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“You want to make a cast mold of my dick?”
Peter lowers his book down slowly and stares holes into Wade who is gesturing at said dick molding kit like he’s Vanna White and Peter is the lucky winner of a brand new car.
“Correction,” Wade grins. “I will be making a cast mold of your dick.”
“Interesting,” Peter says, already raising his book back up to eye level as he searches for his place. “I’m excited how to see how you pull it off without my dick being involved.”
“You promised,” Wade says, dropping the box on the entry table before grabbing onto Peter’s shoulders and shaking him. “It was actually your idea.”
“I would never have an idea that stupid.” Peter rolls his eyes, tempted to shove back but he doesn’t want Wade hitting their new coat rack and breaking it so he settles for flipping his body to the other side of the couch, sending Wade stumbling.
“You said that you wanted to fuck me with a golden dildo,” Wade says, positioned at the end of the couch with a feral look of intensity.
Peter opens his mouth to disagree but then there’s a vague, mortifying memory of Peter mumbling something about a solid gold dildo while giving Wade a hand job in an alley months ago. What that has to do with this entire scenario he has very little clue outside of the fact that a conceptual dick is involved.
“I don’t think my idea had anything to do with a custom cast mold of my phallus Wade.” Peter sighs as he scans the page, he’s lost his place again. “I mentioned you hypothetically buying me a very expensive dildo that I would hypothetically use on you. I didn’t say the dildo should or could be molded after me. Also, it was all very, very hypothetical.”
“Well, you owe me one.” Wade grins, all teeth. “So it’s not hypothetical.”
“Wade.” Peter rubs between his brows and groans. “You can’t be serious.”
Wade shrugs, straddling the couch in a way that makes his leg muscles bulge. Peter stares. Wade grins when he catches it and Peter rolls his eyes before raising his book to block out his entire body.
“Peter.” Wade chides. “I’m shocked. I thought you’d appreciate me being economical.” He shrugs. “I could always just buy a solid gold one. Gwynth Paltro highly recommends one that’s on the low end of 15k and you know I don’t mind splurging - ”
Peter snaps the book shut.
“Fifteen thousand is a ridiculous amount of money for anything.” Peter tries to imagine a time in his life when he spent that much on anything. “Besides, wouldn’t that be more of a display item?”
Wade leers. “Not how I would use it.”
“And what are you going to use it for?” Peter sighs. “The one molded after me.”
“I feel like the answer is in the question mon cheri,” Wade responds before standing up and walking over to grab the box, shaking it in Peter’s direction. “Follow me to the parlor?”
Peter scowls before sliding the receipt he’s been using as a bookmark to mark his place. He likes to be in bed early on weekdays, and this is very much cutting into his reading time but a promise is a promise - Wade did pay over ten thousand dollars for a very, very expensive suit that Peter was responsible for destroying. If Wade wanted to make some tacky dildo desk ornament that may or may not get some actual physical use - well, there were worse ways he could have cashed that favor in. Peter didn’t like it, but at least the kit seemed the better alternative than Wade investing fifteen thousand into something functionally worse.
Peter follows Wade up the stairs to the bathroom, which Wade does call the parlor even though it very much is a too-small bathroom built in the 70s that has splash tile and 3-1 shampoo in the shower.
Peter straddles the toilet while Wade wrestles open the box, dumping the contents on the counter and knocking over several of Peter’s hair products over the side in a cataclysm that makes Peter want to not let Wade take a mold of his penis.
“First step in copying a penis - “ Wade reads loudly and Peter can already feel himself growing warm around the neck, this is going to be so embarrassing. Why does Wade always use his promises for the worst things possible? It’s never, ‘you have to spot me dinner’ - or ‘give me a back rub’, it’s either life-threatening or this, sticking his dick in a mold so his boyfriend can - well - Peter doesn’t know why he’s feeling almost hostile at the thought of Wade using his own dick as a dildo, as if that is something you can even feasibly feel jealous about but it’s weird. It’s very weird. He’s for sure allowed to not feel kosher about it.
“Oh, you’ll like this.” Wade interrupts his thoughts by tossing the foldout at his face after skimming it for less than a second. “Something blah blah about alginate, which apparently is made from brown fucking seaweed and is the safest and most precise material for this kind of thing.” He jabs his arm forward like he’s stabbing someone with one of his katanas. “And that’s what I’m looking for here you know, precision.”
Peter snatches the foldout from where it’s fallen on the ground and starts reading it from the beginning. “I like that you care more about precision than safety.” The diagram pictures make his stomach twist uncomfortably. “I guess if my dick melts off doing this you would, in fact, have a silicon replacement at the ready.”
“Always prepare for disaster,” Wade says tapping the countertop impatiently. “That’s what they teach you in Boy Scouts.”
“You’ve never been a Boy Scout,” Peter says, though his attention is very much around the nature of alginate. He’s googling it now and is reading about how it’s used to make exact copies of teeth, crowns, and filler materials in cheap brands of ice cream and hamburgers.
“Do you know this shit you’re putting on my dick sometimes goes in ice cream?” Peter asks thoughtfully. “You know you’ve probably eaten - “
“Dickweed?” Wade grins. “That is not a deterrent to the brave and sexually secure.”
Peter gags. “Gross.”
“Are you done reading the instructions nerd?” Wade pushes off the counter. “I want to know how to make this actually work sometime today,” Wade says, waving the little bag of what Peter assumes is the alginate.
“Mix with warm water because if you mix with cold water - “
“It shrinks.”
“How do you know that?” Peter looks at Wade curiously.
“Uh, I own a dick?” Wade points down south. “Cold water doesn’t make anything bigger that’s for fucking sure. I’m looking for size. Girth.” He clenches his fist. “I want it to be as formidable as the original.”
Peter can’t help his smug grin.
“Less gloating more reading Parker.” Wade snaps his fingers in front of his face. “Don’t you have a nine o’clock bedtime you want to make?”
Peter snaps the paper loudly as he continues reading before coming to an abrupt pause.
“I need to be fully erect for this to work.”
Wade gives him a thousand-yard stare. “I can’t believe you have tenure. No fucking duh Professor.”
“You’re just expecting to pop one in the bathroom, watching you mix up my fucking - dick mold?” Peter scowls, tossing the foldout onto the sink. “You think I’m into this?”
“Of course not my belligerent little bonehead.” Wade grins down at him. “We’re just mixing it up here, then we’re moving to the bedroom and I’m going to get you to your happy place so I can create a second, portable Petey.”
Peter shudders. “Wade if you - if this dildo ever leaves the house I will destroy it. I will rip it to shreds. You can fuck yourself on the stub of the fucking base. That dildo is a house item. No - actually it’s your office item. I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to interact with it. I don’t even want to know when it fucking comes in.”
Wade looks distant. “Oh sorry, you lost me at fucking myself on the stub of the base. God, I love when you’re pissed.” He smirks at Peter. “Too bad we’re not making a mold of my dick because personally, I am armed and ready.”
Peter stares down at the bulge in Wade’s sweatpants. “Too bad.” He says absently, scratching at his cheek. Wade snaps his fingers in front of his eyes again.
“Easy there cowboy.” Wade purrs, ticking his finger underneath Peter’s chin making him shiver. “Eyes on a different prize.” He grabs both of Peter’s hands and drags him to his feet.
“You better give me the best blow job for this Wade,” Peter says forlornly as they exit the bathroom and head toward their bedroom. “I better have tears in my fucking eyes. I’m serious - I better be so blissed out that I don’t even notice when my dick is set into a bath of warm seaweed for 60-90 seconds.”
“Oh, we’re going for gold,” Wade promises. “I want this to be beautiful.”
“I mean, it’s my dick. It’s going to look good no matter what.” Peter shrugs, smiling at the way that Wade looks at him before he mutters something illegible under his breath.
“What was that?” Peter grins despite the mounting anxiety building as they enter the bedroom. He really doesn’t want to do this. At all. There is actually nothing he wants to do less.
Peter Parker keeps his promises though, even if they come in the form of a make-a-dick DIY kit that requires him to shove his erection into seaweed. Still, a sick feeling turns in his stomach as he sits down on the side of his bed and stares forlornly at Wade coming towards him with the kit packet and their deepest Tupperware full of water.
“You know I put my lunches in that.” Peter sighs as Wade ceremoniously places them on his bedside table.
“I mean, everything going in it is fully edible.” Wade grins.
