The Aurora Invicta celebration cruise had concluded a week ago, but the media frenzy showed no signs of abating. Entertainment networks ran hourly highlights of the star-studded event, while social media platforms remained ablaze with videos and photographs. #ParkerFrostGala and #AuroraInvicta continued to trend globally, with clips of various celebrities' appearances being dissected by fashion critics and gossip columnists alike.
Emma Frost, however, had little time to concern herself with such trivial matters. The wedding—her wedding—was now the sole focus of her attention. The penthouse had transformed into a veritable command center, with the Cuckoos, Storm, and Jean Grey all enlisted to assist with the preparations.
"I still think the ice sculpture should be larger," Emma remarked, studying the holographic display of the reception layout. She stood in the center of the living room, her pregnant belly prominently displayed in a form-fitting white dress that somehow managed to look both elegante and comfortable. "It should be the centerpiece that draws the eye immediately upon entering."
"Any larger and it would block the view of the head table," Jean pointed out, her fiery red hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her own pregnancy was just beginning to show, a subtle curve beneath her emerald green blouse. "Besides, the fountain will already be drawing plenty of attention."
"The fountain that dispenses actual champagne," Storm added with a smile, her white hair cascading over her shoulders in stark contrast to her deep blue dress. Her pregnancy was similarly visible, perhaps slightly more pronounced than Jean's. "A touch excessive, don't you think?"
Emma arched a perfect eyebrow. "My dear Ororo, when one marries the love of one's life while carrying his children, 'excessive' is merely a starting point."
The Cuckoos moved through the room with synchronized grace, their identical blonde heads bent together as they reviewed fabric swatches and floral arrangements. Occasionally, one would break away to present Emma with options, only to be sent back with precise instructions for alterations.
"Mother Emma," Celeste called out, holding up a tablet displaying bridesmaid dresses. "We've narrowed down the options for our attire."
Emma glanced over, immediately frowning at the selections. The dresses were barely there— wisps of fabric strategically placed to cover only what would get them banned from Instagram. "Absolutely not. Those necklines are practically pornographic."
"That's rather the point," Phoebe replied with a mischievous smile that made Emma's maternal warning system flare. "We thought it might be... stimulating for Daddy Peter." The emphasis on 'daddy' was bad enough, but the graphic mental image Phoebe projected—of Peter's massive cock pounding into each Cuckoo in succession—made Emma nearly choke on her tea.
"The reception could transition seamlessly into a more intimate celebration," Mindee added, her expression angelically innocent despite the filth streaming from her mind. "Just imagine his face when he sees all five of us in these dresses, knowing exactly what's beneath them... and what awaits him afterward. His cock would be straining against his tuxedo pants all night."
Jean snorted, not bothering to hide her amusement. "An orgy at your wedding reception? That would certainly make the society pages. 'Frost-Parker Wedding Devolves Into Five-Bride Fuckfest.' I can see the headlines now."
"I'm not entirely opposed to the concept," Storm mused, a playful glint in her eyes as she caressed her swollen belly. "Though perhaps as a private after-party rather than the main event. I wouldn't mind watching Peter's legendary stamina put to the test against all of us at once."
Emma sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. The pregnancy hormones were making it difficult to dismiss the mental images flooding her mind—Peter's magnificent cock, slick with the combined wetness of multiple women, moving from one eager pussy to the next. "You're all incorrigible. Peter and I will be departing for our honeymoon immediately following the reception. Whatever debauchery you plan afterward will have to proceed without the groom."
"Spoilsport," Phoebe muttered, though her smile remained. Behind it lurked the unmistakable image of her on her knees, Peter's enormous shaft disappearing down her throat.
"I heard that," Emma replied, tapping her temple. "And I see those alternate designs you're hiding. The ones with the crotchless panties and built-in nipple clamps. Choose something elegant and tasteful, or I'll select the dresses myself. Think less 'high-end escort servicing a bachelor party' and more 'sophisticated goddess who might fuck you if you're worthy.'"
The Cuckoos pouted in unison but dutifully returned to their task, telepathically sharing less scandalous options among themselves, though their minds still buzzed with explicit scenarios involving the groom.
Emma felt a gentle mental nudge from Celeste. But Mother, wouldn't you like to see Peter's face when he sees us all in these? The telepathic message came with an image that made Emma's eyebrows rise and her pussy dampen embarrassingly. The dress Celeste envisioned was a masterpiece of strategic fabric placement—a shimmering ice-blue creation with panels of translucent material that revealed tantalizing glimpses of skin.
The plunging neckline would frame their perfect breasts, the fabric so thin their nipples would be clearly visible when aroused. The high slit would showcase the Cuckoos' identical perfect legs all the way to the hip, making it obvious they wore nothing underneath. The back was essentially nonexistent, held together by delicate crystal strands that would catch the light with every movement, drawing attention to their firm, round asses.
"Absolutely not," Emma said aloud, though a part of her had to admire the audacity while another part imagined Peter's thick cock twitching at the sight. "I will not have my wedding remembered as 'the one where the bridesmaids' nipples were visible from space' or 'where Peter fucked his five stepdaughters in the coat check room between dinner and dancing.'"
But we'd wear pasties, Mindee projected, showing Emma the tiny crystal-encrusted accessories that would technically preserve modesty while enhancing the overall effect. The mental image shifted to show Peter peeling them off with his teeth, his tongue flicking against each hardened nipple in turn.
"The answer is still no," Emma replied firmly, though her mental tone was tinged with amusement and unmistakable arousal. Save those designs for the honeymoon. I might need them to keep Peter... entertained. His appetites are insatiable, and even I occasionally need recovery time.
The quintuplets brightened at this concession, immediately beginning to plan modifications for a post-wedding surprise. Their collective mind filled with images of themselves arranged on the honeymoon suite bed, wearing nothing but those crystal pasties and heels, legs spread invitingly as they waited for the newlyweds to arrive. Emma didn't have the heart to tell them she intended to keep Peter all to herself for at least the first week—his cock buried so deep inside her that he'd forget any other woman existed.
A knock at the door interrupted their planning. Jean's eyes flashed briefly with the Phoenix's golden light as she reached out telepathically.
"It's Natasha," she announced.
"Let her in," Emma instructed, straightening her already perfect posture.
Natasha Romanoff entered the penthouse with her characteristic grace, dressed in a sleek black pantsuit that managed to look both professional and deadly. Her red hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and there was na unmistakable glow to her skin that hadn't been there before the cruise.
"Ladies," she greeted them with a nod. Her eyes lingered briefly on the wedding preparations before settling on Emma. "Hope I'm not interrupting."
"Not at all," Emma replied, gesturing for Natasha to join them. "We're simply ensuring that the most important day of Peter's life—after meeting me, of course—is executed to perfection."
Natasha's lips quirked upward. "Of course." She moved further into the room, her trained eyes taking in every detail. "SHIELD sent me to confirm the arrangements for the summit. Director Fury proposes scheduling it four months after your wedding. That should give adequate time for... all relevant parties to prepare."
Her hand drifted momentarily to her still-flat stomach, a gesture that didn't escape Emma's notice.
"Four months is acceptable," Emma agreed, her ice-blue eyes calculating. "The mutant fertility crisis is a delicate matter that requires proper diplomatic handling. I assume SHIELD will be providing security?"
