Archive of Our Own

There are a lot of things Peter can't stand about Deadpool.

For starters, he's a killer. That's the most obvious red flag. After so many years in the business Peter's become a bit jaded, so he doesn't like the killing, but he has to admit that he doesn't truly hate it either. As far as he could tell, Deadpool's victims tend not to fall too far from the psychopathic tree so permanently taking homicidal criminals off the streets wasn't something Peter was entirely opposed to, no matter how the mercenary chose to achieve his goals.

Still, though, Deadpool had a knack for making a mess. Even though he's more than capable of performing quick, clean, quiet kills, he likes to make a show of things. The mercenary loves to perform and he knows his antics will attract an audience.

Secondly, Deadpool will purposely do everything in his power to lay a trail that draws Spider-Man to the scene of the crime. He's constantly changing up his strategies so Peter doesn't know whether he's following a legitimate threat or is being baited. Peter's tried to figure out the difference between a life-threatening emergency and a bullshit DP stunt many times before, but he's failed on every occasion. He supposed they were sort of the same thing.

For a while, Peter considered not following any trails at all, but the thought of ignoring a real emergency and allowing someone innocent to get hurt didn't sit right with him. So, he continuously wound up in Deadpool's traps, angry, annoyed, and just a little bit sick to his stomach.

But the worst thing, the most terrible, awful, stomach-churning thing of all was that Peter's sixth sense didn't work around the mercenary. Peter never knew what to expect. Deadpool was far too unpredictable, far too dangerous, and far too reckless for Peter's tastes, which is why it made no sense that the mercenary never triggered his silent alarm bells.

Peter is nothing if not a spider, and he's always the spider in whatever fucked up life lesson the universe is trying to teach him. That's who he is. That's what he does and everything he's supposed to be. Until Deadpool comes around, and suddenly Peter is as helpless as he's ever been.

That grinds his gears more than anything in the world and Peter positively hates that Deadpool turns him into a fly.

What's worse is that Deadpool is obsessed with him. He's terrified that the mercenary is going to follow him home one night to see where he lives, then kick down Peter's door and get a good look at Spider-Man's face. That hasn't happened yet, but Deadpool obviously has some extreme issues, so Peter can never be too cautious around him. He doesn't know when that self-imposed boundary will cease to matter in Deadpool's eyes.

Peter's tried just about everything to make the mercenary leave him alone. He's been rude, violent, distant, and cold, but all that seems to do is egg Deadpool on even more. At this point, Peter doesn't know what to do. He usually winds up picking a fight for the hell of it and Deadpool isn't phased by anything, making him the perfect punching bag for Peter. Peter's inhumanly strong blows never cause Deadpool any permanent damage and it keeps Peter well-versed in the art of hand-to-hand combat and sparring, a major plus for anyone that moonlights as a vigilante.

Deadpool thinks it's all a game. Plus, he's single-handedly responsible for ruining every free Saturday night Peter's had for the last six months. Deadpool seems to work mostly during the weekend, holing up Monday through Thursday before emerging on days when the city is busiest. That also means he lays his Spider-Man traps on the only days Peter has off from his day job, so the web-slinger never feels bad about punching the mercenary in the throat.

He just wished Deadpool would get bored and move on already.

"Hey, Spidey babe! I see you got my message!"

Peter frowned beneath his mask and folded his arms across his chest, already wanting the evening to be over. When he'd found the trail of blood leading into the alleyway, he'd been expecting to see someone with a stab wound to the leg or something, a victim of a robbery gone wrong. He was met with an over-eager Deadpool instead, bloody katana already in hand.

"Unfortunately," he said. "What do you want?"

Deadpool sheathed his katana and pointed at the top of the building. "I need a lift."

"Seriously? You stabbed some poor bastard just for this?" Peter snapped. "Where the fuck did you put the body? At least let me bury the guy with some dignity."

"Come on, Spidey. You know the guys I kill aren't deserving of dignity. But this yellow brick road was paved lovingly with my own blood via self-mutilation, thank you very much. I cut off my finger to get your attention, there's no body. And you're lucky it grew back already," Deadpool said. He held up his left hand and wiggled the digits for emphasis. "Sometimes it takes a while. That's not a pretty picture."

"Ooookay," Peter drawled, unamused. "I've got more important things to do than cart your ass to the top of a building, so I'm going to leave now."

Peter turned to leave, but a small dagger whizzed past his ear, making him turn back around. He immediately lunged at Deadpool and punched him in the sternum. There was an audible crack as Deadpool stumbled back a few paces, but he still let out a strained laugh.

"There's my Spidey," he wheezed.

"I'm not your anything," Peter spat. "Are you going to leave me alone now, or do I need to kick your ass for the hundredth time in a row?"

"Just to be clear, you kick my ass because I let you. Anger is a good look on you. I'm into that," Deadpool said. He rolled his shoulders back and puffed out his chest, stretching his muscles out and giving his bones the room they needed to snap back together. "Anyway, don't you wanna know why I brought you here before I did the murdering?"

"Not really," Peter said.

"Well, you should. I'm going after one of your bad guys, after all."

Peter's interest was, regrettably, piqued. "What do you mean one of 'my' bad guys? You mean to tell me I've fought whichever assclown is in that building before?"

"You're smart for a web-head," Deadpool said giddily. "Your old pal Mac Gargan, AKA Scorpion, has been up to no good. Word on the street is he's one of the only people in the world who's ever bested you in a fight. Again, I'd like to remind you that I could kick your ass if I didn't like when you bullied me so much. Makes for some top-tier spank bank material."

Peter's heart was pounding out of his chest. He bit down hard on his bottom lip to keep himself grounded, mind flashing back to the last time he'd fought Scorpion. Peter had been bedridden for two weeks because his injuries were so severe and he'd lost track of Gargan by the time he was able to get on his feet again.

"Can't win them all," Peter said lamely, hoping the quiver in his voice wasn't audible to Deadpool. He chose to ignore the part about Deadpool 'letting' him win their fights, because commenting on it would start a verbal discussion that led to a physical altercation, and now wasn't the time for the merc's stupid games.

"I think you can if you have a little help. Gargan's been on my radar for a while now. He got mixed up in a different case I've been working on and caught my attention, unfortunately for him. I figured we could do this one together," Deadpool suggested.

"Why do you want to help me?" Peter asked.

Deadpool tilted his head, and even through the mask, Peter could tell he was leering. "Because any opportunity to get a good look at your ass in that suit is worth playing hero for a night. Your body is a spandex wonderland, baby."

"Why can't you just call me Spider-Man?" Peter huffed. "And you don't have to say everything that comes to mind, you know. Pervert."

"You asked! And I'm feeling generous tonight. So why don't you web us up to the roof and we can rain hell down upon the unsuspecting bastard? I bet he'll be surprised to see you again, but it'll be the perfect distraction. You keep him busy, I'll go in for the kill, and we'll have the mess cleaned up by midnight. Sound good?"

Peter scoffed. "You just want to use me as bait, you asshole."

"Well, duh! I already knew Scorpion was back in town. You would've found out eventually and gone after him alone again. We both know how that turned out last time, so I figured I'd be proactive here and help you out. I can't die, remember?" Deadpool said.

As much as Peter hated to say it, the merc had a point. Peter would have gone after Gargan on his own the second he found out he was back, consequences be damned. Deadpool's plan was admittedly smart. Peter's presence would be enough of an upset to throw the guy off guard, then Deadpool could sweep in and handle all the messy shit. Peter's chances of being severely injured would drastically decrease if he had Deadpool as backup.

"Fine," Peter relented. "Just this once."

"Yes!" Deadpool cheered. "Teamwork makes the dream work, babe!"

"But we're doing it my way!" Peter quickly interjected. "I go in first, try to handle things my way with as little bloodshed as possible and you come down ONLY if I need your help. We get in, we get out, and we do not kill him. He's not in the right frame of mind and probably hasn't been for a long time. Understood?"

"Hmm, no can do," Deadpool denied. "We've got a hostage situation, so I recommend we go in together. Unless you're okay with collateral damage."

"What do you mean hostages?" Peter asked, pulse rising.

Deadpool shrugged. "Couple of doctors and some newspaper guy."

Peter's gut immediately twisted, dread flooding his body. He knew where this was going. "What newspaper guy?"

"Jameson," Pool said casually. "Why? You know something I don't?"

"That asshole always bashes me in his newspapers," Peter groaned. He had half a mind to let Spider-Man threaten Jameson into giving Peter a raise. "But fine. We go in together. I'll get the hostages out of there, you do...whatever it is you want to do. I don't want any part of that."

"Deal!" Deadpool cried, flinging open his arms like he was waiting for a hug. "Now get that sweet ass over here and take me for a ride. I promise to hold on extra tight."

Peter choked down the urge to break Deadpool's nose, knowing he needed the mercenary in tip-top shape to avoid casualties. It was going to be an incredibly long night.

************************

Deadpool was buzzing in the aftermath. Peter managed to get everyone to safety, but he didn't feel like this was much of a victory. Deadpool matched Scorpion crazy for crazy, and the ensuing bloodbath almost made Peter hurl. Clearly, Deadpool had come out on top and Peter wanted to wretch at the sight of Gargan's mangled corpse. He had a sick feeling Gargan never asked to become like this, never asked for his powers. Peter knew how stressful that could be and didn't blame Gargan for losing his sanity. Peter's been on the verge plenty of times himself, though he was strong enough not to cross the threshold and step into a life of crime and darkness. Gargan obviously didn't have that same strength, and now here he was, dead.

Gargan was genuinely shocked to learn Spider-Man was still alive after their last encounter, and Jameson cursed Spider-Man to the high heavens in typical fashion, even though it was Spider-Man that was saving his fucking life.

"Dude, what did you do to piss off the media?" Deadpool asked, startling Peter out of his thoughts. "I thought you were America's darling. Everybody loves Spider-Man. When you said Jameson bashed you in the papers I thought it was more of a superhero costume critique, not a full-blown rage fest."

"I dunno," Peter said. "Some people don't see me as a hero."

"Just don't turn into an anti-hero," Deadpool said. "I've already called dibs on that role and I'll have to break your ankle if you try cramping my style."

"Whatever," Peter sighed wearily. "I'm tired. I'd like to call it a night."

"But that was so awesome! How can you sleep after something like that?"

"Easily, for at least ten hours," Peter quipped back.

"That's so lame," Deadpool whined. "You can't just go to bed after all that! What about the adrenaline high, huh? You never get those?"

"No, Deadpool. I don't. This job isn't fun for me."

"That's a goddamn shame, Spidey babe. But if you're planning to turn in early, I'd be more than happy to help put you to sleep. These hands are good for a lot more than killing," Deadpool said, reaching out to pinch Peter's ass.

Peter immediately grabbed his wrist, breaking it in half before he shoved him off the roof. He scowled down at the merc, sprawled out awkwardly on the pavement, spine snapped in half. The fall wasn't high enough to temporarily kill him, but he'd have to wait a while before walking it off.

Swinging himself to the ground, Peter crouched over Pool's body.

"Oops," he said sarcastically. "My bad. I'll be more careful in the future."

"You're a real fucking dickhead, Spidey," Deadpool gasped.

"Remember that next time you try to get me into bed," Peter warned.

Then he flit off into the night, comforted by the knowledge the merc wouldn't be able to follow him home.

Deadpool laid off for a while after that night. Peter was relieved to catch a bit of a break. Since Deadpool had been MIA, likely working a job out of state, Peter finally had a chance to enjoy a Saturday night uninterrupted and unbothered.

His original plan was to stay home, go to sleep early, or binge a couple of shows that have been on his watchlist for ages, but around 9 o'clock he started going a little stir-crazy. He wasn't much of a drinker, but the stress of the last few days (or years, really...who's counting anyway?) was finally catching up with him. His home alcohol stash was bone-dry, and he needed to blow off some steam. Deciding to go out and get a change of scenery, Peter whipped out his phone to Google some of the nearby bars in the area. He scrolled until he found one that was a few miles away.

Sister Margaret's. He'd never heard of it before but figured that must be a good thing. It was a Saturday, so all the big-name bars were bound to be packed. This little hole-in-the-wall place likely wouldn't have a massive crowd, which was easier on Peter's heightened senses. He didn't bother dressing up, just threw on a pair of jeans and one of his baggiest hoodies to bundle up in. For a moment, he considered putting the Spider-Man suit under his clothes but decided against it. He deserved a real night off, one without any superhero nonsense. Other people in the world did the same job as Peter and they could be responsible for just one evening.

It was a fairly short walk to the bar, but Peter decided to catch a cab and avoid the hustle and bustle of drunk people navigating the streets. It was calmer and quieter in the back of a taxi, which made sitting in traffic worth it for Peter.

