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“…Soooo that’s why Gwen and Anya think I’ve got something to do with this whole “Goblin Nation” business.”
Harry takes one last loud sip of his drink through the straw to completely empty it of its contents before tossing the plastic to-go cup in one of the trash cans they pass along the sidewalk, “Um. Wow.” He doesn’t so much smile as he does grimace, absently raising a hand up to scratch at the back of his head. “I was kind of under the impression they knew you better than that.”
Peter avoids Harry’s pitying gaze as he musters up the courage to get to the real difficult part of this conversation. “Well uh…about that.” He fiddles with the strings of his hoodie. “They’d…probably have a lot more faith in me if it weren’t for the way I’ve been acting recently. Which brings me to the next part of my story…” Peter clears his throat nervously. “See, there’s going to be someone already at the lair, and it’s important you know beforehand that—”
“Hey, can you hold that thought?” Harry interrupts suddenly, his easy-going pace coming to an abrupt halt while he looks off to his left. Peter curiously follows his line of sight, but doesn’t see anything particularly noteworthy aside from what looks to be an abandoned alleyway. “C’mere a sec,” and when Harry turns his head back to look at Peter, he’s smiling proper while taking the other’s hand and tugging him along into the shadowed pathway.
Harry takes them down about halfway in, far out of eyeshot from any bystanders casually walking by on the public pavement, and then Harry is letting go of Peter’s hand as he pushes him up against the brick wall next to a thick iron pipe for added cover, and kisses him firmly.
Peter makes a small noise of surprise, but his body moves to reciprocate almost immediately, not about to question any of this. His head tilts for their mouths to fit more easily against each other, and his hands automatically reach for purchase on Harry anywhere he can get, which for the moment ends up being the front of his suit jacket, which Peter tugs to pull Harry even closer. He can feel Harry’s lips curve into a smile at that, and then Harry withdraws only barely enough to have the room to speak.
“I missed you,” he murmurs by way of explanation for the “detour” they’ve abruptly taken on their way to the new hideout, and before Peter can voice any sort of reply to that Harry is leaning in again. The first kiss was short and hasty in desperation. Just pressure and warmth. But this second time Harry slots their mouths together more purposefully, already licking against Peter’s lips for permission to enter, which of course Peter readily gives.
Harry’s hands, which had started on Peter’s chest to push him up against the wall, now slide up for his fingers to curl around the other’s neck, holding him in place as he explores the inside of Peter’s mouth to his heart’s content, leaving space to be drawn in closer for their bodies to be flush against one another as Peter moves his hands to rest at Harry’s hips.
Peter’s eyes drift shut as Harry’s do, and in the darkness he can focus on the hot of Harry’s breath and tongue, and the sweetness of his smoothie still clinging there. One of Harry’s hands at Peter’s neck slips up into his hair, weaving into the brown locks as he deepens the kiss further, prompting a pleased hum from the back of Peter’s throat as his grip at Harry’s hips unconsciously tightens.
By the time Harry pulls away again they’re both red-faced and breathless, a spiderweb-thin trail of saliva connecting their tongues for but a moment before it falls away. Their half-lidded gazes lock for a second or two before Harry’s eyes dip and his head ducks down for his overheated mouth to press into the side of Peter’s neck.
Peter shudders with the teasing drag of Harry’s tongue against his throat, lips curling inward to stifle what would have been too sensual of a sigh to let fully escape into the semi-public area around them, and it takes a monumental amount of determination to sift through the haze rapidly overtaking his mind, find his voice again, and will it to come out.
“I-I missed you too—” but it still comes out shaky, and he knows he has to say it quickly before he needs to bite down on another embarrassing noise threatening to escape into the air when Harry nips at his neck. Not hard enough to leave a mark, of course, but the gentleness of it is almost worse, sending another involuntary tremble skittering down his spine.
“Yeah?” Harry smiles playfully against Peter’s skin, and he feels those soft lips glide slowly up to his ear, where Harry doesn’t have to bend down to reach with his mouth, and continues in a low, husky tone of voice Peter didn’t even know Harry could achieve, “You really missed me?”
If Peter wasn’t completely flushed before, everything from the neck up now feels like it’s on fire, and it certainly doesn’t help that Harry’s hands are currently wandering much lower than before. One is now resting on Peter’s hip, dangerously close to slipping underneath his hoodie, and quite possibly the t-shirt underneath as well. While the other trails gradually down Peter’s arm to finally land at his wrist, where Harry slips caressing fingers in through the sleeve, tracing out Peter’s pulse with a thumb, and thank god he left his web shooters back at the lair today.
