Double Dipping

An additive. A swig. Bitterness. 

The taste on Wade’s tongue soured, puckering his lips and furrowing his brows as the liquid passed his throat. It was unpleasant, but the uneven equilibrium at his feet led him to the bed. 

Spinning. 

Sedated. Finally fading and separating from his mind and body. Eyes closed, tired, while the thoughts in his mind swung in unchained woozy loops. He did not feel tethered to anything, just how he liked it. Incoherent images and dull emotions passed over Wade, passively experiencing familiar people and situations yet could not tie any memory to.

Stirring, the flesh under his hands was solid, sculpted. A pull of thick hair from the leather of his fingers. Thighs ached as he rocked over the body he balanced over. 

A filling pleasure made his body uncomfortably perspired and worn, allowing his head to lean back as his hips rolled over the stiffness facilitating the need that had been plaguing him. Feeling breath pass through him, panting and constricting his chest while large rugged hands gripped his waist, stabling his desire. 

This fulfillment had been long-awaited, and upon opening his eyes, a pause of confusion overtook Wade before a spread of disgust, processing the recognizable yellow and blue mask and the five o’clock shadow under it of the little hairy man. The smile from the man under him seemed to disconnect from the pleasure he was just experiencing. Something about this did not feel right. He wanted to get off, but his suffering needed release. 

Reluctantly, he returned the motion of his hips, letting the pleasure move through him, abstaining from the sight of who he was receiving it from. A peak of relief rounded as his frustration dissipated to the back of his mind, feeling the pressure between his thighs tense and throb. 

Unease and guilt accompanied each shocking surge of release as Wade’s eyes opened to the apartment ceiling. Paralyzed, unable to control his body, forcing him to twitch and spurt as the rigidity of slumber restrained his moans. The nerves in his body slowly settled to where he could move the joints in his hands and knees, finding them still partly stricken with a lack of dignity, whatever of it was left. 

