Work Text:
『Well, that didn’t last very long. So much for being good.』
「No, no, no, no! Shit, fuck, fucking shit!」
Wade had gotten a teensy bit blown up, and he was panicking. Not about being blown up — he’d been blown up so many times that he’d lost count. Getting blown up was so not a big deal. Getting blown up was a minor inconvenience in the life of one Wade Winston Wilson.
The problem lay in the fact that he’d gotten blown up in such a way that his insides were now mostly his outsides. More importantly, he wasn’t wearing Peter’s cage. Well, it was probably still attached to his dick, but his dick definitely wasn’t attached to the rest of him anymore.
“Deadpool, what’s your status? Do you copy? Over,” snapped Agent May. A piece of what looked like undercooked menudo slid down the wall.
Right, he still had a job to do. “You gotta warn a dude before you send him in to be a landmine rat! We are so not locked and loaded, Agent Mulan,” he croaked, forcing cheer into his voice. Deadpool always got up again. “This place is booby-trapped as shit. Over.”
“Repeat, landmines? Over.” Agent May sounded surprised. That wasn’t the most auspicious of signs.
“Captain Rogers that,” Wade confirmed. What was left of his legs and spine had stitched back together enough that he could drag himself into the shadow of the bunker’s east wall. “Don’t worry, I think I disabled or cleared out all the tricky ones. T-minus 10 minutes to breach. Over.”
“Confirmed. Waiting on your signal, Deadpool. Over and out.” The hiss of the commlink in Wade’s ear went silent.
Luckily, the remainder of the mission fared far better. Maybe the sight of Deadpool coming in with katanas and regenerating dick swinging was more than this particular group of HYDRA goons was psychologically prepared to (ahem) handle. Doing a little scream therapy while he channeled his anxiety through a sword sure helped Wade.
In any case, the mercenary handily cleared the way for the SHIELD agents he was being contracted to assist. He brought them and whatever Flash-Drive of Science (patent pending) they needed back to the jet for a debrief with Agent May in one piece. Well, all of them in one piece, at any rate. One of May’s science geeks had even taken the trouble to find a spare pair of sweats for Wade to pull on when he climbed aboard.
Rather than listen to the debrief (What was the point of being a contractor if he was going to get pulled into meetings that could have been an email after every mission?), Wade settled in for a nap as they headed back to base. Getting blown up sure took it out of a guy.
That was definitely the reason he’d been avoiding patrolling with Spider-Man since he got back. It definitely wasn’t because he was ashamed that he’d failed so dismally when Peter asked him to be good while he was away for less than a week. Sure, he hadn’t actually touched his dick the whole time, but he couldn’t exactly prove that considering the whole damn cage had been blown to bits with the rest of him. Wade wasn’t exactly confident that he had given Peter any good reason to trust his word.
So yeah, totally not avoiding Spider-Man. Just getting some well-deserved R&R that was totally not being ruined with an anxiety attack every time he popped a un-cage-hindered boner thinking about Peter.
「He lied.」
『Like a liar.』
He should have known Spider-Man would catch up to him eventually.
Wade flicked on the light in his apartment, the dingy yellow glow deepening the shadows at the corners of the room and highlighting the mound of takeout trash slowly growing on his coffee table. He wasn’t so great at keeping his shit together on his own. That was something he’d conveniently forgotten without someone around to give him structure. With a sigh, Wade wandered into the kitchen to put away the bag of groceries that was slowly ripping down the side with every step. He kicked off his flip-flops into the pile of slippers and combat boots by the door as he passed.
He didn’t have the chance to do more than place the bag down before the spiderling plaguing his thoughts dropped down from the shadowed corner of the ceiling. Spider-Man landed on his feet and straightened, so he and Wade were almost eye-to-reflective lenses before pulling off the mask.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Whaaaat? That’s so crazy. Why would I do that?” Wade asked in an oddly high voice, turning on the ball of his foot to start sorting through the groceries. Damn, he’d forgotten to get those icing-free Pop-Tarts that Peter stole every time he came over. Nothing to distract him with, then.
“You’ve been avoiding me, and you’re a shitty liar,” Peter confirmed. He dropped the webbed, red mask on the grimy tile counter. His lithe, gloved fingers strayed perilously close to Wade’s hands as they fumbled with sorting items pulled from the paper bag. “Did I do something wrong? Did I make you uncomfortable before you left for your mission?”
