Spider + Cat + Redhead update

The first thing Ana saw when she arrived home, late in the night, was Felicia waiting for her in a loose, filmy nightgown. Ana studied her—perfect breasts spilling out the front, nipples gathering to make a soft impression against the insubstantial material. They hugged, Ana feeling Felicia’s warm orbs as they pushed against her own chest.

“It’s good to have you back,” Felicia said. “I actually kind of missed you. How was the Sudan?”

“Wonderful,” Ana said, petting Felicia’s hair lovingly. “I got to kill many Brood. They even let me keep a head.”

Felicia nodded. It was amazing how much people accepted someone who’d hunted superheroes for sport when they just shifted their major to alien monsters.

“Is it true?” Ana asked. “Is Peter home?”

“Yeah.” They broke apart, Felicia taking Ana by the arm and leading her to the kitchen. She had some Girl Scout cookies waiting in the fridge, knowing that those were impossible to get your hands on overseas.

They shared a glass of dipping milk. It was the last in the carton.

“So has he agreed to Mary Jane’s proposal?” Ana asked, slipping into the formality she sometimes used around MJ. Felicia thought Ana had some kind of idea of Mary Jane as Mistress of the House, Peter’s Capital-L Lady, while the two of them were the subs. Then again, it was Ana. Who could tell? If she wanted to be Peter’s weird love mistress…

Felicia shook her head. “He’s not sure he can shoulder the responsibility. I could’ve told her that…”

“But the two of you aren’t—“

“No, and neither are you.”

“Of course not!” Ana said, affronted. She dunked her cookie hard enough to splatter Felicia with milk. “But if it is Mary Jane who intends to seduce him…”

“Oh, she actually wants to let him think it over. Like he’ll know what’s best for him. You understand my doubts.”

Ana nodded exuberantly.

“So we add just a little incentive…” Felicia teased, tapping her fingers on the tabletop.

“By threatening to kill someone if he doesn’t inseminate our lady!”

“What? No—“

“A bad person, of course.”

“No!”

“We wouldn’t go through with it…”

Felicia just stared at Ana.

Ana sighed. “So what do we do?”

“The rules say he can’t touch us. There’s nothing saying we can’t touch him.” Felicia drank down what was left of the milk. “Cleverer than death threats, huh?”

“I guess…”

***

They stripped naked and walked to Peter’s room, leaving the doors open behind them so they wouldn’t make any noise when they shut. Peter was alone, naturally, conked out with his blanket half on his body, half off. He had buried himself in superhero work, trying to take his mind off Mary Jane’s proposition, and had collapsed into bed still wearing most of his costume—the gloves off, the mask gone.

Felicia went to him, as silent and as clever as she’d ever been burgling a place. Licking her lips with a tongue as red as a blowtorch’s flame, she slowly knelt by the side of the bed, first pulling the sheet away from Peter, then working his pants down his hips.

Peter didn’t even stir. He was dead asleep. As Ana watched with mounting interest, Peter’s cock slipped out of the confines of his pants, raising up as soon as it had cleared Peter’s waistband. As if sensing their presence, or just sensitive to everything after all Mary Jane and Felicia’s teasing, it began to erect herself.

Felicia let her mouth hang open, bringing it toward his growing cock with the grinning enthusiasm of a girl performing a dare. She could smell the heavy, musky odor of his cock, with just a trace of cum waiting for her. She tenderly grasped the thick member at the base, then let just the tip of her tongue flicker against Peter’s bulbous glans.

Still, Peter didn’t wake out. He let out a low groan and worked his hips, trying to get closer to the source of the sopping wet warmth on his cockhead. Felicia stifled a giggle, then pulled her mouth away, set in a smile.

“C’mere, Ana,” she whispered, and for the first time, Ana approached Peter and the kneeling woman. Felicia dipped quickly, giving Ana’s sex a long wet lick from the space between her legs all the way up to her clit. Ana shuddered, having had a moment to anticipate the touch on her clitoris, and then a split-second to feel that Felicia’s tongue was even better than she’d expected. She threw her leg over Felicia’s shoulder, ready to grind her cunt into Felicia’s face…

“No! Idiot!” Felicia hissed. “I’m not going to suck you, I’m just getting you ready. I want it to be nice and easy for Peter to fuck you… once he promises to fuck MJ.”

