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When Peter is seven, he gets his first kiss from Wade Wilson.
Wade pins him down with a crazy grin, insisting that this is what people who like-like each other do. Peter is a little more than just at a loss for words, but he adores Wade and lets him lean in until their foreheads bump painfully.
It’s the middle of summer, and Peter inhales warm, humid air when Wade leans forward. His back is against the grass and the older boy’s weight on his torso is making it hard to breathe, but Peter closes his eyes and waits for the weird sensation that is so highly acclaimed. He grips the blades of grass between his fingers and wonders why pinning him to the ground is necessary for this.
Wade kisses him and it’s really more invasive than pleasant. His lips are chapped and neither move, it’s just a simple collision of mouths and rigid bodies. But it’s a bit nice the way that he pulls back and grins at him brightly.
Nonetheless, Peter decides it’s too hot for this kissing nonsense and shoves Wade off of him.
.
.
“Hey,” Wade says lowly against the shell of Peter’s ear. The sound makes him shudder, and pull back a little, despite that he’s trapped in his lap, Wade’s arms a firm cage around his waist. “Don’t be so nervous, Parker. I’m not going to molest you unless you want me to.”
They’re inexperienced teenagers in the back of Wade’s crappy Volkswagen, and Peter is panicking because he’s sixteen and never been kissed and Wade is going to be unbearable once he figures that out.
“What if I told you I’ve never kissed anyone?” Peter says quickly, looking away and towards the cracked leather seats. He squirms, feeling so warm, but that may just be because Wade himself is radiating heat and the humid summer nights aren’t as cool as he would like when they’re spent with no air conditioning and the windows cracked.
Wade snorts, nuzzling his nose against Peter’s collar. This is bad, Peter thinks, so, so bad, and there’s no way he’s getting out this one, not when his boyfriend is making him melt. “You’d be lying,” Wade murmurs, “I know who was your first kiss.”
“Creepy much?”
“Because it was me, jeez,” Wade says, wrinkling his nose. And Peter notices that his face is very, very close.
“I don’t think that counts,” Peter replies weakly, but doesn’t move away despite that he’s jittery and feels like there’s a surge of electricity running up his spine.
“Then I’ll just get to be your first kiss—again,” Wade grins at him, “Like a total boss. What are the odds, like it’s kind of funny. Maybe it’s a sign that we’re totally destined—mmph”
Peter shuts him up by firmly pressing his lips against his, relaxing against him when he feels Wade’s fingers curling over the bone of his hips as he kisses him back. It’s warm and overwhelming, and Wade mostly takes control, but it’s still sloppy. It’s all the hesitance and sweetness, with a bit of customary impatience on Wade’s part.
Peter shifts in his lap so that he can wrap his arms around his neck. It gets a lot less innocent pretty fast, but Peter manages to keep up, and realizes as their tongues tangle together and Wade presses him down against the old leather seats, that Wade is going to be plowing through a good deal of his firsts. Makeouts included, apparently.
But it’s really nice, he decides lately, lips swollen and face flushed. He looks thoroughly debauched, but has a pleasant buzz when Wade drops him off at his house. Peter definitely likes this second first kiss a lot more than when he was seven.