Well, apologies for the last few sexless chapters. Promise to make it up to you, ;)

Not my boys, just moseying around in their universe. I took my rake and just... messed shit up basically. (Revised as of 3/30/16)


Peter was ashamed to say that he'd fallen asleep in the middle of a pizza box fortress no more than three feet high.

It had started with a bit of architectural professionalism, of course. Peter's proud sense of doing everything like it was his best was the reason he crawled into that fort, not because he wanted to do it. He merely felt it was his job as a resident of Casa le Deadpool to make sure it was structurally sound. So while Wade was finishing the last few adjustments (because adjacent guarding towers and a little remote controlled sports car to show how rich the king was is somehow completely necessary) Peter had wormed his way inside, just to see if he could fit through without knocking the whole thing down. The fact that he didn't crawl back out after making it inside was completely irrelevant.

Honestly, he blamed his moment of weakness on how comfortable it had been once he'd curled up on the old blanket Wade had spread out inside. The fort wasn't necessarily large, and Peter had to curl his knees into his chest to accommodate his height, but it was still a satisfying amount of space. He could stretch his legs out straight if he really wanted to, making the form of an L with his body.

He watched Wade work through the cracks between the pizza boxes, tiredly. Smirking to himself as Deadpool diligently set up the final details. It gave him an odd sense of domestication really, like they were kids playing together. Because building forts was something only kids did. He felt like alive, playing house, content with himself and his surroundings. So it honestly wasn't his fault that he was comfortable enough to close his eyes. He blamed Wade.

It was a ridiculous notion, but he felt safe in that little cardboard fortress. It wasn't even strong enough to stop the attack of a pissed off kitten, let alone something actually dangerous, but he still felt like it was the place to be. Safe, knowing that Deadpool was the knight just outside, guarding that castle. But maybe that was stupid of him. Feeling secure in Deadpool's line of sight? The guy was a psychopathic mercenary, and Peter was essentially lying down with the wolves by feeling safe there.

But... he didn't want to think about that anymore. That was the entire point in coming here.

He wanted to just ignore the alley, ignore the mysterious threat Deadpool refused to talk about, ignore the mercenary, really. Well, ignore the fact that he was a mercenary, not ignore Wade. At least for a while. Peter wanted Wade with him right now. He wanted to go back to the frivolous conversations and Taco Bell burritos, the amazing, whenever-the-hell-he-wanted orgasms and the stupid banter they tossed back and forth in between everything else they did. He wanted that happy feeling back. That tight chest and swirling in his gut that made him feel ten pounds lighter. The easiness of it all, that reassuring feeling of having someone there to hold you when days were tough.

He wanted to live safely in Wade's pizza castle.

So yeah, sue him for falling asleep in a cardboard fort.

Processing these thoughts took a bit of a toll on Peter's self image. He started to rouse himself with the notion he was being ridiculous. He should get up and stop daydreaming. Peter wasn't sure how long he'd actually been asleep, but he couldn't hear Wade shifting the cardboard around anymore. He was preparing to crawl out and half-heartedly reprimand Wade for letting him sleep under a pile of pizza boxes, but he was stopped before he could sit up. The weight over his side wasn't exactly heavy, at the most it was lazily constricting, and warm. Really warm. Comfortable fuzzy socks and fireworks kind of warm and- wow being around Deadpool was really taking a toll on the way his brain processed things.

Wade was curled around him, a palm pressed flat over his chest and an arm tucked underneath his head. Honestly it made a rather comfortable pillow. Obviously Wade must have crawled in after him at some point. The arm around his chest tightened possessively and suddenly Peter's thoughts were a jumble.

He should be resisting this, he should be complaining and pushing Deadpool away.

But- if he was going to be truthful, all he wanted right then was for Wade to keep holding him.

