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Peter had felt odd as of late, the weeks passing into autumn following his birthday had been strange. A sense of urgency had begun building under his skin. Tingling raptures of pinpricks he had never quite experienced before. It set him on edge. The same sense begging him to hole up inside. To be safe and warm inside the concrete barrier of his apartment.
He could feel his skin buzzing now, patters of a dull buzz beneath a canopy of chatter. And not that of the lull of speech of the workers of The Daily Bugle in the room over, but that of something under foot. Of himself. He never felt more confident in his choice of freelance until that moment.
“Parker!” The boom of Jameson’s voice called him back to the present, annoyance ladened on his tone. He tapped the table top with the pads of his fingers, his right ever encased with the cigar trapped between them. Even the slight rustle to the paper below them a boom to his thoroughly enhanced hearing, he winced. Ignoring the growing headache at the onslaught of sensations. Sickening. The open window doing little to the haze of smoke billowing through the office. Ever setting his need to flight ablaze.
“Come on, boy,” Gaze turning from Peter to the slip of paper below his finger. Retracting his hold as he drew his hand to his lips, the lull drag of embers itching at Peter’s ears. The low sparkle setting his own skin on fire. Peter grated his teeth in his stewing silence. His boss not even bothering another glance his way, eyes cast distant elsewhere to the far wall. Jameson turned from him with a wave of his hand, chair squeaking in a final grate to Peter’s nerves, his back to him as he blew out another gust of smoke through the open window. A clear dismissal. “Take this to Betty up at the front, you know the deal by now.”
With quick steps, he snatched the paper up, wincing even at what should have been soft texture below his setae. Without a goodbye, Jameson never cared for them. Not even a warm hello. He stalked from the office, making way to the front to cash out his payment slip.
His steps were a quick pace in a false confidence. Chin held high, booking no room for engagement. He certainly wouldn’t be able to hold a proper civil conversation at this moment's notice. A bravado to get himself from point A to point B.
“Hello Peter!” The chipper choice of Betty rang in his ears, drawing his attention as he stuttered to a stop a pace away from her desk. The usual enticing fragrance of perfume met his nose. Now a touch too strong. He had to force down a grimace, fingers flexing and crinkling the slip of paper between them. Her gaze immediately fell to it. A piece of their usual system. To and fro. He held it out to her. She offered a warm smile in turn, meeting his eyes beneath her oval glasses. Body language inviting, open. Comforting. “Another cash out, huh?”
She took the sheet from his grasp, he swore could feel the warmth of skin transferred through the crinkling paper. She began to rifle through her things without preamble. Desk cluttered in a sense of normalcy for the woman, ever in disarray, a solace. For a lack of chagrin. Contrary to her desk, her outfit was well and maintained, primped and primed perfectly. Such as her touch too ‘glamorous for an office job’ hair. Styled, gelled, and pulled back into a neat bun. He could hardly believe it didn’t cause an ache.
“Yeah, you know how it is.” He cast a glance over his shoulder, neck aching at the motion, eyeing Jameson's office from the closed blinds. The loud ring of a phone blaring in his eardrums behind a barred door, wincing at the even shriller notes of Jameson's voice, as he boisterously answered the call.
His whole body ached.
Betty’s chortle drew his attention back, her stare embedded fixedly onto Jameson's blinds. A slight crinkle of her brow. She gave him a nod in understanding, attention fixating back onto him. Her mouth fell open to reply. It clicked shut suddenly, brow furrowing while she pointedly looked him over. Peter willed himself not to squirm under the scrutinizing once over. Willing his body to stay lax, regardless of how wind up he felt.
“You coming down with something, Peter?”
“Yeah—Wait no. Sorry.” He unpried his clenched hands. A motion he hadn’t even known to have done. His palms had begun to sweat. The slickness ebbing away at his resolve. He needed to get out of here. Now. Instead he gestured loosely to his head. “Migraine coming on I think.”
“Ah,” Betty nodded with a hum, seeming to buy his answer. Not even Peter knew what was wrong with himself. Though whatever it was, he knew that this last half hour in the Bugle, it had steadily worsened his symptoms. “I know how that is. Must be a joy to do freelance on days like this. I have to just pop a pill whenever I come down with one.”
Peter gave a noncommittal noise in agreement, nodding. Fingers flexing, a slow steady sweat had steadily increased on his body. His core temperature must have been rising. Betty held out a small manila folder, one he knew to be filled with cash. He hadn’t even seen her go through the motions, ones he had always counted upon.
“Now go home and recover, I'll see you whenever you pop in next.”
He took the envelope from her grasp with a whisper of a warm goodbye, and he was gone.
Peter slammed his apartment door shut behind him, the wall rattling with the force of it. A sharp clang that had him falling to his knees with a cry. Hands quick to clasp over his ears, gritting his teeth through a whimper. Folder of cash slipping from his palms and onto the tile. He coiled in on himself on the cold of his floor. A welcome cool to his burning core.
He felt hot, too hot. A heat he hadn’t felt since he had been originally bitten by the spider that mutated him. A burning haze that stretched through every inch of his person. Even his spinnerets ached. It was something fierce, something far too new. A fire he needed to quench, to snuffle out, to satisfy. He took a deep breath in, trying to still this agonizing onslaught— Wade.
That warm heat enveloped his core straight to his cock. He could smell him, he wasn’t here, but he had been, recently. His scent clung muskily to the air— crisp leather and gunpowder. That enticing scent of ever changing flesh, his partner, his mate.
Peter pried himself from the floor though a man hexed, limbs barely cognitive, splayed out as he sniffled the air. There.
