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Deadpool, dressed in Spider-Man's costume, roped the Chameleon up in front of the police precinct while the real Spider-Man looked on. As Deadpool jogged back over to where Spider-Man was waiting—both of them ignoring the open stares they were getting—Peter wondered at how well Deadpool seemed to impersonate him. I mean sure, the costume hid his face, even made the patches of ruined skin that was showing through less noticeable in comparison, but they weren't built quite the same. He was pretty sure his costume was ruined—stretched and ripped in multiple places.
"You owe me a costume," Spider-Man quipped, not really meaning it.
Deadpool looked down at his tall, muscular body in the stretched-thin latex and appeared to wilt. "Shit," he muttered, looking downcast. "So much for taking care of Spidey's things."
Sighing, Peter rolled his eyes beneath Deadpool's mask and waved his hand nonchalantly. "It's okay, it's been through worse," he found himself saying. Boy, Deadpool was such a downer sometimes. "Though I would like it back…"
He could see Deadpool's smile even through the mask, it was so big. "Uh, sure," Wade said and found the bottom hem of the shirt and began to lift.
Peter caught his hands, stopping him, before he could get far, and hissed, "Not here!" He felt his face grow hot as Deadpool chuckled huskily.
"Wow, uh, holding hands with Spider-Man… am I dreaming after all? Did that drug knock me out and I'm on the roof with Chameleon still…?"
"We are not holding hands!" Peter let go super quickly, like Deadpool was scorching hot suddenly.
He almost missed Deadpool muttering, "I'm never washing these hands again…"
Peter had to admit, Wade's joking around sometimes came across as so sincere that it was embarrassing. He wasn't used to having fanboys, much less ones in the superhero community, so Wade made him flustered. He knew it made him treat Wade bad, but it just wasn't nice to mess with a guy like that. Especially when Wade was such a ripped hunk… I did not just think that, Peter chastised himself, and said out loud, "I didn't even touch your hands, you're wearing gloves. I'm wearing gloves."
Deadpool pretended to pout, muttering something about 'crushed dreams', but then seemingly brightened up and said, "Hey, let's not do the switcheroo in a maintenance closet this time. Wanna come by my place?" He walked off without waiting for an answer, and Spider-Man followed gratefully into the alley, out of sight of the public.
Peter was relieved at first, because a closet would be awkward, plus he really didn't want to spend money on a hotel—and his apartment was way out of the question. But he also remembered what Wade had said—he'd been scoping for a penthouse to squat in. "Your place, I thought you said— Ack!" he began, but was caught off guard when one of those beefy arms wrapped around his torso and he was being wrenched up against Wade's body. He heard the familiar swip of his web shooting and then they were ungracefully swinging up.
"Don't worry!" Wade grunted, in a way that should be kind of gross but was kind of hot instead, "I've got you, baby boy!"
For once Peter got a taste of what it was like being a passenger on one of his web-slinging trips. Well, a passenger who could cling onto the taller man like a spider on the wall. Not being in the driver's seat meant he could gaze around at the buildings whipping by, at the people below who were pointing and staring, at the cars stuck in traffic jams on the streets below. It was kind of nicely relaxing, being held so securely against a warm, hard body while the air whistled past.
Soon enough they were on a rooftop, from where Deadpool rappelled down to a window with Peter on his back. Wade broke the window expertly, barely getting any glass stuck in his hand—and the glove of my suit, dammit, Peter thought to himself—and then moved them in gently.
"Home sweet home," Deadpool sighed, and Peter didn't have the heart to correct him. It was as good a place as any to get cleaned up and switched back. He really wanted another nap.
The inside was fairly spacious by New York standards and very well decorated. There was a thin layer of dust on everything like someone hadn't been home in awhile. The perfect abandoned space for someone to squat for a day or two, maybe more.
Peter followed Deadpool into the bedroom because he was kind of at a loss about how to do this. The last time he'd been unconscious—
Then he realized. Their masks. Through all the shit that had happened, he hadn't even realized that Wade must have seen his face. He groaned aloud, slapping his hand over said face.
