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seriousficTitle: What Friends Are For
Fandom: Marvel comics
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,488
Characters/Pairings: Peter/MJ
Author’s Notes: Betaed by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lurkslikefox
Summary: Mary-Jane learns Peter’s a virgin. She decides to help him with that.
”Why don’t you walk me to the door? Never know where an evil mutant might be lurking. I’ll fix you some coffee.”
“That’d be a first.”
“Oh, would it?”
Mary-Jane felt the champagne zooming around her head, adding a slight heat and flounce to the evening. She was hanging off Peter’s right arm as he tried to unlock his apartment door with his off-hand. It should’ve been easy – he hadn’t had that much to drink – but the way she was breathing in his ear probably made it hard to concentrate.
It felt good to be back in New York. She always enjoyed herself wherever she was, but her joy here felt so much more real, like she was coming home to a beloved audience. And there was Peter, who finally wasn’t holding his secret above their heads. It hadn’t been quite the romantic revelation she’d pictured – “Why, Peter Parker, you’re Spider-Man?” – but having it out in the open was better than any cliché. It was like they’d been directed by some stern, invisible gunman before and now they were free to be themselves.
“So, c’mon, you’ve never been with a woman?”
“Never one as pretty as you.” Peter closed his eyes, concentrated, and clicked the key into the lock.
“Okay, now I know that’s a line. Because I know for a fact that you—“ MJ sauntered into his apartment and immediately began to undress, making him hurriedly shut the door behind him, “dated Black Cat.”
“We, uh, we never took our costumes off, not all the way, so, er, we worked something out… cleavage-y… I had no complaints.”
Mary-Jane stopped at her undershirt and pencil skirt, turning around with a wry smile. “Maybe I should ask her about that one.”
“Ha! Get me a picture of the look on her face, you… evil woman.”
“Hope you don’t mind if I make myself comfortable…” Mary-Jane unzipped her pencil skirt and stepped out of it, leaving her in a pair of bikini briefs. “There. Now I can walk.”
“I hate to think what you were doing before.”
MJ kicked off her heels. “Stumbling. With precision. Do you have any peanuts around here, I could die for some roasted peanuts…”
“Pantry.” Peter pointed. “Can’t miss ‘em.”
She left to get her peanuts and he automatically picked up her coat, her jacket and her skirt and made a neat little bundle next to the pumps, which Johnny Storm could call fuck-me heels, but Peter wouldn’t because he respected women and he didn’t like to make assumptions and why was there a half-naked woman in his kitchen again? These things happened to Spider-Man, not to him. This was craziness, superhero-scale craziness, and it was in his kitchen. Eating peanuts.
“So.” Mary-Jane circulated back into his room, dusting her hands of peanut dust. She’d unbuttoned some of her undershirt, which was nearly translucent to begin with, shifting to let him delineate the line between white bra and tanned skin. “That cleavage-y thing would make you a virgin, correct?”
“Well, not… as such… I mean, I know what—goes… yeah.”
“Can’t have that.” She began unbuttoning her undershirt on the way to the bedroom. “You coming?”
The shirt fell off her shoulders, revealing the proud line of her spine and the slope of her shoulders. Peter fought very hard not to break into a run. “You’re sure about this?”
“Of course I’m sure. When’s a better time?” She turned around, sitting down on the bed. “Hey, if it’s any consolation, I’ve never been fucked either.”
“Really?”
“Don’t act so surprised.” She lazed back onto the mattress, arms folded under her head. “Partying with people, all of that, it was good fun. But not really, one hundred percent me. And not letting anyone do that made me feel like I still had something that was me, and special, and real.”
Peter laid down beside her, on his side. “Everything about you is special.”
“Thanks… plus, I got really good at blowjobs.”
Peter didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nodded solemnly.
“Hey, I know you’re not an expert, but it works better if you’re not wearing clothes.” Mary-Jane rolled on top of him in a straddle and began undoing his button-down. Peter undid his belt as he kicked off his shoes and scraped off his socks on the backboard. Before he knew it, Mary-Jane was running red fingernails down his chest. His chest covered in a spandex top.
“You wore that on our date?”
“Well, you never know… and I didn’t plan on this.”
“S’okay. It’s a little kinky, really.” She began to strip it away from him. “So you didn’t think I was easy?”
