Work Text:
There were many things that Peter could be, but short-tempered was not one of them.
Unless, of course, it involved Deadpool.
So when Deadpool fell out of the sky and pinned Peter to the ground by his chest, Peter did a very bad job of controlling his temper.
“Hey baby boy,” Deadpool purred, his masked lips dancing between a smirk and a leer. “Whatcha up to?”
“Deadpool, I swear to God,” Peter bit out from between teeth clenched in anger, “I’m not in the mood to mess around with you tonight.”
“Hmm, really?” Deadpool ran his hands from Peter’s chest to his arms, pinning them to the ground as his hands traced over the sculpted musculature until they reached Peter’s hands and interlocked their fingers.
“Was I unclear?” Peter’s tone was menacing, but as Deadpool nudged his jaw to the side and began tracing along the seam of his mask and his suit with his lips, Peter couldn’t help but flutter his eyes shut.
“I have selective hearing.” Deadpool released Peter’s wrist and pulled his mask over his nose and grinned wolfishly at Peter, whose resolve weakened even further as the streetlights glinted off the white points of his canines. Annoyed at himself for letting Deadpool overtake him once again, Peter grabbed Deadpool’s arm with his free hand and shoved him onto his back, reversing their positions.
“Stop testing me,” Peter hissed. He bit his tongue as Deadpool grazed his hands from Peter’s ribs to his waist, pressing gentle circles into his hipbones until the grip hardened to steel and Peter was forced onto his back again with a yelp, wrists pinned before he could blink.
“You know I can have you whenever I want.”
Peter wanted to retort, to deny the words with every ounce of resolve in his body, but Peter wasn’t wearing Tony’s air-filtered suit so Deadpool’s scent of gunpowder and oil and blood and musk was swirling in his nose and clouding his thoughts and all he could think about was how Deadpool’s hands could practically close completely around Peter’s slender waist and and how the only thing Peter could manage in response was one pathetic squeak.
Deadpool’s grin grew even wider as he leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to the underside of Peter’s jaw. “Cat got your tongue?”
Peter tried to struggle and pry Deadpool’s grip off of his wrists, but his superstrength had left him when he should’ve easily thrown Deadpool across the city. Even if he had managed to free his hands, he wasn’t sure whether he would’ve punched Deadpool or pulled him in for a kiss.
Deadpool chuckled in the dark, I-know-I’ve-already-won way that made Peter melt. “Why aren’t you struggling? I thought you liked a fight.” Deadpool licked a trail between the slit of Peter’s mask and his suit before curling his tongue under the thin fabric of the mask and gripping the edge with his teeth, pulling it up to expose Peter’s lips.
A blade of arousal lanced through Peter at the feeling of Deadpool’s sharp teeth barely grazing his neck. His superstrength finding him again, Peter ripped his wrists free of Deadpool’s grasp and kicked the mercenary off of him, jumping fluidly to his feet.
Deadpool flew back a few meters, stopping his own momentum easily and brushing his hands off as he stood. Peter smiled as he pulled his mask up further until the tip of his nose was just barely exposed. “I thought you liked a fight?” he mimicked.
“Oh, baby boy,” Deadpool whispered lasciviously as he took a step toward Peter. Peter followed his motions until they were circling each other as hawks would their prey. “You just like it when I’m angry.”
And you do too, Peter wanted to say, but Deadpool had picked him up and slammed his back into the brick wall of the alleyway, knocking the breath out of Peter before he had registered what had happened. Peter wasn’t sure if he was willing his Spidey-senses away or if Deadpool had just figured out a way past them. Deadpool breathed hard against Peter’s neck, his hand slipping lower and lower down Peter’s toned abs.
Peter groaned as Deadpool’s hand began stroking between his legs, instinctively grabbing the sides of Deadpool’s face and bringing him in for a kiss while he wrapped his legs around Deadpool’s waist. Peter licked the seam of Deadpool’s lips, stroking along Deadpool’s tongue as the mercenary opened his mouth, pulling Deadpool’s body closer and closer until they were grinding against each other, both painfully hard.
Abruptly, Deadpool pulled away. “Not here,” he breathed. Peter whined, his lower belly swirling with heat and his arousal so persistent it almost hurt.
“I thought you liked it when people could see?” Peter playfully bit Deadpool’s lip.
“No,” Deadpool whispered, his aura suddenly shifting to one of possessive need. “I want you in my bed tonight.”
Peter swallowed hard, his cheeks warming with the rush of blood that pounded with his rapid heartbeat. Somehow, this felt different than all of the other hook-ups they had had before.
“Okay.”
Deadpool threw the door to his apartment open, dragging Peter by the hand through his kitchen and then to his bedroom. Peter couldn’t see much past the blur of their speed, but he noticed a lot of stainless steel and a lot less mess than he would’ve expected from Deadpool.
Deadpool threw Peter onto the bed and climbed on top, licking a trail from Peter’s neck up his chin and to his mouth, claiming his lips as he snaked his arms underneath Peter’s back to unzip his suit and to pop all the latches that were secret to all but Peter and Deadpool. Peter groaned and wrapped his legs around Deadpool’s hips as his suit was taken completely off, rocking back and forth to stifle the blazing heat in his lower parts.
“Deadpool,” Peter hissed, his eyes in slits and his cheeks pink with pleasure as Deadpool kissed and bit his way down Peter’s chest and across his abs, leaving angry purple marks in his mouth’s wake.
Deadpool looked up and grabbed Peter’s hair through his mask, wrenching Peter’s head back to expose his throat. “Say my name,” he ordered in that dominant tone of voice that never failed to make Peter melt into a pool of Jell-O.
