Chapter Text
“You don’t understand–I, I really have to go home, man.”
The Prowler looked up at that, meeting the wide, brown eyes with a flat gaze. It put him in a trance every time, how different Miles looked compared to him, despite being duplicates of the same identity, same cells. He was sure that no matter how long he stared into the mirror, nothing would ever replicate the softness of his alternate self’s face—his bright eyes, the curves of his cheeks, the myriad of minute expressions adorning his countenance.
He was so, so alive, and nothing like Miles Morales from Earth-42.
“You can’t, Miles.” Prowler replied monotonously, resuming his ministrations on patching up Miles, disinfecting the deep scratches on the expanse of his shoulder, and the small ones scattered on his face.
“My dad will die if I don’t! Our dad—”
“And how are you going to travel to another universe, hm? ‘Sides, you’re still weak, querido. You think you can save the day just like that?”
Miles shut his mouth almost immediately, his brows furrowing as he registered The Prowler’s words, hissing quietly when the braided boy pressed a little too hard at the small wounds.
“I’m not—I’m not weak. ” The Prowler huffed at that, his lips curving up into a smirk, noticing Miles’ baffled expression at that but he paid the boy no mind, focusing on putting back the materials he used into the first-aid kit.
“You yourself don’t believe that.” He watched as Miles’ shoulders slightly slumped at that, his heart thudding gleefully in his chest at the adorable sight. It was exhilarating, having Miles Morales from Earth-1610 here with him. It had been a long time since something so colourful had stumbled into his dull life. He felt the ugly possessiveness intensified further, the urge to chain the pretty boy up growing almost impossible to tamp down any longer.
It reminded him of that one time he brought in a wounded kitten from the streets. It ended in such a disappointment; after days of carefully bringing it back to its full health, it died anyway. This time, he would make sure that Miles did not suffer through the same fate. He would keep the boy safe, safer than he had ever been his whole life.
“Then, just bring me to the Alchemax! I’m sure I can find a way to travel—” Prowler cut him off with a harsh pull on his chin, pulling Miles’ face to stare back at him, his gaze sharp.
“You can’t leave, Miles.” He whispered lowly, watching as Miles’ pupils marginally expanded, his chest heaving as his fingers slowly reached up to shakily tug at The Prowler’s grip around his jaw, but the braided boy did not budge an inch.
Prowler dragged his thumb to press against Miles’ lower lip, exhaling softly at the memory of tasting the plush flesh under his tongue a few hours earlier.
“You’re weak, Miles. You can’t leave, until you’ve grown stronger. You can’t even fight me, how do you think you can go and save your dad? I’m not just gonna let you die, baby.” Succumbing to his desire, he leaned in to finally press his mouth against Miles’, licking into the hot cavern immediately when the other boy gasped at the contact. The taste of the wet slick on his tongue spurred him on even further, his hand closing around the familiar warmth of Miles’ neck, the other sliding around the slim waist to rest on the small of his back, smiling slightly at the feeling of the latter reflexively arching his spine slightly at the touch.
So sensitive.
The Prowler wanted to laugh when he registered the trembling hands around his neck. The boy couldn’t even push him off; it was so absurd how he truly believed that he could survive on his own. No matter. Maybe that was why the universe sent Miles Morales stumbling right into his open arms, for him to teach the hero a lesson. To reshape the boy to reach his best form.
Maybe as a gift for him too, for all the sufferings he had gone through. For still standing on this wretched Earth with a beating pulse despite half of his heart already ripped away from him years ago.
Pulling away, his eyes greedily roamed the flushed face in front of him, the soft cheeks slightly darkening as Miles breathed heavily, blinking up at Prowler with a heady gaze. He didn’t miss the latter’s stare on his tongue when he licked the excess saliva on his lower lip. He wondered if Miles was even aware of how debauched he looked right now, unknowingly begging for The Prowler to ruin him, to devour the boy completely.
“I’m sorry that you have to sleep here. I’m more than happy to share my bed with you, but my mother never knocks.”
Miles slightly chuckled at that, growing more relaxed under The Prowler’s touch, and perhaps exhaustion, while the braided boy could only stare in wonder as the boy’s eyes fluttered shut, the apples of his cheeks accentuated by the wide grin on his face.
“Yeah, Mama never knocks.”
After changing into the clothes that Prowler had given him, Miles slowly tucked himself into the single bed in the basement of the secret unit that Prowler and Uncle Aaron owned, watching with a sleepy gaze as his counterpart left the room, closing the door behind him.
The Prowler only intended to come down to the basement to check on Miles’ injuries and gave him food, but everything went out of the window the moment he saw the sight of the boy waking up with a confused expression, eyes half-lidded and mouth pouting, the shirt he was wearing sliding up to reveal the delicious view of his torso.
