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fall out, boy, so i can fall in(to you)

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Movie nights at the Avengers Tower were usually the highlight of Peter's month. Or rather: We-Just-Saved-NYC-Let's-Netflix-and-Chill nights, as he liked to call them. Just being able to sit back and relax and eat his fill of whatever food Tony's seemingly-magic kitchen was able to produce on short notice was like a vacation from both halves of his life: small fries tended to stay indoors during massive almost-apocalypses because they couldn't keep up with the chaos, and his coursework, well, he just pretended he didn't have any homework or studying he had to do; the college had stopped letting aliens get in the way of their students' educations. For just a night, Peter didn't have to worry about anything. Except maybe being squished into the couch by Tony's steady weight at his side or stray projectiles from whoever was arguing about whose turn it actually was to pick the movie.

"I made the kill shot," Natasha said calmly, remote firmly in hand and the selection square on Tony's massive screen lingering on Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.

"That has no relevance on the pick order!" Clint shot back, waving around a battered VHS copy of Iron Giant.

Peter leaned closer to Tony - not that he had to go far with Tony's arm wrapped around his shoulder - and asked curiously, "Do you even have a VHS player?"

"I had to put one in after Bird Brain over there refused to just use the digital library," Tony replied with an exaggerated eye roll.

"Actually, Mr Barton, I do believe per the agreed upon list, that Miss Maximoff has the next pick," Vision said as he walked into the room with Wanda, his arms laden with bowls of snacks and more bowls and plates floating on clouds of red in front of Wanda.

Natasha and Clint expertly ignored him and Wanda just smiled and shrugged as her and Pietro helped Vision and Steve transfer bowls from arms to coffee table.

"Naaat," Clint whined. "I don't want to read two fucking hours of foreign film after I just saved the city."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Natasha said in the sort of faux-contrite tone that made Peter's heart pick up in anticipation and his ears prick forward. "Did you leave your hearing aid at home?"

Peter's pocket buzzed and he pulled out his phone and dismissed the flashing AUNTIE EM alarm.

"My-" Clint spluttered, face turning splotchy. Then he ripped the device from his ear before flipping her off with his it dangling from his fist.

The room burst into laughter and Peter used the distraction to slip out from under Tony's arm and away down the hall. As he rounded the corner into the unlit hallway, he dialed his aunt while he pulled the bottom of his mask up to his nose; he still hadn't shown the Avengers his face or given them his name, and he wasn't sure he was ever going to.

"Hello, Peter," Just hearing Aunt May's husky voice soothed something in Peter, just under two decades of comfort ingrained in his psyche. "I saw there was another battle on the news and you know I worry about you living so close to downtown."

"I know, I know. I was actually hanging out with some friends while it was happening and we were all staying safe. And actually we were just about to watch a movie, I just wanted to check in first."

"Alright, dear. I'm glad you're safe and thank you for calling." There was a resignation to her voice, the same tone Peter had been hearing from everyone he knew for years. Apparently aliens and near-apocalypses were just something they just dealt with now, but it didn't take the edge off anything. Gotta love New York.

"I'm glad you're safe too," he said, and he meant it. He was always scared that something would happen to her like it happened to Uncle Ben and that he wouldn't be there to stop it. Or worse, that he could have and didn't.

"This old woman isn't going anywhere, Peter," she laughed, and it simultaneously amused and saddened him because one day, she was going to be gone, whether by aliens or nature, and the older she got, the more he worried that that was going to be sooner than he'd be prepared for. Not that he could ever prepare himself for her loss. "Have a good night and enjoy your movie. Love you."

"Love you too."

Peter pocketed his phone and sighed as he leaned against the wall and pressed his fingers into his eyes. Even after half a decade, living a double life and keeping secrets from Aunt May never got any easier or less exhausting. Maybe it could be if he ever got to eat or sleep enough, but he hadn't been that lucky ever and he probably never would be.

The sudden touch of large hands at his hips had his eyes snapping open and his body jerking back, which turned out to be a slight miscalculation when his head thunked against the wall he was leaning on.

"Careful, baby boy. You don't wanna injure that pretty little head of yours."

"Ugh. It's you." Deadpool looked down at him and moved closer, pressing their bodies tightly together. Peter crossed his arms over his chest, trying to regain a little of the distance between them and trying even harder to ignore the sparks following the paths of Deadpool's thumbs as they traced the lines of his hip bones. "Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be on a bodyguard mission for two months in Egypt or something?" And why had his Spidey-sense failed to alert him to his presence, as usual?

Deadpool gasped dramatically. "Baby boy!" he cooed and Peter rolled his eyes. "You remembered!"

"I put it on my calendar so I knew how long of a vacation I'd get," he snapped back. He had been having a nice night, especially in anticipation that the mercenary wouldn't be even close enough to ruin it.

"Aw, are you in a bad mood?" Deadpool leaned in even closer, his broad chest pushing against Peter's crossed arms, nearly forcing them to release their pose. He tensed his muscles to keep it from happening.

"I am now. Why are you here?"

Deadpool pouted and leaned away from Peter, finally removing the pressure on his arms, but it also pushed his hips into Peter's. He was already hard, and it only made Peter angrier that he the feeling of it pressing so solidly against his belly made his skin warm. "Weeelll," Deadpool drawled, knee bumping against Peter's legs, forcing them apart to make room for his thigh between Peter's. "This bodyguard job is reeeaaallyyy boring and I reeeaaallyyy missed you so I came back to see you. Got back in town just in time to see your BAMF self kickin' some serious ass downtown today and couldn't stop lookin' at yours. Got me all hot and bothered and hungry for some sweet cinnamon buns." Deadpool's mask was still on fully, but Peter could see the wide smile stretching the spandex.

"The Avengers are right down the hall, Deadpool. Waiting for me to get back." Peter unfolded his arms and pushed Deadpool away from him before turning and walking away. "I don't have time for this."

He knew he knew better than to turn his back on Deadpool, but the sudden shift in his mood had apparently obliterated his critical thinking. He paid for his mistake a moment later when arms he was more familiar with than he wanted to be wrapped around his waist, preventing him from turning the corner into the adjacent hallway that would leave him in full view of the Avengers. The same people who had the same disdain for Deadpool that Peter had and who would have been able to prevent the dominos he could already see falling. He went rigid in Deadpool's arms as a chin hooked over his shoulder, the fabric of his mask doing nothing to prevent the breeze of hot breath from hitting his sensitive ear.

"I caught you. You promised," Deadpool reminded Peter, gloved fingertips dipping just below the waistband of Peter's pants and shifting through the fringe of the short, curly hairs hidden there, sending more shivers down his spine . "And I promise that I'll be quick. I'll be quiet. The quietest. You'll be back before you know it, that sexy freshly-fucked look hidden all away under your suit."

"You make me sick," Peter sneered, but he didn't fight Deadpool when the bigger man pulled back only far enough to turn Peter around again and push him against the wall.

"That's not a 'no', sweetie-pie," Deadpool pointed out, even as he pushed Peter's pants down over his bare ass - it was impossible to wear underwear in his suit, the fabric was too revealing already and underwear lines just looked dumb. Deadpool palmed a cheek in each hand, pulling Peter forward and lifting him up to his toes before letting him fall back to his feet. "I even brought lube-" Deadpool cut off suddenly as his fingers dipped between Peter's crack, and Peter ground his teeth together when he remembered what was there.

"What's with the plug, baby boy?" Deadpool asked, voice suddenly even lower than it had been a moment ago. It was an octave he only seemed to fall to when he was fucking Peter, and even though that had only happened a few times before, it made Peter shiver to hear, to remember.

Peter turned his head away, refusing to make eye contact even through their masks as he just waited for the encounter to be over already. "It was too inconvenient having to have you stretch me every time." And it had been painful too, that first and second time, with Deadpool eager to get in him and Peter eager for it all to be over. So before a third time could happen, Peter had taken to wearing a plug, something to keep himself a little open so that any future encounters could be completed quicker and less painfully. And his instinct had proven correct when Deadpool had caught him the third time, right before he'd left on this job, and Peter had found that removing the need to be prepared cut their interaction time in half.

"Makes sense," Deadpool agreed in a good-natured sort of voice that put Peter on edge. Then he started to tug on the plug's base, slowly pulling it out of Peter's body and Peter's fingers clamped down on Deadpool's biceps, not to push him away, but to ground himself against the sting. Despite the slow burn, he could already feel himself getting hard, could already anticipate the hatefully satisfying orgasm he knew he was about to get. "But I haven't even been around for a month. You letting someone else in back here, baby boy?"

"No," Peter ground out, fingers tightening as the fattest part of the plug stretched him wide before it popped out. "It was just a habit. I didn't think about it." And that was one of the aspects of their… 'relationship' that troubled Peter the most. Why was it that any time Deadpool got near him, Peter seemed to leave his mind and his ideals at the door? Why couldn't Peter escape his gross, perverted gravity?

"Caution: Deadpool may be habit-forming so make sure to only consume in small amounts," Deadpool said as he ducked down and hooked his arms under Peter's knees and lifted him up, the spandex of Peter's suit's back sliding him easily up the wall. The sudden change in altitude had Peter grabbing at the back of Deadpool's head, clinging to the other man's mask.


"There is no 'small amount' of you," Peter muttered. Deadpool was like a tornado, sucking up everything in his path and spitting it back out shattered to pieces. He was larger than life in the worst way, and the same aspect took form in his body too.

"Aw, you say the sweetest things, baby boy," Deadpool said as he shrugged one of Peter's ankles up onto his shoulder and reached down.

The sound of a zipper made Peter shiver and he tilted his head back so he wouldn't have to look at Deadpool. He already knew he wouldn't be allowed to remain that way, but he'd take it when he could get it. A moment later, he could hear the slick sounds of Deadpool lubing himself up, and suddenly, the sound of the party down the hallway seemed extra loud. He knew, logically, that the Avengers hadn't gotten any louder, that Deadpool hadn't moved them any closer, but rather it was Peter who'd become hyper aware of how out in the open they were. It would be so so easy for any one of his coworkers, men and women he respected and admired, to just walk down the hallway and find him getting fucked by a man he hated, a man they all hated.

"Deadpool- hnnnngh!" His belated protest came too late and died a quick death on his lips when Deadpool pushed into him without warning, not stopping until Peter was completely impaled on the whole of him. He wished he could say it was the position that made it feel like the mercenary was stuffing him fuller than it felt like he could take, but Peter knew well and good that it was all just Deadpool. The man had a monster of a cock, both thick and long, the kind of cock that porn stars had and size queens drooled over and porn stores sold dildos of.

"Yeah, baby boy?" Both of Deadpool's hands wrapped around Peter's waist and pulled down as Deadpool ground his hips up, like he was trying to force more of himself in even while Peter could feel that he was already all the way in. He could also feel ribbed texture of Deadpool's cock from the scars in stark clarity. Deadpool was so massive that every shift brushed scars against Peter's prostate and sent tingles of arousal up his spine.

