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[ Jesus christ, Peter. He saw you wipe your nose through the mask.

Wade was an idiot, but he wasn't entirely stupid. He knew the guy didn't have the flu or anything. Though he did have a sneaking suspicion that such a thing wouldn't keep him indoors if he felt the world needed saving, and Wade could not get sick the way any normal person could, he probably wouldn't have been inviting Wade along and putting up with his... everything. It was a lot. He was a lot. And he knew it and didn't have any shame about it at all. Mostly.

There would be fucking riots if Spider-man was arrested, but no one would blame the NYPD for putting Deadpool behind bars. Then again, no one was dying to know who he was behind the mask. They all preferred he kept it on, thank you very much. So he appreciated the help in bouncing out of that little situation. Landed on the fire escape and made his way to the roof of the building where he would feel a little more safe. Out of reach.

That seemingly endless level of superhuman stamina meant he didn't really need recovery time. He could, as Cap liked to say, do this all day. But he still let himself flop onto his back on the roof and stare up at the starless sky. His brain was fine, he was fine, and maybe he just enjoyed being a little dramatic. ]

Y'know that whole thing goes a lot faster if you just blast them in the knee caps and leave them there for the cops to collect.

( it's relief, peter realizes as he's climbing over the ledge of the building. he's conducting a baseline examination with his senses and trying to be sure he's alright (when your starting point is: i should have died years ago and anything after is a bonus/curse, it makes the read challenging). wade isn't anyone. he's more resilient than most of his coworkers and how he plops himself down like a mirror image of exhaustion has peter swallowing apprehensively. it's the snarky commentary, the not-so-helpful sidenote that has peter snorting tiredly and dropping to sit at his side. )

Yeah, I bet it's a real crowd pleaser. A little pop-pop-pop and you've slowed them down with bum knees permanently. Presto, no more armed robberies on the books for Jimmy.

( all the right words, none of the actual lip service. peter's edge is dulled, more amused than disapproving, which says a lot for how often this line of poking fun at bodily harm comes up. )

How do you sleep at night?

You say that like it's a bad thing. Besides, you're the one with the fan club, Deadpool doesn't have a crowd to please.

[ Wade gave a smile, turning his head to look over at Peter. It wasn't lost on him that Peter wasn't using his usual bossy, disproving tone that came whenever Wade used or even mentioned a gun. It was nice, being able to joke about it a bit without getting lectured.

Maybe someday Peter would trust him enough to believe he only did what he felt was necessary, or maybe he was just too tired to fight with Wade this time. Either way, he'd take it.

His hand moved, coming to rest on the younger man's shin. His thumb gently rubbed against the spandex there, unsure if he could get away with the touch or not.

See? He wasn't all violence. ]

I can tell you one thing, there is some hot competition for Spider-man boxers. Practically have to beat people away with a stick when I buy them

As if I have any control over when they are and aren't casting stones at me. ( literally, figuratively in the bugle's case, it's all the same. ) Fans, am I right? As unpredictable as the city itself.

( so it's a good thing he doesn't do this for the t-shirts or the gratitude because while one is plentiful, the other is severely lacking, and neither of them cash out in his pocket. when he considers where he really started and how he began with vengeance in his heart, he can see how and why someone like deadpool would want to nip a repeat offender in the bud — take a life, protect the loss of another, maybe multiple. he prefers to leave those decisions to the people that do get paid for it, his only task now is keeping the streets clean(er). bearing that in mind, he knows where he comes from and he knows where he's trying to go, and in that same vein he can understand where those preemptive, angry thoughts grow.

his head empties like a watering can when he feels wade's hand on his shin, trickling out onto the rooftop around them. if not for the camaraderie and the residual flirting, he very well might shrug wade off. get defensive, work himself up, deflect, deflect, deflect. )

You're touching my leg, ( he word vomits, though softer than any projectile. it's not a stammer, more of a murmur. it's not openly accusatory, but that over boasting confidence is swapped for inquisitive uncertainty. like wade needs a reminder that his hand is doing a thing he actively chose to do. he's in bodily contact with people all the time, but not like this, not gently. not for a good long while. this isn't thick innuendo or pawing at him, it's unexpected somehow even if wade's been saying it very seriously for some time. ) Did you mean to? Do that?

——I'm sorry, my mask is on your underwear?

