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After being left high and dry on two Manhattan rooftops in the span of four years, Wade was done with Peter Parker.
Or- he would be after saying goodbye and taking the first flight back to Canada. Wade wasn’t really a public flight and economy seat kind of guy but he’d decided to blow the money on a plane ticket this time instead of pointing a gun at a pilot's head for two hours.
The Fairfield Inn at the Financial District had been Wade’s living situation for the past week. The money for the recently completed job helped with that. Though he hadn’t planned on staying in Manhattan for long before one annoying spider came crawling back and upended his life again.
Wade couldn’t that night out of his head. Peter’s words were engraved like a bad tattoo into the spongiest part of his brain.
‘Maybe I’ll see you in another four years.’
Yeah right. He’d rather kill himself than go nearly half a decade before seeing Peter again. Wade often looked out the windows in his hotel room, hoping he’d catch a flash of that familiar red and blue swinging through the streets.
Apparently, the guy didn’t swing through the Financial District often because Wade hadn’t seen him once. He made a mental note to reprimand Peter of that later.
{Right? People could be dying here!}
[I don’t see the big deal.]
Wade’s fingers curled tighter around the frozen beer bottle he held, his head lifting from where it had been resting on the window sill.
“No,” he muttered. “Dammit! Fuck! Shit! Motherfucker!”
He gripped at the slope of his head with his free hand as if that would stop the voices. His blunt nails dug into the ridges of his scarred scalp, drawing blood.
“Please tell me this is some sick joke.”
{Nope. We’re back for fucking good.}
[Unfortunately.]
The beer bottle broke into jagged pieces as Wade threw it across the room towards the door. “I thought I got fucking rid of you guys,” he groaned loud enough for the sound to reverberate through the thin walls. “What did I do wrong? Have I not been a good boy? I’m collapsing here, Universe.”
{Shut up! You sound pathetic.}
“You sound pathetic, Yellow!”
[Can I be let out of here? It smells.]
“Just shut the fuck up- all of you!” Wade growled, clutching at his head so tight that his temples throbbed. “This can’t be happening. God, I need to get out of here.”
He rushed out of the hotel in record time, trying to appear as a sane person while he walked along the cracked sidewalk. He pulled his red hoodie over his head, keeping his gaze low. For some reason, he’d made ten too many enemies in just seven days. A pizza delivery guy he’d given no tip to, a vendor selling hotdogs whose cart he’d accidentally knocked over, and way too many straight guys he’d shamelessly flirted with.
His feet dragged him somewhere unknown, twisting around corners and crosswalks and occasionally handing the homeless a few crumpled up dollar bills before he eventually stopped near a bank. And of course, New Yorkers being New Yorkers- a group of wannabe thugs were actively robbing it.
Wade planned on turning the other way. He didn’t have his mask on him, just a measly hoodie and ratted jeans with a lone Glock 17 hidden at his hip. It wasn’t his job to stop petty crimes anyway- he was a highly trained mercenary and ex Special Forces! He had better things to do than beat up some guys that weighed less than two hundred pounds. That was Peter’s job. Spider-Man’s job.
Bam!
The gunshot rang loud from inside the bank and Wade was already unholstering his gun and rushing in before he could think about it. Three bank tellers were standing behind the counter with their hands up- all women. Their hands were up and shaking while some masked thug loaded cash into a backpack.
“Making a withdrawal, fellas?”
All six thugs looked up in surprise, immediately training their guns on Wade.
“Martin!” One of them whispered roughly, elbowing the guy next to him. “I thought you were keeping watch, idiot.”
“That was Ricky’s job!”
Wade was unfazed, his lips etched with a lazy smirk. “First time, huh? Ugh, I’m almost jealous. I remember my first job,” he drawled, waving his gun around carelessly. “I was supposed to take out a mob boss- I know, those actually exist- but I took the shot on the wrong guy and ended up killing his son instead. Oh well, I eventually killed the whole family anyway.”
