Work Text:
I feel the salty waves come in
I feel them crash against my skin
And I smile as I respire
Because I know they'll never win
Peter was sitting on the windowsill of his own apartment, camera on his lap, scrolling through the photos he’d taken earlier without really paying attention to them. He swiped his finger across the screen, one photo after another, on autopilot. Work, deadlines, the usual noise of the city below.
That’s when he paused on a specific photo.
Johnny, in the middle of a group of people, laughing at something someone had said. Nothing special. Peter had already taken dozens of similar photos; Johnny was always easy to photograph—he always had some expression worth capturing. But this time, he found himself staring at it longer than he should have.
It wasn’t the smile—or maybe it was; it was that smile that lit up all of New York. It was the way Johnny’s eyes almost closed when he laughed for real, without putting on a show for anyone.
Peter furrowed his brow, as if trying to understand why that, specifically, had triggered something inside him.
“That’s strange,” he muttered to himself, setting the camera down on his lap. And suddenly other images came to him, unbidden. Johnny talking way too fast when he was nervous. Johnny showing up unannounced on the roof of Peter’s building just “because.” Johnny arguing with him over which pizza to order as if it were the most important thing in the world.
Things Peter had always seen as just Johnny being Johnny. Annoying. Funny. Familiar.
But now, looking at them again, none of it seemed as simple as it had before.
“Oh, no,” he said softly, rubbing his face with both hands. “No, no, no.”
Because there was only one way to describe what he was feeling right now when he thought of Johnny Storm, and it wasn’t the same as it always had been.
There's a haze above my TV
That changes everything I see
And maybe if I continue watching
I'll lose the traits that worry me
Peter turned on the TV without really deciding what to watch. He just needed some noise, something to stop his thoughts from running wild.
The screen flickered, colors flashing by too fast for him to take in, and for a second Peter had the strange feeling that he was seeing everything through a fogged-up window. As if the whole world had become a little out of focus ever since that photo.
He thought, for a silly moment, that maybe all he had to do was stand there, staring at anything other than Johnny, until it passed. Until he could see things the way he always had. Johnny just being Johnny, and him just being Peter, without all this confusion in the middle.
It didn’t work.
His cell phone vibrated on the couch next to him. A message.
[cutespark:] “Stop pretending you didn’t see my message, bugboy”
Peter closed his eyes for a second, almost laughing, almost groaning in frustration with himself.
“Great,” he muttered. “Perfect timing.”
He looked at the Spider-Man suit tossed in the corner of the room, slightly crumpled, waiting for its next outing. Maybe it would be easier to become Spider-Man right now than to keep being just Peter, sitting there, trying to decide what to do about what he’d just realized.
But his phone vibrated again.
[cutespark:] “I know you’re there. Want to swing through the city in 20 minutes? I need to burn off some energy.”
He stared at the screen longer than he should have, his thumb hovering over the keyboard.
Maybe he couldn't get away that easily after all.
Can we fast forward to go down on me?
The meeting took place on their usual rooftop, with New York spreading out below in lights that seemed more beautiful than Peter remembered. Johnny was already there when he arrived, sitting on the edge as if all that height meant nothing, wearing a jacket way too expensive for what they were doing, sneakers that probably cost more than Peter’s rent. He’d always been like that—he liked the finer things in life and made no apologies for it.
Before, Peter would have rolled his eyes at that. Today, sitting next to him—something that had become routine a few months ago—he thought it suited him. That it made sense for Johnny to be exactly like that, flashy and self-assured, and that maybe he didn’t want to change a single thing about him.
“You’re acting weird,” Johnny said, without even looking directly at him. “Quieter than usual.”
“I’m processing something,” Peter replied, staring straight ahead at the horizon.
“Processing what?”
Peter took a deep breath. He could keep pretending nothing had changed. He could go home, turn the TV back on, and wait for this to pass like just another cold.
But he didn’t want that anymore.