"Uh, it ain't that bad…" Wade said uncertainly.
"No, not that, this place is… great." It was pretty nice, better than Peter's apartment. But it went without saying that this wasn't actually Wade's penthouse, so he shouldn't be offended… Peter huffed, then continued, "Look, I know you've seen my face. It's kind of a problem. What do you want?"
"Wha— what do I want?" Wade asked uncertainly, all the world like had no clue what Peter was talking about.
"You're a mercenary, Deadpool. I know I can buy you off. But… Well, superheroes don't really get paid, and my real job doesn't pay that well…" Deadpool held up his hands as he talked, and it was strange seeing him in his own Spider-Man costume. He should have waited until they changed before bringing this up, maybe. As it was, this mask kind of smelled like nacho cheese, and he had been wanting to take it off for a while now. So, he began rolling up the bottom, beginning to pull it over his chin.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Wade exclaimed, waving his hands around frantically now. When Peter just tucked the cloth up over his nose, Deadpool turned away, covering his masked face with a hand. "No, I didn't peek! I swear! Don't uh— Wait, what are the rules for unmasking? Can I look if you're doing it yourself?"
Peter breathed a sigh of relief with his face naked to the somewhat stale indoor air. It felt good to breathe something that didn't remind him of Taco Bell. He tossed the mask onto the bed. "You really didn't look?" Peter asked, not believing him in the least.
Deadpool put a hand on his hip, still stupidly covering his face with his hand. "Who do you take me for? A superhero's identity is sacred!"
Peter groaned in frustration. "Seriously, you can drop the fanboy act and just tell me what you want to keep you quiet. I won't sleep at night otherwise."
Deadpool was silent and still for a moment. It was awkward, so Peter peeled off his gloves and, after tossing them beside the mask on the bed, carded his hands through his hair. "You think about it. In the meantime, give me my costume."
Finally Wade turned his back and pulled the mask up off his head. "Uh… I really mean it when I say I don't want anything. What are friends for, amirite? And about the costume, I'm really sorry it got kind of ruined, I was planning on washing it before returning it to you and everything. I may have drooled on the mask a little bit while doped up and..."
Wade babbled on, all the while peeling more and more of the suit off of himself. Peter barely listened, because the more and more that came off, the more and more pity he felt. Deadpool was covered in scars—his skin was just one giant bundle of scars. It was ugly like a car crash and Peter couldn't look away. Not even when he was standing in only his tighty-whiteys.
"Spidey, you there?"
Peter jumped in his skin, realizing they had been standing silently with him staring at Deadpool's broad backside for what could have been minutes, he had been so out of it. He felt flushed and guilty somehow. "Um, yeah," Peter forced out. "I'll just— I'll take a shower first." He ran into the bathroom and shut the door as normally as he could, heart thumping wildly. He leaned back onto the door for a moment, embarrassed.
He'd rushed in here without thinking—what if the water wasn't even on? When he pushed himself away from the door and reached in the small stall, he was relieved to find the water ran fine. The water struck the opposite wall and part of the glass door, the sound calming him somewhat. He stripped and left the red and black costume by the door and gratefully stepped into the spray, as the coldness hit almost slipping and crying out—but thankfully didn't.
A couple of seconds after he'd pulled the glass door closed the bathroom door opened. Peter, shivering outside of the stream of water wondering what he was doing, stared at the blurry peach shape bending down to get the costume from the floor. Then the figure stood still, and for a horrible moment Peter thought he could been seen—but it couldn't be. The other man was definitely staring this way, though, wasn't he? It was stupid—he'd already seen him naked. That realization only made the tightness in his stomach worse.
After Wade left, shutting the door behind him with a soft click, Peter let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He'd really thought maybe Deadpool could see him, or that he'd reach out and pull aside the door between them… Despite the chilly water pouring beside him, Peter felt hot. A fever? He hadn't been sleeping well with Chameleon after him, he wouldn't be surprised. Had to be the flu, because he definitely didn't feel aroused…
He looked down at the erection jutting from his body telling him otherwise. He slipped below the water and gasped at the sensation, washing himself down. Thoroughly. For about twenty seconds. Without soap. But it cooled his passion, so when he stepped out he was just a normal, wet, and shivering guy.