Ana understood right away—or at least liked doing as Felicia said when she was so dominant, a little bit mean…

She climbed on top of Peter, straddling his body, settling herself just north of his stiffly erect manhood, so that her pert buttocks just barely touched it. Her face colored as she realized that she was finally in contact with it and soon, Peter would be fucking her.

Felicia moved in once more, backing off a little when Peter stirred, then again moving her lips up to his stiff cock. With a dainty motion, she dipped her head down and kissed the tip of Peter’s cock. Then, again, a little harder, Peter’s body going a little rigid, but he didn’t wake. Felicia found herself wishing that Ana would put her hand on the back of her head and forcibly push Felicia down to take Peter’s cock, like Mary Jane would’ve done, but then, MJ probably wouldn’t have approved of this in the first place.

She engulfed Peter’s cock in her mouth and it felt like silk. She devoured eagerly, sucking it all the way down to the halfway point. Her eyes were becoming cloudy as she sucked to her heart’s content. Peter moaned gently in his sleep: “Mary Jane…” Felicia gave his thigh a little cat-scratch. “Felicia…”

That was better.

***

Ana, still straddling Peter’s belly, looked down at Felicia and fumed. Why did she always get to have all the fun? It wasn’t enough that she and Mary Jane had had Peter all to themselves for days before Ana got back, and not even played with him, but now she was in on their little embargo? They should’ve had their fun with him, then let Ana have her turn!

***

Felicia sucked a little harder. She brought her hand under Peter’s hefty balls and pushed them up a fraction of an inch, their moist heat dissipating slightly at Felicia’s touch, a gentle rush of cool air gliding through her fingers. Her mouth worked more rapidly, showing more hunger in her lust, letting the heavy cock fill her throat. Warm saliva spilled out of her mouth as she happily, messily sucked on Peter. She didn’t care about keeping it a secret anymore. The whole point was for him to wake up. She wanted to see the look on his face as he remembered just how good it could be with the Parker women, and her in particular. She wanted to be the one who seduced him.

***

Peter was fast asleep. He’d been called into an Avengers emergency and that had exhausted him to the point that he couldn’t have given Mary Jane a baby if he was a stork. Nothing could have woken him up—except a pair of warm lips, pressed gently around the head of his cock.

His lean, muscular body was trembling ever so slightly. He shifted his weight, rolling over onto his side, and Felicia followed him with her mouth. She wrapped herself around Peter’s legs with all her limbs, holding on almost in a fetal position as she suckled. She had Peter’s cock in her mouth and nothing else seemed to matter.

***

Ana, however, was dumped to the floor. There, she trembled with repressed rage. It was starting all over again, just like with Vladimir, just like with Alyosha. Now her sister got to do all the good stuff, while she was forced to watch. It wasn’t fair!

***

Mary Jane blearily smacked her lips as she slept. She was having another dream about Mr. Hopslots and the World of Balloons.

She never would’ve guessed when she took the voiceover gig that it would’ve had such an apparent effect on her psyche. But it was a good dream. The dress she wore in it was so ginchy…

***

For the next few minutes, none of the participants moved. Peter slept like a log, a beatific expression on his face. Felicia kept the big cock in her mouth, spilling saliva on the sheets as she seemed to try to gag herself with Peter’s manhood. And Ana watched.

She didn’t like watching.

Slowly, the sensations of Felicia’s sucking mouth began to penetrate into Peter’s dreams. He couldn’t quite discern the feeling, but he felt as if he lay floating on a warm sea, being carried along by the waves, the tide lifting him out of the water and then plunging him back in… deeper and deeper.

As his awareness grew, he reached his hands down and began to stroke Felicia’s head where it was so raptly fastened to his groin. It seemed to him a rock he could comfortably hold on to, keep from drowning as the undertow grew stronger, trying to pull him out to sea.

