Fandom: MCU, Spider-Man, Hawkeye, Black Widow
Ships: Peter Parker/Kate Bishop/Yelena Belova
Synopsis
After No Way Home, Peter Parker is forgotten. Kate Bishop invites him for drinks where they meet Yelena Belova, things heat fast. Two confident women. One shy man. One drunken night. And that kind of setup only ever ends one way.
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It was a quiet morning in Brooklyn when Peter Parker found himself lingering in the dim hallway of his modest apartment building, a half-full mug of coffee warming his hands. Something felt off—like the rhythm of his new, carefully crafted life had shifted ever so slightly.
He wasn't sure what had changed. Maybe it was the muffled voices filtering through the walls, or the scrape of cardboard boxes being dragged across worn hardwood floors. Someone was unpacking in the apartment next door. New tenant, probably. But to Peter, it felt like the air itself had changed—like the universe had taken a breath and was waiting for him to notice.
He wasn't used to other people being around. Not anymore.
It wasn't that he was antisocial, exactly. But ever since the spell—ever since the world forgot Peter Parker—he'd disappeared into himself. Aunt May was gone, buried with the last piece of his old life. MJ and Ned didn't remember him; their eyes no longer lit up when they saw him because, to them, he was a stranger.
Even Happy passed him by with a polite, empty nod, unaware of everything they'd been through. No family. No friends. No Avengers. Just
Peter, a rundown apartment that smelled like dust and regret, and a secondhand camera he used to scrape by on freelance gigs. It was survival, not living.
He'd stopped answering the city's cries for help, mostly. Stopped suiting up unless he had to. Spider-Man still swung through the skyline, but Peter? Peter was a ghost.
Peter was snapped out of his thoughts when a voice called from the end of the hall.
"Hey, you!" The voice was bright and full of energy, immediately catching Peter's attention.
He looked up to see a woman standing in front of the door to the apartment next door, hands on her hips. She had short dark brown hair, dressed in a casual yet effortlessly stylish outfit—practical, but with a hint of confidence. There was something about her that made Peter pause, her stance radiating self-assurance, like she was ready to take on the world.
"Uh, hey," Peter said, adjusting his glasses nervously. "Can I help you?"
She smiled, that grin lighting up her face. "I'm Kate Bishop—your new, slightly overwhelmed neighbor." She gestured toward her door. "I'm trying to play it cool, but there's a very good chance I'm going to need help getting all that stuff upstairs without collapsing."
Peter blinked, still processing what was going on. "Oh, uh, sure. I can help with that," he said, stepping toward her, a little unsure of what to do but instinctively wanting to be polite. "I'm Peter."
"Nice to meet you, Peter." Kate's grin widened. "I swear I'm not usually this bad at unpacking. It's just... first time doing this solo. No family backup, no help from anyone with a trust fund. It's kinda a new thing for me—figuring stuff out on my own."
Peter's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, no family help? I thought... well, I assumed you'd have some, given, you know..." He gestured vaguely toward the building. "I mean, it's not exactly a small place."
Kate chuckled, dismissing the thought with a wave of her hand. "Yeah, well, I wanted to do things on my own for once. Get out of my family's shadow. I don't want to coast by on my last name. I want to prove I can handle this without anyone holding my hand."
Peter blinked at her, not expecting that answer. For some reason, hearing her say that felt... refreshing. It was like she wasn't afraid to be real, even with a stranger like him. "That's... actually pretty impressive," Peter admitted. "I think I'd go crazy if I had to move without help. I mean, I've been here forever, so I don't really... get a lot of chances to—"
"Socialize?" Kate interrupted playfully, her grin turning to tease. "You're one of those types who keeps to themselves, huh? Not even your neighbor to chat with?"
Peter smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. "I guess... yeah, that's me. I'm not great with new people."
Kate laughed, a bright, easy sound. "No worries. I'll take it slow. But you'll at least help me with these boxes, right? If you promise not to make fun of me too much."
"Deal," Peter said, stepping closer to the first box by her door. "I'm not exactly a professional mover, but I'll give it my best shot."
As they moved boxes back and forth into her apartment, the conversation flowed easily. Kate had a certain energy that made it feel natural, even if Peter felt a little out of his element. She asked him about his photography, and he, in turn, asked about her decision to leave behind her family's wealth and make her own way.
"You seem like you've got it all figured out," Peter said, glancing over at Kate as they carried another heavy box.
Kate grinned, clearly unbothered. "That's the thing. I'm pretending. But I'm doing my best. I've always been in the background of other people's lives. I want to stand on my own two feet, you know?"
Peter nodded a slight ache in his chest. "Yeah, I get that. I guess... I kind of feel the same way. Like, I missed out on a lot. I was supposed to go to the same college as my friends, but... things just didn't work out. Now I'm here, just trying to figure it out."
