Red In Tooth And Hair update

Peter focused on the sword as it came at him, anticipating its strokes, preparing himself for any angle it might take. That was a mistake. He let the shimmering length of steel distract him so heavily that he was entirely unprepared for Sonja to simply launch herself at him, leading with her off-hand in a massive left cross.

It landed square on his chin and rung his bell but good. Sonja was deceptively strong—not Spider-Woman or anything, but she easily had the strength of an Ox or Arnold Schwarzenegger, while still being packed into that trim, compact Watson frame. Maybe it was magic. Or maybe it was Lamaze class.

Peter took the hit and staggered backward, checking himself from firing back. However much nitro Red Sonja’s spirit was giving Mary Jane’s body, he was still able to juggle cars, and he didn’t want to knock her through a wall with an errant backhand.

He dodged her blade, her follow-through incredibly fast, slashing through some of his messier hairs as he ducked under it. He didn’t want to end up with his head on a pike either, of course.

Stepping inside her far-ranging attacks, he grabbed the wrist of her sword-arm and held it still with as little pressure as he could manage. “Okay, hold on there, slugger, I’m not your enemy. Now can we just talk?”

“Talk, talk, talk!” Sonja snarled. “Mouthy dog!”

She threw her face forward in a headbutt, making Peter arc backwards to avoid it. Her skull impacted his chest, probably hard enough to leave a bruise, and she wrenched her sword-hand back out of his untethered grip. Sonja effortlessly reversed her movement and aimed the sword at him in another clipped, efficient swing. It was so fast that even as Peter jumped backward, it trailed across his chest, opening his shirt and drawing a thin line of scarlet from pectoral to pectoral.

“Oww!” Peter said, landing on his feet with a little distracted stumble. Sonja was coming at him again, pressing the attack, her sword held high and about to come down in what looked like a kendo motion. “Fine!”

He’d put on his webshooters under his sleeves before coming over, just in case of such an emergency, and now that Mary Jane was trying to serve him as a Benihana main course, he hit her with two streams. The force of the impact knocked her back against the wall, then she was cocooned in place, spread-eagled. Peter left her bound at the waist, wrists, and ankles, which left some extremely interesting places uncovered, or covered only by her scalemail, which didn’t quite count. Her breasts jiggled like the sea at high tide, while her loincloth flickered back and forth like a cat was playing with it, giving him eye-drawing glimpses of a red even brighter and more fierier than her hair. Who would’ve guessed a chick wouldn’t wear underwear under a get-up like that?

“This brings back memories,” Peter said. “I just want to talk, but you give me the silent treatment. The sword is new…” He touched the irritant cut she’d given him on his chest, which was only bleeding a trickle—his constitution was already healing it—but God, who knew where that sword had been? “I’m gonna need some iodine.”

“You…” Red Sonja muttered, staring after him with wide eyes. “You have bested me… no man can best me!”

She pulled heartily at the webbing, starting to crack the plaster of the walls, so Peter webbed her elbows and knees as well to deny her any leverage. “Quit it, you’re gonna cost me my deposit.” He sorted through a kitchen drawer, finding a tube of iodine along with the aspirin and Midol, and took his shirt off to apply it. He felt Sonja’s eyes on his bare back as she regarded him.

“You are… compact,” Sonja said. “I thought you a weakling, but you have the thews of a frost giant!”

“I’ve met a frost giant, they’re not so thew-y.” 

Now Sonja was trying to angle her wrist around within its binding, getting her sword to cut it loose. Peter walked up to her and pulled it from her grip. She started to bite at them, but then held herself back, perhaps rediscovering an interest in dignity.

“Don’t you remember me?” Peter asked. “We teamed up. This isn’t your home, okay, it’s not your time, you’re in… well, think of it as a distant land. If you go outside, waving your sword around like that, you’re going to get in trouble. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

Peter took the sword over to the kind of cute little umbrella stand that he might’ve gotten MJ as a gift back when they were together and put it down in there. It didn’t look like Sonja had a scabbard, and if she did, he thought looking for it might be taken the wrong way.

“It just so happens you’re riding around in a friend of mine at the moment, so the open-carry thing is not gonna fly.” He thought about it. “You might be able to keep the outfit. I suppose we could tell everyone you’re an X-Man. And MJ’s done some pretty risqué photoshoots, so if suddenly she doesn’t want people to see her belly button, that’s news to me…”

“You believe me an X-man? A castrato?”

“What? No, no—“

“Is that why you spurn me?”

“Spurn you? I’m not…” 

“You have bested me in fair combat. I am now yours. Do with me as you please. Take your pleasure as you wish.”

“Ummm.” Peter was only human. He looked. He licked his lips as he stared at Sonja’s succulent tits, her tight, well-rounded butt, the soft curve of her pussy tantalizingly hinted at by her off-center loincloth. “You know what? That’s cool. I just, uh, I bested someone else in fair combat this afternoon and took my pleasure as I wished, so I’m kind of wiped out…”

“Do you not find me desirable?” Sonja insisted. “Do your loins not fire at the thought of my womanly attributes?”

