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“Thanks for watching him,” Jessica said, taking baby Jonathan firmly in hand and cradling him to her breasts. Jon giggled and clutched at her fingers as she rubbed his tummy, seeming both inquisitive and comforted by the return of his mother. “Did you enjoy having a little sleepover at your aunt MJ’s? Didcha? Didcha?”

“It was really good practice, actually,” Mary Jane said, gathering up the last of Jonathan’s things to go in the baby bag. The only way Jessica had been able to let the babe go was to hand over an arsenal of childcare stuff to go with him. “I know it’s a marathon, not a sprint, but—we handled the sprint part. I think we can handle the marathon too.”

“You’d better,” Carol said. “Hardy looks about ready to pop.”

“Sensitive, Danvers,” Jess replied. “And I thought I spoke my mind.”

“C’mon, let’s get home. I’m sure the sister-wives would be more than okay if Jonathan left them without one more dirty diaper.”

Mary Jane’s expression soured. “We’ll see who’s laughing when Felicia and I get our hands on Captain America and he’s Peter’s brother-husband.”

“If that were possible, we’d get him first,” Carol retorted.

“Baby wanna say goodbye to all his aunties and uncles?” Jess asked Jonathan, rocking him excitedly.

Carol groaned. “We’re never going to leave.”

“Just bring him back for a visit soon,” Mary Jane told them. “Maybe a little playdate when Felicia pops… now you’ve got me doing it.”

“Wait up!” Rogue called from deep in the apartment, and Mary Jane heard her cowboy boots stomping a moment before she launched herself into the air and flew in a flash out to the living room. She landed with a stumble. “We’re losin’ the peanut already? And me without a chance to send him on his way?”

Then she saw Carol. And Carol saw her.

Perhaps it was their respective superpowers being tensed at once, but there was a sudden charge in the air, like animals sensed before an earthquake. Jonathan started crying and Jessica hushed him, carrying him away from the tangle of the people that had crowded the room. Mary Jane almost took a step back.

“What’s she doing here?” Carol asked.

Mary Jane stepped in quickly, reversing that involuntary half-step back to put herself between them. “She’s my guest. She left the X-Men and doesn’t have anywhere to go. We met and we… bonded, so to speak, and after she helped Peter, we all agreed to let her stay here while she gets on her feet.”

“With my child?” Carol insisted.

“Our child,” Jess corrected, voice raised. “And it’s fine. You’re over what happened, remember? She’s changed. You’ve changed.”

“There’s a difference between putting up with someone while you fight Galactus and knowing that they’ve been sleeping under the same roof as your son.” Carol looked at Jess. “No, our son. Our love for each other, our family, and she was—“

“She wouldn’t hurt a child,” Mary Jane insisted. “And I would never let her. C’mon. She’s an X-Man.”

“Carol…” Rogue tried, her voice hollow. “If ah need to say ah’m sorry anymore ah will. But you must know by now how badly ah wish ah could take it all back.”

“I know what I thought,” Carol said. “I thought you’d left the Brotherhood and all that mutant supremacy shit behind, Thought you’d turned over a new leaf. Then I hear all this shit about Cyclops assassinating people, about Wolverine leading a black-ops team, about God knows what bullshit Xavier pulled before he was killed by one of his own students. So after all these years of ignoring my instincts, were they wrong? Or did you just trade one gang of mutant terrorists for another?”

Rogue stiffened, taking angry step forward. “Y’all can say what ya want about me, but don’t let me ever hear you insulting my friends, or ah’ll—“

“You’ll what? Steal my life again? Fuck up my powers? Enjoy your stolen memories, Anna-Marie. That’s the only happy life you’re ever going to see.”

“Carol, let’s go,” Jess demanded, and Carol turned on her heel and walked with her out the door.

***

Peter was home shortly, trying to figure out how you proposed to two women at once—you certainly couldn’t do one and then the other; even if the first didn’t blab, who wanted to be the second wife in some sort of group marriage? Wait, did they expect him to marry Ana too? Because that was far too much in-law for him.

Then he came through the door and heard crying and his traitor brain leapt to thoughts of Osborn. In a moment he was in the study, his webshooter slipped onto his right hand, ready for anything, but it was only Rogue on the futon, crying her eyes out. Mary Jane was trying to comfort her, providing her with tissues, but considering the number of crumpled balls of them on the floor, it wasn’t doing much.

“What is it?” Peter asked, relaxing slightly. He hadn’t been ready for this, but at least no one was bleeding or kidnapped. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s my fault,” Mary Jane said. “Carol came by to pick up Jonathan and I didn’t think that her running into Rogue…”

“Might be awkward,” Peter finished. “They didn’t…?”

“No, no fight scene.” Mary Jane smiled ruefully. That might’ve been better. “It just got pretty heavy. You mind?”

Peter silently pointed to himself. Me?

“You’re a lot more comforting than you realize. Get over here.”

Peter sat down next to Rogue, who threw herself into the role of fainting belle. She tucked herself under his arm and practically wrapped it around herself. Peter reached around with his other arm to hold her, petting her hair and wiping her eyes.

