Chapter Text
Burning hot kisses trailed down Peter’s spine, each one a brand.
A brand that meant he was Wade’s, as one by one descending kisses brought his lips closer to somewhere Peter hadn’t even imagined they’d go.
Peter had swung the whole way home on autopilot, not remembering the trip at all.
He’d slid in clumsily through his open window and tidied up hurriedly, attempting to chuck his suit and hide evidence of any living within the space in the same motion. He wasn’t exactly sure why he felt self conscious about his apartment. Wade’s could be atrocious at times; Peter having to go so far as to gather old pizza boxes and take out the trash because Wade was, if he were being honest, a bit of a slob.
After that he’d taken the fastest shower imaginable, scrubbing in every nook and cranny because suit sweat was a thing. Then he hovered anxiously over his clothes, wondering if he should go for impression over comfort. It wasn’t like he’d be in them long, if all went well. He chose comfort after a few agonizing minutes.
It hadn’t been long after that Deadpool showed up, CVS bag in hand.
Peter’s eyes flickered down to the bag in question then back up to Deadpool. “Did you just go get tha—”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Wade had interrupted, pulling off his mask to reveal his smirk. “Let’s hold all comments and questions until the end of class.”
His predatory smile descended on Peter…
Then here they were.
Or more specifically here was Peter, naked, lying face down in his own bed as Wade hovered above him, pressing teasing kisses down the dip of his spine.
“You’re gonna love it,” Wade promised between kisses. “I’m gonna eat you out and loosen you up so good. All you gotta do is lay there and look delicious. God, you’re gonna taste ah-mazing. I just know it.”
Peter was starting to worry about the food analogies but before he could manage to say anything Wade’s tongue reached out to touch the dimples at the base of his spine; the final gateway before reaching his destination. Peter’s back tensed as Wade’s hands moved to spread him apart, and despite the coolness of his room, he felt warm all over. He hid his face in the crook of his arm and resisted the urge to move out of Wade’s hold, the exposed feeling overwhelming.
“Oh, Spidey.” Wade’s voice sounded damn near worshipful, like he was a preacher on Sunday morning and Peter was his sermon. “You’re the best damn dream I ever had.”
For the thousandth time—
“You’re not dreaming, Wade,” he forced through his embarrassment.
“I gotta be,” Peter felt his hold shift and suddenly the thick pad of Wade’s thumb was pressing down on him. “This just isn’t something I get to have.”
Peter shuddered as the thumb pressed inward. Not enough to penetrate, but enough that he felt pressure and a slight stretch. A hint of what was to come.
Wade leaned over, letting scarred lips run over the curve of his ass as he whispered, “Are you gonna let me in, Petey?”
Teeth bit gently across slick skin as a soft mouth traveled farther in until Peter felt the warm puff of his breath over his hole. Peter prepared himself for the first touch, but it never came.
It seemed that question hadn’t been rhetorical.
“Yes,” Peter whimpered out low, voice rough with arousal, face burning against his forearm.
“Good boy.”
Peter gasped, tensing, as the thumb was replaced by the wettest, hottest, strangest feeling. Fuck . He’d been missing out on this the whole time? His hips had no idea where to go, as the sensation of Wade’s tongue delving into him and the aching of his hard dick against the mattress battled. He wanted to grind his hips down, chase that friction, but when he did it drew him farther from Wade’s exploring mouth.
“You taste better than I imagined,” Wade growled before diving back in, and Peter could do nothing but quiver and moan against the sheets as Wade did as promised and loosened him up with his tongue.
It was sloppy and wet, which should have been gross, but it was the most amazing feeling Peter had ever felt and his brain was short circuiting, okay, who cared about the spit as he was too busy getting rimmed an inch from his life.
Here lies Peter Parker, his headstone would read, rimmed to death.
All the sighs and moans Peter had kept within himself, tucked away behind locked doors, were meticulously picked open one by one. They spilled freely from his lips, springing forth from where they’d been buried as Wade uncovered them easily with his devious mouth.
“Wade,” Peter gasped out like all the oxygen had left the room, trembling from the unrelenting enthusiasm of that damn tongue. “I c-can’t, you gotta—”
But the tentative tip of a finger alongside that tongue had him tensing up again, words lost, the sensation different, although not entirely new. Peter had fingered himself plenty of times. He was a virgin, not a monk , yet the press of Wade’s fingers were far more intimidating in their thickness than his own.