As he stood dripping on the floor willing his body to generate heat again, he heard Wade call through the door, "Was the water hot?" It was a normal enough question, but it made him feel vulnerable that Wade was right there through the thin piece of wood. And it wasn't fair that Wade had seen him naked, though he guessed they were even now that Deadpool had undressed right in front of him. And it really wasn't fair that he had to find this situation erotic, because it made no sense.
All he wanted right now was for Wade to go away, but after his ponderous hesitation he responded, "No…" He hated the way his voice quaked, so he bit his lip and berated himself to get a grip.
"Okay well, a little trick I've learned— use the sheets on the bed as a towel when there isn't one. There isn't one, is there?" Feeling idiotic, Peter didn't even respond. Not taking that as the cue it was—go away—Deadpool turned the handle of the door. Startled, Peter was on the ceiling the next moment as the door opened. "I'm covering my eyes, I swear, Spidey," Deadpool explained as he maneuvered into the room blind, holding out a thin sheet that dragged on the ground. "Where you at?"
Peter cleared his throat, trying not to laugh when Wade lifted his head in startlement. "The ceiling…"
Deadpool stayed just like that, rigid. His breathing was coming in little pants that was somehow sexy, and maybe it was because his grotesque face was mostly covered but with Deadpool in only his underwear, breathing like that, Peter's mind was going to very naughty places. How murderous would the mercenary be if he just jumped onto his back to ride on his shoulders? Peter giggled, cutting the sound short, but didn't miss Wade's responding grin. "Okay, I'm coming down," the superhero admitted, jumping down in front of Deadpool and taking the proffered blanket to wrap it around himself. "You can look now."
Deadpool took a deep, shaky breath and began to back away. "Uh, secret identity, remember? Do you heroes have a hard time remembering that bit?" he blurted. He was blind so he didn't realize that his foot was caught on the long sheet until he was tripping backwards in it. With another startled grunt Peter was forcefully pulled down onto his knees by the sheet pinned beneath the other as he fell. Peter caught himself on his hands, positioned amidst Wade's legs.
You could cut the sexual tension in the air with a knife. Wade was apologizing profusely, eyes scrunched shut like his life depended on it, but Peter wasn't paying attention. Wade was rock hard in his briefs, the head of his dick poking out the top diagonally, that's how big it was. The tight white cloth did little to hide the bumpy texture of his cock.
"I have an idea," Peter said softly. "About how I could pay you." He tentatively touched Wade's hip and was rewarded by a shiver that seemed to go through Wade's whole body. His tirade stopped dead as his body became as still as a statue except his heaving chest. Taking that as permission, though he wasn't sure, Peter smoothed his fingers over the barely-there underwear until he could wrap his hand partly around the hard cock.
Wade's eyes flew open and he stared down in shock at the young man kneeling in front of him. Spider-Man's face was pink and his light brown hair dripping. That was as much as he saw before he shut his eyes again and squeaked, "I didn't see anything, I swear, I…" But now it was a lie, because the sight of Spider-Man's blushing, wide-eyed face was etched into his brain forever. The touch on his erection brushed up his whole length and he was coming, quaking and breathless with the suddenness of it.
"Oh…" Peter sounded, more out of surprise than anything else. The scarred skin of Wade's cheeks and chest was reddish now, his mouth open slightly to let out ragged breaths, his cock still hard inside his now slightly damp underwear, his side glistening with cum. Peter let go, feeling like he was burning up, and it dawned on him that he was just as hard beneath the thin sheet. He quickly pulled the sheet out from under Wade and wrapped himself more fully in it, standing.
Wade hadn't moved from the spot and had taken to covering his whole face in both hands. After a moment where Peter pondered jumping over him and running for his life out of here, Wade's muffled voice came out in something like a whine. "Sorry, you, you touched— Fuck, Spidey, I… I'm sorry."
