When Spidey Met Batgirl | By : littleblackduck Category: DC Verse Comics > Batgirl Views: 29376 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I don't own Spider-Man or Batgirl or anything Marvel and/or DC related. I make no profit from this work. |
CHAPTER SEVEN: Home Alone
Alone in an unfamiliar bathroom and lathering up with a stranger's soap, Peter's mind kept coming back to Betty Brant. When she broke up with him three weeks back, Betty told him it was because they were going in different directions. "I just don't want to stand in your way," she said. "I'm just going to ESU, Bets," he'd tried to explain. "Nothing's changing! I'm still going to live with my aunt! Still working for the paper!" "You're going to college, Peter," she said. "You're going to experience so many new things... Meet so many new people... I just don't want you to miss out on all that because you think you have to stay with me." There was no changing her mind, and in the end, Peter had convinced himself that she probably knew best. Despite the fact that he was actually two months older than she was, Peter had always thought of Betty as a sophisticated older woman. She'd been working at the Bugle since she was fifteen, taking over her mother's job as Jonah's assistant when Mrs. Brant had gotten sick. It was Betty who took care of her now, paying the bills and keeping the family finances in order. Sure, Peter tried to help Aunt May with money whenever he could, but May was still the head of the household. Hell, she'd pretty much been in charge even when Uncle Ben was alive. But Betty was running her life on her own terms, and Peter couldn't help but admire that and look up to her. But it wasn't the break-up that preoccupied Peter as he showered. It was the memory of his first time with Betty that kept coming back to him. It had only happened maybe a month before they broke up. He'd taken her out to dinner and a late night movie to celebrate her eighteenth birthday. Peter had insisted on walking her home, and they were about a block away from her apartment when a man stumbled out of a nearby bar and threw up on Peter's sweater. "Shorry 'bout that, buddy," the drunk slurred, wiping his mouth before unloading again, this time into a gutter. "Don't worry about it," Peter muttered. "Typical Parker luck." "Come on," Betty said, dragging him into the lobby of her building. "We'll get you cleaned up." "I don't know, Bets," he said. "It's really pretty late." She just pushed him into the elevator. "We have to be quiet," Betty whispered as they entered her apartment. "My mother should be asleep, but there'll be hell to pay if she wakes up and finds you here." She led him down to the bathroom. "Give me that shirt and get in the shower," she instructed. "I'll see what I can do." "You can burn it for all I care," he said, handing her the foul, besotted sweater. "Probably for the best," she agreed before disappearing down the hall. Peter uneasily undressed and climbed into the shower. He had never been in Betty's bathroom before. It was only the third time he'd been in her apartment. She rarely let him pick her up for a date, insisting on meeting him somewhere. Peter suspected this had something to do with her mother's condition. Now to find himself not only in her apartment, but naked, too? Up to that point, their relationship hadn't been very physical. There were several reasons for that. Peter's bashfulness was part of it. He really cared for Betty and the last thing he wanted was to give her the impression he was only after one thing. And then there was the fact that between her mom and his aunt, they rarely got any private time alone together. And, of course, there were the many demands of Peter's second life to contend with. Being Spider-Man is always going to get in the way, Peter realized. And almost as if to prove the point, his spider-sense flared. He almost slipped and fell when it happened. He -- of all people -- almost slipped! That's how surprised he was. What danger could he be in at Betty's apartment? Could one of Spider-Man's enemies have discovered his identity and followed him? Peter's hands were balled into fists when the shower curtain fluttered open and a lithe, naked female form slipped in before him. "Easy, Peter, it's just me," Betty said. "Were you expecting a fight or something?" "Betty!" Peter cried. "What are you doing?!" "Shush," she whispered. "If mom is awake, I don't need her to hear two showers run. We're just going to have to share." "Gotcha," Peter gulped in response. And just like that, he found himself looking at a naked woman in the flesh for the first time in his life. Betty squeezed past him to stand under the spray of the water. He silently watched her soap herself up, drinking in the sight of her slender waist and perky tits capped with their puffy brown nipples. His first live, nude girl. She turned away from him to rinse off, and Peter's eyes drifted from the slope of her shoulders down past the outlines of her breasts to the smooth curves of her shapely ass. "Would you help me wash my back?" she asked, timidly looking over her shoulder at him. Peter took the soap