Am I Going to be Tonightless Again?

by Katastrophi, Meeps

Summary:

After months of noticing a cute little brunet following him to a bar, Wade Wilson decides to take matters into his own hands and confronts him about it. It’s more than either of them could have hoped for.

Notes:

• For Beeba.

oh wow, this got away from us. It's so long. We both really hope you guys enjoy the story.

this was written for the Spideypoolexchange!! :D Spideypoolexchange

it was written as a gift for DeadpoolwithFriends x3 I don't know if they have an ao3, or i'd just gift the fic to them that way.

the art in the fic was done by Meeps (one of the authors) specifically for this fic

now that that's out of the way, we both hope you enjoy the story :3

It had long become a routine at this point: Peter would walk into the bar (and yet they still checked his ID every time -- though he was beginning to think the bouncer was doing that as a joke), he would sit at one of the booths near the back, and he would watch. At first it had been completely spur-of-the-moment to follow Deadpool here. He'd ditched his costume for civvies in a nearby alley, hoping... hoping that maybe they could...

Talk.

Or something.

Yes, definitely something.

If he fucked this up as Spider-Man, Deadpool would be able to avoid him without much effort. If Peter Parker fucked this up, however... Spider-Man wouldn't get removed in the collateral. He wanted to still be able to be friends if the worst case scenario happened, and he didn't think that was possible as the masked vigilante.

So logically he came here, came to this bar that the other man frequented. It was actually pretty stalker-ish if Peter decided to be honest with himself, but he was trying not to do that. He just needed the courage to get up and talk to Deadpool, and... and it just hadn't happened yet. He had to order drinks to be allowed to loiter, and then he felt like he had to drink them rather than just let them go to waste. Maybe, he'd thought, maybe the alcohol would loosen his nerves, make him more brave without a mask to hide behind.

This was just another night of the usual. He was still drinking, and still not talking to Deadpool. Great. Big surprise, there. Peter sighed and slumped his head into his hands. Why did he keep doing this, again?

Wade Wilson had thought it was coincidence at first; the kid had come in roughly the same time as him twice, and that was cool. The scruffy-haired boy with glasses a bit too thick for his face was actually adorable -- but it had been well upwards of a month now. This was absolutely ridiculous. The masked man looked to the bartender and motioned to order two drinks. Despite what his comics said, Deadpool wasn't much of a beer drinker. He couldn't truly get drunk so why get something absolutely nasty? Two sex on the beach were thrust into his hands and he moved across the moderately busy floor.

He tapped the brunet on the shoulder twice before flopping down beside him. His voice was joking but even in his mild mood it was still somewhat gruff. "Here kid, s'on me. I know you're pro'lly new to your job an' feel nervous, but wow, you are awful at surveillance. Who do ya work for? Shield? Hydra? A.I.M.?"

Now, Peter had been approached a few times by other people in the bar (after all, why sit alone if you weren't trying to hook up, right?), but it still startled him nearly shitless every time, especially since his health wasn't on the line so his Spidey Sense remained silent. He jumped and an interesting noise escaped him when a heavy hand was suddenly touching his shoulder. Something felt wrong. His head was buzzing, but not just from the drinks. When he turned and saw that it was Deadpool, he was no less shocked -- in fact, he was more. Was this actually happening? He stared back exactly like it wasn't really registering with him just yet.

Deadpool knew. He knew something was up, and Peter realized that was why he couldn't calm down, why that nagging hum in the back of his mind wouldn’t allow it. He felt even more like a prey animal caught in a trap when he realized that he'd been boxed in.

Oh, shit.

"...Huh?"

Peter hadn't meant sputter dumbly like that, but... what? Deadpool knew Spider-Man didn't affiliate with -- ...Oh. Oh. No, Deadpool didn't know who he was right now, and obviously thought he was a spy. That had to be it.

"Well, uh, I'm not," Peter started, waving his hands to gesture at himself while backing up against the wall. Oh God, that meant Deadpool had noticed him staring. For how long, though? Did he see it every single time? Damnit, damnit, damnit. His face was alight with a flush that had nothing to do with the alcohol and it was quickly spreading down his throat. "I'm not," he tried again, but he couldn't seem to choke out any more words.

Deadpool watched the kid, the white eye-covers of his costume narrowing. He rolled up the edge of his mask to take a casual sip of his drink. "Uh-huh. An' I'm Mary fuckin' Poppins. You've been coming in here for a coupla months now, around the same time I do, an' you always sit alone. Girls an' guys alike hit on your fine ass like you're a bottle of free booze, an' you still stay alone. Either you're a spy, or you got a thing for ugly-ass men in red who smell periodically of death."

Deadpool knew then that he wasn’t going to hurt the kid, even if he turned out to be a Hydra goon. The poor guy looked like he was nineteen with a fake ID, and he practically shook every time someone approached him. "Enjoy the drink -- I didn't poison it, I swear. I'd offer to take a sip of it to prove it, but if you've been watchin' me like a hawk for all this time, you probably know who I am, an' then you’d know I can't die."

Peter gulped (which almost didn't finish going down) and spread himself a little harder against the wall. Well, you've done it now, Peter; you've ruined everything and you didn't even get to introduce yourself first. That had to be some kind of a record, actually. If Deadpool had just come over to chat, he would have been high up on Cloud Nine by now, but instead he felt like he was about to be interrogated -- or already was being interrogated.

Peter didn't do flings. It had never occurred to him that a one-nighter was something he could, in fact, have with any of those people who had approached him the other times, and that anyone, including Deadpool, was poisoning his drink hadn't even crossed his mind either (but now he eyed said drink a little warily). The fight or flight feeling ebbed away, and it left him confused.

"I'm really not with anyone," Peter insisted. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was wind up scrambling up the walls to get away from the mercenary if Deadpool decided he wanted to take the uncooperative spy out with his twin swords (or guns). He also didn't have his web-shooters on him, which meant he would only be good for close-ranged attacks while on the defensive.  "I just... happen to... be here?"

…

Aaaaand he was dead. He knew he was dead. That would have sounded like a lie to a deaf person, and Deadpool -- despite how he could act sometimes -- wasn't one who fell for lame tricks like that. Peter couldn't get up and leave the booth to go hide in the men's restroom, either, so he just covered his face instead.

"That was so stupid," he muttered into his palm.

Peter suddenly regretted ever drinking in the first place. It was the fruity stuff too, because beer tasted exactly like what it was: fermented grass. Well, not exactly -- there was more to it than that -- but it was close enough. He at least knew better now than he did his first night here, so he always made sure he had a glass of water for every drink he ordered, but good lord did the sugar still do him in. He was pretty sure he'd lost half of his senses by now, and he probably looked like it. He needed a pin that said ‘100%, gold star, grade-A fuck up’ to just stick on his shirt. But when he'd tried talking to other people in this damn place he hadn't ever stumbled quite this badly over his own words, and he didn't think he'd had more to drink than usual.

"Okay, say I believe you." Deadpool finally said, and he moved to make himself more comfortable. "I’m almost inclined to believe you, anyway. I've been peeped on by every ‘top secret organization’ you could think of, and no one has stunk at it as bad as you.”

Peter was seriously about to die right where he was (not that he’d have much choice). Deadpool just flat-out said he completely sucked, and he found himself groaning into his hands at that. Why couldn't there be a backspace button on life? Revert to the last save file? Factory reset?

“Of course, I say ‘stunk’ in a figurative way; your cologne is actually quite amazing." The mercenary spoke with his hands, even including cheesy double guns motions with his fingers when he complimented Peter (whether he could see the gestures or not). "So, that being said, why do you eyeball me so much, then? I know this ass looks damn good in this suit, but really, if you wanna chat a brotha up you just gotta buy'm a drink. What's your name -- an' please tell me you don't use a fake ID to get in here."

…

The younger man spread his fingers to peek through them and then dropped his cover entirely at the complement. Now he was just confused. Was he in trouble or not?

"Uh, no, I--"

Wait, what was even happening? He was being given tips on how to pick people up?

"I didn't, I'm Peter, and I was too nervous to ask you out," he said in a rush, answering the questions entirely in reverse order. He'd practiced introducing himself so many times, but this had never been one of the ways he'd planned. ...Well, that was both a step up and a step down, but it certainly could have gone worse, right?

"That's pro'lly a good thing, kid. I ain't exactly the safest motherfucker to be around." Deadpool gave a soft laugh before taking another sip of his drink. Peter watched his own glass before he finally slid it closer to himself. It was surprisingly bright-colored and had fruit lining it, but he didn't recognize it and he didn't know how flammable it was. He hoped the actual alcohol content wasn't too up there.

“You've never hurt me," he answered quietly and then shrugged, not looking up. He took the straw in his mouth and tried some. Deadpool had said it wasn't poisoned, but even if he was lying, Peter could live through very high levels of certain toxins. Besides, it was something to do that wasn't putting his foot in his mouth instead. He’d definitely take kicking it from poison over making more of a fool of himself.

"So, Peter," Wade rolled his name over his tongue like a fine wine, ignoring the comment. Peter’s face felt about as red as the drink just then, and he glanced up dumbly at Deadpool as the other used his name for the first time. He liked hearing that a lot, and he’d swear that every blood-cell in his body was now traveling to his face. "What kind of kinky shit are you into? Typically people don't stare lovingly from afar at people whom they've never met when said person is covered head to toe in leather an' spandex. Unless, of course, you're a superhero fetishist. Which, if that’s the case, sorry to break it to ya; I'm not Spider-Man. My bum is nice, but wowee, that man's ass is a work of art." He was just teasing the brunet now; he could tell Peter was harmless, and he had kind of known it all along. Call it intuition.

Peter had absolutely no idea how to react to that question. He wasn't into kinky stuff! He was about to sputter a reply when Deadpool talking about Spider-Man's butt finally hit his brain, and, oh dear God. He knew Deadpool had stared at him before while in costume -- the guy made too many comments to not actually be staring -- and Peter had gotten to the point where he enjoyed the attention. Plus the Merc was funny, and he was way smarter than he'd usually let on, and...

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. Yeah, his skin felt pretty feverish. He was definitely glowing with a flush. "I, uh... I don't think I'm into kinky stuff?" he said, but it turned into a question that raised in pitch with every word.

Deadpool's brow arched and he couldn't help the small snicker that tumbled from his lips. "I do believe that is a question we should answer in good time, my lovely Watson, seeing as I have deduced that the only logical solution to all of this is that you want in my pants an' haven't been with enough guys to know how to approach one." He drained the rest of his own drink, sucking on one of the cherries from the bottom of his glass. "Or I could be wrong an' you're actually a murderous spy. Both are fun an' can get me from point A to point B after breaking a sweat."

Peter curled in on himself slightly. ‘In Deadpool's pants’ was certainly something he'd thought about, yes, but he wanted more than just that. He also hadn't been with enough people to know how to approach anyone. He was practically the definition of socially awkward. "I didn't know you'd ever caught me staring," he admitted into his hand, which had found his face again. "I didn't mean to stare in the first place. I meant to get up, and say something, and I... just... didn't. I kept coming in and thought for sure every time that I was gonna do it, and... I'm still over here in this booth," he finished pathetically. But Deadpool had noticed and was now sitting next to him, had bought him a drink, and was... kind of flirting. Wasn't he?

Wade kept his movements slow, making absolutely sure not to frighten the boy beside him. Well, Peter was clearly an adult, but his mannerisms were that of a shy kid trying to ask his crush to a school dance. It was absolutely precious. The bald man lightly swatted Peter's hand away from his face. "While you do have gorgeous hands Kitten, nothin' quite tops those big, brown doe eyes a'yours." He gave a toothy smile before pulling away and rolling down the edge of his mask again. "Well, I'm here now, yeah? I'd consider that a win in my book. Long execution, but the same pay off, I think. Now what could a gorgeous boy like you possibly want with a nasty-ass leper like me?"

Peter jumped slightly and blinked owlishly at the place where his cover had been. He looked over at Deadpool and he felt his stomach flutter some. Okay, so he'd not only been called ‘kitten’, but the other was now complimenting him again. Peter felt a silly grin pull at the corners of his mouth. He was naturally bashful, but he'd never gotten positive comments about his appearance before, save his 'Godly Ass' title from Deadpool -- which, of course he hadn't, because Spider-Man had always had his face covered. It was nice, and Peter felt those stupid crush-related bugs creeping around in his gut.

Deadpool was right. They were both sitting at the same table now, and that really had been part of the end goal of his first attempt (and every one after that). Peter couldn't exactly tell the mercenary now that he was Spider-Man and that he'd been enjoying their team-ups more and more, but that he was too scared to try pushing their boundaries in costume. At least if he had, he'd have had an excuse, and Wade would have known him already, and... What if he’d made the wrong decision about who to approach Deadpool as?

"Uh, well," he started but he just couldn't think. He was still so stuck on the fact that he’d just been called gorgeous that his brain had completely shut down. That was new. "I didn't really have a plan," he said slowly. "I also never thought we'd actually wind up talking." Not that this in itself was a very riveting conversation -- gee, Peter, do you think it could be because you're tipsy? --  but...

Wade couldn't wipe the smirk from his features. He liked this guy. He was awkward and fidgeting, but also incredibly honest and easy to fluster. "Well for shame, Petey-pie. I suppose I could just talk and talk, letting you slip between my fingers as you realize what a truly crazy motherfucker the infamous Deadpool is, or how about we blow -- in the figurative way of course; unless you want to use the grenade I keep in my pouches, but I feel you probably wouldn't want to reach for it -- this boring little booth an' I can show you why they call me the Merc with a Mouth on the dance floor?"

Petey-pie? Oh my God. Had Deadpool seriously just called him that? The other's usual rambling followed, but it at least calmed Peter down somewhat. That was a familiar situation to be in -- letting Wade create a constant stream of words as they came to him.

...Wait, dance floor? "I can't dance," he insisted and waved his hands, "Like, I really can't dance." He had amazing balance and never got vertigo because of his powers, but dancing involved moving to a rhythm, and rhythm was what he did not have.

There was a small laugh bubbling in Wade's throat. "Neither can I, kid. I'm just trying to think of ways to get you to loosen up that doesn't involve more alcohol. I would rather know you're disgusted with me sober than listen to you purring pretty words into my ear, drunk off your ass."

Peter found himself snorting in response. "Oh, yeah, I'm so smooth, especially when I drink; let me just whisper those sweet nothings into your ear. Cream-puffs. Ice cream. Cake. Pixie Stix. Look at all of those sweets." He had just fallen back into the comfortable bantering he and Deadpool shared while they were both on duty. He was still a little on edge, but the Merc was making him feel more and more comfortable the longer he was around.

"Oh baby, you had me at cake. Flip me over an' have your wicked way." Wade felt his stomach muscles tighten from fighting the urge to openly laugh probably obnoxiously loud. "But if you're only here because you like awkwardly starin' at me from afar, do you wanna go somewhere else? You know, start section two of whatever odd quest you've set up for yourself? I dunno man, I really fuckin' suck at the whole 'normal human interaction', so you could'a probably just flicked peanuts at me an' got the same outcome of me talkin' at ya." Wade shrugged, the voices in his head already trying to sabotage this for him. People weren't supposed to actually want to talk to him. He was supposed to shout endlessly into the void and sigh lovingly when Spider-Man actually replied to him on occasion.

Well, at least it made two of them who had no idea what to do. "You've seen how much of an expert I am at 'normal human interaction'." Peter glanced down at the drink that he'd finished a third of. He'd rather sober up some and not be embarrassingly drunk too, so he decided that continuing on with his drink that had the aftertaste of rubbing alcohol was probably a poor choice.

"Yeah," Peter suddenly said. "Yeah, let's go."

Deadpool stood up from the booth, offering his hand to Peter. He still had that shit-eating grin on his face, but it likely didn't translate well through the mask. "Then how about we go somewhere you wanna go, since you've so graciously visited my dive for more than you've ever wanted to? Woo me, Mr. Peter."

Peter scooted over to the end of the seat, and he hesitated for a second before taking the proffered hand. He'd never actually just... held Deadpool's hand before. It was warm, even through the fabric, and Peter's insides did that thing again. As he righted himself on his feet, he tugged down the sweater he was wearing over a plaid shirt, trying to keep it from riding up too high but also to give his other hand something to do. Oh lord, okay, uh, where did people go on dates after hours? A lot of places were closed by now, since it was so late, but since when did New York sleep? He'd never thought he'd get far enough that he'd have to decide where to go. What would Deadpool even want to do?

"Uh," he began intelligently, and then cocked his head to the side as he thought. "Well... we could always get something to eat, and... my apartment has an accessible roof?" They'd hung out on rooftops before; that was totally something they could do again, right? Besides, pigeons don't normally swarm for food at night.

