#chapter 298 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonlight-prose · 7 months

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FOR THE LOVE OF DANGER

╰┈➤ #01: ONE LAST TIME

a/n: so i finally FINALLY saw the movie and even though it's really late since it came out, i'm happy to write for him at last. this is partial brain rot and a partially thought out plot that has been in the works for months. i'd heard of spidey 2099 before, but never thought i'd fall in love with him to this extent. this fic was also supposed to come out last month, but i'm always behind on everything. so i hope y'all enjoy this wild ride.

note: a massive huge fucking THANK YOU to @soulores for being the best beta reader a girl could have. seriously i couldn't have finished this without you.

dedicated to: @sunflowersteves for listening to me rant about how pretty he is and for being the first person to ever hear about this plot. thank you for being one of the best person here babes.

summary: when things go awry in your life you find yourself back at el nido - a comfort spot in the darker parts of the city - in need of peace. only to run into him.

word count: 8.5k+ (somehow???)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, cussing, angst, alcohol consumption, one night stands, p in v sex, rough sex, cumeating if you squint, cumplay if you really really squint, my awful attempts at dirty talk, soft miguel, the start of chaos.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

NUEVA YORK 2099; EARTH-298

Let’s do this one last time.

My name is Miguel O’Hara… and I’m scared.

You couldn’t breathe, the speed of your heart rate nearly caused you to believe you were going into cardiac arrest. Some small part of your brain wanted to actually check. It wasn’t hard to simply waltz right into the nearest hospital. Although dealing with the disbelief on doctors and nurses faces as you asked them to check if you were dying pushed you away from the idea altogether.

Another day at a job that didn’t allow you to have anything, left you seeking out the only thing you knew would help. An old dive bar still resided in the lower part of the city—The Nest, or as the owner called it El Nido—as local folk often referred to it. Although you were more than happy to call it a safe haven.

Everything was so pristine where you worked, so perfect. But The Nest was simply a small hole in the wall that helped people find a spot to feel safe for an hour or two. You tended to avoid going there on weekdays, but seeing as how you were about to be fired from your job…you felt it was necessary.

Sighing, you hitched your bag up higher on your shoulder, the weariness from the day finally settling its weight over you. What you wouldn’t give to be asleep right now, curled up in bed. Except you couldn’t go home. Not when all that remained was the dreaded time spent waiting for tomorrow. The day they would more than likely—officially—ask you to leave.

“Sorry,” you muttered, accidentally slamming into a woman walking hand in hand with her partner. The man glared at you, the gaze enough for you to quicken your step towards your destination.

The smell of the bar was exactly the same. Ricky always loved incense, and while you claimed it would drive customers away, he somehow made it work. Letting out a calming breath, you headed right towards your stool at the bar. The worn in leather a comfort after sitting in a stiff backed office chair all day. It was partially ripped and practically ruined, but you could already feel the stress melt off your body.

“Mi florita!” Ricky shouted, handing off a drink to an older man with white hair.

“Hey Ricky—oof—” He leaned across the bar, dragged you closer, and planted a sloppy kiss on your cheek. His breath was tinged with cinnamon and a hint of mint—letting you know he’d been drinking his favorite tea all day.

Nonetheless you smiled at his kind gesture. Ricky was like the cousin you had never had, but always wanted. Standing at around six feet with tattoos going up and down his tanned arms and his hair chopped into a mess of wild curls, he was your favorite person. The one you always sought out in times of trouble, if anything just to laugh. Unfortunately he couldn’t say the same for you. He loved his boyfriend too much to put you higher up on the scale—or so he claimed.

“How’s the job?” He poured you a martini, extra dry, extra dirty. “Are you playing nice with all the fancy folk?”

You chuckled, taking a sip and letting the alcohol burn its way down. “The fancy folk are slowly driving me insane.”

“Uh oh.”

Another sip caused yet another part of your stress to fade. “I don’t understand why it’s so hard for them to give me the same leniency they offer to other employees.” You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “I mean it won’t matter anyways tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Ricky slid a drink to the person sitting a stool away from you, taking the small amount of cash he offered.

“The day I’m probably gonna get fired.”

“What?” he exclaimed, nearly causing the glass of whiskey in front of him to spill over.

You shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I can just…find a new place to work at. I mean there has to be other labs in need of a biochemist. Right?”

He hesitated, his eyes flickering to the bottle in his hands. “Florita…” Your stomach dropped, the severity of the situation finally dawning on you—turning your once rose hued glasses clear.

They were going to ask you to leave and because it was Alchemax, there was no other option but for you to beg for forgiveness. An act you had sworn to yourself that you’d never do. You were a good scientist. Hell you were the best in that fucking lab, yet they couldn’t see past the fact that you wanted to go your own way. To carve your own path in a company that was adamant on placing you in a box. Keeping you perfectly pristine for those on the outside—those that might wish to give you freedom.