The situations surrounding them were so messed up, he'd just wanted to escape. To his happy place. Which some how ended up bringing him to Deadpool's apartment, in a pizza box castle, the mercenary tangled around him in such a soft way he almost didn't believe it was Deadpool. So he kept his mouth shut, eyes closed, and resigned to curling in a little more on himself. Leisurely linking their fingers together at either hand, Peter felt content. For now, he could just give in. For now, he could just let Wade hold him in the safety of their little castle. For now, he could just forget about their issues.

Wade grumbled behind him, breaking Peter's carefully sculpted moment of quiet while nuzzling into the back of Peter's neck.

He smirked, nudging back, "Wade-"

"Shhshhshh.." he muttered, pressing further against Peter, "Don' talk sweetums. You'll ruin the moment."

"Wade."

"Shhhh. Jus' lemme' cuddle you for a bit."

A fond sigh left him then, as he jerked his head back a little so he could bump against Wade's "I was just gonna say we should move to the bed. It's more comfortable."

"I'm comfortable here." he retorted, not giving an inch.

"Bed has pillows and clean- well... semi clean sheets."

Wade smirked against the fabric of Peter's suit, "If we move to the bed," he huffed, "I will personally make it my life's mission to fuck up those sheets."

"Wade. We're under a fort made of greasy pizza boxes, lying on an old blanket. I still say the bed would be better- Regardless of your grudge against bedding."

He reached a hand back, hoping that maybe some engaging contact would help motivate Wade a little bit. He was startled not to come into contact with the fabric of his mask, but the bumpy contrast of his naked skin. His hand stayed still against Wade's face. He liked being able to feel it, and suddenly wished he'd removed his glove. He felt the tight jerk of Wade's jaw, and then the slow release of tension when Peter reassuringly stroked his cheek with his thumb. Once his shoulders had slumped, Wade practically purred, pressing his nose further into the juncture of Peter's neck.

"Maybe I don' wanna move."

"And maybe I don't want to sleep on a dirty blanket." Peter quipped.

"Touché." Wade replied, "But I still wanna sleep here, and you wanna sleep with me."

Peter huffed, half amusement, half irritation, and pressed back with a tired smile, "I just want to sleep." he muffled his own voice, closing his eyes and softly muttering, "Or not sleep... Just, you know, forget for a while. Like... how we used to act."

Yeah. Just forget for a while, just pretend that everything was okay again. That would make Peter feel better. They should just do that. Pretend that he and Deadpool were back to their pointless banter around mouthfuls of taco. When everything was fun and fancy free. When there was awesome sex lurking around every corner in the strangest locations, positions, occasionally with Deadpool's weird costumes. When they had an arrangement. When Peter could still refer to whatever it was that they were as an arrangement. Before there were all these feelings, and the need to protect...

When Deadpool would have just killed Peter instead of killing someone for him.

"Well that sounds ultra depressing." Deadpool huffed, knocking Peter out of his thoughts with an irritating harrumph. He raised his voice into a high, mocking pitch, ""Wade, I just wanna ride you and your massive dick until I can't think of anything but your name" Must have been too hard to say."

Peter jabbed him with his elbow, "Shut up before I kick you."

Wade seemed to consider this. But only for a moment. He shrugged, bit into the fabric along the bottom of Peter's mask, and jerked his jaw up, taking the mask with him. Before Peter could reach up and defiantly pull it back down, Wade was on him, nipping at his skin and trailing the hand on his chest downward. A firm hand on Peter's hips, teeth anchored into his neck, and Deadpool was moving. One rather unsubtle thrust at first, like he was testing Peter, getting him interested. The boy jerked forward, but didn't get very far. Deadpool was holding him still.

"You don't have any marks on your neck." Wade pouted, "Been too damn long."

"It's only been four-" Peter's words hiked up into a hitched intake of breath as Wade set out to amend this offence, "-days."

He sucked at the boy's pulse with a smirk, shifting the arm that had been tucked under Peter's head and reaching around his neck. He pulled his glove off by use of his teeth, and spat it out in front of them, using his newly bared fingers to push Peter's mask up a few more inches, nearly uncovering his entire nose. Then the second glove was off, and Peter was starting to really pay attention to everything Wade was doing.