He crawled over on all fours, pace a frenzy of want to where it radiated the most of his partners lingering scent. Their shared laundry basket. He toppled into the structure with little grace, knocking the basket onto the floor of his room. Tearing through the downed cloth in a blinded need.
Deft fingers dragged through fabric, clutching close to the enticing scent. Diving deep into the downed laundry, seeking out a familiar ache. He fell to his knees and grabbed them up frantically, layering them around him in a mock attempt of a blanket— a sweatshirt, a shirt, pants. Pants. He tore into the article, ripping below his frenzied movements, freeing the main source of his triumph—
Boxers— He bundled the soft cloth between his fingers, frantic to cling to the soft texture. The longing musk. Quick in his movements he dragged it up to his face, and inhaled. Deeply.
A rough moan tore from his chest. Eyes fluttering, a haze settling over his aching core. Blaze jutting downward. His hips canting into nothing but air. Cock thick and muted, painful, below the rough zipper of his jeans. The scent so strong, invitingly his.
A hand tore away from the fabric, the other still pressing it to his nose, inhaling the addictiveness of Wade. Scrambling down to his jeans he struggled at the zipper, accidentally tearing away the metal in his haze. Not to be stopped, Peter simply grasped for the top of his jean belt and tugged. A loud rip rang through the air, denim torn down his thigh in his struggle. Barely there barren skin feverish to the chill of the stale apartment air. All sound was muffled out, now only down to his heartbeat and rough pants echoing in his ears.
Another frantic movement had Peter’s hand slipping into his boxers and around his erection. He was wet, far slicker than he had ever been, unfathomably hard and dripping into his moist boxers. He wrapped a hand around himself without a second thought, a slide of his hand over scorching flesh. Then another— and oh fuck, he was coming.
He jerked, full bodily into a keen as he folded into himself. Shuddering and close to sobbing, soiling his boxers in thick spurts. Muffling into the cloth pressed over his nose and mouth. The scent of Wade ever invading his senses.
The heat abided for a moment. Bunched fabric falling from his face wore a semblance of shame. Hand falling to his crotch, black boxers splayed over them. Now that he was more aware, Spider-Man emblemed, how fitting.
Peter struggled to catch his breath. The rough drag of his chest a tremble while he struggled for air. He shifted with a whimper and— no. His cock twitched in his hand, through the orgasmic bliss he hadn’t even recognized— he was still hard.
What the fuck.
“What the fuck.” Peter wheezed aloud. He gulped air into his lungs greedily, offering another mouthful of Wade's allure from his lap and another painful twitch of his cock. Hard and unyielding. Still shielded below layers of cloth. He angled to fix that. Shuffling awkwardly he scrambled in what little clarity he had to rid himself of the slowly cooling cum soiled undergarments. As well as his now unfortunately ruined jeans. Tearing them away to reveal his cock.
Hard and jutted, still weeping a steady stream of precum. Encased still in his previous cooling release. Peter's cock was an engorged red, thick and hanging, almost painful in its pulses. He could practically feel his heartbeat thundering into it, blood pulsing its way steadily. He angled his freehand down, trailing with a hiss to nudge at his balls. Thick and full where they hung, ready to burst. A whimper fell from his lips instead, his head bowed, digging his teeth into the plump skin of his lower lip. Peter was sensitive and rattled, that coursing heat from earlier began to nip at his skin once again. A cold sweat taking hold.
He needed to— Peter needed to.
Peter rarely used his organic webs. Unreliable to him in the heat of battle rather than for backup. Not only were his organic webs meant to last. Rather than the chemically made three to four hour dissolving overtly strong adhesive. His spinnerets required a much more calorie based intake for use. The consumption not worth the cost. Nor reliable on his salary. While his web shooters, undeniably shot farther, were directly engineered to swing from, and not only that, they wouldn’t suddenly run out. Or draw bloody. He knew exactly how much web fluid he had at a given moment. But now, his wrists ached.
That primal urge. Now he knew exactly what he needed.
Jutting his wrist up to the high of his ceiling, he let the first web spring free.
It was something biological, something engrained so deep within his core as he let his wrists take aim. Calculated. Allowed something deep in himself to take the reign. The spring each web, controlled, over and over with a new grace he never thought to bodily contain. The sweet sing of webbing in the air, an artistry he had never been truly privy to until now.
Peter needed high ground, he needed a web, a nest. Somewhere to take these bundled cloth, the scent of Wade, high and safe.
Boxers still in hand, Peter let another web go, dragging himself up onto the spindles he had begun to spin. Wrenching off his final layer of clothes in a tug, a spray of buttons following in its wake, he let his ruined shirt flutter to the ground. Lifting up his hand, he held the boxers between his teeth, saliva sinking into the muddled cloth.
Peter then went to work, another flick of his wrist, another connection, a scuttle to one side and the music of the plucking of webbing. A delightful song to his ears. Easing that burning heat in his core as his cock swung free, pre still dripping steadily. Only to ease that burning coil in his gut. A melodic charm, movements sure and guided by something Peter was sure was biological in nature. A need he has often ignored, a web to doze on, as he so often contained during patrols. Now suddenly an urgent matter in the forefront of his mind. A goal that could not go without completion.
Now he had done it.
Pleased with his efforts. A gentle gleam on the self made web, his spinnerets still held a dull ache. Quelled somewhat in the haze of the build. The gentle glow from outside his curtains only gently so lighting the space of his apartment. The setting sun cut off just so by the engulfment of city life, concrete sheltered home. Gentle haze a marvel to its own beauty.