Why was he apologizing? Peter frowned. He was still hard, so Peter offered, "You want more?"
Something in his tone had Wade groaning and shaking his head. "Embarrass myself even more in front of the Amazing Spider-Man? With the most gorgeous fa—"
Gorgeous face? Peter gaped in disbelief.
"I swear I won't tell anyone. Who'd believe me anyway? 'Oh yeah, by the way, Spidey's a pretty-boy underneath that mask, I know because I saw his face while he was stroking me' and wow…" Wade's abs tightened as he swung his upper body upright until he was sitting, still covering his face.
"Wade…"
"No, I'm good, your— your face is safe. Not that I'd be able to pick you up out of a lineup, I only got a quick glimpse, you know how my memory is, I probably won't even remember tomorrow…"
Sometimes, Wade's incessant ramblings were really annoying. Peter kind of wanted to shut him up. Actually, that was a really good idea. At least his raging boner said so. He dropped the soaking wet, cold sheets from his still faintly shivering body and stepped between Wade's splayed legs. Wade flinched back at the rustling, but Peter gripped his wrists and used his superstrength to pull them away from his face. What he saw should have cooled his ardor somewhat: tears had left streaks of wet down the sides of Wade's face and he was grimacing around his eyes shut tight.
"I'm not looking, I swear, I—"
"Good," Peter said gently. Today had been a really shitty day. This was no way to thank Deadpool for everything—or was it? He made so many jokes, boasted with so much innuendo, almost like a fanboy… And now Peter was rationalizing this, so before he could talk himself out of it he ordered as nicely as he could, "Open your mouth."
Deadpool made a choking sob of a moan but did as he was told. And then Peter was sliding himself in, tilting his head back as Deadpool sucked him in eagerly. Feeling dizzy and both cold and hot at once, Peter inched himself in until he hit the back of the assassin's throat and it was so good. He moaned, thinking his—not partner, but the guy who had his dick in his mouth—would appreciate the feedback.
Wade's grimace was gone, fading into something disgustingly sweet. He bobbed his head on his own, tongue laving at every bit of Peter's dick as he could. Peter closed his eyes, enraptured by the sensations of pleasure. He wouldn't last long like this, but he'd already beat Deadpool's record so he didn't think he'd be embarrassed by how quick he was today. His hips canted forward slightly as he got close. The mouth around him was so wet, spit slicking the entire length, Wade slurping it up. The naughtiness of this—Peter grabbed the back of Wade's head and guided it faster, trembling but not caring about his lack of motor control with how good it felt. "Ah, close," he gasped, drawing back.
Wade's throat followed him, slurping and gagging slightly, and then he was saying something garbled that sounded oddly like, "Come inside my mouth," to Peter's lust-addled brain. He gave a shout as the vibrations did him in, shooting his load down Wade's throat, pulsating in that wet heat.
After he had recovered enough to remember where he was, who he was, after such a fantastic orgasm, he discovered himself braced on the wall with his forehead on his lower arm. Wade's head was leaning back on the wall below, staring up at him. Feeling weak, Spider-Man pushed himself away from the wall and went to sit on the toilet with the top down. Wade's eyes followed him, and he blushed under the scrutiny.
What did you say in this sort of situation? Shame poured into him and pooled in his gut. He'd just touched Deadpool, had let him suck him off—no, forced him to suck him off. How could he show his face near Avengers tower ever again? Or even continue living in this city? Was his life over?
Something must have shown on his face, because Wade began apologizing again. Peter didn't listen at first, until he heard, "...You're just so beautiful."
That woke Peter up. "What?" he asked, startled.
Wade's eyes darted away, but came back to him as if he couldn't help it. "Let me take a shower, and we can… continue?" Wade asked hopefully. He also sounded sad, though, so Peter knew he didn't actually expect anything.
"Uh, sure," Peter said, letting his tone hint that this was as far as it was going to get.
"'Kay," Wade said, nodding. He swallowed thickly and used the wall to help him get to his feet. "Clothes are drying in the kitchen."
