Peter spent more and more nights with Matt these days. Actually sleeping over. Sometimes they messed around, and Peter was getting so used to frequent blowjobs--which was a distraction at work when he was bored. And not a good one, either; thinking about Matt's mouth was definitely not an appropriate fantasy while sitting in on a bunch of bored kids taking a test.
It had been a long night as Spider-Man. Kind of depressing. It was one thing to bust up a gang, and another entirely to arrive on the scene just a minute too late and walk into a massacre in progress. Women. Kids. Everyone. Days like these made Peter lose a little bit of faith in humanity; he felt dirty, calling the police with blood on his suit. Normally, after something like this, Peter would go home and hug his wife, take a shower, try to wash the ugliness off of him.
Instead, he swung over to Matt's, hoping he was in. It was late, even for them; he should have been. Probably asleep, though, but he came to the window when Peter knocked. He'd probably heard Peter coming from a mile away.
"Pete? What the hell? ...Something wrong?"
"Can I use your shower?" He didn't have to explain. Matt knew from the tone of his voice. They all had nights like this, gory and ugly, and Matt could smell the blood on his costume.
"Yeah. I'll get you something to wear. You hungry?"
"After that? No." He pulled off his mask, and Matt reached out to take it before he could find somewhere to set it down. "Thanks," Peter muttered, making his way toward the shower.
The water was so hot it nearly burned, and Peter welcomed it. All the screaming, people crying, begging not to be shot... He shuddered, rubbing his face underneath the spray, scrubbing his body and never seeming to get that gross feeling off of his skin.
Matt actually surprised him when he stepped in behind Peter, taking the soap out of Peter's hand and running it over his back.
"How bad?" Matt asked softly.
"Real bad." Peter echoed his tone, dropping his arms to his sides and letting Matt wash his back. "Men. Women. Kids. ...Gang war."
"Nasty stuff." Matt nudged him forward to rinse his back, too, setting aside the soap to come up and hug Peter from behind, kissing his neck. He didn't say he was sorry, or that he knew what it was like. He didn't have to.
They stood together for a long moment, Peter pressing his mouth to Matt's forearm and closing his eyes. Matt was solid and warm against his back, comforting. Loving, just by being there, and Peter ... well, Peter wasn't sure if he loved Matt, but he felt a surge of something like it. Nudging Matt, Peter turned for a soft, affectionate kiss to Matt's mouth. Matt's hands slipped when he touched Peter, body slick from the water, and he groaned when Peter let his fingers snag as they slid down his chest.
Peter touched Matt, sometimes, when he had his gloves on, which worked fine. He'd never actually held Matt's cock with his bare hand; with his skin the way it was and Matt's sensitivity, he could really hurt. But he didn't have a problem touching every other part of Matt's body. The kissing and touching slid easily from comforting to sexual, Matt's hands sliding down over Peter's ass and squeezing before moving on, moving around front to grasp Peter's cock instead.
And then, Peter did something unexpected. He pushed Matt's hand away--and for a second, Matt thought he was being rejected (something that hadn't happened in weeks). "Peter--?"
"Don't worry." Peter gave him another firm kiss, nipping at his jaw. "Take care of me later. I..." He paused, swallowing hard. A little nervous, but sure of himself nonetheless. "I want to suck you first."
Matt's expression hid nothing; that happy shock was all over his face, like he'd been waiting for Peter to say that for forever and never expected it to happen. "Oh. Okay. Sure."
"I figure you've done it so many times for me I've ... picked up a few ... things." He felt silly saying that out loud and kissed Matt again for another little surge of confidence, surprised when Matt grasped the back of his neck and held him there, kissing his ear.
The kiss was wet and warm from the hot shower water, and Peter would swear he could feel Matt grinning against his skin when he whispered, "I have dreams about you sucking my cock, Peter."
Peter sucked in a breath, swallowing nervously. "No pressure," he muttered, and Matt chuckled, kissing his ear and letting him go.
"Don't worry." Matt ruffled his hair, keeping his hand on Peter's head when Peter kneeled, hands on Matt's hips. "I'll talk you through it."
It was more than obvious that Matt was hard when his cock was at eye level, and it was little intimidating. (Though from here, it was pretty obvious the red carpet matched the drapes, so to speak.) Matt reached down, grasping his own cock and steadying it, still affectionately brushing back Peter's hair and nudging him forward, touching his cock to Peter's mouth. There was something strangely innocent in that little gesture, and Peter's mouth fell open before he pressed a hesitant kiss to the head. He could only imagine how this must have looked to Matt; the water was falling directly over Peter, and the outline of him kneeling at Matt's feet, mouth pressed to his cock, must have been perfectly clear.
"Start with your tongue," Matt suggested gently, gasping quietly when Peter gently ran his tongue over the head of Matt's cock, pressing lightly against the slit. "And up the side--there you go." He let go, letting Peter run his tongue up the side of his cock, grabbing the bar anchored to the shower wall instead. "You can just ... do that for a while, get comfortable--ngh." He made a small, surprised noise when Peter pressed a kiss to his skin, sucking on the skin there. Matt did that to him a lot; Peter must have been paying attention.