"Well I do declare, you're gonna take a respectable Southern Belle like me back to your apartment on the first date? Why Gentleman Peter, what kind of unholy jezabel do you take me for?" Wade fanned himself with his free hand, trying to act out the bit.

That accent caught Peter off-guard, and he started laughing -- while simultaneously being absolutely mortified. "I didn't mean it like that!" he defended, but he was still snickering.

"Well, good, because that actually sounds wonderful. I can't get drunk, but food is always delicious an' it helps you sober up." Deadpool winked afterward, despite it being a little harder to catch under the his mask.

That was definitely something Peter hadn't known about before. So Deadpool couldn't get drunk? Well, Spider-Man sure could, but at least it left his system faster than it would normally (according to the internet, anyway, since he hadn't touched the stuff before he got turned, so he wouldn't know from experience). "If food weren't delicious, I think a lot of us would starve," he said, talking as the thought fluttered through his mind. "But why do you bother drinking if you don't get drunk?" he asked. He was honestly curious. What was the point of downing a liquid you can set on fire if it did nothing for you?

Wade shrugged, helping Peter fight through the decent crowd of people before making it outside. "I like the atmosphere. Kinda. People don't ask a whole lot of questions past, ‘what would you like to have,’ or ‘who wants to play darts,’ and it's just kinda nice to be around people who aren't horrifically repulsed by your very existence. It seems worth the money spent on drinks."

Peter could understand why the other wouldn't want to be in a place that asked questions. Sometimes it was nice to just not be noticed. (Except that he had been noticed, and Peter had been staring the entire time.) He was also so used to the self-hate spiel that fell from Deadpool’s lips that what the Merc said didn’t strike him as odd. He knew he should probably act like it surprised him, but it was already so hard for him to lie in the first place, and he couldn't stop himself from feeling comfortable around Deadpool, initial tension or no.

"Shit, that wasn't supposed to sound as pathetic an' mopy as it did. I wasn't really going for that. More of a Cheers thing. You know, everyone knows your name, an' all that shitty sitcom glory." Wade rubbed the back of his head, trying to disperse any of the negative energy that typically hung in the air around him. He actually didn't want to fuck this up too bad. He hadn't even realized that he was still holding Peter's hand.

Peter sure noticed, though. The younger man felt silly for being so thrilled about it. The way Deadpool was leading them almost seemed protective, and he was even happier about that. He was grinning like a total doof.

"Well, I'm always glad you came," he said, finishing the second half of the chorus. Drinking and being around his crush was doing some weird shit to his brain.

"You are a man after my own heart, Peter." Deadpool said findly, and squeezed the other's hand to relay that he was smiling wider than the mask would allow him to convey. He knocked his shoulder gently into the boy's side playfully. "I also believe there to be a wonderful innuendo there that if all goes well, I shall have to steal your line, Baby Boy."

Peter knew he must've been doing something right, since Deadpool hadn't just walked off and left him, and was actually being incredibly receptive. He was glad that they could be compatible when he wasn't Spider-Man. He didn't quite understand the talk of innuendos until several seconds after the fact. Oh. Came. Sex. That happened during sex. ...Wait, had Wade just suggested that they were going to have sex? Oh, God. He knew how sexual Deadpool presented himself, but was that just another joke, or was he being serious? Either way he was pretty flustered about that, that it hadn't even occurred to him that he needed to be the one leading the way.

They walked peacefully together, making their way through the still somewhat busy New York streets. Deadpool started laughing softly to himself and Peter blinked at him curiously. "I, uh, I actually have no idea where I'm supposed to be taking you. I don't know where you live, or even your last name. I must seem like an easy date."

Peter realized he must seem like a complete ditz then. "Oh. Oh! I'm sorry. Um, my place is this way," he said and pointed off towards their left. "It's a bit of a walk, but I think the busses stopped for the night." He shrugged. After a second of silence, he added a little sheepishly, "I must seem easy and dumb." It wasn't his fault -- he didn't know exactly what to do after picking someone up in a bar. Could he really be blamed for that?

"No, no; not dumb, or easy," Deadpool chided him lightly, speaking truthfully. "You're gentle, and awkward, scared of your own shadow maybe, but not dumb. Well, maybe a little bit dumb. You are somehow interested in me. That couldn't be the smartest move you've ever made in the history of ever." The Merc snorted. "'Sides, if you were easy, you wouldn't have made eyes at me across the room for months. You would have just walked up and shoved your hand down my pants, an' we woulda rumbled around that nasty-ass bathroom a bit. I may be be an idiot, but I'm good as fuck at my job. You don't become infamous without some form of talent, an' my talent is the ability to scope a person out. I actually figured you weren't some punk spy, I just wanted to see you all red and flustered. I am, in fact, a right bastard." Deadpool raised his free arm, trying to hail a cab on the main road. "And cabs are way easier than buses, kid."

A startled laugh jumped out of Peter's throat, and he continued with it nervously. "Bathroom's not really ideal for that kind of thing." Especially pubic bathrooms. Those things were disgusting, and the ones in bars tended to smell like urine from the men overestimating their ability to aim while drunk. He felt a little more embarrassed with each adjective that left Deadpool's lips. "Shucks," he said, and he rubbed his upper arm as if he'd gotten a friendly punch there. "Am I that obvious?"

(He'd also never really had the money to take cabs much, so the option hadn't occurred to him. But Deadpool made quite the disposable income.)

Deadpool rolled his eyes and nodded his reply. Peter was more obvious than the answer to one plus one. They stopped on the corner of the street and hailed for a cab. He glanced around almost as if he were anxious for a second, before rolling up the edge of his mask suddenly. He pressed a soft kiss to Peter's forehead before pulling away and fixing the fabric back down his chin. "Very obvious -- but obviously cute, Kitten. Don't stress yourself out over what other people think of you. And that's coming from a guy who explicitly cares what other people think of him. You're incredibly hot and humble; how you could be interested in a thing like me is a true act of mystery, even if all you want is conversation."

Peter's face turned a neon red when he received a kiss, no matter how innocent of a kiss it was -- it wasn't even close to his mouth! Oh, man, was this actually, really, honestly going places? This wasn't just some dream that he was going to wake up from and have a very awkward hard-on? He didn't want to think about how many times that had happened. During puberty it made sense, but he was way past that, and it just seemed... really lonely. He leaned to the side and bumped the Merc with his shoulder, mimicking the other's previous nudge. "You're more than a thing," he added in protest.

Deadpool broke into another smirk right as the cab pulled up. He opened the door and helped Peter inside like the gentleman he begged to be. "Well, you're right about something else: you're way too classy for a bathroom romp. I'd at least swing for a Motel Six."

Peter got into the cab and scooted over to the far side, listing off his address. Oh, man, they were going to his apartment, and Wade seemed actually interested in him. He felt warm all over, even if the conversation was a bit up and down. What are you even supposed to do when this happens? Do you offer drinks or snacks before-hand, do you give them a small tour of the apartment? He was so nervous but he was also buzzing with excitement (and just buzzed in general).

He pulled a face when he thought about motels. "I know for a fact those beds are filthy," he said. He went on without even being prompted. "I made the stupid mistake of bringing a black-light with me..." He had just been curious, turned it on, half of the room glowed (AND PART OF THE CEILING?), and even though his friend had just thrown themselves on the bed with no problem, Peter wound up sleeping in the bathtub.

"Well now, doesn't that sound kinky?" Deadpool grinned, this one being clearly visible through the fabric.

The taller rested his shoulders against the backing of the cab, making himself comfortable. His thumb glided over Peter's knuckles absently, enjoying that the boy had yet to pull away. It was like the nerves in Peter's hand were connected to all the other ones in his body. He shivered a little.

"So, pushing aside the fear of sounding like a total tool, wanna play twenty questions until we get to your apartment? I'll go first. How old are you?"

Peter really hoped the driver was tuning them out. Thankfully, said driver didn't even try to start a conversation with either of them, probably mostly because they were both more than happy to keep their own going strong. "I'm twenty-two," he said. “I know I look like a kid, though," he added and shuffled his feet against the black carpet. No one had ever guessed his age right who didn't know it beforehand. Even his aunt forgot sometimes, too, and marked him a year younger. Okay, answer a question, give a question. "You?"

"Last I actually stopped to remember, uh... shit. I suck at knowing this. After you pass all the fun milestones it doesn't even matter anymore. I was born in '88. So I'm... twenty-seven? Yeah, that sounds right. Shit, I'm getting old." The Merc shrugged and glanced out of the window. This area of town wasn't exactly the slums but not particularly safe either.

Peter huffed through his nose. "You're not that old, Deadpool. That would make me almost old, and I'm not," he muttered.

Deadpool shrugged. "My name is actually Wade Wilson, by the way. I really don't like to be called Deadpool unless I'm actively shooting at you." The older of the two gave a small but cheeky grin. He was just trying to get Peter to relax a bit more around him. It wasn't any fun if someone was too tense to talk to you. "What's your favorite movie?"

"Wade," Peter said instead of answering. He was now free to call the Merc that all he wanted. "Wade Wilson," he repeated. "'M Peter Parker," he said, clearly amused. It actually was funny how they both had alliterate first and last names.

Now, favorite movie...

"I like a lot," he said. "Probably the old animated Hobbit movie? I really liked the world they lived in, you know?" His younger self was also possibly a little obsessed with dragons and giant spiders (ironically enough). "Wait, do we each get twenty questions, or is the total sum twenty?"

"Oh no, you're a huge nerd. That's so cute, Mr. Peter Parker." (There was really no point in denying this. Peter was a huge nerd.) Wade's chest moved in an honest laugh after he spoke. He turned more to look at Peter's face.

"I uh, actually have no idea. I don't think I've ever finished a game of twenty questions. It's usually an ice breaker that drifts off into proper conversation. Or kissing." (Peter felt his mouth go dry at that. He didn't think he could bring himself to do that in the backseat of a car with someone else in it, and-) Wade shrugged, a smart-ass tone in his voice as the cab rolled to a stop in front of an older looking apartment building. Wade gave the man his fare, along with a few tens for a tip, before helping Peter out of the car.

They were finally at his apartment building, and Peter the Nerd got out on shaky legs and dusted himself off out of reflex. Okay. Peter, just walk evenly, don't stumble around like a useless drunk. Keep your focus. You can do this. He put extra concentration into making sure he was walking right, as he lead Wade inside and to the elevator. "I live on the sixth floor," he said, but he wasn't sure why he let that slip out. It wasn't something that actually mattered. It must have just been how nervous he was, and how his stomach felt like a coiled ball of wire, all knotted up and tight. Okay, breathe, you can do this. He took Wade out into the hall after the doors chimed opened, and tried very hard to keep his keys steady as he wedged them into his door.

...Had his costume been put in the closet before he'd gone out? Crap. Crap, crap, crap. As soon as he was inside, he felt a lot of things at once, and thought a lot of things at once, too. Distract Wade in case his costume was still lying about somewhere (would, "I like to pretend to be Spider-Man" be super creepy, or not?), his lacking knowledge on how picking someone up went, and the fact that he actually wanted to kiss Wade just all sort of blended together and he turned around to face the fully costumed man.

"Can-can you lift your mask?" he asked, and the only thing stopping him from doing it himself was that he knew better -- a Super would usually never take that sort of thing likely, and would be pretty damn offended if they weren't outright violent.

Wade chewed the color off his bottom lip, letting Peter's question bounce around in his head. What if the boy couldn't handle his skin, or made a joke out of his scars? Peter seemed like a sweet kid, he really, really did. Something about him screamed familiarity. Wade didn't want to lose that. His face had always been a deal breaker before.

"I got a real ugly mug, kid. Like, painful-to-look-at-in-pitch-black-darkness-while-literally-blind kinda ugly." Despite saying this, Wade lifted his mask just enough to uncover his mouth. Yeah, he'd done the same thing in the car, and to drink, but this was totally different. His exposed skin was littered in open sores and shifting scars. There was almost a sad smile accompanied by a quiet, anxious chuckle. "It don't get any better, either. Couldn't win a beauty contest, even in an alternative universe."

The description didn't deter Peter even slightly, nor did actually seeing the bottom of Wade's face. He'd seen the other's chin enough before to know what to expect. He reached out with both hands and cupped Wade's jaw, his thumbs running over the bumps and dips in the skin. He'd never gotten to touch Wade like this. He got on his tip-toes and pressed his lips against the taller man's. He still couldn't believe this was happening. "It doesn't bother me," he said, talking with his mouth still touching the Merc's.

Wade's heart thumped wildly in his chest. He had just been kissed first, and then told his scars didn't matter. When had that even happened last? Every other encounter he could remember vividly was always just a quick, still clothed romp in the dark.

Wade pushed forward, a sense of hunger rumbling in his stomach that had nothing to do with food. He hadn't expected Peter to take the first step this quickly, or honestly at all. He held a gentle grip on Peter's sides, kissing him properly. The warmth and feeling burst through his frame, making him want to meld against the boy.

Oh. Oh. That was nice. Peter's head was foggy and warm, but it had been for most of the evening. Just not like this. It was impressive how much body heat was between them, and where Wade had set his hands, Peter felt even more warmth spreading. His heart was beating faster than it did when he was swinging through the city, and he felt goosebumps prickling up along his skin. It had been five years since he'd done this with anyone, but his body remembered it a lot better than his brain did. He pressed back against the other's chest, and his hands moved down from Wade's jaw, feeling the muscles in his neck, and then his arms looped around them, over those broad shoulders. Though it felt like he was badly out of practice, he moved his lips against the Merc's, a sign that he wanted more.

He could smell Wade, and taste him -- even though it wasn't exactly fresh-cut roses and caramel, it was Wade, and he liked it just as much.

The mercenary groaned quietly, his fingers dancing down to squeeze Peter's ass before kissing him deeper. This boy was absolutely gorgeous. Wade couldn't believe his luck. Peter wasn't at all used to having his butt grabbed, and he sucked in a quick breath and pushed himself up higher on his toes, pressing his hips forward as he did so.

But a sinking feeling rested at the back of Wade's mind, and he just couldn't shake the sensation. He broke the kiss, moving his hands to rest on Peter's shoulders. "I, uh," he stuttered, and watched Peter's face, loving the way the boy's lips looked just a bit swollen.

Peter was so unsure when Wade stopped the advances it made him step backwards, landing on his heels. The younger man looked perplexed, and more than a little worried. He thought he might have done something wrong, but he didn't know what.

"Let's uh, you know, let's get you sober, alright? I don't wanna... you..." Wade shifted on his feet. "Gotta make sure you're in your right mind, yeah? I don't want you doin' anything you could regret, Kitten."

Was this Peter being turned down nicely? "Are you sure?" he asked, and his voice shook. He knew this was definitely something he wanted, whatever 'this' turned out to be. His shoulders drooped and he sighed, feeling ashamed of himself. He ran a hand through his hair and he tried to calm his body down the rest of the way. Part of him did want to be fully aware, and be able to remember every single detail. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess." The disappointment was prominent in his voice.

Peter really felt like he'd messed up. Okay, so... making out was off the table, and everything after that was, too. He shrugged. "Uh, do you... want some water? Or chips?"

Wade felt surprisingly similar -- like he'd fucked this all up. He didn't want Peter to feel bad. The mercenary pressed a quick kiss to Peter's cheek. "How about I order a pizza or somethin'? We could watch a movie, an' maybe cuddle like we're teenagers? I just... consent is super important, okay? And if I'm completely sober and you're not, I feel like I'm taking that choice away from you."

The much more innocent kiss did wonders to reassure Peter that he wasn't being effectively dumped. Plus, a pizza did sound good. He had eaten dinner, but that was quite a few hours ago. He chanced a shy smile at Wade. That was... that was actually really upstanding. He knew that even Deadpool had morals, but he didn't really know about much of them past Don't Hurt Children and Always Tip The Overworked Staff. Peter felt even more attraction bubble up after learning that. "Thank you," he said, and he meant that completely.

Wade took Peter's hand in his own, pressing his lips softly over the knuckles. "I don't want anyone goin' around sayin' I ain't a gentleman, ya know?"

The slighter male flushed at the kiss. He fidgeted. Alright, they really weren't done, just on hold. "I'm definitely seeing that, yeah," he said. He curled his fingers around Wade's hand. He honestly didn't understand how Wade didn't have to fight people off of him. Peter found his own thought process amusing and he said, aloud, "You'll be lucky if you can get rid of me."

Wade's eyebrows arched and a small, honest smile broke out across his face. He guided Peter to sit on the incredibly well-worn futon, and moved to sit beside him. He gave Peter the option of curling around him if he preferred. "Yeah, because there are so many other people chompin' at the bit to get with this."