from her and started to scrub her soft, slick skin. "You have strong hands," she said, turning slightly toward him, causing Peter's sudsy fingers to catch the side of her breast. It felt incredible. She felt incredible. Part of him was sure this was it. This was their moment. But another part of him, a naive, uncertain part of him, kept telling him he was wrong. That the only reason Betty was standing so close and exposed was because she was just a sweet girl who didn't want to wake her mother. And still a third, rapidly swelling part of him knew exactly what he wanted, rising in steady, pulsing steps to graze the crack of her ass. Betty gasped when she felt his dick brush against her, and Peter backed away in embarrassment. "I'm sorry," he started to say, as she turned to face him. "I didn't mean to --" His apology cut itself off as she took his growing erection in hand. "It's okay, Peter," she said huskily, squeezing him gently. Peter sucked in a shallow breath as she started to stroke him. The tug of her trembling fingers on his cock was amazing -- the promise of it palpable -- but Peter couldn't help himself. He had to be sure. "Would it be terribly inappropriate if I kissed you right now?" he asked pensively. "No," Betty just barely whispered with a teasing smile before he seized her hips and pulled her body toward his. Later, after the long, hot shower went cold... after Peter had silently carried her into her bedroom... after they'd explored each other into the wee small hours... Betty confessed that she knew what was going to happen between them the second she'd ushered him into the building. "I guess I owe that drunk jerk my thanks," Peter said as she snuggled close. "I guess we both do," she giggled, lazily tracing a finger along his chest. "I had no idea you were so fit," she said softly, stunned by the firmness of his pectorals. Peter tensed. And not because Betty had just pinched his nipple. No, that playful little pinch and the way she was sliding her thigh against his -- both of them still slick with her juices -- felt wonderful. What was bothering him now was the same thing that always bothered him when he was with her, and the same thing, he now realized, that had always kept them from doing this before... He hadn't wanted to sleep with her while he was still lying to her about who he was. Not when she didn't know he was Spider-Man. "Seriously, Peter," Betty said, sliding her hand down to his stomach and his rock hard abs. "When do you find the time to exercise so rigorously?" "I'm always running around, you know, taking pictures," he croaked. "Keeping track of Spider-Man... Dodging supervillains... It's a real workout, all right." "Oh, you're so brave," she giggled, kissing his cheek. He felt her breath on his ear as she whispered, "I love you, Peter Parker." "I love you too," he told her. And he meant it. Of course he did. And right then, he was ready to tell her everything. He had to. He'd spent so much of his life without any friends, just his aunt and uncle. He'd been so lucky to find Betty. So lucky to be with her now, and he couldn't imagine he'd ever find anybody who'd ever love him besides her. He could tell her the truth. Maybe they could even get married. Before he could say another word, she kissed him, softly. "I love you," she said at the end, "but you've got to go. Now. Before my mom wakes up." So he dressed and left as quietly as he'd come in, while Betty cleaned up and got ready for another hectic day at the Bugle. He told himself he'd tell her later, but then life just went on. It was school and the late night patrols and begging Jameson for every cent he could get to help Aunt May with the bills. And the handful of occasions he was alone with Betty, the time never felt quite right. It never felt as right as that night she'd invited him into her shower. And before he knew it, it was over between them. Nearly two months after than marvelous night, finding himself in a strikingly similar situation, Peter couldn't help but wonder... Was that why Batgirl had invited him to stay? Was that why he'd accepted? No sooner had the thought crossed his mind when he heard the floor boards creaking out in the hallway. It had to be Batgirl. Was she just coming for the laundry, or was she coming for something else? The answer became apparent when she started banging on the door. "Hey!" she shouted. "Don't use up all the hot water!" * Snatching up the costume Spider-Man had left carefully folded at the door, Batgirl made her way down to the basement. She hadn't done someone else's laundry for years. Not since the days she'd run a load for her father every week back in high school. He'd learned to fend for himself after she went to college, and she hadn't seen any need to resume the arrangement when she moved back in. Once she made it to the washing machine, she took a moment to look the costume over before setting the wash. She could tell from the untidy stitching that could have only come from hand sowing that it was homemade. It was still impressive work. She recalled the difficulty she had putting her first costume together and how grateful she was when