Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/28681.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Spider-Man_(Movieverse)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Parker/Harry_Osborn
  Character:
      Harry_Osborn, Peter_Parker
  Additional Tags:
      Beach_Sex, Secrets, Exploration, Porn_with_some_plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2009-12-13 Words: 548
****** Gossamer ******
by Bond_Girl
Summary
     Sticky twine of secrets.
Notes
     • Placed vaguely during the first installment in the movieverse.
     • written for fairfax_verde's [lj] birthday
     • a special thank you to fuzzy_carpet [lj] who super-heroed down to
     beta this puppy and did an awesome, insightful job.
                                      ~~~
 
Body shots are made of salt, tang, lust. Of sand, tequila, teeth marks. Of
licking him clean but making him dirtier.
Two boys writhe together on a beach in discreet twilight, the bursts of their
laughter are pebbles skipping over water, shooting to the distant shore of
their future. Mirth, moans, their giddiness is gaining rhythm and intent.
Peter can't ever remember when they haven't been fooling around, the first time
the friend-to-lover boundary was overstepped. As soon as his blood turned
restless under his teenage skin, his heart rushed it through his veins for
Harry. Crimson on his cheekbones; heart against ribcage; hard-ons brought on by
scents which come to Harry with the heirship: leather, expensive soap and fear
of failing a father's expectations. Peter's story is told in short hot licks
under Harry's loosened belt, as he's slowly turning his friend over on his
stomach.
Harry remembers every step towards binding Peter; every touch going lower and
lingering longer; the toils of the spider that he's become to capture his best
friend. Stuck in a web of neglect and the snarl of parental strings around his
puppet limbs, he knows the price of unconditional love. If only love did well
on the stock exchange, maybe Father would've bought him some. As to Harry's
shy, adoring friend, Parker's had a surprising growth spurt - but in form only,
not in spirit. Peter's giving nature hasn't hardened along with his body, and
Harry calls it a win-win situation. He's ticklish and foul-mouthed until Peter
pours tequila in the small of his back and drinks it, sucking bright spider-
bites on pale skin.
Born to demand, Harry arches himself an inch too far out of his pants, the last
drop of liquor a snail's trail between his ass cheeks.
Born to please, Peter knows his place, and Harry's being held up on all-fours,
trembling, pants around his knees.
They rut.
Harry's hand is indulgently quick on himself, turned on by the power he has
over Peter's need - thighs rubbing without purchase over his bared ass. Peter
paces himself, grinding his stiff, aching length against that place where they
hadn't dared to go - or even name - yet.) Without warning, Harry's slim back
turns taut in sweet violence, and Peter's groan is low, long; that of tequila
fumes grating on the back of his throat; that of man and spider stirring under
a boy's skin.
"I don't have all night," teases Harry, shooting him a sated, grateful look
which defies the tone. Catlike and dirty, he rubs back against the searching
cock, almost granting it entry.
Peter explodes in hot, pounding relief of come and webbing, painting Harry's
back with the mess he's become. He's been defying fate, waiting for Harry to
notice - webs, devotion, the sticky twine of his secrets.
"Goddamn bugs," complains Harry after a few minutes, scratching at the cobwebs
still stuck to his back. Peter's arm will be used as a pillow, his back will be
worn as an armor. The confessions always wait until tomorrow.
Sleep is made of gossamer dreams, of tangled limbs, of warm kisses in the
hollow of your neck. Of coarse sand and tart salt on his skin; of beach chill;
of hearts caught in the sticky web of old loves and new lies.
 
                                      ~~~
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