“You’re not easy. I’m lucky.”
“I’m not looking for pity, you understand.” Mary-Jane’s voice was slightly more somber, more real than her excited tone would indicate. “The virgin thing… I just don’t want you to freak when it breaks.”
“I’m used to blood.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” Mary-Jane had hitched down his trousers to find a scar creasing his pelvis. She followed the thin line from hip to hip.
Peter forced nonchalance. “Silver Samurai. Don’t worry about it, doesn’t hurt.”
“Yeah. Hey, look at these.” Mary-Jane popped the hook of her bra and enjoyed the way Peter’s eyes went wide, as if trying to take in every single detail. His irises flickered from side to side, catching each sway of her pendulous breasts. Mary-Jane laughed, and the effect it had on her cleavage made it a religious experience for Peter.
“God, you’re beautiful.” Peter put his hands on her waist and slowly moved them upward, as if asking for permission.
She took his hands and replaced them on her breasts with a wan smile. “So I’ve been told. Try squeezing.”
“Oh, oh sorry…” He began to delicately squeeze them, then with greater force as her nipples stood out against his palms. Peter had strong hands, sensitive hands, and he knew just when a slight pinch could add to the experience.
Mary-Jane rocked against his belly, swaying like a palm tree in the breeze, craning her neck and running her hands along her body like she was giving him a lap dance. Judging by the way his fingers dug into her breasts, it was having the desired effect. She looked over her shoulder, loved the sight of his erection growing against his briefs.
“Think you’ve got the hang of that.” MJ leaned back, surreptitiously rubbing his crotch with the hand not supporting her weight. “What’s next?”
Peter grabbed a handful of hair and, after marveling at the softness between his thumb and palm, gently pulled down. Mary-Jane obligingly let herself sink against him and their lips met. It was good as ever, better with his hands exploring her silken body, but when he moved down to nibbling at her throat she said “Kissing, Peter? Didn’t we do enough of that in the cab ride?”
He broke apart from her just long enough to run a finger around her ruby lips. “I can never get enough of this. Or you.”
“Hopeless romantic,” she said with a smile.
He went on kissing her and she tip-toed her fingers down his hard belly until she reached the waistband of his costume’s bottom half.
“What’s this?” she asked with exaggerated wonderment, pinching the material between her thumb and forefinger and pulling it down.
He nibbled at her hair as she yanked his pants clear to his knees with one tug and grabbed his cock. That woke him up. Mary-Jane gave him a long, wet kiss as she pumped his dick for the first time.
“My, my…” She let her fingers sweep down to his balls and back up to his cockhead. It was a long trip. “You’ve been holding out on me.” She watched his face light up as she began to stroke him. “Face it, tiger, I just hit the jackpot.”
“Actually, keep doing that for another five minutes…”
She laughed. “You’re not getting out of this that easily.” Snatching his right hand off her breast, she licked at his knuckles for a moment. “See, I think this little procedure would go a lot better if I were a lot wetter,” she tilted her head in a little ‘ta-da’ at the rhyme. “So I thought you could lend a hand.” Mary-Jane licked his hand until Peter was convinced the space between his fingers was an erogenous zone. Then she moved it down to the damp spot at the front of her panties. “Do your worst, hero.”
His fingers slid under her panties and she shrieked with delight, crashing against him in another long kiss as her hand pumped his cock and his fingers slipped into her pussy. Peter was thinking frantically, mostly nonsense poetry musings on how nice her sweaty hair felt when it touched his face and how a girl was touching his penis but also about how he should go about fingering his girlfriend/friend-who-was-a-girl/Mary-Jane Watson.
He remembered reading somewhere that you should increase the number of fingers over time like a graph, Y = (X+1), but he’d started with two and that seemed to work for her. He wondered about adding another, before thinking ‘to hell with it’ and ripping her panties down around her thighs, then entering her with three fingers. She wailed against his mouth.
“Now, Peter, now.” She rolled until she was on her back. “Do it.”
Suddenly skittish, he moved over her. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I love you. Now do it before I lose my nerve.”