“You’re so— mmph! You’re so weird, man.” Miles gasped between the onslaught of kisses from Prowler, his hands loosely holding the shoulders of the braided boy, drowning under the solid weight of the boy on top of him on the bed. Prowler only hummed offhandedly, dragging his mouth lower to taste the familiar muskiness of Miles’ neck, sighing against the warmth. He looked up with an amused gaze after a while, reaching up to hold the side of the confused boy’s face.
“Not my fault you’re so pretty.” He watched curiously at the exasperated expression adorning Miles’ face in return, not missing the way his breath hitched at the compliment. He wondered if it was because his own self found him pretty, or nobody simply ever called him that before. Well, Prowler made a mental note to always remind Miles of that fact from now on, for how long he would keep him.
“We literally look the same.” Miles replied weakly, slowly melting under the wet and warm kisses Prowler left on his neck down to his collarbones, soft whines spilling out of his slightly bruised lips. The braided boy loved it, how predictable his alternate version was. Just a few touches and he became almost like a puppet, bowing to every whim and way Prowler bent him to. He had to thank the entire Earth-1610 it seemed, for not soiling the boy before he managed to.
He laid on the bed beside Miles, turning so he could pull the boy flushed to him, their bodies touching. He wanted for them to morph together, if it was possible; their atoms intertwining. No amount of closeness could sate the unbearable desires in The Prowler when it came to Miles Morales, burning hot red in his nerves. Slowly, he slid his hand along Miles’ torso through the thin fabric of the T-shirt, his T-shirt, mapping the almost frantic heaving of the soft stomach under his touch, Miles’ hot puffs of breath against his neck matching the rhythm.
The surprised gasp Miles let out the moment his long fingers reached their destination felt like a prize to him. Humming, he pulled Miles’ head to rest against the crook of his neck protectively with a hand around his nape, softly pressing a kiss on the soft tuft of curls. He couldn’t help the almost manic grin spreading on his face when he felt the faint moistness on his fingers, seeping through the fabric of the sweatpants Miles was wearing.
“Already so wet for me. And I’m the weird one? You’re so adorable, baby.” He crooned, chuckling when Miles whined in protest, hiding his warm face further into the safety of Prowler’s neck. The boy’s legs trembled against him when Prowler pressed the tips of his fingers harder against the soft mound. Exhaling heavily, he reached to pull off Miles’ pants, murmuring praises when the boy sat up slightly to accommodate the process as Prowler absentmindedly discarded the piece of clothing off of the bed.
“Spread your legs f’me, love.” He whispered, kissing Miles’ forehead briefly when the boy complied, shakily lifting his leg to rest his knee on Prowler’s hip, giving access for the long fingers to make their way to the dripping folds between his trembling legs. Swiping two of his fingers back and forth lightly on the surface to collect slick, he slowly parted Miles’ pussy, earning a shaky whimper from the boy. It seemed like the boy was expecting for him to focus on his clit, craving for it in fact, judging from the slight thrust of his hips when he lightly brushed the sensitive part with his blunt fingernail, but that was not what Prowler was looking forward to doing today.
“No one has touched you here before?” He murmured, already expecting the answer as he softly dipped the tips of his fingers into the tight hole, causing the boy in his hold to tremble and shake his head in response. Pulling away his fingers completely, he collected more slick steadily dripping from Miles’ heat before gently inserting his middle finger into his entrance, shushing the boy when he shakily whimpered, fist tightening on his shirt.
Humming once he reached his knuckle, he began a slow yet consistent pace, pumping his finger in and out Miles’ pussy, biting his lip to control himself when he felt the walls tightening around the single digit.
“Ah–mmh!” He basked in the soft, shy sounds spilling out of the latter’s lips, crooking his finger when necessary, cataloguing each of the boy’s reactions at every touch. One finger turned to two, to three, and soon enough, Miles was unabashedly moaning against his neck, his leg almost wrapping completely around Prowler’s torso, his whole body trembling in pleasure.
“How are you—mmh! How are you so good at this? You got a– a girlfriend or something?” Prowler blinked at the question, studying the determination reflected through Miles’ furrowed eyebrows, almost as if he was forcing himself to accept whatever Prowler’s answer was going to be. Was he jealous at the prospect of his counterpart already having a girlfriend before him, or was he jealous of the imaginary girlfriend?
“Hm, that good, huh?” He replied teasingly, leaning down to nudge his nose against Miles', his eyes glinting when the boy scrunched up his nose at the contact. Ignoring the query, he increased his pace, encouraging Miles with soft murmurs against his forehead.
“That’s it, baby. C’mon, come on my fingers.”