Unconsciously, he began to shift his weight back and forth, pushing himself further and further into Felicia’s mouth. She took him happily, pleased to be of service to her lover. She wanted more than just the expression on his face now. She wanted to feel the hot gush of cum as it sloshed down her throat; she could barely wait!

She’d just… wake Peter up, get him to agree to it, then make him come. Or, better yet, Ana could tell him to impregnate MJ, get that verbal contract. It was about time the huntress pulled her weight…

Still, Peter was not awake. He lounged in his slumber, like some great beast after the hunt, his body radiating heat as he stretched languidly. Felicia decided to help him along a little. Teeth flashing, she gave him a little nip on the collar of his cock. Not enough to cause pain, just enough to rouse him. Peter grunted, his eyes opening blearily. He became aware, first and foremost, of the pleasure on his cock, the pleasure he held in his hands, and just like that, he eased up and let his cock slip even deeper into Felicia’s mouth, his hips beginning a series of well-timed thrusts.

“Master,” Ana said, kneeling on the bed with him, “tell Felicia it’s my turn, or, or just kiss me, I’m here, you can kiss me or eat me out or—“

“Uh-huh, yeah, mm-hmmm,” Peter said, still bathed in his slumber, unable to focus on anything but using Felicia’s mouth for his instinctive pleasure. He was almost completely ignorant of Ana, even as she grabbed his hand and tried to pull it to the fragrant sweetness of her pussy, or the swollen hardness of the nipples on her golden breasts. He simply pulled his hand away, returning it to Felicia’s bobbing head.

And Felicia was happy to let herself be used. She wanted to be the receptacle for his cum, taste the delicious fluid, feel the powerful spurt of it down her throat, its warmth running slowly down into her belly as she swallowed. The taste, the feel of Peter’s cock, it was heaven to her.

Ana knelt beside her. “Hardy!” she bleated. “You said I was going to get a chance!”

Felicia shoved her aside, Ana shoved back, harder, knocking Felicia to the floor. Then she rushed in, her mouth covering Peter’s cock, sucking away for dear life, trying to finish the job Felicia had begun before Felicia could stop her. She wanted to make Peter come. She wouldn’t be satisfied until his seed was dripping down her throat, until she was flooded with mouthful after mouthful of his cum.

Felicia shouted in loud protest. “What the hell’s the matter with you, bitch?” she demanded, picking herself up from the carpet. “We’re doing this for MJ, remember?”

Ana looked at her, Peter’s cock still in her mouth, only to roll her eyes.

Felicia put an affronted hand to her chest. “I was not going to let him come, not until he agreed to get Mary Jane pregnant! How could you even… the audacity, I can’t believe—“

“Felicia?” Peter muttered, dreamily sitting up in bed, Ana following his erect cock with her mouth. Her eyes looked up at Peter’s chest, her tongue rolling in slow circles around his swelling glands. As little droplets of precum appeared, Ana made them disappear with a magic tongue. “Oh. Hi Ana.”

“She just got back,” Felicia said.

“I think this might count as cheating,” Peter said. “You’re practically assaulting me.”

Felicia’s nude body rippled defiantly, the scent of her aroused femininity filling the still air of the bedroom. “You can assault me right back if you wanna…”

Peter laid back and just let Ana suck him. He found a Zen approach was best when it came to these things. “No thanks. I’m good.”

Behind her back, Ana gave Felicia the finger.

Peter saw Felicia start forward, her face contorted with rage, intent on elbowing Ana aside and finishing Peter off. But Peter was on the brink of coming, in mood to let Felicia take off even if she intended to let him come. Curling his ring and middle finger to his palm, he tapped the trigger on his webshooter, thwipping out a helping of webbing to epoxy Felicia’s feet to the floor. She was frozen in place, letting out a shrill squeak of outrage, but Peter ignored her as he thrust into Ana’s mouth.

In that moment, he cared about nothing but the tight, sucking pressure her mouth provided his cock, nothing but the climax he could feel gripping his loins already, nothing but the sight of Ana’s mouth full of cum, a sight he knew awaited him, a release he’d have in just one more second—

“CAN’T A GIRL GET ANY SLEEP AROUND HERE?” Mary Jane demanded, stomping into the bedroom. “I have to be on set at 4 AM tomorrow, what’s all this yelling and shouting and banging!? Why is Felicia webbed to the floor? Why is Ana—oh, hi Ana. Welcome back.”