Removing the sheets from his body, he sat at the side of the bed, hands on his head.

~~~~~~~~~~

Deadpool sat on the floor against the wall near the craft service table. Suited, booked, and blessed to be able to appear in a commercial, even if it was for DependsTM. Part of him was beyond excited to be recognized for something, though there was no chair with his name bedazzled on it, no glam team, Hell, not even a fluffer. This is not how a queen such as himself should be treated. Alas, the wall with crumbs of squished fruit and dried meats will have to suffice until they called for him again. Plus, he was hungry. His phone rested in his hands against his knees. Panicking as the lack of current distractions allowed the insecurities of the last few nights haunted him.

heeey <3 <3 <3

my favorite magic lady

Sup bitch ;)

Deadpool paused.

remember when i asked you for that favor?

Yea

??

Update??

its working, sort of

but now shit is happening when im not asleep

What shit

I met someone

and stuff happened

but stuff happened with spidey too i think

were on a break

again

OKOK

Could have told me sooner??

Stuff? What stuff?? Who?

I have so many questions

What happened

Give me the deets already

Deadpool needed to figure out where to begin, starting and deleting his attempts to compile the developments since he had last seen Nico. Taking too long, Nico continued her message.

Look. Even if it is not Spidey its OK. Go for it

Youve got to do what makes you happy and dont wait for it. Make it happen

Secure the bag!

Don’t wait. The thought was crushing him. If he was dreaming about Peter now, choosing to ignore this morning's mishap, maybe this was a higher power telling him to give it up and pursue the alternative route. At least Deadpool knew that path would end in someone reciprocating his needs, all of them.

While crafting his reply, the power in the studio blew, immediately engulfing the large studio into darkness. The hum of lights and equipment lost momentum as several groans and a particularly angered scream came from the void. Lights from phones lit up the pitch-black space, projecting light onto noses and mouths as eyes searched left to right, down, then up again. As Deadpool scrolled through his device, feeling it vibrate in his hand, a notification chain of coordinates and a voice message of Spider-Man calling for him to bring fire, or preferably sounds of a frequency Deadpool would not remember. Also, actually, not fire, going on too long as to why it was a hazard, precarious for the city’s infrastructure, and blah blah blah. Deadpool held his phone tightly in an invigorating grip. Spider-Man needed him. Me. He called me . 

That was all he needed to maneuver through the darkness, repeatedly smashing the elevator button. After several moments of waiting for incoming whirls of industrial bands and gears, Deadpool tapped his foot impatiently before laughing subtly to himself, feeling the wall for a few moments before finding the doors to the stairs.

The city kept bustling through the disturbance that was threatening it, the street lights blinking continuously red and cars honking while pedestrians and drivers alike spewed profanities. Deadpool jogged with a huff to the coordinates that were several blocks away. As he picked up the pace, he heard a commotion of glass of a high rise shattering above him. 

A large black entity was trampling across buildings, moving quickly. Deadpool would have missed it if he had not looked when he did. Spinning on his heels, Deadpool began to hurry toward the giant creature that was undoubtedly the cause of halting everybody’s day, including his paycheck. Racing as fast as his feet could carry him, for a moment, the creature stilled, leaving open a window of opportunity. Deadpool unholstered his pistols and shot mercilessly in the creature’s direction. His babies did just what they needed to, though it took two full clips to get the monster's attention. Even from far away, when it looked back at him, it sent a shiver down his spine. Even from the street, he could distinguish a disturbingly large mouth protruding with teeth ready to strip flesh. The large, remarkably familiar emblem upon the body was recognizable yet manipulated. 

Deadpool was terrified of getting that menacing face focused on him, and he definitely was not attempting to run into the nearest shop, which had its doors locked and security gate deployed. Looking back, the cosmic imposter made an impossibly daring leap toward him. Deadpool braced for impact, readying his stance and holding his arms above his face, prepared to take the injuries if it meant getting the monster away from Spider-Man. 

As he watched the black entity become bigger and closer, Deadpool could see a becomingly familiar form approach even faster, the creature noticing a second too late as Spider-Man collided his heel with the monster’s head, leaving them stunned briefly. Spider-Man continued to launch past them, twisting to align his landing next to Deadpool. In half a second, Deadpool’s eyes met with Spider-Man flexibly crouched before being held with his entire body to force themselves out of the way of the incoming impact of the creature, smashing into the small shop, deconstructing metal and concrete in a furious cloud.

Disoriented, Deadpool choked on the air coming back into his lungs before opening his eyes and seeing Spider-Man standing protectively over him. A strike of admiration flared as he witnessed the swift abilities of the body lording over him under the distressed suit showing bruised and scratched skin. Deadpool’s sense of vulnerability dissipated as soon as it came, replaced by frustration at Spider-Man’s unnecessary rescuing. 

“I would have had it.” Deadpool scolded. The slight turn of Spider-Man’s head toward Deadpool irritated him, dismissive. “Enough time for you to make some kind of plan.” Deadpool continued.

“Respect your life!” The shortness of Spider-Man’s tone surprised Deadpool but not enough to diminish his feelings. “You need to start acting like this life is the only one you have.”

“That’s stupid,” Deadpool commented flippantly.

“It’s not!” Spider-Man yelled, now giving Deadpool more of his attention, words, and body language on edge.

A roaring burst from the debris pulled Spider-Man’s back to the creature, his tone completing a one-eighty like the showman he was.

“C’mon Venom, that wasn’t cool. I thought we all put our differences aside.”

“That was then! We still hate you now.” The creature, Venom, disagreed with a perpetual growl. Deadpool rose to his feet, replacing empty clips with a click. The sound quickly turned Venom’s head to him, acknowledging Deadpool with a hiss.

“Please don't go back to trying to rip my face off! I just started a new regime.” Spider-Man pleadingly joked, touching his face with a flamboyant flare and stepping closer to Venom to regain his line of sight, like a matador taunting a bull. 

“We’ll suck the matter from your skull, then use it as a goblet.” Venom threatened, widening his arms and clenching his fists, building up the substance surrounding him into a bulging club of an arm and knocking it where Spider-Man stood.

“Oh, that’s much better,” Spider-Man said as he narrowly avoided the attacks that swung at him, his form twisting and spinning nimbly, though even Deadpool could see Spider-Man struggle to predict the assaults.

“Kinky!” Deadpool interjected, adding, “What about using his spine like a jump rope? That’ll really get ‘em going.” Feeling slightly left out of the seemingly personal quarrel, throwing small, thin knives that hit Venom, exploding on impact, though it appeared to not affect them before returning to firepower. 

“Don't give him ideas!” Spider-Man poorly attempted to censure, avoiding swings of large coagulated formations, finding brief moments to use his webbing to create momentum and combat offensively. Deadpool could hear the ferocity of Spider-Man’s feet and fists making contact. It was enough to stun Venom momentarily, but not for long before Spider-Man returned to dodging arms and tendrils sweeping to hit him.

“This sounds personal. Maybe you two need therapy? A mediator to sort things out. I promise I won't get jealous.” Deadpool attempted to de-escalate. They had been in some sticky situations, but watching Spider-Man struggle with Venom was discouraging.

“Annoying, as always.” Venom spat.

