Up until ten minutes ago, I wasn't desperate. ( sure, kid. ) Things change. Like, sometimes, your friend with the irritatingly attractive voice uses it as a weapon against you and it's game over.

( no, in the moment, it doesn't occur to peter that he is dropping the ammunition in his hands and giving wade the exact knowledge to shoot him in his weak knees again later. maybe, anyway. depends on how fluent wade is in mumbling because that's all uttered into skin, between breaths, when he doesn't have his lips wrapped around the head of his cock and his spit-slick fingers right below his mouth around his cock. he's thick and peter's nowhere near as experienced (he's gussing there) but it's not his first time.

he grunts around wade when he tugs his hair, pulls back with a wet pop and stares up at him while leaning into his palm. )

Deal but I want the full, uninhibited, no time constraints experience. I'm tall enough for this ride, I checked.

( it's a suitable enough compromise that peter agrees without complaint. holding onto disappointment when he's being pressed into a wall is ridiculous. he's getting what he wants out of this: physical contact, seeing those muscles in action. he's already got sweat dripping down his spine, but he feels a new wave of arousal at the anticipation. finagling the position is a cake walk since he can push a hand back against the bricks and have solid leverage (he's slipproof when he thinks about it) to get his legs around wade. he grabs onto a shoulder for good measure, to hoist up if necessary. )

You good? ( he asks as if his voice won't jump an octave when wade starts to press in; he can feel him lining up. )