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Peter sags back against a large heating vent on the roof of the skyscraper they have just landed on, the metal bends under his weight with a clang. He shoves his mask up, still panting, heart pounding. Adrenaline thrills through his blood and he feels hot and tight like he wants to climb out of his skin. Deadpool is next to him, re-enacting his favourite bits of today’s fight, complete with sound effects, oblivious for a moment to the fact that Peter is watching him, watching the way his muscles move under the scuffed leather and Kevlar of his suit. Peter folds his arms over his ruined suit, smiling as he takes in the view.
If it wasn’t for Deadpool, Peter would currently be dead. He had been an idiot, swinging into the middle of things, not paying enough attention. Distracted because he’d wanted to impress the rest of the Avengers, although he would never admit it. So the giant slime monster had slimed him, thoroughly. One minute he was spouting some Smart Ass ™ comments and the next he’s inside a giant gelatinous blob, being slowly digested. The creature’s stomach acid had dissolved large patches of his suit and was just getting to work on his skin when Wade launched a frenetic Katana attack and turned it to Jello cubes.
Suddenly Peter was back on dry land, half-naked, covered in slime and staring at Wade like he’d just realised something profound, which he had.
“So freakin’ hot!” Wade is saying now, grinning like a loon under his mask. “The way you just dropped out of fuckin’ no where, swinging in with your smart mouth and your sweet ass and OMG sooo distracting. Can’t concentrate on anything else when that ass is around.”
Wade opens his eyes and leers over at him and for one moment Peter is about to do what he always does, roll his eyes, turn away; whatever it takes to avoid the question that lurks at the back of his head. This time though something’s different, his blood is rushing in his ears and instead of going with the usual joking disapproval, Peter decides, fuck it, he’s going to get what he wants for once and to hell with the consequences.
“One day Imma show you what I got for you baby boy,” Wade is saying wistfully.
“No time like the present,” Peter says, and grabs Wade by the front of his suit, yanking him close. Wade’s mouth snaps shut and he stares at Peter. “Sounds good,” Peter repeats, “I could do with a demonstration right now.” He pushes Wade’s mask up to his nose to reveal scarred skin and lips slightly parted as if he’s about to speak. Peter ignores that and presses his lips hard against Wade’s, smiling into the kiss as he shoves a thigh between his legs, grinding against him.
Wade lets out a choked noise, hands flailing and Peter pulls back for a moment to see confusion written across the mask as clearly as if he could see his whole face.
“What the hell? You ok Spidey?” Wade asks, panting slightly.
Peter nods. “I’m fine. You’re the one who’s always suggesting this. You literally don’t shut up about it. It’s a constant unending stream of innuendo and I usually do my best to ignore it because doing something about it would probably be a really bad idea seeing as you’re about two steps from being a super-villain…” Wade looks like he’s about to complain about that, so Peter holds up a finger to silence him, pressing it against his rough lips for a moment before running it slowly down his neck and over his chest. “Shut. Up,” he says carefully as his finger slides over Wade’s abs. “I am running on adrenaline, panic, lust and caffeine. My brain is no longer in charge so if you’re going to stand there talking about my ass then you are very much going to need to put your money where your mouth is,” Peter finishes firmly, hooking his finger under the Deadpool belt buckle and dragging Wade back in, crushing their mouths together again, slightly slower this time.
This time the noise Wade makes is somewhere between a whine and a growl and he’s with the programme now, grabbing Peter’s head with both hands and sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, dragging his teeth softly over it. Peter’s knees go weak and he splays his hands wide over the hard muscles of Wade’s broad chest, running up over his ridiculous biceps, holding himself up for a moment while his head spins. A lot has changed in the last thirty seconds he thinks vaguely as he grinds his thigh harder against Wade’s crotch, smirking as he feels his rapidly thickening cock through his suit. He hums in satisfaction as Wade’s hands run down his back over his skin and the melted holes in his suit. Peter kisses along Wade’s jaw, down his neck, licking and sucking his way over sensitive scarred skin.
He moans softly in Wade’s ear and is rewarded by a wrecked sound of need that shoots through him like a lance and he groans, feeling his cock swell to almost impossible hardness.
He kisses Wade again, dragging his scarred lip between his teeth as he guides the mercenary’s hands under the remains of his suit and down. Wade groans deeply when he finally gets his hands on Peter’s bare ass and the sound almost makes Peter come right there, untouched but for Wade’s strong grip digging into the muscles of his ass. The noise Peter makes at that thought might have been embarrassing if he’d cared even a little bit. His breath stutters as one of Wade’s hands moves to grip his cock instead, stroking him slowly but firmly, sending sparks of heat up his spine.
“Fuck Wade that’s…” he trails off with a hiss, his cock throbbing in Wade’s hand. He rests his forehead against the red leather covered chest and looks down to where long scarred fingers wrap around him and pleasure pulses through him every time Wade’s hand slides over his length. He reaches for Wade’s belt, unbuckling it clumsily, and presses his palm firmly to the rock hard bulge in the tight red leather.
Wade makes a small, disbelieving squeak as Peter unfastens his pants and carefully pulls him out, grinning like the cat that got the cream. Wade is huge, hot and thick in his hand. The ridges and lines of scars clearly don’t stop below the waist but they’re not ugly, just different, just Wade.
Peter licks his lips, mouth watering as he drags his hand firmly over Wade’s length. Wade’s grip on his own cock tightens and he gasps, forehead dropping onto Wade’s shoulder. He looks up at the white eyes of Wade’s mask and then glances down, “Can I…?” he asks, lower lip caught between his teeth, already lowering himself to his knees.
Wade chokes a laugh that sounds mildly hysterical. “Be my guest baby boy,” he says, slightly high pitched.