Peter did, in fact, curl up around him, but after a moment's hesitation. When Wade let him, he felt giddy again. He was allowed to be more silly and affectionate; he was tipsy. That was all the excuse he needed.

Y (This kid is too good for you. He thinks you're some kind of hero.)

W (This will be an astonishing thing to watch crash and burn. Good use of the "good guy" trope, though.)

"Aren't there?" Peter asked. He knew that most other Supers weren't really on the Deadpool Is Pretty Okay express, but Peter found him fun to be around and interesting. The conversation didn't typically get stale until it came back to how much Wade hated himself. Those, he felt, had been rehashed so many times, and it didn't seem like that was going to change any time soon. So Peter just didn't push it.

But what about average people? Were they really so shallow that they only saw his scars and turned away? That was actually really upsetting to him. Peter supposed Wade was a bit of an acquired taste, but once the hook sunk in, it felt a little more like an addiction.

Wade swallowed thickly, pulling his phone free from the largest pouch on his thigh. He needed to change the subject. "I've got a food delivery app. I can get something for us. Any requests?"

"I'm fine with almost anything," Peter said, and settled further into his new (very muscular) pillow. He was awed by the other's definition, and he idly stroked his hand along the bicep closest to him.

Wade had to curb his laughter, not wanting to disrupt Peter too much. It was almost pathetic how much he enjoyed the visual of the boy splayed out against him like this. He let himself relax a little into the futon, his free hand reaching up hesitantly to run his fingers through those pretty dark mocha locks. He appreciated Peter's petting more than he probably should.

"Kid, there's a reason I thought you were a spy the first time you came into the bar. People don't typically look at me unless I'm giving them money for food, or if they're tryin' to kill me. S'the nature of the job, honestly. I hang with Spider-Man when he let's me, but I'm like ninety-eight percent positive he's straight and wouldn't be into a scarred-up freak like me, ya know? No offense of course, I mean, the fact that you didn't puke when you kissed me was enough for me to want to marry ya, Kitten." He tried to keep his tone joking, not wanting to ruin the moment they had both created. He really wanted it to work with this kid; he really, truly did.

Peter couldn't stop himself. He burst out laughing and tried to stop it by covering his mouth with his hand. "He is not straight," he finally managed. Did he really come off that way? "I also don't think he'd turn you down."

"And how could you possibly know that?" Wade asked, but he looked amused as he ruffled Peter's curls. "You really are a superhero fetishist, aren't ya? Please tell me he uses those webs in bed. I just have to know."

Peter looked startled for a second, like he was caught in the act with his hand still in the cookie jar. "Oh, uh, well..." He stumbled over his words nervously. "I wouldn't actually know that." Oh, man. He'd messed up. He was quick to bury his face against Wade's shoulder. Oops. Damnit, Peter, don't act like you personally know Spider-Man! Jeez!

"I'm only teasin' ya, Baby Boy," Wade laughed, his chest moving heartily. He pressed another kiss to Peter's forehead. "Nah, I know where I sit on the superhero scale. Spidey and the like are way outta my league, so I'll just be happy an' take what I can get. Which, from my current position, is pretty fuckin' great, just sayin'."

Peter suddenly realized (belatedly) that if Wade asked Spider-Man out, and... things got really intimate -- like, an actual, lasting relationship -- he would find out that Peter and Spider-Man were, in fact, the same person. Little did Wade know where he really sat... Peter murmured against Wade's shoulder, sounding a little embarrassed. "You're a catch," he insisted from against the other's suit. Then, after a second, added, "And I want a meaty pizza."

Wade laughed even harder than he had been at that, actually lifting off the couch to cradle his stomach. "Absolutely perfect timin', Petey. That was great. I'll order it right now. Find a movie or somethin' before I decide to throw chivalry out the door."

That was a load of bullshit and Wade knew it. He would never in a million years be able to live with himself if he felt like he had pushed himself on someone. And from how his regenerating powers kept him alive and kicking, a million years might actually be a possibility.

Peter blinked in confusion up at Wade. Was he secretly just stalling, hoping Peter would fall asleep so he could leave? "It's not because I'm doing something wrong, is it?" he asked. "Did I mess up kissing, or was I too forward, or...?"

Wade's eyes widened though he was sure his mask hid the intensity of it from Peter. After tapping to confirm the food order, he tossed his phone onto the small, scratched-up coffee table in front of them. He shifted and sat properly, pulling Peter over on top of him, until he was straddling Wade's waist. He held Peter's face in his hands, lightly caressing the sinfully soft skin. "God no, Peter…"

He worried his bottom lip, weighing his options. He pressed a kiss to the boy's lips, that hungry fire sparking up faster than he ever thought possible. He wanted the brunet more than he needed air in his lungs right now, but that was a moot point. The scarred man took a deep breath after pulling away. Peter deserved an explanation. "I just know how it feels to have that choice ripped away from you, and I don't want anyone else to go through that. If I were a lesser man, I'd have fucked you against that wall twice by now, but alas, my morals tend to mock me."

Peter felt immediate relief flood through him, and his worry left almost entirely. This position seemed so ridiculously tender (even though he was sitting on Wade's lap), and Peter enjoyed that just as much as the (entirely too short) kissing session. His eyes had fluttered shut, and he was losing all of the tightness in his nerves again. Well, until Wade told him the reasoning behind his hesitance. Yeah, that very, very last bit sounded great, but back up a bit?

"Who would do that?" he asked, and he sounded legitimately horrified -- and he was! Who had hurt Deadpool? He felt angry and protective over his kind-of-friend-in-a-really-weird-way-and-only-as-Spider-Man. Peter felt completely sick to his stomach. He latched himself onto Wade with his arms wound back around the other's shoulders, and he hugged tight.

“I'm sorry." He wanted to know more about the whole thing so he could go find who'd done it, and... well, do something. He desperately wanted to promise Wade that it wouldn't happen again, that he wouldn't let it happen again, but what all could regular civilian Peter Parker do about it that Deadpool himself couldn't? That wasn't really a promise he could make right now, and he was scared to think that it might not be one he could keep at all.

Wade was left shocked at Peter's instant show of affection. He held the smaller man on reflex, rubbing a gentle, calming hand down his spine. "It's definitely not your fault, kid. The past is just a real fucked up place if you loiter too long. Everyone's got demons." He trailed off. Then he locked his shoulders and muscled through the emotions.

"She… I... it was a long time ago. She pretended she was someone she wasn't. She decided to take what she thought was rightfully hers, an' I had never felt dirtier in my life." He shifted slightly, pressing a soft, reassuring kiss to the other man's neck. "Maybe this mindset is selfish and I’m actually horrible, but I never want to be compared to that. I never want to feel like I've ever made someone feel that dirty or used. I wouldn't be able to live with myself." Wade gave a mirthless laugh after a second. He was spiraling down a dark path. "S'real funny comin' from a mercenary, huh? Wow, I really am a shitty person, Kitten. Are you sure you even wanna be seen with a waste like me?"

It was too true; everyone did have demons, and boy did they make some noise. Peter tightened his hold, as if maybe his grip would help ease the memory away from Wade's mind.

"I didn't accidentally pick you, you know," Peter said against Wade's suit. It smelled like sweaty musk and cigarette smoke from the bar. "Give me some more credit than that." He exhaled a shaky breath and then rubbed his nose against the spot, nuzzling Wade's throat.

"Why would you pick me, though?" Wade muttered into the boy's hair. He enjoyed the warmth radiating off of the one he was hugging. He held Peter closer, their bodyparts intertwining. If it wasn't for the stark contrast of what they were wearing, it would be impossible to tell where one of them ended and the other began. Wade felt a deep-seeded sense of happiness washing over his frame. Peter felt so familiar, like this should have happened a long time ago.

"'Cause," Peter murmured back, but left his explanation at that. His fingers curled, holding fast onto Wade's costume.

Silence slipped between them.

"How are you feeling? Should I get you some water to sip on?" Wade couldn't help himself; he always had wanted to be a nurturer.

Did Peter want water? Probably, if he wanted to avoid the headache that was currently set for him in his future. "Yeah. The cups are in the left cupboard, next to the sink." Peter's dinnerware was entirely random, none really matching except for three of his plates that his aunt got for him. Everything else came from dollar stores or thrift shops. He also didn't want to let go of Wade to let him get the cup for the water.

Wade smirked when he realized Peter wasn't even going to attempt to move off of his lap. It was... it was heart-warming, in all of the right ways. "Since you're decidin' ta spider-cling, I guess you're coming with me."

At the mention of the word 'spider', Peter twitched. Oh God, had he just given himself away? But it didn't seem like it -- Wade should have been much more shocked, but the subject dropped itself when Wade stood fluidly. It was as if Peter's weight was hardly anything worth mentioning, easily swept up and away. The kid may have looked like he'd be thirty pounds soaking wet, but he was actually a lot heavier than that, Wade thought. Peter let a sound of surprise escape him, and spread his fingers out to get a better hold with the hairs on his hands on Wade's back. He was not expecting to be picked up, and definitely not so smoothly. He had apparently been underestimating Wade's strength.

...That was somehow really attractive, and Peter felt himself blush again.

Wade grinned and hooked Peter's legs properly around his hips, to make sure the slighter man didn't feel like he was going to fall. It was easy to navigate to the small, open kitchen, and Wade had to bite back several giggles as he grabbed a plastic Spider-Man cup from the cupboard. Peter clung fast like a baby koala and it was fucking adorable.

For once in his pathetic life, Wade was hoping this would last more than just the night. He made it back to the couch, sitting down comfortably, before holding the drink up where Peter could take it from him. "Here, sip on this. It's really cold so it should help with any headaches, too."

Only when they had both gone still did Peter finally untense, and he leaned back to grab the cup -- which he saw was one of the silly little kid Spider-Man ones he'd picked up because it was too hilarious at the time. He took it with surprising ease for how his motor skills were handling up to this point, and he started gulping it down the second the rim touched his lips.

Okay, so he was way thirstier than he'd thought. It helped the burn of the alcohol that had been sitting in his gut, and the icy temperature shocked him awake. He felt a lot more sobered up after downing it, and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand after he was done.

"Thank you," he said, a little breathless. "I didn't realize I was that dehydrated."

"They never do." Wade replied and gave a soft smile. "A hangover is essentially your body being dehydrated to the point of physical pain. That's why you want to eat bread and drink water. Bread to soak up stomach acid, and water to re-hydrate your system."

Peter nodded. He'd known a lot of that, but the new information made sense. "I have some bread, but it's only the heels," he said. A pause. "Why do they even call those heels? I think everyone just calls them the 'butts' of the bread, anyway." 

The Merc's smile turned into a cheesy grin, and he laughed at the bread comment. That wasn't what he chose to focus on. "Well, I, of course, as a spunky teenager with access to Canada's finest, found out about hangovers the hard way. Enjoy the fruits of my knowledge, Baby Boy."

Peter slumped against Wade. "I found out the water thing the hard way, too," he muttered. "I couldn't open my eyes enough to make it to the bathroom after I woke up. That sucked. That sucked a lot, and I had to wash my bed sheets in the shower."

Why would Wade ever, at any point, want to know this? It was disgusting. Peter flushed. "I'm sorry, that was not an attractive story," he said, and rubbed at his temple with his knuckle. Way to be a sweet-talker.

Wade chuckled softly, nudging Peter's arm playfully with his shoulder. "Happens to the best of us, kid. Don't beat yourself up over it. We all have those stories. I once puked in a friend's truck, and they hit a curb too hard so the vomit actually splattered all over me. The smell was unbearable. But," he shrugged. "I showered and got over it. After punching him in the head, but hey, what can ya do."

The story-sharing had made Peter feel marginally better. "At least I didn't have to wear mine."

There was suddenly an incredibly loud knock on the door. Both couch occupants jumped straight out of their skin. Once he'd recovered, Wade grinned. "Gonna koala grip me this time, or shall I venture to the door alone?"

Peter had jumped so hard at the sound that he was pretty sure he'd pulled a muscle. After rubbing the spot on his side, he glanced over at the door, wondering who the hell it could be. He'd never had guests over. But Wade seemed to have been expecti--the pizza! Peter flushed crimson, and he shook his head furiously, scrambling off of Wade so the other could answer the door. No, he didn't want the pizza delivery person to see that. He covered his mouth in embarrassment, and he realized just what they must have looked like already, wandering around his dinky little apartment with Peter hanging off of Wade like a tired child. Oh, God. The curtains were open and -- ...and his apartment was facing another building's solid wall. He used his bedroom window to get up on the roof and start his nightly patrol as Spider-Man. No one had seen them.

He still shot a look over at the windows, just to make doubly sure. Yup. Just a brick wall for his absolutely wonderful view.

"I'm really sorry I just hung there like that," he said as soon as Wade came back with the food.

"You do realize that was quite possibly the cutest thing someone has done in the history of ever, right? Like, seriously. Don't feel bad because you wanted to be close. I kinda really dig that shit." Wade gave another smirk, finding no reason to actually roll his mask back down.

He sat the pizza on the table along with the soda he'd bought with it, before flopping down next to Peter again. "S'not much, but bon appetit!"

It smelled so good, even though it was just normal, cheap pizza. The slighter man inhaled deeply and his mouth instantly filled with saliva. "Oh, that smells like Heaven." Peter wasted no time opening the box and eating his first slice. He decided that shoving something in his mouth would at least stop him from talking. Currently, his face was still aflame and he tried not to think about why. He enjoyed the closeness too, and he was incredibly grateful that Wade seemed to as well, and that it hadn't been thrown back in his face with an insult. He was also glad that he had pizza in his mouth because he would have otherwise been rambling on about how strong Wade was.

After three slices, he was finally comfortable, and he leaned back, a hand on his stomach. He could probably eat the rest of the pizza by himself if he tried, but he wanted to wait a few minutes to see if he was actually full or not, while Wade got enough time to eat, too.

Peter turned and leaned against Wade's side again, and he sighed happily. Even if he'd ultimately been the reason 'nothing' happened, he was enjoying the moment anyway. He was actually able to be close to Wade, to not be scared of Deadpool heading for the hills because Spider-Man actually reciprocated for once. It didn't matter to him that they were just sitting on his crappy futon, eating crappy food, in silence. (Oh man; wasn't he supposed to put on something before? He didn't have cable anymore, so it wasn't like he could just turn the television on, and he didn't have Netflix, so he couldn't just grab his laptop...)

"Thanks for everything," he said as he tried to push those thoughts away, and his voice sounded a little dreamy. He was almost glad that it hadn't worked out as originally planned -- pfft, what plan? -- because this was something he didn't think would ever happen, either. It was safe, and warm, and... and he realized that this was something he would, in fact, really like to do again.

"I didn't do anythin', Darlin'. I just took you home an' fed you. I don't think that really constitutes much." Wade wrapped his arm around Peter's smaller form, keeping the younger curled up and warm.

He'd overthought and had fixed his mask back down once they were finished eating, but that didn't stop Wade from pressing his lips to the boy's hair. He wanted to kiss Peter properly, but he knew if he got another taste, he wouldn't be able to keep his hands to himself. The college-age student looked like he was about to pass out, and Deadpool would shoot himself in the mouth before he disrupted this image of perfection just to cop a feel.

"I can put you to bed an' leave ya in peace, Kitten. I don't wanna keep you up if you're tired." Wade's voice was soft, barely audible. He didn't want to go, but he had to be the bigger man. He was used to doing this, and he had to show that he wasn't going to manipulate the boy.

Peter shot upright again, but for a very different reason than before. Was Wade really going to just going to up and leave? "No," he protested, and he clung onto the other man's arm. "I'm not even tired," he lied.

A beat.

"I mean, unless you want to go, but I really wouldn't hate it if you stayed." More like 'love it'? But God, how pathetic would that make him sound? How clingy? (And he was literally being clingy right then and there. Alright, Peter.)

He couldn't even blame it on alcohol anymore. Yeah, he'd had a few drinks tonight, but that was hours ago, with only a single swallow going down within the last two hours. There was no way he was still more than just buzzed. The alcohol had given him an excuse, a reason to do what he really wanted. People were silly, and weird, and annoying when they'd been drinking. That meant he could hold Wade's hand, and he could smile stupidly about it during.

He shifted so he was sitting with his feet up on the futon (he'd dumped his shoes at the foot of the coffee table just before), facing Wade. He was at the point where he could ask Wade to stay, and admit that it was completely on him, sober and fully aware... or he could ask Wade to stay and blame the alcohol, and have his guest of honor just stuck sitting on the couch and feeling like he was a shitty person to even kiss Peter.