“No stopping yet, honeybee,” Wade told him, pressing in a little more. “Lot’s to teach you yet, remember? I gots a list.”
“A l-list?” Peter stammered out, and despite him knowing Wade couldn’t have been pressing more than the pad of his fingertip in, the stretch felt wide.
“Mhmm,” Wade hummed in agreement, removing his finger to lick a broad stripe up with the flat of his tongue, ending with a chaste kiss to a sweat-slick tailbone. Shivers ran themselves up and down Peter’s back as goosebumps raised along his arms. “A loooong one. Scribbled right on the back of that CVS receipt.”
Jesus, Peter wasn’t entirely sure he’d make it through that list.
There was a soft sound of a bottle cap opening and then Wade’s finger was back, slicker and cooler than before. The ridges of the scars felt odd, but not unpleasant, as his finger slipped in easier, farther than before, eased by lube and the loosening from Wade’s tongue.
Peter knew enough from his own exploration that tensing wouldn’t help, so he attempted to relax, unclenching his muscles, as Wade continued an easy, careful slide of his finger in until the last knuckle.
Another kiss placed to the base of his spine. “You doing okay, baby boy?”
Peter nodded his head, hair swishing against the sheets, bottom lip worried between his teeth.
“You want another one?”
Peter nodded again, accompanying the movement against the mattress with a soft, “Yes.”
“Okay, Petey,” Wade acquiesced and his finger slid out, leaving an odd empty feeling behind. “Ask and you shall receive.”
Peter could hear Wade slicking more of his fingers up and he adjusted himself along the bed. His dick felt rock hard, neglected, leaking against his stomach. But he didn’t reach down to touch himself.
On their way to the bedroom they’d both shed their clothes (and suit), Peter making sure the room was lit dimly, yet dark enough that they both felt comfortable. It was a first time for both of them, in different respects. It was the first time Peter was sharing this with someone, and for Wade it was the first time letting Peter see more beyond his face, something Peter knew was significant.
When they’d both fallen naked into bed, low light casting enticing shadows, Peter had reached out to touch Wade, who was long and thick, perfect even with the scarring, only to have his hand intercepted. His fingers were caught in Wade’s larger grip and kissed sweetly before he’d been forbidden from touching Wade or himself, until he was told otherwise.
Technically he wasn’t touching himself, he was touching the bed, so he continued the little thrust of his hips against the mattress; not enough, but at least something. He was caught, though, when Wade’s hand circled his hip and pulled him up.
“Naughty boys get on their hands and knees.”
“But I didn’t—!” Despite his protest Peter drew himself up on his hands and knees; there’d been a funny swoop in his stomach earlier when Wade had called him a good boy and maybe Peter was hoping Wade would say it again. Just to see if that swoop happened a second time. For research purposes, of course.
“Leave it to my smart little spider to find a loophole,” Wade clicked his tongue but after a little adjustment behind Peter, pressed his fingers back in.
The change in position made it feel like they were pressing in deeper, and Peter hung his head, arms shaking, as Wade carefully stretched him. Even two fingers felt significantly more than just the one, and while it didn’t hurt per se, it still felt weird. Peter wished Wade would go back to using his mouth to distract him from the feeling.
He supposed there was some necessity to it. Considering how big Wade was, there was no getting around it. Peter had used his fingers on himself before as he jacked off, liked how it added to the sensation, but he didn’t see what the big deal was, really. It felt good, sure, but it certainly wasn’t amaz—
“Ohmygod,” Peter cried out, arms sliding out from under him unexpectedly. He buried his face in them, hands moving up to cradling his head, fingers tangling in his hair as a feeling that must have been ecstasy enveloped him. The position arched his back, pushing those fingers in even deeper, and he whimpered as something hot white zipped like a thousand shooting stars through his body.
“Found it,” Wade boasted smugly behind him, voice husky in a way Peter had never heard before. As deft fingers continued their assault on that spot inside him, Peter screwed his eyes up tightly and held on. A particular deep, ridged piece of scar tissue caught Peter’s rim everytime Wade twisted his fingers, and his body vibrated with each tantalizing press as a telling sensation built up in his stomach. A thought crossed Peter’s mind fleetingly... he wondered if he could come just from this.
