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“Come on!” Gwen whined. “It’s my birthdayyy! It’s not even that far of a drive. Like, eight hours or something.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and typed quickly. “Six hours! Come on, Pete! The city will survive one weekend without you. It did for many years before Spider-Man came to the rescue.” She gave him a pointed look.
“Okay, okay.” Peter groaned. “I’ll go, but only because I love you.”
“Yes!” Gwen leapt forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I’m texting MJ and Harry to let them know you’re in. No backing out now.”
“Scout’s honor.” Peter smiled, shaking his head.
He lounged back on Gwen’s bed while she pulled out approximately thirty five different outfits and asked his opinion on each one. As usual, he told her she looked beautiful in all of them.
Gwen groaned. “Pete, come on. I need some help here. Tell me which one are the best.”
“I dunno, Gwen.” He shrugged. “Just ‘cause I’m out doesn’t mean I magically gained some sort of fashion sense. Have you seen how I dress myself?”
“Fair. Very fair.” Gwen nodded.
Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. “Green dress, white shoes, grab a white sweater thing or something.”
Gwen squealed, grabbing the things he had listed. “See! I knew you had it in you!” She kissed his cheek again as she leaned down next to him to toss the clothes in her bag. “What are you bringing?”
“I dunno, a change of underwear?” Peter shrugged.
Gwen put her face in her hands. “Bring those skinny jeans you never ever wear that make your butt look amazing. The ones MJ picked out.”
“Whatever you say. Where are we going anyway?”
“The drinking age in Canada is 18, Pete! We’re getting blasted.” Gwen laughed.
Peter, Gwen, MJ, and Harry all tossed their bags down on the floor of their hotel room. As a surprise for Gwen’s birthday, Harry had found the nicest hotel in downtown Montreal and had booked their biggest room. Gwen darted around, looking out all of the enormous windows at the city lights below them. She paused at the nightstand next to one of the two enormous beds and picked up a piece of paper.
“Hey guys,” She called out across the hotel room. “I think I figured out where we’re going.”
She turned the flyer around, showing them a brightly rainbow colored piece of paper. Giant rainbow, glitter letters read ‘FIRST EVER RAINBOW NIGHT’. The smaller text below it read ‘Sister Margaret’s Home for Wayward Girls’ and gave an address. Gwen handed the flyer off to Peter, who was mildly amused by just how many teddy bears and unicorns were printed on the very colorful page. She pulled out her phone and typed a bunch into it.
“Oh my God, this is so cool!” She turned her phone around so they could see it. “It used to be like one of those nun orphanages and now it’s a bar!”
“I don’t know if that’s awesome or creepy.” Harry quirked an eyebrow at her.
MJ nudged him with her elbow. “If that’s what you wanna do tonight, let’s do it.”
“I’m in,” Peter shrugged. Something about being so far away from home made him feel much more confident than he would usually be. Here, no one knew puny Peter Parker. They only knew whoever he presented himself as. It gave him a slight thrill, thinking about it.
Gwen clapped her hands together. “I’m gonna get dressed. Peter, you brought those pants I told you to, right?”
Peter nodded. “Of course. Can’t risk upsetting the birthday girl.”
The four of them broke off to their respective suitcases and started changing into their chosen outfits. Gwen wore the dress and heels that Peter had picked out for her. It made him smile slightly to know that she valued his opinion so highly. She really did look gorgeous in them. He wondered if he might have had a crush on her if he had been born straight. MJ had brought a simple glittery tank top and tight leather pants. She made Peter help her button herself into them, joking about how she wouldn’t be drinking tonight because if she had to pee there was no way that those pants were going back on. Harry, as usual, wore a plain white tee shirt and a pair of jeans.
By the time the girls had finished their hair and makeup, it was nearly 11pm and completely dark outside. They caught an Uber to the bar and were all equally shocked to find that it really did look like an old orphanage. They entered to find the bar itself thrumming with bass and rainbow lights bouncing off all of the walls.
“We’re gonna go see if we can sit at a table,” Harry said loudly, gesturing to himself and MJ. “Both of you, be careful and let me know if you’re going home with somebody.”
Peter smiled at Harry’s protectiveness of them. He nodded, watching them disappear into the crowd of tight spandex-clad men and gorgeous women. Gwen linked arms with Peter, pulling him to the bar. She turned around, resting her elbows on the bar so she could watch the dance floor. Peter’s gaze drifted down the bar to a man in what looked like a black and red leather suit. It reminded him very much of his own that he had left at home.
“See something you like?” Gwen purred in his ear. “Go introduce yourself.” She pushed his lower back slightly.
Peter bit his lower lip, turning back to her. “What do I even say?”
“Start with ‘wanna dance’ and move on from there.” She laughed, giving him another slight nudge. “Go on. Let loose.”
Peter took a few steps down the bar before turning back to look at Gwen, who responded with a shooing motion of her hands. He took a deep breath before turning back and walking up to the man he had been eyeing.