( that sprinkles some braincells back into the mix, jostles some sass loose to crack the reverie. )

I can see why you're an Avenger. [ Wade lifted an eyebrow when he heard Peter point out the obvious. He didn't sound offended, exactly, but didn't sound real sure about it. The question went unacknowledged because.. of course he meant to do that? There wasn't a person alive that could possess his mind enough to move his body. One of those fun little quirks about him.

With a soft pat to Spidey's leg, Wade moved his hand back. He let it rest against his abdomen and turned his gaze to look up at the sky again.

Honestly, he knew better than to do what he was doing, but something about Peter made it difficult to stop himself in the moment. There was still a softness underneath the layers of everything else that made up Wade Wilson. Much harder to find, but in there somewhere. It receded quickly, though, because he wasn't enough of a dumbass to actually be vulnerable when things seemed to be headed south.

The mention of his boxers made him grin to himself and he went with the new topic instead. Back to a comfortable place. ]

I wear a jockstrap with hearts on it in the suit, but at home? Fuck yeah it is, I've got at least five different kinds and they're all comfy as hell. Maybe if you're lucky I'll show you sometime.

Oh, is it the haircut? ( listen, it's lackluster. he knows good banter but that ain't it on his end. put him in a lab setting or give him a puzzling equation to solve, smart guy. people? dumb of ass, big of heart. the microexpressions are lost in translation, particularly when he is an overreactive persona in the suit. he's not specifically unsure about deadpool, it's anyone (that anyone would want to be close to him, but more broadly, with someone in a mask). wade gives him a pat that's probably not supposed to carry as condescending, but it is, as an unintended side effect of being significantly bad at communicating, comparitively.

the gears are turning, they're rusted but they work. )

You know, you talk an awful lot about your underwear for a guy that can neither confirm or deny whether he wanted to touch me.

( passive aggressive, him? really? there's the beginnings of a smile coloring his voice but the challenge is there, too. )

I'm just saying. Objectively.

[ Being challenged was unexpected. The merc pushed himself to sit up, twisting his body so that he was facing Peter. With a mask covering his face, it was hard to read Wade's face and tell exactly what was going through his mind. It must have been due to the genuine affection he felt for the guy that his fucked up cancer-riddled brain decided not to get set off by something stupid and go to violence, rather than play. He was glad for that. Would have ruined things pretty quick. ]

Yeah?

[ He can't help the smirk that twists onto his lips, tilting his head back and looking Peter over. Did he even understand the self restraint Wade had to use not to just shove him down and kiss him so hard he stole the breath out of his lungs? Tempting him, even as a joke, wouldn't be very wise.

Oh well. Challenge accepted. ]

Sounds like you liked me touching you and aren't very happy that I stopped, since you're not willing to let it go. You want me to touch you again, baby boy? You just gotta say the word.

( there's a calculated risk in raising the wager, peter knows that, though his quickening pulse asserts that he doesn't know how much he's biting off. peter doesn't get flightly when wade sits up, suddenly face-to-face and alert. it's wild, the flip of a switch. exhilarating, too. he definitely hasn't done anything worthy of wielding that level of power over someone else.

but as uncomfortable as the attention is (not for the reason he would think), he's weirdly electrified by it. )

I can let it go. The operative word being can. ( if that's what wade wanted, he would. ) I'm capable.

( it'll live in his head rent free, next to pet names and could've, would've, should've. letting go, suppressing, same thing. he stretches one leg out, loosening his locked posture, while the other stays bent towards his chest. )

But subjectively, yeah, I wanna know. Are you down for that?

[ At first, all Wade can do is laugh. Not cruelly, of course, but out of disbelief. Was Peter really asking if he was down to touch him? How had Wade somehow been so bad at communicating that it was exactly what he wanted? He clung to the guy, said they were practically lovers, left hearts made out of bullet holes with his name in it out of all over the city. Wade was obsessed with him. ]

You are the dumbest fucking smart guy I know.

[ Maybe not totally fair. Wade did flirt with a lot of people. But Peter was special. Would always be special.

Wade reached out, pressing his leather gloved fingers to the edges of where Peter's mask lay. He wasn't going to do anything without permission, but he allowed the tips of his fingers to sneak under the spandex fabric and press against the bare skin of his neck. Then he waited.

