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"No," said Peter. "Nope, nuh-uh, no way. Like I don't get enough bad press without committing public indecency on top of a national icon?" He shook his head, sending droplets of water everywhere.
"Ugh," Johnny made a dismissive noise, "Who even cares about that except you?" he complained. He was sprawled out on his stomach, gloriously nude amidst the tangle of Peter's sheets. Sometimes he still couldn't believe how lucky he was to have Johnny here, warm and beautiful in his bed.
"A lot of people, I'm pretty sure." Peter hitched his towel over his hips and sprung onto the mattress, draping himself over Johnny's back and dripping a whole lot of water onto his golden shoulders as he settled his weight.
"Oof." Johnny reached behind him and pinched the skin of his elbow. "Menace."
Peter huffed in his ear. "Takes one to know one." The insult was belied by the kiss he dropped in his hair. "Since when do you have such a nostalgia fetish."
"Babe," that was Johnny's quote-unquote 'seductive voice' and Peter knew that he was batting his eyelashes, even though he could just see the side of his face, "with you, I have all the fetishes."
Peter groaned. Embarrassingly, it was more lustful than mocking. His hips rocked forward, pressing into Johnny's ass through the towel.
Johnny made a sound that was half giggle, half moan and his shoulder twitched, almost hitting Peter in the nose. "Oh that - don't do that, it tickles."
Peter blew into his ear again, just to be obnoxious, then skated his hand up the line of his body, hip to heart, dancing his fingers up the crease of where Johnny's hot skin met the body-warm sheets below him.
Johnny's sharp intake of breath went straight to his cock. Peter nipped at the shell of his ear. He loved coaxing out the sounds Johnny made in bed, eager and demanding. Peter wanted to give him everything he asked for and more. If he could, he would spend hours drawing out the noises Johnny made, taking him apart, making him feel good.
"Admit it, Pete, it's got you going." Johnny's smirk was audible as he ground his ass back against Peter's cock. "You, me, giant torch, a seaside view..."
"Tourists, a couple pigeons, maybe a seagull to set the mood if we're lucky..." Peter added, not paying much attention to his words as he mouthed down Johnny's throat, nipping at the nape of his neck.
Johnny twisted his neck around so that Peter could see his scowl. "Why are you like this," he demanded.
"Johnny. Sweetheart. Dewdrop." He punctuated each word with a scrape of teeth. Johnny hissed. "I'm a deflector. I deflect. I have to believe you've noticed this about me." He reached back between Johnny's legs. "Also I lost the thread of this conversation a while ago," he admitted.
"Arghh." Johnny made a strangled noise (or maybe a noise that indicated that he'd like to strangle Peter) and wiggled under him. Peter pulled back to let him turn over, catching his mouth in a kiss as soon as he was on his back and swallowing up his response.
By the time Peter tore himself away to fumble blindly at the sheets behind him, Johnny was flushed pink and breathing hard. Peter curled a hand loosely around his ankle, thumb circling the bone there as his other hand searched the bed. Finally, his fingers closed around the lube.
Johnny watched through his eyelashes as Peter crawled back up his body, tweaking a nipple with a dry thumb and then grabbing one of Johnny's thousands of accent pillows.
"Up," he ordered, pressing lightly at Johnny's back to slide the pillow underneath.
"Bossy," Johnny breathed. His eyes were all heat.
Peter rubbed a slick finger over the soft skin of his perineum, pressing inside with a slowness that had Johnny gritting his teeth and swearing. He was loose and relaxed from the activities of earlier, sloppy and sensitive, and the second finger went in just as easily.
A practiced twist of his fingers drew a sound like a whine, breathless and needy. Even after last night. Even after this morning.
"More," Johnny panted. He didn't sweat, but the flush of his skin had spread far past his face.
"As you wish," Peter grinned, pressed a third finger in to join the others. He crooked his elbow for a better angle, flexed his fingers, pressing up into the spot that would make Johnny yell.
Johnny twisted up, arching his back like a cat. "Pete, I need -"
Understanding, Peter moved his free hand up to grip Johnny's cock, letting him fuck his hips up, find the friction he needed. Another twist of his fingers and Johnny came, keening and clutching at the sheets.
Peter collapsed on top of him, hard cock still jutting into the line of his hip. Johnny blinked at him, languid and satisfied, and reached down.