Holding up your hand, you stopped him from saying anything else. If shit was meant to go sideways tomorrow, then so be it. You’d go out like a champion, worthy of whatever came next. Downing the remainder of your drink you slid the empty glass towards Ricky, nodding at him to fill it up. At least with that he didn’t hesitate, knowing you needed something to take the edge off—your night already taking a turn for the worst.

“Just gotta keep going,” you muttered, staring at the liquid in the hopes that it would magically fix everything.

“You got this chica.” Words that seemed empty at a time like this somehow brought a small smile to your lips.

Taking another sip you thanked him softly and watched him wander off to the other side of the bar, his eyes set on a group of men that were most likely there to buy out the bar. It happened every once in a while, but you couldn’t exactly fault them. They were here to have fun, to make an otherwise regular night memorable. They certainly weren’t here to wallow in their drinks, swallowing down their misery in the hopes of finding something good to take away.

“Shit,” you muttered when you came to the bottom of the glass again, your finger tracing the rim.

“Firing a biochemist is the stupidest thing a lab could do.”

You jumped when someone’s voice came from beside you—the man a stool away now focusing the entirety of his attention on you. Perhaps it was the vodka or the low neon lights of the bar, but you could have sworn his eyes were red. The color so striking it sent a chill down your spine—as if he was analyzing you with one simple glance. For a second you forgot he even said anything—too busy taking in his soft brown hair and strong jaw—until his lips quirked up into a grin.

One that made your heart flip in your chest, heat rising beneath your cheeks.

“Eavesdropping?” you inquired, gathering enough courage to confront him about his blatant behavior.

His lips pulled up on one side, something glimmering in his eyes that had you hooked the longer he looked at you. “Lo siento,” he said softly—his voice slightly mumbled. “Didn’t mean to. I just heard you talking about something that interests me.”

“Ah.” You glanced away to escape his penetrating stare, if for a chance to catch the breath in your lungs. “So you’re a scientist.”

Pride bloomed in your chest when he was caught off guard. His glass halfway to his mouth when the statement left your mouth. Once again that mysterious light flickered to life again, a soft chuckle leaving his lips and causing your heart to erratically beat in your chest. Taking a sip, he gently set the now empty glass back on the bar. The tension was so thick you swore you could slice it in half, heat spilling into your body.

“You’re observant.”

Shrugging, you took your own sip—the alcohol no longer burning your throat. “It wasn’t hard to figure out. What else from that conversation would interest you?”

“You.”

The words were out of his mouth before you could even finish the question, your breath catching at the sound of them. Your day had been shit. Enough to rival doomsday itself, but there you were sitting at a bar with him. A man who’s name you didn’t know. The smile spread across your lips before you could stop it, your eyes roving down his figure in an attempt to make him feel half of what he stirred in you.

“Let me buy you a drink?” you asked, pointing to his empty glass.

“I thought I was supposed to ask you that?”

Your smile widened. “Then ask me.”

For the second time that night he was caught off guard, his eyes widening slightly. The song behind you shifted, a low tune you could feel reverberating through you as he changed seats, taking the stool directly beside you. He moved silently, his thighs pressed tightly against yours as he got comfortable in the spot—his arm brushing yours.

The first thing you noticed was how warm he was—as if his body was a personal heater. But that was pushed out of your mind, replaced by the second thing. He looked at you clearly, hair falling onto his forehead slightly until you finally saw it. The actual color of his eyes. Crimson irises caught you in their hold, keeping you until he was satisfied—drinking you in, he trailed his gaze over the entirety of your body.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he murmured, his breath fanning across your face, body unconsciously leaning in.

You inhaled sharply, watching as his eyes lit up at your reaction to his proximity, his hand sliding closer until his fingers brushed against your wrist. Suddenly your shitty day was but a mere memory in the back of your mind. Entirely forgotten in favor of him. He was so large you swore he blocked everything else, filling your eyesight with nothing else but his frame. The breadth of his shoulders, the length of his torso and how he had to hunch over slightly to get close to you.

“What’s your name?” you inquired finally, your words breathy and dazed.

He grinned, hand curving around your wrist and pulling your hand towards him. “What’s yours?”

“I asked you first.”

Leaning in so close until you felt his chest brush your shoulder, his lips met your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Miguel,” he breathed, smiling at the way you practically melted into him.

For a brief moment you forgot you were sitting in the middle of a bar, people surrounding the two of you. When in fact it felt like nothing remained except you and him and the song playing behind you. Your exhale was shaky, representing the way you felt on the inside. As if he’d pulled you apart with a single word, his body heat affecting your brain—turning it to mush.

“Miguel…” Your hand curved around the front of his jacket, eyes meeting his as he moved, brushing his lips across your cheek.

“Hm?”

Something heady built in your chest, solidifying the truth you knew the second you started talking to him. You wouldn’t be leaving this bar alone. You simply hoped he was on the same page as you, but the way he hooked his arm around your waist, thighs bracketing your frame told you everything you needed to know. He was not only on the same page; he was flipping forward, reading a future that had yet to occur.