Peter had never let him see his face before. Always refused, wanting to keep the people he cared about safe. Wade wasn't sure he'd even get to now, but he felt more confident than he ever had about it before. ]

I want to touch you. [ He said it bluntly, staring the younger man dead in the eye. Almost a challenge, but not quite. ]

( look, after the inital shock of downright abrasive flirting wore off, peter presumed that it wasn't about him, that deadpool was like this with everyone. that he used flirting with people (and danger) as a means of keeping people at an arm's length because it came on so strong that it couldn't not be exaggerated versions of his real feelings. wade flirts like peter breathes, it is non-stop on his good days. he's still not anticipating being called dumb, which while not technically incorrect (he thought it just a moment ago), it confounds him. )

Okay, man. You're not interested. Just say that. We don't need to get nasty.

( rather than answering him in the instant, wade moves, reaching for his face and peter lets him. that's okay, they don't need words, this is good enough. the textured pads of his fingers against peter's neck are nothing, chaste, but it's the only thing he can focus on with tunnel vision. his own fingers come up out of reflex, catching the edge at the other side of his mask. holding on as he swallows hard.

i want to touch you.

in another universe, another timeline, maybe there are a plethora of spider-mans that would plummet to their death before unmasking in front of deadpool. this peter parker has already showed his face to two members of the stacy family, two other versions of himself, one of their friend groups. an archnemesis or two. he's a correct for consequences after the fact kind of rebel, beg for forgiveness and all that. and if wade wanted him dead, he's had so many chances. )

It's a mess under here. ( a valid excuse, really, with the blood streaked under his nose, the light bruising. peter takes a breath and tugs, pulling the mask over his head as he moves, shifting to a crouch next to wade because he's too chickensit to straddle his lap yet. )

Ta da! ( very softly and with low energy, like he's not sure what wade is going to do or think about this unveiling. he half-heartedly grins, definitely feeling the nerves rise. fake it til you make it, etc. )

Fuck, you're gorgeous. [ It's said like a prayer, maybe the softest Wade's voice had ever been. For once in his god forsaken life, he didn't have a damn thing to say. Couldn't come up with his usual quips. No snark or joke. Nothing.

His thumb brushed along Peter's bottom lip, admiring the man in front of him. Peter was so stupidly attractive, even all banged up, it wasn't fair. Not that Wade was complaining.

No, Wade was struggling. Everything in him wanted Peter. His mind screamed at him that Peter was so much better off if Wade played it all off as a joke, if he didn't let anything happen between them. He was so fucked up, everything in his life was so fucked up. He didn't deserve this, didn't deserve something nice. Fuck.

In one swift movement Wade yanked his mask to rest on the bridge of his nose. His scarred skin was visible, but Peter wouldn't get much of a chance to look at it. Because Wade was pulling him in, crashing their lips together. Trying to be gentle and mostly failing.

He wasn't strong enough to resist. Not when this was something he had wanted for such a long time. Not when Peter was right in front of him looking at him like that. ]

( the first reflex is to duck his face but he can't go very far with wade's palm on him, rough leather (??) on his thumb sliding across his lower lip. he does okay, he thinks. being with gwen had give him more confidence and having super powers for sure boosted a guy's self-image. it's been forever since he's bothered to look deeply in the mirror for more than the obligatory glance while brushing his teeth or frantically combing his fingers through his hair because he's late. so it's something to hear he's gorgeous, of all the synonyms for eh, you'll do in the thesaurus. )

I'm... ( he wrestles with it, grin too sharp to be genuinely receptive. ) This is my face.

( as a matter of fact, it would kill him to take a compliment.

then it happens: wade draws up his own red mask, showcasing scars for one blink of an eye, much too short a span for peter to process or formulate several questions, to even attempt to correlate the reality of the man and the version that maybe, might have haunted a dream or two. he parts his lips, almost lands on the beginning of a thought when their mouths collide and he stifles it, lets it get lost between them in a series of inhales and exhales between hard kisses. peter doesn't help that, doesn't try to pull back or get wade to ease off. if anything, it's hotter because it feels desperate and hungry, and incentivizes throwing a knee over the far side of wade's lap to hover over the top of his thighs. zero to sixty-five in 20 seconds or less.

it's only after he's done it that he questions comfort levels. peter is very handsy, but for now, he's limiting that tactile need with the back of wade's neck, both of his arms loose over his shoulders. does he get any points for not instantly sinking down on his lap? )

You good with this? ( jesus, is that his voice? embarrassing. ) You said earlier it was a yes about climbing you and I couldn't get it out of my head.