“You’re disgusting.” Peter closes his eyes in solemn reflection and thinks about how his shifty to his core, agent of chaos boyfriend will probably make avoiding interaction with this - project - an active challenge. Peter is fully up to the challenge but he’s not looking forward to expending effort to avert his eyes when he finds his dick twin inside the spice drawer. He needs to remember to tell Wade not to do that.
Peter promptly forgets about telling Wade anything when a strong hand pushes him back hard against the bed. Wade climbs up, straddling him in a quick motion, and flashes down a cocky smile as he pops open the bottle of lube before pouring it generously into his hand.
“Hey, there gorgeous,” Wade says.
Peter scowls. “Can you stop talking to my dick?” His breath catches as Wade fondles it shamelessly through his pants with his dry hand before he smoothly unzips his slacks, tugging them down halfway until they’re hanging from Peter’s knees.
“I think it’s pretty happy to see me,” Wade comments as he squeezes it through the boxers. “Aren’t you?”
“I didn’t realize you were putting all this effort to have a sculpture of my soft, sexless dick.” Peter snorts even though he’s inarguably getting hard. Fucking a clown for five years made his junk a traitor with questionable tastes.
“Ah - ah.” Wade waves a finger in front of his face. “That’s a future project. I’m thinking if this goes well I could start something of a series.”
“You are getting one dick.” Peter grits out. “Uno. No mas.”
“Right.” Wade sneers and then he’s yanking down Peter’s boxers.
“Shouldn’t I be standing up?” Peter gasps out as Wade firmly grabs onto him, giving him a slick twist of his wrist that makes Peter’s hips stutter.
“Huh,” Wade says before absently jerking him again. “Good point.” Peter groans as Wade slides off his body. His brain is at the halfway point of arousal and irritation as Wade firmly grabs Peter by the ankles and yanks him hard until his ass is on the edge of the bed. “Okay sit up.”
Peter pushes himself up unsteadily, glaring at the kit. This is absolutely the most humiliating thing he has ever done - well, recently. Wade is an open channel for endlessly humiliating scenarios.
“Okay - okay - “ Wade is flipping through the instructions again. “Fuck - this water has to be 90 degrees.”
“I already told you that.” Peter rolls his eyes, his erection quickly going south. He hates that out of the two of them, only he seems to remember how this stupid process works.
“No, it literally has to exactly be at 90. How the fuck - “ Wade mutters before leaving the room again. Peter picks up the discarded instruction fold-out and starts scanning it again, each step in the process more alarming than the last. By the time Wade comes back with the electric kettle, Peter is fully soft.
“You know you have to like - cut out my dick size first right?” Peter glares at Wade as he plugs the kettle in. “Did you actually read any of this?”
“You read it.” Wade points out. “That was your job. The reading. I thought you liked to read nerd.”
“I interrupted Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations for you to clone my dick,” Peter says, staring up at the ceiling. “Not by choice.” He adds bitterly.
“It’s not like I have a gun to your head.” Wade points out as he dumps the water from the Tupperware into the kettle. “The only one keeping you hostage is your integrity.”
“Fuck my integrity,” Peter mutters.
“Oh, I am actively trying to.” Wade grins.
Peter rolls his eyes before grabbing the kit and fishing out the plastic sleeve his dick is going to go into once it's cut down to size.
“Wait - I want to measure!” Wade says, yanking open the drawer and grabbing a pair of scissors and a sharpie before crouching down, taking the sleeve from Peter, and angling it against his body.
“Okay - would you say your dick is bigger or smaller than a monster can - “
“Stop.” Peter snaps.
Wade marks the line. “Smaller…” He says thoughtfully. “Noted.”
“I fucking hate you.” Peter kicks Wade in the chest sending him stumbling back into their bookshelf knocking several books off the shelf and onto the floor.
“Once again, if it was up to my dick…we’d be done by now.” Wade gasps out, reaching under his sweats and grabbing onto the very prominent outline before giving it a few exaggerated tugs. His eyes flutter shut as he makes those pathetic little whines that he knows that Peter likes and suddenly his dick is once again, against his will, involved.
“Oh, so you just needed a little show.” Wade opens up one eye to grin at him. “If you want to watch me jack off just say so. A small price for a forever treasure.”
“It’s at 90 degrees,” Peter says bluntly staring at the boiling kettle.
“And you’re only at half mast.” Wade points out. “I think you need a longer performance from yours truly before we can start on the dick slurry.”
“Dick slurry - “ Peter repeats in mortification as Wade tugs his sweats down to his hips so Peter has a full view of his very hard dick. Peter’s mouth waters against his will, he’s pretty sure this is a form of mental illness.
“This is where I need you to be.” Wade gasps out, swiping a thumb against the weeping head and moaning as he stares at Peter, the tip of his tongue peeking from between his scarred lips.
Peter isn’t sure if he’s telling him he needs him that hard, or if he wants Peter to blow him but Peter for sure has a preference. Wade closes his eyes, his hand moving faster and his head falling back against the bookshelf as he gasps. “It’s kinda…hot that you’re into watching me.” Wade breathes out. “It’s actually, really-really hot - “
“Yeah,” Peter says quietly, quietly sliding off the bed and dropping to the floor in a silent crouch. It is hot. Wade is hot. That’s the other reason he’s doing this after all. Because Wade is hot and asked him to. The brain-to-dick connection this asshole has given him is unforgivable.
“You know - you - should be jacking off to this. I’m doing amateur porn over here just to get you hard.” Wade says, eyes still closed. “Sucks if you wasted our very small window - on just, respectfully- watching.”
“I’m not respectfully watching.” Peter breathes against his ear and that’s the only warning Wade gets before Peter drops and swallows him down, wrapping his arms around Wade’s hips to pull him hot and heavy into his mouth. Peter’s eyes roll back as Wade’s dick slams against the back of his throat, making him choke.
“Fuck - holy - “ Wade stutters out as Peter takes him down as far as he can. He loves sucking Wade’s dick, way too much for Wade’s ego but Peter’s erection curves against the wood of the floor, and he -
Wade grabs him by the hair and Peter hopes that he’s going to face fuck him but instead, he roughly drags him off it, a line of spit connecting Peter’s mouth to the head of Wade’s weeping cock. Peter wants to be back on it so bad and lunges forward.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Wade stares at him in awe, holding him back by the roots which just makes it all that worse. “You are insatiable.”
Peter snaps his teeth together hard, an action that would make any normal person freak out but it just makes Wade whine.
“You’re the one who needs to get hard,” Wade says like he doesn’t want to listen to himself either. “Not that I’m complaining, but we’re on schedule baby boy.”
“This is making me hard.” Peter protests, taking advantage of Wade’s grip loosening by licking a stripe across the side of his dick making Wade gasp.
“You are fucking insatiable.” Wade accuses and Peter shrugs before ducking down intent on finishing what he started.
“Ah - ah - “ Wade pulls him off again, though with more effort this time - Peter wonders if Wade also really wants to forget about the whole dick-cloning thing and just let Peter blow his brains out.
“I thought this was about turning me on?” Peter worries his lip between his teeth.
“You seem plenty turned on to me.” Wade grins down him and Peter wants to shove him back into the bookcase.
“Not for long.” Peter grits out as Wade stands up and with noticeable effort pulls his pants back on, cinching them tight with a meaningful look at Peter.
“Just need it for 60 seconds sweetheart,” Wade says with a hungry look in his eyes as Peter stands up.
Wade reaches forward and wraps his fingers around Peter’s dick and gives it a sharp tug. “I’ll fuck your face as long as your weird little heart desires once we’re done,” Wade says before ruffling his hair fondly. “Stay hard, don’t nut.” He orders before turning on the kettle and grabbing the dick tube and mix.
“You know…” Peter says thoughtfully, reaching up and running a hand down Wade’s hips and grinning when he twitches underneath his fingers. “You could just let me blow you while you mix that shit up.”
Wade stares at him with an unreadable expression. “You are - “
“I’d stay hard.” Peter interrupts, sinking back to his knees and crawling forward.
Wade widens his legs and Peter grins before undoing his pants and immediately sinking down on him again, humming loudly.
“I - I just can’t say no to you.” Wade stutters out. “Achilles fucking heel.”
Peter feels the slight pressure of the dick mold balanced on his back as he sucks around Wade, his cock twitching in his mouth. There’s the loud snap of the tape that came in the kit, as Wade rips off a piece and attaches it around the tube. Or that’s what he should be doing if he read the instructions. Peter doesn’t care enough to check.
He pulls back and runs the edge of his tongue around the head of Wade’s cock, grinding his hips against the floor as Wade stutters, fucking up into Peter’s mouth hard enough to make tears form in the corners of his eyes.
