Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

POV: Wade

“Fuuudge brownies!” Wade hears Spider-Man grit out as he grabs his bicep. His bleeding bicep. Spidey kicks his assailant square in the chest, sending him flying back against a wall where he falls to the floor.

[He would make a fantastic killer if he could get over his stupid morals.]

{Maybe we could pull an uno reverse? He makes us better, we make him worse. *SQUEEL* That rhymed!!}

“Wooaah there, Webs, don’t forget your no un-aliving rule. Here, let me take a look at your arm,” Wade says in the same way you’d speak to a startled animal. He takes a tentative step towards Spider-Man with both hands out, only kind of joking with his overly cautious mannerisms.

Spider-Man has been acting weird lately. Most people wouldn’t notice, but Wade always pays more attention than people realize. It was trained into him so thoroughly that it comes as easily as breathing. And okay yeah, he pays extra special attention to his favorite hero/partner in fighting crime. Sue him. But seriously, Spidey has just not been himself. He’s been distracted and agitated, leading to him being a bit sloppy in fights. He shouldn’t be bleeding right now, they weren’t fighting a supervillain or anything like that. Just a wimpy group of bank robbers. They didn’t even have any powers or fancy tech, just plain ol’ guns. And Spidey should’ve been able to dodge that bullet.

“It’s fine, Pool, let’s just get out of here.” Wade watches as Spider-Man webs up his arm and then sheepishly checks to make sure the guy on the ground isn’t hurt too badly. He seems satisfied with whatever he finds and webs the guy's hands to the floor before walking out of the building, not checking to see if Wade is following him.

Wade jogs up to Spidey and they walk in silence until the tension is too much for Wade. “Now that we’ve saved the day, how about some food? I know healing really revs up the appetite so I was thinking we grab some Thai to refuel? We aren’t too far from SriPraPhai and I know how much you love their drunken noodles. Or we could go to—”

“Yeah, Thai sounds good,” he interjects.

Wade tries not to take it personally when he’s interrupted. Everyone interrupts him, it’s fine. It’s normal, expected even. He talks a lot, they call him the Merc with a Mouth for a reason. It’s just, Spidey normally only interrupts him in a good way, like when he’s too excited to hold his thoughts in. Sometimes they even end up having two separate conversations at the same time when they’re really on a roll. This feels different. There’s definitely something going on here and Wade’s going to get to the bottom of it.

“Aaalrighty, I’ll call it in and meet you at the usual spot?”

Spidey just nods his head in response and webs away. Wade lets out a dejected sigh before calling the restaurant. He gets there before it’s ready, of course—he ordered enough food for at least 6 people so he could try to ease Spidey’s mood by sending him home with leftovers. He may not know much about the guy, but he knows the way to his heart is definitely through his stomach.

[Actually, it’s through the sternum.]

{But we’d never hurt our precious spider! The light of our life! The only person that seems to give two flying shits about us!}

Once he has the bags of food in hand he starts messing with his teleportation belt, not interested in wasting time catching up on foot. What if Spidey already went home? He wouldn’t skip out on dinner, right? We still don’t know how bad his injury is. We need to convince him to let us take a closer look.

[He has a healing factor too, you know. It’s shit compared to ours obviously, but it’s something. Plus, he webbed away with both arms so it can’t be that bad. Stop being a little bitch about this.]

Wade lets out a frustrated whine as he finishes setting up his belt and presses the button. One very uncomfortable second in the void later he finds himself staring at Spidey’s tense form sitting on the edge of the roof. “Hey, baby boy! Dinner is served!” Wade calls out with some artificial pep to try and set a lighter mood.

“Thanks, Pool,” Spider-Man’s reply comes out soft and Wade can’t help but notice how his shoulders are slightly hunched in and his gaze stays aimed at the ground. He looks guilty. Wade watches as he pulls his mask up to his nose and digs into his noodles, staring at the city below them. Wade stuffs his face quickly in his usual fashion, rushing to cover his face before Spidey can see his scars.

“Hey honeybun, I know you said it’s fine, but can I please take a look at your arm? You know I don’t like it when people that aren’t me get shot.”

“You shouldn’t like it when you get shot either, Pool.” Spider-Man answers dryly with that tiny head movement that shows he’s rolling his eyes. His voice always sounds better without his mask distorting it into a lower pitch. Wade savors the fleeting moments he gets to hear it before the mask is inevitably pulled back down.

Wade puffs out a theatrical sigh before replying, “Okaayyy, I don’t like getting shot. But I’d let you shoot me anytime, wink wink.” He follows it up with an actual wink that he knows is showing through his mask.

This finally pulls a smile onto Spidey’s face despite how he tries to pinch his lips together and fight it. “You don’t need to say “wink wink” if you’re already winking. And you still haven’t told me how you got your mask to move like that…”

“A lady has to have some secrets!” Wade says, scandalized, with his hand over his heart for emphasis. “Good attempt at dodging my question by the way, but not good enough for the master of distraction. Seriously, how is your arm doing? If the bullet’s still in there we need to get it out.”

Webs throws his head back in (mostly) fake annoyance as he replies, “It’s fiiiine, it just grazed me, I swear. No bullets are stuck anywhere, it’s basically just a big scratch. A little scratch! Maybe medium. Whatever. But it’ll be healed up in no time, doesn’t even need stitches.”

Wade stares him down for a second before conceding, “Okay, okay, I trust you. I’m just worried about you, Webs. This isn’t the first time you’ve been hurt recently and I’m scared it won’t be the last. Something’s off with you, and I really really don’t want to see you get hurt just because you aren’t paying attention. Just tell me what’s got your webs all in a twist and I can help!”

“Pool, I get that you’re worried but it’s really none of your business. Minor injuries are part of the job sometimes.” Spidey goes back to eating, clearly wanting Wade to drop the subject.

“But that’s the thing! This isn’t normal for you! You’re distracted about something and you’re making mistakes that you shouldn’t be. What if that bullet hit you in the chest instead? I know you have a healing factor, baby boy, but you can’t convince me it’s good enough for something like that. It’s only a matter of time before minor injuries turn into major ones, or civilians get hurt because you’re too stubborn to let me help!”

Spider-Man freezes and Wade watches the way his jaw clenches.

{Oooo someone’s in troouuble!}

Wait, is he blushing too? Yeah, that’s definitely blush. Maybe because he’s angry? People’s faces get red when they’re angry. That’s a thing, right?

Webs takes a steadying breath before grumbling, “Fine, I’ll work on it. Can we please talk about something else now?”

“Of course, cutie pie, anything for you.”

The tension fades quickly as Wade launches into an unrelated story of one of his past jobs (leaving out all of the murdery bits, and maybe embellishing the truth here and there). Webs is still a bit closed off when they say their goodbyes, but at least he got some smiles and laughs out of him before the night ended.

***

POV: Peter

“This is so fucking stupid,” Peter mumbles to himself as he dissolves the webbing over his arm so he can clean and bandage it. He’s back in his studio apartment, sitting on his corduroy loveseat that still smells like mothballs despite the fact that he got it over three years ago. It’s a scientific wonder at this point.

Peter isn’t thinking about his furniture though; he’s got a problem to fix, and it’s not his arm. He knew he’d been feeling off lately—and there wasn’t any question as to what caused it—but he’s irritated that Deadpool noticed. He’s disappointed in himself because it’s impacting his patrols. He’s furious that Deadpool was right. So now he needs to get his shit together before his stupid dumb sex life endangers an innocent civilian.

It always happens eventually, and most recently it happened one month ago. He had a really good thing going: he met up with Brian usually once a week to indulge in their… niche stress relief activities, and that was that.

It would’ve been a friends with benefits situation, if Peter put any effort into the friends aspect. It’s just so hard to get close to people knowing it could mean putting them in danger. Not “could”, the danger was inevitable . It was only a matter of time before the guy got tired of just messing around and wanted to pursue something more with someone else. Someone better. Knowing the reasoning didn’t make it hurt any less.

More importantly, now his stress relief is gone. He’s tried everything from aromatherapy to those really aggressive massages that leave you feeling like jello. He already gets plenty of exercise patrolling, and his diet is as healthy as it can be on his budget. He tried looking for less stressful jobs, but the two he has currently are the only ones he’s found that put up with his “attendance issues”. He’s out of options. Nothing can make his busy brain actually be quiet and let him relax like a rough hookup (understatement of the year).

Time to find a new fuckbuddy I guess.

Peter thinks back to how he met Brian as he finishes bandaging his arm, inspecting his work to make sure it’ll stay put. They met on a dating app, and that was after countless failed attempts with other matches. That would take too long since he’s not comfortable writing what he’s really looking for in his bio for everyone to see. He opens up his laptop and starts looking for other ways to find someone, and lands on a kinky dating website. It’s daunting, but he perseveres and throws together a profile, making sure to crop his face out of any photos. It seems like a lot of people do that, so he doesn’t feel too bad about it.

He closes his laptop as soon as his profile is finished, not wanting to think about it any more right now. He digs out the leftovers Deadpool pushed on him and eats his fill before passing out in bed, blissfully unaware of the 10 new messages already waiting for him.

***

Chapter Text

POV: Wade

Spidey is still distracted and cranky the following night. He’s doing a really good job hiding it, it’s actually adorable how much effort he’s putting in, but obviously Wade sees through it. It’s not his fault he wants to help so badly, it all just explodes out of him at once.

“Sooo… Is it job troubles? Your boss being a jerk again? I could threaten him for you, easy-peasy, no killing needed. HOLY SHIT! I can say the k-word! Take that, Marvel, you cock-sucking—wait no, sorry, getting off topic here. As I was saying, did you get fired? I could help you find a job, there’s plenty of merc jobs that don’t involve killing—god I’m so excited to have this word back! Or better yet, I can just give you money! I have too much, I’m running out of ideas for what to do with it. Or is it family problems? I can’t really give you any good advice there, but I know a therapist that owes me a favor. Maybe it’s girlfriend troubles? I know some great ways to spice things up in the bedroom department,” Wade wiggles his non-existent eyebrows suggestively and puckers his lips.

Webs was slack jawed through most of that rant, but his mouth snapped shut and he froze as soon as Wade mentioned the “bedroom department”. Interesting… Spidey seems to come back to life a moment later, and is distinctly lacking the waterfall of thanks and praise (and maybe teary-eyed hug) that Wade was anticipating.

[Really? You couldn’t have possibly been expecting a good reaction from bringing up the one subject that makes bug-boy throw a tantrum.]

As if on queue, the lenses of Webs’ mask squint into a lethal glare. “Like I said, Deadpool, I’m working on it. I can handle my own issues, thank you very much.”

{Aww, there’s that “thank you”!}

Yeah, it totally wasn’t sarcastic.

“You’re right, I’ll drop it, Webs. I’m sorry. Let’s get back to patrolling, yeah?” Wade suggests as a peace offering.

“I need to head home, I’ve got an early morning. See you tomorrow though?” Spidey replies, softening his tone a bit towards the end. Okay he doesn’t hate us, that’s good.

“I’ll be out of town on a job, but I should be back by Friday.” Wade feels uncomfortable as he always does when mentioning his work. Even though he’s stopped taking jobs that require killing, he’s still doing things that are technically against the law. Very against the law.

Spidey doesn’t seem phased though. “Okay, see you Friday then.”

“Yeah, Webs, see you then.”

***

POV: Peter

Time : Still Monday night

Peter goes straight to his computer when he gets home, and is shocked to find almost 30 messages waiting for him. Time to get to work I guess. He grabs some water and settles in to start combing through them. Most of them are immediately disappointing, but not surprising.

Dick pic.

“My wife and I are looking for a third—”

Obvious bot.

“send pics?”

Dick pic.

“Looking for love and connection—”

“The Lord will forgive you if you—”

Dick pic.

A message finally catches Peter’s eye and he opens their profile to take a closer look. He isn’t really Peter’s type, he’s slightly shorter than him and he’s pretty slim, but Peter rationalizes that he doesn’t really need to find him attractive. He types up a response to the message and is surprised to see a typing bubble pop up almost immediately.

XxDomSexGod69xX: Hey there, I’m Walter and I’ve been a dom for years so I’m sure I can fulfill your fantasies. I’m mostly looking for a sub that just wants to have some no-strings-attached fun. If you’re interested I’d love to connect in person to talk more. Ciao

CrimsonCheek: Hi Walter, I’m Parker. I’m also looking for something no-strings-attached. When would you like to meet?

XxDomSexGod69xX: Wonderful! Are you available this Friday at 10pm? There’s a kink friendly club with a bar in Hell’s Kitchen. We could start there and see where things go.

Peter considers this offer for a moment. Fridays are usually busy patrol nights, so he usually avoids making any plans. Not that I make plans on other nights either. He thinks back to his conversation with Deadpool and decides fixing his problem is worth missing the patrol. He sends a message to confirm plans, and they exchange photos of their faces so they can recognize each other before logging off.

***

Time: Friday night

Friday night arrives too fast and somehow not fast enough. The anticipation is bubbling under his skin; his nerves have him wound so tight he nearly jumps to the ceiling when his burner phone dings signaling a new text.

Deadpool: hey bb, just got back from a job and could use a pick me up. u kno nothing gets me up like dat ass ;)  so where are we meeting 4 patrol tonite?

A pang of guilt hits Peter as he realizes he completely forgot he said he’d see Deadpool tonight. He types out a quick reply before tossing the burner back in his nightstand so he can focus on getting ready for his date. Is this a date? Maybe more like an interview? Ugh no that sounds weird. He leaves early, unable to stay cooped up in his little apartment any longer.

His anxiety is still going strong when he opens the door to the club and takes in his surroundings. It’s busy, but there are still a few free seats open at the bar. He’s about 20 minutes early, so he settles in and orders a few shots to try and soothe his nerves. The bartender raises an eyebrow when Peter downs all 4 by himself, but he doesn’t say anything.

After the longest 25 minutes of his life—and 4 additional shots—he feels a slight tingle from his spider-sense before someone taps on his shoulder to grab his attention.

“Hey there beautiful, can I buy you a drink?” Walter’s eyes shamelessly drag down Peter’s body as he speaks. Walter’s body seems to look the same as his pictures, and his face is attractive in a way that’s so stereotypical it’s boring. He sits down next to Peter and they make some light conversation as they sip on their newly ordered drinks.

The light tingle on the back of Peter’s neck hasn’t gone away, and Peter is getting more uncomfortable as time passes. The guy is friendly, but leans way too far into Peter’s personal space and keeps making comments that just don’t sit right with him. He decides to just end the date when he decides it’s not worth taking things any further. He can wait a little longer while he looks for someone less pushy, right?

“This has been really fun, but I don’t think it’s going to work out for me so I’m going to head home. Thank you for the drink and conversation,” Peter offers up an apologetic smile as he tries to let him down gently. His sense jumps to alert him of the danger he sees unfolding in front of him. Walter’s face drops into something cold and callous, miles away from the friendly veneer he was putting on earlier.

Seriously? Peter glances towards the exit, trying to make a plan to avoid any confrontation that could expose his strength. Shit, why does Parker luck have to strike now? He knows he could defend himself using only human strength if he really needed to, but it would take a lot of brainpower to pull off in his current buzzed state. He feels a bead of sweat forming at his temple as he weighs his options. Walter opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted before he can get a word out. Peter feels a large hand fall on his shoulder as a chipper voice rings out above the noise of the bar.

“Hey sweetheart! Long time no see.”

***

POV: Wade

Wade frowned at his phone.

SpiderBabe <3 : Not patrolling tonight, something else came up. I’ll catch you around next time though! Sorry!

Spidey’s skipping a Friday patrol? He never misses Fridays.

[Maybe he’s lying so you’ll stop following him around like a lost puppy.]

{Let’s hunt him down and ask!}

Wade: GASP! my sugarbear has plans on a friday nite?!?

Wade: okaayy ill try to survive without u.

Wade: use protection ;) ;)

Wade flops onto the couch with a whine. Bea and Arthur are horribly uncomfortable to lay on, especially at this angle, so he gets back up and goes to his room to change.

His recent job sucked. They said it would be an easy in and out, just stealing some stupid artifact or something from this dumbfuck rich guy. They conveniently left out the part where the whole goddamn mansion would be booby trapped to hell. That usually wouldn’t be a problem, but these traps were genuinely impossible to avoid, even with comic book logic.

[This isn’t a comic book.]

He took hit after hit that day. Bullet and laser wounds galore, toxic gas that burned his lungs and made it hard to think, a trap door dropped him in a pool of water (thank fuck it wasn’t acid), but then of course the water was hit with enough electricity to kill a rhino. Once everything was said and done he was missing his left hand, had a hole in his stomach the size of a basketball, and his right leg had been crushed so badly the bones were ground to a paste in there. He had to just cut it off and grow a fresh one. He tossed the old leg out the window on the way to drop off the artifact, and Dopinder almost hurled at the audible splat it made as it hit the ground. Wade left him a handful of blood-smeared hundred dollar bills and an apology to make up for it.

It took a full day of rest to grow all his shit back, and now he just wanted a distraction. If Spidey could take a night off to get laid, so could he.

***

Chapter Text

POV: Wade

Wade had only been there a short while when he spotted the buff nerd sitting on the other side of the bar. He was hot , like unbearably hot . Wade tried not to stare, but it was a lost cause. This guy clearly worked out, but was more lean than bulky. He held himself like he was unsure if he was even allowed in here—probably his first time in a place where people were so openly kinky like this. There were plenty of people decked out in leather harnesses, collars, etc.

His fluffy brown hair was overgrown just enough that he had to periodically shove it back out of his eyes, only for it to fall back over his forehead seconds later. The glasses are what really cemented the nerd look, but Wade has a feeling he’d look nerdy even without them. He watched as the man knocked back a shot and the view of his head tipped back, throat working to swallow the liquid, was downright sinful. Then he did it again, and again, and again.