His mouth opened and closed a few times. This was far harder than it should be.

This could turn out to be a one-night stand, and Peter could get the taste of what he'd been wanting for tonight and tonight only. So what did it matter if Wade thought he was awkward or just plain bad in bed? But then he couldn't push things as Spider-Man... because then Wade would eventually find out it was him. There was no way he wouldn't find out. Peter didn't want to be in a long-term relationship that stayed behind masks. ...And he just admitted, even if only in part, that he wanted a long-term relationship. Oh, jeez.

He felt his cheeks and ears burning, and he looked down as he bit down on his lower lip. He could either go for it and speak now, or forever hold his peace. "I want you to stay," he blurted, and he glanced up at the other's mask to meet those solid white eyes. He still hadn't let go of Wade. "I'm fully aware of what I'm saying and doing, and I want you to stay." That had sounded a little less weird in his head, but now it was at least out on the table.

Wade seemed to be shocked silent for a moment afterward. This beautiful boy, after being with him for hours, actually wanted him to stay? He searched Peter's face for any signs of lingering alcohol, but he knew how that shit worked. You sober up fairly quickly after you eat something.

"Are you… are you sure? I mean, I…" Wade clenched his teeth, trying to keep himself calm. "I want to stay too, but you have to be sure. We don't… I," He was fumbling for the right words. Something had to go wrong -- things didn't ever work out for Wade Winston Wilson. But before the boxes or his own inner demons could stop him, Wade reached up and pulled at the back of his mask, completely slipping the fabric off his bald head. Jaundiced blue eyes stared into Peter's beautiful brown. "A-are you still sure, Kitten?"

Peter's mouth fell open to answer him, that yes he really was sure, but those words stayed stuck in his throat when he suddenly saw the other man's entire face for the first time. His eyes -- they were beautiful. Peter's mouth snapped shut with a click, and he looked the other over from forehead to chin. But those eyes... He could see so much emotion in them, so much emotion that Wade tried to keep hidden behind his mask. Even with the sickly yellow film over them... Peter wanted to one day see them healthy and bright (and under better lighting than his sad single light-bulb).

"I'm positive," he said distractedly, and he reached up to touch the Wade's jawline. Yup. This was actually real. He could still feel the uneven skin beneath his hand, and that detail was something even his most vivid of dreams tended to leave out. He'd always seen the shape of Deadpool's head, and had felt the fact that there wasn't hair under the fabric on several occasions. It had surprised him at first, but... it was something that was normal to him now. It seemed that his eyebrows followed suit (heh, suit), just as hairless. The deformities covered the entire rest of the visible skin, just like Peter had expected them to.

Wade was trembling. Why in the fuck had he done this? He'd just showed a random kid that picked him up at a bar just how disgusting he really was. All for what? A few kind words and half-drunken kisses? Wade felt like a dirty, mangy alley cat that was pathetic and starved for attention. He nuzzled his cheek into Peter's hand, where it was spotting in the beginnings of a faint flush. That was about as much pigment as the damaged skin could handle.

"You-you... you said you you chose me... why me?" Wade's voice was low, almost like he was scared to break the heavy atmosphere around them.

Peter wasn't expecting to have that question asked point-blank. His eyes widened slightly and his mouth flopped a couple of times as he panicked. He stared at Wade, at his eyes, and then he nervously diverted his own. What should he say? How much of an answer would satisfy Wade? The other man obviously thought himself entirely unlikable, and ugly to boot, but he and Peter saw two entirely different people. Wade saw what he hated most, and Peter saw who he'd been falling for -- for a long while now.

How could he tell Wade this without giving himself away? Wade seemed so receptive now, but Peter had spent the past hour plus trying to keep him from leaving. Wade wanted to ruin whatever good came into his life, and Peter was scared he would do that in costume, too. He'd see Spidey's vibrant blue and red swinging closer, and he'd run for the hills. He'd never come to New York again. Peter didn't know if he could deal with losing another person. It hurt to lose people to death, but death was something that always happened to literally every person on the planet. Having someone turn their back on you and reject you, for any reason under the sun, hurt just as much but in an entirely different way.

Peter was honestly scared. Just like how Wade was scared.

His mouth opened and closed twice more before he said, quiet and shaky, "I don't know how to tell you." It was the only truth he knew he could back up. "But we've..." He paused. "Met. Before." His throat was too tight and dry to speak properly. "I don't know what else I can tell you."

Wade swallowed thickly, a soft, sad smile on his lips. "Then... then I guess that has to be enough, yeah?"

His fingers were itching to put his mask back on. He felt like his skin was burning under Peter's stare. Wade shifted, pressing a soft kiss to Peter's skin. Beggars couldn't be choosers. He wouldn't push Peter for more than he was willing to share. "I can stay as long as you like."

Something about this didn't sit right with Peter's gut, but he didn't know exactly what, and he didn't have the time and freedom to sit back and think on it. He frowned, and he was once again lost. It didn't matter what move he made, it always felt like the wrong one. And Wade looked so... so sad. It was like he was breaking.

Peter took his hand back, and he stared down at it hard. He wanted to be with Wade, but this didn't feel right. Then it hit him like a speeding truck: Wade was bearing everything, and Peter was hiding everything. Wade made sure Peter knew what he was getting into, and all Wade knew was that... Peter knew something. He needed to call this off. But even if he did, and he wanted to try being honest with Wade later, Wade would recognize his face. He was no better than whoever had hurt Wade in the past. He was doing literally the exact same thing.

And even if it wasn't a pattern he was making in the other's life, it was the kind of dishonesty that made or broke something like a relationship -- friendship or otherwise. Peter was terrified in a whole new way now. Had he already done too much damage to repair it? He was too far in now to just stop. Metaphorically, he had one foot in the door, and the other foot in the hallway. He couldn't just pretend he was never there in the first place. He shook his head to try to clear it, to try cement himself to this decision. This could fuck him over for the rest of his life, and what if Wade wanted to get back at him on a personal level? He'd certainly deserve it.

"No, no," Peter said and he looked distressed.

"No, not like this. Wade, I'm sorry." How had the night turned into this mess? Sitting in his usual haunt at that bar felt like it was years ago. "I'm an idiot, and I'm scared." Peter wiped his eyes in one quick move and looked back up at those glazed blue ones. He couldn't hold the look. "I know you because..."

Wade's brow furrowed. He was obviously confused, finding it hard to process everything Peter was saying. Was the boy heading into a mental breakdown?

Meanwhile, Peter felt like he was a war plane, readying the bomb to drop.

"I know you because... because I'm Spider-Man!" He said in a rush, and then clamped his eyes shut while he gripped the couch so hard he felt his knuckles pop. The words just started spilling from his mouth after that. "I've liked you for a long time, and I was worried you'd run away before I could finish telling you."

He wasn't so cool out of costume now, was he? If anything happened to him, the city would be minus one of its protectors. He was being selfish for putting all of that on the line for his personal gain (or loss).

Spider-Man... Wade's mouth fell open, completely in shock. So many different things seemed to bulldoze over his mind all at once. Peter is Spider-Man.

Holy.

Shit.

It all clicked; the voice, how he'd known about Wade, why he felt so comfortable to be around...

"So... so that's how you knew he wasn't straight, or how you know he would be into me. Oh, man. You-you buy cups with your face on them." Wade's voice wavered and he barked out a laugh. The sound resonated deep in his chest. Peter flinched.

Peter is Spider-Man.

"Wait, you've... as Spider-Man, you've liked me for a while? How long?"

Peter chanced to open his eyes, looking like he was ready to be hit. Then half-panicked laughter erupted from his own throat, and he couldn't stop it once it started. "Yeah," he managed in-between fits. "I found it at the dollar store, and I... it was so funny. I don't know why it was so funny, but it was." He didn't know why this was so funny -- actually, no, he did. Nerves made you act crazy, and crazy people laughed at severely inappropriate times.

Finally the giggling fit turned into something more grounded, and Peter felt completely exhausted, as if he'd spent the entire day working well past his limit. He felt like he could go to sleep right now and not wake up for an entire day (or maybe three).

"I... don't know when it started," he admitted breathlessly, and he was trying to stop that stupid grin from being on his face. This was serious. Wade was the first person since... since Gwen, that he'd revealed himself to, and that story had ended badly for everyone. Deadpool, though, couldn't die, and that horribly selfish part of him demanded he keep Wade and never let him go. It was a blessing, wasn't it? All wrapped up in a red and black bow.

"I really noticed when I..." His face came back from being blanched from fear to being more than a little flushed. "When I wanted to kiss you." He shrugged. "That was... almost a year ago."

Oh dear God, had it really been that long? Yes, it had; he'd spent the next two months avoiding Deadpool at all costs, and two more months thinking hard about his options. That was when he'd followed Wade into that bar, and at first it had been a once-a-month thing, and then... then it had become weekly.

"And here I thought I was going crazy for thinking you felt familiar. Talking to you, Spider-Man, about quite literally anything, has always come naturally, maybe because you actually listen to the shit I spew regularly." Wade gave a soft smile. "I... I can't say I was always joking when I hit on ya, kid. I was always petrified that you were like twelve, though." 

Wade reached forward, his gloved hand stroking Peter's cheek. "You know, since you've wanted to for so long, I wouldn't mind a kiss or two, Kitten."

Now that the conversation focused on what Wade thought of him, Peter felt shy. He shifted his weight, finally let go of the futon (he'd torn it with his tight grip... great), and he tried to make and hold eye contact. It was hard. He was as good as naked under Wade's gaze, no mask, no secrets (well, it felt like that, anyway)... He chuckled anxiously. "To be fair, I was fifteen when I started, you know, putting on spandex and punching people." And smart-mouthing them. It had felt so good, after he'd been stuck being the quiet underdog his whole life.

This somehow hadn't blown up in Peter's face. This hadn't ended in the worst way it possibly could. Peter wasn't sure he was completely sober now, because his head was floating, and he felt like he was in a dream. And now a kiss... between Wade and Peter, between Deadpool and Spider-Man. Peter started forward, then hesitated, and eventually continued to lean, his heart fluttering more than his eyelids were. He understood all too well how Wade must have felt, not knowing if Peter were playing a cruel joke on him and just going along with it for shits and giggles. Those blue eyes said so much.

Wade couldn't take it anymore; Peter's nervous energy was practically palpable. He moved forward, cupping the younger's face in his gloved hand. His thumb teased the corner of Peter's mouth before he dipped his head down. It was almost like worlds colliding; Wade gasped into the kiss despite himself.

This was different somehow, even though they'd done this same thing just an hour before. There wasn't a heavy lust clawing at either of them to free itself. Wade's chapped lips sought out the slighter man's, his fingers threading into those amazingly soft curls. His heart was drumming wildly, likely to crack a rib at this point. He would let it, too. It really was different -- there was a solid bond between them now, and it went both ways. It felt incredible; so much better than Peter could have ever guessed it would. He'd thought the excited kissing against his front door was nice, but this? This was on a whole new level.

He opened his mouth and dragged his tongue along Wade's bottom lip, feeling the sensation of the dry and cracking skin. It didn't deter him, though, and his arms wrapped around the other's broad shoulders, both cradling the back of Wade's neck and the base of his skull. He moved himself closer, so their bodies were touching more often than not. He felt warm all over, like he was slowly cooking in an oven.

Wade's hands traveled down the younger boy's frame, holding firm at the small of his back. He broke the kiss with a slight laugh, feeling so amazed that he was actually kissing Spider-Man. It wasn't even really that, if he was being honest. He had been head over hills for Peter Parker the entire night. This beautiful boy wanted him, even after seeing the massacre that was his face. Wade wanted to make Peter feel like he could touch the stars. The older of the two pressed his mouth to the boy's jaw, his teeth scraping the skin just slightly. He moved his lips over the heated skin, holding Peter fast, and gradually making his way towards his pulse point. The mercenary nipped the tender skin before soothing it over and repeating the process. Maybe there was a feral part of his brain needing to claim Peter, at least for the night. No one would be able to say they marked that beautiful skin except for him.

Peter loved the feeling that Wade's hands left in their wake, and as their kiss broke he sucked in air like he'd just broke the surface of a lake after a long dive. His heart was hammering like he'd been running a marathon, and adrenaline was coursing through him at alarming speeds. When Wade moved his mouth to the Peter's jaw and throat, the slighter man gasped quietly and he turned his head away, extending his neck. A shiver ran through him, and sounds that normally never would have come from his mouth suddenly flowed in response. He'd never known just how sensitive his neck was, because he'd never been more than kissed there. It was like his nerves had a streamline right to his crotch, and he was embarrassed by the whimper that left him.

"Wade," he breathed, and his hands curled into fists, trying to find an outlet for all of the stimulation. Part of him actually wanted Wade to bite him harder, and he was a little mortified about it.

"Mhn, yes, Baby Boy?" The words were murmured against Peter's skin. Wade's hot breath teased the now red patch he'd created. That would blossom into a pretty little hickey for Peter to hide under his Spider-Man suit later. That thought, plus those delicious noises he could pull from his little spider, had Wade in pure Heaven. The mercenary gently massaged his palm into the small of Peter's back, trying to keep him calm and relaxed. The poor kid looked like he was on pins and needles. "Tell me what you want, an' I'll try like hell to make it happen, but I gotta know what's okay an' what's not, you know?"

Peter's head lolled back and he blinked at Wade. His eyelids fluttered as he enjoyed the petting, and he hummed to show it. He felt like hot water, frothing a bit too close to the edge, but the pause in their necking turned the burners lower, and the water level started creeping back down. Oh, God, he hoped he wouldn't embarrass himself with that later. He swallowed thickly, and he distractedly watched Wade's face. He liked how the other man looked right now, how he was obviously enjoying the moment just as much. This (hopefully) wouldn't be the first and only time they would be together, and that meant there was all the time in the world to try new things -- later.

"I want you," Peter said, and he was surprised that his voice could actually sound like that. "I don't think there's anything you could do that I wouldn't like," he added, but this time he was at least a little bashful. His fingers slid under the black band around Wade's neck, and once he was bored with just that, they started scoping out the rest of the other's torso, feeling all of the muscle ridges, all of the dips, his heartbeat...

"Let me know if I do something you don't like," Peter said after a few more seconds. One of his hands went to rest on the Wade's thigh.

Wade watched Peter, amused and very turned on from how the boy could so easily take control of the situation. It was amazing how he hadn't connected the fact that Peter was Spidey before he was told. He grinned, moving so that Peter had all of the access he could want to his body. "I promise I'll let you know, Love. Just... just warn me before you decide to strip me down, okay? I don't mind it, it's just been a hell of a long time, you know?"

Peter's look faded into one of understanding and he nodded. "Yeah," he agreed.

"Don't let me take off more than you're willing," Peter added after. Then he leaned down and kissed Wade on the mouth, and then mirrored what the other man had done to him, a little more unsure about it himself, as he started making his way down Wade's neck. His thumb slyly made contact with the bulge in Wade's pants.

Wade hissed sightly at the contact, leaning his head back. He was at Peter's mercy and God, it felt good. His hands found Peter's strong back muscles, kneading the flesh under his vest. His hips arched up into Peter's hand, finding it hard to make a proper, full thought. When was the last time someone actually took the time to get his motor running well and proper before they started a romp? This boy was truly an angel.

Wade wanted to see what would make those feathers quiver.

The bald man gently tilted his head, suddenly kissing Peter heatedly. This wasn't careful and calculated like the one just before. He needed Peter to know just how fucking okay he was with all of this. How badly he wanted to know how Spider-Man looked when he was about to cum, and how he looked deep-seated in the afterglow.

Peter felt more confident in his actions when Wade seemed to take the curious touches positively. As Deadpool, he'd mentioned several times how he enjoyed being the receiver in bed, and Peter wanted to make this the best it could be for both of them. He moved his hand, swiveling his wrist and cupping Wade's crotch more thoroughly, his thumb rubbing along the side of his nice handful. Peter knew it felt good when he did this to himself -- and that was the extent of his knowledge about sleeping with another man, but Wade was clearly enjoying it, so he couldn't have been doing a bad job so far. As their lips made contact, he started having some trouble, as he was a little bit distracted from his muffled, teasing handjob.

When Wade caught Peter's mouth again, he bit lightly at the younger's bottom lip, his fingers digging just slightly into his shoulders. He couldn't stop the rush of feeling and the want that made his blood boil. His hands traveled down, gripping Peter's bum once again. What kind of person was Peter turning out to be, anyway? He was really enjoying the rougher treatment. Peter did still jerk forward when his ass was groped and he sucked in a startled gasp. He didn't know if he'd ever get used to that -- and it wasn't necessarily bad, it was just new.

