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They have been seeing each other for the last couple of weeks or so before Peter really notices. It is both the saddest and most damn wonderful thing he's learned about Wade so far, and he has a feeling this is only the tip of the iceberg.

They go out rarely, both preferring to spend their evenings sprawled over the couch after Peter returns from patrol, protecting the city from NY's stupidest and scummiest. Wade channel hops incessantly, only a few programmes catching his attention for more than a moment whilst Peter digs into whatever exotic variety of takeout Wade brings with him – Mexican, pizza, Mexican (okay, so those cinnamon sprinkled churros were awesome he'll admit), Thai, Mexican, Mexican...Oh and there was that one time he brought Chinese, but Peter doesn't trust him with chopsticks after that incident with the duck, but Peter doesn't complain much because Wade always pays.

They talk and eat and an occasional kiss slips in between them like a silent guest, and Wade seems to be utterly obsessed with how quickly he can ram his hand up Peter's shirt, and Peter is drawing a blank on reasons why he should ever ask him to stop. Then one evening, Wade discovers something which makes him giggle with girlish glee: Peter is ticklish. Right below his armpit, just around the ribs, and when Wade strokes over the spot with a finger Peter squirms oh-so delightfully. Of course Wade takes advantage until Peter, gasping and nearly crying with laughter grabs his arms and pins him against the couch in one swift motion.

'Don't worry Spidey,' Wade smirks afterwards, unconsciously adjusting his mask so that it covers his entire face again, 'I promise not to reveal your mortal weakness to rogue's gallery dot com. I mean, not unless they pay me a whole crap-ton.'

Naturally vengeance must be sought.

The next evening Peter is ready. He decides it's time to let his hands to the talking for once. Usually when they kiss, Peter later realises, they don't actually touch that much, besides the obvious liplock. Wade usually pushes Peter against the couch and braces himself against the spongy material whilst Peter wraps an arm around his neck, or allows Wade to pin his arms with his own, warm and unyielding. Wade is much stronger than most humans, but Peter is stronger still. They both know he can break the hold easily, but it never needs mentioning.

Peter thanks the gods of casual wear that evening that Wade decides to dress (mostly) in his civvies.

An advertisement interrupts the horror movie they are rapidly growing bored of and so Peter turns his attention to Wade who is already wondering if the little talking M&M dudes would bleed chocolate syrup if you started biting into them, and hey, if they could talk, why weren't the allowed a nose and wouldn't it be kinda gross if they sneezed --

'Shut up' Peter grins as he reverses their traditional positions. He kisses Wade who tastes like popcorn and chilli, ignoring the faint tang of copper. He presses Wade against the back of the couch then straddles him before Wade has any chance to react other than to make a soft noise of pure want. Peter smiles against Wade's rough lips, kissing the corner of his mouth before sweeping his tongue into Wade's mouth, their tongues duelling.

He does need to be a little careful with his payback, Peter reminds himself, because he doesn't want Wade freaking again like the last time he attempted to divest him of his shirt. He won't try to remove any clothes this time, all he want to do is touch. Surely there can't be any harm in that?

Peter drastically underestimates just how fucked-up Wade really is.

His fingers lightly playing with the hem of Wade's Deadpool tee-shirt, Peter carefully slips a finger underneath and touches uneven flesh. He nurses a theory that Wade is probably just as ticklish as him and so okay, maybe he'll enjoy watching Wade squirm, but instead he simply freezes.

Peter frowns softly and moves his hand up a millimetre or so and can't resist tracing the line of a random scar. It feels kinda weird, yes, but not bad weird, yet Wade seems to flinch and Peter quickly breaks contact. 'What is it?' he finds himself whispering as Wade makes an almost imperceptible noise at the back of his throat which Peter can't quite discern as being very good or very bad.

Wade swallows and awkwardly shifts away from the touch. 'Nothin'' he lies and the crease in Peter's brow deepens.