Peter left so fast he thought his feet would be on fire by the time he reached the kitchen. Wade was right, his costume was hanging on a string of what appeared to be floss stretching from a cabinet to the fridge. Both costumes were dripping wet on the line, but they looked pretty clean. The sink was still wet and it was obvious that Wade must have handwashed them both in the sink while he'd been in the shower.
The idea of putting the wet clothes on after that cold shower made Spider-Man wish he could just swing through the city naked. He squeezed as much water out of it as he could, then snuck back toward the bedroom. Peeking in, he was happy to hear the shower running in the attached bathroom, so he went to the bed and wrapped himself up in the comforter.
By the time Deadpool came out he had warmed up quite a bit. He'd also had time to think.
"Deadpool," he greeted the mercenary, who was wrapped in the sheet he'd left behind. It had been soaked easily, so it probably wasn't doing much to dry Wade off. He couldn't help but notice that it clung to his skin like a tight dress, outlining every muscle in the front of his thighs and his chest. He dragged his gaze to the foot of the bed and cleared his throat. "Look, um, about what happened..."
"Really good," Deadpool sighed happily. "Plenty enough for me, to be honest. I'll keep your little secret."
"Right," Peter said skeptically before he realized that Wade was giving him a way out. Maybe the cold shower had been able to cool him off in a way that hadn't worked on Peter, but… "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…" Too embarrassed to continue, he gestured vaguely through a small gap in the comforter.
Suddenly Deadpool asked, "Got room in that comforter for me?"
Peter blinked at him a moment. He wanted to…? Begrudgingly, Peter wiggled and opened the side, and Deadpool peeled off the sheet to slip inside, legs hanging out but the comforter barely fit around his shoulders. Peter was still snuggled up in most of it, but what he'd managed to get seemed to be enough for Deadpool. Spider-Man tried not to think about how he was basically cuddling with Deadpool, of all people, but after today he found he didn't really care. If Deadpool hadn't shown up out of the blue… It was because of Wade that he'd been able to trust someone enough to save his life. He kind of owed him.
"This," Wade said softly into his ear, and Peter couldn't repress a quiver as it tickled. "This is enough for me. I promise I won't tell."
At first Peter was skeptical as they sat together, Peter indian-style and Wade with legs over the side of the bed. Then he realized with a sickening start that for someone like Deadpool, receiving an orgasm and cuddling would be payment. Not in a whorish way, but lonely.
Peter felt even more terrible. He'd relied on Deadpool today, and then he'd taken advantage of him as thanks. What kind of superhero was that? Feeling nauseous, he joked, "Your mask smells like nacho cheese."
"Mmmm," Wade moaned as if the thought was delicious.
Peter laughed, and it wasn't forced at all. But his face quickly turned into a frown again. "I really shouldn't have…"
"C'mere, Spidey," Deadpool suggested, wrapping his arms around Peter's waist and pulling him onto himself as he lay back and to the side, until they were cuddling with Peter mostly on top. He pulled the comforter around them and just held Peter there gently. Deadpool had warmed up quickly so he felt like a radiator, and as solid as one. Before Peter could decide whether he should get away—probably hurting Wade in the process—the mercenary began talking in a soft tone. "I thought it had been painfully obvious how much I wanted it, so what are you worried for? Besides, I've told you before that I…"
Peter stopped listening partway through, instead letting the warm vibrations send him into a peaceful sleep. He didn't realize he was asleep until he woke up and the room was plunged into darkness.
Something moving had woken him up, but not in a way that forced him wide-awake, just partly dreaming. The dampness yet heat of their bodies combined had made the inside of their little comforter-burrito a little steamy and sticky, so his skin was dragged slightly every time the thing moved.
As he woke up more he realized that the comforter was moving because another arm was moving and dragging it. There was a slick sound occasionally and Peter felt a fire light in his belly when he realized Wade was slowly jacking himself off with the arm that wasn't wrapped around Peter. They were in a slightly uncomfortable half-cuddle with Peter's leg on his thigh not far from the action, and he could feel the barest little bit of vibration from there.