The thugs looked in confusion between each other, clearly cut off guard by Wade’s incessant rambling. The one who had spoken first stepped forward.
“Six on one, buddy. Put that gun away before we put a bullet in each of these ladies' heads.”
The three women tensed as three of the thugs stepped behind them to press the barrels of their guns into the backs of the women’s necks. That left the fourth thug still shoving money into a bag and two for Wade.
“Hostages? Never a good idea for a first job,” Wade sighed as if this were a mere inconvenience. He checked the magazine on his gun- seventeen rounds. A full mag. More than enough. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt here.” That was a lie.
A string of webs suddenly shot through the air and the three thugs behind the bank tellers were strung up to the ceiling before the others could even realize.
{Oh great. The spider.}
[Bring me back when people start dying.]
Wade shot two rounds into one of the guys chests before taking out the second thug at a kneecap. The one in charge of the money slung the bag over his shoulder and pulled his gun but it was slung out of his hands with webs, giving Wade the chance to shoot him in the shoulder.
The women ran out in panic, police sirens echoing in the distance. Peter lowered himself upside down on a web line and Wade grinned crookedly at the familiar sight of white lenses.
“Thanks for the backup, Webs. Though I had it handled.” Wade stepped forward, inches away from Peter’s masked face.
An awkward silence passed for a beat before Peter cleared his throat. “You should get out of here. The police will be here soon.”
Peter swung out of the building before Wade could make a flirty comment about doing the kiss. He sighed and tucked his gun into his waistband before casually strolling out, pulling his hood back up over his head. He caught a glimpse of Peter swinging towards the Upper East side, eventually disappearing from view.
The weird pang Wade felt in his heart whenever he was around Peter came back, eating away at his insides. He couldn’t figure out a way to explain it- it was as if his limbs wanted to stop working whenever Peter was even within ten feet of him. He felt clammy and nervous when the facade he put on was cocky and confident.
He found himself thinking of the rare tender moments between them- eating pizza on a rooftop in Hell’s Kitchen, mapping out Peter’s freckles for the first time, having his tears kissed off by Peter’s soft lips.
{Gross. I know what this is called.}
[You’re in love? With the spider?]
“Love?” Wade’s throat went dry, the voices getting to him. People paid him no attention even as he talked to himself in the streets. That was another thing Wade loved about New York. The first thing he loved?
“Peter…” he whispered under his breath. “No. Hell no. I’m not in love with that stupid bug. His face is too infuriating, and he always berates me about killing people and all he does is use me!”
Wade kicked aside a pebble in the street, watching it hit a businessman’s shoe. “I’d have to hate myself to fall in love with someone like that.”
{You try to kill yourself almost every day.}
[You’re definitely in love. It’s disgusting in here.]
“I’m not fucking in love!” Wade shouted, earning a small glance from a confused child clutching onto their mom's jacket. “I just wanna kiss him without it leading to sex. Maybe run my fingers through those stupid curls while I kiss his stupid face and make him laugh because goddamn, I love hearing that sound. But I don’t love him.”
{I’ve never seen you more in denial than the time you tried to convince yourself you didn’t love a guy. Oh wait.}
[You got him there.]
Wade rounded a corner into an alleyway between a bodega and a pizza shop, biting into his cheek until he tasted blood.
“Oh my god. I think I...” He grimaced, his head pounding as if his brain was begging to get out. “Shit. I’m fucked. I’m utterly fucked. How did I let this happen?”
{You’re too clingy.}
[And you love the attention. No wonder you fell for the first person who gave it to you.]
“Fuck off. Both of you,” Wade muttered, low and dangerous as if on the cusp of blowing his brains out. “The best thing to do here is to ignore it, right? Ignore these shitty feelings and pretend I don’t actually- ugh, I can’t even say it.”
The walk back to his hotel was purposefully long. He stopped every twenty seconds to chide at the voices in his head and even bought a corn dog to feed the pigeons. He couldn’t just go back to that dingy hotel room and jerk off until he forgot Peter’s name, could he?
