“If only your dad’s could see us.”
Peter rolls his eyes, slinging his arms around Wade’s neck. “You and I both know that would be the epitome of bad.”
“But fun!” Wade grins crookedly, settling a hand on Peter’s left hip. “Not as fun as this of course.”
“Keep talking and you’re not getting laid,” Peter points out, but shifts their bodies ever so slightly, creating friction between them. Peter’s settled on Wade’s lap in an armchair, which is cliché in itself, thighs locked around Wade’s waist. He settles his hands in Wade’s dark hair, pulling every now and then, and he can see it in the way Wade’s ever-changing eyes flash.
“I’m a merc with a mouth, there’s no such thing as not talking,” Wade smirks, moving his hips upwards to counteract Peter’s earlier movement. “You’re sorely mistaken dearest Spidey, if you thought for half a moment you were going to lose your virginity to silence.”
“God, just shut up,” Peter groans, and knowing the only way to do this is to press their mouths together, and so he does. It’s tentative and gentle at first because as sure as he is about this it’s still not something he’s ever done before, and he’s inexperienced in the whole charade.
Wade’s always been an excellent kisser, but even more so when he’s turned on (and Peter may be inexperienced but he’s already discovered all the little things that drives Wade crazy), and he moves his hands beneath Peter’s shirt, the scars on his palms rough against his chest.
Peter pulls away with a gasp as Wade lifts his t-shirt over his head, smirking, and Peter flinches slightly when he remembers that it’s the one his dad let him borrow, but any thought of his parents are gone when Wade kisses him again, rougher this time, with more force. Peter opens his mouth, allowing Wade to lick his way inside, and moans softly – Wade tastes of tacos and beers and a faint tang of mint that never goes away. Must be some sort of super toothpaste.
Regardless, Peter loves it, and he grips Wade’s face as if too meld them together even closer.
“You’re a feisty one, Spidey,” Wade snickers into Peter’s neck when the younger teenager pulls away for another gasp of air.
“Shut up, Wade,” Peter’s fingertips dance along Wade’s zipper, whose pupils dilate in anticipation. “Or they stay on.”
“You’re a cruel, capricious spider,” Wade mumbles, and Peter laughs slightly as he unbuttons Wade’s jeans, freeing him from the confines of the denim. He’s not going to lie – he rather enjoys the way Wade tosses his head back when Peter takes his erected cock in his hand, the way he bites his lip and makes a guttural noise in the back of his throat when Peter slides up and down the shaft.
“I take that back,” Wade says, voice breathy. “You’re an awesome spider.”
Peter doesn’t reply, not even to Wade’s protest of “Hey!” when he releases him. Instead, he slides off of Wade’s lap, onto the floor, knees supporting his body.
“Whoa, Spidey, moving a little fast aren’t you?” Wade smirks again, because Wade’s the king of those who smirk (smirkers?).
“Not yet,’ Peter grins and he’s sure he looks at least a little bit devilish (that’s totally what he’s going for), and when he takes Wade into his mouth, the mercenary let’s loose another one of those noises and thrusts up almost involuntary into Peter’s mouth.
Peter starts slowly, licking long stripes on the underside of Wade’s cock, not entirely opposed to the faint salty taste of it. Wade shivers and makes another comment, but it’s lost in a groan as Peter closes his mouth around the head, tongue picking up the pre-come already collected there.
He relaxes his throat and takes Wade in further, inciting Wade to move a hand to the back of Peter’s head and entwine his fingers into his hair, tugging softly. “Jesus, Pete,” Wade gasps. “You got skill.”
Peter smirks around Wade’s cock and pushes past his own gag reflex until he can feel Wade hit the back of his throat. (It’s actually a lot easier than Peter anticipated – he’s certainly spent way too much researching it. Thank God for the internet. Scratch that, thank God for override codes so he can command JARVIS to wipe clean his history. Pops has already discovered porn once, that doesn’t need to happen again.)
“Peter,” Wade says like a warning, and Peter knows he’s right on the edge – but he kind of likes this control too, and so he pulls off with an obscene pop.
