Queen on the Streets, Hellfire in the Sheets

While most saw the Hellfire Gala as an resplendent display of wealth, power, and mutant perfection, Emma Frost saw it only as an exercise in exquisite, agonizing, time-wasting torture.

What was the point of dressing up in your lewdest attire if there were no men around to appreciate her?

Emma Frost glided through the throng of superhero elite that were attending her party. To those of a certain universe she looked like a vision of pure unattainable beauty. Her dress was a masterpiece of strategic engineering, a cascade of shimmering fabric that clung to her curves and left acres of her flawless skin bare to the appreciative... well, that was the problem. There was no appreciation.

She swept her telepathic gaze across the room, the psychic equivalent to doom scrolling at this point, as she tried to skim the minds of the men in attendance. Politicians, tycoons, superheroes, none were even giving their blonde bombshell host a second polite look.

It had always been like this. No matter the daring outfit, overt cleavage, or overshared thigh, Emma Frost was simply ignored by men. They always looked more bewildered by her choice of sexy outfit on the battlefield than ever even thinking about how creamy her skin was or how fuckable her pussy was.

Getting dressed for the gala had almost not felt worth it. Sweat pants and a tank top sounded so comfortable right now. But as like many other women, she had to assert her sexuality to even the blindest of crowds.

Still, it didn’t make the psychic scan hurt any less. Especially when the men themselves looked so hot in their gala outfits.

Captain America, looking resplendent in a tailored suit that did little to hide his powerful physique. His thoughts? 'Golly, I hope the press gets a good shot of me with the UN ambassador.'

Tony Stark, shirtless under a custom blazer, his arc reactor glowing between the intelligent man’s pecs. His thoughts? 'The ventilation in here is terrible. I should offer to redesign the whole system, that’ll surely get me in Frost’s good graces for a potential company relation.'

Cyclops, oh Scott… the tactician that had filled more than a few of Emma’s solo night pleasures. Somehow just as sexy intellectually as he was physically, yet never giving her a second laser look. Strutting around in a tight-fitting turtleneck that outlined every muscle, yet his only thought about her was: 'I wonder if Emma made sure the caterer had gluten-free options.'

It was the same everywhere. Men saw her outrageous outfits, her deliberate displays of juicy underboob and biteable peach, and their minds registered nothing but mild curiosity or detached aesthetic analysis. Interesting fashion choice. Must be warm. That's a lot of white. It was infuriating.

She was the damned White Queen! She was a walking, talking fantasy, and in this libido-less world, she might as well have been wearing a burlap sack for all the arousal she generated. Her own body, the best finely tuned instrument of pleasure that money could buy, didn’t deserve to be thrumming with constant low grade frustration. She was horny, she was stunning, and not a single stupid bloody idiot feckless small-dicked hopeless ignorant asshole man in this entire godforsaken party wanted to do what deserved to be done and fuck her!

It was enough to make a girl want to telekinetically kick the whole damn party out and masturbate on the remains of the pleasant evening.

Most of the guests had arrived now, with only a few stragglers entering late for reasons Emma could care less about. She didn’t even know why she still had hope for these galas, as if one man was suddenly going to evolve a boner. There was always that hope they’d find the one mutation, but that legend was akin to unicorns at this point.

She took a delicate sip of her champagne before slumping back against a nearby wall. Her mind scanned lazily around, keeping her thoughts open but her heart a closed diamond. So much muscle and power in the room, so many handsome faces… all utterly wasted. Perhaps it truly was the time to find somewhere quiet and retreat for the night…

'...man, I'd give anything to just lift up that dress and cum all over Emma’s perfect tits.'

Emma froze, the crystal flute halfway to her lips.

A mental voice in the crowd. The thought was so vivid, so visceral, so real… it felt like a physical touch. The unicorn was real, and it wanted to fuck her chest! That lustful manly voice had caught her so off guard it had made her own breath catch in her throat, sending her into a coughing fit as her champagne went down the wrong hole.