It took a second to pull his words together, the protest he'd started dead and gone. There was no point now, but that didn't mean there wasn't something else that needed addressing. "First of all, are you not wearing a condom?"

"'Course not," Deadpool replied, too chipper for Peter's taste. His voice stayed that way even as he lifted Peter almost off his cock and then dropped him back down as he thrust up. "We can't catch anything from each other, silly baby boy."

"It's not even about that, you idiot," Peter hissed, almost biting his tongue when one of Deadpool's thrusts jarred his jaw. "Are you planning on pulling out? Because you're not going to come in me and leave me to deal with it."

"Pfft. Hell nah, my adorable spitting spider. That's what your plug is for!"

Peter opened his mouth then closed it again. Opened, closed. "I. Hate. You," he said, feeling it through every fiber of his being for a one split, fiery second.

"I know, baby boy." Deadpool's voice had lost its cheer, which Peter didn't feel bad about one single bit, but his hips hadn't lost their rhythm or their strength, and Peter could already feel his orgasm building low in his belly. The burn flared every time the tip of Deadpool's cock rushed passed his prostate and he mentally urged his body to work faster.

"Second, stop calling me that," Peter said, finally remember that he actually had a second point. "I hate that name." He hated the fond, affectionate way Deadpool always said it and he hated the strange fluttering he always got in his belly when he heard it.

"Whatever you want, Petey."

Peter's heart lept into his throat and he froze with a sharp inhale through his nose. "Don't-" The words stuck in his throat alongside his breath and the world startled to fade around the edges.

"Bad boy. No freakouts," Deadpool chided and Peter realized the mercenary hadn't even stopped fucking him, Deadpool's hips still sure and steady.

"JARVIS-" he tried again, panic spiking his adrenaline when Deadpool interrupted him.


Peter's head started to spin and he suddenly felt very dizzy. "What?"

"Poof! Kaput! Cut-off!" Deadpool cheerfully punctuated each word with a hard thrust, shifting Peter so that each stroke was aimed near his prostate, turning the tingles in his spine to white-hot sparks. Despite the unexpected scare, none of Peter's rising pleasure had fallen, and his cock hadn't softened any where it was trapped inside his cup.

"You can't just… turn off JARVIS?" Peter told him, but it came out more like a question.

"Oh, but I did, baby boy. Just for this hallway, just for you," Deadpool replied as he moved Peter's other heel onto his other shoulder. It put Peter in a position of being bent clean in half and Deadpool's cock in a position of direct contact with his prostate, and the next stroke whited out his vision.

"HNG!" he grunted, grip turning white-knuckled on the back of Deadpool's head.

"Shhh," Deadpool whispered, reaching up to pull his own mask up to his nose, revealing the skin that still made Peter squeamish. "Gotta be sneaky-quiet, yeah?" And then he leaned forward and kissed Peter.

Deadpool kissed like he fucked: hard, fast, and all consuming. Combined with his hard thrusts, it left Peter dizzy and gasping for breath and spots in his eyes. Deadpool kissed like he didn't need to breathe, but maybe he was only able to do so because he was stealing all of Peter's. To top it all off, he tasted like death, like he always did, and like always, Peter wondered if it was his own death he was tasting. Deadpool was a mercenary and just because they were fuck buddies didn't mean he wouldn't one day end up on his hit list.

"Fuck, baby boy. If I could still dream, it'd be in the shape of your mouth," Deadpool muttered.

The words were odd enough to drag Peter from the kiss and he jerked his head back. Something about them sounded famili… "Did you just fucking quote a Fall Out Boy song while you're inside me?"

"They're our band, baby boy!" Deadpool said as he wormed his hand between them and into Peter's pants to pull out uncomfortably hard cock. Finally.. Just that little bit of sensation might have been enough to make him come if Deadpool hadn't promptly wrapped his hand tight around the base of Peter's cock, staving off his orgasm.

"Jesus christ, no they're not," Peter groaned. He didn't have the patience for this today. Then again, he rarely had it any day, at least where the unhinged mercenary was concerned.

"Oh man they totally are in like sooo many ways," Deadpool argued without stopping. Peter couldn't believe they were even talking about this, much less right at this exact moment. "See, you're an American beauty... I'm an un-American psycho… It totally lines up!"

"That's not-" Peter started to argue and then realized that he was actually about to correct his not-lover on song lyrics while he was getting pounded into a wall in the Avengers tower just down the hall from everyone he knew. "Goddamnit. Just shut up and hurry up," he said instead.

"Sir, yes, sir!" Deadpool barked then fucking saluted Peter with the hand not holding Peter's cock. God, Peter really hated him. If only the sex wasn't so mind blowingly-good.

Deadpool adjusted his grip on Peter's cock, returned his other hand to Peter's waist and began to drive up into him at a ferocious speed as he pulled Peter down. There was a brief flare of pain from his ribs, a protest from the muscles in his thighs from being stretched so odd for so long, and then the brutal way Deadpool was driving his cock into Peter's prostate obliterated his mind. Every hit was like a lightning bolt through his spine and fracturing outwards to the tips of his toes and fingers. The only thing keeping him from coming was the grip of leather around his cock.

"Let me come," he gasped out, eyes clenched shut against the sensation, as if blocking out the world would somehow minimize the immensity of what he was feeling.

"You know what to say, baby boy," Deadpool said and Peter's fingers convulsed at the back of Deadpool's head. He didn't want to say it. None of it.

"Just let me come," he demanded, voice harsh and snapping. It came out louder than he thought and he suddenly realized how loud the slap of Deadpool's balls hitting his ass really was. How had no one found them yet? How soon would they? What would they think when they inevitably stumbled on Peter's greatest shame?

"C'mon, baby boy. Let me hear what I wanna hear. I know you can do it," Deadpool wheedled. His hand at Peter's waist tightened and his pace somehow picked up, even though Peter hadn't thought it possible. Deadpool didn't actually have super strength or speed or anything else, but sometimes it seemed like he did, that he could do anything.

Peter rolled his head back and forth on the wall, a denial, but his orgasm was coiled in his groin, a demanding, burning need that he couldn't ignore much longer before he lost it. He hated this. He hated everything. He wished he could go back in time and stopped himself from letting this happen so that he would never know what it felt like to be fucked by Deadpool, what it felt like to need what he hated to want. "Please, let me come… Wade."


"Good boy," Deadpool rasped, and then eased the restrictive pressure on Peter's cock and began to jack him off in time to his thrusts.


It didn't take more than a handful of strokes of leather over his erection to make that pyre in his belly explode, and when it finally happened, he inhaled a ragged gasp and Deadpool kissed him, swallowing his scream before he could ruin the quiet and bring the Avengers running. The world disappeared for a moment, somehow white and black at the same time as he pulsed into Deadpool's waiting hand. He could feel his muscles spasming around the thickness of the cock in him, a cock that was grinding against into him and against his prostate nonstop as the other man came too.

For a moment, he thought he was going to pass out, but then Deadpool uncurled, and pulled Peter just enough up his cock to relieve the pressure against his prostate. Peter's breath was harsh in his own ears as he tried to pull his scattered mind back together, and when he shifted his legs off Deadpool's shoulders to relieve the stress on his hamstrings, his legs trembled wildly.

"Put me down," he managed to say, the words out of his mouth before he could be sure that he even had the strength to stand.

"Ooonnneee sec," Deadpool drawled, and then he was pulling his cock out achingly slow, creating an emptiness like a despicable void inside of Peter, one he simultaneously needed to be filled again and wanted to remain empty forever. As soon as his cock was free, something much less yielding, and colder, was being pushed into him, stoppering the come inside him from leaking out. It took Peter longer than he wanted to remember the plug Deadpool had taken out of him.

He was let down slowly and then propped on trembling limbs against the wall as Deadpool straightened his suit without a word. When fingers hooked in the bottom of his mask, he tilted his chin up to make it easier for it to be pulled down, and Deadpool kissed him again, this time slower, deeper. Peter had to wrap weak fingers around Deadpool's katana straps to keep himself upright as the mercenary devoured his mouth until he couldn't breathe, the larger man's heavier body pinning him soundly to the wall.

When Deadpool finally pulled back, Peter tried to follow his mouth without thinking and he could have punched himself for it if he'd had the capacity at the moment. But Deadpool only pulled back a few millimeters, enough to whisper into Peter's mouth while keeping their bodies in contact. Which was probably the only thing keeping Peter from crumbling to the floor.

"Thanks for the treat, Petey-pie," he grinned and dipped his head back in for a brief kiss. "Catch you around," he said, kissing Peter a third time that was somehow both too short and too long. When he pulled away again, he pulled Peter's mask back down his face and backed away, melting into the dark of the hallway that even Peter's eyes couldn't penetrate. Which was odd because all the lights in the building were motion-activated and-

The world shifted around him and it took a moment to realize that he was listing to the side as he slid down the wall, unable to support his own weight without Deadpool there to hold him up. He didn't realize why that wasn't a good idea until his ass hit the floor and the plug he'd forgotten about pressed against his abused prostate, making him hiss and jerk forward. So not only could he not stand without Deadpool, but he also no longer had anything to distract him from the terrible sensation of 'not full enough' in his ass.

Peter dropped his face into his hands and rubbed at his eyes and forehead through his mask as a headache bloomed in his skull.

"JESUS CHRIST SPIDEY WHAT IS TAKING YOU SO LONG?" The bellow echoing down the adjacent hallway made Peter jump and scramble to his feet as he realized it was getting closer. He almost fell over again when his still-weak legs nearly refused to hold him up, and he barely composed himself before Tony rounded the corner.

"What the hell kid, you fall asleep over here or something?" Tony asked, brow furrowing as he crossed his arms. And then uncrossed them before Peter could respond. "And why the hell aren't the lights triggering? JARVIS?"

The response came from the hallway Tony had just come down, rather than the one they were standing in. "Yes, sir?"

"Why aren't the lights on in this hallway? Or you, for that matter?"

There was a brief pause. "It appears I have been disabled in that particular hallway, sir. Would you like me to re-enable?"

"The fuck?" Tony muttered, pulling out his phone. "Yeah, do that. How the fuck were you disabled?"

"I do not know, sir."

"Gone!" - "Poof! Kaput! Cut-off!" - "Oh, but I did, baby boy. Just for this hallway, just for you." Christ, Deadpool had actually disabled JARVIS.

Peter started to edge around Tony to sneak back into the party, but Tony's glare just shifted to him. "You behind this, web-boy?" he accused.

Peter raised both hands. "I didn't do it."

Tony stared him down for a long minute until the hallway lights came on. Peter couldn't help but glance the direction Deadpool had gone, half convinced that he'd see the mercenary lurking in the sudden light, but the hallway was empty. There was no sign that anyone else had been there at all.