Wade pulled back from the kiss, his breath ragged and panting. "Peter, are we gonna do... this on your sofa?"

"Huh?" Peter replied stupidly. Oh. Oh. "We can move to the bed," he said, his face flushed heavily. He was incredibly pleased that he'd had the forethought to flip his mattress a few weeks back, when a spring had busted through. He righted himself, and stood up on overly shaky legs. His jeans were starting to show his growing problem, and standing up straight was a bit uncomfortable. "Uh, yeah, through that door," he said, somewhat breathlessly, pointing to the one that was next to the bathroom, door slightly ajar.

He hadn't been picking up his clothes from the floor, so it was a little messy. His aunt would have told him to tidy up, but he personally didn't think it was so bad. His bed wasn't made, and the sheets were worn but comfortable, same for the pillows. He realized that he, in fact, had not shut his closet, and one of the gloves from his costume was half-visible. Oops. Thank God he didn't have a peeping neighbor problem.

"So, uh, yeah, welcome to Casa de Peter."

Wade couldn't help but snicker at that. "In my fantasies there's certainly a lot more web."

Wade didn't feel the need to wait again. He pulled his lovely little superhero into another kiss, guiding him backwards to the twin-sized bed. Wade filed away a lovely idea of just how much it would take to properly destroy this shitty little bed-frame for when he could convince the stubborn boy to let him buy a new one.

"I could get out my web shooters," Peter had started to suggest, wearing a crooked grin, but Wade shut him up real quick with his mouth. Well, that certainly picked up right where they left off. Peter actually didn't mind, either, and he backed up in step with the taller man, until the back of his thighs bumped into his bed.

Wade lowered Peter onto the mattress, keeping the kiss from breaking. Everything was buzzing and his groin ached wonderfully, but the leather and spandex of his costume was beyond just tight and uncomfortable now. Nothing in the world could make him rush this, though. If this was his only shot to have Peter like this, he was going to commit every single second to memory.

"So gorgeous," the scarred man groaned against Peter's lips.

The mattress (and the frame itself) creaked under the new weight of two fully grown men, and Peter clung to Wade, trying to multitask between the hot and heavy making out, and getting himself adjusted with no lumps from his bed-sheets pressing into his back.

Having the Merc on top of him definitely did wonders for his current state, and he felt himself get harder. The denim was painful even when he wasn't standing now, and he twitched with each sharp jolt it sent through him. It was a mix of pain and pleasure that he'd really rather just get rid of entirely. He reached down to unbutton his jeans, but he paused for a second to press the back of his hand into Wade's erection when he felt it.

"These have to come off," he said lowly, and he started trying to wiggle out of them. To his sweet relief, he got them down over his hips and he sucked in a shaky lungful of air once there was less of the pressure holding him back.

"Fuck," he breathed. Normally, he'd never let his Aunt May Word Filter drop, but he couldn't help it right now.

Wade's eyelids fluttered, watching Peter strip his jeans off. Oh, shit. Suddenly this got incredibly real. Peter was shorter than the mercenary, but God, did he have legs for days. Wade sat back on his haunches, looking at Peter's face as he hooked his fingers in his soon-to-be lover's belt loops. "May I?"

Peter flushed even darker when he saw Wade admiring him (or, he hoped it was admiration), and his breath hitched when Wade asked permission shortly after. He nodded, maybe a little too quickly, and he prayed that he wasn't especially small -- but then, he wasn't really sure how to gauge that, since porn tended to have pretty unrealistic expectations in itself. He hoped that once his underwear was gone that Wade would still be liking what he saw. Peter gulped. Seeing Wade hunched down above his thighs was making his mind go places, but he tried to throw those thoughts off its rails and just stay firmly in the moment.

Wade made quick work of Peter's jeans, taking those deliciously tight boxer-briefs away while he was at it. His eyes traveled his partner's frame, trying to be respectful and not stare at Peter like a starving man at a buffet. He tossed the fabric to the side, allowing his hands to ghost over Peter's pale, intimately exposed thighs. This boy was breathtaking. Wade dipped forward, pressing several light kisses to Peter's face and then his lips. "You're shakin', Love. Don't be scared; you are so fucking beautiful. Perfect, even."

Peter hadn't even realized he'd been trembling until now. Part of it was because he was genuinely anxious, but the rest of it was from the tight nerves and arousal. His head hit the pillow beneath it when Wade teased his skin. The reassuring words sent a strong shudder down his spine. "So are you," he whispered between breaths. One of his hands stroked along the mercenary's face, the other holding onto the mattress cover. That grip tightened into a balled fist when Wade's touches gained more traction.

Wade's gloved fingers raked over the inside of the brunet's thighs, his own arousal throbbing. He was getting off to just the thought of taking care of the boy underneath him. The boxes had to add just how he was so love-stricken and pathetic. Wade moved until he could replace his hands with his mouth. He left searing hot kisses along the taut muscle of Spider-Man's thighs. 

Peter watched with half-lidded eyes as the other man worked with his mouth, the erotic background to his erection. The hand he'd just used to touch Wade's face was now at his own mouth, a shaking finger wedged between his teeth.

Wade glanced up at Peter, his mouth still pressed to creamy skin. He moaned quietly at the expression along the boy's features. He swallowed thickly, moving up just enough to press a kiss to his abdomen. "You don't gotta stay quiet, pretty boy. I wanna know how you sound when something feels good. "

Wade hooked his hands over Peter's thighs, keeping him steady. "So, can I suck you off, Spider-Man?"

When Peter was left alone to his own devices and he was compelled to do so, he made good friends with his right hand. He was always silent for most of it, from years of having to hide what he was doing from his aunt and uncle. There had been times when his orgasms were so intense that he couldn't stay quiet, but those weren't very often. He was a little worried that he would be awkwardly tight-lipped for Wade, but the sounds left his mouth without him having to force them out, which he had been fully expecting to have to do.

Peter was so thankful they weren't standing, because his knees would have buckled when Wade once again asked permission. The finger that had been keeping his jaw locked shut left, and there were little red indents from his teeth, the spot already starting to bruise. "Oh my God," he replied in a moan, and he felt his muscles tense again for a second. He could swear in court that his length got even harder.

Trying not to sound too desperate, Peter said, "Yes, please."

There was a playful smile on Wade's features. He made a show of licking over his bottom lip, beyond thankful that this was a fairly good day for his skin. He didn't have open sores at the corners of his mouth, or along his cheeks. He would never be able to bring himself to subject Peter to that.

Before Wade (or the boxes) could talk him out of it, he gave Peter's length a few kitten licks. The arousal held a distinct, heady scent and it made the man's toes curl in his boots. Wade shifted himself down, with his knees on the actual floor of the bedroom. This gave him the leverage he needed to properly trail long strokes down Peter's underside with the broad of his tongue. He hummed softly before mouthing at the younger man's crown, teasing small noises from him.

Peter gasped and his eyes clamped shut at the sensation of something hot and wet touching him so intimately. When that sensation reached the head, Peter made a sound that was suspiciously similar to a sob, and his hips jerked upward on reflex. The teasing was making the muscles of his inner thighs twitch, and he couldn't stop himself from moaning.

"Wade," he sighed, but it came out a little like a whine.

The jaundiced man had never heard his name sound so sweet before. He made a sound in response, loving the way his own personal hero writhed underneath him. Wade took the boy into his mouth, one of his hands holding Peter's hips steady, his other palm pressing just into Peter's abdomen. He bobbed his head slightly, lovingly swirling his tongue against the underside of Peter's cock.

Peter's vision went out for a second. "Oh," he groaned. "Oh, Wade." The back of his head was mashed against the pillow, and his hands were fisted tightly in the sheets. He'd never had anyone do this to him before, and it felt entirely different than just jerking off. That tongue was driving all of his thoughts away, and he was left panting desperately. "Oh my God," he praised.

Wade rolled said tongue like he was a professional, then he started lightly humming. Peter was clearly new to this type of sensation so he wanted to make sure the boy had a lasting impression. Someone else might be able to throw Peter Parker into the throes of passion, but they would have to deal with having to live up to Wade Wilson first. That made the possessive monster residing in his chest purr happily.

He gently squeezed at Peter's thighs and then let his hands travel. Expert fingers ghosted over Peter's testicles, before Wade's thumb pressed to his perineum. If Peter had never let someone give him head, there was an incredibly fair chance that he had never played with his prostate, either. Tonight would be fun.

Peter had his mouth open, ensuring he would be able to get enough air, but every exhale was accompanied by a sound, anywhere between a whine and moan. His legs tried to spread wider, his knees trembling, when suddenly, Peter's whole body jerked and he couldn't help the startled "Ah!" that left him. He didn't know what the hell Wade just did, but holy shit. He looked down at Wade, and the image of him with a mouthful of Peter's cock was something that was going to be burned into his memory for a very, very long time.

Wade groaned around his Baby Boy, eyes fiery as he laved at Peter's length. He wanted so desperately bring the brunet to orgasm. He didn't even care about his own need anymore. The bald man used his index and middle fingers to massage at his lover's perineum. The movements were slow and deliberately placed, not wanting to hurt Peter, not even a little. He pulled off of the boy's member, panting slightly. "I want you to cum for me, Baby Boy. Okay? Just lay back an' enjoy this."

Wade Wilson had never been more happy for cancer in his life. The scars along his throat had completely destroyed his gag reflex. Wade mouthed quietly at Peter's tip, curling his tongue over the slit before working his mouth all the way down. He swallowed at the arousal periodically, bobbing is head like it was his dream job. He managed to take Peter to the root, his eyes only watering slightly.

Peter hadn't gone through with the pre-date 'precautions' tonight -- why would he be worried that he'd need to? He didn't ever think they were ever going to interact -- and he was in for some trouble. He didn't want this to end so soon, but his body was definitely gearing up for it. His eyes grew a little more unfocussed and his head fell back against the pillow as he panted helplessly.

Wade, of course, was ready; he'd told Peter to finish, to enjoy this (and oh, was he). Peter felt that knot in his gut get tighter, he felt the bubbling water about to boil over. It was like he was on a roller-coaster, coming up to the crest before the first drop. It was too far to turn around now, and he didn't think even Wade pulling back right that second would have stopped it.

"I-" he started, vaguely aware that he should warn the other, since this was his mouth and cum wasn't exactly the best tasting thing in the world. "It's-" he tried again, but he was rendered speechless when his orgasm finally hit.

His back arched clean off the bed, his head thrown back and his mouth locked wide open. He clawed at the sheets beneath his hands and he wasn't even aware he was making noise until a few seconds in. It was the most intense one he'd ever felt, and his body shook hard with each spurt.

His vision cleared up and he realized he was back to lying on his bed, completely covered in sweat, and panting. Somewhere during, his eyes had watered up at the edges. He lifted his head enough to see Wade.

"Holy shit," was all he could say, breathless. The scar-faced man moaned sheepishly when Peter came down his throat. A small shudder wracked his shoulders and it made him grin when he pulled off of Peter's length. He wiped his mouth, licking any of the excess from his lips. One more time, Peter's head hit the pillow, and he repeated, "Holy shit, Wade."

Wade desperately wanted to kiss Peter. He could feel his hands twitch to grab him. He wouldn't though; a lot of people refused to taste their own spunk, and Wade could respect that. His still-gloved hand pet at Peter's thigh, knowing he had to feel over-sensitive after that. "You look so pretty, baby. All spent and glowing."

Peter felt a silly smile pull at the corners of his mouth. He felt incredible. He shifted himself onto his elbows, and from there he sat up, still breathing hard, and his heart was thundering in his ribcage. Was he really glowing? He must've been. His face was already red from the workout, but he swore it must have gotten darker with Wade's compliment.

"Thank you," he said, and he, a little shyly, moved like he maybe wanted to kiss the other man. "That was... that was really great."

There were thousands of words in the English language, and that was seriously all he could come up with? Well, he cut himself some slack -- he did feel a bit like Wade had sucked his brain out through his dick.

Wade took Peter up on the small notion, hoping he wouldn't get slapped. He pressed a soft kiss to Peter's mouth, keeping his lips closed just in case Peter changed his mind. He reached up, carding his fingers through brunet's hair.

"It was my pleasure, Baby Boy," Wade murmured quietly against Peter's lips, taking the time to enjoy the sensations from making out. Peter was absolutely perfect.

Peter laughed against Wade's mouth. His pleasure? Really? "I think it was mine, too," he said, and he snickered for a little longer. His hands ran up the sides of Wade's arms, up to his shoulders, and then along his neck. He was very much aware that he was the only one who'd gotten off. He got up on his hands and knees and leaned over the edge of the bed where Wade was still kneeling. "Tell me how you want me to repay you," he said, and he hoped it sounded at least somewhat sexy, and not like he was inexperienced with how to say these sorts of things.

Wade felt his heart pang against his chest. He knew Peter was different, but so many people just didn't care about their partners once they came, especially the people willing to take a disgusting man like Deadpool home. He had already been resigned to jerking off quietly in the bathroom when he got back to his plce. He opened his mouth to respond, but he was at a loss for what to say. What did he want from Spider-Man? So many of his fantasies had been centered around the man in front of him, and now that the opportunity was quite literally almost smacking him in the face, he was drawing a blank.

Wade flushed as deeply as his skin would allow. There was an undertone of desperation in his voice; he just needed to know this was real. "Just kiss me, please."

Peter was surprised how Wade reacted to his question. At first, he thought he must have said something wrong, but then he registered that it was shock on the other's face. What was it for? Did he think Peter was just going to kick him out after that? He frowned, a little worried about Wade. He looked so out of his element.

"How about you come up here on the bed, and I'll kiss you all you want," he said, and he scooted over to make room. He patted the mattress next to him.

Wade didn't need to be told twice. He climbed onto the bed, now hyper-aware of his body and how he moved. The leather was incredibly restrictive and exposed every bit of his body without actually having to show it. He licked over his bottom lip, feeling awkward and honestly pretty lame. Peter Parker shouldn't have to worry about his stupid insecurities, or about him period. He should be basking in the high of his afterglow while Wade fucked off and left him in peace. The bald man was too selfish to say any of that out loud, however. He would take what he could get, and be ever the more thankful for it.

Wade reached out, gently cupping Peter's cheek in his hand. His skin was so soft and warm; it was comforting. The formerly blond man gave a genuine smile. "You're more gorgeous than I ever could have imagined under that mask, Darlin'."

Peter leaned into the touch, and his own lithe fingers moved to curl around Wade's hand. He tilted his head, bashfully looking up at the other man through some of his damp bangs. Wade was doing so much -- complimenting him, making sure he knew he was doing a good job, and he'd even given him a blowjob (an amazing one at that). He'd never hoped for anything more than maybe a one-night stand. Of course he wanted more than that, and he'd played around with several fantasies of how it could go... but he liked this reality better. He was glad now that he'd revealed himself, because now it was them, not two strangers, fully enjoying each other's presence.

He turned his head and kissed Wade's palm, slipping his fingers between the Merc's, threading them. "Would you believe me if I said the same about you?" he asked. This time he actually looked up at Wade's face, at his eyes. He wished that the mutate had better skin, skin that didn't hurt him, but he realized he wanted it for Wade, and not for himself. He wanted Wade to be able to feel confident in himself, to not be scared that everyone was going to run screaming for the hills. He wanted Wade to not have to hurt, inside or out. Peter leaned up, tilting his head back, and his lips met Wade's again, and he used his tongue to try to deepen it.

No.

No, Wade wouldn't believe it. No matter what an upstanding person Peter Parker was, ugly was still ugly. Wade had no disillusionment about his appearance. He fully understood that he looked like Freddy Krueger got into a drunken fight with a garbage disposal, and that the metal contraption won. That didn't stop Wade from being a needy little fuck and whining audibly when Peter deepened their sweet kiss. He gripped at Peter's sweater like it was a lifeline as his eyes fluttered shut. Wade knew he could get addicted to this feeling, and God, it petrified him.

Peter was glad that, at least, he wasn't met with some self-loathing remark for his comment. He'd take whatever improvement he could get on the matter. He slipped his tongue into the other's mouth, but he was met with a lingering, horribly raunchy taste. He made a face. That wasn't there befo--

...

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Peter said in a rush when he pulled back. "I am so sorry you had to taste that." Now he was just mortified. He should probably have a better diet, but beggars really couldn't be choosers.

Wade was momentarily confused, thrown off by how quickly Peter's response changed. He swallowed quietly before it even remotely registered what Peter was talking about. So it seemed kissing was off the table. The mercenary shrugged softly, a sheepish expression on his features. "I don't mind it, honestly. I swallowed the majority before I could even taste it, an' I promise I've had worse tastes in my mouth. I, uh, I actually kinda really... liked it?"