Eventually, he settled on doing a stakeout. For what? No idea. He made a quick stop in his room to retrieve his sniper rifle before grappling up to the roof, making himself comfortable on the ledge as he peeked through the scope.
The streets were quiet tonight, aside from the single bank robbery. He saw two women perhaps in their early twenties sharing a slice of pizza before giggling and sharing a kiss next. Wade instinctively frowned because he was trying to forget Peter, not be reminded of the way he wanted to be with Peter like that- holding hands on the sidewalk and laughing about something stupid.
He huffed and moved the scope to the left, this time seeing an elderly couple walking side by side with their fingers loosely intertwined like they’d done it their whole lives. Another tragic sigh emerged deep from Wade’s chest, his molars grinding together now. One last chance. He moved his eyeline further up and did a double take- was that Peter?
Sure enough, Wade could see the bright red and blue contrasted against the sky a couple buildings away from him. The spider was crouched on the ledge glancing around like he was expecting someone.
A stiff breath left Wade’s lips. He kept the scope steady, waiting a few minutes before making out a woman on the rooftop, making her way towards Peter. She had warm platinum blonde hair, smooth curves, and wore a black leather suit with a mask barely concealing her features.
She seemed familiar but Wade wasn’t too sure. He would’ve remembered meeting someone who looked like that. Unless it was a one-night stand.
He shook his head and focused his gaze back through the scope, watching as the woman dragged catlike nails down Peter’s chest.
{Hell no! Why is she touching him like that?}
[Can we be in the middle? That’d be one hot threesome.]
The prickle of jealousy clawing down Wade’s spine was ridiculous. He and Peter weren’t a thing. Or even friends. They didn’t own each other. Peter didn’t know how hopelessly in love Wade was with him.
Peter’s mask had been lifted up by the woman’s sharp nails, and he wasn’t even moving away. And the only thing Wade felt when Peter leaned forward to kiss her was empty. Pathetic. Stupid.
Wade’s hold on the gun wavered and he quickly lowered it, biting down the bile in his throat. Of course, he’d known that Peter slept with other people, he’d made it abundantly clear. So, maybe this entire thing was useless.
He should have gone on the first flight back to Canada.
{Why did you think you ever had a chance?}
[People like you aren’t meant to have happy endings.]
Perhaps the boxes were right.
But right now, Wade had to distract himself from blowing his brains out. It was a bad habit.
The buckle of his belt sounded far too loud as he undid it, his nerves dialed to ten. Wade clenched his eyes closed and decided to focus on the last time he’d been with Peter. Remembering the feeling of Peter crushing his throat and then his dick. The rough kisses that made Wade bleed. The way he’d taken Peter’s dick down his throat. And Peter- above him and dominant even while being fucked by Wade’s scarred cock.
In the present day, Wade was by himself this time. Lazily palming himself through his briefs with short, raspy breaths. He didn’t want to think of the way he’d been left by Peter twice. Or the fact that the spider was currently across from him on another rooftop sucking face with a gorgeous woman that Wade could never compete with.
He let out a frustrated growl when his dick wouldn’t get hard.
{Think sexy thoughts! Fruits! Sea anemones! Washington Monument!}
[Or Peter fucking someone else.]
Wade tore his hand away from his painfully limp dick, clenching his jaw as he put his belt back in place. This was the first time that masturbating his feelings away hadn’t worked. He took the loss and went back inside to the hotel room. He’d cancel it the next day and book a flight to Regina tonight.
He doubted he would come back after four years again.
Maybe he’d find someone in his home country. Settle down and have a nice life, adopt a kid or a dog. Or maybe this was the universe’s way of telling him he wasn’t built for that kind of thing. The only thing he’d be good at is killing for money.
He lay in bed for the rest of the night trying to decode the universe’s message. But one image always returned to his mind.
Waking up next to Peter and telling him he loved him.
Thirty-two was just another shitstorm to pretend to care about.