“That maybe I’ve spent months looking at you all wrong,” he said, finally turning his face toward Johnny. “And that I don’t care to fix that anymore.”
Johnny furrowed his brow, confused for a second, and then, slowly, a smile began to form—that smug smile only he could pull off.
“Oh, really?” he said, leaning in a little. “And what are you looking at now, bugboy?”
Peter shrugged, but didn’t look away.
“Someone I should have admitted I like looking at a long time ago.”
Stop there, and let me correct it
I wanna live a life from a new perspective
You come along because I love your face
And I'll admire your expensive taste
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Just heavy—in a good way—filled with things that had gone unsaid for far too long.
Johnny moved a little closer, his shoulder almost brushing against Peter’s. “You know this changes everything, right? There’s no going back after saying something like that.” His eyes scanned Peter as if he could see right through him.
“I know,” Peter replied, and this time there was no hesitation in his voice as his fingers moved up to remove the mask. The slightly tousled hair that Storm had always found so cute.
“And you’re okay with that?”
Peter looked at the crooked smile, at the eyes that now seemed to shine differently—more nervously than Johnny usually let on. “I’m more than fine with it,” he said. “Just annoyed that it took me so long to realize it.”
Johnny chuckled softly, that laugh that had started it all hours ago in some random photo. “Welcome to the club, Spidey. I’ve known this for a while.”
“Really?”
“Really. I was just waiting for you to catch up.”
Peter rolled his eyes, but there was no real irritation in the gesture, just a suppressed smile, that strange warmth in his chest that he was still learning to recognize.
It was Johnny who closed the distance between them first, slowly, giving Peter time to back away if he wanted to. He didn’t.
The kiss was gentler than Peter had expected from someone like Johnny. Without all the arrogance, without the posturing. Just him, real, right there, with one hand slowly moving up toward Peter’s face as if he wanted to make sure this was really happening.
When they pulled apart, Johnny was still close enough for Peter to feel his breath.
And who cares? Divine intervention
I wanna be praised from a new perspective
But leaving now would be a good idea
So catch me up on getting out of here
It was Johnny who broke the moment first, his forehead still pressed against Peter’s, his voice low and slightly hoarse. “If we stay here any longer, someone’s going to notice two people making out on a rooftop.”
Peter laughed, still dizzy from the kiss. “And since when has that bothered you?”
“It doesn’t bother me,” Johnny said, pulling away just enough to look him straight in the eye. “I just think I’d rather continue this somewhere without the risk of making newspaper headlines.”
“Fair enough.”
Johnny stood up first, reaching out his hand to help Peter to his feet. An unnecessary gesture, considering everything Peter could do on his own, but he accepted it anyway, just because he could.
“My apartment’s closer,” Johnny said, still holding his hand a second longer than necessary. “And it has a much better view than yours.”
“Your view is great just because you live on the tenth floor.”
“Exactly. Come with me, bugboy.”
Peter looked back at New York sparkling below, at the place where everything had just changed between them. He didn’t feel like staying there alone with that thought for another second. He wanted to keep this going, to savor that new feeling while it was still fresh.
“All right,” he said, putting his mask back on and interlocking his fingers with Johnny’s. “But this time, I get to choose how we get down.”
Johnny raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Peter had already shot a web strand toward the building next door, pulling them both off the roof.
Johnny’s indignant shout echoed through the night, mixed with laughter.
Can we fast forward to go down on me?
Time passed without either of them really noticing; weeks turned into months, and what had begun on that rooftop slowly became part of their routine—without haste, without drama.
Peter could now recognize the sound of Johnny’s footsteps even before he knocked on the window. He knew Johnny would show up unannounced, usually with some lame excuse, usually happy to see Peter even when he was tired after a whole night patrolling the city.
They never talked about “defining” things. They didn’t need to. It became natural—the breakfasts they shared, the calls Johnny made just to chat about nothing, the goodbye kisses that became part of the routine as if they’d always been there.
