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Wade was making breakfast wearing only an apron, his butt completely bare and visible, and in that moment Peter realized something very important.
Wade had a gorgeous ass.
His whole body was beautiful. He was buff, well-built, there were strength and even grace in the way his scarred muscles shifted, moved, stretched. The scars made the whole sight more appealing, a fact that Wade couldn’t understand, but Peter kissed, cherished and loved his marred body with so much passion that the merc had given up and accepted it.
Every time they had made love, Peter had been focused on his entire being. On Wade’s lips, on the way the scars changed and transformed, on his eyes, on his warm, calloused hands, on his feet playing with his under the bed sheets, on his penis… Wade had so much, both inside and outside of him, that Peter was still discovering new things, new details, new particulars he had never seen before.
In a certain sense, Wade was like a giant, super complicated painting. There were simple scenes, in some parts the colours were neat and tidy and everything was clear; but there were other parts where one had to squint their eyes and think for many minutes to understand, to decipher the artist’s meaning, to count all the hidden details.
Peter was doing a good job at it, actually; he knew every single inch of the beautiful painting that Wade was, he knew the beauty and bittersweetness behind the colours and forms, he knew where to find things. Sometimes, though, he found something new. For example, Wade’s love for dogs or his fear of cows. The way he scratched his chin when he was in deep thought or the way his chapped mouth moved when he ate. The way he softly kissed Peter’s hair before he went to work, making his heart melt and his cheeks blush.
Now, Peter had seen more clearly the sheer beauty of his butt. Not very poetic, maybe, but Wade secretly loved being complimented and Peter totally wanted to compliment that.
It was round, firm, with some bumps and crevices, just like the rest of his body. When Wade yawned and scratched a buttcheek, Peter felt arousal invade him like a wave. It wasn’t very hygienic, after all he was making their breakfast, but Peter couldn’t care less.
He walked over to him slowly, silently, then pressed his lips on the his neck, making him turn his head slightly.
"Petey! Already awake?"
Peter hummed and one of his hands went down to grope the butt. Wade made a surprised, low sound, locking eyes with him.
"Good morning to you too." he grinned, grinding a bit into the touch. Peter smiled back at him, his mouth now on his shoulder, peppering it with gentle kisses, his hand and fingers playing with the scarred rear, pinching and caressing it. Wade soon pressed his whole body against him and let out a tiny gasp.
"Did I ever tell you that you have a beautiful butt?" Peter whispered, tilting his head to kiss hot, chapped lips. "I’m gonna do dirty things to it once we are done eating."
"Oh God." Wade whined under his breath, forgetting about the stove and the food ready on it. He turned to the young man and encircled his waist with his arms, a well-visible bulge under the apron. Peter’s smile became wicked and amused when he felt it.
"You can tap it now." the scarred man mumbled biting his earlobe and rubbing their bodies together. Peter had both hands on his naked butt, now, and slipped one finger between the crack, making Wade growl.
"Come on, Petey. Take me here." He started licking his neck. "On the floor, on the counter, on the wall, wherever you want!"
Peter giggled, reached out to turn off the stove, then pushed Wade on the floor, bending his legs; the sudden movement lifted the apron and Peter licked his lips, his hands on the scarred ass again, his mouth against Wade’s, ready to eat something that wasn’t food.
- - -
The glorious ass was like a call. Peter couldn’t help but look at it, touch it, let Wade know how much he loved it.
Everything made it look fantastic. Spandex, loose jeans, sweatpants, the dresses Wade occasionally wore… Peter often smacked it and Wade of course never complained. He was just pleasantly surprised and the surprise turned into arousal and pleasure when they were in bed.
Things got hot during patrols too. One day, in the middle of a battle, while Wade was whispering in his ear the lewd things they would do once at home, Peter pinched his right buttcheek, making him yelp with excitement.
“Hey!”
A shocked Rhino was gawking at them both.
“Dude, I am right here, trying to kill you! You can’t do that!”
“Do what?” Peter asked innocently, as Wade nuzzled his neck, completely oblivious to what was happening around him, paying attention only to his baby boy’s lean neck and the hand still caressing his posterior.
“T-That!” Rhino pointed vaguely at them. He was flustered and embarrassed, probably a bit indignant too. “We are fighting and you think about groping your boyfriend’s ass! It’s not… it’s not…”
“You are just jealous because nobody loves you and adores the perfect shape of your butt in spandex.” Peter cut him off and his words had a special effect on Wade, who whined happy and continued to hide his face in his neck, nuzzling it.
In the end, they kicked Rhino’s ass and that was the first time in all his criminal life that he gladly followed the policemen to prison.