When Peter arrived, a few guys were smoking outside the bar that made his spidey sense flare up for just a moment before settling down. They cast confused looks in Peter's direction and briefly mumbled amongst themselves, but the strange twinge of "danger!" faded as quickly as it came.  Peter chalked it up to being in an unfamiliar place.

As much as he craved peace and relaxation, Peter had to admit he also needed a lot of stimulation. He got bored easily and found his thoughts wandering to dark places when left without a distraction for too long. He needed something to keep him busy and he was typically drawn towards the stranger things in life because that's where he felt the most normal. Peter blended in with weird because he was weird. There was absolutely nothing normal about a man who could stick to walls and climb the tallest building in the world with just his hands and feet

The second Peter stepped inside the bar, his Spidey sense went off again in the same mild, low-brow manner it did when he passed the guys out front. He took a minute to survey the sparse crowd, judging everyone's body language. They were all openly armed with at least one gun, but nobody seemed disgruntled by the presence of firearms in an enclosed space, including the bartender who was busy wiping down shot glasses. The guy glanced up at the pool table every few seconds through his thick-rimmed glasses, more interested in how the game would play out than the cleanliness of his glassware.

It became very obvious to Peter why he'd never heard of this place before. Sister Margaret's wasn't a place for normies. The average person would get their ass beat by any single one of the patrons currently drinking their troubles away under dingy lighting, so thank god Peter wasn't human. Even with the tingle pulsing behind his eyes, making his skull feel funny, Peter wasn't afraid. The alert wasn't so much a call for Peter to run away screaming, but a reminder to conduct himself carefully. Nobody paid him much mind, except the bartender who just realized someone new had walked in.

"Sorry, we're closed," he called in Peter's direction, causing some people to glance his way.

Peter kept his calm and went to pull his wallet out of his pocket, striding over to the bar confidently. Pretending to fit in seemed to do the trick and everyone went back to what they were doing before, except the man in glasses.

"No you aren't," Peter said, sliding into a stool confidently. He might be pushing his luck already, but he really couldn't bring himself to care.

"Ballsy," the guy said to him. "But alright. What are you looking for?"

Peter shrugged. "A change of pace. And maybe a whiskey sour."

The bartender snorted.

"What?" Peter challenged.

"Nothing," he said, trying to repress a smile. "Just not a usual request from one of my customers is all. Whiskey sour, coming right up."

He left to make Peter's drink, giving him more time to scan the room. Nobody in particular caught his interest, except for one guy in the back corner. Unlike everyone else, he kept his face towards the wall. He didn't look over his shoulder either, telling Peter he wasn't worried about someone coming through the door and stabbing him in the back. The man was fully confident in his ability to protect himself and being caught off guard wasn't even the slightest concern. Peter liked that. He admired the man's guts, especially in a place like this, and found himself wanting to know more.

When a scarred hand shot out from beneath the table Peter perked up, immediately wanting to know the guy's story.

"Hey, who's that guy in the corner?" Peter asked the bartender when he came back with Peter's drink.

"In the gray hoodie?"

"That's the one," Peter said, refusing to take his eyes off the man.

"That's not a man. That's an emotionally unstable nutcase in desperate need of cosmetic surgery," the bartender said. "Keep your distance."

Peter downed his entire drink in two large gulps before slamming the empty glass down on the table.

"Sorry," he said. "I don't often do what I'm told."

"Your funeral," the bartender sighed, walking away to deal with the next customer.

Peter allowed his instincts to carry him, drawing him towards the strange hooded figure. Surprisingly, Peter's sixth sense was completely calm. Everyone else in the room had managed to raise a few hairs, and yet the guy covered in scars, with a demeanor that suggests he's been through the fucking wringer and back, was the only one who didn't upset Peter's spider side.

All that did was fascinate Peter even more because it didn't happen often. Peter was constantly on edge and to see a guy like that in a place like this should be an immediate red flag, but for some reason, it wasn't. And to be fair, Peter's spidey sense seems to have a blind spot for certain psychopaths so maybe it was broken. Nonetheless, it gave him the balls to sit down in the empty chair across from the scarred man with a flirty grin.

Peter sprawled himself out in a way that he knew lengthened his limbs and made him look lean, the same trick he's been using since freshman year of college to seduce other men and women into taking him home. Peter batted his lashes when the man looked up in total surprise. The scars covered his face, as well, leading Peter to believe they must spread over every square inch of his body.

"You look lonely," Peter said. "Why don't you buy me a drink and tell me all about how you wound up here by yourself tonight? You piss off your girlfriend?"

The man in the hood peered over his shoulder and glanced side to side. When he saw nobody else, he faced Peter once more. "Are you talking to me?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "Yes, Taxi Driver, I'm talking to you. I don't see anyone else at the table, do you?"

The man flexed his scarred knuckles and drummed his fingertips against the wood, leaning back to give Peter a thorough once-over and analyze all the features of his face.

He whistled appreciatively before speaking. "I'm no taxi driver but I'll certainly take you for a ride if that's what you're looking for."

The pun was horrible and Peter couldn't help but laugh. He sat up straighter, put his elbows on the table, and leaned forward to rest his chin on top of his interlaced fingers. He found himself smirking at the guy, amused with how easy this was going to be.

"You don't waste time," Peter said, flashing a coy smile.

"Let's just say I don't have a lot of free time to spend with pretty things like yourself. And when I do, they tend to run the other way. Screaming. One of the many perks that come along with being so fuckable," the man said, sarcasm and self-loathing darkening his tone.

Peter smiled inside, his soft spot for broken things taking control. There was no going back now.

"Well, I don't frighten easily," Peter offered. "I sure am parched, though. You gonna go get me that drink or what?"

"Twist my fuckin' dick. I know the saying is 'twist my arm' but with what I've got hanging between my legs, it might as well be an arm. Just so you know."

Peter laughed again. "Quite sure of yourself for a guy who claims not to spend much time with so-called 'pretty' people. Don't raise my expectations if you can't deliver."

"Oh, this package delivers alright. Signed and sealed by yours truly," the man said, sticking up an arm to wave down the bartender.

"Then it'd be nice to learn your name so I know whose package to expect," Peter pried.

"Wade Wilson," he said.

Peter thought the name sounded vaguely familiar but couldn't find the energy to care now that the first drink he chugged was hitting him all at once.

"Peter Parker."

"Cute name. I look forward to fucking you so hard you forget it."

************************

They only had one more drink before leaving. Peter took an immediate liking to Wade and was amused listening to all the strange stories he told about his time in the military. He figured that's how Wade got all the scars but thought it impolite to ask, so Peter allowed himself to assume fighting wars is what led to Wade's injuries. Peter was also obsessed with Wade's eyes, loved how they were incapable of hiding emotion. Anything Wade was thinking or feeling was immediately visible in there, whether his pupils dilated or his lids narrowed. It was also painstakingly obvious that they were tracking all of Peter's movements, frequently settling on his lips.

Peter had been more than curious to see how far down that scarring went when Wade asked to take him home, and Peter agreed before Wade even finished the sentence. They went to Wade's place and were on each other the second the elevator door closed, Wade using his massive bulk to crowd Peter in the corner. He leaned in but didn't press their lips together the way Peter was expecting him to. Their noses were brushing, breath heavy between them, and Peter's voice was already wrecked when we asked, "Aren't you going to kiss me?"

That seemed to pull Wade out of whatever hesitations he was stewing in, because he cupped Peter's left cheek with one hand, wrapped the other around Peter's waist, and slammed their mouths together. Peter's eyes fluttered shut and he sighed happily into the kiss, tossing an arm around Wade's neck. Wade was seriously fucking huge, all broad shoulders and biceps with thighs so thick he could smash Peter's skull between them. 

Usually, Peter's stronger than everyone. They don't know it, but Peter always does, and he always makes a conscious effort not to let any of his superstrength show when he's with a sexual partner. He doesn't want to out himself as a mutant or make anyone feel insecure over the fact that he has more power in one hand than they do in their whole bodies. But Wade was much different. He got under the hero's skin in a way Peter hadn't been expecting and the alcohol was loosening up his inhibitions. That meant Peter was being sloppy with his strength control, squeezing Wade's arms a little harder than he meant to, arching like a cat into Wade's desperate touches. All that seemed to do was spur Wade on. Peter's harsh groping made Wade groan into the sloppy kiss and rut his hardening cock against Peter's stomach. Peter was a little dizzy, feeling evenly matched in the bedroom for the very first time.

And they weren't even in Wade's apartment yet, let alone the fucking bedroom. They still hadn't got off the goddamn elevator.

When it finally dinged at them, Wade was hauling Peter by the front of his shirt toward his apartment just around the corner. Peter couldn't see very many other doors on Wade's floor which seemed odd, until Wade was dragging them both inside, flicking on the light switch. Peter noticed immediately that Wade's place was massive.

"Jesus Christ," Peter marveled. "Those military checks pay well."

"Government employee and all that," Wade said flippantly, kicking off his boots. "You know how that is."

"Not quite, but sure."

"You want me to explain it to you right now?" Wade asked, tilting his head. "Because I'd rather strip naked and turn your guts inside out, right here on the floor."

Peter turned around and knocked on Wade's front door to check how sturdy it was. He was pleased with its structural integrity and turned back to Wade before peeling off his hoodie.

"I have some class," Peter said. "You wanna do it right here, that's more than fine. But you'll bang me against the door because that's more polite than rolling around on the floor where you track dirt in."

Wade ripped off his own hoodie and chucked it across the room. "No floor. Deal."

He lunged forward to kiss Peter again, both of them hastily unbuttoning their pants. They only broke their lip-to-lip contact when Peter needed to step out of his jeans and when he stood back up, Wade was dropping to his knees and pulling Peter's briefs down over the curve of his ass.

"As much as I wanna suck you dry right now, I need to have a clear head while I open you up for me," Wade said, spinning Peter around so that his face was pressed against the door. "So keep your legs spread and hold yourself open."

Peter instantly obeyed, grabbing his ass to pull it apart and make room for Wade's tongue. After only the first lick, Peter's knees nearly buckled and he was raking blunt fingernails across the door to keep himself grounded. He could see small scratch lines forming in the wood where he clawed at it, his strength making it easy to leave a few marks. Hopefully, Wade wouldn't mind, but even if he did, it was worth it for the way he was working magic on Peter's hole right now.

"Fucking god," Peter whined, pushing back into it when Wade was able to slip the tip of his tongue past the first ring of Peter's muscle.

"No, just me," Wade pulled back to say, biting down hard on Peter's left ass cheek before getting back to business.

Peter rolled his eyes in annoyance, but they stayed glued towards the ceiling in pleasure when Wade began wiggling his pointer finger inside Peter's hole, trying to loosen it up even further.

"I hate to say this, baby, but the lube's in the bedroom," Wade sighed. "And you're like a goddamn vacuum seal. Spit alone ain't gonna do the trick."

"And how would you know?" Peter clapped back over his shoulder. "It's my body, I know its limits. I'm fine."

Wade smirked up at Peter. "Oh really now?"

"Yes," Peter insisted. He damn near stomped his foot.

"I don't think so," Wade disagreed. "Although your desperation is both adorable and a massive ego stroke. Come on, let's do this the right way."

Peter frowned when Wade patted him on the ass and stood his ground. He was about to argue when the other man wrapped one giant arm around Peter's waist and threw him over his shoulder.

"Wade! Put me down! I can do it myself!"

"So what? I'm just giving you a preview. You're gonna need help walking around for a few days when I'm done with you. Might as well get used to being carried around," Wade said, bringing Peter into the bedroom before dropping him down on the large king bed.

"I don't think so," Peter scoffed, mocking Wade's tone from earlier. "Don't get me wrong you're, like, really hot and I'm sure your dick is as big as the rest of you. But I don't break easy."

Wade pulled the small bottle of lube from his nightstand drawer and tossed it on the pillows. His eyes lit up, clueing Peter in on his emotions for the millionth time that night, making it very clear that the older man was prepared for a challenge. "Oh, Petey, you really shouldn't have said that."

"You don't scare- mmph!"

Peter was silenced by Wade flopping on top of him with a press of scarred lips against his own. Wade's half-naked body was slotted firmly against Peter's fully naked one, and Peter couldn't get enough of it. Having Wade's textured skin rubbing on his own was a new sensation, one that Peter found himself immediately addicted to. He liked not being the only "different" one in the bedroom. Wade looked as unique on the outside as Peter's genetic makeup was on the inside. A perfect compliment.

Plus, Wade definitely has more interesting stories to tell. Peter couldn't wait to get to the bottom of those.