'I'm not going to..I mean,' Peter loosens his grip altogether. 'I wouldn't... Expose you. If you didn't, if you weren't comfortable, you know that right?'

Nodding, Wade can't help but try to kiss away the concern in Peter's features. 'Nah, s'fine Spidey, really.' It's just, uh,' he makes an awkward motion with a free hand, 'been a while, ya know? I mean, if we were talking dog years then it's like an elderly chihuahua, that's probably more like what it feels. Dogs are the ones where you add fifty to every year aren't they? Or is it the other way around?' He brightens. 'Hey, maybe we could ask Cesar Millan for tips on getting hot bitches? Aw c'mon, you know he must've heard that a million times already plus there's the teeth thing....'

Peter is still getting used to the way Wade's mind works (or doesn't) so he listens to him ramble whilst settling back on his lap. There's only half the truth in that little confession, he can feel it. On impulse, he moves his hand again, up against the thin cotton and strokes below a nipple and Wade's babble is cut short as he gasps. 'Fuck! For the love of little baby cheeses Pete!' He grabs Peter's wrist and squeezes a warning. 'You nearly made me, I mean... uh, um...you've got really cold hands,' he lets go quickly, shoving Peter from his lap but it's too late. Peter knows. He felt the hardness pressed against his thigh as soon as he made contact

'Sissy break! Gotta go pee!' Wade haphazardly clambers over the couch and the bathroom door slams.

Peter sighs. As if he didn't have enough issues already to contend with? Ah well, he figures, one more won't make much more difference. He gets off the couch, stretching and considers the situation. So Wade's a little, okay, extremely sensitive to touch. Which should be kinda nice, right? Should be. Peter finds himself frowning again as some of the pieces finally slot together in one corner of the giant Escher-shaped jigsaw that is Wade Wilson.

He knocks on the bathroom door more out of habit than anything else before entering. Wade is leaning heavily against the sink, unmasked, cold water dripping from his features. He reaches for his mask, but Peter is already holding it behind his back.

'Not yet,' Peter apologises, ignoring the glare. 'I want to actually be able to see if you're alright, and it's way too easy to hide behind one of these.'

Wade turns away and crosses his arms over his chest. 'Yeah, well you have me there Pete. You got a good fifty years on me in the costume departent n' all. No, wait, reboot Spidey, right and whoa I guess I really am going to the Special Hell-'

'Wade,' Peter repeats more firmly this time, and then he's turning Wade around so that they are face to face once more. He reaches up and traces a line of muscle down Wade's neck and smiles as the other man bites back a groan as he leans into the touch. 'I want to touch you.' His smile widens. 'Call me kinky if you like but seeing how responsive you are kinda... turns me on.' He ignores the sudden warmth in his cheeks.

'You kinky motherf- guh,' Wade sighs as Peter's hands begin their (careful) exploration of any exposed flesh. His skin tingles and tightens as Peter gently strokes and caresses over each bumpy scar over his arms and then his exposed collarbone. It's almost enough to cancel out the constant pain from the cancer ravaging his body. No, it's actually better than that, because he's being touched because someone actually wants to touch him, and he wants it right back. And ye sweet Asgardian gods of hair product, it really has been too long because he is painfully hard, and Peter hasn't even reached below the belt yet.

Wade blinks and remembers that it takes two to tango (unless you're using a Wii of course, but then did that really count?) and kisses Peter again, his own hands now mimicking Peter's movements, and Peter seems to find that pretty darn hot too, considering his enthusiastic reaction. Peter is being so cruelly gentle and it's cranked Wade's arousal up to eleven, the feel of hands roaming across his chest and the fly of his jeans being tugged as Peter reaches for his erection. Wade is putty now. Peter could do anything, ask anything of him and he'll do it without a single thought, let alone a second.

'This,' Peter moans softly between kisses, 'still okay?'

'If you stop – hng gah! - ,' Wade manages to splutter out, I'm gonna s-stab you with the sticky end of the toilet brush,' he snarls, his hips jerking in response to Peter's every touch. 'Fuck.'