One quiet night, the two of them sitting on the same ledge as always, Johnny rested his head on Peter’s shoulder, gazing at the city lights.
“You know what’s funny?” Storm said softly. “We’ve never really talked about it. About what we are.”
Peter smiled, wrapping his arm around him. “Do we need to?”
“I don’t think so,” Johnny admitted, closing his eyes. “I already know enough.”
And it was true. They didn’t need a label, or a rush, or grand assurances. Just that: Presence, constancy, the quiet certainty that, whatever it was between them, it was right just the way it was.
Taking everything for granted
But we still respect the time
We move along with some new passion
Knowing everything is fine
Peter looked at Johnny’s profile, illuminated by the city’s dim light, and thought about how strange it was. He, who was used to losing things too quickly, finally had something that didn’t seem to slip through his fingers.
“Sometimes I’m afraid of getting too used to this,” Peter confessed, almost without meaning to. “Of starting to think it’s a given.”
Johnny opened his eyes, turning his face to look at him. “And is that a problem?”
“I don’t know. I thought it might be.”
“So what now?” Johnny retorted.
Peter thought for a moment before answering, feeling the familiar weight of Johnny’s arm against his own, the way his breathing had slowed, grown calmer.
“Now I think it just means we’ve reached a good place,” he said. “A place that doesn’t need to be on high alert all the time.”
Johnny smiled, that lighter smile, without his usual swagger. “Look at you, getting all philosophical.”
“You’re the one who makes me like this.”
“Good to know I’m good for something other than just being pretty.”
Peter laughed, kissing the top of his head. Down below, the city continued its usual clamor: distant sirens, car horns, life going on nonstop. But there, in that little corner of the world the two of them had set aside for themselves, everything seemed strangely, peacefully right.
Neither of them felt the need to say anything else. The silence, this time, spoke for itself.
And I would wait and watch the hours
Fall in a hundred separate lines
But I regain repose
And wonder how I ended up inside
Peter was sitting alone in the living room of Johnny’s apartment, waiting for him to return from some Fantastic Four meeting that had gone on longer than it should have. The clock on the wall ticked slowly, and he gradually lost track of how long he’d been there, just glancing at the door from time to time, with no real urgency for it to open.
It wasn’t anxiety. It was more of a strange sense of familiarity, of already being all too used to waiting on that specific couch, surrounded by things that weren’t his: Reed’s tech trophies scattered around the room, a photo of Sue and Ben laughing at something, one of Johnny’s sweatshirts draped over the arm of the armchair—a sweatshirt Peter had worn more times than he’d care to admit.
He leaned back, closing his eyes for a second, and thought about how he’d ended up there. Not physically—he knew that; he’d been invited, and he even had a key. But he wondered how his life had become so intertwined with those people’s, with that place, without him ever having consciously decided to do so.
Light footsteps snapped him out of his thoughts. It wasn’t Johnny; it was Sue, walking through the room with a cup in her hand, pausing when she saw Peter there.
“Isn’t he back yet?” she asked, kindly.
“No. He must be running late at the meeting.”
Sue smiled, a small, knowing smile. “You already seem like part of the furniture here, you know?”
Peter laughed, a little sheepishly. “I’m still trying to figure out how that happened.”
“It happens slowly,” she said, walking away again. “Until you realize there’s no way to be any different.”
Peter stared down the hallway where she’d disappeared, thinking about that sentence. He didn’t have a ready answer for her, just the strange and comforting certainty that, somehow—without realizing exactly when—that place had become part of home.
Can we fast forward to go down on me?
The door finally opened, and the familiar sounds of Johnny coming home—keys clinking on the coffee table, a weary sigh, the heavy footsteps of someone who’d had a long day—filled the apartment.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, appearing in the living room and already taking off his jacket. “Reed decided we needed to discuss security protocols for two hours straight. Two hours, Peter.”
“Did you survive?”