Gingerly, Ana lifted her mouth from Peter’s dick. “Hi Mrs. Parker.”

“We were just…” Felicia started, now seeking to hide her nudity with both arms. It just seemed appropriate. “We were, you know… tempting him. We weren’t going to let him finish. Not unless he promised to… you know…” She mimed rocking a baby. Then went back to covering her breasts.

“And he was just about to… promise,” Ana added.

As if on cue, baby Jonathan began crying.

“Terrific!” Mary Jane said. “One of you get her. I’m having some warm milk and going back to sleep.”

“I can’t do it,” Felicia said. “Webbing.”

“And we’re out of milk,” Ana said. “We needed it with our cookies—“

“You ate my cookies?” Peter asked.

“She was eating your cock, Peter, perspective,” Mary Jane said. “Alright. Fine. Whatever. Just… whatever you’re doing, I don’t care, do it quietly.”

“Yes ma’am,” Peter said. Quietly.

Ana wondered to herself how much the secret to getting Spider-Man to shut up would be worth on the black market.

“Uh, can someone get me a chair?” Felicia asked.

***

MJ went to the nightclub to blow off some steam dancing, having guilted the Peter Parker Pussy Posse into watching Jonathan—hard to do when Felicia was pregnant, but she’d learned from the best. When she got there, though, she just couldn’t summon up any desire to grace the so-called music with her dancing. She sat at the bar and watched Felicia’s credit card rating disappear into her tab, remembering when it was just her and Peter and money was too tight for her to ever drink like this unless it was Wal-Mart boxed wine.

Then, Peter would’ve jumped at being a father. He had jumped. What’d changed, now that they had better living circumstances, a whole ‘nother parent to help them, the Avengers watching Peter’s back?

So was starting to have a hard time not taking it personally. After all, he seemed just fine with Felicia being his baby momma.

Starting to be unfair, MJ, she thought to herself. You’d better either stop that train at the station or get it all out before you come within a mile of Peter’s guilt complex. Don’t think this marriage can take two of your neuroses.

“Hey Mary,” the bartender called out, briefly drawing Mary Jane’s attention before she saw he was calling to a waitress. “You got Table 4 yet?”

“There’s no way I’m going there,” Mary said.

“Whatsamatter? There a guy getting grabby over there?”

“No, it’s a girl.”

Takes all kind these days, Mary Jane thought.

“Freddy,” Mary continued, “she’s a mutant!”

MJ looked over, wondering if she could tell Table 4 from a patron having blue skin or something, and was shocked to see fucking Rogue sitting at one of the tables. Alone, nursing a gin and tonic.

Mary Jane wasn’t as woke to the mutant cause as she might like, but she knew an X-Men when she saw one, even when there were more teams than she’d had hairstyles. She got up, grabbed the bottle from the two of them, and went over to sit down at Rogue’s table.

Rogue was a tall, lean, statuesque stunner, and like passed down genes, you could see some of Carol in the way she carried herself, in the feminine excess and muscular vibrancy of her powerful form. She was all hips, boobs, legs, hair. Not one part of her body looked like it quit, ever. She would’ve made a mint modeling clothes, Mary Jane knew that much just from the sight of her. If any agency had balls enough to hire on a mutant.

And currently, Rogue was folded up on the table, looking like her liver had almost called it a night. Her head was down, resting on her nestled arms, with an empty bottle in the crook of her elbow. Her hair covered her face, brown and white, one part lace and two parts leather. MJ was reminded of Felicia, a little. The look was brash and unambiguously sexual, even if the girl underneath felt more like MJ at the moment. Tired and pissed off.

“Now who the hell are you?” Rogue asked, her Southern accent slurred with the alcohol she had managed to get.

“A friend.”

“Oh, honey.” Rogue flipped her head up, her hair flicking back from her eyes. With her chin up, her gaze was flat and dangerous; the only thing inviting about her was her beauty, not the feeling under it. “Ah didn’t know this was one a those clubs.”