Now he needed—
Peter turned his gaze downward, movements mechanical as he inched forward on his web. Wrists aimed down and firing sure shots, picking up piece after piece of what clothing he knew to be Wade’s. Dragging the prizes back toward himself. A slow trill had begun from his throat. A semblance of a purr into the dark of the room as he went about placing each article into his web. Careful coaxing hands interlaying pieces of his lover into the safety above ground.
That dull buzz of anxiety he had felt throughout these past few weeks finally subsided next to nothing. Instead into this lustful based urge. Now all he craved was Wade in the flesh, to join him on his web and ravish him. To fuck into the tight of his ass and make him cum on his cock until he was spent. To lap it up until he truly had nothing more to give to Peter. To fill Wade to the brim with his cum until he was stuffed full and bred.
Peter whined longingly around the fabric stuffed into his mouth, spittle steadily soaking the garment. He fell back against his web, chiming sweetly silent to anyone but him against his weight. Perfectly balanced. He trailed a hand down his body, keening drool against his makeshift gag as he brushed over a budded nipple. Hips jumping at the thrill of pleasure coaxing down his spine.
Peter worked his way down further, brushing over muscular angled flesh and barely there scars, trailing down his stomach. Goosebumps rising on sweat slicked skin. He skirted over his thigh, nails trailing absentmindedly before reaching his mark. He brushed barely there against his cock in a teasing touch.
His hips jerked against the web, it holding true as he moaned desperately. Muffled wails only quelled when he took himself in hand. Body thrumming in arousal. He rubbed a thumb absentmindedly over the head of his cock, slick rewarding his curious digit. Another spurt quick in its wake, throbbing heatedly in palm.
He drew back and forth, far too wet in his struggle to properly grip himself. Cock throbbing while he worked his hand. He screwed his eyes shut, body trembling in heady arousal. He stroked himself from root to tip— once, twice, thrice— Peter was coming again.
With a scream around his mock gag, he threw his head back into his web. Head falling back against the plush of Wade’s clothing, alighting his skin and senses aflame. Rocketing him further into the throes of orgasm. He jerked harsher, forcing into the over sensitivity. Coming in large spurts, splashing through the webbing and raining down onto the ground below him. Covering what he knew to be his bed and sofa below him.
Peter blinked tears from his eyes. Wade's boxers now laid crumpled, soaked through with saliva, against his chest where they had fallen through his cry. He shuddered, smacking his lips together, the haze still blinding him. He still felt too hot.
Peter, he needed—
Wade.
The turning of a lock caught his attention, a warm familiar voice humming a sappy rendition of a song Peter was barely cognitive enough to recognize. Through that haze the familiar scent engulfed his senses. His mate. As Wade turned to shut the door behind him, arms stuffed full of groceries barely visible to the normal eye in the dark of the room— Peter dropped from his nest. Wade abruptly stopped his self made quoir, having must have heard the near silent scuffle of limbs behind him. He shuffled the crinkling plastic bags in hand, instead opting to kick the door shut.
“Oh honey-bunches-of-oats, I didn’t know you were home, how’d that drop off to dickface go?” Wade’s cheery voice called out, immediately silenced as Peter was upon him. Wade made a quizzical sound, Peter’s hands rough as he slammed him up against the door. Holding unyielding into his sweatshirt, grasping roughly into the meat of his muscular flesh below. Peter pressed himself full bodily against the man, angling his head to bury into the other's throat. Inhaling roughly. He ground his sopping erection against Wade’s clothed ass, content in the high moan of content it brought from the man against him. “Oh—oh wow ok, Petey as much as I am into this— mind you I totally am I need to put these away, I’ve got—“
“No.” Peter cut him off, tone a near hiss that booked no room for questions. His arms trailing from Wade's hips to his front, never removing contact as he brushed his hands downward toward Wade’s crotch. Fabric crumpling under hand, he palmed needily over Wade’s thickening cock. Peter lavished a tongue over Wade’s neck, nipping at the skin with a hurried valor. Feeding the ever burning urge to mark. Wade hissed through his teeth, hips jumping against his touch. Peter eagerly met the thrust and rubbed him back through the layer, breathing deeply in the overwhelming scents.
“No?” Wade rasped out, confusion thick on his tone. His breath and body already trembling under the onslaught of touch.
“Need you now, Wade.” He panted roughly into the juncture of his neck. Voice a rasp to his usual steady tone. The pace of Peter’s hips quickening, a rough rut against Wade’s ass. Pale in comparison of what he knew the tightness through the barrier would feel around his aching cock. Weeping a steady supply of precum against Wade’s backside.
“I don’t— I don’t know what’s wrong,” Peter whined airily, he could feel the warmth of familiar relief drawing up into the friction of his cock. His balls drawing taught and the strain of pleasure slowly growing once again toward another crescendo. “Came twice, can’t stop— need you, please.”
His plea fell away in a feverish moan, stilling the sound with a mouthful of Wade's flesh. Digging his teeth into the man’s neck, blood filled his mouth in a crescendo of pleasure as his hips gave one last harsh thrust. He was barely aware of Wade swearing loudly, the tone a tremble against his frenzied lips. His orgasm, no more dry than the first two as he soaked Wade's ass and down the back of thighs in ropes of cum. Continuing to harshly grind against him while he rode it out. The man under the onslaught moaning high in surprise, bags crumpling from his hands and onto the floor. The crinkle of plastic and falling groceries loud, and already forgotten in the silence of their shared panting. Wade struggled to hold his own against the door he lay pressed against.
“Fuck, what? Did you—? Are you joking—? that’s your third—?” Wade’s tone was awed, a gasp of truth in the light of things. Glee tingeing the cusp of his astonishment. “Goddamn, thank you to any gods that are listening, this must be a wet dream come true.”
