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MJ barely stirs when May wakes up, because her giggling baby is immediately lifted away. A blanket settles over her, and warm lips brush her forehead.
“Thanks, tiger,” she mumbles. “Love you.”
“Love you more,” Peter says. Or at least she assumes he does, because she’s already back asleep.
It’s maybe an hour or two later when she wakes up for real. Waking up naturally is good fucking shit. Not to a too-early alarm, not to a crying baby. Not to the goddamn smoke detector (for the third time this week. Peter). Nope. Nothing but her, her worth-every-penny napping couch, and her favorite nap blanket.
Oh, and the silver fox dream daddy who’s still sat on the floor by said couch, arms crossed and chin dropped to his chest.
“Hey,” she croaks.
He sucks in a breath, blinking slowly. “Hey. Good nap?”
“Yeah. Really good.” MJ extends into a stretch, a full-body one that spreads her fingers and toes wide and sets off a snap, crackle, pop of loosening joints.
She realizes with sudden horror that a guest in her home is sitting on the floor (a guest in her home is sitting on the floor because she let him sleep there, her aunts must be rolling in their grave). She curls her legs in, patting the open space. He takes his own stretch as he pushes up to the couch, and she’s glad she’s not the only one who sounds like bubble wrap when she first wakes up.
Nathan chuckles. “Only gets worse the older you get.” MJ blinks, and he looks sheepish. “Right, sorry.” He taps his temple. “Telepath. I try not to pry. But if you think loud, I am going to hear it.”
MJ flushes, because she’s definitely been thinking loud. And the things she’s been thinking are, well…
“Flattering?” he says, with a crooked smile. He gestures to her feet and she lets him pull them into his lap.
“That’s one way to put it.”
Yeah, okay, the telepath thing makes a lot of stuff make a lot more sense. And it has its perks — he knows exactly how to massage her feet and calves after a hectic day. Combined with a nap, and a long shower (all by herself!), and incredible food and a glass of wine… Yeah, she’s in a good place.
Not to mention the faint sounds from Mayday’s room of her baby being spoiled rotten. The voice of an old friend muffled through the wall, and Peter laughs in that way he does when he’s caught off-guard by a really good joke, and MJ is just so fucking happy.
“You wanna tell me how you wore my husband out?” she asks, because this foot rub is gonna put her back to sleep if she doesn’t talk. Also, well. It’s not that she feels left out. Not really. It’s just that she’s very fucking nosy.
Nathan hums. “First we shoved him in the shower.”
“Understandable.”
“And then Wade shoved his tongue up his ass.”
“Also understandable. Peter’s got a great ass.”
“He really does,” Nathan says. “Wade sure thinks so. Took our time in the shower, got him all loose and happy, and then we dried him off and took him to bed.” He locks eyes with her. “To your bed.”
Okay, well. MJ asked out of curiosity, not to titillate, so it’s super rude that now she’s trying not to squirm.
“Thought you might like that. We got him all open and desperate, got him begging for it, and then we laid him out in the bed you bought for him, and then we fucked him cross-eyed. It’s a nice bed. By the way.”
This fucking guy. “I… I like giving him nice things.”
“Mmhmm. We have that in common. He seemed to think my dick was pretty nice, and, well, I’m a giver.”
MJ’s eyes flick down. “Is it? Nice?”
“I don’t get complaints.”
That fucking smirk again, unfairly charming. Fuck, now she’s thinking about how crazy it makes her, and he’s going to know, and do it more. He squeezes her ankle and smiles wider. Asshole.
He says, “Pete sure didn’t complain. Except when I didn’t put it in fast enough. He’s greedy, isn’t he? But he stopped whining once he got some dick in him, once I started fucking him slow and nice. Didn’t need to go hard to fuck his brains out — he didn’t have a lot to start with. He went down so sweet.”
“Yeah,” MJ whispers. “He does that. Um. What was Wade doing?”
“Mmm. He let your husband suck his dick for a while. Made him work for it, made him beg. Wade loves teasing, and Pete liked that. He liked it a lot. And then, well.” Nathan laughs. “You know Wade. He gets distracted.”
Oh, Wade.
MJ never fucked Wade, but she remembers how tactile he was, even when they were just all three hanging out. He was always touching Peter (and her, when she was feeling indulgent). He was never satisfied for more than a moment, his hands constantly itching for new territory to explore.
(She’s pretty sure Wade also has ADHD. “He does,” Nathan confirms. MJ says, “Get the fuck out of my head,” but she doesn’t mean it and they both know it.)
Wade must be so much worse after years apart. Trying to touch Peter everywhere all at once, trying to make up for lost time. Peter would be overwhelmed, helpless. Trapped between Nathan’s cock and Wade’s focused chaos. She can picture it crystal clear in her mind — it’s so vivid it’s like she was actually there.