There was no way in hell Peter was going to ask for the guy's backstory right now, though, because Wade was flipping him onto his stomach and telling him to get on his hands and knees. Peter obeyed and felt a shock of anticipation run up his spine when Wade grabbed the lube and started slicking up his fingers to get Peter prepped. Tight as he may be, Peter greedily took the first finger with ease, arching his back and letting out a soft moan to give Wade a bit of a show. Peter liked being the center of attention in the bedroom, liked it when his partners saw him as a thing of beauty. Even though he couldn't see Wade's face, he could hear him cursing under his breath at the sight of Peter splayed out before him. It also helped that Wade was incredibly good with his hands, so Peter didn't have to fake his pleasure.

"C'mon, I said I wouldn't break," Peter huffed, needing more. "Stick another one in."

"I'll do you one better, if you're gonna be so impatient about it," Wade said, removing the first finger so he could skip right to three.

Peter gasped, fisting the bedsheets and rocking back into the sensation. Wade grabbed Peter's hip to hold him still and Peter realized Wade's as strong as he claims to be. Fighting against his hold would prove to be a real struggle if Peter were to try, and he tested the waters to see what Wade would do. Turns out, Wade still had more strength to offer and he squeezed almost punishingly tight, reprimanding Peter for his impatience.

"Hold still so I can do this the right way," Wade barked. "I'll give you what you need if you settle down."

Peter dropped his head and let his hair fall in his face, smirking. He knew this was going to be fun. Peter did his best to just stay still and take it, expecting to get pounded within an inch of his life. Allowing Wade to take the proper precautions would be the smartest thing to do.

Once Peter stopped squirming things moved pretty fast. His hole was as stretched as it was going to get and Wade removed his fingers so he could start slicking up his cock.

"Roll over," he said, and Peter did as he was told. "How flexible are you, hot stuff?"

Peter just smirked and pulled his knees to his ears.

"Perfect," Wade praised. "I still wanna fuck you against a wall and I've got an idea."

Wade lined his cock up with Peter's hole and tossed his legs over his shoulders, letting their foreheads touch while he pushed inside Peter's willing body. They collectively moaned when Wade bottomed out, and Peter barely had time to adjust before hands were slipped under his body and lifting him off the bed. Peter's shoulders made contact with the bedroom wall, legs still draped on Wade's shoulders, folded completely in half.

"This alright?" Wade asked, getting a better grip on Peter.

"Uh huh," Peter nodded. The words came out strained and wanton, and the brunette was more punch-drunk than he cared to admit. "M'ready, you gotta move now, hurry up."

"You got it," Wade said.

He used Peter's shoulders against the wall for leverage, keeping Peter in place so he could drill forcefully into his hole. Peter couldn't believe his luck, and the angle was so good it had tears of pleasure rolling down his face after only a few moments. He'd never had a partner that held him like he was weightless. He'd also never had a partner with a dick that was both huge and textured. Getting fucked by Wade made Peter feel like he was in a porn flick, and that scarred cock was most definitely ribbed for his pleasure.

Peter had to grit his teeth to stop from making some sort of embarrassing noise. The last thing he wanted to do was turn Wade off by howling like a banshee because he wanted - no, needed - this to happen again. They hadn't even finished their first time fucking, and Peter was already thinking about the next. And the next, and the next, and the next. He could stay suspended right here for the rest of his life and never complain about anything ever again.

Once his prostate started taking a real pounding, Peter couldn't help but cry out like a maniac. He had his fingers wrapped around the back of Wade's neck and Peter had to dig his fingernails into the uneven skin to keep himself grounded.

"Shit," Wade hissed. "Keep doing that."

Peter would've done just about anything at that moment, so scratching him up was an easy request. He gripped and clawed his way back to reality, leaving marks all down Wade's chest. Peter wasn't gentle by any means, but it seemed as if he had no effect on Wade's skin. It was like the marks disappeared completely the second Peter left them. The room was dark though, and Wade did have quite a lot of marks covering his body. There's a good chance Peter's eyes were just playing tricks on him, given the poor lighting and the absolute jackhammer assault on his g-spot making his head feel funny. Blinking away the brain fog, Peter decided not to worry about it and kept giving himself over to the waves of pleasure that threatened to drown him.

Wade had the stamina of a fuckin' champ, keeping a hard, consistent pace with his thrusts while hoisting Peter's body like he weighed no more than a feather. Peter realized he probably shouldn't have egged Wade on about being a tough nut to crack. A few minutes in, his body was already blooming with soreness (albeit the kind Peter likes) because of how easily Wade was able to give him a run for his money.

Not that Peter would ever admit it.

"You look real pretty this way Petey, but I'll stab myself if I don't get to see how this ass moves when it's getting nailed from behind," Wade panted, carrying Peter back over to the bed. He pulled out so that Peter could put himself into position on his knees, thighs spread, chest flat against the mattress, and arms above his head. Peter did just that, but he felt empty without Wade inside of him. His own erection was starting to bother him, but when he reached down to jerk himself off, Wade slapped his hand away.

"Waaade," Peter whined, tears pricking at his eyes again.

"I'll take care of you, just relax," Wade promised, placing a kiss between Peter's shoulder blades before sliding his cock back inside Peter's hole. After picking up his thrusts again, Wade let out a strangled groan and harshly grabbed a fist full of Peter's ass. "Jesus fuck, I knew it was gonna bounce like that."

Peter made some kind of noise in acknowledgment, one so embarrassing he'd deny it if ever asked about it. There was something about fucking doggy style that turned Peter's brain into soup because of how deeply it penetrated and how dirty he felt. Being looked at from the back, strictly as an ass and a hole with pretty packaging, made him feel all sorts of ways he couldn't quite explain. All Peter knew is that it felt slutty in the best way possible and he really fucking liked being used by Wade.

Wade finally reached between Peter's legs to grab hold of his cock, making him gasp. He landed a couple of harsh blows on Peter's ass cheeks, spewed a few more filthy lines about how Peter must've been plucked right out of a Playboy fantasy, and they were both blowing their loads. Wade squeezed Peter's hips hard as he came and Peter arched his back in a way he knew looked good, both of them shaking their way through the pleasure.

Only then did Peter realize he hadn't asked Wade to wear a condom.

"You just came in me didn't you?" Peter panted.

Wade stilled. "Oh, fiddlesticks."

He pulled out with a wet pop and thumbed at Peter's sensitive hole.

"I'm clean," Peter assured him. He knew it was because of his powers that he couldn't catch an STD but Wade didn't have to know that. "I was just tested a few days ago."

"Same," Wade mumbled, still prodding at Peter's puffy entrance. "Nothing to worry about then. We'll just have to be more careful next time."

Peter cast a hopeful grin over his shoulder.

"Next time?"

The next night on patrol was a nightmare.

Peter finally found someone who could fuck him the right way, which was beyond amazing, but that spelled trouble for his body. For the first time, Peter was sore and achy the day after getting laid. He could still see the faint whispers of bruises on his hips that Wade left somewhere between round two and round three. He liked it when things hurt in bed, but having pain afterward felt like weakness. Peter couldn't afford to be vulnerable when he was on the clock and it took a lot of effort not to focus on the ache in his back, the stiffness in his thighs, and the teeth-shaped bruises fading away on his neck.

The enhanced healing factor meant that all the marks and aches would be gone by tomorrow, but it made patrolling difficult. It also made it impossible not to think about Wade. The guy had asked for Peter's number before Peter left this morning, which Peter happily supplied, totally thrilled to have found a booty call that was man enough to tame both Peter and the spider lurking beneath the surface. Peter could see himself getting addicted to Wade very, very easily. It was a scary thought since intimacy and human connection aren't something Peter's been known to excel in, but a friends-with-benefits relationship sounded more than perfect to him. He hoped Wade would continue to feel the same way and Peter was already looking forward to the next time he had time to give the guy a call.

"Spidey babe! What are you doing out so late? Isn't it past your bedtime?"

Peter turned to face the voice, already knowing who he'd see when the gruff, leather-muffled words hit his ears.

"Very funny. What are you doing on the streets? Shouldn't you be behind bars?" Peter clapped back.

"Feisty, aren't we?" Deadpool said, leaning against the nearby brick wall. "Don't worry. My parole officer said I could leave jail for the night and have a conjugal visit. Wanna bang?"

"You're obnoxiously vulgar," Peter sneered beneath his mask. "The day you go to prison will be a miracle."

"Don't count on it," Deadpool said. "You nobler than thou heroes need someone like me around to help you fight your fights, make the tough decisions, then use as a scapegoat when the media gets pissed at the fallout."

"That is so not how that works," Peter scoffed.

"Really? So I didn't help you fight your fight the other night? Save the hostages?" Deadpool challenged.

"I-"

"I didn't take care of the bad guy and you didn't push me off the roof as thanks?" Deadpool continued. "Real dick move, BTW."

"I pushed you off the roof because you grabbed my ass," Peter snapped. "And you killed the bad guy! I don't do killing!"

"That's my point," Deadpool said. "Guys like you don't kill, but guys like me aren't afraid to. So we make the hard, bloody choices and permanently take bad guys off the streets. You guys get all the credit, then you tell the real heroes to fuck off and send us away. It's a pretty screwed up system, don't you think?"

"I'm not having this conversation with you," Peter sighed. "I'm working. You can piss off now."

"No, I think I'll hang around for a bit," Deadpool said, pushing off the wall and pacing around Peter.

He wanted to scream. He hated when Deadpool was in a mood like this because it meant Peter was going to be in for a long night of cleaning up the mercenary's messes to avoid public panic.

"Deadpool, I'm serious," Peter ground out through gritted teeth. "Get outta here."

"Why?" Deadpool wondered. "You not happy to see me?"

"I think I've made that abundantly clear. Are you done now?"

"I'm just getting started, sweetheart," Deadpool purred. "Come play with me. I've got a real nice set of silk bedsheets with your name and your jizz all over it. They miss you already."

"Pool, I'm serious. Back the fuck off or I'm gonna web you to the wall and leave you here."

"Kinky," Deadpool said, stopping his circles around Peter when he made it to the spider's back. "If I knew that's something you're into I would've let you do it last night."

Peter's body went cold and he stilled. "What?"

Two massive, tree-trunk arms snaked around his waist, pulling their bodies close together. "You can drop the act, baby. I had fun with our little game, but the show's over now. You know it's me."

Peter suddenly felt weak in his knees.

"What are you talking about?" he whispered, voice quivering.

"Ohhh new angle, huh? Want me to be the big scary bad guy? Gonna be honest the CNC thing isn't my normal cup of tea. I like my partners to be enthusiastic. But for you? I'll bite," Wade bent his head down and chuckled against Peter's ear. "What's the matter, Spidey? You didn't have fun at our play date?"

No. No, no, no, no, no. Absolutely fucking not. There's no fucking way Deadpool was saying what Peter thought he was saying. His heart leaped to his throat, threatening to spill out all over the pavement and take the contents of Peter's stomach with it. There's no way. There's simply no way.

"That's impossible," Peter choked out, fingers quivering at his sides.

"Impossible? Nothing's impossible. I tend to get what I want one way or another," Wade said. "I've gotta say, I was surprised when you came to find me. You were the last person I expected to see walk into Sister Margaret's unless you were coming in full costume to bust the joint. But I liked our game and you scream real pretty. Are you always loud or were you just putting on a show for lil' old me?"

Wade's tone was smug, heavy, filled with an air of amusement and self-satisfaction that told Peter he was enjoying this.

Peter was on the verge of a panic attack. His head was tingling, not because of his Spidey sense, but with the familiar sting of fight or flight over the realization that Deadpool knew his name. His face. His body. It was by the sheer grace of god that Peter didn't collapse on the spot and maintained just the tiniest sliver of composure.

"All those times you followed my trail, walked into my trap...I knew you weren't stupid. You just wanted to see me. Isn't that right?" Wade continued. "Like I said last night, people tend to run away when they get a good look at me. But not you. You can pretend you don't want me but I know the truth. You like your toys rough around the edges. Don't you, Peter?"

Hearing his real name fall from the mercenary's lips finally made Peter spring into action. He used all his strength to break free from Deadpool's grip, Wade fucking Wilson's grip, and punch him as hard as possible in the stomach. The impact sent Wade flying into the brick wall and Peter made good on his promise and shot two giant webs, pinning Wade by his wrists to the side of the building in the alley.

"You're lying," Peter breathed. "I wouldn't- I mean, there's no way I'd...and you...no."

Wade tilted his head and studied Peter's body language. Peter started clutching at his chest and his throat, tightness and pain blooming in them. Wade's previously relaxed, cocky form suddenly went rigid as he strained against his bonds.

"Oh...ooooh, no, no, no you're not just riding the roleplay rollercoaster right now," Wade gasped. "You really didn't know!"