[ Wade laughed again, but this time he spoke while he did. ] I want you like Maverick wanted Iceman, baby. You need me to prove it? [ He kissed him again, every bit as eager and desperate as the first few had been.

To be fair to Peter, though, after everything with Typhoid Mary he was a pretty big stickler for consent. Trauma tended to do that to a person.

But he was the one that had kissed Peter, and he was the one gripping his hips tight and pulling him to sit fully in his lap.

There was still some wariness about foisting all of his garbage baggage on someone, but... maybe, there was a chance for Peter that it was physical? Wade certainly wouldn't say no to being used as relief. Didn't believe he was worth more than that anyway. At least he could tell himself that was what was happening so he could enjoy this without feeling guilty as hell. He wanted him so fucking bad that he'd tell himself pretty much anything to make it okay that he was sliding his tongue into the hero's mouth, groaning into their liplock.

Kissing him was addicting, and yet he selfishly wanted even more. Wouldn't push Peter too hard, didn't know where his boundaries were at, but god... he'd take whatever he could get. His thumbs rubbed at the younger man's hipbones, giving his lips a playful nip before he pulled back to take a breath. ]

You believe me yet, or do you need a bit more convincing?

The ice guy and the who? ( peter isn't totally oblivious but he tries to narrow down his attention to things and people that actually cross his path, so yeah, that reference goes directly over his head in a sweeping whoosh. doesn't matter, turns out, whether he understands the reference being volleyed at him because wade sets his strong hands around his hips and pulls him down, allows him to settle fully against him and peter accidentally (against his will) makes a pleased sound into the kiss. a breathy affirmation of how much he's into being grabbed and feeling strong thighs under his ass. his hands slip, from neck to shoulders, down across wade's collarbones to his chest where peter is full on groping him like he's wanted to — oh, fuck, he's wanted to, hasn't he? — for an undetermined amount of time because he doesn't like to get specific in introspection.

to give wade some wiggle room, peter doesn't know what the hell he wants. he knows he's notoriously bad at relationships — you know, after having one. the perceived end all, be all. the kind that ends in forever and after, not to be confused with forever after. what he knows is he's horrified to care about someone that much again, although, knowing wade can keep regenerating against all odds has helped. this. this thing. the thing where wade is caressing his hips and raking his teeth across peter's lip, making him rasp: ) Shut up.

I need you to keep kissing me.

( a little rude, maybe, but not exactly out of their norm. peter does stop to look at wade, mask askew, scars and all, to try to catch his covered eyes. his knees dig into wade's hips, pressing in a squeeze. a reassuring, hey, i'm right here with you and then peter traps his mouth against his. too scared of emotional intimacy to linger on it, here and now, and more into licking into wade's mouth again. he isn't a hit it and quit it type, but he doesn't know that he's a promise eternity guy, either. now, after the baggage. )

Please don't stop.

( and if he shifts his hips, it's not to get comfortable, it's 100% because he's turned on. )

[ I need you to keep kissing me was a bullet that pierced through the heart of him. It didn't just turn Wade on, it struck his suffocating desire to be needed for something. Anything at all. It almost didn't seem real that he could have both the pleasure of kissing the man he'd been chasing for years and that sort of balm on his fractured soul, no matter how temporary.

The grip he has on Peter's hips encourages him to keep moving, but then those hands were sliding back, allowing himself to cop a feel of the ass he'd been staring at that night for far longer than was appropriate. Wade's an ass man, sue him. His hips moved on their own accord, grinding upwards as he captured Peter's lips into another heated liplock. It was more than apparent just how hard he was from what they were doing, straining against red leather.