“Are you being good?” Wade hums above him, the Tupperware goes on his back next and the burning warmth of the water slowly filling it up makes Peter twitch.
“Huh,” Wade says above him. “You are so fucking easy.”
Peter hates the way this entire process is driving him crazy, Wade’s cock twitching in his mouth as he mixes the ingredients, using Peter as a fucking table for the whole process while barely acknowledging that Peter’s blowing him. It’s humiliating and weirdly hot and Peter - is so, so into it.
The sound of the mixture is still pretty gross though and he’s still not sure if he’ll even be able to last the whole dick slurry process. Wade is usually the one who edges him, Peter never actually does that shit to himself on purpose. Especially not for something like this.
“Almost done,” Wade says, his breath hitching in a way that makes Peter feel vindicated. “Just need another minute.” Peter nods his head absently as he swallows him down to the root.
“God this is so hot.” Wade runs a heavy hand down Peter’s spine. “If I knew cloning your dick was going to make you act this slutty I - “
Peter bites him.
“Years ago.” Wade moans. “Fucking - we’d have thousands of them.”
Peter drags himself off Wade’s dick. “Just one.” He rasps out. “We are not - doing this again.”
“Hmm.” Wade hums noncommittally before setting the plastic on Peter’s back again, it slowly gets heavier as he pours the mixture into it and Peter is actually terrified. This happening.
Peter mouths Wade’s dick again ready to swallow him down just for the distraction of it but then Wade is knocking Peter’s head with the side of his knee and the weight is off his back and the dick is gone. Peter smacks his hand angrily against the floor, not enough to damage it though, they just got it waxed.
“Alright cock gobbler.” Wade’s amused voice comes from above him. “It’s time for the slurry.”
Peter stares up at him bleakly. “I’m losing my erection just for that alone. It’s fucking gone.”
Wade smirks at him. “Stand up.”
Peter scowls as he wobbly pushes himself up to his feet, staring at Wade’s wet, leaking dick the whole time. He’s so close. They’re both so close. Why do they have to bring a plastic tube full of seaweed into the mix?
Wade holds out the slurry-filled dick mold. “You want to put it on or should I?”
Peter rubs at his temples and stares at them warily. “I - do not want - to touch that.”
“Fine with me.” Wade shrugs and then the mixture is shoved over Peter’s dick and it feels - it feels so, so weird.
“I don’t like this.” Peter bites out. “Holy shit, this is gross.”
“Come on Spidey.” Wade presses a kiss to his forehead. “You’ve done so many weirder, scarier things than this.”
“I’d rather be fighting someone in the sewers right now.” Peter closes his eyes. “Fucking - rather be in a burning building - “
“Come on. It’s not that bad. ”Wade says, running a steady hand against Peter’s unsteady chest. Peter cracks open his eyes and looks down at his fully submerged dick and feels nothing but panic.
Wade doesn’t seem to care or notice as he stares down at the tube. “Is your dick touching the sides?” He asks thoughtfully.
“No.” Peter bites out. “Are we done? Can we be done? Please tell me we’re done.”
“Fuck.” Wade breathes. “Only you could make this shit hot. And no.”
“I’m sure you’re not the first person to find this - disgusting process - arousing.” Peter rolls his eyes. “I’m sure other people are into this.”
Wade nods wordlessly. “For sure part of the numbers.” He says after a moment. “This is - this is absolutely doing it for me.”
“Anything does it for you,” Peter mutters, staring over at Wade’s phone pleadingly. “Please tell me it’s done. Wade. Please. This feels so gross”.
“Mmm.” Wade bites his lip, staring at him through lidded eyes before moving forward to tongue wetly at Peter’s throat before biting at it hard enough to leave a mark.
Peter feels dizzy and closes his eyes. “That - got you two more seconds.”
“Jesus.” Wade breathes. “I’m so lucky to have a freak like you.” He rubs the side of his jaw against the curve of Peter’s throat and bites again.
Peter tries to focus on it instead of his dick which was fighting an impossible battle of staying upright instead of shrinking back into his body and out of the slurry. He thinks of sucking Wade’s dick as some rapidly approaching prize but even that is losing its charm. The biting is nice though. It’s keeping him in the game, which is why Wade is doing it. Peter wishes he was doing it just to do it, but Wade loves a goal.
The timer goes off and Peter feels relief immediately. “Okay. Take it off. Take it off.” He says quickly. “Now.”
Wade lazily pokes at the side of the mold. “Nah, still needs a little more time. Sorry.” He says, sounding the exact opposite of apologetic.
“Wade.” Peter pleads. “Wade - “
“You want to blow me right?” Wade interrupts, running his knuckle against Peter’s nose.
Peter adverts his eyes so he doesn’t have to face his own simple nature.
“Then you need to stop begging like that,” Wade says quietly and Peter looks up again Wade looks so - so fucking gone and Peter loves that look on him. “I’m serious, you say my name like that again and you are not getting what you want.”
“Okay. Okay.” Peter says quickly because if Wade’s goal was to get him to last the extra mile well, he’s lasting now. “Whatever. Just - get this off me. Now. Soon. Immediately even.”
Wade waits a few agonizing seconds before he finally pulls it off him and Peter sighs in relief, falling back and landing heavily on the bed, his dick is covered in seaweed sludge and still, remarkably hard. A miracle. A testament to how much he loves to suck dick really.
“Kinda - kinda want to jerk off on you,” Wade says dizzily above him, already jacking himself off.
“We had a deal buddy,” Peter says, eyes closed as he spreads his arms out on the bed in tired surrender. He pauses. “Just make sure some gets in my mouth.”
Wade clammers up onto the bed, sinking his weight against Peter’s chest with both of his knees on either side of Peter’s head as he furiously starts jacking off.
Peter is into it, honestly, the fact that this stupid process is over is making him almost light-headed with euphoria as he stares up at Wade’s intense expression, his dick dangling right over his mouth.
“I was so good,” Peter says dryly. “At least let me suck on the tip asshole.”
Wade grins down at him before slamming his hips down, choking Peter as he ruts into his mouth.
“You were so good, baby,” Wade says, rolling his hips and making Peter gag. “So fucking good.”
Peter’s eyes roll back as Wade comes hard in his mouth.
Wade’s dick pulses against his tongue as he pulls it out, dragging it across Peter’s face and moving to finish against his chest
“Fuck.” Peter gasps as Wade moves back up again to wipe the tip of his dick clean against Peter’s wet lips. “Fuck - fuck - “ Peter’s hips jerk and then he’s coming to, painting Wade’s back with it.
“Damn.” Wade grins down at him, running a hand through the mess on Peter’s face. “That was hot.”
Peter looks up before running his tongue against Wade’s fingers, sucking one of them into his mouth before biting it hard enough for his finger to break.
Wade jerks weakly against his chest.
“My refractory period is not that good but - .” He gasps. “That would have got me.”
Peter grins up at him as Wade rolls off him and onto his chest, keeping Peter’s mess off the bed as much as possible which is appreciated even though Peter knows he’s going to want to put their other comforter on before they actually sleep.
“So,” Peter says staring at the dick mold on his dresser. “I am never promising you anything ever again.”
Wade snorts.
“As long as I fucking live.” Peter continues, laying one hand over his heart and raising the other one solemnly. “I’d rather die. Imagine my chest is a Bible.”
“You always say that.” Wade props his hands under his chin and smiles wide. “I think you kind of like seeing what I’ll come up with. Besides.” He pokes Peter’s chest. “You would never swear on a Bible.”
Peter snatches Lord of the Rings from his bedside table and lays it over his heart.
“You’d think that this was the worst thing I ever made you do!” Wade protests, kicking the book off with his foot. “I feel like I’ve made you do a lot worse for a lot less.”
Peter stares at him. “Why are you saying that like it’s an accomplishment…?”
“To me?” Wade smirks. “It is.”
Peter presses his face against the comforter and groans.
Wade rubs soothing circles into the curve of Peter’s back. “What if the next one we do is me? Then we’ll have a little hers & his set.”
Peter lifts his head to stare blearily at Wade but honestly, he’s not actually that adverse to the idea of a second Wade around. “You do take fucking long jobs,” Peter says slowly.
“Then you’d always be able to choke on my dick.” Wade hums. “I bet you’d like that.”
Peter rolls his eyes and ignores the way that very much falls in line with his personal interests. He can’t encourage Wade’s fucked up ideas, it’s better to just let him do it and plead the fifth in the aftermath.
