SUMMARY: [SEQUEL TO fall out, boy, so i can fall in(to you)] Unlike most of the Avengers, Peter has never been allergic to talking about his feelings with the people he loves. Except for the one person he has the strongest feelings for. Except for the one feeling he feels the strongest. Why was it so hard to say what it was so easy to be? Why was it so easy to be what it was so hard to say?
...Why did he expect any other reaction from Wade when Peter finally said it?
AO3 TAGS: Sequel, Gap Filler, between c4 and epilogue of previous fic, Canon Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Dating, First Dates, BDSM, Dom/sub, Dom Wade, Sub Peter, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Hand Jobs, Edging, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Subspace, Multiple Orgasms, Insecurity, Insecure Peter, Light Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Communication, Toys, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Butt Plugs, Anal Plug, Rimming, Vibrators, Masturbation, Comeplay, Come as Lube, Anal, Anal Play, Anal Fingering, Biting, Marks, Marking, Hickies, Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, POV Alternating, between chapters not within, Exes, Kissing, Hugs, Fondling, Claiming, Public Claiming, Public Display of Affection, Possessive Behavior,Possessive Wade, Insecure Wade, Anal Sex, Rough Sex, Cock Rings, Makeshift Cock Ring, Top Wade, Bottom Peter, Power Bottom Peter, Creampie, Kink Negotiation, Sex Club, Shyness, Shy Peter, BDSM Scene, Public Scene, Collars, Makeshift Collar, Lingerie, Lace Panties, Peter in Lingerie, Peter in Lace, Filming, Sex Tapes, Bondage, Shibari, Kinbaku, Suspension, Sex, Public Blow Jobs, Aftercare, Double Penetration, just a mention but still: noice, Meet the Family, Love Confessions, Public Transportation, Reference to Domestic Abuse, no actual domestic abuse, Nipple Play, Nipple Torture, Making Love, Cuddlefucking, Somnophilia, Epilogue, Dialogue-Only, only in the epilogue tho, all the tags, again
AN: Happy Friday the Thirteenth everyone, I come bearing good news: my Best-Big-Bang-Partner-A-Girl-Could-Ask-For Spideypool BB partner, (barleytea on tumblr), blessed me by commissioning a sequel to fall out boy for my birthday (a few months ago...). What she commissioned was 4k of Peter saying "I love you" for the first time between Part 4 and the Epilogue. What she got was 75k of Peter saying "I love you" in his own way, all his first times. Which in turn got me the amazing art on the tumblr post that will appear in c5.
I also come bearing some bad news: Fall Out Boy's new album, MANIA, didn't come out until a few months after my birthday/commission, and I didn't get around to listening to it until a month after it came out. When I started this, I wasn't feeling any of the lyrics from all their previous albums, and then I listened to MANIA and everything fit so goddamn well but it was too late. ;-; I hope you enjoy anyway!
Betaed by: FloweryMusings (who has read the original so many times she may know it better than me lol), Vixen13 (who was only supposed to read c4 and then got sucked in to the whole piece anyway), friend Merc (whose username I apparently don't know?), and iampac.
NOTE: This does take place between Chapter 4 and the Epilogue, but I would recommend finishing fobsicfi(ty) (if you haven't already) in its entirety before reading this. And if you have read it already, 1) I'm about to start replying to all the amazing comments that have been left on it that I couldn't get to because I was busy with this, and 2) please proceed.
NOTE2: This story is complete but I will be posting it one week at a time because it's basically as long as the original and too many of you sweet sweet souls ended up reading the whole of the original in one sitting and I mourned your loss of sleep for you.
PART ONE
"Baby boy, I wanna date the shit out of you, if you'd let me. I wanna take you out and wine and dine you and Netflix and chill with you."
It wasn't that Peter didn't believe Deadpool when he'd told Peter that he wanted to date him. It was just… after Peter'd accepted them as a… a thing? Boyfriends? He just hadn't really thought that they would. Date, that is. He more expected that they would continue as they had been, but more frequently and with less fighting it on Peter's part. But here they were a week after the Pancake Incident, as Peter had taken to calling it, sitting down in a theater with popcorn and drinks like a normal couple. It was… weird. He wasn't sure if he liked it, but when Deadpool dragged him out to see some action flick (Peter hadn't even been paying attention to what), he hadn't resisted.
"I've been wanting to see this movie forever I'm so excited," Deadpool said gleefully, voice quiet and muffled by the medical mask he wore to hide the lower half of his face. He'd actually tried to leave the apartment in full suit, which Peter had immediately nay-sayed, and a sweater, jeans, and med mask had been the compromise, keeping almost as much of Deadpool's skin covered as his costume. A thick arm, warm and heavy, settled across Peter's shoulders as Deadpool leaned closer, and Peter shifted in his seat. Even though he'd agreed to be a willing part of… 'them', it was something that would take him a while to get used to, Deadpool's casual affection even more so. "I'm really glad you came with me, baby boy," Deadpool whispered, pressing a masked kiss to his temple.
"Er, you're welcome," Peter said uncomfortably because what else could he say?
Thankfully, Deadpool took pity on him and smoothly moved into a steady stream of surprisingly quiet opinions regarding the previews as they came and went, dictating which ones did or didn't deserve his time and why. It wasn't any different than what they'd done in the past, except for the fact that they were in public instead of the privacy of Peter's apartment, and the openness meant Peter was practically crawling out of his skin with the unfamiliarity of the whole situation. Deadpool kept shoving handfuls of popcorn into his mouth as if their mere presence together in the theater wasn't a monumentally groundbreaking event, lowering and lifting his medical mask each time, but Peter couldn't help but be tense, to grip the hard metal arms so tightly that he had to concentrate on not imprinting his fingers into them.