People gathered around her, trying to make sure she wasn’t choking, but the cluster scattered her chances to find the source of that thought. Her telepathic senses darted around, trying to find her name lustfully whispered once more, but the congestion clogged her powers.

It was laden with a lust so potent, so pure, that it made her own breath catch in her throat. Her head snapped up, her eyes darting around the room, her telepathic senses flaring. She scanned, searching, desperate to pinpoint the source. It was a man's voice, rough and edged with a familiar New York wit, but the sheer, unadulterated horniness was what made it stand out. It was a diamond in the rough, a roaring fire in a world of dying embers.

“Dammit…” she hissed under her breath, finally getting the last of her coughs out. “WHO THOUGHT THAT?!” Emma yelled, throwing her flute behind her and earning the eyes of all attending. “WHICH MAN THOUGHT THAT ABOUT MY CHEST?!”

No one came forward, only concerned stares at their host angrily yelling and psychically scanning them.

“Emma, dear?” said Hank, approaching cautiously, “I believe this is what we in the business call ‘making a scene’. I assure you there is an incredibly low mathematical chance that any man was thinking about your breasts.”

“Shut it, hairball.” Emma snarled, caring little of social standing when there was a titfucker on the loose.

Her mind raced through the crowd, brushing past the thoughts of the Avengers, the X-Men, the various socialites. She was close, so close, she could feel the residual energy of the thought, the psychic footprint it had left. But then, just as she was about to lock on, it vanished. Ripped away from her like it had never been there. She was left grasping at empty air, her heart pounding in her chest.

Across the room, standing near the buffet table, Peter Parker felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He'd just spent two weeks in a non-stop Wakandan orgy, and he'd promised himself he'd try to control these urges. But then he'd seen so many attractive women in such arousing dresses, he worried the Wakandan viagra still stained his system. Seeing Emma Frost, a stunning woman from his world he’d always had to repress every sexual urge around lest she hold it against him, and the thought had just... slipped out. He quickly just picked up a handful of food and focused on munching down canapés, mortified by his own lack of control. He had no idea that his brief, momentary lapse had just been detected.

Emma’s eyes narrowed, she knew he was here but something had blocked the White Queen’s advance.

“Emma,” said the ever annoying Jean Grey’s voice in her mind, “You can’t just scan the entire party’s mind. We have codes of ethics here that you chartered yourself. Some of our guests have secrets that they don’t-”

She snarled back, “You made me lose him, you ginger trollop!”

“What is going on with you? Who did you lose?”

“A man at this party wants to cum on my tits, Jean.” Emma huffed, looking over to the woman who had been psychically talking to her from afar, currently standing above her with wide eyes on the upper floor of the mansion. “Scan my memories yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“...I see.”

There was a beat as the two women locked eyes. A game of psychic chicken. Jean broke the look first, and Emma knew immediately that her rival was now scanning the crowd herself to find the mystery party guest.

“Hypocrite.”

“My chest isn’t that much smaller than yours. I’m sure a lustful man could be perfectly happy with mine.”

“That cum is mine!”

---

Out on the most secluded balcony of the Frost mansion stood a Canadian.

He had a mostly finished cigar in one hand and the third beer from a nearby six pack in another. Parties like this were never the old man’s true calling, but keeping up appearances for the X-Men and Avengers was important. It’s why he got dressed in this fancy white Van Dyne suit despite hating the bowtie around his neck. He could only really mentally be bothered to accomplish small bursts of socialisation, keeping to himself for large portions of the night… which is why when he could smell someone approaching his secluded spot, it irked him.

Though as he took another sniff, something about this particular person bothered him.

Peter opened the door to the balcony and quickly shut it behind him, “I wonder what that shouting was about…? Oh, uh, hey Logan.”

SNIKT

“You ain’t him,” growled the short death machine, claws pointed directly at Spider-Man’s neck. “Who are you?”

“Multiverse swap!” Peter immediately admitted, putting his hands up and dropping his collected treats. “Me and the other Spider-Man swapped universes! I’ve been trying to figure out how to get back!”