You almost wanted to ask him if he liked what he saw. If—by some odd chance—there was something more than this fiery electricity between the two of you.

“You still want that drink bebita?”

Words evaded you the longer he sat there, filling the space with nothing but him. How he smelled, how he sounded, fuck even the way his lips felt dragging against your skin as he spoke. You wanted to ask where he came from. How you’d never seen him in this bar before—your life now altered because of something so small. Simply a conversation. Yet now you couldn’t see yourself ending the night without him.

“No,” you sighed, shifting until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his. “You?”

He shook his head.

“I…” Your teeth dug into your bottom lip. “I don’t usually do this.”

Grinning, he raised your chin slightly with his knuckle, eyes catching you once more in their web, snaring you in a trap so saccharine you could taste it on your tongue. “Your pace.”

And with two simple words you were his. Captured happily in something you never wanted to be rid of. You smiled, your other hand sliding up into his hair, and finally the weight of your day lifted entirely off your shoulders. The question of whether or not he wanted to kiss you was on the tip of your tongue, but like before…he was miles ahead of you. With a small grin, he tipped your face towards his, catching your lips in a kiss you felt down to your fingertips.

He didn’t kiss you gently, languidly taking his time as if you were both here until the sun went up. No, that was nothing like what you expected. He devoured you. Stole every gasp, sound, and sigh you could have let out; his hand holding you exactly where he wanted you. Miguel kissed you like you were his only source of oxygen. And you let him. You bent to his will with ease, giving into every touch.

Whining softly, you tugged sharply on his hair when his tongue swept across your bottom lip. The taste of his drink now seeping into your mouth. You didn’t even question letting him in, desperate to know what he tasted like—what his tongue felt like licking deeply into you. Shivers ran down your spine when his hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you closer until you sat on the very edge of the stool.

“Fuck,” he rumbled, pulling away and sliding his lips along your jaw.

“Oh…” Your breath was a sharp gasp when his fingers trailed down your throat, cupping it so quickly you could have sworn you imagined it. But the heat that spilled into your stomach told you otherwise.

His lips were heaven on your skin, nipping and licking until you were sure that certain spots would be tender tomorrow morning. You didn’t care. He could have sunk his teeth directly into your neck and you’d still ask for more. Somewhere in between talking and the tension, you lost any sense of worry. Those feelings went out the window the second he moved closer.

“I um—” Pushing at his chest, you reluctantly parted with the realization that you were still in public, and fucking against the bar would certainly make Ricky ban you for life. So he fell back, his lips swollen and spit slicked—pupils blown wide until the black began to bleed into the red. A swirl of brilliant color.

He smirked, taking in your disheveled appearance, all thanks to him. You had half a mind to drag him back to the bathroom, but the burning glare of Ricky was currently being seared into the side of your head. Without a doubt you knew it said: “You fuck in my bar you’re not coming back.” So you gathered whatever control you had over yourself and downed the remainder of your now tepid drink.

“My apartment is two blocks from here,” you began, exhaling a shaky breath as you finally took the leap for what you wanted. “We can be there in five minutes.”

Miguel nodded, yanking out his wallet and tossing down enough cash to cover not only his drinks, but yours as well. Which was your sign to grab your things. No words had to be said, because the intent was clear to the both of you. He was here to find the same relief you were—something to take his mind off of life for a little while.

Waving a quick goodbye towards Ricky, you followed Miguel out of the bar into the cool night air of the city. You were beneath the depths of the main part, where people didn’t necessarily travel to. But you’d grown up there. It remained a place where you still felt like you belonged. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. Not when the intentions for the night were clear to both of you. But that didn’t stop him from reaching down and slipping your hand into his, clasping your fingers together as you walked down the street.

Such a small act of tenderness—barely noticeable to anyone walking past—but meant so much more.

“What brought you to El Nido?” you asked, leading him down the street where your apartment building resided. It wasn’t a drastic question, but you couldn’t help your curiosity.

You were a scientist after all.

He shrugged, thumb running along your knuckles. “Needed a night out.”

“Let me guess…” You turned—walking backwards the best you could—regarding him with a suspicious expression. The small smile on his lips caused your heart to thump a little faster. “You’re getting fired tomorrow too?”

For the first time that night you heard him laugh. The sound, soft and low and by all means something you wanted to hear over and over again.

“No.” He took in a breath, his crimson eyes searching the dark streets for nothing in particular—the hair on the back of his neck suddenly standing up. “I’m…trying to figure out something.”

“A problem?”

He sighed. “You could say that.”

“Well I think—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence, his arm jerking you forward until you fell into his chest, wrapped tightly to him as a horn echoed loudly behind you. A car sped past, turning rapidly onto the street and disappearing around the corner—leaving the both of you in silence. Your breath came in quickly, eyes wide as fear ran streaked your body, turning you cold. And Miguel watched after the car, his eyes narrowed and body tensed—as if he was ready to take off after them.

That is until he felt your hands press against his chest softly, drawing his attention back to you.

“T-Thank you,” you gasped, trying to calm the adrenaline that rushed through you.