“How did you know I was avoiding you?” Wade expertly avoided answering the question.
“I’ve checked on your place every day since you left. And since you came back.”
“Oh.” Wade tore along the creases of the grocery bag, sorting the resulting polygons into random piles. “I missed you too.”
“So, what did I do? Did I screw something up when we scened? Was bringing you to my place too much?” Peter picked up a brown paper square from one of Wade’s piles and started shredding it.
“No, you were — It was great.” Fucking Peter and his fucking martyr complex. Everything had to be his fault.
Pudding packs and crackers were shelf-stable. Wade decided they could wait on the counter while he handled whatever shit-fest he’d landed himself into with this one. “Hey, let’s play some Animal Crossing. There are some new fish that I haven’t had the chance to catch, and you left your Switch here.”
Peter’s shoulders drooped noticeably. “Okay, Wade. That sounds good,” he sighed. Great, he was going to make Wade do all the hard work.
“Go put some pajamas on or something. Just looking at you in all that sweaty spandex is making me itchy.” It was making Wade want to tear all that skintight material right off him and get on his knees so Peter could fuck his face until he cried, let Peter manhandle him until he could tell Wade they were fine, but that was beside the point. Peter hadn’t even tried to kiss him.
Wade pulled Peter’s Switch off the charger, then dropped onto the couch with his own device. He tried valiantly not to think about Peter getting naked in his bedroom, putting on Wade’s too-big gym shorts and soft cotton t-shirts that had even a buff guy like his — his whatever-they-were absolutely swimming in excess material. Well, the one upside to getting his dick blown off was that when they had their inevitable blow-out over Wade breaking one of the few rules of their not-relationship, he’d be spared from the delicate dance of avoiding The Talk™.
Peter returned from the bedroom, thankfully neither naked nor still running around in that positively indecent spandex. He settled in next to Wade, leaning over him to grab his Switch and making himself comfortable against Wade’s shoulder while it updated.
Wade squirmed away as subtly as he could. He concentrated harder on collecting shells and night-fishing instead of the way Peter’s warmth and his slightly sweaty post-patrol scent made his heart race.
Peter nuzzled his shoulder and wiggled closer. “Missed you,” he sighed, warm breath caressing Wade’s arm and making him shiver.
“Whew! Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” Wade said. He dropped his Switch on the cushion next to him and straightened as if to get up and crank the thermostat.
“Wade.”
“I know; who can tell what season we’re in with this purposefully vague timeline, amirite?”
“Wade.” A noise of exasperation.
“Feels like it’s been months since I saw the Spider-Cave!” He stood up.
“Wade, sit.”
He sat.
“On the floor by my feet. Face me.”
He slid to the ground and crawled between Peter’s spread thighs. He hated himself for how easy it was to breathe once he gave in, like the weight of the last couple of weeks had been lifted off his chest. He hated himself for kneeling like he was worth something and gazing up at Peter like he hadn’t fucked up and then ran away from him.
“There we go,” Peter said, voice going soft and mild. He pushed Wade’s hood back and pet his bare scalp. His fingers skirted the edges of scabs and tender spots with knowledge born of hours mapping Wade’s body. A dry kiss brushed against his bared forehead. “How ‘bout I help your brain quiet down, big guy?” It wasn’t really a question.
Wade nodded in the affirmative anyway. This was always easy between them. He let out a controlled breath as Peter tugged his borrowed gym shorts down under his balls. Even soft, the glimpse of Peter’s cock before it was hidden by the oversized shirt as he leaned forward made Wade’s mouth water.
“You gonna be a good boy for me?”
Wade opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. When Peter quirked one dark eyebrow, he stuck his tongue out as far as it would comfortably go. When Peter’s eyebrow quirked more deeply, he stretched his tongue out until his frenulum was dragging painfully against his teeth.
“Yeah, there we go,” Peter said in approval. He pressed his palm against the back of Wade’s head until he tilted forward, catching himself against the couch cushion before he mashed his face nose-first into Peter’s sweaty sack (not that he would have complained about that).
Peter eased Wade down until his tongue was pressed against the underside of his soft cock. “Hands behind your back,” came the soft reminder, as if Wade hadn’t done this exactly the way they both liked it a hundred times.