"The highest level," Natasha confirmed. "Though I expect Parker-Frost Industries will want their own people present as well."
"Naturally." Emma's smile was sharp as a blade. "We protect what's ours." Storm moved closer, her regal presence commanding attention even in this room full of powerful women. "And how are you feeling, Natasha?" she asked, her tone gentle but knowing. "Any... changes since the cruise?"
A faint blush colored Natasha's cheeks. "I'm... adjusting. The medical team at SHIELD is monitoring me closely. They're still in disbelief, to be honest."
"The Web of Life and Destiny works in mysterious ways," Jean said, her hand resting protectively over her own growing belly. "Peter's connection to it is more profound than any of us initially understood."
"Speaking of Peter," Natasha said, trying to sound casual despite the way her eyes brightened at the mention of his name. "Is he around? I had some... additional details to discuss with him."
Emma's smile transformed into a knowing smirk. "I'm afraid not. I've banished him from the apartment for the week. Wedding preparations, you understand. A groom shouldn't see the chaos before the magic."
"Where is he staying?" Natasha asked, failing to sound disinterested.
"He's either out on patrol, handling business at Parker-Frost Industries," Emma paused deliberately, her eyes twinkling with mischief, "or perhaps enjoying some quality time with a certain cat burglar who's been desperate for his attention."
Natasha's eyebrows shot up. "Felicia Hardy? You approved that? I thought the cruise was a onetime thing."
"I approve of anything that makes Peter happy," Emma replied smoothly. "Besides, Ms. Hardy needed to be properly... educated on her place in our expanding family dynamic."
The Cuckoos giggled in unison, drawing a sharp look from Emma that silenced them immediately.
"Well," Natasha said, straightening her jacket, "I should be going. Please extend my regards to Peter when you see him."
"Of course," Emma replied. "Though if you're truly eager to speak with him, I believe he's at the Peninsula Hotel. Presidential Suite." Her smile turned wicked. "I'd call ahead first, though. Ms.Hardy can be quite... vocal during their discussions."
After Natasha departed, Jean turned to Emma with a questioning look. "You're surprisingly calm about Peter spending time with Felicia. I would have thought you'd be more... territorial."
Emma waved a dismissive hand. "Peter is mine. The ring on his finger, the children in our wombs—these are the bonds that matter." She stroked her swollen belly affectionately. "Felicia Hardy is merely a diversion, one that I control. Besides," she added with a wicked smile, "I've placed certain... parameters on their interactions."
"Parameters?" Storm echoed, raising an elegant white eyebrow.
"Let's just say that Ms. Hardy knows exactly who Peter belongs to," Emma replied. "And speaking of belonging, we need to finalize these bridesmaid dresses. The Cuckoos' suggestions were inappropriate, but I do want something that highlights their assets while maintaining a modicum of decency."
She gestured to the holographic display, which shifted to show new designs—elegant gowns in varying shades of blue and silver, with plunging backs and tasteful side slits. The necklines were daring without being vulgar, and the fabric seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly quality.
"These are more suitable," Emma declared. "They complement my gown without competing with it."
....................
In the luxurious Presidential Suite of the Peninsula Hotel, Felicia Hardy arched her back, her platinum blonde hair spilling across the silk sheets like liquid moonlight. Her naked body gleamed with a fine sheen of sweat, her large, full breasts heaving with each ragged breath. Peter Parker knelt between her spread thighs, his muscular form towering over her as he claimed her mouth in a hungry kiss, his tongue delving deep inside her warm, willing mouth as she moaned against his lips.
"Fuck, Peter," Felicia gasped when they finally broke apart, her green eyes dark with desire, pupils blown wide with lust. "I've missed this. Missed you. Missed your hands on my body, your cock inside me, the way you make me scream." Her voice was breathy, desperate, filled with a yearning that made his own desire spike.
Peter's hands roamed her body possessively, cupping her breasts and rolling her hardened nipples between his fingers. The action drew a sharp moan from Felicia, her back arching to press more firmly into his touch, her nipples stiffening to diamond-hard points beneath his skilled manipulation.
"Have you?" Peter asked, his voice deeper than she remembered, carrying an authority that sent shivers down her spine and made her pussy clench with need. "You seemed to forget about me easily enough when it suited you. Left me behind without a second thought, didn't you, Felicia?" His fingers pinched her nipples harder, sending a delicious pain-pleasure that had her gasping.
Felicia's hands slid up his chest, tracing the defined muscles that hadn't been there years ago when they'd first met, marveling at the transformation from the lean boy she'd known to this powerful man. "I was stupid," she admitted, her usual bravado momentarily set aside, vulnerability showing through her carefully constructed facade. "So fucking stupid. The biggest mistake of my life, walking away from you. God, look at you now—you're magnificent." Her fingers traced his abs, feeling each ridge of muscle.
Peter bent down to capture one pink nipple between his lips, sucking hard enough to make Felicia cry out, her voice echoing off the walls of the luxurious suite. Her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks in his skin as she writhed beneath him. His tongue swirled around the sensitive bud, teeth grazing just enough to make her whimper. When he released her nipple with a wet pop, she whimpered at the loss, her body trembling with need.
"Show me how sorry you are," Peter commanded, moving up the bed to sit with his back against the headboard. His cock stood proudly at attention, thick and veined, far larger than Felicia remembered. The massive shaft jutted upward, the swollen purple head glistening with pre-cum. "Show me what that pretty mouth can do. Let me see if you still remember how to worship cock properly."
Felicia didn't need to be told twice. She crawled between his legs, her movements deliberately feline, predatory despite her submission. Her platinum hair fell forward, tickling his thighs as she lowered her face to his groin. Her pink tongue darted out to lick a wet stripe from the base of his shaft to the swollen head, gathering the bead of pre-cum that had formed there. She moaned at the taste, savoring the salty-sweet flavor on her tongue.
"Mmm," she hummed appreciatively, savoring his taste like it was the finest delicacy. "You've changed in more ways than one, Spider. So much... bigger than before. Thicker. Longer. God, I don't know if I can fit all this monster in my mouth." She ran her tongue around the flared ridge of his cockhead, teasing the sensitive spot just beneath.
Peter's hand tangled in her hair, not quite pulling but establishing control, making it clear who was in charge. "Less talking, more sucking. Put that mouth to better use than making excuses."
Felicia's eyes flashed with defiance and arousal at his commanding tone, a mixture of the old Black Cat pride and new submissive desire. She wrapped her black-painted lips around the head of his cock, sucking gently at first, then with increasing pressure as she took him deeper into her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed as she created suction, her tongue working the underside of his shaft.
"Slurp... mmm... so fucking thick," she moaned around his shaft, her hand pumping what wouldn't fit in her mouth, fingers unable to fully encircle his girth. "Your cock is so much bigger now... stretching my lips so wide... mmm... tastes so good." She worked him skillfully, alternating between deep, throat-stretching plunges and teasing, shallow sucks that focused on his sensitive crown, her tongue swirling around the head before plunging back down.
"That's it," Peter groaned, his grip on her hair tightening, guiding her movements. "Take more. I know you can. I've seen what that throat can do. Take it all the way down." His hips thrust upward slightly, forcing another inch into her willing mouth.
