CHAPTER 31
NEW YEAR, NEW ME

18+ warning: smut.

"AT LONG LAST, Detective Fogelman says the Jawbreaker's reign of terror might soon be over."

Sloane was sitting at the kitchen island, watching the flat screen in the living room flash, EMERGENCY REPORT, in bright red letters. The penthouse was empty this morning besides her and Everett. Sabrina had gone out, Frank was at work, but Everett stayed home from school because he wasn't feeling well. He said it was allergies, but no one could know for sure. Stuffing cornflakes into her mouth, Sloane could hardly pay attention to how little was left in her cereal bowl once the reporter came on screen. The reporter stood on the side of a nearby street in the sun, hugging her jacket close to her chest.

"It was reported to Channel 5 News early this morning that police think they've found the murder weapon in the Jawbreaker case," she continued on. "A dirty gardener's mallet was discovered in the dumpster outside Mary Ann Harper's family home. If you remember, Mary Ann Harper was just the latest in a slew of victims at the hands of the Jawbreaker. She was also daughter to Francis Harper, CEO of Harper Watch."

A picture of the mallet appeared beside the reporter. It was small, like any regular gardening tool. Sloane thought back to that night when she was chased by a hooded figure. She shivered. The mallet on screen didn't look as bulky as the sledgehammer she saw her chaser carrying.

"Police are inspecting the mallet for fingerprints this morning. We should hopefully have an update in the next few days, as well as an autopsy report on Mary Ann Harper. I'm Sally Stratford for Channel 5 News."

Finally looking down at the bottom of her bowl, Sloane noticed there was only milk left. She got up from her stool and washed the bowl out in the sink before padding over to the TV. The news droned on about more depressing stories, and Sloane was reminded that, in a way, she contributed to it. Crime made her both sad and sick to her stomach, but she was better at writing about it than seeing it visually.

She picked up the remote and turned off the TV. Turning to her right, she got a nice view of the balcony. She walked up to the door and peered out. Snow was still dusted across all of New York City, but the welcomed sunshine was working to wash it away. In the planter boxes, Sabrina's Snowdrops were safe from the winter weather, as if they had an invisible bubble around them.

Sloane thought back to a few days ago, when Sabrina had been out on the balcony in her big coat. She was tending her Snowdrops, repacking the dirt, and watering her precious flowers. Her gardener's toolbox was still sitting on the patio's glass table.

Plants had always been so special to her mother. When Sloane was little, Sabrina used to say that a well-treated garden indicates a perfect home. But Sloane knew it was all a facade. No matter how tended their garden was, that didn't mean they weren't still grieving on the inside. That wouldn't remove the stain still cemented in their kitchen floor where her father had his heart attack. That wouldn't disguise the fact that Sloane was hydrating herself with cheap vodka morning, noon, and night, or that her mother cried herself to sleep without the feel of her husband's comforting arms.

No, a well-treated garden meant close to nothing.

Out of curiosity, Sloane walked out onto the patio in only her PJs and slippers. She had a sweatshirt to cover her arms, but her whole body shook from the cold. She brushed the pads of her fingers over the petal of a Snowdrop before turning to the toolbox. Kneeling down, she bit her lip in hesitation. Why was she so inquisitive in the first place? What did she expect to find in there?

A dirty gardener's mallet was discovered in the dumpster outside Mary Ann Harper's family home.

Sloane ran a hand through her unwashed hair and released a heavy sigh. With cold fingers, she opened up the toolbox. The first thing she noticed was the essentials: a hand trowel, weeder, hand rake, cultivator. The new planting gloves she got Sabrina for Christmas were shoved at the bottom, along with a moisture meter and some pocket snips. Sloane dug around further, moving the tools around. There was nothing else in the box besides some vials of oil that promoted plant growth.

"SLOANE!" Everett's call reverberated through the glass door. "Can you get me some Tylenol, please?"

She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaled gradually, and released. The tension in her system was still tight, unwilling to yield.