"Know what? That I was sleeping with a serial killer!" Peter screeched. "No, I didn't fucking know that! What the fuck? How the fuck? This is bad, this is so bad. Oh my god, I'm so fucking stupid!"

Peter was pacing the length of the alley now, hands on his head. His throat was closing, his vision was blurring, and there was a faint ringing in his ears.

"Shit," Wade cursed. The sound was distant like Peter was listening from underwater. "Petey? Can you hear me?"

"Don't fucking call me that!" Peter screamed, pointing a finger at Wade. "I'm so stupid. This can't be happening to me."

"Hey, why don't you let me outta these and we can-"

"I can't breathe," Peter said aloud. He ripped off his mask and started hyperventilating, finally collapsing to his knees on the ground. Wade's already seen his face so there was no point in hiding it now. He might as well suck in as much pure oxygen as possible and trying not to suffocate.

"Spidey, take some deep breaths. It's gonna be fine."

"No, no, no, it's not fine," Peter gasped. "This is bad, this is so bad, oh my god."

He put his head between his knees and tried to steady his breathing, but when it didn't work, he ripped his mask off. There was no point in trying to hide his identity anymore, now that he'd fucked it all up.

"Oh, fuck, Spidey. I'm sorry," Wade apologized, still webbed to the wall.

Peter let himself wallow in his worries for a minute before blinking away his tears and scowling up at the mercenary. His anxiety turned into rage, feeling like a total fucking idiot. Slowly getting himself back to his feet, Peter stalked up to Wade and pulled one of the mercenary's knives out of his belt. He then ripped off Wade's mask so they could look each other in the eye and held the dagger to his throat.

"If you tell anyone who I am you're gonna regret it!" Peter threatened. "You might not be able to die but I'll keep you webbed to this wall, cut all your limbs off, stuff them in separate blocks of concrete, and throw them in the ocean!"

"Woah," Wade drawled. "Don't take this the wrong way, babe, but you look hot when you threaten me."

"I'm not fucking kidding," Peter growled, pressing the knife into Wade's neck just enough to draw a little blood.

"I know!" Wade cried. "That's why it's hot!"

"Alright, that's it-" Peter began, going to web Wade's mouth shut while he figured out what to do.

"Okay, I'm done!" Wade interrupted. "Sorry! I'll behave, I'm just a little confused. My name's all over the internet. I don't exactly bother hiding it because there's no point. I can't die, I have nobody close to me, and there's no reason for me to keep that kinda thing a secret. You don't have Google or something?"

"Why would I waste my free time looking into you?" Peter snapped hysterically.

"Same reason I looked into you? Curiosity?" Wade suggested. "You seriously never looked into my past? Never did any sort of digging to figure out who's behind the mask?"

Peter felt sick again. "You've been stalking me?"

Wade shrugged as best as he could with his wrists still pinned to the wall. "Just once, when we first met all those years ago. We ran into each other on patrol, I followed you to your apartment building and waited until you came out to see your face. Knew it was you the second I saw your ass in a pair of jeans."

"Oh my god, you know where I fucking live!" Peter wailed.

"Hey, I didn't go looking through your windows! I just found the building, not the actual unit. I'm not a total creep. I have no clue what apartment number you're in!" Wade said, like that made it better. Peter shook his head and let out an incredulous bark of unamused laughter.

"But I felt a little guilty about lying to you all this time so that's why I brought you to my place last night. Even the playing field," Wade explained.

"How'd you get my name? Steal my mail or some shit?" Peter sneered.

"You gave it to me at the bar," Wade said. "C'mon, I just wanted to know what you looked like under the mask and I took a peek. I only did it that one time. Why do you think I'm always trying to get in your pants? You're a total ten, babe. Like, a hard fuckin' ten."

"So you just played stupid last night to finally get what you wanted, huh? Take advantage of me?" Peter bristled, holding up the knife to Wade's throat again.

"I thought you were finally taking me up on my offer!" Wade said defensively. "You showed up to a mercenary bar you've never been to before, came up to me of all people, and got right down to business! That seemed like too much of a coincidence! I seriously thought you were bored and wanted to try out some roleplay, but didn't feel like going through the trouble of finding someone, so you went with the person you already knew was interested."

Peter swiped a hand over his face. Of course, Wade thought Peter knew. This whole thing was absurd. "Jesus Christ."

"I'm sorry, Spidey. If I'd realized you had no clue who I was, I wouldn't have brought you home."

"Yeah, I know," Peter begrudgingly admitted.

For some reason, he got even more pissed knowing Wade was telling the truth. Wade could be a total dick and liked to push his luck, but Peter's spider sense never went off around him for a reason. That was also something he should've picked up on last night. And he wanted to be mad at Wade for taking it upon himself to learn Peter's identity, but Wade's confession proved he could be trusted in a weird, backhanded, fucked up sort of way. Wade could've done so much with the knowledge that Peter was the one behind the mask, and yet, he didn't.

Even when Peter didn't know it, Wade was keeping him safe by protecting his secret. Wade was actively choosing Spider-Man over money or fame or whatever else he might want every single day. He never used Peter's identity for blackmail. Never even bothered to learn Peter's name until it was given to him. Wade really, truly just wanted to know what Spider-Man's face looked like. It was annoying because that kind of curiosity was so on-brand for someone like Deadpool, and it was a piece of information that could ruin Peter's life. And Wade chose not to violate any more of Peter's boundaries after satiating his intrigue.

He just took Peter to bed instead.

"So what do we do now?" Wade asked. "You gonna leave me here and go home? Make good on that promise to gimme the old slice and dice? Or do you wanna see what's behind door number three?"

Peter used Wade's knife to cut the webs off the mercenary's wrist. "I already know what's behind door number three."

"Great, then we can skip the talking part!" Wade said, rolling his shoulders and shaking out his arms. "What's it gonna be, handsome?"

Peter webbed off without another word.

They didn't see each other for a month after that. Peter was grateful for the silence at first, but after a while, he started to worry. Not that he'd ever admit it. It was just abnormal not to hear from the mercenary for so long. He did some subtle digging with the other NY supes and found out from Daredevil that Pool had taken a job in the Maldives and wouldn't be back for another six days.

After Peter knew Wade wasn't being mutilated and tortured on repeat somewhere, he felt a little better and started thinking about what he'd been calling "the incident" that went down between them. Being a superhero was hard work and Peter didn't have a lot of time or energy to spend going on dates and hooking up with strangers. His stint at Sister Margaret's was pretty out of character for him, and although he'd been viewing the whole situation as a mistake, it might've been a blessing in disguise.

Wade's pretty much proven he can be trusted with Peter's identity. He's also great in bed and genuinely seemed apologetic over the miscommunication they had. If Peter were to go back to Wade he'd be letting the mercenary deeper into his life, but maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. Maybe Peter could keep Wade on a tighter leash, lower the number of bodies he dropped. And if they just so happened to get off in the process, well, Peter wasn't going to apologize for that.

Once upon a time, Peter used to hook up with Johnny Storm. They were still dumb college-age kids who lacked the experience and maturity and prowess to maintain a truly fulfilling sexual relationship with each other, but it helped Peter realize how much easier it was to get involved with people in the same line of work. He didn't have to make excuses about why he'd have to reschedule or come up with a fake story about why he suddenly had basketball-sized bruises on his rib cage after going MIA for a few days. Johnny knew exactly what Peter was dealing with because he was dealing with it too, and it relieved a lot of pressure for both of them.

Wade's line of work was...similar. Peter might not be getting paid for his efforts like the merc often was, but he was confident Pool would understand in the event Peter wasn't able to make it to one of their "meetings." It would be a convenient arrangement for both of them. And, as Peter already noted, Wade was great in bed.

Peter ran his tongue over his top row of teeth and contemplated. As long as he was careful and put very strict, very clear boundaries in place, it could work.

He drummed his fingers against his thigh and decided to propose the idea to Wade when he came back.

"Spidey! My favorite red-suited NYC superhero! I missed you babycakes! Are you still mad at me or can we be frenemies again?" 

Peter whipped his head to the right, caught off guard. The thief he'd been giving a stern talking to in the alley took advantage of Peter's momentary distraction and tried running away, but was promptly stopped by a ninja star in the thigh, courtesy of none other than Wade Wilson.

"Pool! Knock it off, we've talked about this! No murdering civilians!" Peter cried.

"Relax, I missed the femoral artery on purpose," Wade said, sauntering over to the guy trying to crawl away. He ripped the star from the man's leg and wiped the blood on the criminal's now-torn jeans. "He'll be fine."

"Jesus," Peter huffed, hurrying over to web the guy's wound shut. He grabbed the guy's phone out of his pocket and dialed 911 to report the incident before frowning down at him. "No more stealing. Understood?"

"Yeah, or I'll go for the jugular next time!" Wade added unhelpfully.

"Shut up," Peter snapped. He waited until police sirens started whirring nearby then forcefully dragged Wade to his side and shot a web at the nearest rooftop, swinging them up and out of sight.

"Why, Spidey, I do love it when you take control like that. I guess that means you're done hating me. Do it again, would ya?" Wade leered at the top, still holding on tight to Peter's waist. Peter slapped Pool's hands away and fixed him with his best I'm disappointed in you pose.

"Wade," he said flatly. "If you keep doing this shit I'm gonna start webbing you to the top of the Empire State while I'm on patrol. And then make you get down by yourself."

"Uh, rude! I just spent four weeks working my sweet round ass off to stop a drug lord, help you catch a criminal on my night off, and that's all you have to say? How about 'thanks for your help DP, you're so talented and hot?' Would that kill ya?" Wade scoffed.

Peter tilted his head toward the heavens and groaned. "God, you're so fucking annoying."

"Well, I'm a bit high-strung this evening. It's been a long month."

"Of what? Homicide?"

"Shhhhh, don't ruin this moment," Wade said, reaching out to press a finger against Peter's mask-covered lips. "We're flirting. Let's not dull the spark by making you fussy."

"Flirting? That's what this is to you?"

Wade shrugged. "Yeah, pretty much. Being a nuisance is my love language. What's yours? I bet it's looking pretty when you get head. Wanna indulge me?"

Peter's cheeks went red under his mask, suddenly reminded of what he planned to propose the next time he saw Wade. He supposed now was as good a time as any and took a breath to steady himself before taking a step back.

"Yeah, about that," Peter began. "I've been thinking."

"Uh oh. That's never a good sign. Should I throw myself off the roof now to save myself the embarrassment of rejection?"

Wade was already dangling a foot over the ledge and Peter rushed to bring him back.

"Stop being dramatic and just listen. Look, I'm.." Peter sighed, embarrassment and irritation making it hard to find the words. "I'm...not opposed to uh, doing that again. I've found these types of things are easier to handle with someone who knows what it's like to live life in a mask," Peter said.

Wade stood stock still, then shook his head violently. "I'm sorry, did you say what I think you just said?"

"Yes, Wade. I did."

"Have I been stabbed in the brain or eye socket in the last eleven and a half minutes? Maybe drugged? Or set on fire and inhaled copious amounts of burnt flesh and smoke?"

"Alright," Peter said, turning to leave. "Forget I said anything, I should've known better than to ask. You can't be fucking mature for a second."

"Woah, woah, woah! Wait hold on!" Wade said, reaching out to pull Peter back. "I'm sorry I'm just shocked. After everything that happened with the identity porn, as they call it, you're willing to do it a second time? With me? AKA Deadpool? AKA Wade Wilson?"

"Yes, Wade," Peter sighed. "Are we gonna have to do this all night? Because there's shit I need to get done and-"

"No!" Wade interrupted eagerly. "I mean yes! Y-E-S spells yes I am totally, ten thousand, one million percent so fucking on board. Hell, I'll suck you off right this second if you want me to."

"Slow your roll, big guy," Peter said. He put a hand on Wade's chest. "If we're going to do that again, there's gotta be rules. I know you're not the rule-following type, but if you want to get laid then you're gonna follow mine. Understand?" Peter said.

Wade nodded. "For you? Anything."

"Rule one, no mixing business and pleasure. If we run into each other on the job, we keep it professional. No real names, no more flirting, no screwing around...literally and figuratively. We save that for when we aren't working."

"Fair enough. What else?"

"I don't like holding back when I don't have to," Peter said, grabbing Wade's bicep and squeezing hard enough to make him inhale sharply. "Spidey's going to slip out more often than not since you know the truth. You think you can handle that?"

Peter could feel Wade's predatory gaze through the mask, undressing him with his imagination. "I thought I already proved I could."

Peter rolled his eyes. "It was a decent start."

"That all?"

"Just one last thing. Don't go getting soft on me. This is a mutually beneficial agreement. A symbiotic relationship. I scratch your back, you scratch mine, but we keep all the messy shit out of it."