There was no mistaking what would have happened if he hadn’t pulled you close; if his reflexes hadn’t kicked in so quickly. You wanted to ask him how he did it. How he knew the car was coming, but the words were trapped in the back of your throat. The shock had started to flood your system. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb running along your jaw in a soothing motion that seemed to slow the panic filtering through your body. You wondered if he even knew he was doing it—the touch yet another reflex to slow the racing of your heart.

To bring you back down to Earth.

“Okay?” he murmured, his eyes tracing the curve of your face, watching your eyelids flutter for a moment as you met his gaze once more.

You nodded, lightly gripping his wrist simply for the sake of comfort. “I’m okay.”

The night was no doubt effectively altered. Not necessarily ruined, but you couldn’t go on the way you were before. No teasing words, no light conversation. Instead you walked in silence. His hand clasped in yours and guard up in case of something else happening until you reached your place.

You were surprised to find that you enjoyed the silence while you walked. As if Miguel offered you a sense of safety and comfort you never had before; your body responding differently than you expected. Sure, you were attracted to him, but you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him when it came to this. To needing safety in the midst of possible danger.

“This is me,” you said, pulling out your key from your pocket—the hallway light dim and nearly extinguished. You had to remember to speak to the building manager about it tomorrow.

He grinned slightly, waiting patiently for the door to swing open with a soft creak as you entered. While you wouldn't call your small and rather overpriced apartment perfect, it felt more like a home than even he expected it to be. A small kitchen gave way into a bigger living room. Your record player was placed on top of an aged wooden table—piles of books stacked haphazardly through the place.

Miguel eyed the various plants you’d managed to keep alive—each of them pointed towards the one large window on the opposite wall. A place where sunlight no doubt streamed in on early mornings.

He originally believed it would look modern; more like the outside city and world as a whole. Yet your home resembled something old. A place that stood still against the ravages of time—as if it were merely a museum and he was there to admire its antiques.

“I know it’s not much.” You shifted a small pile of clean clothes off the chair, moving it towards an empty laundry basket in the hallway.

“It’s nice,” he said, and he actually meant it. “Es acogedor.”

You could see the truth in his eyes, the flicker of something familiar coming through the crimson. As if he’d known a life like this once. You wanted to ask him. See if he’d tell you more than just his name—perhaps why his eyes were that color—but you knew tonight wasn’t about making this more than it was. In reality you both needed this. No strings, no commitment. Merely two people looking to release themselves from the heaviness of the day.

He turned, catching you staring blatantly at him. “You want me to make you a drink?”

The question threw you off and your expression must have given you away—his lips curling into a grin. “I thought I was supposed to ask you that?”

Heat curled low in your stomach, spreading with every step he took until the tips of his shoes met yours. He bent down, hand curling around the nape of your neck, fingers digging in slightly. Chills spread down your spine, goosebumps rising along your arms, and for a brief moment you wanted to live in this. To remain oblivious to everything happening around you.

Everything except him.

He brought his lips closer, his breath washing across your cheek. “So ask me,” he breathed.

“Do you want me to—”

Cutting you off he dragged you closer, practically hauling you up to his chest as his lips covered yours. It sent your mind reeling, your hands digging into his hair as if on instinct. As if you knew exactly what he wanted. As if…you’d done this before. Something intoxicating built up in your body, turning your brain foggy when his hands slid down, cupping your ass and dragging a moan from your throat.

He met your sound with one of his own—a ragged grunt that came from low in his chest. The echo of it reverberating through your body. You knew what this was. What it wouldn’t become. Yet you couldn’t stop the longing in your heart—the yearning that refused to be locked away in your mind. You wondered what it would be like if this was more. Would it always feel this…electric?

Something pulled you together and you couldn’t determine what it was. Except at that moment you couldn’t even determine your own name.

His tongue swept in your mouth, shoving all your thoughts aside and bringing forth something new. A feeling so strong you found yourself grasping for him tighter, pulling him closer as he licked deeply into you—tasting the alcohol on your tongue.

“Bedroom,” you gasped, yanking on the strands of his hair and earning another delicious grunt.

“Donde—”

“Down the hall.”

Stumbling back you felt his hand hitch your leg over his hip, nearly dragging you with him. Yet you could hardly complain. You were pretty sure that if he let you go you’d go falling to the ground from his touch alone. He moved your head where he wanted, lips slotting over yours and spit nearly trailing down your chin. A rush of slick poured into your panties, your nails scratching along his scalp as he nearly hit the wall, pressing you against it and hitching your other leg up.

“Fuck.”

You tried to tell him that you needed more, that you wanted him inside of you, but all that came out was a breathy moan. His hips grinded into yours, a soft moan being pressed to the shell of your ear, and that alone nudged you towards something earth-shattering.

His lips slid back along yours, hands grasping for any skin he could reach as you practically shoved your hips against his. The desperation practically seeped into the air—permeating your tongue with its cloying flavor. Words were exchanged for moans, tender moments now shifting into something quicker and faster. You wanted to feel him against you as fast as humanly possible, but Miguel was eager to remain here. Holding you up against the wall and kissing you until you ran out of oxygen.

