Blind dates are dining
Peter opens the app. Closes it again. Opens it. Closes it.
Damn.
He can do this. How hard can it be? MJ showed him how it worked. Helped him create him a profile. She hooks up with nice people and has regular mind-blowing sex, all thanks to this app. He sighs. She’s right, he’s been jittery and needs to get laid. His real life is too busy to pull. These people are also looking for some fun or a quick fuck. It’s not like he has to walk down the isle with them. He takes a large swig of the cheap wine MJ left at his place. He needs to be a little less sober for this.
After two glasses, he opens the app again. A nice bloke stares at him. Decent, nerdy, glasses. It’s a bit like he’s looking at himself. He swipes left. A girl, specifies she likes to have a threesome. He swipes left. Another girl, looking for a long-term relationship. Left again. He swipes lots of profiles, sometimes leaving a rather tame message (hi! I’m Peter. How r u?), but so far no one has answered him.
Another three glasses make him more daring and he taps on an account of a buff man with a Zorro mask and a rose between his lips. He smiles at that one, as it’s the first humorous photo he’s seen. He opens the profile. A few pics show a really filled out torso, biceps that are as big as Peter’s waist and an ass that makes his mouth water. There’s also a movie. He taps it. The man shows on screen, wearing spandex and a Zorro cape, mask and hat, covering up most of his face. The spandex stretches over his torso, accentuating just how fit he is. Peter feels his cheeks burn and realizes it’s not only because of the wine.
‘Hi! I’m Zorro. If you’d like to be pinned to my sword, please swipe right. Oh wait, that’s too straightforward. I’m sorry, I forgot to woo you first.’ He facepalms. ‘Here we go!’ The man presses something off screen and a cheesy song starts to play. The man starts singing in a very sultry, deep voice. It’s surprisingly on key.
‘If you like pina colada’s
And getting caught in the rain’
‘if you catch my drift’ he adds as he wiggles his brows.
‘I hope you’re deep into yoga’,
He winks and says ‘think of how deep I can go if you're flexible’. He resumes singing:
‘For you I’d blow out my brain.
Love fucking on a roof at midnight,
I’ll wear Zorro’s cape.
I’m the love that you looked for,
So swipe right and escape.’
He blows a raspberry to the camera and winks again. He walks out of the view, only to pop his head back in from the top left corner. ‘Oh, I’m Wade, by the way. It’s good to have a name to scream when I make you orgasm for the third time.’ Then he’s gone again and the video stops. Peter grins at the man’s antics. It’s the most refreshing one he’s seen thus far. He reads his profile.
‘Wade, age 29. In between jobs, but rather wants to be in between your sheets. Wade is trying to be a better man. Likes to cosplay as Zorro, but only because he loves making sword jokes. Or dick jokes. Or both. Swings all ways, dreams of swinging on Spider-Man’s back, but likes to come on your back too. Or on your face. Or whichever place you like the best. Generous lover, always leaves his fucks satisfied. Little Wade isn’t exactly little, just like the rest of Wade, so be prepared for that. Although he’s yet to meet a hole where little Wadey won’t fit in, prepping is the key. Secretly romantic, likes to spoil his fucks with roses and a dinner. Call him. Seriously. So he’ll get off my back.’
Peter laughs at his weird profile. The Spider-Man part makes him blush a bit. He scrolls back to the photo’s, his mind wandering to all the things he could do with those strong arms. His own little Peter stirs with interest. Peter snorts. Should he… He only has one chance; this dating app is relentless. He sets up his camera, fluffs up his hair and starts singing. He’s got a decent voice, so he’ll be safe.
‘Yes, I like pina colada’s,
And being fucked in the rain.
Prefer Mexican to health food,
And beers to champagne.
I’ve got to meet you by tomorrow noon,
Please wear that cape.
That way no one will see us
When I suck Zorro’s sword on a fire escape.’
He blows a kiss at the camera. Before he can overthink, he sends the vid, his heart hammering. Within a minute, his phone lights up. He scrambles and opens the app. An enthusiastic text pops up.
