As she stood among the many beautiful and sexy ladies and gentlemen in the waiting area with her number 495 on her chest card, Felicia didn't know why she had signed up with all these former models and escorts for Parker-Frost Industries Aurora Invicta party entertainment trials. Scratch that. She knew exactly why. Peter.
The luxury waiting lounge of Parker-Frost Tower buzzed with nervous energy as gorgeous people chatted, practiced poses, or scrolled through their phones. Felicia leaned against a marble pillar, her platinum blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, drawing more than a few appreciative glances from other applicants. She ignored them all, lost in memories of what had been.
Last she had left their relationship once mary jane had found some outer dimensional guy named Paul, they had broken up, going through the paces of a relationship without a spark. Most likely because of her obsession with Spider-Man rather than looking at the man beyond the mask. She'd been an idiot, infatuated with the thrill of rooftop chases and midnight encounters. The mundane reality of dating Peter Parker—sweet, responsible Peter with his photography and science talk—had seemed so... ordinary. When Peter hadn't even bothered to chastise her for stealing, she had felt her interest flicker and die for them to be together, as shallow as that sounded.
So she had broken up with Peter, dated around, found a girlfriend in her fellow thief Tamara, broken up with her when they clashed over their scores, and came back to New York to find Peter hitched to Emma Frost of all people, with two children on the way, back to his normal self as Spider-Man and with a trillion-dollar company. And just like that, the flame was back, and she wanted him again, which again was very shallow of her. But she couldn't help it—seeing him flourish, watching him become the man she'd always sensed he could be, powerful and confident... it awakened something primal in her.
"Number 493!" called an attendant from a doorway, and Felicia shifted her weight impatiently. Two more before her turn.
Peter had avoided her during his patrols, letting other heroes respond to her burglaries and deal with her. The one time Peter had responded to Felicia stealing some diamonds, all he had done was greet her, web them to him, and left her on the roof. And that had hurt. No playful banter, no flirting. Nothing. The dismissal stung worse than any punch from a super-villain. She wanted him... he didn't want her... hell, Peter seemed to pretend they had no history. And Felicia couldn't let it end like that.
So when she heard Emma Frost was auditioning men and women as entertainment for the Aurora Invicta party, she had thrown her most seductive pics in an email and hoped Emma had no problem with Felicia fucking her old flame. The White Queen didn't strike her as the jealous type—more like the type who enjoyed asserting dominance. Felicia was willing to play that game if it meant getting close to Peter again.
"You think she knows?" whispered a statuesque redhead to her friend nearby. "I heard the White Queen is interviewing everyone personally."
"Of course she knows," her friend replied. "She's a telepath. Probably reading all our dirty thoughts right now."
Felicia smirked. Let Emma read her thoughts. She had nothing to hide. Her intentions were as transparent as they were selfish. She wanted Peter back—or at least wanted to remind him of what they'd had. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones making Emma charitable, but Felicia was shocked her application hadn't been immediately trashed.
She looked up and down the waiting area, taking in the hundreds of handsome men and sexy women waiting for their chance. The competition was fierce—former Victoria's Secret models, dancers from Vegas shows, Instagram and marvelgram influencers with millions of followers. But Felicia had something they didn't: history. A shared past with the man of honor. She also had years of experience slipping past security systems and evading detection—skills that might come in handy depending on how this interview went.
"Number 494!"
One more to go. Felicia straightened her posture, subtly adjusting her tight black dress that hugged every curve of her athletic body. The neckline plunged dangerously low, and the hemline rode high on her thighs—professional enough for an interview but provocative enough to make a statement. She'd left her costume at home, but she was still Black Cat in all the ways that mattered.
Suddenly, the crowds parted as if by magic—or telepathy—and blue eyes met with green. Felicia was looking at Mary Jane Watson, carrying number 496 on her chest card.
Mary Jane stood there, beautiful as ever, though Felicia noticed immediately that the fire in those emerald eyes had dimmed somewhat. She wore tight designer jeans that hugged her curves perfectly, paired with a forest green silk shirt that complemented her red hair. Gold bracelets adorned her wrists, and a cream designer coat hung casually over her arm. Despite the obvious expense of her outfit, there was something subdued about her presence—the confident swagger that had once made her the envy of New York's modeling scene seemed muted.