Kate stopped, her expression thoughtful as she studied him. "Wait, you missed out on college? That sucks. I mean, I get it. Not everything goes as planned, but that's gotta be frustrating."
Peter hesitated, a flush creeping up his neck. "Yeah, it stings a little. I was ready for that next step, but... life kind of got in the way. Now, I'm just... trying to find my place."
Kate raised an eyebrow, her gaze softening. "Hey, no judgment. We all have our stuff. Trust me, I've got my own baggage."
For a moment, they were quiet, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Kate nudged him with her elbow, her grin returning. "Hey, how about this—come grab a drink with me later? I know a place down the street. Nothing fancy, but they've got the best margaritas. Maybe you can tell me more about... well, missing out on college."
Peter's heart skipped a beat. Invitations like that usually made him nervous, but there was something about Kate's easy confidence that gave him a little courage. Maybe he could take a chance—for once. Even if it was just a drink.
"I'd like that," he said, quieter than he meant to. "A drink sounds good."
Kate grinned, and his stomach did a small flip. "Great. I'll swing by around eight?"
Peter nodded, still a little stunned by how quickly everything had shifted. "I'll be here."
When he stepped back into his apartment, the silence didn't feel quite so heavy. For the first time in what felt like forever, he had something to look forward to—something simple. Just company. Maybe even a connection.
A few hours later, with the sun dipping behind the rooftops, Peter found himself walking beside Kate. They didn't talk much, but the quiet wasn't awkward—it was easy. Comfortable.
They turned a corner, and Kate stopped in front of a narrow, weathered doorway nestled between two old brick buildings. The sign above was so faded it was barely readable. Inside, the bar was dim, with scratched wooden floors, mismatched tables, and the low, steady thrum of an old jukebox humming in the corner. The kind of place no one talked about, but everyone returned to. No questions asked. No expectations. Just a drink and a breath.
Kate led the way without hesitation, her steps confident, her smile brighter than the lighting inside. She moved as if she belonged, and in a weird way, that made Peter feel like maybe he could too.
She was so full of life—a burst of energy against the quiet blur Peter had been living in. And as strange as it was, it felt… good. Normal. Like he could forget, for just a second, that he was anything other than a guy meeting someone for a drink. Not Spider-Man. Not the kid with too many regrets and no one left to call.
Just Peter.
"Come on, Peter!" Kate called over her shoulder, noticing his hesitation. "You're gonna love it."
He followed her in, trying to shake off the nerves clinging to him like static.
The place was cozy—just the right kind of busy, with low voices, warm lighting, and the soft clink of glasses. They found an open booth near the back. Kate slid in first, lounging back like she'd done this a thousand times. Peter hesitated for half a second, then slid in across from her.
She looked at him, eyes gleaming. "So, what's your deal, Peter Parker?" she teased. "You're all shy when we meet, but now here you are, at a bar with me. Color me intrigued."
Peter laughed, a little sheepishly. "I'm just… not really the bar type."
He stared at his hands, avoiding her gaze as the warmth crept up his neck.
Kate cocked an eyebrow, clearly amused. "And yet, here you are. So tell me—are you trying to impress me or something?"
There was a teasing lilt to her voice—light, playful—but something in the way she said his last name made Peter's heart flutter. Kate had a way of speaking like she knew exactly what she was doing, yet there was an openness beneath the confidence. A warmth. That's what caught him off guard. That's what intrigued him.
"I guess so," Peter replied, matching her tone with a crooked smirk. "I mean, I've never met anyone quite like you... so here I am. Giving it a shot."
Kate's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Well, aren't you full of surprises?"
She leaned in slightly, her gaze locking onto his. There was a kind of intensity there—not threatening, just sharp. Observant. It made Peter's pulse quicken.
"But you know, Peter," she continued, "you're not fooling me. There's more going on with you than you're letting on."
Peter swallowed. The words hit a little too close. How could he explain the weight pressing on his chest, the dull ache of purpose slipping away ever since he'd hung up the suit? How could he tell her that without Spider-Man, he didn't know who he was anymore?
Before he could answer, the bar's door swung open with a soft jingle. A cold gust slipped in with the newcomer—a blonde woman in a dark green jacket and fingerless gloves. She moved with quiet precision, eyes sweeping across the room like she'd been trained to spot threats before they even breathed.
Kate's attention shifted. "Huh," she murmured under her breath.
Peter followed her gaze. The woman walked toward the bar, unbothered by the attention she drew. She moved like she didn't care who watched her—maybe even preferred it that way.
Kate leaned in, her voice quieter now. "She's not exactly the chatty type, but she's... reliable. You wouldn't want to mess with her."
