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The wind zipped past Peter's ears as he swung precariously through the streets of New York, deviating from his usual stomping grounds. He felt the chill of freshness tickle the tips of his fingers as he strung out another web, turning occasionally to check if Mr. Stark was still there with him, his zip-zooming something his mentor loved to groan about.
So far, so good.
High and full of life, Peter still couldn't get over how Mr. Stark loved to cut corners. Often with the red-and-gold accompanying him, Mr. Stark had cheated and put the suit into suit auto-pilot, internal husk empty within. Yet, after a myriad of begging, hearing the live rattled-out complaints from his agitated mentor reassured the boy he was actually there. And not four miles northbound in the complex relaxing in a leather seat with his feet up.
Not that Peter wanted him to suffer, of course. His presence was greatly appreciated.
"How're you holding up back there?" He asked, voice singing in a smile as he soaked himself in the adrenaline of the open air. A huff of air cracked over the channel, chuckle nowhere to be found.
"Geez, kid, ever heard of asking one of your friends to make the rounds with you?" Tony had lost the little gamble Peter had offered him when all talking attempts failed.
Normally he liked to avoid donning the suit for something so benign; like helping women cross the street or stopping a petty theft at the ATM. However, watching the knit of Peter's eyebrows sink low to his walnut-coloured eyes, signs of life dulling in the silence — he really had to figure out why the kid had such an effect on him — Tony knew he couldn't refuse.
He didn't need the boy withstanding another injury from some 'episode of the week' wannabe. Where they had to go through the whole spiel of Peter fighting outside his weight class — which always seemed to go in one ear and out the other. The boy was incapable of letting crimes go unresolved.
May would kill him if Peter returned back with his arm once again in a sling. Or worse, a cast...
"Well, Mr. Stark, when I asked you if you could help me in a mo', I thought you were prepared for this?" Peter lithely replied back, twirling on his web for more height as he perched himself on a lamp post. His feet shifted indignantly for a second, and Tony held a breath, hovering beside him, afraid of something.
He didn't know why he was acting protective — his hands off approach on the kid working well thus far — expect when it didn't.
Every tiny motion was witnessed in the HUD.
He heard the faint hisses under his breath between the light panting. The slipping of his grip scratch underneath the noise. Something was nibbling the back of Tony's frazzled mind to keep a keen eye on the twitchy teen. He couldn't pry his eyes away from spandex acrobat.
Yeesh, all this fatherly attentiveness wasn't good for his heart.
"Well, kid, I thought this would be more of a 'let's go and patrol without getting our feet on the ground' sort of deal. Instead of, 'hey let's practically get out of New York', because you're afraid to reign in your bleeding heart."
The eyes on the suit widened a fraction before narrowing. He knew that look. Contempt. He didn't intend to chastise Peter for where his patrol was taking him, yet he knew the kid couldn't let injustice go unfought. Moreover, the pesky feeling was starting to give Tony a headache. He knew it would be a bad time to suggest taking a break.
In an unlikely move, Tony found himself apologising. "Sorry, that was a bit—"
"Harsh? Yeah..." Peter snipped back. Wow, he'd never heard him voice that sort of tone before. He almost felt proud of the kid in some twisted way for developing a mean streak.
"Yeah." He added on, twisting his head behind him. He noticed something on the censors for a split second before it fell off the radar. Hopping into the cameras of the street, he noticed a ruckus. Single figure, bumping into little old ladies. Peter's favourite. He couldn't refuse smiling under the mask as he clapped his hands together, gaining the boy's slipping attention, "well, well, well, looks like we've found what you're looking for."
They moved as a unit with Peter taking the lead. He ziplined down to the street after curving around a few corners, using the bricked apartment as an added boost. Tony watched the kid athletically traverse the city, keen eye still watching for the slip-ups.
He was afraid that the moment he'd blink, it would all go to shit.
It only took a minute at best for them to reach the stampeding criminal, their bulky appearance reflecting nowhere near accurately in the dingy cameras about. Peter let go of the web as he free-falled rapidly like a shooting star, landing in his signature pose a few feet ahead of their target.
"Busy day at the mall, huh?" He looked at the packaged box tucked under his arm, "Guess those 75% deals got you running like it's black Friday." He certainly could rival Tony with some of his quips. The criminal dared not to interact with Spider-Man as he trampled ahead. Peter was quick enough to leap over his head and attach a web across his back, roping him like a bull.
