once, twice, and grinned predatorily. "Ooh, references," she grinned, rubbing her hands. "I'd tell you not to show off, but I get the feeling I'd… really like that if you did it more."
I hissed a bit, though not out of displeasure. She was flirting, and I hadn't gotten much experience with that in my life. That is, being flirted with. As Spider-Man, in my younger days (which made me feel exceptionally old seeing as I was only twenty-six), teenage bravado had me flirting a lot, but blow after blow from life had changed me into a different version of myself – I mellowed out in the worst way.
I still wasn't used to women flirting with me. Felicia was one thing – that I was used to, like a callous. This was new, and honestly, it felt good. Good enough to choke on my food, just a little.
Anna chuckled softly as I finished the bowl of soup and moved on to the second. My superhuman metabolism was coming back to bite me and my body in the ass but she didn't mind, watching me intently as I gratefully consumed the meal she made.
Meanwhile, I was stuck between my mind, which was full of morals: Don't sleep with the woman who doesn't know you and is someone else's girlfriend.
My libido, which sounded suspiciously like Ben Reilly, Kaine, and thus, me: Sleep with the woman who wants to jump your bones you jack ass, she's your girlfriend… technically.
And my stomach, which I had thought only wanted to eat: Have sex.
Okay, so its hunger had interests in things besides food.
Sex.
My mind was outmatched, but I was Spider-Man. I was used to this. It wasn't a democracy. I called the shots here.
But it was quickly devolving into a give me sex-acy. The ruling party, my mind, was failing to please its subjects and between my mind, my stomach, my libido, and myself, that was three quarters of a whole that felt wholly unsatisfied.
"You're certainly not sick," she said, inspecting me with a languid, bedroom eyed gaze. "I've never seen you put so much away. You're eating like a man on death row." She licked her lips, slowly, and I watched her nibble one. God in heaven. "It's actually kind of… I mean I knew you liked my cooking, but damn."
I needed to change the topic, quick, and take a hard right into a situation that made sex impossible. My libido rebelled at the thought, but I was in control, I called the shots, and I wasn't about to do to Anna Maria what Otto had tried to do with MJ.
I took a deep breath. Here we go, Parker. Time for the Hail Mary. Mom, help me out here, would you? I asked.
For what good it did me. I had the sneaking suspicion my own mother did not have my goals in mind. Or my grandfather, for that matter. It was brief, but I could see her with a big foam finger and a little flag that said, 'Have fun!'
…Thanks, mom.
"It's common knowledge that I make things for Spider-Man, right?" I asked a little quickly, setting down the bowl.
"To anyone who bothers to look up from their damn phone nowadays, and has an interest in that sort of thing. Which isn't many," Anna replied blithely, rolling her eyes. "Is that what this is about? Are you… in danger? That why you've been… hitting the gym?"
I could see the gears turning in her head. It was obvious. Either I had had this body for a long, long time and she didn't know, or I had somehow developed a chemical that increased the amount of muscle built from exercising, and had done so in the short time she hadn't seen Peter Parker.
Because I was in danger of Spider-Man. Oy vey.
I scoffed, and this surprised her. "Personally," I said, "I haven't been in danger in a long, long time." I wanted to distract her from the latter option, which was more suspicious. She was already worried, I didn't need to make her more worried. "I can handle myself."
She licked her lips again, and leaned out of her chair. She was small, of course, just south of five feet, but her body was… Plump. Curvy in all the right places and… focus, Parker. Pay no attention to the gloriously bottom heavy woman all butt climbing on the table to your lap.
But, I meant but!
Anna Maria was indeed climbing over the table, her rear sticking up in the air. The type of behind that makes your mind wander. Put simply, it was a nice ass, my eyes were glued, and she noticed and grinned deviously. "I like that attitude."
My control was running thin. "Just… how much do you know about Peter Parker?"
She made a face at that, her nose scrunching up in confusion at my question, and eyes flicking in rapid calculation that showed only a fraction of her intellect. "I know you absolutely shattered the NYC scholastic average when you were in high-school. You were brilliant. Like a young Richards or Stark," she beamed, and to my dismay it didn't seem to curtail her appetite, but simply exacerbated her appetite.