When he turned back around to face Tony, Tony's eyes narrowed further for a second before his expression switched to a grin as quick as flicking a switch. "Whatever, I can deal with it later. Now come on; we've been waiting. Well, most of us. Barton's been pouting and Romanoff's been taking victory laps. "The older man slung an arm around his shoulders and started walking him down the hallway, and with every step, Peter could feel the plug shifting in him like he hadn't been able to before Deadpool had accosted him. More than that, he could feel the lingering ache of being taken so roughly.

When he came back, there was a large cheer from mostly everyone, and even though Natasha was smiling, her eyes lingered on him for an uncomfortably long time. As he curled back up on the couch under Tony's arm, the feeling only intensified into a low burn at his lower back. His entire body felt hot but his cheeks burned, and as much as he wanted to chow down with everyone else, his stomach was roiling and he was terrified that, should he lift his mask, everyone would be able to see how red his cheeks were, and how well he'd been kissed. So instead of the relaxing night Peter had originally thought he was going to have, he spent the remainder of the movie in tense ball, shamefully half-hard from the thought that he was sitting amongst his highly respected coworkers with only a thin layer of spandex to hide the plug that was holding in a load of Deadpool's cum.

"Ooh, are we stalking someone?"

Peter hated Deadpool, and he hated that his Spidey-sense somehow did not alert him to Deadpool's presence. He had no clue how long the man had even been standing on the roof above him he spoke.

"She's pretty cute if you go in for that sort of thing. You have a much nicer ass than she does though."

Peter had already been clinging to the side of a building in the afternoon shade of an alleyway for half an hour, waiting, and he'd been content to wait for as long as he needed to until his suspect made the move, but now the thought of having to do it with Deadpool chattering on above him made the afternoon suddenly seem impossibly long.

"Not that it's any of your business, but she's the subject of an active investigation," Peter finally decided, hoping that a answer would stop Deadpool from continuing his chatter. He knew better.

"Ooh, Spidey sounds so professional~"

Peter sighed and resigned himself to a shitty day.

"She givin' you blue balls, Spidey? You go in for that sort of thing, right? I can help with that. I'll suck your dick so good you don't even know you'll love it."

"You- what?" Deadpool had always been a little pervy, hitting on Peter non-stop and complimenting his ass at every turn, but this was a new level and completely unexpected.

"I. Wanna suck. Your dick," Deadpool enunciated more clearly, and the sound seemed to echo through the alleyway, making Peter flinch.

"You know I hate you, right?" he asked, still not taking his eyes off the woman at the bistro across the street. He couldn't really take any of what Deadpool said seriously anyway. The man talked to himself for fuck's sake. Peter'd already heard more than he wanted to about 'the boxes' just from being unfortunate enough to be the focus of Deadpool's attention. "Like, that's not a joke. I legitimately hate you. And I'm annoyed every time you come around."

"Oh yeah, I totes know that but-" There was a strange sound, like the scratch of metal over stone, and then a dark shadow was dropping down in front of him on a grappling hook. Booted feet thudded against the stone on either side of Peter's hips, keeping the body in front of him propped away from the wall. "Hey, baby boy, how's it hanging?"

Deadpool was a solid mass of muscles, leather, and weapons, and he was easily twice Peter's size. Guys like him used to intimidate Peter in high school in their sheer size, had made him uncomfortable just being around them. Guys who were built like him used to bully Peter in high school, although, as annoying as Peter found him, Deadpool was about as far from being a bully as he could imagine. Not to mention that Peter easily had him beat now in the whole 'strength' department. And yet… Deadpool's bulk, especially when it was right next to him - or in front of him, in this case - made him feel odd, like if Deadpool somehow managed to pin him down, then Peter would be helpless.

"Well, first of all, you're blocking my view," Peter replied, trying to figure out how to get Deadpool to move away from him without actually touching him. He'd been clinging to the building by the tips of his fingers and the balls of his feet, which was prime for jumping off, but inopportune as as defensive position. "And second of all, I still don't understand why you keep hanging around me when I'm trying to be as blunt as I can that I don't like you?"

Deadpool's expression dropped and he placed a hand over his heart. "That hurt, baby boy."

"It was meant to," Peter said shortly, patience already fading fast.

"He said, he said, he said, 'Why don't you just drop dead?" Deadpool sang as he bent at the knee, bringing his body closer to Peter's and in between Peter's legs.

"He, in fact, did not say that," Peter replied, leaning back and away from Deadpool. Deadpool just kept moving in closer until Peter's back was pressed to the wall and Deadpool was just short of pressing fully against him. Still, Peter could easily feel the heat of him and his heart was starting to beat faster in his chest. "What would you even get out of it?"

Deadpool gave him an odd look. "I don't know what kind of sex life you've had, baby boy-"

"None," Peter muttered under his breath, but Deadpool's grin told him he'd heard it anyway.

"But sometimes it's nice to suck a little dick. Or a big dick. Medium dicks too." Peter rolled his eyes. "And even though you really don't like me, I really like you and I just wanna make you feel good. 'Specially if you don't have a sex life. I just wanna give you the best blowjob of your life, and then swallow your cum."

Peter, who had found himself leaning forward towards Deadpool like his words had been slowly reeling him in, suddenly recoiled at the unexpected vulgarity on the tail end of something that was more on the sweet end than he'd expected.

"You're disgusting," Peter snapped out, disgusted with himself for having fallen for Deadpool's words for a second. He leaned back against the brick, pressing his body as far into the wall and away from Deadpool as he could. It had the opposite effect though because Deadpool just bent his knees and moved closer until he was practically straddling Peter's waist.

"Yeah, I know, baby boy, but I promise to give you the best blowjob you've ever had and ever will have. Guaranteed." Peter was already shaking his head halfway through Deadpool's sentence. There was nothing that the man could say that would let him get Deadpool's mouth anywhere near his dick. "If you don't like it, somehow, how about I neeever bug you again?"

That gave Peter pause. "You're serious?" Deadpool nodded eagerly. "If I don't like your blowjob, you'll never bother me again? No more sneaking up on me, no more touching my ass, no more creepy comments?"

"Righty, Spidey!"

That… was almost worth it. No, that was actually worth it. Deadpool had been a rock in his shoe for the last few years. He came in handy in a fight if Peter could keep him from killing anyone, but other than that… he was just an annoyance that Peter had to deal with on a weekly basis. Even the little bit of relief Peter would get from not having Deadpool in his life any longer would be helpful.


Deadpool, who had kept rambling while Peter hadn't been listening, suddenly cut off. "Did he just say 'okay'? Or did I imagine that. Did you just say 'okay', Spidey?"

Trepidation had started to rise in his belly even as he agreed, but he didn't retract what he'd said. "Yeah, I did."

Deadpool stared at him for a long minute and then he startled Peter by grabbing him around the waist and pulling him over one shoulder, nearly jabbing him in the face with the handle of one of his katana.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he ground out as a hand came down on his ass, holding him in place. The tips of Deadpool's fingers were a little too close to the crack of his ass and seemed to be slowly working their way inwards.

"Weeellll," Deadpool drawled as they began to rise back up the side of the building, "I was pretty sure that you wouldn't let me blow you right there so I'm moving us to the roof!"

Peter rubbed at his eyes with one hand, already regretting his decision and already feeling a headache bloom behind his eyes. He ignored Deadpool as the man crawled over the roof's edge, eerily efficient at the movement even with Peter over his shoulder. Two large hands wrapped around his waist, and he hated the way the size and the strength of them made butterflies flutter through his stomach.

Deadpool plopped him down on the roof ledge and then immediately fell to his knees between Peter's legs, which caught Peter by surprise. "Woah woah woah what the fuck?" he stalled, putting both hands on Deadpool's shoulders even as Deadpool shuffled forward. His broad shoulders were spreading Peter's legs wide to accommodate them and it left him feeling vulnerable and his cheeks hot.

"Whatcha mean?" Deadpool asked, looking up at him, his fingers already hooked in the waistband of Peter's pants.

Peter opened his mouth to respond but he didn't really have anything to say. He pulled his hands away and turned his head to the side, feeling shame swamp him as his pants were pulled down just enough for gloved hands to wrap around his half-hard cock and pull it out.

"Oooh, Spidey! You're already hard~" Peter barely bit back the automatic response of 'And whose fault do you think that is?' before it slipped out his mouth and Deadpool was made aware of how much he was actually affecting Peter. "Mmm, so pretty too. Man, I could suck on you all day. I bet the other side of you is just as pretty."

The sensation of leather against his cock was an unfamiliar one, the material distinctive, and warm from Deadpool's body heat. It felt smooth and odd and made him shiver and grow just a little harder in Deadpool's loose grasp, and he curled his fingers around the ledge and held on tight. He hated that he was already any bit hard at all, and he hated it even more that he was hard because there was just something about Deadpool's body that did it for him.

In his peripheral vision, Deadpool was pulling the edge of his mask up over his nose, and Peter carefully did not look at him. He'd seen what Deadpool's skin looked like once before, when the mercenary had dropped in on him while he was eating and stole some of Peter's food, and he didn't think he'd be able to handle seeing it wrapped around his dick. Then Deadpool started to mutter under his breath, and it took a moment for Peter to register what he was saying.

"Thank you, O Lord for the gift I'm about to receive and-"

Peter's cheeks felt so hot it was like they'd caught on fire as he grit his teeth together. "If you're not going to take this seriously, I'm just going to-"

"Oh, baby boy," Deadpool interrupted, his voice a deep register Peter had never heard him speak in before and which instantly made Peter snap his mouth shut as a shiver rolled down his spine. Those large hands smoothed up his ribs and held there, solid and firm and unyielding, almost painful in their intensity as they pulled him forward until he was barely sitting on the ledge anymore. "I've never taken anything more seriously. I'm gonna make you bend and break and you're gonna love every second of it."

Even if Peter had been able to formulate a response to a promise like that, he wouldn't have time to say it. Deadpool sucked him down so fast that Peter's eyes rolled back in his head and his knees clamped tight around Deadpool's ribs as a choked sound cracked its way out of his throat. It wasn't that Peter was still a virgin anymore - no, he'd taken care of that a few months ago when he'd started college - it was that Deadpool was just so good. Just having that wet heat surrounding him so tightly nearly made him lose his mind.

It took almost no time for Peter to grow fully hard in Deadpool's mouth under the firm pressure of lips wrapped around him and suction against him. The man's tongue never stopped moving around the tip of him or the shaft, even when Deadpool took him so far in that Peter could feel the man's nose against his skin and his throat muscles working around him. The first time that Deadpool swallowed around him, Peter curled over the top of Deadpool's head and the stone ledge in his hands began to crumble beneath the pressure from his fingertips.

