216. Love of a Centauri. R-18. (Patreon)

Gwen Stacy-Parker POV:

The silence after everyone left felt different. Not empty. Just… intimate.

The penthouse still held the warmth of laughter. The tree lights glowed softly against the glass walls, reflecting over Manhattan’s snow-dusted skyline. Somewhere below, a car horn echoed faintly, muted by falling flakes.

But up here?

It was just us.

Peter locked the final balcony door and turned toward me. For a moment he didn’t say anything. He just looked at me.

The way he does when the universe isn’t pressing against his shoulders.

The way he does when he’s just my husband. My sex starved husband.

I crossed the room slowly, my socks whispering against the floor. “You’re thinking too loud again.” I murmured while nuzzling against his chest.

He smiled. “I always do when it comes to thinking about you.”

He glanced toward the window, where the Centaur constellation shimmered faintly beyond the city glow. “Three suns,” Peter said. “We had dinner in another star system.”

I stepped behind my husband, sliding my arms around his waist. “Yeah,” I whispered against his chest. “And then we came home.”

That word made him look at me again.

Home.

His hands found my hips automatically, his hands warm and steady. “You know,” Peter murmured, “Alpha Centauri A is only slightly brighter than our sun. B is a little cooler. Proxima’s barely visible from there unless you know where to look.”

I rolled my eyes affectionately. “Peter.”

He blinked. “Sorry.”

I reached up and cupped his face.

“You brought everyone to the stars,” I said softly. “You built a ship the size of a city. You bent space like it owed you money.”

A small smile curved his lips.

“But you still look happiest right now.”

He leaned into my palm.

“Because,” he said quietly, “I don’t need hyperspace to get to you.”

And that...

That did something to me.

I pulled him down into a kiss.

Not rushed.

Not desperate. The kiss was slow and intentional.

His hands tightened at my waist, pulling me flush against him. I felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my chest, felt the warmth of my husband through the thin fabric between us.

Snow drifted outside the windows.

The city lights blurred.

He deepened the kiss gently, one hand sliding up my back, fingers threading into my hair. I sighed into him, pressing closer, letting the world narrow down to the space between our mouths.

Four days apart had been too long even with armor comms.

Nothing replaces this. The physical intimacy of one other.

He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against mine. Our breath mingled in soft clouds of vapour.

“You okay?” He asked quietly.

I nodded, but my voice came out softer than I meant it to. “I missed you.”

His thumb brushed beneath my eye instinctively, even though there were no tears this time.

“I know,” Peter said. “I felt it.” I laughed quietly. “Of course you did. You and your emotional radar.”

“It’s calibrated specifically to Gwen frequencies.” I laughed at my husband's comment and kissed him again for that. Harder this time. He stumbled back a step, laughing softly against my mouth as I guided him toward the couch. We half-fell onto it in a tangle of limbs and soft fabric.

Peter broke the kiss and said with a smirk, "You know the drill, Hun."

Peter picked me up bridal style and carried me back to our bedroom.

We literally just teared off the clothes off of our bodies. There was no foreplay just raw need to have sex and I spread my soaked cunt to Peter and Peter lunged his dick inside my pussy.

"Oh fuck!" Peter moaned, giving my hair a gentle tug. Peter began thrusting into me with all his might and within a few minutes I was on the verge of cumming.

"Oh FUCK!" I whimpered as I came.

Peter noticed. "Did you cum?"

"Fuck yeah!" I moaned breathlessly. "Don't hold back!"

Biting his lip, Peter flipped me on my chest and slapped my asscheeks with both hands and began fucking me harder.

"Gwen!" Peter moaned a minute later. "I'm close!"

"Cum in my pussy Peter! Pump a baby into me Parker!!!!" I moaned loudly.

That was enough to drive Peter over the edge. "GWEN!" He moaned as he came hard.

We collapsed on the bed, clinging to each other.

"Holy fuck." Peter panted.

"Nothing beats sex in Christmas." I said softly while playing with Peter's nipple.

Peter blushed. "Really?"

I bit my lip and nodded. "Yup. Really." Then my forked tongue glided over his lips and slid into his mouth, initiating another kiss.

Peter chuckled and sat up. "I'm gonna shower, because if I wait until morning I'll forget."

I sat up. "Join you?"

Peter looked at me. "Gwen, if I ever say no to that, I've been replaced by a clone."

Five minutes later Peter pressed me up against the wall of the shower. I hooked my left leg around his waist, and he pushed into me. I gasped, holding him tightly as he thrust into me like a savage. In that moment, the only thing I was certain of was that there was nowhere in the world I'd rather be and nothing I'd rather be doing than getting fucked by my husband Peter Parker in the shower.

---

The Christmas lights painted his face gold and red.

He brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. “You were beautiful out there,” he murmured. “On the hull. Against the stars.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Captain.”

His hand traced lazy patterns along my side, slow and absentminded. Not hurried. Not possessive.

Just… affectionate.

We lay there for a while, trading soft kisses that never quite ended. Mouth to mouth, cheek to temple, jaw to brow. Each one lingering. Each one rediscovering something familiar.

Outside, a snowplow rumbled faintly down Fifth Avenue.

Inside, my husband’s fingers drew idle circles against my spine.

“You know what I kept thinking?” He murmured.

“What?”

“That no matter how far we go… no matter how many dimensions, how many stars…” He brushed his nose lightly against mine. “You’re still my favorite constant.”

I swallowed. “You giant sap.” He grinned. “You married me.”

I shifted closer, tucking myself partly on top of him, my head resting over his heart. His arms wrapped around me automatically, holding me tight without squeezing.

Safe.

That’s what it was.

Not the shields of the Infinity.

Not the MAC cannons.

Not the vacuum siphons.

This.

His warmth, his steady breathing.

Our legs tangled beneath a blanket that had been tossed aside hours ago.

We kissed again, softer now, unhurried, lips brushing in quiet rhythm. The kind of kiss that isn’t about hunger but about closeness.

My fingers traced along his jawline, feeling the faint scratch of stubble.

“You know,” I murmured against his mouth, “for someone who can dive into gas giants, you’re surprisingly gentle.”

He huffed softly. “I save my recklessness for astrophysics.”

I smiled and replied, “Good.”

We shifted eventually, wandering from couch to kitchen, still connected by hands and stray kisses. He leaned against the counter while I stood between his knees, naked and we just… existed like that.

No armor, no AI and no multiverse.

Just Gwen and Peter.

Husband and wife.

Outside, the snow continued to fall.

Inside, under soft golden lights and the faint reflection of distant stars... We stayed wrapped around each other.

Not racing to tomorrow, not planning

the next mission. Just breathing. Just loving.

And somewhere, impossibly far away, Alpha Centauri burned with three quiet suns.

But tonight?

My universe was here.