"I don't know about all that symbiote stuff, I thought Venom was more your problem than mine," Wade teased.

Peter rolled his eyes again.

"But I think you're telling me you want to fuck, no strings attached. And that I am very much okay with," Wade said.

"Good," Peter clapped his hands together. "Glad we agree."

"Is this the part where you take me home?" Wade asked hopefully.

"Nah, I've got plants tonight," Peter said, playing coy. In reality, he just needed more time to himself to think things over before going through with it again. "I know where to find you when I want you."

Wade tilted his head. "Are you inviting yourself over again?"

Peter scoffed. "Well, I'm sure as hell not bringing you to my place. If you want to come back there, you've gotta earn the right, in light of recent revelations. And if you try to follow me home, you can forget everything we just talked about"

"I deserve that one," Wade said.

"I certainly think so," Peter said. "Bye, Wade."

He swung into the night without a second glance but could feel Wade's eyes on him until he was out of sight.

Peter spent four days mulling it over to weigh the positives and negatives of getting into bed with Wade again. It was impossible to settle on a decision and when he finally came to one, he found a way to talk himself back into the other. But somewhere between it all, Peter landed on "fuck it" and went to find Wade before he could change his mind for the thousandth time. He was a grown man capable of watching out for himself. At some point, he'd need to stop being a bystander in his own life and go after what he wanted. Right now, that happened to be just over six feet of red leather, scarred skin, and huge muscles.

He thought about calling first and decided against it. Instead, he put on the suit and webbed his way to Wade's place, just in case "fuck it" became "go home." It didn't, so he let himself in through the window and yanked off his mask.

"Wade?" Peter called out.

No answer.

"Yo, Wilson? You here?" he tried again.

Nothing.

Peter worried he had the wrong apartment for a minute when he was ambushed from behind, a strong arm wrapping around his throat. He felt the warm body pressing up behind him, and immediately knew there was no danger.

"You coulda just said hello," Peter breathed.

"Where's the fun in that?" Wade growled against his ear.

"You asked for it."

Peter grabbed the arm Wade had around him and pulled it off, but maintained a grip so he could spin them both around. He pinned it behind Wade's back and shoved the mercenary face-first against the nearest wall, goosebumps breaking out over his skin when he heard Wade chuckle.

"You weren't lying," he said. "Spidey did come out to play. But you didn't have to wear the suit on my behalf."

"I wanted to swing and I can't do that without it," Peter said. "If I let you go are you gonna behave?"

"That depends. Am I off probation?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"I suppose. Unless this is another hallucination, in which case I need to go see some people about some things. Last time this happened life got messy pretty fast."

Peter let Wade go and took a step back. "I don't even want to know."

"That's good," Wade said, peering over his shoulder. "Means this is real. You wanna frisk me before I turn back around?"

"Not a bad idea," Peter snorted. "But no. That would take too long with how many weapons you're always packing and I'm on a tight schedule. I've got work in the morning."

Wade turned to face him. "Pity. I planned on taking you apart nice and slow next time I got you in my bed."

"I thought we'd do things a little different this time," Peter said, grabbing at the hem of Wade's t-shirt. "Now that I know I don't need to hold back."

Wade thumped his head against the wall and pumped his fist. "I'm so fucking glad I'm not hallucinating this time."

Peter pulled their hips together. "I really, really don't want to know."

"My lips are sealed," Wade said. "By the way, the stubble looks good on you. I hope I get to feel that between my thighs."

"If you're lucky."

Peter placed a hand on the back of Wade's neck and pressed their lips together. He was feeling more confident in himself this time around with all their dirty laundry and secret identities already on the table. Wade had agreed to Peter's rules easily and without protest, which gave him hope that things could work between him and the mercenary. It was a complicated dynamic between them, yes, but when boiled down to sex it all felt so fucking simple.

"Take your clothes off," Peter ordered between kisses, already pulling the Spidey suit off.

"Your wish, my command," Wade sing-songed, making quick work of it all.

"If you were always this agreeable I wouldn't do things like push you off the roof," Peter observed aloud, eying Wade's now naked body and rapidly hardening cock.

Wade reached out to run his fingers over a jagged scar on Peter's lower abdomen once they were both naked. "Eh. Makes for a good story after the fact. Where'd you get this scar?"

"Stabbed," Peter said simply. He was more interested in mouthing at the mercenary's neck at the moment, but Wade's ever-present sense of curiosity was still running the show.

"And this one?"

Peter felt two fingers running down his back, next to his spine. "Crushed by a minivan."

Wade hummed, tilting his head to give Peter better access to his neck. "The one on your thigh?"

"My fault. Building collision when I was just getting the hang of this Spider-Man thing," Peter said, pulling away from Wade's neck to bite at his earlobe. "You wanna keep playing 20 questions or get the lube so I can bend you over the couch?"

"I'll take the latter," Wade said eagerly, placing another chaste kiss on Peter's lips. "Sorry. I wanted to ask last time, but I was under the impression we were pretending not to be mutants, as you know. Figured I'd jump on the opportunity now."

Wade didn't wait for Peter's reply before scurrying off to the bedroom and returning only a few seconds later with the lube.

"Catch," he said, wailing it at Peter's head.

Peter's hand shot up lightning fast to stop the bottle mid-air, preventing a collision with his face. Wade threw it hard enough to break Peter's nose, had the hero not caught it, and Peter frowned at him.

"God, that's hot," Wade gushed.

"Hope it was worth it. That stunt will cost you."

"I'm counting on it. Where do you want me?"

"I already said I was gonna bend you over the couch, didn't I? You need to pay more attention," Peter scolded.

"Kinda hard to focus when you've got a naked superhero right in front of you," Wade argued, but he immediately went to drape himself over the arm of the couch, ass up.

Peter made sure he kept one of his web shooters on before approaching Wade from behind and admiring the view, running a teasing hand down the mercenary's back. "You've got one hell of a body, Wilson."

"Nothin' on you, babe," he said, still bracing himself with his hands on one of the cushions.

Peter smiled, having no intentions of letting Wade keep the use of his arms. He'd wait until after he fingered the mercenary open before limiting his range of motion. "Yanno, I was gonna eat you out before you tried to take my head off with the lube. But I don't think I'm gonna be as nice to you anymore."

"Shoulda resisted the intrusive thought," Wade said to himself. "Fuck me sideways, am I right?"

"I was planning to fuck you from behind, but whatever," Peter said, popping open the lube cap to squirt some on his fingers. "Now hold still."

Peter worked two fingers inside slowly, taking his time to watch the mercenary's back arch and push back into it. He purposely missed Wade's prostate just to drive him insane, a trick Peter picked up on a few years back when he and Johnny Storm were screwing around. Wade responded the same way Johnny used to, with desperate moans and frustrated whines, pretty noises that always went right to Peter's dick.

Wade took whatever Peter wanted to give him but spat out taunts from between gritted teeth.

"You're lucky you don't shoot webs the way you finger fuck. If your aim was this bad when swinging around the city, you'd have crash-landed into the Empire State by now," he panted. "Totally missing the spot."

"Wow, almost like I'm not hitting your prostate on purpose," Peter said in a monotone voice. "You want to feel that good, you've got to earn it."

"Yeah? Easy peasy. Merc with the mouth isn't something my mama called me when I was being a smartass. Stick your dick in my throat and find out. Unless you're worried you'll blow your load too early."

Peter smirked. "Not exactly what I had in mind."

He pulled his fingers from Wade's hole and reached forward to grab both the mercenary's arms and pull them behind his back. Wade let out a startled grunt, but Peter webbed his wrists together before he could protest. Now Wade couldn't support himself with his hands, which would make this next part a lot harder.

Peter fingered Wade for another minute until the rings of muscle started to relax, so he slicked up his dick and lined it up with Wade's entrance. He just barely slipped the head inside before removing his hands from Wade's body entirely.

"What's the hold up back there? Cat got your cock?"

"No," Peter said smugly, enjoying the way Wade's body was starting to quiver under the strain of holding himself in the right position without the support of his arms. "You're so certain I'm fucking you wrong, so now you can do it yourself. Here's your chance to earn the g-spot pounding you're so desperate for."

Wade groaned and slumped forward over the arm of the couch, letting his head fall into the cushion. The sudden shift forward pulled the head of Peter's cock from Wade's hole, which made the merc curse.

"You're a real son of a bitch, Parker.  A cruel, cruel, son of a bitch. This is so unfair. I did all the heavy lifting last time and now you want me to do it again?" Wade groaned, his words muffled.

Peter chuckled darkly. "C'mon, Pool. Earn. It."

Wade used his abs to lift himself back up and start pushing towards Peter's cock, which kept slipping because of all the lube. After watching him struggle for a few minutes, Peter slid the head in again so Wade could finally start fucking himself. It was a painfully slow drag that set Peter's veins on fire, Wade's body a vice of wet heat and sin. Obviously, the mercenary was having a hard time moving the way he wanted, given the strange angle and restricted use of hands. Peter was more than delighted to watch him work for it.

It wasn't long until Peter was starting to get a little antsy himself, though, so he hummed and grabbed Wade's bound wrists in one hand, while the other took hold of the merc's scarred hips. He thrust inside Wade's hole as hard as he could, relishing in the pleasured moan that escaped from both their lips. Peter then used his grip on Wade's webbing as leverage to start fucking him mercilessly from behind.

"Oh, fuck!" Wade cried, head falling forward. His fingers were clenched into fists at the small of his back and Peter dug his nails into Wade's flesh to make the other man hiss at the sting.

Much to Peter's surprise, Wade was less talkative when he was the one getting fucked. He was still loud and noisy, that's for sure, but it was less words and more incoherent babble that spilled from his lips.

"God, you look good like this," Peter breathed, sweat starting to bead at the back of his neck. He wasn't going easy on Wade by any means, putting the full force of his spider strength into every movement, getting high on the sounds Wade was making. Peter had positioned them just so, making sure that Wade couldn't grind his cock against the side of the couch or find any sort of friction that might get him off. Peter wanted to be the one that finally made him cum, and he wasn't about to let Wade off easy. He planned to use Wade for his own release before teasing the fuck out of the mercenary, making him cry and see stars with the force of his orgasm.

"Fuck," Peter grunted as he neared the edge, hips stuttering as he finished inside the mercenary's battered hole. He didn't bother with condoms this time either, now that he knew for certain neither of them could catch or give any STDs and Peter almost fell to his knees when he pulled out and saw his release slowly dripping from Wade.

"C'mon Petey, I'm dying over here," Wade whined as Peter thumbed at his puffy rim, spreading his spend over Wade's skin. "Please."

"So polite," Peter said, smacking Wade hard on his left asscheek. "I like when you ask nicely."

"Jesus fuck, I'll get on my knees and start begging if that's what you want!" Wade nearly wailed, voice high-pitched and strained. "Just don't leave me like this."

"Leave you? Who said I was leaving?" Peter questioned. "I'm not done with you yet, I was just having some of my own fun, clearing my head so I can think straight."

Wade let out a watery sigh of relief, and Peter made a point to file that away for later as he guided the mercenary into a fully upright position. Something about it told Peter that Wade's previous sexual partners hadn't been very interested in making sure they both got off. Peter certainly had no plans to leave Wade's leaking cock untouched, and the taller man followed Peter's guidance without protest.

Keeping Wade's hands bound behind his back, Peter moved Wade so that he was sitting in the center of the couch, his dick rock-hard and dripping all over his scarred abdomen. Peter smirked at the sight and grabbed one of the nearby throw pillows, tossing it on the ground before dropping lightly to his knees. He ran his fingers softly up the inside of Wade's thighs, watching his cock jump in anticipation, before leaning forward to place an open-mouthed kiss on the flushed tip.

"Fuck, this is how I die," Wade whined, head rolling backward almost as far as his eyes went into his head. Peter laughed, breath ghosting over his erection, and kissed Wade's cock again. Wade's hips bucked up involuntarily and Peter tssked, pressing down on Wade's hipbones to hold him firmly in place.

Peter sucked Wade's tip into his mouth and Wade bucked against the hero's hands, unable to take more than he was given under the weight of super strength. Peter took his time and set a painfully leisurely pace that brought Wade to the brink of hysteria, taking the merc's length as deep as he could before pulling off and stroking him a few times. Then he cut contact altogether and mouthed at the scar tissue on the inside of Wade's thighs, getting an eyeful of the textured skin and mapping out the patternless marks as much as he could.

Deadpool never took off the suit. Since Wade apparently isn't concerned about keeping his identity a secret, Peter suspected it had more to do with his appearance than his anonymity. The thought made his heart break a little because he found Wade to be almost sickeningly beautiful. The kind of beauty they write about in stories, where men are built like gods with striking eyes that can peer into your very soul. Or the way wild animals are in the jungle, unpredictable, lethal, exotic. Even in the height of his arousal Wade moved like a predator, all hard edges and unexpected grace.