Luckily that faded, and her expression softened. "And then… after Ben Parker was-"
(Un)Fortunately for me, thoughts of Ben's death no longer filled me with immeasurable guilt and sadness. I felt happiness, which was nice, good, great, except that I'd been counting on the guilt to kick my libido in the balls. There was no guilt, and my plan fell through.
"Killed. It's alright, not like he'll drop dead now or anything," I said, smiling.
It proved to be a bit of a distraction anyway. My family was fine. They were proud. I was grateful, and relieved. Free.
But most importantly, I was still horny. "It's been a decade, I'm better," I said, and discreetly adjusted myself.
"Right," she said, looking dubiously at me. "Then you became…a teacher for a while, right?" The look in her eye said that wasn't a bad thing. Anna Maria in a schoolgirl outfit tormented my thoughts. All the things you can do with a ruler… "At your old school."
I had her complete, astute, attention, and needless to say, her leaning out of her chair all but breast-down on the table, absently shaking her plump butt up in the air and… well, she had mine, and certainly not negatively either.
"Substitute teacher," I corrected weakly, shifting again. As I was, if I deigned to stand, the cat would be out of the bag, so to speak. "I couldn't keep the necessary hours and didn't have my degree for a while. I was a photographer before that."
Her eyes widened. "For the Daily Bugle, right! I remember now! You were the… only one to… ever get pictures of…" She trailed off, and her eyes glazed over again in thought.
That was good. Anna is a smart girl, and I'm a smart man. I knew she was connecting the dots, and the sooner she did the sooner she'd stop being so damn enticing. My spider-sense chimed slightly, as in affirmation, but I ignored it. It wasn't the ring of danger, which was odd, but I'd think on it later; though I wondered when I even took notice of danger having a specific ring.
The important thing was to get into a discussion about my being Spider-Man, which I wholeheartedly felt I could trust her with based upon the amount of care she had shown for Peter Parker. I only hoped she didn't look very attractive when she was angry, but as a side note, she does. She stomps her foot a lot and pouts.
Her mouth opened and shut and opened again. "But I saw you!" she blurted, eyes wide. "When the city had been turned into spider people, I saw you there, next to- and-"
"It's a long story," I waved, smiling tightly. Not the only thing that was tight. I needed bigger boxers and was kicking myself for not wearing something baggier, but hadn't expected Anna to be… well, Anna. I'd seen her a handful of times before, and not like this. Those office clothes hid so much. Unfortunately. "What do you know about Miles Warren?" I asked blithely.
She blinked. Her eyes widened just a tad, before she got a cute, scrunched up expression. "Oh. Oh damn." She said, crossing her arms and lifting a hand up like a student in a classroom. "A clone?"
"Several," I said with a fond smile. "We're on good terms. Or… were."
"Were?"
"A good bunch of them died."
That took the piss out of the situation, but not in the way I had hoped. It was decidedly more somber, now, and I felt genuine guilt about that. As it was, my clones had been just as much Peter Parker as I was. Except…
"Don't worry, it's… complicated," I said, "Not many of them were… matured enough to have 'functioning' brains. Thoughts, personalities, memories. Many were shells." Brainwashed shells, I thought inwardly. "Many weren't."
She processed this and ventured, "Genetic memory? Like Lamarckism or-"
"Actual genetic memory, straight from yours truly." I huffed. "Yeah, I can still scarcely believe it. And of the ones that weren't brainwashed from the getgo, one was evil and one was insane, so."
"…Is that why you've been a bit of a dick the last few months?" She tried, giving me an apprehensive look.
I raised my eyebrow. Anna was smarter than I thought and had already begun to connect the crumb-trail from what I had said so far. She wasn't on point, but she was so close. Connecting an old rogue of mine to odd behavior concerning a Peter Parker? I would have clapped if the situation called for it, because she was almost at the bullseye.
"I mean, you've been kind of different. Really different. A real grade-A shmuck, actually," she explained, giving me an apologetic look. There was nothing to apologize for as far as I was concerned, and motioned for her to continue. I was the interested one, now.