The only thing providing him a sense of comfort, of safety, was the familiar weight of Deadpool's arm across his shoulders. For years, he'd known that as long as Deadpool was touching him, he'd be taken care of, and that was just as true as ever, if not more so, now that he was vocally amiable to… them. So when that arm drew back when the lights went down, he went rigid with tension.
"Sh, baby boy," Deadpool whispered right next to his ear, sending heat all the way down to his belly. Leather-gloved fingers pried his bare ones from the arm rest and put them on the side of the popcorn bucket, apparently in order to lift the arm between them. "I want you to hold on to the popcorn bucket for me, okay?"
Deadpool asked in that particular voice again, the one that meant he wanted something from Peter and that Peter would be rewarded for if he listened. At some point, he was going to have to ask about that voice because it was very effective and only seemed to be used sparingly. And only during sex. Which was, conveniently, the time that Peter was least capable of remembering that he needed to ask about it. Still, he grabbed the popcorn bucket with both hands and nodded his head, and he got a pleased hum vibrating the lobe of his ear in such a way that it sent a shiver through the whole of his body. But then Deadpool reached for the zipper of his jeans and Peter jerked, grabbing Deadpool's wrist with his free hand in a grip that was probably the wrong side of tight.
"What are you doing?" he hissed as the opening credits started rolling. Despite the white text, the background was black, keeping the theater in darkness, but movies never stayed that way for long and Peter had no intention of being arrested for public indecency.
"Making you feel good and relaxed, baby boy," Deadpool whispered back, the tips of his fingers stroking over Peter's soft dick and making him harden. As much as Peter was trying to grit his teeth to keep an erection from forming, by this point, Deadpool could probably just tell him to get hard and he would. He just didn't want to do it in a theater surrounded by a hundred other people. "No need to panic. I picked these seats for a reason."
They were in the top corner seats, which didn't mean much exactly when they were right at the top of a staircase, but Peter was closer to the stairs and Deadpool's larger body was between him and everyone else in the row. He was big enough to shield them from Peter's view, which likely meant the reverse too. And as long as he wasn't too obvious in what he was doing, then they shouldn't get caught. But one wrong move, one moan from Peter during a quiet scene, one person climbing the stairs, one person getting up from their seat, and the game would be over and they would be in so much trouble. Still, his fingers were already loosening from Deadpool's wrist and Deadpool was unzipping his jeans to pull out his dick.
Peter inhaled sharply when a firm, leather-encased hand wrapped solidly around his length, keeping it angled down towards the popcorn, and then just… stayed there. The opening credits were ending and the movie was starting and Deadpool was just… holding Peter's dick. He was as chill and still as if they were just holding hands, but Peter's cock was just out in the open air, shielded only by Deadpool's body and the bucket of popcorn. And there was the way the tight grip was making him too-conscious of his racing heart, of how it only got faster the longer they sat there and did nothing. Despite his trepidation, despite his fear, there was something about the situation that just made him so hard, so aroused, just like when they first got together and being with Deadpool felt so taboo. Deadpool wasn't even stroking him, and yet Peter was so turned on he could hardly breathe, much less pay attention to the movie.
Somehow, as Peter was sitting there frozen in that weird mix of aroused and petrified, Deadpool just kept eating that popcorn. It was the only thing giving Peter any measure of time, because he wasn't even sure his brain was absorbing any of the movie through either his eyes or ears. Just everything was a haze around him except that one point of contact between him and Deadpool, and his gaze fixed on the slowly disappearing popcorn. When a third of it was gone, Deadpool finally moved his hand, sliding his fist to the tip of Peter's cock and then back down. His glove had become slick with sweat from his humid grasp, and the stroke was a strange mix of wet and dry, but it still sent arousal zinging through Peter's system and his fingers almost ripped the bucket in his hands apart when he jerked.
"Sh sh sh," Deadpool hushed against his ear, and it took Peter a moment to realize it sounded like he was choking before he forced his vocal cords to shut down. Luckily, although more likely because Deadpool had planned it, the screen was covered with explosions that were blasting out the speakers and Peter could barely hear himself. He turned his head towards Deadpool's shoulder until a kiss was pressed against his hair and Deadpool shrugged him off. "Stay upright, baby boy. We gotta keep up the game."
He nodded shakily and locked down all of his muscles. It was a good thing he did because he almost flung the popcorn over the crowd when Deadpool stroked him a second time, but this time he didn't stop. All of Peter's concentration went into being still and silent and not destroying the popcorn bucket Deadpool was still eating from at the same time he painstakingly jerked Peter off. His concentration and his arousal, that sweet fire in his veins, slowly eroded his worry of being discovered as his orgasm coiled tighter and tighter in his center.
It could have been because he hadn't seen Deadpool since the Pancake Incident, so they hadn't had sex since then, but even if Deadpool had fucked him when he'd woken Peter that morning, even if Peter had been sitting there with only his plug keeping Deadpool's com from leaking onto the theater's seat, Peter was certain it still would have felt like this. Sex with Deadpool was never not amazing, no matter if it was the first time that day or the tenth. Every moment of it made Peter feel like he was soaring to new heights and crashing over new cliffs, even though it was all the same as every time before. Deadpool was just that good, even if it was something so simple as a handjob, it seemed.