Damn! Four shots is a lot for a normal human, right? I’m pretty sure that was a lot.

[Remember when we could get drunk?]

{What do you mean?! We can totally still get drunk, it only takes a couple bottles. Don’t be a pussy!}

Yeah, but then we waste half the time pissing anyway. No thanks, I’ll stick to drugs.

Wade ordered a drink anyway and ignored the boxes as they yelled about hypocrisy and which drugs are best. Not much time passed before mr. Sexy Nerd ordered another round of shots for himself, and Wade started to worry a bit. He decided to keep an eye on him a while longer in case someone tries to take advantage.

{Us! Us! We should take advantage, you’re obviously staring because you want to fuck him till he forgets his own name and I wholeheartedly support that mission.}

[Yellow you idiot, you forgot the big bad mercenary, who will do almost anything for some cash, draws the line at “consent” or whatever.]

“Can you guys shut the fuck up please,” Wade muttered under his breath. He needed to focus because his hot nerd was talking to a random guy and smiling away. God his smile is so fucking cute.

[Is his smile ringing any bells for anyone else? No, just me?]

Wade watched the two men chat and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest. Obviously someone as hot as that would want to talk to someone in his league. Well, no, they aren’t in the same league at all, rando has nothing on hot tamale. Wade’s eyes stayed glued on the pair as he got lost in his thoughts, but he snapped back to attention when he noticed the hottie looked uncomfortable. Poor nerd looked like he was dying for an escape, squirming in his seat and not in a fun way. Wade got up just to sit a bit closer, but then he saw actual fear flash across the guy’s face and changed course to intervene.

“Hey sweetheart! Long time no see,” He announces his arrival and sets a hand on the cutie’s shoulder in what he hopes is a non-threatening way before locking eyes with the jerk. “Hate to interrupt, but you see we’ve got this game of tag going and it looks like I just won, so I’ll be claiming my prize now.”

All three of them exchange quick glances before the asshole pipes up, focusing his attention back on Wade.

“What the hell is wrong with your face?”

Surprisingly, the hottie jumps to his defense without hesitation, “Dude! You can’t just say shit like that! We’re leaving.” Then he stands up and walks away, one hand holding the sleeve of Wade’s hoodie and dragging him along with a surprising amount of strength. He sits down at one of the tables on the other side of the bar with a huff and turns his gaze up at Wade, who is still stunned at how things unfolded.

“Thanks for the save, let me buy you a drink?” His big brown eyes have Wade pinned to the spot. The hopeful little smile on his freckled face might actually give Wade a heart attack. He clears his throat before replying.

“Oh, uh, right. No problem at all. I mean, I really didn’t do anything, actually I should thank you for calling out that pumpkin fucker. People just have no decorum these days. Also, sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the line I used, I really don’t know where that came from, I just say the first thing that pops into my head most of the time. Okay, you got me, all of the time—”

Doe eyes softly interrupts, letting Wade finally take in a breath of air. “What do you want to drink? Come on, it’s the least I could do.” Those brown eyes crinkle at the corners when he shines that beautiful smile at Wade.

“Sex on the beach, extra sexy.”

He laughs as he stands up and replies, “Okay, I’ll see what they can do. I’ll be right back.”

Wade sits down at the table and drums his fingers to the rhythm of SexyBack while he waits. I can’t believe hot stuff is getting us a drink. He stared right at us and didn’t look disgusted or afraid at all. He smiled at us!

By the time the hot nerd makes it back to the table Wade is humming loud enough to be heard over the noise of the bar. “And here is your sex on the beach, good sir,” he announces in a playfully sarcastic tone as he sets the glass down and returns to his seat. He has an identical drink in his hand and is already taking a sip.

“Sooo, what's a nice place like you doing in a girl like this?” Wade asks with a smile before bringing his glass to his lips. It pulls a tiny chuckle out of the guy and it’s sweeter than maple syrup.

“Going on a first date, or not date, I don’t know. I was meeting up with that guy from earlier, Walter. We only chatted online a little bit before meeting here, so I can’t be too surprised it didn’t go well. For all I know, Walter probably wasn’t even his real name.” He shrugs his shoulders before continuing, “Whatever, doesn’t matter now anyways, he sucked. Total creep vibes.”

Wade nods his head with one side of his mouth pulled up into a crooked smile. “A not-date with not-Walter, got it. Well, it’s totally his loss. Anyhoo, my name’s Wade, and that’s the real one I promise.” He adds in a wink at the end.

“My name’s Peter. Nice to meet you, Wade.” Peter’s accompanying smile is soft and warm.

[Thank GOD. I was getting so tired of “hot nerd” this and “sexy nerd” that. It was repetitive and uninspired.]

“Peter… Peter, Peter, Peter. Great name, love it really, but I think I’m gonna go with Bambi. You’ve got a real doe eyes thing goin’ on over there.” Wade gestured to Peter’s face with a finger to emphasize his point. “And on that note, you are way too hot to be resorting to creepy guys on the internet. I’m sure you could find someone on a regular old dating app to, let me guess, tie you up? Blindfold you?” Wade feels like he’s pushing his luck, but Peter hasn’t run away yet and he’s dying to know what the guy’s into.

{I bet he’s into <#$& @%&*?^ !@*#.}

[Ha! You got censored.]

Peter looks a bit surprised but recovers quickly. He’s staring into his drink when he replies, “Uh, well, I did have a good thing going with someone from a dating app but he wanted to build more of a friendship—and probably eventually build a relationship—but I really don’t have time for either of those things right now. It took so long to find someone who was into the same thing as me on the app so I figured going on a website that’s just for kink stuff would make it easier. I didn’t want to waste time going through that whole process again since it’s kind of a stress relief thing for me I guess? And my life is kinda stressful, so, yeah.”

“Mhm, yeah those pesky dating apps do have a lot of people looking to date. So, what are you into?” Wade tries again to get an answer.

“Oh! Right. I think the term for it is impact play? Like spanking but a lot? The type that leaves bruises?” His voice pitches up with each sentence, making them sound more like questions.

This is at least three of my top fantasies all mixed into one glorious package. Wade freezes for a second, trying to think of something suave and flirty to say back but he’s completely blanking.

[The merc with a mouth is speechless? Holy shit.]

He can practically see the blank screen with a DVD icon bouncing around, as if he’ll finally have a coherent thought the moment it lands perfectly in the corner. The moment of silence causes Peter to glance up, eyebrows slightly scrunched together, and then he starts to backpedal.

“I know how that sounds, I’m not into abuse or anything like that! It’s really niche, probably sounds a bit concerning, but I swear it’s not—”

Wade realizes Peter misread his reaction so he jumps in to stop that train of thought. “No, no, no, you don’t need to explain yourself, that’s a very normal and common kink! Trust me I’ve done all that and way more than you could imagine. Really, don’t try to imagine, for your own sanity. Okay, clowns were involved one time! ” Wade shudders at the memory. “The things we do for love…”

Peter relaxed at Wade’s words, but then seemed a bit disappointed by the end. “So, you’re in love with someone?”

“Oh I was, head over heels. But that was a long time ago—like six-feet-under long time ago—so I don’t think we’ll be reuniting any time soon. These days my only love is very much unrequited, so here I am looking for someone to pass the time with.” Wade hopes the sadness isn’t showing in his eyes too much. He’ll always have a spot in his heart for Vanessa, no matter how painful it is to think of her. And Webs is just too good for him so that’s never going to happen.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. I lost someone I love too so I think I know how you feel.”

They lock eyes for a moment in silent understanding, and Wade notices the bags under his eyes for the first time. Underneath all that charm and sex appeal, he looks like he’s lived a hard life. Peter breaks the tension with a wistful smile, “Looks like we could use another round. Same thing as last time?” He stands up and grabs their empty glasses before Wade even knows what’s happening.

“Um, sure Bambi. Thanks.” Wade watches Peter nod his head and then make his way to the bar. He’s got an ass sculpted by the gods. He’s back in no time with two fresh drinks, tension laced throughout his movements. Are we making him nervous? I guess the damsel in distress trope had to wear off eventually and now he’s come to his senses. I hope he lets us down easy.

“So you mentioned you’re looking for someone to pass the time with. Are you, I mean do you still—when you said you’ve done the same sort of stuff as me, did that mean you don’t anymore? Or would you maybe want to do that again?” His big eyes bounce back and forth between locking onto Wade’s and looking anywhere else as he downs half his drink in one gulp.

Am I dead?

“I would want to do anything with you, Bambi. Anytime, anywhere, you just say the word.”

The tension seems to fall off Peter’s shoulders at Wade’s response. “What word?”

“Hm?”

Peter scoffs and rolls his eyes playfully, his whole head slightly bobbing to emphasize the gesture.

[That’s oddly familiar?]

{Shut up, don’t worry about it! We’re in the middle of something!}

“Wade, do you want to take me home or not?” The blush on his cheeks and rapid tapping of his fingers against his glass betray the confidence he’s putting on.

“Honey, there’s nothing in this world I’d love to do more right now. But you’ve had 10 drinks in the last 2 hours and this story was not tagged for dubcon so I think you should sleep on this, in your own bed, before making a decision, yeah? I’ll give you my number, and if you still want me to beat your ass in a fun sexy way then you can let me know. And if you change your mind, no harm done. Sound good?” It pains Wade to turn down the man of his dreams, but he’s gotta be too drunk to be thinking clearly.

{You’re a fucking idiot, Wilson. This is the opportunity of a lifetime here!}

Peter’s eyes go a bit wide, probably shocked at Wade’s lack of subtlety, before he nods along. “Right, right, yeah I have had a lot to drink so I should probably go home. I do want your number though!”

Wade smiles back and hopes he gets lucky enough to see his face again. “Sure thing, handsome.” He writes his number on a napkin in red ink before sliding it across the table. “Let’s get you into a cab, I know a guy.”

“Oh that’s okay I don’t mind walking really—”

“You were going to walk?! Listen I know you’ve got some muscle on you, but a pretty face like that should not be drunkenly wandering around the city at this hour. You have no idea what kinds of criminals could be lurking about!” Jesus Christ, where is this guy’s survival instinct?

Peter lets out a chuckle that unfolds into a full laugh like Wade just told a hilarious joke. He wipes a tear from his eye before replying, “Yeah man, you’re so right. Cab it is then.”

Wade had already texted Dopinder in advance, so they were able to walk outside to find him waiting. A podcast about confidence could be heard through the open windows.

“Hey, Dopinder! I need you to give my friend here a ride home please.” Wade drops a handful of cash through the front window and opens the back door for Peter. “Just give him your address and Dopinder will get you home safe and sound.”

Peter pauses at the cab for a second before replying, “Thanks for the fun night Wade, I’ll text you tomorrow. Goodnight!” He quickly leans in to leave a quick peck on Wade’s cheek and then suddenly he’s in the cab before Wade has a chance to process what happened.

“Goodnight, Bambi.” Wade whispered as the door closed, a hand pressed to his cheek to hold onto the feeling of Peter’s lips there as long as possible.

***

Chapter Text

POV: Peter

Peter wakes up early Saturday morning surprised to find he has a mild headache. I guess I did drink a lot. I gotta be more careful about that in public. Wade didn’t seem suspicious so he shrugs it off and grabs the napkin with Wade’s number.

He sends off a quick text confirming he wants to meet again, and a response comes through a few hours later. Peter suggests they meet tonight, and they agree to meet at Wade’s apartment. The day drags on as Peter grows more and more excited for the evening to roll around.

Finally, it’s 8pm and he’s knocking on Wade’s door. He’s thankful that his excitement seems to be stronger than his anxiety this time; definitely an improvement from yesterday’s failed not-date. His spider-sense is silent too which is a good sign. Wade opens the door and covers his mouth with his hand in faux surprise.

“It must be Christmas, because I just got the best gift ever! You are even cuter than I remembered, Bambi. Please, make yourself at home.” He steps back with an arm swung out in a grand gesture.

The apartment is really big for being in the city like this, Peter can’t imagine how much rent must be. “Nice place. Come here often?” Peter jokes as he sits on the leather couch, and it gets a loud laugh out of Wade. That laugh sounds familiar. He’s distracted from the thought by Wade’s physique. He can’t help but to admire how tall and broad he is in the brief moment he stands above Peter before sitting down. He’s opted for the recliner and is practically on the edge of his seat as his leg subtly bounces.

“No glasses today?” Wade tilts his head as he surveys Peter. Shit, I was wearing glasses when we met.

“Uhh, no. Figured I wouldn’t really need them tonight. My eyes aren’t that bad so I don’t wear them all the time anyways.” Saved it.

Wade nods along in acknowledgement. His hands rest on his thighs, tapping some melody Peter doesn’t recognize. “If we’re actually going to do this, we’re going to do it right. There’s a few important topics to cover—I promise it won’t take too long—and then we can try out a simple scene together if you still want to. And by simple I mean no sex, clothes stay on, and no toys. Don’t get me wrong, you’re like the hottest person I’ve ever met and I definitely want to do a lot of naked activities with you if I’m allowed to, but I want tonight to stay simple. Just good ol’ fashioned spanking. Deal?”

Peter can feel the base of his neck heat up at Wade’s forwardness and hopes the flush doesn’t climb higher. “Deal.”

“First up: safewords. Do you use the stoplight system or something else?” Wade’s piercing blue eyes are locked onto Peter’s as he jumps into his line of questioning.

“Yeah, I use the stoplight system.”

“Okay, perfect. Some people use Yellow in different contexts though, so what does it mean for you exactly?”

Wow, he’s very thorough. “I guess use it to pause so I can communicate a need, like if a position just isn’t working or I need water or whatever.” Peter elaborates.

“Alrighty, that works with me. Next up is limits, and for now we can just stick to limits that relate to impact play specifically. What are your hard limits, things that you don’t want to experience under any circumstances?”

“I don’t want to do anything with blood. I mean bruises are fine, good even, but I don’t want my blood outside my body.” Peter cringes internally (and a little externally) at his strange phrasing.

“Gotcha. That’s more of a Honda Odyssey thing anyways.” Wade winks like this is an inside joke Peter should understand before he continues, “What other limits do you have?”

Peter buffers for a moment before deciding to ignore the Honda thing and answer his question. “Uhh, I think that’s it?” 

Wade just smiles before countering, “I sincerely doubt that, sugarplum. Do you want to be hit everywhere? Like your face, stomach, and back? Or just your ass? Are thighs on the table?”

Peter barely suppresses a grimace at the thought of being hit everywhere. I get enough of that patrolling, thank you very much. “Okay, you got me there. Ass and thighs are good, nowhere else though.”

A different look crosses Wade’s face for a moment—satisfaction, or maybe pride—but then Wade starts talking before Peter can figure it out. “Duly noted. How about overall pain levels? I know you mentioned bruises being good, but there’s still a lot of different ways to get there. Are you talking about surface level bruises that fade quickly, or do you want it to hurt when you sit so you’re reminded of what we did for days after?” The faux-innocent look in his eye isn’t fooling anyone; he knows exactly what he’s doing with that question.

Fuck. That sounds really hot. Probably not possible with my healing factor though, unless he breaks something which obviously isn’t an option. Peter fights the urge to sigh as he responds, “The more the better, as long as there’s no permanent damage.”

Wade’s eyebrows— does Wade have eyebrows? —shoot up in disbelief. “Sure, we can test out that theory together. The last topic is aftercare. My non-negotiables are,” he holds up a finger for each item he lists, “Addressing any injuries, water, food, and some form of physical contact. I don’t really mind how we meet those needs, but they are important to avoid a drop for either of us. I’ll also usually add whatever else feels right within your boundaries.

“Do you have any aftercare that you really enjoy, or don’t care for? With heavy play it’s extra important, so any details are helpful for me.” He levels Peter with a serious look.

Peter thinks back to the usual routine he had with Brian. “I like the things you listed, especially physical contact. Sometimes it’s nice to watch tv together after. That’s really all I can think of.”

Wade’s face relaxes into a wide smile. “Of course we can watch tv together, Bambi. Now that we’ve got all that out of the way, are you ready?”

“Hit me with your best shot.” Peter chuckles as his nerves and excitement return in full force. He gets an eyeroll in response and then Wade joins him on the couch to his left. Wade pats the tops of his thighs and stares at Peter, waiting for him to follow along. He’s never done this fully clothed without the haze of sex bolstering his confidence and he suddenly feels awkward. He can feel his face heating up as he looks between Wade’s lap and his face.

“Uh, how do you want me to…” Peter gestures to Wade’s lap. Thankfully Wade takes pity on him and grabs his shoulders to guide him down and over his lap. Peter folds his arms under his head so he can partially tuck his face against his bicep. Glad the pressure has been taken off him, he sighs out a quiet, “Thanks.”

Wade’s hands move down his back with gentle pressure before landing on his ass and kneading both sides. “No thank you , Bambi. I think I might actually be in heaven.” He continues on like this for a minute, pressing his fingertips into the muscles to warm up the area. It’s so relaxing Peter forgets for a moment what he’s there to do. He’s lost in the rich smell of the leather couch (and strange hint of old blood?) melting into the surprising heat radiating from each point of contact with Wade.

The first slap brings him back to reality with a barely audible gasp. The next one lands on the other cheek, and without the element of surprise it hardly registers as more than a firm tap. “Wade, you’re not going to break me. Don’t gotta be so gentle.”

“Tsk, and that’s why I’m in charge , and not you. I’ll decide the pace.”