“Uhm… maybe? I’m not exactly following this all that—”

“You, one of the few men to ever best me… if you can call yourself a man when I go so long without proof!... and you deign not to take the prize so many have coveted? All manner of men, of beasts, of demons have sought to take for themselves my untouched beauty, and all have stopped short at the tip of my blade, but you, handsome stranger, overcome me with your cleverness and guile, and now you toss your winnings aside as if they are of no import? Even women have sought to possess me!”

Peter sputtered, “Well, y’know, that’s not… there’s nothing wrong with being possessed by a woman, if that’s what you’re into… maybe not the way you’re doing it with Mary Jane…”

“I demand that you enjoy the booty you have taken in this sortie at once! Enjoy it! Enjoy the booty!”

Peter blinked. He guessed there was some slang the Hyborean Age wasn’t up to code on.

He thought it over. Sonja was good, Daredevil good, Elektra good. It was quite possible that in her own time, without a bunch of capes running around, that she’d been top of the heap. And if, as she’d said, she’d sworn an oath not to lay with anyone who didn’t get a three-count over her, that could’ve been an awful long dry season. 

And if MJ was still in there, maybe her own feelings were bubbling to the surface, mixing with Sonja in some weird possession way. It wasn’t like he knew how these things worked. But last time, there’d been facets of Mary Jane’s personality that shone through Red Sonja. Maybe, without all the modern bullshit, this was what MJ really felt.

God… as if dating weren’t complicated enough.

“Look,” Peter said, “I don’t really want to keep you tied to the wall all night, so I’m going to let you down. Can you stay cool if I do that? No running around trying to slay a windmill or anything?”

“You already claimed victory over me. I am honorbound to abide by the rules of our contest. I shall not shame my goddess by failing to discharge my responsibilities!”

“Yeah, cool, cool…” 

Peter stepped close to her and felt through the webbing, unerringly finding the stray strands that let him unravel the bonds like worn-out sweaters. It was something only he was sensitive enough and experienced enough with webbing to do. Still, he did it slowly, waiting for the slightest trill from his spider-sense to warn him. It had occurred to him that the whole snu-snu thing could’ve just been a ruse to get him back into head-chopping position, even if that seemed unlike the Red Sonja he had known.

His spider-sense didn’t let out a peep. It seemed almost leadingly silent as he freed her limbs, one by one, then undid the webbing that swathed her stomach. Under it, her belly was bare and taut, the warning striations of muscle only accenting the smooth perfection of her wasp-waisted contours. 

“Thank you for respecting my honor and trusting me as a warrior,” Sonja said, her voice suddenly achingly sincere. “Many who wished the sport of me would leave me trussed as they took their pleasure, failing to believe I would submit as promised, or even enjoying the sight of a woman bound.”

“Oh, no… no one like that around here,” Peter said. “Definitely not.”

“Now I shall return the favor a thousandfold.” Sonja reached to a catch between her breasts, where a single brass ring held together the two cups of her bra. “Behold, the glory that is yours for the taking!”

Peter’d always thought Mary Jane had been thinking something along those lines when she did this, but she’d never come out and said it before.

The sight of MJ’s—of Sonja’s—breasts was somewhere between simply unbelievable and outright awe-inspiring. They weren’t as stupendously, sexually large as Felicia’s—there was more of a natural majesty to their perfectly fitted size, abundant, fertile, but of a piece with Mary Jane’s perfect body—rolling hills that grew gloriously out of the plains and valleys that came before. They were like the crowning achievement in a painting, the slow rise and fall of her swelling cleavage the centerpiece that every brushstroke and shade of paint led to. And if they drew the eye in stillness, they demanded it as they heaved with growing lust—Peter could practically see Sonja’s heart beating faster in the quivering fullness of her teats, the stinging hardness of her nipples, the dewy glimmer as her sweat began to run.

First they demanded the eye, then they demanded the demand.

Peter’s hand began to twitch as he remembered what came next. Mary Jane could not let her breasts be fondled without also having them be tasted. And from the look in her eyes, that was one thing she and Sonja could agree on.

"God!" he groaned. His hard cock was strangling in his shorts from seeing those huge tits. "Oh, God! You have magnificent tits!"

"Do you really believe it so?" she said as she pushed her arms together to form a perfect curve in each wonderful globe. "My instructor Menalippe believed that they would hamper me in pulling a bowstring.”

With his heart pounding, Peter shook his head. His eyes moved from one hard nipple to the other. Back and forth over the acres of flesh laid out for his inspection!

"Oh, no," he said. "I think that they are just great. Perfect!"

“Good. I prefer a sword in my hand and hot lifefluids splattered over my visage, not the pull of catgut to allow a length of wood and feather my kill!”

“Uh-huh,” Peter said, “uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh.”

Leaning his overheated body down, Peter reached his sweaty palm out to cup one of her huge tits. Watching her eyes to see if she objected, he saw her gentle smile as his hand squeezed her full heavy tit. The pink tip of Sonja's tongue slid out to lick her lips.

"There is yet more of your prize to uncover, my lord," she murmured. "Allow me to display all you have earned through force of arms.”

Quickly stepping out of the jangling loincloth, Sonja stood before him, her hot ginger pussy dripping wet as she watched him squirm.

"Your turn," she said, eying him up and down. "Let us see if you arm yourself with rapier or cudgel.”