Wade had been in Canada for the last four years and he wasn’t planning on going back to New York. Ever. Unfortunately, that also meant he’d been stuck with the voices in his head for just as long.
The burnt out candle on a slice of red velvet cake seemed to mock him as he stared down at it, his mask raised above his lips. Celebrating birthdays in his dingy house wasn’t new. Though celebration was a poor choice of words. He thought of it as an obligation to himself. And as an excuse to eat cake without feeling guilty about it.
He really wished he’d just gone to a strip club.
Sitting alone with his thoughts and the voices was never a really good idea. Because that’s when he thought of Peter. Who Wade definitely didn’t stalk online.
Peter had started some foundation with his so-called best friend, Harry Osborn. The Emily-May Foundation. Wade later learned that it was built for Osborn's mother and Peter’s aunt- who was basically his mother.
Sometimes Wade would visit the website and stare at Peter’s About Me page for hours, his eyes memorizing every inch of Peter’s features in the photo displayed. It was a photo of Peter from his shoulders up, a small but proud smile on his lips. Wade craved to taste them again.
The section was filled with facts about him and why the foundation was important to him. Wade could recite every word from memory alone.
“Ever since I was a little boy my Aunt May and Uncle Ben taught me to perceive the world in all kinds of angles. That there was always something beneath the surface in anyone and everything. Ben reminded me of my responsibility- to stand up for those who couldn’t do it themselves. And May taught me how to help those people. To be more than just a ‘hero’ in their lives and remind them that they have strength too.
The Emily-May Foundation is something designed to give us all hope. Even when someone we love is gone- their heart is still carried with us. We pass down those moments to keep their love alive.
And I’m glad to be doing this with my best friend at my side. I couldn’t ask for anything more than this.”
Peter was perfectly fine without Wade.
Wade had to remind himself of that every day. He couldn’t be mad. Peter was happy. And still unmarried but Wade tried not to give himself false hope. There was no way Peter wasn’t already married because of him, right?
{Nobody would postpone getting married for a guy they only fucked twice.}
[Maybe the spider realized nobody would fuck him any better.]
“Shut up,” Wade grumbled through a bite of cake, shoveling it into his mouth with his hands. “He’s better off without me. Clearly.”
{Hey, how about you shoot a little silver through your skull?}
Wade promptly thought about the idea. Maybe the voices were right.
He reached for the revolver at his hip he kept with him at all times and turned the safety off.
[No! Let's call Wolvie and have a quickie!]]
“Yeah, shooting myself sounds better,” Wade grumbled weakly, bringing the cold barrel under his chin.
Every time he did this, he always thought the same thing: Let this be permanent.
The last image that flashed through his mind was the moment Peter had revealed his face to him. The scattered freckles, the unruly curls, the pursed lips, and the eyes full of light. Those were the things Wade loved most about Peter. He could admit it to himself now.
The shot rang out and he fell to the ground limply.
Peter and Harry had just finished unveiling their new tracking tech used for locating areas in need out in Manhattan. They’d used the formula already present in the lenses of Peter’s mask whenever he needed to track down a bad guy and rerouted it to a bigger expansion.
The people in the Foundation were filing out after the presentation, leaving Peter and Harry alone in their office space.
Harry lay spread out on the futon, chewing a pen as he rambled. “You think they actually liked it? I swear I saw about five people yawning the entire time. Maybe we should try and workshop some sort of skit or something fun to present our ideas instead-”
“Who cares what they think?” Peter interrupted with a scoff, nursing a hot coffee between his hands. “It doesn’t matter how we present it, it matters how well the tech works and what it does to improve the city.”
The grin that spread on Harry’s face was one Peter was very familiar with. It happened whenever Harry was surprised with him. Or proud.
“Tell that to my father,” Harry chuckled. “The product only sells not because it’s good- but because of how well you sell it.”
“Is that a quote from him or something?”
Harry sat up, shrugging his shoulders and spinning the pen in his hands which were now riddled with ink. “Don’t know. I forgot. I just know I heard it somewhere. But you’re right. Who cares?”
