The golden sparks of the portal spun wildly, cutting through the damp, freezing air of the New York night.
Ethan stepped through first, his heavy boots leaving wet, ashy footprints on the antique rugs of the Sanctum foyer. Gwen followed a second later. The portal hissed shut with a sharp crack, instantly severing the sound of the pouring rain and the wailing NYPD sirens.
The Sanctum was completely silent, heavy with the scent of old mahogany and burning incense.
Ethan walked over to a heavy oak side table and set the glowing, jagged green Wing Core down. He didn't care if the residual heat scorched the wood. He turned toward the library hallway to find a warded containment box.
A cold hand clamped firmly around his wrist.
Ethan stopped and looked back.
Gwen was standing there, the rainwater dripping from the ends of her blonde hair and soaking into the torn silk of her dress. She wasn't trembling like a scared kid; her grip was tight, her knuckles white.
"Leave it," Gwen said, her voice tight with a frustration that was dangerously close to boiling over.
Ethan glanced at the table. "It's leaking dimensional energy, Gwen. I need to—"
"I don't care," she interrupted, her voice cracking.
She let go of his wrist and ran a shaky, soot-stained hand through her wet hair. She looked down at her ruined dress, the bare skin of her shoulders shivering in the cool air conditioning of the foyer, and then back up at him. Her blue eyes were bloodshot, completely drained of the adrenaline that had kept her moving in the alley.
"I just wanted one night," Gwen said, her voice dropping into a ragged, bitter whisper. "Just one normal night where I don't have to look over my shoulder. Where some freak in a metal suit doesn't drop out of the sky to remind me that I’m on a permanent hunting list."
She let out a harsh, exhausted breath, wrapping her arms around her ribs.
"I am so sick of running, Ethan."
Ethan didn't offer a smug remark. He didn't offer a magical solution.
He closed the distance between them in two long strides.
"You're done running," Ethan stated. His voice was a low, heavy rumble. "And as long as you're in this house, you don't look over your shoulder."
Gwen’s breath hitched. She stared up at him, the heavy walls she kept up finally fracturing under the sheer exhaustion of the night.
She didn't wait for him to say anything else. She grabbed the lapels of his ruined, soaked shirt, pulled herself up, and crashed her lips against his.
It wasn't a hesitant kiss. It was aggressive, messy, and desperate. She was choosing him, anchoring herself to this exact moment to drown out the chaos outside.
Ethan’s control shattered instantly.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her entirely off the floor. Gwen let out a soft gasp into his mouth, her legs instinctively wrapping around his hips as he carried her past the relics and straight up the grand staircase.
He kicked the heavy oak door of his master bedroom open, carrying her inside, and let the door slam shut behind them with a resounding thud.
He backed her against the solid wood of the door.
His mouth left hers, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her jawline.
"I've got you," Ethan murmured against her damp skin.
Gwen tangled her fingers in his wet hair, pulling his face back up to hers. "Prove it."
Ethan reached around to her back. He found the zipper of the torn silk dress. He pulled it down, the ruined fabric falling away and pooling at her ankles, leaving her standing only in her black lace bra and panties.
She unbuttoned his soaked shirt with frantic, trembling fingers, pushing the heavy, wet fabric off his broad shoulders.
The ambient light from the New York skyline filtered through the massive arched windows, painting the room in soft hues of silver and deep shadow.
Ethan looked at her. Her athletic body was a canvas of faint bruises and old scars. To him, she was absolutely breathtaking.
He scooped her up again, carrying her the few steps to the massive, king-sized bed, and laid her down gently against the dark silk sheets.
Gwen’s breath hitched as Ethan followed her down.
His calloused hands mapped the curves of her body, completely unapologetic. He traced the firm, toned line of her ribs and the soft dip of her stomach, making her shiver violently. He unhooked the front clasp of her bra, pushing it aside, and cupped her warm, heavy bosoms, his thumbs brushing over her tightening nipples.
He dragged her black lace panties down her legs, tossing them onto the floor.
He didn't rush. He knelt between her thighs.
Gwen’s eyes widened as she realized his intent. She grabbed the dark sheets in her fists. "Ethan..."