Sloane shut the toolbox with a hard slam, latching the locks into place. She lifted her head and scanned the rest of the patio, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

There was nothing out of the ordinary about her mother's gardening box. Except for the fact that her mallet was missing.

━━━━━━

It was New Year's Eve. This used to be Sloane's favorite holiday. Not for the "new year, new me" promises, or the bustling parties filled with a bunch of strangers. New Year's Eve was the only holiday where you could drink all day to your heart's content and not get looked at like an alcoholic. When she was a teen, her father allowed her to drink beers with him, and after his death, she and her mother liked to drink champagne all day. They were usually drunk by 1 PM. After moving to Vermont, New Year's Eve was a night she hung out with Bobby and his wife, or if it fell on a weekday, the whole staff at the North East Post would pop bottles until 3 PM and then go out to a nearby Chinese food joint for Mai Tais.

New Year's Eve was made for alcoholics. That's why Sloane loved it so much. She wasn't an outsider, gawked at for her addiction. She was just like everyone else.

Not anymore though. Not since she broke up with alcohol, as if they were in a toxic relationship.

So when Peter Parker texted her asking if she wanted to come over and celebrate, Sloane knew this was the perfect distraction for her misery. She didn't expect Peter to be in just as a shit mood though. It was hard to celebrate this year – for multiple reasons. They both weren't drinking anymore, and they both felt like failures. They came to a dead end at every turn in the Jawbreaker case. It was difficult to be happy about the end of Earth's orbit around the sun with so much death around them. Sloane felt consumed by it.

She sat next to him on the couch, legs propped up on his own as their chopsticks tore through the takeout boxes in their hands. "I do appreciate the Chinese food you got for us," she said, setting her carton of fried rice on the coffee table, "even if it is some of the worst I've ever had."

"I should've known this was gonna be bad," Peter groaned, setting his takeout next to hers. "It was the only place open. Should've been my first sign." He covered his face with his hands. "Why can't I do nothing right anymore?"

"It's not that big of a deal." Sloane grabbed their half-eaten takeout and threw it in the garbage. Peter's TV was playing one of the many New Year's Eve live shows, and she was sure they could hear the crowd's screams from Manhattan clearer outside his window. She looked at the clock on his stove. 11:45 PM. 15 minutes until midnight. Almost 1 month sober. Hopefully, she'd make it another month more.

Sucking a breath in through her teeth, Sloane turned to see her boyfriend still wallowing on the couch. "Seriously, Peter, it's fine."

"Nothing's fine," he sighed, and his voice lowered to a whisper as he watched the TV. "Can't even find a fucking serial killer anymore."

Sloane frowned. Walking back over to the couch, she adjusted him and took a seat on his lap. Her arms curled around his neck, fingers lacing into his hair. He was finally looking at her, rather than depressingly watching whatever bullshit was on screen. "I thought you asked me to come here so we could celebrate," she said softly.

Jesus Christ, he was already hard. She could feel the apparent bulge through his navy blue sweatpants. He might've been hard since she'd gotten there. When she arrived, he had taken a second to get to the door. He was trying to hide something, but Sloane could tell from the adjustment of his pants what had been going on. And from the lotion bottle she'd seen toppled over in his room, she guessed he had been masturbating and probably didn't finish. It took all of her willpower to not laugh as she stepped inside his apartment.

"I – I didn't want you to –" He swallowed hard. "– Celebrate alone, you know."

He was right. If he hadn't texted, she would've been alone, probably doing chores for Everett. He was still sick. Frank was out at a work party tonight, and Sabrina had him on a strict medicine schedule. Sloane would've had to suffer with no alcohol all by herself, like some lonely character in an Emily Brontë novel.

"Which is why I came here," she replied, her lips flashing into a grin. "But you didn't though, right? That's why you took so long opening the door."

His mouth parted for a mouth, confused, before he realized what she was getting at. He laughed under his breath, wagging a finger at her. "You're good, Bernstein." He glanced at the time on his phone, and then turned back to her. "Isn't it kind of cliché to have sex just before the ball drops?"

