Yes

Felicia leaned back against the dresser, arms loosely folded, her expression somewhere between amused and nostalgic.

MJ watched her from the chair by the bed, one leg tucked underneath her. The earlier conversation had shifted into something lighter now, though with Felicia, “lighter” was always relative.

Felicia tilted her head slightly, studying the redhead.

“So,” MJ said slowly, one eyebrow raised, “he fucked you in the ass and didn’t notice?”

Felicia rolled her eyes, though a smirk tugged at her lips.

“When he gets in the zone and you respond positively,” she said, pushing herself off the dresser, “he just keeps going.”

Her face lit up like she was recalling another particular moment.

“But I figured you know that as well.”

MJ let out a small laugh.

“…Yeah. I do.”

Felicia paced slowly across the room, like a cat stretching its legs.

“I’ve had several mini orgasms in the aftermath before he even realized he was getting close himself,” she said thoughtfully. “But that first one?”

She shook her head, clearly remembering.

“That one really blew my mind.”

Felicia leaned back against the wall.

“And what exactly are you commenting for?” she asked dryly. “It was pretty much the same when he fucked you at the Javits Center.”

Felicia’s grin returned immediately after she saw MJ’s face.

“Oh, please.”

MJ groaned.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

Felicia leaned one shoulder against the wall, clearly enjoying herself.

“You literally told me it was the best orgasm you’ve ever had,” she said. “That kind of information doesn’t just disappear, it’s going straight into my rub-hub.”

MJ pointed a warning finger at her.

“God, that’s a bad quip if I ever heard one.”

“Well, I learned from the best,” Felicia said sweetly.

MJ shook her head but couldn’t quite hide the smile creeping onto her face.

After a moment she straightened slightly.

“So did you tell him what happened?” she asked.

Felicia laughed under her breath.

“Oh yeah. Afterwards.”

She rubbed the back of her neck.

“He acted…”

MJ already knew where this was going.

Both of them said it at the same time.

“Mortified.”

They looked at each other for a moment before bursting out laughing.

MJ wiped the corner of her eye.

“It was exactly the same after our little public escapade,” she said. “When we had the voyeurs.”

Felicia nodded knowingly.

“He just kept apologizing,” she said. “Like he’d done something terrible.”

MJ rolled her eyes fondly.

“That man could save the world five times a week and still think he did something wrong.”

“Tell me about it.”

Felicia crossed her arms again.

“I shut that down pretty quickly,” she continued. “I figured he’d get the hint if I… demonstrated that I wasn’t exactly traumatized.”

MJ squinted at her.

“…You didn’t.”

Felicia smirked.

“I pretty much jumped him and shoved his dick inside my ass.”

MJ blinked once.

Then she burst out laughing.

“Oh my god.”

Felicia shrugged innocently.

“Leave no room for interpretation with that man.”

She smiled fondly

“Having his cock up my ass became a regular occurrence afterwards.”

The laughter faded after a moment, leaving the room quieter.

Felicia’s posture relaxed slightly, her gaze drifting for a second.

“He told me who he was a month later,” she said softly.

MJ watched her carefully.

Felicia exhaled slowly.

“But I was still young,” she said. “Exceedingly dumb.”

She glanced back at MJ.

“And well…”

MJ nodded gently.

“Yeah,” she said. “I know the rest.”

For a moment the room was quiet.

-

Despite having already climaxed twice in the past hour, thinking back on her time with Peter, and hearing Felicia recount hers, had stirred something in MJ all over again.

It wasn’t just memory.

It was anticipation.

A slow, insistent warmth curled low in her stomach, impossible to ignore, no matter how much she tried to focus on the conversation they’d just had. She could feel her juices trying to escape her moist pussy. Her own body clearly had its own priorities, and right now, restraint wasn’t one of them.

Peter really needed to get home. There were things to figure out, decisions to make.

But if she was being honest with herself, that wasn’t the only reason.

She wanted him.

Badly.

So when she heard the front door open, followed by Peter calling out to them, she let out a quiet breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Finally.

-

The walk over to their usual sushi place gave Peter time to think.

If he was being honest with himself, though, it gave him just as much time to fantasize.

From a moral standpoint, he knew this whole situation was… complicated. Potentially dangerous, even. But speaking as a guy with a healthy libido and an overactive imagination, he was having a hard time keeping the grin off his face.

Apparently, that grin was doing him favors.

Their server, new, from what he could tell, lingered a little longer than necessary when she gave him her order. She was cute, too. Not that he let himself dwell on that. Not when Mary Jane and Felicia were waiting at home.

Still, he wasn’t completely oblivious. When she asked for his number, there was a brief moment of surprise before he smiled apologetically.

“Flattered,” he told her, “but I’m very happily married.”

She took it well, at least.

All in all, it made the walk back more pleasant than it probably should have been. His thoughts stayed light, drifting more toward possibilities than consequences.

For the moment, at least, the only uncomfortable thing on his mind was the increasingly noticeable situation in his jeans.

-

Opening the door should have been easy, even with all the sushi he was carrying. He was Spider-Man, for crying out loud.

But as he approached, reality settled back in.

They needed to figure out what had happened with Felicia.

He just hoped they’d managed to keep things civil in there, that it hadn’t escalated into a fight.

…Unless it involved no clothing and a generous amount of oil, his traitorous second brain added helpfully.

Peter sighed.

“Not helping,” he muttered under his breath as he reached for the handle after fumbling with his keys.

-

“MJ, Felicia, I’m back,” he called out, nudging the door shut behind him with his foot.

“We’re in the bedroom!” MJ called back.

“I got us two number threes and extra sashimi, I know Felicia likes it,” he added absently, already moving down the hallway.

He pushed the door open with his shoulder.

And stopped.

His brain shut down.

Mid-step. Mid-thought. Mid-breath.

Everything he’d been about to say vanished, wiped clean in an instant as his eyes locked onto the scene in front of him.

Mary Watson-Parker, the love of his life, a supermodel who he somehow conned into marrying him, butt ass naked.

Felicia Hardy, the Black Cat, a frequent collaborator who has shared his bed numerous times, also butt ass naked.

He had died and gone to heaven, that's what happened. All of this sex-genie talk was just his brain handling a massive aneurism.