Hmm. It’s too vivid.
“Hey,” she says. “That’s cheating, mister.”
“Is it?” The bastard looks so fucking innocent. He leans in and whispers, “Do you want me to stop?”
She presses her grin into the couch, cheeks hot. It is too much, but also it isn’t, and she can’t find the words for that but luckily with him she doesn’t have to. He sits back, hands going still and heavy on her ankles. A tiny breath, a pause she barely knew she needed.
He says, “Can’t say I was paying Wade much attention. I was too busy fucking your slut husband.” She whimpers. “Fucked him deep and slow. Pretty sure he fell asleep a few times, woke up with my cock in him — he seemed pretty surprised when he came to. So, you know. That was fun. For me.” That fucking smirk again. “Then I ramped him up steady. I wanted him to come, and he couldn’t have stopped me if he tried. After I got him there, after I used him to get mine, Wade sat on his chest and fucked his tits, and I used my fingers to make him come again.” He’s way too pleased with himself, and the worst part is, he probably deserves to be. “We may have made him cry. Just a little.”
“Lucky him,” MJ murmurs. Peter is sensitive, and he loves when someone holds him down and takes advantage of that. Now that she knows Nathan’s digging around in her head, it’s easy to let the images (the sounds, the sensations) sweep her away. Peter squirming on Nathan’s fingers, not sure if he wants to get away or grind down harder. Wade yanking at his nipples, using them as handles to wrap the soft pecs that MJ loves so much around his cock. Peter fucked out and desperate, greedy, trying to catch the tip of Wade’s cock in his mouth, tears clinging to his eyelashes, shuddering through a hard-fought second orgasm as Wade paints his tongue white. She shudders in sympathy, rubbing her thighs together.
When she opens her eyes, Nathan is watching her, soft and fond. “You good?” he asks.
“Yeah,” she says, curling her toes into his thigh as her eyes adjust from hazy afternoon delight back to cozy evening. She realizes maybe he’s asking more than one question. “I’m good. We’re good. I’m envious. Next time, don’t come over when I’m at fucking work.”
“Guess we owe you a redo,” he says. His face really is very close to hers. The thought of kissing him (the desire to) has only just occurred to her and he’s leaning in, hand sliding up her jaw to telegraph his intent before he puts his mouth on hers. She leans into the kiss, and when she sits up to be closer to him her cunt presses hard against the couch and her entire body throbs.
Yeah, so. She still doesn’t know quite what this is, but whatever it is, she is on board.
“Can we, um.” Suddenly she’s bashful, which is fucking stupid because he’s inside her brain, he already knows what she wants. “People have been touching me all fucking day. Could it just be you and me? This time? Would you be okay with that?”
“Very okay,” he says, and hikes her thighs around his waist as he stands and lifts her. He kisses her the whole way to the bedroom, doesn’t even have to look as he navigates the space (her space), and that feels more intimate than his tongue in her mouth.
The bedroom reeks of sex. Nathan winces. “We were going to change the sheets after Peter and Wade woke up.”
“Let’s mess them up more,” she says, shimmying down (she always was good at climbing trees). The sheets’ll wash up fine — she only buys the best. They’re her expensive linen sheets, on the bed that she bought, the bed where they fucked her husband stupid while she was away at work making the money she needs to buy him nice things.
Oh no.
She might be developing a new fetish.
Nathan gives that sexy, crooked grin. “How can I make it worse?”
“Come down here and let’s find out,” she says, and spreads her legs so he can slot between them. Even through a few layers, his dick really does feel very nice. He seems to think she feels very nice too, sighing as he rocks against her, relaxing in increments while they touch and learn and enjoy.
Despite the building heat, there’s no sense of rush. Nothing they have to do. Nowhere to be but here.
She sweeps a hand up his back, loving how the muscles jump under her palm. She hesitates at his shoulder but he presses into the touch, giving silent permission to explore. The corded metal is body-warm, curiously textured but strangely pleasing to her fingertips. When she scratches across the scars where metal meets flesh he groans, setting his teeth gently against the side of her neck and sinking heavy on top of her, and she thinks she might melt.
The size and warmth of him is delicious. He’s like a weighted blanket she might get to fuck.
He huffs a laugh. Says, “Is that what you want, sweetheart? Want me to fuck you like I fucked your husband?” Her fingers clench into the sensitive metal line up his ribs and he swears, matching her with a grind so slow and filthy it makes her toes curl. But she doesn’t say yes. He pauses, tips his head. “Or maybe you just want my mouth on you. Get you off and leave me hard and wanting.”