“Alright, hand job, finish it off,” Wade says, moving his hand in a let’s get this show on the road gesture.
“I’m not finished with you,” Peter scoffs, and confusion crosses Wade’s features.
“Come on,” Peter tugs Wade to his feet. “You’re crazy if you think I’m losing my virginity in your living room.”
“Oh come on multiple orgasms, just,” he takes Peter’s hand. “One last stroke and then we can start all over again. Like magic.”
“Not yet,” Peter shakes his head, and counteracts Wade’s grasp on his hand, using it to pull him towards the bedroom. Wade kicks his pants off in the process, and somewhere along the way Peter’s own jeans come off. (To be honest it’s kind of a blur.)
“Wall sex?” Wade asks almost hopefully when they reach the hallway.
“Next time,” Peter promises, and then seizes Wade’s hips and turns their bodies so that Wade’s backed up against the ajar door of the bedroom. Peter stands on the balls of his feet to capture Wade’s mouth again, fingertips digging into the skin of his waist.
Wade allows Peter to push him backwards, into the bedroom, until they reach the bed which they fall onto together, Peter moving right away as soon as Wade’s settled beneath him to straddle him again, hands moving to his shoulders.
He grins down at Wade, who stares back up with his (currently dark) eyes wide, hair sticking up wildly.
“You still have those condoms right?” Peter asks and Wade’s eyes widen a fraction.
“Hell yeah I do,” Wade breathes. “Lubricated, too, a lot less hassle.”
“Great,” Peter grins, and then takes Wade’s left hand in his (which Wade has observed more than once is larger than his right), and pushes two of his long, slender fingers into his mouth.
“Whatchya doing there, Pete?” Wade chuckles and if Peter didn’t know any better, he’d say there’s a nervous edge to it.
Peter moves Wade’s saliva-soaked finger tips down his torso, and over his waist, over the curve of his ass. “You tell me,” Peter raises an eyebrow and Wade’s confusion turns into what could almost be wonder.
“You horny teenager you,” Wade laughs and then, without Peter having to prompt him, pushes his index finger into Peter, who makes a noise in surprise that turns into a moan. There’s a slight burn at first that quickly morphs into nothing but sheer pleasure, waves of it traveling throughout Peter’s body, his chest, making his heart beat faster than a frigging rabbit’s.
“Jesus,” he says, leaning back into Wade’s finger, who inserts a second one before pressing in further, fingertips barely brushing Peter’s prostate (or what he assumes is, considering the how fucking good it feels – again, he’s done research).
“Do you think atheists yell out Bill Nye instead?” Wade questions.
“God, shut up, Wade,” Peter groans, moving his hips back against Wade’s fingers to match the rhythm of his thrusting.
Wade laughs again, “Don’t let go yet, Pete, we haven’t even gotten to the best part.”
Wade pulls his hand away, leaving Peter to whimper ever so slightly in a way that’s beyond pathetic, but then Wade’s producing a condom from beneath his pillow.
“You keep them under your pillow?” Peter demands, stammering slightly. There’s sweat rolling down his neck and gathered at his temples already, and he resists the urge to wipe it away.
“They’re strawberry kiwi flavored,” Wade winks and tears open the package with his teeth.
Peter hates waiting for Wade to take the time to put the damn thing on – really, the only reason for it is the whole lubricating thing because Peter’s still brand new to this – but then Wade carefully lifts his hips, and he can feel the blunt head of his cock pressed against him, and yep, totally worth the wait.
Peter doesn’t wait any more though – instead he pushes into Wade’s touch, his body taking him in slowly. It fucking hurts at first because Wade’s hands might be huge but God damn his dick, but just like before the pain is nothing compared to the pleasure.
“I wish you could see your face,” Wade comments, thrusting his hips upward, and if Peter wasn’t sure if that’s his prostate was hitting earlier he certainly is now.
Peter rocks back against him, and quickly they fall into a steady rhythm that’s slightly slow at first but quickly gains speed, until the fucking headboard is shaking (it’s actually kind of awesome if you think about it, Peter’s convinced), and their gripping each other.