After a beat, and a quick sniff to find the lie, the claws retracted and Logan returned to looking at the ocean.

“Fine.”

Peter blinked behind the mask. “...that’s it?”

“Yup.” replied Logan, taking a swig of his beer.

“No questions or tests I need to perform to prove I’m really-?”

Logan’s gruff voice cut off the prattle quickly. “Shit like that happens. When I was dead an alternate-old-dead-future-whatever version of me was running around. Your explanation makes sense, maybe even explains why you stink of sex.”

Peter took a moment before sighing and leaning against the balcony railing next to Logan, “Gee, now I know I’ve hit rock bottom if Wolverine is calling me stinky.”

“Talk as much as him.” huffed the older man. “You part woman in your world?”

“Uh, no?” said Peter.

Logan wasn’t really looking at him, keeping his eye out on the beautiful ocean vista. “Just trying to figure out why you got so much blood flowing through your dick. It’s distracting.”

“My universe? The men are the horny ones,” said Peter, taking a moment to think about the question. “...can you smell my dick blood? Or hear it? Actually, I don’t know if I wanna know either answer…”

“Anyone else know about it?” asked Logan, earning a shaking head from Peter. Storm was still in Wakanda, though she’d been nice enough to offer her invite to Spider-Man. “Might wanna swing away now, Webhead. Those women in there are gonna eat you alive if they find out.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Logan,” Peter quipped, earning a rare smirk from the hardened mutant. “You know, it’s weird, I kinda thought out of everyone that the X-Men would still be having sex. Even in this crazy world, there’s no mutant with like… an erection mutation?”

“Hrn, that old legend,” Logan grumbled, taking another swig of his beer as he felt the confusion from Peter. “Guess you ain’t heard it. Weird ass universe… yeah, everyone’s always looking out for a mutation to make a dick hard, but no one’s ever found it. Not even Sinister, and he’s got DNA vials on file from the fucking Mesozoic era.”

“Wow,” said Peter.

“Only one who ever got close to that power is Raven.”

“Raven?”

Logan nodded, “Mystique. Shape changer. When she figured out she could keep both sets of genitals and use one to power the other, she became the dream of several billion women world wide. Problem is, no one can ever find her. Girls say if they’re lucky they get chosen to join her harem, but with Destiny’s precog shit always staying one step ahead of everyone, no one’s ever been able to find out where the harem is.” He explained, taking the last chance to finish his cigar before tossing the nib over the edge into the ocean. “Well, almost no one. I did hunt them down once, just to prove I could. Ironically, Raven ain’t happy to be the only one of her troupe to not be getting dicked.”

“Damn, that’s crazy…” Peter whistled. He was going to ask more about the mutants, but was interrupted by a jumpscare of brimstone appearing on the balcony’s guard railing.

BAMF!

“Do pardon the intrusion, Herr Logan. The feminine commotion inside is a tad stifling…” the well dressed man covered in blue fuzz raised his head, seeing that his lonesome companion was not so alone. “Ah! It appears you are hosting The Amazing Spider-Man! I do hope I am not interrupting?”

“Hey Kurt,” said Peter, shaking the extended three fingered hand, “Always a pleasure. And no, not interrupting.”

“He’s from a different universe, Elf,” Logan revealed immediately, “This one has sex.”

Peter, somewhat annoyed at how casually his secrets were spilling, threw him an annoyed glare. Nightcrawler just rolled with it, “How intriguing! A true hero to female-kind, I’m sure. Though if you don’t wish to partake in such unpleasant activities, I can provide a free teleport away from the party, upon request.”

“No no, it’s fine. I actually… like having sex.” Peter admitted, still feeling so out of place in this universe for having that be a grand secret.

“Hrn, pretty freaky. Eh, elf?” Logan chuckled.

Nightcrawler had hopped down off the railing to now lean his back against it, “Ah, but in the Hellfire Gala he is in the presence of freaks, Herr Logan! While I don’t understand it, I can respect the honesty. Tell us, have you done the deed with anyone we know?”