Felicia relaxed her throat, forcing herself to take him deeper. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes as his cock pushed past her gag reflex, but she didn't stop. The wet, obscene sounds of her mouth working his shaft filled the luxurious suite—slurping, gagging, moaning—a symphony of oral worship.
"Gluk... gluk... mmm," she choked slightly as his massive head hit the back of her throat, but she pushed through the discomfort, determined to please him, to prove her devotion. Saliva dripped from her chin, coating his shaft and balls with her spit. The feeling of being used, of being at his mercy while she worshipped his cock, sent waves of arousal through her body. Her pussy clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled, juices running down her inner thighs.
"Fuck, your mouth feels amazing," Peter praised, his hips thrusting upward slightly, forcing his cock deeper into her throat. "Your hot little throat squeezing around me... so fucking good. But don't forget these." He guided her attention lower, to his heavy balls, swollen with seed. "They need attention too. Worship them properly."
Felicia released his cock with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her swollen lips to his glistening shaft. Her lipstick was smeared, her eyes watery, but the look of desire on her face was unmistakable. She moved lower, cradling his testicles in her palm before drawing one into her hot mouth. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive skin, sucking gently as her hand continued stroking his length, keeping him rock hard.
"Mmm... so full," she murmured, switching to the other testicle, giving it the same devoted attention. "So much cum stored up in these big balls. They're so heavy, Spider... so much bigger than I remember. Are you saving it all for me, or are you going to share with your other women?" She looked up at him through her lashes, a hint of jealousy in her voice. "Are you saving it all for me, Spider?"
Peter's cock twitched at her words, another drop of pre-cum beading at the tip, sliding down his shaft to meet her lips. "You'll get every drop you earn. If you're good enough, I'll flood that pretty mouth with more cum than you can swallow."
She nuzzled against his sack, inhaling his masculine scent before lapping at the seam between his testicles. Her tongue traced delicate patterns, teasing and worshipping simultaneously. "I want it all," she whispered, her hot breath washing over his sensitive skin. "Every last drop. I want to taste you, to feel you pumping down my throat." Felicia took her time with each heavy orb, treating them with reverence, knowing they contained the seed that had already impregnated three powerful women.
"I think about you all the time," she confessed between licks, her voice husky with desire, raw with emotion. "About what we had... what I threw away. The nights we spent together, how you'd make me come until I couldn't walk." She kissed his balls tenderly, then dragged her tongue up the underside of his shaft, tracing the prominent vein that pulsed beneath her ministrations. "I masturbate thinking about you, imagining it's your cock inside me instead of my fingers."
Peter watched her with hooded eyes, enjoying the sight of the proud Black Cat reduced to worshipping his cock and balls, confessing her darkest desires. "You're not the only one with regrets," he said, his voice softer for a moment, a glimpse of the old Peter showing through before hardening again. "But that's the past. Show me how much you want this now. Show me how badly you need my cock, my cum."
Felicia continued her worship, alternating between his balls and shaft, occasionally taking him deep into her throat before returning to the gentle suction on his testicles. Her green eyes remained locked on his, gauging his reactions, adjusting her technique to maximize his pleasure. She wanted—needed—to prove herself the best he'd ever had.
"Your balls taste so good," she moaned, licking up the underside of his sack. "So musky and male. I could worship them all day." She cupped his balls with one hand while using the other to guide his cock back into her hungry mouth. This time, she took him even deeper, her nose pressing against his pubic bone as she swallowed around his length. Her throat constricted rhythmically, massaging his sensitive head while her tongue worked the underside of his shaft.
"Jesus, Felicia," Peter groaned, his head falling back against the headboard, muscles in his neck straining. "You've gotten better at this. Fuck, your throat is squeezing me so tight."
She hummed in acknowledgment, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through his cock. When she needed air, she pulled back, gasping, her lips swollen and glistening with saliva, mascara running down her cheeks from the exertion. "I've had practice," she admitted, still stroking his spit-slicked shaft, "but none of them were as big as you are now. Not even close. Fuck, Peter, what happened? You're massive. It's like you've been enhanced or something."
Peter smirked, his hand stroking her cheek almost tenderly, thumb wiping away a tear track. "Let's just say I've come into my own….."
Felicia's eyebrows rose at the mention of Emma, jealousy flashing across her features, but she didn't comment. Instead, she returned to her task with renewed enthusiasm, determined to prove she could please him better than his fiancée or any of his other lovers. She took him deep again, her throat bulging visibly with the intrusion, working him with even more fervor.
"That's it," Peter encouraged, his hand returning to her hair, guiding her movements. "Take it all. Show me how much you want my cum. Show me you deserve it." His hips began thrusting more insistently, fucking her face as she moaned and gagged around his length. "I'm getting close," Peter warned, his voice strained, muscles tensing. "You're going to swallow it all, understand? Every. Last. Drop. Don't waste a single drop of my seed."
"Yes," Felicia purred when he allowed her a moment to breathe, saliva dripping from her chin. "I want it all. Fill my mouth, my throat. Let me taste you, Spider. I need it." She returned her attention to his cock with desperate hunger, taking him as deep as possible, her throat constricting around his sensitive head as she swallowed repeatedly. Her hand massaged his balls, feeling them tighten as his orgasm approached, drawing up closer to his body.
"Fuck, I'm cumming," Peter growled, his hand holding her head in place as his release hit, preventing her from pulling back. His cock pulsed powerfully, the first thick jet hitting the back of Felicia's throat.
The first thick jet hit the back of Felicia's throat with such force that she nearly choked, forcing her to swallow quickly or suffocate. Her eyes widened at the volume as spurt after spurt filled her mouth, far more than she remembered him producing before. It kept coming, rope after rope of thick, creamy cum flooding her mouth faster than she could swallow. She gulped frantically, throat working overtime to keep up with his seemingly endless release, but some escaped the corners of her mouth, running down her chin.
"Gulp... gulp... mmm," she moaned around him, the vibrations only intensifying his pleasure as she drank down his seed. It was thick and creamy, with a slightly sweet taste she didn't remember from their past encounters. His cum seemed richer, more potent, coating her tongue and filling her stomach with warmth. Still it came, his balls emptying what seemed like an impossible amount of semen into her willing mouth.
When Peter finally released her hair, Felicia pulled back gasping for air, white cum dripping from her swollen lips, trails of his seed running down her chin and neck, even a few drops landing on her heaving breasts. She wiped some up with her finger and sucked it clean, making a show of savoring his taste, moaning as if it were the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted.
"Jesus Christ, Peter," she panted, her voice hoarse from the throat-fucking she'd just received, barely above a raspy whisper. "There's so much more than before. So thick too, like fucking pudding. That's enough to knock up half the women in New York. No wonder you've got a harem of pregnant superheroes."
Peter chuckled, reaching out to wipe away a stray drop she'd missed at the corner of her mouth, feeding it back to her on his finger which she eagerly sucked clean. "That's the idea, apparently. Emma says my fertility is off the charts now. Something about my spider DNA evolving to ensure the continuation of my genetic line. The more powerful I become, the more potent my seed gets."