“Not a joke, Wade.” Peter began to paw restlessly over Wade crotch, hands scrambling at the fabric of Wade’s sweatpants. Tugging harshly and blindly against the constricting fabric, withholding him from his prize. “Please let me— off!
A loud rip rang through the air.
“Oh sweet holy shit balls.”
Peter fell to his knees. Rough hands dragging Wade from the wall and onto the floor with him. The man yelped in surprise as he went down. They landed in a tangle of contact, Peter quick to manhandle Wade. Engulfed by the need to take. He shoved his way around him, crawling around the floor to take Wade’s thighs in his. He clawed at the already ripped fabric and tore it ever more as he yanked it unceremoniously from Wade’s body. Dragging forth another wrecked swear from Wade’s lips. Tatters of sweats and boxers were tossed aside, paving the way for Peter’s real goal.
Peter was at Wade’s cock before he could even utter another grievance of the situation. Tongue laving hotly over thickened flesh. He lapped eagerly over the bulbous head, sucking greedily over the pre that budded. Moaning wantonly while he lapped up the taste, eyes rolling and slipping shut while his body shuddered eagerly. Senses flooded by the taste he had so craved. His own dick already throbbing, leaking onto the floor below him.
“Fuck— Peter!” Wade gasped out, hips jerking, readily held down by Peter who pressed him deftly into the chill of the floor. Hands grabbing onto thick thighs, splayed and hold bruising. Sure to leave marks for as momentarily as they may remain upon Wade’s skin. Peter parted his blood slick lips, welcoming the bulge into his mouth. Eager while he lapped his tongue, welcoming Wade’s taste past his lips. He swallowed him down. Mouth sealed tightly over aching warmth, following the motion down. He moaned eagerly, the vibration dragging a hiss from Wade, his hands making way to drag into Peter’s sweat soaked hair. Gripping just tight enough to border painful. “So good honey, you're taking me so well, your mouth feels so good.”
“This what you needed, huh?” Wade babbled wistfully, tone hazed in lust as Peter drew down, nudging his nose into pocketed flesh. Taking Wade to the base. His throat flexing uselessly against the thick of Wade’s weeping cock. “My cock down your throat, need a load to sate you, baby?”
Peter hummed eagerly in reply, drawing his wrapped lips up and down. A steady rhythm against achingly hot erection. Tongue winding eagerly past the seam of his mouth. Pace a feverish drive to bring Wade to his peak. Just as Wade had said, the need for Wade’s orgasm to cusp down his throat his driving force. He needed to taste him, needed his cum, and calm that growing urge under his skin. To drain him of all he had to offer and fuck him raw until he passed out upon his cock in his web. “Well your gonna get it soon if you keep that up, fuck!”
Peter trailed a hand from the harsh hold, more than well assured one limb would be enough to keep the larger male pressed flat underfoot. Reaching away and under himself, he gave a few strokes, slicking his hand thoroughly in the thick globs of cum and pre coating his engorged cock. Dragging it back with well assured movements, he brushed the hand over Wade’s thigh. Then down, teasing down over his thickening balls, nudging down his taint and finally to brush over his hole.
Wade swore loudly, hips struggling to jerk back against the finger that now prodded at his back side. Falling into a keen as Peter teased, pressing the tip of his pointer finger ever so against his rim. Peter let his eyes flicker, gaze casting upward to take in Wade’s own pleasure filled expression. Already trained wild eyed on him, gaze meeting his own.
Wade’s cock leapt in his throat, rewarding Peter with another thick mouthful of slick. Peter’s own pitch black eyes meeting Wade's blown one’s. “Holy fucking shit, Spidey your fucking eyes!”
“Your pupils—they’ve never— completely black like that, what the fuck, that’s fucking terrifying— why is that so hot?” Wade’s tone fell off with a high whine, Peter pressing his finger forward into tight warmth. Encasing his finger, slickened by his overly lubricated finger, the precum falling from his dick a consistency it had never managed before. Digit pushing insistently into Wade, the man’s muscles jumping to clench. Wade in turn readily forcing himself to relax. A drawn out whimper from above reaching Peter’s ears.
“Pete, we need, fuck, we need actual lube sweetheart— not that whatever you did to slick that up isn’t amazing, holy shit I can only imagine.”
Peter all but growled, drawing his way off Wade’s cock with a wet pop. He smacked his lips, licking over them as he stared Wade down. Peter could feel the thrum from somewhere deep from within. He couldn’t allow Wade to be tainted by those false lubricants. Something deeply biological told him his would be enough.
“It will do.” Peter titled his head, cheek pressing to nuzzle against Wade’s erection. Precum and slick spittle mottling the skin of his cheek. Peter shifted his finger, curling it as he pressed deeper and rubbed against now slickened tight walls. Muscles already drawing lax as Wade began to open up to him. Peter drew his hand back, finger just teasing at the opening, another joining to meet it. He pressed both back inside.
“Oh!—Ok wow, sure, just fuck, open me up good honey bunches.” Wade babbled, head finally falling back against cool kitchen tile. Submitting. Hands drifting from Peter’s hair as he went. Making way to cling to the sweatshirt he still wore, the collar caked in drying blood.
Peter hummed, pleased, nodding against the press of cock against his cheek. He drew himself back to sit upright, hand clasped along Wade’s thigh making trek downward. In a quick tug, he lifted Wade’s hips, dragging his meaty thighs over his shoulders. Wade’s surprised gasp went ignored as he bowed the others' weight to settle over him. He bent him next to in half as he leaned in to lap his tongue where his fingers pressed flush into Wade.
“Oh fuck—! Do you feel like— really really hot too, ah— hazy, or is that just the blood rushing to my head?”