It was slow going, Peter taking his time. Getting comfortable with having Matt's cock so close to his mouth. It was a foreign feeling, but he was working his way through it with Matt's quiet instructions. And he learned things--like the fact that Matt liked Peter to kiss the head of his cock, or that he didn't like Peter touching his balls at all. That Peter could get Matt to make a very specific sound if he sucked on the underside for a couple seconds, that his right hand twitched almost imperceptibly every once in a while, if Peter manage to hit a good spot.
When he felt confident enough, Peter pulled back, just enough to gently kiss the head before leaning in again, letting Matt's cock slide into his mouth, almost painstakingly slowly. Matt groaned, shuddered, gripped the bar against the wall and shifted just a little bit, spreading his feet for balance.
"Fuck, Peter," Matt breathed, grip tightening in Peter's hair, making Peter grunt around his cock and inciting another moan. "That's--all right."
Peter was officially in the dark, and his first attempt at actually sucking was met with a noise of protest from Matt--who actually held him right where he was.
"Too much," he explained. "You're a little too hard, I think your teeth--try it softer." When Peter obeyed, Matt loosened his grip a little, sighing with a small shudder. "There, you--mm. Good, like that. Here, move a bit--good boy--"
It was slow and soft, just like everything else, and Matt's instructions trailed off into little ambiguous noises instead, letting himself relax and enjoy Peter's mouth moving over his cock. Peter was doing it to do it, rather than working energetically to make Matt come. And there was a strange sort of relaxation in having Matt in his mouth--Freud would have called it oral fixation, he supposed. Freud aside, Peter found he actually liked the way it felt; Matt was hot and heavy on his tongue, and he let his eyes drift shut, enjoying himself as much as Matt enjoyed what he was doing.
When Matt did orgasm, it took Peter completely by surprise, like he'd forgotten that, well, sucking Matt's cock might result in Matt coming--and Peter promptly choked on it, pulling back and coughing, spitting onto the shower floor, panting at the shock and the fact that he was choking, for Christ's sake. Surprised when Matt wasn't concerned that Peter was hacking up his ejaculation, Peter glanced up and saw that Matt had buried his face in the crook of his elbow, leaning against the wall and shaking.
Right. Orgasms messed Matt up, didn't they? Still coughing (God, he must have swallowed some the wrong way and it hurt), Peter wrapped his arms around Matt's hips, resting his head on Matt's stomach, meaning to lend him some support. Like an apology for making him shake like that.
"Sorry," he breathed, kissing Matt's stomach and accidentally kind of coughing on it. "Sorry. I forgot you--sorry."
"Don't be," Matt said shakily, leaning on Peter for support when he lowered himself to the floor of the shower, Peter letting go to allow him to and leaning forward to gently kiss him on the cheek apologetically. "Don't." Matt reached out to touch his face and missed by nearly a foot, senses totally thrown off.
Peter caught Matt by the wrist, nudging him to lay back against the smooth end of the bathtub and pressing Matt's palm to his chest, over his heart like it was habit. Normally, he would have curled around Matt and let Matt rest against his chest, but there was no room for that in the tub. Surprisingly, Peter was quiet; he'd tried to talk to Matt during the post-orgasm moments once and gotten a good 'shut up' smack for it. ...Or would've, if Matt had been able to aim.
Waiting out the necessary silence with light kisses to Matt's chest, Peter paused when Matt brushed back his hair and leaning forward to kiss the top of his head.
"Okay," Matt muttered. "I'm good. You were good--for a rookie." He smirked, and Peter made a face.
"Thanks, I guess."
"Even if you choked."
"...Oh, shut up."
"What? Everybody chokes at least once." But that smug look and the teasing way Matt said it made Peter frown and gently bite his shoulder.
"Wouldn't have choked if you'd warned me." Well, all right, maybe, maybe not, but that was then and this is the time where Peter projects.
"Mmhm. I'll keep that in mind next time." Matt ruffled Peter's hair, nuzzling him affectionately. "One of these days I'll teach you to swallow like a man."
Peter scrunched up his nose. "No offense, Matty, but that's not exactly the best taste."
Matt snorted. "Scratch that. I'll teach you to deep throat it first."
"What? Why?"
"Because you can't taste it back there," Matt said matter-of-factly, like he was explaining that his Daredevil suit was made of leather or that the shower water was hot.
"Seriously?" Peter didn't seem to buy it, looking up at Matt--mostly out of habit, he knew Matt wasn't going to make eye contact with him.
"Seriously. Why do you think I put up with swallowing yours? --Wouldn't kill you to eat more pineapple or something, by the way, that all-Chinese-and-hot-dog diet makes you taste strange."
"...I'll keep that in mind."