‘Hi! Big Wade here.’
‘Hi Wade.’ Peter texts back.
‘OMG, you are real.’ The reply is there within seconds.
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘I don’t know? Because you sound too perfect to be true? And AI is getting better and better?’
‘I’m real, I promise.’
‘Then show me your little… oh, what’s your name?’
Peter smirks at his answer. ‘Peter. And I’m not showing you.’
‘I knew it! Too good to be true. Must have a tiny one, then. Right, Petey-pie?’
‘Wrong.’
‘I don’t mind. A cute guy like you can have one flaw.’
‘I’m not little, Wade.’
‘Prove it, then.’
Fuck. This is derailing quickly. What should he do?
‘Pete? You don’t have to. I’m sorry I asked. I sometimes forget not everyone’s like me.’
‘And how is that, Wade?’
‘Exhibitionistic. Outgoing. Big.’
Peter snorts. ‘Still not little, Wade.’
‘Oh, I get it. You need a little time to coax little Petey into an acceptable length.’
‘Do not.’
‘Do too.’
Peter lifts the hem of his boxers and looks down. His dick is twitching, slightly filling from the thought of him sending a pic. He bites his lip.
‘Petey-pie?’
‘Yeah?’
‘You know I could help with that tugging, right? I have a PhD in wanking.’
Peter laughs out loud this time. His free hand slides in his boxers as he starts kneading his dick. He feels it swell.
‘Sure you do. Because your little Wade needs the tugging himself?’
‘Petey! You wound me!’
‘Prove it.’ He’s typed it before he can think twice.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Why?’ Peter moves his hand around his dick, pumping it slowly.
‘Because I don’t want you to have to envy this big dick. Also only want to send a dick pic when I’m sure there’s consent.’
‘All that talking and still no pic? My, Wade. Seems you’re stalling yourself.’
‘Baby-boy, I need that consent right now, before it’s too late to take a pic.’
‘Why? Losing interest?’ Shit… he should send a pic himself. If only he wasn’t such a chicken.
‘Nah, cutie. Because a spent dick is less photogenic.’
A spent dick? Wha- Oh! ‘Are you wanking? Right now?’
‘Talking sexy to a hot nerd with humor? Of course I’m wanking.’
Fuck. That’s hot. Peter speeds up his movements a bit. ‘Me too.’
‘Damn. Do you wank at my pictures?’
‘Yeah. Thinking how those big hands would feel around my cock. Would wank to that dick pic too, but you’ve still not sent that.’
‘You’re killing me here, Pete. But it does sound an awful lot like consent.’
A pic slowly uploads. Peter opens it. ‘Fuck, Wade. You weren’t kidding.’ His dick looks huge. It’s not the longest Peter has ever seen (even though it’s longer than average), but by far the thickest.
‘Told you so.’ Peter can almost hear the smugness in the text. ‘Envious?’
‘No. Just thinking about how it would feel inside me.’ Peter blushes at his own straightforwardness. ‘Wondering if it’ll fit.’
‘I’m really good at prepping, Petey-pie.’
‘Yeah? What would you do?’
‘I’d start by eating you out.’ Fuck. Peter’s hand ups the pace. ‘Then I’d slowly keep on adding fingers, loosening you up more and more. Maybe, if you’re a good boy, I’d try and put my whole fist in.’
‘Damn, Wade. I just had to squeeze my dick to refrain from coming.’
‘Why would you waste an orgasm, cutie-pie?’
‘Don’t want this to end already. Like the thought of you doing filthy things too much.’
‘Sweet Jesus, you’re killing me. You and little Petey.’
‘Not little, Wade.’
‘You keep on saying that.’
That’s when he decides. He’s turned on beyond words as he aims his camera down, making a short movie of him tugging his dick. He shouldn’t do this. It shouldn’t arouse him this much. He’s Spider-Man, for fucks sake, but he’s a bit wasted and hasn’t been this turned on in years. He hits send. Wade stays quiet. Fuck, maybe Wade does think he’s too little? His dick loses interest.