Peter ignored him. Opting to shift himself further toward welcoming heat. His fingers angling to drag apart, making way for his tongue to slide in beside them. Wade moaned loudly in turn the the contact.
“Fuck—shit ok, wow this is a really weird time to be drugged, actually wait no scratch that perfect time.”
Aphrodisiac.
That had to be what Peter himself was feeling. Peter must have transferred it to his mate. Peter wasn’t sure when it had occurred, but it had to have come from him. Whether when he had bitten Wade, the most likely candidate, or now, tongue slick and eating Wade open.
Peter felt a trill of pleasure go through him at the thought of bringing Wade such pleasure. To bask in this same unwavering heat as him. To own him so thoroughly as he tasted the heat of flesh against tongue and finger. Peter teased further into Wade, and there, he angled the prod of his digits.
He was met by a strangled scream, Wade’s hips jerking in his tight hold as he teased against the bud of his prostate. Peter watched, dark eyes transfixed, thoroughly entranced by the view before him. He did nothing to let up his onslaught, deprived in his need to bring Wade to cusp. He knew he was close, he could smell it.
Wade proved this true. Muscles against his fingers drawing tight, a slick treasure of what was to come, Wade full on sobbed a cry of Peter’s name, broken just as he did. Body jerking and hips twitching as his peak hit. Harsh spurts rained down onto him from where he was folded, smearing down his chest and face. Marking him in pearlescent stripes.
Wade sagged into the tile, body heaving in rough breaths, struggling to catch up with the cry he had broken free. To will his body down from the exertion of orgasm. Body lax, slick with sweat. Leaving the warm flesh around Peter’s fingers furthered mailable and pliant. Peter dragged his fingers apart, scissoring into the well slicked hole. Lubricated by Peter’s own pre and saliva. Perfection. Nearly loose enough now for Peter to breed. A broken moan tore through Wade’s chest, a hand lazily dragging up to tug at Peter’s hair. Falling at a moment's notice, his covered arm by his sweatshirt sleeve landing into the mess of spunk on his chest. Lulling lazily along to the drag of harsh breaths through Wade’s chest.
“I—shit. I need a minute here, Petey.” Wade’s tone a whine, voice rough and grating. So close to how it would rasp when he was thoroughly fucked and sated on Peter’s cock. Peter ignored him, drawing his tongue and fingers back, instead returning with another third and final digit. Pressing in incessantly. “Peter!”
Wade sobbed a wail, his chest now coated in the onslaught of his orgasm, pearling and gorgeous against pockmarked skin. His sweatshirt must have slipped back while he was held. Arm pulling from his chest, to claw at the floor in time with the other. Nails grating into the cool kitchen tile. His chest revealing perked nipples, a dusty red in the barely visible lighting, color radiating down his flushed body. The spray of his cum had come far enough to coat far down his chest. Some even trekked enough to dribble over his chin, trailing down his cheeks. Now tear filled. A beautiful mixture of fluid. Though his thick cock still jutted erect, filled and aching red, twitching a lovely trail of precum down to his chest.
Peter allowed Wade's legs to drop from his shoulders, angling them to the floor, his fingers ever continuing in their duty to stretch the man open. He leaned dutifully over Wade, overcome with an urge he had yet to sate. Angling down, he parted his lips, tongue peaking forth as he began to lap up the quickly cooling cum over Wade’s chest.
Peter moaned, engorging himself on the slide of cum slickened skin against his tongue. Needily taking his fill as his senses derailed over. Cock throbbing diligently where it rested, pooling slick want down his thigh. That familiar heated haze had begun to draw through Peter again, a cool sweat just barely chilling his feverish skin. The taste of Wade cum, pure scent on his senses turning over to an onslaught of want. To take. “Fuck— Shit. Honey, what a sight, fuck, you like my cum, hm?”
“Tastes good does it, moaning like a fucking—“ Wade cut himself off with a strangled cry, tears further dripping down his cheeks. His body jerking as Peter’s fingers twisted to cut him off with a nudge to his prostate. “Please, fuck sake, Pete! I’m so—Shit, I need you to fuck me. Now. I can’t— need it, I can’t, please!”
Wade babbled as Peter finally drew back from lapping up what cum he could reach along Wade. He rolled his tongue over in his mouth, the taste of tang musked salt rolling along his spit. Swallowing down heartedly. He licked his lips. Pitted eyes raving over Wade’s lavished form. He hummed contently, a buzz of a purr starting up in the back of his throat. He slowly drew his fingers from Wade.
Peter needed to be inside of Wade now. He could feel the want steadily coursing through veins, a crescendo only matching means to be inside of his partner. Peter felt a sense of urgency run through him, a calling, his attention snapped up to his nest. The silky texture quilted in thin cloth, the perfect nest to take Wade in. He shifted his hold, hands trailing down to Wade’s thighs. He began to stand on shaky legs, grabbing for Wade as he hauled him up effortlessly into his grasp. Holding the much larger male snug to his chest. Said man quick to voice his confusion.
“Wait, what are you—?” With Wade grasped in his hold, arms winding around Peter’s neck and legs crossing around Peter’s waist, flush to Peter’s front. Anchoring himself. Their leaking cocks sliding against one another in their close embrace. Pleasure bursting at the contact. The wet slap of skin to Peter’s front was thrilling, setting his skin ablaze as he began his trek forward, making way back below his web.
“Hold.” Peter barked the order, Wade’s grasp tightening without question. Peter drew his hands away to cling forth, setae clinging sure to the brick. Peter began his climb. It only took a few moments before he was depositing Wade onto the fabrics lain across his web, gently settling him down into the fine layers. Peter purred at his work, sinking back on the web to take in the sight of Wade before him.