Peter's breath huffed out his nose in faster and faster exhales as he approached orgasm, and he carefully locked his jaw and shoved his head back into his seat to keep from thrashing when he came. Only, right when the moment came, Deadpool let go, Peter's eyes snapping open as that rocketing pressure simmered at the tip before fading away. For a long time, he could only stare unblinkingly into nothingness, deaf and blind to the sights and sounds of the movie. Only when his orgasm had faded back to the depths, leaving a dull pounding in its place, did he turn to look at Deadpool. Deadpool who was grinning and holding a finger to his lips in the universal "shhh" motion. Peter could only stare at him.
When his head rolled back to face forward again, mind stuck on the fact that Deadpool had almost just stroked him to orgasm and then abandoned him, right in the middle of (or corner of) a crowded theater, that leather-gloved hand wrapped back around his throbbing cock again. He couldn't help the way he arched a little out from his seat, chest pressing into the air as Deadpool began to stroke him again. It was just as slow and tight as the first time, but this time around, Peter had already reached peak once, and just that mere touch was enough to light him on fire. It made his entire body tremble as he forced his spine back to the chair, kept his mouth shut to keep any sounds from escaping. Not crushing something had never been so difficult, and the popcorn bucket on his knees shook from the effort of it. Deadpool just kept snacking.
The second time his orgasm threatened to overpower him, the popcorn was half gone, and Peter could barely stay still. He didn't know if he wanted Deadpool to stop more, or if he wanted Deadpool to let him come more. Stopping meant blue balls and no mess, whilst continuing meant satisfaction and one hell of an unexplainable mess. Before he could really think it through, he let go of the bucket with one hand, intent on grabbing Deadpool's wrist to still him, but before he could even make contact, Deadpool not only stopped, but let go completely. Let go in order to slap the same hand that had just been on Peter's dick over his mouth. And not a moment too soon because a whimper crawled up Peter's throat as his orgasm receded again and his hand hovered, helpless and empty, above his thigh. He could grab his own erection, he could, but he knew that wasn't part of the game. A game he'd already broken the rules of, he realized as Deadpool leaned in.
"Did I say you could let go of the popcorn?" Deadpool whispered, breath hot against the side of Peter's face.
It wasn't safe for Peter to loosen his jaw, even if Deadpool didn't have a hand over his mouth, so he shook his head and put his shaking fingers back to the greasy cardboard.
"Did you want to use your safeword?" Deadpool asked, just as softly, no judgement in his voice.
Even though Deadpool loved toeing the line of true exhibitionism, he'd always taken care to adhere to Peter's needs. If he'd thought that he couldn't hide their activities before they were for sure discovered, he wouldn't have started it to begin with. Someone might get a glimpse, might question what they were seeing, but that would be it. Peter shook his head again.
"Good boy," Deadpool whispered, making Peter shiver, and then his palm slowly pulled away from Peter's mouth. It left Peter's lips and cheeks feeling cold and slightly damp, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound when Deadpool wrapped a hand around him again. "Stay still, stay quiet," he reiterated against the side of Peter's head, and then went back to stroking him.
The movie passed in blurs of light colour, and bursts of sound. The popcorn in the bucket slowly disappeared as Deadpool stuffed his mouth with his free hand. And Peter edged closer and closer to losing his mind as Deadpool edged him again and again. At some point he'd begun to shake, every inch of his body trembling in the small theater seat along with the bucket in his lap, making the popcorn inside shift in a constant, soft susurrus. Peter couldn't remember the last time he'd been denied for so long, been driven to the edge only to be gentled back again and again until it felt like he could be stroked on any part of his skin and he could come. He wasn't sure if the consistent, snail-like pace of Deadpool's fist made everything better or worse, only that it was pure agony.
There was a hazy moment where he broke, where he tried to plead, but he only got as far as a rasped "Dead-" before he was being kissed. Deadpool's mouth was warm and wet and so heavy, a gravitational force sucking Peter in. His dick was being pressed to his belly, no longer encompassed by the firm circle of his fist but rather pressed flat with the broad spread of palm and digits. Peter almost reached for him in that moment, but the tips of fingers were stuck to the popcorn bucket from his Spidey powers. And as badly as he needed to come, Peter found himself in a strange sort of stasis, where everything was perfect and he could have gone on that way forever, pressed back into his seat with Deadpool's palm pressing into his belly and Deadpool's mouth devouring his.
The only thing that could have gone wrong was Deadpool stopping, which Peter hadn't considered a possibility. Until Deadpool actually did it. He kept their mouths sealed to absorb Peter's confused whines as he tucked Peter's too-hard cock back into his jeans and forced the zipper closed. Before Peter could find any words to express his opinion on this turn of events, the empty bucket was ripped from his fingers and strong fingers were wrapping around his wrist, dragging him blindly down the stairs. He barely registered them leaving the theater, and the only reason he was aware of it was the door banged when it hit the wall as Deadpool pushed ahead and the bounce-back almost knocked Peter from the leading grip dragging him along.
He was so dizzy with arousal, with need, that he didn't resist or even consider any form of rebellion. So when he was dragged through another door that also almost hit him, he barely registered that one either. The only thing that really clicked was the moment his back was slammed into a tiled wall, a metal bar digging into his lower back, and Deadpool devouring his mouth again. Between the tight press of their bodies as Deadpool sucked the breath from him, Peter could feel his jeans being opened again and his still-hard cock being pulled out. The second he hissed at the scrape of denim over sensitive flesh, Deadpool was gone.
Peter blinked at the wall opposite him, hands hanging in the air, before he realized Deadpool had dropped to his knees, and Peter's chin dropped so he could blink down at Deadpool instead. Deadpool's medical mask was down under his chin and he gave Peter a wink and a grin before sucking Peter's cock into his mouth. It was so unexpected after hours of nothing but a sweaty leather handjob that Peter's head jerked back hard enough to crack the tiles behind him. The immediate dull throbbing at the back of his skull nearly made him grimace, but it was washed away just as quickly by the distracting flare of pleasure from Deadpool swallowing him down.