“Fuck. Yes. That, please.” She bites her lip. “It’s nothing personal. I’m sure your dick game is great. And I’ve bounced back or whatever! Pussies are amazing! I’m just not ready, emotionally, until the memory of my midwife’s entire hand up there in front of half a dozen strangers is a little less fresh.”
He laughs at her (laughs at her), but he’s so sweet she can’t even be mad.
She says, “But maybe I will want to? I don’t know. It’s complicated.”
“I see.” A broad hand slides down her side and around her ass, pulling her hard against him and yanking out a gasp. He says, “You ever think maybe I won’t give it to you?”
“Nope,” she says. “Not for a minute. This pussy is irresistible.”
He bumps his cheek against hers. “Can’t wait to find out. Lemme get my mouth on you and we’ll play it by ear, yeah, sweetheart?”
“Yeah,” she sighs. “Yeah, that sounds great.”
He kisses down her neck, along her shoulder. Pushes her tank up and runs a hand up her side, and he’s so, so gentle on her breasts, feeling out if it’s something she wants today. And she does, she does want it, at least the way he’s touching her right now. Just fingertips, skimming across skin that’s so fucking sensitive, being so careful. Nothing like a grabby, pinchy baby.
Aw, fuck.
She thought ‘baby.’
Rookie fucking mistake, because milk immediately wells up, beading across her nipples and dripping down the sides of her tits.
“Oops,” she says, face flaming (at least she didn’t get him in the eye, Pete has not let her live that down), “just ignore — ” but his dick throbs where they’re pressed together, and he licks a hot stripe up her breast and over her nipple and up her jaw, kissing her like he’s trying to crawl into her mouth. She knows what it tastes like — of course she does, a woman gets curious. And also it gets everywhere, and sometimes everywhere includes her own mouth. She only has a lactation kink in passing (she might be more into it if she had enough to spare, but every hard-earned drop goes into her baby, thank you very much). But tasting her own milk on his tongue, his raw need as he moans against her… yeah, she gets why people do this.
“Sorry,” he says, because yeah, she yelped and smacked at him when he just went for it. He makes it up to her by licking gently over the other nipple, tongue soft and shivery.
He doesn’t linger. Just steals one more taste and moves on, kissing down her belly, her hipbone, pushing at her yoga pants and helping her shimmy out of them. Her tank is bunched around her neck and her pants and underwear are tangled on one leg and somehow that makes her feel more exposed than being naked.
“Wait,” she blurts out. “I wanna see it. Show it to me.”
“Anything you want,” Nathan says, kneeling back so he can push his tight shorts down his thighs. His cock really is gorgeous. Perfectly formed, huge even in his big hands. The tip is wet, and when he strokes it for her it twitches and gets even wetter. No wonder Peter was gagging for it. She might want it in her sometime, might want her mouth on it (she definitely wants to see Peter’s mouth on it). His eyes burn against her as she takes in the view.
There’s something happening here. A sharpness in the air, an exchange of power that doesn’t match the bedroom games she’s played in the past. Because he’s the one kneeling in her bed. He’s the one wrapped around her finger. His stocky body and hard cock are on display not because she’s going to let him fuck her, but just because she wanted to look. She can see it in his eyes — he’s in that pleasant, foggy space where pleasing feels so much better than being pleased.
At the same time, there’s a smugness to him. Like he’s the cat and she’s the cream. Like being naked at her feet is the culmination of his ten year roadmap, planned and executed as precisely as she imagines he does everything in his life.
She’s calling the shots, but she can’t shake the feeling she’s being hustled.
It’s delicious.
“Okay,” she says. “Thanks. It is very nice. I just wanted to see.”
“Yes, ma’am.” It’s 80% genuine and 20% condescending (because yeah, she knows he heard all that), but that doesn’t feel important once he’s nuzzling her inner thigh, face to face with her cunt. He’s gentle as he explores her, one broad hand on each thigh to hold her open, tongue soft and curious as he traces lines and spirals across her quivering skin. When he finally puts his mouth on her clit, he’s so, so careful. She shudders down to her toes.
There’s something unique about being touched by someone who didn’t know her before the baby. Because, yeah, she lost the weight (gigantic shout-out to Esteban, her personal trainer and favorite gossip buddy). But she’s still relearning exactly how her new body moves through the world, which in her line of work is especially disconcerting. She’s changed in ways that will never go back. The skin over her stomach will always be looser. Her hips and ribs will always be wider no matter how much fat she loses, because Mayday changed her down to her bones.
(She also has a closet full of stupidly expensive shoes that will never fit again. Don’t get her started.)
