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Appearances can be more deceiving than we think.
The great superhero Spider-Man and the ruthless merc Deadpool, certainly an infamous couple — the Daily Bugle could say it, if one day they decide to stop showing up together in public, there's no doubt that that old-ass mustache man will go bankrupt.
As if Spidey swinging around New York with his webs carrying an adult man on his back wasn't strange enough in the eyes of conservatives, imagine the scandals that would spread through the mouths of the people if they knew the true faces of their relationship.
This has to be one of the only cases where fangirl’s theories are not, in fact, just queerbaiting.
But yeah, looks can be deceiving. The public image of the vigilante and the mercenary has always been well defined as the pervy Deadpool "simping" for the innocent neighborhood hero. It's not my role to deny such a perspective, ‘cause, facts: from the moment Wade laid eyes on that beautiful ass covered by only (again, only) a layer of blue spandex, Spider-Man gained a new all-out fan. Perhaps the one who would soon become his number one fan.
But the ones who think he is, somehow, innocent, are wrong.
It all started the same day Peter revealed his identity to the merc. It was a moment that overwhelmed both of them emotionally, unsurprisingly. Two huge disasters covered in trauma and anxiety. But above that, full of a greedy repressed lust.
Their first lovely kiss ended hours later, with the bed in Wade's apartment broken into several pieces amid the ecstasy of finally not having to hold back their superhuman strength. They were a perfect match, unafraid of breaking each other as a result of their abilities.
Over time, it became a habit, and it escalated to such an extent that it got out of control — and don't you dare to think that's a bad thing! Quite the opposite. Wade gets over the moon solely by imagining Parker's strong arms wrapping his neck from behind, with such strength that could send any normal human to their last moments, or at the very least would pass them out from lack of air in a few seconds, but to the merc it was just the icing on the cake: just the tiny detail he needed to fill his systems with adrenaline and make him desperate for more friction.
They challenged their own limits. Peter has too many reflexes to contain himself in the euphoria of an orgasm. Wade gets even better angles if he breaks a few bones. Webs hold much better than thick ropes. The ceiling isn't all that uncomfortable, nor the rusty scaffoldings at tall abandoned buildings — the free fallin'? Jackpot.
It might surprise many to learn that 90% of these ideas always come from Peter.
Okay, maybe it won't surprise you, but it did surprise Deadpool. It was like a shock of reality to realize that behind the vigilante's mask he would find thirsty eyes, with reciprocal desires or even more fervent ones. And did this end with the man’s lust somehow? Not quite! Whatever Peter wants to try, Wade is completely on board to do it so; and the same for the other.
Bondage? Check. Threesome? Check. Gangbangs? Check. Knives and guns? Double check. Omorashi? You get used to it. Exibitionism? Oh, check.
I must also mention the strange and unfulfilled fantasies of both of them. Maybe results from constant exposure to violence on a daily basis, the kind of thing that really fucks up with your head after some time. Unrealities and illegalities, you know; nullification, amputation, wound fuck, or, ‘dunno, using somebody's femur as a dildo. Things that those with a perfect state of mind — and surprisingly, most of the time it is their case — for obvious reasons don't even think about actually trying, but in the dead of night with an empty mind and eyes glued on porn site with such a strange URL that it looks more like a social security number, are good for a nice handjob.
Between them, such gruesome things were never secrets, but a little something that they acknowledged in their relationship and never acted upon.
But not everything stays inside forever. It didn't surprise Wade when Peter took them to the mercenary's apartment after a cold night punching rapists on the street, and barely after they passed through the door he already had a proposition on the tip of his tongue.
"I want to open you up," the arachnid said.
"Wow," Deadpool replied, taking a minute to at least drink some water before moving on to the next action of the day. “After using an entire arm on Thursday, I thought you'd be more creative for the weekend.”
“That's not what I meant, Wade.” Peter left his mask on the arm of the couch and laid right there. It didn't escape the mercenary's eyes as the younger man looked at his own hands with the glow of someone who had an idea. Cheirophilia never seemed like his thing, so Wade had to investigate.
“So what is it?” Deadpool sat down beside him and curiously held the thin, strong wrist still covered by the suit's gloves. A little bit of blood smeared the fabric right at the joints between his fingers.
“Imagine that… all over my body.” Peter spread his hand over Wade's, giving him a better view. “And inside you.” With his other hand he slowly traced Wade's neck to his belly, imagining what it would be like if he cut the same path with something very sharp, if he could feel the scarlet heat cover them.
“Pete…”
“Wade.” Peter climbed onto Deadpool's lap, already excited just by the solemn fact of the idea he'd just come up with. "I want to know what your blood tastes like..."
Their foreheads were pressed together, and instead of closing the gap between their mouths with a kiss, Peter bit his boyfriend's lower lip, as if looking for a preview of what to expect.
“I want to hold your heart in my hand.” The brunette squeezed his partner's hips hard. “I want to see how much it will beat as long as I allow it.”
"Oh, damn." Wilson's hands were too busy squeezing the fabric of the sofa to reciprocate the desperate touch. "What wouldn't I do for you, huh?"
Spidey smiled, giving Wade's already reddened lips a break to whisper in his ear:
“It will be fun. Now, will you lend me one of your katanas?”