“So I take it that’s a no on the drink?” you breathed, smiling at the small frustrated sound echoed in the back of his throat.

“Cállate,” he grunted, hiking you up and grinning at the yelp that was muffled into his mouth.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you felt him begin to move—heading towards your bedroom. The door remained open from earlier and you thanked yourself for making sure to keep the place tidy before leaving for work today. Before you could detach yourself from him and lead him to your bed, he turned and sat down. Taking you with him until you were sprawled on his lap.

“Tú eres hermoso,” you mumbled against his lips, watching in delight as his expression shifted. Surprise spreading across his chiseled features.

“I’m supposed to say that to you,” he replied, a small grin playing on his lips.

You shrugged, pressing your lips to his jaw. “Guess we’re doing tonight backwards.”

He chuckled, sliding his hands beneath your shirt until it was clear that he wanted it off. You complied with ease. Allowing him to drop the fabric to the floor as his eyes fell to your chest, taking in the pretty lace of your bra. The crimson you’d come to admire darkened to something you’d call a burgundy—lust clouding his gaze. He wanted to take you apart. To see the inner workings of your body—your mind. Anything he could get his hands on. And you’d let him.

There was no doubt that Miguel had gotten beneath your skin in such a short amount of time. He filled your home with a feeling you hadn’t had before. Something tangible and real. Something you wanted to keep.

“Guapísima,” he murmured, hands cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over the spot where your nipples poked through the fabric. A soft jolt rolled down your spine at the feeling.

Warmth clung to your chest, filling you to the brim with a sensation you’d only had once before in your life. Only this was different. This didn’t feel new or like you were just discovering it. No, this felt familiar. As if it had been hiding away in your heart, biding its time until you crossed his path—until you found one another. You wanted to wrap yourself in it, sink into its comfort, and you wondered if he felt it too.

The strange way all of this felt right.

Like coming home after being away for so long.

“Miguel,” you gasped when his mouth trailed down to your chest. The heat of his lips sticking to your already burning skin—his tongue trailing along the tops of your breasts.

He pulled down the fabric, taking your nipple into his mouth—practically lighting up on the inside when you cried out softly. Your hand dug into his hair, tugging on the strands as he scraped his teeth against you. Drawing out every sound he could find hidden in the depths of your chest. Your hips ground against him, clit pulsing with a need that would only be satiated by his touch.

For a moment you worried that he wouldn’t continue his path. That he’d ignore the way you were practically panting for him—the pleas falling from your lips with ease. But then his hand dipped beneath your waistband, fingers trailing along the edge of your panties. Your eyes nearly rolled back, hips canting up as you tried to get him to go further—to release you of this agony. But he held still. Entirely focused on driving you to the very brink of insanity; continuing the path with his teeth and tongue along your chest until the skin was tender.

“Impatient are we?” he mused, nose brushing against your jaw—the grin prominent in his voice.

You huffed, gripping tightly onto his hair and dragging his head up. “A tease are we?”

A moan ripped from his throat, his hips jolting up into yours at the slight sting of pain that bloomed in his head. His eyes were heavy, mouth parted as he took in a deep breath, and you could have sworn that you’d never see a prettier sight again. He looked at you as one would a statue in a museum. Tracing the curves and dips of your body with eyes that resembled the color of blood. Eyes that would never leave your mind again.

His tongue swept across his bottom lip, teeth protruding outwards slightly and you had half a mind to ask him about it. To question how exactly he had fangs, but your desire won out on the logical part of your mind. Leaning forward you licked your tongue along them, feeling how he shivered beneath your touch—how his body sang a tune you could match.

“Careful,” he rumbled, his hand pressing against your back and bringing you even closer. “I might bite.”

You smiled, sliding your palms beneath the collar of his shirt, the hot skin beneath warming your cold fingers instantly. “Sounds like a promise to me.”

“I’m not good with promises.” He let you pull his shirt up, raising his arms and helping where you couldn’t reach.

Even you couldn’t deny there was something so domestic about this. How he carefully shifted you so that you were now pressed into the mattress. His large frame looming over you—hair falling into his eyes as he looked down. It felt natural; the fluid movements were almost instinctive. Like your bodies knew what to do before you could even comprehend anything happening. You wanted to blame the alcohol—or hell perhaps it was the lust that was making you slightly lose it—but you saw it beneath the surface of his slightly guarded expression.

He felt it too.

Perhaps even more.

“Come here,” you breathed, cupping the back of his neck and bringing his lips back where they belonged—where they felt the most right.

You felt his hands fall to the waistband of your pants, popping open the button and you were quick to raise your hips, helping him push them down. There was a swiftness to his movements. Like he knew what you wanted before you did—something telling him that you were ready to keep going. But that would be scientifically impossible. No one could predict things that way. Yet you couldn’t help but go back to the color of his eyes—the fangs that now scraped along your throat and down your shoulder.