‘Damn, goddamn, GODDAMN, Petey-pie. Sorry. Had to get some tissues. Spunked up the whole phone.’
Peter’s dick perks up with renewed interest. ‘No stamina? Old man.’
‘Only two years your senior!’
‘Yeah, that’s what they all say. AI’s getting better and better.’
‘I could end this conversation and leave you hanging, cupcake.’
‘Nah, you’d miss out on my ass.’
‘Blackmail. How did you know I’m an ass-man?’
‘Wild guess.’
‘I am. I’d like to bury my dick balls deep in that ass of yours.’
‘Would you go rough?’ Peters hand flies over his dick again.
‘If you want me to.’
‘Yeah. I’d want that. Please, tell me. What would you do to me?’
‘I’d thrust it in, my hands holding your hips down with so much force, you’d bruise.’
‘Fuck. That’s hot.’
‘Maybe, if you’re a good boy, I’d slap your butt a few times or pull your hair. Maybe even choke you a little.’
He doesn’t know what sends him over the edge. The good boy thing or the promise of force, but Peter comes harder than he’s ever come by his own hand. He needs a moment to come back down to earth.
‘Pete? Are you still there? Shit, I hope I didn’t scare you away.’
That’s sweet, he thinks. He quickly takes a pic of his dick, a small line of spunk leaking from it, and sends it.
‘That just made me rock hard again.’
Peter smiles. This man does something to him. He knows he shouldn’t, but… ‘Hey Wade?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Are you free tomorrow?’
‘For you, Petey-pie? I’d empty my whole year calendar.’
‘Your place or mine?’
‘Oh, sweetums. Neither.’
What? He’s glad Wade can’t see his disappointment. He though he would want this too.
‘I bring all my dates to a fancy restaurant first. We dine, I’ll spoil you and then we fuck.’
‘I’m not sure I can last a whole dinner.’
‘Don’t worry. I intend to make you come in your pants first. My feet are very flexible.’
Peter chokes. ‘In the restaurant?’
‘Yeah. But only if you want. Only Spidey and you are sexier than consent.’
Peter smiles. ‘Okay.’
‘Okay what?’
‘Okay, you can make me come in the restaurant. But when I say stop, you stop.’
‘Sweetums, don’t worry. Of course, I’ll stop.’
‘I trust you.’
They talk some more, exchange phone numbers and Wade texts him the address. Peter falls asleep, tingling with anticipation.
*
When Peter enters the restaurant, Zorro is sitting there. There’s something oddly familiar about him. When he sees Peter, he gets up and grabs his hand. He presses a kiss to it and hands Peter a bouquet of red roses. Then he pulls out the chair for him, before sitting himself.
‘You’re a real gentleman, Wade.’
‘That’s to make up for all the sexy stuff I’m going to do to you, baby-boy.’
And fuck. That does it. That nickname, delivered in that voice. ‘Deadpool?’
Wade’s eyes widen behind his Zorro mask. ‘Wha-!’
‘It is you, isn’t it?’
‘I have no idea how you know.’ He looks… defeated, Peter thinks. ‘But you want to leave now, I’m sure.’
Peter needs to process what’s happening. Wade is Deadpool. The man he’s been crushing on silently for months. He’s had text sex with Wade. With Deadpool. A movement across the table brings him back to the here and now.
‘It would be polite to answer me.’ Wade gets up, angry disappointment showing on his face. ‘But seeing you won’t leave, I’ll better make that choice for ya.’
Peter can’t have that. Won’t have that look on the merc’s face. He makes a decision. Peter stands and pushes Wade back on his seat, using his power. Not all of it, but enough to make Wade notice.
‘What are you doing?’ Wade eyes Peter’s hand on his shoulder warily.
‘You’re not going anywhere.’ Peter’s smile is toothy. ‘You promised me a footjob.’
Wade’s eyes fly up to Peter’s. ‘But… I’m Deadpool.’
Peter leans in. He watches Wade’s Adam’s apple bob. ‘And I’m Spider-man, so I think I can handle you and big Wade.’ He breathes in Wade’s ear.