He leaned down.
His breath ghosted over her slick, swollen folds, making her hips involuntarily jerk upward.
Then, his tongue traced the long, sensitive slit.
Gwen screamed his name, her back arching entirely off the mattress.
The sensation was absolute, devastating heat. Ethan’s tongue was a wet, agonizingly precise muscle. He parted her outer folds, exposing the slick, sensitive flesh beneath. She was already dripping, the syrupy evidence of her arousal coating his tongue. She tasted intoxicating—a raw blend of adrenaline, feminine musk, and pure, primal desire.
Ethan pressed his face flush against her, lapping deeply at her wetness. Slurp. Squelch. The wet, obscene sounds echoed loudly in the quiet bedroom.
He found the tight, ultra-sensitive pearl hidden beneath her hood.
He swirled his tongue around it, teasing the swollen nerve endings, before sucking it gently into his mouth. He drew a sharp vacuum, creating a pressure that sent a lightning bolt of pure pleasure straight down Gwen’s spine.
"God—yes," Gwen sobbed.
Her thighs clamped down against the sides of his head, squeezing him tightly as if she were trying to trap him there. She was thrashing against the sheets, her entire body rigid like a drawn bowstring.
Ethan deepened his assault. He slipped two thick fingers inside her tight, burning heat.
The feeling was incredible for him, too. Her inner walls were scorching hot, clenching tightly around his digits with every frantic heartbeat. He pumped his fingers in a slow, rhythmic motion, matching the pace with the frantic swirls of his tongue on her clitoris.
Gwen couldn't take it. The sensory overload was tearing her apart. The fear, the isolation, the adrenaline from the Vulture—it all shattered into a blinding kaleidoscope of physical ecstasy.
"I'm—Ethan, I'm close," she wept, her breath coming in ragged, high-pitched gasps. "Please."
Ethan sucked harder, his thumb pressing firmly against her clitoris while his fingers drove deep inside her walls, hitting the spongy bundle of nerves that made her whine.
Gwen shattered.
She cried out, a loud, uninhibited wail of pure release. Her inner walls clamped down on his fingers in violent, rhythmic spasms, milking his digits as the climax rolled through her in massive, suffocating waves. She went completely boneless, her head falling back against the pillows as she panted for air.
Ethan slowly pulled away. His lips and chin were slick with her wetness.
He moved up the bed, his golden eyes dark with a possessive, consuming hunger.
He stripped off his jeans and boxers in one fluid motion, tossing them aside.
Gwen looked down, her chest heaving. Her breath caught in her throat. He was thick, heavy, and completely rigid, the blunt, purplish head slick with his own pre-come.
She reached out, her soft fingers wrapping around his thick shaft. The contrast of her delicate hand gripping his aching, rock-hard length made a low, gravelly groan tear from Ethan's throat. She guided the blunt head right to her wet entrance.
"Look at me," Ethan whispered, bracing his weight on his forearms directly over her.
Gwen’s blue eyes locked onto his.
He pushed his hips forward.
The entry was slow. Excruciatingly slow.
Gwen let out a long, high moan as the thick crown parted her folds. Even though she was incredibly wet from her climax, she still felt impossibly tight. The thick girth of his shaft stretched her entrance, the slick friction sending a jolt of searing heat through both of them.
Ethan gritted his teeth, a heavy groan vibrating in his chest as he pushed past the tight ring of muscle, sinking into her velvet heat up to the hilt.
The pressure was maddening. For Ethan, the sensation of her tight, scorching walls gripping his thick dick from all sides was dangerously overwhelming. Every microscopic clench of her internal muscles sent a phantom ache straight to his core.
They lay completely still for a second, letting their bodies adjust to the profound, absolute connection. Gwen’s legs lifted, wrapping tightly around his waist, her heels digging into his lower back to lock him securely inside her.
"You feel so good," Gwen whispered, tears of relief pricking the corners of her eyes. "So full."
Ethan slowly pulled back, drawing almost entirely out, the wet friction making a loud schlock sound.
Then, he drove his hips forward again.
Slap.