Peter leaned back in his desk chair, setting his coffee aside to run his fingers through his hair. It had lost its curl over the years and he had no time to try and maintain them. Now they were just simple strands he tried to brush back every morning.
Between the Foundation and being Spider-Man, he rarely had time to do anything else. So sleep is rare nowadays. And eating. And…showers?
He subtly sniffed his armpit, grimacing at the stink. “Yeah…I think I’m gonna head home early and clean up.” He stood and slung his bag over his shoulder, giving Harry a weak smile.
“Wait, Pete- before you go, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Harry said quickly, patting the futon to get Peter to sit next to him.
Peter hesitated for a second, not wanting to disgust his best friend with his stench but they worked together all day anyway. He let out a breath before he slumped next to Harry, a brow raised. “What’s up, buddy?”
“Okay, so. You can totally tell me if I’m in the wrong here but…are you okay?”
Oh no. Peter knew where this was going. Harry had been able to read him better than his first scientific journal.
Harry continued before Peter could protest. “It’s just- I’m worried. You constantly seem like you’re running on fumes and I know you’ll never ask for a day off because you love working too much but I think you should take one. Or a week. A month, maybe.”
Now Peter was offended.
“A break? Harry, I’m perfectly fine.”
“You smell, Pete. Really bad.”
Embarrassment couldn’t even make its way into Peter’s system. He was more angry and frustrated that Harry would even suggest taking a break.
“So, what you’re saying is that you don’t need me here?” Peter snapped.
He partially knew he was in the wrong. He was exhausted and taking it out on his only friend. Throwing a petulant tantrum like a little kid wasn’t his best moment but it was definitely leagues above other moments. Ones including a guy who wears red leather.
“What? No, Pete- that’s not what I’m saying,” Harry sighed, keeping his tone calm despite Peter’s outburst. “To be honest…you’ve been different ever since I came back from Canada.”
Peter blinked. “You mean eight years ago?”
“You’re just-” A sigh fell from Harry’s lips, his fingers reaching to massage the back of his neck like he did when he was nervous. “More guarded, I guess? As if you’re bracing yourself from getting hurt emotionally. What happened when I was gone?”
There it was. The question Peter most dreaded. He’d never told Harry about losing his virginity or who he had lost it to. The conversation never came up. All Harry knew was that Peter had finally had sex. Peter had avoided or changed the subject whenever Harry tried to pry for more details.
But he didn’t have the energy to fight it anymore. His shoulders sagged and he dropped his face into his hands, an involuntary sob escaping his throat.
“I was an asshole,” Peter choked.
Harry placed a cold hand on Peter’s back, but it soothed him through despite the chill.
“What do you mean?”
There was never a moment where Peter had felt so idiotic. He lifted his head, hastily wiping away the tears streaming down his cheeks. “After your birthday dinner and before you left for Canada…I met someone.”
Flashes of eating cold pizza on a rooftop in Hell’s Kitchen rattled through his memories. Seeing the scars against pale skin and stark white eyes looking back at him.
Peter noticed Harry stayed silent, allowing him to continue.
“He was…a lot. New in town. A mercenary. Loud.”
Everything.
He didn’t say it out loud.
“Hold on- a mercenary?” Harry’s mouth gaped open, confusion etched onto his perfect features. “Like a ‘guy who will do anything for a check’ mercenary?”
Peter almost smiled at the way Harry sounded so concerned. “Yeah. But that’s not the important part. He…he’s the one I lost my virginity to. That same day, actually.”
If it was even possible, Harry’s jaw dropped wider. “You lost your virginity on my birthday? Right after I left? Christ, Pete. You move fast. I respect that. But- how does that make you an asshole?”
The smile that was on Peter’s lips dissipated, his gaze flickering down to the floor again. “Well…he lived in Canada so we only had sex again after four years when he came back. And I left him strung up with my webs both times.”
Both of them were silent for a long time. Harry’s brows were furrowed and he blinked as he processed the information. Peter was sure Harry had to be disgusted by him after this revelation.