Mary Jane felt offended, more on Felicia’s behalf than her own. “That a problem?”

“Nope. But just so you know, y’all would be touchin’ at your own risk.”

“That’s funny.” MJ broke the cap on the bottle, pouring into a glass Rogue already had with her. She drank from it before Rogue could. “Because I heard that you had your powers in check.”

Rogue gave her the hairy eyeball, moving from her semi-liquid stupor to toss a little more hair out of her eyes. “What are you, anyway? Some sorta groupie?”

“I’m—“

“No. Wait.” Rogue took the glass back and drank from it herself, then gestured with it in her hand. The light caught the glass, making it shine in her hand. Mary Jane half-wondered if she had some kind of energy ball power. “Ah know you. You’re that stick figure modely girl. The Mary Jane Watson.”

“I’m not a stick figure.”

“You sure ain’t, honey. Now Ah blame this on me likin’ my celebrity gossip just a little bit more than a good Christian girl should, but don’t you have yourself a man? Weddin’ ring and all? Ah sure never figured you was so Hollywood to be cruising for a mutant thang on the side.”

Mary Jane gritted her teeth. Apparently Rogue was a mean drunk, and drunk enough to be pretty mean. “If I were interested in fucking you, I sure wouldn’t be now!”

“Then what are ya still doin’ here? Drawn to my charm and ladylike grace? Ya wanna steal my look, sugar-pea?”

“Just because I’m not a groupie doesn’t mean I don’t know that the X-Men—you—have saved the world more times than I can count.”

“Aww, honey—“ Rogue hiccupped. “How many times can you count, anyway? You are a model, right?”

Mary Jane huffed. “I figured the least you deserve is bottle service. And I was right. That is the least you deserve.” She got up.

Rogue grabbed her wrist. Her glove was cool and smooth. “Wait… ah’m sorry. Just not feeling my manners tonight. And Ah got myself a mean bitch on. S’not your fault. Ah’ll try to do better if you wanna stay. Ah ain’t one of those mutants that goes around hatin’ normal folk just for being normal. Ah know you ain’t never thrown a brick or anything.”

Mary Jane sat back down. “That’s not much of a standard to meet, to be honest.”

“What can ah say? Y’all’d be surprised how few people can even hit that mark. Take Spider-Man, f’r instance.”

Mary Jane folded her hand under her chin. “Yeah?”

“Figure he’s a weird one, sure, but harmless, tries to help out, maybe even a mutant. So do folks ever thank him? No! Every time, they put him on… on probation! He’s been falsely accused a murder somethin’ like five hundr’d times, but every time someone goes and frames him again, everybody believes it! People suck.” Rogue laid her hand on her chest. It wasn’t hard to find. “And we just gotta save their dumb asses anyway! So maybe they can be less’a bastards to our kiddies or somethin’. It’s bullshit. Total bull…”

Mary Jane smiled. “You know, if you weren’t so drunk, I’d buy you a drink.”

“Hell, little lady, Ah got myself one fiery bar tab. Maybe you could settle that f’r me.”

Mary Jane’s smile widened. “Not on your life, pretty lady.”

“Ahh, you ain’t yet reckoned on my charm and personability. Just let me work my mojo on y’all a little longer.” Rogue poured another glass, but pushed it over to MJ. “You were right, ya know. Ah can control my power now.” She darkened. “That’s a problem.”

“Sounds a bit like a blessing, actually.”

“Yeah, ya think that, don’t you?” Rogue watched Mary Jane drink, reminding MJ of those stories of ghosts that couldn’t eat or imbibe themselves, so they watched mortals do it to try and sate their appetites. “Ya never realize you were in a sorta equilibrium. When something big happens, good or bad, that equilibrium’s gone.”

Mary Jane finished a long drag from the glass. It burned as it went down. Rogue’s liquor was not fooling around. “So you can’t just go off with… what’s his face… Gambit? Make babies?”