Flush and panting, hard cock a sure crest gleaming wet against his abdomen. The dim light of the setting sun through his blinds embracing his exquisite form casting him in a sea of shadows. Marked skin accentuated. Ripe for the taking.
“Oh—“ Wade breathed, eyes wide as he took in the intricate webbing around him. Awe thick in his tone. Taking in what Peter could describe as one of his greatest creations. Now perfect with its final piece, Wade. Nestled comfortablely and safe within its confines. Lazed and flushed against the backwash of his own clothes. “Is this—?”
“Made it myself.” Peter hummed warmly, nodding. Tone filled with pride. Eyes raking over Wade, the low trill of his throat only growing as he began to stalk over toward him. Wade’s eyes had cast down to Peter’s wrists while he approached. Peter gave into the gesture, offering an arm for Wade to inspect. Peter edged closer into his space, watching eagerly as Wade inspected over his arm. Gaze cast downward to the barely there ridge of his spinneret. Peter watched raply, eyes flickering up to Wade’s face at the harsh dry shallow from Wade that rang in the air as he rubbed his hand up the offered limb. Wade trailed a thumb, brushing lightly over the heated skin of his aching spinneret. The touch heading straight to his aching cock. Twitching at the pleasure of Wade’s touch over his sensitive bud.
“Built us this beautiful spot to make that sweet, sweet sappy love, huh?”
Peter pounced.
Limbs a flurry Peter slammed into Wade, inhumanly strang hand prying from his hold and instead grasping for Wade’s own wrist. He slammed the hand upward, grabbing along the other as he went, manhandling them above Wade’s head. Pressing them back into the web free of cloth above Wade’s head. Sticking his mate well and snug to the glistening material behind him. Wade immediately sought to tug back, a gasp of a moan gracing his lips as he found himself sure and brazenly stuck to the surface.
Peter leaned forward, limbs seeking out the warmth and comfort. That need he had to satisfy. Peter nuzzled his face into Wade’s neck. Inhaling the scent of dried gore against his neck. That sense of urgency ever creeping up his spine, engulfing him. His hands trailed over Wade hips, gripping tight and sure, making way up marked skin to his chest. He brushed against the cloth of Wade’s sweatshirt, with a hiss of dissatisfaction. Somehow still intact, he could change that. With a quick motion he ripped through the fabric, it tore down the middle and to the collar. Billowing aside to reveal a flushed chest and perked nipples.
“Didn’t like that one anyways.” Wade rasped, voice thick and hearty, throat echoing against where Peter pressed close. Peter inhaled again, mouth falling open in a rough pant. That familiar scent of leather and gunpowder overwhelmed his senses. Tongue making way to lap eagerly over dried blood, discontent boiling in his core. He bit harsh into the meat of Wade’s neck once more, mouth quick to be filled with the flush of coppery heat. Wade shook below him with a groan, basking in the sharp of pain. He suckled eagerly, drawing back just enough to lap over the mark. Nuzzling into his neck. Content. The purr under his skin echoing in a fire of his own burning arousal. He humped his weeping cock eagerly into the flesh he could meet below, his own erection bumping against Wade’s. Dragging matches hisses from the duo.
“You're killing me here,” Wade whined, hips jerking into another slide of flesh and wrists flexing uselessly against their stuck hold. Peter ignored him, taking his fill of his caught prey. He trailed his lips down his neck. Nipping against feverishly hot skin, that drive coiling further into his gut. He laved over a nipple, soaking it in blood coated spittle before sucking the bud harshly into his mouth. He worked his teeth over it, ever privy to the twitch of his partner below him, moaning eagerly, back bowing to meet the treatment. “Please!”
Peter brushed his hands down Wades chest, one coming to tease at his other stiffened nipple. Offering a condolence to his plea. Wade willing the touch with a barely bitten off sob. His other limb continued down, nails just so dragging as he went. Rewarded with a hiss from above. The hand fell from Wade as he angled his hips, instead opting to wrap around his weeping cock. He gave a few sure strokes, slicking his hand in the odd lubricant.
Peter drew his hand away and downward, rubbing the fluid over Wade’s heated asshole. A choked moan meeting his ears when he breached, willing three fingers inside. Muscular hips jerking back to meet them. Desperate. Peter spread Wade wide as he slicked him up further. Rubbing deep while he continued to mouth and tease at his chest. Peter racketed up his assault, fingers driving deeper in search on Wade’s pleasure. Finding it sure and quick, after so long he knew Wade’s body as he knew the swing and pull of his own webbing. He rubbed mercilessly over Wade’s prostate, ever eager at Wade’s answering cry. Wade’s plea filled babbling chanting through the air.
Peter watched Wade’s face below his sweat slicked hair, the screw of pleasure on his face as his brow wrinkled. Mouth falling open and closed over again in a rough scrawl of pants. Lust hazed eyes meeting his own. A silent plea. Ever entranced when Wade’s teeth met his bottom lip, sinking eagerly into flesh. Face askew in the welcomed pleasure. A low keen rising in his throat, a steady blush blooming and darkening across his cheeks and down his hitching chest. He was close.
Peter pulled his fingers free.
Wade threw his head back with a bitten sob, the web below them ricocheting with the motion. Enticing. Body trembling against Peter’s hold. He drew himself back from Wade's chest, arm following. Instead leading them both to grasp at Wade’s hips. He lifted them, willing Wade to settle his limbs into the pile of cloth, knees bent. He rubbed an assured hand down Wade’s thigh, hands meeting on his ass to part his cheeks. Hungrily eyeing the slickened hole presented before him.