“Deadpool,” Peter whispered as he wrapped his arms around Deadpool’s back to begin unlatching all of the buckles and straps that kept his weapons in place. Deadpool responded by shoving Peter back down with a hand on his chest.
“No,” Deadpool breathed, his hand trailing up Peter’s chest to rest at his throat. Peter’s heart rate doubled and the volume of blood rushing to his dick tripled as he began panting at the tingly pleasure that spread through his body just at the weight of Deadpool’s hand at his neck.
“No?” he managed to ask before Deadpool closed his hand, gentle enough to allow him to breathe but hard enough to be threatening. Peter let out a strangled moan and ground against Deadpool’s length with increased urgency, hands nearly ripping the belts and holsters off of the other man and unzipping the length of the suit along Deadpool’s back. His bare hands pressed against the rough, mottled skin of Deadpool, but if anything it was more arousing to Peter.
“Wade.”
Peter stared at Deadpool with wide eyes underneath his mask. “Wade…?”
Wade growled as the syllable left Peter’s throat and ground down hard onto Peter, making him yelp. “Again.”
“Wade,” Peter keened, wanting nothing more than to have more of that delicious, muscular body against his skin. He peeled the suit off Wade’s angry red skin, running his cool fingers over the lacerations in an attempt to soothe. Wade let go of Peter’s throat to strip himself completely before pulling Peter to the edge of the bed and towering over him.
“Please, Wade,” Peter whined, not missing how Wade’s dick jumped at the sound of his words. Wade didn’t respond. Instead, he lifted his hand to the bridge of his nose, pinching the fabric of his mask that had bunched there. Peter propped himself up on his elbows, watching with curiosity and apprehension and shock and… something else burning deep in his chest as Wade lifted the mask off, revealing his face to Peter for the first time.
For a moment, Wade stood still, mask in hand, as if waiting for Peter to bolt or to reject him or to vomit or worse. Peter also stood still, eyes running over the sores running over Wade’s skin, shifting constantly, staring at the bright blue of his eyes and the hint of blonde eyebrows and eyelashes.
Wade opened his mouth to say something, but the words died on his lips as Peter flung a web onto his chest and pulled him close, kissing him with renewed vigor. Peter detached the web as he forced his tongue into Wade’s mouth, swallowing any insecurity that might have welled up in Wade.
Wade pulled away gently. “A regular Disney princess, ain’t I?” he grinned at Peter.
Peter smiled back. “Better, I’d say.”
“Baby boy, I’ve been waiting for this all week,” Wade whispered, his hand back on Peter’s throat and his hand rubbing insistently along Peter’s length. “All this teasing’s become too much, even for me.”
Peter moaned and hooked two fingers under the edge of his mask, pulling it off with one fluid motion and revealing fluffy brown hair and the slightest ghosts of freckles across his nose and big, brown, doe eyes that had Wade at the cusp of orgasm already. The puff of apple pie-scented shampoo that accompanied didn’t help, either.
“It’s Peter,” he said, the last syllable drowned in a moan as Wade closed his hand tighter around Peter’s neck.
Wade hissed in pleasure, watching Peter’s eyelids fall to half mast in his cloud of arousal, before kneeling down and licking Peter’s shaft—balls to tip.
Peter gasped. “Wade, I can’t last if you blow me, just please put it in, I can’t take it anymore—“
"You're such a filthy, demanding little slut, aren't you?" Wade growled low in his throat as the remaining blood in his brain traveled south instead. “You got it, Petey-pie.”
Wade kept his eyes trained on Peter’s, hand fumbling on his bedside for a condom, cursing when he couldn’t find one. He settled for a pump of lube on his fingers and his cock instead, stretching Peter out with his fingers first and then lining his dick up to slowly push in.
“Don’t try this at home if you’re reading this,” Wade muttered under his breath as he slid inside Peter. “I’m only rawing him because we’re monogamous— oh, and I love him.”
“What?!” Peter yelped, before dissolving into a mess of whines and moans and grunts as Wade grabbed his neck and pinned his arms down and fucked his ass into sheer bliss.
“Faster, harder, please, Wade, I need it, I need you,” Peter chanted in his fervor. Wade groaned and grabbed Peter’s ankles, pinning them down onto the bed right next to Peter’s ears. Thank God he was so flexible. Peter’s moans reached an all-time volume high as the angle shifted.
“Peter,” Wade gasped, eyes narrowed, “I can’t last much longer—“
“Let me cum,” Peter interrupted, begging with every fiber of his being. “Please let me cum—” The words were ripped from his throat into a choked moan as strings of white were painted on his chest. The sight of Peter, pink-cheeked, marked to hell by Wade’s teeth, cumming uncontrollably was too much for Wade and he soon followed suit, leaning forward and burying his teeth into the crook of Peter’s neck as he rode out his orgasm.
Peter waited for Wade’s grunts to subside before allowing his body to relax, panting and gasping from the strength of his orgasm. Wade stayed pressed against him for a moment containing an eternity before slowly sliding out, picking Peter up and placing him under the covers. Peter grabbed Wade’s arm and tugged him into bed with him.
“That was good,” Peter said as he nestled into Wade’s side.
“We all agree,” Wade sighed. Peter didn’t question the “we.”
“Mind if I stay over?” Peter knew that his afterglow would soon give way to sleep, and he really didn't want to fall asleep on the way home reeking of sex and sweat. That would just be a bad situation overall.
“Not in a million years, baby boy.”
Peter smiled as Wade sank lower into the covers, wrapping his arms tightly around Peter. Peter was just about to black out before he remembered something.
“Hey.”
“Hmm?” The hum was fogged with sleep.
“Love you too.”
All Peter heard was the smile in Wade’s exhale in response, but it was enough.