Peter stays silent and just lets himself go completely slack against Wade, resigned to wait it out. The slaps follow a consistent pattern: one per cheek, then two per cheek, three, etc. His butt is getting warm from all the attention, but the pressure has barely increased at all. I hope he wasn’t bluffing, if I did all this just for him to not even do anything —his train of thought is interrupted as a hard smack leaves his skin stinging.

“All good, buttercup?” Wade’s voice is smug, Peter can imagine the smirk that’s paired with it.

“Yup, my only worry is falling asleep,” Peter quips. Now might not be the best time for snarky remarks, but it’s just in his nature. He hears an amused huff come from Wade before the next hit lands in the same spot. Instead of pulling his hand back immediately as he has been doing, he keeps it pressed against Peter for an extra second or two. This tiny change in technique makes an impressive impact: instead of creating a skin-deep sting or burning sensation, the pressure seems to travel deeper leaving behind a bittersweet ache. Even the sound changed from a *smack* to a *thud*.

Wade repeats the actions on the other side without any pauses.

*Smack*

*Thud*

Peter takes a deep breath and squirms a bit to adjust to the new intensity. Wade keeps his left hand pressed against Peter’s lower back while the other rubs soothing circles over the abused tissue.

The next smack is softer, but lands on the tender spot right where the top of his thigh creases. He follows a new pattern on this delicate area, alternating between each leg after each hit. The pressure stays consistently lighter than the firm hits from earlier. By the time he’s reached somewhere around 10 smacks on each side the pain really starts to set in.

Wade pauses again to rub over the sore spots he’s left behind. The calm moment brings Peter’s attention to his breathing which had become shallow and quick somewhere along the way. He slows it back down with a couple deep breaths as he wills himself to relax. This must please Wade based on his murmured, “Good boy,” that immediately follows.

A soft hum swirls in Peter’s chest, only to be interrupted by his groan when Wade digs in his fingertips without warning. It’s like a cruel rendition of the gentle massages he received earlier; this time Wade’s relaxing touch has been replaced with a ruthless grip. It’s gone just as quickly as it appeared and Wade returns to consistent strikes spread over Peter’s ass and thighs.

It doesn’t take long for his endorphins to kick in and cover the pain with layers of pleasure. The hand returns to his lower back and Peter arches up into the heat of it. Wade’s movements falter, followed by a firm pressure on Peter’s back.

“Can you relax for me, Bambi?”

Peter lets his hips fall back into Wade’s lap, inadvertently pressing his erection into Wade’s thigh. Peter’s hips twitch forward in search of friction and a low moan escapes his lips before he realizes what happened. His fingers dig into his elbows and he tenses up once his mind catches up to what he did. When did I get this hard?! Why did I have to grind against him like that?!

“Sorry,” he breathes out, trying to force his dick to calm down through sheer willpower. It doesn’t work, obviously. Now that he’s aware of it, he can feel it throbbing in sync with his entire backside. It’s surprising he has any blood leftover for the rest of his body.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, sugarplum. You’re alright. I can hear you overthinking in there, so please stop. Is your color still green?” Wade’s voice is warm and velvety. Peter feels the hand on his back rub slow circles and the tension leaves his muscles almost instantly.

“Mhm, green.”

Wade goes back to the lingering “thud” hits after that. They start out gentle to ease Peter back into it, and then quickly increase in intensity until eventually Peter can hear himself let out a tiny whimper with each one. Everything feels way too good to care though, so he doesn’t bother trying to stop the sounds.

They gradually become softer and softer until Wade stops altogether and just rests his hand on Peter. The hand on his back resumes the soothing movements as Peter calms down and his brain starts working a bit more.

“Can I go grab an ice pack and water?” Wade checks in before moving. That’s so sweet.

“Mhmm,” Peter replies. Wade lifts him up enough to slip out from underneath him and then sets him back on the couch. He’s surprisingly nimble for someone with such a large frame. Peter misses the feel of him already.

He hears Wade return and opens his eyes to find the coffee table pulled close with a variety of things laid out. Wade sits back on the couch and pulls Peter over his legs once more. This time only Peter’s chest and stomach make contact with his legs—much to his relief considering how hard he still is. There’s also a pillow pressed against Wade’s thigh so he doesn’t have to prop his head up with his arms. This guy really thinks of everything.

Wade’s warmth is so relaxing that Peter is almost drifting off to sleep when the ice pack is placed on his ass. He sucks in a breath, hissing between his teeth at the sudden change.

“Sorry! Shit, sorry! That’s my bad, Bambi. Are you okay? If it’s too cold I can wrap it in a towel, I just thought your clothes would be enough.” Wade’s voice comes out panicked.

“It’s okay! Just surprised me, that's all. I promise.” Peter reassured him, already feeling relief from the ice pack and not wanting it to be taken away. His ass and thighs felt like they were burning up, and he knows that heat will fade away into an ache that lasts at least a few hours. He feels Wade relax underneath him. Fingers start gently combing through his hair, scratching at his scalp and down his neck. They slide down further, massaging his shoulders and skillfully loosening the muscles in his back.

Peter thought the scene had taken all the tension out of him, but somehow Wade was finding more and massaging it away. He lets out a groan of appreciation followed by, “Don’t stop.” Wade chuckles in response.

“How did you know that’s one of my favorite things to hear?”

They stay on the couch like that for a while until Peter is feeling ready to sit up so he can drink and eat. He winces slightly in the process, sitting on his likely-bruised ass is not particularly comfortable. Wade grabs a water bottle and granola bar off the table for him and then wraps one arm around his waist to pull him in close so his back is flush against Wade.

“Do you mind if I hold you like this for a bit?” His voice sounds nervous, or maybe insecure, Peter can’t tell.

“Yeah—I mean no, I don’t mind.”

“Oh my god, of course you’re the type of person to care about that stuff.” Peter can feel Wade’s laugh vibrating against his back.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His offense is all fake, but it’s fun to joke around with Wade like this. It comes so easily, it’s familiar in a weird way.

“You’re a nerd, duh.”

“Oh no, my biggest secret! What gave it away?” Peter talks through a mouthful of granola bar, and he can practically hear May chastising him for it.

“Well first of all, the glasses. Total nerd vibes, Bambi. And B, just look at the shirt you’re wearing!”

Peter looks down and snickers. Oh right, I forgot I was wearing my dad jokes shirt. His t-shirt says “I tell dad jokes periodically” and the word “jokes” spelled with the periodic abbreviations for joium (Jo), potassium (K), and einsteinium (Es), respectively.

“Okay yeah, that’s really hard to argue with.” Peter answers in defeat with a smile on his face.

They stay cuddled together on the couch and watch an episode of Golden Girls, exchanging little jokes here and there. Peter gets up to leave once the episode ends, but Wade interrupts their goodbyes right at the door.

“I almost forgot, wait one second!” He runs down the hall, literally runs— why is he running —and returns with a small container. “Here, you can use this to help bruises heal faster, it’s arnica cream. If you want to, I mean. I know some people want them to stick around for the looks and that’s all good and dandy too! I wasn’t sure how you felt about it so I grabbed some just in case. Guess I could’ve just asked you, uh, yeah. Do you want it?” He’s shifting his weight between his feet, clearly full of nervous energy.

Peter hesitates for a second while his brain catches up to Wade’s rapid speech, and then he’s nodding his head. “Yes, absolutely. Thanks, Wade, that’s very thoughtful.”

Wade relaxes and hands Peter the container before rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s no biggie, I had an extra so…” Didn’t he say he got this just in case I wanted it?

Peter smiles along anyways. “Right, an extra, for sure. Well, I gotta get going. This was really fun though so let’s make plans again, yeah?”

“Absofruitely, honeybuns. See ya next time, please get home safe!”

“Will do. See you later!”

Peter sleeps for 10 hours straight that night and wakes up feeling more refreshed than he has in far too long.

***

Chapter Text

POV: Wade

Wade spends the whole day checking his phone for any word from Peter. He thought last night went great so he expected to wake up to another early morning text, but his notifications are woefully empty. He tries to not let it bother him as he goes about his day, but isn’t very successful.

When the evening rolls around he suits up early, eager to go find Webs to take his mind off of the uncertainty surrounding Peter. He could just text Spidey to meet up, but the adventure of finding him in person is a welcome distraction. It takes a little over an hour before he spots the web-slinger soaring through the air. Wade watches him do flips as he swings around—he looks like he’s having fun.

“SPIIIIDEEYYY!” Wade yells from a nearby rooftop, knowing Spider-Man will be able to hear him. As expected, Spidey changes direction to swing back towards Wade. He lands on the rooftop and tucks into a roll before popping back up on his feet.

“Hey Pool! Ready to patrol?” He’s resting his hands on his hips, looking infinitely more comfortable and relaxed than last time.

{HE TOTALLY GOT LAID!!!}

Wade nods his head sagely and says, “I was born ready, Webs,” before breaking into a giggle.

The rest of the night is perfect. They stop a good number of crimes, help some elderly people carry groceries and cross streets, and even rescue some adorable kittens from a tree. If Wade had a more stable lifestyle he would totally keep them, but that just wouldn’t be fair in his line of work. They pick up some Mexican food and settle in on a nearby rooftop to enjoy their meal away from the busy streets.

“I have to say it, baby boy. I am so glad you took my advice and got laid. Wish I could’ve been the one to do the honors, but I’m still happy for you.”

{You could’ve gotten laid too if you knew how to make a move. With the way Peter was whining and rutting against your thigh, poor thing was dying to be fucked.}

Webs chokes on his food before firing back, “WHAT? That’s—you can’t just. Why would you say something like that?” An adorable blush is creeping up his neck, further confirming that Wade’s conclusion was correct.

“Honey, you’ve been more pent up than a bottle of coke and mentos. All I’m sayin’ is that it’s good there was an easy fix! It would’ve been harder, pun intended, if your problem had been something more complicated. But you’ve clearly fucked the stress away and now you’re back to your normal self!”

Spidey opens and closes his mouth a couple times before finally responding, “I’m not talking about my sex life with you.”

{That’s basically an admission! Spider-Man had sex!!}

Welp, I know what I’ll be thinking about tonight.

[Whores.]

“Alright alright, I get it. Whatever you’re doing, keep it up. I don’t want to see you get hurt again.” Wade takes mercy on Spidey and lets the topic go. Their conversation circles back around to their usual chatter and banter, and soon enough the night is over.

Wade has just made it through his front door when his phone beeps the tune of SexyBack, signaling a text from Peter. He pulls his phone from its pouch so quickly it slips from his hand, and he fumbles over catching it for a sit-com length of time before finally grasping the stupid thing.

Bambi: Hey Wade! I was thinking we could meet up again on Thursday? Let me know :)

Wade: bambi! straight to the point with a booty call, eh? i like ur style ;) 

Wade: thursday is all urs <3

Bambi: Awesome, see you then

Wade: how are u feeling about last night? happy? anything you didnt like?

Bambi: Last night was really great, no complaints. I slept really well.

Bambi: Can we maybe do more next time though?

Bambi: If you want to

Wade: yay im glad ^-^ and yea for sure sugarplum

Wade: what type of more r we talkin bout?

Bambi: Less clothes? Ideally zero clothes?

Wade: lol ur 2 cute

Wade: yes, theres nothin id love more than to get u naked

Wade: what time do u wana come over? i can b free all day and night

Bambi: I work in the morning, but I can be there by 5

Wade: perfecto bambi

Bambi: Cool, see you Thursday :) gnight Wade

Wade: c you thurs bambi <3 gnite sleep tight!

Wade punches his hand up in celebration and then quickly shifts gears. Time for me-time, my favorite time! He sits down, pulls out a bottle of lube from a belt pouch, and has his dick out in seconds. He strokes the entire length slowly and leans his head on the back of the couch with closed eyes. He’s already half hard, and it’s easy to get the rest of the way after that conversation with Peter. Peter, who wants to do more with him.

His mind flashes back to their previous meeting and he groans at the beautiful imagery. Peter is laid over his lap, horny out of his mind just from being spanked. What a fucking dream, and god those noises. Peter’s demure demeanor has left the building by that point, leaving behind only wanton moans and desperate grinding. He probably would’ve come if Wade let him keep going like that. Wade really wants to let him keep going next time.

Wade’s hips are rocking up to meet his hand with each stroke and he can feel his orgasm building quickly. Holy shit I forgot Spidey got laid! And he was so shy about it, that sweet little blush creeping up his neck. I want to see how far it goes down and then lick my way back up. He squeezes the base of his dick just enough to push off his release. He’s about to start fantasizing about fucking Spider-Man (not for the first time) when he gets a brilliant idea. Por que no los dos?

Spidey and Peter would be the ultimate threeway. The two best asses he’s ever seen, and they’re both so muscular. Spidey is obviously stronger though, and it would be so hot to watch him have his way with Peter. They could take turns fucking him. Spidey and Peter could give him a blowjob together. It would be perfect . Something in the back of Wade’s mind tries to worm its way forward, but he pushes it back so he can chase his climax.

[Spidey and Peter really do have the same ass, it’s kind of crazy. The same lopsided smile too, now that I think about it…]

Yeah I have a type now shut the fuck up.

[Don’t tell me what to do.]

Wade ignores White; luckily he has a lot of practice doing just that. He pumps himself faster and rubs his thumb over the tip, letting out a moan at the sensation. It doesn’t take long for his orgasm to build back up when he’s thinking of his two favorite people. The thought of Peter’s hole—or Spidey’s, it’s hard to tell them apart at this point—clenching around his cock finally sends him over the edge and he spills over his hand.

Fuck, that was good.

***

Thursday finally arrives and Wade spends the morning cleaning in preparation for Peter’s visit. This mostly involves hiding weapons, which have already made their way back onto every flat surface since Peter’s last visit. Once everything is up to Wade’s standards he checks the time. It’s just past noon.

“Ugghhh! That is so not fair, it should be at least 4 by now,” Wade complains to the empty apartment. He keeps himself busy over the next few hours, knowing that if he just sits down to wait for Peter his nerves will skyrocket. First is a trip to the grocery store—gotta have snacks on deck for his boy. He quietly sings Nicki Minaj under his breath, “ Got stacks on deck like he savin’ up! And he ill, he real, he might gotta deal. He pop bottles and he got the right kind of build. ”

He takes extra time on his skincare when he gets home, skipping no steps in his luxurious shower routine followed by various serums and lotions. When 5pm hits he is sitting on his couch, staring at the door. The door that Peter will knock on any second.

Any second now.

No knock comes.

{WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?}

[Seconded, it’s 5:20 and he still isn’t here. Text his ass!]

Okay yeah, a quick text to check in is normal and fine. That’s not too clingy. He’s late, I’m worried. Normal stuff.

Right when Wade pulls out his phone he hears the gentle knock on the door and it’s music to his ears. He opens the door immediately to find Peter standing there in his work clothes with a sheepish smile pasted on his face.

“Sorry I’m late, there was a bit of a rush and I had to stay to help before I could leave work but that made me miss my bus and I had to wait for the next one.” He’s wearing khaki pants and a Subway polo shirt. We can say Subway, right? It’s just fanfic, so I think it’s allowed? The point is, he looks adorable and Wade just wants to squeeze him till he pops.

“Don’t you worry, Peter-butter and jelly, you can do no wrong in my eyes. Now come inside before you catch a cold!” Wade steps back and throws his arms open, inviting Peter into his apartment with the grand gesture.

Peter tilts his head as his eyes glance around the fully heated hallway, and then he gives a small shrug and walks inside. Wade is just about to ask if he wants anything to drink or eat when Peter’s stomach rumbles loudly.

“Food first, hear you loud and clear captain,” Wade announces with a salute. He’s already in the kitchen pulling ingredients out of the cabinets when he calls out over his shoulder, “Do you like pancakes? Who am I kidding, of course you do, who doesn’t like pancakes? The more important question is, what do you like in your pancakes? I’ve got blueberries, strawberries, bananas, chocolate chips, uhhh—”

“No, that’s okay! Thank you, but really I’ll be fine ‘till I get home and make din—”

“Uh-uh, noooope! We can’t have you going into a scene without being properly fed, that’s just poor form and asking for trouble. I could use a bite to eat too, so it’s honestly no trouble at all. Plus, I’m pretty famous for my pancakes so you’d be crazier than me if you pass up the opportunity to try them. Now, what add-ins do you want? No arguing.” Wade turns to stare him down as he waits for an answer. 

There’s a brief pause where he can practically see the gears turning in Peter’s head before he decides it’s not worth arguing and replies, “Okay, it’s really not necessary, but if you have to, then I like blueberries please. Thank you, Wade.”

With that settled, Peter sits on a barstool so they can chat together as Wade works. Peter tries to offer to help but Wade shuts him down every time insisting that, as a guest, he just needs to sit there and look pretty. He doesn’t miss the slight blush that tints Peter’s cheeks at his comment. Conversation flows easily between the two, and it’s not long before Wade slides into the seat next to Peter with both of their plates stacked high.

“Wow, these look amazing!” Peter’s eyes somehow look even bigger as he appreciates the food for a second before shoving the first bite into his mouth. His eyes flutter closed as he lets out a pleased groan. Wade can’t tell if Peter is just trying to be a tease or if he really just acts like this all the time, but his dick doesn’t care and is already swelling with interest. He lets all the air out of his lungs before pulling his focus back together.

“I’ll pass the compliment along to the chef,” Wade breathes out before grabbing the syrup Peter has ignored. “You forgot the sweet ambrosia of the homeland,” he dangles the bottle in front of Peter’s face.

“Mm, right,” Peter nods and takes the bottle from Wade, “So, you’re like Canadian or something?” He pours not nearly enough syrup before setting it back down on the counter.