A vacuum-like inhale almost made him come immediately, but he resisted with every last bit of resistance he was even remotely capable of. Trying to look down at Deadpool was like trying to lift his head on a Gravitron, and he was just as dizzy. Deadpool was exactly like a carnival ride: devouring him in the dark only to spin him around at the speed of light before spitting him back out disoriented and stupid. It took a few tries, but Peter did eventually manage it, and when he did, he fought an invisible gravity to raise his hands, to slide his palms against Deadpool's naked temples to push his hood back, to just cradle the back of his head.
"Dead-" he started to say, before remembering the silent promise he'd made his boyfriend, a silent promise he'd made himself so that he could be a better boyfriend to and for Wade. Or rather, one of the promises, the one that was simultaneously the easiest and the second-hardest to follow through with. "Wade," he said instead, a plea. But it wasn't enough. Peter stroked the curve of Wade's skull around his ear and said it again: "Wade."
Wade hummed around him and slid those warm, large hands up the back of Peter's calves to his thighs, pushing, lifting, and spreading at the same time. He made Peter slide just a little up the wall as he simultaneously draped both of Peter's legs over his shoulders, and it made Peter both dizzy and groan out loud when the shift was accompanied by a heartfelt deep-throat. The new position made helping a bit more difficult, but that didn't stop him from rolling his spine, trying to get more of that wet heat around his aching cock. Wade just rewarded him with another hum and the start of a rhythmic press at the base of Peter's plug that just barely grazed his prostate but it was more than enough.
"Wade Wade Wade Wade," Peter panted, fingers spasming around Wade's ears. When Wade hummed again, Peter forced his eyes open and was almost blinded by the sheer adoration on Wade's face. It was in that moment that he realized how special this must have been for Wade, to finally go on a date with Peter who'd barely tolerated him except for booty calls for years. And here they were, willingly together, willingly engaging in a form of sexual intercourse, and Peter was calling him by his name.
Warm emotion swelled in Peter's chest, his heart swelling with it, crawling up his throat. "I- I- I-" he tried, trying to force the sentiment into audible words. "Wade, I-" On his knees at Peter's feet, Peter's cock down his throat, Wade just grinned around Peter's cock, eyes crinkling, and pressed firmly on Peter's plug as his cheeks hollowed. Peter's orgasm finally broke the dam, flooding every vein with heat and blanking out his vision. Pleasure flowed through him like a waterfall, powerful and unrelenting, until his legs trembled from it.
When he came down from the fleeting high of his release, his jeans were already closed and his feet were already back on the ground, and Wade was pinning him to the wall with the warmth of his body, humming some song against his temple. Peter blinked at the red sweater over Wade's shoulder and felt exhaustion wash over him, but in the same moment, a strange energy and an even stranger hunger buoyed him, made him desperate.
Without a word of warning, he spun them around, almost tipping over when he wavered from the speed of the movement, only their hands on each other keeping him upright. Wade was frowning at him, lips parted in surprise and reaching for his face, when Peter dropped to his knees so quickly that the shock rolled up his thighs. Even if it could have hurt him, he didn't have the patience to deal with it at the moment, so he ignored the sensation as he reached for the zipper on Wade's jeans and the thick erection underneath. Gloved fingers blanketed his, stilling them, and his heart lurched as he looked frantically upwards.
"Petey, you don't have to do this," Wade said softly, still frowning as his fingers curled around Peter's. "I know what you were trying to say and you still don't have to say it if you don't want to or can't. And you definitely don't ever have to pay me back for anything I do to you. You don't owe me reciprocation. I told you, I just want to make you feel good."
"I know, I just-" Peter started and then stalled, unable to describe the need driving him. "I just-" he tried again, and then broke off with a growl of frustration. "I just do!" he insisted, looking up at Wade. "Please, Wade. Please let me suck your cock."
Said cock, still bound in denim under Peter's palm, twitched, and Wade inhaled sharply, eyes wide. "You sure, baby boy? You sure this is something you actually want?" It was technically a fair question; Peter had never tried to start something with Wade before, not even in the last week since the Pancake Incident. But Peter wasn't in the mood for fair questions right now. All he was in the mood for was getting that cock in his mouth.
"I'm positive, Wade. I can't say it yet, and I'm sorry, but I can show it and I just want to do this for you, please, I promise," he stressed, pawing a little at Wade's zipper and the hard-on underneath. He could see the indecision on Wade's face, could feel it in the unwavering tension through the legs he was leaning into, the belly he was pressing kisses to through the thick hoodie hiding all of Deadpool's glorious muscles from view. "Wade," he whined, his desire only ratcheting higher with his goal so close. He couldn't have said why he needed so badly, only that he did.
All at once, all the tension left Wade's body and he smiled warmly as he nodded, his fingers stroking across one of Peter's cheekbones and into his hair. "Alright, baby boy, if you want it, you can have it."
There was something so… magnanimous about Wade's tone, like Peter was a child begging for a sweet before dinner and Wade was allowing it, that just made Peter shudder and his cock throb like it was already thinking about getting hard again. Peter ignored it and the way his fingers shook as he whispered his gratitude and undid Wade's jeans. He should have guessed Wade would be going commando because Peter's eyes immediately fell on Wade's dick, for the second time ever because he was still terrible about showing his affection even after a week, and his breath juddered in his chest as he pulled it out.