She loved Peter’s dad bod even before he was a dad (those tits, that soft tummy over those Spider-Man abs, unf). She believes him when he says she’s hot. Also, like, she does still have eyes, along with an inability to walk by a reflective surface without checking herself out. But there’s something nice about someone new meeting the body she lives in now and going… damn girl, lemme tap that.
“He thinks you’re hot,” Nathan says. “Trust me. You were hot before, but now that you’re the mother of his child? Fuck, you should hear the things he thinks about you.”
“You have a MILF fetish that can be seen from space,” she informs him, then he dives back in and her brain goes offline. Holy fuck, he is good at this. His hand slides inward, thumb stroking a gentle question, and she says, “Yeah. Just… maybe not the whole hand.” He chuckles, the sound sending vibrations through her, and slides two fingers in, curling right where she needs them. His other hand leaves her thigh to snake under his own body, and his shoulder rolls, and she knows he’s stroking that magnificent cock.
An image nudges against her brain, the memory of Peter squirming on Nathan’s fingers. She has no doubt that he could hold her down, make her come over and over, make her cry, and then crawl up her body and force her to come one more time on that beautiful dick. In the here and now, her wrists press briefly to the bed, held oh-so-gently by invisible hands, and he flicks his tongue against her clit, too much, too intense, and when she tries to get away she can’t move her hips.
As fast as it came, it’s gone. She drops to the bed in a huff.
“Show-off,” she whimpers. He hums an acknowledgement. Figures that he can pull off smug even with his mouth full.
Joke’s on him. She can think things, too.
Because she knows he’d like being in control (they’d both like it). But there are other things he’d like, too. She bets he would like it if she rode his cock with Peter pressed tight behind her. Peter’s dick would slide sweat-slick up her lower back as he stroked her body and kissed her neck, like he was the one fucking her, and he’d reach between her legs to rub her clit, and they’d both ignore that the cock inside her was attached to an actual person. Too busy enjoying each other to remember there was someone else involved, like the thing splitting her open was just a sex toy for her and her husband. Nothing but a marital aid.
“Fuck,” he says. “You… Fuck…” His shoulder flexes and stills, and he scrapes his teeth against her inner thigh. Not like he wants to actually bite her, just like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. “If you want me to fuck you tonight, you gotta let me know right now.”
“Yeah?” she says, delighted.
“Yes.”
“Told you this pussy’s irresistible.” She gets why he’s so into being smug. This is great. “You asking for permission, mister?”
He groans. “You want me to be?”
She digs her heel into his spine, urging him back where he belongs. “Get me mine and you can have yours.”
If she thought he was enthusiastic before, that’s nothing on a man eating pussy like he’s chasing his own orgasm. It doesn’t take her long, between the sight of his strong body, desperate and at her mercy, and his incredible tongue game. He’s there with her in her head when she gets close. No words, just an overpowering wave of want and please, and can I, and she murmurs, “Yeah, yes, do it,” and he groans and jerks, the fingers in her cunt flexing just right while his tongue grinds against her, and she’s gone.
He works her through it perfectly, of course. Ramps her down, then rests his head on her belly as he catches his breath.
“Oh, come the fuck here,” she says, and he lunges up, kissing her like a madman, pushing her own taste into her mouth. She wraps her limbs around him, laughing as she strokes his sweaty back, sighing when he lets her have his weight.
Eventually, sounds from the rest of the apartment filter into their little cocoon. It’s time to help Peter with bedtime (past time, he’s so good to her). Nothing lasts forever, not even lovely, private moments like these. She and Nathan take a detour to the bathroom for a quick wipe-down and mandatory mouthwash (and a few minty kisses), throw on some clothes, and head into Mayday’s room.
Mayday’s had her bath already, and the lights in her room are dim, and Wade and Peter are sitting on the floor reading her stories. When May sees MJ she raises her little arms, and MJ plops down next to Peter and whips out a tit without even thinking. She has no shame about her body — not before having a kid, and definitely not after. But also two of the men in this room have already seen it, and the third has touched every pair of underwear she owns. That shouldn’t feel as cozy as it does.
Peter puts an arm around her and kisses her head. “Have fun?”
“Yeah,” she purrs. “You?”
“Oh, yeah.”
She flops her arm across Peter and into Wade’s lap, and Nathan reaches from where he settled next to Wade to stroke up and down her wrist. She sighs. The happy hormones from breastfeeding are kicking in, a little reward from evolution to make her want to feed her baby even when it’s a pain in the ass. She is very much not complaining. Maybe she should make another kid. This is great.
“This is great,” Wade says. “I’m glad I remembered that you two exist. And super glad I don’t have to fling myself into the sun.”
MJ doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about (a frequent occurrence around Wade), but she sleepily replies, “Me too, Wade. Me fuckin’ too.”