“Wade,” Peter sighs as Wade moves his body upwards, into an almost sitting position, Peter still balanced on his cock, which presses in even further, if possible. Peter buries his face into Wade’s shoulder, teeth digging into his skin, no doubt leaving semi-permanent marks, as Wade pulls at Peter’s hair with one hand, the other braced against the mattress.
“Fuck,” Wade groans into Peter’s ear, which he catches between his teeth and sucks lightly at. “That part where you said you were a virgin? I’m pretty sure you lied.”
“Shut up,” Peter says for what feels like the billionth time but it comes out more like a shout, and it’s then that he notices the noises he’s making, his throat starting to go raw with the exertion.
The sweat on his temples has trickled down his face, and even down his back and at his collar bone – it doesn’t help that Wade ducks his head and licks at said collar bone, suckling lightly in certain places and grazing his teeth against Peter’s skin in others.
“Fuck, Wade,” Peter digs his fingernails into Wade’s shoulder, leaving little crescent moons, as Wade continues to thrust up into him, with more force than before.
“I’m doing that, Pete,” Wade reminds him, mouthing at his neck.
A few more thrusts later (a few too soon, Peter thinks), and Wade’s letting go with a cry that sounds very un-Wade-like, falling back against the pillows and softening his pace as he rides out his orgasm.
Peter follows soon after, stars exploding behind his eyes, and he feels almost bad as his come paints streaks of white across Wade’s torso, which he promptly collapses against.
They breathe heavy against each other for a moment, Wade’s arms wrapped around Peter’s back.
“We should do that again,” Wade says.
“Give me a minute,” Peter breathes. “Wait, oh my God,” he rolls off of Wade and squints at the alarm clock which is slightly blurry without his glasses. “What time is it?”
“Don’t know,” Wade shrugs. “Why?”
“Curfew, remember?” Peter sits up, and the movement makes his head spin. Really, he’d give anything to jus stay in bed with Wade for a little bit.
Wade laughs all of a sudden, a long, loud cackle that makes Peter nervous. “Dude,” Wade snorts, “You just lost your virginity to Wade fucking Wilson, and now you’re going to go home to Captain America and Iron Man. Have fun looking them in the eye and telling them you aren’t – what is it – baking?”
“Fondueing,” Peter rolls his eyes, cheeks burning. “And shut up,” he throws a pillow over Wade’s head. “Pops will believe I’m innocent.”
“Sure he will, which is why he and Tony have put all those extra security measures on the house.”
Peter flops back down next to Wade for a moment. “I could just stay here. Sneak home in the morning.”
Of course as he says this, his phone buzzes against the nightstand the left it on earlier that day. Wade grabs it before Peter can, tapping the touch screen to make the text message appear. “’When are you coming home?’” Wade reads out loud. “From Pops.”
“Great,” Peter sighs, curling against Wade’s side. “Ask him if I can stay the night.”
Wade turns to Peter with a cheeky grin on his face, and in one fluid motion that catches Peter by surprise says, “Smile, Pete!” and snaps a picture.
“What are you doing?!” Peter demands, ripping the phone from his grasp. Of course, it’s too late – the picture of Peter with his hair sticking up everywhere and hickeys decorating the length of his neck and collar bone as already been sent. To Pops. Underneath it is the text; Sorry Steve Pete’s staying with me tonight ;)
“PETER BENJAMIN PARKER-STARK-ROGERS, GET HOME RIGHT NOW,” the next text from Peter’s Pops reads, and before he can reply, he gets another one from Dad.
“Congrats on losing the big V!”
Sometimes Peter really hates his life.
“You suck,” he repeats.
“No,” Wade corrects. “You do, remember? Though I could suck you if you’d like. Oh and by the way, you totally haven’t lost the big V until that pretty cock of yours has been in something. And so,” he rolls over on top of Peter, but keeps his weight shifted off of him. “You are most certainly staying the night.”
Peter contemplates for a moment, but when Wade starts kissing along his bare torso, he quickly sends a Sorry, Pops before shutting his phone off.
He can deal with being grounded later.