Her brow lifted. "Okay," she quipped, hopping off to sit on the other end of the couch, "we don't gotta. But you're right. We're not cliché. It's not like we had the most romantic sex ever on Christmas night like some couple in a Hallmark movie –"

He lunged across the cushions, pulling her against him. She was back on his lap, both legs sitting on either side of his. Peter smiled at her. His right hand snaked underneath her thermal henley shirt, fingers massaging her hardened nipples. Sloane inhaled sharply, but it was swallowed by Peter kissing her slowly, allowing her to taste the bad Chinese food still on his breath. She couldn't help but instinctively rock against the bulge in his pants. There was too much fabric separating them – Peter's erection was fighting with the constraints of his sweatpants, and Sloane was basically dry humping him with leggings on. The friction felt good though – a little too good, but she still missed the feel of his fingers inside her, rubbing at her most sensitive spot. She couldn't stop, getting herself off with just the feel of his hard cock restrained by something as simple as a pair of pants. He was moaning against her lips now, wordlessly begging for her to either continue or asking her to let him pull down his pants. Sloane wasn't sure which. She was digging her nails into his shoulders. If she didn't stop, she was going to cum –

She huffed, pulling away from him. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said softly, brushing a few stray hairs that stuck to the sweat on her forehead. "You should be on top. Right here. We also only have, like –" He looked at the large clock ticking down on the TV. "– Five minutes until midnight."

Sloane laughed and began shimmying his pants down to his knees. "We better be quick with it then. Your balls must be turning blue."

"Well, look who's suddenly become a comedian," he commented as she pulled off her leggings and underwear, almost tripping in the process. On both legs, she had freckles dotting her knees. He never noticed that until now.

Sloane went to his bedroom, got a condom, and threw the small wad of plastic at him after entering the living room. She watched him pull down his pants more, staring at the way his cock sprung out. She still lost all retention at the sight of it, erect just at the thought of her, glistening with pre-cum. He ripped open the condom packet with his teeth and rolled it on. Climbing back onto his lap, Sloane tore off her henley and tossed her hair over her shoulder. They smiled at each other. Somehow, each time they were intimate was special. She never had a relationship like this before: where the sex was good and cherished and more than just about achieving an orgasm. (Although, Peter was pretty good at that too.)

Reaching down, Peter swiped two fingers through her folds, almost grazing her clit. Sloane buckled over at the mere brush, anxious to feel him again. He brought those two fingers to his mouth and tasted her. She released something between a sigh and a moan. His cock twitched, skimming her entrance. Peter leaned forward and began kissing her jaw, whispering against her skin, "You taste like you've been thinking about this since you got here."

She replied softly, "Maybe I just missed you."

He chuckled low, pulling off his sweatshirt with a bit of difficulty. Sloane had to help him when it got stuck around his big head, and it reminded her of the first time they were intimate. Once it was off, he continued to kiss her. But she couldn't wait anymore. She sunk down on his cock, mouth forming into a wide O shape. She hadn't gotten on top of anyone in years; she forgot how much better this felt, especially with Peter's size.

She felt him brush a thumb over her soft lips, and she opened her eyes to see he was watching her thoughtfully. She didn't move, just stayed there with him inside of her, adjusting to his size at this angle. There was no way they were finishing by midnight.

Placing her hands on his cheeks, she asked, "Why are you staring at me like that?"

Peter leaned into her touch. "Maybe I just missed you too."

Suddenly, he arched his back and thrust up into her. Sloane felt winded, felt like she could feel him all the way in her stomach. She rolled her hips back, careful not to hurt him, as he bottomed out inside of her. His hands kept roaming until they finally settled with one on her hips and the other kneading her right breast. His grip moved with her, helping her grind against his cock. "Faster, Sloane," he whispered. "We only have a minute."

"I don't know if I can. You're so b –" She choked on a moan. His cock brushed her G-spot as she moved, and when she rolled against him, she felt something build in her core. This was probably the closest she'd ever feel to heaven. "Oh, fuck – I'm suddenly close, Peter."