“I love you too,” Peter said, giving her a brief kiss on the lips. His mind was racing, although still partially stuck on how slick her pussy had felt. He’d read somewhere that it helped if there was a separate pain to distract from the hymen breaking (what had he been reading that all this stuff was in his head?). In the half-second it took his lips to part from hers, he had a plan. He pushed inside her as he bit down on her ear, hard.
Mary-Jane couldn’t tell if this was agony or ecstasy. The hands she had on Peter’s back, urging him in, became claws digging into his flesh. She felt her virginity break with a weird sort of release, like her body had finally disposed of some unwanted blockade. I surrendered my virtue, she thought, recalling a phrase from some BBC production she’d seen on basic cable. The idea made her laugh. Virtue, she’d surrendered a long time ago. This felt like… she was getting it back.
It hurt.
Peter backed off, slipping out of her, face full of concern at her cry. “Are you okay?”
“You bit my ear!”
“Yeah, I heard that a distraction from the pain helped… with… the pain.”
“Now my hymen’s broken and my ear hurts.”
“Sorry. Promise I’ll never do it again?” He grinned sheepishly.
Mary-Jane couldn’t stay mad at him. She bopped him on the shoulder. “You’re lucky you’ve saved my life so many times.”
“You wanna keep going or… we could wait a while, if you like.”
“Yeah, just for a little bit. Damn.” Mary-Jane drifted against the pillow. “Don’t let me fall asleep.”
“Not on your life.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I’m gonna go… wash up. You need a towel, washcloth, Kleenex…”
“I’m fine, neat freak. God, you’d think a guy who left webs all over town would be okay with a little blood.”
“I am, I was just… I thought it might help with the pain. Advil?”
“Yeah, that’d be great.” She wiggled all the way out of her panties and pulled the bedsheets up to her chin, feeling like a princess, though his bed wasn’t that much bigger than her own. He changed the sheets more often, though.
Peter brought her Advil and a glass of Coke, then, keeping his side to her in some half-assed attempt at modesty, he went to shower. Mary-Jane laid on her back as the soreness between her legs faded, then threw the covers off. Yeah, right. Like she was going to let this be their first time.
She pushed her way into the bathroom, getting an immediate reaction from Peter.
“I thought you wanted to wait…” he said, soap slipping out of his hand.
“Did I mention I was really good at blowjobs?” She stepped under the shower stream with him, pushing him back against the towel rack across from the showerhead, then dropping to her knees. As soon as she took him in her mouth, Peter exhaled, a groan and a moan and sigh all at once. His hands lashed backward to grip the towel rack, working on it like a motorcycle’s throttle.
Peter shifted his feet from toe to heel, trying to keep from breaking the towel rack. It was like a kissing cousin of the brief feeling he’d gotten of penetrating her, but with her tongue striking his rod and sending tremors through his body. And she was looking up at him, green eyes sparkling as they followed the water trickling down his muscular physique. He tried to hold out, both because he didn’t want this to end and it seemed ungracious to go off on Mary-Jane after thirty seconds, much less in her throat, so Peter stared straight ahead at the pebbled glass door.
Then Mary-Jane started moaning, like some delicious chocolate was melting on her tongue, and slurping. Peter put one hand on her head. After a moment of really wanting to push her down further on his cock, he began to gently massage her scalp.
Then his cock was out of his mouth and she was rubbing it, not as good as her tongue but so new and nice and soft, especially with her smiling like she’d just won the lottery. “It’s alright if you come, Peter. That’s kinda the point.”
“You’re just so… I mean… this is so…”
Her red lips slid down his cock again, still seeming to smile with barely restrained laughter, and his words were lost in a steady exhale. “Fuuuuuck.”
After a minute, Peter tore his hand away from her hair and locked it back onto the towel rack as his entire body contracted in an arch, his cock lurching as he came. MJ took his ejaculation with a practiced gulp, pulling away and letting his cum dribble down her chin, be washed away in the shower spray. She hugged his leg, feeling his muscles relax as his cock twitched and his cum washed down the drain.
When he finally let go of the towel rack, Peter slid down the wall until his bare ass was on the floor and she sat down across from him, rinsing her mouth with the shower spray and spitting into the drain.
“When you tell this story to your grandkids, leave this part out.”
“Why would I tell my grandkids how I lost my cherry?”