Suddenly the empty feeling returned, halting his impending release so fast Peter could swear he heard the squeal of brakes. He couldn’t stop the tiny unhappy noise that escaped him, feeling the loss of Wade’s fingers greatly, a little upset about his lost orgasm. Peter turned to peek over his shoulder to see just what Wade was up to.
He was coating his fingers again.
“You don’t have to use that much,” Peter said shakily, nerves shot, body quaking. “I’m not made of porcelain, DP.”
“Alright, first lesson,” Wade closed the cap on the lube with a soft snick and tossed it aside. “Take notes, it could be on the pop quiz.”
Pop quiz?
Fingers circled at his hole as Wade continued to lecture him.
“The only way it should hurt is if you like it to hurt,” Wade told him seriously, fingers pressing in teasingly before retreating back out again.
“And since you don’t know what you like yet, we make sure you don’t hurt.”
Wade let his fingers slide in further, even more of a stretch now with three instead of two. Peter had used three fingers on himself before, but they were no comparison to Wade’s. This time the stretch burned a little more and Peter’s shoulders tensed up as they slid in further, spreading him wider. He felt Wade’s other hand slide soothingly up his spine to squeeze at the nape of his neck.
Wade followed, draping along his back hard, hot and sweaty, causing the angle of his fingers to change, impossibly deeper, and there was that spark again like a bolt of lightning in his veins. His back bowed on its own accord as he chased that sensation, knees spreading wider as he rocked back onto Wade’s hand.
Wade buried his face into Peter’s hair as he groaned out, “You’re gonna kill me, baby boy, honest.”
Peter wanted to tell him he felt like he might die, the fingers inside him unrelenting, hitting that spot inside him mercilessly as Wade continued to make sure he was prepared fully to take him.
Deadpool nuzzled further down to growl in his ear, “But you gotta let me fuck you before that happens.”
“Wade,” Peter managed to moan out, the rest of what he’d hoped to say lost in the haze of spine-tingling pleasure.
Peter shivered at the throaty voice in his ear, the scarred torso framing his back, and suddenly he wasn’t sure he could take much more. If this was just the preparation, he very well might die during the act.
What a way to go.
“Wade,” Peter gasped again, this time in alarm as a familiar tightening sensation started in his groin. He’d been close to release before but Wade had made sure to stop, pull back, add more fingers. This time the fingers didn’t stop and Peter curled in on himself, his orgasm cresting like a wave, ready to crash down on him at any moment. “Wade, I’m—I’m gonna—”
“Go ahead,” Wade purred permissively in his ear as he shifted closer still and everywhere there was Wade; around him, on him, in him. Peter shuddered and he felt his dick twitch, like it always did right before he was about to—
“Come on my fingers, Petey,” he coaxed. “Don’t hold back. Let’s get you all loose and lax, baby.”
Peter cried out as he reached his climax like an explosion, constellations shooting across his vision . Fingers crooked up harder into that spot as he shook on them, careening him into another wave of all-consuming pleasure.
He crumpled onto the bedspread, whimpering, hands fisted in the sheets as he shook with aftershocks. Peter couldn’t even be bothered to move out of the wet spot he’d made.
He’d just come without even a hand on his dick, what the fuck.
That shit just didn’t happen outside porn, right?
Deadpool came up to lounge next to him, running a dry hand up and down his back as Peter slowly floated back down to earth.
Peter hadn’t even felt him move.
The self-satisfied smile spread across Wade’s handsome face should have been cocky, but instead all it gave Peter was the desire to reach over and kiss him.
Peter attempted to do just that but his body wasn’t firing on all cylinders, apparently. He’d come back to the idea when he could move his limbs.
“You’re so fucking adorable,” Wade cooed at him, watching Peter blink the daze of his toe-curling orgasm away.
Peter didn’t feel adorable. He felt… filthy. He blushed, hiding his face but Wade's fingers caught him, cupping his jaw as he bent down to give him a chaste kiss.
“No need to be embarrassed,” Wade whispered to him, leaning his forehead against Peter’s. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Pay-per-view’s got nothing on you, hotstuff.”
“Wade,” he groaned out in embarrassment.
“What? It’s the truth!” Wade chirped. “I wouldn’t tell a lie.”
Peter, mind still fuzzy and floaty, snorted.