They walked toward each other like two cats circling in an alley, sizing each other up as they always had. Felicia was acutely aware of how she looked in her black micro-shorts and fishnet stockings, her crop top straining against her ample breasts. She'd dressed to kill, and from the flicker in Mary Jane's eyes, the effect wasn't lost on her former rival.
"Felicia," Mary Jane greeted her, not coldly but with the tone of someone with complicated history. "I should have known you'd be here."
"And I should've known you wouldn't miss this opportunity," Felicia replied, flashing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Though I'm surprised you're not with Paul. Last I heard, you two were inseparable—the dimensional travelers reunited."
Mary Jane's expression faltered. "Paul disappeared after the last Hellfire Gala. I haven't seen him in five years."
"Five years?" Felicia's perfectly shaped eyebrows arched in genuine surprise. "What happened?I thought he was your soulmate or whatever."
"We don't know," Mary Jane said, her voice tight. "He vanished that night. I asked Peter for help searching, but..." She trailed off, her eyes dropping to the floor momentarily.
Felicia twirled a platinum lock around her finger. "Well, you're not one to give up on people you love..." She paused deliberately, her voice taking on an edge. "Well, until that person was Peter."
Mary Jane stepped back as if physically struck, her hand tightening around the strap of her designer purse. For a moment, it looked like she might argue, her lips parting in defense. Then her shoulders slumped ever so slightly.
"You're right," she admitted, the words clearly painful. "Despite all the times Peter was away doing his... other work, he always did his best to come back to me. Bruised and broken sometimes, but still, he would return. And yet..." Her voice cracked slightly. "When it came time for me to do the same, I couldn't wait. Peter would have faced gods and demons before leaving me stranded in another dimension, but I gave in to doubt and fear."
"You slept with Paul," Felicia stated bluntly.
"I did," Mary Jane nodded, a sad smile touching her lips. "I embraced loneliness. I embraced two kids that weren't even real. And when Peter finally came for me—because of course he did—I doubled down on Paul and broke up with Peter." Her green eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I left him more broken than ever before... and it took Emma Frost of all people to put him back together again."
Felicia was silent for a long moment, studying the woman before her. There was a time when she would have reveled in Mary Jane's misery, would have thrown it back in her face with gleeful spite. But something in the redhead's defeated posture stirred an unexpected sympathy.
"Why are you here then?" Felicia finally asked, her voice softer than she'd intended. "If you know it's over, why put yourself through this?"
Mary Jane looked up, meeting Felicia's gaze directly. "I saw him a few nights ago, on the roof of the Chrysler Building. I tried to tell him what a fool I'd been, how much I regretted everything... but Peter wanted nothing to do with me. He's happy with Emma, excited about the twins." She swallowed hard. "I guess I just want to give myself to Peter any way I can now. Even if it's just as... entertainment."
"I'm not one to judge, Red," Felicia said, leaning against the wall. "God knows I've made my share of mistakes with him. But I doubt this will work the way you hope. Emma's not exactly known for sharing what she considers hers."
"I know," Mary Jane nodded, resignation in her voice. "But I have to try. It's not like I'm doing anything else with my life."
"Your career—" Felicia began.
"Modeling is getting stale," Mary Jane cut her off. "The jobs are becoming more risqué by the day, and after I broke some minor movie director's son's nose because he tried to cop a feel of my ass, I know I'm blacklisted from the bigger productions." She gave a hollow laugh. "So now I get to pick between smaller roles or sleeping my way to the top. The second option sickens me, despite how many of my fellow stars enjoy the glamor and roles they get from being mistresses."
Felicia was about to reply when an attendant called out both their numbers simultaneously—a deviation from the pattern they'd observed all morning. Unlike the other applicants, they weren't directed toward the main interview hall but instead met by two stone-faced security guards who gestured for them to follow.
"Well, this is interesting," Felicia murmured, exchanging a glance with Mary Jane as they were escorted down a private corridor.
The guards led them to an expensively furnished lounge far removed from the hustle of the waiting area. Soft lighting illuminated custom artwork and rare artifacts displayed in glass cases. A bar stocked with top-shelf liquor occupied one wall, and plush furniture was arranged around a central coffee table crafted from what appeared to be a single slab of blue-veined marble.