Batman started providing her with suits along with state-of-the-art crime fighting gear. She wondered how Spider-Man had managed the full head mask, but couldn't seem to find it. Had she dropped it on the way from the bathroom? Her appraisal of the bright red and blue costume continued until she came to the thick, crusty stain on the crotch. Her anger had faded over the hours since it had happened and now as Batgirl looked back on the intimate accident that had passed between them, she couldn't repress a smile. He'd lost control. She had made him completely lose control. And despite herself, she felt oddly flattered. Flattered and maybe even a little turned on... "You're being stupid, Barbara," she muttered to herself, tossing the costume into the washer and setting it for a thorough delicate cycle. She headed upstairs where she found Spider-Man in the kitchen, poking around the refrigerator. He was wearing her father's hand-me-downs... and his mask. Her first thought was that he looked pretty goofy like that. Her second was the realization that he hadn't trusted her with his true face. Well of course he hadn't. Why would he? The real question was why had she expected him to? Had she actually planned to trust him with hers? "Hope you don't mind," he said when he saw her. "I haven't eaten all day." "Uh, no," she told him. "Go ahead. Stay away from the curry, though. That's mine." "Will do," he replied with a little salute. "I'm just going to shower," she told him. "Um, make yourself at home." * I've made a huge mistake. The thought kept repeating itself in her mind throughout her long, hot shower. She'd made a huge mistake. What did she really know about this Spider-Man? He seemed smart, morally dedicated, and he had a cute butt... or so it seemed. Well, no, he definitely had a cute butt, but what did that really tell her about him? She'd been fighting crime for thirteen months. She'd been fighting crime with Batman's approval for about three. If there was one thing she should have learned by now, she should have learned to trust no one. Least of all meta-humans she'd just met who wore a full body stocking. Why the hell had she brought this stranger into her home? Spider-Man could be up to anything while she was in here. He could be robbing them blind, traipsing through her father's personal things. Hell, he could be on the other side of the bathroom door, staring in at her with his spider-vision or whatever. No. If he'd wanted to take advantage of her, he'd certainly had his chance earlier. Worst case scenario, he'd figure out who she was. Batman and Robin were still in the clear. The only person who'd pay for her mistake would be her. And probably her father. It'd be hard for the new commissioner to explain that he had no idea his daughter was operating as a vigilante with his police force... even if it was true. His political enemies would roast him alive. She just didn't want to think about it anymore. When she'd stripped down to shower, most of the webbing that had covered her had dissolved, but there were still a few stubborn, sticky traces left. She'd been able to remove what was left on her breasts with a little vigorous scrubbing, but she had considerable difficulty with the gummy wisps in her public hair. In the half-hour she spent carefully cleaning herself -- all the while debating whether it'd just be easier to shave it all off -- she worked out the hard truth of why she'd invited Spider-Man to stay. She didn't want to be alone tonight. Once she'd finished in the shower, she faced another dilemma: what was she going to wear? She usually slept in a loose t-shirt and her old gym shorts, but with this strange man in the house, that didn't seem like a good idea. She dug through her closet for one of the many pairs of two-piece, plaid pajama sets her father had been giving her every Christmas since she was twelve. That just left her pondering headgear. She wanted to conceal her identity. She really did. But was she actually going to walk around with her cowl on all night? What choice did she have? After going down to the basement to set his costume out to dry, she made her way to the living room, decked out in plaid flannel shirtsleeves and her bat-mask. She found him on the couch watching something on PBS and eating reheated lasagna with his mask pulled up over his mouth. She realized just how ridiculous this was and made a command decision. "Okay, how's this for a deal?" she asked him. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." NEXT: Unmasked At LastWhile AFF and its agents attempt to remove all illegal works from the site as quickly and thoroughly as possible, there is always the possibility that some submissions may be overlooked or dismissed in error. The AFF system includes a rigorous and complex abuse control system in order to prevent improper use of the AFF service, and we hope that its deployment indicates a good-faith effort to eliminate any illegal material on the site in a fair and unbiased manner. This abuse control system is run in accordance with the strict guidelines specified above.
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