“Maybe something to drink?” Peter told Mary Jane. “How about it, Rogue? Hair of the dog that bit ya?”

“Yeah,” Rogue agreed. “Somethin’ strong… oh, lordie, Peter, did ah mess up…”

Peter nodded to MJ that they were good there, and she hurried on her way as Peter rubbed Rogue’s back calmingly.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he told her. “Not for a long time. And at least… at least no one died, from what you did.”

“Didn’t they? Ah killed the old Ms. Marvel. She don’t even go by that name anymore. Everything she has, she’s just startin’ ta get back… who knows where she’d be if ah hadn’t dun what ah dun. She coulda been leading the Avengers if it weren’t for me.”

“What happened, happened. Beating yourself up over it won’t change that. But you’ve made a hero of yourself since then, you’ve made up for what you did, that’s what matters.”

“It don’t feel like it matters any,” Rogue replied, crying into his shoulder. “Pete… ah have Red’s memories. Ah know what happened with your uncle. What’s the point of trying so hard t’make up for what happened if you never do?”

Peter shook his head. “I don’t know… maybe the first ten people I saved were all the redemption I’ve ever needed, or the first hundred… I try not to do it to get away from the guilt. What I hope is I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to do. Isn’t that better than doing something just because it makes you feel good?”

“Ah still wanna feel good. Ah wanna be happy! But ah don’t even know if that’s what ah deserve.”

“Of course you deserve to be happy.”

“Ya mean it?” Rogue asked, craning her head to turn her red-rimmed eyes on him.

“I try to think everyone deserves to be happy. Not easy to do when you’ve got a rogue’s gallery as big as mine. But even at the worst of times, I think innocent people deserve those things. And you’re not just innocent, Rogue. You’re a hero.”

“Aww, Parker.” Rogue let out a bark of a laugh as she butted her head against his chest. “Ah just thought how funny it was. Back in the X-Men, ah’m some sorta femmie-nist hero. Somethin’ ‘bout flyin’ ‘round and throwin’ tanks, just gets people fired. But when I’m in a cryin’ mood, seems like there ain’t anything for it ‘cept a big strong man.”

“I don’t know about the big part,” Peter said apologetically.

I do, Rogue thought, or maybe Mary Jane thought that. Either way, she shimmied down on the futon to rest her head in Peter’s lap. “Y’all mind givin’ me s’more of that tender lovin’ care you do?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, petting her hair. Then to himself. “It can wait.”

“What can wait?” Felicia asked. Peter guessed she’d finally gotten home, because there she was, bringing in a glass full of what smelled like gasoline. “Madame, your drink!”

Mary Jane followed behind her. “She took over the blender, sorry. Something about not having had a decent drink in nine months…”

“Home alone with Mr. Prohibition and a two-beer queer,” Felicia tsked. “Rogue, please tell me your momma didn’t raise no quitters.”

Rogue raised her head and hand just enough to take the glass and slug it down without complaint.

“Well, well! Someone likes Black Pussy,” Felicia said approvingly. “So, a brunette now? Knew it was only a matter of time.”

Rogue sniffled against Peter’s leg. He scratched her head.

“Leave her alone,” Mary Jane said, sitting down on the other end of the futon. She pulled Rogue’s feet onto her lap and gave them a rub, something which made Felicia pout with jealousy. “There, there, baby. Felicia just invents drinks and gives them horrible names.” She looked at Peter. “What happened with the prison?”

“Conjugal visit?” Felicia asked.

“Not for lack of trying,” Peter said, half to himself. “It was Sasha. Just more of her games. She said she had information about Kaine being up to something—I don’t buy it. He’s changed.”

“Not to be the family cynic,” Felicia said, leaning against the wall. “But how many evil clones do you have? Just because Kaine is your DNA doesn’t mean you should trust him.”

“Well, I don’t want to play ball with Sasha, either. And I know I can’t trust her.”

Rogue gave another sniffle. Peter rubbed between her shoulder blades. She seemed almost comatose now. Peter wondered if it was the Black Pussy.

“Want I should spoon her too?” Felicia asked. She straightened, cracked her neck. “I’ll have some of my guys look into Kaine, just in case. After all, he fucks up, he’s doing it with your DNA, your fingerprints…”

“I get it, I get it,” Peter assured her. “Wait just a sec, there’s something we have to talk about…”

He tried to get up, go somewhere private, but Rogue had her arms around his leg and she tightened them, burying her face in his thigh.

“It can wait, right?” Mary Jane reasoned.

“No, it’s waited long enough.” Peter leaned back, resigning himself to being a half-conscious Rogue’s little spoon. “I think we should go through with it.”

“It?” Felicia asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.

Mary Jane was looking at Peter, a hopeful expression in her down to the very bones.

“A family. Not just us, not just Felicia’s baby, but…” He reached out to Mary Jane and she took his hand eagerly. “All of us. And we should start trying for that family as soon as possible.”