“You look familiar.” Peter sat down on a barstool next to the leather-clad mystery man. “Some guy from my hometown likes to swing around in a suit like that. Calls himself Spider-Man.”
The man cocked his head at Peter and Peter swore that the eyes of his suit blinked. “What’s a kid from New York doing way up on this side of the border?” His voice was low and gravelly. It sent a shiver down Peter’s spine.
“It’s my friend’s birthday, so we came up here to get ‘legally blasted’,” Peter made air quotes with his fingers. “How did you know I was from New York?”
The man in the mask cocked his head to one side. “I keep up with superhero news. Especially when the super in question has such a wonderful little bubble butt.”
Peter felt his face turn bright red. “So you’re like, a hero fetishist?”
“Hero fetishist, fetishist hero.” The man shrugged. “I do my own thing. Don’t kinkshame me.”
“No shame here.” Peter laughed, putting his hands up in mock surrender. “So uh, you wanna dance?” He tipped his head towards the dance floor.
The mask blinked several times and this time Peter was sure he had seen it. He tried to think of a casual way to ask how the fuck he did that, but couldn’t come up with a good excuse. “You know I’m dangerous.” The man finally spoke.
“Nice to meet you, Dangerous. I’m Peter.” Peter snapped back without thinking.
A snort came from under the mask followed by long, hearty laughter. “Alright, Peter.” He finally spoke. “Just for that dad joke. Let’s dance. You can call me Deadpool.” He stood up from his barstool and towered nearly a foot taller than Peter and possibly twice as wide.
Peter swallowed down the slight intimidation, looking up at the man. “Is that your stripper name?”
“You sure are sassy for a little thing.” Deadpool shook his head, the eyes of the mask narrowing.
Peter reached forward and took Deadpool’s hand, leading him to the middle of the dance floor. The man followed him quietly, keeping his eyes on the ground. They passed Gwen, who gave Peter an encouraging wink over the shoulder of the girl she was pressed up against. He smiled and winked back at her. Peter stopped on the edge of the dance floor, close to a wall. The song that was playing had deep repeating bass notes and a slower beat. He pressed his back into Deadpool’s chest, realizing that he only came up to about the man’s shoulder and only if he was standing on his toes. Something about being so much smaller sent shivers down Peter’s spine. He let his hands find their way behind him to wrap lightly around the back of Deadpool’s neck. Deadpool’s hands rested on his hips.
Standing slightly on his toes, Peter pressed their bodies together. He allowed himself to move rhythmically against Deadpool in time with the music. Despite his voice and outward appearance, Deadpool’s hands were gentle where they rested on him. Peter knew that if he wanted to, he could pull away at any time. Part of him appreciated the gesture, while part of him wished Deadpool would just grab him and grind against him. To try to make that point, he arched his back and pressed his ass back into Deadpool’s crotch. He heard the sharp exhale from behind the mask, but there was no other indication that he had had any effect on the mysterious man. It drove Peter crazy to know that he was having an effect on Deadpool, even if he wasn’t acting on it.
They continued to dance for a few more songs. The longer they danced, the more Peter wanted to meet the man behind the mask. Something about the way that his hands moved over Peter’s sides set his skin on fire. He turned his body around, standing all the way on his toes to kiss the cheek of the mask. It tasted metallic and smelled vaguely of smoke. Something about the combination had Peter’s stomach doing excited flips.
“You know,” Peter spoke into Deadpool’s ear. “It would be much easier to kiss you without the mask in the way.”
Deadpool shook his head. “Mask stays on. Trust me, baby boy. It’s better this way.”
Peter shook his head slightly, but decided to let it go. Instead, he placed both his hands on Deadpool’s cheeks and pressed his lips against where his mouth should have been under the mask. He assumed he had hit the mark, since Deadpool’s hands finally tightened around his waist, pulling his body against him. Peter smiled against the mask, pulling away slightly to look into Deadpool’s eyes. Or rather, the large white eyes of the mask. It still surprised him how expressive the mask was. Deadpool’s hands drifted down to cup his ass, keeping their bodies pressed tight together. Peter responded with a slight roll of his hips. The motion elicited a deep growl from behind Deadpool’s mask.
“How about pants?” Peter said into Deadpool’s ear again. “Do those need to stay on too?” He pulled back to watch the mask’s expression.
Deadpool’s eyes went wide. “Your pants can go any time, baby boy.”
“Your place?” Peter blinked up at the larger man.
“Wait.” Deadpool’s hands fell off of Peter’s ass. “How old are you exactly? I haven’t seen you drink anything. You’re legal, right? I’m not into kids.”
“I’m eighteen.” Peter reassured him. “You can check my ID if you want.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and flipped it open, handing it over.
Deadpool stared down at his license for several long moments, as if he was shocked that Peter had handed it to him. “Okay, Peter Parker.” Deadpool handed it back. “You’re mine.”