Wade shuffled restlessly, spreading his knees wider and shifting his weight back and then forward again, but complied. Peter was being awfully soft with him — too soft, softer than he needed, softer than he deserved. He gripped his left wrist in his right hand and ran his tongue along the underside of Peter’s cock.
“Nah-ah-ah!” Peter chastised. “If you get me hard, it’ll be that much more difficult to breathe while you’re down there. C’mon, keep me warm.”
Wade sank down onto Peter’s cock. It was difficult not to start sucking when Peter was soft and small and only skin-warm in Wade’s mouth, to run his tongue along squishy, tender flesh that he was much more familiar with when it was hard and thick. His jaw cracked while opening wide enough to take it down his throat without too many teeth. (It made him a little hot to think about the way that sometimes Peter would beg for a little edge of teeth when he got close, the thrill it gave him to feel a moment of dangerous power over someone he wanted to be beneath whenever they were together.)
A groan sounded almost torn from Peter’s throat as he gently rocked his hips a few times. His cock grew in Wade’s mouth, forcing it open. “Yeah, just like that.”
It was enough to send a shiver down Wade’s spine and make him realize how hard his dick was getting. He flexed his thighs, squeezing them together to try to hide it. His grip on his own wrist tightened reflexively, painfully. While he had no plans to physically pleasure himself in any way, he was anxiously aware that his arousal and failure would be prominently apparent if he couldn’t keep himself under control.
Peter sat back to direct his attention back on his Switch. His cock slowly softened in Wade’s mouth as he focused on the game, a tiny dribble of pre-come leaking out salty and slick across Wade’s tongue. Wade hummed along to the Animal Crossing music a bit, stopping when Peter swatted him lightly on the shoulder.
They sat like that, ache creeping across Wade’s jaw and then fading as his quick-healing cells restored themselves from the lactic acid burn of overworked muscle until Wade was almost dozing. The cool tingle of his feet going numb became a counterpoint to probing pain in his knees and ankles from resting his weight on them. His skin ached as always, Peter’s cock stretching his lips until drool pooled in the cracking corners and split skin, sweat dripping in burning rivulets down his neck and back, fabric scraping tender spots raw with every tiny movement that kept him balanced. Even so, Wade’s breath deepened and slowed as he settled comfortably in his own wreck of a body for the first time since he’d gotten exploded. He relaxed and let himself be whatever Peter wanted him to be.
“Missed your mouth, big guy.” Peter’s voice was strained, something that looked like want cracking through the calm exterior he’d maintained for long enough to care for his little digital village. “Missed it a lot. Gonna fuck your pretty face now.”
The promising thud of the Switch dropping against the couch cushion had Wade moaning low in his throat. He repeated the sound as he felt Peter growing in his mouth again. Despite the intensity promised by his words, Peter started out slow, like he was re-tracing Wade’s boundaries, what he could take and where he wanted Peter to push him past that.
Nonetheless, it was only a short time before Peter stopped to kick off his shorts and thrust into Wade’s mouth in earnest. “Fuck, you feel so good! How long were you gonna keep this from me, huh?”
He couldn’t answer around the hard length pressing his tongue down, though he tried. He gagged on a particularly hard shove of the cock down his throat when he tried to make any noise in response. Peter held his head in place with both hands, not letting him pull away even as his body jerked reflexively back. Fuck yeah, that was the good stuff.
“C’mon, I’m gonna fuck that throat, and you’re gonna take it like a good little toy.”
Wade couldn’t even move enough to nod, but he opened watering eyes wide and looked up at Peter, hoping to convey his eagerness. He drooled and coughed and gagged, unable to take a full breath or wipe the tears streaming from his eyes as Peter used him. Christ, he could almost come from the friction in his jeans if Peter kept using him like this.
“Did you miss my dick?” Peter asked.
Wade groaned in the affirmative. He did his best to nod with his head forced back and his throat used as a fleshlight. His strong tongue worked against the underside of Peter’s cock as best it could, caressing and protecting him from the threat of teeth that accompanied every rough movement.
“Did you miss me?” Well, that wasn’t fair. Peter didn’t let up on thrusting into Wade’s mouth. “Did you miss me, Wade? I fucking missed you, you… you fakakta asshole! I got worried about you,” he panted. Peter pushed Wade onto his back next to the trash-covered coffee table and knelt over him, then fed his cock between Wade’s lips inch by glorious inch.