"I know it isn't unusual for your 'type' to get brainwashed or whatever, and what you said about clones-" She sighed, and thankfully got her ass out of the air and back in the chair. I watched it go a little forlornly, and if she noticed my eyes following she didn't show it. It was a lucky fucking chair.
"Honestly, I'm just glad Spider-Man's back to normal." She said conversationally, as if that was all we had been talking about. "I preferred Spidey before that final bout with… Octavius. I'm a bit of a fan," She shrugged, getting out the name 'Octavius' like it was a pile of bug guts on her tongue. Or squid. "That man was a tyrant. Got what he deserved, as far as I'm concerned."
Once again I realized exactly what Otto had done. He hadn't only stolen my life, killed me, and burnt my bridges, but he had lied to so many.
I'm not innocent of that of course, but he was even less so. He betrayed Anna's trust, misled her. She thought he was Peter Parker, thought Parker was her boyfriend, and from the tone of her voice she loathed Otto Octavius. Never in his wildest dreams would she have accepted him after what he'd done. If she ever knew…
Could I tell her? Did she deserve that? Yes, she did. She deserved the truth.
Great power, great responsibility. Not just concerning my abilities, or Spider-Man, but to everything. The greatest power anyone has is their own thoughts, what and how they think, and the choices they choose to make. I was not Otto. I was not the type of person to steal someone else's life. I wasn't a liar.
Well, I was, I had to be, but you get my point. I was Peter Parker, and I had responsibilities to myself for the first time in too long, and chief of that was not allowing someone else to suffer because of my indecision.
Considering I had already insinuated I was Spider-Man, this would be easy. She took that well. I could tell her, right? Right.
It's really funny how when I got a concrete goal in mind, I was so much more keen of looking at her bend over in front of me and - Priorities, Parker.
"You're close, really close," I corrected, quickly pushing my raging libido down, both physically and figuratively. Anna tilted her head in confusion.
"I've been… you know, since I was fifteen," I shrugged, ignoring her shocked expression. "I've kept it a secret from so many, and that was not a good decision. Nine times out of ten and a half. You don't deserve that, Anna. You don't deserve the strife it gets you. Believe me, ignorance isn't bliss. At the very least you can decide whether you want to hightail it outta town, now." I thought of MJ and forcibly stopped thinking of her. "You deserve it, and you've earned the right to know."
She smiled a small smile, more out of concern for the fact that I was now summarily distracted from my hidden and diminishing arousal due to a moment of self-inflicted seriousness, than actually finding the situation funny. I had trailed off and was frowning. This was, of course, in part because of the fact that I really wanted to see her butt back in the air but didn't want to ask.
"And you figured, "If the choices I've made in the past were wrong, then the opposite must be…" she trailed expectantly, a hesitant smirk appearing as she tried to ease the tension.
It worked. A laugh bubbled up in my throat. That had not been my line of thinking, but it would save me a lot of trouble in the future. She looked at me teasingly. "Who do you think you are? Costanza?"
"No," I laughed, "It's just… You don't deserve to be kept in the dark, Anna. Not anymore. Not again. You're smart, too smart for that, and I'd much rather tell you myself than have you figure out by yourself." I paused. "That never ends up well."
"And you… want us to end up well?" She asked hesitantly, grabbing my hand. The significance of that was lost on me at the time.
I nodded resolutely. "Absolutely. You-"
And then she kissed me.
It had been a long week. Clearing the city, even with Miguel's help, wasn't an effortless task. Relieving and everything, but not easy. It would have gone easier if I had gotten over myself and spoke to my fellow Avengers, but I regressed into my lone wolf tendencies and was content to stay like that, if only for the moment.
Sleepless nights and building frustrations. I had come back a new man. I was Peter Parker again, and I got to spend what felt like wonderful years with family and friends I thought I would never see again. Guilt had faded away like smoke, and to add commendation to accomplishment, I had gone to heaven; cross that off the bucket list.
But coming back to life had its own share of troubles. From Spider-Man's resumed reputation as the worst thing to happen to New York, thanks to Jameson, to the lack of any meaningful support in my social life, Parker-wise.
To be honest, I needed both, because it was something I hadn't had in a while. MJ cornered the market on that, she was there for me. Now she wasn't, after everything, and Carlie? She hadn't even tried.