“Alright,” Wade amended. “Maybe I would. But never about dat ass. Trust me when I say I’ve polished the old banister to it all. And your ass? It could save lives.”
“I do save lives,” Peter felt the need to remind him.
“No, no, I’m talking strictly about your ass, here.”
Speaking of his ass…
Peter turned his head to sneak a peek and, yep, Wade was still fully hard, even as he seemed content to just chat away while petting at Peter as he regrained full mobility.
“Are we gonna—I mean, are you—”
Wade spared him from trying to form that particular sentence his brain was struggling with. “That’s up to you, sugar-boo. We may have that big old E up there, but believe me, there’s plenty more we can do to earn that rating. There’s so much I can show you before we get to that part.”
Peter bit his lip, still able to feel the phantom touch of Wade’s fingers in him. He felt stretched but empty, and as intimidating as Wade looked he trusted him not to hurt him. He wanted to feel him inside, stretching him full, hitting that spot repeatedly, even if he was pretty sure he might not survive it.
Wade had made sure Peter was taken care of, he wanted to do the same in return.
Peter shook his head decidedly. “No, I want to.”
Wade expressed his opinion of this decision by dragging him into an obscene kiss, letting his tongue plunge deeper and dirtier into his mouth. Peter tried not to think about where that mouth had been, but the blush sprung up on his cheeks futilely anyway.
“Up you get, pretty spider,” Wade lounged back against Peter’s headboard as Peter shifted up to his knees to kneel besides him.
Peter had… not been prepared to be in the driver’s seat. So to speak.
“Wade...,” and something in Peter’s apprehensive tone must have given him away because Wade reached for him easily, settling Peter into his lap like he was a rag doll, making sure a leg was on either side of his large thighs.
“It’ll be easier this way,” Wade explained as his hands rubbed soothing paths up and down his flanks. “You can control the angle and how fast we go.”
“But I want it to feel good for you, too.”
Peter didn’t just want Wade thinking about him. As selfish and grandiose as Deadpool seemed to come off to others, Peter had learned that Wade was actually caring to the point of self-sacrificing. Peter wanted this to feel good for both of them. Together . He was starting to feel guilty that so far the only one who had enjoyed himself was Peter.
Wade let out an amused chuckle. “Oh, believe me. It’s gonna feel more than good for me.”
One of those scarred hands left his side to grab a few things he’d laid out on the bed. His hand came back clutching two things: the bottle of lube and a condom. Peter’s gaze focused on the little tin foil square, confused.
“We don't really need that do we?” was out of Peter’s mouth before he could think about it. Instantly he regretted it, embarrassed beyond belief, wishing he could pluck the question out of the air between them and chuck it into non existence.
Wade didn’t seem bothered by the question, if the way his dick bobbed and beaded with precum eagerly was any indication.
“Fuck, you can’t just say shit like that, babe,” the man under him groaned. “I got a bare-back kink a mile wide and a cutie on me who can’t catch anything. I’m trying to be responsible,” he whined.
Wade held the packet up between a scarred thumb and forefinger. “All this means is less clean up, honestly. Or else you’re gonna feel filthy.”
“I already feel filthy,” Peter pointed out.
Wade jolted underneath him, hand flapping down dramatically along the bedspread. “That’s it, I’m dead. This was either a horribly laughable mistake and I wound up in heaven, or I’m in hell and any minute now you’re about to leave and be replaced with something that’s gonna eat my face off.”
Peter sighed exasperatedly and snatched the condom out of Wade’s hand.
“Nothing’s gonna eat your face off,” Peter huffed as he opened the condom. But he froze once he held it in his hands, never actually having put one on himself or anyone else for that matter. His only experience was back in high school health class, just him, a condom, and one traumatized banana.
“I want to eat your face off,” Wade leered at him, but a moment later his gentle hands guided Peter’s as he gave soft, encouraging instructions until he was rolling the condom down over Wade’s sizable cock. He shuddered in Peter’s grip as he gave a few curious tugs.
“Woo-oah nelly,” Wade moaned, voice cracking, and his hand reached down to grasp Peter’s wrist to stop him mid stroke.
Peter frowned. He’d only been doing what he liked on himself.
When Wade’s breathing leveled out he looked a bit sheepish.