"What the—?"
"You know it's rude to ignore people when they talk to you?" His carefree words sure were different from a minute ago. Tony remained hovering in the air as back up, repulsor warmed up and ready to blast, as Peter manhandled the guy, hog tying him with his webbing.
There was a moment where his legs trembled as he lifted the man away from the center of the walkway, but Tony figured it was normal.
"Hang on, I don't recognise this place?" Peter commented when he held the unmarked box in his arms. He looked around him as Tony peered down at the criminal, noticing him flop around like a seal in the binds. What the hell did Peter make that stuff from again?
And as procedural 'criminals of the week' patrols went, this one was rather successful. It didn't take then any extra effort to find who the brute stole the box from, nor any skin off their nose to offer some advice about unmarked deliveries. Peter did all the talking, all the human relations kind of thing as Tony kicked back, still studying his below-baseline movements.
His eyes hadn't tricked him when he noticed him stumble. Nor his ears when a louder groan than normal pursed through. Just what the hell was going on. With little time wasted they returned to the air and continued to circle around the block, finding some success with the streets below. They were barely at it past noon when Peter's hands were a second too late to switch webs.
Tony whirred as something terrible strangled his heart. He watched the kid fall aimlessly through the sky for a second before landing him in his arms. The slip-up stunned Peter, his mask's eyes becoming shockingly wide. Something inviting brushed up against his nose. Tony ignored it, peering down. There was a shiver coming from his hands, unprepared for the misplay.
Tony kept quiet, biting back a poorly-timed retort. It was Peter who said anything first after Tony landed them down on a nearby rooftop. His arms coddled his chest, afraid to let the tremble resurface.
"Uh, kinda scared us both back there for a minute, didn't I?" His voice was distance. Sheepish as he mulled over the previous moment, white eyes remaining raised like mountains. Tony's heart continued to race, screaming at how correct such a benign assumption turned out to be.
He hated such impulses to go against the rationality of his mind. A drawling chuckle from Tony attempted to keep things level.
"I didn't think today would involve my guts slipping out of my backside but here we are, kid. Seriously, I'm not gonna mention this to your aunt May if you don't want me to but you gave me more than a week's worth of scares. And you know that I'm not terrified of anything."
A weak laugh surged through the comms. Peter circled in place, pacing almost. "Uh..." His voice died a soft death before sounding louder, as if he was in trouble. "Mr. Stark, do you think we can cash in one of those breaks you love? I, uh, don't feel so good..."
Tony had never been known to say no to a break. All he needed now was a shawarma in hand and he'd be golden. Yet Peter's demeanor concerned him. He moved closer and placed a hand on Peter's slumped shoulder. The contact forced him to connect their gaze and Peter's fell away first, tipping to study his feet.
"Are you really okay? Never seen you just forget something as simple as walking to you." He breathed as soft as he could without full on panicking. It would do neither of them any good for him to go 'dad-mode.'
"I, um, I don't know."
Tony waited for more. Having Peter admit that he was faltering was never a good sign for him. He always new the kid loved to flaunt his reflexes, but the slip was no where aligned with the rest of his pranking. Trust the kid to give him a proper summary of his own body. Tony always had to kick him to his dorm whenever he stayed over at the complex, worried that his growing body was running a little too hot on the odd occasion.
All those sleepless nights had to catch up to Spider-Man sometime...
"Alright, here's what we're gonna do, kid." He wanted to palm his temple, "I'm going to call Happy and get him to drive us back. He should know where we are, so it should be here lickety-split."
"No. Not Happy. I can walk, see?" He wasn't fooling Tony.
He rolled his eyes, "I would almost call it crawling. Anyways, would you rather I carry you back princess style and give the tabloids easy prey for tomorrow's editorial?"
"Happy's best." He begrudgingly agreed, finding himself all of a sudden a hinderance to The Iron-Man. Tony didn't see it that way, offering his body as his transport.
"See, not that hard to agree. Keep those swinging legs still for a sec, Petey, don't want to be kicked off course as I dive us back down."
With ease, Tony found them a nearby deserted alley to squat into as he dialed a new number through the comms. He wanted Happy to park somewhere close as reassurance, in case Peter changed his mind. He'd often been known to switch impulses like he did t-shirts, and Tony didn't want this patrolling moment to be left on lay-by for another time.