“I thought I was the one with an obsession for your ass.” Wade told Peter one night, while they were relaxing in the aftermath, naked and sticky. The young man cuddled up next to him and smirked, a hand already caressing his back, another on his scarred face, to remind him he loved every part of him.
“Sorry it took me a while to realize how beautiful yours is.” he said, squeezing gently; Wade grunted and asked, a bit timidly: “It… it doesn’t bother you?”
Peter raised his eyebrows, confused.
“What?”
“I mean… the scars. The shape may be nice, I admit it, but…” Wade shrugged, insecurities attacking him again, discomfort and shame on his face. “It’s not exactly… good to look at and touch.”
“Don’t.” Peter pushed him on his back and rested on top of him, fingers touching with delicateness his strong features. “Don’t think that again, Wade. We already talked about this.”
“I know, but…” Wade suddenly chuckled. “Hah. Butt.”
Peter snorted and, after making sure they were both comfortable, continued: “The scars make it even sexier. You know…” he kissed a deep line on a cheek, smiling. “I think I have a fetish for you, Wade Wilson.”
Wade made the sound he made every time he was happy and flattered, but didn’t know how to reply. So he made it again and Peter understood.
“Hey.” the young man said, stroking his face with the tip of his fingers, giving him a broad, warm smile. “I thought something a few days ago. Promise me you won’t laugh, though.”
“Oh God, it’s gonna be embarrassing.”
“No, it’s romantic and cheesy and I want you to listen to it until your ears are all red.” Peter started tracing some scars, careful not to put too much pressure on them, and his smile, squished against Wade’s chest, grew bigger.
“I thought that you are like a painting. A beautiful, complicated, big painting. You are full of details and sometimes your colours are mixed in weird ways and some forms are not very clear, but you’re stunning and gorgeous.”
Wade was quiet; the arm wrapped around Peter’s waist moved him closer and the young man laughed softly and added: “Every time I look at you, I discover new things. I see particulars I didn’t see before or I notice that a thing I thought I knew in reality hides many more beautiful qualities.”
He lifted his head to look at Wade, who was stubbornly avoiding his gaze to stare at the wall. The room was kind of dark, but Peter could see perfectly the blush spread all over his face, ears, and neck, poorly hidden by the scars and bumps.
“So, no, Wade.” he concluded, pressing his lips on his chin. “It doesn’t bother me.”
The merc made the sound for the third time and finally looked at him, at his smile, at his sparkling eyes, then his lips slowly curled upwards.
“I thought you were a photographer, not a painter.”
“I am still an expert about it. Trust me, I can recognize a beautiful work of art when I see one.”
This time Wade whined, not knowing how to respond to that, and the young man laughed, admiring the way the blush blended with the scars and glistening lines.
Then he pressed their bodies closer, as if he wanted to fuse them together, and they fell asleep like that, Wade’s arms around him like a protective, warm blanket.
The next morning, Peter woke up first. He and Wade had moved a lot during the night, due to the hot and sticky air that had come with the new season. The merc was lying down on his stomach and Peter stared at his butt and bit his lips, grabbing his arm with a hand to keep it still.
He didn’t want to wake Wade up, but… in the end, he gave up, overwhelmed by the mental images of his boyfriend’s butt in spandex, in the shorts he would probably wear around the house now that it was so hot inside… the fact that the glorious buns were there, bare, also didn’t help and Peter placed softly a hand on them. He affectionately stroked them and the scars on them, sighing contently and smiling; he looked at Wade, who was snoring and drooling on his pillow, and felt warm love burn inside his chest.
Wade mumbled, stirred, mumbled some more and finally opened his eyes. He immediately felt Peter’s touch and looked back at him, blinking slowly to chase away drowsiness.
“Good morning.” Peter greeted and Wade returned the smile, a bit goofily.
“Good morning.”
And then Peter noticed something else, something he hadn’t seen before, a tiny detail in the full picture that he had somehow missed.
He crawled on the bed and took Wade’s head in his hands, startling him a little.
“Wade!” he exclaimed. “Did I ever tell you that you have a beautiful smile?”
The scarred man babbled something, taken aback, eyes wide, cheeks red.
Peter traced a finger over his lips, explaining: “When you smile, the skin around the corners of your mouth wrinkle and your eyes are brighter.” He pressed their forehead together. “It’s cute!”
Wade opened and closed his mouth, unable to give an answer, but he made sure to let Peter know he had appreciated his words with a deep kiss.
The next days, he said nothing when Peter kissed his lips and blushed every time he smiled or laughed; actually, he tried to do that more often, just to see the love written all over Peter’s face and feel his gentle touch.
If he was a beautiful painting, as his sweetums had said, then Peter totally was a stunning photo, which reminded Wade how much he was loved every time he looked at it.