Miles jolted against Prowler, his hand gripping his shoulder almost too tight as he came with a silent gasp, his mouth smushed against Prowler’s chest. He pressed his thumb against his clit to prolong his orgasm, only pulling away when Miles reached down to tug at his hand, his hips shying away from the touch.
Prowler soothingly caressed Miles’ waist as the boy came down from his high, bringing his fingers up, soaked with the boy’s release. What a waste. The memory of him drinking Miles’ cum last night reemerged in his mind, so without much thought, he stuffed the fingers into his mouth, sloppily tonguing on the sweet moisture without taking his eyes away from meeting Miles’ shocked stare.
“You’re insane!” The pretty boy whined, only receiving a satisfied look from The Prowler as he finally pulled his fingers out of his mouth.
“I’m good at it because I do it to myself.” He spoke suddenly after a few moments of silence, snapping Miles out of his thoughts as the boy looked up at him with wide eyes.
“To yourself? You mean–f–fingering?”
The Prowler couldn’t help but snort at the bewildered expression adorning Miles’ face.
“What are you? Twelve?” The boy pushed his chest weakly at that, embarrassment clouding his countenance. Prowler watched in fascination as Miles slowly looked down, not missing the bobbing of his throat once he saw the bulge on the braided boy’s pants. He leaned in to lick Miles’ lips, before whispering slowly.
“Wanna see?” Without waiting for the boy’s response, Prowler guided his trembling hands to rest on his waistband, as they both pulled down the clothing, Miles gasping quietly when Prowler’s hard cock slapped against his stomach.
Prowler lifted his leg to rest on Miles’ hip, mirroring the boy, the position giving a clear view of his puckered asshole to the other who looked like he was about to pass out anytime soon. With a lopsided smile, he brought his fingers to press on his hole, watching Miles’ reaction.
“I play with myself here all the time. Wanna try?” The boy exhaled shakily at the offer, shaking his head slowly but not pushing Prowler away when he guided his trembling hand to his inviting entrance.
“We can use your slick. C’mon.” He crooned, murmuring strings of mmh-hm’s at every movement Miles made, watching intently as the boy reached down between his own legs to collect his release, before bringing it to press the tips of his now wet fingers against Prowler’s asshole.
“That’s it. Just press in, I can take two right off the bat so don’t worry.” He whispered as he caressed Miles’ waist, waiting for the intrusion but it never came. With a trembling exhale, Miles retracted his fingers, shaking his head as he nuzzled into Prowler’s neck, mumbling strings of apologies against the skin.
Humming in understanding, he held the back of Miles’ neck protectively, removing his leg from the boy’s hip. “It’s okay, we can always try next time, if you want.”
“What can I do then? To make—to make you feel good?” Prowler almost cooed in delight at the shy tone, but he simply flashed a soft smile instead, before pushing Miles’s shoulder into the bed to properly get on top of the boy.
“Hold your legs up for me? I won’t get inside, I promise.” He waited patiently as Miles slowly brought his legs up with both of his hands at the back of his knees, refusing to meet Prowler’s heavy gaze as he bit his lower lip nervously.
“What a good boy.”
Sitting back on his knees, Prowler groaned as he pumped his dick once, twice, before leaning back in, nudging his cock against Miles’ sloppy pussy. He put both of his hands at either side of Miles’ head, leaning down to swallow the boy’s gasps and whimpers with his open mouth as he started moving his hips, setting a steady pace as he slid his weeping cock against the wet heat, the other boy jerking in his hold every time he thrusted deliciously against his swollen clit.
“You can come again for me, can’t you? One more time for me, baby, come on, Miles. ” He increased his pace almost frantically, his hips stuttering when particular thrusts hit the sensitive parts along his cock.
“Ah—ah! I’m gonna—mmh! ” He bit his lower lip as he watched Miles crumble under him, his glassy eyes rolling to the back as he came with a broken gasp, his release gushing against Prowler’s twitching cock.
He sat back on his knees once more, pumping his dick furiously while keeping his eyes on Miles’ ruined pussy, before throwing his head back as he was toppled over the edge to the thought of sliding his cock into the tight heat. Breathing harshly, he watched through a blurry vision as some of his cum landed on Miles’ twitching hole, and on his soft stomach. The other boy softly whined at the sensation of the hot liquid on his skin, still keeping his legs up like the good boy he was.
Satisfied, he reached to tug Miles’ legs down slowly, massaging the trembling muscles as he kissed the bitten lips once more, sighing in content when the latter wrapped his arms around his neck.
The Prowler felt like his whole world that he had curated so perfectly in the bubble of the basement crumbled in an instant when Uncle Aaron barged in his workshop with frantic eyes and a heaving chest.
“He escaped! Jumped out of the window, I think, that brat. ”
He got out of his seat, abandoning his project immediately as the implication of the older’s words sunk deeper into his mind. He walked through the door, paying no mind to his uncle as he almost ran to the basement.