As always? Deadpool cocked his head. If he had known Venom, he surely would have remembered that encounter.

“Shut up, Eddie,” Spider-Man said pointedly. Thwipping webbing across Venom’s gaping mouth. An intense growl rumbled from them.

“Whatever this is, let’s work it out.” Deadpool encouraged, not wanting to fight the hulking slime creature and wishing he was more prepared than he was.

“He started it!” Spider-Man attempted to justify. 

“Don’t you think you’d feel better if you approached this with love and not murderous, cannibalistic rage, Vennie? C’mon, talk to Papa.” Deadpool continued with a pitch of hope in his voice.

Venom tore through the webbing over their mouth with the force of their tongue. “Love…”

“Oh, boy,” Spider-Man said with a waiver.

“What?” Deadpool shrugged casually.

Venom turns to Deadpool.

“We’ll remind you what it means to lose what you love, Spidey! ” Venom charged at Deadpool with extending symbiotic tendrils. “Never forgive how you ruined us, betrayed us! ” 

The quick thwip of webbing to Venom’s back and legs stretched, thinning as it slowed them down, changing their demeanor. Threatening transformations from bulging arms into smaller tendrils, Venom elongated their arms into a swiping net behind themselves. Spider-Man artfully contorted his body around the strands, meaning to net him, landing on the balls of his feet, cartwheeling to make his body small before projecting himself toward Venom and using a frightening degree of strength to collide his fist under the protruding jaw, knocking them back into a disorienting stumble.

Deadpool was delighted at his Spider’s skill, but his pride quickly turned when the black organism moved on its own, away from the form that contrasted with its momentum, trapping Spider-Man in mid-jump and reforming into confining restraints that locked his arms to his body. Venom recovered quickly, widened their mouth, exposing those disgusting protruding teeth, and bit into Spider-Man’s shoulder. The shriek from Spider-Man sent chills down Deadpool’s spine. Visceral and frightening, the initial petrifaction founded by the pain Spider-Man was taking. Instinctually, Deadpool twisted pistols in his hands, loading them with live rounds and angling them toward the creature. Having enough wherewithal not to let the rage shoot while Spider-Man was in range.

Venom forced Spider-Man to the ground, helplessly pinning him with ooze spreading over Spider-Man’s arms, thighs, and mask. With the distance of the freak's temple, Deadpool pulled the trigger repeatedly, hitting right into the side of Venom’s head, but the giant creature did not react. 

“Don’t…hurt him!” Spider-Man gasped desperately,

The words seethed through Deadpool as they passed through him. How could he be thinking about this monster’s well-being over his own? After what he just told me! Deadpool watched as the substance spread, overtaken by helplessness as the tendrils over Spider-Man’s arms noticeably squeezed and a sudden burst of white erupted from Spider-Man’s wrists. In a fluid motion, a shockingly pained cry came from Spider-Man as Deadpool dropped his guns to unsheathe his katanas, running up to the poor imitation and trusting the swords into the creature's side, evoking a growl of acknowledgment.  

It was not enough. Deadpool needed to hear Venom scream, the way they made his Spider-Man scream. It was the only thing Deadpool could think of as he went for another deep stab when a second mouth opened at Venom’s rib cage, exposing another set of horrid teeth that consumed Deadpool’s blade and arm before clamping shut onto his shoulder. The burn of teeth puncturing and shredding his flesh enraged him further, taking over his body, using his free arm to stab and slice at Venom’s back, again and again, perpetually thrusting of his sword to release Spider-Man, but to no avail.

“Easy prey. ”

“You can talk all big with that parasite calling the shots!” Spider-Man taunted with strained breaths, the creature crushing him. 

“Parasite?!"  Venom repeated, disgusted by the word. “Brokering deals with devils! You could have called oblivion. Again!”

“There was…no other way. And I paid the price. I did!” Spider-Man slightly turned his neck, his lenses meeting Deadpool’s eyes, an aura of desperation. “And I lost everything.”

“We’ll make sure you do this time. Make you watch,” A crunch of Deadpool’s shoulder, the pain made his eyes cross and weak in the knees. “Again,” The teeth around his flesh wiggled as if moving on their own, knowing the shredding keeping him trapped was him and his suit. “ And again. ” Another bite deepened, tearing at Deadpool’s shoulder. 

Deadpool knew what he needed to do, but the creature would keep his katana, and it would only set him free, leaving Spider-Man confined at the monster’s mercy. At a loss, he felt defeated, watching Spider-Man disappear under the slime.

“Don’t lose it!” A voice came, bringing heat. 

An unearthly screech came from Venom, vibrating and rapidly shrinking away as Deadpool felt Venom release him. A lack of strength caused Deadpool to fall to his knees, holding his shoulder, and watch the man wrapped in flames corral Venom away. Never more relieved and disgraced all at once. 

Aligning back to Spider-Man, Deadpool stumbled to him. Spider-Man painfully attempted to sit up, and Deadpool helped him, holding him upright. Spider-Man wheezed, touching a hand to his chest. The striking red and blue suit irreparably torn and shredded, revealing more of the battered body underneath. Deadpool frowned under his mask, guilty, looking over how helpless Spider-Man was, and how he felt.

Saved, again. By fire boy, no less. He could not even help Spider-Man when he truly needed it. 

“You good?” Deadpool asked, not sure as to what he should do.

Spider-Man made an agitated sigh. “G’dammit-” Running a hand over his wrist, where what was left of his web-shooter crumbled at the touch under various viscosity of white fluid. “Dammit!”

“No, no, don’t worry about that.” Deadpool attempted to comfort.

“Wade,” Spider-Man started in a low shaking tone.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Failure.

And Deadpool knew it, slumping his shoulders. He wanted nothing more than to do something and had so many questions he desperately needed answers to, but he took the command and instead helped raise Spider-Man to his feet, both wincing as they did so. 

“Why… didn’t you just listen to me,” Spider-Man started again. Deadpool knew this tone, prepared for the lashing. “Do you even think for one second before charging in? Just ‘cause you can't die doesn’t mean you need to. I hate that. I hate it. I hate that you do that.”

“Dumbass, I can come back, you can’t. I wasn’t gonna watch that thing kill ya or do whatever it was doing. The world doesn’t need me, but this city, it needs you. They can’t lose you.”

“I need you, Wade!” Spider-Man yelled, shoving away Deadpool’s stabilizing support. His feet were unsteady as he breathed hard, facing Deadpool with hunched shoulders. “I can’t afford for you to be reckless and…” Making a heavy sigh, “If you lose your memory again, I can’t go through it again.”

Watching and hearing Spider-Man like this made him feel like they were having two different conversations, which he entered partway into, but of all the accusations, he grasped a thread. 

“Is that what happened?” Deadpool asked, regaining some of his composure. 

“I’m over it.” Spider-Man deflected irritably.

“Well, I’m not! What’s with you? Just let me in, give me something! The fuck was that thing talking about?” Deadpool grabbed Spider-Man by the shoulder, and an audible grimace of pain came from him. As Deadpool was to let go, Spider-Man shoved Deadpool away with his other hand. 

There was a silence that weighed heavily between them.

“Looks bad,” Deadpool remarked, deflated.

“You’re a freakin’ genius.”

“Probably gonna need stitches.”

“I’ll be fine!” Spider-Man replied bitterly.

“Mm, right.” Deadpool looked away, watching the annoying flame atronach approach them. “Sorry, Webs.” Wishing he could fix everything wrong between them.

“Yeah, me too.” 

Deadpool knew, as always, it was as much as he would ever get from Spider-Man. Feeling his strength return, he turned to leave, not in the mood to face Spider-Man interacting with his annoying piece of shit best friend. 

If Spider-Man really needed him, it did not appear that way, feeling the two of them watch him leave.