“Born and raised! Well, barely raised, but I was born! Canada is the best country in the world, but goddamn it is way easier to get my favorite toys down here.” Fuck, don’t talk to sweet Pete about guns. “Anyhoo! We’ve got more important topics to cover. Since we are going to be doing more explicit things this time around, I need to know what sort of more you’re looking for. Ugh, I love a good accidental rhyme! Seriously though, I don’t want to do something to make you uncomfortable. Like, are you okay with kissing?”

Peter freezes with a bite still halfway to his mouth. “Kissing? Dude, obviously yes. You don’t need to ask for stuff like that, I’m literally here to get hit and hopefully fucked. You can just do whatever feels right, as long as it’s not anything too wild.” He continues eating, unable to resist the delicious food on his fork any longer.

“Sweetcheeks, that may be obvious to you , but you know what they say about assuming things. It takes an ass, wait no—I don’t know, but it’s something about asses. Whatever. But on the topic of fucking, do you want us to use protection? I’m not involved with anyone else right now and I know I’m in the clear, but I’ve got plenty supplies available and I don’t mind either way.”

“Oh, right. No, yeah I’m fine too, I’m not—there’s not anyone else.” There’s an awkward beat of silence as it sinks in that they just admitted to being sort of, maybe, almost, exclusive? There’s no way he meant it like that. Wade brings the conversation back to more lighthearted chit-chat so they can focus on clearing their plates, which doesn’t take long with how quickly the two eat.

“So you’re really comfortable with me kissing you? And doing whatever else within our boundaries?” He prods now that Peter has had some time to think on that stance and change his mind.

The exasperated sigh he lets out suggests otherwise. “ Yes , Wade, I trust you to decide what things can be tried in the moment and what things need to be discussed first. I’m fully capable of speaking up if I’m uncomfortable.” Wade wants to push the topic further and explain that Peter really shouldn’t make a habit of offering himself up carte blanche like that, but Wade is only human.

“If you say so!” This is all the warning Wade gives before throwing Peter over his shoulder and running to the bedroom. The move is well received with a yelp of surprise followed by soft laughter. Wade drops the still chuckling Peter onto the bed before pointing a finger at him with a firm, “Stay.” It’s effective, despite the smile that betrays the stern voice.

Peter sits still as Wade walks to his closet and pulls out a leather paddle. Looking at his drawer of toys helps him settle further into his dom headspace, and when he walks back to the bed he knows Peter can sense the shift too. He’s looking up through his eyelashes at Wade, like he’s just waiting for him to decide what they do next. Wade stands there to bask in the silence and appreciate the view of Peter on his bed long enough for him to fidget under his gaze. Those big doe eyes are wide and filled with anticipation, glued to Wade like he holds the answers to the universe.

“You wanted to take your clothes off, yes? Well, get to it.” Peter jumps to follow Wade’s order and his enthusiasm is endlessly endearing. We are killing it with the alliteration lately! He hesitates for a split second when he reaches for his boxers, but continues removing them before Wade has time to comment. Now fully naked, he glances back up to Wade’s face but doesn’t hold eye contact like he was before.

{Aww, he’s shy! We can fix that.}

[Fix? But I like it.]

“Good boy. Now roll over.”

“Wade, I’m not a dog.” Peter argues as his eyes meet Wade’s with a defiant squint.

[Seriously, guys? That squint really isn’t ringing bells for anyone else?]

{Yeah, wedding bells! Fuck, I love bratty subs.}

Wade scoffs lightly before replying in a patronizing tone, “I know honeypie, but how am I supposed to smack your ass if you’re sitting on it?”

Peter seems to realize how silly his protest was based on his pout and mumbled, “Fair point.” He lays out on his stomach, and Wade tries to memorize how each muscle shifts with the movement. Peter is fucking ripped. Wade knew his arms were toned, but nothing could’ve prepared him for a body like this. His mouth goes dry, he has to lick his lips, and he considers abandoning all plans in favor of just worshiping this work of art all night long.

[Where’s the fucking bruises?]

Hm, guess we could’ve gone harder. He’s tougher than his nerdy persona suggests.

He needs to start the warmups now though, they already spent a portion of their limited time together eating and hanging out. Almost like regular friends. Time well spent.

{I disagree! Get to the wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am!}

Wade climbs onto the mattress with steady movements, settling in with his legs folded on either side of Peter’s hips so he can sit on the back of the muscular thighs. The bubble butt of his dreams is sitting right in front of him, and he grabs it with both hands in a firm squeeze. The sudden contact draws a small inhale from Peter and his hips tilt up. Wade continues massaging, rubbing, and squeezing until the skin is tinted pink from his attention, and then lands a slap on one side. The sharp sound cuts through the tension that had been building in the air, and Wade can feel Peter’s legs tense up underneath him.

They relax a second later, so he continues with a pattern of spanking similar to what he did on their first night together. The force gradually increases, with random changes sprinkled in to keep Peter guessing. He varies the location, speed, and shape of his hand until Peter’s ass is bright red and he’s making little sounds with each hit.

Now it’s time for phase two. Wade scoots back until he’s sitting on Peter’s calves—although he doesn’t sit down all the way in fear of breaking him—and it only takes a little tug on Peter’s hips to fold him so he’s ass up, face down. Peter props himself up on his elbows, and the position puts him on full display in front of Wade.

“God help me,” Wade’s voice is low and gravely as he pushes Peter’s cheeks together and then pulls them apart, “You’re so pretty I just can’t stand it.” He gently presses Peter’s back into more of an arch while using his other hand to tilt his hips right where he wants them. He has to scoot back a little further to make the awkward position work, but it’s worth it to hear Peter gasp out a wrecked, “Fuck!” when Wade leans in and drags his flattened tongue over the twitching hole. He circles it a couple times before pulling away enough to blow air on the spit slick skin. Peter lets out a small whine as a shiver passes over his body, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

He forces himself to sit upright again so he can grab the paddle that had been nearly forgotten behind him. The leather is cool to the touch, and caressing Peter’s skin with it results in an almost inaudible gasp followed by sudden stillness. Wade takes it away and lets the anticipation build for a moment before bringing it down with a loud THWAP . It leaves behind a patch of skin slightly darker than the rest as blood flows to the area. He may not have bruised last time, but Wade will make sure he does today.

Peter lets his arms crumple and buries his head into the pillow in front of him, which pushes his ass out even more. His legs are pushed together so Wade has to lean to the side to see Peter’s leaking cock hanging straight down, a tantalizing string of precum flowing onto the blanket below.

“Feels good don’t it, baby?” Wade asks as he slides the paddle over Peter’s skin again. Peter’s attempt at a reply is too muffled by the pillow for Wade to understand.

“Tsk tsk, that just won’t do. Let me help,” Wade threads his fingers through Peter’s brown curls and grips firmly at the back of his head. He uses the new leverage to gently pull Peter’s head up so he can take the pillow away before setting Peter back down. Peter whimpers at the manhandling but does nothing to stop it.

“Now,” Wade pauses to bring the paddle down against the other side of Peter’s ass so they are equally red, “As you were saying…” he prompts Peter to repeat his answer.

“Wha…?” Peter breathes out, his eyes aimed at Wade now but glossy to match the blissful look on his face. Wade can’t help the low groan that comes from his chest, almost sounding like a growl with how rough it is. He reaches around to drag a finger from the base of Peter’s cock up to the tip. He keens at the touch and bucks his hips forward in search of more friction.

“I was asking you if the paddle feels good. Do you like it, Bambi?” Wade asks in a sweet voice, but there’s an edge to it hinting at his true intentions.

Peter’s eyes flutter closed as he hums his response with a nod, “Mmhmmm.”

The smile on Wade’s face stretches into something much more mischievous as he replies in a cool, threatening tone, “That’s good, because I’m just getting started.” Without giving any time for the words to sink in, Wade returns to paddling Peter’s ass and thighs at an unforgiving pace. He still sprinkles in the occasional light touches for the contrast, and lets praise spill from his mouth endlessly. Eventually the room starts to fill with Peter’s moans, and then something even sweeter falls on Wade’s ears.

“Wade, I need—need to come—please I, I’m so close—please, please, please,” his words are punctuated with whimpers and gasps as Wade continues his ministrations. Aw, such a good little sub asking permission without needing to be told.

“Good boy for asking. Hold on for me just a bit longer, I’ll tell you when you can come. There’s one new rule though, I’m gonna need you to say my name like that when it happens. Can you do that for me, baby?” Peter nods his head in agreement once more.

Wade’s breathing is ragged at this point. Not from the physical activities, no, his healing factor handles that, but everything about Peter in this moment is taking his breath away.

His legs are trembling, blotchy red marks cover his ass and thighs, and the arch of his back puts his muscles on display under a thin sheen of sweat. And the longing look on his face, it’s almost too much to handle. His eyes are pinched shut, eyebrows drawn together, and his mouth is open with a continuous stream of broken sounds tumbling out.

After giving his ass a bit more attention with the paddle, Wade relents and wraps his hand loosely around Peter’s length while trailing kisses from his shoulder down to his ass. He can feel the heat radiating off the freshly bruised skin, and feels a twinge of guilt thinking of how much pain Peter will be in once the endorphins wear off. It’s quickly overshadowed by the satisfaction of knowing Peter let him mark his body like this, and pride at how well Peter took everything Wade gave him.

“Fuck yes—more, Wade more please,” Peter cries out in response to Wade’s grip on his oversensitive dick. He tries to thrust into the hand but Wade holds him still with a strong hold on his hips.

“Okay, I know, I know, you’re okay. You can come now, baby, I got you,” Wade rumbles as he tightens his grip to something just shy of painful and then sinks his teeth into the muscular curve of Peter’s ass.

Peter lets out a sharp gasp at the sudden sting, followed by moans that the neighbors must be able to hear. “Wade! Yes Wade please, please, Wa-ade!”

He can feel Peter’s body go taut before falling apart in his hands. It’s even better than he imagined. Peter’s moan breaks into a high pitched keen that fades into a brief silence when his lungs run out of air. He gulps in short gasps as Wade continues to stroke him through the orgasm and then past it. He only lets go once Peter sounds like he’s on the brink of tears.

“ Good boy, you did so good for me, Bambi. Come here,” Wade quickly wipes his hand on the blanket and then pulls Peter’s lax form into his lap, manually wrapping Peter’s legs around his torso. He cups Peter’s cheek with his clean hand, because he’s thoughtful like that. His lips are pink and swollen like he’s been biting on them, and there’s still a blissful expression on his face despite the few tears that managed to escape. Wade wipes them away soothingly with his thumb before bringing them together in a tender kiss.

They stay like that, just gently kissing while they both calm down a bit. Peter slowly participates more and more, eventually sliding his hands up Wade’s chest. Wade matches Peter’s pace and rubs his hands down Peter’s back, just barely digging into the muscles to loosen them further. Peter’s touch grows more confident as he explores Wade’s muscles, and his tongue darts out against Wade’s lips asking to deepen the kiss.

Wade is nothing if not a giver, so he cedes to Peter’s desires and opens his mouth too. Peter explores the inside of his mouth, and once he starts to roll his hips forward Wade breaks the kiss to ask, "Are you really ready for more so soon?”

Peter nods his head with a soft, “mhmm,” followed by a firmer roll of his hips. Holy fuck, he’s hard again.

{Are succubi a thing in this universe? Or sex demons? Surely he must be draining our life force or something.}

[Think we can get him to drain it all the way?]

Wade uses the hand on Peter’s jaw to tip his head back and expose his neck. He plants an open mouthed kiss right below Peter’s ear and moves around until Peter’s breath catches so he knows where to work a hickey into the skin. His other hand drops to Peter’s hip and strengthens his next movement so they can properly grind together. The contact pulls a groan from both men. Wade’s hand drops even lower to press featherlight touches to Peter’s ass in a silent investigation.

The effect is immediate; Peter whimpers at first, jerking away from the touch, before relaxing down into Wade’s hand. He keeps his movements gentle as he kneads the tender cheek. Wade brings their lips back together and then starts to open his pants to free his aching dick. He spreads the precum from the tip around as much as he can, and then pulls Peter closer so he can hold both of their dicks together.

Peter’s jaw falls open and he moans directly into Wade’s mouth when Wade starts to jerk them off with slow yet firm movements. His precum helps, but isn’t quite enough to get the job done so he holds his hand up and breaks away from Peter’s lips.

“Spit.”

Peter’s head falls a smidge to the side in confusion before his eyes travel down and land on Wade’s hand. He takes a second and then spits into his palm before looking back up at Wade’s face.

“Good boy,” Wade praises his obedience with a low, rough voice. He didn’t think he really cared much for spit unless he was getting a blowjob, but something about watching Peter spit in his hand was so hot. He stares at the clear, viscous liquid for another second before returning to his previous plan. They both shudder when his palm wraps back around them covered in the slightly cooled spit.

He jerks them off languidly, savoring each little twitch and sound he manages to pull from Peter. He’s tempted to pick up the pace, his orgasm has definitely been delayed long enough, but he’s having too much fun with Peter to worry about that. Peter’s orgasm seems to surprise both of them if his gasp and sudden death grip on Wade’s shoulder are any indication. It sends Wade over the edge too, and he can’t help but look down to see them both mixing together in Wade’s hand.

They stay tangled together for a few minutes, leaning on one another for support and exchanging sweet kisses. It feels painfully domestic, and Wade has to remind himself that this will never be something more—Peter was very clear about that when they met. He shoves that thought far, far away.

Once Wade has pulled himself together enough, he gets them both cleaned up and cuddling on the couch once more. They spend the next hour wrapped around each other, eating snacks and exchanging hushed words just loud enough to hear over the quiet noise of the tv in the background.

***

Chapter Text

POV: Wade

After Peter leaves Wade seriously debates skipping patrol tonight. Part of him {His dick.} wants to just stay home and jerk off to the memory of Peter’s ass jiggling, the breathtaking way his back arches, really everything about him. But he does also love patrolling with Spidey, and he really hates canceling for no reason. I’ll have to cancel next week for work anyways. He compromises and jerks off once {Three times.} before suiting up and going out to find his spider.

Spidey is still in a good mood! Wade is so happy to see that he hasn’t fallen back into his cranky, pent-up, haze from before. They have a pretty normal patrol, the worst things they encountered were just a couple minor car break ins. They pick up a feast of Chinese food and migrate to a nearby rooftop as usual.

“Ugh, I’m exhausted ,” Spidey huffs out as he pulls his mask halfway up and stretches with his arms above his head.

[From what? Did he run a fucking marathon before patrol or something?]

Yeah I’ll admit that is kinda weird.

“What’s got you so tired, baby boy? Tonight felt pretty normal to me.” Wade is looking up at him from the floor where he sits with criss-cross legs, already opening all the bags to lay out their options.

Spidey falters in his stretch for a fraction of a second before responding, “Uh, yeah no, I just didn’t sleep well last night.” He drops his arms and quickly plops himself down to mirror Wade’s seated position. He sucks in a breath of air through his teeth and goes stiff before gingerly wiggling around to get more comfortable. Ummm, weird.

“You okay there?”

Again, he tenses up and then hides it so quickly Wade is half convinced it didn’t happen. “Yeah I’m all good, I slipped in the shower this morning and I guess it must’ve left a bruise or something.” He’s not meeting Wade’s eye. Well, his mask isn’t looking at Wade’s mask.

{Spider-Man doesn’t slip. Something is fishy as fuck here.}

[Hmm, I wonder what other activities could result in him having a sore ass?]

Wade’s stomach drops and he swears his blood turns to ice. There’s no fucking way. He’s always been so good around Spidey, never once followed him home or tried to figure out anything about his real identity. He’s always been extremely protective of it, so Wade put in extra effort to make sure he never accidentally pried for personal information. There’s no way he would accidentally find it out, especially not over something like this! It’s a weird, weird coincidence. That’s all.

[Then why is he lying to us right now? He didn’t slip in the shower, that’s obvious.]

{We could bend him over and see how he reacts to us smacking his ass?}

There’s probably a lot of reasons Spidey is lying, he’s allowed to lie. It doesn’t mean anything.

Wade slowly talks himself out of his brief panic. Plus, he totally would’ve recognized my face! He had to have seen a picture of it somewhere. Spidey would know it’s me, and he wouldn’t flirt, he wouldn’t come over and let me do all those things to him. This reassurance finally let Wade come back to the present moment, where Spidey was staring at him strangely.

“Pool, are you okay?” He asked gently.

“Yup! Yup yup yup. Sorry, baby boy, got lost in the ol’ noggin, you know how it is, crazy in there! Anyhoo, let’s eat.”

The rest of the evening continues without incident, and Wade does his best to push that crazy concept far out of his mind.

***

Wade’s thoughts keep drifting back to Spider-Man and Peter throughout his entire mission. Spider-Man and Peter. Spidey and Petey. Baby boy and Bambi. There’s no way they could be the same person. But… He can’t deny the signs. Spidey was all sexually repressed, then he scened with Peter, then suddenly Spidey was better. They have the same figure, same ass, their voices are kinda the same? It’s hard to tell when he doesn’t hear Spidey’s unmodulated voice very often.

He wants them to be different people so that nothing has to change. He wants them to be the same person so he can have his two favorite people in one. But if they’re the same person and Wade knows that but Spider-Pete doesn’t know it then Wade would be keeping a secret from him and then their consent would get all blurry and— UGH . He doesn’t know what he wants, and the boxes won’t stop yelling at him.

He could just admit it directly to Peter and watch for his reaction, but a normal civilian obviously wouldn’t want to be involved with a (reformed) mercenary, so that could end up ruining one of the few good things in his life.

But dropping hints could work. He could drop some hints to Peter and some to Spidey. Then if Peter really is Spider-Man, which he isn’t, but if he is, then he’ll be able to connect the dots pretty easily.

