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MJ’s hair smelled like coconut, the tropical scent wafting towards Peter, filling his senses when she was close. It was one of the things he liked about her, a point on a long list of seemingly tiny traits that solidified her place in his heart.

Her lotion, something almost dessert-like in scent (chocolate, maybe?), complimented the smell perfectly, a heady combination that made him dizzy. When she was near him, it was all he could do to stay on his feet, especially when she smiled at him like there was no one she’d rather see.

And when they kissed? Frankly, Peter was even amazed he could stay conscious.

His senses all ran haywire, adrenaline pumping, heart pounding, mind racing. It wasn’t fear, it wasn’t the urge to fight, or flee-- this was something different, something new. It was something he found he liked quite a bit.

When they stood, he had to crane up on his tip-toes to kiss her, not that he minded in the slightest. When they sat, MJ curled into him, pressing herself into his arms, her nails scraping lightly at the skin, like she was trying to hold him in place. He liked to curve his fingers along the slope of her jaw and cheeks. Her skin was soft, almost buttery. She sighed when her ran his thumbs against her, slumping into him as though she couldn’t hold herself up.

She was also partial to his fingers in her hair, plying through the curls in slow tugs, and his palm flattening down her back. Peter could feel the thump of her heart against his chest when she crawled closer to him, draping her arms around his neck to hold him close.

Tentativeness had melted away quickly with practice, closed-lipped embraces quickly escalating to open-mouthed liplocks. It was almost embarrassing at first, the reaction he had to her, how quickly his body responded. It soon became apparent that MJ was unbothered, eager even.

Currently, she was half seated in Peter’s lap, hands wrapped around his biceps. She teetered unsteadily when he slanted his head to deepen their kiss, gasping against his mouth.

“Careful,” he cautioned, leaning back just the slightest. They were seated on the roof of his building, legs dangled over the side. There was no way he would let her fall, but it was broad daylight, and he was out of uniform besides. Someone down below might notice if a teenage boy suddenly ran down the side of an apartment complex.

MJ took a shuddering breath, nodding absently as she scooted back, pulling her legs closer to her body. She looked a bit wrecked, truth be told, her hair wild in the wind up here, her lips kiss-swollen and parted. Peter’s pulse sped at once, and he licked his lips unconsciously.

“You ok?” she asked quietly, her mouth quirked into the hint of a smile. She smiled a lot these days.

“Yeah,” he reached for her hand, pulling it into his lap.

“Do you want to take a break?” she asked. Her dark eyes were wide as she looked at him, something foreign and familiar burning below the surface.

“Maybe...we should go inside,” Peter suggested, praying it came off innocently. He hoped desperately that he hadn’t crossed a line.

MJ only smiled. “Ok,” she agreed, standing up. She tugged him up along with her. “Lead the way.”

She’d been in Peter’s room on more than one memorable occasion over the course of their friendship. Still, Peter was acutely aware that this was the first time they’d ever been alone in his space. May was at work, Ned absent. It was only the two of them, staring awkwardly at one another near his lofted bed.

“You want to sit?” Peter was satisfied that his voice didn’t crack, even though his throat and chest felt tight.

MJ tilted her head at him. “You sit,” she challenged.

Unsure what to do, Peter flopped down, his butt bouncing on the edge of the mattress. “Ok.” he said. “Now what?”

In answer, MJ wasted no time in climbing into his lap, her legs straddling his as she brought them face to face. Bells went off in Peter’s head at their proximity, at the heat of her, pressed to him with so little between them. He caught her around the waist, yanking her forward. Her lips hit his with a giggle.

Her laughter transformed within moments into breathless panting, made worse when Peter began to let his hands wander. Her skin was warm beneath her t-shirt, the denim of her shorts a delightful contrast to the smooth skin of her thighs. She pushed at his shoulders, urging him back until they were sprawled across the bed. MJ’s hands dipped under the hem of his shirt. Peter took a shuddering breath, all the blood in his head making a dizzying rush south.

“MJ,” her name was the only thing he could think to say.

She grinned. “That’s what they call me,” she muttered, moving her lips to his neck.

He moved his palms to her bare legs, clutching at them to steady himself. MJ let out a sound that threatened to wreck Peter completely, her hips jerking roughly into his.

This was new, a sensory overload comparable to being in battle. Peter struggled to catch up, to understand what was happening. In the back of his mind, the sex-ed classes from school were rearing their head. But there was nothing clinical about his reaction to MJ.

He rolled her over, levering himself over her. She made no protest, only quickly pulled his mouth back to hers, her legs curling around his waist, desperate little mewling sounds filling the space between their kisses.

What was he supposed to do next? Peter was sure that May would tell him to take a step back, be a gentleman. Mr. Stark would have probably given him a short reminder that condoms were critical. Ned would have been over the moon, full of mile-a-minute questions and anecdotes from his time with Betty. But what did MJ want?

“Peter,” her voice was almost a whine, as strained and tortured as he felt. “I think I want you to touch me.”

He looked down. One of his hands was wrapped around hers, the other still clutching her hip. “I am,” he answered, half-dumbstruck.

She flushed, dark cheeks running ruddy. “I mean…”

Understanding clicked. “You sure?” he asked. His pulse was pounding in his ears.

“Yeah,” she tilted her chin up. “If you want to.”

“Yeah,” his answer came quickly. Slowly, he trailed his hand down, over her legs and then to the hem of her shorts. She shivered.

“Can I--” she began, her palm pressed flat against his clothed stomach.

“Yeah,” he repeated, lowering himself down until they were chest to chest. Her fingers dipped beneath the fabric, tracing muscles that were wound tight as a spring. Peter steadied himself, cupping his hand beneath her.

Her moan caught him off guard.

“You ok?” his voice did crack this time.

MJ nodded. “ feels good,” she assured him. “Are you?” she paused in her roaming, staring into his face.

“Yup,” the syllable left his mouth with a pop, drawing a giggle out of her. Grinning, he kissed her again, hiking her leg further up his waist.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed that way, lost in new sensations, twisted together on the bed in his room. He almost didn’t notice when the hairs on his arms began to raise, a tingle running up his spine that had nothing to do with MJ.

“Shit,” he cursed, sitting up in a snap. He braced his hands on both sides of her, pushing up and away. He hit the desk chair a few feet back, settling quickly, straightening his wrinkled t-shirt out.

“What’s wrong?” MJ sat up, panting.

“May’s home,” he answered. He got up as fast as he dared listening to MJ frantically pull herself back together as Peter opened his bedroom door.

His aunt was coming up the hall, ladened with bags of takeout.

“Hey Pete,” she greeted, “I brought dinner.” She stepped into the kitchen and out of sight.

Peter held in a sigh of relief. “Hi May. What’d you get?”

“Thai,” she responded. “Tell MJ she’s welcome to stay if she wants.” May’s head swung back into sight, a knowing expression on her face.

Peter ran bright red at once, mouth falling open, excuses dying in his throat. “All right,” he stammered.

MJ, by contrast, managed to look much more composed than Peter. She breezed past him, smiling as she pulled her hair back. “Thank you, May,” she said brightly, joining her in the kitchen.

“No problem,” May intoned. “Figured you two might have worked up an appetite.”

She laughed at their expense, unpacking containers and spreading them across the counter. MJ caught Peter’s eye, a flush creeping into her cheeks. She tugged at the obsidian glass necklace hanging down her chest, smiling just the slightest.

“We are hungry,” she admitted, turning away from him.

“Thirsty too, it looks like,” May deadpanned.

Shaking his head as MJ laughed, Peter joined them, sitting down to dinner with his two favorite women in Queens.