Securing the alleyway, Tony removed the face-place of the suit to get a human look at the boy without the blips and blops while half-kneeling in front of Peter.
The boy had taken no time to slouch against the wall, panting without remorse, tilting his head into the crevice of his shoulder. He lowered himself further and further, digging his heels in as he attempted to stop what Tony thought was a simple headache.
"So, you're either dehydrated or getting a fever. Am I close?"
There was no reply except in the form of a wry laugh. He panted heavily like a dog, clawing at his thighs as nothing appeared to work. Tony eyed the long ditch and watched a few people pass by nonchalantly, worry breeding in his brows. "So, um? Broken wrist?"
He shook his head in another no.
"Not really giving me any hints here, kid..." Tony scratched his cheek. He had muted the ongoing call with Happy, hoping Peter would open up to him.
"Mr. Stark, just give me a min."
"I've given you fifteen, champ."
Minutes of stringent silence passed as Peter attempted to make small talk with his usual flourish, but the longer he went at it — feeble attempts lasting not even five words in — the worse he became. He was losing strength, slouching deeper into his chest, crumpling composure sinking into the wall, the longer Tony prodded at his senses.
He inhaled. There was that scent again.
The hell was that?
You would think it wouldn't take a genius to figure it out. Tony shuddered between clenched teeth as something stirred wild inside him. Like wildfire, flaying outwards. He snatched his lidded gaze slowly to a slipping Peter, finally connecting the restless dots.
He was going through his heat.
Geez, talk about oblivious. It's not like Tony didn't have these sorts of things scribbled in a calendar somewhere. Just how stupid could he be to willingly let the kid sweet-talk him into leaving the compound?
"Peter?" His voice was afraid of how Peter would act. He attempted to keep his distance, shuffling only a micro step forward. Peter flinched, Spidey-senses swarmed by the emerging pain. He winced, shrinking into himself.
"I didn't expect it to come today..."
"I know..." Tony was out of his element, sticking his placating hands outwards. His insides were twisted in the same way Peter's were, yet instead of heats, he went through ruts. "How about we figure this mess out at the compound? Can you make it to the car?" Shit, where the hell was the button to unmute the call?
Pepper had warned him in sticking close to Peter. He always figured his concoction of pills — some to aid the skewed depression he was going through — would prevent him from getting hard. Fat chance there. His cock stirred unpleasantly in the bodysuit he was wearing underneath the iron, throbbing in sickening waves.
He didn't want to entertain the thought of defiling his mentee.
However, Peter's body couldn't wait.
He squirmed, fingers splaying outwards and blooming against his chest as he sizzled an erotic groan behind his lips, his mask doing nothing in hiding his sloppy expression. The spandex tightened around his lips each time he stifled the inevitable.
As an alpha, Tony could see all; feel all. Stepping out the suit he apprehensively moved closer to the failing omega and caressed his cheek. In a comforting gesture, he reminded himself, not for anything else. But the look Peter gave him through the mask made him salivate. He wriggled a finger to the break and toyed with the red, plucking it upwards.
Peter allowed him to lift it off, his wet lips barely able to move in anything but a moaning fashion.
"Jesus, kiddo..." Tony soaked it all in. "I'm getting Happy here, pronto!"
He couldn't allow himself to proceed further. Peter whined, fluttering voice wreaking havoc to Tony's normally lax composure. His mouth ran dry. "I know you're holding back. It seems easy for you, doesn't it... but me... I can't handle your scents. All day you've been eye-fucking me, haven't you. Your—your pheromones tell me otherwise."
His unreliable hands latched around the hem of his shirt and pulled Tony close. Their noses touched, brushing away as he breathed against his lips, needs carnal as his voice rang reedy.
"You don't know how an alpha makes a mewling omega feel, don't you?"
Tony struggled to swallow, gaping his lips in stall.
"You've captured me. Overpowered my mind. My lips. I moan for you, Mr. Stark. I... I need you. I'm so thirsty and my head's spinning and I don't know what else to do. I don't think I can hold back anymore... please? I need it." His eyes creased in a drunken expression as he nuzzled his nose close to his, lining their lips up.
Slowly he moved to the space and pecked him light before whining gratuitously when he connected them again. He rubbed himself in the space of Tony's hips as he danced against the body to the one-sided kiss, bulges wide and yearning, tightening in already tight fabrics as he stirred with rapturous need.