Peter laughs then leans in and licks slowly up the length of him, tongue flat and wet, flicking over the head. He smiles as he feels Wade twitch and opens his mouth, taking as much of him as he can in one deep slide.
“Fuuuuck--” Wade breathes, mouth dropping open. His hands hover by the sides of Peter’s head, as though he is trying to resist the urge to grab him and fuck his mouth, Peter feels the muscles in Wade’s ass tighten as he holds himself back and he swirls his tongue over the hot, hard length, bobbing his head and hollowing his cheeks as he sucks. Wade makes an incoherent noise in his throat, fingers digging into Peter’s scalp through his mask.
Peter’s jaw twinges, he feels spit running from the corners of his mouth as he opens his throat. Wade looks down at him, running his thumb around Peter’s taut mouth, pushing it in beside his cock. Peter sucks noisily, tasting bitter pre-cum and the salt sweat of Wade’s skin. He moans and digs his fingers into Wade’s ass and, just as Wade’s starts to lose it, starting to thrust into his mouth he stops and pulls away with an obscenely wet pop and a devious smile.
Wade makes a sound like despair as Peter rises awkwardly to his feet to kiss him again, deep and filthy this time, sliding his tongue against Wade’s, licking into his mouth. Then he pulls back and turns slowly in Wade’s arms until he is facing the warm metal of the vent and Wade is behind him, close enough that he can feel his warmth against his back. He looks back over his shoulder with a sly grin and Wade blinks in surprise.
“Really?” he asks. “Did you get hit in the head?”
Peter rolls his eyes, dropping his head back onto Wade’s shoulder. He reaches behind him to grab Wade’s hard cock and pushes back again, grinding himself against it. “No. I have not been hit in the head and yes, really. I want you. I need you. To fuck me. Now.”
Wade runs his hands slowly down Peter’s sides and over his ass, slowly, reverently, like Peter is something amazing. Peter shivers and Wade hisses at his grip and, very slowly, as if he expects the other shoe to drop any moment, drags down the shredded spandex of Peter’s suit. Just as Peter is about to swear, realising they are missing something important, Wade unzips one of his many pockets to reveal, naturally, a sachet of lube. Always be prepared. Wade tears it open with his teeth.
Peter sighs and pushes back again, feeling Wade’s cock slide between the cheeks of his ass, slippery with pre-cum.
“Fuck baby boy. Slow down or we’re not gonna get that far.”
“I want you to fuck me.”
Wade chokes, “Yeah, so you said, for some reason. And I definitely, definitely will be doing that, but you need prep baby,” he whispers in Peter’s ear as he slips a slick finger carefully into his hole. Peter sighs at the intrusion but there is no real pain, this is not his first rodeo, so to speak. He groans as Wade adds another finger after a few moments, pushing deeper, slower, opening him, sliding, pressing and slipping over his prostate, making him gasp and jerk, pre-cum already beading at the tip of his cock where it slides, straining, trapped between his body and the warm, shiny metal.
“Fuck Wade, come on, fucking fuck me. I need to feel you. I want...” he trails off into a deep moan as Wade removes his fingers and carefully replaces them, in one smooth push, with his cock. His fingers grip Peter’s waist tightly as he slides into him. Wade swears softly in his ear, biting gently at his neck and carefully rolls his hips making Peter cry out with pleasure.
“Fuck! You’re so fucking tight baby, you feel so good. F-uck!” Wade stutters.
“Anything...like you...h-oped?” Peter gasps between thrusts, his skin fizzes, the sensation of Wade inside him, the slide and drag and stretch is all he is aware of, everything has boiled down to that, Wade’s cock is the centre of his universe for now. He feels curling pleasure building, threatening to wash over him.
“Fuck no,” Wade gasps, biting Peter ear as he thrusts into him, “My imagination is fucking shit compared to you.”
Peter smiles then lets out a deep shuddering moan as he feels Wade’s rhythm jolt, his hips stutter and then he can feel him coming, hard and deep, inside him. The sensation sends Peter over the edge moments later and he comes, thick white streaks, splashing against the shiny metal.
It’s a few moments before he comes back to himself and feels Wade pull out. There are silver trails shooting behind his eyes and he doesn’t trust his legs yet. He braces himself against the vent as he pants for breath. He can hear Wade, also breathing heavily, behind him, he hears buckles and zips and the creak of leather.
Gingerly he re-arranges his own suit— grimacing slightly at the feeling of come running down his leg— until he looks mostly presentable. He turns with a grin and sees that Wade is walking away. He frowns. “Hey, where are you going?”
Wade half turns back. “I was gonna leave you to…” he trails off, waving a vague hand as if he’s not sure what he means. “I guessed you wouldn’t want me to stick around. Seems like you had an itch you wanted to scratch? Don’t get me wrong, I am very, very happy I was the one to scratch it but y’know…I don’t even know your real name. I get that you probably don’t wanna cuddle or...whatever.”
Peter sighs. “Yeah I did have an itch to scratch. It was you. I’ve been having inappropriate thoughts about your arms and your ass for months now. Not to mention your general...you-ness… which for some reason I apparently find very attractive. I’m just not as…I just thought… I don’t know, that it was a bad idea I guess, that I didn’t know if I could trust you? Well today you proved that I could, you saved me and I realised I really did want you and that if I sat through one more round of your single-entendre flirting without either of us doing anything about it I would probably combust so...I took matters into my own hands and no, that is not a double-entendre. Also my name is Peter.”
Wade’s mask eyes widen. “Peter,” he murmurs. “Ok, so...” he starts.
“So, if you’re up for it, I would like to do that with you again. A lot if possible, sometimes maybe even indoors in a bed and not covered in monster slime.”
Wade grins. “Kinky.”