Felicia crawled up his body, pressing her full breasts against his chest as she straddled his thighs. His cock, still impressively hard despite his recent release, pressed against her soaked pussy lips. She was dripping wet, her arousal evident in the slick that coated her inner thighs. "And what does Emma think about you being here with me?" she asked, grinding against him teasingly, her wet slit sliding along his shaft but not taking him inside. "Does the White Queen approve of you fucking the Black Cat?"
"It was her idea," Peter replied, his hands gripping her hips to still her movements, preventing her from taking him inside without his permission. "She's keeping track of all my... activities. She likes to know who I'm with, what we do together. She finds it... stimulating."
Felicia's eyes widened, a mixture of shock and arousal crossing her features. "She's watching us? Right now? While I suck your cock and beg for your cum?" The thought sent a thrill through her body, her pussy clenching with renewed desire.
Peter nodded toward a discreet camera in the corner of the room, its small red light blinking. "Probably. She monitors most of my encounters. Does that bother you? Knowing that the White Queen is watching you worship my cock?"
Instead of answering, Felicia turned toward the camera and licked her lips provocatively, tasting the remnants of his cum. "I hope you enjoyed the show, Emma," she called out, voice raspy but defiant. "Did you like watching me suck your fiancé's massive cock? Did it make your perfect pussy wet, seeing him flood my mouth with cum?" She cupped her breasts, offering them to the camera. "But I'm not done with him yet. I'm going to fuck him better than you ever could."
She turned back to Peter, her expression suddenly serious, vulnerability showing through her confident facade. "I want you to know something. I'm not just here for the sex, amazing as it is. I want to be part of your life again, whatever that looks like now." Her hand drifted down to her flat stomach, caressing the toned flesh. "Even if it means carrying your child like the others. I want to feel your baby growing inside me, Peter. I want to give you what they're giving you."
Peter's expression softened slightly, a glimpse of tenderness breaking through his dominant demeanor. "Felicia..."
"I know, I know," she cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips. "You're marrying Emma. You've got Storm and Jean and now apparently the Black Widow all carrying your babies. Your powerful, mutant babies." Her voice grew more desperate, pleading. "But there's room for one more, isn't there? One more woman to love you, one more womb to carry your seed?" Her voice took on a pleading quality that was entirely unlike the confident Black Cat he knew. "I could give you a strong, beautiful baby. Half-spider, half-cat. Think of how amazing our child would be."
Before Peter could respond, Felicia captured his mouth in a desperate kiss, pouring years of regret and longing into it. Her tongue tangled with his, letting him taste his own essence still lingering in her mouth. When they broke apart, she pressed her forehead against his, her green eyes staring into his with raw emotion.
"Just think about it," she whispered, her hand moving between them to grasp his still-hard cock. "That's all I'm asking. Let me show you how good we can be together. Let me remind you of what we had... and what we could have again."
Peter's eyes widened as Felicia circled him with predatory grace, her platinum hair cascading over her shoulders. The hunger in her eyes hadn't diminished despite having just thoroughly worshipped his cock. If anything, she looked even more ravenous now, like a cat who'd gotten a taste of cream but craved the entire bowl.
"Turn over," she commanded, her voice dropping to a sultry purr that sent shivers down his spine. "On your hands and knees, Spider."
Peter cocked an eyebrow, momentarily surprised by her assertiveness after his earlier dominance. Something about the way she looked at him—like he was prey she intended to devour whole—made his pulse quicken. A slow smile spread across his face as he complied, rolling onto his stomach before pushing himself up on all fours. His powerful back muscles flexed involuntarily, a response to both anticipation and the cool air hitting his skin.
"What are you planning, kitten?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder to see her eyes fixed on him with naked desire.
Felicia ran her blood-red manicured nails down his spine, from the nape of his neck to the small of his back, enjoying the visible shiver that rippled through his powerful body. "Something I've been fantasizing about for years," she purred, positioning herself behind him. "Something to show you just how thoroughly I want to please you. How completely I want to worship every inch of you."
Her hands caressed the firm globes of his ass, kneading the muscle appreciatively. She dug her fingers into the taut flesh, spreading him slightly as she did. Peter was all lean power, his body honed to perfection through years of crime-fighting. The definition in his muscles, the perfect symmetry of his form—it was enough to make her mouth water.
"God, I've missed this ass," she whispered, bending forward to place a gentle kiss at the base of his spine. She let her tongue trail along his skin, tasting the salt of his sweat as she worked her way lower, her teeth occasionally grazing sensitive spots that made him twitch.
"Felicia?" Peter questioned, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice as he realized her intention. His spider-sense wasn't tingling with danger, but something else entirely— anticipation, perhaps.
"Relax," she whispered against his skin, her hot breath teasing his sensitive flesh. "Trust me. You made me feel incredible earlier—let me return the favor. I want to show you pleasures you've never experienced before."
Her thumbs gently spread his cheeks wider, exposing his tight pucker to her hungry gaze. She took a moment to simply admire the view, enjoying the slight tremble that passed through Peter's powerful thighs as cool air hit his most intimate place.
"You're so perfect," Felicia murmured, leaning closer until he could feel her warm breath against his exposed entrance. "Every fucking inch of you deserves to be worshipped."
The first touch of her tongue was feather-light—a tentative lap against his sensitive ring that made Peter gasp and jerk forward in surprise. The sensation was so foreign, so unexpected, that his mind momentarily went blank.
"Jesus Christ!" he hissed, fingers clutching the sheets beneath him.
Felicia watched his reaction carefully, gauging his comfort level before proceeding further. "Too much?" she asked, her voice husky with desire.
"N-no," Peter admitted, his face flushing with heat. "Just... unexpected."
When his initial tension melted into a soft groan, she grew bolder. "Good. Because I've been dreaming about tasting you like this for years."
"Mmm," she hummed appreciatively, her tongue making slow, deliberate circles around his entrance. The vibration of her moan sent pleasant tingles through Peter's body, drawing another groan from deep in his chest.
"Fuck, that feels good," he admitted, his head dropping between his shoulders as he surrendered to the unfamiliar pleasure. His cock, which had been softening after his earlier release, began to harden again, hanging heavy between his thighs.
Encouraged by his response, Felicia increased the pressure, her tongue flattening against his entrance before pointing to probe more insistently. Her hands maintained their grip on his ass cheeks, spreading him wider to grant her better access. The wet sounds of her eager mouth filled the room as she worked, occasionally pulling back to place sucking kisses against his sensitive flesh.
"Slurp... kiss... you taste so fucking good, Spider," she purred between licks, her voice thick with arousal. "I could do this for hours. I want to make you come just from my tongue in your ass."
Peter's cock hung heavy and hard between his legs, drops of pre-cum falling to the sheets below as Felicia's skilled tongue worked its magic. She reached around with one hand to grasp his shaft, finding it slick with his arousal already.
"Look how hard you are for me," she whispered, stroking him in time with the movements of her tongue. "Your body knows what it wants even if you didn't."
"Oh god," Peter groaned, his arms trembling slightly as pleasure coursed through his body. "That's... fuck, that's incredible. Where did you learn—ah!"
Felicia increased her efforts, cutting off his question as her tongue now pushed more insistently against the tight ring of muscle. The first breach sent a jolt of intense pleasure through Peter's body, his back arching involuntarily as her pointed tongue slipped past his resistant entrance.