“Wait,” Peter says slowly and then he’s staring at the dick mold on the bedside table. “Don’t you have to pour something into the mold? ‘cause I am not doing that again. If you fucked this up, that’s on you.”
“Ah - Ah, now who didn’t read the instructions?” Wade says, tsking. “You let it set for two hours. We got time to fucking kill.”
Peter’s first thought is that he can finally finish his book. His second thought is fully interrupted when Wade pushes him against the bed and flips him over to drag his dick across the curve of his ass.
He does not get to finish his book.
The next day, Peter wakes up and the dick mold and all evidence of its creation are gone so he immediately begins the process of forgetting that it ever existed.
Wade makes it way easier than he expected. It’s almost unnerving how normal he’s being about it - there are no annoying off-hand comments or pointed visual metaphors. The weirdest thing though is the fact that the actual product itself is nowhere to be seen. Peter has been on edge the last few weeks, waiting for its big reveal - pulling back the shower curtain with calculated slowness, eyeing the front door waiting for it to be there like some deranged doorstop. It’s like some prolonged jumpscare that never actually happens.
It takes two weeks for Peter to stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. A part of him wonders if it just somehow got fucked up in the process and that Wade was just too embarrassed to tell him.
Wade is physically incapable of embarrassment though and if the process did get fucked up Peter is pretty sure he would have woken up with that awful seaweed tube shoved around his morning wood for round two. No, it definitely worked.
His second theory is that maybe Wade just prefers the original. Peter shouldn’t feel so smug at the thought, it’s literally his dick vs. the same exact dick but he definitely prefers Wade riding him to some silicon twin. Wade has in fact, been riding him like nothing has changed so Peter counts that as a win for his dick and his sanity.
After a month, the dick slurry is a faint, terrible memory that if needed - could be listed as one of the ten worst things he’s ever experienced but hopefully will fade into obscurity once it’s replaced by another one of Wade’s terrible ideas at his expense. Their sex life is great, their relationship is well - there’s absolutely nothing rocking the boat that wasn’t already part of the travel experience from the beginning, and Peter really, actually - relaxes.
Which is always bad news for him seeing as Wade has this insane predatory second sense that kicks in whenever he knows Peter has let his guard down.
Peter feels like he shouldn’t have been as surprised as he is when he comes home after work one night and sees an innocuous bill sitting on the kitchen counter. It’s artfully discarded, perfectly framed underneath their single-bulb light in a warm, angelic glow. Haunting in its intentionality.
It’s dark everywhere else. Peter feels a profound sense of dread in his stomach. Bills aren’t exactly his favorite thing to see in the world, he does most of the regular finances for the house because Wade can’t be trusted with it. It’s not that he won’t pay them, he just usually forgets they exist until Peter gets blasted with a cold shower and reminds him loudly.
That’s why all the house bills go straight to his inbox, in fact, all of their bills are digital and he’s pretty sure he’s never actually seen a paper bill for Wade, like, ever.
No, this is something that Peter is supposed to see. On purpose. Which is already a blaring siren in the back of his head, both literally and metaphorically - his senses are telling him that whatever is on that slip of paper is going to ruin his night.
Which is why he puts away his lunchbox first. Takes the load he put in this morning out of the dryer and shoves on a comfortable pair of sweats and a t-shirt and tosses his professor clothes onto the top of the washer to get to later. Occasionally, he’ll hear a couple of loud noises from upstairs which means Wade is absolutely, definitely home and - doing - something.
It’s the start of his weekend, so Peter is denying his curiosity to the last possible second. He makes himself a sandwich for dinner, chews it from the other side of the kitchen, and stares at the piece of paper. He comes up with theories, all of them involving extravagant purchases ranging from an all-expense paid cruise to the Bermuda Triangle or Wade finally throwing down money to get all the cabinets replaced even though Peter likes how retro they look.
Eventually, he can’t take it anymore.
“Fuck.” Peter swears, downing the last of his orange juice as he stares holes through the paper. It’s time. He has to know. Wade clearly wants him to fucking know, otherwise, he’d be downstairs already instead of making enough noise upstairs to indicate that he’s re-arranging all of their bedroom furniture. This is his weird game, and Peter is too curious to not play.
He shoots out a web and latches onto the paper, shooting it towards him with a flick of his wrist.
“MOTHERFUCKER!”
Peter drops the paper so he doesn’t rip it in half and then punches the counter so hard that it cracks in half, fuck - now Wade will actually be able to justify replacing it with actual marble, instead of whatever cheap shit the contractor put in which he for sure can afford seeing as he just dropped twenty-thousand dollars on a custom golden dildo.
In the back of his head, the faint memory of Wade saying “Oh, we’re going for gold.” echoes on a loop. This was always his plan. This - this -
Somewhere, above him. Wade is raw dogging himself on a dick modeled after Peter’s junk that could very literally pay off a sizable chunk of his student loans. His mouth is dry, he actually has no words.
Wade found a loophole and he took it, pulled the wool over Peter’s eyes, sent off his dick to some - fancy, custom dick-making company along with the most insane amount of cash that Peter could ever conceive, and now -
Before he can think Peter is running toward the stairs, he takes a big leap over the couch and lands on the side of the banister, and starts running up it, fuck the stairs. This is serious.
The door to Wade’s office is closed and when Peter jiggles the handle, is locked. He presses his ear against the wood of the door and hears Wade’s obscene moans, the vibrations of his body slamming against the floor go straight to Peter’s rapidly increasing pulse. He sounds like he’s having a great. Fucking. Time.
Peter pounds his fist against the door and the noises don’t stop, no the moaning just gets louder - because of course - Wade has been waiting for this all day, the moment he lubed that - expensive monstrosity and laid his little bill trap.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!” Peter screams.
Wade does not answer and instead gets performatively louder, loud enough that Peter is pretty sure his next move is breaking down the door and beating him to unconsciousness with his expensive new dildo.
“Twenty-five thousand?” Peter yells through the crack in the door, knees actually buckling at the conception of the number as his body slides down the door. He clutches at the handle with white knuckles, forehead thunking hard against the wood as he thinks of nothing but stacks upon stacks of green bills. He’s always known that Wade had money to burn, he’s watched him do it - physically and literally - but this is a physical demonstration of that wealth inside their fucking home. It’s more expensive than all of Peter’s belongings priced together, which includes that fucking suit that Wade stole for him. Hell, that dildo is probably more expensive than every piece of furniture they own combined.
“You are a terrible person.” Peter hisses. “You knew I would hate this. You are getting off to me hating this.” Wade follows with a noisy thump and a choked-off moan. If Peter couldn’t tell from years in the field that Wade was this close to nutting he’d expect him to be laughing his fucking ass off no, but no - he’s about to bust one on a 25k piece of gold instead.
Peter kicks the door down before he can, popping it right off the hinges he spent at least an hour repairing. The door thuds loudly into the room and reveals Wade, half naked on the floor staring at him with the most shit-eating grin on earth.
He’s riding that thing like there’s no tomorrow, slamming his hips down like he’s trying to break through the fucking floor and Peter can only watch in horror and rapture as he slides up, revealing a cheeky wink of gold before thrusting back down onto it.
Peter is paralyzed with horror and anger and also by the novelty of the fact that it is his dick.
“Holy shit - you are so - fucking mad.”Wade groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he almost pulls fully off it giving Peter a pretty clear image of the golden monstrosity before thrusting back down hard. He’s rocking his hips back and forth and Peter can’t stop watching, can’t stop listening. The noises are so slick and loud and obscene and -
“You’re such an irredeemable fucking - piece of shit - ASSHOLE!” Peter wants to rip something in half. Wants to rip Wade in half.
Wade's eyes flutter and his breathing gets heavy. “Keep - keep at it rockstar. I’m so fucking - “
Peter has his hand wrapped around Wade’s throat before he can think about not doing it, and it’s the worst thing to do because Wade is the biggest masochist that Peter ever has had the misfortune of meeting and fucking. He immediately sighs into the death grip that Peter has around his neck and then he’s coming, covering the front of Peter’s recently clean t-shirt and Peter is going to scream. He’s going to break their waxed floorboards. He’s going to cause twenty-five thousand dollars worth of property damage in this room alone.
“WHAT THE FUCK WADE?” Peter screams, his hands still wrapped around Wade’s neck as he shakes him like a floppy doll before dropping him hard onto the floor, his entire body shaking as he repeats his personal no-kill mantra to himself like a meditation.