Needless to say I was distressingly close to demolishing another building to relieve my stress. Where was Rhino when you needed him? I wanted to channel my inner Kaine and just beat something senseless. Again. Gobby had helped, and recalling what happened to Otto soothed that somewhat. That didn't change the fact that I had come back to life in a body that had a year and a half long dryspell, and was extremely ready for action.
Years later, after I had assumed my role as the CEO, I'd get my own song. 'Action is his reward'; you've probably heard it.
Yeah. Action is right.
Anna's tongue wrestled with mine. She had made it out of her chair and into my lap in less than a second, I think, but my mind was on other things. Her tongue was everywhere in my mouth, on my neck, licking me, tasting me, peppering me with long, sweet kisses and desperate sucks that would leave hickeys for the rest of the night. She writhed in my lap, groaned, needy, and for the first time I realized that this was a woman who had waited until her boyfriend was ready, and she couldn't, she wouldn't, wait anymore.
She leered at me like Peter Parker was the best man she had ever seen, and it felt good. I felt like any man should feel, done what any sane man would have done. I kissed her back. Hard. My libido shouted triumphantly, thumping against the table with an impact that would have hurt if not for my superhuman durability, and I ground her against me like my life depended on it as it popped from underneath the table and made a resounding smack right into her soft, cushiony cheeks, my hands roaming, fingers groping, and our tongues twisting like dancers. I could taste her saliva and feel her breath, so steamy, and that look in her eyes…
It was seconds later where she pulled away panting, but I was ready for more. I wanted more. She had waited? So had I.
Just- I couldn't, though. She didn't know me, not really, and crossing that line and sleeping with her under these pretenses made me no better than Otto, no matter how much we both wanted it. It made me worse, if only in a single regard. Even Otto hadn't crossed that line yet, though because of morals or genuine inability, I do not know. For my sake, I hope the fuck was never able to get a hard-on in my body.
God, that sounded so wrong.
Now, the bad thing about being able to crush a titanium pipe like paper is that it extends to the rest of your body. I can leap several stories, juggle cars like nothing, and knock someone out with a tap of my baby finger, if not turn their skull to mush, just to name a few things. It goes everywhere. My legs, my arms, the force reflected when someone of lesser strength hits me. My pelvis. Sex. Super strength forced me to be tiringly, frustratingly gentle, because I was aware of just how much damage I could do.
However, I've been at this since I was fifteen, and developed almost unsurpassed muscle control that had no doubt increased my strength past those who didn't show restraint, and that made holding back too easy. Being so hard up didn't throw that out the window, however, my body had gained a mind of its own, and even when I stopped, Anna and I were still grinding against each other, rocking the table like a small earthquake as I squeezed and luxuriated in the pleasure of her cheeks beneath my fingers.
I had been waiting for so long? My body scoffed at that. It had been waiting longer.
Anna groaned into my neck, hot breath sending tingles up my spine and causing a pleasured lurch that had me thrusting helplessly against her pants, which she was now trying to get out of with one hand. I didn't hate those pants just as much as she did, they looked great on her, and they felt so good.
"Slick," I could feel everything, and she could too. Every single pulse of mine sent her jumping, giggling excitedly. She was hot, she was wet and not just her tongue on mine and… I could feel eyes on me.
I looked at the ceiling, suddenly worried, and inwardly flinched. Mary, mom, you can stop looking now. Thanks for the help, stop looking.
"How about… in appreciation for you showing so much… mmph, faith in me…" She took my tongue and sucked on it, and finally, somehow got her pants off.
My original goal returned with a vengeance and I was none too pleased. Sonova… butt statistics, I mean baseball statistics, nasty old ladies. Jameson in a dress, something, but none of it was working.
"How about we go to your room and I show you my appreciation?" I very much wanted to see that.
Anna reached behind her and one by one her fingers wrapped around me and squeezed. By this point my boxers were no obstacle and I had a full tent in my pants that peeked past her cheeks, all nice and comfortable nestled in the warm space allotted to it. My self-control was almost out the window.
You're Spider-Man! Act like it! I recited, again and again. You fought off mind controlling nanites! You've fought alien symbiotes! You managed to not wrangle JJJ's neck time and time again! A plump ass in your lap isn't enough to beat you.
