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The fight was an old one, which meant that one of them had probably started it on purpose to facilitate kinky Christmas fun.
“Poor spider,” Wade said, biting the arm off of one of their several spider-shaped Christmas cookies (that was absolutely covered in blue and red frosting [and sprinkles]). “If only he had a healing factor.”
“Good thing spiders have awesome natural healing factors,” Peter snarked as he ate his reindeer cookie.
Wade giggled, biting off another spider leg. “If by ‘awesome’ you mean ‘slow and pitiful,’ sure.”
Okay so, in retrospect Wade definitely started this fight, but even he was surprised by how quickly it devolved into Peter calling him a rude name and getting sent to the corner, sans pants. He had no regrets, however, because now Peter was on his hands and knees on the Naughty Mat (which was sometimes called the Happy Mat, depending on the scene), facing the tree, giving Wade a perfect view from his spot on the couch.
Even from behind, Peter looked adorable in the reindeer antler headband Wade had put on him (despite his indignant huffing). His lovely back muscles rippled as he squirmed, making the line of stick-on bows Wade had placed down his spine glitter in the tree’s light. Wade was particularly entranced by the bow he’d stuck on the base of the large-ish plug that was protruding from between Peter’s still-pink ass cheeks. Every now and then, he could hear his sweetheart whimper and moan around the bar of soap in his mouth. Peter rocked back and forth, laying his head on the ground as if that would somehow help his poor, untouched cock, but it only gave Wade a better view.
“Five more minutes, Sassy Rudolph,” Wade reassured him, pressing the little remote that made the plug vibrate. Peter yowled around the soap and twisted and whined, but he did not move off the mat. Why would he? He was in such perfect agony, humiliated, probably thinking about how if he could just be good a little longer Wade would come over and remove the plug and eat him out while making Peter thrust into his hand —
-- anywho, Wade had a good long time to stare at Peter’s ass on Christmas night. Peter’s naked, forced-open, freshly-spanked ass. So muscular. So bouncy. He barely registered when the Murphy Brown Christmas Special he was supposed to be watching ended, but he quickly shut off the TV and went to his poor naughty reindeer.
Peter sob-moaned when Wade pulled the plug out of him, and Wade indulged in thumbing his sore, open hole. So smooth, just like the rest of his honey – miles and miles of creamy smooth skin, but none of it as sensitive as this gorgeous little pucker.
It could give a fella ideas…
*~*~*
“Can I shave you?”
Peter looked up from the Chex mix he was stirring with the smile that meant he thought Wade was being particularly cute. “Any time, Stud.”
“Oh, of course,” Wade said as he put the finishing touches on his center piece for their kitchen table. “I meant can I some time shave your – Personal Person?”
Peter’s brow furrowed, but Wade could tell it was directed at the unruly Chex mix and not at him. They were both glad they hadn’t gone to Switzerland this year – everyone had decided to have Christmas Day with their own little families, but they were all coming to Wade and Peter’s tiny apartment for New Year’s. They had been baking and decorating since Boxing Day, but there was still much to do. Wade suddenly worried that his kinky query might be ill-timed.
“Like my, um, crotch?” Peter asked, cheeks tinting pink ever so adorably as he shook the Chex mix out onto a baking sheet.
“Well, sure,” Wade said, setting aside his center piece and coming to help spread the mix out with a spatula. “But I was thinking of your other Personal Person.”
Wade watched Peter’s face tint almost imperceptibly darker pink as he realized what he meant.
“Is it – like, too hairy?” Peter asked, nearly dropping his spatula as his hands went automatically to his ass.
“No no no,” Wade said, bravely not laughing (even though he was pretty sure all of Peter’s combined body hair would not be enough for a Ken doll’s beard). “Your asshole is beautiful and immaculate – I just want you to let me touch it with a knife.”
Peter’s eyes went from concerned to dark with arousal. Wade made an executive decision that they could take a break from New Year’s preparations. He nearly ran them into the bedroom wall as he tried to simultaneously make out with his beloved and carry him to the bathroom.