The blue-eyed man gave a bittersweet smile, smoothing out a wrinkle in Peter's shirt instead of looking at him. "You ain't gotta kiss me, Love. I fully understand that it isn't for everyone."

Peter's face absolutely glowed red. He wasn't sure if he was more embarrassed about making Wade swallow that, or if he was more turned on by the fact that Wade had said he kinda really liked it. Instead of agreeing that yes, kissing was definitely out of the question, Peter shook his head and grabbed two of the loops on the front of Wade's costume, probably meant to hang weapons or pouches off of, and tugged him forward. He was torn between, 'quick, do it before you chicken out', and 'fuck it'.

"I like kissing you too much," he said, just after having pulled back just barely enough to speak.

Peter Parker being dominant in bed did things to Wade. His entire body was trembling in anticipation for each kiss. Hearing the confirmation that the man of your affections liked kissing you even when you had their cum on your tongue was something truly magical. It didn't sound like much, but that acceptance meant a lot to Wade.

The red-clad man felt his arousal spike with each touch. Even if he had to leave right this instant, he would still leave feeling completely satisfied. Wade tried to keep things simple and sweet, not wanting to over-stimulate the other after he'd just reached completion.

Peter could deal with the taste now that he was ready for it. It wasn't quite so bad after having it linger on his tongue for a few seconds. He didn't push too hard to turn this into another toe-curling make-out session, because he was still recovering from his too-recent orgasm, and it'd take a little bit for his engine to heat back up. It was hard to make things hot and heavy when you just felt tuckered out and content more than you felt aroused.

He kissed his way down Wade's jaw, testing the waters and letting his teeth come out to play as he moved toward the other man's ear, and to the area just below it. One of his hands still held fast onto the metal loop, while his other one made its way blindly down Wade's abdomen, and it wasn't too long before he felt the tip of the Merc's erection through his costume.

Wade bit down on his bottom lip to keep his noises down to a minimum. He arched his hips down against Peter's hand, still nervous. Peter couldn't be ready yet; wouldn't it be better if he just laid down and rested? Wade didn't have much of a refectory period thanks to his healing factor, so he couldn't quite remember how long a normal person would be fatigued.

Wade rested his head on Peter's shoulder, his body now so tense that he didn't thrust pathetically into the boy's hand. He swallowed and took in a quick breath, nuzzling into the other's neck slightly. "You-you ain't gotta do that, Petey. I mean, feels re-real good, but you, uh, you just…"

Despite all of the fantasies and false bravado, Wade was completely petrified. This was the guy he'd been pining after for years. This was the guy that could so easily break what small amount of self-esteem he had left. If he put himself out there and Peter still rejected him, he knew he wouldn't be able to properly recover from it. If getting to be around Peter meant dropping to his knees for a few sloppy blowjobs and a case of blue balls, then he could live with that. It was a hell of a lot better than what he'd get with anyone else. At least Peter was willing to still kiss him after.

Of course, rationally, he knew this fear was stupid. Spider-Man was the most upstanding and kind person he'd ever met, and he'd even fought alongside Captain America a few times. Peter wouldn't shun him, he was just tired, but that didn't stop Wade's boxes from berating and yelling at him for being selfish and gullible.

"You ain't gotta worry about me none."

Peter realized that something was wrong almost immediately. Wade wasn't reacting well, hardly moving at all, and his voice sounded... really scared. Peter pulled back, removing his hand as quickly as he could. Had... had Wade not wanted this? Had Peter been pushing past what was okay? He suddenly felt incredibly ill at the thought. "Are you alright?" he asked, looking torn between horrified and guilty. Wade had mentioned earlier that he'd been, well, raped, and Peter never took that into account as he touched him.

"I'm sorry," he said, and he pulled away from Wade entirely. "I didn't ask, I thought you'd want to, I mean--"

Wade's eyes widened and he cupped Peter's face in his hand. This was not how he'd expected that to go. The majority of people were relieved when Wade gave them an out.

"No-no, that's not… you're tired, right? I don't want to push you into doing anything. I just… I'm not that worried about getting off? S'never really been that big of a deal to me when I fooled around with someone… I, uh, I talk a big game but well, shit… I just... you're more important?" Wade was failing miserably at trying to speak his mind like a normal human being. He just wanted to make sure Peter was comfortable. That was all that really mattered.

And Peter was only mildly soothed by those words. At least he hadn't... Peter shook his head. "I'm fine," he insisted. Hell, he was already getting a second wind. He had super-human abilities, and though he didn't have anywhere near the stamina Wade had, he could still hold his own for quite some time in a fight. He also felt angry at whoever Wade had been with before, because apparently they royally sucked at common decency. Did Wade seriously just... just please other people and then leave? Did they kick him out after? What the hell was wrong with those people?!

"I'm not more important," he said firmly, and he sounded like he wanted to have a very long and involved talk to whoever had been in his place before him. "As long as I'm not hurting you, or... pushing you, then isn't it okay that I want to take care of you, too?"

Wade nodded deftly, not quite sure how to form proper words at the moment. Peter Parker really was a true angel. Wade could see himself falling head over heels in the big L word for this man faster than he could fall off the empire state building, and that was as terrifying as it was exciting. Wade wrapped his arms around Peter's shoulders, hugging him tightly. God, this was such a weird situation to be in. Why couldn't he just be a normal fucking person for once and let someone get him off without having gross guilt complex? Why did it have to be such an uphill battle? He wanted to shoot his writer between the fucking eyes, if he were really honest with himself.

"When you put it that way, how could I possibly say no, Spidey-butt?" He snickered softly after speaking, his nerves slowly starting to ebb away. Joking around was always easier than psychoanalyzing yourself into a nice, tight corner. He pressed a tentative kiss to Peter's throat, over the small hickey he'd left earlier.

Peter huffed as he hugged Wade back just as desperately, and he made sure Wade knew he was joking with the sound. "My butt is not the spider part, I will have you know." That was followed by a hum of appreciation at the kiss. "Now why don't you just lay back? I kind of know what I'm doing." Peter figured that if he said that with a light tone, that maybe it wouldn't be quite as embarrassing as admitting it would've been otherwise. He moved to peck Wade on the mouth again.

Wade accepted the contact, a slight purr in his throat. This -- this he could do. Banter was his thing, after all. If it relieved the tension between them, he would gladly spout stupid shit until Peter laughed himself silly. "You gonna show me which part of you is the spider part, Mr. Parker? I'm honestly just hopin' you don't take after a black widow an' eat me after fucking me. I mean, I'll come back, but it's the principle of the matter."

Wade moved himself until he was doing as Peter ordered, laying back on the bed, holding his weight with his forearms. It was painfully obvious how tented his crotch was like this. It was best to just not think about it, really.

Peter was obviously about to make a comeback when he started snickering. "I can later, if you want. I feel like crawling all over the ceiling would be a bit distracting right now." Then the middle of his nose wrinkled slightly. "But I definitely don't plan on making a bunch of spider egg sacs, so no, no eating after." Ew. The very thought made him shudder in repulsion. He didn't want to know what it would be like to actually make little spiders. His skin crawled, just like it did after he got out of the room full of the radioactive arachnids. He had felt like he had insects crawling all over him for an hour afterward. "Oh. Gross. Being covered in spiders totally sucks." Mostly on reflex, he rubbed the back of his neck where'd he'd been bitten by one.

This was not the time or the place for thinking about un-sexy things, though. He shook his head, instead thinking about Wade giving him head, and what he was supposed to be doing to, and for, Wade. "Sorry," he added, meaning for getting so... off-topic. "Just 'origin story' flashbacks."

He eyed the Merc's crotch, and he was suddenly anxious. A few seconds prior, he probably would have been in the zone and just gone for it, but now he'd had time to think, and thinking ruined a lot of good things. He didn't know how to give head, and he didn't want to tempt fate playing with his gag reflex. So, instead, he leaned down and kissed the bulge, cupping the side of it with his hand. "May I?" he asked. Part of him was asking because he wasn't sure if Wade's costume was a one-piece or if they were actually separate top and bottoms pieces like his own. The other part was making sure that Wade was still completely on-board.

A small series of shudders ran through Wade's frame as he nodded stiffly. He, a bit sheepishly, reached down and worked his belt off, gently setting it in the floor, away from them. He didn't trust something Not Good™ to fall from a pouch and ruin the moment. The Deadpool emblem on his belt had been successfully hiding the button fly on his pants. "Yes, and do as you please, Love. I trust you. Just... be honest, please. Don't, you know, pretend to spare my feelings."

Peter nodded. "I will," he promised. He had nothing to come clean about, though. He wanted to do this.

He worked on loosening the waistband of the other's pants before he peeled the leather back, and it was a two-person effort if he didn't want to just tear them off. Once they were down at least to Wade's mid-thigh, Peter watched the now-freed, and very erect, member. He licked his lips, and he felt his mouth go dry. There was no hair there, and Peter was willing to bet money that there was probably no body hair on the man at all. The Merc's skin was consistent with the marks, even here. Peter really, really hoped they didn't hurt Wade when they were touched.

He reached out and wrapped his hand around Wade's erection. He rubbed his thumb along the bottom of it, going from his balls to the head. He sure hoped he didn't suck at actual handjobs.

Wade's eyes fluttered and he arched just slightly, and his thighs tensed at the contact. This was Spider-Man's hand on his cock. The very idea made Wade want to sing praises to the heavens. He had dreamed of this moment for so long, after all.

"Your hand feels so good," Wade moaned, never one to be silent. He shifted just a fraction, working his trousers further down his legs. He was embarrassed by his skin, but certain spots were so sensitive that he currently couldn't have cared.

Peter's face reddened and he smiled a little. Something inside of him felt... way too proud, hearing Wade's response. "Good," he said thickly, and he continued to stroke the Merc with his hand. He felt a little bad, though, because his palm was pretty dry, save for some sweat, and he knew how uncomfortable the friction could be. He was always too embarrassed to buy himself anything, though -- even lotion. He was shit out of luck for anything to lubricate with. He just hoped he didn't hurt Wade, or even overstimulate him.

He moved with Wade, and he pulled himself further up while his hand kept on working. He pressed a kiss to Wade's jaw. With his own legs on either side of the other, the angle was suddenly very familiar, and he knew better what to do with his wrist.

Wade relented the control to Peter, relaxing his body completely. He rolled his hips up into the younger man's hand, his breath coming out in quick pants. He looked up at Peter, his face holding a patchy blush. "I-I, I have lube in my pocket, if you want to... you know..."

It turned out that getting Wade off and just listening to his breathing alone was getting Peter aroused again. Seeing Wade like this, flushed and in pleasure... even if it was a virgin handjob -- still! Peter swallowed hard around the knot in his throat. His eyes widened a fraction when his lover spoke, and he paused to pull back, looking for said pockets. "The ones on your belt, or...?" he asked, feeling silly. He was actually really, really grateful that Wade was prepared for this sort of thing, because he certainly wasn't.

Wade took a breath, trying to calm down for a second so that he could think as straight as he was capable of, while still able to feel the heat from Spider-Man's hand on his dick. He shifted to sit up, patting at the thigh of his pants. He found the pouch that had been clipped there, and he pulled out a small bottle of thick hand lotion. "S'not really actual lube, but, uh, it will definitely get the job done."

Wade had honestly expected Peter to tell him no and keep jerking him off. That would have been absolutely fine, but God, the arousal on Peter's face, arousal that Wade had caused, was absolutely breathtaking. He sheepishly handed over the bottle. "I, uh, I don't got a condom or anything, but I can't catch or spread disease, not that I've done, you know, this, in years with anyone else... but, I... I totally understand, Petey, if, you know, you don't want...?"

Peter had already reached for the substitute lube when it finally, actually hit what Wade meant. Oh. It wasn't just for a more comfortable handjob. It was for... Oh. Oh. Peter's face felt like a small dwarf star with how much heat was radiating off of him. "Do you, uh, do you have a preference...?" he asked, and he hoped his voice stayed relatively level.

Wade was more than a little nervous, too. The shock that ran across Peter's face didn't feel right. "Uh, if you really wanna do this, which I don't wanna pressure you into nothin', Peter," Wade tried to use his real name instead of a silly nickname, wanting to express that he was incredibly serious. He would never push Peter passed what he was comfortable with. "I don't have much of a preference. Do you?"

Peter bit his bottom lip as he thought. He fingered the rim of the lotion bottle, and it gave him an effective outlet for his need for anxious fiddling. He shrugged. "I, well, I'll have to hold back because I could really hurt you," he explained awkwardly. "You know, proportionate strength and all that." He looked back to Wade and his head was tilted just slightly. "I trust you enough, either way." His lips pulled into a small smile and he shrugged his shoulders again.

Wade gave an impish grin. "Maybe I don't want ya to hold back, Lover-boy. Remember who yer talkin' to. Even if you do break me, I'd heal before we even came."

But Peter was worried about just that -- literally breaking Wade. He knew Wade could come back from even death itself, but that didn't mean Peter wanted him to hurt!

Wade grabbed at Peter's sweater before the other could reply, pulling him down for a heavy kiss on the mouth. He nipped at the brunet's bottom lip before pulling back, moving to mouth against the shell of his ear. His voice was a warm whisper against Peter's skin. "If that's all you're worried about, I could just ride you; bounce on your cock like a professional."

Part of Peter was glad he'd kept his shirt on this long, because he enjoyed it, maybe a little too much, when Wade pulled him around by his collar or the front of it. He instantly melted against the larger man, a shudder running down his spine. He sucked in a breath though his teeth, and when he exhaled it was trembling. How did Wade do this to him? He was almost completely hard again, where he hadn't been a few seconds ago. He never would have thought he'd be into dirty talk, but hey, you learn something new every day. "Wha-whatever you want more," he eventually managed out.

Wade clicked his tongue, a mischievous grin on his face. He reached down, teasing the base of his friend's cock with a gloved hand. This was really going to happen, and that made the mercenary feel like he could tap dance on the fucking moon. It also made him playful. "Mhnn, no. I think I want you to say what you want, Bright-Eyes. You do have gorgeous eyes by the way, but... no. If you wanna do this, I want you to decide if you wanna be top or bottom, darlin'. I've had my experiences with both, an' if I have my way, we will romp all over this cute little apartment eventually, so for now, I do believe you should make the decision."

Now Peter was burning with embarrassment on top of his arousal. He was usually pretty opinionated, but this was completely new territory. With Gwen, there hadn't really been any asking about preferences, it was just something that happened. He needed to stop thinking about her, but it was difficult, since that was the only other time he'd... well, this.

Peter liked playful Wade. He liked playful Wade a lot. His hips moved against the other's hand, and he found that touching wasn't too much to take now, which he was immensely grateful for. "I'll top," he said, and he prayed that he did a decent job. He was glad he wasn't a complete virgin, because that had been some awkward sex, even though they'd laughed about it at the time (and after).

He kissed Wade, nice and long, before he pulled back, and he opened the bottle he was still gripping like his life depended on it.

Wade could taste Peter's lips on his and it made him shiver. Before he could lose his nerve, the older man shimmied completely out of his pants, boots, and socks. He worked his skin tight top off as well, unzipping it from the hide-a-zipper from under his right armpit.

Wade's skin looked like a World War One zone. He had duvets and trenches where deep-seated scars sat; he had mild patches of tumors in some spots. His entire body was infected to some degree, even his cock. Thankfully, it was negligible around his groin. If his member constantly looked like a decayed husk, he would never be able to touch even himself, let alone have someone else do it.

His entire body was flushed to some extent in his embarrassment. He rubbed the back of his bald head, trying to play off how nervous he really was as some kind of joke. No one, no one, knew what he looked like fully naked outside of costume. "I, uh, well -- if you're gonna be inside me, you have the right to know what it all looks like."

While Wade had been stripping, Peter had followed suit, taking off the only two layers and the one sock that had clung for dear life to his foot. He had a few scars on his torso from old fights. His healing factor sped things up, but it didn't stop some of his worse injuries from scarring. Thankfully none of them had keloided.

He looked at Wade, finally able to eye him all over. While the guy certainly wasn't America's Top Model material, Peter didn't care. He felt sad about it, though, about all of the marks, and about every piece of uneven skin that he caught sight of. He wanted for Wade to be able to think himself attractive, the kind of attractive that Peter saw in him. Once again, Peter was worried that some of the worse-off patches would hurt Wade when they were touched. He planned to avoid them just in case.