“Barely.” Johnny flopped down on the couch next to him, his head falling onto Peter’s shoulder as if that were the most natural place in the world. “Did you wait all this time?”
“I did.”
“Why? You could’ve left; I was going to text you.”
Peter shrugged, slowly running his fingers through Johnny’s hair. “I like staying. Your sister even came over to keep me company for a while.”
Johnny lifted his head, curious. “Oh, really? And what did she say?”
“That I already seem like part of the furniture around here.”
Johnny laughed—that low, weary laugh Peter had learned to love. “She’s not wrong.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Bother me?” Johnny snuggled up against him again, closing his eyes. “Peter, I was going to give you your own key next month. I just didn’t know how to bring it up without sounding too dramatic.”
Peter smiled, feeling that familiar warmth spread through his chest—the same feeling that had started it all, months ago, while looking at some random photo. Only now there was no confusion in it at all. Just the calm certainty that he already knew exactly where he wanted to be.
“It doesn’t seem dramatic,” he said softly. “It just seems… right.”
Stop there, and let me correct it
I wanna live a life from a new perspective
You come along because I love your face
And I'll admire your expensive taste
A few months later, in a clothing store that was way too expensive for Peter’s taste—and his budget—he watched Johnny try on yet another jacket that cost more than his monthly rent.
“Do you really need another one of those?” Peter remarked, leaning against the wall, his camera hanging around his neck out of habit.
“Need isn’t quite the right word,” Johnny replied, looking at himself in the mirror and adjusting the collar. “It’s more a matter of raising the bar.” The smug tone in his voice was more playful than serious.
“Your bar is already impossibly high.”
Johnny turned to him, smiling in that smug way Peter knew all too well by now. “And you’re complaining about that?”
Peter thought for a second about how, months ago, he probably would have actually rolled his eyes at this whole scene. Johnny spending money on unnecessary things, worrying about his appearance in a way that seemed frivolous.
But now, looking at him there, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket with that exaggerated attention to detail, Peter could only think about how much of that was just who Johnny was. And how he wouldn’t trade that for anything now.
“No,” Peter admitted, stepping closer. “I guess I just like seeing you be yourself.”
Johnny raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden sincerity. “That was almost cute, Petey.”
“I’m not going to say that again.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, then, and you’ll keep being cute in secret.”
Peter laughed, straightening the crooked collar of the jacket that Johnny insisted on wearing crooked on purpose. “Buy this one. It suits you.”
Johnny looked in the mirror once more, then at Peter, and his smile softened, becoming more genuine. “Just because you said so.”
And who cares? Divine intervention
I wanna be praised from a new perspective
But leaving now would be a good idea
So catch me up on getting out of here
Catch me up on getting out of here
The store was still quiet, with soft background music playing, when Johnny’s cell phone vibrated urgently. He looked at the screen, and his expression changed instantly—from playful to serious.
“Reed,” he said, already taking off his new jacket. “Something big downtown. They need everyone.”
Peter felt his own body react instinctively—that familiar tingling that warned of danger even before any details came in. “How much time do we have?”
“Probably none.”
The two exchanged a quick glance—that shared silence that only existed between two people used to dropping everything in the middle of a task to become something completely different.
“Go ahead,” Peter said. “I’ll change and catch up with you.”
Johnny was already heading toward the door, but paused for a second, turning back. “Peter.”
“Go on, Johnny.”
“Be careful out there, okay?”
“I always am.” A mischievous smile flashed across Parker’s face.
Johnny rolled his eyes, but the small smile he gave before walking out the door spoke louder than his teasing suggested. Seconds later, Peter saw through the store window a trail of fire streaking across the sky.
He sighed, glancing at the jacket still hanging in the fitting room, forgotten.
“I’ll buy it later,” he muttered to himself, already looking for a discreet place to put on the suit under his clothes.
The city was waiting. And, in a strange way, he already knew that no matter how big the mess that awaited them out there, at the end of the day they would always find their way back to each other.