“The scars are, uh, a little extra sensitive there,” Wade admitted. “Maybe the condom wasn’t just for your sake,” he shrugged, looking a tad self conscious. “It’s been a while, you know, and I want to make it last for you, baby boy.”
Overwhelmed by how fucking thoughtful the man under him could be, Peter leaned forward to kiss him like he’d wanted to earlier. He loosened his grip on Wade’s cock but still gave a few pleasurable strokes, not wanting to overstimulate. Peter swallowed the deep moan that escaped Wade this time, and he honestly couldn’t have felt more powerful having the notorious large, scarred, ex-mercenary Deadpool fall apart underneath him.
Peter searched around for the lube this time, lips still sealed over Wade’s, awkwardly opening it up to pour some into his hand. He used it to slick Wade up generously, knowing he’d need it. He shivered as Wade stole some of the lube he’d just been slicked with to make sure Peter was still prepared thoroughly, slick and loose from earlier. Peter shivered at the retreat of those fingers, then before he knew it Wade was positioning him up to kneel over him.
There was nothing he couldn’t do, Peter coached himself mentally. He’d saved countless lives, fought villains almost weekly, went to goddamn space. He could take this dick.
The first press of Wade against his entrance had Peter screwing his suddenly-damp eyes shut, lip clamped sharply between teeth, reconsidering his moments-ago notion that he could, indeed, take this dick. But then scarred hands were petting encouragingly at his sides, reminding him to breathe, Pete, relax, lips dotting kisses like a necklace around his throat and suddenly the brief, painful stretch was gone and he was inching down, down, down until he was seated fully in Wade’s lap.
“Fuuuck,” Wade cursed with a groan into his neck as Peter bottomed out, the hands that had been caressing his hips now digging in.
“Just need a minute, just a minute,” Wade breathed out pleadingly, his breath warm and damp across Peter’s flush skin.
A shaky exhale escaped Peter’s lungs in relief. If Peter were being honest, he needed a minute, too. Peter now understood the necessity of a shit ton of lube. The stretch was intense, the fullness on the edge of too much, and Peter tingled at every touch of contact. Wade was everywhere ; under him, in him, taking up space in every crevice of Peter, making him his new permanent residence.
Wade panted into the crook of his neck for another moment as they both adjusted. Peter took the time to explore, letting his hands slip up muscled arms, following the dip and swell of them, tracing thicker scars, until he settled his hands on top of wide, strong shoulders.
“How you doin’, beautiful?” Wade leaned back to ask, catching his eye. “Not too painful?”
Peter gave a squeeze of his hands and a shake of his head as answer. It was another one of those moments where his voice was lost to him. Wade was inside him. This was really happening. He was too enveloped in emotion to properly answer.
“You can move anytime now, sweetheart, but only if you’re ready.”
Peter let himself rise just a little bit, experimentally, before letting gravity ease him back down. It didn’t feel as amazing as Wade’s fingers had, to his disappointment, but it was still plenty sensitive and with each downward movement a thrill went up his spine. Peter could feel the phantom outlines of Wade’s thick, deep scars through the condom, and he couldn’t help but wonder what they’d feel like completely bare, catching on his rim, rubbing intensely inside him.
Peter hoped one day he’d find out.
But he focused back on what he was doing, leveraging himself up a bit more with the help of Wade’s shoulders, legs already burning as he set up a steady rhythm. Wade’s groans were guttural, like he’d taken a bad punch to the stomach, open mouthed and panting against Peter’s collarbone as his large hands spanned the width of Peter’s back as he fucked himself down on Wade’s cock.
With each movement Peter made sure to go a little higher, a little deeper, chasing those pain-pleasure sounds spilling from scarred lips. He was trying to find that spot inside him, the one Wade had seemed to find so easily, but Peter only seemed to be having trouble. He ground down a little harder, a small huff of irritation escaping him, but still that spot evaded him. Wade spasmed under Peter at the rough motion, hands scrambling along his back.
“You, ungh, not getting what you need, Petey?” Wade asked as if he already knew the answer, and a hand slithered down to wrap itself around Peter’s hard on. His voice sounded gravelly, wrecked, and Peter felt a sense of pride that he’d done that.
Oh, that hand wrapped around him felt amazing, the textured scars an unforeseen plus as Wade slowly jacked him.