Fandom: Marvel comics
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,488
Characters/Pairings: Peter/MJ
Author’s Notes: Betaed by
lurkslikefoxSummary: Mary-Jane learns Peter’s a virgin. She decides to help him with that.
”Why don’t you walk me to the door? Never know where an evil mutant might be lurking. I’ll fix you some coffee.”
“That’d be a first.”
“Oh, would it?”
Mary-Jane felt the champagne zooming around her head, adding a slight heat and flounce to the evening. She was hanging off Peter’s right arm as he tried to unlock his apartment door with his off-hand. It should’ve been easy – he hadn’t had that much to drink – but the way she was breathing in his ear probably made it hard to concentrate.
It felt good to be back in New York. She always enjoyed herself wherever she was, but her joy here felt so much more real, like she was coming home to a beloved audience. And there was Peter, who finally wasn’t holding his secret above their heads. It hadn’t been quite the romantic revelation she’d pictured – “Why, Peter Parker, you’re Spider-Man?” – but having it out in the open was better than any cliché. It was like they’d been directed by some stern, invisible gunman before and now they were free to be themselves.
“So, c’mon, you’ve never been with a woman?”
“Never one as pretty as you.” Peter closed his eyes, concentrated, and clicked the key into the lock.
“Okay, now I know that’s a line. Because I know for a fact that you—“ MJ sauntered into his apartment and immediately began to undress, making him hurriedly shut the door behind him, “dated Black Cat.”
“We, uh, we never took our costumes off, not all the way, so, er, we worked something out… cleavage-y… I had no complaints.”
Mary-Jane stopped at her undershirt and pencil skirt, turning around with a wry smile. “Maybe I should ask her about that one.”
“Ha! Get me a picture of the look on her face, you… evil woman.”
“Hope you don’t mind if I make myself comfortable…” Mary-Jane unzipped her pencil skirt and stepped out of it, leaving her in a pair of bikini briefs. “There. Now I can walk.”
“I hate to think what you were doing before.”
MJ kicked off her heels. “Stumbling. With precision. Do you have any peanuts around here, I could die for some roasted peanuts…”
“Pantry.” Peter pointed. “Can’t miss ‘em.”
She left to get her peanuts and he automatically picked up her coat, her jacket and her skirt and made a neat little bundle next to the pumps, which Johnny Storm could call fuck-me heels, but Peter wouldn’t because he respected women and he didn’t like to make assumptions and why was there a half-naked woman in his kitchen again? These things happened to Spider-Man, not to him. This was craziness, superhero-scale craziness, and it was in his kitchen. Eating peanuts.
“So.” Mary-Jane circulated back into his room, dusting her hands of peanut dust. She’d unbuttoned some of her undershirt, which was nearly translucent to begin with, shifting to let him delineate the line between white bra and tanned skin. “That cleavage-y thing would make you a virgin, correct?”
“Well, not… as such… I mean, I know what—goes… yeah.”
“Can’t have that.” She began unbuttoning her undershirt on the way to the bedroom. “You coming?”
The shirt fell off her shoulders, revealing the proud line of her spine and the slope of her shoulders. Peter fought very hard not to break into a run. “You’re sure about this?”
“Of course I’m sure. When’s a better time?” She turned around, sitting down on the bed. “Hey, if it’s any consolation, I’ve never been fucked either.”
“Really?”
“Don’t act so surprised.” She lazed back onto the mattress, arms folded under her head. “Partying with people, all of that, it was good fun. But not really, one hundred percent me. And not letting anyone do that made me feel like I still had something that was me, and special, and real.”
Peter laid down beside her, on his side. “Everything about you is special.”
“Thanks… plus, I got really good at blowjobs.”
Peter didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nodded solemnly.
“Hey, I know you’re not an expert, but it works better if you’re not wearing clothes.” Mary-Jane rolled on top of him in a straddle and began undoing his button-down. Peter undid his belt as he kicked off his shoes and scraped off his socks on the backboard. Before he knew it, Mary-Jane was running red fingernails down his chest. His chest covered in a spandex top.
“You wore that on our date?”
“Well, you never know… and I didn’t plan on this.”
“S’okay. It’s a little kinky, really.” She began to strip it away from him. “So you didn’t think I was easy?”
“You’re not easy. I’m lucky.”