One, two strong tugs and then Peter was coming too, spilling over Johnny's hand and both of their stomachs. Sighing in contentment, he flopped back his side, dropping a kiss on Johnny's shoulder. They could clean up in a couple minutes.
"Is that a yes on the Statue of Liberty, then?" Johnny had caught his breath and was sprawled loose and sated beside him, idly dragging a thumb across the jut of his hip.
"What?! No!" he squeaked, and then in a more normal tone of voice, "No!"
Johnny rolled his eyes. "You have such weird hang ups."
Peter agreed, forcefully, that he did have many many hang ups and - that might have been the end of it.
Johnny didn't forget though.
"So." He squinted at Peter in the sunlight. Lunch on top of the Flatiron Building had, perhaps unsurprisingly, turned into a midafternoon tryst, Johnny braced against the balustrade, both of them staring out over the city, dizzy with lust and on top of the world. Peter was pretty sure he had flashed at least three helicopters. "What's next? Empire State observation deck?"
"Cameras," Peter said.
"Web 'em," Johnny told him carelessly, running his palm up Peter's ribs. One of his fingernails scratched idly over a nipple. "We ready for Liberty yet?"
"Should I be concerned that you have designs on Lady Liberty's virtue?" Peter asked. He rolled away from Johnny's wandering hands and groped for his costume.
"Hey, I'm just trying to figure you out, Parker," Johnny said. "You're good with the outdoors and the public -" he waved an arm, ignoring the way Peter flushed. "But you draw the line at what could be the most meaningful place in the history of our relationship. What's the worst that could happen?"
Answers tripped over each other in an effort to make it to his tongue. Spidey sex tape, identity reveal, public indecency citations, a gleeful Bugle headline - just more of his usual luck. "I-" Peter flailed his arms a little as he hopped, trying to pull his spandex back up. "It's the Statue of Liberty."
Johnny rolled his eyes. "That doesn't mean anything," he complained.
"Glove." Peter held his hand out. Johnny reluctantly passed him his glove. He reattached the webshooters to his wrists and made sure the mask was firmly in place. "See you at home, honey."
"That wasn't a 'no'," Johnny shouted as he webbed away.
Johnny was acting weird.
There had been a fight with Skein down in Midtown, nothing unmanageable, but it was never not embarrassing to have his costume start unraveling in the middle of rush hour traffic. Peter had taken a breather in an alley while he checked the remaining structural integrity of his mask and dance belt. Then he called Johnny.
"Why Spider-Man! I do declare." Given Johnny's acting skills or lack thereof, it wasn't surprising that he sounded more like a cowboy with a toothache than a Southern belle. "So much skin and not even noon yet!"
"Yeah, laugh it up, flame brain," Peter grumbled. "Where are you?"
“Look up,” Johnny said.
Peter squinted through the refracted morning sunlight. There was a tiny figure visible on top of the Buglebuilding.
“Tap in for me, would you?” he asked. “My dignity can't survive another webbing underpants incident.”
“It didn’t survive the first one.” Johnny was laughing at him now. “Go find some clothes before your reputation as a pervert gets even worse. I’ll take care of our villainess.”
“My hero,” Peter grumbled as he ended the call.
Peter missed most of the rest of the fight raiding one of Daredevil’s rooftop clothing caches. By the time he was back on the street in civilian clothes, Skein was defeated and Johnny was posing for photos and taking questions from reporters.
Well, ‘reporters’ might be stretching it. There were a few members of the Bugle's staff that he recognized, sure, but there were a lot of cameras as well. It looked like Johnny's paparazzi contingent had arrived. He tried to get through them without throwing elbows, with little luck.
"Where did Spider-Man go?" asked one guy with a camera.
“The guy is shy,” Johnny told them. “What can I say?”
A murmur went around the assembled crowd. "Was he angry that you were the one to defeat her?" asked another reporter.
"Why would he be angry?" Johnny rolled his eyes. "Let's all just be grateful that we didn't have to see his junk. Do you even know how spiders reproduce?"
"Was he scared of Skein?" said a third, ignoring Johnny's slanderous insinuations.
"Look," said Johnny loudly, over more questions, "me and Spidey have our differences but the guy is as brave as they come."
"Then how come he ditched?"
"Yeah!" The crowd was starting to get loud. Peter decided to ditch the non-elbow-throwing strategy and get to Johnny before he said something stupid.