*~*~*
Peter liked to be spanked under the pretense of punishment, typically. Wade was always happy to create even the flimsiest excuse, but sometimes he had to smack Peter’s sinfully gorgeous ass just because it existed.
Times like right now, for instance, when Peter was bent over the side of their bathtub, naked from the waist down, defenseless ass on display as he waited for further instructions. Wade simply couldn’t resist giving it a few greeting slaps, just to watch the lovely skin turn pink. Judging by the little gasp and moan that escaped him, Peter didn’t mind.
“You sure it’s okay to jump in like this?” Wade asked, hands lightly holding his Spidey’s hips. “Want to do a warm up? Shave these pretty legs?”
Wade ran his fingers up and down Peter’s muscled thighs, feeling the fine, barely-visible hair that dusted them. Peter groaned and pressed backwards.
“No, I’m sure,” he said, voice already husky.
Sometimes Wade felt like a perv because of how much he enjoyed bending Peter over things, but then he remembered how much Peter enjoyed being bent. Possibly even more than Wade did (possibly). He pressed a hand to his Spidey’s back, guiding him to lean against the tub, hands flat against the wall on the far side. Wade made sure that the towel he’d placed over the side of the tub was comfortably underneath his love, smoothing down poor Spidey Junior who was already half hard, trapped between Peter’s body and the cloth-covered porcelain. He gave Peter’s perfect ass one more smack, wordlessly telling him not to move, and stood to gather his supplies.
The thing about Peter’s ass is that it was very distracting. It had always distracted Wade, back before they were the Happiest Gays on the Block, back even before they were Crime-fighting Besties, back when Spider-man hated Deadpool (which was now hilarious and weirdly sweet). Wade would stare at his hero’s spandex-clad ass, flexing and twisting, and imagine what it would be like if he could just touch it. He wished he could go back to himself then and tell that poor pathetic slob that one day he’d get to do absolutely anything he wanted to that ass and Peter would moan and beg and thank him for it…
Wade nearly dropped a large bottle of shea butter on his tiny prone love, and he shook himself to refocus. He could hear Peter’s labored breathing as he knelt down next to the tub, and Wade ran a hand over the small of his back to settle him.
“Almost ready,” Wade reassured as he placed a bar of soap, a wash cloth, his straight razor, and the lotion along the edge of the tub, just where Peter could see. He watched Peter’s eyes find the straight razor and widen with fear and excitement, pretty lips parting slightly. Wade nearly dropped the soap into the tub as he ran it under the water.
“Gotta make sure you’re nice and sudsy,” Wade explained as he parted Peter’s lovely ass cheeks with one hand and pressed the warm, wet washcloth against his hole with the other. “Can’t have any razor bumps on my angel.”
Peter hummed at the sweet endearment, then moaned and pressed back as Wade circled his asshole with soapy fingers. He pressed his thumb against the center of the pucker, just enough that it nearly penetrated, then pulled back and replaced his thumb with the bar of soap. Peter whimpered and squirmed, frustrated by the tease, arching his back as if trying to fuck himself on the blunt soap.
Wade petted his Spidey’s hip – poor thing. He had not yet begun to tease. He demonstrated this by taking his time, rubbing the soap all around and over Peter’s hole, nudging the entrance, making him whine, until Wade was satisfied that he was good and lathered.
“Now, hold still,” Wade instructed, making sure Peter saw him pick up the straight razor. “Can you do that for me, Sweet Cheeks?”
Peter’s eyes were glassy already, but he nodded, readjusting his palms against the tiled wall.
“Good,” Wade said, holding the straight razor in Peter’s line of sight as he opened it. “Because if you move, I’ll have to stop. Can’t risk cutting this pretty little asshole.”
He punctuated the sentiment by quickly shoving one finger in and out of the soapy, tight pucker. Peter’s whole attention had been on the blade Wade was holding, and he let out a surprised cry. He pushed back to try to get more contact, then remembered himself and resettled, hands on the wall, perfectly still, controlling his breath.