"Mmm... slurp... mmm," Felicia moaned against him, the vibrations adding another dimension to the pleasure as her tongue wiggled deeper inside him. Her free hand cupped his heavy balls, massaging them gently as she continued her oral worship.
"Your balls are so fucking full," she murmured, rolling them in her palm. "So heavy with cum. I can feel how much you've still got saved up in here, even after that first massive load you fed me."
Peter's breathing grew ragged, his cock throbbing in her grip as she stroked him with increasing speed. Her tongue continued its relentless invasion, pushing deeper, wiggling inside him to stimulate nerve endings he hadn't known could feel such pleasure. Each thrust of her tongue sent sparks up his spine, making his toes curl and his breath catch.
"Fuck, Felicia," Peter gasped, his voice strained with pleasure. "Where did you learn to do this? You're—Christ!—you're incredible."
She pulled back just enough to speak, her breath hot against his sensitive flesh. "I've had years to perfect my skills, Spider. Years to imagine all the ways I'd please you if I ever got another chance." Her tongue resumed its work, more insistent now, probing deeper as her hand continued to stroke his shaft. "I've practiced on others, but I've only ever wanted to do this to you."
Peter's cock seemed to grow even harder in her grip, a fresh bead of pre-cum forming at the tip. Felicia released him briefly, moving beneath him to lap at the clear fluid before it could fall to the sheets.
"Mmm, so sweet," she purred, licking her lips before returning to her position behind him. "I want more. I want everything you can give me. Every last fucking drop."
She then moved away from his ass, her full lips engulfing each of his heavy balls and sucking hard on them individually, pulling back before releasing them covered in spit as Peter cursed in pleasure. Her red-painted lips left crimson marks across his sensitive skin, a visual claiming that sent a thrill through her. She admired her handiwork for a moment—his cock, balls, and ass now decorated with the imprint of her lips—before diving back in.
"Look at that," she whispered, running a finger over a lipstick mark on his inner thigh. "I've marked you as mine. Every part of you."
"Your balls are so fucking heavy," she continued, nuzzling against the swollen orbs. "So full of cum even after that first load. I bet Emma doesn't drain them properly. I bet none of your women do." She gave them another gentle squeeze before returning her attention to his ass. "But I will. I'll empty them completely."
By now, Peter was practically trembling with need, his body responding to her skilled ministrations in ways he hadn't experienced before. The dual sensation of her tongue in his ass and her hand on his cock was overwhelming, pleasure building at the base of his spine with shocking intensity.
"Felicia," he gasped, his voice strained and desperate. "I'm getting close again. How are you doing this to me?"
She redoubled her efforts, her tongue fucking him with firm, deliberate thrusts while her hand worked his shaft with practiced skill. Her thumb circled the sensitive head of his cock on each upstroke, spreading the abundant pre-cum to create a slick glide.
"Slurp... mmm... kiss," the wet sounds of her enthusiasm filled the room as she devoured him, her own arousal evident in the flush spreading across her pale skin. Her free hand moved between her own legs, fingers dipping into her soaked pussy as she pleasured herself while worshipping him.
"You're making me so fucking wet," she moaned, her fingers glistening with her arousal as she briefly showed him. "Just from eating your ass. Just from making you feel good."
"That's it," she encouraged between licks, "let go for me, Spider. I want to taste you again. Want to feel you cum while my tongue is inside you. Want to feel these big balls empty themselves down my throat."
Peter's orgasm built with surprising speed, the dual stimulation proving too intense to resist. His balls tightened against his body, his thighs trembling with the effort of holding himself up as pleasure coiled tighter in his core.
"I'm going to cum again," he warned, his voice breaking. "Fuck, Felicia, I'm going to—Oh fuck!"
His words dissolved into a guttural groan as his release hit with staggering force. Felicia quickly moved to position herself beneath him, taking his erupting cock into her mouth just in time to catch the first powerful jet. Her tongue remained buried in his ass as he came, the muscle contracting rhythmically around the intrusion as spurt after thick spurt filled her eager mouth.
"Mmmmph... gulp... gulp," Felicia moaned around his shaft, swallowing frantically to keep pace with his abundant release. The taste of him, combined with the knowledge that she had brought him to such intense pleasure, had her own body trembling on the edge of orgasm. Her fingers worked frantically between her legs as she drank down his seed.
Peter's release seemed even more copious than before, thick ropes of cum filling her mouth faster than she could swallow. Some escaped the corners of her lips, running down her chin as she struggled to contain the flood. The taste was intoxicating—rich and slightly sweet, with a potency that seemed to radiate through her entire body.
"So much," she gasped when she finally had to pull away to breathe, the final spurts landing on her flushed face and heaving breasts. "Fuck, Peter, there's so much. How can you produce this much? It's like you haven't cum in weeks."
His cum decorated her face in thick streaks, some dripping from her chin onto her breasts. She looked utterly debauched, her makeup smeared, hair disheveled, and face painted with his seed. The sight was so erotic that Peter felt his cock twitch again despite having just emptied himself.
Peter's arms finally gave out, his upper body collapsing onto the mattress while his ass remained elevated, still impaled on Felicia's relentless tongue. She continued her ministrations throughout his climax, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until he was shaking with oversensitivity.
"No more," he gasped, reaching back to gently push her away. "Too sensitive."
Only then did she withdraw, placing a final, gentle kiss against his now-relaxed entrance before moving to lie beside him. Her lips were swollen and glistening with a mixture of saliva and the remnants of his release, her chest heaving with exertion.
"Holy shit," Peter breathed, his body boneless with satisfaction as he rolled onto his side to face her. "That was... unexpected. And fucking incredible."
Felicia grinned, licking her lips with deliberate slowness to collect the last drops of his cum. "Good unexpected, I hope. I've been wanting to do that to you for years."
"Definitely good," he confirmed, reaching out to brush a strand of platinum hair from her flushed face. His thumb wiped away a streak of cum from her cheek. "Where did you learn to do that? You've never done that before... with me, at least."
"I've picked up a few tricks over the years," she replied with a seductive wink. "Though I've never enjoyed performing quite that much before." Her hand drifted down to her own sex, fingers dipping between her folds to gather evidence of her arousal. She brought the glistening digits up between them, showing him how wet she was. "See what you do to me, Spider? Just pleasuring you gets me soaking wet. I nearly came just from eating your ass and feeling you shoot down my throat."
Peter's eyes darkened as he watched her touch herself, his spent cock already beginning to stir again despite the two powerful orgasms she'd already drawn from him.
"Then I guess it's my turn to return the favor," he growled, pushing himself up. His strength returned rapidly as he moved over her, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand.
Felicia's smile turned predatory as she arched beneath him, spreading her legs in blatant invitation. Her pussy glistened with arousal, pink lips swollen and ready for his attention.
"I'm all yours, Spider," she purred, lifting her hips to brush against his rapidly hardening cock. "Show me what else you've learned since we were last together."
Felicia's back arched off the bed as he entered her, her inner walls stretching to accommodate his size. "Fuck! So big... you're splitting me in half!" She clawed at his shoulders, her green eyes wide with a mixture of pain and pleasure as her body struggled to adjust to his enhanced girth. "God, Peter, you're so much bigger than I remember," she gasped, her thighs trembling as they spread wider to take him fully.