Now, Peter had sucked a little dick in his life, so it wasn't like he was a complete amateur, but he'd never sucked off someone as big as Wade, or someone who meant what Wade did to him. Just... it wasn't new but it felt momentous. When he wrapped a hand around the base, the tip of his middle finger and thumb didn't touch, and he had to steady his other hand against Wade's hip. But when he took the mushroomed head into his mouth… it was as holy of an experience as taking communion.
Dick tasted like dick. Unclean dicks tasted gross and clean dicks tasted musty and a bit... salty? There wasn't really a good descriptor for the taste of come or pre-come, but it wasn't like it tasted different from person to person. There wasn't some fanfiction-level super-powered tastebuds hyping it up like a street vendor, it was all the same. And yet… There was something about the the act of willingly taking Wade - Deadpool, his iffy sorta-not-boyfriend of three years - into his mouth, something about being the one to ask for it, that somehow elevated the entire act into something of a divine experience for Peter.
It was a monster of a cock, and even though Peter's ass was well adjusted to its size, craved it, even, his mouth had never tried to wrap around anything half its size. Still, he didn't let that deter him, just carefully let as much of Wade as he could take fill his mouth. The heavy, musky weight of it settling on his tongue made him moan with a soul-deep satisfaction, his eyes closing as he let his mouth mold to the shape of Wade's cock. The fingers cupping the side of head clenched in his hair, making the flesh sting and his eyes water, but it happened at the same time Wade let out a moan from above him, one deep enough that Peter felt it reverberate in his chest. It left him with a strange sensation of satisfaction, that he was doing well, though, and the sting was forgotten.
Normally, Peter couldn't deep-throat at all, had never really taken the time to learn how to, never had the inclination, and Wade was not the man to start trying to learn on, but he might be the man Peter might try to learn for. For now though, he carefully took Deadpool in till he hit the back of his throat, and then just paused there and closed his eyes, every part of him just… feeling the thick, heavy, musky weight of Deadpool's cock filling his mouth and pushing at the top of his throat. It gave him a strange sense of floating, like when he let Deadpool take full control of him, direct everything, and it left him feeling content, all the needful hunger that had driven him to his knees slowly fading away as he settled into himself and onto Wade.
Peter probably could have knelt there forever, just holding that cock in his mouth, but the stroke of fingers through his hair across his temple had his eyes fluttering open, blinking rapidly as soft dark turned to harsh fluorescence, but eventually, Wade's gentle smile and gentle eyes came into focus.
"Hey baby boy. How're you doing down there?" His voice was as soft as his expression, and Peter hummed, blinking slowly.
The amount of contact between them was nowhere near enough so Peter shuffled forward, seeking more, as much as he could. As he moved, Wade resettled his weight in order to slide his leg between Peter's, giving him what he needed, but in doing so, ended up pushing his ankle against where Peter was apparently hard again. Which came as enough of a surprise that he bucked at the touch, accidentally grinding his erection against Wade's shin. He whimpered as he settled back on his heels, letting more of himself take his weight than Deadpool and pulling back on the cock in his mouth to suck lightly on the head. The foot between his legs moved forward even further, pushing solid bone up against Peter's erection and it sent tingles through every limb as he inhaled sharply in surprise.
"Do you wanna get off again while you're down there?" Wade asked from above him, and Peter looked up at him as he took the head of his cock all the way back to his throat again. He was barely taking in a third of Wade that way, so he set to work stroking the unattended two-thirds of Wade's dick with his hand. Thank god Deadpool was either uncircumcised or had grown his foreskin back because it would have been hell giving him a handjob without lube, especially when Peter didn't want to let up long enough to lick his own hand to get it wet enough. The skin felt soft in his grip, sliding over hot steel, and Peter fell into a rhythm, stroking up when he pulled back and stroking down when he sucked Wade in.
"Baby boy?"
Peter startled, his rhythm disrupted, and he made a questioning sound in his throat as he tried to find his pace again.
Wade smiled and his fingers tightened a little in Peter's hair. Not in pleasure, Peter didn't think, but to keep him focused on the question. "I asked if you wanted to get off again while you were down there."
Surprisingly: no. Right now, Peter couldn't have cared less if he was completely flaccid. Right now wasn't about him, it was about Wade. True, it was about him wanting to get Wade off with his mouth and down his throat, but it was about Wade's pleasure, not Peter's. He made a noise in the negative and lightly shook his head as he pulled back, pulling off completely only for a moment to brush his lips against the red tip of Wade's dick.
"Alright then," Wade said, voice once again that sweet, magnanimous tone, fingers moving through Peter's hair. "But what if I wanted you to get off?" Something about the way he said it made Peter shudder and moan around the erection he was taking back in. "What if I wanted you to grind against my leg until you came in your jeans. Would you do that for me?" That didn't even take a moment's thought - Peter nodded his head and dug the fingers of the hand against Wade's hip into the front pocket of Wade's jeans. "Alright then. I'm going to fuck your mouth while you fuck yourself against my leg. Go on and wrap your arms around me, it'll help."
Peter hummed his ascent, though it probably wasn't really needed, not when Wade phrased things like that, and put all his focus into getting off. He wrapped his arms tightly around a thick thigh and rose up just a little onto his knees so he could rock forward and grind, the first motion immediately lighting up his nerves. A second hand joined the first against the side of his head, and he let Wade hold his head in place as the cock in his mouth slid out to the head and then pushed back in. It was a slow, careful movement, not pushing in more than he could handle, and Peter moaned at knowing that he was in good hands, that he was doing what Wade wanted him to do.