Deadpool seemed to realize a second later that Peter was awake somehow, because his hand stilled and he whispered, "You awake, baby boy?"
Peter sucked in a breath. "Uh, yeah," he said, hoping that it was as casual as he hoped it was. He sat up slightly, feeling a bit sweaty but in a good way. The action opened the comforter somewhat and he could smell their combined musk, not quite sex but arousing. He could feel himself getting hard against Wade's thigh. "U-um, morning w- wood," he stuttered mock-flippantly.
Suddenly the hand that had been resting on his back was pushing the back of his head down and his lips were alighting on chapped skin. He realized he was kissing Deadpool when a tongue slipped past what felt like a scab and into his mouth. It was a little gross, so Peter pushed up, separating them.
After he did he regretted it immediately, and not just because Wade's hand fisted in his hair. He let out a little breath of surprised want at the sensation, trying desperately to see Wade's expression in the dark. It was too shadowy, however, and he could feel his cock pulsing, turned on, against Wade.
"Wade… Wilson," Peter said, not liking the tremor in his voice at all, but hoping that Deadpool would be calmed by the use of his real, full name.
"You're so cute when you sleep," Wade said with a hint of a whine. "Who knew Spider-Man was so young and beautiful?" Peter scoffed, but he continued. "After today, you owe me, you said it yourself, and I— I can't hold back." As those words hit Peter's ears, not quite registering yet, the hulk of muscle partly beneath him was coiling over and pushing him down beneath it.
Peter was stronger, but right now he too shocked to think. It didn't even occur to him to push off the mercenary as rough kisses were rained down on the side of his face, toward his ear, then his neck. When he turned his face away to offer Wade more skin, there was a shaky breath on his neck and then Deadpool was nipping at him, little love-bites that had Peter squirming. No one had ever been like this with him, both loving and rough— he felt super sensitive, attributing it to having just woken up.
"W- Wade," he mumbled as there was a teasing suck on his pulse point. He couldn't tell what he was rubbing him, but bumps and ridges were scraping against his cock, slightly damp from what could be sweat or humidity or sexual fluids. It was filthy and so Wade—Peter moaned as a hard, long thing poked into his stomach roughly. He didn't notice the hand still in his hair until the feather-light fingers stuttered in their little petting motions.
Wade used everything on his body, hips grinding down, legs spreading Peter's, mouth on Peter's neck, and fingers in his hair. It was overwhelming to the point that he didn't realize that even now he could put a stop to it, and Wade only got more and more bold, until Peter felt the breath go out of him as the cock jammed into his esophagus.
He coughed and felt something incredibly wet spreading where it was jutting into him. His cough devolved into surprised grunting breaths. Maybe it sounded like laughing to Wade because he very roughly bit at Peter's collarbone and tugged his hair. "Ah- ahh," Peter let out, feeling tingly all over and shocked at how good everything Deadpool did felt. It should be gross, right? he asked himself. But he found himself liking it, though if it had been light out he knew he wouldn't feel the same.
Guiltily he sighed, "Deadpool."
"You think I'm done, Spidey?" Deadpool drawled, twisting his hips so he'd knock the wind out of the person under him with his dick again.
Then he was rearing up above Peter; he clambered on, and hooked his feet under Peter's knees and wedged Peter's thighs up against his ass to keep him in place. This put their crotches together, his misshapen balls lying directly on Peter's erection. Hands also pinned, Peter shivered and made a token struggle without actually attempting to dislodge Deadpool.
It wasn't that he was afraid—in fact, he never felt in danger around Deadpool. It should be weird, because with all the psychos he'd ever hung out with he almost always felt some sort of twinge around them, some foreboding pre-Spider-sense. But not with Deadpool. No, he just didn't know what to do with them in this position. Wasn't Wade going to try to rape him? Would it be rape? Peter wasn't sure; he felt like he was feverish again, a tight coil of frustration in the pit of his stomach.