“We should…” Mary Jane asked leadingly.

“We should!” Felicia ‘agreed’, kicking her shoes off.

“Guys!” Peter said, gesturing to Rogue. “But yeah, we should. There’s just one little thing.”

“Spider, if that’s what you call ‘little’—“

Peter gave her a look. “I don’t just want us to be a family in some… loose definition of the word. I want something on paper. I wanna get up in front of God and our friends and tell everyone we’re doing this. Because if we’re doing this… kids… we should be willing to say it.”

“You’re talking about marriage?” Mary Jane asked. “Again?”

“I know it seems old-fashioned, I mean, considering. Probably a big hassle… but we’ve been talking about this civil union, marriage thing, and if I’m willing to be a father, I should be willing to be a husband. I mean, if you’ll have me.”

“Technically, Mary Jane’s having you,” Felicia pointed out. “I’m having her. I’d still be your mistress.”

“Why do I get the feeling you like that idea?” Mary Jane asked.

“The lesbian marriage also sounds good, in a stick-it-to-the-Man sort of way,” Felicia assured her. “And my son will have to be a bastard the old-fashioned way, not because his mommy got knocked up out of wedlock.”

“That’s another thing,” Peter said. “Less bastard children in the world, has to be a good thing.”

“And after the wedding?” Mary Jane asked.

“And civil union?” Felicia reminded.

Rogue jerked her head up. “What the—ah swear my pillow jus’ moved!”

***

Peter checked his tie. The old royal blue suit still fit—and had survived far better than his tuxedo, which had taken a mortal injury when one of his apartments blew up. But tying the tie was a knack he’d lost track of. He could weave a web, just not the goddamn…

He got it. Didn’t even need to look up a Youtube video. Coming out of his room, he saw Mary Jane. Gave her the gap-mouthed look her in her wedding dress deserved. It was an expensive affair of white satin and lacy veils, enough dress for three brides, but Mary Jane carried it like royal vestments. Emma Frost herself didn’t make white look so good.

“What, this old thing?” Mary Jane asked in response to his silent reaction. “It’s just something I throw on when I don’t care what I’m married in.”

“Aren’t I not supposed to see the bride before the wedding?”

She grinned. “Peter Parker, are you really telling me you’re afraid of a little bad luck? Besides, I don’t see it as a wedding. We’re just… renewing our vows. This time, with a little extra.”

“Marriage 2: The Sequel.”

“Bigger and better,” Mary Jane agreed, laughing.

“Bigger, at least,” Felicia said. She came out of her room wearing a white tuxedo, cut so expertly that it almost made her advanced pregnancy look dignified. “Had this let out just last week. Janet van Dyne’s boutique. She has an Inhuman on staff that tailors at superspeed. I felt like telling Quicksilver he was in the wrong racket, next time I saw him.”

“You look wonderful,” Peter told her, moving in for a kiss.

“I feel like Wilson Fisk—what I get for trying to be butch.” Felicia wrinkled her nose at Mary Jane. “I’m such a girlie girl, aren’t I?”

“Don’t say that, I enjoy your girls.”

“Mmm.” Felicia glanced at Peter. “Sort of ruining the color scheme, aren’t you?”

“It was spur-of-the-moment. If you want, I think I have my Iron Spider armor somewhere…”

Felicia shook her head. “At least it’s not in red. Just think, MJ, you get to have a big church wedding and elope.”

“You get to have sex with a newlywed on her honeymoon,” Mary Jane retorted.

“Two of them! I’m such a homewrecker.” Felicia straightened her lapels. “I should’ve worn black, though. It’s slimming.”

“With tits like those, why would you ever want to be slimmer?” Mary Jane asked.

Felicia punched Peter lightly on the arm. “You could learn a lesson on compliments from her, Spider.”

“I don’t know, I always thought your tits kinda spoke for themselves.”

“Only when someone’s motorboating them. Which we might have time for. That whole ‘orgasm denial’ thing is kinda hot. MJ, you looked like you were coming hard the other day…”

Rogue cleared her throat. She’d strolled into the rec room expecting to find the threesome putting the finishing touches on their impromptu wedding attire. They hadn’t wanted to waste any time with the ceremony, or formality as it were, but Felicia and Mary Jane still wanted to make a bit of an event out of it, which Peter cheerfully went along with.

However, seeing them altogether, dressed in black-tie, it was shocking how obviously they wanted to jump each other’s bones.

“Sorry to interrupt, but… the limo’s here?”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Limo?”

“Blame Mary Jane,” Felicia said. “You think there’s room for all four of us and that dress in a sedan?”

“Four—wait, where’s Ana?”

“She’s driving,” Mary Jane said. “You know how she gets.”

“Hope I didn’t offend her by not offering.” Peter frowned. Christ, that would make Ana third…

“Nah, she’s never getting married. Something about how she’d have to stop hunting and pop out kids—“

“Which is our job, clearly,” Felicia interrupted. Then, belatedly: “Thanks Rogue! We’ll be right down.”