Peter followed her gaze. The woman at the bar looked like she could snap a bottle with one hand and make it look elegant.
"She looks like she could kill someone," Peter muttered.
Kate smirked. "Exactly why I trust her more than most people."
As if sensing them, the woman turned her head slightly. Her eyes met Kate's, and for a moment, something passed between them—not surprise, not unfamiliarity, but something knowing. A twitch at the corner of her mouth. Then, without hesitation, she picked up her drink and sauntered over.
"I figured I'd find you somewhere stupid," she said, voice deadpan, Russian accent unmistakable. "This place screams Kate Bishop trying to be casual."
Kate smirked, unfazed. "And yet here you are, clearly stalking me."
Without asking, Yelena slid into the booth beside Kate, her sharp gaze briefly landing on Peter. "And who's this? New emotional support project?"
Peter blinked. "Uh... no, I'm—"
"Peter," Kate said, casually cutting in. "Yelena, Peter. Peter, Yelena. Try not to make it weird."
Yelena eyed him with that surgical precision of hers. "You look like someone who apologizes when opening doors."
Peter scratched the back of his neck. "I mean... is that a bad thing?"
She just sipped her drink. "It's cute. Like a deer wearing a hoodie."
Kate snorted into her glass.
Peter tried to recover. "Well, you two clearly have... history?"
Yelena and Kate exchanged a glance.
"We've crossed paths," Yelena said simply, lips curving just a little. "She tried to stop me from killing someone. Failed, obviously."
Kate shrugged. "Depends on how you define 'killing.'"
Peter blinked between them. "...Okay."
Yelena leaned back, nursing her drink, her eyes still sharp. "So, Peter, what's the deal? Kate dragging you around for a 'good time' or are you actually here because you want to be?"
Kate bumped Peter's arm with a grin. "Told you I'd show you a good time."
Yelena raised an eyebrow. "Hmm. Doesn't look like he's done this much. Maybe he's more of a 'sit in the corner with a book' type?"
Peter rubbed the back of his neck, offering a sheepish smile. "I haven't really had the chance lately."
Yelena smirked, eyeing him with amusement. "Well, this is as good a time as any. Could be fun, if you let it."
She watched him carefully, her gaze flicking between him and Kate. "You're a little... stiff. You don't look like you're here to have fun."
Peter laughed nervously. "I'm trying. It's just... hard."
Yelena leaned back, sizing him up. "You're cute when you're nervous."
Kate raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin tugging at her lips. "Yeah, I agree with you there."
The mood shifted, the playful teasing now carrying an underlying tension. Peter could feel the weight of their gazes—something in the air felt charged. His thoughts were still cloudy from the alcohol, but there was more going on here than he could quite grasp.
Yelena crossed her arms, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. "So, are you two a thing?"
Kate let out a laugh, a little too loud. "God, no. Just met him today."
Peter scratched the back of his neck, trying to avoid looking too uncomfortable. "She moved into my building."
"Dragged him out of his cave," Kate added with a grin. "He hadn't seen the sun in weeks."
Yelena raised an unimpressed brow, clearly amused. "So, a charity case?"
Kate smirked. "More like a challenge. But he's worth it."
Peter could feel his cheeks heat as Yelena's gaze lingered. Her eyes were sharp, and Kate wasn't exactly being subtle either. It was like being under the microscope of two very different storms. His Spidey-sense wasn't tingling, but he felt a little short-circuited by the signals.
After a few moments, Yelena excused herself to handle something behind the bar. Kate turned to Peter, her expression softening slightly.
"You okay?" she asked quietly, her tone sincere.
Peter nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. It's just... a lot. All of this."
Kate offered a small smile. "I get it. But you're doing fine. Don't overthink it. We're here to have fun, remember?"
Peter lets out a breath, surprised by how much he needs to hear that. "Yeah. I guess I am."
Kate grins, her hand resting briefly on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Good. Now, let's see where this night goes, yeah?"
As the night drags on, the bar empties out, and the atmosphere shifts to something more intimate. Yelena and Kate continue to trade witty remarks, their chemistry undeniable. Peter, still trying to make sense of the attention they're giving him—especially the teasing and the way they both seem to know something he doesn't—watches them with growing curiosity.
The alcohol helps, loosening his nerves enough to take the edge off. Peter doesn't usually drink much, but tonight, it's a welcome distraction. They trade stories—chaotic, messy, sometimes hilarious—about lives he can't quite picture but somehow understands. They've been through things he can't even imagine, yet here they are, laughing, living, moving forward.
Kate's laugh breaks him from his thoughts, and he looks up to find her studying him, her gaze mischievous but warm. She leans in slightly, her voice playful but layered with something deeper. "I think you're starting to get the hang of this, Parker."
Peter, feeling the alcohol taking effect, raises an eyebrow. "What, the drinking?" he teases.