“Uh… yeah. Storm.”

“Good, she deserves it,” said Logan.

Kurt nodded, “Indeed. The Goddess surely reveled in the heavenly gift, correct?”

“Yeah, her words exactly,” Peter chuckled, “Also did it with an actual Goddess* (\which Goddess does he mean? Check out the additional scene in the previous chapter, True Believers!),* bunch of other Wakandans… and Wanda, Magik, Nico, Sara, the Sinister Six, Felicia, Jen, Jan, Carol, Maria…”

Logan raised an eyebrow, “How long have you been in this world?”

“Like… a month and a half…” Peter sighed, knowing the list was far too grand for such a short time frame, “I dunno man, they keep throwing themselves at me! Have you two really never done it with a girl?”

“Of course we have.” said Kurt.

“I-uh, really?”

Logan huffed, cracking open his fourth beer. “Been on this planet a lot longer than you, Webs. You think shit like that never happens?”

“I have met plenty of women that deserved the chance to relieve themselves. To live in a moment of bliss that they crave.” said Kurt, “We all find ways to make those we love happy, even if we can’t always use the tools they want us to use. I for one have figured out how to use my prehensile tail to twist around inside of their clingy pussies. It may not arouse me, but it does warm my heart to see them so happy.”

“Piotr just lets Kitty use his metal fingers as a dildo,” said Logan, “I prefer hunting to humping, but if need be I use my tongue to get a girl’s climax. Usually makes them easy pickings after that.”

“I tried it, never developed the taste for vagina,” said Kurt. He tapped a finger against his chin while looking at Peter, “I suppose you would also know a Nightcrawler in your world too? Does my counterpart also achieve erection?”

“I never asked, but assumedly yeah,” said Peter, “Never really kept up with which X-Men had sex with each other, I always just sort of assumed a big orgy thing. I think you had a bunch of girls who were really into you, they dug the blue fuzz.”

“Ah! A universal constant!” Kurt grinned. “And Logan?”

“Don’t care.” he huffed.

“I don’t really know much anyway. You always kept to yourself,” said Peter, earning an appreciative grunt from Logan towards his multiversal counterpart. “...buuuut I did hear through the grapevine that you had a crush on Jean~”

“Oohhh! How scandalous!” Kurt teased, poking Logan’s shoulder playfully. “I wonder how your best friend Scott reacted?”

“Best friend?” Peter recoiled in cringe slightly, knowing through some hero gossip talk just how many schisms could have been prevented if that were the case in his world.

---

And speaking of schisms, Emma vs Jean was moments away from becoming a violent blood bath.

It would make no sense at all that either high powered telepath couldn’t locate a single horny spider amongst the party. However, it makes much more sense if their rivalry had caused them to psychically sabotage the other at every turn. Their mental three stooges energy bouncing from man to man and making the whole process take far longer than it needed to.

As an example, the pair would both begin scanning the mind of someone like Stephen Strange. Jean would try and scan his surface level thoughts, only to be shoved in deeper from behind and land in his opinions about various cheeses. Then Emma would scan his immoral thoughts, searching the doors of his mind, only for his childhood phobia door to open up to chase her while honking its nose at her.

This went on and on, the pair psychically jumping between any men they thought had the potential to be the one they were looking for.

It wasn’t Bucky.

Nor Namor.

Or any of the minds inside Moon Knight.

They crossed off the X-Men early. No one would be able to hide a libido that long around so many psychics. Though they double checked Gambit, just in case.

The ambassador to Latveria was not the one.

Not Blade or Ghost Rider. Not Daredevil or Luke Cage. And though he made several angry pop culture references about it, they were somewhat thankful it wasn’t Deadpool either.

It really became a problem for the attendees when Psylocke joined in the hunt. At that point they were becoming desperate, and basically psychically flashing any man they could with an image of Emma’s naked boobs. The men weren’t exactly angry about it, more so confused. After all, a woman’s breasts were a fairly regular sight at the beach, or around Avenger’s Mansion whenever Carol was working out.

