( oh, to have had enough foresight to shuck his pants the rest of the way and do something about the frustration of not having easy access to the rest of wade because man, the difference being able to lock his knees around his waist would make. not that he has any room to complain about not being close, considering wade's two fingers deep and fucking every ounce of coherency out of him. his string of thought practically dissolves and trickles out his ears, replaced by a low murmur of praise that makes his thighs tremble. humiliatingly enough, he thinks he could come from that, if he didn't grip himself at the base of his cock and suck down a labored breath. )
Oh, fuck, Wade. Yes. I love it. You're โ
( whatever he's trying to get out, he chokes on it, devolving into nonsensical words and sounds. turns out he's not equipped for wade whispering in his ear, adding another finger, and sucking a bruise against his throat. it'll probably heal by the morning and he'll have nothing to run his fingers over, but it drives peter crazy anyway. checks all the stupidly unrealistic boxes about someone craving him obsessively because he's a little feral with his crushes. he isn't sobbing brokenly exactly, though it's not much better for his dignity. every time wade drives his fingers in and hits that bundle of nerves, peter lets out a punched out cry he can't bite back. to the point that he's not positive if he's trying to get away by shifting his hips or if he's trying to get constant friction to ride wade's hand, both to no real success.
peter drops his leaking cock against his stomach, pressed between them, and does the filthiest thing he can think of: brushes his wet knuckles (from where he was dripping) over wade's lips tauntingly and has the audacity to grin tiredly, before he groans again, and breaks. )
Can't you taste how bad I want you? Please. I need you inside me. I want to feel youโahโstretch me. I wanna watch your face when you're sliding into me. Because I can't take much more of this and I need you to feel how tight I am when I finish on you. ( and he will whisper please against his lips, the line of his jaw, and anywhere else he can reach whilst grabbing at wade's belt impatiently. )
no subject
Oh, fuck, Wade. Yes. I love it. You're โ
( whatever he's trying to get out, he chokes on it, devolving into nonsensical words and sounds. turns out he's not equipped for wade whispering in his ear, adding another finger, and sucking a bruise against his throat. it'll probably heal by the morning and he'll have nothing to run his fingers over, but it drives peter crazy anyway. checks all the stupidly unrealistic boxes about someone craving him obsessively because he's a little feral with his crushes. he isn't sobbing brokenly exactly, though it's not much better for his dignity. every time wade drives his fingers in and hits that bundle of nerves, peter lets out a punched out cry he can't bite back. to the point that he's not positive if he's trying to get away by shifting his hips or if he's trying to get constant friction to ride wade's hand, both to no real success.
peter drops his leaking cock against his stomach, pressed between them, and does the filthiest thing he can think of: brushes his wet knuckles (from where he was dripping) over wade's lips tauntingly and has the audacity to grin tiredly, before he groans again, and breaks. )
Can't you taste how bad I want you? Please. I need you inside me. I want to feel youโahโstretch me. I wanna watch your face when you're sliding into me. Because I can't take much more of this and I need you to feel how tight I am when I finish on you. ( and he will whisper please against his lips, the line of his jaw, and anywhere else he can reach whilst grabbing at wade's belt impatiently. )