Finally seeing Wade naked, fully, actually, really naked did things to Peter. He was smiling like an idiot. Wade trusted him so much that he'd stripped down in front of him. He didn't have to -- he could have left everything on for the most part. But he had taken it all off. Peter, if this were a different situation, probably would have teared up at how much that meant to him. He leaned down and kissed Wade again, kissed him on his face, on his neck, on his chest, down his stomach, and even on his legs. He wanted to worship Wade's body completely. He was muscular and strong, he could (and had) killed without second thought -- he was trained to do all of that and more... but he had been so gentle with Peter. He had been thinking about Peter's needs above his own all night, and Peter wanted to return the favor.

Wade was trembling slightly under Peter's intense gaze. Even when he'd bottomed with other people, he had been semi-clothed. Now Peter had his mouth on his bare skin. Wade would have normally been curled up in a corner, ready to shove his gun in his mouth by now, but he just... wasn't. Sure, he couldn't say it wouldn't happen later, but right now, he was on Cloud fucking Nine.

"Fu-fuck, your mouth feels good, Baby Boy." Wade's voice was wavering in pleasure, and he wanted nothing more than to melt into the bedding underneath him. "I promise you don't gotta be gentle with me. I, contrary to how I joke, don't break easily. I'm just as super-human as you."

Though that did make Peter breathe a little easier, still...

Wade wiggled, the sheets honestly feeling amazing on his skin after being in his suit for so long. "Do you want me to prep myself for you, or would you like to do the honors?"

"Uh," Peter hesitated, then he uncapped the lotion. He assumed this wasn't one that burned when used on sensitive places, or else he doubted Wade would have given it to him, much less carried it around for this sort of thing. "You should probably..." He paused before he could finish his sentence. He seemed to backtrack and rethink. "Do I just apply it to the outside, or does it need to go in, too, or..." Pornhub really wasn't too realistic about this sort of thing -- he cringed at the thought of most of them just using spit. But was he actually supposed to stick his fingers in, first? Probably...? He wanted to know exactly what to do, so that this would be a one-time-only sort of embarrassment.

Wade gave a gentle, understanding smile, and then he made to sit up properly. He pressed a soft kiss to Peter's cheek before letting it trail to his already swollen lips. "How about I start to stretch myself open so you can see how it's done, and then you can try it if you want? There's no need to be embarrassed, Love. Everyone has a first time, an' I'm honored for you to choose me. An' if I'm being honest, I really enjoy the feeling of somethin' inside of me, so it's not like I'm gonna get mad at you for wanting to explore."

Wade took the bottle of lotion from Peter's hand and situation himself so that he was on his hands and knees. This would give Peter a better visual and hopefully make a good show. He slicked his fingers quickly, starting to get antsy. This was kind of a moment of truth, in a sense. Biting his lip, Wade circled his opening slowly with the lubed fingers, easing his middle digit inside to the first knuckle. He wasn't new to this; he knew what he could take.

Even though Wade had told him to relax, Peter still felt embarrassed -- but he couldn't deny that hearing the other man talk about this was also a turn-on. Huh. He leaned back on his legs, which he'd been kneeling on, and watched as Wade showed him what to do. Peter swallowed dryly, unable to tear his eyes away from the show in front of him. "Just like that?" Peter asked, and he felt relieved to see that it was relatively simple (even though logic told him of course it was, dumbass).

Peter poured some of the lotion onto his hand, and he made sure to get his fingers nice and slick.

Wade bit his bottom lip, and nodded. His voice was soft, airy from the head-rush he got from being so completely on display. "Absolutely. I mean, if you've never had anything in you before, you want to go a bit slower, kind of test the waters..." He worked his finger in a bit deeper, making sure to give Peter a good view. "S'nothin' to it, really. No need to be scared, Petey."

Peter's eyes went to catch Wade's at his words of reassurance, and he honestly didn't think he could get much redder than he already was. He bit his lip as his eyes trailed back down to where Wade's hand was. He'd never been too experimental with himself before, so he didn't know much of what that felt like. "I can take over, if you want," he said, and he couldn't help that he sounded curious.

The older man nodded again, a slight smile on his features. It was sweet that Peter was so willing to learn. He slipped his finger free from his entrance and wiped his hand on his discarded uniform top. "Take your time, Love. You don't gotta do this if you don't want to."

Peter knew that much, at least, since Wade seemed to have to remind him of it every few minutes. He was having it waved in his face that this was completely his choice, and that he could back out at any time -- the only thing was... that he didn't want to back out. At all. Even at the risk of overwhelming embarrassment. They re-situated with Wade rolling onto his back and Peter kneeling over him again. With his mouth dry, Peter set his non-lubed up hand on the inside of Wade's muscular thigh, and pushed his leg up and out, so that it would be easier for him to see what he was doing. He stared only long enough to make sure his finger was where it was supposed to go, before his gaze went up to Wade's face, watching intently as he pressed his middle finger in. It went in surprisingly easy, the only resistance being the ring of muscles itself, and even that hadn't put up much of a fight. He twisted his wrist so his palm was facing up, and he, as gently as he could, slid in another finger.

"Is that alright?" he asked quietly. Even though Wade had told him that he wasn't too easy to hurt, Peter still wanted to err on the side of caution.

Wade nodded eagerly, pushing back against Peter's hand. The older man liked it on the rougher side, maybe even a bit sloppy, but he would much rather teach Peter properly so that Peter's next partner would have it easy. Stepping stones were important. Wade bowed his back for the younger, taking a breath. "Start spreading your fingers, Love. Kind of like a scissoring motion. Your cock is a lot wider than your fingers, an' well, it just feels really good." Wade's voice sounded almost sheepish at the end and he had a small, playful smile on his lips.

Peter let out a breath that sounded a little like a groan. He did just that, forcing a gap between his fingers. To make it easier on both of them, he added his ring finger into the action and continued the motions. He knew the prostate was right in there, and he knew human anatomy pretty well, but finding its exact location for the first time blindly with his fingers was a new experience. He pressed upward, towards Wade's stomach, and moved his fingers out of the other slowly, trying to find the bundle of nerves.

Wade's breath quickened and his shoulders arched. Peter's hands, in and out of the suit, were a fucking work of art. He moaned lowly at the sensations building up inside of him, his fingers digging into the bedding underneath him. Then his entire body jolted like he had been shot when Peter struck his prostate dead on. A filthy, loud moan pulled from his throat, and he attempted to move his hips in time with Peter's hand, needing more contact. He would fuck himself entirely on the other's fingers if the other would let him. "Th-there, Baby Boy. God, please, there."

Peter certainly knew he'd found it, then. The way Wade groaned so wantonly turned Peter on in so many different ways. He found himself hard as a rock, and he was sure he looked like he was ready to jump Wade like a predator. His eyes were half-lidded and he couldn't tear his gaze away from the Merc's face -- not that he ever wanted to in the first place.

"There?" Peter asked, his voice husky. He pressed his fingers harder on the spot as he thrust them back in, just a few millimeters short of his knuckles.

Wade keened loudly in response, his hips arching high against Peter's hand. He couldn't stay quiet when something felt this amazing. Wade wasn't known as the Merc with a Mouth because he knew how to shut up.

"Yes, fuck... Peter..." Wade could feel his own arousal pooling in his stomach. He hadn't even remotely felt the dull pain of being stretched thanks to Peter's thin, skilled fingers. All of that web-slinging really paid off. "I'm gonna cum from your fingers if ya do-don't fuck me soon."

Part of Peter wanted that; he wanted to even the score so that their second round would last longer. But then, he wasn't sure how quickly Wade would recover -- probably faster than Peter, but still, he was impatient. He leaned up and attached his mouth to Wade's jaw, and started sucking and intermittently using his teeth. His body knew what it wanted to do, and now he was just letting it happen.

"How long can you last?" he asked in a puff of air against the other's ear, never once stopping his hand. It was difficult to hold back, especially when it seemed that Wade was completely receptive to it, so he allowed himself to use a little more force with his movements.

He'd never known that Wade could make these sounds, and he loved each and every one.

Wade was trembling from the contact, his body practically screaming at him to just let go. He had been differing levels of hard for hours and after knowing what Spider-Man tasted like, it was hard to fight off the assault on his senses. He whimpered, turning his head to give Peter a sloppy, needing kiss. But he broke away with another sharp moan as the younger man struck his prostate again. This was torture in the purest form. The way Peter's nimble fingers milked him had the mercenary almost choking on his name. "G-God, not long if you keep doing th-that."

Peter gave a breathy chuckle against Wade's skin. "It's just so hard to stop," he teased playfully. He kissed Wade again, on the mouth, and it was once more heated and messy. He removed his other hand from Wade's thigh, and he felt around until he caught the Merc's member and then he wrapped his fingers around it. He stroked roughly to the tip, his thumb pressing against the glans. "So hard to stop..."

He was being a little shit and he knew it.

Wade suffered a hard shudder and he gasped. His body didn't know if it wanted to press onto Peter's fingers inside of him, or into the one around his cock. The older man was begging and stuttering, biting his bottom lip as an outlet. He could feel himself teetering on that infamous edge already. "So-so close..."

The way Wade's voice shook made a shiver run down Peter's spine. Wade was ready, that was plain as day. The look on his face, the shaking, the way he sucked in air, the way his face was flushed so perfectly...

"Come on, Wade," Peter said and he kissed and nipped at the older man's neck as his hands kept working. "Cum for me." He was parroting the words that had been spoken to him earlier, and he could have time to be embarrassed about how dirty that was when he wasn't the most aroused he'd ever been in his life.

Wade's entire world went completely white for a few seconds. He never really understood why people called an orgasm 'a little death'. He knew death (and Death) intimately, and he was here to tell you that was absolute bullshit. Dying was the absence of everything and anything. An orgasm, when given properly, was an explosion of life and everything it had to offer. It was the peak of truly being alive.

Wade saw stars bursting behind his eyes and his body went ridged as Peter demanded that he finally let go. Heat encompassed his frame and he cried out, hands fumbling for purchase on the bedding. He came so hard that he feared he might've blacked out for a second. Cum splattered against his chest and he heaved for breath, an absolute rush of feeling and electricity washing over his broad frame. "Peter..."

Wade seemed lost on a different plane of existence when he came hard from under Peter's hand, and Peter understood that well -- that had been him a little bit ago. Judging by how his body tensed and then some muscles spasmed, and the strangled noise he'd made... well, that looked like a damn good orgasm. Peter was glad that he could do that for Wade, but he was also proud of himself for being able to do that at all in the first place.

Peter removed his hand from the softening cock, and his fingers from Wade's ass. He'd clenched down pretty hard when he hit his climax, but it hadn't really hurt. Peter shifted so that he was on top of Wade again, his hands on either side of the other's neck. He leaned down and kissed the mercenary. He would have loved to go slow, and for this all to be a little more romantic, but he was still hard as a rock and it was difficult to bring the heat down a notch.

Wade latched onto Peter, his body begging for the warmth that Spider-Man could provide. He pressed several quick kisses to Peter's mouth, before wrapping his arms around the other man's shoulders. He pressed himself up off of the bed, bringing them closer together, but he was still conscious enough to realize that he was sweaty and covered in his own cum. Good God, he was positive he was now completely head over heels in love with this boy. He could also feel Peter's arousal pressing to his thigh, and dear lord, that was an amazing feeling, too. "Mhn, fuck, Baby Boy," he murmured and swished his hips teasingly, moving against the other's length. "Didja enjoy the show?"

Peter clung back, and he was busying himself with peppering kisses all over Wade's skin; on his cheeks, and jawline, and what parts of the other's neck he could easily reach. Peter had at least had enough forethought to wipe the lotion on his hands off on the bed before engaging in the hug. He would really need to clean his poor bedsheets after this was over with. He didn't feel like he'd really done much work, but with the way he was breathing, you'd almost think he had. He inhaled sharply when Wade's hips pressed against his groin.

"God, did I," Peter answered, and he gasped again. Wade, it turned out, needed almost no downtime to recover. His face and chest held a bright but modest flush, and he was still panting... and for once in his God-forsaken life, the voices in his head were completely silent. He nuzzled his nose into Peter's jaw, grinning like an absolute fool. "I can tell, Petey," he said playfully, wiggling more against the other's erection.

The mercenary's hands traveled over Peter's muscular back, a familiar spark starting to settle in his stomach. The one good thing that ever came out of those shitty Weapon X experiments was the fact that he had the stamina of a longtime porn star who needed to make rent. It totally helped that Peter Parker was hovering over him, naked and harder than Vibranium, all while looking more beautiful than should be humanly possible. He pressed their mouths together again for a shamelessly needy kiss. He wanted to see just how long it would take for Peter to show that dominance he'd had previously. How long could he keep up the teasing?

Peter found out that it really was true what they said about afterglows -- Wade certainly had one, and Peter could feel just how much tension had left him. The slighter male enjoyed the neediness of the kiss, and he realized that he could lose himself for a few minutes just making out with Wade.

"You ready for round two?" he asked breathlessly between kisses. While the pressure on his groin felt amazing, it left him wanting more.

Wade made a soft noise against Peter's lips before pulling back just enough to confirm that he was ready whenever Peter was. He wriggled downward slightly, mouthing at Peter's strong collar bone, before nipping at it. He held a wicked grin on his face when he pulled back, even though his own lips were chapped and tingled from the over-stimulation. Maybe it was for his own benefit, but he loved watching Peter flush, and dirty talk seemed to do the trick well enough. "How do you wanna have me, Love? On my back, or on my hands and knees like a bitch in heat?" There was a low purr to his voice now. "You're not the only one that's flexible, my little spider. I can make any of your fantasies a reality."

Peter had been busy humming in appreciation at the other's attention, but he certainly hadn't been expecting those wicked words to fall from Wade's mouth when the older man pulled back -- though, honestly, he probably should have. This was the sort of thing that, if they were out on the city and in costume, instead of here, naked, and having sex, Peter would have webbed him up for. But seeing as they were here, naked, and having sex, Peter could only take in what he heard without a fuss, and he started turning colors like a mood ring. Too many ideas popped into his head, things that he actually might like to try -- but later. They hopefully had a lot of time to experiment in the future... but right now, Peter just wanted to watch him, to make Wade feel amazing.

(He also still couldn't get over that he was apparently into dirty talk.)

Finally, when he was able to find his voice, he said (with a slight squeak), "Kinky stuff later." Lots of kinky stuff later. "Right now, I want to watch your face."

The mercenary had a wide grin on his lips, and there was a small laugh that bubbled in his throat. "Mhn, Baby Boy, when you look like I do, you tend to be a walking gore kink. Even the most vanilla sex gets interesting." Then he lifted himself up a bit higher and pressed a gentle kiss to Peter. "Besides, I'm kidding, Darlin'. That sounds... absolutely lovely. S'not something I've done a whole lot."

The older man took this moment to worship Peter's mouth with his own, that familiar hunger only growing between them. He groaned quietly and ran his fingers down Peter's taut chest, stroking over his stomach and eventually his thighs. Anticipation and want was utterly consuming him.

Gore kink? Well, that was definitely something Peter could say with absolute certainty he wasn't into. But then, he also didn't see Wade as anything like that. He saw him as a person (which, admittedly, he hadn't done for a long time after they first met), not just something to satisfy him sexually. He used one of his hands to brush against Wade's cheekbones. He hoped that he could eventually show the other his worth, even if it took a lot of time and effort.

Peter found himself shivering at the touches and his breath audibly hitched. He patted around blindly for the lotion bottle and when he found it, he uncapped it immediately. He pulled back away from Wade to rise up onto his knees, and he poured a generous amount on his palm before he set to covering himself liberally. It felt so cold in comparison to how feverishly warm he was, and he couldn't help the gasp that escaped him at the sensation. It warmed up pretty quickly, at least. After stroking himself enough to get a nice layer of the lubricant spread on, he used his left arm to hold himself up as he leaned over Wade again. With his right hand, which was still slick with lotion, he began jerking Wade off. He wanted them to both be sufficiently (and frustratingly) hard before they went any further.

Wade groaned low in his throat and his eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of Peter jacking him off. His hips bucked up into that warm, wet hand, his breath quickening. Wade was beginning to think Peter was a bit of a sadist.

"Jesus Christ, Peter..." Wade's voice was almost like music and his thighs spread wide, perfectly putting himself on full display. Peter really liked Wade saying his name like that, probably a little too much.

"Orgasm denial and teasing can be considered kinky, you know. You said kinky later, which means fuck me, now. Please..." Wade writhed underneath Peter, his body hotter than he could usually stand.

Peter couldn't help himself from laughing. He wasn't actually trying to tease Wade right then. He pressed his lips to the other's chest. "Gee, I can't really tell what you want me to do -- you need to stop being so subtle." He had a wide grin on his face as he said that.