“And ah’ll be gone by the time you get back,” Rogue promised. She’d just awoken from her crying jag’s depressed little unconsciousness, and though calmed down, was sure she’d feel better after a hot shower and a fresh coat of paint. “Take myself out to see a movie.”

“Better make it two,” Mary Jane suggested, eying Peter.

“See if the Lord of the Rings is playing,” Felicia added. “Or some kind of film festival…”

Peter scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, feel free to stay if you want.”

Rogue blinked. “I… I can?”

“Yeah. You just, I don’t know, stay in your room and we’ll go to Ana’s room, that’s furthest away, and try to keep it down—“

“I do have gags,” Felicia realized.

“I’ll see a movie,” Rogue said. “See if I can’t drop a few resumes off too.”

Mary Jane linked her arm with Peter’s. “C’mon, Peter. Let’s go make this the shortest engagement on record.”

Felicia grabbed Peter’s other arm. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we’ll be back!” she agreed.

“I’m…” Peter was practically being frog-marched to the door. He craned his neck to see Rogue. “Good luck with the job search!”

“Good luck with the… ladies.”

They were really making good time, for three people walking arm in arm, one of them pregnant. Maybe Rogue would put together an over-night bag and see if she couldn’t spend the night on someone’s couch, just to be on the safe side.

***

Mary Jane and Felicia practically skipped out of the courthouse, Peter trailing behind, hands in his pockets, ever so slightly overwhelmed that this was happening, happening so fast. Felicia did a U-turn, dragging Mary Jane back to him, and the three wrapped each other in hugs.

“Here, here…” Felicia said, and slipped a ring onto Mary Jane’s left hand. “That’s mine… ours…” She slipped another ring onto her own left hand. “Civil union. And these…” She presented two more rings. One of these was a man’s plain band. “Are for you two’s right hands.”

“These aren’t stolen, are they?” Peter asked.

“No, Peter,” Felicia said condescendingly. “I purchased them with money I stole, completely legitimately.”

“Well, as long as I’m not compromising my moral principles.”

Felicia pounded both their chests with the heels of her hands. “C’mon! We still need to get you two to the chapel. I am not being the most married person in this relationship!”

She ran down to the limo, knocking on the driver’s window. Ana rolled it down.

“Thanks for getting the paperwork filed,” Felicia said. “Here.” She bowed her head and took off the necklace that ran to dangle deep between her cleavage. On the end was an engagement ring. “It’s Peter’s mother’s. He gave it to me so I could be the sex-mad fiancé and Mary Jane could be the dutiful wife. I want you to have it.”

Ana collared her hand around it. “You know I cannot be a wife.”

“I know—we know,” Felicia said, as Peter and Mary Jane caught up with her. “Just say you’re… engaged to be engaged. Even if you never actually marry, it’s a way of saying we’re all the people we would marry—right?”

Peter nodded, putting an arm around Felicia’s waist.

Ana slipped the necklace on. “I am engaged to Peter Parker… when I die, master, can I be buried beside you as your wife?”

“Yeah. Why not,” Peter replied evenly.

“Very good,” Ana said. “Would you like to marry Mary Jane now?”

Peter held up his own rings. “We’re ready.”

“The justice of the peace is back inside,” Ana said.

Mary Jane turned on her heel. “This is going to be awkward…”

“Maybe wear your veil down,” Peter suggested, following after her. “You would be surprised how little it takes to have a secret identity.”

***

“Jee-zus Christ, Anna Marie! Ah mean Jesus!” Rogue stuffed a few clothes into a plastic bag, late of Target, uncaring of how white trash it was. Mary Jane had taken her shopping earlier, buying her more clothes than just the ones on her back, but preparing an overnight bag was still woefully close to packing her life up. The nagging fear that exiting the honeymoon would also mean giving up the contact high of life with the Parkers put her on edge.

“’Feel free to stay if you want!’” Rogue remembered, heightening her pitch to match Peter’s somewhat nebbish voice. “He didn’t mean he wanted you to crawl into bed with him, ya freakin’ dumbass! Why would he!? He ain’t got no idea who you are, he ain’t in love with you, and even if he’s the biggest mutant ally on the planet, that don’t mean he’d want you when he’s got three baseline humans lookin’ like they got their genes at a designer boutique! Ah mus’ be goin’ out of my mind! Ah must be more undersexed than those three fillies! Jus’ as well ya ain’t marrying him, skunk-tail, because you wouldn’t neva had been able to keep your hands off that boy, even for Ms. Mary Jane!”

She stopped herself from jamming a pair of sneakers into the bag. She’d hardly need those for the night, nor was there room for them in the damn bag! She’d been so damn rash, she’d probably packed nothing but underwear! Sighing, Rogue opened the plastic bag up to root through it and make sure she had everything she needed. It was Mary Jane and her friends who’d be spending the weekend in their underwear, if that! She’d be dressin’ like an Eskimo, since she was so used to protecting people from her touch that she felt naked without long sleeves. Like her not wearing gloves was an NC-17.