More to the point, I need to show
How much I can come and go
Other plans fell through
And put a heavy load on you, I know
The fight had lasted longer than expected, and it was almost midnight by the time the two of them finally returned to Johnny’s apartment—exhausted, covered in soot, and enveloped in the heavy silence of people still processing a difficult day.
Johnny sat on the edge of the bed, head down, lacking his usual energy. Peter realized right away that there was more to it than just physical exhaustion.
“Tell me,” Peter said, sitting down next to him and taking off his suit gloves.
“I canceled our dinner again,” Johnny said, without looking at him. “And your aunt’s birthday last month. And that weekend we’d planned.”
“Johnny—”
“Let me finish.” He finally looked up, and there was a sense of guilt in his expression that Peter rarely saw in him. “I know I disappear. I know I show up out of the blue, run off in the middle of things, cancel plans at the last minute because there’s an emergency with the team. And you never complain, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard on you.”
Peter was silent for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I do that to you too, you know? How many times have I disappeared in the middle of a date because I heard a siren?”
“That’s different.”
“No, it’s not.” Peter took his hand. “We chose a kind of life that demands this. Both of us. I don’t keep track of how many times you cancel something, and I’m happy that you always come back.”
Johnny looked at him, still unsure. “Doesn’t that wear you out?”
“It does sometimes,” Peter admitted honestly. “But never enough for me to want anything other than this. Other than you, just the way you are, coming and going, saving the world, showing up a mess at three in the morning.”
A small, weary, but genuine smile appeared on Johnny’s face. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m yours, too. We both fit.”
Johnny rested his forehead on Peter’s shoulder, the weight of his guilt seeming to lift a little. “Thanks for not giving up on me on the tough days.”
“I’ll never give up,” Peter said softly, kissing the top of his head. “Even if things keep going off the rails.”
There's no more that need be said
When I'm inching through your bed
Take a look around instead and watch me go
A calmer atmosphere settled between them, with no further words needed. Johnny lifted his head from Peter’s shoulder, looking at him with a different expression now—softer, more intimate.
Peter felt the warmth radiating from Johnny—a warmth that didn’t come just from his power, but from something much deeper. He brought his hand to Johnny’s face, his fingers brushing his jaw with a gentleness he didn’t even know where it came from.
“You’re beautiful,” Peter whispered, his voice almost inaudible, his eyes fixed on Johnny’s as if he were trying to memorize every detail.
Johnny closed his eyes for a second, pressing his face against Peter’s palm. “And you’re too much for me, Pete.” he replied, his voice hoarse but without his usual sarcasm. He held Peter’s wrist—not to push him away, but to keep that connection there.
The kiss that followed was slow, unhurried.
Johnny felt Peter’s breath against his lips, a rhythm that matched his own. Every touch from Peter was like a silk thread—delicate, yet capable of holding Johnny in a way he’d never imagined. He brought his free hand to the back of Peter’s neck, pulling him closer, wanting to eliminate every centimeter of air that still separated them.
Peter felt Johnny’s body tremble beneath his, a pent-up energy that seemed to beg to be released. He let himself be carried away by the slow rhythm of the kiss, feeling Johnny’s fingers get lost in his hair. It was all so calm, so real, that for a moment Peter forgot the rest of the world.
“Stay here, bugboy.” Johnny murmured against his mouth, his voice laden with a need he rarely showed.
Peter didn’t need a second invitation. He settled more comfortably against Johnny, feeling the warmth of his skin as if it were the only safe place in the universe. His fingers traced the contours of Johnny’s back, feeling every muscle relax beneath his touch.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Peter replied, his voice firm despite the tenderness of the moment.
Johnny let out a long sigh, a sound of relief that seemed to come from deep within his chest. He pulled Peter close, burying his face in Peter’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent that was uniquely Peter’s. The confidence Johnny always projected to the world seemed to have dissolved right there, leaving only a man who had finally found a safe haven.
