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Peter Parker Quest LEWD FIC

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Dec 18th, 2013
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  1. "Hello, cat," Peter whispered, hanging from the shadowy side of the building.
  3. Felicia startled. "Oh my god, Peter, don't do that. I think I just lost a life." No one had used that joke yet in this continuity, so Peter chuckled above her.
  5. "Sorry." He looked at her. She was wearing the usual outfit, with black gloves this time. "Ready for our date?"
  7. Felicia gave him a crooked smile. "I should be asking that from you," she stalked closer to the wall.
  9. Peter couldn't help staring, and feel his pulse rise with each step she took. He had a thought.
  11. "Felicia..." he hesitated. She stopped quizzically. Peter extended his hand a bit toward here.
  13. She looked at him for a moment, then licked her lips so quickly Peter didn't almost notice, and an anticipating smile rose to her lips. "What are you thinking, spider?"
  15. Peter wiggled his fingers, and she took a slow step forward.
  17. She put her hand on top of his, gently, searching. He let his hand stay, as she nestled hers in it. "What?" she asked him again, silently. She didn't know what she was waiting for.
  19. "Take off the glove," Peter leaned in to whisper to her. She shivered a bit, then stopped. "Isn't this dynamic completely wrong?" she asked.
  21. Peter leaned forward again, and again whispered: "Take off the glove."
  23. Halting, her left hand went to her wrist, and peeled back the leather sleeve, revealing what was actually an elbow glove, reaching all the way up her forearm.
  25. "Naughty girl," Peter whispered again, and she yelped a bit.
  27. She blushed, and continued revealing the glove, until she reached the point of no return, where fabric ended and flesh was revealed, exposing her elbow to the cool air of the rooftops.
  29. "Take off the glove," Peter whispered a third time, and she didn't even register it as her left hand started to pull forward the glove, sticky with the sweat of excitement she hadn't realised was there, clinging to her forearm, making it difficult. She started to peel it, like the sleeve, slowly.
  31. She was exposed. For a while she reveled in it, the skin of her arm tickled by the airs rising toward the sky.
  33. "Why aren't you taking yours off?" she whispered, but got only silence for an answer.
  35. Peter beckoned again, with a relaxed arm waiting for her. "Come". And she did.
  37. She raised her naked hand, surprisingly soft for a building-scaling cat burglar, with short nails and smooth skin, and put it in his.
  39. Her heart was not beating like crazy, and she felt a jolt of panic. She tried to pull back, but Peter's hand followed, pulled back with her own.
  41. "No, that's cheating," she hissed. He was clinging to her hand.
  43. She pulled back weakly and ineffectually and his followed in perfect synchronisation, flowing slowly from one pose to another. Her young supple fingers twisted around in confusion until she gave in and let herself melt into his hand.
  45. Peter moved. His fingers moved in exploration, stroking her palm from beneath, feeling the flesh give in and return, softly, softly.
  47. "Take your glove off," Felicia bit her lip. "Please take it off," she pleaded.
  49. "No," Peter said, and continued stroking her captured hand.
  51. He pulled on her hand, attaching her flesh to his with his wall-clinging power, drawing her near, almost making her stumble. He lifted, and her hand and arm and shoulders lifted with it. He reached with his other arm, and pulled her up, making her yelp in surprise, and cradling her on his thighs and knees pointing out from the wall his feet were clinging to.
  53. Felicia shivered. He hadn't let go, but he hadn't taken hold of her hand completely, either, just clinging to it. She awaited as Peter breathed in slowly, taking her in in front of him, so close that he could feel the warmth escaping her palms.
  55. He let go of her hand. "Peter, no..." she mewed, and he returned immediately.
  57. The tops of his fingers touched her, stroked the palm side of her digits, the soft, ticklish pads of flesh stretching between the joints of the bones. They descended to her palm, her wrist, and returned back to stroke her finger tops.
  59. Felicia gave in, and embraced her fingers with his in a desperate grip.
  61. "Do not let go," she whispered with tears of new feelings in her eyes. "Do not let go."
  63. "I won't," he answered.
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