"Back off!" Johnny snapped. He lit up his face and everyone took a step back. "You can contact my publicist for comment," he told them coldly, then took off in the air. A second later, he was just a fiery streak in the sky.
"Hot and cold," he heard someone say nearby. Peter sighed. There went his morning.
It was hard to lose track of a flying celebrity who literally lit on fire, but several hours later, Peter had to admit to himself that he had somehow managed it.
Johnny wasn't in the garage, or his favorite bar, or on Ben's floor of the Baxter Building, or any of the rest of his usual sulking places. He hadn't posted anything pouty or angry or otherwise inadvisable to Twitter or Instagram.
If he wasn't sulking, Peter had another idea of where he might have gone.
Getting out to Liberty Island after hours wasn't easy, but Peter managed it. He'd have to remember to return that boat whenever he headed back. At least the figure sitting on the head of the Statue of Liberty suggested that he hadn't come out here for nothing.
He flopped onto his back when he reached the top of the statue. Johnny didn't look surprised to see him.
“So you do remember where it is,” said Johnny.
“I didn’t forget,” Peter told him, exasperated. "You're still upset about that? Listen, that's not what it is at all." He tried to explain. "It's - we used it, before, to meet up, to keep in touch." He shifted towards Johnny and put a hand over his. "Before we started...seeing each other."
It was an inadequate way to describe their relationship, but he wasn't at all sure that Johnny wouldn't think he was making fun of him if he said anything more serious.
Johnny frowned. "So what, now it's not special to you anymore?"
"No!" Peter tightened his grip on Johnny's hand, rubbing his thumb over Johnny's warm knuckles as he tried to find the right explanation. "I just. I have you now. All the time. We don't need a usual place or a cryptic code. I don't have to paddle out here on a web raft on Christmas Day at ass o'clock in the morning and wait for you because I know that I'll wake up and you'll be right there and that's so - "
Hands were scrabbling at his mask. He was cut off mid-sentence by Johnny's kiss, fierce and possessive. A thrill ran up his spine, the same feeling he always got when he remembered that this was happening for real. Johnny was as hot and intense as ever as he did his best to swallow Peter's tongue, half in his lap. It was several seconds, or perhaps minutes, before he realized that he had sought out Johnny for a purpose and it wasn't this. Well. Not only this.
Peter broke away. "Anyway, enough about my feelings." He sat up and nudged Johnny's side. "Spill."
Johnny blinked at him. His mouth was red and wet and Peter tried not to look at it. "What?"
"What brings a nice handsome guy like you way out here at this time of night when you could be back in your superhero headquarters getting your also-nice, also-handsome boyfriend to thank you for saving him from a public indecency scandal today?"
“Oh,” Johnny looked away. “I was just thinking.”
“Sounds dangerous.” Peter settled closer, grinning at him.
“Ha ha." Johnny leaned into his shoulder some though. "'ScaredyMan' was trending on Twitter today."
"That's a terrible hashtag," said Peter. "What does that even mean?"
"It was. I just-" Johnny grit his teeth and looked up at the swiftly fading daylight. "I hate it when you don't get any credit. For how much you do. For how brave you are."
"Eh." Peter half-shrugged a shoulder and bumped his hip against Johnny's. "That's the gig."
"It made me think of - do you remember when the Green Goblin-”
Peters stomach lurched unpleasantly. “I think it’s safe to say I remember pretty much everything to do with Osborn.”
“You interrupted me,” said Johnny. “Do you remember when he attacked that fan-club meeting looking for you? And you took off halfway through the fight. People turned on you so quickly.” He was staring at the statue's big spiky crown now. “I wouldn't believe it. I skywrote a message for you, but you never showed up." He stood abruptly, bringing most of the heat with him, and took a couple steps to the edge of the statue's head, eyes fixed on the last bit of golden sea on the horizon. Peter pressed up to his feet and followed him.
"Sure, I remember. C'mon though, they're not all bad opinions. It's a big city. The Post thinks Spider-Man is alright. Mostly." He thought about it, wincing as he remembered a few choice headlines. "Well, sometimes. And I've got plenty of fans. Kids under twelve. Construction unions. Hot dog vendors."
“I wouldn’t say that like it’s a good thing.” Johnny rolled his eyes. "And I know that!"
"It's cute that you want to defend me though," Peter said, wiggling his fingers under the edge of Johnny's shirt and pressing them to the warm skin.