Peter hummed thoughtfully, getting lost in his train of thought while he took Wade's cock as deep as possible into his mouth, the sound creating vibrations around the merc's length. Wade moaned and writhed, massive chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, his abs clenching.

"C'mon, Spidey," Wade whined. "Have mercy."

The subtle plea went right to Peter's head, the sight of Wade falling apart an ego stroke he didn't know he needed. Turning the world's most renowned killer into a puddle of desperate want was one hell of a power trip, and if Peter's cock wasn't already getting hard again he would've dragged this moment out as long as possible.

He hummed around Wade's length again in acknowledgment, putting all his focus into bringing the merc over the edge. Peter ran the flat of his tongue over the scarred base while he bobbed his head, pulled off to tongue at the textured slit every once in a while, rubbed his hands gently over Wade's thighs. It wasn't long before Wade let out a small grunt, stumbling airily over the syllables of Peter's name.

"Jesus, P-Peter, I'm-"

Peter knew what was coming, but he appreciated the warning. Relaxing the muscles in his throat he braced himself for the hot flood of come on his tongue, swallowing as quickly as it spurted from the head of Wade's cock. Wade's thighs flexed under Peter's hands, every muscle in his body quivering ever so slightly as his orgasm washed over him. The dim city lights streaming through the open window reflected off the older scars peppering Wade's skin, creating a silvery effect similar to the glint of streetlights on a steel blade. The merc looked so good in that moment that Peter would've gone to embarrassing lengths to fuck him, assuming he didn't already have that scarred cock down his throat.

Only after Wade stopped shaking did Peter pull his mouth off, thumbing at the corner of his lips.

"Feel a little better now that I took the edge off?" Peter teased.

Wade nodded, dazed.

"Good, because I'm ready for round two," Peter said. "You got enough left in you to ride me?"

"I've got whatever you want, hot stuff. But I might need to use my hands to keep my balance," Wade said.

Peter rose and sat on the couch next to Wade, pulling the merc into his lap and lining up his cock with his hole once more. "I'll keep you steady. Just sink down nice and slow for me, got it?"

Wade nodded and did as instructed, tree trunk thighs shaking lightly as he sank back down on Peter's length. Immediately the web-slinger realized they'd need more lube because Wade's healing factor had already started tightening the small rings of muscle Peter worked so hard to stretch.

"Stay there," Peter ordered, a bolt of arousal shooting down his spine when Wade let out a small whine. "You need more lube."

"M'fine. Nothin' hurts me, you know that. Just lemme go. God, this conversation sounds familiar to the one we had last time I got you naked. You taking revenge because I didn't wanna use spit instead of lube? Just split me open, Spidey. Please?" Wade whined. It was pathetic, and it made Peter so hard it hurt. All the more reason to make sure the merc was getting some actual pleasure, rather than being used as an object to rut against.

"Say it again," Peter practically purred, voice melting like butter in Wade's ears. He was already slicking up the part of his dick that hadn't been engulfed by Wade's rim yet, but Peter still liked when the merc begged for it.

"Please," Wade repeated. "Lemme fuck myself on your cock."

"Jesus," Peter hissed, unable to stop the small buck of hips that pushed him just another inch deeper inside Wade. The small motion made Wade's head lull forward, chin against his chest, wrists still bound behind his back in Peter's webs, all while trembling thighs fought the urge to sit down on Peter's cock as fast and as hard as possible.

"Fuck, if you could see yourself," Peter mumbled, running an appreciative hand over Wade's side. "You sure you don't want more lube?"

Wade squinted his eyes shut and let out a broken laugh. "I avoid that jumpscare as often as possible. And yeah, m'positive."

"Jumpscare isn't the word I'd use, but okay," Peter replied. The web-slinger never had a problem with blowing his load too early, but Wade looked so hot he just might put an end to his streak of performing better than the average non-mutant in the sack.

"Nightmare fuel? Freddy Krueger?" Wade suggested, eyes still squeezed shut.

Peter took advantage of Wade's self-deprecating distraction to place one of his hands firmly on the merc's waist, making sure to get a solid grip. He used the other to slip two fingers in Wade's mouth, letting the merc get them wet and sloppy, before using the wet fingers to rub over his stretched rim.

"Vomit inducing? Boner killing?" Wade continued the second Peter pulled his fingers out, voice cracking. "Perhaps even torturo-oooh fuck!"

Peter had used his super strength to slam the merc down on the rest of his length, nailing his prostate in the process. The swift motion effectively cut off whatever nonsense Wade was about to start spewing, pulling him out of the downward spiral Peter could tell he was starting to go down.

"You talk too much," Peter said, thumb rubbing circles over Wade's hipbone. "And you clearly haven't boner-killed shit. So why don't you get to work getting me off again, yeah? Maybe see if you can get yourself off in the process, too."

Wade's whole body was shaking now, but he immediately started using his thighs to bounce up and down on Peter's dick. Peter helped Wade keep his balance, as he promised he would, but after a few moments of such a punishing pace, the merc slumped forward, forehead now resting against Peter's. Peter took advantage of the opportunity to lean in and kiss Wade, a wet, messy thing that was more tongue than anything, all illusions of finesse abandoned for the sake of unadulterated, filthy pleasure. The merc wasn't complaining, though, so Peter took his time exploring the other man's mouth, tugging at his lips with his teeth.

The new position also pressed the tip of Wade's cock to the muscled planes of Peter's abdomen and the merc shamelessly rutted against the web-slinger's torso on every upstroke. Peter was pleased to see Wade doing what he was told, chasing his release as well as helping Peter achieve his second orgasm of the night, so he began murmuring gentle encouragement in between licking at each other's tongues.

"Keep going," Peter murmured against Wade's ear. "Rub one out, make a fuckin' mess for me."

It wasn't long before Wade was spurting all over Peter's stomach, whimpering as he came. Peter grabbed Wade's ass with one hand and cradled the back of his bald head with the other, pulling him close and embracing the texture of his scarred flesh while his orgasm hit, coming deep within Wade's body. The two stayed still for a moment afterward, panting into each others' open mouths while the shockwaves of pleasure slowly dissipated. Unsurprisingly, Wade was the one to break the silence first.

"So I, uh, hope this was the start of me making it up to you. Yanno, the whole stalking thing."

Peter snorted and dropped his head into the crook of Wade's neck. "Getting there. And who knew all I had to do to get you to be quiet for a minute was stick something up your ass?"

"I get that a lot," Wade said, voice still breathier than normal. "First time I haven't been pissed about someone saying it, though."

"What an honor," Peter said sarcastically. "Do I get a mutant bro-code pass or something?"

"No, you're just not as big of a dick about it."

"Speaking of dick, we gotta wipe ours off," Peter said, pulling his cock out of Wade's ass as gently as possible.

"Yeah huh, just a sec. Need to shake off the spider legs first." Wade said, body going lax.

Peter allowed the merc a moment to rest, reaching around to grab hold of the makeshift web cuffs and pull them apart. Wade brought his arms to the front of his body, stretching them out, while Peter gave his broad shoulders a couple of tension-relieving squeezers.

"Cuffs were a nice touch," Wade said with a smirk. "Totally gonna use that one again. Maybe I'll give you a taste of your own medicine and string you up with your webs."

"Good luck with that," Peter teased. "They don't work as well on me."

"I'll have to get extra creative then," Wade mused. He slowly rolled off of Peter and flopped down on the couch next to him, both of the mutants boneless and satiated.

"Seriously, we've got to clean ourselves up before this shit dries," Peter said, wrinkling his nose at his cum-covered cock.

"Yeah, yeah. You can go first, Princess. Bathroom's down the hall on the left," Wade grumbled. "Shower towels are in the basket under the sink and yes they're clean, I just don't see the point in folding shit when all you do is wrinkle it again. So they're in the basket for convenience. Help yourself to the Old Spice but the green bottle is medicated. I don't know what it'll do to normal skin so best avoid it."

This was new territory. Peter had to run home pretty quickly after their first sexual encounter because he had to get home to handle some Spider-Man business and didn't want to overstay his welcome in what he thought was a stranger's house. Was it weird to shower at Wade's place? Was that a sign of emotional attachment? They agreed not to do that part, it was one of Peter's rules. Was Wade trying to blur the boundaries of their deal already?

"Relax, Peter," Wade chuckled. "I can see the wheels turning. Go shower. You just got me off twice, granting you access to my bathroom is the polite thing to do."

Peter snorted. "Since when are you polite?"

"Believe it or not, I've always been polite to sexual partners," Wade said. He looked over at Peter with a hint of a condescending smile. "I toe the morally gray line all the time, but the one thing I don't compromise on is sex."

"Why not?" Peter was genuinely curious. He wondered why intimacy was something Wade didn't like to take a flexible ethic stance on, whenever everything else in life was such a game for him.

"For starters, I look like this. If someone is batshit enough to sleep with me, I don't wanna go driving them away with poor manners," Wade said. "Secondly, consent and respect are totally hot. The hanky panky starts with a 'yes I'll sleep with you' and doesn't end until my partner walks out that front door. I carry that energy from start to finish...to finish."

Peter bit down on a smile, trying not to give Wade the satisfaction of giggling at his stupid joke.

"How chivalrous," he said, hoping his expression was neutral. "I'll just go clean up then."

After that night, Peter didn't see Wade again for a few weeks. They were both busy with life, with work, with whatever it is mutants get up to in their free time that prevents them from living like normal people. Their last interaction had been pleasant, which was good, so Peter went home feeling less stressed about their unique arrangement. Just like everything else in their lives, the relationship between Peter and Wade was unusual, transactional despite the gut-punching intimacy often associated with sex. All of that coupled with the fact that Wade knew Peter's real identity should've made the dynamic feel more intense than it did, or perhaps pressured Peter into feeling like he had to make more of an effort to keep Wade happy.

But it wasn't like that at all and the only thing Peter felt was satisfaction.

His eat-sleep-fuck animal urges were calmer after hooking up with Wade, leaving more room in his head and allowing him to occupy his thoughts with important affairs. He was relieved to know that there was someone he could go to next time lust sent his spider brain haywire, someone Peter could rely on to quickly bang one out with him and then move on. He liked that Wade didn't ask too many questions, didn't demand Peter explain why he wasn't ever around during normal hours, and didn't expect anything more than what Peter was willing to offer.

So, yes, perhaps it was an abnormal arrangement given the nature of who they were. But it fucking worked and Peter was lighter than he'd been in quite some fucking time.

That is until said abnormalcy came crashing down and Peter met Wade face to face in the middle of a corner store with a shopping cart full of hot pockets.

"Petey? No way, what the fuck are you doing here?"

Peter awkwardly held up his bag of produce and carton of eggs. "What's it look like?"

"Oh, yeah, duh. Sorry. Stupid question, I just wasn't expecting to run into you like this," Wade said, pulling his hood tighter around his face. "Hope you weren't planning on buying any hot pockets because I just swept the whole section clean."

Peter smirked at Wade's cart. "Yes, I can see that. Don't worry, I'm just here for the basics, hot pockets not included."

"Good, good," Wade said, momentarily pursing his lips. "Well if you ever get a craving for one, you know where to find them. And me. We'll all be living together harmoniously until I remember to eat and scarf, like, three of them down in one sitting. So you can totes come over whenever you want....yanno, for a hot pocket."

Peter smirked. Was Wade nervous? He seemed nervous. In fact, it's the most nervous Peter has ever seen Wade since they met. The merc was usually all crass innuendos, bold flirting, and unsolicited propositions. To see him dance around the point and invite Peter over for sex under the guise of feeding him was...different. It was a bit of an ego boost, honestly, to know that plain old Peter could throw the unwavering Deadpool off his game.

"Oh, yeah, sure. For the hot pocket," Peter said, playing along. "I have a really weird job that requires me to work late hours. I'll swing by one night."

Joking about his profession might not have been the smartest move in public, especially since Wade doesn't make any effort at all to separate himself from the mask and anyone with half a brain cell could probably put the pieces together (unlike Peter, who was still pissed he didn't figure it out that first night). But it got a smile out of Wade, so Peter wasn't too worried about it.

"Do you...have any plans tomorrow?" Wade asked, drumming his fingers on the handle of the cart.

"No," Peter said. "At least, I don't think so. Unless something significant pops up at work that needs my attention. Why, are you inviting me over?"

"Yeah, if you want," Wade shrugged. He was trying to make it look casual, but it was giving quite the opposite effect. "It's been a while since we've seen each other. And I just finished a job in Puerto Rico that was a total nightmare, so having a...distraction...would be nice."

