Hijinks

*

"Okay, but Petey, I thought we were going to make some sweet Petercest Porn! Here we have a Petey-pie and a Spidey-poo, but where's my hot roleplay sextape?"

So-called Petercest wasn't a particular kink of Peter's, but he was into how excited Wade was about the idea, and a little amateur porn sounded weirdly fun. "Yeah, alright," he agreed easily.

"Yesssssss!" Wade cheered.

"We're doing this at your place though, I have neighbors I'd like to be able to look in the eye ever again."

Wade hummed something that sounded suspiciously like the party pooper taunt, but didn't actually complain.

*

Wade, in his Peter disguise, flung himself dramatically onto the bed and cried, in a falsetto that was probably meant to be his impression of Peter, "Take me, Spider-man!"

Peter would never know what Wade sounded like before the cancer, but scarring on his vocal cords life him with a rough, raspy voice that did not lend itself well to falsetto.

Peter ignored him and continued setting up the equipment he'd brought to film with.

"I'm just a poor, innocent little nerd," Wade continued, twisting into seductive and overwrought poses by turn, with a lot of displays of cleavage neither of them possessed featured in the former, "caught by a big, strong, forceful spider!"

"Why do I sound like that?" Peter complained.

"I'm just so horny and delicate,"

"Seriously?"

"I need to be taken in a manly fashion."

"You need to be gagged, is what you need," Peter scolded.

Wade waggled his eyebrows hopefully. If Peter had ever waggled his eyebrows before, he certainly hadn't done it in front of a mirror. It looked deeply stupid on his face. "And webbed up," Wade added in his normal voice.

Peter rolled his eyes, but wasn't against the plan. "Anything else?" he asked dryly.

Wade made a big show of thinking about it, pursing his lips and staring up into space. "Nope! Web him up, ravish him, get really Spider-dom about it. It'll be mega-hott."

"Him being Peter? Who is also you."

Wade shrugged. "I like those things."

"Alright," Peter agreed. "Hands where you want them." He hit record and moved to grab a gag, pulling his mask down before he entered the shot.

Wade had chosen out to the side rather than together above his head, and Peter webbed him there without complaint. Then he immediately dislodged his mask again to free his mouth and gave Wade a deep kiss, feeding him the small penis gag once he pulled away.

The gag was comfortable and easy to accommodate, just there to keep whichever one of them was wearing it from rambling and give him something to toy with. It wasn't supposed to be embarrassing or uncomfortable. Peter stepped back to look at Wade and fixed his mask again. "Feel okay?"

Wade gave him the thumbs up.

"Signal?"

Wade snapped his fingers three times, paused, and then made a few hand signals.

"Good, thanks." Wade could undoubtedly get himself out of the webbing if he really needed to, but that was no excuse to be negligent.

Peter wasn't self-conscious; not really, and really not compared to Deadpool. However (and unlike Wade, he suspected) he wasn't used to objectifying himself either. Looking at Peter Parker's body laid at before him was an exercise in the bizarre. It wasn't too weird - that would be hyperbolic after the life they all led and honestly Peter was so used to mentally separating his civilian self from Spider-man that it almost seemed normal.

He knew what parts of himself Wade found hottest: his ass, his eyes, the little paunch of belly that formed when he gorged himself on tacos or pizza or pancakes or whatever other food Wade supplied for him, before his metabolism kicked in. He knew the parts of Wade he liked best too: the scar on his leg that existed before he had any kind of healing factor and that remained a constant on his ever changing skin, the hollows above his iliac crest that rivaled any model's, the wide and expressive stretch of his mouth, and his constantly hard nipples. Also his dick, because Wade's dick was honestly spectacular and stood boldly out from his scant pubic hair. Deadpool in lacy panties was the kind of sight Peter prayed to.

(Spider-man wasn't Wade and Peter Parker wasn't entirely Wade either right now. Peter would like different parts of the man if he was truly a third person. Spider-man would like Peter's fingers, that might once have taken the photos that tied them together. He'd like the soft skin of Peter's cheeks that made him look innocent and nonthreatening. He'd like the way he had to treat Peter like porcelain even when he was in complete control because Peter wasn't a pushover but he wasn't indestructible either.)

Spider-man had a type and he liked the same things in Peter that he liked in Wade, really. Competence, mouthiness, and a humble sort of greed. Spider-man didn't want to be cruel, but if Wade wanted to be a slutty Peter tonight, that could be arranged.

"You excited, sweetheart? You wanna make Wade so hot he can't see straight?"

Wade groaned appreciatively, though whether it was for now-him or future-him was impossible to say.

As long as it was working for Wade it was working for Peter, so he gently teased his gloved fingers along Wade's throat and collarbones before effortlessly ripping his shirt in half. He was careful again as he boldly groped the newly bared chest. His thumbs found Wade's ever-hard nipples and he rubbed and plucked them with enthusiasm. Wade arched up ineffectually and Peter laughed. "I love how greedy you are for me," he praised bitingly.