Every thrust through the 'o' of his lips was gentle, never pushing further than he could handle, but with Wade in control, it meant that Peter couldn't control his saliva. He tried to swallow his spit just once, but he couldn't find the pause in the rhythm of Wade's thrusts to do it, and he eventually gave up. Ultimately, it was taking up too much of his concentration when the only thing he was supposed to be concentrating on right now was getting off. So let he Wade fuck his mouth without worry, let his saliva gather in the corners of his mouth and drip down his chin as he gripped Wade's thigh tight and rode the hard ridge of his shin.
Even when Wade had asked it of him, Peter hadn't really thought that he would even be able to reach his peak again quite so fast, not with just a mere grind and paired with a blow-job. He usually could come multiple times, but that was usually with Wade stretching his ass open wide, practically beating his prostate into submission. But for some reason, that hazy, floating headspace seemed to put him in the perfect mood, and Wade may as well have been fucking him properly because Peter's cock was throbbing in time with each thrust. It was almost as if he was synchronized so perfectly with Wade that the other man's pleasure was his own, and as tight as he was driving the tension in his body, he needed Wade to come before him.
It wasn't until Peter tried to peel his eyes open that he realized they'd been leaking tears, and it was with a start that the wetness in his lashes and on his cheeks clicked. Wade was still watching him silently, hands still cupping the sides and back of Peter's head, hips still rolling off the bathroom's tiled wall in an unbreaking rhythm, filling Peter and pulling away like the tide. Peter looked up the expanse of Wade's body, up from the V of exposed skin from his parted jeans and the wide swath of red hoodie, up to Wade's face, and managed to make eye contact. Wade was still smiling that same soft smile, and he would have looked completely unaffected if Peter's enhanced vision couldn't pierce the vague shadows of Wade's hood to see the black of Wade's arousal in the dilation of his pupils. Peter looked up at that face and didn't think about how he was affecting the infamous mercenary Deadpool, but rather, how much he was pleasing his boyfriend, Wade Wilson. Peter looked up at that expression, and needed.
"Mmm!" he insisted in a wordless hum around the slide of Wade's cock through his lips.
"Would my good boy like to come?" Wade murmured, voice low and dark and husky. As much as Peter did, in fact, need to come, it wasn't what he craved just yet, so he did his best to vocalize a negative.
"Oh? What would you like then?" Wade asked, hands not releasing Peter's head and cock maintaining its steady in-and-out. Peter hummed insistently and tightened his grip around Wade's leg. He would have let go to better demonstrate, but he couldn't figure out how just yet.
"You want me to come?"
Peter sagged at the correct guess and moaned, the next roll of his own hips so aggressive that it almost hurt to grind against Wade's shin.
"Hmmm… I'm not sure you're ready…"
His eyes snapped open, wide and fearful, and Peter clawed at Wade's leg as he begged with his gaze, wanting, needing.
"Sh sh sh," Wade gentled, thumbs stroking over the top of Peter's head even as the tips of his fingers pulled Peter just a little closer, pushing the head of his dick just a little into Peter's loose throat. "How 'bout this: I'll come down your throat if you can fit my whole cock down your throat, 'kay?"
Now, that made Peter still, because hadn't he just been thinking about how he wanted to learn how to deep throat for Wade, but not with him? But he also wanted Wade to come down his throat. So he had to decide: which did he want more? But really the deciding factor of that was: did he think he could do it? Well, Wade wouldn't have suggested it if he didn't think Peter could do it, right?
Wade finally fell still, the head of his cock resting on Peter's tongue as Peter turned his eyes back upward, staring without a word or movement, trying to determine if he could really do it. It was almost too much power, the decision that had been handed down to him, for him to really contemplate in all seriousness in the moment. He was too used to Wade telling him what he could and couldn't do, what he could and couldn't handle, and this… this was a choice and he didn't know if it was one he was capable of making. So he did all he could do. He whined and dug his nails into the denim-covered meat of Wade's thigh, eyes wide and wet with unshed tears.
"Do you want to know what I think, Petey?" Wade asked, voice still low. One of the hands at the back of Peter's head slid down to his cheek, a thumb tracing back and forth over his top lip and then down to brush over his bottom lip and back, back and forth, back and forth, over where his lips were stretched around Wade. "I think you can do it, baby boy." His hand slid down and flipped so he could cup the front of Peter's neck and rest his thumb in the hollow of Peter's throat. "I think it'll take a few tries, but I think I'll be able to get myself all the way into you, and I'll come straight down your throat and as I do, you'll come in your jeans against my leg." Peter had started to shake and tears started to fall from his eyes again, racing down the dried trails on his cheeks. He couldn't help the way he'd started to rock again, humping Wade's leg. "That's what I think," Wade finished, stroking the space between Peter's collarbones. "Now, do you think you can do this for me?"
It came down to the power of decision again, but this time, it had been taken out of his hands. Now that power was firmly in Wade's broad palms again, and the only thing he wanted from Peter right now was, not a decision, but an opinion. And if Wade had voiced his opinion, then so had Peter. If Wade thought he could do it, then Peter could. He'd learned that much from their time together.
Peter met Wade's eyes again as he settled, into himself and into place. He eased the frantic pace of his hips to once more fall in line with the steady rhythm Wade had been using to fuck his face, and he loosened the death grip he'd had on Wade's thigh. He took one deep inhale through his nose, held it, and then let it out just as slowly. Then he hummed his affirmation.
Wade's smile was wolf-like - sharp and victorious, a prey cornered with no escape. The hand at the back of Peter's head shifted to cup the back of his skull completely. The hand at his throat didn't move.