"How do you want me?" Wade purred. Peter's hardon twitched against its burden. "Okay…"
"What? Dead- pool- what…" Peter said, attempting to talk but finding it difficult for his mouth and throat to cooperate.
Then Deadpool was dragging his balls gently but deliberating up his length until he was digging into the cleft of his ass. "I washed it good for you," Wade avowed, voice a deep rumble.
Was this actually happening? Peter wondered if this was some sick dream—wasn't the first time he'd had a dream with Deadpool in it—but it felt real enough. He barely noticed when one of his hands was suddenly free and then there was something grabbing him around the base, aiming him up. He was then sliding into tight heat.
Peter didn't know what came over him, but he was buried as far as he could go in one smooth thrust of his hips. Wade cried out, deliriously happy, and it made the frustration worse. He twisted his restrained hand out of Wade's grip and used it and the other hand to grab at Wade wherever he could as he began to thrust up, struggling against Deadpool's restraining leg lock.
He proved much stronger than Deadpool and was soon pounding into him savagely, not holding anything back. Wade tried to be quiet at first, emitting low groans and whines, then he seemed to lose control at one random thrust, and he howled. It almost startled Peter into stopping, but he wanted to lose control, too. It was so hot inside Wade, clinging to him with the perfect amount of pressure, and so he resumed the same pace, pressing a little extra hard when Wade howled again.
"Do it, do it, do it," Deadpool chanted, lips loose and barely coherent. Normally his very voice was annoying, but here it was exactly what Peter didn't know he wanted. He thrust in time to the chant, feeling ready to burst.
Wade must have felt the same because he was rocking in time with it, jumping almost onto all fours with the ferocity of their fucking. It was raw and animalistic and Peter loved it, loved seeing the dim outline of Wade throwing his head back, shaking. "Fuck me!" Wade begged, desperate and needy and sexy.
Such a big manly guy sounding like that—Peter began to question everything about his sexuality in this moment. Well, not right now, kinda busy here, but later on he'd realize this was the moment it began. Or maybe earlier, but you get the point.
Anyway, Wade was begging, "Fuck me! Oh, fuck me, Spider-Man!"
Peter had only ever had sex with girls who insisted on calling him Peter, whether or not they knew his identity. Hearing his superhero name, knowing that even though Wade had seen his face this was still practically Wade having anonymous sex with someone he didn't even know the name of… It was hot, and Peter was melting, body moving automatically. His hands moved up Wade's chest and found his pecs. They weren't breasts, they were hard and the nipples were missing—maybe—but it was its own kind of arousing. He kneaded Wade's chest and thrust his cock inside him with all his strength and Deadpool howled wordlessly again.
He felt droplets of cum flying onto his stomach, up his chest, all the way to his mouth, in multiple spurts. It was impossible to see but he could feel Wade's hands were occupied by being on Peter—Wade had just come from only his ass being fucked.
"You're gonna make me—" Peter began, embarrassed again but wanting it, wanting more.
"Oh yeah, fill me with your spider-spunk, Spider-Man!" Deadpool said gleefully, thighs flexing powerfully around Peter's skinny hips, body shuddering with every softened impact. This ground Peter's cock deep inside him, so tight and hot, and Peter knew he was coming before he quite felt it happen.
Despite the ridiculousness, he was coming in long throes, satisfyingly deep inside. He'd never come inside someone without a condom before and it felt incredible. Beyond incredible, he couldn't think, couldn't breathe or blink, his mind blown.
He collapsed out on the bed, exhausted and sated, with Deadpool still sitting on his half-hard cock. To his surprise, Deadpool began fisting his cock like he would yank it off. "Oh fuck, oh good, you're good, you're…" he babbled, not making much sense, as he shuddered and undulated gently on what remained of Peter's erection as he masturbated furiously. He was slick with come, both inside and out, so he moved with ease into another orgasm. This time he sprayed cum enough to coat Peter's stomach.
"Wow," Peter praised, the one syllable about as much as he'd be able to muster in the next hour or so.