A projection of a bald man’s head entered her mind, “Emma! I insist you cease this psychic assault on your guests at once! Many are deciding to leave and-”

She did not listen. “Shut up, Charles. I’m busy. Where is he…?” Emma hissed, biting at her thumb in anxious frustration.

“Perhaps it was a jest,” suggested Psylocke, standing nearby while doing her own psychic scans, “A way to get under your skin to sabotage your party.”

Jean psychically sighed, “Betsy has a point… we may have become a little too eager to find our dream boy.”

“No… no, it has to be real…” said Emma, both to resolve herself and as a plea to the universe. “Surely someone has to know something…?”

It was then her eyes landed on the other bombshell blonde of the room, looking around with a blushing face as if she was searching for someone. Only the confusing part was, she was currently invisible. Something about Emma’s intuition lead her to start scanning Sue’s mind for what she was doing.

“Oh… I heard from Reed that Peter may be attending this event… I can’t help but try and get near him. Maybe this time he’ll notice me…”

---

The party was clearly lacking in secret spots, as Illyana’s one spot to escape the chaos that the psychics were bringing had already been occupied by three men.

It would have caused a groan of annoyance, if one of the men didn’t surprise her so much. “Peter?!”

“Hey! Icksnay on the ecret-identity-say!” he hissed at Magik.

“What are you doing here?!” she exclaimed, running up to him and cradling his body like someone had yelled ‘sniper!’ around the president. “You should leave. Emma is on the warpath to find you.”

“She is? Why?” he tilted his head.

“Why do you think, you dick brained fool?!” Magik snarled. Taking the chance to rub at his dick just a little bit without anyone noticing before shaking her head to concentrate. “Grr. It’s not just her. All the psychics are searching for you. If you don’t want your mind to become that of a mutant dildo, I suggest you run.”

Peter’s eyes bulged behind his mask, “Th-they’d do that?!”

Before he could get a response, Spidey yelped in surprise at the giant blue bald head that appeared behind Magik’s body.

“Ah, it appears you found the issue, Illyana.” said Xavier, “Spider-Man, I am afraid your presence here is causing some issues amongst the staff, and therefore you’ll need to be escorted off the premises. You are no longer welcome at the Hellfire Gala. Kurt? If you would be so kind?”

“As you wish, Professor,” said Kurt with a sympathetic shrug, “My apologies, Spider-Man.”

“At this point I should just take the hint,” Peter sighed, taking Nightcrawler’s hand before waving at the others. “See you guys around.”

BAMF!

BAMF!

“Uhh… Kurt? We didn’t go anywhere.” said Peter.

The blue dude looked just as confused, “I-I don’t know-”

“Traitors!”

All heads snapped around to the enraged blonde woman who had slammed open the balcony doorway. She stomped angrily towards them, hand still on her head to prevent Kurt from teleporting away.

“Spider-Man! Cum on my tits!”

He blinked in confusion, “H-huh?”

“Heh, at least this party is interesting,” Logan chuckled into his beer.

“Emma, please! See reas-!” Xavier reasoned before his floating head once more vaporised into thin air.

“You are on your own, Herr Spider-Man,” said Nightcrawler, seemingly being forcibly bamfed away without his direct input.

Before Emma could reach out and grab his wrist, a psychic attack from behind stopped her. Peter was so confused to see Jean Grey protecting him from the enraged horny blonde, and more so when she yelled at him, “Wait! Spidey, ch-check out my tits to cum on first! You might prefer the freckles of a redhead?”

“Uh-”

Suddenly, Psylocke appeared behind him in a purple flash, “My ass muscles are the finest in the whole X-Men. Surely it is comparable to Emma’s simple chest?”

“W-wha-?”

“He’s mine!” Emma snarled.

“No! Please!” Jean gasped.

“Choose wisely,” Betsy hissed.

“Let the man breathe!”