His lips planted against any spot they could find, smashing harder and harder as his pulse grew dire. He ground hard with infatuation, rolling life to his loin. Tony found himself after a few moments, blinking as he swam a hand around Peter's neck and linked them closer, hoping he wasn't making the wrong choice.
Peter wanted it. He just hoped it wouldn't be caught on camera.
He'd never live down the earful Pepper would give him if he was caught on film railing his intern. He wasn't sure how he'd live through this heat-swallowing moment, let alone the fallout of dealing with the emotional baggage of dealing with Peter's needy and whiny proposition.
Even as his southern region spoke the language Peter was wriggling into him, he still had to act like the adult here, much to his dismay.
The kiss broke abruptly. Peter watched, confused, slinging the dribble of spit back against his lips. Tony felt a dangerous impulse spark inside himself. He hissed in a breath, flickering his eyes to the open end of the alley.
"Peter... if you can wait two minutes, I can get Happy to pull the car around. Two minutes for endless privacy, don't you think?"
They couldn't be doing it here. Not behind a seedy dumpster. Not for his first time.
"Mr. Stark..."
There was that wretched whine. It was futile to reason with a hypnotised teen, his body melting to the surging heat bundled between their legs. Even with the breathable fabric of the suit, Tony knew the boy was suffocating. He pushed further distance between them, palming the wall to see his face.
"Look," Tony cut him off quickly, disliking the formalities. He knew he had rank over the kid, knowing that calling him Mr. Stark did well for their faux internship, but the idea of being called Sir or anything of the like almost made his erection taper out.
"You need to call me Tony, kiddo. I can't deal with this stilted office talk if I'm going to slot myself in." God, that sounded so crude.
And on the beat, Peter responded, narrowing his lips closer to their mark again. "Well, Mr.—, T-Tony, you need to call me Peter. No cute nicknames. No mentions of alpha and omega. And especially no kiddo." He bargained.
Tony never expected the kid to agree — nor did he ever anticipate having his name purred, tickling the depths of his core. It enticed an unlikely reaction from the alpha, the grip behind his head bundling brown strands tighter between his fingers. He kissed him for the first time with purpose, ravaging him.
Swarming heat against plumpness, untangling the devious kink of his soul. He plunged himself deeper against the fire humping his body, the tiny whimpers escaping each time he changed the tune of his feasting lips. A wanton moan sizzled against skin as Tony guided them slowly into an acceptable position, flipping Peter over, backside closest to his struggling girth.
The zipper of his suit whizzed downwards. Tony watched him slip out of the sweaty garment, almost feeling a twinge of guilt twist at his brows. It was unfair that only one of them was naked, red and blue fabric swimming around Peter's eager ankles.
All Tony had to do was bend the waistband under and pluck his cock out. Though when the gentle saunter of Peter's pesky hips swayed and wafted around his radiant aroma, Tony know the boy barely gave two shits where he was stripping — only that his slender body craved immediate relief.
Peter slid a hand behind himself and tugged at the cleft of his cheeks. An accompanying hand coddled his as Tony breathed hard, observing the slickness of his hole. He was drooling from the orifice, glimmer painting his cheeks, gushing slick each loose breath he exhaled. He was beautiful.
Tony shuddered out an impressive moan, jaw ajar and desperate. He thumbed around the supple entrance, testing what he had to play with.
Tremors rose from the pucker, rippling in song. Peter's heat dipped to indescribable levels, inebriating his whole form. He lolled his cheek against the wall, rocking back into the digit, tear-glazed eyes filled with undeniable lust.
A smile rose to his exhausted lips, the moaning soft and delicate, unlike the jutting back. So greedy. "You don't need to be gentle. I'm wet enough." He pressed, pushing away the awkwardness while moaning low.
His saccharine form begged to be dominated by the primal urge that consumed them both. Stalling, Tony knew he had to take in the possibility of not fitting. He assumed it was Peter's first time, hoping they wouldn't need to go over such a vulnerable conversation later.
Tony cleared his throat, clutching his eyes shut to get into the mood. Sure, he was hard, but he never expected to be the one to help him with this. "It's not about being wet enough," he breathed over his feverish shoulder, nuzzling his head in as he inched his hips closer, tip of his head leaky and honing into the source.