"Healing… factor…" Deadpool groaned, bouncing a bit, enough to make Peter wince at the overstimulation. "Or… Fucking Spider-Man, this is Heaven, this is Nirvana…"
Peter winced again, for an entirely different reason. He'd just been chasing pleasure, but for Deadpool this was… Okay, not believing it's a holy experience, but it was certainly something that meant quite a bit to the assassin. Another reason to feel guilty, and this maybe wasn't a completely shitty day but it sure was one of the lowest points in his life. Taking advantage of someone so obviously…
"I didn't…" Peter said, but Wade clamped a hand over his mouth before he could continue. "?!" Spider-Man made a noise of complaint but Wade breathlessly shook his head.
The other one of Wade's hands was still on his own cock, stroking it greedily. He had stopped bouncing or moving his hips, thank god, but Peter was still inside him. It was starting to be uncomfortable but Wade didn't seem like he wanted to get off, and Peter didn't have the heart to force the issue.
He hadn't realized about Deadpool's feelings. If he had known it was more than a joke, he wouldn't have done what he'd done. But at the same time, he wondered why. They had both felt good. He suspected Deadpool more so.
A minute or two later, Peter patiently waiting it out and forced to breath through his nose, more cum landed on his stomach, Deadpool twitching around him. Dammit, but that was hot; he felt himself growing rock hard again. Not that he wanted to continue.
Deadpool dragged himself off with a sharp hiss that told Peter he maybe hadn't fully enjoyed this, but he was reassured when the mercenary then let out a long, drawn-out moan. It was to the point of theatrical, making Peter grin.
Deadpool flopped bonelessly beside Peter, spreading out on the rest of the bed. Peter stayed where he was, eyes closing, feeling like he might fall asleep again but not sure if he wanted to. Before he could decide or let his sleepiness decide for him, a light snore began, emanating from the man beside him. He waited but it seemed that Wade was legit asleep. Feeling relaxed, he drifted off too.
He woke up some minutes later to Wade grumbling in his sleep. His belly grumbled in response; he was super hungry. It had been a long day, and he couldn't remember the last time he ate.
"Wade?" he said lightly.
The grumbling continued, so Peter rolled onto his side and watched the inky blob on the square blob in the darkness. He stayed like that for a little while, not entirely sure why. Sleep didn't seem peaceful for Wade, but it was probably better than being awake.
A few more minutes like this and he just knew his stomach was eating itself. He thought about leaving quietly, but that felt like using Wade, and the poor guy probably got that enough. He wasn't sure mutually fantastic sex could fully repay what Deadpool had done for him today.
It was probably sometime late at night but this was New York, you could find chow anytime. With renewed vigor he called Deadpool's name, resorting to stroking his arm gently and trying not to jump in surprise when Deadpool startled awake.
"Wanna get some hot dogs?" he asked the Merc With a Mouth.
"You remembered!" Deadpool said happily, sounding wrecked and half-asleep.
"Remember what? I just like hot dogs," Peter asked.
"Oh yeah, that wasn't you, was it? Knew sumfin' was funny… 'bout… Mmm, hot dogs. Yes, please."
Apparently Deadpool knew how to shut himself up, and Peter groaned in appreciation. He lept out of bed, not surprised in the least when Wade followed him into the small bathroom. Neither of them wanted to endure the cold spray, so Deadpool somehow magicked up a sponge and they used it plus a bit of water to wash off the cum.
Spider-Man was glazed like a donut and glared at Deadpool's ruined face once the light was on. Wade shrugged unapologetically with a grin and just helped him clean it off.
They got their hot dogs and sat on one of Spider-Man's favorite roofs from which to watch the city as they ate. Peter tried not to notice the fact that, now that he was back in his costume, it smelled faintly like Deadpool. Not nacho cheese, but just his clean-washed scent, and maybe a bit of BO. It wasn't a big deal, at least Peter hoped not, because he almost kind of liked it.
He wondered if Deadpool's costume now smelled like him. Maybe they should switch costumes sometimes...
They hung out for a little while, eating their many hot dogs, talking. And Spider-Man decided that today was not bad. Not bad at all.