And there, lounging on a white leather sofa with the casual elegance of a lioness surveying her territory, sat Emma Frost. Her eight-month pregnant belly was draped in flowing white silk, her platinum blonde hair immaculately styled, and her ice-blue eyes followed their entrance with predatory intensity.
"Ladies," Emma greeted them, her British-accented voice carrying through the room like a velvet-wrapped blade. "How delightful that you both applied for positions on my husband's celebration cruise." She gestured to the seats across from her. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. We have so much to discuss about your... qualifications."
As Felicia and Mary Jane settled into the plush chairs across from Emma, an uncomfortable silence filled the room. The White Queen's piercing blue eyes studied them like specimens under glass, her hand resting protectively over her swollen belly. Her expression remained neutral, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.
"I must say," Emma finally began, her crisp British accent cutting through the silence, "I find your applications quite... audacious." She shifted slightly, adjusting her posture to better accommodate her pregnancy. "Two of Peter's ex-lovers applying to serve as 'entertainment' at his bachelor celebration. How very convenient."
Mary Jane opened her mouth to speak, but Emma raised a manicured hand.
"No, darling. I'll be doing the talking for now." Emma's smile was razor-sharp. "Let's start with you, Mary Jane. The woman who abandoned Peter after he literally crossed dimensions to rescue you. The woman who chose a pale imitation—a man who ultimately vanished without a trace—over the most loyal, devoted partner anyone could ask for." Her voice remained conversational, almost pleasant, making the venom in her words all the more potent. "And now, five years later, after your career has stalled and your life lacks direction, you suddenly remember Peter exists?"
"That's not fair," Mary Jane protested, color rising in her cheeks. "I made a terrible mistake. I've regretted it every day since—"
"Regret," Emma cut her off, "is such a useless emotion. Particularly when it only manifests after you've exhausted all other options." She tapped her temple. "I can read minds, dear. I know exactly when you started regretting your choice—right around the time you realized ParkerFrost Industries was becoming a global powerhouse and Peter was no longer available."
Mary Jane's eyes flashed with indignation. "That's not true! I never cared about his money—"
"No?" Emma arched a perfect eyebrow. "Your modeling career has been reduced to lingerie shoots with photographers who leer at you. Your acting prospects dried up after that unfortunate incident with the director's son—which, I'll grant you, was justified—but now you're applying to be, essentially, eye candy on my husband's cruise. Tell me, what exactly did you imagine your role would entail?"
"I just wanted to see him again," Mary Jane said quietly, looking down at her hands. "To apologize properly. I know I hurt him—"
"Hurt him?" Emma's laugh was brittle. "You shattered him. When I found him, he was hiding in a tree at the Hellfire Gala, watching you parade around with Paul, unable to even approach you." Her eyes narrowed. "I picked up the pieces, Mary Jane. I rebuilt what you destroyed."
Emma then turned her attention to Felicia, who had been watching the exchange with wary eyes.
"And you, Ms. Hardy. The infamous Black Cat. You never wanted Peter Parker, did you? You wanted the thrill of Spider-Man—the mask, the danger, the rooftop chases." Emma's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "The moment Peter showed you his true self—his gentle, intelectual nature, his moral code—you became bored. Until, of course, he acquired power and wealth."
Felicia leaned forward, her green eyes flashing. "That's not entirely fair. Peter and I had a complicated relationship—"
"Complicated?" Emma laughed. "You rejected him when he was just Peter Parker. You couldn't handle his conscience, his refusal to embrace your criminal lifestyle. When he stopped chastising you for stealing, you lost interest. How incredibly shallow." She examined her nails casually. "And now that he's successful, powerful, and unavailable, suddenly he's irresistible again."
"I've changed," Felicia insisted. "I understand now what I walked away from—"
"What you both fail to understand," Emma interrupted, her voice hardening, "is that Peter is not a consolation prize. He's not someone you settle for when your other options have expired. He's not a safety net for failed careers or a trophy to be claimed now that he's wealthy." Her blue eyes glittered dangerously. "He is extraordinary—brilliant, compassionate, and stronger than either of you ever gave him credit for. And now he's mine."