And if, when it’s proven that they are two totally different people then Wade’s guilty conscience will be able to rest.

This is a foolproof plan.

***

POV: Peter

Peter has been feeling lonely the last few days. Deadpool is out of town for work, and he hasn’t heard from Wade since their last scene. He’s trying not to seem too clingy, so he waits until Wednesday to reach out.

Peter: Hey, are you free tomorrow night?

Wade: hey cutie! sorry but no im not free :(

Wade: i do wana see u again soon tho!

Wade: i should be back by saturday. wana plan 4 sunday?

Peter: No worries, sunday works :)

So he’s out of town too? That sucks.

***

The rest of the week passes in a blur. Without Deadpool around to keep him company, patrolling feels like a boring job. Even though he’s helping people, and he likes helping people, it just isn’t as fun to do it alone ever since he got used to having someone to joke around with. Plus, Deadpool is his best friend and basically his entire social life. God I need more friends. Eventually Sunday comes around, and he rushes over to Wade’s apartment eager for human interaction.

It’s the third time he’s visited the man’s apartment, but he still gets nervous at the door. It reminds him of the fluttery feeling he used to get whenever he would talk to Gwen. Nope—stopping that train of thought right now. This is just sex, and stuff, nothing more.

“There you are! Come on in, cutie-pie,” Wade welcomes him with a warm smile, immediately settling his nerves.

They settle in side by side on the couch and Peter’s curiosity gets the best of him. “What were you out of town for? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

Wade’s eyes go wide for a moment, probably surprised his fuck buddy is asking about his personal life. Shit. He answers without any hesitation in his voice though, so he couldn’t have been too bothered by it.

“It was just a work trip. I’m a freelancer, mostly stuff along the lines of private investigation. Do you want some water?” He’s already standing and walking towards the kitchen by the end of his reply.

“Um, yes please. And that’s cool, I bet that line of work never gets boring.” Peter hears Wade grab two glasses, and then mutter under his breath so quietly it definitely was not meant for him to hear, “‘s not a lie, shut up,”. Is he lying about his job? He has that same nagging feeling from earlier, but before he can dig into it any further Wade is holding a glass of water in front of him.

“Thanks. Soo, uh, bedroom?” Awkward phrasing aside, we are back on track. This is what we’re here for.

Wade’s eyes glide down his body before coming back up to meet Peter’s gaze. “After you, handsome.” Peter turns swiftly towards the bedroom and he can feel Wade’s eyes on him like a brand as he walks away.

He pauses once he reaches the bed, not quite sure how to proceed. Thankfully Wade answers his unspoken question.

“You can take your clothes off now,” the smile is audible in his voice, and then he walks past Peter to sit in the middle of the bed and watch as Peter undresses and joins him.

“Are you going to take yours off too this time?” He asks, letting his eyes drift down as he imagines what Wade looks like naked.

“Maybe, you’ll have to wait and see,” he answers smoothly while patting his lap, “Now come here.” Peter crawls closer and then hesitates, not sure how Wade wants him. He opens his mouth to ask for clarification when those calloused hands wrap around his hips and pull him forward. Peter is straddling Wade’s lap so they are face to face, and he can feel his face growing warm at the surprisingly exposing position. He can’t bring his legs together and Wade catches his wrists when he goes to cover himself.

Wade brings Peter’s hands up to his shoulders and then leans in for a tender kiss. One kiss turns into two, then three, and eventually the gentle movements evolve into something more urgent and heated. Wade’s tongue darts out against Peter’s lips and his mouth opens letting Wade’s tongue in. He tastes like coffee and maple syrup. Does he eat anything other than breakfast foods?

Peter’s hands slide over his shoulders and back, as he revels in the texture of Wade’s skin. His heightened senses are delighted by the variety that the scars provide. He feels teeth bite into his bottom lip just hard enough to hurt, and then he’s being pulled forward until he’s fully laying down on top of Wade. He’s caught off guard when he feels Wade place the first gentle slap on his ass. Peter wasn’t expecting to be spanked from this position and he lets a small gasp slip through his lips.

“All good, Bambi?” Wade’s chest rumbles through Peter with the question.

“Yeah, all good,” He breathes his response before going back in to continue their kiss with vigor. The hits remain light, just over the line of a playful tap, and are separated with bouts of Wade’s hands pulling their bodies ever closer and squeezing anything he can reach.

Eventually Peter is worked up enough that he notices he’s been rutting against Wade’s stomach for an unknown length of time; long enough to have left a small wet patch on his shirt. Now that his attention is focused on his dick he can’t help the whine he lets out. He’s hard and throbbing, and the friction of Wade’s shirt is simultaneously too much and not enough.

He feels Wade’s fingers rub the back of his neck and can’t help the way he sucks in a breath and trembles. The back of his neck has been hyper sensitive ever since he got his powers, as it’s sort of the home base for his spidey sense. The warm fingers travel further up into his hair and then pull tight enough to sting. Peter goes lax against the firm hold, which appears to be Wade’s goal since he uses it to gingerly move Peter up farther on the bed.

He’s pulled down towards Wade’s face once more, this time with his chest making contact instead of his mouth. Wade teasingly bites onto Peter’s pecs a couple times before making his way over to wrap his mouth around a nipple. His tongue swirls around it, sending shocks of pleasure through him.

People have played with his nipples before, but it never felt this good. It was always just something he passively enjoyed while he waited for the next thing. But this, this was something else. Wade’s mouth was so hot and wet, and then his teeth bit down hard enough for Peter to yelp in surprise.

Wade let go and started soothing the sting with gentle licks, which now felt even more intense in contrast to the pain. Just when Peter relaxed into the pleasure again he felt a hard smack come down on his ass. He twitched, reflexively wanting to escape the feeling but also wanting to stay still to keep Wade’s mouth on him. Wade hummed with a small smile against his skin before just barely pulling his mouth away.

“Sit up,” Wade says with his lips grazing against Peter’s nipple, sending shivers down his spine.

Peter does not want to sit up. He sits up. Thankfully Wade mirrors the movement, but before Peter can try to resume their kiss Wade is already maneuvering them into the same position they were in the first time: Wade’s feet are on the floor and Peter is laid over his lap face down.

This time Peter can feel the hard outline of Wade’s cock pressing against his stomach, but his own dick drags against Wade’s pants and then it’s all he can think about. He starts to roll his hips against Wade, enjoying the feeling too much to be embarrassed by how desperate he must look. It only lasts a couple seconds before Wade goes stiff, and when he speaks his voice is oddly strained.

“Where are the bruises?”

Shit, he’s observant. Gotta be more careful. But first, answer the question. You can do that. Think, Parker! It was hard to think clearly when he was in this headspace, but luckily he found the perfect explanation just in time.

“The bruise cream! You gave me a cream and it worked really well.”

Peter hopes Wade doesn’t feel his pounding heartbeat. Who am I kidding, he can totally feel it. Peter hopes Wade thinks it’s just from the kissing and spanking, and not because he’s lying about a stupid cream.

Wade only makes a noncommittal hum before continuing on as if their conversation never happened. He spends a bit longer than usual with light and medium touches, both with his hand and the leather paddle. But once he moves on to actually putting in effort, it hurts. Not anywhere near bad enough to think about safewording, but enough to have Peter whimpering after each hit. He has to put active effort into not tearing his hands straight through the mattress.

The endorphins balance out the pain, and everything feels fuzzy. His senses are all toned down to something closer to a normal humans, and it’s such a relief. Every point of contact with Wade is so hot it feels like the boundary between them is hazy; he’s not quite sure where he ends and Wade begins, he just knows he feels good .

He doesn’t notice Wade has stopped until he hears his voice close to his ear, “I’m going to lay you on your back now.”

Then hands are moving him onto his back with his legs folded up by his shoulders. The stretch makes his glutes burn, the already irritated muscle clearly unhappy with the new position. Peter only sucks in a breath between his teeth and lets Wade guide his hands so he’s holding his legs up. Wade’s fingertips press into his bruised skin and Peter groans as he tries and fails to squirm away from the touch.

“You’re right, it’s time for your reward. You’ve been so good for me, you deserve a break.” Wade’s voice is soft, and that’s the only warning he gets before he feels hot, wet lips wrap around the head of his dick. His eyes must have fallen closed at some point, but at this they fly open and land on Wade on his stomach. Wade’s legs are bent at the knee and he’s lightly kicking them back and forth like this is all a fun game to him. Maybe it is, but that doesn’t matter as long as his mouth stays on Peter.

He bobs down halfway and then pulls back up to suck on the tip, hollowing out his cheeks in the process. Peter feels himself make a noise in the back of his throat but he can’t be bothered to pay attention to it. Wade’s mouth is heavenly, and Peter is putting every ounce of his willpower into not finishing so he can enjoy it a bit longer. One of Wade’s hands squeezes his aching thigh while the other wraps around the base of his dick, and Peter is gone. The only thing he can hear is the blood rushing through his ears for a moment, and when he finally has his bearings enough to open his eyes he finds himself wrapped in Wade’s arms.

This has quickly become one of his favorite places to be, so he sinks further into the embrace and presses his face against Wade’s shoulder. Peter is hovering on the precipice of sleep when Wade moves to continue with their aftercare.

Suddenly aware of how dry and sore his throat is, Peter rasps, “I need water please?”

“Oof, yes you do, baby boy. Give me one second, I’ll be right back.” Wade winces before rushing out of the bedroom. Peter blinks and Wade is back, holding a glass with a straw in front of him. Once Peter’s had his fill, Wade grabs something out of the nightstand and asks Peter to lay on his stomach. The next time Wade’s hands connect with his skin they are wet and cold. The bruise cream, guess he has one too.

They make some light conversation as they both come down from their respective endorphin highs. Wade brings them out to the couch and turns on the tv. After two episodes of Golden Girls has passed, Peter notices how dark the room has become. Aside from the tv, the only other source of light is a candle on the coffee table as the sun has almost fully set.

“Do you want to stay for dinner? I was planning on making enchiladas, and I’ve been told I’m a fantastic cook...” Wade asks with hope wrapped around his voice like a bow on a fragile gift.

Peter considers the offer for a moment before saying, “Yeah, enchiladas sound great. Thanks, Wade.” Not going to pass up free food. I can’t stay too long though, it’s a patrol night and Deadpool is back in town now. And maybe I want to spend some more time with Wade—so what? That’s fine! That feeling strikes him again, like any second now the missing word is going to pop into his head and he’ll finally be able to let it go. His brain is still too fuzzy from today’s activities to worry about it though, and his attention is back on Wade who has already migrated into the kitchen.

“Do you want any help?” he calls out over the back of the couch.

“Nah, you just sit there and look pretty. It’ll be done before you can say the blowjob queen of saskatoon. ”

Peter snort-laughs at that, and relaxes further into the plush couch. He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but the next thing he’s aware of is Wade gently waking him up and a delicious smell filling the room.

“Holy fuck that smells good.” He’s fully awake now, and notices Wade is wearing a Spider-Man themed apron. It’s got the symbol from the center of his suit, and surprisingly accurate web patterns stretching all over it. He can’t help but smile at the sight—it never gets old seeing proof that people like his alter-ego. “Cute apron.”

“Thank you! Spider-Man is literally the best hero. He saves lives and has an ass that just does not quit!” Wade fake swoons for a moment. “Speaking of asses, how’s yours? Need any ice or anything?”

Peter takes a moment to even register that Wade asked him a question, too focused on the way he talked about Spider-Man’s ass. It reminded him of Deadpool, like so much it was creepy. He did just wake up, so maybe he’s just imagining similarities between his two favorite people. Still, his scientist brain is curious so he decides to test the theory as casually as possible.

“I don’t know, I read an article from the Daily Bugle saying he’s not as great as people think. Lots of property damage and such, always running away from cops and critiquing their inability to do their jobs.”

Wade holds up his pointer finger and his mouth flies open like he’s about to argue, but then he tilts his head to the side in consideration ever so slightly and then collects himself. That’s not very Deadpool behavior—Deadpool doesn’t think before he talks. That’s one point against the theory so outlandish it’s not even worth fully thinking about it.

Instead, Wade smiles politely and says in a mockingly stern voice, “Uh uh uh, no Spidey slander in this house.” Deadpool calls him Spidey… But that might be a common nickname people use? Peter rarely pays attention to what the media says about him, so he doesn’t really know what he’s referred to as other than Spider-Man and “menace”. Half a point in favor of the theory.

They get settled at the table which has a massive dish of steaming enchiladas in the middle. Peter forgets all about his borderline-impossible theory as the smell of cheesy goodness floods his olfactory system. Wade loads up both of their plates and announces, “Bone-apple-teeth!”

That’s a very Deadpool joke. Fuck. Okay, let's think this through, it’s literally just a dumb joke that means nothing. There’s no need to freak out.

Wade starts telling a long-winded story, and Peter only follows along enough to know when to nod his head. He feels guilty about it, but he really can’t think of anything else right now, this is urgent. He tells stories like Deadpool. They are both obsessed with my ass, but that kinda makes sense for Wade because that’s part of our thing.

The more he hears Wade ramble on excitedly the more he can hear the similarities in their voices. He didn’t notice it much at first, because Wade is often much more calm and serious, or he’s using that low flirty voice that is different from Deadpool’s flirty voice. Deadpool’s always has a playful lilt to it; that’s why he can never tell if he’s being serious.

They do have the same physique. But Deadpool said his face is like a moldy avocado and vomit, and Wade just looks like he’s covered in scars. Maybe from fire? Acid? Whatever it was, he’s still obviously hot.

There’s no need to freak out.

“-eter, hellooo? Earth to Bambi?” Wade is staring at Peter, clearly waiting for a response. Shit .

“Sorry! Sorry I was distracted, I think I’m still waking up from my accidental nap. You know how it is with those, so disorienting,” Peter apologizes with a grimace, hoping Wade doesn’t take too much offense.

“Aww, did baby Bambi need to sleep longer?” Wade coos.

“Shut up,” Peter rolls his head and hears Wade’s almost silent sigh seemingly in response. It sounded happy, or maybe wistful. Peter wants to ask what that was about but it’s something a normal person wouldn’t have heard, so he has to let it go. He chooses to change the topic instead, “So, how did you get into private investigator work?”

“Okay, I’ll bite. I was in the military, then when I got out I had a lot of skills that didn’t have many applications in normal life, but m- private investigator work was a good enough match for me to be able to get a good gig.” Wade takes a bite of his food and holds eye contact with Peter, and there’s a weird intensity to his gaze.

Isn’t Deadpool ex-military? But statistically speaking it would be basically impossible for them to be the same person. There’s no need to freak out. But what if they are? What would I even do? What could I do? That would mean my identity would be exposed if Deadpool connected the dots. They’re friends, sure, but there’s no way Deadpool could pass up the insane profit that information would bring him.

Peter felt his heart rate start to speed up and suddenly it clicked that a panic attack was looming. He can’t do that here. Just my luck.

He set down his fork and started to scoot back his chair as he announced, “I am so sorry Wade, I totally forgot I need to feed my—my neighbors cat. I gotta run, he’s been waiting for a few hours and you know how cats can get. This has been great as always though!”

“Hold on a minute, let me at least package up some leftovers for you,” Wade reasons as he brings the food back into the kitchen. Peter continues on his mission undisturbed, putting on his shoes quickly.

“No, no that’s not necessary, but thank you so much! I’ll text you soon! Bye Wade!” Peter slips out the door and closes it right after saying goodbye, feeling yet another guilty pang for his behavior tonight. All over something that’s probably fucking nothing.

His heart is still beating too fast, and he can feel himself starting to sweat. He rushes down the stairs, taking them 5 at a time since no one is around to see him. Once he’s outside he walks as fast as he can without drawing attention, putting a little distance between himself and Wade before making a beeline to the nearest secluded alleyway. He scales the fire escape so he can have some degree of privacy, since he’s clearly not making it home fast enough.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Okay, it’s okay, just think. No, don’t think! Just breathe.”

Peter closes his eyes and takes perfunctory deep breaths. They stutter quite a bit, but he keeps trying until they are smooth enough for him to move his focus elsewhere. He knows the routine like the back of his hand by now. Five things you can see. Air vent. Fire escape. Access door. Another air vent. Are duplicates allowed? My web shooters.

Four things you can hear. My heartbeat. The TVs below me. The couple arguing—why is there always a couple arguing? A dog barking.

Three touches. My sweatshirt is soft. The roof is cool. My lips are dry.

Two smells. Fuck, ew, no skip.

One taste. Enchiladas.

He lets go of his knees—not even sure when he started holding them—and stretches his legs out. His heart is almost back to a normal speed, but now he’s shaky and tired and there’s a headache starting to poke right behind his eyes. He leans back and lays flat on the roof for a little bit until he’s ready to continue going home. His butt hurts from sitting on the roof.

When he finally makes it into his apartment he locks the door, kicks off his shoes haphazardly, and flops into bed face first. He doesn’t even groan when the shitty mattress makes for a terrible landing.

Okay, so what evidence exists to suggest Wade and Deadpool might be… the same person. Just the thought makes Peter tense up all over again. He gets up and goes to his desk instead, he needs to tackle this logistically. He grabs the first pen and notebook he sees and starts writing.

Same Person:

1. Ex-military

2. Same body type

3. Work in “freelance”

Peter pauses here as he recalls one of those weird moments with Wade. He made a comment about lying after he told me that, so it really seemed like he was lying about his job. Obviously Deadpool wouldn’t want to tell a civilian that he’s a mercenary.

4. Wade lied about his job, so they could both be mercs. And they were both out of town for work during the exact same time.