And your stupid ass thought ya could play with Peter’s peter. Ya can barely even play with yourself since you got your powers righted, as if you’re gonna slip up and drain yourself!

Growling at herself, Rogue certified that she’d packed enough clothes, and in the right quantities, and tied the loops of the plastic bag closed. Did she have everything? She wouldn’t get a chance to come back for anything later—once Mary Jane and Felicia had Peter alone, the place was going to turn into the Playboy Mansion’s guesthouse. Lucky Yankee bitches.

Speaking of luck… “My lucky buffalo nickel,” she said to herself. “Where the heck d’ya get to? Ah sure ain’t getting lucky on my own!”

Casting her eyes about, Rogue saw in on the nightstand of her room, right next to the clock radio. At least something was going right. She picked it up and fell into her nervous habit of flipping it as she walked to the door, her overnight bag slung over her shoulder. Well, it wasn’t all lost. She’d heard there were a few Spider-Men these days. Clones and such. Maybe she should look up one’a them, just to satisfy her curiosity. It wasn’t weird or anything. Asking Mystique to look like Mr. Peter, that would be weird. This would just be her and that nice Spider-Man 2099 she’d heard was stuck back now. It’d be as normal as any X-Men hook-up.

She reached out to catch the buffalo nickel, work it over her knuckles and back to her flipping thumb, just like she always did, but it shot between her fingers. Rogue twisted her head to follow the coin as it seemed to abruptly speed, shooting right down through the floorboards.

“Heck darnit!” Rogue cried, tossing her overnight bag aside. Just her luck to lose her lucky coin that her momma gave her. And considering how unlucky she’d been lately, she didn’t want to see how bad it would get without her lucky buffalo nickel.

She could just rip up the floorboards, but heck if she wanted to ruin the Parkers’ honeymoon with thoughts of home repair. Maybe she could just go downstairs and ask the neighbors if a nickel had fallen into their rooms. Or it could still be in the apartment, just in a wine cellar or something. This was one hell of an apartment.

Rogue cast about for Mary Jane’s memories, still locked in her head. They were fading, but she seemed to recall something about a secret room that laid underneath the penthouse. Perfect! She’d go in there, retrieve her lucky coin, and get out with the Parkers none the wiser.

Hurrying, she followed the steps of MJ’s memory exactly, going to a full-length mirror in the living room for the people leaving to touch up their looks. What Rogue did, though, was strike a sequence in the upper right quadrant of the mirror. It triggered a keypad hidden behind the glass that sensed motion rather than pressure. Her luck—Rogue didn’t have to have the right fingerprints to get in, just the right code.

The mirror slid away into the wall, revealing a brief staircase. Down below was a sort of armory. Stolen loot, trinkets, go-bags of petty cash and fake passports, some nasty weapons, some plans for safes and banks, some wanted posters for the Black Cat, La Gata Negra, Schwarze Katze… all in all, a pretty nice hideout, one Rogue totally ignored to get down on her hands and knees and scour for the coin.

There it was, fallen neatly on the crawlspace’s floor, right in front of one of the Cat’s spare costumes. Rogue picked it up and put it securely in her pocket. Then she stood and saw… pictures.

Peter was a photographer, and these pictures were as valuable—as incriminating—as any loot. And they were swimming in Rogue’s vision as she remembered them, lightning flashes of memory as bright as the camera had been…

Her and Felicia crawling naked onto bed, pulling Peter behind them, he wanted to kiss them, but they guided him onto his back, made him submit to their every touch.

Felicia was on all fours, Peter behind her, and Mary Jane poured tequila on him, on Felicia’s back, and they licked it off both…

She was riding Peter when Felicia laid down beside him. Tilted his face to hers. They kissed and it was like Mary Jane was riding them both…

Felicia in Peter’s lap, facing him, and her behind him, all of them guiding each other’s hands over their bodies as they found new lips to kiss…

Her and Felicia on their backs, Peter on top of Felicia, she gasped as he entered, eyes wide even after he’d been inside her countless times, Felicia looked at her, eyes locking together in a lingering gaze. She kissed Peter as he fucked Felicia, all of them smiling, either had orgasmed or were about to…

Rogue felt hot. Then she felt lightheaded. She fell to the floor as Peter and Felicia had their way with her—her way with her. When she closed her eyes, the pictures were behind her eyelids.

***

The leather felt tight on my body. Real tight. I looked at Felicia. She didn’t appear to have any trouble breathing. And with boobs like those, I’d notice.

“How much did you have your spare suit taken in?” I asked her.

“Why, MJ, I have no idea what you mean,” Felicia replied, innocent as she’d be in a line-up. “You’re taller, that’s all. Broad shoulders…”

“Right. Have you always worn high heels with your costume, or were the boots just my imagination?”

“Why do you ask? Have a butch thing?”

“I’m dating Peter so, no. Clearly.”

“Try to walk like this,” Felicia told me as she left the dressing room. “Leather is unforgiving, but you don’t have to give it something to forgive.”