~~~~~~~~~~

As the days of the week wore on, the evenings came earlier. Today, the last light of the day seemed to tentatively hang, threatening to dim at a moment's notice. The cycle that alerted Wade it would be time to patrol soon, another one he would miss. However, as the minutes passed, he soured, hesitant, and ultimately ignored the routine of meeting his so-called teammate. 

He had secluded himself in his apartment, piles of rotten, half-empty take-out boxes of old, soiled clothes littering the floor. Limiting socialization to berating voices heard through headphones when he was tired of the ones in his head. Statements and accusations about mothers he did not wish to recall, but right now, all he wanted to do was watch this show and continue to hear the constant click of keys from across the couch. 

When Peter reached out to Wade, he had not realized how much time had passed since their last encounter. He had pondered if Peter had written him off, though when Peter asked to come over and get some work done, Wade was elated for the company. Specifically, Peter’s company. When they were together, it was easier than ever, and Wade was relieved he had not screwed up their friendship. Thinking of Nico’s advice, he now wished he had not felt the need to hold back that night. Regardless, the comfort of Peter near Wade relaxed him, knowing he was precisely where he should be.

The feet across Wade’s lap relaxed and curled with bursts of typing, releasing their tension when it seemed the fingers would never stop clicking. Wade could not help but lean comfortably into the couch to allow for the perfect angle of Peter’s ankle and knees to rest upon him. Peter’s socks were dingy from abuse, and the way his jeans lifted just above one of his ankles to reveal his skin and light brown hairs. It distracted Wade more than the handbags with legs and enough filler for each body part to obtain sentience on the TV. 

“That bitch stole my look,” Wade commented, not sure whether to be offended or impressed. 

Peter tore away from his laptop to peek at the television. “That’s latex, babe. Not leather.”

“Whatever,” Wade smirked, liking the casual use of the pet name. “You just can’t admit I’m a trendsetter.”

“Course you are.” Peter agreed indifferently. “Not a doubt.”

As Peter resumed typing, Wade held one of the soles in his lap with his thumb and fingers around it. Starting with successive grips and then rubbing his thumb upward across the arch. He knew it felt good even before the little sighs of appreciation accompanied Wade's carefully gauged motions. The toes and heel went limp in his grasp, and Wade stole a secret glance across the couch to find a face sated with content, leaned back, mouth partially open, and eyes closed. Wade examined every change in weight of Peter’s cheek and lips as his face tilted to the side to look at the T.V. with sleepy eyelids, ignoring the dimming screen that balanced on his stomach. 

As Peter repositioned, Wade maneuvered to avoid contact with the natural ache from their proximity, but it was too late. When the side of Peter’s foot brushed against the not-so-hidden thickness in Wade’s sweats, Wade removed his stare hastily but not quick enough to have met Peter’s eyes for a brief connection. 

Anxiety flared within Wade, who was embarrassed and still guilty. It took him a moment, but rubbing the other foot hopefully distracted them, something they could enjoy without consequence or conversation. As he massaged, he felt an intentional reach of toes to his groin, finding the part of Wade that was becoming weaker as he hardened. Applying more pressure with each movement, Wade licked his lips, realizing how stunted his breathing had become as the play could no longer be excused as an accident.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Peter taunted. It was greedy, seductive.

Wade choked through a sigh. “Yeah, a little later,” he exaggerated. You finish up all, eh, whatever it is you’re doing?”

A small exasperated sigh, “Sure.” Peter paused for a short moment. “Am I distracting you?”

“Why do you have to say it like that?” Wade asked, mutually taunting. “I can go whenever I want.” He said more assuredly. 

