Let It Happen

Part 4

Peter latched onto Quentin even harder, unintentionally knocking him back against the wall that was just behind where they were standing.  Super strength.  Quentin had been on the receiving end of that strength a time or two, but never had it thrilled him the way it did now.  

The hum of a different kind of arousal that shot up his spine was a surprise.  That might be worth looking into at a later date.

He couldn’t think about that now, though.  Peter had gotten himself situated so that he was all out humping against Quentin’s thigh, the man leaning far enough against the wall that the kid had a better angle to use to get himself off.  In the process, he had grabbed onto Quentin’s arm and was holding him just a bit steadier so when he worked his hips back, the very tip of Quentin’s finger breached his hole.

There was a delicious catch to Peter’s breathing because of it, timed perfectly with the penetration.  Man, this kid was just about perfect at this.  He was mindlessly chasing his orgasm now, but he still seemed to be missing something.

Quentin knew well enough how the kid worked, so he knew exactly what he needed in order to finish.  “Come on, Peter.  What’s taking so long?”  His words had always had an affect on Peter, clearly this was just more proof of that.  “I thought you were desperate.  What’s the hold up, here?”

Intellectual stimulation even in this state, because of course it would take more work to get this kid’s brain to turn off, or even slow down, for that matter.

The high pitch whine Peter let out was beyond frustrated.  Quentin could sympathize.  It must have been awful by now.  Unable to let go without even knowing what was holding him back.

“Do you need me to tell you?  Is that it?  You couldn’t come for two whole weeks because I said not to, so now you need me to give you permission, is that what you need?”

Peter moaned and squirmed against Quentin, barely even able to keep up the motion with his hips anymore.  “Use those words, kiddo.”

He dropped his head forward against Quentin's shoulder and took in a shaky breath, trying to steady himself enough to speak.

"Yes."  The word came out by itself, cut short in a way that told Quentin he had more to say. 

"Yes, what, Peter?  You've gotta give me more than that, honey."

As he said it, he pressed his finger harder against Peter’s hole, finally breaching him up to the first knuckle.

Peter threw his head back and let loose a string of, “Yes!  Yes, please, yes!  I need it, I need it so badly, I need you to let me come, I can’t, please.  Please let me-”

Quentin cut off what would absolutely have been a gorgeous stream of begging until Peter was given his release.  “Okay.  You need me to let you come?  Do it.  Come for me, Peter.”

Quentin made sure to pull back so he could watch the kid come apart from the best point of view imaginable: the view of the person making him fall apart.

Peter’s mouth opened around the cry he let out.  Quentin could see his tongue lolling in his own mouth, useless for the moment.  Under any other circumstances that would be a shame because Quentin had just realized how much he liked that tongue, both while mouthing off to him as well as the newly discovered talent of using it on parts of Quentin’s body.

The rest of that thought would still have to wait for another time.  His plan was all but ironclad at this point.

He could feel Peter’s c**k twitch against his thigh, hips slamming forward enough it was jarring to Quentin.  Again with that super strength.  He’d have to be careful of that.

Peter’s eyes rolled back in his head, the lack of focus in them even when they returned to normal obvious.  His pupils were still so dilated Quentin knew he had never seen those eyes so dark before.  He could get used to seeing this look on Peter.

When he let his head flop back down to a normal position, he was breathing harder than Quentin had ever seen him, chest heaving as he tried to drag in enough air to make up for the exertion from moments ago.  

Their chests rubbed against each other with every breath.  Quentin knew he was breathing hard as well, though nothing compared to Peter.  There was sweat beaded up along the kid’s hairline, a few drops rolling down his neck.  

Quentin gave Peter a few moments to relax himself before giving into one of his own desires, following the trail of sweat down the slim neck.

Yeah, his marks were almost completely gone already.  He would have to fix that.  No better time than the present.

He started slowly this time.  He knew exactly how sensitive Peter would be now, after such an intense orgasm that had been building for the better part of two weeks.  On top of that, his age, still being a teenager, and then his super senses were sure to make everything feel all the more overwhelming.  

So, Quentin started off with slow, open mouth kisses, letting his tongue taste the sweat streaks along the pale stretch of skin.  He added a little soft sucking here and there, waiting for Peter to start responding to him again.  