Mary Jane straightened her spine, gathering her courage. "Emma, please. I know I have no right to ask for another chance, but I truly did love him. I just... I got confused, and scared, and—"
"Confused?" Emma's voice was ice. "Let me tell you about confusion, Mary Jane. Confusion is when Peter cried in my arms after seeing you with that dimensional interloper Paul. Confusion is when he questioned his worth as a man because the woman he would have moved heaven and earth for couldn't wait for him." She leaned forward, her pregnant belly prominent between them like a physical manifestation of her claim on Peter. "If you had seen him that night—broken, doubting himself—you wouldn't dare sit here now asking for anything."
Felicia, never one to back down, crossed her legs and met Emma's gaze directly. "Look, Frost, I understand your position. But Peter and I have history. There was always something between us, even when we were at odds. That kind of connection doesn't just disappear."
"Connection?" Emma's laugh was genuine this time. "Oh, Felicia. You connected with the mask, with the thrill. You wanted Spider-Man, not the man behind the mask." She tapped her finger against her temple again. "I don't need to read your mind to know that when Peter talked about his scientific research or his moral dilemmas, your eyes glazed over. You wanted the chase, the danger—not the beautiful, complex mind that makes him who he is."
"That's not—" Felicia began, but Emma continued relentlessly.
"Do you know what Peter does now, Felicia? Besides running a trillion-dollar company? He's developing technologies that will revolutionize healthcare. He's created shields that can protect entire neighborhoods from attacks. He's designing sustainable energy solutions that could end global warming." Emma's voice softened with genuine pride. "And when he talks about these things, his eyes light up with the same passion you only ever saw when he was swinging between buildings. But you never cared about that side of him, did you?"
The room fell silent. Mary Jane looked down at her hands, while Felicia's jaw tightened in defiance.
"I didn't bring you here to humiliate you," Emma finally said, her tone softening slightly. "I brought you here because i know Peter still cares about both of you, despite everything. He would never admit it, but a part of him still wonders why he wasn't enough." She placed both hands on her belly as the twins shifted inside her. "I want that part of him healed before our children are born. I want him whole—not because I'm jealous, but because he deserves peace."
Emma stared at both women, her blue eyes cold as Arctic ice. "I've given this considerable thought," she continued, crossing her legs elegantly despite her advanced pregnancy. "And I've decided to approve both your applications."
Felicia and Mary Jane exchanged surprised glances.
"However," Emma held up one perfectly manicured finger, "there are conditions. Ms. Hardy, given your... unique skill set and your history with Peter, I'm willing to include you among the women he might choose to entertain himself with during the celebration." She smiled thinly. "After all, closure can take many forms."
Felicia's eyebrows shot up. "You'd allow Peter to sleep with me?"
"Allow?" Emma laughed, the sound like crystal breaking. "My dear, I've arranged it. Peter and I have a very... modern arrangement. One built on absolute honesty and trust—something neither of you managed to achieve with him." She leaned forward, voice dropping to a near whisper. "Besides, I confess I'm rather curious to see what happens when he finally gets you out of his system. When he hate-fucks you into oblivion and realizes you were never worth his pain."
Felicia gulped, feeling a sudden heat rush through her body. Despite the crudeness of Emma's words—or perhaps because of them—she felt herself clench with need, imagining Peter unleashing years of pent-up frustration on her willing body. Emma's eyes narrowed knowingly, and Felicia realized with embarrassment that the telepath had likely sensed her reaction.
"As for you, Mary Jane," Emma continued, her tone noticeably colder, "you'll be welcome aboard as entertainment—just not for Peter."
Mary Jane's face flushed. "What exactly does that mean?"
"It means, darling, that you can shake your fat ass serving drinks, or accompany some elderly billionaire who enjoys having a pretty redhead on his arm." Emma's smile was vicious. "Perhaps one of our Japanese investors—Tanaka-san is quite fond of American models."
"You can't be serious," Mary Jane protested, her voice rising. "I'm not going to be some... some fucktoy for your guests and business associates! I came here to make things right with Peter, not to be pimped out!"