"That's my good boy. Just keep your throat relaxed and breathe through your nose, and you'll be fine," he said soothingly, and pushed back in.
For some reason, Peter half-expected to immediately feel that cock pushing into the passage of his throat, but the head of it just pushed barely past what he could handle before pulling back again. In fact, Wade seemed to fall into the same rhythm Peter was humping his leg with, those same smooth rolls of his hips as he pushed just a little more into Peter's throat each time. All Peter had to do was focus on his breathing and on his gag reflex not triggering, and how much his pliancy must have been pleasing Wade, and just let it happen. The hand at the back of his head was a gentle guide, the hand at his throat a firm hold keeping him from taking more than he could handle, and he was caught between the forces of Wade. The only thing that could have made it all better would have been if his back was pressed against something like the wall or a bed, so that he felt trapped, contained, but in a safe way.
"Fuck, baby boy, I'm so proud of you."
Wade's raspy voice made Peter blink, and he felt like he was surfacing from a trance, his body and mind hazy. It didn't fully clear, but he was still able to recognize that his nose was pressed to bare, scarred skin, that there was a massive protrusion down his throat against which Wade's palm was pressing tight to. It took a moment to realize what that meant: he had deep-throated Wade. Immediately following that realization was a brief moment of panic: that there was something blocking his airway, that he was going to choke, that he was going to die. But again, Wade was right there, thumb stroking over the bulge in his throat, other hand stroking through his hair, leg pushing up against Peter's erection in a pulsing beat.
"Hey, hey, I've got you," Wade whispered, petting Peter's head until Peter fell still again, trying to regulate his own breathing through his nose. "I'm so fucking proud of you, Petey. You got all of me in your throat, your first time too. God, baby boy, you're so good for me."
It was those last words, the praise, that had Peter finally relaxing, that had the tension seep from his muscles until he was collapsed against Wade's leg again, chin probably digging a dent into Wade's pubis but the man didn't seem to care. He just seemed too pleased that Peter had accomplished what Wade had wanted for him.
"You ready for your treat now?" Wade asked, still running a hand through Peter's hair. Peter hummed and renewed the rocking of his hips, grinding against Wade's leg. "Good boy. Just remember to breathe."
Wade began to pull out but he didn't get far before he pushed back in. It took a few thrusts before Peter found his rhythm, humping forward and inhaling when Wade pushed in, and rocking back and exhaling when he pulled partially out. He never pulled all the way out, and Peter thought that that might have been easier, but it was hypnotic, their balance, and he fell into that haze again, that wonderful floating feeling that made him feel so peaceful. Even with his own orgasm brewing in his veins, sparking through his nerves, holding at the brink for the command. He didn't know how long it took before the hand in his hair and the hand at his throat tightened, but not enough to be painful, never enough.
"I'm going to come down your throat now, Petey. You ready to come?" Wade's voice felt disembodied, but with Wade's hand on him, cock in him, Peter felt grounded and safe and so very ready. He moaned around the cock in his throat and then ended up clawing Wade's thigh when Wade moaned back. "That's it, baby boy. Keep moaning and you'll make me come so fast. I want you to come now too, sweetheart."
As always, Wade's command was all it took for Peter's orgasm to break free, and he had no problem moaning his way through his release. Even in the darkness of his closed eyes, everything was light and heat, his cock pulsing as he came, and then Wade was moaning too. Well, more of a low groan, but a moan all the same. The hand at the back of Peter's head pushed him in tight, until his nose was pressed flush to a bit of skin that would have been covered in hair if it were anyone else, and the hand at his throat tightened until he could practically feel the scars on Wade's cock against his skin. Being forced into such stillness and such vulnerability might have triggered a slight panic if Peter hadn't been able to feel the way Wade was pulsing in his throat, and if it had been anyone else but Wade. Wade's cock throbbed with every pump of his release into Peter, and for some reason, something about that, something about Wade holding him in place so that he could fill Peter up, was so arousing that an orgasm-aftershock tingled through Peter's system again.
His entire universe was centered around the thick, hot girth in his throat, the beat of Wade's heart pounding against his own. For a moment, Wade was all that existed, and then reality began to return: his own harsh breathing through his nose, the low hum of a crowd outside the bathroom they were secluded in, the hard tile under his knees… the stickiness in his jeans. Peter frowned and started to pull back, but Wade was keeping him in place, and Peter's initial reaction was a flare of panic. He started to claw at Wade's thigh, pushing back on the hand holding him around Wade's cock, but Wade just hushed him, soft sounds, until Peter fell still again, heart beating wildly in his chest.
"Careful, baby boy. You need to be careful," he murmured, stroking a comforting hand over Peter's head. "Go veeery slowly, 'kay?"
Peter whimpered and would have nodded, but Wade's cock in his throat pulsed again and the hands against his scalp spasmed.
"Still sensitive, sweetie," Wade said with a soft huff of laughter. "Maybe don't make any sounds until I'm out or else I'm liable to start coming again."
Despite his panic, the thought had appeal: just being a- a- a sleeve for Wade's cock, to keep warm and hard and to be filled whenever the want struck Wade. Still, the bathroom at the theater was not the place to explore that. He'd have to wait until he got home.
Careful to remain silent, Peter squeezed Wade's thigh once in understanding and then slowly sat back on his heels, the cock in his throat pulling out so slowly that it seemed like it was emerging a millimeter at a time. When the head of Wade's cock finally pulled from his throat into his mouth, there was an intense feeling of relief, but also of emptiness, like how he felt after they fucked. Only he didn't have a plug to fill this hole. All he could do was blink up at Wade as the man tucked his monster of cock away and wait for Wade to give him the answer he hadn't asked for yet, like he always did. And then something happened that shattered the mood faster than anything else that had ever happened to Peter in the entirety of his life.