He seemed to be a scientific marvel. Something unknown.

“Your tur—oh—” Your head fell back, lips falling open when his hand dipped even lower, fingers sliding into your soaked panties.

A groan echoed in the room, his lips finding yours again as he gathered the slick that pooled at your entrance and dragged it back to your clit. Setting a slow and maddening pace that had you grasping for his shoulders. Your nails pricked the skin so hard you knew there would be marks later. He pressed down, sparks scorching your body, and grinned at your reaction. How your eyes squeezed shut, leg kicking out and hips pushing into his hand.

“So wet for me.” He sunk one finger into you, tearing a whine from your throat.

“Mig—” The breath caught in your lungs. “I want—fuck—please…”

He shushed you gently, lips sliding against yours messily as he worked you open, slipping another finger into you with ease. “I know amorcito. I’ve gotta open you up for me.”

Something pulled at your stomach, tightening slowly as he continued to pump his fingers into you—the wet squelch of your slick echoing in the room. You knew you were dripping down his hand, that he was able to slip in a third finger as he went. But that didn’t mean he would stop. No Miguel had become hooked on the sounds coming from your lips—the moans that you didn’t try to stifle. He curled his fingers and struck against the spongy part of your walls that made you practically curl up into him.

A surprised cry fell from your lips, eyes flying open to see his lips curl into a small grin, before he doubled down. Shifting the angle, he made sure to press the pads of his fingers in the same spot each time, his thumb swiping along your clit. And you felt that building pressure shift. It clawed its way up your throat, settling in your chest as he murmured soft words of praise.

“Dámelo,” he breathed against your lips. “Give it to me bebita.”

As if your body was following his request, you shattered. A choked cry of his name was swallowed by his kiss, his tongue licking deeply into your mouth—fingers rapidly moving to prolong your pleasure. It was too much, yet not enough. The hunger—the desire—screamed in your chest, begging for him to keep going, for this to be more than just one night. Yet you couldn’t speak.

You gulped in air, legs shaking when the pleasure slowly began to fade into a slight pain. But Miguel wasn’t done. He was far from it. Your heart pounded in your chest when he slipped his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste of your release—the shiny stickiness on his palm letting you know how wet you really were.

“Sabes deliciosa,” he murmured, pressing his tongue back into your mouth and sharing the taste of you.

Your hand fell to his pants, pulling at the buckle of his belt as he shifted—making room between your legs to lay over you. His hand pressing into the mattress above your head. The all encompassing feeling of him surrounded you; pressed you into the small haven he created with his body. Keeping you from the rest of the world as you lost yourselves in each other.

“Your belt is being difficult,” you huffed, head falling back against the pillow.

He laughed, opening it with ease and effectively earning a glare from you.

Miguel had to admit there was an ease to being around you. The weight he usually felt hanging atop his shoulders had been lifted—his mind suddenly clearer and mood better. He wanted to figure out why that was, but you were looking at him with a gaze that caused his heart to stutter. The urge to remain close to you seemed to overtake every other thought that ran through his mind. He rid himself of his pants, helping you pull down the lacy fabric—his lips sliding along your inner calf as he did so.

The light touch of your palm grasping on his hand brought his gaze back up—your small smirk rendering him speechless. Miguel had only been this way a few times in his life. All instances he could count on one hand, but this—you—were bringing out an emotion he would have rather kept locked away. Nervousness.

Leaning up on your elbows, you met him halfway, your arm going around his shoulders as he leaned down to kiss you. It was by all means…sweet. The passion remained, lingering beneath the surface and searing through your veins, but something else took over. A feeling he wanted to keep.

“Since we’re doing this backwards,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his and cupping his cheek.

Locking your leg around his hip, you used the leverage of his surprise to send him into the mattress, your hands falling to his chest as you perched yourself in his lap. Your lips formed around a smile when he grunted. The feeling of your bare pussy now spread along his cock—your slick dripping down and coating his length—was divine.

“Mierda.” His hands grasped your hips, grinding you forward a bit until the head of cock brushed your clit, ripping a gasp from your chest.

“F-fuck—” Your head fell forward, teeth digging into your lip.

“You’re gonna fuck me amorcito?” he asked, a flash of something dangerous echoing in his eyes. “Gonna ride me?”

You nodded, mouth falling open when he pressed against your entrance. Whatever comment you had died in the back of your throat when he began to sink into you—a slight sting of pain streaking up your spine as you took him slowly. He wasn’t kidding about needing to open you up, but still it was a stretch. A soft whisper of praise echoed in your ear, his thumb circling your clit to counteract the pain. Even still you dug your nails into his chest, no doubt leaving marks that would bruise later on.

“You can take it,” he murmured, thumb curling around your chin. “You can take it like a good girl.”

A whine caught in your throat, your hips canting down with each small thrust until you were seated in his lap again. His cock filling you completely—the stuffed sensation nearly too much for you. Miguel leaned up, catching your lips in a soft kiss; giving you time to adjust. Yet you felt the sharp need of desire work its way through your body, begging for you to keep going, to take everything he would give you.