"It's about it fitting..." He grunted wild as he pieced the veil with his girthy shaft, feeding himself in measures. Peter whined, vibrating them both.
His warbling lips careened out unintelligible noises as he stretched over the girth, flexing his insides tight and around the size while angling his body into the concrete ahead. The coolness of brick satisfied the tornado in his slipping mind for a fraction of a second before he subconsciously humped back, spearing himself against Tony's cock.
Tony had to suppress his hands crawling to his hips, and the devious urge to break him in two after witnessing the ethereal expression painted across his sweaty features. A moan rode out among the heat when Tony started rocking, teeth clenching together in keeping a steady tempo.
He fucked him with precision — each out-pull granted an equally stern push inward, insides morphing around thickness willingly. Almost too easily. Yearning, he felt the squelching heat engulf him ripple him down the passage, pressing his cock deeper in a place that made Peter whimper uncontrollably. He feasted upon the bounty of noise, smacking skin into skin, hoping bruises wouldn't form.
He wasn't sure how he'd explain this if anyone found out.
"So how come I never rutted around you before, Peter?" He bit back the urge to call him kid again, near dancing through routine. His voice grunted at the base of Peter's ear, sizzling his desires. He refused to slow down at his shaft ached, each thrust in medicine to his fever-catching senses.
"I'm — I normally take suppressors; but the Spidey senses hate them. I wanted to see what happens if I neglect them for a few hours each day since I've never... Ah!" He sucked in air through his teeth as his cock grated against Tony's palm. He rounded his fingers around the trembling length and pumped poorly in time with his menacing thrusts.
Figures. Tony was good picking up on cues like that. Plus, even with his healing factor, he figured a potent alpha bite would take weeks to heal away.
"You know, I'm not saying this because I'm balls deep inside you, but how about me?"
"H-huh?"
He couldn't figure out what Tony was suggesting. He roamed his teeth lightly against the landscape of Peter's shoulder, mimicking a bite. "How about I claim you. Not-not like that of course, but to — you know," he paused as he slithered out a noise that sounded feral. All this talk of claiming him was not fairing well for his thighs. He struggled to keep the pace in check as they talk, gifting Peter a few sharp gasps in the process.
"A bitten omega always finds relief faster than a lone one." He quoted, hoping Peter would let the small shop talk slide by. He wasn't going to bring it up at all, and the car horn from Happy nearly made him short-circuit, but he kept on course, cock pleading with a heat that knew no end.
Peter's hole clenched in fright to the intrusion of sound, sending something dangerous down Tony's size. He pummeled deeper, pistoning him, feeding the same strangled impulse against Peter's length. He jerked him off furiously, giving the teen a teaspoon in pleasure among the sea of burning ache.
His voice sung high as he convulsed in Tony's hand, spurting ropes of cum against his fist. He almost expected Peter to resign himself against the wall and go limp, but for any in-heat omega, this was only just the beginning.
He relished in his throaty gasps, the moans dying and resurfacing in sound at odd intervals, drowning in Peter's erotic symphony. He could barely breath out of his open mouth under the compulsion of Peter's squelching hole, the pleasure syphoning every impulse in his being to release that very moment.
Tony grinned, unfazed and delirious as he dragged his lolling tongue over the canvas of skin, outlining where the bite would land. He felt the baby shivers rush from Peter's shoulder and spasm in his abdomen, smacking himself deeper against the alpha's cock.
He was mere nothing as his voice crooned on about claiming him — words leaping without reason, without sentences to brandish them apart as he came undone to the meddling. He continued to scream as Tony piledrived himself deep, stuffing himself as the girth pulsed alive, dragging his teeth down with one quick bite.
Yet there was no collision.
In Peter's squeaks and moans, his noise had unfortunately bounced against the high walls, amplifying past Tony's ears. His disturbance caught the attention of members of the public eyeing him down. Tony grunted under his breath as he snarled at someone daring to intrude on their space, conflicting feelings inside himself all coming to an agreement to protect the slick hole-weeping boy.
"What are you looking at?! Keep moving, pipsqueak!"
His voice was dripping in possession as he chewed up the onlooker while unapologetically thumping into Peter's burning backside. In the commotion, his knot had ballooned up and was bashing hard against his demanding entrance. Peter's body wept as he jittered under the strain, his limbs pliant, hands trailing up the wall like vines, outstretching with the arch of his spine straight into the concrete.