Before he could even think about what was happening, Peter’s gala outfit was grabbed roughly on his chest. Magik forcibly chucked him with all of her strength behind her, where one of her portals was waiting.

“NO!”

Though it was dangerous to travel through a closing portal, Emma had activated her diamond form and used all her superior strength to push forwards, diving head first towards Peter’s flailing body to follow him through the glowing disk.

They landed together in a heap on a part of the beach several miles away from the party, Peter getting immediately winded from the diamond woman landing on top of him. “OOF!”

Emma deactivated her diamond form, though was still somewhat pissed off that this man was trying to hide from her for so long. Part of her honestly thought this was just Raven in a disguise, and needed to find out the truth through psychic scan. “Let’s see who you really are!”

---

Peter blinked back awake, not realising he’d faded there.

Emma had been on top of him last he remembered, now she was standing still a few feet away, just staring at the waves.

“...you were just a boy,” were her first words, unable to look at him through the shame. “I deeply apologise for forcing my way into your mind like that, Peter. My emotions have been… rather tested this evening. But that is no excuse for watching your whole life…”

He raised himself up from the sand, removing his mask so he could see through the dark and gaze upon the moonlit beauty. “Oh… the whole thing? Sorry if the webswinging made you queasy.”

“My stomach has handled Remy’s gumbo, it could handle that,” she slightly quipped back, though quickly lost confidence in her own thoughts. “...I think you deserve this, Peter.”

He looked around, “Being dumped onto a beach in the middle of the night? Probab-”

“No, you cute buttoxed fool. I meant the universal swap,” she said, finally looking him in the eyes. It was dark, but her serious look kept his mouth silent of quips. So much admiration, adoration, and hope flowed through her as she spoke, “So much pain. So much loss. You’ve suffered so much even though you give the world all you can give.” She didn’t even need to say their names for both to think of Ben and Gwen and so many more, “You should be happy, Peter. This world… it wants you to stay.”

“I… I get it…” he agreed, sighing as he took his turn looking over the moon splattered ocean. “It just feels weird, you know? Like it’s too much paradise for one man to handle alone.”

“You’ve managed so far.”

“I have, but still. Can’t stop me from feeling guilty for seducing T’Challa’s wives, or anyone else who should be with someone else in my world. Shouldn’t I be looking for that same connection, instead of indulging in the mindless rutting sex this universe offers?”

“My my my,” Emma chuckled, almost bursting into laughter at his words, “How have I managed to just learn about you, yet you say such a typical Peter Parker thing?”

He smirked back at her, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Like I have been accused of having resting bitch face, you have resting guilt mind. It is your default state, so much that you almost believe you must feel it, even when you do not.” she accused, wagging a finger at him. “Naughty Spider-Man doesn’t really feel the guilt when he’s fucking his way around the universe. He loves it. His guilt is only from his lack of guilt. Isn’t that right?”

“I… uh…” he had been psychically scanned, so didn’t really know how to argue against it.

“You aren’t mindlessly rutting with this universe’s denizens, and you know it,” Emma continued, feeling happily superior to share her insights, “All of them want you. Crave you. You’ve formed deep emotional bonds with each of them, no matter the woman, remembering each of their names, even all those Wakandan sluts they threw at you.”

“F-fine! Yes! I admit it, the sex is great! I can’t find a downside!” Peter admitted, throwing his hands in the air in embarrassment. “But guilt from lack of guilt is still guilt!”

“I suppose it is,” said Emma, heaving her large chest with a sigh. “I suppose those beautiful memories of me and Scott will keep you from seducing me, too. I shan’t keep you from Felicia any longer, Peter. While it was very nice to meet you, I must return to face the music of my Gala.”

With a small bow, Emma bid Peter adieu on the beach, ready to walk the several miles back to her beachfront property.

Had it not been for Peter calling out to her.

“Hey! You’re the host, right?! Shouldn’t you be taking care of your guests?!”