Kate smirks, biting her bottom lip with a playful gleam in her eyes. "Mm, not just the drinking." She narrows her eyes, the smile on her lips hinting at something more. "You've got that cute little smile now. I feel like I'm finally starting to see the real Peter."
Peter chuckles nervously, running a hand through his hair. "Well, I'm not exactly an open book. Not great at letting people see the 'real' me."
Kate tilts her head, studying him for a moment. For the first time, Peter feels like maybe—just maybe—she's starting to understand him.
Her smile falters for a split second, something softer passing over her face. She leans in a little closer, her voice dropping a notch. "I think you're better at it than you realize."
Before Peter can respond, Yelena leans in with a lazy smirk, tapping her glass on the table with a deliberate rhythm. Her eyes gleam—sharp, amused, and a little dangerous.
"You two are very cute," she says, the accent curling around the words like a knife wrapped in velvet. "So much staring. So much tension."
Kate raises an eyebrow. "Tension?"
Yelena tilts her head, taking a slow sip without breaking eye contact with Peter. "Mhm. It's like watching two shy goats headbutt each other instead of kissing. Honestly... pathetic."
She gestures vaguely between them, her tone dry. "So much chemistry. And you're doing nothing with it. Big waste."
Peter's pulse skips. Was she serious? Was she really calling him out like that?
Kate chuckles, leaning back just enough to cross one leg over the other. Her knee brushes against Peter's, and she watches him with that sly smile. "Maybe Peter is a gentleman," she muses. "Or maybe Peter's just… a little shy."
"I'm not shy," Peter blurts, though his voice cracks slightly. Kate's leg stays where it is, her boot pressed subtly against his calf. The way she's watching him, the little smile playing on her lips, makes his stomach tighten.
"No?" Kate purrs, leaning in just a fraction closer. "Because you've been staring at my boobs all night like you want to say something."
Peter flushes, his eyes snapping up from the soft curve of her cleavage framed by her low-cut top. She doesn't seem offended—in fact, her smirk only widens. Her fingers casually drift to his thigh, brushing against the fabric just a little too close to his inner leg.
"I…" he stammers, losing his train of thought as her hand lingers there, light and teasing.
Yelena watches them, her gaze amused but sharp, then shifts slightly in her seat to grab her drink. The motion pulls Peter's attention—unbidden—to the curve of her ass outlined by tight black leather. She notices, and a slow, knowing smile spreads across her face.
"Don't feel bad," Yelena says silkily, setting her drink down and resting her elbow on the table. "You're not the only one with wandering eyes tonight. Kate's practically been undressing you since dessert."
Kate lets out a soft, dangerous laugh, her nails trailing a little firmer up Peter's thigh. "Not practically," she murmurs.
Peter's breath hitches. Between Kate's heated gaze and Yelena's smoldering smirk, he feels like prey caught between two apex predators.
Yelena leans in, her breath warm against his ear, voice low and laced with mischief. "You're overthinking again, Peter," she murmurs, her accent curling around every syllable. "Let us make it simple."
Kate's hand stays exactly where it is, her gaze steady and soft—but there's heat there, too. A slow-burning promise.
"No pressure," she says, her voice a velvet whisper. "Just... options."
Peter's heart pounds, a drumbeat in his chest, and when he finally speaks, it's barely audible.
"…Okay."
Kate's fingers curl slightly against his leg, and Yelena smiles like she already knows how the night will end.
The three of them sit in a charged silence, the music from the bar humming in the background, but all Peter can hear is the blood rushing in his ears. His heart is louder than the music. His hands are cold, but he's sweating, his chest tight with nerves and anticipation.
Yelena watches them, cool and composed, her gaze flicking between them like she's reading a private script only she understands. She leans back in her seat, nudging Peter's calf lightly with her boot beneath the table—just a touch, enough to make him jump slightly.
"I'm guessing we're not staying in this booth much longer," she says with a knowing smirk.
Peter's breath hitches. Kate chuckles, her fingers trailing teasingly up his forearm as she stands.
"You're right, Yelena," Kate says, her voice glinting with mischief. "Time to move somewhere more... private."
Her hand slips into his again as they walk out, fingertips trailing over his knuckles in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Peter follows his mind spinning, nerves and anticipation tangled together. Behind them, Yelena moves with the confidence of someone who owns the night.
The walk to Peter's apartment is a blur of glances and light contact. Kate lets her shoulder brush against his every few steps, laughing softly at nothing in particular. Yelena occasionally steps close, her fingers skimming Peter's lower back as they cross a street, lingering just a moment too long to be accidental.
The cold air nips at his skin, but it only heightens every touch, every glance exchanged between them. When they reach his door, Kate doesn't hesitate. She pulls the spare key from her bag and unlocks it with practiced ease.