Emma's eyes flashed dangerously. "Lower your voice, Ms. Watson. No one is forcing you to sleep with anyone. But I'm certainly not going to encourage my husband to bed the woman who broke his heart into pieces simply because she's sorry now." She shrugged elegantly. "Actions have consequences. You showed Peter exactly how much you valued him when you chose that dimensional interloper over the man who crossed realities to save you. Now you can earn your passage on my ship."
"Earn?" Mary Jane stood up, trembling with indignation. "I'm not some desperate case looking for a handout, Emma. I was one of the highest-paid models in New York—"
"Was," Emma interrupted sharply. "Past tense. And do sit down; the dramatics are entirely unnecessary." She reached for a tablet on the side table and quickly navigated through several screens. "Your recent work tells quite a different story. Three lingerie catalogs for increasingly obscure brands, a handful of local commercial spots, and—oh my—an audition for an adult film that you walked out of. How the mighty have fallen."
Mary Jane sank back into her seat, her face pale. "How did you—"
"Information is power, dear. I make it my business to know everything about anyone who might impact Peter's life." Emma's tone softened fractionally. "Look, I understand you believe your regret is genuine. Perhaps it is. But from where I sit, it looks remarkably like you only started missing Peter when your career faltered, Paul disappeared and his fortunes rose."
"That's not fair!" Mary Jane's eyes glistened with tears. "I've made mistakes—terrible ones—but I did love Peter. I still care about him. You can't just... just reduce five years of my life to opportunism!"
Emma reached for two folders on the side table, opening them to reveal paperwork with their applications. With deliberate slowness, she produced a custom stamp and pressed it firmly on each document, leaving behind the word "APPROVED" in bold red letters.
"You're both welcome aboard the Aurora Invicta," she announced, closing the folders with finality. "Ms. Hardy, you'll be assigned to entertainment duties that may include private time with my husband, should he choose it." She turned to Mary Jane, her expression hardening. "Ms. Watson, you'll serve as general entertainment. Whether that means arm candy for a visiting dignitary or serving cocktails to the elite is entirely up to how you wish to apply your talents."
Mary Jane's hands clenched into fists. "And what if I refuse these... degrading terms?"
"Then don't come," Emma replied simply. "The choice is yours. But these are my conditions for having you aboard a celebration that is, need I remind you, for the man you rejected and the family he's building with me." She patted her pregnant belly meaningfully.
"Will I be allowed to speak with Peter?" Mary Jane asked, her voice smaller now. "After the cruise, I mean. To properly apologize."
Emma considered this for a moment, tilting her head slightly. "You may speak with Peter during the cruise whenever you like... if he bothers to speak to you." Her smile was almost pitying. "But I won't arrange any private meetings or force him to listen to your apologies. He's moved on, Mary Jane. Perhaps it's time you did too."
Felicia, who had been watching this exchange with calculating eyes, finally spoke up. "And if Peter does choose to... spend time with me, what exactly are your expectations?"
Emma turned to her, expression softening slightly. "My only expectation is honesty. No games, no manipulation, no attempts to rekindle something permanent. If Peter desires physical closure with you, that's his prerogative. But understand this—" her eyes flashed with warning, "—he comes home to me. Always. This isn't the beginning of anything; it's the end of unfinished business."
"And if I wanted more?" Felicia challenged, unable to help herself.
Emma's icy blue eyes studied Felicia with a calculating gaze, surprisingly more receptive than she'd been with Mary Jane. "If you wanted more?" she repeated, her lips curving into na amused smile. "Well, that would be entirely up to my husband, wouldn't it?" She shifted position slightly, her hand protectively caressing her pregnant belly.
"Wait," Felicia leaned forward, her green eyes wide with disbelief. "You'd actually consider letting me be more than just a one-night stand for Peter?"
"Despite your shallow ways of wanting the hero instead of the man behind the mask," Emma replied coolly, "I'm not blind to the connection you shared. Peter makes his own choices. I respect him too much to dictate who he can and cannot find comfort with." Her gaze flicked meaningfully to Mary Jane before returning to Felicia. "The boundaries of our marriage are... flexible, when it comes to certain individuals."
Mary Jane's face contorted with shock. "You can't be serious. You'd let other women sleep with your husband? The father of your children?"