“I’m not looking for pity, you understand.” Mary-Jane’s voice was slightly more somber, more real than her excited tone would indicate. “The virgin thing… I just don’t want you to freak when it breaks.”
“I’m used to blood.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” Mary-Jane had hitched down his trousers to find a scar creasing his pelvis. She followed the thin line from hip to hip.
Peter forced nonchalance. “Silver Samurai. Don’t worry about it, doesn’t hurt.”
“Yeah. Hey, look at these.” Mary-Jane popped the hook of her bra and enjoyed the way Peter’s eyes went wide, as if trying to take in every single detail. His irises flickered from side to side, catching each sway of her pendulous breasts. Mary-Jane laughed, and the effect it had on her cleavage made it a religious experience for Peter.
“God, you’re beautiful.” Peter put his hands on her waist and slowly moved them upward, as if asking for permission.
She took his hands and replaced them on her breasts with a wan smile. “So I’ve been told. Try squeezing.”
“Oh, oh sorry…” He began to delicately squeeze them, then with greater force as her nipples stood out against his palms. Peter had strong hands, sensitive hands, and he knew just when a slight pinch could add to the experience.
Mary-Jane rocked against his belly, swaying like a palm tree in the breeze, craning her neck and running her hands along her body like she was giving him a lap dance. Judging by the way his fingers dug into her breasts, it was having the desired effect. She looked over her shoulder, loved the sight of his erection growing against his briefs.
“Think you’ve got the hang of that.” MJ leaned back, surreptitiously rubbing his crotch with the hand not supporting her weight. “What’s next?”
Peter grabbed a handful of hair and, after marveling at the softness between his thumb and palm, gently pulled down. Mary-Jane obligingly let herself sink against him and their lips met. It was good as ever, better with his hands exploring her silken body, but when he moved down to nibbling at her throat she said “Kissing, Peter? Didn’t we do enough of that in the cab ride?”
He broke apart from her just long enough to run a finger around her ruby lips. “I can never get enough of this. Or you.”
“Hopeless romantic,” she said with a smile.
He went on kissing her and she tip-toed her fingers down his hard belly until she reached the waistband of his costume’s bottom half.
“What’s this?” she asked with exaggerated wonderment, pinching the material between her thumb and forefinger and pulling it down.
He nibbled at her hair as she yanked his pants clear to his knees with one tug and grabbed his cock. That woke him up. Mary-Jane gave him a long, wet kiss as she pumped his dick for the first time.
“My, my…” She let her fingers sweep down to his balls and back up to his cockhead. It was a long trip. “You’ve been holding out on me.” She watched his face light up as she began to stroke him. “Face it, tiger, I just hit the jackpot.”
“Actually, keep doing that for another five minutes…”
She laughed. “You’re not getting out of this that easily.” Snatching his right hand off her breast, she licked at his knuckles for a moment. “See, I think this little procedure would go a lot better if I were a lot wetter,” she tilted her head in a little ‘ta-da’ at the rhyme. “So I thought you could lend a hand.” Mary-Jane licked his hand until Peter was convinced the space between his fingers was an erogenous zone. Then she moved it down to the damp spot at the front of her panties. “Do your worst, hero.”
His fingers slid under her panties and she shrieked with delight, crashing against him in another long kiss as her hand pumped his cock and his fingers slipped into her pussy. Peter was thinking frantically, mostly nonsense poetry musings on how nice her sweaty hair felt when it touched his face and how a girl was touching his penis but also about how he should go about fingering his girlfriend/friend-who-was-a-girl/Mary-Jane Watson.
He remembered reading somewhere that you should increase the number of fingers over time like a graph, Y = (X+1), but he’d started with two and that seemed to work for her. He wondered about adding another, before thinking ‘to hell with it’ and ripping her panties down around her thighs, then entering her with three fingers. She wailed against his mouth.
“Now, Peter, now.” She rolled until she was on her back. “Do it.”
Suddenly skittish, he moved over her. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I love you. Now do it before I lose my nerve.”
“I love you too,” Peter said, giving her a brief kiss on the lips. His mind was racing, although still partially stuck on how slick her pussy had felt. He’d read somewhere that it helped if there was a separate pain to distract from the hymen breaking (what had he been reading that all this stuff was in his head?). In the half-second it took his lips to part from hers, he had a plan. He pushed inside her as he bit down on her ear, hard.