Peter steps inside, heart racing. Yelena follows, her hand brushing his as she passes him—a brief touch, but unmistakable.
Kate closes the door behind them, turning to face him with a sly, knowing smile.
"Still sure?" she asks, her eyes gleaming with something hotter now.
Peter swallows hard and nods. His throat tightens, his body answering for him—drawn forward, trembling with anticipation.
Kate steps closer, close enough that her breath warms his cheek. Her hand rises to his jaw, tracing the edge with slow, confident fingers. She doesn't kiss him yet—she just lingers there, making him wait.
"I'll take that as a yes," she whispers, her voice low and teasing.
Yelena leans against the wall, silent, but her eyes never leave them. She drags her fingers across the wall beside her, marking the space, then folds her arms, watching and waiting.
Peter feels like he's drowning in anticipation, every nerve taut. Then Kate's lips crash into his, and all thought disappears. It's not soft. It's not gentle. It's hot, urgent—hungry.
Her mouth moves over his with possession, teeth grazing his bottom lip, tongue parting his lips with ease. She kisses like she fights—direct, confident, commanding. Peter surrenders to her, heart hammering as her hands move to his chest, fingers working his shirt buttons open with a practiced speed that leaves him dizzy.
It's happening fast—almost too fast. But it's exactly what he wants, even if he's only just realizing it.
Yelena remains still, arms crossed, her sharp green eyes locked on them. The smirk never leaves her lips.
"It's cute how shy you are, Peter," she purrs, her accent wrapping around his name like silk. "I thought you'd be more of a… go-getter."
Peter opens his mouth to respond, but Kate doesn't give him the chance. She yanks him back into the kiss, deeper this time, swallowing his breath. Her hands slide his shirt off his shoulders, pushing it down and baring him inch by inch. Her palms glide over his skin—over the firm lines of his chest, the toned abs shaped by years of swinging through New York. Her touch is bold and unashamed.
She pulls away, lips swollen, her breath quick and shallow. Her eyes roam his body like she's savoring the sight.
"Not bad, Parker," Kate murmurs with a smirk. "Definitely not bad."
Peter exhales shakily, still trying to catch up, cheeks flushed. "I—I'm just getting started."
Kate grins, her blue eyes sparkling with confidence, before glancing over her shoulder at Yelena. "Your turn?"
Yelena drops her arms with a lazy, deliberate grace, stepping forward. Her eyes flick over Peter like he's prey she's finally been allowed to pounce on. Every sway of her hips sends a surge of heat through him, and that predatory gleam in her expression tightens something deep inside Peter's stomach.
She stops right in front of him, her fingers trailing down his chest with maddening slowness. "Don't worry, Peter," she whispers, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. "We'll make sure you enjoy this."
Peter shudders. Yelena's warm breath against his skin, her sultry voice, the feel of her fingers grazing over every inch of him—it's almost too much. Then, her lips press against his neck, hot and deliberate. She finds the sensitive spot just below his jaw, sucking softly, her teeth grazing his skin. Peter's knees threaten to buckle.
Kate leaned back against the arm of the couch, peeling off her jacket and letting it fall to the floor. Her tank top hugged the gentle swell of her chest, her dark hair slightly tousled from the heat of the room. Her nipples pressed faintly against the thin fabric, but her gaze stayed on Peter—sharp, electric, and unflinching.
Across from her, Yelena shrugged out of her cropped coat with deliberate slowness. "You're blushing, Peter Parker," she said, lips quirking into a knowing smirk. Her accent curled around his name like a dare.
Peter cleared his throat, trying—and failing—to look anywhere else. "I'm… not really used to this."
Yelena raised a brow, already working on the button of her jeans. "You've been staring at my ass since we sat down," she said flatly, stepping out of the denim with one smooth motion. She wore nothing underneath. Her body was all lean, lethal grace—taut abs, firm thighs, and that round, sculpted ass she now turned slightly so Peter got a full view.
Kate laughed softly and stepped forward. "And you? You've been looking at my boobs all night."
Peter's face burned hotter.
Without breaking eye contact, Kate grabbed the hem of her tank top and lifted it slowly, teasingly. Her breasts bounced free, full, and perky, nipples already stiff from the chill in the air. "You like them?" she asked, her voice dripping with amusement. "You can stare a little longer. We don't mind."
The room was thick with heat—breathing, flickering shadows, and the quiet hum of the city outside.
Yelena closed the gap, moving closer to Peter with the lazy confidence of someone who always got what she wanted. "So unfair," she murmured, brushing her bare shoulder against his. "We're half-naked and you're still fully dressed?"
Peter swallowed hard, blinking between the two of them like he couldn't decide where to look.