Wadę groaned, then choked and spluttered as Peter took the opportunity to snap his hips forward, smooth sack dragging against Wade’s chin as he thrust into his willing mouth. He made no move to wriggle away from the hard use, but he did take the opportunity to grasp and stroke at the trim, muscled body above him.
“You better have missed me, ya jerk. Jesus fuck, I really needed your tongue.”
With that prompting, Wade pressed the strong, slick muscle against the underside of Peter’s cockhead on the next slide in, pressing it against the roof of his mouth before it forced past and down his throat, probably bruising his tongue as it was pinned between his teeth and the hard length.
Peter shuddered and moaned, fingers sticking to Wade’s scalp where he’d been holding on for dear life. Wade was yanked off Peter’s cock, and then the other man was straddling his stomach. Peter pushed his arms above his head and held his wrists against the carpet with one strong hand. “Tell me you missed me, Wade,” he demanded breathlessly.
He didn’t give the man pinned beneath him the chance to respond before he was kissing him fiercely, tongue exploring every inch of Wade’s mouth that he could reach. Soft bites and wet, sucking kisses were tracked across Wade’s jaw and down his neck, Peter tearing aside the collar of Wade’s sweatshirt to mark his collarbones, his shoulders. He slowly made his way back up until he was kissing and nibbling at Wade’s ear. The noises that sounded torn from his throat were heaven-sent. Wade was dizzy with it, being used and pushed around and now doted on with attention.
“I missed you, Wade, I missed you. Fuck you, I missed you so fucking much.” Peter’s voice was thick with some emotion as he murmured in Wade’s ear between kisses. The more petite man slid down further along Wade’s body, nudging Wade’s thighs apart with his knees and grinding his stiff, bare cock against Wade’s fly.
Wade still didn’t say anything. He tried to inch away, to push Peter off, anything so he wouldn’t feel the lack of steel cage that should have pressed back and the hot, hard length of his dick trapped against his thigh instead. He could feel Peter warm and inviting against him, and he’d never wanted a lover to touch his dick less.
Whatever he felt, Peter ignored it, kissing Wade and tugging his top and sweatshirt up to tangle around his pinned wrists. His tongue ran in a searing path down Wade’s chest, teasingly circling a misshapen nipple and then back up around a ropey scar that spanned Wade’s sternum. “Tell me you fucking missed me, Wade,” he demanded. “Tell me you fucking missed me while you were avoiding me.” He bit Wade’s neck, almost hard enough to break the skin.
“Fuck, Pete!” Wade yelped and arched against him, dick twitching and leaking pre-come into his boxers. “Yeah, yeah, I missed you.” He sagged back to the floor in defeat. “Baby boy, I’m sorry, I missed you.”
Just like that, Peter was kneeling over his face again, balls ghosting against Wade’s lips. “Yeah, that’s right, you fucking missed me while you were off moping, you schmuck .”
“You’ve been hanging out with Feter Grimm too much,” Wade gasped out.
“Don’t talk about Ben when you’re licking my balls, perv.”
“Don’t call me a pretty moron when you want me to lick your balls, weirdo.”
“Then open your fucking mouth,” Peter challenged, getting up and turning so his perfect ass was blocking Wade’s sight and Wade’s mouth and nose were slowly smothered.
Wade obeyed, relieved that they were razzing each other like normal while Peter pushed him around and made him good. He gave the same tender attention to Peter’s sack that he’d been giving his cock while it was soft, sucking and licking and rolling them in his mouth while Peter jerked off above him.
“You always look so good with your mouth full of me.” Wade could feel Peter’s weight shift above him, hear him reaching for something off to the side. His back arched as Wade licked behind his balls, tongue splayed and reaching.
He leaned forward, letting Wade taste and smell every inch he could get his tongue on, closer and closer to that pretty, pink asshole Peter only let him touch when he was very, very good. He wasn’t even holding Wade down anymore, allowing the tangled sweatshirt and their positions to do that for him. Then, without warning, deft fingers were opening Wade’s fly and shoving his jeans down. His dick sprang free of its denim prison, bobbing in the relatively cool air. Wade froze beneath him.
