Work Text:
It was like a slight embarrassment bathed in a shell of anxiety and a lot of self-control. Peter really had a lot of trouble knowing what to do with his hands when he obviously didn't need them in a situation.
It was complicated for him, for his hyperactive personality that forced him to hold things to build, touch and feel every work or object that caught his scientific curiosity.
At the time, when he hadn't yet gotten involved in the world of powers and was in a bad moment, he had this mania for playing with his sleeves until they came undone in threads, or grabbing one of his many curls and diving into the extravagant form that always came back like a spring.
However, that was before the responsibilities of a body radioactively mutated from the purest of its deoxyribonucleic acids.
It became more, like a silly instinct that caused him problems.
It is not denied that his ability to become adherent to a variety of things is not his most personal trademark. It is iconic. But coupled with a proportional strength, plus a horrible need to stick to anything at any time, as a method of self-regulation to escape to the highest corner and form a nice combat web is a problem.
Tearing his clothes because he wanted to play with them is a problem, trying to play with his hair and pulling, only to find that strands and strands of hair got stuck to his fingertips is a problem. Getting stuck to people is horrible, breaking cups because he couldn't let go of them was humiliating, breaking door handles with the door unglued hurt and waking up in the morning with torn sheets and stuffing in his skin was disgusting (financially).
And when he was with Wade he had a very clear awareness of all that.
Maybe, sometimes like today he let himself be carried away by his dependence and his fingers methodically oscillated in the textures of the man's head and then ran away and tightly squeezed the work desk in front of him, not being able to bear to fall to temptations.
"W-Wade, I'm supposed to be working." Peter gasped, his shaky voice echoing throughout his work lab. He blushed at the thought of someone on his night watch also passing through the glass door and observing him bent over at his desk, while Wade on his knees made those very suspicious sucking noises under the table.
It wouldn't take them much to see the man's large silhouette with his flushed cheeks squished between Parker's thighs. But then, those thighs rose above broad shoulders that received weak heel taps from time to time, like tics.
(Plus the obvious red and black suit, and the brunette's moans.)
And as obscene and unprofessional as what they were doing was, Peter couldn't take his eyes off the scene unfolding before him, added to when Wade made absent noises in response, not bothering to empty his mouth to answer his objections that slowly disappeared.
He looked very concentrated and comfortable in front of him, kneeling on the floor,
holding tightly his limbs that suffered from spasms and glistened with sweat.
Drool had spread over his cheeks and the innermost part of his legs, making everything become slippery and cold. Wilson continued to swallow with a relish all the way down his throat, preferring it to oxygen.
Everything was hot and wet. The genius could actually feel the tension of the other's throat hugging him. He caught the contrast of how it contracted or relaxed to take in more.
He felt like he was dying from the range of sensations. The shame, anxiety, pleasure, and terror of the moment.
A dangerous, hungry man was eating him alive in the middle of his job, inside one of the top biochemical technology companies. There were cameras, there were people passing through the halls. There were beaker tubes with dangerous contents and sharp weaponry on the desk that should have remained sterile.
And yet Wade's blue eyes, half-lidded and clouded, looking at him with adoration, were more captivating than his professional ethical concerns.
Deadpool pulled away with a loud "pop" that made Peter's fingers twitch, wanting to hold him or his partner. He gulped at that.
Wade’s swollen lips parted to sink his teeth into the sensitive spots on his leg with breaths so harsh they warmed every ounce of skin they washed over. And the superhero moaned, the sound leaving his throat in a tearful gasp that sank him into his chair and forced him to crush his mouth with his fingers.
His eyes perhaps rolled back a little.
After that period of rest, and the other successfully covering his lover in red and purple marks, Wade swallowed Peter all the way back down to the base, nuzzling the light trail of hair and breathing deeply, intoxicated. Blunt nails dug into the pale flesh of his partner's hips, allowing his mutated skin to slide over the muscles and burst beneath the clothes. This elicited more breathy moans from Peter and the Canadian hummed in approval.