Emma laughed, the sound like tinkling crystal. "My dear, other women already have." She smiled at their stunned expressions. "Jean and Storm have both had a taste of Peter, and I have no doubt they'll want more. They've already carried his children inside them—at least, Storm is confirmed to be carrying his triplets, while Jean is... well, the Phoenix complicates matters."
"What?" Mary Jane gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Peter slept with Jean Grey? And Storm? But they're—"
"Mutants? X-Men? Married, in Jean's case?" Emma waved dismissively. "That was for... other reasons. Krakoa has its needs." Her smile turned predatory as she fixed her gaze on Mary Jane. "But when it comes to human women, I'm considerably more selective. Friends may join our bed, but only those I trust implicitly. Only those who respect what Peter and I have built together."
Felicia's eyes lit up with calculation and desire. "And you'd trust me?"
"Trust is earned," Emma replied enigmatically. "But Peter cared for you once. That earns you consideration, if nothing else." She reached for the files on the table and tossed them across to both women. "Consider yourselves approved. These contain your card keys, identification badges, and photos of the designer clothing and lingerie you'll be expected to wear during your duties."
Felicia eagerly flipped through her file, her fingers tracing over images of exquisite designer outfits and priceless jewelry. "This is... incredible," she breathed, examining a photo of a diamond choker that must have cost more than most of her heists combined. "Are these Bulgari diamonds?"
"Parker-Frost Industries spares no expense," Emma said simply. "The Aurora Invicta representes the pinnacle of luxury. Its staff must reflect that standard." She gestured toward the door. "You're both free to go. The cruise departs in a week. Accommodations have been arranged for you at the Four Seasons until then, where you'll also receive your fittings and briefings."
Felicia rose smoothly from her seat, still absorbed in the catalogue of luxury items she would soon be wearing. With a satisfied smile and a provocative sway of her hips, she strutted toward the door, pausing only to throw a triumphant glance at Mary Jane before disappearing into the hallway.
Mary Jane stood more slowly, clutching her file like a lifeline as she prepared to follow. Just as she reached the door, Emma's voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"Ms. Watson." The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. "A woman— especially a wife—is a jealous creature. Doubly so when she carries children."
Mary Jane turned back, finding Emma's glacial stare fixed on her with frightening intensity.
"I have awakened many nights to Peter's nightmares," Emma continued, her voice unnervingly soft. "Nightmares where you abandon him again and again. Where he is left alone to die with nobody to love him." Her hand tightened on her swollen belly. "I lie to him, you know. I tell him he's dreaming of enemies, of battles lost. I never tell him the truth—that five years later, he still dreams of you walking away."
Mary Jane felt the color drain from her face. "Emma, I never wanted to hurt him like that—"
"My hatred for you runs deep," Emma interrupted, her voice perfectly controlled despite the venom in her words. "So deep that even now, I could leave you a brain-dead vegetable with a mere thought." Her eyes flashed with dangerous power. "I've considered it. Many times."
Mary Jane took an involuntary step back, genuine fear flickering across her features.
"But I don't," Emma continued, "because that would hurt Peter. And that's what fascinates and terrifies me most about my husband—his unfathomable capacity for forgiveness." Her expression softened with genuine love. "As Spider-Man and as Peter Parker, he believes in second chances, even for those who've wounded him most deeply."
She rose from her seat with surprising grace despite her pregnancy, moving to stand before Mary Jane with regal bearing. "So what I truly hate—what keeps me awake at night beside him—is knowing that somewhere in his heart, he will always love you. And despite his avoidance now... one day, he will forgive you."
Emma's eyes glistened with unshed tears, her vulnerability showing through her armor for just a moment. "And I don't know what that means for us when it happens."
Mary Jane stood frozen, her eyes filling with a complex mixture of hope and shame. For several heartbeats, neither woman spoke.
"Thank you," Mary Jane finally whispered, clutching the file to her chest. "For the job. For your honesty. For..." she swallowed hard, "for being what he needed when I couldn't be."
Emma's expression hardened once more, the moment of vulnerability vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. "Don't mistake pragmatism for kindness, Ms. Watson. Now get out of my office. I have a company to run and children to nurture."
Mary Jane nodded once, then turned and walked out, her shoulders straightening with each step as if gathering her resolve for whatever lay ahead on the Aurora Invicta.
