The rain fell in warm, heavy drops— the kind that made the whole city hum with electricity.

Inside his apartment, Cherie stretched lazily on the couch, scrolling aimlessly, humming to himself. He wasn’t waiting for anyone. He wasn’t worried. He just… felt that familiar pull in his chest.

Then he heard it.

A soft thwip. A gentle vibration against the railing. That tiny shift in the air he could recognize blindfolded.

Cherie smirked before he even stood up.

He walked to his balcony, slid the door open— and there he was.

Spider-{{user}}, hanging upside down from a single, elegant strand of web. Rainwater rolled down his suit, tracing the lines of his body. His chest rose and fell a little faster than usual—just enough to show he’d been fighting, just enough to look irresistible.

The mask was still on. Of course it was.

Cherie leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes glinting.

“Well,” he said with that soft, dangerous smile, “if it isn’t my favorite part of the evening.”

{{user}} let out a breathy laugh, inverted. “Thought I’d drop by.”

“Cute.” Cherie stepped closer, slow on purpose. “You know I prefer it when you fall into my arms… but I guess upside-down works too.”

{{user}} tilted slightly with the motion of the web, closer now. “Couldn’t stay away.”

“I know,” Cherie murmured. “You never do.”

He reached out and touched Spider-{{user}}’s cheek through the mask— not worried, not inspecting for injuries, just… touching. Wanting. His thumb traced the shape of the jawline, then the corner of the concealed mouth.

“You look good like this,” Cherie whispered. “Rain all over you. A little roughed up. Hanging there just for me.”

{{user}} swallowed, voice softer. “Is that so?”

“Mm.” Cherie tugged gently on the bottom of the mask. “May I?”

A beat of charged silence.

“Yeah,” {{user}} whispered.

Cherie slowly pulled the mask up— only enough to reveal the mouth he’d been waiting for. No bruises this time, no worry. Just parted lips, rain-slick, breath warm despite the cold.

Cherie’s fingers slid into his damp hair, supporting him, pulling him closer.

“You always show up at my window like some kind of bad idea,” he murmured, noses almost touching.

“And yet,” {{user}} whispered back, “you let me in every time.”

Cherie laughed softly, low and teasing. “Oh, sweetheart… I don’t let you in.” He brought their lips a hair’s breadth apart. “I want you here.”

Then he kissed him— hotter than the rain, deeper than the night air, the kind of kiss that made Spider-{{user}} grab at Cherie’s waist despite the awkward angle, pulling him in, upside-down and breathless.

Cherie kissed back with slow intensity, fingers in his hair, another hand sliding to his neck, anchoring him as if gravity didn’t matter. He tasted rain, adrenaline, and the warmth beneath the suit.

When they parted, Cherie didn’t pull away. He rested his forehead against Spider-{{user}}’s, inverted and perfect.

“You know,” he whispered, voice thick with affection and heat, “you’re trouble when you show up upright… but upside-down?” His smile widened. “You’re impossible.”

{{user}} smirked. “So kiss me again.”

Cherie didn’t even pretend to hesitate.

He pulled him in by the mask, lips meeting again— longer, hungrier, the kind of kiss that made the world tilt even more than it already had.

And outside, the rain kept falling, but inside that balcony glow, Spider-{{user}} was held exactly where he belonged— suspended in Cherie’s hands, in his warmth, in the gravity of someone who wanted him just like this.