If nothing else, he was doing an excellent job at keeping the merc more quiet than usual. The man loved kissing and was more than happy to let that occupy his mouth instead of voicing every though that entered his brain. Still, there were a few that needed to be shared. ]

You feel what you do to me, baby boy? I want you so fucking bad. [ It's practically growled against the younger man's lips, voice lower with a tone like gravel. He never expected Peter to seem every bit as eager as he felt. One hand stayed on his ass, but the other fumbled upwards, trying to find some sort of zipper. He wanted access to more, wanted to see that soft, pale skin underneath the suit. Didn't seem the least bit bothered that the roof was perhaps not the best place for this. ]

( nowhere near as coordinated as wade, peter's kisses get sloppier when those roaming hands encourage his movement and drift back to grab and cup his ass. he can't help it, he goes a little slack jawed against wade's mouth, panting hotly between them. he responds in kind, taking the opportunity to rock forward atop his lap, trying to get friction by rubbing against the other's stomach. it's not very effective but he's so touch starved that he enjoys the hell out of the sensations anyway; wade practically rutting under him, hard, how their hearts are racing, and if he's seemingly dazed it's because each one of his senses is overstimulated and he is so out of practice.

his voice makes peter feel unhinged (nobody should sound that hot, it's illegal) and his fingers dig into wade's shoulder for a beat too long because of it. he's aware, like he's hyperaware of every point they're touching (it's a bit like discovering his powers all over again, going haywire, like if he doesn't keep some semblance of control under the intensity, he'll do something stupid), that wade's looking for a fastener. the first suit unzipped, but after connors practically shredded that one and the various scenarios that rocked him, peter felt a multiple piece suit was more convenient. )

Like a shirt. ( he mumbles, then reaches to yank it up over his head. the material clings, skin-tight and all, and he's got a serious case of mask hair going on, though it's only after the chill of a sporadic breeze strikes his bare skin that he remembers where they are — in plain view of any other superheroes/vigilantes, helicopters, and god knows what else. wade is incredibly overdressed in comparison.

he presses his kiss-swollen lips together into a line, eyes ever so slightly narrowed (more quizzical than anything else) because he can now see the scars and it's a lot, like nothing peter imagined when wade would joke at his own expense, but the biggest curiosity is whether it actively hurts; if he's hurting him right now. he cuts his gaze down, follows the skim of his hands down the leather at the front of wade's suit, over his stomach. it's the muscles for him, oof. )

Can I take this off? Because I want to ( he takes the plunge, moves his palm from midsection to the front of wade's pants (if he allows him, he's fast enough to stop peter's wandering hands), to grasp at at the outline of his cock. as good as he can stroke him through leather with his thumb and index finger anyway. ) feel you. I can do that a lot better without all this crap in my way.

[ The help getting Peter a little less clothed was absolutely appreciated. The moment all of that skin was exposed, Wade helped himself to running his gloves over his skin. Worshiped him like a sinner getting to touch a sacred idol, caught up to the point that he didn't notice the scrutiny he was under. One of his thumbs stroked over a nipple, pupils dilating with interest behind his mask at the way the cool air made it harden.

Peter was every bit as strong as the mercenary, but his muscles were for more lean. Everything about Wade was thick (wink) and his body was built for power over speed or flexibility. God, he wanted to mouth at every bruise. Find out who caused each one and put them through hell for daring to hurt such a perfect creature. Didn't care in the slightest that Peter was more than capable of protecting himself, it still felt like it was his job to help keep him safe.

The voice snapped Wade out of that line of thought, as did the hand sliding down to rub at him through his suit. The request made his eyes narrow, just for a moment, before he gave a nod. It would feel ten times better without fabric in the way. If Peter freaked out and left, well, it was easier to just get it over with. ]

Take off as much as you want. Just don't expect me to look like Hugh fuckin' Jackman under here. My healing factor is a bitch. Don't worry, though, my dick's still amazing.

[ It's said with a light tone, his tendency towards self-depreciation shining through. Made a joke to avoid the vulnerability piece as much as possible.

Wade would argue he wasn't insecure, he was just realistic. Didn't matter that he had been plenty attractive before his transformation, his body was now riddled with scarring from his healing factor, and there weren't that many people who wanted to even look at him. There was a reason he wore the suit, and it wasn't to protect anyone close to him from getting hurt. The scarring didn't hurt, though--there were no open wounds, keloids, or any redness. ]

( as much of an advocate that he is for undressing wade equally, there's something to be said about the texture of leather skimming his bare skin. it's good and they can revisit clothed sex if they mutually agree to repeat this, but anonymity is not what started his attraction. that's everything to do with wade's sense of humor, having peter's back, and generally being a person that sticks around. mild irritations shifted somewhere (they can be grating still, at times, but they're fond more than not). )

Why would I want that? Hugh Jackman's not my type.