The hands at his ribs tightened further and pushed him backwards until he was laying on the ledge. A ledge that was shallow enough to leave Peter's head and shoulders hanging unsupported in the open air. Despite the fact that Peter hated Deadpool, and that he could see the stories of space between him and the ground, he knew that the other man would never let him fall, even if Peter hadn't had a death grip on the ledge with his fingers or around Deadpool's ribs with his knees. And wasn't that ironic: that he could trust a mercenary he hated not to kill him? He hated that a part of him even had that little bit of trust in Deadpool at all. He didn't even feel a thump of panic in his chest when one of the hands around his ribs disappeared and the other one slid to his center to anchor him.

A slick finger wormed its way into his ass, somewhere that had remained untouched until just now, but all Peter could do was gasp and inhale and try to push his hips down. The hand weighing down against his sternum refused to budge, even when the finger in him brushed against his prostate and the mouth around his cock sucked hard on his sensitive glans and made Peter writhe frantically on the harsh stone. His own breathing seemed harsh in his ears even as the sloppy sounds of Deadpool sucking at him seemed distant. He wanted to slap a hand over his mouth, but he couldn't bear to release the grounding edge digging into his palms, still slowly cracking from the pressure.

Suddenly, Deadpool upped the ante and began to fuck his mouth on Peter's cock as he rubbed insistently at Peter's prostate, and the world behind Peter's eyes turned white. He struggled against Deadpool's hand as the rapidly rising sensation of an impending orgasm raced through him, turning his body from an ember to a bonfire in such a short time that his head spun from it. It only took the firm press of a finger to his sensitive insides for Peter to come, the world whooshing in his ears. Deadpool didn't even release his dick, just kept swallowing around him every time it seemed like he was done coming, like he was trying to suck Peter's brain out through his cock.

Finally, it became too much and Peter tried to voice a protest, but it only came out as a pathetic whimper. Still, apparently that was all it took because Deadpool slowly slid off him, leaving his cock wet and soft in the soft breeze and making him shiver all over again in an odd mix of 'cold' and 'aroused'. The hand against his chest disappeared as another cradled the back of his head, pulling him into a sitting position before the missing arm wrapped around his waist and tugged him off the ledge and to the roof's floor. Deadpool's face swam in his vision and Peter blinked lazily, only half-heartedly trying to clear it.

"What'd I tell you?" Deadpool was saying, his mask already rolled back down and hiding his skin. "Best blowjob ever, right?"

Peter nodded dazedly. "Yeah." His brain was coming back online in bits and pieces, and he knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as he said it, but he couldn't remember why.

"Wicked," Deadpool grinned. "I think you're the best blowjob I've ever given too. Like a match made in heaven. Testie besties." A beeping sound stopped Deadpool from continuing for which Peter was grateful because he had a hard enough time keeping up with Deadpool when he wasn't coming out of a sex-coma. "Well, I hate to fuck and run, Spidey, but I'm running late. Well, I was late when I stopped by to say 'hi' but so worth. We'll have to do this again soon!" he said rapid-fire cheerful as he stood, towering over Peter and blocking out the setting sun. "Next time, I'll eat you out 'till you scream, promise."

He was waving at Peter as he jogged backwards across the roof, and right before he reached the edge, he turned and dove off. Peter waited for the sound of Deadpool hitting the ground to reach his ears but it never did and eventually he gave up waiting for it. He just sat in the fading sunlight and let his body soak up the lingering warmth. It wasn't until it was nearly gone that he realized exactly what Deadpool had said.

"What fucking 'next time'?"

The worst part about patrolling was needing to take a leak and being nowhere near his apartment. Like any New Yorker, Peter hating stepping into the piss-scented alleyways that were home to the homeless, the rats, and the unfortunate drunks sleeping it off, but when the bladder called, it was a poor idea to ignore it. At least there was no shortage of dumpster-strewn alleys cast in shadow from dead or dying lights for him to choose from. He had only just finished his business when arms wrapped around his waist from behind.


If Peter could kill his Spidey-sense, he would; the shit was useless when it came to Deadpool. "I swear to fucking god. You show up the most inconvenient times in the most inconvenient places. You're like an STD."

"Free love on the streets but in the alley it ain't that cheap, now," Deadpool replied, nuzzling at Peter's neck.

"You really need to stop quoting Fall Out Boy lyrics at me, and you really need to not do this right over where I just pissed," Peter said, already feeling exasperation welling up. He tried to unlock Deadpool's arms from around his waist, and for a moment, it seemed he half succeeded when one pulled away. But then Deadpool just separated the bottom of his mask from his shirt collar and began to suck at his neck.

In the past, stimulation to his neck had felt nice, but it had never been anything special. But like always seemed to be the case, Deadpool was, once again, proving to be an exception. Because every time he put lips and teeth to Peter's neck, it made his legs weak and his belly tremble. When paired with a hand stroking up and down his stomach and the occasional brush over his groin, it paralyzed him, made him pliant. It made him hate himself as much as he hated Deadpool.

"I'll stop quoting them when they stop being relevant," Deadpool shot back, which Peter took to meant that he was never going to stop. "I'll leave 'em in the gutter with our love where I found you."

"Not only do I have the opposite feelings for you, now you're just forcing your references." Peter hated that he even recognized them. He hated that he'd added a lot more of their songs to his iPod since this had all started. He hated everything. And as usual, it was all Deadpool's fault. "I'm serious though, I don't want to do this right here."

"I didn't take you for squeamish, baby boy," Deadpool murmured in his ear. "You already made a mess, might as well add to it. Because I am going to make a mess out of you."


"C'mon, Petey. Make me," Deadpool growled in that same low, challenging tone that always made Peter think twice before speaking next. Then Deadpool pushed firmly between his shoulder blades, and Peter flung out his arms to keep his face from colliding with the brick wall. Behind him, Deadpool stepped closer, his combat boots bracketing Peter's feet which seemed practically bare in comparison and ridiculously smaller. "I know you can," he said as he pulled Peter's suit down to expose his bare ass. "You can kick my ass all up and down this alley." His gloves against Peter's bare skin as he pulled his ass cheeks apart made Peter press his forehead to the brick, eyes closing and fingers curling in the divots. "You could just web me to a wall and leave me here with my dick hanging out." Peter bit the inside of his cheek as his plug was pulled out, the same one he'd been using for months now, and the head of Deadpool's cock pressed inside him.

As the mercenary bottomed out, he draped himself over Peter's back, arms wrapping tight around his waist and keeping him immobile. It would have been comforting from anyone else, but still, Peter couldn't make his body move. "You don't even have to do anything," Deadpool murmured against his ear as he pulled out and pushed back in, pace agonizing slow and making Peter's rim burn where he hadn't really been prepped outside of using the plug. "I gave you a safeword, didn't I, Petey? Remind me what it is. C'mon, tell me."

Peter shook his head, rolling his forehead along the wall. He didn't want to say it, didn't want to acknowledge that he had one, that he could use it at any time, could have used it any time in the past. Saying it made what was happening real, made him complicit in this thing he didn't want to acknowledge existed, but for some reason, also didn't want to stop. Saying it made it real, saying it would mean acknowledging that he'd stopped looking for dates because he knew that Deadpool's cock had ruined him for everyone. Saying his safeword would mean that Deadpool would stop that slow roll of his hips that was pushing him in and out of Peter, would mean he'd drop his restrictive hold, would mean that he'd stop trying to bite a permanent bruise into the side of Peter's neck.

"You- you keep saying my name. In public," Peter managed to say instead, trying to pull his mind away from the tingles of pleasure brought about by the head of Deadpool's cock glancing over his prostate with every slow thrust and refocus it instead on the potential of his identity being discovered by Deadpool carelessness. "Someone could- could hear."

"I know you don't like me, baby boy," Deadpool said, keeping his mouth next to Peter's ear even as his hips moved away and back in a steady rhythm. "But you could at least have faith that I would never out another mask. Especially not you. You trusted me enough to give it to me, but you can't trust me enough to keep it safe?"

It was getting difficult to keep track of the conversation. Deadpool was an immovable object and an unstoppable force at the same time, both the rock in the ocean and the waves battering against it. Peter wasn't exactly sure where that left him except at Deadpool's mercy. "You tricked it from me," he said before he quite remembered what he'd even been asked.

"Oh? How'd I manage that, Petey?" Deadpool sounded amused and something in Peter's brain set off a blaring klaxon alarm.

He shook his head and refused to answer. Or rather, he wasn't exactly sure how to answer. Not with the way Deadpool's cock was obliterating his mind like every push of his hips was making room for his massive erection by pushing out his ability to think logically. The arms around him got tighter, making his ribs creak in protest as Deadpool closed in around him, surrounding him and filling him in equally impossible measures.

"Hm. We'll come back to that later then, k?" Peter couldn't help but nod in agreement. He'd probably agree to anything right now, if only Deadpool asked it of him. "But you still need to tell me your safeword." Except that. He couldn't give that, but why was that again? "If you're not going to tell me, I'm going to stop." Peter shook his head frantically and moved one hand to the arms around his waist, gripping tightly to a thick forearm to keep it in place as his other hand clawed at the wall. "Yup! Sorry, sweetheart, but bad boys don't get treats." He started to pull out again, and then he kept going, and there was a terrible moment of realization when Peter realized Deadpool was going to leave before he even pushed Peter over the edge he'd driven him to.

"No!" Peter choked out, reaching behind himself to grasp at Deadpool's utility belt and pull him back in. He couldn't be sure if he used his super strength or not, but Deadpool came back anyway, covering Peter's body and weighing down on him more firmly than before. A hand worked into his pants to wrap around his cock and he jerked into the touch, pulling himself just a little off Deadpool's cock before he was pushed back onto it.

"Safeword, baby boy. Now." It was that voice again, the one that made him want to obey. He couldn't say 'no' to it, not right now.

"P-pancakes," he stuttered out, the shape of it unfamiliar in his mouth in such a setting. As soon as he said it, Deadpool's other hand slid up his chest and wrapped around his throat, holding him firmly without cutting off his air.

"Good boy," Deadpool whispered, and Peter nearly sobbed as his cock twitched in the mercenary's restrictive hold.

Apparently, months of being told he was a good boy right before he was allowed to orgasm had left an imprint on his psyche, a conditioning in his body that rushed his orgasm to the tip of his cock before stopping under Deadpool's grasp. He choked on air and scrambled futilely for a solid hold on the wall his face was pressed to and on the utility belt still in his grasp. It sent a warmth into his belly in a confusing way that had nothing to do with his orgasm and yet everything to do with it all at once.

"You like that?" Deadpool asked, sounding surprised, his hips faltering against Peter's ass for a heart-stopping moment. "You like being called my 'good boy'?" Peter nodded and tightened his hold on Deadpool's belt, terrified Deadpool would just leave him like this: sobbing and painfully hard. "Well, good boys get treats," Deadpool said, the surprise morphing to a hunger Peter was all too familiar with. The hand around his cock started to stroke him slowly, the tightness of the grip never fading so it equally arousing and unfulfilling. "What kind of treat do you want?"