Peter set a punishing pace immediately, driving into her with powerful thrusts that had the headboard slamming against the wall. His hands found her breasts, squeezing roughly as he pounded into her willing body. "Is this what you wanted, Felicia?" he growled, pinching her nipples between his fingers. "Is this why you came back?" The once-proud Black Cat was reduced to a mewling mess beneath him, her platinum hair splayed across the pillows like spilled moonlight as she writhed in ecstasy.
"Slap! Slap! Slap!" The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, punctuated by Felicia's increasingly desperate cries. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh FUCK!" Each thrust drove her further up the bed until she had to brace her hands against the headboard to prevent herself from hitting it. Her breasts bounced wildly with each impact, hypnotizing Peter as he drove deeper into her soaked pussy.
"Yes! Harder! Fuck me harder!" she begged, her nails raking down his back hard enough to leave marks that would have lingered on a normal man. "Make me your slut! I need it rough, Spider. Show me how much you've missed this tight pussy!" Her inner muscles clenched around him, trying to milk his cock with each thrust.
Peter bent down to capture one bouncing breast in his mouth, sucking hard on her nipple while his hand delivered a sharp slap to the side of her other breast. "You like it when I mark you, don't you?" he murmured against her skin, teeth grazing the sensitive peak. The combination of pleasure and pain had Felicia screaming, her inner walls clenching around him like a vise. The pale flesh reddened under his palm, the slight sting only enhancing her pleasure as he alternated between gentle caresses and stinging slaps.
"You like that?" Peter growled, releasing her nipple with a wet pop to look into her eyes. His thumb traced the wet, swollen bud, rolling it roughly. "You like being treated like the dirty cat slut you are?" His hand delivered another stinging slap to her breast, making it jiggle enticingly. "Answer me, Felicia. Tell me how much you love being fucked like this."
"Yes!" Felicia sobbed, her body shaking with each powerful thrust. Sweat glistened on her skin, making her pale body gleam in the dim light of the hotel room. "I'm your slut! I've always been your slut! Nobody fucks me like you do, Spider. Nobody fills me like this!" Her voice rose to a near-scream, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper. "Oh fuck, I'm going to cum! You're going to make me cum so hard!"
Peter increased his pace, driving into her with superhuman speed that had Felicia's eyes rolling back in her head. The wet sounds of their coupling grew louder, more obscene, as her arousal coated his shaft and balls. "That's it, take it all," he commanded, watching her face contort with pleasure. Her orgasm hit with devastating force, her back arching off the bed as she screamed his name. Her pussy clamped down on his cock, milking him, but Peter wasn't ready to finish yet. He could feel her inner walls spasming around him, her juices flowing freely to coat his shaft and balls.
"Did I say you could cum?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm as he continued thrusting through her orgasm, prolonging it until she was sobbing with overstimulation. His hand came down on her thigh with a sharp slap that made her jolt. "Who said you could cum without permission?"
"I'm sorry," she gasped, her body twitching uncontrollably, chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Her nipples stood out like hard pebbles, begging for more attention. "I couldn't help it. Your cock feels so good inside me. It's been so long, Peter. I've dreamed about this... about you... filling me up like this."
He flipped her over roughly, positioning her on her hands and knees. His hand came down hard on her ass, leaving a bright red handprint on her pale skin. "Arch your back more," he commanded, pushing her shoulders down so her ass raised higher. "Show me that perfect pussy I've been fucking."
"SMACK!" The sharp sound of the spank echoed through the room, followed by Felicia's surprised yelp that quickly transformed into a moan. "Yes! Spank me, Spider!" The perfect globe of her ass jiggled from the impact, the red outline of his hand blooming on her fair skin like a badge of ownership.
"Such a perfect ass," Peter commented, delivering another stinging slap to her other cheek. "SMACK! You've been a bad kitty, Felicia. Running away when things got too real between us." His hand came down again, harder this time. "SMACK! Leaving me behind when I needed you." Another spank, another cry of pleasured pain. "SMACK! Coming back only when I've found happiness with someone else." He spread her cheeks apart, admiring how her pussy glistened with arousal, her entrance clenching hungrily around nothing.
"I'm sorry," Felicia gasped, pushing her ass back toward him shamelessly, seeking both punishment and pleasure. Her voice cracked with emotion, a side of her he rarely saw. "I was stupid. So fucking stupid. I was scared of what I felt for you. Please, punish me. Make me pay for it." Her voice broke on a sob, genuine remorse mingling with desperate arousal. "I need you inside me again. Please, Peter, fill me up."
Peter lined himself up with her entrance again, teasing her by rubbing the head of his cock along her slick folds. "Is this what you want?" he asked, pressing just the tip inside before withdrawing. "This cock that you walked away from?" He repeated the motion, entering her just enough to make her whimper before pulling back.
"Yes! Please, don't tease me," Felicia begged, trying to push back against him. "I need you so badly. I need your thick cock stretching me open. Please, Spider, fuck me hard!"
Peter pushed inside with one powerful thrust that buried him to the hilt. Felicia screamed, her face pressed into the mattress as Peter established a brutal rhythm, his hips slapping against her reddened ass with each thrust. Her inner walls clung to his shaft, still sensitive from her previous orgasm. "Is this what you wanted?" he growled, gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises. "This deep enough for you, kitten?"
"Slap! Slap! Slap!" The wet sound of their coupling mingled with the impact of skin on skin, creating an obscene symphony that filled the luxurious suite. "Yes! Oh god, yes! So deep!" Felicia cried, her words punctuated by each powerful thrust. The bed frame creaked ominously beneath them, struggling to withstand the force of their passion. "Fuck me like you hate me, Spider! Like you want to break me!"
"Your pussy feels so fucking good," Peter growled, one hand reaching around to find her clit while the other maintained a firm grip on her hip, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises. He circled the swollen bud with precise, firm strokes, feeling how it hardened further under his touch. "So tight around my cock. Is this what you've been missing, kitten? Is this what you came back for? To get fucked senseless by the man you walked away from?"
"Yes! Yes!" Felicia sobbed, her body jolting with each powerful thrust. Her hands clutched desperately at the sheets, trying to anchor herself against the overwhelming pleasure. "I've missed you so much. Missed your cock. Missed the way you make me feel. Ungh! Nobody else has ever fucked me this good! Nobody else has ever filled me so completely!" Her words dissolved into incoherent moans as Peter's fingers worked her clit with expert precision, circling the swollen bud in time with his thrusts.
Peter continued his relentless assault on her senses, his fingers working her clit with the same precision he used in his laboratory work. He could feel her body responding, her inner walls gripping him tighter with each stroke. "I can feel how much you want it," he said, his voice thick with desire. "Your pussy is practically begging for my cum, isn't it?"
Felicia's second orgasm approached rapidly, her inner walls fluttering around his invading shaft. Her thighs trembled, her arms giving out so that her upper body collapsed onto the mattress, ass still raised high to receive him. "I'm going to cum again," she warned, her voice breaking.
"Please, Peter, cum with me. Fill me up! I want to feel you explode inside me! I need your hot cum flooding my pussy!"
Peter flipped her once more, laying her flat on her stomach on the bed. He covered her body with his own, his weight pressing her into the mattress as he continued thrusting from above. This position allowed him to go even deeper, his cock reaching places inside her that had never been touched before. The new angle had the head of his cock dragging against her g-spot with each thrust, sending jolts of intense pleasure through her body.