I tried to mimic her long-legged walk—different from a model’s slightly boppy strut, less of a dance, more of an intimidation tactic—as we went into the bedroom. Peter sat on his bed, legs crossed in the familiar repose I’d grown used to in our marriage, like he didn’t even notice how high his station had risen. He could’ve probably paid someone to sew up his costume, too. I’m sure with Felicia, we could just pass it off as some kinky thing.

It kinda was some kinky thing, with Felicia.

Not so much with me. I mean, not usually.

He hadn’t even noticed we’d been gone, and it took a while to squeeze into one of Felicia’s suits if you didn’t know what you were doing. Or if you’d had a donut, like, ever. I got his attention. I might not have been a part-time dominatrix, but I’m modeled for enough watch-out-for-red-paint fashion companies to know that if you rubbed your thighs together in leather, people tended to notice.

“Hey Pete,” I said, greeting him with a million-watt-smile. “I know you’re not much for the gossip rags, but have you ever heard of ‘Who Wore It Better’?”

He looked between us like he was in a fugue. I could sympathize. I knew how good I looked—leggy, tall, and slender, with my own sizable breasts to compare favorably with Felicia’s. Maybe more than a handful were a waste, like Gwen had always said, but I had enough of a handful for some big hands.

“You’re, eek!…” Peter had poked his finger with the needle. “You’re both so…”

Felicia preened. “But who’s better?”

“Old and busted?” I asked, inclining my head to Felicia. It was a lot of fun sparring with her. A little bit like playing with Gwen, only Felicia had the claws to fight back. “Or the new hotness?”

“Whoever you pick, gets to go first,” Felicia clarified. “And who better to go first than moi?”

“Sorry, honey, you and leather is old news. But for me, it’s a hot new look. How about it, Peter? Wanna try the best of both world?”

Felicia cupped her breasts. “’Best’ and ‘both’ don’t belong in a sentence without these.”

Then suddenly, Peter did something odd. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, in his uniform bottom and a too-large tee shirt, sewing up his top with his webshooters still on his wrists, he burst out in laughter so intense that he fell over.

I put my hands on my hips. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Felicia asked. “I know it is, but go easy on her, she’s sensitive.”

Peter sat up as easily as one of those weeble-wooble-won’t-fall-down-things, effortlessly planting himself on his butt and his feet on the mattress. “You two. You’re adorable. With how you’re always playing games, coming up with new things you want to try, trying to one-up each other. It’s just—I’m lucky, that’s all. So lucky it feels like maybe I actually made up for all the stupid mistakes I’ve made.”

I was touched. Not heart-grew-three-sizes-that-day touched—there wasn’t room in the catsuit—but it’d been a while since I’d heard Peter talk about me like that. I looked over at Felicia and saw a glimmer in her eyes as well, right smack dab in the middle of her mask. A warmth she ineffectually tried to play cool.

“Don’t think you’re going to get out of answering this with a Hallmark card,” Felicia told him, crossing her arms in an overly serious fashion. Then uncrossing them when she realized that hid her tits. “C’mon. Whose color is black, anyway? The Black Cat’s? Or Mary Jane ‘No Black In Her Name’ Watson?”

“You look better. Of course.”

I let anger give me a boost of adrenaline, though I knew he meant less than nothing by it. “Of course!?”

“Homefield advantage,” Peter said. “She’s just exactly how the Black Cat is supposed to look. And you may be exactly how Mary Jane is supposed to look, but you’ll always be runner-up at the Black Cat.”

I pouted playfully while Felicia gave me the eye.

“Yeah, nice try, Red. But this kitten just doesn’t look right as a ginger.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “Majestic Mary Jane without her lovely red locks? What kind of idiot would even suggest the idea? Next you’ll be calling me a nerd…”

Felicia gave me a push towards the bed. “Well, since that catsuit isn’t working for you, we’d better get it off…”

“Get something off,” I told her.

“You could leave it on a little while,” Peter said. “Give me a chance to get used to it.” He smiled leadingly. “I might just change my mind.”

“Just try it!” Felicia said smugly, and instantly Peter was on his feet atop the bed, then jumping down from it, landing with perfect balance and suddenly kissing me.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he muttered into my lips.

Felicia moved in to steal him, and Peter let her take a kiss as I sucked at his throat, searching for his pulse point, then he had my lips again and his hand was on the top of Felicia’s head and that famous silver hair and he was pushed her down to her knees and she didn’t mind going down in any sense of the word.

“Mary Jane, I’ve always loved you,” he told me as I got his zipper for Felicia. He burst out, right into the cat burglar’s mouth. “Felicia, I’ve always wanted to fuck you. And vice versa, of course.”

I kissed him as Felicia sucked him and from the way we were moaning, it was hard to tell who was getting the better deal—even counting him.

Somehow, I pulled myself away. Felicia had only taken some of Peter’s cock in her mouth. There was some left for me to rub, and I could feel some of the Cat’s sweet frustration as I massaged the base of his cock where she couldn’t yet swallow. So I’m a bitch sometimes. Sue me.