It was a good time as any for his teeth to claim what was rightfully his. Hips humped into his lean body greedily as teeth soaked through the air and clenched down.
He was unforgiving, submerging himself in Peter's scent.
Blood pooled from the wound and into his mouth as Peter writhed uncontrollably underneath him. His knot bruised his entrance, shaft thrusting inside with reckless abandon as he fucked the boy hard, no longer docile as his head swarmed with animalistic thoughts.
It took much effort for little movement inwards. The knot conquered his elastic rim and flooded itself inside, spilling liquid heat inside the exercised hole. Peter bucked and writhed to the mess shooting hard within his walls, his voice chalky and filled with vocal fry.
Neither could think as the knot throbbed, moving senselessly deeper. Tony lapped at the blood as his lower half sprinted, sending devastating aftershock through their frames. He tied them together, sealing the exit while his fervent head pumped out a battalion of white into his hole, courtesy of his virile knot.
His seed drowned the groaning tundra of his struggling voice, shaking them both to oblivion and back. He came and came, pumping gallon after gallon into Peter's sick pliant body, healing him with what he could offer.
It was only when Tony could no longer process another thought that all movements ceased. He broke away from the teen, giving one last lick to the wound as he dived away, popping the knot out. He was still heavily inflated, like two golf balls, yet Peter didn't scream in pain. He was aware enough not to tear the boy apart with his size, eyeing him as Peter collapsed to his dead knees.
The exhausted pants were deadly, noise scraping the sides of his throat. Tony kneeled down to the omega and recollected his things, helping him rediscover where he was. He groaned when he noticed his wet patch in the athletic wear, still tented.
Aiding Peter was difficult. Between the moans and his scent blinding him to ravage him once more, harder and more feral than the last, Tony knew he was in trouble. He zipped up the suit and grabbed the mask at their feet, fisting it as he eyed the alley. There wasn't nearly enough mess for how savage he had fucked Peter.
"I've got you Peter."
His Iron-Man suit knew the deal, auto-piloting back to the compound alone.
The teen groaned, eyes refusing to give into the light. He babbled something incoherently, barely satiated as he wobbled on his own, as if he were made of jelly. The hand palming the wall did nothing to stop his mind spiraling.
Tony, sensing he'd fall flat on his face, gently hoisted him over his shoulder and trekked slow to the transport, not before urging him to don on the mask. Just because he loved to flaunt how amazing he was — revealing his identity at the first press conference since his release — didn't mean Peter's identity had to be ragged through the coals because he didn't time up his medication.
He felt for him, he truly did as he avoided commenting about how wet the boy was again for him, hole leaking in abundance.
Happy helped them as they etched close, cramming Peter in the back seat as Tony took the front. He was thankful he hadn't brought the limo down, eyerolling the smarmy attitude from his long-standing employee. At least leather was easy to clean.
"Step on it. I don't want those pesky camera hawks finding us like this."
"Sure thing, boss" They rolled onto the next street before Tony could sigh in some form of bungled relief. "Gotta congratulate you on the prize though. About time you find a mate," he chuckled in muse, elbowing him as he kept his eyes on the traffic.
"It's not like that."
Tony huffed and stared out the tinted windows, stretching out his cramped legs after a work-out and a half. He tried to ignore the nagging thought in the back of his mind about the gnashing mark he had painted Peter with, though the impulse was too great. It was his own work. His first time he'd been in the real thing instead of renting out cheap imitations.
Happy knew better than to comment on everything his boss did as Tony failed to play off his concern as mere curiosity. The drowsy look in Peter's eyes remained as he hoisted himself up by one arm. Tony held his breath.
He didn't want the boy to know about his fluttering feelings. Everything they had between them — banter and inside jokes included — was what had to remain. Tony didn't want to disrupt the status quo, even though the toothpaste was already out of the tube.
There was no unfucking him now. He banged his head against the window, massaging a deep circle into his forehead.
Shit! How the hell was he going to explain that mark to his aunt May? Nothing went past that woman.
'Oh hey, sweetcakes. Yeah, your nephew and I were on patrol and he wiggled his ass at me like a cat in heat so I had to mount up and bite him. On accident, of course. No, I would never groom him like that, so don't worry about it...'
It sounded horrible in his head.
Yeah, fat chance this would boil over smoothly.