( he lifts his hand from wade's lap to tip his chin up. to kiss him, sure, gentler than any of the rest, but also to make one point clear.)

It better be. I'm counting on the dicking of my life after all this repressed sexual frustration. ( a bad joke, but what else is new? there's truth in there as well. ) I have needs.

( needs that are neither here nor there because his needs aren't wade's job to fulfill, yet it feels safe to say as banter more than heartfelt conversation. put in a silly little manner that reads more as perpetual brattiness than two people expressing their sexual inclinations. it's safer for both of them, that impact, while he seeks out a zipper or a button, or hidden corset strings (he wouldn't put it past him, okay), until he can guide the fabric off of him and to the rooftop.

he's not the world's best expert in schooling his expression to be neutral. he's seen a lot in the nearish decade he's been fighting crime but he isn't a soldier or a mercanary for hire. honestly, he's probably the world's worst liar both in the telling pitch of his voice and the sheer unbelievability of his lies that he fabricates on a whim with zero thought process. there are about ten different questions at the forefront and he wears them plainly with a quirk of an eyebrow and the twist of his mouth.

it's not repulsion though. concern, second guessing (himself), a wholly new misunderstanding for genetic mutations and why formulas will react with different dna wonderfully or horrifically; he goes to a science place for a fraction of a second and then he moves his head. a weird peter-ism where he's not nodding or shaking his head, it's like a weaving of his head to one side and then the other as he works through it. and then, finally. )

I still want to know what it feels like when you're on top of me and you're not crushing me because I got in the path of a knife or something. Is that—? Can we do that? Is that on your list?

Baby boy, Hugh Jackman is everyone's type. [ He shuts up pretty quick when he's kissed, though, surprised by the shade of tenderness that went with it. Not something Wade ever had shown towards him, and it made some real gay butterflies have a disco in his rib cage. Wild. ]

Oh, I'm absolutely going to ruin you. No one else will ever be able to compare.

[ If there was one thing Wade was absolutely confident in, it was his sexual skill. He'd been good enough at fucking before the whole Weapon X thing, and giving him more strength, better flexibility, more impressive speed, and seemingly endless endurance was the cherry on top.

The smile slipped from his face when the he felt the leather fabric getting peeled off upper half. It only took a bit of movement for the gloves to slide off as well, tossed aside to who the hell knows where because they are maybe the least important thing in the world to him right then. He pulled his mask off as well, because what even was the point now. Either his baldness was an issue or it wasn't. His eyes stayed on Peter, watching his facial expressions closely. As much as Wade ran the other way when vulnerability was a possibility, there was no choice in the matter here.

Honestly, it was more surprising that he didn't see disgust than it would have been if he had. There was an impressive set of muscles under the scars that probably don't hurt things, though. And it wasn't like he had talked about his cancer with Spider-man, what a fucking downer that would have been. It couldn't kill him now, so why be a bummer?

He'd rather have been just straight up asked things than analyzed, but this was Peter they were talking about. He was a big science dork and yet Wade had a boner for him anyway. Quite literally, at the moment. Speaking of which-- ] Trust me when I tell you that I am abso-fucking-lutely all about railing you so hard you can't walk tomorrow. And lucky you, my pouches aren't filled with lollipops like Batman's. Suck it, DC.

[ His uncovered fingers dove into a pouch and produced a little carry on sized bottle. Yes. He carried a little thing of lube in one of his pouches. Wade could say with a straight face that it could get one out of a jam, but that was absolutely not why he had it. ]

( let it be known that a good seventy-five percent of the time, peter has no idea what the hell wade is on about. sometimes he stares off into the distance and talks to himself, or an unseen audience, and peter pretends he's picking lint off of his suit or stares in confusion, trying to parse even a fraction of the wadeisms distributed in front of his very own eyes. a majority of them fall flat. not because he's crazy or whatever, but because whatever it is he intuits or witnesses, peter can't see right away.

what he tells him plainly now is that he's going to ruin him for having sex with anyone else, which is, like, a really huge statement.

( also, please. ) )

I just. Uh. Hold on. Several sidebars.

( no, it's not lost on peter's dick that wade travels with lubricant. there is a beat where he stares, heavy eyelids, lips parsed, contemplating that specifically. )

Does it hurt? Am I hurting you? And, um, is this? Genetics?