“We have to share, loverboy. This was Felicia’s idea, so she gets to choose. Heads or tail?”

Felicia gave me the finger and didn’t let go of his dick.

“I guess she doesn’t care,” I continued. “Hard to blame her.”

I stepped over the kneeling Felicia and got onto the bed, all fours. For once, I was glad for how tight the leather was. It showed off my ass so good it might as well have been translucent. “Fuck me in the ass, Peter. I’m just as much a slut as her.”

From the moan Felicia gave, I knew she had just tasted precum. Between whatever taboos we’d once had, and Peter’s sheer size, anal had strictly been ordered off the menu. And I was guessing Felicia had been no different: more to do with size than with anything against naughtiness. So Peter fucking one of us in the ass was a treat for him, and I wanted to offer it just as much as Felicia did.

Peter did a funny thing then. He took hold of Felicia’s hair and eased her off his prick, looking down at her with both the affection I’d seen so frequently and some of the cool, remote intellect I’d witnessed in him from time to time. As silly as he was, he could be scary-smart on occasion, and I figured he’d come up with a way for all of us to enjoy this.

“Go to her,” Peter told Felicia, forcing her to look up at him. “Eat her while I fuck her.”

I shivered at the thought. So did Felicia, but she gritted her teeth against her arousal. “Why should I?”

He lifted her up as easily as a doll, bringing her ear to his mouth, and whispered something too low for me to hear. But I could see Felicia stiffen in abject shock.

“You… you will…?” she asked. He nodded. “God, Spider… didn’t figure you for the type!”

I wiggled my ass. “Guys! You mind! I thought superheroes were supposed to take care of us ordinary citizen types!”

“Oh, we’ll take care of you, alright.” Felicia grinned. “I was planning on trashing that suit anyway, now that it’s got redhead all over it…”

***

Rogue sucked on her fingers, wishing she could remember how exciting it was to suck a man’s cock, but clearly able to recall how fun Felicia had made it look. She frowned slightly in her sleep, wondering if she would ever have that experience, if she would lose control of her powers before she could—if she would like it, if she would be able to satisfy a man.

“The best part of giving a guy a blowjob,” Mary Jane said, in remembered thought so vivid she might as well have been whispering in Rogue’s ear, “is when he’s about to come. You suck as hard as you can and it’s like he just bursts. Then you swallow all of it. They love it when you do that. And the taste is so good.”

Rogue shuddered, thinking how nasty it sounded. She didn’t think she could manage to suck a man’s cock, let alone swallow his cum. Even imagining Gambit didn’t make the thought anywhere near as attractive as Felicia made it look. What was she? A lesbian, for the idea of sucking a guy off to strike her as so naughty? She had liked the memory of Felicia in her catsuit—Mary Jane in her catsuit—but was that just how Mary Jane had felt or was it something more?

Would Mary Jane really be so attracted to herself? She wasn’t Emma Frost or anything!

Maybe… maybe it was different with Peter. He didn’t seem as uncouth as Gambit did. Heck, compared to the Cajun, Peter was a pure Southern gentleman, the way he’d been so nice and sweet with Felicia and Mary Jane, but also so skilled, so powerful when he needed to be…

Rogue sucked on her fingers, feeling the blackness come again with its memories, its borrowed pleasures. Maybe sucking cock wouldn’t be so bad… if it was for someone like Peter…

***

Felicia was waiting for Peter and Mary Jane when they got back to the limo. Once they got in, they saw why she had let them go without her. She’d undressed, but only partially—her shirt and bra were gone, she was stripped to the waist except for her tuxedo’s dinner jacket, and she held that closed at the lapels, though it suddenly seemed impossible for it to close with her voluminous breasts in the way. They pushed nakedly at the pinched-shut sides of the jacket, rosy pink areolas refusing to be hidden.

“Congratulations to the happy couple,” Felicia said, eyes flickering to the rings on Peter and Mary Jane’s right hands. MJ now had gold on either ring finger. “May I kiss the bride?”

Mary Jane stared at her, hungry, and Felicia waited, teasing MJ with her eyes. Teasing both of them.

It was, of course, Mary Jane who made the first move. She grabbed Felicia, pulling her into a savage embrace, and they dove into each other with abandon.

Peter summoned up enough nonchalance to press the intercom button to the driver. “Home, James. And don’t spare the horses.”

Mary Jane’s lips never left Felicia’s as they fell to the bench seating. Felicia locked her legs around Mary Jane, was suddenly distracted by Mary Jane shoving her bouquet in her face, running the flowers along her jaw. A cute smile twitched across Felicia’s face as she took a whiff. She let go of her jacket, allowing a breast to lunge from its confinement and knock one lapel clear to the side, and ran her fingers gingerly along the bouquet’s petals.

“Caught it,” she said. “Does that mean I’m getting married next?”

“If you really want to be sure, you should get my garter belt,” Mary Jane told her. She licked her lips slowly, making a show of it.