Wade gasps for breath from the floor, his voice fucked out and soft as he stares up at Peter with that lazy grin of his. “I don’t really see what the big deal is baby boy. That mold was my intellectual property.”
“That mold was made from my dick.”
Peter grabs onto the base of the dildo and roughly drags it out ignoring the way that Wade’s body shudders underneath him as he brings it into the light. There it is, his dick, cast in fucking gold. Slick with lube and so, weirdly warm. Peter can’t stop looking at it, the temptation to whip out the original and compare is absolutely there but he’s not going to debase himself.
“Isn’t it pretty?” Wade says groggily, pushing himself up on his hands and staring at it with a proud smile. “Worth every penny.”
“You didn’t pay with fucking pennies.” Peter bites. “I saw the bill.”
Wade snickers. “Oh, I heard you seeing it. Almost sent me over the edge but I was waiting for you to break down the door to really - you know - “ he punches his fist. “Full send it.”
“We’ve talked about the money thing,” Peter says and he’s starting to feel like he’s becoming a broken record, like no matter how many times he says it Wade is never actually listening to him when he says it. “This is so - so - “ Words evade him. There’s no summation of how out of bounds this shit is.
“I bought this for me,” Wade says, arching his hypothetical eyebrow. “This has nothing to do with you. Not everything is about you, Peter.” He tsks. “First lesson in grade school, wild that you’re still puzzling that little nugget out.”
“I hate you,” Peter says and usually he doesn’t mean it, but today he absolutely does Wade looks a little surprised, but then that expression melts into that smug devil-may-care attitude that he wears so fucking well and Peter hates him even more.
Peter stands up before he can punch Wade in the ribs and get the exact opposite physical reaction he’s going for. Wade looks noticeably disappointed.
Peter knows that he’s expecting a fight - Wade pushes his buttons because he thinks he knows what he’ll get at the end and sure, in other situations seeing his boyfriend all flushed and lubed up, stretched out and ready to get hate-fucked into the floor might do it for him. Not today. Not with that golden imitation of his penis just winking in the artificial light like some debauched mockery of everything that Peter stands for. It’s an obscene creation and Peter refuses to ever, ever fuck in its terrible presence.
“Come on Petey - “ Wade protests as Peter wordlessly turns on his heel and starts grabbing clothes from their dresser, shoving them in the messenger bag that Wade got for him because he doesn’t have any other bags.
“Leaving so soon?” Wade’s whining now and Peter wants to throw him through a wall. Wants to dangle him off the edge of a twenty-story building and drop him off the edge twice. “You haven’t even webbed me to the ceiling - “
“I’m sleeping over at Aunt May’s tonight.” Peter interrupts. “I - “ He closes his mouth, holding up an accusing figure at Wade, and then moves to point at the golden monstrosity that Wade has erected in his fucking honor. “I never want to see that thing again. If you use that - that - just. I don’t want to fucking see it. Office rules still apply, even though you’ve literally broken all the other ones we made.” Peter is shaking now, he’s so mad. He can’t remember the last time he’s been this mad before.
“Oh, you’ll never fucking see it.” Wade snaps. “You’re not even allowed to use it.” Peter is glad he’s not facing him because he can’t resist grinning at how annoyed Wade sounds. “Ever. It’s mine, exclusively for my use, and - and you shouldn’t be looking at it anyway. “
Peter looks behind him and stares at it pointedly. “I already have the original. Why the fuck would I ever want to use that?”
The look Wade gives him sends chills down his spine.
“Honestly.” Wade trails a finger down the base, his voice low. “Kind of prefer it to the original.”
“Fuck you.” Peter flips him off, grabs his bag, and gets out of the house as fast as he can. The last thing he hears is the shake of the floorboards and Wade screaming his head off as he comes for the second time. If Peter feels jealous, he’s too angry to address it.
It takes a few days before Peter is ready to go back home. He can’t explain to Aunt May why he absolutely needs to stay on her couch for a few days - and after a while, she stops asking. She’s met Wade and she likes him sure, everyone likes Wade but also she understands why Peter often doesn’t.
Wade texts him a picture of himself riding the fucking thing on the second day, but after Peter blocks him right out there’s a blissful level of radio silence on his end until Peter eventually walks through the living room and sees Wade sitting there with Peter’s favorite take out and one of the nature documentaries he’s been actively trying to shoot down for one of his classics and Peter -
He doesn’t forgive him, but they pretend it’s fine. The documentary is great, it’s about whales and their migration patterns and Peter leaves it feeling more educated and Wade leaves it feeling like he just was forcibly made to sit still for way longer than his body naturally is capable of doing and that feels like some level of revenge, petty, meaningless revenge.
True to Peter’s word, he does not see the fucking dildo. He also refuses to talk about it, and Wade catches on pretty quickly that to Peter, the dildo is the shunned member of their little community and that if Wade brings it up, he’ll look at him like he’s crazy.
Which is fine, works perfectly. Wade likes to make Peter angry, but he hates being ignored and after a few times of Wade trying to get a rise out of him about it and Peter staring into the middle distance until Wade starts shaking from lack of engagement and changes the subject to something that will get Peter to look at him again.
Peter feels, very briefly that he’s won.
That is until he realizes that their sex life has slowed down to a snail crawl. Sure, he’ll wake up to Wade’s mouth wrapped around his dick some mornings, or his hand down his pants when Peter is trying to brush his teeth for class but it’s only foreplay, nothing - penetrative. Not that sex is always about penetration, Peter has read up on sex theory - he gets that there’s nuance to it or whatever but he’s a horny dude and he went from Wade bouncing pretty on his dick three times a week to him bouncing on his dick no times a week.
Peter knows it’s because of the dildo, and he is - immensely, irreparably jealous of that stupid hunk of gold. He can’t even bring it up in conversation, because he’s the one who perma-banned the discussion of it from the house but he knows where Wade sneaks off to at night, what happens when he closes his office door. Peter has to listen to him moan and scream Peter’s name on his literal fucking dick multiple times a week as he comes on his stupid investment.
It feels like psychological torture, it actually probably is some form of psychological torture. But there’s no Reddit page for what you’re supposed to do when your demented boyfriend spends almost thirty grand on a gold replica of your penis and refuses to actually touch yours.
It’s breaking down Peter’s psyche. He has dreams about it. He thinks about it during a patrol, one time he slipped twenty feet down the side of the building because all he could imagine was the fact that Wade wasn’t on patrol with him because he was cheating on him with that stupid thing.
It does feel like cheating. The dick isn’t sentient, but it’s what it represents. Wade is playing by the rules only because he knows how to make Peter regret setting him. He’s a sadistic, unmovable force of petty and Peter refuses to bend.
He snaps instead.
Wade just finished brushing his teeth and then he’s off whistling toward the door wrapped in nothing but a towel and Peter can’t help but reel his arm back and throw the book he’s reading at him because he can’t pretend to be unmoved anymore. He’s not unmoved. He’s very, very moved.
Wade whines - stares at him with that crazed, barely suppressed anger-lust that Peter knows is fueling this entire petty charade.
“Aww. You miss me, baby?” Wade coos, wiggles his fingers in a mockery of a wave and then he’s out the door. Peter jacks off angrily at the sound of his moans for the rest of the night. Wade slips back into bed at three am, curling around Peter tightly and Peter goes to sleep with the grim satisfaction that they’re both hard about it.
Wade clearly misses getting railed by Peter. Their relationship isn’t always about sex, but it sure as hell isn’t about communication so sex was always the bridge that they could always rely on regardless of the divide. Wade’s stupid dildo has fully destroyed that bridge.
Peter’s not rebuilding it until the dildo is gone.
Still, he hasn’t had sex with Wade in a month and it’s driving him crazy. He’s tried too, hell - it doesn’t take a lot of seducing to get to Wade. It actually takes no effort at all which becomes embarrassingly noticeable once Peter realizes that trying isn’t something he’s ever actually had to do with his boyfriend until now.
Wade does want him. Peter feels it when he pins him to the rooftop on patrol when he runs a hand down his spine while Wade makes their coffee when they’re about to fall asleep and Peter tries to start a fight. Wade wants him and doesn’t let either of them get what they want.
Peter is seconds away from begging for it, knees on the ground, tears in his fucking eyes. He doesn’t have an expensive dildo to handle this - he doesn’t actually have any dildos, of the two Wade is the only one who ever invests in toys because Peter never saw the point when Wade had a dick like that.
Now he’s googling dildos at three am, hand curled around his dick mournfully jacking it to the sound of Wade pounding himself into the floorboards in the other room.