A web hit a nearby rock in front of Emma, and before she could turn an incredible athlete suddenly jumped over her head and landed directly in front of her. Completely bottomless and stroking his hardening cock.

“How am I supposed to get home like this? Shouldn’t the hostess be willing to let me blast her perfect tits with cum before I go?”

Emma couldn’t help but well up. She looked at the sight before her, the man who had carried the world on his back, now asking her to assist him not for his own benefit, but for hers. It was hard not to feel overwhelmed by his kindness and big heart, and the White Queen quickly began stripping to respect this noble act.

“Of course I’ll help you, you silly man,” Emma sighed through the tears, walking up and kneeling on the sand in front of him, completely naked. “Please, Spider-Man. Use this hostess’ body however you wish.”

He nodded, taking a step closer and gently lowering her to the ground. The pristine pureness of her body illuminated by the moon shone so brightly, and he was easily able to find his place above her. Dragging his fat nuts up her belly before kneeling either side with cock lowering between her ample chest.

Despite the plea, the incredible body, and the willingness to strip nude at the drop of a hat… Emma was shockingly inexperienced at this stuff.

Peter didn’t mind, obviously. She knew that now. He had never really gotten over the desire to teach, and regretted losing that job even if it was for heroic reasons. Perhaps being the teacher of love for a whole universe of women had awoken that side of him again? Or he just didn’t mind taking charge when he got to squeeze the melons of the White Queen around his aching cock.

He started thrusting slowly. Dragging his meat against her breasts, savouring each soft squeeze of perfect tit against his dick. He was loving it already, taking the chance to really grope mutant superiority.

She loved it too. The cold coarse sand had no effect on her when she focused on the boiling man meat between her tits. She’d experienced it through Peter’s memories, but it still felt absolutely astonishing to actually feel how hard a penis could be. And this was coming from a girl that could turn into diamond. Nothing in life could compare, and she could feel her feminine urges spiking from the mere presence of his heavy sack against her skin.

But it was the view as well. Spider-Man, hero of New York, friendly and fun, secretly Peter Parker the attractive model. To see him from below, only a cute man with a flustered hungry face, perfect abs rippling with controlled need, and a cock from literal legend… it was hard not to start feeling butterflies in her heart at the sight of him.

They stayed in this position for a while, not needing to ruin the bond with words. Emma watched him work with pride, while Peter adored every inch of her. Only the sound of the tide as a backing track to their rhythmic thrusting.

Eventually the pace did pick up. Emma had been the one to start getting very close to climax, writhing around her ample hips below Peter as her body inflamed in need.

She took over holding her chest, and Peter began humping in earnest into one of the world’s greatest cleavages. Her eyes focused only on the tip, keeping her tongue at the ready whenever it got close enough to flick for a taste of precum.

“Here we go… just like I promised!” he gasped out, barely audible over all the ‘YES PETER!’s he was getting from her. “GONNA CUM ON THOSE TITS, EMMMAAAAA!!!!!”

With a final guttural roar, he came. Both of their bodies convulsing in unison as he erupted onto Emma. His hot thick cum painted her chest in long white ribbons, just like he’d wished. It splashed against her porcelain skin, streaking his sour seed against her breasts. Her eyes were fluttering and her body was squirting out her own juices against the sand in a powerful climax. The sensation was all she’d dreamed and more, a man appreciating her body and validating her desires…

Peter fell back, panting. His hand found her pussy, gently stroking it through the aftershocks even when she squeezed her thighs around him. The cool air danced around their sweaty bodies, but it was too nice of a night to care.

Emma leaned up, still dripping with seed from her face, hair, and most of all: chest.

Peter struggled to think of a woman more beautiful than her at this precise moment, a thought she’d caught and felt incredibly proud of. Smiling at him so widely, “Haa… haa… you know, it’s funny… I think this is the first time I’ve really felt like the title of ‘White Queen’.”

---

Don't worry, there will be another X-Men chapter. Gotta do something fun for Jean/Betsy, but let me know if there's any other X-Women you believe should be there!