“I messed up,” Peter muttered, his throat threatening to close as he swallowed thickly to keep from crying. “I treated him like shit. As if he was something to play with and discard after. When in reality- all I can do now is think about him. About how much time I wasted. I don’t even know where he is or how to contact him.”
“And…you’d want to see him?” Harry murmured gently, squeezing Peter’s shoulder in comfort.
Peter nodded. The idea of seeing Wade after four years- again, was both hilarious and terrifying. “I need to apologize to him. Even if he doesn’t accept it or wants to see me again, I…I can’t keep going with this guilt.”
Harry wordlessly stood, crossing over to his desk and picking up a pair of their new tracking eye contacts. “Then it’s your lucky day. Assuming you have something of his to program it into this.”
The fact that Peter didn’t think of that idea sooner made his skin prickle. Maybe he could stand to take a week off, maximum. He fumbled through his bag for about twenty seconds before producing the scrap of red fabric he’d stolen from Wade’s suit all those years ago.
“Here. Use this,” he said almost breathlessly as he stood to stand beside Harry, watching him work to pair the two together.
“I’m not even gonna question why you carry this around,” Harry mumbled, scanning the fabric with the tracking tech.
A small beeping sound indicated the tracker had found the trace of DNA left on the fabric. Harry’s brows pinched together as he squinted to make out the location. “Looks like he’s in…Saskatchewan. Specifically Regina. Guess you have a plane ticket to book.”
Peter was already on his laptop before Harry finished the sentence, buying a ticket to the soonest possible flight there.
“Thank god for the science money checks, right?” Harry added with a grin as he watched Peter.
The confirmation email was sent to his inbox and Peter stopped to swallow in realization. He was going to show up at Wade’s home unannounced after four fucking years. His stomach churned and he gripped the edge of his desk, unsettled. “What am I even going to say to him? What if he hates me? What if I can’t apologize before he kicks me out or shoots me or-”
“Pete!”
Harry calling his name snapped him out of his spiral. Peter bit his lower lip, staring at the flight time. He had a day to pack a suitcase and draft up a script to follow for what he wanted to say. It was a one way ticket so he was unfathomably hoping for a miracle that Wade would let him stay over for a couple days. Otherwise he’d have to stay in a hotel alone and possibly cry himself to sleep.
“It’s gonna be fine,” Harry insisted. “Take however much time you need off. And text me all the details okay? Well- not all the details if you two end up having make up sex.”
The blush on Peter’s cheeks gave him away as he pretended not to be flustered. “Shut up. And…thanks.”
Standing outside a wooden front door for fifteen minutes that Peter hoped was Wade’s house, according to the tracking tech, was not what he’d planned while on the flight to Regina. His grip nearly cracked his suitcase handle before he had to force himself to relax and just go for it.
He barely registered the sound of his own knocking as his knuckles slowly rapped against the door, his eyes flickering anywhere but to the doorknob. Peter didn’t have time to go over his script in his head for the two hundredth time before a voice inside rang out loudly.
“For the last time, Ingrid, I don’t want your damn raisin cookies!”
The door swung open to reveal Wade standing shirtless, his chest exposing the deep expanse of scars. Peter couldn’t help but notice the low hanging sweatpants and he realized that maybe he’d just woke Wade up. It was currently ten in the morning. Wade wasn’t wearing his mask either, his white clouded eyes stretching wide and lips parting in complete surprise.
“…Peter?”
The script Peter had prepared specifically for this moment immediately disappeared from all traces of his brain, his lips agape to match Wade before he cleared his throat roughly. Start with something simple, Parker! He told himself.
“Uh…hi.” Peter cringed internally at his awkward greeting. Things between them were anything but awkward after the things they’d done together. “I know you’re probably surprised to see me here. Can I- may I come in?”
His heart lurched as Wade stepped aside wordlessly to let him in, the look on the mercenary’s face was unreadable to him. Peter left his suitcase in the entryway, licking his suddenly dry lips.