( right, right, right, respectfully. peter lifts his eyes up from all of the scarred muscles, not any less firm, or any less sexy under his hands. under his eyes, yeah, maybe, but in comparison to lizard people and goblin-disease people (not the medical name), and uh alien symbiote beings (that may or may not exist in the sony-disney-marvelverse) eh, fucking debatable. )

Indulge the vaguely scientific side, for a second. It has benefits. And the, you know, empathetic part. The me, under the mask. I'm not scared, but I do like.. comprehending.

( don't mind that he's biting the knuckle of an index finger while the other palm roams, fingers spread, dragging, stopping under wade's rib cage. listening, okay, he's listening, whether there is a part of him that doesn't want to. )

And then you can finger me until I sob for all I care, alright?

( he's lying; the sobbing point is when he uses his powers and climbs wade. )

[ The last thing that Wade wanted was sidebars. Wade groaned when things were halted, sounding genuinely pained. He was pretty sure he was finally about to get what he wanted, and yet. Stupid Peter and his stupid sexy brain needed to figure out what was going on with Wade. It was going to be a whole thing. Of course he had to end up with a boner for a genius.

However, the easiest way to get Wade to agree to tell him anything was to offer sex. So Peter was going about things the right way. ]

All right, but you better not stop being in the mood just because it's depressing as hell.

It doesn't hurt and it's not genetic. I was a normal dude working as a mercenary until I got diagnosed with inoperable tumors in my liver, lungs, prostate, and brain. It was terminal. I was a test subject for some experimental superhuman enhancement bullshit to try and treat it. I got tortured until it activated, yadda yadda yadda. [ A casual wave of his hand like that was totally normal. Talking about that shit never bothered him, he just didn't want to kill the mood. ] I look like this but the cancer can't kill me, and neither can anything else. Can we do the fingering you until you sob bit, now? Cause I was way more interested in that.

[ His hands moved to the pants of Peter's suit, start to peel it downwards, letting it rest under the curve of his ass. Wade was like a dog with a bone. His mind was only on one thing, and any distraction at all was only going to be temporary. And his focus was clear, he was already popping open the bottle of lube and pouring some on his fingers. ]

I'll even give you a DNA sample, if you want one that bad. [ Cue his stupid eyebrow wiggle. ]

( truthfully, it's a mixture of things, the least of all science, but considering his father based his career in genetics and both of his parents died for it, and harry killed for it, there is a part of him naturally inclined to wonder. he's not sure he can do anything about it, let alone that he would try dabbling without wade asking him to, but it is how he processes not freaking out. the more information he has, the better he can filter the emotional aspect (and there is one) involved.

the more wade explains, the deeper his brow furrows. experimenting on sick people has to be the worst kind of predatory that there is, though, isn't that what drove norman osborn? and in a manner of speaking, curt connors? as a result, there are obviously more questions and peter's heart stays on his sleeve or in his eyes, so to speak. )

Yeah, yeah. Mm. ( he affirms quietly, stuck on the evil in people who have every capability to help and then manipulate for results instead but peter's need to know never stemmed in asking so that he can extend sympathy. wade's not a pity guy and peter won't reduce him to such, but that origin is sad as hell and never would have been the leap of how and why that peter imagined.

it's a clusterfuck of vindictive rage, sorrow for a friend, and a general dose of compassion that settles over him, even with wade tugging at his pants, guiding them down and peter sniffs, and presses his forehead against wade's for a measly few seconds. god, it is depressing as hell and peter made no promises, and he is still more or less erect, but he does take the tiny lapse to smile wryly, voice tight for an entirely different reason that doesn't need uttering between them. )

Unless you're leaving the sample on my tongue or on me somewhere, not interested.

( he's quick with it, duh. he additionally manages to lift on his knees and to shuck his pants a bit further on his upper thighs, where it has now (beyond a shadow of a doubt) become very clear that he's not wearing underwear. yes, impractical, but ~~several comic panels agree~~ he chafes. they're on a rooftop, he's a hundred percent exposed (physically, emotionally) and he shuts his brain and wade up by kissing him harder than intended. it's all tongue and grazing teeth, everything necessary to get back to that same headspace. )

[ Peter pressed their foreheads together and Wade paused in his movements. Maybe it was intended, maybe it wasn't, but it felt like an intimate gesture. And, fuck, if he wasn't a sucker for that shit. Craved intimacy like the worst drug addict. It wasn't sympathy he wanted, but some kind of closeness. So he gave himself a second to just appreciate that little flash, a stolen little moment just for him.