“My good boy,” Wade praised, parting Peter’s ass cheeks with one hand and slowly, carefully lowering the blade to his skin. He heard Peter inhale when the sharp edge touched him.
Wade had started pretty far out from Peter’s actual Holy of Holies on purpose, planning to work inwards. He gently, steadily pulled the blade towards himself, nearly to the swell of Peter’s ass cheek (the absolute most fun place to spank but no no no, not thinking about that right now). He felt Peter shudder and sigh and had to stop himself from licking the skin he’d just shaved, greedy for more lovely sounds.
Moving as slowly and carefully as if he was performing brain surgery, Wade shaved the outward edge of Peter’s asshole. He placed the razor’s edge each time exactly above the skin he’d just gone over, scraping away more foam, revealing luscious, pink, smooth flesh. The urge to lick was almost painful, but he kept reminding himself that Peter was probably about to explode from being so good and holding still, and he kept hold of himself. By the time Wade had made a full circuit, they were both breathing like they’d finished a triathlon.
Wade wolf-whistled, setting down the razor and opening Peter’s ass with his thumbs. “I might need pictures of this by the time we’re done.”
Peter huffed a laugh, letting his forehead drop to his arm. Wade could see a blush on his lovely, blissed out face and had to resist the urge to grab him up and smooch him good. Later, he promised himself.
“I’m gonna bend you a little more, cutie,” he explained, placing his hand over Peter’s much smaller (and much stronger) one. He guided him to take his hands from the wall of the tub and place them in the basin, elbows and palms on the white enamel. Then Wade took hold of his hips, raising them up, bending Peter at a sharper angle.
He meant to praise him out loud, but the sight of Peter’s ass tilted perfectly over the tub’s edge, asshole exposed as his cheeks naturally fell away from each other, literally took Wade’s breath. He gave his thigh an affectionate squeeze instead, and Peter sighed, resting his face against his hands, totally presented and vulnerable and trusting.
Wade took a moment to re-sudsify Peter’s asshole, focusing on the very inner ring, the sweet, tight, little pucker. It twitched and fluttered under his fingers, as if it knew what was about to happen and was trying to get away. Wade fought off the hilarious image of an anthropomorphized sphincter attempting to run from him.
He took the razor back up, ignoring the maddeningly sexy shudder of breath that it elicited from his Spidey, and placed the blade oh so deliberately and exactly straight up and down over the little ring of muscle. Wade’s brain kind of screamed in the background about how very easy it would be for him to slip and hurt his sweet sweet angel’s Happy Place, but his fingers felt strong as he held Peter’s ass open, the razor stable in his hand as he dragged it gently outward, over the sensitive skin.
There was a distinct possibility, Wade realized, that he had never shaved another person’s asshole before. Part of his brain wanted to cry and squoo and kiss Peter all over and tell him about how special this was, while the Panicking part of his brain started screaming that he had no idea what he was doing and why hadn’t he practiced first?
There was a LOT going on in his brain. He focused on the feel of Peter’s soft, pliable skin under his blade.
He made little movements, short strokes, going for sensation rather than actual shaving (because really – not enough hair for a Ken doll’s beard). Every time he touched the blade’s edge to the oh-so-tender flesh, Peter let out a little sob of breath, too wrecked even to moan or whimper. Wade glanced down at his love’s face, pressed to the bottom of the tub, and saw his eyes closed, cheeks flushed, mouth open and panting. Too much. He adjusted his laser-like focus, taking his time, enjoying, scraping his blade along every little bit of Peter’s gorgeous hole.
“There we go,” he breathed, setting the razor on the edge of the tub. He saw Peter’s eyes open, looking up at him, anticipating what would come next. Wade admired his work, wiping the leftover foam away with the washcloth, looking for any scratches or nicks. Nothing. Just smooth, beautiful, pink skin.