Rogue shook her head, tousling her thick but disheveled mane forward over her face again. “Nah. Y’all know how guys are. Now that there’s no hunt, no chase, just commitment, suddenly that ol’ Cajun’s gone and got himself cold feet. Now he’s thinking ‘bout how he would be takin’ my virginity if we did anything, and ah might get pregnant or somethin’, and it’d be all real and he’d be stuck with me, like we was dancing the night away and then the music stopped.”

“I know the feeling,” Mary Jane said, slumping forward until her chin was on folded arms atop the table.

“You do? From where? Ah thought y’all had that photographer fellow snug up with you. Whatchamacallit—livin’ in sin.”

Mary Jane laughed, not bitterly. “I think technically we’re separated… I don’t know. The paperwork was three apocalypses ago. God knows if it didn’t get deleted by Ultron or waterlogged by Namor…”

“Namor’s alright,” Rogue insisted. “Now that guy’s all about commitment. Just has this crazy thing for blondes. Some kinda Atlantis version of jungle fever or somethin’. Can that be, like, the minority having a thing for the white folk, or is it just the white folk havin’ a thing for a colored fellow?”

“I’m a minor celebrity. I even ask, I end up on Perez Hilton and Jesse Williams starts calling me the devil.”

“Hey, it happens with mutants. Fucked up, but it happens. Ah know plenty of our kind who wanna get together with a nice baseline, see if they can have human kids. It’s fucked up, but it happens…”

“You said that already,” Mary Jane pointed out.

“It bore repeating.”

Then there was the sound of an explosion, thumping even louder than the music, and the dance floor shook harder than it was supposed to. The DJ cut the mix. Without it, they could hear sirens outside, and the unmistakable sounds of something sci-fi.

“Aww, shit,” Rogue cursed. “Duty fuckin’ calls.” She picked her jacket off the back of her chair and began struggling to get her arms through it.

“Are you… flight-worthy?”

“Ah honestly m’not sure. Ah’ve been known to hold my liquor. On the other hand, I ain’t never before been drinking away the thought that ah could totally bang Thor if ah wanted to.”

Mary Jane bit her lip. A sober Rogue could mean the difference between life and death for civilians out there in whatever warzone New York had sprouted today. And, more selfishly, if Peter were out there, a heavy-hitter teammate like Rogue could save his life.

Rogue was swaying on her feet, still pulling her arms the last few inches through her sleeves. Mary Jane grabbed her shoulders. “What about me?”

“Wait, so ya do want to bang? Aww, honey, ya should’ve said so sooner!”

“No. If you touch me—and use your power—could you absorb my soberness?”

Rogue thought about it, then flubbed air through her lips. “How should I know? Ah suppose if ah took some of your lifeforce, then it’d give me a boost everywhere, includin’ my metabro… my metalbore… my metastatizing…”

“Your metabolism,” Mary Jane finished for her. “You could sober up!”

Rogue grew serious, or at least as serious as she could with one tied on and her hollow leg overflowing. “Now listen here, good-lookin’. This ain’t no suntan we’re talkin’. Ah suck on your lifeforce, it’ll straight-on sucker punch you. Ah’ll scarf down yer life, yer memories, yer personality—somethin’ of everythin’. Ah’ll be one-part you for the duration!”

“But it’s temporary, right?”

“Yeah. Assuming ah don’t overdo it and send you on your by.”

Mary Jane’s lips flickered into a fierce snarl for a moment. Rogue thought she was just a scrimpy supermodel. She’d done Broadway, two shows of day. She’d married a superhero. She’d fucked Felicia Hardy. She could take it.

She held out her arm as another explosion rocked the building, shifting the crowd from concern to panic. “What are you waiting for? Suck me!”

Rogue smiled. “Now that does sound a proposition. Ah ain’t only been thinking of Thor, ya know. That Black Widow is one foxy lass!”

“Now!”

Rogue snatched off her glove, that motion practiced enough to be sober at least, and grabbed hold of Mary Jane’s hand. Their fingers interlocked. Their palms pressed together.

Rogue was still surprised by how intimate that was. Christ, how did people go anywhere without their hand held?

She felt her mind growing clearer, her balance improving, her jokes getting less funny. Son of a bitch—it was working!

Then the memories flooded in.