5. Talk to themselves

6. Love Spider-Man

7. Call him Spidey

There’s the issue of their appearance too. Peter wouldn’t have assumed that’s what Deadpool might look like under the mask, but it’s possible Deadpool was being dramatic all those times he made self-deprecating jokes about himself. Who am I kidding, of course Deadpool was being dramatic! What the hell else would he be?

8. Appearance

9. Overly use creative terms of endearment

10. Talk a lot, usually with lots of jokes and dramatic voices

Okay! That’s enough of that list! There are things that support the idea of them being different people too. There is a logical explanation for all of this.

Different People:

1. Deadpool is basically never serious about anything, but Wade is

Deadpool does get serious about his weapons, and he’s serious when Spiderman gets hurt. Shit, okay.

1. Deadpool is basically never serious about anything, but Wade is

1. Deadpool never stops talking, but Wade is quiet sometimes

Actually, Deadpool has been silent in a few situations that called for it. He usually can get by with whispering, but there have been plenty of times they’ve had to be completely stealthy and Deadpool was surprisingly good at it. Maybe not too surprisingly, he is a mercenary after all.

Peter attempts to write his list of differences for another 15 minutes, each attempt eventually being crossed out once he realizes it isn’t true.

Okay, so based on this evidence… It’s very likely they are the same person. But not guaranteed! They could just be two incredibly similar people. I could just ask Deadpool what his name is next time I see him? What if he asks for my name in exchange, I can’t just expect him to give me his identity like that.

Peter frets over his dilemma until he falls asleep at his desk. In the morning he will find his list smudged with drool and blue ink staining his lip.

***

Chapter Text

POV: Peter

The next day Peter keeps himself as busy as possible to avoid thinking about his lists. He works both jobs, so that helps. Making sandwiches isn’t the most mentally stimulating work, so he spends the time mentally reciting the steps to make his web fluid in excruciating detail. He thinks about recent crime patterns, wonders when he’ll see Rhino again, and makes plans to bake May’s favorite pie and bring it over soon.

His shift at The Daily Bugle is as pleasant as he expected it to be: not at all. He’s been going above and beyond with his recent patrols and the media has had a mostly positive response, which sends Jameson into one of his moods. He manages to throw together an article about Spider-Man’s increased vigilante work being a cover up for something sinister, and then all too soon he’s back at his apartment with nothing to distract him.

He walks past the lists on his desk and feels his stomach clench in anxiety all over again. This can still all be a big coincidence. I’ll just find out tonight, and then I won’t have to worry about it. Easy. Peter resolutely avoids thinking about what will happen after he finds the answer. That’s a problem for future Peter. He grabs his burner phone and texts Deadpool.

Peter: Hey Pool, joining patrol tonight?

Deadpool: yeppers, wouldn’t miss it for the world ;*

Peter: Cool, I’ll be out at 8

Deadpool: kayy c u then bb!

Peter lets out a long sigh and shakes his arms in an attempt to rid his body of the nervous buzz that’s sitting underneath his skin. It doesn’t work. He has just under an hour before he needs to leave so he cooks up some buttered noodles, showers, and contemplates all of his life choices while he waits. He still has another 45 minutes until 8.

“This is stupid, I can’t just sit here doing nothing,” Peter mutters to himself as he runs his hands through his hair for the umpteenth time. He changes into his suit and sets off to swing around hoping the rush of wind and freefalls will help clear his mind. Less than 5 minutes have passed when he finds himself already quite far from home, with a black and red blur chasing behind him.

“SPIIIIIDEY! SLOW! DOWN!” Peter swiftly turns around and launches himself to land on the same roof as Deadpool, who is clearly pretending to catch his breath with one hand against a wall for support. Peter rolls his eyes before joining him, putting his back against the wall so he can look out over the city. And maybe also so he can use it for support since he can already feel his hands starting to somewhat tremble.

“Hey Pool, you’re out early. How’s it goin’?” He crosses his arms in front of himself to tuck his hands away, and hopefully put on an air of nonchalance.

Deadpool tilts his head to the side before checking his Adventure Time watch. “Uhmm, nuh uh. It’s 8:03, baby boy. Are you feelin’ okay over there? I thought your spidey sense told you the time?” He leans one shoulder against the wall, close enough for Peter to smell the gunpowder that’s always stuck to his suit.

Spidey sense, that’s another item for the Similarities list. Peter thinks as his situation comes crashing back to the front of his mind. Deadpool and Wade are the only people (person?) that could sneak up on him without his spidey sense alerting him.

“No, Pool, you know that’s not how my spidey sense works. But yeah I’m fine, just lost track of time. Guess I was a bit distracted.” Why did I say that? He’s going to ask why. “Distracted thinking about a friend’s… thing. Problem, I guess. He’ll be fine though, nothing to worry about. Ready to patrol?” Real fucking smooth, Parker.

“Riiight, but what if he’s not fine? You should tell me what his problem is and maybe I can help. I’m real good at giving advice. Mostly advice about combat, sneaking and snooping, tracking and tracing, you catch my drift. But also baking! Cooking, too. Coloring, carrying, cuddling, I’m running out of C words here. Really though, I’m very helpful!”

Peter blinks and suddenly Deadpool is in front of him, a hand braced on the wall right above Peter’s shoulder. Deadpool continues on, now in his flirtatious-but-probably-joking tone.

“I bet you’d feel better if you tell Daddypool what’s on your mind.” He tops it off with a wink and a grin so wide his mask stretches to accommodate it. He’s not that much taller, but this position draws attention to their difference in size as he looks slightly down on Peter. It’s just Deadpool, he’s joking like he always does. This isn’t hot, you are not turned on by this right now, Parker!

He’s stuck holding his breath and staring at Deadpool's bulky frame for another second before he pulls himself together. He pokes Deadpool with his pinky finger hard enough to send him stumbling back a couple steps.

“One: ew, don’t say that again. And two: no, he doesn’t need your advice or help or whatever.” He brushes imaginary dust off his suit, trying to look as unaffected as possible.

“One: don’t kinkshame me, Spidey, that’s not very friendly of you. And two—” Deadpool stops mid sentence because Peter has tilted his head to listen to a siren in the distance. He’s always surprisingly respectful in moments where Peter needs to focus.

It sounds like a home accident, maybe a concussion? Nothing the paramedics can’t handle, and frankly there’s nothing Peter could do to help. But he wants to escape the heavy air that’s settled around them, so he nods his head towards the sound. “Let’s go check it out, sirens that way.”

“And two: RACE YA!” Deadpool yells and takes off sprinting with a maniacal giggle.

***

“Yes they were too dressed up like possums!” Deadpool squawked, slightly muffled due to the handful of chips he shoved under his mask.

“Dude, that doesn’t make as much sense as rats! There are rats everywhere around here! When’s the last time you saw a damn possum in Scranton?” Peter countered.

“Last year, idiot!” Deadpool pushed back. “Nice office quote, B-T-Dubs, haven’t thought about that show in a while.”

They both chuckle a bit as they continue working their way through the spread of food between them. The patrol was enough to take his mind off Wade for a short while, but the repressed anxiety hits him like a train (which is surprisingly not as bad as being hit by a building) when Deadpool pipes back up, sounding far too casual to actually be casual.

“Soo, I was thinking, you've seen Tony’s file on me, right?” His mask is already back in place when Peter reflexively whips his head up to look at him in surprise. Why is he bringing up his file? What?

“No, I haven’t. Why do you wanna know?” He asks with what he hopes sounds like indifference, directing his gaze back to his burrito. He takes a bite to distract himself, but his attention is so locked on Deadpool that he doesn’t even taste it. All he can do is just chew the strange combination of soft, juicy, and crunchy, and wait.

“Oh I was just won—wait what? You haven’t? Why not? I know he doesn’t like me, and he really doesn’t like me hanging around you. There’s no way he didn’t tell you, show you, everything he has on me. Which is probably a lot, creepy bastard loves to ignore personal privacy.”

Peter sees Deadpool stiffen out of the corner of his eye. The merc is always moving, swinging his feet, playing air instruments, something. The rare occasions it all stops are eerie. It still doesn’t set off his spidey sense so he knows he’s fine, but something else inside him is whispering run . He ignores it. I can be normal about this.

“Yeah, he did. He, uh, he offered the files to me.” More like demanded that I read them for “my own safety,” blegh. “It just didn’t seem right to look at it without your consent. I figured you’d tell me whatever you want me to know.”

Deadpool throws his head back with a groan that makes Peter feel things he should not be feeling while wearing spandex. And now he’s staring at Deadpool, again.

“Why are you always so good ? Every time I think you can’t get any better you turn around and prove me wrong.” His voice dips impossibly lower on the word good, and he sounds identical to Wade. He’s had that voice seared into his memory since their first scene together, there’s no mistaking it, they're the same voice. It still sends a jolt of pleasure straight to his dick despite the new and stressful circumstances.

Peter’s mind goes from a million thoughts swirling together to sudden emptiness. Static. Like he finally opened one too many programs, and now the computer that is his brain, is crashing. When he comes back online he realizes Deadpool’s mask is staring back at him, looking like the cat that ate the canary. Does he know? There’s no way he knows. What if he knows? The moment of silence was nice, but his thoughts are back now and he needs to go home. Now.

He stands up and clears his throat, “Sorry to dine and dash but I just noticed the time and realized I need to go home, I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.” Liar.

“Oh? What time is it?” Deadpool asks, faux innocence dripping like honey from his words.

Peter shoves his sleeve up to check his watch, making it undeniably obvious that he had not “just noticed the time” moments ago. His grip on his arm tightens for a moment as his mistake washes over him like a bucket of ice water. He can’t lie his way out of this, but he also doesn’t want to address it, so he continues pretending everything is fine.

“...It’s 2:35. See you tomorrow!” He shoots a web at a nearby ledge and flings himself away before Deadpool responds. He only feels like a little bit of an asshole for it.

Deadpool did that on purpose, he already knows who I am.

Wade was toying with him.

***

Peter throws himself through his window and lands directly in his chair. He aims one wrist back towards the window and slams it closed with a single web, just on the side of too hard. He silently thanks the universe that the glass didn’t shatter.

So. Deadpool is Wade. Wade is Deadpool. And he knows I’m Spider-Man. Because why else would he bring up Tony’s files, or look at me with that know-it-all face, or say “good” like that. Chills crawl down his spine and his dick twitches again at the memory. Peter’s body is clearly not as conflicted about this situation as his mind is, which only frustrates him further.

Peter comes to the conclusion that Deadpool either already knows his identity and is fucking around for his own amusement, or he hasn’t figured it out yet and Peter is just looking into Deadpool’s regular antics too closely.

He mindlessly tosses his ball of rubber bands back and forth between his hands until it bursts with a particularly firm toss. Split rubber bands rain down around him, landing on his desk, bed, and carpet. Rubber bands are one of the worst things to clean up because you can’t sweep them, and you can’t vacuum them. Your only option is to pick them up by hand.

Peter knows this, and lets his head fall to his desk with a groan.

***

POV: Peter

He can’t bring himself to patrol for the next two days. When he’s not at work he’s hunched over his desk, writing and rewriting lists in an attempt to rationalize his way out of this. Everything was so perfect. Why now? Why this?

By the third day he's lost his momentum. He can’t convince himself they are two separate people. One or two coincidences could be excused, but when he steps back to look at things objectively... it’s painfully obvious. He should’ve connected the dots from the start. Even back when they met at that bar it was obvious; Wade’s sense of humor and body language all scream “Deadpool”.

All the panic and confusion have given way to anger and embarrassment. He’s trusted Deadpool with his life countless times on patrol. He trusted Wade with, that. Yet Wade threw that trust away so he could play this stupid game. What’s his goal, his angle?

“Who am I kidding, Deadpool doesn’t need a goal other than chaos! He would totally figure out my identity for shits and giggles. He’s probably just been testing me to see how long it would take me to figure it out, laughing to himself every time I failed,” Peter continues rambling to himself until he realizes he’s on the brink of a panic attack.

After calming himself down he takes a hot shower, enjoying it as long as he can before the hot water inevitably runs out. I really need to get a better job so I can move out of this dump. The mundane thought is such a shock compared to the past couple days that it startles a laugh from him. He clings to this shred of normalcy as he gets ready to patrol.

“I can do this. I’m Spider-Man, a little confrontation is nothing to me. Sure, I’m losing my best friend—wow, is Deadpool actually my best friend? Jesus Christ. Whatever. It’ll be fine! I’ll just tell him I found out about his little game and it’s over now. And also hopefully find out if he’s planning on selling me out. Or if he already has.”

He groans as the stress starts to build back up. I’m going to have to tell May and get her into some sort of protection. Tony will help. Then Tony will know my identity too. Peter runs his hands through his hair and tugs, wishing he could just pull his thoughts out of his head and set them on a shelf for later. He’s already gone through this line of thinking enough times to know it’s just going to leave him going in circles.

With a deep breath he pulls on his mask and ventures into the city.

***

POV: Wade

“...It’s 2:35. See you tomorrow?” Spidey webs himself away before Wade can react. Fuck.

[Can we accept that as proof they are the same person and move the fuck on now?]

{Yeah I really want to see some kinky spider-sex so we need to speed this up. Does that make me a furry?}

“Spiders are bugs, so no,” Wade chimes in dejectedly as he eats a churro.

[Arachnids, dumbass.]

“Nerd.”

[Idiot.]

Wade’s frustration spikes and he has a pistol aimed at his own head before he knows what he’s doing.

“Don’t fucking tempt me right now, White.”

[Damn, so touchy! You know it won’t work, but you’re welcome to try.]

This is one of our usual spots, I can’t leave my brain chunks here for Spidey to see. The thought of Spider-Man calmed him enough so he could re-holster his gun and shove 3 more churros in his mouth. He hasn’t seen my file, so he wouldn’t recognize me outside of the suit. Fuck.

Wade can’t ignore the truth anymore: Peter and Spider-Man are the same person. He’s still not sure why Webs lied about needing to leave so suddenly, but he reasons that solving one mystery is more than enough for the evening.

***

POV: Wade

He doesn’t hear from Peter for two days. He tries texting him from both phones, but there’s zero response. Spider-Man hasn’t been seen either—Wade follows every Spidey related hashtag on Twitter— it’s like he just fell off the face of the planet. The silence is truly starting to drive him crazy. Crazier.

When evening rolls around he starts his routine of visiting all the usual Spidey-spots, and he squeals with glee when he spots the red and blue figure staring down from one of the taller buildings nearby. He uses his grappling hook to get there as fast as possible, not wanting to miss the opportunity to see his favorite person again.

Spidey is pacing. This is not good. I’d even say this might be bad. Terrible, even. Maybe critical.

“Heeyyyy, baby boy! What’s crackalackin?” He tries to break the tension with finger guns. It doesn’t work. Peter comes to a stop and looks at Wade, and the eyes of his mask narrow into a fierce glare.

Fuck.

“Hi, Wade.”

Double fuck.

Wait, this is what we wanted! He figured it out so now we don’t have to tell him!

[You really think that look is good?]

{His aura is screaming “I want to fucking murder Wade Wilson” and I don’t blame him.}

What? No no no no, this was the plan! He’s supposed to be giving me bedroom eyes right now, not murder eyes!

“Are you seriously that surprised that I figured out your fucked up little game? It did take longer than I’m proud to admit, but I’m not stupid.” His arms are crossed over his chest now, his posture landing somewhere between defensive and angry.

{Spider-Man said fuck!}

Wade hears a comical record scratch sound effect. “Woah there, let’s rewind for a sec. What game are you talking about?”

Peter scoffs and it’s like a knife to the heart. One of the serrated ones that leave a messy wound.

“The jig is up, you don’t have to pretend anymore. I know that you figured out my identity. But I’m still wondering why. And why take it so far? Is this part of some long job where you needed to gain my trust outside of our suits? Or maybe you were going to auction my name off to the highest bidder? Wanted to have a little fun before handing it over? I know you’ve done some messed up things, but I genuinely thought you were above something like this. I thought you’d changed, at least a little.” Peter sounds truly hurt by the time he reaches the last sentence.

“Really, Webs? “The jig is up”? What are you, a cop from the 1920’s?” Wade’s mouth retorts before his brain can intervene. A web knocks him backwards and he finds himself stuck to a brick wall.

Peter marches forward as Wade scrambles to fix the situation. “Yep, my bad there, I’m sorry, you know I speak without thinking sometimes. Really though, I swear on Bea and Arthur that this is not part of a job! I just—”

“Just what?!” Peter interrupts, his voice raising with aggression and amusement in a way that borders on hysterical. “Just wanted to see who’s behind the mask for your own entertainment? Just wanted to get into my pants by any means necessary? Or was this your fucked up idea of taking our friendship to the next level? I wouldn’t unmask around you, so you went ahead and did it for me, and then decided to see how far you could take things—”

“Jesus fuck, Spidey! Can you please let me explain? Because everything you just said is so wrong I am honestly wondering if I hopped dimensions without realizing it.” Wade will deny the way his voice quivered before he got it back under control.

Peter pinches the bridge of his nose through his mask and nods his head, his other hand signaling for Wade to continue.

“Okay, thank you. Holy shit. Okay, so I went to the bar to get laid. You showed up, and I had no idea it was you . I’ll admit I was a little creepy because I couldn’t stop watching you, and then that douchebag showed up and you looked uncomfortable so I just interrupted to get him off your back. Now I know you didn’t need my help, but I didn’t know back then. I wasn’t expecting things to go anywhere because, baby boy, you are so far out of my league I honestly still think you tolerating the mess under here makes for a pretty unrealistic plot.

“But anyways, things escalated from there, as you know, duh, you were there. But eventually I just… noticed things. I wasn’t trying to though, I swear! I can’t help it! It’s what I do ! I honestly tried to ignore it too, I did. My brain was telling me all these things and I just looked the other way, minded my business like a good noodle. But honey, you are so fucking bad at lying ! We really need to work on that; I don’t know how you’ve made it this far.”

