We are almost there

The porcelain was cool against Felicia's bare knees as she worked Harry with lips and tongue, her every movement calculated—the flick of her wrist, the hum in her throat that vibrated through him. His grip tightened in her hair, his breath coming in ragged bursts as she swallowed him deeper, her nails grazing the sensitive skin of his inner thigh just to feel him twitch.

Meanwhile, across the city, Michael jane paced the cramped confines of his apartment, the restless energy of his newfound spider-powers thrumming beneath his skin. The walls felt too close, the air too still.

The bathroom mirror fogged with their mingled breath as Harry's fingers dug into Felicia's scalp, his hips bucking involuntarily against the wet heat of her mouth. A muffled moan escaped him when she dragged her teeth lightly along his length just enough sting to make his thighs tremble. Her other hand, still slick with his arousal, crept toward his discarded jacket where it hung over the towel rack, fingertips brushing the supple leather.

Across the street, Michael jerked the hood lower over his forehead as the first shout erupted from the ATM vestibule. The would-be thief's crowbar glinted under fluorescent lights, wedged between metal and plexiglass.

Michael stops the criminals with no problems as he decides to become a superhero and he likes the name spider-man so he makes a costume that is has spider emblem. While that was happening it was near by where the event is.

Felicia’s fingers had just brushed the edge of Harry’s wallet when his entire body tensed—not from pleasure, but from the sudden blare of police sirens slicing through the bathroom’s thick air. Her lips froze around him as the sound grew louder, tires screeching somewhere below the penthouse ballroom. Harry’s grip on her hair slackened as he turned his head toward the window, his cock twitching against her tongue. "The hell?"

Across the street, Michael moved before the second crowbar strike could land. His body thrummed with unnatural precision as he webbed the thief’s wrist to the ATM mid-swing, the synthetic silk hardening instantly.

Harry and Felicia finish up in the bathroom as Harry cums inside Felicia mouth as she drinks it all so none of the cum gets on her dress. While Michael warps up the criminals with webs and disappeared before the cops arrived

Harry's hips jerked forward as Felicia swallowed him deeper, her throat fluttering around him in practiced rhythm. The sirens wailed louder three blocks away now but neither of them stopped. Felicia's nails dug crescent moons into his thighs as she took him to the hilt, her nose brushing the coarse hair at his base just as his release hit. Hot pulses flooded her mouth, bitter and salt-sharp, and she drank greedily, her tongue working to coax out every last drop until he shuddered and collapsed against the sink.

Across the street, Michael's final web-line snapped taut as he yanked the thief's ankles together, leaving him trussed like a fly in amber against the ATM.

Felicia and Harry gets clean up and dressed as the two head back to the ballroom to meet up with harrys dad. While Michael swing to his apartment and starts to develop his costume so he can keep his identity a secret

The bathroom's gold-flecked marble chilled Felicia's bare thighs as she rose, Harry's spend still warm on her tongue. She dabbed at her smudged lipstick with a monogrammed towel while he buckled his belt with unsteady hands—the clink of metal loud against the sudden silence between them. Outside, the sirens had faded to a distant pulse, drowned by the resurgence of the string quartet filtering through the vents.

Harry's reflection watched her in the fogged mirror as she straightened her dress, his pupils still blown wide. "You're very convincing," he murmured, thumb catching a stray strand of her hair to tuck behind her ear.

Felicia's lips curved into a slow, feline smile as she licked the last trace of him from her teeth. "You believe me now?" she purred, pressing her palm flat against his chest where his heartbeat still raced.

Harry exhaled sharply, catching her wrist—but this time, his grip lacked suspicion. Instead, his thumb stroked the delicate bones beneath her skin. "Yeah," he murmured, voice rough. "I believe you." A pause, then his mouth quirked. "Okay. Let's go meet my father." His other hand slid down to grip her hip, pulling her flush against him.

She puts her dress back on then Harry introduces Felicia to his father once they are back in the ballroom. Hey dad this is Felicia Hardy my girlfriend.

Felicia smoothed the silk of her dress over her hips, the fabric whispering against her thighs as she adjusted the stolen bracelet higher on her wrist just enough to catch the light. Harry’s hands lingered at her waist, possessive even now, his knuckles brushing the small of her back as he guided her toward the bathroom door. The ballroom’s hum of champagne flutes and murmured deals swelled as they stepped back into the gilded fray, Felicia’s heels sinking into the plush carpet with each deliberate step.

Harry’s grip tightened as they approached a broad-shouldered man in a tailored tuxedo, his silvering temples and sharp jawline betraying the son he’d one day become. "

introduces Felicia to his father once they are back in the ballroom.

Dad," Harry said, his voice smooth as aged whiskey, fingers pressing possessive crescents into Felicia’s hip. "This is Felicia Hardy. My girlfriend."

The older Osborn’s gaze a colder, harder version of Harry’s flicked over Felicia with the precision of a jeweler appraising a suspect diamond. The champagne flute in his hand paused mid-sip.

Felicia extended her hand, the stolen bracelet glinting like a dare.

"Charmed," Felicia murmured, letting Norman's larger hand swallow hers. His palm was dry, his grip testing—not the perfunctory squeeze of polite society, but the deliberate pressure of a man who'd built empires by knowing exactly how much weight to apply. She matched his **** with the barest increase of her own, her thumb grazing the ridge of his knuckle in a move that wasn't quite accidental.

Harry's breath hitched beside her, his fingers flexing against her waist as Norman's gaze dropped to the bracelet circling her wrist—a piece he'd last seen in his private vault two weeks prior. The champagne flute hovered near his lips, bubbles bursting silently against the crystal rim.

Harys dad ask Question after question Felicia answered them all without no problems as harry smiles at Felicia letting her know that she doing well eventually harys dad is convinced about them being a couple.

Norman’s smile didn’t reach his eyes as they lingered on the bracelet—gold catching the chandelier light in a way that made Felicia’s pulse skip. "You seem like a good girl for my Harry," he said at last, the words syrup-slow, deliberate. His thumb pressed harder against her knuckle, a silent counterpoint to his tone. "You can call me Norman instead of sir."

Harry exhaled through his nose, his grip on her hip loosening just enough for Felicia to feel the tension humming beneath his fingertips.