Mary-Jane couldn’t tell if this was agony or ecstasy. The hands she had on Peter’s back, urging him in, became claws digging into his flesh. She felt her virginity break with a weird sort of release, like her body had finally disposed of some unwanted blockade. I surrendered my virtue, she thought, recalling a phrase from some BBC production she’d seen on basic cable. The idea made her laugh. Virtue, she’d surrendered a long time ago. This felt like… she was getting it back.
It hurt.
Peter backed off, slipping out of her, face full of concern at her cry. “Are you okay?”
“You bit my ear!”
“Yeah, I heard that a distraction from the pain helped… with… the pain.”
“Now my hymen’s broken and my ear hurts.”
“Sorry. Promise I’ll never do it again?” He grinned sheepishly.
Mary-Jane couldn’t stay mad at him. She bopped him on the shoulder. “You’re lucky you’ve saved my life so many times.”
“You wanna keep going or… we could wait a while, if you like.”
“Yeah, just for a little bit. Damn.” Mary-Jane drifted against the pillow. “Don’t let me fall asleep.”
“Not on your life.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I’m gonna go… wash up. You need a towel, washcloth, Kleenex…”
“I’m fine, neat freak. God, you’d think a guy who left webs all over town would be okay with a little blood.”
“I am, I was just… I thought it might help with the pain. Advil?”
“Yeah, that’d be great.” She wiggled all the way out of her panties and pulled the bedsheets up to her chin, feeling like a princess, though his bed wasn’t that much bigger than her own. He changed the sheets more often, though.
Peter brought her Advil and a glass of Coke, then, keeping his side to her in some half-assed attempt at modesty, he went to shower. Mary-Jane laid on her back as the soreness between her legs faded, then threw the covers off. Yeah, right. Like she was going to let this be their first time.
She pushed her way into the bathroom, getting an immediate reaction from Peter.
“I thought you wanted to wait…” he said, soap slipping out of his hand.
“Did I mention I was really good at blowjobs?” She stepped under the shower stream with him, pushing him back against the towel rack across from the showerhead, then dropping to her knees. As soon as she took him in her mouth, Peter exhaled, a groan and a moan and sigh all at once. His hands lashed backward to grip the towel rack, working on it like a motorcycle’s throttle.
Peter shifted his feet from toe to heel, trying to keep from breaking the towel rack. It was like a kissing cousin of the brief feeling he’d gotten of penetrating her, but with her tongue striking his rod and sending tremors through his body. And she was looking up at him, green eyes sparkling as they followed the water trickling down his muscular physique. He tried to hold out, both because he didn’t want this to end and it seemed ungracious to go off on Mary-Jane after thirty seconds, much less in her throat, so Peter stared straight ahead at the pebbled glass door.
Then Mary-Jane started moaning, like some delicious chocolate was melting on her tongue, and slurping. Peter put one hand on her head. After a moment of really wanting to push her down further on his cock, he began to gently massage her scalp.
Then his cock was out of his mouth and she was rubbing it, not as good as her tongue but so new and nice and soft, especially with her smiling like she’d just won the lottery. “It’s alright if you come, Peter. That’s kinda the point.”
“You’re just so… I mean… this is so…”
Her red lips slid down his cock again, still seeming to smile with barely restrained laughter, and his words were lost in a steady exhale. “Fuuuuuck.”
After a minute, Peter tore his hand away from her hair and locked it back onto the towel rack as his entire body contracted in an arch, his cock lurching as he came. MJ took his ejaculation with a practiced gulp, pulling away and letting his cum dribble down her chin, be washed away in the shower spray. She hugged his leg, feeling his muscles relax as his cock twitched and his cum washed down the drain.
When he finally let go of the towel rack, Peter slid down the wall until his bare ass was on the floor and she sat down across from him, rinsing her mouth with the shower spray and spitting into the drain.
“When you tell this story to your grandkids, leave this part out.”
“Why would I tell my grandkids how I lost my cherry?”
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no subject
Date: 2009-05-12 04:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-12 07:07 pm (UTC)I love the flow of your Peter and MJ and it is just a fun read! great work ^__^
no subject
Date: 2009-05-13 12:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-13 05:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-15 03:19 am (UTC)