Emma watched Mary Jane leave with a hateful sigh, her hand instinctively moving to her swollen belly as the twins shifted inside her. The meeting had drained her more than she'd anticipated. She glanced at her tablet, noting dozens more applicants waiting for their interviews. With a mental summons, she called for the Cuckoos to join her. Perhaps they could handle the remaining interviews while she took a much-needed break.
"Celeste, I need you and your sisters to take over the remaining applicants," she communicated telepathically. "I'm afraid pregnancy has left me with less stamina than I'd like to admit."
"Of course, Mother Emma," came the synchronized reply. "We've already scanned most of their thoughts anyway. Many are exactly what you'd expect—ambitious, desperate, or infatuated with the idea of proximity to Peter."
Emma smiled tiredly, hoping Peter was taking advantage of her absence to relax at the penthouse. The poor man had been working himself to exhaustion between company duties and his Spider-Man responsibilities. He deserved some rest before the chaos of their coming children arrived.
.................
Meanwhile, back in Emma and Peter's penthouse, Peter found himself in a situation that would have been unthinkable to him just a year ago. Completely naked, his muscular body glistening with sweat, he stood with his legs spread apart, gripping the edge of the marble countertop in their spacious bathroom as he cursed and gritted his teeth—not from pain, but from the overwhelming pleasure threatening to break his control.
Behind him knelt Storm, her platinum white hair falling over her dark shoulders as she spread his ass cheeks with her elegant fingers. Her royal blue lipstick had smeared slightly from her enthusiastic ministrations, leaving faint marks across his toned backside. In front of him, Jean Grey was on her knees, her fiery red hair pulled back in a messy ponytail as she worked his considerable length down her throat with practiced ease.
"Fuck," Peter hissed, his knuckles turning white against the marble. "I really need to start patrol soon."
Storm laughed, the sound vibrating against his sensitive skin. "The city can wait, Spider," she purred, her accent thickening with desire. "Your queens require attention first." With that declaration, she returned to her task, her tongue circling his tight entrance before pressing insistently inward, breaching the ring of muscle with deliberate pressure.
Peter's head fell back, a groan tearing from his throat as Storm's skilled tongue worked magic. She alternated between deep, probing thrusts and broad, flat licks that sent electricity up his spine. Every few moments, she would pull back slightly to place wet, open-mouthed kisses against his entrance, leaving perfect royal blue lipstick marks across his ass like territorial markings.
"Goddess," Storm murmured against his skin, "I can feel you trembling. So powerful, yet so responsive to my touch." She moved lower then, her mouth finding his heavy testicles, taking first one, then both into her warm mouth, sucking with gentle pressure that gradually increased until Peter was cursing in earnest.
Jean, meanwhile, had established a rhythm that was driving Peter to the edge of sanity. Her throat opened impossibly wide around his girth, her nose pressing against his abdomen with each downward motion. When she pulled back, her emerald eyes would lock with his, tears of effort glistening at the corners but a smile playing at her stretched lips.
"We're not letting you leave until you've properly attended to us," Jean spoke directly into his mind, her telepathic voice carrying an echo of the Phoenix's cosmic power. "The mothers of your children deserve your cum, Peter. All of it."
As if to emphasize her point, her eyes flashed with golden fire, the Phoenix force stirring within her. The cosmic entity had developed a peculiar fascination with Peter's connection to the Web of Life and Destiny—a connection that somehow intensified the potency of his genetic material and made the Phoenix crave it like an addiction.
Storm released his testicles with an audible pop, looking up at him with glittering eyes. "Your patrols can wait, Peter," she said, her voice regal even on her knees. "New York has survived without you before. But we—" she punctuated her words by driving her tongue deeply into him again, causing his hips to buck forward into Jean's waiting mouth, "—need you now."
The dual assault was too much for even Peter's enhanced stamina. The wet heat of Jean's throat combined with Storm's relentless tongue breaching his most intimate place pushed him over the edge. His spider-sense tingled strangely, not as a warning but as an amplification of every sensation, and he felt his release building from the base of his spine.
"Fuck, I'm going to—" Peter's warning was cut short as the first powerful spurt erupted from him, filling Jean's throat. She moaned around him, the vibrations only intensifying his pleasure as pulse after pulse of thick semen flooded her mouth and slid directly down her throat.