Peter thought about it. He didn't know Wade had been gone on a job, but that could explain his unusual demeanor. As far as he knew, there was nothing in the world that could rattle the mercenary but maybe he'd been wrong and Wade had just witnessed something so awful that he's been losing sleep at night over it. If he needed a different way to lose sleep and was offering to get Peter off in the process, that was a deal the hero could get behind (or in front of, depending on what kind of mood Wade was in that night).

"Okay. Tomorrow it is. I'll head over around midnight," Peter said. "I know a guy that can cover the second half of my shift."

Wade stood up a little straighter like he was surprised Peter agreed. "Works for me! I better get these things back to my place before they thaw out. Then I'd have to microwave all of them tonight which would suck, since you're coming over for one tomorrow."

"Right. Soooo...I'll see you in like 30 hours," Peter said, starting to walk away. "But don't try to run out of here without paying for those. If you steal $300 worth of hot pockets, a certain mutual friend of ours will be very pissed off. Theft is a crime."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I've got my wallet," Wade said, waving a dismissive hand in Peter's direction. "No stealing necessary."

"Good," Peter smiled. "See you tomorrow, Wade."

They parted ways without another word.

************************

Tomorrow came faster than Peter expected. It was a busy night, of course, and he wound up being 25 minutes late to Wade's place even though Daredevil had already agreed to keep an eye on things in Peter's neck of the woods for the evening so that Spider-Man could tend to the "family crisis" that required his attention at home.

The family in question was Peter's dick, but Daredevil didn't need to know that.

Wade was sitting hunched over on the couch, biting his nails when Peter came crawling through the window in his Spidey suit, making the mercenary jump.

"Oh, shit!" Wade cried, hopping to his feet. "You scared the fuck outta me, I didn't think you were coming."

"Crazy day at the office," Peter said, shutting the window behind him and pulling off his mask. "Sorry 'bout that."

"No it's fine, I'm uh. I'm just glad you showed," Wade stuttered.

He was still acting weird. Killer or not, Peter couldn't engage in anything sexual without making sure Wade was fully on board.

"Are you okay? You seem a little off. We don't have to do anything if you don't-"

"No! I mean yes! Yes, I'm fine. And yes I still want to bang like rabbits in a whore house," Wade said, wringing his fingers. "I'm just a little surprised."

"By what?"

"That you said yes."

Peter's brows drew together in confusion. "Wade, this isn't the first time we've slept together. We literally have an agreement in place to do just that."

"I know," Wade said. "But that was on your terms when you wanted it. Not that I didn't want it, because I most certainly fucking did, I'm just...I'm not used to people showing up when I'm the one extending the invite."

Peter frowned. That's the second red flag Wade has raised about his past relationships. First, he made that off-handed comment about being abandoned before he finished, and now he was saying his partners typically show up only when they want to, and not at all when Wade wants them to. That was a minefield of consent issues and emotional chaos, perhaps explaining why Wade was so big on the "treating his sexual partners with respect" thing, despite having flimsy morals in every other aspect of life.

"I want to make it very clear that I set those ground rules for both of us," Peter began. "That means you're allowed to ask as much as I am. I expect you to. If I'm not in the mood or I have other plans, I'll say no. The same goes for you, you're always allowed to say no."

Wade snorted. "I've never turned down sex in my life."

"You don't have to," Peter said, reaching around to start loosening his suit. "But I want you to know you always have the option to. You've got choices here, Wilson. As long as we're both happy and the rules of our agreement aren't broken, I'm always open to suggestions and I won't be pissed off if you say no."

Wade tracked Peter's movement and eyed the hero's naked chest as the Spidey suit fell to the floor. "Just to be very, very clear I'm not saying no. This is me issuing my formal consent, do with my body what you will Spideycakes."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Did you miss everything I just said? You're allowed to make decisions, you don't just have to hand yourself over to me and let me do whatever I want."

"But I like handing myself over for you to do whatever you want," Wade pouted.

"Okay," Peter said. "But you don't want it to be that way all the time, do you?"

"I'd be happy with whatever, but if you're offering to let me call some of the shots...." Wade began, eye-fucking Peter's almost naked body.

Peter relaxed a little. Horny, opinionated, and just a little slutty. That's the Wade he knew. That's the Wade he made the deal with. Peter wanted Wade to be comfortable with the terms of their arrangement. It was much, much more fun that way. And for whatever reason, Peter didn't like it when Wade was upset or stressed or feeling awkward. He preferred the obnoxious version of Wade he'd developed a tolerate-hate relationship with. That's what made their whole frenemies with benefits thing work.

"How do you feel about cuffs?" Wade asked. "We touched on it last time, but I wanna know all your dirty secrets."

Peter relaxed, glad to see Wade was jumping right into expressing more of his desires, before shrugging. "Eh. I'm too strong for traditional police-grade cuffs and even the webs don't work very well on me since my body is built not to get stuck in them. So the whole bondage thing is more of an illusion than an effective tool to restrain me."

Wade's lips tugged up at the corner. "So what I'm hearing is if I slap a belt on your wrists you'll only stay tied up if you want to stay tied up?"

Peter nodded. "Never thought about it like that before, but yeah. That's correct."

Wade bit his lip and groaned. "Ugh, hot. Blindfolds?"

Peter pursed his lips. "I've never used one during sex, but I'm open to it. Sounds kind of nice, my senses are always on overdrive."

Wade perked up at the revelation. "Ohh, some sensory play perhaps. How do you handle temperature?"

"Hot or cold?"

"Both."

"I can handle either, but I prefer cold to hot."

Wade started quietly singing "ice, ice baby" to himself while he finished stripping himself naked. "Probably a conversation we should've had before this point, but if we're going to keep doing this, and you're open to experimenting with each other the DP way, I need to know if you've got any hard limits."

Peter thought about it. He dabbled with all sorts of things in the bedroom during his early 20s, but after finding what he liked he typically stuck to it. There weren't many things he was openly opposed to, but this was Wade he was dealing with, and Peter had a sneaking suspicion they were going to delve into brand-new territory together. "Well...no weapons, for starters."

"Like, at all?"

"I don't care if they're in the room but I don't want them anywhere near me and I don't want you to even touch them while we're fucking," Peter clarified. "I get enough of that on a daily basis and pleasure starts to feel too much like business. Plus, sometimes my brain gets the wires crossed."

Wade sauntered over to him and placed his hands on Peter's hips, fingers splaying wide. "Noted. No weapons."

"I'm not a big fan of chastity devices either," Peter continued, eyes falling shut as Wade mouthed over his neck. "God forbid a Spider-Man situation needs my attention and I have to run out with something strapped to my dick."

"Valid," Wade murmured. "Does that mean you don't want them at all, or you just don't want to wear one yourself?"

"Jus' don't wanna wear one myself," Peter said. His breath was starting to come out ragged and uneven, Wade's mouth working slowly down to Peter's collarbone. "It's your body, you can put whatever you want on your dick in the bedroom or the field."

Wade tipped his chin up and ran his nose along the curve of Peter's jaw. "You seem to like being manhandled, but how far does go? Just wanna be ragdolled?"

Peter's head rolled back, giving Wade more room to mouth along his exposed skin and sink his teeth into the soft tissue connecting his neck to his shoulder. "I don't mind being roughed up a little. Prefer it when I'm not taking control, actually. S'nice to feel like a regular, breakable human for a while in the right hands."

Wade pulled away to look Peter in the eyes. "Am I? The right hands?"

"Right now? Most definitely," Peter breathed.

Wade kissed him as a reply, walking them backward toward the bedroom without missing a beat, pausing only when they stepped through the doorway.

"You weren't expecting that hot pocket before the sex, were you?" Wade asked.

A small laugh escaped Peter's lips and he lay down on the bed, maintaining eye contact. "I'm naked in your bed. What do you think?"

"I think the fanfiction universe is my favorite one," Wade mumbled, eyeing the expanse of Peter's body.

"Huh?"

"Nothing," Wade said, waving a dismissive hand before throwing himself on top of Peter. "Hot pockets after sex. I got it."

"Wait, what about you?" Peter asked. "We talked about my likes and dislikes. I want to know yours."

"It doesn't matter. Whatever you want," Wade said, pulling his shirt over his head and bending down to try to kiss Peter. The web-slinger put a hand on his chest to stop him.

"It matters. I'm a scientist at heart, I like being well-informed."

"Wow, Spidey. Didn't know you were a nerd."

"Wouldn't have slept with me otherwise," Peter teased.

"Oh yes, I would've. I just would've asked you to put on some big dorky glasses first," Wade leered.

"Okay, you've got a thing for guys in glasses. Good, we're making progress. What else?"

Wade hesitated, a flicker of confusion passing over his eyes. Peter realized this might be the first time someone bothered to ask Wade such a question and waited patiently for him to think of something. Even sexual deviants like Deadpool have limits.

"I don't like breathplay stuff. I'm fine with a good old hand necklace as long as I can still breathe, and I'll choke you out any day of the week if you want me to," Wade said. "I won't even be upset if you facefuck me until I choke, but don't try to pinch my nose or anything in the middle of it."

"Got it," Peter nodded. "Always make sure you can breathe. Easy enough."

"Thanks. Brings back bad memories when my O2 is in short supply," Wade said, almost bashfully.

"You don't have to explain. I understand," Peter said. "Hazard of the job."

"Hah. Yeah. Good thing I'm the most hazardous object in 99% of situations. I'm over 200 pounds of cancer and sarcasm," Wade said.

He was babbling. That wasn't unusual, but the fact that he wasn't making eye contact told Peter he was uncomfortable. Nuisance or not, that wouldn't fly for Peter.

Peter wanted Wade to get comfortable pursuing his own pleasure. He had no interest in taking advantage of his willingness to give Peter anything he wanted because it seemed to come from a place of insecurity. But this arrangement between them was a fragile thing, brand new terrain on both their ends, and Peter didn't want to break it so soon. So, he tried to give Wade some gentle guidance in the right direction without fully grabbing the reigns.

"Tell you what," Peter said, dragging his fingertips down Wade's torso, letting them dip beneath the waistband of the merc's sweatpants. "Work was a nightmare tonight. I could use a thinking break. So why don't you do me a big favor and fuck me stupid? Sound doable?"

Wade's face lit up and he met Peter's gaze, all previous uncertainly blooming into pure lust.

"Can do, Spidey. Just lay there and look pretty," Wade said, tossing Peter's legs over his shoulders. "Been dying to eat you out again."

Wade immediately went to work licking Peter open, wrapping his arms around the hero's thighs and pulling him close, tongue working magic over his rim. Peter let out a loud moan and canted his hips upward, pushing into the sensation and falling embarrassingly quickly into a subservient headspace. He wanted to be whatever Wade wanted, let the merc call the shots for a while, and discover how good sex can be when he got to focus on himself every once in a while. It was risky placing control in the hands of someone like Wade, someone unpredictable. He was a wildcard 99% of the time, but he was eager and respected boundaries in bed, so Peter got off on the thrill of placing himself in the mercenary's hands.

And, selfishly, Peter liked not keeping secrets. He liked being open and honest and not hiding for a change, getting to be his authentic self without the threat of secret identities or potentially awkward, partially explained hasty exits and bailouts looming over his head. If he could show Wade a good time, help the mercenary learn how good it feels to pursue his own desire and live out his own fantasies in bed, he'd be less likely to get tired of Peter. His ability to make miracles with his tongue was just a bonus. 

"Fuck, you're so good at this," Peter sighed, reaching between his legs to grab the sides of Wade's head, running calloused fingers over the scar tissue.

Wade mumbled something unintelligible in response, but his lips were sealed around the tight pucker while his tongue slowly poked inside and the vibrations had Peter's hips bucking upward, another moan breaking free.

Peter's been eaten out before by previous partners before Wade, but it paled in comparison to this. His past lovers were fine, but it was clear they only did it for Peter's benefit. They didn't enjoy giving this type of pleasure as much as Peter liked receiving it, but Wade fucking loved it. He was almost painfully enthusiastic, clutching Peter to him and burying his face so deeply between Peter's cheeks it was a miracle he could breathe. Wade's technique was flawless, and the sounds it produced was downright fucking filthy, wet and hot, and all kinds of sloppy that made Peter's heart pound.

If Wade kept at it for long enough, there's a good chance Peter could come just from this. And with the rate the merc was going, it just might happen. Peter's body lit up like he'd been burned with every swipe of Wade's tongue and rough squeeze of his hands on the soft insides of his thighs.

"Nngh, more," Peter panted a few moments later, his cock hard and flushed against his stomach, dripping precome all over his abdomen. "Wade, more."