"Forget it," Johnny grumbled. "It's a miracle no one's given an exclusive interview about what a pest you are."
"Mm, you say the sweetest things," Peter buried his face in Johnny's neck, breathing in his expensive cologne. "And you've literally done that exact thing at least four times since I've known you," he added.
"That's different," Johnny insisted. "Back to what I was saying-"
"You were telling me how brave and handsome I am and how I'm your favorite super-hero of all time -" Peter offered helpfully.
"Jen's my favorite superhero." Johnny twisted his neck around and scowled at him. "You're a distant fourth."
Peter clutched at his heart. "Ouch. That hurts, honey."
"The truth hurts sometimes." Johnny said it loftily, but it still lacked a little of his usual bite. Peter rubbed small circles into his hip and he relaxed a little.
"Anyway," Peter cleared his throat. "In case you were wondering. That night. Aunt May was in the hospital. That's why I left."
“Is that what happened?” Johnny turned around to face him, looking surprised. “I waited all night for you here."
Peter kissed him then, hard and a little desperately. He could imagine it. Johnny, younger and sweeter, more innocent. He was so sure of Spider-Man’s heroicness in a way that Peter wasn’t, a way that might have given even Flash a run for his money. Peter sure hadn't done anything to deserve that kind of loyalty back then. He tightened his arms around Johnny's waist, bringing him even closer.
"Fine," he panted, breaking away from Johnny's mouth to scrape his teeth along his jawline. "You win. I'm never going to be able to look Captain America in the face again."
From the look on Johnny's face, it only took him a moment to catch on.
He crowed his victory, clutching at Peter's shoulder and dragging him back to laugh into his mouth. Peter swallowed the sound, joy bubbling in his stomach. Truth be told, he would do much worse things than fuck on a national landmark if it meant having Johnny warm and happy, in his arms for as long as he could keep him.
"It'll be worth it," Johnny promised. He slid to his knees and Peter's heart stuttered in his chest for a second. He didn't move, couldn't even blink, staring down as Johnny's slick mouth breathed hot across the tent in his spandex.
Johnny had always been the hottest thing Peter had ever seen, in every sense of the word.
He only realized he had moaned when the sound hit his ears.
Johnny was nosing along the crease of his thigh, a slow sweet torture, but he glanced up through his eyelashes at the noise. "Yes," he breathed, "Tell me how you want it, Pete." Peter curled his hand in the soft fluffy hair behind his ear, gently, not pressing.
"Just this," he said, biting back a moan as Johnny tugged down the spandex and wrapped his long fingers around the base of his cock. "Just -" Johnny closed his hot mouth around him and he made a noise "-just you. Torch." His hand tightened slightly in Johnny's hair and he moaned in response, the noise reverberating around Peter's cock.
The sun was gone now, sunk below the sea, and the only light came from the city across the bay and faint glow of Johnny's skin. Still, Peter could see the shadows play over his face as he hollowed his cheekbones. He groaned and his hips gave an involuntary thrust. His free hand fluttered restlessly, brushing over Johnny's shoulder, the back of his neck, before coming to rest on the smooth line of his jaw. Johnny's gaze was steady on him, full of something bright and sparking as he worked him over determinedly. His tongue did something clever and Peter moaned.
"Johnny, stop, stop." Peter tugged desperately on his hair.
Johnny tightened his hand and pulled off with a slick popping sound, obscene enough to be illegal.
Peter made a noise, high pitched and desperate. His skin was buzzing all over.
He sank down, knees knocking into Johnny's as he drew him in for a kiss, long and full of pent-up desire. Johnny's mouth was as warm and sweet as ever.
"Tell me you have - "
Johnny's eyes flickered away, shifty, as he pulled back to pat at his costume. There was a spark of surprise through the fog of lust, and something clicked in Peter's brain. "You thought about this, didn't you? You knew I would - ahh-"
Johnny bit down on the tendon of his throat as he pressed a tube into Peter's hand. He twisted, leaving Peter gasping as he wiggled around, rapidly discarding his pants and sitting back on Peter's thighs. "Less of the chastising, more of the fucking." He thrust his hips meaningfully, pressing the hard line of his cock into Peter's belly. His thighs were splayed wide, weight settled on Peter's lap, cocks rubbing together with every twitch of his hips.
Johnny made a sound, almost a whine, when Peter snaked an arm around the small of his back and easily shifted them, laying Johnny out along the, fuck, line of Lady Liberty's part. Karma was going to bite him back bad for this one.