Kate grinned and stepped in, her fingers ghosting over the hem of his shirt. "Lucky for you, we've got you covered."
She leaned in, lips just inches from his, eyes dark with intent. "Arms up, Parker."
He obeys, raising his arms as she pulls the shirt over his head. The fabric rustles as it falls to the floor, revealing his lean, muscular frame. His pale skin stretches tight over the sinewy muscle, faint scars scattered across his torso. His brown hair is messy from their kisses, and his eyes—wide, soulful, and full of desire—meet Kate's with a mix of awe and want. Kate's gaze sweeps over him, slow and hungry. "God, you're actually kind of hot."
Peter huffs a shaky breath, arousal pulsing through him like a current. She steps in close, her hands gliding up his chest. Her mouth claims his again—slower this time, deeper, tongue sliding past his lips with a hunger that sends heat shooting down his spine. Peter groans into her mouth, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her flush against him. Her tits press into his chest, her pelvis grinding against his rock-hard cock through his jeans. She tastes like whiskey and cherry lip balm, and it's driving him insane.
She pulls back, smirking. "Lie down."
Peter obeys, dropping onto the wide couch, and stretching out along the cushions. Kate climbs on top of him, knees on either side of his head, lowering herself until her soaked pussy hovers above his mouth. Her lips trail down his torso, tugging at his waistband until his cock springs free. Then she takes him into her mouth while pressing her cunt to his face.
They settle into a frantic, messy 69.
Peter's tongue dives into her folds, licking and sucking with desperate need. Her taste floods his senses—warm, slick, addictive. Kate moans around his cock, bobbing her head, spit and precum making everything slick and wet.
That's when Yelena joins.
The blonde kneels behind Kate on the couch, her hands gliding up the curves of her back, nails teasing along her spine. "You're dripping," Yelena murmurs, almost admiringly.
Kate gasps around Peter's cock when Yelena leans forward, kissing the small of her back, then sliding her hand lower—between Kate's cheeks. Two fingers slip easily into her soaked cunt, thrusting in slow and deep while Peter eats her out from below.
The combination makes Kate whimper, her hips jerking as she rocks against Peter's mouth and grinds down onto Yelena's fingers. "F-fuck—" she chokes, pulling off Peter's cock just long enough to moan. "Don't stop. Either of you."
Yelena chuckles low, her breath hot against Kate's skin. "Greedy girl."
Peter moans into Kate's pussy, the vibration sending another jolt through her. She's trembling now, caught between the relentless thrust of Yelena's fingers and the way Peter sucks her clit—fast and focused. Her thighs close tight around his head, her whole body going taut.
She comes hard—spasming, gasping, nearly screaming. Her mouth falls open, saliva dripping onto Peter's shaft as she rides out every last pulse of her orgasm, Yelena curling her fingers deep, milking her through it. Peter licks up everything, greedy, and relentless, until Kate finally collapses forward with a gasp.
She rolls off Peter, limp and shuddering, arm thrown over her eyes. "Jesus fucking Christ…"
Peter is panting, face soaked. Kate turns her head to look at him, dazed and grinning. "You've got a wicked mouth, Parker."
Yelena sucks her slick fingers clean, eyes locked on Kate. "He's good," she says, licking a drop off her knuckle. "But you? You taste like a sin I'd gladly repeat."
Then, with smooth confidence, she moved over Peter, straddling him. Her thighs spread wide across his lap as she reached between them, wrapping her fingers around his cock—still rock-hard, throbbing, and glistening from earlier attention. She gave it a slow stroke, guiding the tip to her soaked cunt, her eyes meeting Peter's with a glint of hunger.
Peter gasped as Yelena sank down on him in one smooth, deliberate motion. Her pussy swallowed his cock inch by inch like magic, the heat of her clenching around him sending a sharp jolt through his spine. His hands immediately found her hips, fingers digging into the firm flesh as he tried to steady himself.
"Fuck," Yelena moaned, her head tilting back, blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. Her green eyes met his, dark with hunger, as she began to move, rolling her hips in long, deep strokes, the muscles in her thighs flexing with each downward motion. The sensation of her tightness was almost too much to handle, and Peter's breath came in short bursts, chest rising and falling beneath her.
Yelena's pace quickened, her movements becoming more urgent as she ground herself against him, the wet sound of her slickness filling the room. Peter's fingers tightened on her hips, and he groaned, his voice strained with the pressure building inside him.
"Yelena…" he breathed, his hands pulling her closer, desperate for more.
"I know," she whispered, her voice hushed but commanding. Her body moved faster now, her thighs slapping against his lap as she bounced harder, pushing herself down on him with brutal force. "I feel your cock pulsing baby."
The air around them was thick with the scent of sex, and Peter could feel the sweat trickling down his spine, his body already covered in a sheen of it. Every thrust, every movement of Yelena's body against his felt electric, sending waves of pleasure through him that were almost overwhelming.