And that's the last coherent sentence Peter hears from Wade for some time.

It takes only a few awkward (at first) strokes before Peter hears him come, his own arousal only increased by the way Wade gasps, his name dropping from his lips like a prayer. Minutes later Peter find himself with his back against the cool tiled surface, Wade's crafty mouth put to even better use. It doesn't take too long for Peter to come either – and he doesn't even have the same excuse – except for the fact that he's been embarrassingly hard the whole night in contemplation of this very act.

So maybe he is a little kinky.

They stumble from the bathroom to the couch and Peter's hands seem to be working faster than his brain right now as he finds himself groping and touching any flesh he comes into contact with compulsively. The couch makes an ominous creaking noise as they both fall onto it, but Peter is far more concerned about the babbling and little whimpering noises that escape from Wade's lips as he continues his relentless assault on his body. It's like he's found the secret magical button that dispenses free candy and only he knows just where to push. Wade slams their mouths together brutally, uncoordinated as he body writhes against Peter's in delightful ways.

Peter knows Wade is already on the edge of another orgasm – the other man's body taut and almost thrumming like a freshly-plucked string – and on impulse he rests a hand over Wade's heart, the rhythm so fast it's almost impossible to detect each single beat. He smiles against the kiss and that seems to push Wade over the edge one more time.

They both lay awkwardly, Peter mostly on top of Wade, Wade mostly still on the couch, and the couch still mostly standing, and all that cane be heard for a few moments is heavy breathing as they both recover, the occasional aftershock making one of them quiver.

'So that was nice,' Wade conversationally notes, a long finger idly threading its way through Peter's tousled locks. 'Always knew you'd be good with your hands, Spidey, what with you playing with all those cool Bond gadgets you make.'

'Mm.'

Wade drums his fingers against the slightly crooked arm of the couch impatiently.'You got any more left in you, Pete?'

'Gimme a minute.' Peter moves his head buried in Wade's shoulder to meet his gaze. 'You're already...?'

Wade smirks apologetically, if that were even possible. 'Fast recharge time. If I ever get to join the X-Men they can put my mutant power down as studly stamina, baby, aw hells yeah.' He winks, shifts and Peter can very clearly feel just how much he isn't lying.

Peter seems to make a choking noise as he reburies his face in Wade's t-shirt once more. 'Oh god,' the muffled voice laments. 'You're actually going to kill me. With sex.' Peter Parker RIP, his imaginary tombstone reads. Died so happy they had to hammer his pants back on.

It's lucky he now knows how to repeatedly satisfy his lover without completely breaking himself. Very lucky. He's not entirely sure for who.

'Technically that wasn't sex, just fromage.' Wade corrects him.

'Frottage.'

'Whatever.'

Peter reluctantly moves from his now slightly-less-than-comfortable position to an only mildly awkward sitting position and sighs softly. 'Yes, actual sex might involves us both ditching our clothes, Wade.' His finger strokes over the back of Wade's hand. He wonders if the other man can get goosebumps.

'Uh yeah,' Wade reluctantly admits, his gaze shifting to a particularly interesting spot on the carpet. 'I know, I just...' His body starts to curl inward and Peter grasps his hand firmly before he reaches for the mask again.

Peter maintains a tight grip although his voice is gentle. 'I know, I know,' he soothes, stretching out long limbs and reluctantly removing himself from the couch. 'Later. There's no rush, okay?' He rewards Wade with a long lingering kiss, trying to will away images of the two of them flesh-to-flesh, nothing but heat and damp sweat between them. Wade may not be what many would call handsome, Peter admits, but damn he is built.

'Soon,' Wade promises, quietly murmuring something about 'less than three'ing,' his face suddenly splitting into a wide grin.

Belatedly remembering to return Wade's mask to its owner, Peter's smile increases tenfold when Wade casually tosses it to the side and flicks the TV on.

He can live with 'soon.'

 

-end