"Um, excuse me?" a shy-sounding girl's voice said, making Peter freeze in the process of trying to get off his knees. "This is the ladies' room?" It came out like a question, but Peter knew that it was, in fact, not a question.
Wade snorted so hard that it sounded like a gunshot in the echo of the tiled walls, and Peter slugged him in the thigh. Hard enough that Deadpool actually flinched. Peter would have literally run if his idiot boyfriend hadn't hauled him up with an arm around his waist, and marched him out on shaky legs passed a blushing dark-haired girl staring resolutely at the floor.
"The room's all yours, cutie," Wade said cheerfully and both Peter and the girl blushed ever harder, but Peter stayed silent all the way back to his apartment, too embarrassed to speak.
The burning in his cheeks didn't appease through the streets or the subway tunnels, and his mouth and throat felt overworked, like the time Wade had cornered him in an alley and choked him until he came. Even though he knew no one was actually looking at him, Peter felt the weight of New York's collective eyes on his him, on the way he was sure his mouth was just a little too red, the way his jeans were stiff from come, what he'd just done, in a public bathroom nonetheless, written all over his face.
When they walked into Peter's apartment, he might have crawled into bed and hid under his blankets until his mortification passed, but Wade cornered him on his way to his room. Or rather, intercepted his walk of shame by pushing him down onto his couch and laying on him, forcing a conversation.
"How did you like our first date?" he asked, grinning widely, medical mask discarded by the front door.
Peter glared and looked away.
"Aw, come on, baby boy, don't be like that," Deadpool whined, sliding his gloved hands up under Peter's shirt. "C'mon, tell me the truth and I'll make it up to you."
Peter glared harder at the ceiling. The truth was, he had liked it, even if it had just turned into more of their sexcapades somewhere terrifyingly public. He would… he would do it again. The sexcapades, sure, but preferably the dating part.
"Peeeteeey," Wade drawled, voice low and dark. The 'obey me' voice.
"I liked it," Peter ground out, boring holes into the stained ceiling he'd inherited from the hundreds of occupants before him. Deadpool shifted down his body, settling his weight between Peter's legs, forcing them apart, and Peter took over the freed space of his chest to cross his arms. "I just… kinda wish there was more 'date' in our date and less 'sex'. And I didn't like getting caught in the girl's room."
"Honestly, that part was a total accident," Deadpool said, voice accompanied by the sound of a zipper and a loosening in the front of Peter's jeans. He almost slapped Deadpool's hands away, but he was too busy with his classic pouting pose. "I just knew I needed you immediately and I didn't exactly pay close enough attention to where I was going, only that it was enclosed so we weren't interrupted."
The hot swipe of a soft tongue made Peter gasp and arch a little off the couch, and when he looked down, he found Wade cleaning the dried come from his cock, eyes closed and expression blissful. It was probably one of the worst things about Deadpool: how much joy he took in pleasing Peter. But when Peter thought about how he'd been, kneeling at Deadpool's feet not an hour ago, he realized he might finally understand it.
For a while, Peter lost himself in the wash of Wade's tongue, the softness and heat of it, even knowing that it was going on for too long. He had to have been clean, and he was definitely rock hard, and Wade was still going. Wade kept going until Peter shuddered and came on his waiting tongue with a ragged exhale. It was only afterwards that Wade peeled Peter's soiled jeans and boxers from his legs before laying back down over him, a heaving, pinning force, yet comforting all the same.
"If you want more dating, I can do that," Wade whispered, nuzzling at Peter's cheeks. It took Peter a moment to remember what they'd been talking about, his mind foggy with arousal and contentment.
"Yeah?" he whispered back, tentatively raising his arms to wrap them around Wade's neck. Affection was still new to him but he really was trying, and the pleased smile he got in return only made him feel better about his decision.
"'Course, baby boy," Wade said easily. "I really do love you, Petey. I'd do anything for you - you're so good for me."
Warmth swelled in Peter's chest, something strong enough to eclipse any lingering annoyance, and he opened his mouth to let it out. "I-" But then he stopped, the rest of the words trapped for reasons he couldn't explain.
Wade took that too-long pause and kissed it from him, drawing the warmth into himself through Peter's mouth, and Peter could feel Wade's patience in the gentle kiss. 'When you're ready,' it said, and Peter relaxed at the reaffirmation, relaxing under the firm heat of Wade's comforting weight.
He could do it. He just… he needed a little bit longer.
Peter mostly forgot about being caught by the girl in the theater bathroom until the next week when they went back. The girl behind the concession counter looked up at them for a moment before her eyes went wide and her mouth went slack, and then she turned a brilliant shade of red and stammered her way through the rest of the encounter. Peter would have walked right out and into traffic, his own face just as red, if Wade hadn't been grinning like a hyena, but more importantly, if he hadn't had a death grip on Peter's hand.
TBC
I can't believe that was 8k of nothing but blow-jobs wtf. Also, if you're down to watch something super interesting and 'how the fuck'-ery, just search 'deep throat' on tumblr. Holy shit some of these girls is2g. I can't even toothbrush the back of my tongue without my gag reflex triggering and these hos downing foot-long dildos wtf even. (Good job ladies so proud of you.)
Author trademark - other-fandom cameo: Hyuuga Hinata from Naruto as Shy Bathroom Employee Girl.
Like the thing? Reblog the thing (themadkatter13fanfiction tumblr, tagged/your-love-is-my-confessional).
Chapter 2/6 coming next Friday.