“Of…course I did,” Peter breathes out unevenly, suddenly very aware of how intimately their lower halves are pressed up against each other. “I-I…”
He doesn’t really know where he was going with that next sentence, but it turns out even if he did, it would have been disrupted anyway by Harry kissing just at the back of his ear, before it turns to more licking and nibbling along the sensitive parts of his skin. Peter finds himself shutting his eyes again, turning his head instinctively to give Harry’s mouth better access, and resists the urge to roll his hips forward as the frayed edges of his foggy mind remind himself where exactly they are.
Harry doesn’t seem all that concerned with that fact, however, as he seems determined to draw out a sound louder than a hushed groan from Peter’s throat, when all Peter wants to do is kiss him again. So he does.
Abandoning his stabilizing grip at Harry’s waist, Peter takes both hands to place them at either side of Harry’s head to guide him back within range of Peter’s own mouth, and pulls him in for another deep kiss.
Harry surrenders immediately to the shift, lips parting even before Peter’s tongue reaches them. There’s that sweet strawberry taste again filling up Peter’s senses, and while one hand stays at the side of Harry’s face and tucks fingers behind his ear, the other lowers to the side of Harry’s neck, still as enticingly exposed as ever, pulling Harry in like a drink Peter could never get tired of consuming.
The next time they part, it’s partially for them both to catch their breath, but it’s mostly for Peter to murmur somewhat hoarsely, “You have no idea how happy I am that you’re back.”
He knows it’s breaking up the spell of sensuality from the situation, as he watches up close how the muted gray of Harry’s eyes widen slightly in surprise. But even within the haze of pleasure Peter can’t help voicing his most honest, sincere thoughts. He can’t help but be overwhelmed by Harry finally standing here before him after so many months of sporadic Face Time calls in between long intervals of radio silence. It’s almost too much to bear, at last being able to feel the texture of Harry’s skin again, the soft of his hair, the warmth of his breath, the weight of his body. After everything Peter has been through since the start of the new semester, it just feels as though something has finally gone right in his crazy, mixed-up life. Finally a missing piece to it has fitted itself back where it’s always belonged.
Harry gazes back into Peter’s eyes as he stares into his, and Harry’s expression eventually softens again, before he tips in ever so slightly for their foreheads to touch.
“…I’m sorry,” he whispers with a forlorn sort of smile.
Peter can feel his brows furrow somewhat, still not breaking eye contact while he’s mesmerized by all the tiny details of Harry’s face he could never pick up from a phone or computer camera, “What for?”
At that, something in Harry’s smile shifts, “Well…uh, you know…” his gaze flicks away to the side, “…for not calling more often. Or picking up.”
The confusion in Peter fades, and he forces a slight smile, “Hey…I know you were busy. Don’t worry about it.”
Instead of meeting Peter’s eyes again, Harry closes them, but the strain in his smile eases, and after a handful of seconds of stillness where he seems to just relax into the multiple points of contact between them, he finally moves again, reaching a hand up to run his fingers through Peter’s hair, combing a section of bangs out of the way to make room for him to tilt his head up and press a kiss into the center of Peter’s forehead.
As Harry withdraws back a few inches, his eyelids flutter open again, and the way he looks at Peter in that moment somehow makes Peter turn redder, and he swallows, suddenly at a loss for words.
Thankfully, the affection in Harry’s features suddenly breaks out into an easy grin, “And sorry for getting carried away there.” His hands then move to adjust the skewed fabric of Peter’s hoodie up by his neck back to rightness. It forces Peter’s own hands to slip away from Harry and remember they’re still in a public alleyway.
“I-it’s fine,” Peter somehow finds his voice again, choosing vague wording rather than outright saying he absolutely did not mind sucking face just off the beaten path in the middle of the day.
Harry chuckles lightly as one hand comes up to fix Peter’s hair, and it must bring his focus back to Peter’s lips, because after he’s done with that Harry ducks in again for one last chaste kiss against the soft of his mouth.
“We have a city to save, right?” Harry smiles as he pulls away.
What city…? Is the initial thought that floats through Peter’s mind as it takes longer than it should for him to open his eyes again after he’s lost in the sensation of Harry’s lips. But in the end he manages to nod in response, and then Harry is taking him by the hand again to tug him along back down the shadowed pathway and into the sunlight.
Peter feels like there’s something important he’s forgetting, but with his fingers entwined with Harry’s to tell him this isn’t a dream, he can’t really find it in himself to care about anything outside the vivid warmth of Harry’s hand enveloping his.