"My eager slut." He wanted to call him a pretty slut, might have if Peter were actually Peter or Wade were entirely Wade, but he knew the word would get caught up in the image inducer and harm Wade in ways he didn't want or mean.

In the suit, Peter had little to no skin exposed, so he used his enhancements to clearly feel Wade beneath him. The little hairs that let him cling to walls extended past the material to report every ridge and valley on the scarred body beneath them. The image inducer didn't allow for cause and effect, so Peter's body didn't display the hickeys that rose and healed behind Peter's sensitive touch. The red would have been striking on the bare skin, crisp in a way it never was against Wade's ravaged flesh, and for the first time in this encounter, Peter spared a flash of lust for the Peter that could have been. It faded quickly, because although he couldn't see it happen, Wade reacted as strongly and arousingly as ever.

Peter groaned. "You're so fucking hot; I want to eat you up."

Wade immediately started talking behind the gag, and though Peter couldn't understand a single word, he 100% knew that Wade was making spider puns and talking about webs and bugs and snacks.

Peter gave up the battle with integrity and shoved his mask back up to his nose, lunging over Wade to passionately molest his stretched lips. "I'm web over heels for you, my clever, mouthy prey," he confessed breathlessly.

Wade said more, doubtless about being the Merc with the Mouth and maybe about Peter not being. Or about Peter being mouthy too. He knew Wade pretty darn well, but he wasn't a mind reader.

Having broken the seal on his costume, Peter revised his earlier plan of rubbing off on Wade until they both came in their pants, and instead pushed Wade's legs up until he was bent in half. Peter was flexible enough it would barely have registered as a stretch for him, but he groaned out a questioning "okay?" just in case.

Wade gave him the okay sign and Peter eagerly tore open the back of his pants to expose Peter Parker's asshole. Wade spoke again (something about ripping his pants, for sure) but Peter was taking the chance to learn that he did, in fact, have a pretty kickin' ass. He moaned, followed by the very clear sound of Deadpool's muffled laughter.

"Shut up," he muttered defensively, even though he knew Wade wrote actual sonnets to this sight and had no room to judge. He slapped one cheek, light as anything, then grabbed the lube to prep Wade.

He wanted to want to rim Wade, but he was so turned on that if he got his mouth down there he was going to bite invisible bruises into it instead, and that wasn't where he wanted this to go.

He slid a finger in and stretched up to nibble on Wade's ear instead. He'd never tried it on Wade before and the aborted shudder and complete dick twitch suggested it was worth repeating. His spare hand went unerringly to the leg scar and caressed it through both layers of fabric.

Peter had never fingered anyone in his suit before either. Wade did it to him all the time, the leather gloves thick and textured in his ass and kinky even thought Deadpool's suit was an extension of his self. He'd retracted his hairs, not wanting to drag at Wade's asshole and the sensation felt muffled through the fabric but still had more sensory feedback than it would if he'd been wearing gloves for sanitary reasons. Probably he should have been, now that he thought of it, because unlike Deadpool, Spider-man cared about his suit's cleanliness, but at least from a safe sex standpoint they were fine. Wade literally couldn't catch anything and his suit had been clean when they started.

He shifted down, licking up Wade's neck even though he was trying to go in the other direction (Wade mumbled something, just like he always did at this idiosyncrasy of Peter's) before dropping his mouth back to Wade's chest.

Peter honestly didn't know why he was so obsessed with Wade's nipples. It shouldn't be hot, because Peter demonstrably knew they had nothing to do with him. They were just so... friendly, in the same demanding and inappropriate way that Wade himself was.

Here, he was genial, circling his tongue around and around in greeting without feeling the need to bite down. The nipples he could see were sightly but boring, a disappointment if his old friends hadn't been hiding beneath the surface, obvious under his tongue.

He added another finger to Wade's ass and sucked Wade's other nipple into his mouth, still sweet. Wade shifted so his hips so that his legs clutched at Peter. Deadpool's thighs were a hell of a lot thicker than Peter's looked and his heels dug into Peter's spine, but it overcame those deficits and made Pete's blood burn a little hotter. "Don't worry, Sweetheart," he cooed, "I'm not going anywhere until I pound your ass into next week."

Wade made more sounds: a moan and probably a smart remark on the next week thing. Questioning what day, maybe, or a challenge on how well he could do it.

"You like that, Baby?"

In general, Wade called Peter things like Baby Boy and Peter did not. He liked it, it made him feel special, but not any better than Petey-pie or Spiderbabe or Sweetcheeks. He wasn't sure what was making him get all cutesy now, except that Wade was so Wade regardless of what mask he wore and feeling that level of adoration for his own shape really hammered the point home that it was the spirit he loved, not just the flesh.

He wasn't sure which one of them to blame for the fact that their "superhot, supersextape" porn shoot had Peter thinking deep thoughts about the nature of his feelings, but good timing was not either of their things.

He jammed a third finger into Wade to make up for his minor inattention and twisted his own hips so that one flank fell into the hollow of Wade's legs to rub against his trapped dick more pointedly.