Wade opened his mouth to say something but instead was kissed fiercely. He was at least smart enough to get the hint that this was how they moved on from the subject, and since his goal was to get back into the heat of the moment, he was more than happy to go with it. The mercenary poured everything he had into kissing Peter, every ounce of desire that had been building up since the moment Wade first realized how much he wanted Spider-man.

Made it hard to ogle when Peter was finally exposed, but he managed to keep his focus on the task at hand. Speaking of hands, one wrapped around to the back of the younger man, his lube coated middle finger slowly rubbing at Peter's rim. It was a sensual move, teasing the tiny folds there with the pad of his finger. As bad as his dick might want him to rush things along, Wade was determined to take his time and enjoy it. Who knew if they'd end up doing this again? Could be a temporary lapse in judgement on Peter's part.

Those tight muscles grip at his middle finger when he pressed it inside, the sensation enough to make his eyelids flutter. Wade was pretty sure he couldn't get any harder, throbbing with desire already. It might be the one thing that killed him, holding himself off. But took a sharp breath and makes himself go slow as he stretches Peter out, taking this part seriously. It needed to feel good for both of them. ]

Hope you're ready to start sobbing, baby boy. [ He practically purred out, voice more like velvet stretched over gravel than anything else. At the same moment, he twisted his wrist, searching for that bundle of nerves inside Peter. ]

( absolutely on purpose and for both of them. peter needs the contact to suppress how he wants to embrace wade and to get his emotions on lock. if a little forehead resting is what he can offer him without making it seem like pity, he's happy to. as much as he's relieved to give them the distraction of a searing and suffocating kiss, to be consumed by everything wade's pouring into it and trying to meet him in the middle until he's breathless again, lips tender, and had his temporary fill of the taste and feel of wade on his tongue. there's no chance to recoup steady breaths because he can feel wade's finger circling him, making him want it, so that when he does press in, peter lets out a drawn out groan next to the corner of his mouth.

the scrunch of his nose is momentary, just adjusting, it's been a long time since he's been touched by anything but his own hands and wade's fingers are thicker than his. he's going slow enough that it's inconsequential, keeps him panting while he stretches him and peter wraps his fingers lightly around his own cock and unhurriedly brushes his index finger and thumb over his crown, a barely there stroke because he's not rushing to get off. enough focused contact to make him rock back on wade's finger, hips twitching, and he releases a higher pitched whine, eyes twisted shut, at how all of that combines with wade twisting his wrist and hitting a different angle inside him.

he grapples for purchase on wade's abdomen with his empty hand, trying to ground himself because his self-control is shattering to hell. try as he may to smile, it slips off, replaced by wild abandon. )

More, ( he rasps. ) I want more. Make me feel you.

[ A second finger joined the first, spreading them apart as he worked the tight ring of muscle to help get him to relax. A drop of sweat dripped down between his shoulder blades when Peter whined like that for him. God, it was beautiful. Made him wish there was a way to record it so he could play it back when he needed to get himself off. That switch in his brain had been flipped and he was in sex mode now. Like a cool transformer bot with an awesome cock.

His lips moved to Peter's ear, smirk curled at the edges of them. ] Such a good boy. Knew you'd be good for me. You like that, baby? Gonna feel even better once it's my dick. [ The moment Wade was confident he was ready, he added his ring finger to the mix. With each thrust of his thick fingers he did his best to keep nailing that spot. His lips slid down to Peter's neck, sucking a bite onto the skin. Hickeys were some real teenager shit, but they had always stoked that possessive fire inside of him, and the side that liked to show off. ]

Tell me how much you want it, and I'll give it to you. [ He couldn't help but love the idea of Peter being needy for him and god damn if it wouldn't stroke his ego in a way he craved. There was so much determination to make sure that he pleased Peter in a way that no one else could ever hope to achieve. ]

( OPEN POST )

oh no it's the perfect song

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i tell myself: write a short tag and then...

it's bc ~feelings~ are happening, your honor!

feelings what feelings??

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sorry for my slow, life happens so muuuuch

truly life is the worst sometimes

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the 10-12 hr work trip days cut the tires on my creativity, forgive me!

it's all good ❤️

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