"Oh god, oh god, oh god," Felicia chanted, her face turned to the side, expression contorted with pleasure bordering on pain. Her eyes were unfocused, glazed with ecstasy as Peter dominated her completely. "So deep! You're so fucking deep! I can feel you in my womb!" Her hands clutched desperately at the sheets, knuckles white with tension as she fought to anchor herself against the overwhelming sensations.
Peter's pace became erratic as his own release approached. His breath came in harsh pants against her ear, his powerful body tensing above her. "You want my cum, kitten? You want me to fill that greedy pussy?" His teeth found the sensitive junction between Felicia's neck and shoulder, biting down hard enough to leave a mark but not break the skin. "Tell me you're mine. Tell me this pussy belongs to me."
"I'm yours! Always yours!" Felicia cried out, her body writhing beneath him. "My pussy is yours! My body is yours! Everything I am belongs to you, Peter!" The slight pain pushed Felicia over the edge, her third orgasm crashing through her with such force that tears streamed down her face. "PETER! FUCK! I'M CUMMING!" she screamed, her entire body convulsing beneath him. Her pussy clenched rhythmically around his shaft, trying to milk his seed from him.
The rhythmic clenching of her inner walls triggered Peter's release. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself as deep as possible inside her and came, flooding her womb with pulse after pulse of hot seed. "Fuck! Take it, Felicia! Take it all!" he groaned, his cock throbbing powerfully within her, each spurt seeming more voluminous than the last, filling her to overflowing.
"Take it all," he growled against her ear, his hips making small, grinding movements to work his release deeper. "Every. Last. Drop." He reached beneath her to press his palm against her lower abdomen, as if trying to feel his cock and cum inside her from the outside. "Can you feel that? Can you feel how full you are with my cum?"
"Yes," Felicia sobbed, her body still shaking with aftershocks. Her inner muscles continued to contract around his length, milking him for every drop. "I can feel it. So much cum... so deep inside me. Fill me up. Give me your baby, Peter. Breed me like you did the others." Her voice was barely a whisper, raw from screaming. "Mark me from the inside. Make me yours forever."
Peter's cock twitched at her words, another spurt of cum erupting inside her. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he murmured, kissing along her shoulder. "To carry my child. To be swollen with my seed." They remained locked together for several minutes, both breathing heavily as they came down from their shared high. When Peter finally pulled out, a flood of his thick seed followed, spilling onto the sheets beneath them in an obscene display of his virility.
Felicia rolled over, her body completely limp with satisfaction. Her makeup was smeared, mascara tracks running down her cheeks from her tears of pleasure. Her lips were swollen from their kisses, her neck and breasts marked with love bites and the imprints of his fingers. Bruises were already forming on her hips and thighs, testament to the power of their coupling. She looked thoroughly debauched and utterly satisfied.
"That was... incredible," she breathed, her voice hoarse from screaming. "I think you've ruined me for anyone else, Spider." She reached down between her legs, gathering some of his escaping seed on her fingers before bringing them to her mouth and sucking them clean with a moan. "So thick. So much of it."
Peter lay beside her, and she immediately curled against him, wrapping her limbs around his body like a cat seeking warmth. For a long moment, they simply breathed together, content in the afterglow of their passion.
"I really am sorry, Peter," Felicia said quietly, her usual playful demeanor replaced with genuine remorse. "For how I treated you. For leaving. For everything." Her fingers traced idle patterns on his chest, following the contours of his muscles. "I was scared of how much I cared about you. Scared of needing someone that much."
Peter started to brush it off, but Felicia placed a finger against his lips, silencing him.
"Don't do that," she insisted, her green eyes serious as they met his. "Not with me. I know I've been a shitty girlfriend in the past. I know I hurt you. I can't just fuck my way back into your good graces, as much as I'd like to try." Her voice held a vulnerability he rarely heard from her, the Black Cat's usual bravado stripped away to reveal the woman beneath. "I want another chance, Peter. A real chance."
Peter studied her face for a moment, seeing the sincerity there. He reached up to brush a strand of platinum hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear in a gesture that was surprisingly tender after the roughness of their lovemaking. Then, without warning, his hand came down hard on her ass, the sharp slap making her yelp in surprise.
"SMACK!" The sound was followed by Felicia's startled moan as Peter's hand remained on her ass, kneading the flesh he'd just punished. "You like that, don't you?" he asked, feeling her shiver against him. "You like being put in your place."
"Then earn my forgiveness," he said, his voice low and dangerous as his fingers dipped between her legs, finding her still-sensitive pussy. "Show me you mean it." He slid two fingers into her soaked entrance, feeling the mixture of her arousal and his cum coating his digits. "Show me you're willing to work for it."
Felicia's eyes darkened with renewed desire, a purr rumbling in her throat as Peter's fingers explored her soaked folds. "Yes, Spider. I'll earn every inch of your forgiveness." She pushed back against his hand, seeking more of the pleasure only he could give her. "I'll be such a good kitty for you. I'll show you how sorry I am with every part of my body. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I have to."
She was just lowering her head, ready to begin another round of pleasure, when a soft knock sounded at the suite door. They both froze, exchanging a look of surprise.
"Expecting someone?" Felicia asked, arching an eyebrow, her body still wrapped around his. A flicker of jealousy crossed her features as she tightened her hold possessively.
Peter shook his head, reaching for a towel to wrap around his waist. "Stay here," he instructed, moving toward the door. "And maybe... cover up." He tossed her the sheet, which she pulled over her naked body with a pout.
"Hurry back," she called after him, stretching languorously on the bed. "I'm not nearly finished with you yet, Spider." She let the sheet fall just low enough to reveal the tops of her breasts, na enticing preview of what awaited his return.
He peered through the peephole, then stepped back in surprise, his body tensing visibly. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he opened the door just enough to block the view into the room.
Mary Jane stood in the hallway, looking as beautiful as ever. Her fiery auburn hair cascaded down her back in loose waves, framing her perfect face with its high cheekbones and delicate nose. She wore designer jeans that hugged every curve of her long legs and rounded hips, paired with a simple yet elegant emerald blouse that clung to her breasts and accentuated her tiny waist—the kind of quiet wealth that didn't need to announce itself. Her full, pouty lips were
painted a deep crimson that matched her vibrant hair, drawing his eyes to her mouth where they lingered longer than he intended. Her emerald eyes widened slightly at the sight of Peter's state of undress, slowly taking in his bare, muscular chest with its light dusting of hair, following the trail down his abs to where the towel precariously wrapped around his waist, sitting dangerously low on his hips and threatening to reveal what Felicia had been thoroughly enjoying just minutes before.
"Peter," she said, her voice soft and hesitant. "I... I know I'm probably the last person you want to see right now." Her eyes flickered to a faint scratch mark on his shoulder—evidence of Felicia's passion—before returning to his face. Peter said nothing, his expression carefully neutral as he blocked the doorway with his body. The air between them seemed charged with unspoken words, years of history hanging in the balance.
"Please," Mary Jane continued, her eyes pleading. "I just want to talk. Five minutes of your time. That's all I'm asking." She clutched her purse tightly, knuckles white with tension.