“Sure you will, so I’ll leave you to it then,” Peter said, removing his ankles from Wade’s thighs. He closed his laptop and shuffled it into his backpack next to him. 

“Oh, here,” Peter pulled the item bulking from his backpack to reveal a record. “For you.”

“Still doing this?” Wade asked without enthusiasm, looking over the cover in questionable condition, ‘Red Roses for a Blue Lady’ performed by Vic Dana. He had not returned their little agreement in a few weeks, just another thing that reminded him of his inadequacy. Though, Peter seemingly did not mind, a pursed smile as he made his way to the entryway. “So old.”

“I grew up with this kind of stuff. Give it a try, would you?” Peter encouraged softly.

“When were you born? The nineteen sixties?” Wade chuckled lightly, proud of his shitty joke.

“Ha-ha,” The roll of Peter’s eyes was audible.

Wade slithered after Peter, meeting him bent over his shoes. He watched Peter slip them on and ready his backpack over his shoulder for the walk home. 

“Stay,” Wade said a little too wantingly. “I mean, maybe one more minute?” He suggested. Anything to keep the impending loneliness at bay.

He looked down at Peter, knowing he should go but hopefully conveying he would not, only wanting a few moments more. As Peter rose, those brown eyes looked slightly up at him, like they always did, saying everything without speaking a word. 

The routine kiss goodbye, routinely, the soft brush of lips, feeling the tongue lightly play across his lips, leaving its full vigor to be desired. Wade begged for more with a slight nibble at Peter’s lower lip before returning it infectiously. Wade felt a warm sigh from Peter escape at the pressure Wade tempted with his hands at Peter’s waist, bringing his stomach to Wade’s in an enticing need for contact. 

“Mmm,” Peter returned, stabilizing on Wade as the strap of his backpack slid to his elbow, temptingly meeting his eyes. “Trying to play hooky?” Peter asked with a smile spreading charmingly, hanging onto Wade, gripping the muscles at his back, creeping upward. Wade returned the grip by holding onto Peter’s shoulders and sank into his hold. 

“It’s not hooky if you’re not wanted. Probably been replaced already, anyways.” It was abrupt when Peter pulled away slightly, the playful teases of his touch dissipated, looking away, but Wade could see a conflicted expression. “Petey?” Wade asked.

“Don’t say that.” Peter bit his lip, furrowing his brows in irritation, then tense down into concern. “I can’t help but think,” He started.

“What?” Wade asked, trying not to sound as nervous as he was.

“Am I…too late?”

Wade lightly shook his head, not comprehending. “For what?”

A pause.

“That I…screwed everything up. That I’ll never measure up to him.” Peter’s hands curled into fists upon Wade’s chest, not in anger, the tension hindered by emotions rising in a wavering smile. The insecurity of Peter’s eyes dialed into Wade, his voice cracking. “That you don’t want this part of me.”

“Petey,” Wade breathed, feeling the hands that were in discontent turn to squeeze the bulk of his chest, tender pressures at his nipples that made his pecs flex. Those dejected hands flowed down his body, wanting him, a hand applying subtle pressure to his groin Wade could not help but thrust into. Wade stalled, attempting to conceptualize the mood swings. Wanting to tell Peter what he wanted to hear, and he could, it would be easy, but it was not true, and it did not help that what Peter was saying was how he had been feeling for far too long now. 

Not wanting to disrupt the connection Peter was seeking, Wade’s hands moved lower and lower to grope the full mounds of the buttocks in his grasp and press the body even closer to him. Recognizing how loose the denim was and without resistance, Wade slipped past the waistband to hold and squeeze plump warmth.

“Wade, I…” Peter hesitated, “I-”

“Anything,” Wade feigned assuredness, pulling Peter into a deep kiss to prevent any lie either of them could conjure, to avoid disappointing the man in his arms, who right now wanted nothing more but him. Wade could not tell Peter what he wanted. Still, he was willing to show how much he had wanted to enjoy his surrogate. 

Succumbing to the return of the wet tongue tangling with his, Wade’s lips left Peter to nibble on the soft skin at the base of his neck, tasting sweeter when he heard the backpack slump to the floor. Sustaining soft lickings as Peter gulped through some confession Wade was unconcerned to hear. Not now, not when he moved his fingers between a crevasse of inviting heat.

“Petey… You make me feel,” Wade whispered.

“Yeah?” Peter sighed lightly as Wade felt the body in his arms slide down his chest and abdomen, watching Peter bend to his knees slowly to the floor around Wade’s feet. From this view, the stretch in Peter’s hips made his back arch and bottom perk erotically. Peter pulled the sweatpants at Wade’s pelvis, reviewing scarred flesh, giving tender kisses, and then looking back at Wade. “What do you feel?”

Wade licked his lips. “Like I’ve got to have you.” 

Peter pulled the waistband lower until Wade popped out with a bounce and ravishing urge. Peter held Wade in his hand, steadying him upright while giving light kisses at his flushed tip. His full lips gave light suctions with every pull away, making Wade’s legs tremble. “Shit, just like this, baby.”