Peter let out a cry of relief when Wade finally pressed his tongue to him. He started easy, taking little kitten-licks, then one big long lick right up the center, then laving his tongue right against his hole, pressing into it slightly. Then he completely let himself go and lapped and sucked and even bit a little, the cornucopia of happy sounds that poured out of Peter’s mouth a background to the happy screaming in his own brain. Peter’s asshole always always felt spectacular under his mouth and lips, but Peter’s Freshly Shaved asshole? Goddamn.
Wade fucked his tongue pretty far into the tight little pucker he’d just touched all over with a sharp knife, and Peter whimpered and arched, trying to get him as deep as possible, but staying in place. He was such a good boy.
“Gotta lotion you now,” Wade panted when he came up for air, fumbling the shea butter in his shaking hands. “Don’t want you to get itchy-ass.”
Peter squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered, but he didn’t protest, and he stayed still. The fact that he had not yet aggressively demanded that Wade fuck him was – astounding, really. Wade fully expected him to do so the moment he touched his smooth, silky ass with his lotioned fingertips, but he just tucked his face into his hands, a desperate little keening sound escaping him.
The combination of pride, love, and mind-bending lust that welled up in him was too much for Wade’s weak weak will. He fucked his lotion-covered fingers brutally into Peter’s pink asshole, watching the muscle give helplessly, opening to him. Peter yowled, fisting his hands against the bottom of the tub. Wade shoved down his own pants with his non-lotiony hand, grabbed that unspeakably gorgeous ass by the hips, and shoved right in. Peter actually pounded his fists against the porcelain, his happy screams echoing in the basin. Wade noted that he had never properly appreciated their bathroom’s acoustics before.
He came entirely too fast for his liking, then flipped his Spidey into the tub, somehow straddled him, and sucked his poor, eager cock, unable to resist fucking Peter with two still-slick fingers while he did so. Wade felt his sweetheart seize and shudder and drank every bit of him down, one arm wrapped around his hip to keep him from hurting himself in the close quarters.
When Wade’s brain came back enough that he could see straight, the two of them were a mess of limbs hanging haphazardly out of their bathtub. Peter’s eyes widened adorably at their predicament, and Wade giggled, kissing him.
Then he made Peter kneel up in the tub so that he could suck his come out of his asshole. Wade liked to leave his workspace clean.
*~*~*
Somehow, they finished their preparations in time for New Year’s Eve.
Wade had followed Peter into the kitchen to help him bring more cheese dip to the living room (where it was getting devoured at alarming rates, but that’s what happened when you invited multiple super soldiers to a party). He caught his beloved squirming and rubbing at his ass.
“I told you to let me lotion you up again, Itchy Pants,” Wade reminded, wrapping around Peter from behind and pressing his front right against Peter’s ass.
“If you had touched me again,” Peter whispered, pressing back against Wade’s cock, “we would absolutely never have gotten all this food together.”
“What if I showed our friends what you let me do?” Wade murmured against his neck. “Bent you over the counter, bared that sexy ass, held your cheeks open and let all our friends see how pretty and smooth your asshole is, just for me?”
Peter drew in a deep, shuddery breath, turning in towards Wade, their lips close.
“Let’s say,” Clint said, poking his head into the kitchen, “hypothetically, that someone was performing their Ode to The New Year: An Interpretive Movement Poem, and someone, named Tony, was standing way too close with their wine glass, and that it, hypothetically, got spilled all over your couch. Hypothetically.”
After three seconds of staring silently at Clint’s anxious expression, Wade and Peter burst into twin fits of hysterical laughter. They grabbed towels and their homemade cleaning solution, comforted Clint that it was not a big deal, and went to their couch where all of their friends were already sopping up the spill with paper napkins and shouting different suggestions for getting the stain out.
Once they’d sprayed the area and covered it up with their Second Best Blanket, Peter and Wade somehow coaxed everyone into sitting in a big circle around the living room to let Clint perform his Movement Poem in a safe space. After two encores, everyone danced and ate Chex mix and complimented Wade’s centerpiece (which really had turned out well).
And if anyone wondered why Wade and Peter fell into mad giggles whenever their eyes met, no one said anything. It was best not to ask.