The blissed out boy was just leaning against him, giving no indication he even felt anything, other than the occasional twitch his whole body would give in what Quentin presumed were some pretty pleasant aftershocks.

He could feel the wet spot that had seeped from Peter’s jeans all the way through.  He could feel that Peter never even started getting soft.  His orgasm didn’t seem to have slaked his need at all, despite the obvious release of tension in the rest of Peter’s body.  

Good.  When Peter started rocking gently into Quentin again, tiny, “uh, ah ah, ohhh” sounds that he didn’t even seem to be aware of, it was time to start for real.

Quentin used his grip on the kid’s hips and ass to swing him around and slam him into the wall Quentin had been leaning against.  He pressed in as tight and as close as he could, removing the hand from Peter’s hips to grab his chin instead, keeping a finger pressed to his ass.

Peter’s head slammed back against the wall, no warning for the sudden change meaning he hadn’t braced himself against it.  There was a loud thunking sound and he felt his ears ringing.

Looking up with startled eyes, he saw Quentin towering over him, using every inch of his additional height to his advantage again.  

Peter felt well and truly trapped, impaled on one of the man’s fingers, jaw held tightly in the large hand pressing his head harshly against the wall, body trapped there by the bulk of the man in front of him.

The fact he had powers and could overpower anyone who trapped him like this never even crossed his mind.  Maybe because subconsciously he was so confident he was safe here he didn’t need the reminder.

Still, his conscious mind was barely functioning at that particular moment, so the eyes that met Quentin’s had fear in them he hadn’t seen from the kid before.  

Suddenly, they were a lot closer to Mysterio and Spider-Man than Quentin and Peter. 

The number of times Quentin had thought of this exact scenario and held back were all wasted times in his mind, now.  If he had known Peter would be this perfect he never would have tried to stop himself.

“Now,” Quentin started, “you’ve gotten what you wanted, it’s my turn.”  He smiled at the look on Peter’s face, horrified but no less interested than he had been moments ago.  He could still feel him hard against his thigh.

“Time to test how rough Spider-Man really likes it.”  He increased the strength of his grip a bit more on Peter’s jaw, pressing harder against the wall, turning his face in the process.  When Peter’s cheek was flush against the wall, Quentin dove in, teeth sinking too far into the skin connecting Peter’s neck to his shoulder, just above his shirt collar.

Peter shouted out at the sudden sting, writhing against the man.  He wasn’t trying to get him to  release, just testing his boundaries.  Quentin wanted to make sure that he knew if they needed to stop, he would.  He wasn't about to be that kind of person that wouldn’t listen to the word ‘no.’

No, Quentin was going to take his pleasure in knowing just how much everyone’s favorite superhero liked to be roughed up against a wall.

And other surfaces.  He wasn’t that particular.  But the wall was right there, so it was as good a place to start as any.

Keeping Peter pinned to the wall, he sucked hard on where he had latched on with his teeth.  He was planning on leaving as much of a mark behind as possible and would see exactly how many he could get away with before this was over.

Peter huffed at the pull, tingling sensation heading directly for his c**k, finishing filling out his erection again as if it wasn’t plenty prominent already.

He had no room to move like this.  The thought was more thrilling than it had any right to be.  This was Quentin Beck, Mysterio, his number one enemy, and he couldn’t get enough of being physically overpowered by the man.

He reassured himself a bit by remembering that he wasn’t Spider-Man right now, there was nothing riding on him needing to escape the man’s grasp.

Maybe that fact was just what he needed to truly experience this for the first time.  Because he found he loved it.  His cheeks turned red as he viewed their previous encounters through a different lens.

Every blow the man had delivered, every surface he had been pinned to, every bit of taunting that had been thrown at him, it all had new meaning.  And he was horrified at how much he enjoyed it.

Quentin had moved on to a new place on his neck.  When he was done leaving another mark, marking Peter as his as much as he could with their clothes still on, he came back up to his full height.

Looking into Peter’s eyes more intent and serious than he had seemed all evening, he asked, “Are you ready for this, Peter?”  