The room was silent, broken only by the sound of their synchronized breathing.
Johnny felt Peter’s heart beating against his own, a steady rhythm that anchored him. He pulled away just enough to look into Peter’s eyes, his hands sliding down to Peter’s waist, pulling him on top of him. The movement was gentle, almost choreographed, as if they both already knew exactly what the other wanted.
Peter felt Johnny’s skin grow warm beneath his hands—a warmth that was not just physical, but emotional. He leaned in, his lips tracing Johnny’s jawline, moving down to the curve of his neck with deliberate slowness. Each touch was a silent promise.
“You’re driving me crazy,” Johnny murmured, his voice deep and low, his eyes closed as Peter continued his trail of kisses.
Peter smiled against his skin, a smile Johnny could feel but not see.
Johnny felt Peter’s smile against his neck like an electric caress. He opened his eyes, meeting Peter’s gaze—that gaze that always seemed to carry the weight of the world, but which was now clear, focused solely on him.
“Look at me, Petey,” Johnny asked, his voice almost a whisper.
Peter obeyed. His brown eyes shone with an intensity that made Johnny’s stomach churn. He brought his hands to Peter’s face, his thumbs tracing his cheekbones with a reverence that disarmed any defense.
“I’ve never felt anything like this,” Peter confessed, his voice faltering slightly. “With anyone.” Johnny felt a lump form in his throat.
Johnny didn’t respond with words. He simply tilted his face and pressed his lips against Peter’s in a kiss that was pure emotion. No haste, no urgency—just absolute surrender. Peter felt as if time had stopped, every cell in his body reacting to Johnny’s warmth, to the way he held him as if he were something precious.
Peter’s fingers got lost in the hair at the nape of Johnny’s neck, pulling him closer, wanting to meld their skin together. He felt Johnny’s entire body shudder against his own, an involuntary response to their closeness.
“Peter, mmph~” Johnny murmured between kisses, the name coming out like a sigh, laden with a tenderness that left him breathless.
The tenderness that hung in the air began to shift. Johnny felt Peter’s heartbeat quicken against his chest, and the gentleness of the kisses gave way to something hungrier, more urgent. He cupped Peter’s face with both hands, his thumbs pressing against Peter’s cheeks as their lips met with renewed intensity.
Peter let out a low moan, his head tilting back as Johnny trailed kisses down his neck, nibbling at his skin with a hunger he could no longer hide. Peter’s fingers dug into Johnny’s shoulders, pulling him down, wanting to feel the full weight of his body.
“Johnny,” Peter gasped, the name slipping through clenched teeth, his voice broken with desire.
Johnny didn’t hesitate.
Stop there, and let me correct it
I wanna live a life from a new perspective
You come along because I love your face
And I'll admire your expensive taste
Johnny felt the rhythm change. The gentleness of before gave way to a hunger that seemed to come from a new place, a perspective he had never explored with anyone. He looked at Peter’s face, at every detail, at the way his eyes shone in the dim light, and felt an overwhelming need to consume it all, to live every second of that connection.
“I want to see everything,” Johnny whispered against Peter’s skin, his voice hoarse, laden with an admiration that bordered on desperation. “I want to know every part of you.”
Peter felt Johnny’s heat wash over his body like a wave. When Johnny pulled him up, sealing their lips in a kiss that was no longer delicate, Peter responded with equal intensity.
Johnny felt Peter’s urgency growing beneath his fingers, a physical response that needed no words. He pulled him closer, their bodies colliding with a force that made the mattress creak. Johnny’s skin burned, the heat of his power reflecting the desire consuming his mind, as he traced the contours of Peter’s face with an almost obsessive admiration.
“You’re perfect,” Johnny growled against his lips, his voice deep and unsteady. “Every inch of you.”
Peter felt Johnny’s weight on top of him, a delicious pressure that anchored him in the present. His fingers closed around Johnny’s hair, pulling him down with a force that surprised them both. He wanted to feel everything; he wanted that moment to last forever, but at the same time he wanted it to be fast, intense, overwhelming.