He pressed his mouth onto her jaw again, and then began attacking her neck with wet, open-mouthed kisses. "Does it feel good when I ..." He trailed off, quickly thrusting into her like he had a moment ago. The action, coupled with the way she was riding him, sent her nearing a peak.

Her jaw went slack. "Do it again. Please."

Peter laughed, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. He lifted his hips and thrust into her again and again. Lowering his mouth to one of her breasts, his tongue circled her hard nipple, sucking and then nibbling on the flesh. Tears ran down her cheeks. This was the best a man had ever made her feel.

She loved the way he care about her. She loved that he always listened. She loved the way he felt inside of her. She loved that he never hesitated to say she looked beautiful, even when she felt otherwise. She loved –

She loved Peter Parker.

"Ten!" The host on the TV shouted. "Nine! Eight!"

"Peter ..." She whimpered, bouncing on him faster, feeling him hit her G-spot each time.

He lowered his hand once again, thumb rubbing her clit. "It's okay," he whispered, chuckling at the end. "We were never going to make it to midnight anyway."

"Seven! Six! Five!"

Peter stroked her clit faster, his thrust becoming weaker. Sloane held him to her chest by the crown of his head, allowing him to breathe into her collarbone. He kissed her there, his tongue lapping at the sweat coating her skin. She was getting tighter by the second.

"Four!"

"You make me feel so good," she moaned. "Peter, I – I'm gonna cum, okay?"

"Three!"

He nodded. "Okay, okay. I'm close."

"Two!"

Within seconds of collapsing, Sloane snaked her hand in between them and massaged the most sensitive area of his balls. Peter's cock twitched inside her.

"One!"

"Fucking Christ, Sloane," he choked out.

The sound of screams echoed throughout the apartment building. Music blared on the TV screen, signaling that it was finally midnight. "Happy New Year!" The announcer exclaimed.

Sloane came just a few seconds after. She tightened around him, shouting expletives into his ear. Her screams of pleasure were drowned out by the celebration reverberating through the building, waking the elderly neighbors from their slumber.

She was tired; she could've collapsed on him if she weren't dedicated to him finishing soon. Sloane rolled her hips continuously, milking his cock while her pussy was still slightly tight around him. He didn't stop rubbing her clit, and she was still cupping his balls, brushing her soft fingers against the tender skin. Only a minute later did he reach his peak, his seed filling the condom. He came with a loud groan into her shoulder. Sloane finally fell back against his chest, her sweaty forehead nuzzling his neck. His cock went soft inside her.

"Have a very happy New Year, New York!" The TV blasted. "Here's to a great 2022!"

Sloane didn't hop off so quickly. She felt secure against his chest, allowing his arms to wrap around her waist. Leaning up slightly, she kissed him, tasting the inside of his mouth with her tongue. The kiss was supposed to be soft – innocent – but the fiery passion inside them never went out. Even when she pulled away, Peter held her chin there with two fingers, and their lips simply grazed each other. The room smelled of sweat, and sex, and Chinese food. Neither of them wanted to leave.

"I love you," Peter whispered against her mouth.

She was caught by surprise, not expecting him to say it first. Her eyes opened wide, and once Peter realized the gravity of the words he'd said, his stare connected with hers. The seconds ticked on by, every one longer than the last. He looked like he was going to stop breathing if she didn't say something soon.

With a lazy smile, Sloane replied, "I love you too, Spider Boy."

Peter grinned big, yanking her up by her waist and holding her close. His cock slipped out of her, but neither of them were cold as long as they were in each other's arms. He attacked her face with kisses and said, "Holy shit, you almost scared me right there."

Sloane laughed, "I've wanted to say the same for a while."

He leaned back against the couch cushions, cupping one side of her face. Her flushed cheek pressed into his palm. "I think you might be my best friend, Bernstein."

"Ditto, Parker."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: aw I love this chapter so much 🥹🥹 too bad it's just the calm before the storm!!!