"Wade." The genius stammered, throwing his head back, revealing his Spider-Man suit under the raised sweater and the disheveled lab apron. He would be scolded for it later, (if anyone ever found out and made it public) not only for exposing his alter ego in a civilian area, but for exposing it in such a vulnerable situation in the middle of his job that obviously such indecorous actors were not allowed. But it didn't matter, no, not anymore. Yes, he loved this job and he tried hard to have it and keep it but God, Wade and his libido were one of the hardest things he had ever had to deal with. At some point he thought it was because it was the beginning of being a couple, the novelty, the years of sexual tension finally exploding freely and with all the yes, the first days! But no. Faced with the considerable time they had already spent together and the endless hunger the mercenary seemed to suffer from to bite him, catch him, hold him, touch him, eat him and fuck him always. He was running out of strength to fight against this. He couldn't say if it was real tiredness (maybe he already passed that part). It's like a surrender to this. He only accepted it because deep down it was already something everyday, a routine need.
Wade was like 1% man and 99% exotic thoughts and he was the lightning rod to which all that energy would be directed.
Sometimes he joked internally that he was a bit like Hal and Lois' relationship in the Malcolm in the Middle series. It was like a similar lust.
And you know what?
I've never been so happy about that.
Just, back up a couple of thoughts earlier.
She really didn't care about losing her job to spend more time with him.
She didn't hate what she did, but it felt good, you know? She had managed to get a nice house with the other guy. Who had enough money to be able to retire with three other people, and still have money left over. It's not like he was a freeloader (it's not like Wade minded him becoming more capricious, it even seemed like that's what he wanted), it's just that somehow he wasn't surviving day to day anymore, he was just living. Which is contradictory because he fought to the death regularly.
But it was something so rare in his life that it was like the weight that went away and a loss of cares domino followed.
She never saw herself as a trophy wife type, her values still tell her to try hard so that Wade doesn't take on the entire burden of supporting them, but the truth is that the money she earns is left to suffer what a lot of others suffer, they're left to do nothing because they already have it. So it didn't matter to work for profit, it would be more for what he did at work, but thanks to the regime and needs of the industry, he used to be very diverse and more than once he strayed from his philanthropic principles. He could easily become independent and form something totally new, like charity for homeless people, mutants, etc., and he would support more than he did now.
It was strange.
He felt free.
With May, friends, a family, no financial problems, with time, a partner who takes care of him in both of his lives.
He had already given up on all of this.
Living made him happy.
Peter Parker living without worries, curious, isn't it?
Wade leaned forward further, sliding his tongue along the underside of the chestnut, feeling the spider's body begin to curve more and more. Wade's frown deepened, closing his eyes as he moved faster and more enthusiastically. Peter was now no longer leaning against his chair, but bent forward, almost in half. His forehead rested on the desk and his knees came closer to his chest. His hands traveled to the surface and the older man, trying to cling but not stick to the man, lowered himself, only caresses of longing. The other sucked harder. He slid his hands to the back of the legs, separating them and adjusting them better to his shoulders to have more room to work. And he succeeded, Wade moved deeper and already with his hands on Peter's legs he did not hesitate to fall into the temptation of molding it between his fingers and crushing the tense flesh.
However, a hot stab of pain ran through the arachnid's back. His chest tightened at the sting that brought him back to reality like a brutal blow.
Shit, he had forgotten about his injury from yesterday against the cheap copy of Octopus. His mistake.
"Hey, wait, Wa-Wade."His hand cupped the other's neck to get his attention, while the pressure in his lower back increased like palpitations.
"My back."
Sky-blue eyes snapped open, very expressive and surprised. Immediately, Wilson pulled away, relieving the pressure and releasing the other's legs. He sat back on his heels, breathing heavily, his face showing as if he were collapsed by the memories of last night. The sudden space between their bodies caused the cold of the large room to reach them.
They fell into automatic silence.
His back calmed down as quickly as he settled into a better position in the chair. His body protested, but in control he tried to breathe deeply as the pain subsided and the cold tingled through his body. He looked at Wade on the floor, with his guilty face and the heat of the situation moving his erratically.
Maybe some of that guilt and affection was transferred to him consecutively.
He had totally broken the mood, double wrong.
He extended his hands towards Deadpool, behind his head and forced him up to kiss him.