“I’ll do,” A kiss and eyes held diligently, “Anything you like,” Peter opened his mouth lightly, allowing his tongue to caress tautly over Wade, inch by inch, before spreading his lips to take in more. Shivers went through Wade, watching Peter lick and suck at his beading tip. “Promise, I’ll do it right.”

It had been so long since anyone had touched Wade like this that he was beginning to question if Peter was actually circling his tongue at his ridge, alternating wet lapping and pumps with his palm that made Wade push his hips toward Peter, who leaned back tentatively before allowed to enter soft consuming heat fully. 

“Ahh, fuck,” Wade hummed.

Peter wrapped his lips tight around Wade, using his tongue and mouth to suck and slide, using both of the fluids they produced to coat the pulsating muscle.

“Is this real?” He might have asked.

Strokes from Peter’s hand mingled with the sensations of his mouth, engulfing Wade with lulling waves of gratification, rushing vibrations into every nerve ending that made him want to let go much sooner than he’d like. All he could do was heave through his heart racing, to not cum with merely the visual of the beautiful creation pleasuring him. When Peter looked up with those familiar eyes, analyzing, taking note of Wade’s every movement and reaction, reacting to the sounds Wade could not help but make. When Peter pulled away, his lips were flushed and swollen, pouting as he took a deep breath.

“Smile for me a little, would ya?” Wade asked, wanting to not feel quite like an experiment.

“Fuck you.” Peter returned before fully taking him in long, sucking glides, relinquishing his eyes from Wade’s, who could not help but be entertained by the conviction. 

Peter’s careless hands twisted and stroked as his mouth plunged onto Wade, a sanctuary of gripping wetness that pulled at his eager needs. Feeling a long-awaited tension at his thighs, the rhythmic clench of his sac alerted Wade that release was incoming. Inflicting thrusts of his burning urge as he strained, touching his fingertip to Peter’s forehead before lightly threading them through thick hair, stiffening his fingers into a soft grasp enough to pull Peter’s head back, lewdly widening swollen lips, wanting this, needing it, terribly. How Peter was so willing to fulfill him, humming low vibrations with every lathering of the performative tongue and gurgling at the back of the tight, silky throat, watching himself slide in and out of Peter’s devoted mouth. 

“Mmmah, open just like that,” Wade instructed, pulling at Peter’s locks with strength to control the pleasure in the wet abyss that choked on his thrusts. Peter’s eyes reddened, whelming more with each sustained forceful push. Peter’s hands moved to Wade’s thighs when it became too much, though the big brown eyes met with his when Peter was allowed to come up for a breath, “Good, baby?” Wade asked, knowing there was only one way for Peter to respond.

“So good,” Peter gasped, continuing to give hungry kisses and savoring eyes, using both hands to twist and stroke Wade. “Need you. Can’t stand- haah, being without you.”

Wade threw his head back as he was taken with moist heat bobbing tightly around him. A slight cupping and pull at his sac made him clench and ache. 

“Fuuck,” Wade groaned desperately, trembling as he was sent over the edge, every nerve in his body shot with tingling enchantments, eyes crossing as flashes of white overtook his vision, echoing the jolts of long-awaited satisfaction, emptying carnal gifts coating Peter’s lips and stringing thickly from his upper lip, a vigorous spurt projecting onto his flushed cheek when the hand around Wade squeezed, threatening his balance.

A shock struck through Wade’s body when Peter took his mouth around him again, slurping any semblance left of Wade’s essence. 

“That mouth is good for more than talking back,” Wade managed to jest, his chest strained in ever-present relief, head dizzy, and stars sparkling his vision. He staggered to keep himself from misplacing his feet from Peter’s complete release of a lustfully long swallow, applying gentle kisses as Wade throbbed in Peter’s hand. Followed by a trail of soft fingers, brushing the sensitive ridge of his dick before they departed, settling his hands behind Wade’s knees. One last lap of his tongue swiped liquid that continued to bead.  

Peter raised himself to meet his slippery lips upon Wade’s chapped ones tenderly. Wade licked at the cum that clung to Peter, who had so graciously taken it from him, bitterness never tasting so sweet. The smell of Wade on Peter was becoming as the spritely man leaned submissively in the embrace.

“I- please, Wade, I can’t wait.” Peter pleaded.

Between the wrap of their arms, Wade felt Peter rustle with the button of his jeans. Wade made a soft bite to Peter’s lip as he pulled at the denim waistband, leading the slim body in his grasp deeper into the apartment. Fumbling over the feet that followed him to the mattress, feeling Peter smile at their carelessness, and he mirrored it. 

A playful push provided Wade with an image he never wanted to forget. Peter lying flat on his back, an arm above his head and his other hand trailing up from hips over his stomach, pulling up the lightweight shirt displaying his belly button and strikingly sculpted muscles. The suggestion of the unfastened button and zipper of his jeans showed bare skin and thick hairs leading to a firm outline in the denim that still clung to him, ending in a deepening provocative stain at his thigh. Peter’s eyes looked directly at Wade, dilated and inviting.

“Touch me,” Peter instructed.

Wade followed the command without a thought, brushing a hand over Peter’s abdomen to feel over every striking muscle. He did not know Peter had been hiding this under all these clothes this entire time, making its revelation want him to investigate this body further.