Kate, still breathless from her earlier orgasm, slid down beside them, her body warm as it pressed to Peter's side. She leaned in, lips brushing his jaw before she kissed the curve of his neck, her fingers trailing down his abs, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Her voice was soft but laced with mischief. "You're close already, aren't you?" she whispered, her lips just a breath away from his ear. "Poor baby, you've been holding back."
Peter whimpered, the tension in his body almost unbearable. Every stroke of Yelena's tight pussy around his cock pushed him closer to the edge, but he was desperate to hold on, to make it last.
"Not yet," Yelena growled, her hand slapping his chest lightly, a reminder of her control. "You'll come when I say so."
Kate giggled darkly, her fingers slipping between his legs, teasing the sensitive skin there. She cupped his balls gently, rolling them in her hand, making him hiss in pleasure. "Better hold it, Pete," she teased, her touch light but filled with pressure.
The relentless rhythm of Yelena's movements didn't slow. She was riding him now with a savage pace, her tits bouncing under her tight black tank top, the fabric stretching against her curves. Her nipples were hard, clearly visible, and the sight made Peter's stomach tighten. Sweat glistened on her collarbone as she leaned down, her lips crashing against his in a bruising kiss, her tongue invading his mouth with possessive hunger.
Peter's whole body trembled beneath her, soaked with sweat, the weight of both women pressing down on him from every side. His cock was buried deep inside Yelena's clenching pussy, and Kate's lips were against his chest, teasing, her hand massaging his balls with slow, deliberate strokes.
"Hold it," Yelena snarled, her breath coming in short gasps as her own climax neared. She was getting close, too, and she ground herself down on him harder, faster, the sound of their bodies meeting and filling the room. Her nails dug into his chest as she leaned forward again, her lips brushing his ear. "You'll come when I tell you to."
Kate's voice was low, a whisper of desire. "Think you can?" she taunted, her lips teasing his earlobe, her tongue tracing the sensitive curve of it.
Peter could feel his control slipping, the overwhelming pleasure building within him, but he fought to hold it, his dick tense and ready to explode.
Suddenly, Kate climbed back up onto him, positioning herself over his face. She ground her pussy against his mouth, greedy for another orgasm, her moans filling the air as she pressed herself closer. Peter moaned into her, his tongue working desperately, matching Yelena's relentless rhythm with his own. His hands gripped Kate's thighs, pulling her against him as he tried to give her as much pleasure as possible.
"Oh, fuck, Peter!" Kate cried out, her thighs quivering as the force of her orgasm took over. Her juices flooded his mouth, and he didn't stop. He licked her through it, his tongue pressing against her, coaxing out every tremor, every spasm of her climax, until she was shaking and breathless.
Kate finally slid off of him, her body trembling as she leaned down to kiss him deeply, tasting herself on his lips. Her hand dragged down his chest, nails grazing over his skin possessively, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
Yelena didn't slow her pace. She slammed her hips down one last time, a low moan slipping from her lips as she leaned back, grabbing Peter's jaw and forcing his eyes to meet hers. Her green eyes were fierce, the intensity of the moment reflected in her gaze.
"Now," she commanded, her voice dark and low, a promise of release.
That was all it took.
Peter's body arched up, muscles locking as his orgasm hit him with brutal force. His cock throbbed inside her, and he came hard, hot cum spilling into her pulsing pussy in thick, uncontrollable waves. Yelena moaned, feeling every twitch, every pulse of his release, and she rode him through it, savoring the way his body bucked beneath her.
When it was over, Peter collapsed back onto the couch, gasping for breath, his skin flushed and glistening with sweat. His body felt heavy, and drained, yet still aching with a lingering hunger.
Yelena stayed seated on his cock a moment longer, milking the last of him with slow, grinding circles. She leaned in, kissing him softly—still in control, but gentler now. Her lips brushed against his, and she lingered there, breathing in his exhaustion, her chest rising and falling with the same rhythm as her movements.
Kate, curling up beside them, flashed a satisfied smile. Her hazel eyes gleamed as she slid closer, resting her head on Peter's shoulder. "Peter," she whispered, her voice soft but playful, "you're not done yet, are you?"
Peter could barely answer, but the slight twitch of his cock inside Yelena spoke volumes. He was already stirring again, the warm pressure of Yelena's body around him making it impossible to stay soft for long.
Kate slid onto her back on the couch, spreading her legs wide. Her pussy, still pink and flushed from her own orgasm, glistened with the aftermath. She gazed at Peter with a lazy smile—sated but commanding. "Come here," she ordered, her tone almost daring.