Peter felt the limits of his self-control evaporate. He pinned Johnny’s wrists above his head with one hand, while the other slid firmly down the curve of his hip, pulling him upward to find the perfect fit. The heat radiating from Johnny was almost unbearable now, a temperature that seemed to melt reality itself.
“Look at me, Storm,” Peter commanded, his voice hoarse and laced with an authority that sent shivers down the back of Johnny’s neck. “I want you to see exactly who’s pushing you to your limit.”
Johnny opened his eyes, his breath catching, and met Peter’s gaze—ardent, possessive, completely devoted.
Johnny felt the authority in Peter’s voice like an electric shock running down his spine. He had never seen Peter like that—so firm, so present, so in control. The vulnerability that had once defined the boy had been replaced by an intensity that left him breathless.
“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” Johnny gasped, his eyes fixed on Peter’s, his pupils dilated.
Peter didn’t answer. Instead, he picked up the pace, each movement charged with a deliberate precision that drove Johnny wild. Peter watched him as he did it, capturing every expression of pleasure, every muscle contraction, every ragged breath.
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” Peter murmured into Johnny’s ear, his voice low and dangerously calm. “I want every part of you.”
Johnny felt the world spinning. Peter’s voice, so close and so firm, was like fuel for the fire already burning inside him. He arched his back, his fingers digging into the sheets as pleasure washed over him in violent waves, each of Peter’s movements adding a new layer of intensity he couldn’t process.
“Then do it,” Johnny begged, his voice faltering completely, his eyes rolling back as the pent-up tension reached its breaking point. “Don’t stop, Petey. Please.”
Peter needed no further encouragement. He felt Johnny’s response against him, the way his body trembled beneath his own, and knew he was in complete control. He picked up the pace, each thrust charged with a visceral need, his eyes locked on Johnny’s to ensure he didn’t miss a single second of that surrender.
Johnny felt the climax approaching, a wave of heat that seemed about to explode inside his chest. Peter’s rhythm was relentless, and with every movement, the connection between them seemed to grow deeper, more real. In the midst of that storm of sensations, Johnny opened his eyes and met Peter’s face—sweaty, intense, completely focused on him.
“Peter,” Johnny gasped, his hands rising to Peter’s face, his thumbs tracing his jawline with desperate urgency. “I love you. God, I love you so much.”
Peter paused for a second, his chest rising and falling heavily. His eyes shone with something that wasn’t just desire, but a vulnerability he rarely allowed.
Peter felt Johnny’s words like a physical blow, stronger than any punch he’d ever taken. His heart skipped a beat before racing at a frantic pace that echoed the heat between their bodies. He tilted his face, pressing his forehead against Johnny’s, their warm breath mingling.
“I love you too,” Peter whispered, his voice choked up, almost breaking. “I love you so much it hurts, Storm.”
And who cares? Divine intervention
I wanna be praised from a new perspective
But leaving now would be a good idea
So catch me up on getting out of here
Morning light filtered faintly through the curtains when Peter woke up, Johnny’s arm still draped over him, the two of them wrapped in a lazy silence that neither seemed in a hurry to break.
Johnny stirred first, muttering something unintelligible into his pillow before opening just one eye. “What time is it?”
“Early,” Peter replied, without moving. “Too early for you to be waking up already.”
“I have a team meeting in a little while,” Johnny muttered, but made no real move to get out of bed. “Reed’s going to kill me if I’m late again.”
“Then you should be getting up.”
“I should,” Johnny agreed, and stayed exactly where he was, pulling Peter a little closer.
Peter chuckled softly, feeling Johnny’s chest vibrate against his back. “You’re terrible at leaving places you shouldn’t be.”
“Only when the place is too good to leave.”
They stayed like that a little longer, the world outside waiting patiently while the two of them stole a few more minutes just for themselves. Finally, Johnny sighed—loudly and dramatically—and sat up.