Peter continued his pace as he tried to explain, “I like it—it feels good—”
“But you’re not feeling the fireworks?” Wade finished for him.
Peter crumpled forward so fast Wade barely had time to register what was going on and Peter buried his face into the crook of his neck. He felt overwhelmed, embarrassed, like he’d somehow messed this all up. Within his spot tucked up against Wade, scars rubbing against his cheek soothingly, he felt like he could breathe a little easier.
“Hey, hey,” Wade spoke softly, concerned, and his arms came up to warp around him. “Peter, seriously, if something isn’t working you gotta tell me, honey.”
“It is working. You like it!” Peter protested. “I just don’t know why I can’t—”
“Hey,” Wade repeated, clasping Peter’s biceps and prying him from his hiding spot. “If it isn’t working for you it isn’t working for me. This is just one of many ways we can do this, Pete. I only suggested it because I thought it might give you some control.”
I don’t want control, a small voice piped up from the back of his mind, but Peter kept it to himself. Instead Peter looked away from Wade’s caring eyes, feeling like a screw up. No wonder he was a twenty-something virgin. He clearly sucked at this.
Wade’s thumb traced a path back and forth across Peter’s bottom lip. “Don’t go beating yourself up in that smart little noggin of yours. You didn’t do anything wrong. I think you know what you want, baby. Why don’t you tell me.”
That scarred digit pressed in a little harder against his lip and Peter’s breath hitched.
“What is it, huh? You know I’d give you anything you asked for. What do you want, Peter?” His voice was a growl, the low timbre of it making Peter shake, an exhilarating zip going up his spine, and his half hard cock jumped along his abdomen.
Wade’s eyes flickered to it before cutting back to Peter’s damn near predatory.
“Tell Deadpool, sweetheart,” Wade urged, but his voice didn’t sound sweet and coaxing, no, it sounded deep, commanding and powerful, like when they patrolled; a voice he’d heard him use a thousand times before since they’d partnered up. It’d just never been directed at him before.
It always did things to him, that voice.
“I want you to fuck me,” Peter pleaded in a whisper, letting the thoughts trapped in his head escape into the space between them.
“Good boy.”
Peter gasped, the words creating a spark of fire that caught and spread like wildfire throughout him, burning everything it touched. He trembled on top of Wade until suddenly the world was shifting, blurring, until he was being shoved back gently, cradled from the jostling move by strong arms.
His back hit the cool sheets of his bed and Wade hovered over him, still inside, arms planted on either side of Peter’s head.
“I told myself I’d let this be about you,” he confessed to Peter hesitantly. But Peter didn’t want that. He wanted Wade to take charge, use him, mark him until there was no question about who Peter had been with and what they’d been doing. No doubt in anyone's mind about who he belonged to.
Peter only had one word catching at the back of his throat.
“Please,” Peter begged, and that was all it took.
Wade lifted one of Peter’s legs, his hand spread against the back of one thigh as he pressed it up towards Peter. The new position had Peter’s eyes rolling back into his head as Wade slid into him, impossibly deeper.
“Fuck,” Wade cursed as he watched Peter’s leg keep going until it pressed up against his own chest. “You're so bendy, you’re like my own personal gumby.”
The position was easy enough for Peter, who’d been flexible long before the bite and even more so after. His leg slipped easily over a broad, marred shoulder, and Wade pressed a kiss to his knee before leaning down on forearms to kiss him sloppily.
“Hold on,” Wade advised, and that was the last thing Peter registered before Wade was pulling out and slamming back in, somehow perfectly hitting that spot Peter had been desperately trying to find on the first try.
Peter cried out at the direct stimulation, hands fisting in the bedsheets, little mewls and whines escaping as Wade kept going, hitting that spot directly like it was his own personal mission in life.
Maybe it was.
Peter felt like a storm was raging under his skin, wild and out of control, making everything sharp and electrified. Every bite of Wade’s lips, every thrust of his hips, every single movement heightened intensely until all Peter was was a sobbing puddle beneath Wade.
Despite it being their first time together Wade was touching him like they were seasoned lovers. He mouthed at Peter’s neck like he knew it would cause sparks to fly behind his closed eyelids. His hand snaked down to grip at Peter’s neglected cock and Peter nearly lost his breath at the duel sensation of being fucked and jerked off; pleasure combining into the almost painful side of too much. It was like he knew just what to do to glean a response out of Peter.