Peter smiled widely. “Let me tell my friends I’m going home with someone. You know, just in case you murder me.” He winked at Deadpool as he pulled his phone out, shooting off a group text to Gwen, MJ, and Harry. “Alright. Let’s go.” Peter grabbed Deadpool’s hand again.
Deadpool paused for a moment before leading Peter to the exit and calling a cab. He gave the cabbie his address, then turned back to Peter. Peter watched the eyes of the mask for some sort of hint as to what the man behind it was thinking. He wondered if it should bother him that he had no idea who his date actually was. He decided that no, not knowing who Deadpool was under the mask was part of the appeal. They pulled up outside of a somewhat run-down apartment building. Deadpool exited the cab first, with Peter close behind. The neighborhood was quiet and reminded Peter a little bit of home. He slipped his hand into Deadpool’s and followed him up the stairs to his apartment.
They had barely made it through the door when Peter pushed Deadpool against the wall slightly harder than he had meant to. He hoped that it was still within the realm of ‘normal people’ strong and not crossing over into ‘super strong’. He stood on his toes and pressed his lips against the mask again. Deadpool’s hands found their way up under his shirt, tugging it off over his head. A slight hiss came from under the mask.
“Sweet Jesus.” Deadpool whispered. “You’re gorgeous, baby boy.”
Peter blushed a deep pink. “Wish I could say the same for you. You sure we can’t take any of this off?” He ran his hands over Deadpool’s chest.
Deadpool sighed softly and shook his head. “The more that stays on, the better.”
“Blindfold me.” Peter blurted out before he could think.
“Excusez-moi?” Deadpool sounded shocked. The mask blinked several times. “Could you repeat that, baby boy?”
Peter bit his lip. “Blindfold me. That’s why you don’t want to take it off, right? Your ‘secret identity’.” he made air quotes around the words, “So blindfold me.”
“Kinky fuck.” Deadpool breathed.
Deadpool reached down to the floor where he had dropped Peter’s shirt and picked it up. He tied it carefully around Peter’s eyes, making sure that everything was dark. Peter could feel his heart pounding in his chest, wondering what he had gotten himself into. Before he could think too hard on it, though, Deadpool’s hand was on his cheek. It felt heavily calloused, like he was someone who did a lot of work with his hands. Peter relaxed into the touch, sighing softly. Deadpool’s mouth came down on his and his lips felt chapped. They were rough against Peter’s much softer mouth, but Deadpool kissed gently. Peter, however, did not. His hands came up to Deadpool’s shoulders, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Peter bit into Deadpool’s lower lip lightly, letting his tongue slide over it. Deadpool’s hand fell away from his face and came to rest on his ass along with his other hand. He lifted Peter easily off of the floor. Peter gasped slightly, surprised at the sheer strength that Deadpool possessed, before wrapping his legs around the larger man’s waist.
Peter could tell that Deadpool was moving somewhere, especially since he didn’t sound too graceful about it. Several things seem to fall off of shelves or get kicked over before they stopped and Peter felt himself being set down on a bed. The mattress dipped under his weight as he untangled his legs from around Deadpool. He brought his hands down to his zipper, mentally cursing himself and Gwen for the fact that he was wearing the skinniest of skinny jeans. Deadpool’s hands touched his ankle, helping him tug his pants and boxers off. Peter knew he was hard already, but being unable to see Deadpool’s expression at seeing him naked had him feeling self-conscious.
“Wow.” Deadpool finally sighed.
Peter released the breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding. He heard Deadpool fumbling with something and then the click of a plastic cap. Slight moans echoed around the room and Deadpool’s calloused hand came down to Peter’s cock covered in lube. Peter let out a long whine. The callouses added a new feeling to being jerked off that he had never experienced since his own hands were incredibly soft by comparison. His hands gripped into the sheets, pulling them off the corners of the bed. It wasn’t long before Deadpool’s hand was gone and Peter was left panting and trembling.
Deadpool’s weight on the mattress shifted and Peter felt his knees come down on either side of his own thighs. A calloused hand guided his cock into Deadpool’s already lubed ass. The weight of the larger man rested on his hips. He let his hands move down the bed, searching for Deadpool’s thighs to grip in to. Deadpool grabbed his wrists, one in each hand. He brought them back up over Peter’s head, holding them both in one of his large hands. His hips bounced on Peter’s cock, drawing out stuttered moans from both of them. Peter’s back arched, pressing his wrists against Deadpool’s hand. Deadpool bounced his hips frantically.
“Oh God, baby boy.” Deadpool moaned next to his ear. “So good.”
With an especially loud moan, Peter felt the muscles inside of Deadpool gripping tightly onto his cock. He felt the hot come land on his chest and his own cock began to pulse inside of the larger man. He stuttered out a long, whiny moan. His teeth sank into his own bottom lip, so hard he could taste blood. Once their orgasms had faded, Deadpool’s weight disappeared from Peter’s hips. He heard quick movements of fabric and zippers before Deadpool’s gloved hand was at the back of his head, untying his makeshift blindfold. Peter blinked into the light coming in from the window from a street lamp outside.