He was met with the sight of an empty, unmade bed and an open window. Gritting his teeth, the pumping of his heart steadily grew louder in his ears as he walked closer to the bed, staring at the folded clothes that Miles had borrowed and the note placed on top of them.
“Fuck. Fuck! How dare he! I’ve given him everything! ” He shouted, pushing off the neat bundle of clothes to the floor before turning around to face the older man with a snarl, his eyes wide open maniacally. Without any prompting, Uncle Aaron handed him his gauntlet which the boy took and wore in a flash, set on heading out.
“How long are you gonna play house with him?”
He stopped dead in his tracks, looking back at his uncle’s frown with an unreadable gaze.
“Don’t forget what our real jobs are. You’ve been so…obsessed with him these days.” The older man immediately stepped back when The Prowler lunged forward, placing his claws on the man’s chest.
“Stay out of my business. Don’t forget you won’t exist without me.” He spoke lowly, eyes not wavering from Uncle Aaron’s intense gaze.
With another push on his chest, The Prowler left the unit, the consuming anger in him threatening to burst out of his body, licking off the entire building completely.
Once he found Miles Morales, he would make sure that the boy would never underestimate his kindness again.
“You won’t exist without me either.” Uncle Aaron murmured, watching the back of his nephew disappear into the night.
Catching Miles Morales was easy, way easier than he expected, that it was almost insulting. It seemed that the universe was on The Prowler’s side as well, because the moment he found Miles swinging from building to building, the anomaly glitched, causing him to land on the ground with a pained groan. As he stalked closer to the boy, to his delight, the Spider-Man was out of web as well, frantically hitting his wrists to no avail.
Maybe it was indeed their fate, as written by whatever Gods out there. Miles Morales from Earth-1610, the prey, would always fall into the hands of his predator, Miles Morales from Earth-42, no matter how much he tried to break free and change their destined events.
“Hey, hey—listen, man.” Ignoring the boy’s frantic pleas, The Prowler lurched forward, clawing deeply into Miles’ torso, basking in the screams coming from the boy as he watched the Spider-Man fall to the ground once again. Taking his time, he stepped slowly towards the boy writhing on the smelly floor of the alley, clutching his bleeding stomach as he cried and cried. It was such a shame that the only source of light was coming from the dim street lamp at the corner of the street; it would be a beautiful show for The Prowler if he could see clearly the tears and the look of anguish adorning Miles’ pretty face right now.
He crouched beside the twitching body, placing his claws gently on the boy’s forehead.
“Didn’t you promise me, Miles? That you won’t try to escape anymore?” Miles only breathed shakily in response, tears steadily sliding down his temples as blood started trickling out of his mouth as well.
With a disappointed sigh, The Prowler dragged Miles by his shoulders to arrange him into a sitting position against the wall, the blood-curdling screams spilling out of the boy morphing into background noise. Humming, he lifted Miles’ legs so that his knees would be up in the air with his feet planted on the ground.
“I wanna chain you down, but I can’t take the risk because, well, your powers apparently can burn through metal. I really have no other choice. I’m just trying to keep you safe, you see.”
Reaching out, he softly wiped away the tears with his free hand, opening his mask to press a kiss on the latter’s wet forehead.
“Oh, mi vida, why did you run away? Why did you lie to me?”
The Prowler stood back up, his mask covering his face once more. He stared into Miles’ wide, frightened eyes as he slowly lifted the metal bat he brought with him up into the air.
They were back into the familiar warmth of the basement, contentment blooming in The Prowler’s chest at how the current scene transported him back to the night they first met.
Miles struggled at first when he tried to bring him home, but gave up soon after realising that only Prowler could and would heal him back up.
The braided boy gently disinfected Miles’ busted kneecaps, shushing the boy’s sobs as he took care of the bright, mushy red peeking through the skin. He might have gone too far at the alley earlier, but Miles had fast healing powers due to his superhuman abilities, so The Prowler was not going to take any chances. He made a mental note to ask Uncle Aaron to fetch more bandages for Miles’ broken ankles later, as their personal supply had been used up to wrap around Miles’ torso.
“You’re crazy. And so, so mean. ” Miles spat between his hiccups, yet not shying away from the comfort of the perpetrator responsible for his misery, resting his head against Prowler’s shoulder as the boy took care of his injuries. The thought delighted The Prowler so much—he was the one who would break Miles, so naturally he would be the one to put him back together. It felt good, sating, to be given such luxury and responsibility.
With a hum, Prowler reached up to bury his fingers gently into Miles’ curls, the soft locks slightly dirty with the grime from the alley and dried blood.
“I know, mi amor. Yet I love you more than anyone else ever could.”