"To come," Peter gasped immediately. He was so hard he hurt and Deadpool's unusually slow pace had left him half crazed and needing something he couldn't put into words. Usually Deadpool took him hard and fast, but he'd this time he'd taken Peter with a slow intensity that was making Peter forget who he was and where he was at and why he hated who he was with.

"You know what you have to say then," Deadpool replied easily, sticking to his pace relentlessly, no matter how much Peter tried to squirm in his grasp to fuck himself on Deadpool's cock faster. "C'mon, Petey. Say it. Let me hear you say my name. You won't like it if I have to fuck it out of you."

Peter groaned and clenched tight around Deadpool's cock and tried to force his orgasm to hit him, but it was as fruitless an effort as it ever was. Sometimes, he didn't know why he even tried to fight it when he knew how it was always going to turn it out. Deadpool was a fucker for better or worse, and he was the best at it. Or maybe he was just best at fucking Peter.

"Please make me come, Wade," he groaned out, and it wasn't until after the words left his mouth that he realized he might have misspoke. Deadpool was never more literal than when they were fucking and it didn't always end well for Peter.

"'Make you'?" Deadpool echoed, the hand at Peter's throat tightening as his hips started to pick up speed, each thrust jarring Peter's teeth and his face along the brick until he had to release Deadpool's belt to brace his forehead against the back of his hand. "Yeah, I can do that, baby boy. I'm gonna make you wear me like a choker around your throat; you're gonna look so good in my blue."

Peter didn't have time ask what that even meant before the fingers on either side of his neck clamped down, pressing Deadpool's palm against his windpipe, pulling him into each one of Deadpool's almost-violent thrusts. It made every breath that much harder to inhale and exhale, it made the world around him start to spot white and black and the fire in him burn even hotter. Deadpool's other hand was still working Peter's cock in that infuriatingly tight grip and slow pace, a complete juxtaposition of how hard and quick his hips were slamming against Peter's ass. The bricks of the alley's walls echoed with it until it was ringing in Peter's ears. Or maybe that was just his lack of oxygen.

"Wade," he gasped out, clawing at the hand at his throat. "Wade."

"Hold on, baby boy," Deadpool grunted as he somehow began to fuck Peter harder, faster; his ass felt pink and hot like he'd been spanked, but it was nothing compared to the heat in his groin, coiled and waiting like a volcano about to erupt. "Almost there. Trust me," he said as his hand tightened and Peter's clawing began to grow weaker. "It'll be so good just wait a little longer and trust me."

He had said it in that voice again, and so Peter obeyed, hand falling away to hang between his body and the wall. He didn't have the energy to put it anywhere else. He felt equally electric in his own body as much as he was starting to feel distant from it, and he wondered if he was dying, even as he knew that Deadpool would never let that happen, no matter what else Peter thought about him.

"You ready, baby boy?" Deadpool asked him, the rapid pant of his breath almost cooling to Peter's overheated skin. "It's going to be so intense, you're going to love it."

Peter tried to speak, tried to say his name, tried to do something as his vision started to fade, but all he could let out was breathy wheeze, a ghost of the mercenary's name: "Wade."

"I know, Petey. Go on. Come," that voice demanded, and both hands on him, the one at his throat and the one still slowly working his cock, both loosened at the same time, sending the world rushing in through his ears and out his cock.

Everything was light and noise, like a flashbang and the woosh of a waterfall, sending him flying through space and time as every nerve ending in his body lit up with pleasure. For a long moment, he forgot who he was and who he was with and where they were. There was only his orgasm, and him, the living embodiment of it.

"Shhh, shhh, it's alright, Petey. You were such a good boy. You did so well. Breathe with me." The voice in his ear was a low, soothing rumble, and he followed its instructions automatically, his brain still running on autopilot.

It seemed like an eternity passed before the white started fading from his vision to reveal the deep red brick in front of him, poorly lit in the dark night. His chest and throat burned and he realized he was breathing like pre-powers him, the asthmatic him. The hand against his throat was still there, leather gloves stroking up and down his vulnerable adam's apple and windpipe, keeping his head tilted back on a hard shoulder. The hand around his cock had abandoned it, leaving it to pulse between his legs, and had wrapped back around his ribs, holding him tightly to the muscled body behind him. When he tried to shift, he realized that his walls were still fluttering around the cock in him, and that his feet weren't exactly touching the ground, leaving the arm around his waist to support all his weight.

"Deadpool," he croaked, and then was immediately shushed.

"No talking, Petey. Your throat needs to recover. Just breathe through your nose as much as you can, and when you get home, you're gonna wanna drink a looot of tea. With honey. Or something. That sounds about right." The hand at his throat pushed at his chin, enforcing the idea that he needed to keep his head back, and then it pulled away.

As much as Peter wanted to lift his head just so he could disobey Deadpool, he felt so tired that he didn't want to move at all, even spitefully. His orgasm had completely wiped him out, even more than was typical with Deadpool. And his orgasms with Deadpool were always exhausting. So exhausting… Fuck, how was he gonna get home after this? He didn't want to mo-

"Hngh!" The grunt was immediately regretted but entirely involuntary.

"Sh sh sh," Deadpool said immediately as he pulled his cock out of Peter and immediately put his plug back in. As usual, it left him feeling not full enough in that terribly distracting, needy way that Peter preferred not to acknowledge. "And done! See? That wasn't so hard was it?"

Peter breathed steadily through his nose and, as the realization of what exactly Deadpool had just done to him without warning or permission, tried not to lose his shit.

"I hate you," he whispered, cringing at the strain on his throat but refusing to shut up, despite Deadpool's hushing as he was lowered to his feet. "You did… that without asking and you could have killed me. You-"

A hand slapped over his mouth, cutting him off before he could really build up speed, and Deadpool turned Peter's head to the side so their eyes could meet over his shoulder. "Bad boy," he said sternly, and there was a sick feeling of shame in Peter's belly at the words that had nothing to do with his usual shame in letting Deadpool touch him. "I said no talking, didn't I?" When the hand over his mouth didn't retract, Peter glared through his mask and nodded. "That's right. Now, I'm disappointed in you, Petey." That strange shame in his belly got thicker and started to rise in his throat and it left Peter feeling sick and confused and angry. "You think I'd reveal your secret identity? You think I'd let you die? Tsk tsk, " Deadpool tutted, his disappointment loud and clear. "Sometimes I wonder if you know me at all."

No, he really didn't. That had been the point. Peter hadn't wanted to get to know Deadpool. He thought he knew enough about the mercenary to form and keep an opinion and, in some ways, he still thought that, but Deadpool's words were starting to make him second-guess himself.

"I didn't think I had to, but I promise you, baby boy, that no one will ever find out your secret identity from me, and I will never hurt you. Capiche?" Peter, reluctantly, nodded. After all, hadn't he thought the same thing himself while Deadpool had been inside of him? Hadn't he already acknowledged the truth of his beliefs when he'd been at his most vulnerable? But he'd also been really out of it so… "Now, if you can be a good boy-" the shame became something warm and flared white-hot, and the odd turn of it made Peter start to suspect that he was developing a few kinks at Deadpool's hands that he really wished he hadn't "-I'll take my hand back. Can you do that?"

He nodded and there was a short pause before the hand pulled away slowly, leaving him to pant quietly through his sore throat. Deadpool turned him around and Peter didn't fight him when the mercenary lifted the bottoms of both their masks to press his lips to Peter's. The kiss was oddly soft, gentle, and Peter lost himself in it. And just for a moment, he let himself let Deadpool take his weight.

Deadpool pulled back in fits and starts, breaking the kiss only to start a new one, over and over and over until Peter was almost dizzy and his legs were trembling. It was only when a whimper scratched its way out of his throat that the larger man stood up straight and pulled their masks back down. Peter barely had the energy to stand on his own feet, and he definitely didn't have enough to stop his listless lean against Deadpool's chest. At this point, he just wanted to pass out.

"Awww… My little spider's all tired out," Deadpool cooed. Peter wished the sudden change in tone surprised him but he was honestly surprised it had taken this long. Or maybe he was just too tired. He was practically asleep on his feet. "Let's get you home."

Deadpool ducked down and swung Peter up into his arms as if he weighed nothing, or as if he was one the one with superpowers. Peter leaned his head against the padded katana strap and closed his eyes, just for a moment, just to reorient and re-find himself in wherever he'd been lost, but when he opened them again, just a moment later, it was to find himself alone in his own bed with the morning light streaming obnoxiously bright across his legs.

It took nearly half an hour for him to move, but when he did, he half expected to find himself naked with Deadpool in the other room and a breaking news story revealing the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man's trysts with a known mercenary and mad-man. What he found instead was his suit under his pillow, himself dressed in a pair of his own boxers and a t-shirt, an empty apartment which looked to be in the exact state he'd last left it, and news without any mention of either Spider-Man or Deadpool.

Last night could have been a dream for all he knew… except for the impression of teeth at the juncture of his neck, and the bruise in the shape of Deadpool's hand across the front of his throat. A collar of blues and purples for all the world to see.

"I'm gonna make you wear me like a choker around your throat; you're gonna look so good in my blue."

"Need any help, Spidey?" The shout came accompanied with a burst of gunfire and a loud crash, and Peter immediately felt his temper spike. First bank-robbing robots and now Deadpool. While he was sure that it was technically possible for his day to get worse at this point, he wasn't exactly sure how.

"No human casualties," was all he said as he sent out another spray of webbing into the horde of annoying, flying robots.

"Aye, aye, mon capitan!" Deadpool shouted from somewhere behind him.

For all that Peter hated the mercenary, he sure came in handy in situations like this where Spider-Man's opponent wasn't something living and he had nothing fatal to cut down the attacking forces with. It wasn't long after that he finally began to see a dent in the number of robots whizzing through the air, most of their brethren laying in pieces on the bank's now-pockmarked marble floor. It didn't take much time after that for all the forces to deplete entirely, leaving Peter standing still in a robot-graveyard with four human bankrobbers webbed safely behind a pillar and Deadpool approaching, whistling merrily and swinging his katana aimlessly through the air.

"I was thinking we should take our relationship to the next level," Deadpool said by way of a greeting as he approached and Peter took out his Spider-Man cell phone.

"We don't have a relationship," Peter replied automatically as he dialed the police to put in a report and have someone pick up the human perpetrators.

"We're totally fuck buddies!" Deadpool argued as clunked each of the bank robbers in the head with the handle of his sword and knocked them out. Thankfully. Peter didn't want anyone knowing there was any kind of a relationship between Spider-Man and Deadpool. Spider-Man had a bad enough of a rep in the first place. "Except we haven't done like actual fucking yet, which brings me back to my point: we should fuck!"