“How do you feel?” He pulled at your bottom lip with his thumb, his other hand cupping your ass.

“F-Full,” you whimpered.

“Go ahead,” he said softly, allowing you to lift yourself off his cock slowly—slick coating him down to the coarse hair at his base.

The pace was lazy, barely even there, and he watched. His eyes tracked each movement you made, each time your hips shifted forward to change the angle. He burned the image of you fucking yourself on his cock into his brain—watching as you did exactly what you said you were going do. Ride him.

Scraping your nails down his stomach, you heard him groan, his hips thrusting up slightly and forcing a cry from your throat. You wanted more. Wanted to feel him fuck you into the mattress, but the familiar pressure was already forming again. Building in your stomach with each stunted thrust—the head of his cock brushing against the spot he’d found earlier.

“I’m—” Your head fell back, hips shifting forward to catch it perfectly—eyes squeezing shut. “‘M gonna—o-oh…”

“That’s it,” he rasped, guiding your hips and slamming you down onto him with a strength that made you sob, your hands grasping for any part of him you could reach. “Cum on my cock amorcito. Wanna see you—ah fuck—”

Your hips stuttered, eyes rolling back as the wave crashed over you, nearly pulling you under. A cry echoed in the room, your walls clamping down, and for a moment you felt nothing but bliss. You went blind with it, your body tipping forward into him as he continued to move you in short thrusts, dragging it on even more. Miguel grunted against your throat, sitting up fully and holding you close as you rode out your release, your body practically falling limp against him.

Eventually you felt yourself come back, your hands dragging through his hair as he placed kisses up and down your neck, arms tightening around you. Your legs barely worked, head still fuzzy with the intensity of your orgasm. But the desire still remained, stroking the fire slowly until it once again began to seep through your system. Warming your body.

He was still hard, throbbing against your fluttering walls. That alone caused you to moan softly, your hips shifting down and lips pressing against his jaw.

“You didn’t finish,” you murmured, nails scraping against the back of his neck. The small goosebumps that appeared had a lazy smile curling on your lips.

He ached for that sweet release, wanted to flip you over and chase it, but he didn’t want to leave. At least not yet. There was something about taking his time with you that called to the part of him that had always wanted more. A part he’d crushed over and over again. Claiming it wasn’t necessary. There was no room in his life for that irritating emotion people referred to as love—no space in his heart.

Until a space began to slowly open up. He could barely find it, barely even see the small gash you’d made in the armor around his heart. But he’d discover it eventually.

“I want to see you cum,” you said softly, eyes glimmering with need.

“Bebita—”

Licking along his bottom lip you felt his cock twitch, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass a little harder. “Want to feel it, Miguel. Need it.”

“Shit.” He felt the breath get punched from his lungs, your words sending a streak of heat down his spine. “Yeah? You want it that bad?”

You nodded, lifting yourself on shaky legs only to drop back down, impaling yourself on his cock. He spit out another broken curse, his head falling back briefly before you were tossed back—your body slamming against the mattress. You yelped, eyes going wide when he shifted over you, body covering yours in a way that had a haze settling in your mind. He grinned, fangs digging into his bottom lip as he spread your thighs—hooking them over his forearms and nearly bending you in half.

“All you had to do was ask,” he purred, guiding himself back into your dripping pussy and sinking in with ease.

Gasping, you clawed at his shoulders when he hit so much deeper, the angle changing everything. You wanted to shout his name, to tell him how good it felt, but he’d already started to pull back, shoving himself into you with a strength that sent you up the bed. A ragged sound was pulled from your chest, eyes rolling back when he brushed against that spot so much easier—grinding against it in a way that had your body going numb with pleasure.

“Look at you taking me so well,” he muttered, curling over your body and sending your knees up near your head.

“O-Oh…god!”

“Cosita linda.” His body was tense, teeth baring as he continued to pound into you at a pace that built your release so quick it burned through you. “Pretty fucking thing. Letting me fuck you like this. Perfecta—”

You cried out, nails breaking the skin of his back—leaving deep marks. Tears streamed down your temples, spit falling down your chin when he leaned in to kiss you. He was everywhere. His scent permeated your senses, taste now permanently etched on your tongue, and yet that still wasn’t enough. There was something about him that made you want to crack open your heart and give it to him. Offer yourself up entirely in the hopes he’d accept. He surrounded you, filled your entire being with nothing but him, and you loved it.

Your body went taut, eyes flying open to see him staring down where you were connected, how his cock disappeared into your leaking pussy.

He smiled, hands digging into your hips so tight it sparked a delicious pain when you sobbed incoherently. “I can feel you.” His breath stuttered when your walls clamped down—brows pulling tight and mouth falling open in a silent shout. “That’s it. C’mon—” He gasped, fingers falling to your aching clit and circling it quickly. “Cum on my fucking cock. Soak me.”