Peter could tell the look on his face was impatient because the man chuckled.  “Okay.  If you need me to stop, say so.  Or, you know how to make me stop if it comes to it.”

It wouldn’t, he knew that.  He wouldn’t push, and Peter would enjoy every bit of it, so there would be no issue, but it still needed saying.

Peter gave an incremental thrust against Quentin, displaying how ready he was.  Letting go of Peter’s jaw, he patted on the boy’s cheek just a bit harder than was playful, saying, “Patience.  This is for me, remember?”

The last pat to his cheek had Peter moaning again.  “Oh yeah?  Do you like that, too?  Not just being treated rough, but a little pain thrown in with it?”

Peter’s cheeks burned in shame at the truth because he couldn’t very well dispute what his body was laying out as pure fact.  Damn, traitorous body.

There was a sly grin on the man’s face that was Peter’s only warning before a slapping sound rang through the room.  

Peter felt his head being forced to the side abruptly.  Slowly, the realization that he had just been slapped for real dawned on him.  The fact of who it was that had done it made him moan, body convulsing, the arousal coursing through him was so strong.

Quentin watched the mark on his cheek darken just slightly.  It wouldn’t last long but it was enough to please something deep inside him.  The response from Peter was mesmerizing as well.  Quickly, he did it again, barely giving Peter time to recover from it happening the first time.

The sound that left Peter at the abuse could only be called a sigh.  Quentin watched as Peter’s body sagged against the wall.  He had thought the boy was relaxed already.  Seeing the remaining tension seep from him showed just how much pent up frustration he had to work out.

Good thing Quentin had already planned on taking his time with the kid.

“Oh, wow.  When I said you’d like that, I had no idea you’d like it that much.”  Quentin knew there was a tone of awe in his voice.  From what he knew of Peter, he didn’t think that would ruin the experience for him.  He was an easy mark with compliments normally, surely they wouldn’t turn him off in this setting, even if rough was what he was after.

“How often did you go home from our little fights and feel desperate for more, huh?  Was it everyone, or is this just with me?  If that Vulture guy had you pinned against a wall, arms above your head and f****d you hard, would that do it for you?  Or am I the lucky one, here?”

Peter groaned at the image of Quentin doing just that: shoving him face first into a wall somewhere on the streets, face scraping the brick in a way that stung so nice, hand pinned beside him and the other wrapped around behind his back.  

Quentin would be in his Mysterio get up, that costume that showed off all of his muscles in strategic ways, breathing against the back of his neck as he somehow managed to tear a hole in his Spider-Man costume in order to gain access to Peter’s ass.

He wouldn’t waste time prepping Peter, he would finger him just long enough that he wouldn’t be unbearably tight around Quentin’s thick c**k when he finally squeezed inside Peter, hard and fast pace setting them both off quickly.

Peter whined in real life in time with the whine he gave in his fantasy.  “What are you thinking about, baby?  You never answered me.  Is it just anybody that can get you to make these noises?  That can make you this vulnerable, even though you’re more powerful than any of us?”

Peter shook his head hastily.  “No?  No what, kiddo?  No, nobody else can make you like this?  I hope not.  Cause after this, it’s all mine.  You’re all mine.”

The desperate nod of Peter’s head was unexpected but it sent a wave of need crashing through Quentin, reminding him that he had desires here and all of this was for him, even if it was for Peter more.

He drove his hips forward against Peter, feeling the drag of friction on his c**k and suddenly questioning why they were both fully dressed still.

He would fix that soon.  He still needed an answer for what Peter had been thinking that got such an enthusiastic response.  He had a guess already.

“Were you thinking about it?  Huh?  Thinking about me shoving you up against a wall and just f*****g taking what I want?  Making it hurt just right for you?”  Peter’s mouth dropped open but no sound escaped this time.  It was the same look kids got looking in the window of a bakery, all the cookies and cakes making them drool with want.

“Show me how it went.”  Peter froze, his squirming body stilling instantly, not wanting to admit the scene that had flashed through his mind.  “Come on, if my slutty little baby wants something, I better make sure he gets it, right, kiddo?”

Peter looked down, eyelashes brushing his cheekbones.  “Peter.  Show me or tell me.  Now.”  His tone had that no nonsense thing to it again that made Peter want to listen.  