Peter stared at him. It was true, he'd let Deadpool blow him, which had been a mistake on multiple levels, such as the level of he was never going to get another blowjob as good from anyone not-Deadpool. And then there had been the rimjob which he couldn't actually remember how Deadpool had gotten him to agree to, but the mercenary had probably ruined those for him too. But that was it. One handjob, one rimjob, and nothing else. And Peter wanted to keep it that way. He didn't want Deadpool to ruin him for anyone else, and he certainly didn't want to want Deadpool for anything, much less his dick.

"No." Peter turned around and started walking away before he could get himself into anything else.

"Aw, come on, Spidey!" Deadpool called, jogging to catch up. "How 'bout just the tip?"

Peter stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at the other man. "Did you just try to prom-date me?!"

"That depends. Did it work?" Deadpool asked, smiling brightly. Peter stared at him and then shook his head.

"Unbelievable. I'm leaving." He threw out an arm and was a split second from sending out a web when a hand caught his hip and tugged him into the muscled front of the biggest pain in his ass he'd ever met.

"Don't be like that baby boy," Deadpool cajoled, holding him in a loose arm with a firm hand. "You've had my mouth twice, and if you weren't lying, it was the best mouthing you've ever had. I can guarantee my dick's the best you'll ever have."

That was how Deadpool got him before, that lure. But if Peter kept setting the bar at what Deadpool could do, then he was never going to find someone who could top him. And considering how much Peter hated Deadpool anyway, that was a dangerous situation on so many levels.

"And my ass is the best you'll never have," Peter retorted. And then immediately regretted it when Deadpool brightened. Fucking Fall Out Boy. Again. "Don't read into that."

"My baby boy's getting into our band!" It was almost unnatural to hear a man of Deadpool's size coo. Or squee. Or any of the other high school girl sounds he made.

"Shut up," Peter snapped, feeling his patience rapidly disappearing. "I'm leaving. And Deadpool?"

"Yeah, honeybuns?"

"You can have me when you catch me." And Deadpool would never catch him. Even without his Spidey-sense working on the mercenary, Peter knew the streets and the towers better than he knew his own body and he could move between them in ways even Tony Stark failed at.

The hand at his waist tightened and pulled his hip into Deadpool's pelvis and a hardness that had better be a cup. "That a promise, baby boy?" Deadpool asked, voice that strange, deep rumble he only seemed to fall into when he was just about to ruin Peter. Peter could feel his cheeks heat in response and he suddenly felt a lot smaller and a lot less sure in himself.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," he muttered and then flung out a web. Deadpool didn't try to stop him from leaving this time and Peter flew into the sky, feeling eyes on his back until he was out of the bank's line of sight. It almost felt like he was leaving something behind, even as he knew that he'd made the right choice in rejecting Deadpool's offer.

He swung slowly through the streets, letting the breeze cool the heat across his skin, only keeping half an eye on potential crime. It was nearing dawn after a long night and he was tired and ready to catch a few hours of sleep before he had to make it to his morning classes. Feeling the hard grate of his fire escape under his feet had become, oddly enough, a comforting sensation despite the actual discomfort it caused, because it meant that he was home and he could rest. He hurriedly slid open his window, and then nearly had his heart burst out his chest when hands came at him from inside his apartment and dragged him through the window.

Adrenaline shot through him as he struggled against the arms that wrapped around him, feeling his heart in his throat. Why had his Spidey-sense failed? Why was he going to die here in his own apartment when he always thought he'd die in some battle? Why why why-

"Caught ya~"


"The one and only, baby boy!" The mercenary exclaimed, nuzzling the side of Peter's neck.

All the fight suddenly drained from Peter, along with the burst of adrenaline, and he sagged in Deadpool's arms, panting heavily and feeling his heart pounding a million miles a second in his chest. "Jesus fucking christ!" he exclaimed.

"Ooh, Spidey said a bad word!" Deadpool gasped, which Peter ignored.

"You gave me a heart attack! I thought I was going to die! How did you even… get… in…" he trailed off as the gravity of what was happening crashed over him. "My apartment. You're in my apartment."

"Yeeesss?" Deadpool said, voice confused even through the sudden ringing in Peter's ears.

"How did you know where my apartment was?" The question came out slowly across a tongue that felt wooden in his suddenly dry mouth. The world around him was shrinking and his chest grew tight. " How did you- oh my god. You know. Jesus fuck, you know. Oh my god my family-"

"Hey hey hey!" Deadpool said, but his voice came from far away as Peter tried to remember how to breath, as his life flashed before his eyes. "No no no, bad boy, no panic attacks. C'mon Spidey, come back to me."

Possibly the most dangerous mercenary in the world knew who he was now, knew where he lived. That meant Aunt May was in danger. That meant that his job was over, his schooling, his life…

"Breathe with me, Spidey, c'mon! If you keep panicking I'm going to start panicking and then where will we be? That's it, in, out, in… and out. Good boy. That's it, just keep breathing like that. Good Spidey."

His focus slowly narrowed again, bring him back to his apartment and the hard arms locking him in place, the harder chest against his back, breathing deeply, steadily, a metronome for his heart to resynchronize too.

"You back with me, baby boy?" The voice was soft and next to his ear and Peter closed his eyes, dropping his head back onto the shoulder behind him. He seemed to still be wearing his mask. And the rest of his suit too. Deadpool had him at his mercy, in his home, during a panic attack, and hadn't tried to do anything to him. It wasn't the first time Peter had been at his mercy, not with the blowjob and rimjob, but this was like a whole new level of mercy… and he'd done nothing.

"Yeah," he croaked, his throat feeling so dry he would have been willing to drink from the Hudson in that moment. He realized that, at some point during his freakout, Deadpool had relocated them to his couch and he was sitting in the mercenary's lap. Like a child. Ugh.

"Okay, before you freak out again, I technically knew where you lived because I'm actually good at my job and I do know how to do recon, but I've never been inside before. You should actually get a better lock 'cause I totally just picked it to get in. I miiight have accidentally picked one or two or seventeen of your neighbors locks too trying to find your apartment. Maybe. But that's neither here nor there. The point is that I don't know your face or your name - but I super want to - and I've never been in your apartment till now and also you and your family or whoever never has to worry 'bout me, pinky swear!"

Peter's head was spinning from the speed at which Deadpool spoke, and when one arm loosened to hold up a hand with an extended pinky, he linked his own pinky with it without really thinking about it. Which left him staring at their linked fingers and trying to figure out where the world went wrong in the last half an hour.

"Okay…" Peter said slowly, still trying to wrap his mind around the sudden shift in his life. "Just-" Fuck it, he'll deal with the ramifications later. "Why are you in my apartment?"

"Hm? Oh! Because it was the best place to catch you!" Deadpool exclaimed, too cheerfully for the situation. And if Peter wasn't mistaken, the hard lap under his ass was getting harder in a way he didn't want to think about.


"Geez, and I thought I was the one with bad memory, Spidey," Deadpool said admonishingly. He let go of Peter's pinky and set his palm to Peter's stomach, and the warmth of the contact did something strange to his belly, turned it all to heat that was slowly moving along his spine. "You said I could have you if I could catch you." Deadpool's chin landed on his shoulder, sending warm air across Peter's neck and making him shiver. The palm against his belly pushed against him, holding him to Deadpool's chest as Deadpool's other arm unwound and started working a hand into his pants. Just the barest brush of leather against his soft dick was enough to get his blood thumping, to make him harden. He hissed softly as Deadpool did it again, and then a third time, teasing him, making him crave full contact. "Well, I caught you. And now I get to have you." Deadpool lifted his head and murmured into Peter's ear, voice low and deep, "You promised."

Deadpool was moving them, sitting up and forward, and Peter didn't fight it. He knew he could, he knew he should... and yet, he didn't. Just like the last two times Deadpool had gotten to him, Peter just… let it happen. He hated the mercenary, but he still let him do things like this to him. And he didn't understand why. Why he let it happen, why Deadpool was doing it in the first place… none of it. "Why are you so obsessed with having sex with me?" he found himself asking before he'd even consciously decided to ask the question.

Suddenly, the world spun as he was flipped onto his back, and Deadpool shifted between his legs, spreading Peter's thighs around his hips. The position made him blush as the larger man, noticeably so at the moment, loomed over him, and even though they were both wearing masks, even though they probably weren't actually looking each other straight in the eye, it felt like that was what Deadpool was actually doing. Peter rolled his head to the side and stared at the blank screen of his TV, unable to repress the feeling that he just lost something by turning away first.

"I used to be obsessed with dying, baby boy, and it wasn't pretty." Peter knew that Deadpool was essentially immortal, that he could heal from everything, but he had never really thought about what that would be like, being unable to die. He'd never wanted to, and it seemed a bit unfair that Deadpool was choosing now to make him confront mortality. "Now I'm obsessed with you. You're everything I want to be and everything I want. You're pretty much my fave superhero and I just wanna make you feel good."

Peter's face felt like it was on fire. He was used to hearing praise and insults alike out on the street or in his college classes, and he was used to reading it in the newspapers- hell, he usually supplied the accompanying photos, but he'd never been praised directly to his face by someone he hadn't just saved. And Deadpool seemed so sincere about it too, which somehow made it even more unreal. "And it has nothing to do with you wanting to have sex with me?" he asked, trying to reshape the conversation to leave out any more embarrassing praise.

"Well, obviously I wanna have sex with you, you have like the best ass on the planet, but mostly it's the first thing." Deadpool rolled his hips down into Peter's, undulating against him, and suddenly Peter could see with a disturbing clarity exactly how Deadpool had sex. Specifically, how Deadpool would fuck him. "So, yeah, I wanna tear that ass up, I wanna feel you wrapped around me and the way you'll shake when I make you come."

Without even thinking about it, Peter's breath had shortened and his cock had started to throb in earnest. Deadpool normally sounded like an idiot who had no idea what he was doing, but right now he sounded like the world's leading expert, and with the two experiences Peter had already had with his sexual prowess, he wasn't disinclined to believe him. He had no doubt that sex with Deadpool would be the most satisfying sex he'd ever had; it was the possibility that it might be the most satisfying sex he'd ever have that had given him pause.

"So, you gonna let me make you feel good, Spidey?" Deadpool murmured, voice practically a growl, even as he played with Peter's waistband, exposing little bits of skin like a burlesque show.

Peter carefully didn't look at him when he said, "Make it fast."

In a flash, his pants were practically ripped from his body, leaving him naked from the waist down, and he instinctively slapped his hands over his half-hard cock. "Hey!" he cried indignantly, the heat in his face flaring bright and hot.

