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“Looks like I found myself a pretty little spider.”
Peter froze even as his heart jackrabbited and pounded against his ribs hard enough to ache, stomach warming from a mix of feararousalrunstayrun—
They did this sometimes, when Wade had been gone on a job for too long. When the adrenaline hadn’t quite left him. When Peter missed him so much that it hurt.
So Peter didn’t hesitate to take off across the rooftop at a full tilt sprint, a hard spike of wantlustwantyouloveyou digging into his abdomen as the heavy footfalls of Wade’s boots sounded behind him.
Peter vaulted himself from the rooftop, letting himself free fall for a moment before he threw out a web and swung down low then back back up.
When he looked behind him he saw Wade standing still on the rooftop, head cocked as he watched Peter.
—
People often forget how dangerous Deadpool is.
How dangerous Wade is.
—
“ The itsy-bitsy spider went up the water spout,”
The words, even whispered as they were, echoed throughout the chill of the night air. New York was always loud. Boisterous. Deafening. Now it was so still and silent that Peter could hear the flapping of the moths and bats.
And Wade.
“ Down came the rain— “
A hand grabbed onto his ankle.
Peter jerked his leg out.
“ —and washed the spider out.”
Peter was pulled down from the fire escape he was perched on. He flailed for a moment, then wrapped his legs around Wade’s neck before digging his feet into the mercenary’s back and using it as a springboard to push himself away. Wade tensed, but didn’t move. His hulking form blocked the entrance to the ally, but that didn’t matter. Peter could scale the wall and run.
Wade knew that.
Wade was playing with him.
Still, Peter climbed the wall and shot out a web and swung away with the sounds of Wade’s laugh in his ears and wetness between his thighs.
—
Wade had found out Peter was Spider-Man the day after he met Peter Parker.
You have the same walking pattern he had said when Peter had asked how he had known, scared and terrified that others would find out too. And the same vocal tonation he continued before smiling, hesitant and unsure. Don’t worry baby boy—people don’t notice those things.
And Peter had stared, disbelieving.
Then he had kissed Wade.
—
“You didn’t let me finish my song, sweet thing.”
The knife pressed against the base of his spine was cold. Pleasant. Thrilling.
Still, Peter jerked back and turned, but Wade was ready for him. He caught Peter’s wrists in his hands, the knife clattering to the rooftop as Wade jerked Peter’s arms up and above his head. He had been caught completely off guard. He hadn’t even heard the mercenary this time, and his spidey-sense no longer reacted around Wade. Not even when they were doing… this.
Peter loved it.
“And that’s just not very nice.” Wade finished in a pleasant sing songy voice.
Peter swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.
He squirmed, and when he tried to kick a leg up Wade easily switched to holding Peter’s wrists in one hand so he could use his other hand to dig his fingers into Peter’s thigh and hoist his leg up and keep him off balance. Wade stepped back, throwing Peter’s balance completely off. Then Wade let go on his leg and Peter was being pushed to his knees with a heavy hand, back pressed up against a cold brick wall, arms still held above his head in Wade’s hands.
Wade hummed, tilting his head as he pulled another knife from his belt. It was a switchblade, clicking loudly as Wade flicked it open. He slid the tip of it underneath the seam of Peter’s mask and suit, twisting so the flat of the blade was pulling Peter’s mask up.
Wade pulled the knife back, letting the bottom half of Peter’s mask settle on the bridge of his nose.
“You do have a pretty mouth,” Wade mused.
Peter’s lips parted as the tip of the knife trailed down his cheek.
“Let’s see if we can make it prettier.”
“Please don’t—“ Peter whispered. He was so wet.
Wade pulled the knife back, leaving a thin scratch behind on Peter’s cheek. He hummed, slipping the knife back in a pouch while easily undoing his belt. “Don’t worry, sweet thing,” Wade purred. “You just do this one thing for me, and I’ll let you go.”
—
I want you to chase me Peter had said one night, when Wade came back with blood smeared across his lips and teeth.
His eyes had narrowed. Do you?
Peter had nodded, then took off.
—
With the wall behind him and Wade in front of him, there was nothing for Peter to do but keep his mouth open while Wade fucked his cock into it.
The sounds spilling from between Peter’s lips were filthy— wet and sloppy as he gagged and choked while Wade held Peter’s hair in his hand and pushed and pulled him on his cock.
Peter had completely lost his mask almost as soon as Wade had shoved his cock between Peter’s lips.
Wade thrust once, twice, then held Peter flush against his skin as he spilled down Peter’s throat.
He tried to swallow it all. He always tried.
Peter was gasping as Wade pulled him back. He looked up at him, mouth still open wide, the cum and spit he had not swallowed dripping from the corner of his mouth.
Wade let go of Peter’s hair to cradle his cheek with a gentleness that did not belong in this moment.
Peter darted his tongue out and swiped it across his bottom lip. “You said you would let me go.”
“Oh, sweet thing,” Wade hummed, kneeling down so he was at Peter’s height. He brought his thumb up to Peter’s lips, smearing the cum and spit across his cheek before pushing it back into Peter’s mouth. His thumb settled on Peter’s tongue, pushing down and keeping his jaw wide open. “I lied .”
Peter’s eyes widened.
Wade slipped two more of his fingers in Peter’s mouth, running them along his back teeth. Peter gagged and choked, and then Wade was pulling back, smearing the spit across Peter’s jaw. Then he grabbed both of Peter’s slender wrists in one hand, hauling him to his feet and crushing Peter against his chest. “Be a good boy, little spider,” Wade cooed, pushing his leg between Peter’s thighs. The pressure against his cunt made him drunk with haziness and pleasure. “Or else everyone will see what I’m about to do to you.”
Peter shuddered.
“I’ll be good,” he whined. “I’ll be good, but please, don’t—I don’t want anyone to see—“
They both knew that was a lie.
But this wasn’t the time. Wasn’t the place.
Peter gasped when Wade dropped his other hand to his hip, a heavy weight as he pushed Peter down and properly ground his thigh against his clit. Peter groaned, rolling his hips and throwing his head back. Even though the spandex of Peter’s own suit, the leather of Wade’s was warm and just on the right side of rough.
“If you don’t want anyone to see—“ Wade suddenly pulled his thigh back, and Peter whined as fingers dug back into his hair and pushed his head back up, forcing him to look at Wade. “—then you should stop acting like a whore.”
“I'm sorry—“ Peter let a sob fall from his mouth. “ —I’m sorry—“
“I know you are, sweet thing,” Wade hummed. “And because you’re sorry you’re going to be a good boy for me, aren’t you?”
Peter nodded.
Wade’s hand slipped up Peter’s side, fingers dancing along his ribs, then his back and spine, then they were wrapping around his neck and holding just tight enough that Peter had to gasp for air. “Then you better be quiet.”
Peter gasped.
“Color?” Wade asked softly.
“Green,” Peter moaned. “So fucking green.”
Wade hummed and tightened his hold on Peter’s neck. “How about we see if the rest of you is as pretty as your mouth.”
—
Wade Wilson is dangerous.
And Peter Parker finds it intoxicating.