Peter cleared his throat and sounded a bit calmer and more curious when he said, “Let’s say I do believe you. Why didn’t you tell me when you found out? You clearly knew before tonight.”

“Well, the thing is, I was hoping I was wrong because we had a good thing going and good things don’t usually happen to me. I didn’t want to lose it. I was also hoping I was right, because then my two favorite people would be one person and I wouldn’t have to choose. Not that there was really a choice to be made because Deadpool-me never had a chance with Spidey-you, but that’s what I thought about other-us too so, I—I don’t know, okay!” Wade’s heart is beating erratically and he can feel himself sweating under his suit. This is what I get for using leather and kevlar.

He couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth now that he was panicking.

“I don’t know, I didn’t want to think about it anymore, and I definitely couldn’t do anything that would end in losing you. So I just sorta started dropping hints so that you would figure it out on your own? And if you were two different people then worst case scenario other-you would realize I’m Deadpool and never talk to me again because of all the murder and stuff, but at least Spidey-you would still like me, right?”

{Nailed it.}

[Maybe to a goddamn cross. That’s seriously the answer you’re going with? You were too much of a little bitch to speak up? You’re embarrassing us.]

Peter starts pacing around again. He keeps running his hand over his head, as if expecting his mask to suddenly disappear so he can tug at his hair in frustration.

“So, you aren’t planning on selling my identity?” Wade is so wrapped up in his thoughts he almost misses the apprehensive question.

“Never! Baby boy, I would never ever in a million years purposefully put you in harm's way. There’s no price tag big enough to change that. Even if you hate me now and never talk to me again, I’ll protect your secret until the end of time. I’m pretty sure I’ll be there.”

“Shit. I… I majorly jumped to conclusions there, huh?” Peter asks the ground.

“Maybe just a pinch. So, do you think you could let me down from here?”

Wide lenses land on Wade, still pinned to the wall. “Oh my god I’m so sorry,” his words almost slur together with how fast he says them. With a spray of web solvent Wade is able to shake off the webs, and then they stare at each other as silence falls over them like a suffocating blanket.

“So do—”

“I gotta—”

They both try to speak at the same time, followed by a quick “sorry” from both of them. Wade wins the silent battle of politeness when Peter caves and continues his sentence. Canada wins again.

“I, uh, this is a lot to process. I’m gonna go home. I’ll ask Daredevil to help out so there aren’t three days of no patrol in a row. Are you good?” He shifts his weight between his feet as he waits for Wade’s answer.

“Yeah, ‘course I’m good, baby boy. Text me later?” Wade can hear how desperate he sounds and he doesn’t care in the slightest.

“Yeah, I’ll text you. See you later,” Peter nods awkwardly as he takes a few steps backwards and then turns to step over the ledge. Wade’s heart clenches for the split second that he knows Peter is free falling, and then relaxes at the tell-tale thwip as a web appears to redirect his momentum forward.

***

Chapter Text

POV: Peter

Peter gets home purely by the strength of muscle memory. He’s too preoccupied reviewing all his interactions with Wade from this new perspective to bother with trivial things like paying attention to his surroundings. He immediately starts pacing all around his apartment—walls and ceiling included—alternating between thinking to himself and muttering out loud.

Wade is Deadpool, but he isn’t going to sell my identity. So May’s safe. I don’t need to out myself to Tony to get her protected. “That’s good, that’s good.” Peter takes a moment to reflect on how quickly he trusted Wade to keep his secret. After hearing the sincerity in Wade’s voice his doubts slipped from his mind without a fight. They had become quite close friends as Spider-Man and Deadpool, even before adding in this new dynamic between Peter and Wade, so he supposes his trust in Wade makes sense.

What’s going to happen with that side of things? Does he still want to? “He flirts with me all the time…” But that doesn’t mean he necessarily wants to keep sceneing together now that he knows it’s me. It’s one thing to do that with a stranger, it’s another to do that with a friend. Maybe even more than friends? Peter’s phone interrupts his thoughts with a chime.

Wade: hey petey pie, i really am sorry for not telling you sooner. i can cook you dinner to make up for it?

Peter isn’t sure if his ego is ready to see Wade yet after embarrassing himself so royally with his false accusations, but he also doesn’t want to end up in another period of silence between the two of them. He chews on his nail for a second, weighing the two options.

Peter: Hey Wade, you don’t need to be sorry, I was the jerk here. Dinner does sound nice though… How does tomorrow sound?

Wade: i am sorry tho, i shoulda told you instead of keeping it a secret. it makes sense you freaked out about it

Wade: but yes, id love to have dinner w you baby boy <3

He grimaces at the blunt description of his actions. Yep, I did indeed freak out. Peter resolves to bring it back up in person, so he drops the topic for now. They confirm the time and say their goodbyes, and Peter feels a bit lighter by the end of it.

***

POV: Wade

The next evening rolls around and Wade has no idea what to expect. He’s already cleaned the apartment twice, dinner is in the oven, and now he’s just pacing around aimlessly.

[This is really embarrassing, Wilson.]

{Yeah man what are we doing pacing around in here! We could go see a movie, we could get lunch, we could kill someone. Or *gasp* the apple orchard!?}

Wade is about to reply when he hears a knock at the door.

Bambi! He rushes over and pulls the door open so quickly that the sudden burst of air tousles Peter’s curls. He looks as cute as ever with his big eyes blinking up at Wade, but he also looks like he’s taking his nickname a little too far with the whole deer-in-the-headlights expression.

[Maybe if you didn’t practically rip the door off its hinges he wouldn’t look so scared.]

“Welcome back, baby boy! Come in, come in,” Wade ushers him through the door so he doesn’t bolt.

Peter is taking off his shoes when he finally speaks. “That smells delicious; what are you cooking?”

“Lasagna! That’s why I’m wearing my Garfield slippers, duh,” Wade replies as he strikes a few poses to show off his slippers. Peter looks amused and Wade feels himself start to relax. It’s just Spidey-Pete, nothing to stress over. “It’ll be done in—”

The oven beeps, prompting Wade to return to the kitchen and turn it off as he says, “Now, now is when it’ll be done.” He dons his oven mitts that are designed like Captain America’s shield before pulling out the large dish. He turns around to find Peter already seated at the table, and they make stilted small talk as they get settled.

“So, uh, how was traffic on your way over?” Wade says as he deposits the dish on the pot holder in the center of the table.

“I don’t have a car, so I don’t really know. I took the subway. I guess there was a normal number of people, if that’s what you’re asking?” Peter ventures.

[You’re bombing this.]

Wade hums in acknowledgement of Peter’s answer as he loads up their dishes with generous servings. Instead of following it up with any words, he takes a bite of the steaming food.

“Wade! Don’t do that!” Wade looks up to find Peter frantically looking between his face and Wade’s plate. 

He chews with his mouth as open as it can possibly be without losing any food, breathing through his mouth and making “hasafashafsas” sounds in between muddled “ow”s and “hot”s.

{Worth it!}

Fuck yeah!

[Idiots.]

“Why not?” Wade asks incredulously as he raises his next bite to his mouth.

“Don’t take another bite! You literally just took it out of the oven!”

He lowers his fork back to his plate, his lips spreading into a smile as he replies, “Baby boy, there’s nothing to worry about! The burn’s already healed!”

“Yeah, but why not just wait?!” Peter argues back, his eyebrows scrunched together. And he has just a hint of blush starting to appear, but Wade can’t tell if it’s from the pet name or the lasagna thing. He’s looking at Wade like he’s utterly lost his mind ( which, fair ) and he looks a bit concerned too. Awwww!

“Awww, you’re worried about me getting hurt, aren’t you?” Wade clasps his hands together and rests his cheek against them.

Peter’s mouth drops open and he sputters for a moment before spitting out, “Well, yeah! That’s gotta hurt like hell, and you probably can barely taste it with a burned tongue. It makes more sense to just let it cool off a bit.”

Wade lets out a high pitched squeal before completely derailing the conversation. “I absolutely adore hearing you swear, baby boy! Don’t get me wrong, it was cute before I found out who you are, but now that I know I’m hearing,” he whispers the next word, “ Spider-Man swear, it sounds so much sweeter!”

Peter’s eyes drop to his plate.

[You just had to ruin it, didn’t you? Couldn’t let things be a little longer before bringing up The Topic?]

“Ahh, shitnuggets, my bad,” Wade says to Peter and White. “We don’t need to talk about that right now—”

“It’s okay. We should get it over with, yeah?” Peter glances up to make brief eye contact and he’s wearing a weary smile over his concern.

Wade hates seeing Peter distressed like this, and it’s hard to decide between changing the topic to make him happy or following Peter’s suggestion and getting it over with.

{Change the topic! Change it!}

[You know Peter’s smarter than you, so you should probably listen to him before you fuck something else up.]

Asshole.

[I’m not wrong.]

“Yeah, if that’s what you want…” Wade drawls, hoping Peter changes his mind. Instead, Peter’s face seems to settle with something like determination. Damn. Still a cute face though.

They lock eyes as Peter begins to say, “So… I’m sorry for blowing up on you the other day. When I realized you already knew and hadn’t told me I assumed it was because you wanted to do what any mercenary would do in your shoes, and then I started worrying about my family being in danger and I just kinda freaked out. No one else knows my identity so it—”

“Hold up, baby boy, I think I’m hearing things. You didn’t just say I’m the only person that knows your identity, right?” Wade asks as he ignores the boxes’ uproar.

Peter’s head tips to the side in that adorable way it always does when he’s confused as he replies, “Uh, yeah? I mean, technically I said no one else knows , but yeah. Everyone else died because of it, so I don’t tell people now.” His voice takes on a hollow quality near the end. Wade is suddenly reminded of their conversation on that night they met.

Peter had said “I lost someone I love too.” Wade’s attention is once again drawn to the lines in the vigilante’s face. He’s still carrying his grief under his eyes. Wade is hit with desire to learn every detail of Peter’s past, but now isn’t the time.

“I’m sorry Peter, I had no idea you don’t have anyone to talk to about this half of your life,” Wade replies in a serious tone before swapping back to his cheery lilt, “Good news though! You may have noticed, I can’t die! So you don’t have to worry, I’m not going anywhere. Well, as long as you want me around, obviously I’m not going to stalk you or anything if you don’t want me around.”

Peter smiles and the haunted atmosphere dissipates. “Yes, of course I want you around, Wade. Now let me finish apologizing for being an asshole.” He follows up his demand with an eyeroll.

{Eeeee!!! He loves us, he wants to get married!!}

[Calm down, he just said he wants us around. That could mean he just wants help on his patrols like how things used to be.]

Wade doesn’t think he can stomach seeing Peter feel bad for a second longer. “Sweetie pie, we both messed up! I kept a secret from you and then you didn’t trust me, which makes sense. But now that we’re all caught up on what really happened and everyone’s okay, it’s fine! Tit for tit! Even-steven!”

“You know that’s not how the phrase goes…”

“Pshh, eat your lasagna before it gets cold!” Wade resumes shoveling the still steaming food into his mouth with renewed enthusiasm. He can see the conflict in Peter’s eyes, but then he’s aiming the worlds warmest, most angelic, sweet as maple syrup smile at Wade.

“Okay, okay. Now that it’s at an appropriate temperature, ahem , I’ll eat it.”

They eat in a comfortable silence for a short while—as comfortable as silence can be when Wade spends it ignoring two thoroughly engaged boxes—and then Wade speaks up. He’s refilling their dishes with two more heaping servings when he lets the words bubble out of him before he can talk himself out of it.

“Do you still want to have sex? Shit, I mean like, the scenes. Do you still want to scene together? I get it if you want to find someone else, like if it would be too weird knowing it’s me, that it’s Deadpool, but I also know how you get when you don’t scene for a while and—”

“Hey! It’s not that bad!” Peter interjects through a mouth full of food and a scowl, causing Wade to bark out a loud laugh.

“HA! Baby boy, it is and you know it. Do you not remember how this story started? You were so sexually frustrated that you got shot! With a bullet!” Wade is gesturing wildly with his forkful of food, little bits of sauce landing on the table with the movement.

“To answer your question, yes, if you still want to. Hopefully tonight—I have been a bit stressed.” Peter takes another bite of food as if he didn’t just answer Wade’s prayers.

{ Just like a prayer, you know I'll take you there! } Yellow starts to sing the famous Madonna song in the background.

“Yes! Obviously I still want to!” Wade replies without missing a beat.

Peter uses his fingers to imitate quotation marks when he says, “Well, I seem to recall you saying “ that may be obvious to you, but you know what they say about assuming things ,” so I figured I’d double check.” He’s sporting a cheeky smile that sends Wade’s mind racing with the new possibilities at his disposal now that he knows he’s fucking Spider-Man. I’m fucking Spider-Man!

Wade replies sarcastically, “Yeah, yeah, I get it, you know how to do callbacks too—point made. But can you do time skips?”

***

Chapter Text

POV: Wade

“Take off your clothes and bend over the edge of the bed with your hands above your head,” Wade instructs Peter. He walks over to his closet to pick out their toys for the evening: a belt, blindfold, and padded adamantium handcuffs. Yes, they were custom made, and yes, it was expensive. Worth it to hold my Spidey.

He turns around to find one eye watching him with anticipation while the other is hidden against the blanket. Peter followed his instructions perfectly. He’s naked and lying half on the bed; it’s not quite high enough to meet his hips comfortably so his knees are slightly bent.

Wade holds the items in Peter’s line of sight to quickly check in, as they’ve never used any of these items before. “Green?”

“Green... You know those won’t hold me though, right? I don’t want to break your stuff but I might on accident,” he replies, sounding genuinely worried over breaking a silly pair of cuffs.

“Baby boy, you could tear down this entire apartment and I wouldn’t care. But I’m pretty sure you can’t break adamantium, isn’t that right?”

[He better not be able to. I know the cannon is a bit inconsistent with the rules on this one, but Spider-Man definitely wasn’t on the exceptions list for that shit.]

Peter’s eyebrows jump up as he replies, “Oh! Uh, no, I can’t.” Wade can practically see the scientist’s brain whirring behind his eyes with the new information.

“We should be fine then,” Wade says as he cuffs Peter’s hands together above his head. With the cuffs secured, Wade moves to stand behind Peter and run his hands down his back with a featherlight touch. When he leans forward until their bodies are flush against one another, he has to suppress a groan at the feeling of their hips fitting together and how it feels so right . His mouth is right next to Peter’s ear so he can whisper his next words.

“Now that I know I’ve got the big strong Spider-Man in my control, I’m not gonna go easy on you. Remember to use your safe words if you need to. If you can’t, then tap on me three times anywhere. Got it?”

“Yes, Wade.”

“Good boy,” Wade praises before he leaves an open mouthed kiss below Peter’s ear. His hands run up and down Peter’s sides before settling on his hips just shy of too tightly. He uses the leverage to hold them together as he rolls his hips forward, forcing Peter to grind against the mattress with no clothes to dull the friction. The noise he makes is somewhere between a moan and a whimper, like even he isn’t sure if he wants more or less.

Wade leaves a trail of kisses down Peter’s neck until he reaches the delicate spot where it meets shoulder, and then he bites as hard as he can without breaking the skin. 

This time Peter’s reaction is more decisive as his hips buck back against Wade. He sucks in air fast enough to make a hissing sound between his teeth that melts into a moan.

Wade soothes the bite with soft licks and kisses. When he pulls back he can see the indentations from his teeth already turning scarlet. The possessive mark stirs something deep within him and all he can think for a moment is Mine.

He puts the blindfold on Peter and then asks, “Can you see anything?”

“No,” Peter breathes out.

“Perfect!” Wade leans back and punctuates his statement with a playful yet sharp smack to Peter’s ass. He takes a quick moment to step back into a more comfortable spot before he continues with some warm up spanking. This time Wade spends equal time between Peter’s ass and thighs, and the shade of pink blooming in response is breathtaking.

Once Peter’s skin is sufficiently warm to the touch, Wade picks up the belt. Folding it in half, he holds it between both hands and snaps the leather against itself. Peter visibly jumps at the sudden sound and Wade winces.

“Oops, sorry baby was that too loud on your spider ears?”

[Spider ears? What the fuck, Wade.]

{Uh Wade’s right, Baby Boy totally has spider ears. On the inside. Or something. He hears real good, mkay?}

[Do Spiders even have ears?]

“No it’s okay, just startled me, that’s all. I’m good,” Peter replies in that soft needy way he does during their scenes and it’s so distracting Wade almost forgets to listen to his answer. The boxes don’t even comment, and instead continue to argue about spider anatomy in the background.

Instead, he acknowledges Peter with a murmur, “That’s good,” and gives the bright pink cheeks one more squeeze before bringing down the belt just hard enough to make a snapping sound. He continues with the belt, gradually increasing the force until each strike results in a loud crack through the air. The only accompanying sounds are Peter’s panting and whimpering.

Peter seems to be enjoying himself even more than normal. He likes sensory deprivation—that makes sense. Wade feels his cock getting harder as he watches Peter struggle to stay in the same position. He’s still bent over the side of the bed, but his knees are so weak that his legs are trembling with the effort of holding himself up.

Wade finally decides to give his baby boy a small break and picks him up.

“What are you doing?” Peter asks, letting Wade move him around as he sees fit.

“We’re getting all the way on the bed, baby boy. Your legs were going to give out if we stayed there too much longer. Plus, I wanted to try something new.” Peter only hums in response as Wade finishes setting them up in the new position.

Wade leans back to admire his work. Peter is lying on his back folded in half; his legs are pressed up against his torso leaving both his hands and feet above his head. His legs are spread just enough for Wade to have a perfect view of his hard dick resting against his abs.