“Oh my God,” Wade remarked, gently gliding his hands over the beauty before him.

On instinct, Wade brought both of his hands to play at Peter’s sides and chest, pressing his mouth and nose to Peter’s sturdy pecs, inhaling deeply, while his fingers flicked about perked nipples. Wade could feel Peter’s body react to his touch, relishing in the contact, panting lightly, making Wade wince as he stiffened once again.

“I’ve-ah! Ahmm, waited for so long.” Peter confessed.

Wade slid over Peter, fitting a knee between the legs below him to roll his hips over Peter’s erection, a tender whimper escaping his lips as Wade kissed Peter through the agony, excitedly shuffling the trousers past hips and knees.

“F-fuck me,” Peter haughtily begged, kicking the pants off his feet.

Wade stilled for a moment, broken out of his innate eagerness to recognize what he was doing. As Peter lay beneath him, touching all over himself, Wade knew it was too late to change what had happened, how his feelings were taking him, though they were torturing him. In his hesitation, Peter reached for Wade’s cheek, cupping softly as he was pulled back onto Peter, sinking into a lovingly yearnful kiss. 

Some of Wade was frustrated from second-guessing, unsure he was ready to do more with Peter. His mind raced with all the reasons why he should, conflicted by the lonely nights he romanticized, pining for Spider-Man, wishing his affections were returned. However, if Spider-Man had not chosen him, the bare legs wrapped around Wade’s waist, his decision would have been less challenging.

Wade rested on top of Peter, fully feeling the body writhe under his weight, grinding his painfully rigid dick against Peter’s. Moaning in unison as they felt each other slide against the other. It was enough for Wade to grab them both, feeling Peter slick against himself, squeezing and pumping as he bit, perhaps, a little too harshly at Peter’s neck, hearing a high pitch at nipping the exposed white neck waiting to be marked. He could not help but be on the edge of consuming Peter completely, wanting nothing more than to provide unconditional pleasures. Hot flesh flared at Wade’s tongue as he soothed the loving injuries he created along Peter’s collarbone as the legs around him lifted and tightened at his waist. 

Peter arched for him, crying out in low groans, pleading for Wade to take him. Watching Peter so unraveled made Wade feel powerful, able to subdue Peter’s analytic nature to pure sensual desire. Using his free hand to deeply push his two fingers into Peter’s mouth until he felt the pressure of Peter’s teeth press against his knuckles. Flush cheeks and tangling locks leaning back against the mattress, taking Wade’s fingers with him as the tongue slid between them, coating them with the thick concoction they had made. Wade motioned his fingers out slowly, then entered as much as Peter’s throat would let him. As Peter gagged, he felt his other hand that slid their dicks together slicken with precum, and Wade sighed as fluid squeezed from him. As the sensation and watching Peter’s tongue work his fingers in famished lust. Peter’s mouth lewdly hung open as Wade removed them, watching a long strand of saliva come with them, using his tongue to catch the excess and press his lips to Peter’s, pleased and taking note of the ability to accept the rough nature. 

Carefully threading his hand between themselves, Wade brushed the precious opening, teasing wet fingers circling over and over, slickening the twitching entrance, each time applying pressure.

Keeping lips close, Wade kissed the side of Peter’s mouth, feeling it open in a gasp, pushing a finger inside. Laying on him tightly, pressing his lips at the delicate skin under Peter’s ear, feeling Peter’s heartbeat at his throat and the hitch of breath as Wade twisted and curled at the pulsing surrounding him. 

Peter was tight, too tight. Wade attempted to push through another finger, and as he did so, he heard a whine from the voice signaling him. He held his fingers inside, slightly curving as he kissed Peter, spreading him open, testing the movement of his fingers that would bring Peter pleasure.

“Promise I’ll- ahhm, open up.” Peter attempted to encourage.

Feeling Peter as he was now, Wade knew little else than his fingers would satisfy Peter, tonight at least. 

“Never mind, baby. Let me take care of you.” Wade comforted.

Finding leverage to sink into, Wade worked his fingers, curling and twisting in the soft tightness that encapsulated him. Wade rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh, captured by soft flesh that made his dick rut with Peter’s. Wade hithered, surrounded by compressing heat, enticed a need to elicit the little hymn to bellow for him, moving his other hand to find Peter’s wrist and press it into the mattress.  

With a strained gasp, Peter raised his chest as Wade pulsed, feeling the engorged node, curling his fingertips to create an agonizing cry. Wade swiped his cheek next to Peter’s, his mouth resting just over his ear.

“Look at you, baby. How beautiful you are. God, I could watch you like this all night. Everything about you, so perfect. Do you know how amazing you are? So damn perfect. Mmm, all for me. Let me show you how much I need you, sweet thing.”

The thrill of Peter heaving, bewitched with the rhythm of sex Wade illusioned with the rolling of his body, curating his touch as he moved his hand from Peter’s wrist to intertwine with fingers that meshed to his grasp, sinking deeper into the heartbeat under him and becoming a part of his body.

“Haa, like that? I know you do. I feel it right there. Need it as much as I do. Let go, my amazing little fantasy. Don’t hold back. Want you all over me.”