Wade, the puppeteer, and Peter, his puppet.
He wasn’t going to last much longer, at this rate.
Peter didn’t know where Wade liked being touched but suddenly it didn’t matter. He just wanted his hands on the other man. Peter unfisted them from the sheets and set their new destination to Wade, running up his thick arms, across his broad shoulders, running over his handsome, square jaw.
Wade growled, nipping at his fingers, and adjusted his position. He shifted his knees wider, thrusting harder and deeper as his other hand came to rest along the leg on his shoulder, bending Peter even more.
“You make the prettiest sounds,” Wade breathed across his lips and Peter kissed him, deep and slow despite the frantic pounding of Wade’s hips. “I want to record them and keep them forever.”
Peter didn’t have the breath to say it, but he wanted to tell him: you don’t have to record them. I’ll make them for you forever, as long as you promise not to stop.
At another perfect hit against his prostate Peter groaned, lips slipping from Wade’s mouth, across his cheek, to pant harshly against his ear.
“That’s it, baby,” Wade encouraged, sounding like he’d run a dozen miles but was immensely happy about it.
Peter’s pleasure peaked, blindingly mind-blowing, and he found himself spiraling, control slipping out of his reach. It wasn’t something he’d consciously thought to do (although when he pondered it later he wouldn’t regret it) but as he lost himself to Wade’s minstations, he found himself biting down onto the scarred, corded neck right there within reach of his mouth. He moaned around the soft skin right beneath Wade’s ear and let himself shake apart; exploding into a million pieces as he experienced the largest, soul-searing orgasm of his young life.
As Peter spilled in his hand, Wade curled over him instantly, giving one last powerful thrust. It was as if Peter himself had hit a ‘detonate’ button causing Wade to erupt beautifully, like a burning star, and he shook apart right along with the younger man.
There in Peter’s bed, in his tiny apartment, they both broke into a million matching pieces and faded into oblivion.
Peter woke not from the bright sun through his blinds, or his screeching alarm, like usual, but from fingers carding lazily through his hair.
“Rise and shine , sleepy head,” Wade’s thick-with-sleep voice sung from beside him.
Peter shifted, twisting, until he was pressed up against Wade’s side. “Good morning.”
Peter’s mind felt fuzzy from sleep, and the night before. He honestly didn’t remember much after he’d come last night. There were snippets of Wade pulling out, cleaning him up, but beyond that…
He looked down, noticing the sheets had been changed and he was in one of his sleep shirts.
Peter blushed, glancing up at Wade through his eyelashes. He’d kind of maybe sort of passed out on him last night.
“God,” Wade said in an affectionate voice, eyes soft. “Did I tell you how fucking gorgeous you are? The moment you took that mask off I swore I was asleep cause only I could manage to dream up someone that perfect.”
Peter’s eyes rolled off their own accord. “Wade you’re n—
“Not dreaming,” Wade beat him to it. “I know—I mean. I don’t, not really, but I hope I’m not. It’s the best damn dream I’ve ever had, if so.”
Fingers carded back through his hair and Peter stretched, enjoying the feeling of nails along his scalp, and let his head fall onto Wade’s naked chest.
“Oh, does my little kitty like that,” Wade laughed into his curly mess of bedhead.
Peter snapped his eyes shut, feeling emotional all of a sudden, and buried his face further into Wade. He may have told Wade a hundred times he wasn’t dreaming, but the reality was that Peter wasn’t entirely sure himself. The happiness bubbling up instead him warred with his worry, and he prayed he’d be able to keep this. Keep Wade.
A kiss planted itself on the top of his head.
“How do pancakes sound?” Wade asked him, voice more cheerful than Peter had ever heard before.
Peter lifted his head. Shouldn’t they talk about last night?
Wade swooped down to plant a kiss on his mouth, stopping him from asking just that.
“Pancakes first, talking later. Them’s the rules, kiddo.”
Peter felt a tentative smile tick softly at the corner of his mouth. He pushed the worrying aside and let himself just be in the moment. Let himself be enveloped in Wade’s arms, for once not alone when he woke up. Let himself enjoy being in his apartment with this man who was about to cook him breakfast. He felt happy and content. So different from every other morning he usual had.
“Pancakes sound good.”