"Okay?" he checked. "Nothing poking you anywhere uncomfortable?
Johnny's eyes were pure heat. "I can think of something that should be poking-," he started to say. Peter snorted and cut him off with a kiss, licking into his mouth until he was sure that even Johnny wouldn't be able to come up with a smart comment.
Johnny's legs fell open. Peter settled between them, uncapping the lube and spreading it over his fingers. "You're so," he said as he pressed the first finger in, dropping a kiss to the inside of his knee. "So fucking hot. Johnny."
Johnny whined as he added another finger. "Need more, Pete."
Peter obliged him willingly, working three fingers in until Johnny was worked up and panting, trying desperately to push his hips up and fuck himself on Peter's fingers.
“Hey, hey,” Peter dropped a line of kisses soothing along his collarbone. "Tell me what you need."
The sound Johnny made was uncharacteristically growl-like. Peter might have laughed if he wasn't distracted by Johnny's hand gripping his hip and tugging him closer. "Fuck me," he demanded.
"Anything you want,” Peter promised him, pulling out his fingers and fumbling again for the lube.
Peter gripped his thighs, smoothing his hands down, spreading them wide.
Johnny pulled his face close for a kiss that turned into a low moan when Peter entered him.
"You feel so good," Peter said, breathless between sloppy kisses. "You're so-" he hitched one of Johnny's legs higher over his hip and thrust deeply.
"Yes." Johnny made a strangled noise as he bottomed out. He began to move, thrusting shallowly, but Johnny wouldn't have it. "Harder, Pete."
Peter complied. He slammed in again and Johnny slid back several inches on the copper.
"Sorry, sorry," Peter said, bracing his hand on the metal and repositioning them. Johnny was laughing though, his eyes light.
Johnny shifted his weight, rolling them over. "How about I do the work and you keep us in place, sticky fingers." He rolled his hips and it took all of Peter's willpower to keep his hands firmly stuck to the statue and not grab at him again.
"Good plan, hot stuff," he said weakly, finding it hard to string sentences together when all he could see was Johnny riding him, back arched and cock bobbing, hard and leaking against his stomach, looking like all of Peter's wildest fantasies come true.
"Now he admits it," Johnny muttered, starting off slow before figuring out the pace he wanted. He did something with his hips that made Peter swear and rock up. "Yeah, that's it, c’mon." He reached down to tug on his own cock.
"Fuck, fuck," Peter drove up faster and Johnny tightened his legs, digging his knees into his sides as he slammed down in response. "You look so good riding me, I-" Johnny clenched around him. One hand was bracing himself on Peter’s chest and the other stroked himself, preening a little, chin lifted. He was all Peter could see, just Johnny, indecently gorgeous against the dark sky, mouth swollen and obscene and expression so intense that Peter thought he might burn up from it. It took all of his self-control to keep his hands planted when all he wanted was to touch him, to feel him all over and around him.
Johnny rolled his body forward, movements getting erratic. He bit his lip, "Pete I'm going to -"
His body tightened and Peter moaned as he felt Johnny shudder and gasp, hips jerking, and come all over his stomach. It was too much for Peter and he rocked up, manhandling Johnny easily until he could get some leverage and fixing his feet to the statue. He spread Johnny's thighs over his lap, gripped his hips hard and let go. Peter fucked him just like he wanted to, fast and hard, hands and mouth everywhere, burying himself in Johnny's perfect heat.
Johnny’s fingers twisted tightly in his hair, urging him on. His legs wrapped tighter around Peter’s waist and he could feel the muscles trembling around him. It was too much, the skin and the heat, and he made a last deep thrust and came hard. Johnny worked him through it, mouthing at his jaw, hands at his back until they rolled apart and tried to catch their breaths.
"That was good," said Peter.
"Mmm." Johnny’s expression was still blissed out, but he sounded smug. "Pete, I think you did some damage this time."
"What?" He shot up, heart racing, before he saw that Johnny was running his hand over the surface of the statue, where ten finger-sized dents were clearly imprinted in the copper.
Groaning, he sank back down, covering his eyes with one hand. "I am really never going to be able to look Cap in the face again."
Johnny’s laughter filled his ears. Peter kissed his neck lazily, savoring the joyful movement of his throat under Peter’s lips. “Hey, didn’t you say something about the Empire State Building?”