Peter took off his jacket, loosened his tie, sat down opposite them. He was almost confused when Mary Jane got up, Felicia too, and they sat down on either side of him. Felicia’s jacket hung open. Its collar fell down her bare shoulders, as if pushed away by her heaving breasts. She breathed hard.

Peter stroked Mary Jane’s cheek. She took his hand, kissed it gently, and put it on Felicia’s leg. He could feel the strong muscle through her trousers. But, higher, there was not a trace of panty.

“You remember what I said?” he asked her, Felicia, turning his head to regard both. “The first, what, week we were together?”

“What you said isn’t exactly what sticks in my memory,” Felicia said.

Peter gave her a quick peck on the cheek to tide her over. “It was something about—how I was so lucky to have both of you, it was like I had finally made up for my mistakes. Like maybe… all that guilt wasn’t something I should be carrying around anymore, because I had to have made it right if I was this blessed.”

“That didn’t last,” Mary Jane remarked.

“Not especially, no. Somewhere along the line, I got this idea that nothing worth doing is easy—probably hanging out with Jolly Jameson all the time. And then that got twisted into thinking that doing good should make me feel miserable. I don’t know… is it arrogant to say that I deserve this? This much happiness?”

“I’ll say it,” Mary Jane said. “Peter, you deserve all the happiness you can get.”

“And if you don’t,” Felicia added, “we do. After all… we aren’t exactly getting nothing out of this arrangement—“

“Doing it for charity,” Mary Jane agreed, shaking her head demonstratively.

“Though you are a bit of a charity case,” Felicia admitted.

Peter wheeled on her to protest, but she forcefully turned his head away from her and Mary Jane was there to meet him. She kissed him savagely: the worry and excitement of the weddings had had nowhere to go, so now she poured all that adrenaline into their locked lips.

Felicia daintily reached across Peter. She pulled Mary Jane’s leg toward Peter’s lap. MJ got the idea; her body followed. She rolled against Peter. And she turned Peter’s head back to Felicia. Who kissed him, slow and deliberate. Complete seduction.

Mary Jane’s wedding dress may have been classy, but there was only so much cleavage it could hide. Felicia pushed him down facefirst into her neckline, while she leaned to Mary Jane for a kiss that was long and perfect. Their mouths danced until Peter came up for air, locking eyes with redhead and cat burglar as they continued their kiss. He surrendered to it almost as much as them, kissing them with an intensity that grew every time he switched from one to the other.

Then he tugged Felicia’s jacket down, trapping her arms at her sides and exposed her breasts completely, pushing Felicia to her knees and standing up, standing over her, Felicia biting her lip helplessly as she stared at his cock in front of her.

“Careful, Peter, the limo’s a rental. It costs more if they have to steam-clean the thing.” She smiled up at him. “Better let me swallow.”

Mary Jane looked pitifully at the yards of fabric that surrounded her. It was all well and good for Peter and Felicia, they could just pull down their flies, but she practically needed Mr. Darcy to undress.

“How long until we get to the hotel?” she asked plaintively.

Felicia actually looked away from Peter’s groin as he opened his belt. “Actually, I think we passed it three blocks ago…”

“You’re sure?” Mary Jane asked, having the most blood in her brain at the moment.

“Cat burglar,” Felicia said. “We pick up things like that.”

Peter tapped his forehead. “I didn’t get any—tingle. Maybe we just missed our exit.”

Almost growling, Felicia angrily shrugged her jacket back onto her shoulders and closed it to modesty. “Parker, if this is one of your freaks ruining our night, I get to kill him.”

“It’s probably nothing,” Peter said. He wasn’t quite left holding his dick in his hands, but he did have a pretty tight grip on his zipper. “Ana wants to surprise us or…”

Felicia slapped her hand down on the intercom button. “Ana, you mail-order bitch, why are we not at the hotel yet? And if you say anything about totems—“

The intercom abruptly cut off from the other side. Felicia pounded on the divider, but there was no response.

“Peter, bust it down!” she told him.

“Uh,” he lowered his voice, “secret identity? There isn’t much Peter Parker could do if he was stuck in the back of a limo.”

“The Black Cat can,” Felicia replied.

Peter grabbed her arm. “But Peter Parker wouldn’t want her to. If we start something, Mary Jane will be right in the middle of it. We let this play out, wait for our moment, see if Parker can exit stage left and Spider-Man can make an appearance.”

“Stop referring to yourself in the third-person,” Mary Jane said. She reached out and tried the door. It was impossible to undo the lock.

“They’ll have thought of that,” Felicia told her.

“Yeah, but it’s just like you two to not think to try.” Mary Jane sighed. “Really would’ve made my night if we could’ve just jumped out.”

“In your wedding dress?”

“I don’t plan on using it again,” MJ said. “Peter, you’re sure you’re not getting—“

“No, no spider-sense.” Then, more worriedly: “Not yet, at any rate.”

Mary Jane sighed again. “My mother always told me this would happen if I eloped…”