“You want a drink?” Wade asked casually, as if this entire thing between them was normal and a friendly checkup. “I’ve got whiskey, bourbon, scotch, beer, tequila- or water.”
Peter didn’t normally drink but he figured he’d need a little liquid courage right now. “A beer would be great. Thanks.”
The silence wasn’t exactly uncomfortable while Wade got two beers from his fridge, popping them open with a knife before sliding one to Peter. But it wasn’t comfortable either. Peter repeated his thanks and took a small sip, fighting a grimace.
“So, I…” He started again, forcing himself to keep eye contact with Wade. “I’m here to apologize. For everything that happened between us. I’ll admit it- I was scared. Of what we had. You were the first person I…ever hooked up with. I said a lot of harsh things- I did a lot of harsh things to you.”
Peter paused for a moment to study Wade’s scarred face but saw no sign whether he was angry or happy or in anguish. He kept going when Wade remained silent, idly sipping his beer.
“I never stopped to listen to what you wanted. I was mean and I didn’t make sure you were always okay afterwards. You managed to mess with my head so badly that even when I didn’t want to- everytime I tried to be with someone else, I always thought of you. I am…so sorry, Wade. I really am.”
Another tense moment of quiet passed through the air like static, Peter’s senses started buzzing for no apparent reason at all. He stood straighter and when Wade took a step forward.
Wade’s full attention was on Peter, his gaze never flickering anywhere else. “You came all the way to Canada just to…apologize to me?”
Peter didn’t know what made him laugh. Maybe it was the complete bewilderment in Wade’s voice and the fact that he had booked a flight just to say sorry. “Yeah, I guess so,” he grinned crookedly. “I didn’t have your number or anything. I actually used this new tracking device we developed in this foundation project my best friend and I started up-”
His sentence was cut short when Wade had his chin tilted up in less than a second, their lips meeting and parting for each other instinctively. Peter moaned softly into it, surrendering himself to the gentle press of Wade’s ragged lips.
It was soft and sweet and slow, a sharp contrast to how their kisses usually went. Instead of the rough and insistent clash of tongue, Peter took his time familiarizing himself with the taste of Wade. Even until his lungs screamed for air, Peter reached up to cradle Wade’s face in between his hands, keeping the kiss going.
Wade eventually had to lean back reluctantly to take a breath, his hands slipping from Peter’s jaw to his waist. “I love you. I’m so damn in love with you, Peter. I can’t live without you- it’s torture.”
By now, Peter expected himself to freeze up and deny this ever happened. But as his hands cupped Wade’s face and he searched those full, white eyes- Peter knew he reciprocated those feelings.
“I’m so in love with you, too.”
“Am I dreaming? Is this a dream? Pinch me if it’s a dream. Actually don’t- I’ll get turned on,” Wade smiled wide, his arms firm and steady around Peter’s waist.
Another laugh emerged from Peter again, his chest fluttering at how easy it felt to be with Wade. “Not a dream. So, I was kind of hoping I could stay here for a while? Until I decide to go back to New York.”
Wade answered him by drawing him into another kiss, this one more deep than the last as he teased his tongue along Peter’s lower lip before whispering heatedly against his mouth. “Stay as long as you want. I don’t want you to go any time soon.”
“Okay,” Peter murmured, his fingers exploring the ridges on Wade’s chest, tracing each line of his abs. “What…what do you want right now?”
The question was a bit stiff. Peter wasn’t used to asking instead of taking.
But the smirk on Wade’s full lips suggested he’d made the right choice.
“I want…” Wade groaned, kissing the juncture of Peter’s throat and licking over his pulse point. “I want you in my bed. And then I want to suck your dick.”
The confidence in his tone made Peter involuntarily shiver, his eyes darkening with an emotion deeper than lust. “I want that too.”
The path to Wade’s bedroom was a haze. Their lips were locked together the whole way as Peter let Wade lead while he played with the merc’s nipples, pinching them between his forefinger and thumb. He earned an encouraging moan from Wade before Peter’s back hit a plush mattress, his legs spreading instinctively.