The changes in Wade’s face are comical to watch. Surprise, denial, distrust and anger float over him, before settling in a bewildered look. ‘Huh?’
Peter gestures at himself. ‘Healing factor. Might need less prep.’
‘You are-‘
Peter presses his finger to Wade’s lips. ‘Don’t say it here, Wade. Identity thing?’ Peter rolls his eyes fondly.
‘Okay, smarty pants. Prove it. What happened two days ago after patrol?’
‘You fell down the roof because you misstepped when picking up your churros. I caught you with a web to make sure you wouldn’t die. Laughed my arse off when your left boot got stuck and you had Hello Kitty socks on with a hole. Your big toe stuck out of it. Loved the black glitter nail polish, by the way.’ Peter sits again, seeing Wade is processing the information.
‘What sauce?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What sauce was on the churros?’
‘Come one, Wade. You know it was me.’
‘What. Sauce.’
Peter sighs. Exasperated. ‘You usually have half vanilla, half caramel.’
‘Wrong!’
‘I wasn’t finished! Geez. The vendor ran out of both, so you were whining about the chocolate flavor all evening.’
Wade seems to be satisfied. The way his face transitions makes Peter’s insides dance a polka. ‘Did you know why I fell? I was distracted. Was wondering if you ever had a dick stuffed in that fine ass of yours, Baby-boy.’ His hand grabs Peter’s and he starts rubbing small circles on his wrist. ‘Have you?’
‘Have I what?’
‘Had a dick shoved in so deep, you saw stars?’
‘Yeah.’ If his voice comes out a bit squeaky, they both don’t mention it. ‘Yeah, I have.’
‘So… a footjob, eh?’ Wade looks faux innocently at him.
‘Oh God, yeah. Please.’ Is he really making such a desperate sound?
What flashes a shit eating grin. ‘How many times can you get it up, Baby-boy?’
Peter blushes as he feels Wade’s foot slide up his legs, thighs, right to his crotch. ‘Several times.’ His voice is hoarse.
‘Good. Because I want that ass tonight, cupcake. Want to eat it out and fuck you. I’ll let you come so many times, your brains will pop out.’
Wade’s foot is incredibly flexible, rubbing just the right places. Peter feels his breathing accelerate. ‘Fuck, Wade. Someone will see.’
‘Nah, they always give me this table. It’s secluded enough. But it’s up to you, Baby-boy. How quiet can you be?’
‘Qui-iet’, he moans a little too loud. Peter flaps his hand over his mouth, looking mortified.
Wade snorts. ‘Yeah, I can see that.’ He doesn’t stop.
Peter struggles to control his breathing as Wade’s foot starts rubbing a steady, just right rhythm. His eyes flutter shut.
‘Look at me, Baby-boy.’
Peter forces his eyes open. Wade’s predatory gaze sends him over the edge. He squeezes Wade’s hand through his orgasm. ‘Fuck, Wade.’ He regains his breath as discrete as possible.
Wade gently pries his hand from Peter’s grip. ‘Damn, Petey-pie. I think you just broke my hand.’ Before Peter can feel the mortifying guilt enter his still dazed brain, Wade adds: ‘that’s so fucking hot. Wanna get out of here to see what more bones you can break tonight? Oh, I bet those thighs could snap my neck when I’m eating you out.’
Peter lets out a startled laugh. ‘I’d rather have you stay alive during our first fuck, that you very much.’
Wade claps his hands excitedly. ‘The first time, he says. There will be mo-hooooore.’ He sings as he helps Peter up. ‘My place?’
‘I thought you’d like to spoil your dates?’
‘Only the fuck dates, sweetums. We’ll have plenty more.’ He rushes them to the exit and throws a stack of bills at the startled waiter. ‘Sorry, emergency.’
The waiter mutters, inaudible for non-mutate ears: ‘Emergency hard-on, more likely,’ but he takes the bills with a polite smile.
Peter feels like he’s in heaven when Wade carries him into his apartment. His last coherent thought is to thank MJ profusely for that app, before Wade shuts his brain down with pure pleasure and makes him come several times.