He doesn’t want to beg. He should haven’t to beg. Wade was the one who messed up, so why is it that of the two of them he’s the only one getting laid?
Wade looks at him too long, and touches him too hard sometimes - Peter knows he misses him, but he also is absolutely, utterly getting off on the fact that Peter wants him just a little more. It’s not like Wade is missing Peter’s dick - he literally has his dick - they’ll make out in the shower, Peter will wrap his hand around Wade’s dick, and then Wade is off, saying he has a job to do, or they should start patrol and the last time he did Peter actually cracks the bathroom tiles and thinks about crying.
Peter has yet to say anything out loud, he refuses to give him the satisfaction. They pretend things are normal, Wade gets off on Peter 2.0 and Peter is actively saving parts of his paycheck to invest into fucking something that isn’t his literal hand.
Peter finally breaks one morning when Wade has that freshly railed sunshine face at 7 AM, cheerfully pouring himself a cup of coffee while humming around the kitchen and Peter can’t help handle it.
“Don’t you miss me?” Peter says before he can stop himself. “It can’t be that fucking good.”
Wade freezes, stares at him slowly and there’s that grin, that terrifying, all-consuming smile that Deadpool gives to people he’s about to kill and it actually makes Peter twitch. He should get into therapy sometime. This can’t be healthy.
“I mean.” He says slowly. “I don’t have any complaints.” He shrugs. “Why? You want to try it out?”
Peter is on him before he can say anything else, straddling him and pinning him down with his legs, dragging the curve of his cock against Wade’s. It’s the only contact they’ve had in so long and his body is actually shaking with how badly he needs to be fucked, to fuck, to do anything. Anything.
“Holy shit.” Wade breathes, staring at him with big, hungry eyes. “Denial looks really, really fucking good on you baby. Gonna remember this when I fuck myself tonight.”
Peter punches him, hard enough to make Wade’s head snap painfully to the side and then he’s scrambling off him, hard enough to cut glass and so sexually frustrated that it makes him forget how angry he should be right now. He just wants to fuck. Why doesn’t Wade want to fuck him?
“You seem to be having a rough time so I’ll be generous and give you full permission to use it when I’m not around,” Wade says from the ground, wiping blood from his nose and cupping his erection pointedly. “Which sadly, is not right now.”
Peter runs out of the house so he doesn’t have to hear it.
The thought echoes in his head all day though, all through classes - and wouldn’t that be mortifying to explain to his student, that he was absent-minded because he was measuring the ethical implications of fucking himself on his own dick because his boyfriend won’t put it out.
He thinks about all patrol, several wrong-doers leave with harder hits than he usually doles out because he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop - wanting something.
And it’s something. It’s definitely something.
There has to be something immensely, profoundly life-changing about that monstrosity if it’s kept Wade out of his pants for over a month. Nothing has ever gotten between Wade and his dick before, ever. Apparently, the only thing that can is his actual dick, but detached and fully accessible in a way that Peter has never been in his entire life.
He’s still thinking about it when he crawls through the window from his long patrol.
Wade is gone on a job tonight, the house is empty and dark. Peter should be taking the opportunity to catch up on his reading, vacuum the living room without Wade getting in his way and turn in early enough to actually enter his REM cycle,
Peter heads to the office instead like a man possessed.
The office door is cracked open, a sliver of light spilling out into the hallway. Peter pushes it open with an impending sense of dread and - there it is. The centerpiece of the room was surrounded by a mess of pillows and blankets and copious amounts of lube.
Peter has never hated anything like he hates that golden dildo. The fact that it’s molded after his dick feels like some extra layer of psychotic but he hates it so much. If it wasn’t so expensive he would have tossed it in the river by now but - well - it’s still his dick.
Peter throws his mask on the desk, walking over to it slowly. He’s never actually got that good of a look at it since that night and it’s - well it’s really made. Peter doesn’t want to touch it, so he crouches down and squints at it instead.
Wade definitely paid for the best which - it makes him angry, sure. Peter is still furious that this exists but the craftsmanship is impressive. It’s inarguably an excellent replica of his currently - twitching dick.
Peter’s face burns as he scrambles to his feet.
It must be the month of no dick, it has to be. There is no possible explanation for - the weird - overpowering need to - impale himself on that fucking thing. His thing. His own dick.
Peter closes his eyes at the head rush that thought is followed by. Wade has fully, utterly, spun him out. That demented terrible man and his demented terrible purchases.
“I hate you,” Peter mutters, snatching the lube from the ground and angrily pouring it into his hand. His only satisfaction is that Wade is in fact, not around to see this.
He fingers himself open with the grim concentration of a man about to face the electric chair. He’s on his knees, spread open and bright red unable to look at the thing he’s about to shove in himself.
Peter does not have dick envy - in fact, the only thing impressive about him pre-spider bite was the fact that he did not get bullied in the locker room for his dick. It’s big, it’s thick, it’s never gotten any complaints from anyone outside of the fact that it’s like - very - very big.
His girlfriends ranged from intimidated to enthusiastically intimidated. Wade got on his knees the first time he saw it and tried to recite poetry before Peter shoved it in his mouth to shut him up.
Peter likes his dick, sure but still, never once in his entire life has he thought “I wonder what it would like to be fucked by it?” but that time is now and he finally opens up his eyes to look at what he’s working with and he’s - he’s fucking intimidated by it.
It’s a weird ego loop, being scared of his own dick and turned on by being scared of his own dick. It’s got him dizzy, vision winking in and out as he jacks himself off while staring at it. The levels of narcissism he’d have to reach to really - actually - get off to this. Levels he’s steadily shooting through at lightning speed.
Peter just wants to get fucked. He wants to figure out what’s so amazing about the cold metal version of his dick that has Wade leaving his side of the bed cold for a fucking month.
The first slide down hurts. Peter is literally an old hand at being fucked at this point, this is the first time he’s stretched himself for anything in ages and it - does not feel great. It’s cold and weird and uncomfortable and it’s his dick. He’s feeling the exact shape, imprint - fucking impression of his god-given junk. It’s disturbing.
There’s cold sweat dripping down his chest and he drops his head as he settles fully on it, grinding his teeth hard. He wishes he could get drunk for this. Wishes that he could shake something from Wade’s candy stash of painkillers and get so doped out that he can’t actually have to face what he’s doing.
Peter gasps as it jams harshly up against his prostate, his knees buckle as he slams himself down and shamelessly moans.
The burn starts getting better as he slides up and down on it - filling him out in the best and worst way. If he doesn’t think too much about the fact that the dick he’s slicking between his lubed-up hands and the one jammed up his ass are the same model he’s - well, he’s getting fucked. It’s something. It’s definitely better than just his hand.
Wade would be cackling if he knew that all Peter can think about right now is his stupid dick. He wishes he was there saying something awful in his ear, groping up his body, real - human - flesh burning right behind him, keeping him grounded instead of the awful squeak of the floorboards underneath him as he goes to town.
It’s so removed, so impartial. Peter doesn’t get the appeal, he really doesn’t. It’s - it’s fucking fine. It’s expensive. It’s metal. It’s not Wade. Why didn’t Wade care that it wasn’t Peter?
Peter feels his eyes burn as he chases the pleasure, just wanting to get off as soon as possible so he can boil this thing and remove the evidence. It’s so - so humiliating. It’s the most debased, disgusting thing he’s done in his life and he - is kind of getting off to it.
Peter moans louder, pulling sharply on his nipples like Wade does. The metal is warm from his body, cold and impartial, and - it’s him - he’s fucking himself and it’s scratching an itch he didn’t even think to have.
He thinks of all the times Wade lost his brain on his dick, the twitch of his muscular thighs, the sharp little whines as Peter pounds into the warm heat of his body. It gets him off now. Knowing exactly what Wade was feeling, how honest he was when he said that - Peter was the best dick he’d ever be fucked by.
Peter has - an absolutely - stellar cock.
It makes him want to text Wade that he gets it now. Peter isn’t the easiest person to date, he knows that because he’s been told that to his face by everyone he’s ever dated - besides Wade who was married to the literal Queen of Hell.
He’s always wondered what - what really made people stay. Peter isn’t really that present, he’s always going to choose to work over his relationships, he doesn’t really know what makes other people tick unless it specifically needs to and he’s Spider-Man more than he’s ever Peter and Wade is uniquely attuned for all that but still, Peter always privately thought that it probably wasn’t easy.