Wade honest to God pouted at Peter's words, bottom lip stuck out and everything. Of course, he would refuse that it ever happened until the day he died for good, but he actually pouted at Spider-Man. "I offered to be on my hands and knees and present myself to you like a dog in heat, but you decided this was a better option. I tried not being subtle, Mister Parker." Wade felt his abdomen muscles tense and he chewed his bottom lip, aptly watching Peter. He wanted to touch his lover, but he also wanted get bent over and fucked hard. His thoughts and wants were filling his mind about how much he needed the man above him. This definitely couldn't be just a one-off thing.

That pout was equal parts hilarious and adorable. Peter now knew what Deadpool looked like when he muttered to himself after being shot down. Peter chuckled again, and there was something incredible about being in such an intimate situation and still being able to joke around. At first he was terrified he was going to mess up by moving wrong, or being on the naïve end of sexual encounters... but now he realized that Wade would never hold that against him. They weren't on opposing sides, they were on the same team. He leaned up and kissed Wade, to let him know that he was done teasing. "Alright, alright," he said, smiling. Then he lifted himself back up, wiped his hand on his poor, abused covers again (he at least had extra bedding sets that his aunt gave him, since she was no longer having to change his sheets like when he lived with her), and he finally readied himself. It was still a little nerve-racking, but he was now completely ready for the plunge.

He lifted Wade's legs up, towards the other man's stomach, so he could more easily see and get to the parts that really mattered. With one hand still on the underside of Wade's thigh, Peter took hold of himself and he lined his member up with the other's entrance. "Okay," he said, to let Wade know he was about to go for it. He bit his bottom lip hard and pushed forward, still holding himself at the middle. 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth that came off like a hiss, as he pressed his hips even further forward, and he freed up his right hand, planting it on the mattress beside Wade's torso. Oh my God, it felt amazing. He couldn't help himself when he twitched, burying himself up to the base in Wade. He was left curling up over his lover, his limbs all trembling.

Wade's jaw went slack and his back arched his spine almost like a stereotypical Halloween cat's. He whimpered pathetically, the noise even shocking himself. It wasn't a sound of pain, but need. "O-oh, fuck." Peter had him pinned down to the bed, and Wade's fingers wanted to grip or dig into the younger male's back. When he felt like he could finally take it, Wade rolled his hips, as small, almost delicate noises he didn't know he was capable of making started spilling from his lips. "Fuck, Baby Boy, move, please..."

Wade's murmuring was making this even harder (pun actually not intended for once), and Peter found himself having to breathe through his slightly-open mouth to stay calm. He agreed completely with every whimper he heard. Peter had yet another thing to add to his growing list of things he enjoyed, and having the other's nails on his back was it. He nodded, maybe a little too urgently (because holy shit did that swivel of Wade's hips make him lose himself for a second), and he pushed himself back up on his shaky arm. He only realized then that he'd been giving Wade's thigh the same treatment that Wade had been giving his back -- but the Merc didn't seem put-off by the deep, red crescents.

"Yeah," Peter breathed in reply to the other's begged request, and he pulled himself back, consciously not going too far to risk falling out, before he jerked himself forward again. Once more, he found himself curling over Wade, but now more on his hands and knees, lifting the other man's middle off the bed entirely. He buried his head in Wade's neck, huffing against it, quiet 'ah's escaping his mouth with each thrust. He was trying to dip his hips on each return, hoping he was at least decent at aiming.

Wade's body was left trembling under Peter's ministrations. He could feel the power behind Peter's lean muscle with each thrust, his chest practically buzzing in adoration when Peter bashfully hid his face against Wade's throat. The older man attached his mouth to the shoulder left open to him, kissing and biting over the flesh as he desired. The springs under them seemed to ache and groan along with their movements, somehow only adding to the thick atmosphere settling around them and neither would have noticed or cared. Wade would not have been able to muster up a single shit to give as long as Peter Parker kept jerking his hips and gripping at him like that.

The Merc was never a person who could just lay there and let his partner do all of the work, so as much as he could, he met each of Peter's thrusts with his own. Strong, scarred fingers found their way up into the younger man's hair, and Wade moaned loudly around Peter's clavicle every time his prostate was grazed.

Wade's mouth on him made Peter let loose a desperate sort of groan, and he fisted his hand into the sheets next to his lover's body. It took him a few more thrusts to fall into an even rhythm, and he left was panting along with it, his eyes clamped tightly shut. He was actively trying to hold himself back because, if nothing else, he didn't want to make a hole in the wall with his headboard. He was having a really difficult time concentrating on that and what he was doing (and who he was doing)... because it all felt so damn good.

The way Wade was meeting him was all kinds of amazing. He could feel sweat beading up on him, and his skin felt aflame wherever Wade's fingers touched.

"Wa-ade," he breathed, the name drawn out, spanning over two thrusts. To try to get some of the restlessness out that came with trying to use an approximate human level of strength, Peter started going after Wade's neck, much like what'd been done to him earlier. He bit down and licked, and he sucked hard on the skin.

"G-God, Peter," Wade was gasping for breath, his ankles hooked around Spider-Man's hips, desperate to get him closer, deeper. Shaking tremors ran through his body every time he was bitten. He was openly begging to get fucked harder before it even registered in his brain that he wanted it. He pulled Peter from his neck with no small amount of difficulty, before kissing him sloppily like his life depended on it.

The way Wade said his name... Peter shuddered, and it caused him to freeze up for a second, pushed as far as he could go into the other. Next thing he knew, he was meeting his lover's mouth and tongue with heated vigor.

"I don't... don't know if I can... hold back," he panted, and he was trembling all over from straining so hard. He really didn't want to hurt Wade, like, fracture his pelvis or something, and he was scared he might do just that.

"I don't want you to hold back!" Wade's voice was a heated whisper between kisses. He was trying to get Peter to let go. He could see the hesitation all over the other man's features, and that was no way to enjoy a first time together. He lifted his hips, thighs widening in an invitation for Peter. His entire posture was submissive and wanting. Wade pulled back only far enough to properly look at his lover's face, and his own was flushed, eyes half-lidded. "Trust me to tell you what I can and can't handle, Baby Boy."

Peter swallowed thickly, and after catching his breath some, he shakily nodded. "Yeah," he said. He was giving in. "Yeah, okay." He licked his lips (he could still taste Wade on them), and he shifted himself back up on his elbows, which were on either side of Wade's chest. The way the Merc was clinging to him with his legs caused him to push in as far as he could go, and it made the angle a damn good one.

He pulled himself back, moving his hips but keeping his body mostly still otherwise. He got himself ready one more, final time, and reached back to hook his hand back under Wade's thigh. He thrust in experimentally, harder than he had been before, and then a little harder still the second time. His headboard hit the wall audibly. There was a thrill to not having to hold back, and he almost felt like he were a wild and free animal. He was digging into Wade's leg with his fingers, but he couldn't help that part. He wasn't entirely certain that his bedsprings could recover from the Wade-shaped indent he was about to put in them.

The absolutely feral look on Peter Parker's face would forever be etched into Wade's mind as the most incomprehensibly arousing thing he had ever witnessed. His chest was heaving and the way Peter was clawing at his skin made the mercenary whine lovingly. He wanted more. He could walk off a broken bone to the point where the Watcher himself would never know it even broke. He wanted to get fucked so hard that Peter could feel him hugging his cock for weeks. Wade had always just assumed he was a switch, but dear God, he would be this boy's submissive until the end of time if Peter allowed it.

Wade groaned encouragingly, letting Peter manipulate and move his body however he wanted it. Despite his size, Wade loved to be moved and forced into positions by his lover. He craved that constant feeling of being exactly what his partner needed to get off. He clung to Peter, his mouth attempting kisses, and veritably loving every inch of skin he could find. It was almost like Wade was transcending into a subspace. "Please..."

Peter was bent over Wade, with his feet digging into the covers behind him, holding his body up over the mercenary. He almost had Wade curled into a perfect 'c' at this point, and he was holding fast to his lover like he had nothing else to keep him grounded. The sound of skin hitting skin was toeing the line of violent, and Peter realized that it was too late to turn back now. He didn't know that this could feel even better, and Wade's begging only egged him on. He pressed the other man harder into the mattress, hearing it scream in protest. His head was once again buried along Wade's neck and shoulder, and he was rasping puffs or air against the other's ear.

"Mine," he hissed, and he was surprised that came from him.

Wade was falling deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole with each movement as he gripped tightly at Peter. Everything was making him see stars behind his eyes, and the way Peter snapped his hips forward had him moaning like a two-pence whore. The older man was shuddering, desperately grabbing for purchase on Peter's back. Everything was so intense, Wade felt like his entire world was getting turned more on its head with each and every heartbeat. He couldn't move under Peter's grip, so he could only let the younger man do as he wished. Words were lost on Wade, his entire body too in tune with the other man's to pull even a short sentence together.

Nothing mattered as long as Peter kept moving.

Peter had never before understood the 'beast inside' analogy outside of the times his emotions far outweighed his logic in a fight. Now he understood. There really was something so carnal about all of this, about having Wade be completely and utterly his. His hands went to hold the older man's shoulders to the bed, gripping tight, keeping him in place as he fucked him into the mattress. Even though he'd already had one hell of an orgasm not very long ago, Peter could feel himself getting close, and that made his movements somewhat more erratic.

"Ah, Wade," he groaned, and he started peppering half-kisses and love-bites along anywhere he could get his mouth. "Close," he breathed in-between making the marks.

Wade shook underneath the younger man like a leaf, his entire body feeling like he falling into a void. Peter was his only means of survival, the rope keeping him intact. Wade didn't even realize he was babbling and begging for more, the words just tumbled out past his lips. His chest was heaving and his breathing was overly quick, his nails dragging down Peter's back in his own form of marking ownership. Suddenly, it was like his entire world blinked completely out of existence. Wade's body went totally still, his climax ripping through his body like a tornado over flat land. He curled further, as much as he could, and he buried his face against Peter's throat. The brunet's name was like a mantra on the tip of his tongue.

Wade's orgasm was completely unexpected for Peter, and the younger man let out a strangled, garbled sound as he forced his way past the tight ring of muscles several more times before his own hit him at an alarming rate. Time around him slowed, and he swore went temporarily blind.

When awareness began creeping back towards Peter, he realized he was not only encasing Wade in his arms -- with his whole body -- but his teeth were sunken into the mercenary's shoulder. His body trembled as he came, and the tsunami that had hit him began to calm, leveling out, and he let up on his clamped jaw. Oh, God, there was blood, too. With his fading high, Peter's head began to clear, and apologies instantly fell from his lips.

"Oh, Wade, God, I'm sorry," he said in a rush, even though it was awfully hard to be too worked up after just having incredible sex. He felt exhausted, and he felt so good...

"I'm sorry."

The words and Peter's insistent, worried tone shocked Wade back to the realm of reality. He moved sluggishly, his body actually, truly feeling tired; something that was so rare that he couldn't believe it at first. His voice was somewhat slurred. "Why are you apologizin', Baby Boy? That was the best I've felt in years."

That, at least, soothed Peter's fears, and he allowed himself to sigh with relief, his head falling back to rest on Wade's wounded shoulder, burying his nose in the crook of his neck. "Really?" He asked, a little bashfully. It was the best he'd felt in years, too. God, it was like his bones were getting heavier the longer he stayed awake. Lethargically, he attempted to get himself propped up enough to pull out of Wade, and his still hyper-sensitive cock hurt as he did so. He hissed quietly in discomfort. With that done, though, he flopped down on his side, and threw his arms around Wade again.

"You're amazing," he whispered, still unable to fully catch his breath. He could feel the burning marks clawed into his own back, but it wasn't uncomfortable enough for him to mention it.

"Said the 'Amazing Spider-Man'. Isn't that what they call you in the papers, these days?" Wade asked, and then gave a tired, immensely happy grin.

Peter hadn't even caught the reference until Wade said it. He gave a breathy laugh and bumped his forehead against the other. "I don't even know anymore. Amazing, Ultimate, Incredible... they keep cycling through those every so often. I've lost track. So long as I'm not The Menace..."

Wade shifted in Peter's hold, a little shocked that he was actually being cuddled. He nuzzled his nose against the web-slinger and kept their bodies close. He wanted to immortalize this entire night in his memory, especially if this was somehow his only one with Peter Parker (a fear he just couldn't shake). Wade pressed a soft kiss to Peter's jugular, amused at the way he could feel the other's labored breathing with his lips. His afterglow was smacking him in the face repeatedly at this point. "You're absolutely wonderful yourself, Petey. Fuckin' spectacular, honestly."

Peter tilted his head back to accept the throat-kisses, humming in appreciation. A deep flush crept up his neck and along his cheeks and ears. He felt like Wade must have been exaggerating about his skills in bed -- surely he had to be. He idly reached up and wiped the blood away from where he'd bitten down to, er... mark Wade. He actually felt a little prideful about it, even though it was already healing up. No one would be able to see it before it was gone, but that didn't matter too much.

"As long as you had a good time," he said, and his words trailed off. Wade really was glowing and it was lovely to watch.

Wade snorted in response. "As long as I had a good time? It takes at least two to do the horizontal tango, pretty-boy. If you didn't enjoy yourself, then we are just gonna have to keep practicin' 'til I can get it right for ya." Despite his words, he was buzzing contentedly, busy ignoring the wet feeling between his thighs and on his stomach between them. Was it absolutely disgusting to say that he actually enjoyed that? More than likely. "Seriously though, I, uh..." His cheeks flared red. "I've never gone that deep down the rabbit hole before. I've never truly been in a subspace like that before now. All I could focus on was you, and fuck me, it was amazing."

Peter barked out a nervous laugh and quickly muffled it with his hand. He was so proud, but so embarrassed. Their coupling was like a jumbled haze right now, though there were a few intimate details he could pick out.

"I've never... ah," he began, but trailed off and he glanced toward his ceiling. "I've never lost myself in it like that before, either." It had certainly been a first for both of them, and he was beyond pleased that Wade had enjoyed it just as much. "Though... I wouldn't object to some more practice later." He shot Wade a tired albeit playful grin.

"Definitely later," Wade mumbled as he stretched like he was a cat, moving to lean more fully against the superhero. He worried at his bottom lip as he thought. "I don't really, uh..." Suddenly, a timid demeanor washed over Wade as his afterglow progressed. "I don't wanna be a nuisance or nothin'... I just, can you hold me for a little bit longer? I feel safe an' warm against you. I-I mean, shit... I'm gross and sweaty an' covered in spunk. Never mind. Forget I asked. I should probably just clean up."

Peter could actually feel the mood shift as Wade became more meek and unsure of himself. He frowned at his partner, as the older man began to put himself down, like he had ever since the day Peter had met him. He didn't care that Wade was gross -- he was gross too. They'd shower later, after sleep, and he would take his bedsheets down to a laundromat.

Instead of responding verbally, Peter shifted his weight and then crawled back on top of Wade, though he remained slightly off to the side. He dug one arm under the Merc, and reached down with his other, tugged the covers out from where they'd been kicked off to the corner against the wall, and pulled the sheets on top of both of them. He curled his now-freed hand behind Wade's neck. He started kissing Wade, gently, on the mouth and everywhere around it. Yeah, sure, he could definitely feel the cum spread between them, but he wasn't as grossed out as he thought he'd be. But even just the thought of taking a shower right now made him feel beyond exhausted. "I'm gross, and sweaty, and covered in spunk, too," he mumbled from against Wade's skin. "Clean up in the morning."

A wide yawn took over Peter's mouth and he could do nothing but submit and wait for it to finish.

Wade was absolutely amazed at how Peter treated him so soft and kind. He nuzzled even closer to his new lover, a happy purr rumbling in his throat. It suddenly dawned on him that Peter actually wanted him to stay the night. It wasn't just some shameful act to hide in the wee hours of the morning before kicking him out on his ass.

It was all too possible that Wade Wilson could fall even more in love with Peter Parker. Being in such a state of mind seemed to do a number on Wade's thoughts. He made a quiet noise, complying to Peter's wishes. He was too exhausted to argue, and his Baby Boy was right. They could clean up in the morning. God, it felt so good to be held. When was the last time this had even happened?

"Thank you, Peter."

The yawn finally subsided and Peter blinked a little blearily at Wade as the other man thanked him. He sounded awed, earnest, and... happy. Peter's mouth pulled into a lopsided grin.

“You're welcome, Wade," he said. He really, honestly hoped that they were still on his bed, or at least in the same apartment, when he woke up. He was absolutely exhausted in all of the best ways, and after another, much less intense yawn, he let his head fall into place on Wade and he was out in less than a minute.

Even in sleep, they kept smiling.