It could wait, couldn't it? It could, but I couldn't, Anna couldn't. We didn't want to. My nostrils flared as she languidly went up and down, gasping. "Holy shit, Slick, where d'ya hide it all?"
The pleasure went to my head, making my knees weak. My hands were still roaming her body and I cursed my fucking luck, with emphasis on fucking. I grit my teeth and said absently, "I cup. Occupational hazard."
Anna let out a weak, distracted laugh. Three guesses why. She muttered something, "I'll bet…" and was content to take my entirety and aim it at her, and just drop up and down on it, as if she was constantly missing her mark. I could tell she wasn't. I could tell she was enjoying herself and God I was too. I could feel the hardest nub flicking against me and-
I looked into her eyes. "OttoOctaviusswappedmindswithmeandhadmedieinhisbodyandhasbeenlivingmylifeforayearnowandyouthinkI'mhimbutI'mmeandhepretendedtobemebutI'mbackandpleasestopbeforeIcan'tstopmyself."
Anna Maria is a smart girl, but I have a history of rendering her speechless. She blinked. "What."
All of my thoughts, save my raging libido, went out the door. She stopped, and sat down, and I entered heaven. Her eyes widened in shock, and the sole thought in my mind was, well…
Cue Joy to the World, Maestro.
"OH, #$% !"
Peter Parker's life has never been easy. Full of awkwardness and confrontation, and a healthy dose of melodrama in his college years. It's no surprise why being dead was a great relief to me. I had earned that. I had also earned another type of relief, the type that changed Ball Status: Blue to Ball Status: Fuckin' Ready. I was begging for that relief, and relief of another kind at that moment.
Anna twitched and fell limp on me, forcing me to pick up the slack. I couldn't fit all the way inside her, but I didn't care in the slightest and neither did she, as her tongue lolled out of her mouth and she drooled stupidly on my shirt. She was so tight, so wet, just my own piece of heaven and my fingers gripped her like a lifeline and I could feel electric pulses race from my body to hers and she started twitching and then….
Relief.
Sweet, blessed, relief. A year and a half of waiting relief. Her breath hitched, and I felt a rush of fluid hit me, utterly soaking me as she squeezed and writhed and moaned breathlessly, curling up on my chest, small hands making fists as she bit her lip to keep from crying out, and then pressed herself down on me as far as she would go. She couldn't hold back anymore and all I heard was "Holy fucking SHIT!"
Call it superhuman virility, which is a part of it, or a year and a half of nada, or just having a very attractive, very sexy woman writhing in my lap. Whatever it was, it couldn't all fit inside and I felt her belly balloon slightly before it came rushing out, past me where I stuffed her full. Her hand went to her stomach with a stupid, pleased, crinkled smile on her face and she looked at me with half squint in one eye and another wide open as the last of it went in, and sprays of it splattered the underside of the now ruined table, and she settled herself into a languid twist on me, shivering all the while.
"Fuck, Slick…"
My thoughts exactly. My head hit the back of the chair, and Anna was still there, wringing more out, and bouncing, and sticking her tongue down my throat with a hunger I hadn't felt in… ever. And it felt fucking good.
Kiss my ass, Otto.
A long time later, I could tell because it was now pitch black outside and New York had settled into its waking hours, and one ruined pair of panties and destroyed pair of boxers later, as well as an utterly desecrated table and ruined dinner, my apartment was a mess.
I'm putting that lightly. When I say 'mess', I mean the meals Anna had made were tossed off the table when it was used as an impromptu bed. I mean the sink needed to be bleached and scrubbed before I would ever have anyone eat off of dishes that came from it again. I mean the refrigerator was now dented and stained and the floors were slippery and the carpet was wet and the couch was tossed in pieces across the room.
I mean Anna and I went at it like animals so much, the next day I'd get noise complaints.
Anna didn't have a change of clothes, so after dumping our articles in the washer, she was forced to walk around in one of my t-shirts, which was oversized on her. I felt dirty and wrong for what I had done, and those two things never felt so good in my life until that moment. I wanted a cigar.