Legs around Wade relaxed, knees settling against him. Wade thrust in tandem with the delivery of his hips, fucking Peter slow, deliberately. Feeling every shape of the pulsing, perspiring body, rejoicing in each motion. Turning to look at Peter, his freckles highlighted by a fierce rush of color. When his eyes opened slightly, they were submissive, praying. His cheeks puffed, forcing them to whelm, the creased eyes above them releasing a tortured tear.

Rocking against Peter, Wade could feel his body overtaken by the domination of this man he used to despise, that he had come to adore, who was now calling his name in erotic delight. Separating their hands, Wade gripped the locks behind Peter’s head, forcing Peter’s head to lean further back, still thrusting into Peter, who throbbed and contracted, the origin that elated them both. Inside of Peter swelled and tightened at Wade’s rhythm, making it difficult to maneuver, though he did not let up on the momentum. The response excited Wade, bucking harshly and pushing the top of his thighs against the muscles at the back of Peter’s legs, driving them both to the edge. 

Wade could feel it coming, keeping his satiation at bay until Peter was satisfied. He felt him get closer and closer, traversing the sensations and movements of Peter’s body.

Needing Peter to release, he needed Peter to, so he could… Rambling without thinking, 

“You’re so pretty. So beautiful. Really. Fuck, all I want is you. Feel every part of you, so perfect. My perfect Peter. Does it feel good, baby? God, damn, I could cum just looking at you. Want you to feel so good, Petey. I’m here-” A kiss to catch another runaway tear. “Here just for you. Oohmm, want you to cum. Fuuck yeah, baby, want you to cum just for me. I wanna be the reason. Want to see your face while you do it. Show me.”

It was more than Wade had ever anticipated, more than he had ever wanted from the gaze meeting his with increasingly labored breaths. Wade watched as Peter cried out, heavily and halted, watching Wade back, conveying a connection they both were desperate for. Any barrier they pretended to create, melted away in the haven on this bed. Wanting Peter to take how he felt about him, to cherish him, a sanctuary of everything they could be when they were together, as if the turmoil of when they were apart did not exist. 

“H-hah- I- ahhmm! I’m ahh!”

“Let go, baby, give it to me.”

The constriction around Wade’s fingers tightened, pulsing in tandem with the little deaths Peter thickly spurted, jolt after jolt, projecting onto their stomachs. Pained percussions of love moved past Peter’s lips, tears accompanying the release. Wade kissed next to lips that were too enraptured to notice. 

Softness from the thrill spread over Peter’s face. Wade lifted to his knees, reviewing his little fantasy, overtaken by carnal delight. Hot to the touch and legs spread over his, trails of cum splattered over the toned stomach was rewiring his brain.  

Touching himself, Wade panted through the vision of the pale muscles soiled in loving product. Big brown eyes watching him take all of Peter in, silently wishing to be conquered once again. Wade’s thighs ached, and his sac painfully tightened as a surge of heat passed through him, following the call of Peter’s eyes as he spilled onto him, mingling their fluids.

Even with a diminished intensity, Wade’s balance faltered and rested on Peter with all his weight, feeling the legs around him relax and twitch. After a few moments of feeling exhalations under him returning to normal, Wade regained his own. Inhaling the pungent and sweaty smell of sex that was his and Peter’s, Wade slid down Peter’s body, kissing his stomach, lapping up cum from them both as Peter curved slightly to view Wade clean him. 

“You taste so good,” Wade pinched at the fluid collected at Peter’s belly button, bringing it to Peter’s mouth, who took it willingly.

“Ahmm, so do you.” Peter purred, throwing his head back on the mattress. Perfectly content not moving, Wade followed suit, cuddling up and entangling his legs with Peter’s, reclaiming warmth as the chill of the apartment settled over their bodies. 

The longer Wade held onto Peter, the more he did not want to let go, even more so when Peter shuffled. 

“I have to go.”

“No, you don’t.”  

An easily defeated sound allotted Wade enough time for his eyelids to be lulled with the most semblance of rest he had experienced in the last week, holding Peter as if Wade were to let go, he would fly away entirely. When the move of Peter’s body left him, he was unbothered to leave his lazy position on the bed, left brokenhearted, watching Peter leave to the bathroom and hear a stream of water that was the beginning of the end. 

“Be good tonight, ’kay?” Peter said as more than a suggestion, sweetly clinging on the breath of every word as he situated his backpack over his shoulder, finishing a final swipe of his fingers through his hair, like it was to do any good for the mess it usually was.

“Mm, yeah, night tonight.” Wade fumbled, memorizing every subtle twist and step as Peter walked out the door, a half glance in his direction before he was gone. 

Still moments in the cold apartment prompted Wade to stay in the chilling dampness of the sheets. Taking in Peter's smell and remembering his look and feel with every inhale. 

He did not want to go even though he knew he should. Peter had even told him so. Why did he care anyway? Wade thought. But he knew Deadpool had not been out, and Wade thought it was time to dorn the suit again. Not because of Spidey or his sense of doing good, but because Peter told him so, and it was what Peter expected of him that he would not disappoint.