Uncertain, he looked up, then shyly turned around, one hand pressing his palm flat against the wall right beside where his cheek rested, the other arm held bent behind his back in a position that looked oddly familiar… 

Quentin damn near growled as the memory came flooding back, him shoving Peter into this very position just over a month ago in one of their little battles on the streets of New York.  So the kid had been having the same thoughts as Quentin.  He wasn’t as innocent as he looked.

Quentin surged forward before Peter got the chance to feel awkward and try to turn around.  He grabbed the kid’s wrists where they lay offered up for him, just the way he had pinned him to the side of that building.  This time he allowed himself to press closer, full body rubbing against Peter’s.

Using his superior weight to keep Peter pressed to the wall, and trapping the hand behind his back between Peter’s back and his front, Quentin freed a hand to move down to the front of Peter’s pants.  He unfastened the belt and the button, shoving the zipper down and yanking them over his ass.

His underwear must have just gone down right along with his jeans because suddenly Quentin’s hand was filled with the creamy flesh of Peter’s ass cheek.  He took a second to knead the meat of his ass, trim but perfectly shaped.

He moved his hand around to the front of the kid, freeing his poor c**k from where his jeans had caught around it, allowing it to spring free, only to be gripped tight in Quentin’s hand.  He could feel the damp stickiness from his previous orgasm, but he also felt the precome from how worked up he already was again. 

He could probably do one more.  After all, he had done a very good job listening to Quentin so far.  Especially for not knowing the rules.

A nagging voice reminded him this wasn’t how he should be going about this.  There was a proper process to follow for these things, but at this point, f**k propriety.  The kid was desperate enough he had come to a random location, specified by his enemy; who knew how much more messed up the kid actually was in the rest of his life.

He would get him taken care of tonight and then they would deal with all the rest later.

The pace Quentin set for stroking Peter was slow at first, but when the kid’s hips began working out of his control, he was forced to speed up.  From there, it was simple to just keep increasing the speed and the pressure to get him worked back up to the edge.

Quentin was enjoying himself as well.  He had opened his own pants and taken his c**k out, fitting it in between the cheeks of Peter’s ass, rutting there like he had no more control than Peter did.  

Not that it was far off.

He could feel how slick Peter had gotten from his own precome.  He wondered if he would be able to get Peter to break for long enough to go get some actual lube but then decided he would cross that bridge when they got to it.  Worst case scenario, he had definitely gotten creative for lube before.

Peter was to the point the little noises weren’t so little anymore.  There were definitely some words in there, mostly, “oh, oh god, yes” and “please, yes, more” and even a few, “more, faster, don’t stop, don’t” pleas thrown in.  Quentin had never been more turned on by a partner verbalizing, and he’d had quite a few that tried.

Just none as perfect as Peter.

He could sense how close Peter was.  There was no rhythm to how his hips were moving anymore, just blindly chasing his orgasm that only Quentin could give him.  Because he was pretty sure the kid was still waiting for that same something more that he had been missing last time.

“What do you need, Peter?”  Quentin asked when he was positive the kid was ready to burst, simply unable to get there without assistance.

Peter ignored the words, acting as though he hadn’t heard anything, still mindlessly thrusting into Quentin’s hand.

Quickly, Quentin tightened his grip to an uncomfortable tightness, and at the same time, landed a solid slap against Peter’s ass cheek.

The slap made Peter cry out, and Quentin could see tears on his cheek again when he rested his flushed face back against the cool wall.  Slapping his ass once more, just for good measure, he asked again, “Tell me what you need, Peter.  That wasn’t optional.  You have been doing so well at listening, don’t wanna mess it up now, do we?”

“You!  I need you, please, you have to tell me, have to let me-”  Slapping him on the ass one last time, Quentin made his words cut off before saying,”Go ahead, baby.  Come for me again.”

With a shout, Peter did just that, covering the wall in front of him as well as Quentin’s hand and part of his own shirt in stripes of come.

Quentin stroked him through it, back to kissing and biting at his neck while he came back down.  When the aftershocks of Peter’s orgasm died down, he brought his come covered hand around behind the kid and trailed his fingers down over his back, past the little dimples at the base of his spine and in between his cheeks, finding his hole again quickly. 

