( as an expert in not knowing what's good for himself, wade's self-discipline will be appreciated after the fact by peter, who's only now realizing the intensity of being bent in half like this as opposed to pressed over something from behind. there's no refrain, nowhere for peter to back up if he gets too overwhelmed. every time wade brought his hips forward and sunk in, peter felt all of him, to the point that sometimes the reaction was a breathless keen, soundless and sharp. he can't maintain words or eye contact, and has to avidly focus on reminding himself to suck down oxygen. that he's been reduced to a hard hhhh every time wade bottoms out is beyond his concern but he does reach between their midsections to close his fingers around his dick, to match wade's strokes a few times.

as a (previously) firm believer in, 'it's not the size, it's how you use it', there is no counterpoint to being so thick that he's hitting the right angle consecutively. )

Lose it for me. ( enunciated above his collarbone, somewhere in the junction between shoulder and neck, and peter closes his lips around scarred skin to suck and rake his teeth over a small patch, breaking blood vessels to at least look down smugly at a temporary purple mark that's likely going to disappear long before his own hickey. ) I don't want half.

( this is not kissing so much as talking against wade's mouth. )

Give me all of you. ( he tenses around him on purpose, muscles fluttering, and pants roughly, happy but strained. peter doesn't think of himself as someone with game, someone who can pull off seduction by any means. he still turns his low voice to wade's ear to clearly get out: ) Wade, if you're not dripping down my thighs when you pull out, I don't want it.