Dropping one hand, the other still parting his goal. He grasped up his own throbbing cock in hand, nudging closer to press the weeping erection against tender heat. Wade had begun his babble of pleas again, head tossing to and fro, trying his damndest to wiggle back and will Peter’s cock inside of him. Peter relented. He pressed forward with a long groan, tight ring giving away easily. Flesh molding diligently and eager, soaking him up in that engulfing heat.
Peter needed to take.
Peter snapped his hips forward, sinking himself to base. A loud slap of his balls echoing throughout the room. Wade answering in what he could only describe as a wail. He didn’t give his mate a moment to adjust to the thick intrusion. Drawing his hips back and pounding back into him. His hands scrambled to hold at Wade’s thigh, grip bruising and unyielding.
The loud slap of skin on skin echoing throughout the apartment. Followed shortly by Wade’s own begging symphony, head thrown back and mouth parted. Drool dribbling down his chin. Joining in the mess of dried come and continuous tears. Dragging forth down his skull. Wrists seizing uselessly against bonds. Taking what he was given. Wade rocked gorgeous below his grasp, body quaking with each sharp burst of hips. Unrelentless in his pursuit of pleasure.
Wade wailed beneath him, a rough sob tearing from his throat. Body twitching at the merciless slap of skin. Head thrown back and shifting to and fro. Arms tugging uselessly at their hold. Overstimulated. Peter could smell the rolls of Wades peak drawing up on him. He shifted his hips, working wordlessly into the squelch of Wade. Grip bruising, body malleable below him as he began the slam of his cock against Wade’s prostate.
Wade sobbed a feeble attempt at Peter’s name. Body drawing taught and hips flexing. Fucking back against him. Body alight in pleasure Peter could smell, an ache to sate. Scent drawing heavy in the air as Wade cusped into his peak. Thick ropes of cum burst from his cock. Layering in his chest in beauticious stripes. Wade’s chest hiccuping, face layered in a mess of red patch work. Lungs struggling to catch up with the assault of pleasure.
The scent hit Peter and he bowed over. Fingers digging into Wade’s skin, the fresh scent of blood mingling in the air. Nails cutting into skin. The body below him spasming. Peter’s hips jerked to a stop as he came. The tremors sent him ablaze as he spilled into Wade’s right heat. Grinding rope and rope of cum into Wade, a slow crawl of motion as he filled him. Bred him full, he worked his hips in a slow crawl, the rough squelch of cum loud between their labored breathing.
Wade whined beneath him, body flexing uselessly.
“Pete,” The thoroughly roughed up voice broke into the air. Tone haggard and cracking. Peter shifted his hips, a whimper falling from his mates lips below him. Both not yet sated. Wade’s cock still filled and red, unwavering as Peter’s own pressed inside cum slicked heat. Aphrodisiac doing its work. Wade pulled at his bonds, body flexing and struggling against the hold. His eyes searching out Peter, desperation coated in the sheen of his tears. “I can’t—It’s too much. No—I need. Honey.”
“So good.” Peter purred, hand playing downward, skirting down Wade's thigh, hand coming to grasp Wade's cock in hand. Giving in a squeeze. He teased his thumb over the head, coating his hand in the mess of fluid. Wade jerked against the touch, body shaking, crying out in his sensitivity. Peter could feel his want almost met, just another load and he was sure it would catch. “Gonna breed you so well, so close, so good for me.”
Peter didn’t let up.
Peter lifted Wade with little bravado, willing his thighs over his shoulder. Hand trailing away from his dick to help grasp at his skin. Muscular legs wrapping tight, locking behind him. Anchored. Sweat slicked skin shaking against him. Meager sobs and pleas music to his ears. Peter bowed him over, adjusting his angle, before pounding back into willing flesh. The loud squelch echoing through the room.
Wade cried out useless in his begging, tears casting down his face. Taking whatever Peter gave him, readily answering them. Slamming sure into tight heat. Words an indecipherable babble not even Peter could begin to categorize. Eyes squeezed tightly shut and brows drawn. Chest heaving and body uselessly trying to shy away from the onslaught. A beautiful sight below him. Overwhelmed yet over eager for the lull of pleasure. Wade’s thick cock bouncing with every slap.
Peter was relentless. That want singing in his head, the scents and pleasures mingling in a steady haze. Lulling him in with the tune of Wade’s ache. He was so close to what he had needed, that will in his core so close to being fulfilled. His cock felt gorged, body overheated below the sing of flesh he slapped against. Wade answering his call in echoing pleas.
Peter drove into him, seeking out that much needed pleasure. Drawing the duo closer and closer to their cusp. Coiling between them with each rough slap of skin. Pounding home into the tight of Wade’s ass. So pliant around his onslaught.
Peter was so close. The edge of his orgasm drawing up on him.
Peter trailed a hand down Wade’s thigh, once more taking his cock in hand. Stroking in time with each thrust. He teased his tight fist over him. His thrusts becoming erratic on his drive into Wade’s prostate. Drilling pleasure into the man he loved. Wade in time beneath him thrashing against his bonds, head thrown back with a mess of sweat. He needed Wade to reach his peak with him one final time.
A rough thrust, a twist of his hand, another and— Wade jerked harshly under him. A long drawn out moan reaching his ears, the slick muscle around his erection tightening in a suctioning pull as Wade peaked. Peter was blind sided by his own orgasm, hips stuttering to a stop. Pulsing nearly in time with the thick cock he felt spilling over his hands, coating Wade’s own chest in spent. As he too filled Wade with his own.