"Aw, you're shy," Deadpool cooed as he grabbed both of Peter's wrists in one large hand raised his arms above his head, pinning his hands to the arm of the couch. "That's so adorable. But you don't have to be shy in front of me, baby boy." He leaned down and pressed his broad chest against Peter's smaller one, voice dropping out of the playful tone and into one more… sinful. "I'm going to blow your mind."

"That- that's not the point," Peter stuttered, looking away again. "And stop calling me that."

"Aw, how come?" Deadpool asked as he sat up, taking his hand off Peter's wrists to pull something out of one of his pouches. Despite feeling incredibly exposed and vulnerable, Peter left his hands where they were, leaving himself open to the man he hated that he was going to let touch him an intimate manner for the third time in as many months.

"Because I said so," he retorted childishly, feeling his stomach turn. Because hearing Deadpool call him that, call him that name like he belonged to the mercenary, especially in that low voice of his, made it feel like he had butterflies in his belly, and Deadpool was the last person he wanted to give him that sensation.

"I'll call you by your name if you tell me it," Deadpool said as he steadily pressed a slick finger into Peter.

An inhale got in his chest and Peter arched off the couch, his hands turning to grasp the arm. This wasn't the first time he'd had something in him: he'd touched himself in the past, of course; then there was the blowjob from Deadpool where the man had surprised him with a finger he hadn't been expecting; and then there had been the rimjob, which had been all tongue, but Peter had never felt so open than after an hour under Deadpool's mouth. This though, this was straight up and sudden, just a lube-covered, thick finger inside him when he was still only half-hard and half-aroused.

A hand landed on his pelvis and pushed up his belly and sternum, and it wasn't until a shadow passed over his face that he realized Deadpool was pushing the top of his suit off him. Only he didn't, not quite. He left it tangled around Peter's wrists in such a way that he couldn't figure out how to escape from it. Peter didn't quite realize how naked he'd become until Deadpool bent over his chest and licked a nipple, making him gasp and arch into the smile pressed around the sensitive nub.

"God, you really are the prettiest thing, aren't you?" Deadpool murmured as he gently closed his teeth over Peter's nipple.

Peter squirmed against the touch which only brought his hips down on the finger inside of him, which was slowly pumping in and out, loosening him. Deadpool's free hand landed on his rib cage, the leather almost slipping on his slick skin from how worked up he was getting. Just when the mouth against him pulled back and he thought he was getting a moment to catch his breath, a second finger worked its way into him alongside the first and a thumb and forefinger pinched one nipple as teeth closed firmly around the other.

"Deadpool!" Peter gasped out, already starting to feel overwhelmed.

"Oh, that reminds me!" Deadpool exclaimed, sitting up suddenly and pulling his fingers out of Peter's ass. Peter cried out at the strange dizziness that hit him for a split second at the sudden loss. "Bad Deadpool, I almost forgot. Spidey needs a safeword."

"A- goddamnit," Peter cursed, falling back to the couch. He went to rub at his eyes only to remember his hands were tied together by his suit top when they hit him both hit him in the face. "Deadpool, I do not need a safew-"

"Stop!" Deadpool barked suddenly, making Peter recoil as if he'd been slapped. It felt like he had, in a weird way. In all the time Peter had known the mercenary, he'd never been spoken to in such a harsh tone and it made him want to cry, which only made him confused and angry at being confused. "Oh no no no, I'm sorry, baby boy," Deadpool said, falling back into one of his more typical, comforting voices. "I didn't mean to say it quite like that," he said, stroking his hands down Peter's torso like he was calming a frightened animal. "But I need to make sure you understand - with me, you're going to have a safeword, and you're going to use it if it ever gets too much, if you ever need me to stop, okay?"

Peter nodded slowly, still trying to reorient himself after the sudden shift in mood. Usually he was pretty good at keeping up with Deadpool, but something about the whole situation had him feeling off. Adrift. Not in a bad way, necessarily, but it was new and a little uncomfortable and made him feel… incredibly vulnerable.

Peter licked his lips and glanced up at Deadpool who, he was only now realizing, had rolled his mask up. The sight of his skin still bothered Peter, but it didn't shake him from the mood that had been set, or the one they seem to have fallen into. "Shouldn't I pick my safeword?" he asked quietly, wary of being snapped at again, but Deadpool only smiled.

"Maybe later, sweet-cheeks. I'm just gonna give you one now and your only job is to remember it. K? K. You ready?" Something about Deadpool's wording seemed odd, and Peter suddenly wondered if he was going to have to remember something ridiculously long or just plain ridiculous to discourage him using it, like supercalifragilisticexpialidocious or backpfeifengesicht or something. Then as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he dismissed it. If Deadpool had shouted at him, him, Spider-Man, his 'favourite superhero', then it was undoubtedly going to be serious for once. "Pancakes."

"Pancakes?" Peter echoed, startled.

"Pancakes," Deadpool confirmed, nodding. "You say 'pancakes', and we'll slam that stop button, no hesitation. Full on red light, 60 to zero in a split second, like the gravity beam hit us. Can you remember that?"

Peter nodded slowly. Pancakes. His safeword was 'pancakes'. Leave it to Deadpool to give him such a weird one. He was half-surprised it wasn't something Mexican-food related instead. Literally every time Peter saw the mercenary, he was on his way to or from eating Mexican and goddamnit now he wanted Mexican.

"Get it? Got it? Good," Deadpool said with a clicking ennunciation and a twitch in his cheek that meant he'd probably just winked. Peter rolled his own eyes, not caring that Deadpool wouldn't be able to see it. "Now, prepare yourself for a phoenix-ing because I'm going to Fawkes you up and remix you, baby boy."

"What the f- UNGH!" Peter's initial exclamation of confusion was quickly cut off when Deadpool pushed two fingers into him without warning, making him arch off the couch, hips tilted down as if he could pull himself off Deadpool's hand.

"Aw yeah, that's it, you sexy thing," Deadpool murmured, steadily fucking Peter with his fingers. "Just relax and let Deadpool take care of you."

Really, that should have had the opposite effect on Peter, since he well knew that Deadpool couldn't take care of anything properly without it ending in someone or something's death, but Deadpool was using that deep voice of his, the commanding one that made Peter want to listen. So he tried to relax, tried to let his body lay flat and release all tension from his muscles, and suddenly it seemed like Deadpool's fingers were sliding in and out of him faster and faster.

The soreness from being penetrated by something so thick was something even Peter with his super-healing was not excused from, but it was fading fast. Still, he knew he could take more and he knew that it could get better if Deadpool could just reach his prostate. He planted his feet, one on the couch and the other on the floor, and started to ride the motion, tried to rotate his hips until he could feel that blaze of fire light up his groin, but either he kept missing it, or Deadpool's fingers couldn't reach it.

"More," he grunted out, gripping the arm of the couch tight. The muscles in his stomach were starting to burn from the effort of meeting each jab of Deadpool's hand, but he knew it was close and he wanted it.

"You got it!" Deadpool exclaimed, and the next push of his fingers brought a third digit that stretched Peter open almost painfully.

His jaw dropped open with his ragged inhale, and it almost sounded like Deadpool did the same thing. When he opened his eyes, it was to find Deadpool's head bowed and his own mouth open, apparently staring with great intensity at where his fingers were disappearing inside Peter's hole and reappearing in rapid order.

"I can't wait to be inside you, baby boy," Deadpool gasped. "You're so tight and pink and fuck you're hot. Holy shit." He sounded awed, like he was seeing one of the eight wonders of the world for the first time, and something about that made Peter's stomach twist.

"Then do it," he said. He wasn't close enough to being ready, not when Deadpool had only introduced a third finger a minute ago, but Peter was very suddenly anxious to get this experience over and done with. He wanted his orgasm and to kick Deadpool out, and he was prepared for it to happen in not necessarily that order.

"You're not ready, sweetheart," Deadpool murmured, even as his hand picked up its pace, making Peter's fingers clench tighter in the fabric of his couch and the suit top wrapped around his wrists. "Not bragging but I'm definitely a challenge for a size queen and there's no way you're loose enough. I'm not going to hurt you like that."

"I'm invoking the opposite of 'pancakes'," Peter ground out. He almost felt like a petulant teenager, pushing back against the rules set forth by the more knowledgeable adult, but he wanted Deadpool in and then out. He clenched tight around Deadpool's fingers, stilling them inside of him. In response, they started to wiggle back and forth and he squirmed at the weird, almost-ticklish sensation.


He raised his head and looked Deadpool in the mask-eye. "Fuck. Me." He made sure his voice was clear and his words enunciated, to be understood without question or protest.

Deadpool was silent for a moment, his fingers still moving about inside of Peter, loosening him even with the tension he was putting on his own muscles. "I will if you tell me your name," he finally said.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Peter sighed, exasperated beyond belief. He dropped his head back and stared up at the ceiling and wondered if it was really worth it after all.

Deadpool followed, settling his weight easily over Peter, the hard muscles of his stomach pressing down against Peter's cock which, by now, was fully hard against his stomach. Deadpool started rocking his hips in time with the thrusts of his hands and it almost felt like he was fucking Peter, and Peter fell into the rhythmic motion with his breath stuck in his throat. "Go ahead and tell me, baby boy," Deadpool murmured next to his ear. "You hate when I call you 'baby boy', and 'Spidey' is fun but not really in bed. I've got tons of other things I wanna call you that I know you'll hate, but it's your name I wanna say when I come in you, baby boy."

"Jesus fuck," Peter gasped. It wasn't fair that Deadpool could have such an effect on him when he didn't want him to. It wasn't fair that just a few words in the right octave could make his cock twitch and suffuse his spine with heat.

"Tell me, baby boy, and I'll keep it secret. I'll keep it safe. The One Ring in the Shire style. Tell me and I'll fuck you so good you'll think you dreamed it." Deadpool's sex voice hypnotic, the deep tone soft and cajoling, and Peter was falling into it before he could even figure out a way to safeguard against it.

"Peter," he choked out, his own name sounding foreign on his tongue. It sounded like a gift, like he was transferring ownership of it to Deadpool, and he didn't know how to stop it.

"Mmm, of course," Deadpool practically purred as he slowly sat up. Peter tried to stifle a sound of dissatisfaction in vain when the fingers in him pulled out, leaving him feeling irreparably empty. "My sweetie Petey-pie." There was the slick sound of Deadpool lubing himself up, and then the blunt head of his cock was resting against Peter's hole, feeling significantly larger than Deadpool's fingers had. "Keep loose and hold on tight, Peter." The 'r' of Peter's name seemed to rumble through Deadpool's chest like thunder and into Peter, making his shiver.

He went to respond, something witty and sarcastic and biting, but Deadpool was pressing inside and jesus fucking christ.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," Deadpool was chanting under his breath, a sentiment that Peter was very much reciprocating, if only in his mind.