The Phoenix force within Jean flared visibly, a faint outline of fiery wings momentarily appearing behind her as she greedily swallowed his essence. Something about Peter's seed—perhaps his connection to the cosmic web—seemed to nourish the cosmic entity housed within Jean, causing it to stir and pulse with renewed energy.
Storm continued her relentless attention to his rear, feeling each contraction through his body as he emptied himself into Jean's waiting mouth. Her hands kneaded his muscular ass, encouraging every drop to be released. After what seemed like an eternity of pleasure, Peter's conscious mind reasserted itself, and with a growl that surprised even him, he pulled free from Jean's mouth.
"Kneel beside her," he ordered Storm, his voice deeper and more commanding than usual. Something primal had awakened in him—perhaps the influence of the women who worshipped his body, perhaps his own growing comfort with his sexuality and power.
Storm immediately complied, moving to kneel shoulder-to-shoulder with Jean, both women looking up at him with expectant eyes. Peter took his still-throbbing cock in hand, aiming the pulsing head at their upturned faces. Despite having already released so much into Jean's throat, he found himself still hard, still producing copious amounts of thick, pearly fluid.
The first rope landed across Storm's cheekbone and nose, immediately followed by another that splashed across Jean's forehead and into her red hair. Peter groaned, his hand moving in practiced strokes as he decorated their beautiful faces with his essence—across Storm's full lips, diagonally across Jean's closed eyes, into the white hair of the weather goddess and the fiery locks of the Phoenix host.
"Yes," Jean moaned, her tongue darting out to taste what had landed near her mouth. "Mark us, Peter. Show us who we belong to."
He continued his release, amazed at his own stamina and production as he directed the next several spurts lower, painting their breasts with glistening strands that clung to their nipples and ran in rivulets between their cleavage. Storm's dark skin provided a stark, beautiful contrast to the white fluid adorning her, while Jean's pale complexion seemed to glow beneath the pearly decoration.
Finally, as his orgasm began to subside, Peter aimed the last substantial pulses directly at their open, waiting mouths. Both women extended their tongues, catching what they could as the final offering splashed across their lips and tongues.
Without prompting, Storm turned to Jean, and the two women began to kiss deeply, sharing Peter's thick jizz between them. Their tongues visibly transferred the thick fluid back and forth, their hands rising to smear what had landed on their breasts into each other's skin like an erotic lotion.
Peter watched, transfixed, as these two powerful, beautiful women—one a weather goddess, the other the host of a cosmic force—debased themselves for his pleasure, wearing his cum like a badge of honor, consuming it like a sacrament.
"Beautiful," he whispered, his cock still semi-hard despite the intense orgasm. "You're both so fucking beautiful."
Storm broke the kiss with Jean, a strand of saliva and semen connecting their lips momentarily before breaking. "And we're both carrying your children, Spider," she reminded him, her hand caressing her still-flat stomach where his triplets were growing. "Which means you belong to us as much as we belong to you."
Jean's eyes flashed gold again as she added, "The Phoenix hungers for more of you. For your essence, your power." She licked her lips clean, savoring the taste. "And so do I."
Peter glanced at the clock on the bathroom wall and sighed, a rueful smile crossing his handsome features. "I think patrol is officially canceled tonight," he admitted, reaching down to help both women to their feet. "But if you think I'm done with either of you, you're sorely mistaken."
Storm laughed, a rich sound that seemed to make the air around them charge with electricity. "We were counting on that, Peter. Your stamina is... legendary among us now."
Jean nodded in agreement, her hand reaching to stroke him back to full hardness. "Emma told us to keep you occupied until she returns from her interviews. And we intend to follow her instructions to the letter."
As Peter allowed himself to be led toward the bedroom by these two magnificent mutants, he couldn't help but marvel at how drastically his life had changed. From lonely vigilante to the center of a complex web of relationships with some of the most powerful women on the planet. Whatever was happening to his life, he was certainly not going to complain about this particular aspect of it.
Behind them, forgotten on the bathroom counter, Peter's Spider-Man mask stared sightlessly at the ceiling, patrol postponed for more pressing matters of mutant diplomacy.