The sound of their skin meeting echoed like a gunshot.
He established a slow, agonizingly deep rhythm. With every thrust, he hit the deepest part of her, burying himself to the root. The blunt head of his length bumped against her cervix, drawing a stuttering, breathless gasp from her lips.
"Ethan," she gasped, her fingernails digging deep into his shoulders.
He increased the pace. The slow burn ignited into a frantic, desperate wildfire.
The heavy, solid oak bed frame groaned rhythmically under the heavy force of his thrusts. Gwen matched him perfectly, her hips rising off the mattress to meet his every downward strike, maximizing the depth.
She was milking him. Every time she clamped down on his thick shaft during a thrust, Ethan’s vision blurred with white-hot pleasure. The wet, slapping sounds of their bodies colliding filled the dark room, accompanied by her high-pitched, musical moans and his deep, animalistic grunts.
He leaned down and captured her lips, his tongue tangling with hers, swallowing her loud cries as he hammered relentlessly into her.
The pressure in his lower gut coiled impossibly tight. The intense friction and her clinging heat were pushing him over the edge.
"Gwen," Ethan growled against her lips, his thrusts becoming frantic, losing all semblance of control.
"Don't stop," she begged, her nails leaving crescent-moon indentations in his back. Her own climax was building rapidly for a second time, fueled by the thick, stretching fullness inside her. "Right there. Ethan, please!"
Ethan drove his hips down, burying himself as deep as he could possibly go, and pinned her flat to the mattress.
He emptied himself inside her.
A heavy, guttural roar tore from his throat as the release hit him like a freight train. Thick, hot pulses of his seed painted her deep inside, the sensation of filling her pushing him into pure euphoria.
Seconds later, Gwen’s walls convulsed violently around his sensitive, pulsing length. She milked the last drops of his climax out of him as she shattered alongside him, throwing her head back and crying out into the quiet room.
Ethan collapsed, his heavy, sweat-slicked chest resting flush against hers.
He buried his face in the crook of her neck, dragging in ragged, greedy breaths of air. Gwen’s arms stayed tightly wrapped around his broad shoulders, holding him close, refusing to let go.
An hour later, the room was completely dark, save for the faint glow of the city lights bleeding through the glass.
Gwen was lying with her back pressed flush against Ethan’s broad chest, the heavy, dark silk sheets pulled up to their shoulders. His strong arm was draped possessively over her waist, his large hand resting flat and warm against her bare stomach, keeping her securely anchored against him.
Her breathing had slowed to a calm, steady, peaceful rhythm.
"So..." Gwen murmured into the quiet dark, her voice soft and heavy with the thick haze of sleep. "No phone calls? No metal birds? No billionaires?"
Ethan let out a low, tired chuckle, the deep vibration rumbling pleasantly against her bare back.
"I'm putting Tony on a curse list," Ethan stated, his voice raspy. "A very specific, highly painful, permanent curse list."
Gwen laughed softly, the sound bright and genuinely happy.
She interlaced her fingers with his, holding his hand firmly against her stomach. She shifted her weight backward, pressing her ass snugly against his resting, flaccid length. "Goodnight, Ethan."
"Goodnight, Spider."
Her breathing evened out a few minutes later, slipping into a deep, dreamless sleep.
In the absolute quiet of the room, a translucent blue screen flared to life in the corner of Ethan’s vision, floating silently in the dark.
[ Bond Event Complete: Spider in the Sanctum ]
Participant: Gwen Maxine
Bond Status Updated: Gwen Maxine: Intimate Partner. Favorability increased significantly. Trust threshold crossed.
Rewards: 2,500 System Points.
Passive Link Unlocked: Spider-Totem Resonance. (Effect: Host can faintly sense Gwen’s location and distress when she is in serious danger.)
Gwen Passive Support: Minor resistance to Spider-Hunter fear aura when near Host.
Hidden Route Unlocked: Web of Fate.
Current System Points: 73,510
Current Ben Template Sync: 12%
Ethan read the text in the dark. He closed out the window with a simple mental command, tightening his arm around her waist and burying his nose in her blonde hair.
He closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion of the day finally pull him under.