He’s cracked the fucking code. He just happens to have a dick to rival all dicks and listen - Peter loves Wade’s dick, worships it even. Misses the taste of it in his mouth more than he’s missed anything else in this fucking world.
Peter’s own dick though - he’s seeing stars, he feels like he’s been turned inside out and put back together wrong and he’s - hurtling toward the end of it and he doesn’t want it to end. Never wants to get off the stupid thing.
He’s never been a forgiving person but he almost - almost - understands why Wade was such a frigid asshole this entire month. Almost.
Peter doesn’t realize he’s chanting Wade’s name until he’s bent forward, fingers scratching up the wood and he’s staring at his warped glossy reflection and sees his mouth move.
He wants Wade so bad it hurts. It physically hurts. He doesn’t even want Wade’s dick - he just wants Wade in the room, he wants his eyes on him, telling him whatever he wants out of that fucked up brain of his, wants to feel his scarred hands drag down Peter’s torso and tell him when to come, how to come. Whispering all of his fucked up needs in his ear, telling him that Peter is terrible, that he’s perfect, that he’s everything he’s ever wanted.
Being in love is one of the worst things Peter has ever experienced in his life. He thinks about that as he comes, painting his chest white and panting as he slides down to the floor.
It hurts getting off the dick, hurts more to see it in all of its physicality again, slick and wet and so thoroughly debauched that Peter wants to throw up.
“Well,” Peter says, listening to it echo in the room. “That was something.”
He washes it off and scrubs the area clean - but not too clean - so that Wade will never, ever get the satisfaction of knowing what he’s brought Peter to.
They still don’t fuck, but something’s changed. That something is that Peter now has something to fuck whenever Wade is out of the house. Which is often.
Wade suddenly, inexplicably, no longer wants to be around. It’s like the second shoe dropping that Peter wasn’t expecting, but definitely knocked him off his feet.
It was bad before sure, but they were friends before they ever started fucking so it’s not like Peter is incapable of only enjoying Wade’s presence. They played video games, they fought, they stuck around for breakfast - they fucking talked. The game was the subtext, but there was still - text - conversation, and interaction. Something.
Now Wade is just - not there. At all. Ever. It makes the whole house feel big and empty in a way that should have been nice. Peter likes his peace, his fucking quiet but - he apparently likes Wade more and never realized it until Wade wasn’t around.
It’s not like the dildo is an actual comfort, there’s only so much an expensive piece of gold can really add to one’s life but - well, it’s something to shove up his ass and Peter does as often as he possibly can.
He thinks he’s about to reach the point where he breaks down in some graphic, terribly vulnerable way. It’s been a week and he’s being stripped to the fucking flesh.
Wade is a nasty piece of work, Peter knows that better than most people - and he’ll never admit it, but there’s something magnetic in his particular mean streak. Peter has one too, and Wade loves it and Peter - Peter would never say he likes what an asshole Wade can be, but he can’t deny the fact that he’s never gotten off the ride.
He knows Wade is waiting for it, and can feel it in the cold, calculated way he stares at him before he leaves the house. He’s hungry, and he’s waiting for Peter to break and Peter - does not want to break. Peter still isn’t sure why Wade needs him to break so badly.
He’s going to though and they both know it. The dildo is fine, but it’s not Wade and Peter doesn’t just miss sex now, he misses everything that comes with Wade and he’s almost at the point of begging for him to come back.
It all culminates on the day that Peter decides to shove his own dick in his mouth.
This isn’t even a novelty, Peter is flexible enough to blow his own dick and he’s done it a few times for the right audience. It’s hotter to be watched than to actually do it - the part of oral that Peter likes is that it’s someone else’s dick.
Still, this is technically someone else’s dick. It’s Wade’s dick, even if it’s Peter’s dick and apparently, it’s the closest thing he’s getting to it now that Wade is on another week-long job and Peter is pretty sure he hasn’t tasted dick in like, over a month.
Beggers can’t be choosers and Peter decided he wanted to spend his dildo money on something practical, like a new day planner with leather embossing and if he’s going to suck a dick, it might as well be this one.
It’s easier said than done. Peter can get away fucking himself on his dick when he’s not looking at it but now that he’s got the thing leveled at his face well -
It’s making him look inward. Does he really want to be the guy who sucks on his own dick? Like, for pleasure and not just for show?
Peter decides that if it can bruise the back of his throat he actually doesn’t really give a shit about its origin story. He closes his eyes, pretends that Wade is in the room, and goes to town.
It does not taste like he wants it to, it’s fucking metal for one - it’s a twang in the back of his throat, cold and impersonal and - unmoving. There’s no human twitching, the rush of blood, the low groan of the person above him but if Peter really, really pretends he can almost hear Wade’s half gasp from the far distance.
It doesn’t take long to lose himself in the motion of it, almost soothing to just choke and gag as his brain stops its terrible thinking and just loses itself in the white noise.
Peter opens his eyes just a little and sees the light wink off the tip, he smoothes the flat of his tongue over it and lets it get wet with spit.
It’s erotic, it’s weird. He wishes Wade was here.
He pulls off it suddenly, fumbling into the pocket of his pants for his phone and -
They haven’t snapped in a while, but Wade opens the image immediately. Peter starts stretching himself, presses record, and keeps his face out of frame so that Wade doesn’t see how bad he wants it - how red his face is. If this is losing, then he’s losing. He’s losing so fucking bad.
He’s moaning Wade’s name when he sinks down, and he can’t stop thinking about how much this is doing for Wade. How this is probably what Wade was waiting for and how much Peter could not fucking care less if it gets him back to his regularly scheduled fucking with his real human boyfriend and not this gold imitation.
Wade is watching them all, and responding to none of them. Peter doesn’t know if he wants to cry or break his phone so he just fucks himself instead. If he gets nothing else tonight, then at least he’s coming.
“Fuck.” A voice says next to his ear and Peter shudders as leather gloves move up and down the sides of his ribs and he jerks as one wraps around his aching dick. “You look so good right now baby boy.”
“Wade - “ Peter chokes out before Wade’s mouth covers his own, tongue swiping across his lip before he bites down hard enough to draw blood. Peter jerks in his hands, body burning as it’s finally touched by someone that isn’t himself again.
“So good.” Wade gasps, jerking Peter so fast and hard that it hurts. Peter whines and drops his head into the curve of Wade’s shoulder and tries not to cry. “You look so good. Knew you’d look good. You like it huh? Huh?”
Peter says something back and he has no idea what, it could be anything. He can barely feel the stupid thing, he just feels Wade. He wants to drown it. Wants to be held like this until the world burns.
“So pretty. So fucking pretty.” Wade babbles, and Peter is dragging his fingers down the curve of his suit so hard that it splits the leather. He wants to rip him out of it, wants to press his mouth against the texture of his skin, wants to hear Wade cry for him.
“Want to fuck you,” Peter begs in Wade’s ear, pulling him as close as he physically can.
“Yeah?” Wade says, a twitch at the end. “Ask nice.”
Peter slams him into the ground and straddles him, the dildo sliding out of him with the motion but Wade catches it and shoves it back inside. Peter shudders and his come splatters on Wade’s face, into his open mouth.
“Jesus,” Wade swears, licking Peter’s come off the corner of his lips. “This was worth it. I knew this would be worth it.”
Peter’s tired, twitching hands find their way up to Wade’s open throat and he presses down hard enough to hurt.
“You’re such an asshole.” He says bitterly. “I hate you so fucking much.”
Wade shoves the dildo up against Peter’s oversensitive rim and Peter screams so loud it makes his ears ring.
“Feels good huh?” Wade breathes out raggedly, Peter’s grip around his neck loosens and he lets his head hang back, eyes rolled back feeling like his body is being overridden by the sheer need to be touched. “I knew you’d like the feeling of your own dick.”
Peter moans, low as Wade starts a brutal pace, his dick starting to rise again.
“Loved watching you,” Wade says as Peter gasps when his hand grabs onto his red, leaking dick and pulls. “Knew you’d look good. Knew you’d like it. Knew it. Knew it.” Wade is chanting like a fucking prayer.
“Wa-” Peter tries to say but is cut off when the cold burn of the golden dildo is replaced with something much more human. Peter whines. He thinks he’s going to cry. No, he’s crying. Wade is catching them against his glove and licking them off like a fucking psychopath. He loves when Peter cries and Peter hates that he’s getting everything he wants tonight. He can’t stop it though, because he’s getting everything he wants too.
“Did you miss me?” Wade whispers as he brings Peter forward, their foreheads touching. He’s still wearing his mask, pulled up to his lips so Peter grabs the edge with his teeth and pulls it off fully so he can look him right in his wicked eyes.