Because Deadpool was massive. He'd said he was a challenge for a size queen and Peter hadn't taken him seriously, but he was now, when it was far too late. Peter felt like he was being split in half as each inch slid into him, excruciatingly slowly. He forgot how to breath as Deadpool's cock kept coming and coming, and there seemed to be no end to end to its length. It seemed so long that Peter was half-sure that he could feel it if he just pressed on his stomach hard enough.

It took Peter a moment, or a long time, he wasn't really sure, to realize that he could feel Deadpool's pelvis pressed against his ass. He was all the way in.

Deadpool dropped his fists to the couch on either side of Peter's ribs and bent his head to press his forehead to Peter's shoulder. "God, Petey, you're so tight," Deadpool was murmuring, the muscles in his stomach rippling against Peter's erection. "You're so amazing, holy shit you feel amazing."

Peter felt like replying with some snappy comment about biology and how of course he was tight around a cock as massive as Deadpool's, but he couldn't actually remember how to speak. He felt full in a way that he'd never felt before and didn't think anyone else would ever be able to make him feel again. It was painful and terrible addicting.

"Oh fuck, I need to move, baby boy. Can I?" Deadpool was asking, his body trembling over Peter's and the press of his hips into Peter's ass just a bit too hard. Even as he asked, his hips were shifting, little twitches like he had to stop himself from just going to town. Peter opened his mouth and he didn't think he actually said anything, but he must have made some sort of encouraging sound because Deadpool heaved a heavy sigh across his neck. "Thank fuck. Oh, Petey, I'm the best worst thing that hasn't happened to you yet, but I'm about to. Oh yeah, I'm so about to happen to you."

The first time Deadpool withdrew, it pulled all the air from Peter's lungs and left a void in his center. Then it all came rushing back when he pushed back into Peter, filling him and forcing him to breathe. In the beginning, each thrust was slow, steady, but firm, just short of hard. It made Peter want to scream and cry and pull his hair out from an overload of sensations, but he did none of that. What he did was hold tight to the arm of his couch and stare blankly at the ceiling as he tried not to lose his mind. Then Deadpool grabbed his hips, tugging him into a new angle, and Peter was lost.

"Fucking shit!" he shouted, curling in on himself as fire blazed through his nerves. He already wanted to come, wanted to feel that white-out of pleasure, and it had nothing to do with kicking Deadpool out.

"Fuck yes, baby boy," Deadpool replied in a low hiss, hips starting to pick up speed. The naked hand remained at Peter's waist, fingers tightening against his skin and fingernails creating pinpricks of pain that did nothing to dull the arousal blazing through his body. The other one, still gloved in leather, wrapped around his dick, grip tight and unmoving, keeping him from coming. He choked out a sort of sob and writhed, trying to buck off the restrictive grip. "No no no, not yet. We just got started, Petey. Let it build, it'll be so much better in the end, promise."

Peter tugged at the fabric wrapped around his wrists but he couldn't figure out how to get out of it. His mind was hazy and the only thing he could really focus on was his need to come, was Deadpool around and in him. He whined and tried to fuck himself down on Deadpool's cock, tried to hurry it up, but the hand at his waist was too steady, pinning him surely in place to keep him the mercy of Deadpool's hard, fast thrusts.

"Okay, okay. Soon, alright?" Deadpool panted. Either Peter was losing his mind, or Deadpool was fucking him faster and harder, the kind of pace that didn't seem possible. "It won't take me long, just let me get there. I wanna feel you come around me, baby boy. Fuck, I wanna see your face when you come. Please let me see your face, Petey," he begged, voice desperate, pleading. "Please please please let me see your face. I have to see it, baby boy. Please."

Peter clawed at the top of his head, the fabric of his mask getting caught on his fingertips and he pulled, feeling weak sunlight on his skin, and cool air rush over his face and through his sweaty, matted hair.





"Holy fuck, you're beautiful. Oh fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Oh my god, baby boy, you're gonna make me come," Deadpool gasped. "Ask me to let you come, and I'll let you. Holy shit I'll let you. Say my name, Petey."

Peter could hardly think at the moment, couldn't remember how to find his voice, and then there was a mouth against his, kissing him harshly, stealing his breath. He kissed back without a second thought, meeting the other tongue with his own, until it felt like he was going to suffocate and he had to turn his head away. The need to come was a fire that had spread through his whole body, restricted only by the a tight grasp of leather.

"C'mon, baby boy, say my name."

"Deadpool," he gasped, straining up against the body above him.

"Close but no cigar, sweetheart. Say my name," he demanded. It was that tone again, the one that said 'obey', the one Peter didn't want to disappoint.


"Fuck!" Deadpool's hips snapped forward, hitting Peter's prostate hard and making him arch off the couch, the wooden arm in his hands creaking in protest. "Yes, good boy. That's my good Spidey." There were tears in Peter's eyes from how badly he needed to come, how on the edge he was from Deadpool's brutal assault, the strange warmth in his belly at being told he was a 'good boy' just for calling the mercenary by his name.

"Say it again, Petey. Please. Ask me to come and say it again and I'll let you." Peter didn't know how to argue with that. More, he didn't want to.

"Please let me come, Wade!" he begged, head rolling back and forth, fingers tearing open his sofa arm. "Please Wade! Wade, Wade, Wade!"

"Yeah, that's it. Fuck that's it. Good boy," Deadpool murmured, his tight fist around Peter's cock starting to slide up and down his length. "Gonna make you come so hard."

The slight loosening of Deadpool's hand around his shaft and the electric stimulation of slick leather slipping over the damp tip of Peter's cock when combined with another harsh thrust of Deadpool's hips had Peter seeing stars. He was fairly certain Deadpool was saying something to him, but Peter couldn't hear much of anything over the rush in his ears as he came harder than he'd ever come in his life.

As it faded, he became aware of the ache in his shoulders and his abdomen, and of the soft kisses traded between heavy pants for breath. Deadpool's teeth were catching his lips with every exhale, and Deadpool's lips catching his with every inhale, until he was dizzy and boneless where he lay. He could still feel Deadpool inside him, a solid length of heat, keeping him full and open.

"Did you come?" he asked before he could stop himself. Sometimes his penchant for talking before thinking really got him in trouble, and he had a feeling it was going to happen a lot around Deadpool. As if he didn't have enough problems.

"Mmm," Deadpool hummed, mouth still apparently magnetically attracted to Peter's. There were fingers in his hair, alternatively combing through the damp strands and fisting them, keeping his head angled to Deadpool's preference. "So hard, Petey. Didn't wanna leave you yet though. Got hard again just watching you come. Fuck, you're so beautiful."

It was Peter's turn to hum and he closed his eyes and relaxed, let his body come back from the intense orgasm he'd just experienced, let himself just feel the way Deadpool was inside of him and how he was being petted. He still didn't like the man, could still feel the burn of his hatred in his chest, but he didn't want to move just yet. He was comfy and relaxed for the first time in years.

Wait. Petey. Hand in his hair. His eyes snapped open and he scrambled to touch his face but his wrists were still caught in his suit top.

"Get this off me now," he demanded, voice low and harsh as panic set in.

Deadpool seemed to frown behind his mask, but he did as instructed, freeing Peter's hand and sitting back on his heels, his cock still stuffing Peter's ass. Peter ignored that and ripped off his gloves, just to confirm, and could almost feel his heart explode in his chest in the realization that Deadpool had seen his face. Deadpool, legendary mercenary, self-proclaimed Merc with a Mouth, knew where Spider-Man lived, knew his name, knew his face.

"You took off my mask," he said hollowly, feeling the weight of the world crashing down around him.

"I asked you to take off your mask," Deadpool corrected, hands seemingly unnaturally still where they were resting on his thighs. "That was all you, Petey."

He'd done it? That was… Something niggled at his mind and he shook his head, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. "Don't-" he started and then stopped again. He pulled his hands from his face and glared up at Deadpool. The mercenary still seemed larger than life with his broad shoulders and excessive muscled and his weapons, and Peter was scared shitless of him, of the knowledge he held, and he hated him, for what he did, but he wasn't going to let that stop him.

"I swear to god," he said lowly, pointing a finger at Deadpool, because that's how someone knew you really meant what you were saying, "if you reveal my identity to anyone, I'll-"

A hand slapped over his mouth and he barely reigned in the temptation to bite it. He increased the force of his glare and poked Deadpool hard in the chest. Deadpool didn't react other than to use his other hand to uncurl Peter's fingers and then link their pinkies together.

"Spider-Man," Deadpool said, his voice unusually serious. "Peter-" and didn't Peter's heart thump faster from hearing his name on Deadpool's lips, "-baby boy. I already pinky promised you that you and your family didn't have anything to worry about from me. I don't know your last name and I didn't go snooping while I was here unsupervised. I don't care if some badass villain tries torturing me, they're never going to get anything from me. Not your name or the colour of your eyes," the hand on Peter's mouth shifted and the tip of a leather-clad finger traced under his eye, which also made Peter realize that the hand holding his was still gloveless, "or the way you sound when you come. I'll never give you up, no matter what."

Deadpool's mask was still rolled up to his nose too, revealing the mess that was his skin, the same mess covering the hand linked with his, and Deadpool's mouth was set in a firm line that seemed odd on him. Peter's heart was still pounding, he still hated Deadpool, and he was still terrified of his identity being revealed, but Deadpool's sincerity was almost convincing. Not that he could really do anything anyway. He didn't kill and Deadpool didn't die, and he couldn't go back in time to be more careful about who was following him home. He rolled his head to the side and watched the shadow of a cloud pass over the sun across his wood floors. The hand across his mouth fell away, sliding down to his throat, palming it, but he found that he wasn't afraid of what the mercenary would do next. And that scared him more than anything else.

"Fine," he finally said. "Now get out."

Deadpool stayed silent for a long moment, and then he ducked down and kissed Peter, long and slow. Peter allowed it, but he didn't exactly reciprocate, and Deadpool pulled back a moment later, hovering just above Peter's mouth so every exhale was a warm breeze over Peter's face. "Whatever you want, baby boy."

When he stood, his dick slipped out of Peter, along with a trickle of cum that made Peter realize the mercenary hadn't used a condom. As Deadpool tucked said dick away, Peter also realized that, while he'd been stripped, Deadpool was still fully dressed, weapons and all. Peter rolled over to face the back of his couch, showing Deadpool his back which, normally, would make him feel exposed if he'd shown anyone else his back. Somehow, just like with his Spidey-sense, no alarms went off and the tension slowly started easing from his muscles.

A gloved hand landed gently on his ribs, making him tense again, and slid down to his hip. It paused there for a few moments, and then continued down his leg until it fell away at his ankle. He didn't even hear the larger man move, but a moment later, Deadpool's voice drifted to him from near his front door.

"Catch you around, Petey."

The door closed, leaving Peter alone with his thoughts until he drifted off to sleep, naked on his couch, hole sore and stretched and leaking Deadpool's cum.