Penny Parker: Spider Reborn

Logan was in the garage, tinkering with a bike, shirtless and sweat-slicked under the overhead lights.

He looked up, nostrils flaring immediately.

“Kid,” he growled, voice rough. “You’re reekin’ worse than last time.”

She staggered forward, legs shaking. “Logan… I can’t… it won’t stop. Please.”

He stepped closer, eyes dark with concern and something hungrier. “You sure?”

She nodded, tears spilling. “I need it to stop. Just… make it stop.”

He didn’t hesitate.

One rough hand cupped the back of her neck, pulling her in; the other wrapped around her waist, steadying her as she trembled against him. His mouth crashed down on hers—hard, claiming, tasting of smoke and metal. She moaned into it, hands clutching his shoulders, nails digging in.

He lifted her like she weighed nothing, carrying her to the cleared workbench and laying her on her back. The cold metal bit into her skin through the torn suit; she barely noticed. Logan’s hands were already tearing at the remaining fabric—careful enough not to hurt, brutal enough to free her. The suit peeled away in strips, leaving her bare, flushed, glistening.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he rasped, voice gravel.

She shook her head frantically. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

He spread her thighs wide, settling between them. His mouth descended first—tongue plunging into her, lapping at the flood of arousal, sucking her clit until her hips bucked off the bench. She cried out, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. Two thick fingers joined his tongue, stretching her, curling inside while his thumb circled her clit in merciless rhythm.

She came fast—shattering, gushing against his mouth, thighs clamping around his head. The heat laughed at one orgasm.

“More,” she begged, voice wrecked. “Logan—please—fill me—”

He rose, shedding his jeans in one rough motion. His cock was thick, hard, already leaking. He lined up and thrust in deep—one hard stroke bottoming out. She screamed, back arching, walls fluttering around him.

He didn’t hold back.

Brutal, punishing strokes—skin slapping skin, his balls heavy against her with every thrust. She clawed at his back, urging him deeper, harder. He flipped her onto her stomach, pulled her hips up, fisted her hair to arch her back. Thrust in again, hitting deeper, a hand sliding around to rub frantic circles on her clit.

She came again—harder, sobbing his name, wetness soaking them both.

He pulled out, slicked himself further with her release, and pressed against her ass—slow at first, letting her adjust, then all the way. The stretch burned, then bloomed into pleasure-pain. She pushed back, taking every inch, whimpering.

He rotated—pussy, ass, mouth—never letting her feel empty for long. At one point he pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, the other around her throat—not choking, just holding—as he fucked her from behind, thumb on her clit.

She came again and again—squirting once, shaking so hard the workbench rattled. He followed each time, spilling inside her, across her back, down her throat—marking her until she glistened with him.

When the heat finally crested and broke, they collapsed together, sweat-slick, breathless. He eased out gently, pulled her into his chest, wrapped arms and legs around her like a shield.

They lay there panting, the garage quiet except for their ragged breathing.

The inferno quieted—banked low enough for thought. Shame crept in behind the relief. Clarity. Exhaustion.

Logan pressed a rough kiss to her temple. “Better?”

She nodded against his chest, voice hoarse. “For now… yeah. Thank you.”

He grunted, hand stroking her hair. “Anytime, kid. But that wasn’t enough, was it?”

She swallowed, feeling the emptiness ache again already. “It helped… but not enough. I need… more. Filled. Everywhere.”

Logan’s brow furrowed, cock twitching against her thigh despite the exhaustion. “Christ. You’re in deep.” He paused, thumb brushing her cheek. “If ya need more… I know some folks here who might help. Only if you’re sure.”

The thought terrified and thrilled her.

She met his eyes—dark, steady, protective.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Logan nodded once, already reaching for his phone on the bench.

“Stay here. I’ll get ’em.”