This time the release wasn’t built steadily to give you time to prepare. You could barely breathe, your lungs screaming for some small amount of air. Yet your body seemed to be solely focused on one thing. A broken shout of his name left your lips, echoing in the room, combining sinfully with the sound of skin against skin and your slick. His thumb found your clit, pinching it between his fingers and something in you broke.

It slammed into you unexpectedly, dragging out a loud keening wail—white flashing behind your tightly closed eyes as it rushed through you. Flooded every sense you had until all you could comprehend was him chasing his own release. He fucked into you with short stunted thrusts until he fell forward, his lips colliding with yours—a ragged cry being pressed into your mouth.

He spurted into your already dripping pussy, filling you deliciously and sending another flicker of warmth down to the tips of your fingers. His chest heaved, lips swollen and eyes dazed, and you wanted to solidify the sight in your mind. Except the reality of what this was would eventually come crashing back down. Reminding you that he was not yours to have. That you were simply two passing stars in a tangled web of this universe, meant to part ways.

He let your legs fall back to the bed, slipping out of you with a hiss before he flopped onto his back, dragging you with him. His cum dripped down your inner thigh, smearing against the skin. But for now you let it happen. Content to remain right there, feeling his chest rise and fall as he attempted to catch his breath. His fingers traced lightly along your spine, line after line until you realized what it was that he was drawing.

A web.

Or at least…that’s what it felt like.

“I don’t think I can move,” you mumbled, smiling into his skin when he laughed—the sound low and rough.

“That’s a good thing I hope,” he replied, glancing down at you—eyes tracing the curve of your hip and breast that pressed into his side.

You placed a kiss on his shoulder, hand splaying across his stomach. “Definitely.”

Silence enveloped the both of you like a comfortable blanket, filling the space with a soft feeling. It lulled you into a state of peace. Sleep nearly overtaking you. Yet you fought against it. Too busy taking in what he looked like—attempting to commit him to memory lest you never see him again. You wanted him burned into your brain, each memory tattooed into place permanently. But that’s not how life went.

This wasn’t a fairytale, and he wasn’t yours.

So you settled against his body, soaking in the warmth he emanated and allowed your eyes to flutter shut. His breath came in slower, arm curling around you as he fell asleep gradually—his heart a steady thrum in his chest. An echo that allowed sleep to drag you beneath the surface, giving way to something peaceful.

The loud angry beep of your alarm clock jolted you awake, your eyes flying open and body aching as you sat up quickly. There was a mess of blankets on your floor, obviously kicked off in the middle of the night. It seemed that with the heat of the outside world and his body, you were content to sleep with a thin sheet wrapped around you. Yet where you expected to find clothes left haphazardly around the room, you found nothing.

Your clothes that had been stripped off now lay in a pile on your chair, shoes placed by the end of your bed. Last night was clear to you now. The all consuming bliss, the way he had felt buried inside of you—how he had touched you. And while you understood it was merely a one night stand. You couldn’t stop the disappointment from seeping into your chest.

The sight of him completely erased from your apartment put a damper on an otherwise good morning.

Sighing, you swung yourself into a sitting position at the end of your bed. A throbbing headache began to spread along your skull. No doubt the cause of waking up too fast. Either that or the alcohol had actually decided to give you a bitch of a hangover. You’d have to figure that out later. The reminder of what the day held for you flickered bright and blaring in your mind—killing whatever joy you had left in your chest.

“Fuck,” you spit, dropping your head in your hands as you finally settled on one conclusion. You were about to be fired.

You had about an hour before you had to rush out the door. Giving you enough time to find out how to stop the delicious ache in between your thighs from going away. The echo of the outside world drifted up through your somehow open window and you raised your eyes, gazing at the spot where he had been only a few hours ago.

Only to catch sight of a glass of water placed on your nightstand—a ripped piece of paper beneath it. You practically lunged for it, hands carefully sliding the paper out and eyes tracing the messy scribble of what you assumed to be his writing. The message was short. Direct. It could barely even be considered sweet, but you saw the tenderness through the short sentence—the care in his action of leaving you with something to remember him by.

I had a lot of fun.

So we can do things the right way next time.

— Miguel

Beneath the message a phone number was scrawled, as if he’d been hesitant to even put it there in the first place. But it seemed that you weren’t the only one to feel that strange connection. That lingering sensation of familiarity whenever you thought about him. There was something to uncover between you. Perhaps the something more that you were aching for last night.

You had no clue.

Yet that didn’t stop you from grabbing your phone and inputting the numbers carefully. Glancing back at each one to make sure that the message wouldn’t disappear before your very eyes. You typed his name at the top, smiling at the contact before sticking a web right beside it. The memory of what he’d traced along your skin coming back to you.

A thrill of joy went through your body, lips pulling up into a wide smile as you pressed the button to send a text. While it may have been too soon—perhaps a bit fast if you were looking at it properly—the warmth in your chest won the battle in the end.

How could something that felt this right be messed up with speed?

How could it go wrong?

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