As I slipped into a new pair of boxers, Anna had weakly pawed at me not to, but couldn't stand up straight enough or keep standing to stop me. She gained enough strength to toss every shirt I got away and across the room, leaving my bedroom a mess, before I finally decided to not put one on.
It was night out, and she was in my lap again. I had enough self-control not to fall back into it, but from the way she was absent-mindedly entertaining that idea I knew she wouldn't have minded. The air, thick as it was from sex, was different.
Hesitantly, Anna took my arms and wrapped them around her, but her confidence from before was gone now. She could barely stand, but there was another, more worrying reason for it, and as she looked at me expectantly, I knew the good times had come to a close.
Nodding to myself, I sighed. Here we go, Parker.
"Otto Octavius, using one of his inventions, killed me and stole my life. Somehow, he managed to transfer his brain into my body and mine into his." I stopped, looking at her to see if she was peering forward, horrified, like I expected her to. I was surprised to see I had her undivided, if expressionless, attention. "Last year when Spider-man killed Doctor Octopus, it was me who died, not him."
Her body trembled a little, but I wasn't sure if that was because of how weak she felt or shock, horror, and disgust. "Then… all this time I've-"
"The man you knew as Peter Parker was actually Otto Octavius," I finished for her, trying to keep my tone gentle. Unsurprisingly, the thought of a woman finding you disgusting through something that isn't your fault in the least? A bit of annoying. I was curt, but she hadn't noticed. My hands went a little slack.
I briefly wondered if this would come in stages. First the shock, and then the nausea. Whether or not her certain encroaching disgust was at myself or Otto, I wasn't sure, but hoped it was the latter. It would have been a grievous blow to my emerging self-confidence otherwise.
Her hands lightly pawed at my arms, but made no move to pick them up. It was an absent gesture and I could see her mind wasn't in it. Instead, she looked at me, curious, and her eyes wide.
Her mouth parted slowly as she said, "You know, I've seen… you fight a lot of things over the years – when I said I was a bit of a fan, I meant it. I'm a big fan." I nodded along, and absently squeezed one of her cheeks. Big is right. She playfully swatted my hand away.
"Got a pair of custom made panties with your face on them, actually…" she trailed off, a weak laugh at the bottom of her throat."You… him," she scowled, "he saved me from being crushed by a bus full of people. It explains the first name basis."
She paused. "And you saved me from Skrulls, and giant spiders, a sentinel that crushed my old house... and from being blown sky high." She huffed. "Who's scoreboard do I put these under, Spider-Man, or not-Spider-Man?"
I could tell she was trying to ease the tension, and gently tighten my arms around her. She relaxed underneath then, lightly tapping one of the veins that went down my forearm, leaning her head against my chest. "Otto… did care about you," I said lamely, loathe as I was to admit it.
She scoffed, looking disgusted. "Obviously and thankfully. Enough to not leave me in the dark." she muttered. "That's what you meant, isn't it? 'You don't deserved to be lied to. Not again.'?" I nodded quietly. "At least now I know why he didn't… you've been so… distant."
"I couldn't do that to you Anna." I said honestly. "Otto… he might not have crossed that line, but he still did something awful, and I couldn't do that to you. I'm not the Peter Parker you-"
"Really, really enjoyed being with." She finished quietly. "And now kind of, maybe sort of care about. A lot." She stopped, and placed a little kiss on my cheek. I smiled.
But Anna's face was continued between anger and disbelief, with a healthy dose of disgust mixed in. She held on tighter and leaned back against me, working my tent between her cheeks before laying against me lazily. "Do you think he… didn't, you know, because he felt guilty?" She asked, looking downright disturbed at the possibility.
In my current state I couldn't help but give my opinion. Otto didn't deserve to be let off the hook, I thought indignantly, not after what he had done. "Anna, I'm here with a hard on in my new boxers-"
"Another hard-on," she murmured, grinding against me. I certainly appreciated that, but kept trying to speak.
In the words of Kaine, "Peter, what the fuck."
"Another hard-on in my new boxers-"
"A pretty big one too," she interrupted, whistling.
"Thank you. And I just came back from the dead and-"
"Is that normal for you hero types?"