A moment of tense silence stretched between them, the weight of their shared history hanging in the air like an invisible barrier. Peter's mind raced, torn between the anger he still felt at her abandonment and the lingering affection that never truly died.
"Can I come in?" she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
..........................
Miles away, in the heart of Latveria, Dr. Victor von Doom sat alone in his private chambers within Castle Doom. The room was austere compared to the gothic grandeur of the rest of the castle—a space where the ruler of Latveria could, for brief moments, set aside the trappings of power and focus on matters of true importance. The cold stone walls seemed to absorb the ambient sounds, creating a pocket of perfect silence that matched Doom's need for absolute concentration. The scent of ancient tomes and polished metal hung in the air, a familiar comfort to the dictator who found solace in his solitude.
Before him, five holographic figures shimmered in the dim light, their features deliberately obscured. These were the members of the Cabal—individuals whose combined influence would shape the course of human and mutant history for centuries to come. Their identities remained a closely guarded secret, known only to Doom himself. The blue glow from their projections cast eerie shadows across Doom's mask, highlighting the eternal scowl etched into the metal.
"The Parker-Frost union proceeds as scheduled," the first figure stated, their voice digitally altered to prevent identification. The crackling distortion echoed slightly in the chamber. "Our agents report that preparations for the wedding are well underway."
Perfect, Doom thought, feeling a flutter of satisfaction in his chest. The cornerstone of our future.
"What of the summit?" asked another, their silhouette suggesting a feminine form. The voice carried a hint of impatience beneath its electronic disguise. "The mutant fertility crisis provides the perfect opportunity to implement the next phase."
Doom's fingers tapped silently against the armrest of his chair, the metal of his gauntlet cool against his skin beneath. The mutant crisis was unfolding exactly as the timeline required.
"SHIELD has confirmed the date," a third figure responded, their outline shifting slightly as they leaned forward. "Four months after the wedding. All major powers will be in attendance, including representatives from Krakoa, Wakanda, and Atlantis."
The tension in the air thickened as Doom considered the implications. He could almost taste the metallic tang of anticipation on his tongue.
"And the Parker-Frost children?" questioned the fourth, their tone sharp with interest. The hologram flickered momentarily with the intensity of their query. "The projections?"
Doom felt his heartbeat quicken beneath his armor. The children. The future gods.
"Developing precisely as predicted," the fifth and final figure answered, their voice carrying a note of reverence that even the voice modulation couldn't disguise. "Genetic analysis suggests they will manifest powers beyond omega level. The foundation stones of the empire."
Beyond omega, Doom mused, his mind racing with possibilities. The universe has never seen their like.
Doom leaned forward, the light from the holograms reflecting off his metal mask. The chair creaked beneath the weight of his armor, breaking the perfect silence. "The summit must proceed without incident," he declared, his voice resonating with authority, bouncing off the stone walls with a power that seemed almost supernatural. "Any disruption could alter the timeline we have so carefully cultivated."
His stomach knotted with the weight of this responsibility—centuries of careful manipulation condensed into these crucial moments.
"There are concerns about potential interference," the second figure cautioned, their hologram wavering slightly. "The Inheritors have been increasingly active in this sector of the multiverse."
A flash of anger surged through Doom's veins. Those parasites would dare?
"Let them come," Doom replied dismissively, though his fist clenched beneath the table. "They will find Latveria well-prepared for their arrival. I have studied their weaknesses extensively." The confidence in his voice masked the contingency plans already spinning through his mind.
"And what of the Watson woman?" asked the first figure. "Her presence was not accounted for in our initial calculations."
Doom felt a momentary flicker of concern, quickly suppressed. The smell of ozone from the holograms intensified as he considered this variable.
"A minor variable," Doom assured them, forcing certainty into his tone. "Her role, should she play one at all, will not significantly impact the primary timeline." At least, that is what we must believe.
The holographic figures seemed satisfied with his assessment, nodding in silent agreement. Their projections cast dancing shadows across the ancient stones.
"Then we are in accord," the third figure concluded. "The future proceeds as foreseen."
"As it must," Doom affirmed, a strange mixture of determination and longing swelling in his chest. "The Eternal Spider Empire will rise, with Parker-Frost at its center and Latveria as its first and most crucial ally."
One by one, the holograms flickered and disappeared, the blue light fading until only the dim glow of wall sconces remained. The sudden absence of their presence left the room feeling emptier, the silence more profound. Doom's breath echoed in his mask, the warm air condensing against the cool metal.
He rose from his seat, the joints of his armor whispering softly as he moved to a hidden alcove concealed behind a bookshelf. The leather-bound tomes shifted silently on well-oiled hinges. A series of precise gestures deactivated the security measures, his fingertips tingling with the faint electrical response of the system recognizing his unique signature. The hidden compartment revealed a small, lead-lined box.
From within, Doom withdrew a photograph he had be given by the cabal members—not a digital image, but an actual physical photograph printed on paper, a rarity in the age it came from. The edges were worn from frequent handling, though the image itself remained clear. The paper felt fragile between his armored fingers, a tangible connection to a future not yet born.
My future, he thought, a rare tenderness washing over him.
It showed a wedding ceremony unlike any in the current era. The setting appeared to be a crystalline cathedral floating among the stars, with Earth visible through transparent walls. And there, at the center, stood Victor von Doom himself—his face uncovered, his scars healed, his expression one of genuine joy as he gazed at his bride.
Doom's heart raced as he studied his own future face, feeling the phantom sensation of air against skin that had been hidden behind metal for decades.
She was breathtakingly beautiful—tall and aristocratic, with long, flowing blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that mirrored those of her ancestor, Emma Frost. Her white gown seemed to shimmer with its own inner light, and the love in her eyes as she gazed back at Doom was unmistakable. Doom's thumb caressed the image of her face, the metal of his gauntlet preventing him from truly feeling the texture, yet his mind filled in what his nerves could not.
How many generations removed from Parker and Frost will you be? he wondered, a strange ache blooming in his chest. How many centuries must I wait to meet you?
The photograph had come from centuries in the future—a future where the godlike descendants of Peter Parker and Emma Frost and all his other wives had spread throughout the galaxy, creating a peaceful empire built on cooperation rather than conquest. A future where Victor von Doom had finally found redemption, acceptance, and love in the arms of one of their great-granddaughters and become grand regent of the milky way galaxy under the empire. It should have irked him completely, knowing he may be under Peter Parker's empire but just looking at his beautiful future wife and the love and acceptance in her eyes made his heart eager, his pulse quickening with a hope he'd never dared admit to anyone.
In her eyes, I am not a monster, he thought, his throat tightening. In her world, I am worthy of love.
"It will come to pass," Doom whispered to the photograph, his voice softer than anyone in the current timeline would believe possible, the words fogging the inside of his mask momentarily. "I will ensure it. The Spider-Empire will rise, and you, my love, will one day be born into it."
His fingers trembled slightly—an imperfection he would allow no one else to witness—as he carefully returned the photograph to its protective case, securing it once more behind layers of the most advanced security systems on Earth. The mechanisms hummed and clicked as they reengaged, sealing away his most precious secret.
"So swears Doom," he declared to the empty room, his resolve hardening once more as he replaced his mask of indifference. The words echoed against the stone walls, a solemn vow that would span centuries. "So swears Doom."