“All right, all right. No divine intervention is going to save me from this meeting.” He leaned over, planting a quick kiss on Peter’s shoulder before finally getting out of bed, gathering up the clothes scattered around the room. “Stay right there. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Go,” Peter said, turning face-down on the pillow, watching him get dressed in a hurry. “I’ll handle the exit.”
Johnny paused at the door, looking back one last time, smiling in that way that still made Peter’s chest tighten in a good way. “You look way better in my bed than I do in a meeting room.”
“That’s not even up for discussion."
With one last wave and a laugh, Johnny ran out, leaving Peter alone in the room, still wrapped in the warmth of it all. The quiet certainty that, no matter how many times the world interrupted them, they would always come back to this very place.
It's not fair, just let me perfect it
Don't wanna live a life that is comprehensive
'Cause seeing clear would be a bad idea
Now catch me up on getting out of here
Peter stood in the middle of the room for a while after Johnny left, looking at his clothes still scattered on the floor, at his cell phone charging in the outlet, at the whole life that had accumulated there without him really noticing.
There were days when he found himself thinking too much about it—about how much of it was real, solid, meant to last—and how much was just the happy bubble the two of them had created for themselves, far from responsibilities, dangers, and everything that could go wrong.
His cell phone vibrated. A message from Storm:
[cutespark]: Where are u? Newsroom meeting at 20
He sighed, knowing he needed to get back to the real world, too—his own world, with deadlines and bills and a Peter Parker life that continued to exist behind it all.
For a second, looking at Johnny’s room, he thought about how much easier it would be not to question anything. Not to overthink how long this would last, the things the two of them hadn’t properly discussed yet—the future, the risks, what would happen if one day their luck ran out in a battle.
It was easier to just stay in that moment. In the still-warm bed, with his scent on the pillow, in the simple certainty of “now” without thinking about “later.”
Peter put on the shirt lying on the floor—his own, not Johnny’s, this time—and took one last look around the room before leaving.
“We’ll think about the rest later,” he murmured to himself, closing the door behind him.
Some things, he decided, were better left a little out of focus. At least for now.
So catch me up on getting out of here,
go down on me
Can we fast forward to go down…
Weeks later, on a quiet night with no emergencies, no meetings—nothing but the two of them—Johnny pulled Peter back into the bedroom as soon as the apartment door closed behind them.
“No interruptions this time,” he murmured into Peter’s ear, smiling. “I promise.”
“You always promise that.”
“This time I turned off my team communicator. And I told Reed to only call me if the world is literally ending.”
“And if it is?”
“Then he can figure it out himself,” Johnny replied without hesitation, pulling Peter closer by the waist. “Tonight is ours.”
Peter laughed, letting himself be led to the bed, forgetting any thoughts about later, about the world outside, about everything that usually divided their attention. Johnny had a way of making the rest of the universe seem distant, unimportant—just a footnote compared to where they were right now.
“You know,” Peter said softly, watching Johnny take off his jacket slowly, without any hurry this time, “it’s been a while since we’ve had a night like this. Just ours, without rushing.”
“I know.” Johnny moved closer, his forehead touching Peter’s for a moment, just feeling each other’s presence before anything else. “I want to make this worth it, then.”
“It already is,” Peter whispered. “Just because you’re here.”
Johnny smiled against his lips before closing the remaining distance, the kiss slow and deliberate, without the usual urgency, without the clock ticking against them. Peter’s hands found his waist, pulling him closer, and for a long time nothing else existed but that—the warmth between them, the quiet trust that only those who’d been through so much together could have.
The light in the room dimmed, almost gone. Voices turned to whispers, whispers turned to silence, and the rest of the night unfolded slowly, belonging only to them, far from anything that might interrupt them.
Outside, the city continued its usual clamor. But in there, for the first time in a long time, neither of them felt the need to rush anywhere.
The door stayed closed until morning.