Wade leaned on the back of the chair, not giving his weight to his body. He moved his lips carefully and they stayed like that for a while.
"Shit, SpideyBaby."Wade's voice was raspy, filled with a deep concern that obviously didn't go straight to Peter's cock.
"I forgot about your cute, injured spider back."
"It's okay silly, don't take it so hard. Just." He took another deep breath.
"The chair isn't helping here." Peter licked his lips with a small embarrassed smile. He could feel how hard the other was against the side of his leg. His eyes moved down fearlessly.
"I'm fine, you know it was just a bad hit." The furious silhouette straining against the tight leather suit was intimidating, and more so due to the fact that it was all from sucking his cock.
The slight pain the genius felt more than dissipated and he couldn't help but kiss Wade hard, hug him and pull him towards him.
“I’m fucking fine, big boy.” she blurted out through the heated kiss. Their gazes never left each other, it was like a match lighting up.
Wade smirked.
Peter's eager lips moved away to lock onto the nearest skin he could reach. He kissed the scarred abdomen, licking the contours of the muscles with his tongue. He looked up when Wade made a small noise. The Canadian's eyes were wide as he looked down. The mercenary's hands clenched at his sides, tightly.
Spider-Man sighed.
"I don't need you to stop" Peter pressed their foreheads together.
"I just need a change of position, okay?"
"Alright my sexy nerd, let's see what we have.
Wade's hands ran up and down the man's back, checking the condition and frowning at the end. The damage probably looked like an ugly purple bruise. Nothing he hadn't seen before.
"It's okay." he finally conceded, nodding.
“I told you.” Pete murmured, and the more toned man’s eyes flicked back to his face. He smiled.
Wade hurried to move them. The other just opted to go with the flow, being pushed along the workbench and lying face up on the cold surface that in the rush suffered from an improvised cleaning of sending everything to one side. Glass clacked, some pencils rolled to the floor and sheets relieved the material.
He could feel the slight stretch of the straight surface accommodating his back, and God, it was certainly the relaxation he needed. Although he can always improve on a good bed instead of a desk.
But the support itself was good.
Enough to sigh and let the discomfort of hours of trying to cover up the blow of being slammed into a fountain in the central square of NY flow through his nerves.
Wade rose above the other body and looked at him, and in his opinion it was a rewarding relief.
Shoulders relaxed, breaths rising and falling from the opposite chest. The lab was a lot of corners with the lights off, except for the ones Peter should just need. But you could still see the characteristic little marks and moles on every inch of his skin. The young man's hair stuck out at odd angles from where his glasses rested, making the strands around his ears curl and the ones on his forehead stick together with sweat. These little curls made Wade's hands a little fussy while they were supposed to be working. But blame him, it was a nice sight and he was a guy with no resistance.
The boy was a hottie of a nerd, it made perfect sense that seeing him reading, with his typical scowl on a sheet of incoherent formulas, hunched over his table and biting his nails had made him do this madness.
His self-control was not a good worker.
“Better?” he asked, gently running his calloused fingertips along the side of Peter’s slightly purple ribs.
It was curious to notice that they were a little less noticeable now than when they first met.
Well, it was cute, honestly, his ego screamed.
"Yes." he was assured.
Wade leaned over him with that hungry but careful look. His body wrapped around Peter's like a warm blanket. The cold stopped hitting them annoyingly and their hearts started to beat faster between the contact.
Peter hesitated for a second, guiding his eyes in the direction of the door of the place. The scarred man followed his eyes and stopped him.
" Hey, hey. Eyes on my Babyboy." Their lips brushed but didn’t touch. Peter turned fully to him at his words. His eyes hid in his dilated pupils and his lungs caught in a gasp.
"No one will pass, I have everything secured." He whispered to him.
"Cameras, guards…"
Peter grabbed Wade’s face between his hands tightly.
"You trust me, right?" Spider nodded without complaint, and pulled him closer to him, their tongues sliding together messily as their teeth clashed a little painfully. He bit the mercenary’s lower lip, exhaling a startled sigh.
