For 30+ Advance/Early chapters :p
atreon.com/ScoldeyJod
The advanced curriculum, as Diana called it, was thorough. When Peter finally came down from the dizzying high of her touch, his body was a spent, tingling wreck and his mind was a blissful haze. He lay on the rug, her hand stroking him to a soft, sated peace, and for the first time in his life, felt a sense of complete and utter calm. The constant, buzzing hum of his spider-sense had been soothed into a gentle purr.
"Hypothesis proven," he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion and satisfaction. "Mind… officially… lost."
Diana's laugh was a low, throaty sound against his ear. "The data is conclusive, then." She pressed a soft kiss to his temple. "But the midterm remains, Peter. And unlike me, you cannot afford to fail it."
He groaned, the thought of biophysics a harsh intrusion into their sensual bubble. "You're a cruel, cruel woman, Diana Prince."
"I am a diligent student," she corrected, though the playful nip she gave his earlobe undermined her serious tone. "And for the next hour, so are you."
To his complete and utter astonishment, she was serious. But the nature of their studying had fundamentally changed. They didn't bother with clothes. It seemed absurd to do so now, a pointless formality. Instead, they created a new system, one built on a foundation of profound, comfortable intimacy.
They lay on the rug, their naked bodies intertwined, his textbook propped on her stomach, hers on his. He would read a passage about the electron transport chain, his voice a low murmur, while her fingers idly traced the faint scars on his chest. Then she would explain a complex passage from Herodotus, her voice a melodic hum, while his hand rested on the warm, soft skin of her thigh, his thumb drawing lazy circles.
It was the most distracting, and yet most effective, study session of his life. The physical contact was no longer a frantic, desperate need, but a calm, steadying anchor. The touch grounded him, her presence soothed the usual anxiety of his thoughts, and for the first time, the complex information actually seemed to stick. They were, he realized with a jolt, a symbiotic relationship. Mutualism. Both species benefiting.
He was in the middle of explaining a particularly tricky formula when a shrill, electronic buzz cut through the quiet of the room. The sound was an alien intrusion, a violent rip in the fabric of their perfect, isolated world.
"Crap," Peter muttered, untangling himself to fumble for his jeans, where his phone was vibrating insistently. The screen lit up with a picture of his aunt. He shot Diana a look of pure, unadulterated panic.
She simply raised an eyebrow, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips as she watched him, completely unbothered.
He answered, trying to keep his voice steady. "Hey, May! What's up?"
"Peter, honey, are you alive in there?" her warm, familiar voice chirped through the speaker. "I was starting to worry. I haven't heard from you all weekend. I'm making my Sunday roast chicken. There's a plate with your name on it if you can drag yourself away from your books."
Peter's stomach rumbled at the mere thought. "Roast chicken? May, you shouldn't have." His eyes darted to Diana, who was now sitting up, watching him with an expression of deep amusement, making no effort to cover her magnificent nakedness. A fresh blush crept up his neck.
"Nonsense. You need a real meal. You're probably living on coffee and vending machine sandwiches," she chided lovingly. "Lunch in an hour. Don't be late. Love you!"
"Love you too, May," he said, and quickly ended the call. He let out a long, shaky breath and fell back onto the rug.
Diana leaned over him, her hair tickling his face. "Your aunt seems to care for you a great deal."
"Yeah, she's the best," he said, his gaze softening. Then he looked at Diana, at their naked bodies, at the comfortable chaos of their makeshift study nest. "And I have to go face her after... all of this. She can read me like a book."
"Then you had better become a very convincing liar," Diana said, though her tone was gentle. She leaned down and gave him a long, deep kiss. It was a kiss of farewell, but it was also a promise of return. "Go. Eat your chicken. Your system requires fuel."
"My system requires you," he countered, pulling her down for one last, desperate kiss before finally, reluctantly, gathering his clothes and his dignity.
An hour later, Peter walked into the familiar, comforting warmth of his home in Queens. The scent of garlic, rosemary, and roasting chicken filled the air, a stark, wholesome contrast to the sandalwood and sex-scented intimacy of Diana's room.
"There he is! My college boy!" May said, bustling out of the kitchen to give him a tight hug.
"Hey, May," he said, melting into her embrace.
Lunch was a comfortable, familiar ritual. They sat at the small kitchen table, and May loaded his plate with food, asking him about his classes, his professors, and if he was getting enough sleep. Peter answered vaguely, his mind a million miles away, replaying the events of the last eighteen hours. He felt a goofy, irrepressible smile fixed on his face.
"You seem happy," May observed, her eyes sharp and knowing as she watched him push a piece of potato around his plate. "Studying must be going well."
"Yeah, it's... it's been very productive," he said, the understatement of the century.
"You have a new study partner, you said?" she prodded gently.
"Uh, yeah. Diana. She's in a few of my classes. She's really smart," he said, feeling his cheeks heat up.
"Diana," May repeated, testing the name. "That's a lovely name." She took a sip of her water, her gaze thoughtful. "Well, she's certainly making an impression."
Peter frowned. "What do you mean?"
He turned to grab the salt shaker, and the movement exposed the side of his neck to the bright light from the kitchen window. May's fork stopped halfway to her mouth. Her eyes narrowed.
"Peter Benjamin Parker," she said, her voice a dangerous mix of amusement and faux-maternal authority. "What is that... on your neck?"
His blood ran cold. He instinctively reached up, his fingers brushing against a patch of skin that was surprisingly tender. "What? Nothing. It's a rash! A bug bite!"
May set her fork down and leaned forward, a wide, triumphant grin spreading across her face. "That is not a bug bite, honey. I've been a woman a lot longer than you've been a man. I know a hickey when I see one."
Peter's face exploded in a blush so hot he was surprised the fire alarms didn't go off. He tried to pull the collar of his hoodie up, a completely useless gesture. "It's not! It's a... it's a friction burn! From my backpack strap!"
"A friction burn that just happens to be the perfect size and shape of a pair of lips?" she countered, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Does your 'very smart' study partner Diana have anything to do with this particular... lesson?"
He was speechless, completely and utterly mortified. He could face down a man in a rhino suit, but he was defenseless against his aunt's teasing.
Seeing his genuine distress, May's expression softened. She reached across the table and patted his hand. "Oh, honey, I'm just teasing. I'm happy for you. It's about time you found someone who makes you smile like that." Her gaze was warm and full of a deep, unconditional love. "Just... maybe tell your new friend to be a little more careful with her 'studying'. Especially if you're going to be coming home for lunch."
Peter groaned, burying his face in his hands. His secret life as Spider-Man had taught him how to lie, how to hide, how to maintain a secret identity. But he was quickly learning that it was nothing compared to the challenge of hiding a very, very distracting new symbiotic relationship.
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