"Next time we do this, I'm going to web your arms down against your chest in a cocoon and just ride your dick and kiss you. You won't be able to do anything but squirm, but I promise I'll take such good care of you, pet. You'll be my pretty love bug, and I'll let you come into my parlor until one of us passes out."

He yanked his fingers back out and extracted his dick from the suit, quickly rolling a condom onto it. Washing the ass off his gloves was one thing, he was not washing jizz out of his suit if he didn't have to.

Wade was more than ready; his ass seemed to have the same mysteriously elastic properties as his face and mask, and he'd never witnessed it really struggle to take anything. Peter's dick did not top the list of biggest things he's seen in Wade's butt, so he felt no guilt when he slammed in with very little warning or finesse.

Wade arched up, leaving the bed only the small amount his spread arms would allow but it felt like standing on an earthquake with all the coiled power that existed in the motion. More, he held them both aloft those few centimeters for endless moments before he surrendered to gravity and dropped, breathing hard and wild.

"Good boy, you're so strong, so hungry." He shoved up again with his hips even though he was fully sheathed and crammed a pillow into the space that opened up against the bed. He'd really meant to do that before he started fucking Wade, but better late than never.

Satisfied the angle was accounted for, he pulled out and thrust back in, giving it to Wade hard, but evenly. It was too much effort to get his mouth back on Wade's chest now, so he gave Wade's bottom lip one big, sloppy lick from corner to corner, before pulling his mask back down (NOT with the ass hand, thank you) and focusing on the rhythm of his hips and the drag of his belly on Wade's cock. One hand came up to grip the back of Wade's neck and press their foreheads together while the other, of its own volition once again crept up Wade's thigh to worry at the scar like a touchstone.

They stayed like that for a while, Wade's head tipped back and eyes closed, Peter's breath harsh from intensity rather than exertion, until Peter heard his own voice chanting "Come, come on baby, come for me, cream your pants, Wade wants to see you let go, I want you to feel good, let yourself go, I've got you." 

Wade was really only getting incidental stimulation to his dick, through his own lax pants and Peter's suit covered stomach. The position was bad to worm a hand in assist, so he instead dropped the ass hand down to stroke one finger deliberately over Wade's stretched rim. He didn't try to push in, just petted firmly to add a little zing.

Wade's eyelids fluttered as he moaned, throat bobbing as he swallowed at the sensation and Peter abandoned his rhythm, slamming into Wade in fast humps. "Do it, do it, take it," he kept chanting, no jokes or puns left right now.

Wade started talking then, and Wade literally never ran out of jokes so it was probably more creative than what was coming out of Peter's mouth. Not necessarily more coherent, but that was always true when you were talking to Deadpool.

Peter almost for sure came first, but thankfully Wade did come too, and Peter collapsed gratefully onto the man once they were done. He shot a web at the camera, because he wasn't about to take off the mask on camera, no matter how private, but he also wasn't getting off this bed anytime soon. He unbuckled the gag, pulled off the mask, and reached for the web solvent. Wade had already started talking before he touched it.

"Damn, Pete, that was so hot."

"I think that's my line," Peter said dryly.

"Right, sorry Spidey. You were hot too. I mean, not as hot as my little nerd, eh? But pretty good. Adequate. Fine."

Peter laughed. "Shut the fuck up and get in this bed, Wade. I miss you."

Wade turned off the inducer as Peter ditched the condom and the rest of his suit. "I missed you too, Petey-pie," he promised, snuggling him up. "But thanks for the porn."

***

Peter didn't know, but Wade carried the recording around on a flash drive in his wallet. He'd made cover art. WW <3 PP <3 SM <3 was scrawled in gel pen in a crude circular flow chart using hearts instead of arrows and featuring depictions of Deadpool and Spiderman's mask eyes and a pair of square glasses for Peter as decoration.

People didn't generally mug Wade, and those that did very rarely lived to tell anyone about it, so it was fairly safe, and it was way better than just a picture. He didn't think Peter would object if he found out, but he wasn't going to mention it unless Peter asked.

*****

Epilogue:

"Web me up like one of your flyboys, Spidey!"

"That's not even what that word means, 'Pool," Peter commented, but he could guess what Wade wanted and webbed the man so he was dangling from the light post by his ankles.

"Now come kiss me, Spider-cheeks," Wade demanded coquettishly, with much fluttering of his eyelashes. "No wait!" Wade amended as Peter leaned in. "I want to do it with my other boyfriend!"

Peter leaned back.

"Too!" Wade corrected again. "Kiss me, then tag out, then take a stellar photo of our love."

"So demanding," Peter murmured into Wade's lips. When he pulled away, Wade made a hungry noise.

"Sorry to leave you hanging," Peter threw out impishly as he darted away to find a place to shed his costume and set up a camera.

He already knew where he was going to put these pictures, on the wall in the closet where he hid his costume. Wade was right that they would be best as a triptych. Wade and Spiderman, which he'd finally gotten Jarvis to give him a copy of, the Wade-as-Peter and Spiderman that had gotten Tony off their backs, and now Wade and Peter, the couple that was under it all.