“You know.” Peter slams their mouths together and screams it between them, muffled and angry and he’s shaking. “You know I did.” He says again, pulling back, a thread of spit connecting their mouths. “You know I did.” He says again, and his voice breaks.
Wade’s eyes widen a little and Peter knows, suddenly, that he almost feels bad.
“You’re a fucking monster,” Peter says slowly, slamming down on Wade’s dick and feeling it twitch deliciously in him. “If you ever do this to me again I’ll - I’ll - “ He chokes as the golden dildo is suddenly shoved in his mouth, and brutally pounded against the back of the throat.
“Hmm?” Wade hums, a dark look in his eyes as he slides up so Peter is sitting in his lap, the dildo in one of his hands, the back of Peter’s head in the other. “What was that?”
Peter can’t do anything but feel. It feels - it feels -
“I think you liked it,” Wade says again, moving the dildo methodically in and out of Peter’s mouth, pulling back to see the spit connected to the tip and licking at it with his own mouth. “I know I did.” He says, low and dark like it’s a secret. Like Peter doesn’t know.
Wade will do anything he wants if he wants it bad enough. If he likes it then it doesn’t matter if Peter doesn’t. It’s the most fucked up part of their relationship and Peter doesn’t know - doesn’t know why he stays for it. Doesn’t know why he lets Wade use him like this.
Maybe because Wade is always right in the end - Peter does like it, he just wishes he was more involved in the journey there.
When Peter gets close when he clenches around Wade’s dick and his eyes start burning from the feeling of the dick stretching his throat he pulls himself off with force, the pull of the dick sliding out of him makes him wince as he tumbles onto the floor.
“Now where the fuck are you going?” Wade says from the floor. “I know you were close.”
“You can put me on - the fucking edge - for a month.” Peter snaps. “A month.” He repeats like he almost can’t believe it’s been that long.
“You liked it,” Wade says again.
“No.” Peter snaps. “I didn’t.”
“I mean - edging doesn’t feel great.” Wade continues with a shrug. “But the payoff - “
“I didn’t,” Peter repeats again, kicking Wade flat on the floor with the heel of his foot, keeping him pinned by digging it hard into his chest. “Like it.” He finishes through gritted teeth.
“But - “
Peter tosses the golden dildo to the corner so hard it breaks Wade’s bookshelf.
“I said.” He steps off Wade’s chest and drops to the ground, grabbing onto Wade’s ankles, and pulling him forward sharply. “I want to fuck you.”
“Whatever you want,” Wade says reverently, staring up at Peter with so much want that Peter actually - finally sees that he’s missed him too. That he played his game and still lost in his own stupid way. It doesn’t make him feel better at all.
“Sure,” Peter says, pulling down Wade’s pants with the practiced hand of someone who hates how many buckles his suit has. “Like you give a shit about what I want.”
“Peter - “
“Shut up,” Peter says, smacking the side of Wade’s face hard with the back of his palm making him whine and throw his head back, hips stuttering before Peter pins them down hard with his free hand. “And let me fuck you.”
“Whatever you want - sir - please - please - “ Wade gasps as Peter roughly preps him, fingering him quickly and messy because he doesn’t want to wait - Wade doesn’t deserve a nice fingering, he barely deserves a good fucking.
“You love riling me up.” Peter scowls, slamming his fingers hard into Wade and relishing the way he twitches. “You love making me like this.”
Wade moans in agreement as Peter smacks the inside of his thigh, leaving a red mark.
“Don’t do this to me again,” Peter says, and he means it to sound like a command but it rings more like begging. “Don’t you ever - ever - “ He shoves himself roughly inside Wade, groaning at the wet, hot heat. He missed it so much. It’s not fair. None of this is fair.
Wade’s fingers scramble against the wood, drool pooling out of his mouth as he moans wordlessly as Peter fucks him with everything he’s got. Wade is the only partner he doesn’t think too hard about breaking - but he still thinks about it, he has to.
He’s not thinking about it now. Wade didn’t think about him, not once. He didn’t care what he was doing to Peter, just as long as he could get off to it so Peter takes one from his book and fucks into Wade like he’s nothing more than his unbreakable fleshlight.
“Did you miss me?” Peter cages Wade’s head between his hands as he stares down at him. “Do you still think it’s better?”
Wade is beyond words, just a drooling, twitching mess. He blinks his eyes up at Peter and looks at him like he’s lost. Peter loves that look at him. He loves Wade. He hates him too, but that’s always been the undercurrent. The pull.
“Always - always did.” Wade gasps. “I swear. It was just for the game. You - always better - missed you so - so - “ Peter covers his mouth with one hand and fucks into him until he comes. Wade’s dick is angry and red pressed between them and Peter - almost considers grabbing the cage and making him suffer for the next week. Peter should punish him for this insane fucked set of circumstances. It’s too bad Wade loves to be punished.
“Can I come?” Wade is begging now and Peter loves it, missed the sound of it so bad it hurts. “Please. Sir. Please. I’m sorry - let me come - let me - please please - “
“You don’t deserve it,” Peter says, dragging a finger across the curve of his cock before gripping onto the tip too tight for him to come.
“I know.” Wade looks at him with wet eyes. “I know - but - “
Peter squeezes his dick so hard it hurts, he makes it hurt.
Wade loves it, and Peter hates that a little. Even now, he feels like he’s losing.
“Please,” Wade begs so pretty, so wide-eyed - so perfect. Peter missed him so much he could kill him.
“Promise me you’ll never fuck it again,” Peter says. “Promise me that you’ll throw it away and you’ll let me fuck you instead.”
Wade twitches and whines. “Noooo. You liked it. I know you did.”
Peter did like it. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to see that thing flung into the depths of the ocean.
“I get to be the one that fucks you.” Peter snaps in his ear.
“Are you really jealous of your own dick?” Wade says wonderously, a smile tugging at his mouth as he moans. “Holy shit - you’re so neurotic. I love that about you. God. I love you.”
“Say it,” Peter says, tugging at Wade’s dick again. “Or I’m locking you up.”
Wade rolls his eyes, but his expression slips. “Fine. We’ll - we’ll throw it away. My investment. My prized possession - my - my “ He stutters as Peter lets go of his dick and swallows it down. “Oh, my god. I missed your hot little mouth. Okay - okay. It’s gone. I’ll throw it away tomorrow.”
Peter pulls off Wade’s dick with a lick across the tip. “Tonight. I’m going to watch you do it.”
“Kinky.” Wade snorts and then he’s lost when Peter sinks down to the root. “Okay. Whatever you want. Sure. It’s gone. We’ll send it off together like soldiers burying our fucking dead. Burying your dick - oh my god - Peter - I missed you so much.”
Wade comes down his mouth with a cry, and Peter sees stars. He pulls off slowly, regretfully, and cleans up the mess with his tongue just because he can. He likes the way Wade sounds when he’s had too much but doesn’t want to ask for any of it to stop. It feels like payback.
“You win,” Wade says as Peter collapses next to him, curling his arms around Wade’s strong torso and pulling himself in so tight it feels like their bodies are absorbing each other. Peter never wants to leave.
“I didn’t.” Peter snorts against the curve of Wade’s shoulder. “You know I didn’t.”
Wade is smiling, his thumb stroking against the curve of his spine. “Yeah.” He says softly. “I guess you didn’t.”
Later that night, they go out to the docks and Peter flings the dildo as hard as he can into the dark water. They watch its arc in the moonlight, glowing like a cursed, opulent myth.
“You have to admit, it was pretty,” Wade says as it plops unceremoniously into the ocean. “I mean, I know how to pick them.”
“It’s my dick.” Peter says, rolling his eyes, “It was always going to be pretty.”
“And now it’s gone,” Wade says mournfully. “Never to be seen again until the oceans dry up and our descendants find it while spelunking for old-world metal.”
Peter shudders, turning sharply away from the docks and back toward the city. “Don’t say that.”
“Oh my god - what if - it ends up in a museum? Penis of an Ancient Man,” Wade says gleefully. “Early 2000s, prehistoric penis. Girthy, golden, artifact. They’re going to think we worshipped your dick.”
“I mean, you do,” Peter says with a smirk.
“I am very devoted.” Wade agrees with a nod. “Can’t believe you made me drown my god.”
Peter pulls Wade toward him and brings their faces close. “Nothing is stopping you from worshiping.” He says and watches Wade fall to his knees.
Peter might have won, just a little.