He subconsciously held his breath while he watched Wade work his pants open, tugging the fabric down to reveal the thick bulge struggling against Peter’s thin underwear.
“Wade…” The moan that left Peter was needy and breathless, his chest heaving. One hand snaked down to grip the back of Wade’s head, not to push but only to anchor himself.
Wade’s incessant tongue pressed firmly over the cotton of Peter’s briefs, teasing him over the fabric. He alternated between tongue and light kisses, his fingers hooking into the waistband before eagerly pulling them off impatiently.
Peter gasped as his cock was freed, immediately flushed and leaking. His free hand clenched into the bedsheets, teeth digging painfully into his lower lip when he watched Wade lap at the precum pooled on the slit. His legs trembled with each passing stroke of Wade’s tongue, nearly crying out when he traced out the vein on the underside of Peter’s cock.
“Good?” Wade pulled off to search Peter’s face for any hint of discomfort.
He could only nod, offering Wade a thumbs up. Peter watched the grin on Wade’s lips spread before the merc leaned down to take him fully, lavishing extra attention to the tip. He gasped when Wade’s strong fingers moved to cup his balls, rolling them gently in time with the rhythm of his lips sucking Peter down.
“I’m gonna- fuck-” Peter whined, his hips bucking up without permission to slip himself further down Wade’s throat. “I can’t…Wade!”
Peter came way faster than he wanted to, dissolving into a whimpering mess as Wade swallowed the cum without protest. They both managed to catch their breaths after a few minutes, Wade’s lips were plump and a deep shade of pink that matched the blush on Peter’s face.
They broke out into laughter a split second later and Peter tugged Wade up until they were face to face. “You were incredible. I mean- I know it’s nothing new but…it feels different when I love you.”
The look on Wade’s face was vulnerable and deeply filled with love and desire. He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to Peter’s collarbone. “I won’t ever get tired of hearing that. I love you, baby.”
“You want me to return the favor?” Peter smirked, placing a hand on Wade’s chest to push him back onto the mattress, propping himself on an elbow to look down at Wade.
“Use your hand,” Wade murmured, reaching up to cup Peter’s jaw. “I wanna kiss you.”
Peter obliged easily, using his right hand to slip under Wade’s sweats and grasp his hard cock, teasing the slit with his thumb to ease out a bead of pre. He captured Wade’s lips with his in the meantime, taking a moment to revel in the softness before he urged his tongue inside.
“Ohhh…” A shudder wrecked through Wade, making him moan into the kiss while his cock twitched in Peter’s loose grip.
The strokes came faster as they panted into each other’s mouths, Peter’s fingers now slick with precum as he squeezed Wade in all the right places. “Come for me, Wade,” he whispered intensely. “Please.”
Wade’s dick twitched once more before he stilled and grunted through his orgasm, the white ropes painting themselves across Peter’s knuckles and dampening Wade’s sweatpants. “Fucking hell…”
Peter had kept his gaze on Wade’s face as he worked him through the pleasure, pressing gentle kisses to the corner of the merc’s lips. “There you go…you did good.” He slipped his hand out from where it was buried in Wade’s briefs, taking a second to admire the cum on his knuckles before he licked them clean, deliberately keeping eye contact with Wade.
“Baby, you can’t do that in front of me unless you want a round two,” Wade teased, burying his fingers in Peter’s hair to tug him down into a sloppy kiss, tasting himself on his tongue.
“Definitely later,” Peter agreed as he pulled back slowly, resting his head on Wade’s chest to listen to his heartbeat. “You want to clean up?”
He could feel Wade’s arms hook around his waist, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
“Not right now,” Wade whispered into Peter’s hair. “I just want to hold you.”
They stayed in each other’s arms for the rest of the morning, and Wade realized he’d finally gotten his wish. That, and no stupid boxes nagging at him in his head anymore.
And Peter had met someone he’d never lose.