“One more thing actually,” Wade mumbles to himself as he grabs a couple pillows to lift Peter’s hips up a bit. “Perfect.”

“That’s not too much of a stretch, is it?” Wade checks in as he cups Peter’s balls in one hand and gently plays with them.

{Fuck, we gotta put him in this position more often. Everything’s right there just waiting to be touched!}

“No, this isn’t a stretch at all. Wade, you’ve seen me stretch before on patrols,” Peter says patronizingly slow, raising his eyebrows for emphasis.

“First of all, I would suggest you think twice before being a brat when I’m holding the family jewels,” he punctuates his point with a squeeze firm enough to be threatening but soft enough to avoid any actual pain. “Second, that wasn’t patrol, you were stretching to prepare for our race. Which we still need a rematch for since it’s not my fault I was too distracted by your sexy ass and you got a head start.”

There’s a split second of silence before Peter erupts into laughter and Wade can’t help but join in. They calm down just as quickly and Wade leans against Peter to place a soft kiss against his lips.

He barely pulls back so their lips still brush together when he whispers, “If it’s not a stretch, then you better stay put.” He presses Peter’s legs down, letting them fall farther apart so they can lie against the mattress on either side of Peter’s head.

Wade takes a moment to roll his hips against Peter’s, eliciting a groan from both men as Wade’s clothed bulge rubs against Peter’s naked one.

It takes all of his willpower, but Wade manages to pull himself away from Peter so he can get back to work with the belt. He’s not sure if it’s the mental aspect of the vulnerable position, or the way that Peter’s muscles are being pulled taught, but he seems even more sensitive than usual.

Wade is using the same force that he typically does, but the harder hits seem to be pushing Peter towards his limit so he quickly shifts gears to rely more on repetition rather than strength. It doesn’t take long for Peter to become a writhing mess under Wade’s hands once again, but Wade has an agenda and is sticking to it.

“How’re ya holdin’ up there, baby boy?” He pauses his movements just long enough for Peter to reply.

“‘M good, wanna come,” he pants out.

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Wade replies sweetly as he runs a finger from the head of Peter’s dick down to the base. It jumps as more precum drips from the tip and Peter’s leg twitches as he lets out a pitiful sound.

“Careful. Here, why don’t you hold onto these so they don’t go anywhere,” Wade suggests as he presses Peter’s ankles into his hands. It takes a minute for Peter to catch up and then his fingers wrap closed, holding his own legs in place.

“Perfect, that’s my good boy,” Wade says. He then leans in to leave a chaste kiss on the back of Peter’s knee, followed by little kisses and bites trailing up his thigh. He spends more time on each new spot, eventually sucking hard on the skin to leave hickies behind. When he shifts to bite down on the sensitive skin that’s already been bruised by the belt Peter lets out a high pitched whine that drops into a moan.

“Wade, more, please, need more,” he begs in between his shuddering breaths.

“Oh, is that so?” Wade smiles against Peter’s skin.

“Waaade, please!” Peter pleas, his voice somewhere between desperate and demanding. Wade responds by grabbing his bruised cheeks with both hands and squeezing firmly. Peter just whines in response, squirming within his limited range of motion.

Wade grins devilishly, excitement bubbling in his chest as he prepares to say his next words to Peter. “Okay, okay, I’ll give you what you want. Just remember, you can’t finish until I say so.”

With that, he leans down and sucks the tip of Peter’s dick into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it a few times and then takes the rest of Peter into his mouth in one fluid motion. The sudden onslaught of sensation has the intended effect: Peter gasps in a deep breath and then moans, eagerly trying to thrust his hips up with the tiny bit of leverage he has from this angle.

He swallows around Peter’s length and then pulls off completely once he feels the first signs of orgasm from Peter.

“No! Please, don’t stop! Wade, please, I need to come, please make me come Wade,” his begging grows more frantic with each passing second as his approaching release slips away from him.

“I’m going to make you come, I promise. You asked for more, so I’m going to give you more first,” Wade reassures Peter in a soothing voice as he rubs his thumbs in circles right under Peter’s ass where it meets his thighs.

He lets his hands slide down so he can pull Peter’s cheeks apart, further exposing the tight hole tucked in the middle. Without wasting any more time, he gets closer and drags the tip of his tongue over Peter’s hole, causing him to jump in surprise.

“Uh, Wade?” He asks, his voice wobbling slightly.

“Hmm?” Wade hums in response as he presses his tongue around the tight ring of muscle, enjoying the way it twitches under his touch.

This earns him a deep groan from Peter, which only encourages him to continue. And continue he does. Wade doubles his efforts, taking his time to both relax and tease Peter to the best of his abilities. The reactions that each new movement pulls from Peter are priceless, and Wade briefly regrets not filming them.

[I’d bet all our money that this is his first time.]

{There’s no way Petey’s a virgin!}

[Not first time doing anything, dumbfuck, first time having his ass eaten.]

This catches Wade’s attention. He pulls back abruptly and asks, “Petey-pie, have you ever done this before?” It takes a moment for his glassy eyes to land on Wade and refocus, and then his eyebrows draw together in confusion.

“What? I’m not a virgin , Wade!” His attempt at an insulted scowl is undermined by his bite-swollen lips and the fact that he’s still holding his ankles above his head.

[God, they’re both idiots.]

Wade goes back to ignoring the boxes as he clarifies with a chuckle, “No, I obviously know that baby boy. I’m asking if anyone has ever eaten your ass before? Tossed your salad? Tongue-fucked your backdo—”

“Got it! I got it. And no, this, this is a first. It’s uh, it’s good though!”

Wade can’t help but moan a tiny bit at the revelation that he’s the only person that’s ever touched Peter like this. He’s always been aware of his possessive streak, but this is a fun new development.

He returns to the task at hand with renewed vigor and takes his time until Peter is completely lost in pleasure and Wade feels those telltale trembles return to Peter’s thighs. It’s tempting to just let him come now, he’s been so good, but Wade has something else in mind for tonight.

Instead of pulling away like last time he wraps his hand around Peter’s dick, and Peter gasps and tries to thrust up into it immediately. Wade squeezes the base just hard enough to keep him from tipping over the edge, and then keeps going as if nothing has changed.

This is when Peter seems to realize Wade still isn’t planning on letting him finish yet, and he starts whining in an earnest attempt to change his mind. Or maybe whining is all he can remember how to do.

Wade is satisfied with either reality.

A couple minutes later Wade slows down his movements to almost nothing, occasionally redirecting his attention entirely to leave more hickies and bites along Peter’s thighs.

Peter seems to have calmed down. He’s not begging anymore; his desperation has been replaced with acceptance if his soft, content noises are anything to go by. Aww, what a good sub. Looks like it’s time for a reward.

Wade grabs the lube from the nightstand and focuses all his attention on prepping Peter for the next little while. He starts off with one finger, which goes in easily with how relaxed he is. The second is a bit of a stretch though, so Wade sticks with two while he licks his way up Peter’s cock and then swallows it down again.

The distraction works wonders, and Wade can feel Peter relaxing around him. He could add the third finger now, but he decides to hold off a bit longer.

He bends his fingers against the soft walls, searching around until Peter suddenly clenches around him with a gasp. Instead of unraveling into wanton moaning and begging like Wade was expected, Peter’s reaction seems a bit muted. It occurs to Wade that Peter has been unusually quiet for the last couple minutes, despite his body feeling like it’s trying to vibrate out of his skin. Taking a closer look at Peter’s face confirms Wade’s suspicions.

His eyes are screwed tightly shut and he’s biting his lip hard enough that it must hurt.

That little sneak…

“Hey Petey?”

“Mm?” Comes the strained, distracted response. Wade continues pumping his fingers in and out lazily, ready to enjoy whatever excuse Peter is about to throw together.

Wade’s voice is soft, but his tone screams I already know the answer , when he asks, “What are you doing?”

Peter’s eyes fly open, briefly landing on Wade’s before he looks away again. He’s never been a very good liar.

“Nothing! I mean, I’m—I’m, well, I’m just lying here. Like, on the bed?” By the end of the statement even Peter sounds like he doesn’t believe what he’s saying.

[Talk about a Freudian slip…]

“Riiight, right. And you’re not, I don’t know, lying, are you? Are you sure you weren’t actually trying to trick me so you could come faster?” Wade doesn’t try to suppress the devious smile that spreads across his face as Peter visibly winces.

“Whaaat? Pfft, ‘course not.” Peter pants out, no longer trying to hide his arousal, as if that will overwrite his previous behavior.

Taking a moment to consider how he wants to handle this, Wade slowly rubs his fingers against Peter’s prostate with painstaking precision. Peter seems to immediately move on from their conversation as he lets his eyes fall closed again and rocks his hips back in time with Wade’s movements.

“I’m too nice to you… You know that, right?” Wade says right before wrapping his lips back around Peter’s dick and sucking.

After being teased for so long, Peter is already spiraling towards orgasm before Wade can even get a good rhythm going. That’s alright though. He finally adds in a third finger, works Peter through the following orgasm, swallows, and continues on unbothered.

The same cannot be said for Peter.

He moans and shivers through the aftershocks for about two seconds before the wet heat of Wade’s mouth is too much. His sighs of contentment morph into whimpers as he looks down and meets Wade’s eyes. Wade knows his amusement must be showing on his face, and he watches as all five stages of grief flash across Peter’s.

Wade is nothing if not persistent, and with Peter’s healing factor it’s not long before he’s hard and needy once again. Wade uses his unoccupied hand to free his own dick and pour some lube on it.

“Jiminy-mother-fucking-Christ-that’s-cold,” Wade says so quickly it sounds like one word.

Peter makes a questioning sound at the sudden commotion, cracking his eyes back open.

Those eyes slide down to see Wade holding himself and sucks in a breath of air. Wade takes a moment to slowly stroke himself, and Peter licks his lips, pulling the bottom between his teeth for just a second.

“Alright, you can let your legs fall back down now,” Wade instructs as he gives Peter’s ass a light tap to spur him into action. Peter looks confused for half a second before he seems to catch up and lets his legs fall around Wade.

Wade pulls his fingers out slowly and then presses himself up against Peter’s rim experimentally. It’s relaxed enough that he’ll fit, but it’ll still be tight. Fuck, he’s gonna be the death of me.

{You wish.}

Shut it.

“Ready, baby boy?” Wade checks in one last time, grabbing Peter’s hips and relishing the way Peter’s legs naturally wrap around his waist.

“Jesus Christ, Wade! Just fu—” Peter’s sentence dies on his lips when Wade pushes the tip in with a small snap of his hips. Wade just barely pulls back before pushing back in, past the second ring of muscle which leaves Peter moaning and wrapping his arms around Wade’s neck.

“What was that?” Wade taunts, but the effect is dampened by his own voice coming out strained as he pushes himself deeper.

Peter pulls Wade in closer with his legs and buries his face in Wade’s neck as he begs, “Please fuck me?” He follows it up with an open mouthed kiss against the sensitive skin and Wade wishes he could still get hickeys.

Wade may have the patience of a saint [Said no one ever!?] but he’s only human, so he obliges and slowly pushes the rest of the way in. Once their hips finally press flush against each other both men shudder against each other and then Wade catches Peter’s mouth in a tender kiss.

The kiss stays soft and sweet, small licks into each other’s mouths to explore as if it’s the first time all over again, even as the rest of their actions grow more hungry with each passing second. Wade starts by just barely pulling out at all before grinding back up against Peter, painting their gentle kisses with filthy moans.

With each thrust he pulls out just a little more, like he can’t convince himself to fully pull out of Peter in order to fuck him with his full length. Wade is briefly reminded of the drawing of a dog refusing to drop a toy and saying “No take, only throw!” and he smiles against Peter’s mouth.

It’s not long until he’s fucking into Peter at an unforgiving pace. It leaves Peter barely able to kiss back, his mouth often falling open into a moan or whimper, but Wade is happy to take the lead.

Using his hand to angle Peter’s head where he wants it, Wade keeps a firm grip on Peter’s jaw as his tongue slips into Peter’s waiting mouth. After a moment of exploring and brushing up against Peter’s tongue, Wade is surprised when Peter suddenly closes his mouth around Wade’s tongue and sucks.

It’s weird, and good. Great , even. A broken groan rumbles from Wade’s throat and he can’t help but imagine that Peter’s mouth is sucking his cock instead.

He slams into Peter even harder, knowing it must sting when their skin slaps together in spots where Peter is already bruising. The masochist just moans even more before breaking away from the kiss to suck in air and start begging with a sudden urgency.

“I need to come, Wade, please! Can I? Please? I need to,” his panting between his words grows heavier until it almost sounds like a sob.

“Hey hey, shh, it’s okay I’m going to make you come I promise.” Wade soothes him, and is rewarded with hands gripping his shoulders so hard he swears he can hear his bones creaking.

He threads one hand through Peter’s hair and tips his head up so he can access his neck, while the other hand slides down to wrap around Peter’s dick. He starts biting and sucking a new mark onto the exposed line of Peter’s neck while simultaneously jerking Peter off, pausing only long enough to say, “You can come now, baby.”

Before he even finishes the sentence Peter’s cock pulses and leaves cum on his stomach and up onto one peck. Wade follows suit with a low groan into Peter’s neck, pressing their hips together as tight as he can. They stay there for another minute catching their breath before Wade sits up so he can watch as he slowly pulls out, followed by his cum.

“Fuck, Bambi, I love being right but I can admit when I’m wrong. I thought your bruised and bitten ass couldn’t get any hotter, but goddamn there is just something about seeing you filled up with my man juice that’s really doin’ it for me.”

“Ew, Wade. Don’t call it man juice,” Peter mumbles.

A bit more cum spills out and Wade gives into his impulsive thoughts; he scoops it up with his thumb and presses it back inside, not even trying to suppress the way he shivers when Peter’s hole clenches down around him.

“Did you just—”

“Yup, new kink unlocked. Petey, sugarplum, baby boy, how do you feel about butt plugs, hm? There’s just something so right about my cum being inside of you, I want you to feel me inside you and be reminded of what we did.” He toys with Peter’s rim while he talks, occasionally thrusting his thumb back inside.

“Uhh,” Peter seems like he’s trying to reply, but ends up just sucking air in between his teeth and letting it out in a whine when Wade accidentally brushes up against his prostate.

“Sorry, I forgot you don’t have a healing factor, I’ll let you rest,” Wade concedes as he uses all his willpower to pull his hand away.

[Plus, it’s a bit late in the story to be adding more tags.]

Peter huffs indignantly before replying, “Just because I’m not death-proof doesn’t mean I don’t have a healing factor! I do!”

“Mhmm, you keep tellin’ yourself that baby boy. Now hang tight while I grab something to get us cleaned up, I’ll just be a second.”

***

POV: Peter

The next morning they eventually make their way out of bed and into the kitchen, where Peter starts making coffee and Wade starts on breakfast. Despite not having much experience around each other in the kitchen it feels completely natural. The pair move around each other seamlessly, a result of working together so well during patrols over the last couple years.

Wade cooks omelets filled to the brim with ham, cheese, onion, bell pepper, and jalapenos.

Peter sits on a barstool and is almost back to sleep when the coffee is finished brewing. He gets up and grabs two mugs from the cabinet with half lidded eyes, eager to get some caffeine in his system.

As he turns back towards the coffee pot one mug slips from his hand and begins its short journey towards the floor.

It takes longer than usual to realize what happened, but then Peter throws out his empty hand to try and catch the mug. Right before making contact, Wade’s hand joins the picture. Their joint effort to catch the poor coffee cup prevents either of them from getting a solid grip on the ceramic, and instead smacks the thing back up into the air.

The chaotic seconds seem to stretch out in slow motion as both men fumble over each other. Peter reflexively grabs Wade’s shoulder to move him out of the way and catch the mug when he finally remembers to utilize his sticking ability.

Unfortunately his sleep-addled brain sticks his hand to Wade’s shoulder, throwing both of them off balance.

As they tumble towards the floor Peter has a light-bulb moment and webs the mug to the ceiling.

They both burst into laughter while staring up at it from the kitchen floor until tears gather in the corner of their eyes.

“Why didn’t you just web it from the start? Hmm, Webs? ” Wade teases as he nudges Peter with an elbow. They sit up and lean against the cabinets together, still sitting on the kitchen floor.

“I hope that wasn’t your favorite mug, because I’m not getting it down for you now,” Peter retorts with a smirk.

“I’ll just put a blanket down so it won’t break when the web dissolves. Boom, problem solved!” Wade huffs and tilts his chin up dramatically as he turns his head away.

Peter smiles wider when replying, “Ah, this web fluid doesn’t dissolve on its own. Oops .” The look Wade gives him in response sends a shiver down his spine and makes him consider just dragging Wade back into bed for the rest of the day.

Instead, they eat breakfast together. It’s not exactly the same as things used to be, but Peter finds that he likes it even more now. And as usual, Wade has no problem breaking the ice.

“So are we like, dating now? Boyfriends? Married? Partners? Ooo! Partners in Cr—No, Partners in Heroism! Partners in Heroism slash Bed!”

“Wade, what,” Peter shakes his head but makes no effort to hide the smile on his face as he replies, “Okay yes, I would like to be dating now. Don’t call it partners in heroism slash bed though, please.”

“I can work with that, Bambi.” Wade’s returning smile was blinding, and Peter’s chest warmed with affection.

Peter keeps his word; he never frees the mug from it's new home on the ceiling. He even makes sure to dust it on occasion since he wanders the ceiling from time to time anyways. To this day it still puts Peter in a good mood whenever it catches his eye and reminds him of the crazy story that brought them together.

***