Peter collapsed down into Wade, face nuzzling into Wade’s spent cock. Slowly growing lax against where it rested. Inhaling needily in the scent of sweat slicked musk. Face rubbing into pearlescent liquid, needy in the haze for comfort. Peter and Wade panted together, harsh breaths mingling in the heat of their shared space. Both coming down from their collective highs. The thrill of shared heat and body warming something in Peter’s chest. The ever clinging love for the man below his grasp. Now soiled and sated, just as he. Perfection in its truest form, Wade Wilson stuffed to the brim with his cum.
Peter drew back slowly, limbs unwinding and his cock a wet squelch when it slipped free. Wade’s legs fell from his shoulders, falling uselessly at his sides. Quaking in his pleasure. The buzz beneath Peter’s own skin finally dulling to a low throb. Before ebbing away into nothing but satisfaction. He purred at the sight before him. His cock softened from its previous engorged red throb. Peter watched raply at the ooze of cum that leaked from Wade’s abused hole, fat globs trickling down and past his cheeks. Spilling to trickle into the canopy of cloth below him. He raked his gaze over Wade’s prone form, delight coiling in his gut at the debauched man splayed out before him.
Bred thoroughly and stuffed full.
“You back with me, baby boy?” The rasp of Wade's voice cut through his haze. The other clearing his throat to get rid of the drag. The smacking of lips drawing his attention, Wades panting breaths mingling into the air. The steadying slow rise and fall of the chest before him melodic to his sight.
Peter hummed wordlessly, shifting his footing and crawling his way to cuddle into Wade. He rubbed his cheek against Wade’s, muddling the mess of fluid against his own cheek. Finally content. That all abiding heat from earlier finally silenced. Content.
“You know if you wanted to have marathon sex you could’ve just asked, I’m always down. Mind you always is the key word there.”
Peter winced, guilt toiling in his gut. He hadn’t even given Wade a proper hello before he had been on him. That aching need finally with a direction to satisfy it. There was no quelling that need until Wade had been before him.
“Sorry—“
“Nope! Nada. No apologizing. That was hot as shit, was that a spider thing, please tell me that was a spider thing.” Wade cut Peter off swiftly, already beginning to fall into his usual chatter. Peter felt his heart soar, yearning aching at his being in contentment. Relief at Wade’s lack of anger toward his earlier behavior. But Wade was also right, this must have been a biological thing. Perhaps a side effect of sorts. Peter was unsure in his musings. His spider half had often been dominating, but easy to ignore. This had been anything but. “Is this gonna be like a yearly treat I get to partake in? Cause Deadpool has been a good boy and totally deserves his early Christmas present.”
“I’m— not sure. I’ve been feeling a little funky since my birthday. Feverish, assumed I was coming down with something—“
Wade cut his explanation off.
“Oh!! It's autumn! Totes spider mating season.”
Peter blinked owlishly, head tilting as he narrowed his eyes at Wade. Eyes giving him a calculating once over. Not even he had known when the mating season had been. He was sure he had been far too human in his biology to even be affected by such a thing. Let alone ever thought about it. That had surely been proven to be false. Perhaps he did have some search to conduct. “Why… Do you know that.”
“Research my good sir! My partner's spiderman— get it ‘Spider-Man.’” Wade giggled listfilly. Tone a teasing glee. Calming something warm and loving in Peter's chest. Peter smiled softly at him, eyes crinkling in their affection. “And it was a sure must have for some kinda research.”
“Mhm, okay whatever you say ‘Mr.Spider-expert.’ Can’t beat the original, Wade.”
Wade flexed against his bonds, his hands still sure and stuck to the webbing below him. Peter immediately distracted, eyes raking over the mess he has made of Wade. A flush still high on the man’s cheeks, coated in all sorts of drying fluid. His haze raked down his chest, it too in a similar manner. He felt a swirl of satisfaction at the sight.
“I’m starting to cramp up here honey, would you use your little spidery abilities to free me from this absolute wet dream i’m stuck to.”
Wade gave a half attempt at a wave. Peter was quick to spring into action. Freeing him with deft movements. Feeling a pang of loss as the material gave way under his ministrations, webbing casting away to flutter in the air. Wade’s wrists finally unbound. The man rolled over on the pile of cloth, finally ridding himself of his ruined sweatshirt, casting it aside on the web. Clinging true along the mess of other various stuck laundry. In the next moment he wrapped an arm around Peter’s waist and dragged him into a much too soft kiss for their previous activities. Pulling away after just a moment to pepper over Peter's face in lush presses of lips.
“But yes— I am the spider expert. Considering!! Not even you knew this, ha! Out spidered the spider.”
Peter huffed a laugh, rolling his eyes. He supposed Wade was undoubtedly right in this situation. He certainly had some research to do.
“Now get me down from here so I can put those groceries away you oh so rudely disrespected and we can take a well earned nap.”
“Ah crap— I’m sorry, Red. Did I break anything, I can head back out and pick anything up.”
“On your salary?” Wade teased. Tone mirthful in the glee he always exuberated when he teased at Peter’s job choice. He found nothing more amusing than Peter working for a man who not only hated his guts, but had no idea The Spider-Man was taking selfies for his own profit. Truly villainous. At least to Wade’s claims. “Yeah maybe in your dreams, but i’m still making— ok scratch that we’re ordering out.”
“I was obviously gonna use your card. Asshat.”
Wade cackled. Eyes crinkling in glee. Wade had given Peter a card ages ago to use to buy groceries— or for well. ‘Whatever he so desired.’ As Wade had oh so ceremoniously dubbed it when he had forced the money onto Peter. But Peter wasn’t one for frivolous spending. Let alone the frivolous spending of his partner's money. So only groceries it was.
“Just like we’re gonna use my card to order out! Now onward my trusty steed! You know I always get hungry after a good fuckening.”
“Fuckening is not a real word, Wade.”
“It too is!”