"How much more?" Wade mumbled against Peter's skin, pulling away to place a kiss next to his knee. "Be specific."

"Fuck me," Peter demanded, peering down the length of his body and peering into Wade's mischievous eyes, pupils blown wide and clouded with desire.

"You'll need more prep for that," Wade said, turning his head to the side and biting down hard on Peter's thigh, making him mewl. Then he leaned forward and licked up the precome that had spilled onto Peter's stomach, swallowing it down and cleaning the mess the hero made of himself.

"Roll over on all fours for me while I get the lube."

Peter hurried to oblige, already missing Wade's touch when the merc got up to grab what they needed, but paused in his tracks when he rejoined Peter on the bed.

"Uh oh. Pump the brakes, Spidey. What's this?"

"Huh?"

"Your back is all fucked up, babycakes. Bruises everywhere and not the sexy kind," Wade said.

Peter peered over his shoulder at him. "S'fine, I got thrown into a building earlier. It'll heal by tomorrow."

"That's a long way away. You're lucky you didn't break your spine," Wade frowned, looking down at the offending marks with a mix of anger and concern. "Who did this, Petey?"

"Doesn't matter."

He had other, more important things on his mind, and relieving the brutal ass-kicking he took tonight wasn't something he wanted to talk about right now.

"Oh, I think it does," Wade argued.

"I took care of it, just fuck me," Peter huffed, getting impatient.

"I'm not fucking you in these conditions," Wade said. "Sorry, Petey pie, but I can't risk hurting you for reals. We both know I like playing rough."

"I can handle it," Peter protested, pressing his chest to the bed and arching his (admittedly sore) back in invitation, trying to make himself more enticing.

"Doesn't matter, I'm not comfortable risking it," Wade said, snapping Peter back to reality. Wade was expressing a limit - saying no - and Peter had to respect that. He wanted to.

"Okay," Peter said, sliding his knees out from under him and flopping onto his stomach. "Can I get that hot pocket now?"

"Hold on, Spidey, I said I wasn't fucking you, not that I wasn't getting you off," Wade said.  "If you agree to let me ice that shit after, maybe name-drop a few of the bastards responsible for throwing a wrench in our sexy fun time plans, and take it easy, I'll still make you blow your load so hard your ears ring. Sound fair?"

Peter rolled gently onto his back and narrowed his eyes. "Are you going to kill anyone if I give you names?"

"Uh...no?"

"Wade."

"Ugh," he groaned. "Fine, no murder. How about maiming?"

"No." 

"Minor amputations?"

"No, Wade."

"Hospitalization?"

"No!"

"So unfair," Wade whined. "What about the other things?"

Peter smirked. "The other things sound nice."

"Good," Wade said, dropping the lube and settling between Peter's thighs again. "Lemme blow your mind, baby."

And blow Peter's mind he did. 

Wade spent the first few minutes teasing him, circling his tongue around the head of Peter's cock, running it up and down one side while he stoked the other with the spit-slick palm of his hand. With every second that passed, Peter learned more and more about how Wade very aptly earned the moniker of 'merc with a mouth.' When he finally sealed his lips around the length and started bobbing his head Peter's vision went white, melting so deeply into the mattress he might never get up. The second Wade's hand brushed the underside of Peter's balls he was a goner, clawing at Wade's bedsheets and coming with a strangled moan, bucking into Wade's throat. The merc swallowed his load and pulled off with one last lick to the underside of the head and a wet pop, blinking up at Peter with his big, blue eyes. 

In certain lighting, the pale blue of his irises looked almost white, matching the artificial eyes of his mask. It was intimidating and a little unnerving but added to his unique beauty. Peter felt like he was being let in on a secret few people were privy to, Wade's real face and his unspoken desire to please people he liked. Peter's pretty sure that's what this was, that Wade liked him. 

Much to his dismay, Peter was starting to like the merc too. 

"Feel better?" 

Peter smiled and let out a content sigh, giving Wade a thumbs up. "Fantastic." 

"Good. Stay there while I go get some ice and show off my mad cooking skills by microwaving some sweet, delicious hot pockets." 

"Wait," Peter protested, sitting up too quickly and causing his injured back to twinge. He hoped his grimace wasn't visible. "What about you?" 

Wade paused. "What about me?" 

"Yeah, it's your turn," Peter said, making grabby hands at him. "C'mere." 

"Oh," Wade said. "No, don't worry about me. I'm fine."

Peter frowned. "That doesn't seem fair." 

"Believe me, Spidey babe, I'm a big boy. I can take care of it later," Wade said. "You gotta take care of that back so I can break it properly next time you pay me a visit." 

Peter wasn't sure what to do. This was uncharted territory and he wanted to return the favor. Wade just made him feel good, took the edge off a particularly shitty night, and Peter was more than happy to do the same. 

"Don't pop a blood vessel," Wade snorted. "Last thing I need is NYC's sweetheart injuring himself in my bedroom. What would that do to my reputation?" 

Peter quirked an eyebrow. "You couldn't care less about your reputation." 

Wade snapped and held up a dual set of finger guns. "True! But I don't want the world thinking I'm capable of hurting my favorite superhero...in a non-con, unsexy way at least. C'mon, Petey pie. Just chill out and lemme do my thaaang." 

"Um, okay," Peter relented, cracking his knuckles. "If...if that's what you want." 

"Sure is! Two hot pockets a la Wilson, coming right up!" he beamed, heading to the kitchen. 

Peter sat in bed, still naked and blissed out from his post-orgasm haze, utterly confused. 

But when Wade returned with food and a couple of ice packs wrapped in towels, they ate together and fell into a comfortable silence. Wade turned on a TV show Peter had never heard of but thoroughly enjoyed, and by the time the hero was ready to head home and get some shut-eye, he realized he'd had a nice time just spending time with the mercenary. 

"So, thanks. For everything," Peter said, slipping back into the Spidey suit. 

"Anytime, hot stuff," Wade winked, leaning against the wall while Peter opened the window. 

"I owe you one." 

"Eh," Wade waved a dismissive hand. "I owed you one for the light stalking. Call it even and consider the slate clean." 

Peter pursed his lips and nodded, then pulled Wade in for a brief kiss before tugging the mask back on. "Okay. Consider me un-stalked. See you around, Pool." 

He swung home feeling lighter and maybe, just maybe, a teeny tiny bit fond of Wade freakin' Wilson.

Two days later, Peter was eating a bagel and combing through the Daily Bugle to see what lies Jameson wrote about him this time and found nothing. 

The next day, the same thing. 

An entire week passed and there wasn't a single mention of Spider-Man in the Bugle, leaving Peter suspicious and highly confused. He was so suspicious that he broke into the office after hours and combed through the security footage of the last few months. He went all the way back to the night Peter and Wade got Jameson out of the Gargan debacle. 

A brief flash of red caught his attention after hours worth of business-as-usual bullshit and sat up straighter, slowing down the footage. And there was Wade in full Deadpool garb, busting through the door a few minutes past five, once most of the stragglers had filtered out and gone home, leaving just him and Jameson in the office. Peter couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could see a brief flash of indignation flicker across Jameson's face before his eyes widened in fear and Wade pulled out a katana. 

Peter sighed. "Jesus, Wilson. What did you do now?" 

It was unexpected, but not surprising. After triple-checking to make sure there were no traces of Spider-Man on tonight's footage, Peter swung to Wade's apartment, crawled through the (now permanently) unlocked window, and flicked on the lights, waiting for the merc to come home. 

Wade strolled through the door thirty minutes later, whistling a happy tune with an armful of eclectic objects. "Spidey!" he cried when he saw the hero on his couch. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" 

"You threatened Jameson," Peter said, folding his arms across his chest. 

"Nay, nay. I aggressively persuaded him. That's much different than a threat." 

"What did you say to him?" Peter sighed. 

"I just warned him against the dangers of shit-talking superheroes," Wade shrugged, dropping the collection of items he'd been carrying. "I told an itty bitty little white lie and said his Spidey bashing is what caught the attention of Gargan and made him a target. He said I was full of shit and just trying to protect my BFF - best friend to fuck - and I lied again and said I have no loyalties. I brought out Bea and Arthur to show him I meant business and sell the story."

Peter blinked a few times and got to his feet slowly, taking a few steps closer to Wade. "You did all that for me?" 

"Sure did. You always seem a little stressed. Now you have one less thing to worry about," Wade said. "And it worked so...sorry? Kind of? No, not really." 

After a deep inhale, Peter pulled off the mask and studied the items Wade deposited carelessly on the ground. "Do your clown masks, instant pudding, and strangely shaped lamp need immediate attention?" 

"Huh? Oh, these! No. Just did some light grocery shopping. Only the basics." 

Peter didn't even want to know. Instead, he nudged the mess out of the way with his foot, fumbled the pants on Wade's suit down, and dropped to his knees. 

"Whatcha doin' Petey?" Wade breathed, blinking down at Peter's unmasked face. 

Peter just smiled and blinked up at him through his lashes, knowing full well what he looked like peering up with his warm, brown eyes. He wrapped a hand around Wade's half-hard cock, watching the merc twitch and shudder, then gave him a few gentle strokes. The material of his suit was silky smooth, making the glide easy even without spit or lube, and once Wade was fully hard, Peter leaned forward and took the merc's cock into his mouth. 

He kept eye contact until Wade's lids fluttered shut, then allowed his own to close while he moaned softly around the merc's length. It was still strange, the feel of a scarred, textured cock foreign against Peter's tongue, but he learned very quickly which spots were more sensitive than others. He kept his teeth out of the way, his lips wrapped in a tight 'o' and his cheeks hollowed, making fast work of Wade, who had one massive hand on the back of Peter's skull, gently pushing his face down with every bob of his head. 

"I'm gonna come, baby" Wade said through clenched teeth, brushing a strand of hair off Peter's forehead. 

Peter pulled off and smiled, lips red and puffy, jacking Wade off with slow strokes. "Wanna do it on my face?" 

Wade bit his fist and groaned, cock leaking in Peter's grip. "It's like you crawled out of a wet dream." 

"I'll take that as a yes," Peter chuckled, picking up the pace of his strokes. He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out while he finished Wade off, eyes falling shut and lashes resting delicately against the curve of his cheekbones while he waited for the other man to come. 

Wade didn't last much longer and shot all over Peter's tongue, lips, and cheek. The hero swallowed what landed in his mouth and wiped the rest off with his thumb, licking it clean and moaning while he did it, putting on one final show for Wade, who looked like he was about to keel over. 

"You just fulfilled, like, 8 of my biggest fantasies, so you know," Wade whispered, his awe evident even through the Deadpool mask. 

"My way of thanking you for getting Jameson off my back," Peter said. He rose to his feet and stripped the suit off, letting it fall to the floor unceremoniously with the rest of Wade's random shit. "But don't do anything like that again, okay?" 

"Uh-huh. Sure. Anything you want." 

"Well, since my back is healed and I'm your 'BFF' now-"

"Best friend to fuck."

"Right," Peter snorted. "Want to bend me over the bed and see how many times you can make me come with ice and a blindfold?" 

"Peter, I can genuinely say there's nothing I want to do more," Wade nodded the seriousness of his tone utterly ridiculous, given his pants were pulled down and his cock was already starting to harden again. 

"Then get out of the suit and come join me," Peter said, making his way to the bedroom. "And if you do a good job I'll let you come to my place next time." 

"I am loving this BFF thing!" Wade cried, pumping a celebratory fist in the air and then stripping himself naked to chase after Peter. 

And honestly? Peter was too. Turning the biggest nuisance in his life into the best lay he's ever had was likely one of the best decisions he's ever made. Wade confirmed Peter's suspicions six times that night, leaving them both a sticky, sweaty mess and collapsed on the mattress next to Peter's exhausted body. 

"Nice work, Spidey. Five stars," Wade said. 

"Out of how many?" 

"Three." 

Peter whistled. "Wow, stellar rating. Wanna come over tomorrow for a repeat performance?"

Wade perked up. "Really? You were serious about letting me come over?"

"Yeah, of course I was." 

"Is this, perhaps, a date?" Wade asked, face splitting into a wide grin. 

Peter chewed his bottom lip and thought about it before answering. "We agreed to keep the messy stuff out of this arrangement. That was one of my rules." 

"Rules are meant to be broken," Wade said. "Come on, I'll bring dinner over. Wine and dine you, give you the full DP experience. DP as in Deadpool, not double penetration, but I am so down for that if you're interested." 

Was it a bad idea to agree to a date? Probably. But arguably it was a bad idea to sleep with Wade in the first place, and that's been going well so far. 

Fuck it, Peter thought. Not getting any younger.

"Alright, Pool," he agreed, doing a poor job of hiding his grin. "Consider it a date."