Deciding it wasn’t worth the effort of dragging himself away from Peter to try and find the bottle of lube (that was right next to his bed on the nightstand), he slowly pushed a finger into Peter’s tight hole.

He knew the boy was still lost to the sensation of his second orgasm in less than thirty minutes.  Quentin wasn’t sure how long it had been exactly, but definitely less than a half hour.  So he used his finger to let his body adjust to the intrusion before adding a second finger.

The come on his hand helped the stretch not be too uncomfortable.  Peter was beginning to be more aware, hips rocking lightly back and forth, seeming to enjoy the sensation.  He sighed when it felt particularly nice.  Quentin kissed his neck again before asking, “Did you want another finger, or did you wanna feel it?”

Normally, with a new partner he wouldn’t dream of letting things proceed so quickly.  But Peter seemed to respond well to hurried and a little bit painful, so Quentin would let him decide.  Much as he was still a kid, he really was old enough to decide some things for himself.

“Wanna feel, need it.”  Peter’s voice was breathy, words a bit slurred from how relaxed he had gotten, pleasure seeping from every syllable.

So Quentin used the rest of the come on his hand – not much, but enough – to give himself a base coat to slick his way, then lined himself up, reassuring Peter. “Okay, I got you.  Gonna go slow, though.  Don’t wanna hurt you.”

Peter let out a sound of protest, clearly wanting it to hurt a little, so Quentin clarified. “We don't want it to hurt too badly.  You’ve gotta last until I come, still.”  He thrust his c**k against Peter to ensure he felt the still achingly hard length.

Not that it would take him long but he didn’t want to tell Peter that.  Not while he was like this.

Peter settled back against the wall, seeming appeased for the moment.  Quentin pressed himself against the ring of muscle and took a breath to calm himself down so he didn’t lose it as soon as he pressed in.

Slowly he sank forward, inch by inch filling Peter, heat and pressure becoming the only things he could focus on for a moment.  Before he was halfway in, Peter decided he needed more and thrust his hips back hard, taking the remainder of Quentin’s length so he was buried balls deep in the kid.

Peter choked on his own shout, the moan he had started with cutting off abruptly as the burn of the stretch took over.  He was gasping in huge lungfuls of air, trying to adjust to the new feeling of being full.

Quentin would have done a better job at reassuring Peter, except he wasn’t doing much better himself.  His mind had blanked out, his entire existence narrowing down to just the amazing, wonderful tightness surrounding him.

He snapped out of it quickly when he heard a sound like a sob.  True, he wanted to wreck the boy, but not actually hurt him outside the realm of what he would enjoy.  That was why their fights always ended with an impasse.  Neither could really put their all into the fighting when they didn’t actually want to hurt the other.

“Kiddo?”  He pulled one hand from where he had been guiding Peter’s hips, and brought it back to stroke gently down his spine.  “I warned you it would hurt if we didn’t take it slow.”  He kept his scolding to a minimum, knowing Peter was in a very vulnerable state right now.

He kissed at Peter’s shoulder and continued petting him, wrapping his arm around to run his fingers over Peter’s chest and belly.  On one pass he dropped them lower than they had been and he felt Peter’s responding shiver.

Encouraged, he let his finger drift a little lower with every pass.  Eventually, he ran into Peter’s c**k, standing ready for more like he hadn’t just had two insanely intense orgasms practically in a row.

When Quentin wrapped his hand around Peter and he bucked forward against his palm, he decided the kid was ready for more.  Carefully, he pulled out as far as he could without withdrawing completely, pausing for a moment before surging forward again, burying himself all the way back inside that wonderful heat.

Peter’s mouth hadn’t closed since Quentin first started pushing inside him, but his mouth snapped shut around the groan he started choking out.  Quentin made sure to hold very still as he reminded Peter, “Nuh, uh, none of that, kiddo.  You don’t hide those sounds from me.  Remember why?”

Peter huffed a few breaths, then nodded.  “Words, baby.  Why do I get to hear them?”

“Because… because they’re, they’re yours.  And you, you earned them!”