Well, that had been nice while it lasted. He’d gotten one last taste of Peter that he hadn’t thought he would get and knew he didn’t deserve. Still, Peter didn’t let him up or even give him the room to remove his tongue from where it had been making a promising trail toward Peter’s hole.
“Idiot,” Peter said, but it sounded fond. “I visit Reed’s lab on a regular basis. I read all of Jemma’s papers so Sue and I can talk about them. You think I’ve never been up in the Baxter building when FitzSimmons comes looking for a little outside input from the team that goes to space all the time? You think I’m not gonna use my in with them to make sure my guy is doing okay on his mission?”
Something in Peter’s hands clinked.
Wade tried to say something, but his words were muffled against Peter’s skin. The smaller man graciously lifted himself so Wade could breathe and try again. “What are we doing?”
“Do you still wanna be good for me? Are you still my big guy?”
“Yeah?”
“Is that a question or an answer?”
Wade hadn’t cried outside of a scene since The Divorce with Nate. He thought he might be about to break that streak. “Yeah. An answer. Yeah.”
Peter climbed off him. “Then be good for me, pretty boy.” His face was soft as he resettled between Wade’s legs. “Let me put you away.” He flashed what he was holding at Wade. He caught the overall shape of the smooth steel device, a fitted tube instead of bars that was clearly designed for long-term wear.
“Please,” Wade gasped.
Long fingers wrapped around his cock, pumping it a couple of times. Wade’s balls drew up, and he whined. “Oh,” Peter said softly. “You were good for me while you were moping, weren’t you?”
Wade nodded. He couldn’t talk anymore, the rapid ups and downs of the evening finally carrying him away to somewhere he could be biddable and pliant for Peter.
His little spiderling grinned with too many teeth. A sudden slap to his dick had a high noise winding its way out of the back of Wade’s throat. “ Good boy ,” Peter crooned. “Time to put my toy away now.” He slapped Wade’s dick again, a resounding smack that echoed in Wade’s ears, and squeezed his balls.
At first, it only served to wind him up higher with every sharp sting and each threat that made him flinch. His dick reddened with slap after slap, his balls clenched in Peter’s tight, firm grip so they couldn’t draw up any higher. He begged for Peter to touch him, to stop, to make him hurt, to please let it end already.
Finally, blessedly, Peter’s game passed the threshold of pleasurable torture and into good, clean pain. Mercifully, he started to soften instead. As soon as his dick was shrunken down enough, cool steel wrapped around its base and behind his balls, and then he was locked away entirely, where he belonged. He wasn’t prepared for the feeling of relief it brought even though he was still hard enough for it to hurt.
“Doesn’t that feel better?”
“ Yes ,” Wade sighed. He didn’t have to worry about that anymore. It belonged to Peter.
“Do you want me to fuck you now?” Peter’s eyes were hungry as they riveted on the cage.
“ Please .”
“So polite,” Peter noted. “But I’m not sure you’ve made it up to me yet.”
“How can I…?” It was getting hard to think clearly enough to string sentences together. Without the weight of wrongdoing and responsibility on his shoulders, Wade could almost float away.
“Take your clothes off and come here.” Peter stood up, only to flop back into his seat on the couch.
Wade complied as quickly as he could, kicking off his jeans and boxers as he scooted across the ground. He sat between Peter’s solid thighs and stripped off his shirt.
“C’mon, get in position,” Peter coaxed, so Wade uncrossed his legs and knelt properly at Peter’s feet with his weight settled back on his calves and ankles. “Open up.”
His cock was hard, this time, as Wade parted his lips and sank down onto it. The heavy weight on his tongue was grounding, even as he took the entire length in his mouth and worked to breathe around it. As Peter picked up his Switch and woke it up, Wade realized that he would likely be in that position for a long time yet. He didn’t mind.
“I love taking you apart and putting you back together. Nothing else makes me feel so—so centered. Put together. In control when I’m not out there being him,” Peter said, breaking the quiet. He meant Spider-Man, of course. Peter had a total complex about the confidence he gained from hiding behind a mask, as if that wasn’t a nigh-universal trait of the human species. “You know that I need this too, right? That I want to make the time to be here, doing this with you?”
Wade made a noise low in his throat, nodding around Peter’s cock. His Spider-Dom sure knew how to give a guy the warm tinglies. The boxes didn’t even have anything to say to that.