Ben 10:Ultimate Marvel

The RV's kitchen was a warzone of sizzling butter and scattered spices. Ben, wielding a wooden spoon like a conqueror's sword, stood over a pan of golden potatoes, their edges crisping to perfection. The scent of garlic, smoked paprika, and melted cheese hung thick in the air.

Gwen leaned against the counter, arms crossed under her chest—*which Ben absolutely did not notice.

"You're *sure* you don't need help?" she asked, one eyebrow arched.

Ben smirked. "What, scared I'll Burn this up?"

"Please," Gwen scoffed, but her eyes flicked to the pan. "I've seen you burn cereal."

"That was *one time*—"

"And the toast."

"The toaster was rigged!"

She laughed, the sound light and *annoyingly* pretty. Ben focused very hard on flipping the potatoes.

When he slid the plate toward her—crispy, cheesy, dusted with herbs—she hesitated. Then took a bite.

Her lips parted. A soft, involuntary hum escaped her throat.

Ben's find it cute, and something more.

"Okay," she admitted, voice lower than before. "This is… *really* good."

He grinned. "Told you."

She took another bite, slower this time, her tongue darting out to catch a fleck of spice at the corner of her mouth.

Ben's spoon clattered against the counter.

---

Later, the RV was quiet. The lower bunk—was just big enough for two bodies, if they didn't mind brushing against each other. Which Ben *absolutely* minded.

Gwen sat cross-legged beside him, laptop balanced on her thighs, scrolling through movies. The glow of the screen lit up her face, her lashes casting shadows on her cheeks.

Ben swallowed.

"So," she said, voice casual, "that monkey guy got away."

"Yeah," Ben croaked, then cleared his throat. "He was… fast."

"Mmm." She tilted her head. "You think he'll come back?"

"Hope so." Ben flexed his hands, remembering the fight—the way Four Arms' strength had thrummed under his skin. "Next time, I'll crush him."

Gwen smirked. "Big talk for someone who needed my backup."

He scoffed. "Please. You just didn't wanna miss the show."

She laughed, then turned the laptop toward him. "Movie. Pick one."

Ben scanned the options. "*kung fu Dragon ., ancient ruins—cool stuff."

Gwen groaned. "No.We are not atching that ." She clicked another tab. "Ocean life. Cute. Funny. Not boring."

Ben made a grab for the laptop. "Nuh-uh. My turn to pick."

Gwen yanked it back. "Too slow, Tennyson."

They wrestled—half-laughing, half-growling—until Gwen somehow ended up straddling his hips, pinning his wrists to the mattress.

Ben froze.

Her thighs squeezed against his sides. Her breath hitched.

And then—*oh god*—he felt it. The *heat* of her, the way her weight settled just *there*, the way her tank top had slipped to reveal the delicate curve of her—

Nope. Nope. NOPE.

Ben *flipped* her, reversing their positions in one frantic motion. Gwen gasped as her back hit the mattress, his body caging hers.

Their faces were inches apart.

Her lips parted.

Ben's pulse roared in his ears.

Then—*disaster.*

His hips shifted. Just slightly. Just enough.

Gwen's eyes widened.

Ben *leapt* off her like she'd electrocuted him, face burning. "S-Sorry! Reflex!

Gwen sat up slowly, cheeks bit pink. "…Right."

The air between them was *thick.

Ben yanked the blanket over his lap. *Thank god for darkness.*

Gwen bit her lip then turned back to the laptop. "…*Ocean life it is."

Ben nodded stiffly.

He did not paid any attention to the movie.

---

Ben woke up warm.

Too warm.

And way too aware of the soft, body pressed against his chest.

Somehow, in the night, he'd ended up spooning Gwen. His arm was slung over her waist, fingers splayed against the thin fabric of her sleep shirt. Her backside was snug against his hips, and—*oh god*—his morning wood was pressed firmly between her cheeks.

He froze.

Crap.

But his body didn't get the memo. If anything, the sensation of her against him—warm, soft, *right there*—made things worse. His pulse hammered in his throat, and he prayed to every celestial in the universe that Gwen wouldn't wake up and notice.

Then she shifted.

A sleepy sigh escaped her lips as she arched slightly, pressing back into him—*directly* into his hardness.

Ben's breath hitched.

She moved.

A beat of silence.

Then, slowly, Gwen turned her head, her lips just inches from his. Her eyes were half-lidded, still drowsy, still unaware.

"…Morning, Ben."

His face burned. *He backed up fast"

His body was on fire. Every nerve screamed at him to close the distance, to pin her down, to—

Then the RV's door slammed open.

"Rise and shine, Champs!" Grandpa Max's voice boomed.

Ben *launched* himself backward, nearly falling off the bunk. Gwen sat up,sleepy but otherwise composed, while Ben yanked the blanket over his lap, his face redder than a Pyronite.

Grandpa Max blinked. "…Everything okay in here?"

"Peachy," Ben said swiftly.

Ben groaned into his hands.

This summer was definitely going to kill him.