This caused both of them to react simultaneously, moaning at the contact of their entire bodies pressing against each other. Peter tugged at the clothing separating them and moved his hips up against his partner’s clothed erection. Wade’s hips twitched and pushed down in response. The friction was electrifying, but he wanted to feel skin against skin.
But he was still in his tight, wet suit.
“More” Peter demanded, as his fingers began to undo the zipper on the other’s back. As if they had read each other’s minds.
“Oh, bossy,” Wade laughed. Peter rolled his eyes. He grabbed the tight suit hungrily and pulled it down with brute force, not caring if he ripped it. He received a very reciprocated curse of relief from the other.
Peter reached between them and awkwardly grabbed both of their members and covered them with his palm. He tried to create friction, but his hand wasn't enough between the size of both of them. Most of the time it took both of them to do a better job. Wade snorted between their intertwined lips, his other arm resting on the younger man's head so as not to crush all of his weight on the other. He groaned, he was shaking.
"Peter… " Their eyes made contact. Peter understood the message and tried to adjust himself carefully.
The taller man’s forehead fell between his chest.
His breathing felt forced. He could feel the steam emanating from his silhouette.
"Everything ready?" He pressed his hips further against Peter’s. Sweat dripped from his reddish skin.
The genius slid a hand between their bodies, only to have it covered by another, much warmer and slightly larger one. He tightened his grip.
They were slippery. The tips of his fingers became soaked with saliva and precum that kept coming out.
Once the older boy had a good grip, he continued to rock his hips back and forth to fuck their joined hands. The boy gritted his teeth and his head bounced off the flat surface. They slid against each other and Wade set a punishing pace. At this point, he really couldn't help but go fast and hard. Peter was making small moans and Wilson's head was spinning.
The slick rubbing of their cocks was taking comprehensible words out of the genius. A breathy moan of Deadpool's name was heard. Points of bliss danced before his vision and the hero's hands were getting crunchy with the need to melt into the other.
To stick to his body and not let go, but let's just say they were working in a place where that jam wasn't the best option.
He whined tearfully and his legs shook.
Shit, he really hated fighting this.
He wasn't good at keeping still.
The older man's body rose. Kisses climbed from the center of his 3-fold enlarged heart to his earlobe.
His hoarse moans bathed in praise lifted him to another extreme.
Peter pressed himself against him, wanting more contact.
"What's wrong, babyboy? Do you need something? Do you want to hug me, hm? Get tangled up in me?"
Parker threaded his eyes as they watched them intently. They were both undone in sighs.
A cluster of thoughts and ideas assailed him but one attacked in a precise and fixed manner.
He couldn't hide his desires from this man, he needed him. Arachnids or dependents, his comfort had overcome him.
Then he pressed his lips against his teeth and nodded desperately, because in truth his skin itched painfully. It was as if he was going to explode and a kind of fear invaded him in such an overwhelming way that he needed something to anchor himself.
"I'm sorry.
"Shh, shhh, do that. Just let go, leave it to me.
She didn't refuse, because she really, really needed to.
Then she released her hands in the small space left for her and surrounded Wade completely, from his legs to his nails. She hid between his necks and writhed in pleasure at the contact.
“Oh, Petey, ah… I love you,” Peter growled.
“This feels so good… so fucking good. You’re so cute.”
Peter could feel the coil in his stomach tightening and sweat breaking out on his skin. He knew Wade was getting closer too, often starting to talk more and flirt with him for anything. (Yes, more.)
It wasn't long before the mercenary's thrusts began to stutter and Peter had his free hand wrapped a little too tightly around the back of Wade's neck. And having the man's arm leaning on the table wrap around him didn't feel bad either. They both tensed. A hot, sticky release covered the superhero's entire stomach and unsettled him. Both his and his boyfriend's.
Wade held him, stimulating even if they had both already climaxed, a bit of overstimulation that drained them of every last drop of energy.
They stood there, breathing heavily and trying to find the feeling in their toes again.
Wade was grinding him down a bit but it wasn't something he'd hold against him.
"I hope so." He tried to speak in a breath.
"I hope you take care of cleaning this mess up later."
She felt a complaint creep across Wade's face before she said a grudging,
"Don't be like that, baby"