I blinked. She had interrupted me so much my annoyance faded away, and for the first time I looked at her, and that mischievous expression on her face, her lolling her head from side to side, rolling on my chest looking up at me with that cute, fake innocent expression of hers. For the first time I realized she wasn't disturbed, she was helping, teasing me, and began slightly bouncing her in my lap.
I snickered a little. "You'd be surprised. This… instance, is new to me though."
She blinked rapidly. "You mean you've died before?"
I ticked off my fingers once, twice, thrice. "Yeah…" I said tiredly. "The second time was a bit of a technicality."
"I'm all ears," she said expectantly.
"Oh? I have a beautiful woman's fantastic ass on me and she wants to regale her with the tale of the time I transformed into a giant spider, died, and had my corpse give birth to myself," I mused, laughing as she froze and shook her head, still looking up at me. I kissed her on her forehead. "How wonderful."
"Nope, never mind. Nope the fuck outta that."
"Thought so. Can I continue?"
She smiled at me, leaning up to peck me on the chin. "Please. I like hearing you talk. You, you."
That was good, I thought inwardly. She didn't feel betrayed, or horrified, or look that at least, but I had a good feeling. Every few seconds though I'd see her eyes bug out a little and her mouth 'Octavius…' before she regained her mental faculties. Besides that, it was going better than expected, so far. And all because I kept thinking Happy Thoughts tm which was kind of hard not to do when I was being dry humped. And then just humped.
"I'm here getting another hard-on in my boxers-"
"A really big one, too," she interrupted again, grinning cheekily as she looked behind her to see said male anatomy wedged between her cheeks, only stopped by my boxers and pesky shirt.
"I'm not saying that."
"Then I will: "A really big fucking di-"
"Anyways," I glared pointedly at her before propping my chin atop her head, "I just came back to life and I've just had the best sex I've had in the past two, three fucking years." She looked up at me, and once more another person was surprised at my language. She was exceptionally more beautiful than Doctor Strange, though. "I am really not in the mood to discuss why the man who murdered me didn't have sex with you. Using my body no less."
She shrugged, and made a point to take my ready for round two libido between her cheeks and smack it around. Great gal. "That's fair."
I nodded. Two could play that game. Innocently enough, my hands went between her legs. Years of honed reflexes and refined movements made my fingers dance across her skin, and I was grateful for my creative use of stick-em powers.
"Very. You want an honest answer? I think Otto Octavius was a coward and wouldn't know how to have sex if it meant being regarded as the smartest man alive." I paused. "And I'd like to think he was unable to get it up in my body."
Anna blinked at me, all movements ceasing. "That sounds wrong."
I looked at her gratefully. So it wasn't just me. "I know, right?"
She started again, and her hand fished inside my boxers and pulled out her prize, which was extremely happy to be free. It slapped against her audibly, and she smacked her but a few times with it, before absconding underneath her shirt and showing it some place nice and soft. And wet. And hot. It was between her cheeks, and it felt damn good.
I rolled my fingers in a circle around her languidly, raising my eyebrow as she broke out into a fit of shivers and started to twitch. "…Fuck, Slick." She swallowed. I stopped, looked at my hand, and then her, and she yanked it back between her legs.
"But you would, right?" She asked, still twitching. "I'm glad you said that, or else I would have called you an idiot and wondered if you lost some braincells when you actually lost your mind. I mean, with that extensive list of yours," she bit her lip, giving me a long side glance, "You must have a lot of experience."
I've been at this since I was fifteen. Plentyof experience. "It is the best teacher."
"Then how about you show me what you know."
There were a lot of noise complaints.
(Deleted Scenes)
Here, I'll be putting some bits that didn't make it. Whether it was because they were too short, didn't fit, or I liked the idea but didn't feel like expanding it, they'll be here. Essentially, an omake section.
"They call you amazing for a reason, Spidey…" Anna said, though that's roughly translated from "Hrmprhlgrbllllph," as she kissed my chest.
My name is Peter Parker. I'm amazing for a reason.
Reason number one?
Fuck you, I'm Spider-Man.
That was fun. Honestly, I've written about forty thousand words in advance, but had to retool it a few times. I don't want this to be a super serious story at all.