Peter's breath hitched as he slowly shifted, moving between Kate's legs. His hands trembled slightly, still feeling the remnants of the intense pleasure he'd just experienced, but his desire for her flared up again. He moved to kneel between her thighs, positioning himself with a quiet groan.
Kate reached down, curling her fingers around his cock, guiding him to her pussy entrance. The heat of her pussy was immediate—tight, velvety, and wet. Peter groaned at the sensation as he slowly pushed in, inch by inch, his eyes locked with hers as he sank deeper.
"God, Kate," he whispered, his voice hoarse.
Kate's back arched, her arms curling around his shoulders as she dug her nails into his skin. "Harder," she demanded, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper with a possessive tug. Her hips lifted to meet him, urging him on.
Peter obeyed, thrusting forward with a force that made her gasp. Her breath hitched in time with his movements, her body melting beneath him as he found a rhythm that made her moan shamelessly. She rocked with him, her lips finding his neck as her fingers dug into his back.
Yelena watched them with dark, ravenous eyes, her desire undimmed. Peter was already fucking Kate, his cock slick from the first time he'd filled her, now plunging into her soaked, stretched pussy with raw determination. The wet slap of their bodies meeting filled the room, and Kate's moans only spurred him on.
Her fingers slipped between her thighs, circling her clit in slow, deliberate strokes as she watched—hungry and unblinking. The sight of Peter, relentless and flushed, pistoning into Kate's messy and shameless cunt that had already orgasmed twice but was still so needy made her hips roll instinctively, her arousal surging higher with every thrust he gave.
Peter's thrusts faltered as the pressure built within him. With a strangled groan, he buried himself deep inside Kate, pumping his cum into her with one last, desperate thrust. His orgasm tore through him, shaking his body as he felt the heat flood her.
Kate's eyes widened at the sensation of him coming inside her, but she smiled, cradling his face in her hands. "It's okay," she whispered, pulling him into a soft, tender kiss. "You did so fucking good."
Yelena snorted softly, her voice dripping with playful teasing. "So sentimental." She stood. She moved to the edge of the couch, kneeling in front of them, facing away from them, her ass high in the air. Her cunt still leaking from Peter's cum and glistened with her own pussy lubricant, dripping as she glanced back at Peter. Her eyes were fierce, filled with an intensity that matched the hunger in her body.
She didn't need to say anything more. The demand was clear in her gaze.
"Fuck me," she commanded, her voice low, dark, and unyielding.
Peter didn't hesitate. Still hard and aching, he moved behind her, gripping Yelena's hips tightly. With a grunt, he slammed into her, her slick heat clamping down on him like a vice.
"Fuck, yes," Yelena growled, tossing her head back, her ponytail swinging as she pushed her ass against him harder. She wanted everything—more friction, more stretch, more of him.
Peter's rhythm turned feral—rough, fast, his hips snapping forward, his balls slapping against her soaked cunt. Yelena met each thrust with matching hunger, gasping in low, guttural sounds that filled the room. One hand braced her on the couch, the other rubbed furious circles on her swollen clit, chasing the edge with wild desperation.
Across from them, Kate lay sprawled on the cushions, still flushed from her earlier climax. Her fingers moved lazily over her own clit, lips parted, eyes locked on the scene in front of her. Her breath caught in her throat. "Fuck… that's so hot," she whispered, her voice quivering with need.
Yelena let out a primal moan, her whole body seizing as her orgasm slammed into her like a shockwave. Her walls clenched down around Peter's cock with unrelenting force. "On me," she snarled, voice sharp with release.
Peter grunted, barely able to hold back. He pulled out in a frantic rush, stroking himself fast as his climax overtook him. Thick, white ropes of cum spilled across Yelena's lower back and ass, painting her flushed skin as she quivered and gasped through the last pulses of her orgasm.
The sight alone was too much—Kate's back arched off the couch, her fingers flicking faster, and then she came with a cry, her pussy clenching around nothing, her moan breathy and broken. Her thighs trembled, and her toes curled against the cushions.
Exhausted, they collapsed together in a tangled, breathless heap. Peter's body slumped back onto the couch, sweat sheening his chest. Kate curled up beside him, her cheek pressed to his skin, listening to the rapid, slowing beat of his heart.
Yelena dropped down on Kate's other side, her arm slung across the brunette's waist, fingers absentmindedly tracing slow circles on Peter's thigh. Her breathing was steady now, though her smirk still burned with heat.
"Don't get addicted," Yelena muttered with a crooked grin, but her fingers continued threading gently through Kate's hair—contradicting her words with quiet tenderness.
Kate chuckled, her voice was husky and warm. She tilted her head up just enough to murmur, "Too fucking late."
Peter smiled and squeezed her hand gently, a silent answer to the bond curling quietly between the three of them—something hot, electric, and dangerously close to affection.