That blissfully misogynistic contrast of skin spiraled up his side as Wade slipped naked fingers under the shirt portion of his suit, the other hand pulling his chin away so that Wade had more room to mark up his neck. Peter was starting to breathe a little harder. Or at the very least, it was easier to hear it with the silence of sex that filled the little pizza box fort.

The sound of sex was something maddening in itself. Or more, the absence of sounds other than sex. Your senses become sharper in moments like these, you listen closer, you feel even the slightest of touches ten fold. Like your skin is on fire. Between the tingle of Wade's fingers dancing up a sensitive part of his torso and the invasive sound of him sucking at his neck, Peter never felt more attuned with his senses. He could hear his own (now labored) breathing, and the embarrassing little groan he let out when Wade started to push his hips forward with new purpose.

"I said the bed..." Peter whined, even as Wade's hand wandered up far enough to pinch at his nipple, sending a pleasant jolt through his body, and straight to his dick. He hadn't even realized he was that hard until now.

"Fuck the bed." Wade retorted, begrudgingly pulling his mouth away from Peter's neck, "Wait, no, scratch that. No fucking the bed. I wanna fuck you. Right here. Like, yesterday."

"Wade..."

"I got you baby boy." Deadpool shushed him with a few light kisses over the hickeys now starting to form on his neck, "Don't you worry. Gonna take good care of you."

Peter barely managed to reign back his voice when Wade's wandering hand finally made it's way down, rubbing the bulge in his suit. Peter's hips were moving on their own accord now, rolling in desperation for something more than all the groping. Not that he wasn't grateful, but he was becoming slowly impatient. "Wade." he tried again, grinding against the hard on pressed into his backside, hoping to provide some encouragement.

Wade let out a small growl and jerked forward, drawing a startled noise from Peter's throat. "Fuck." he grunted.

Wade was pushing Peter's pants down before he could reply, doing his best with the one available hand he had. There wasn't enough space to maneuver around inside the fort, so Wade might be going in blind. He didn't seem to care though, and demandingly pressed his fingers into Peter's mouth with a short demand to "Suck." There was no way either of them were getting up to find lube, so it was all Peter was going to get.

While Peter sucked like his life depended on it, Wade was doing his best to keep the moment going, pressing his dick against Peter's naked ass and biting hard on his ear. God he loved the noises Peter could make. The little raspy, wet, gasps that could put any girl in a fair fight. He bit at Peter's hairline, sucked over an already fairly purple hickey, and bit into his clothed shoulder, frustrated he couldn't leave marks there too.

Impatiently, his fingers were taken from Peter's mouth. He chuckled appreciatively when Peter whimpered. He spit on his hand once, just to contribute whatever he could, and pushed two fingers in without warning.

The fucking moan he got for his efforts made Deadpool push his groin forward, frustratingly against his own knuckles instead of the sweet curve of Peter's ass. He'd be as quick as possible. Two fingers turned into three, turned into four, until Wade was too impatient to give another fuck about preparation. Peter was practically fucking himself back against the mercenary's fingers and gasping, begging for it. And what kind of gentlemen would Deadpool be to deny his maiden anything?

Ripping his fingers away, Wade slammed in. No moment of hesitation, no slow penetration, just right into a primal mode of fucking.

Peter's moans were staccato now, thumping in time with the hard thrusts Wade gave him. He held Peter tightly, pumping his leaking cock in the same rushed rhythm. He got his mouth on whatever he could, now that there was no room for new hickeys on his neck.

"God! Wa-de!"

Wade's name was fairly simple. Only one syllable. But he was fucking so ruthlessly into Peter the kid couldn't even manage that without the hitch in his voice. Weird as it was, the idea he was making it hard for Peter to talk was a rush that went right to his dick, and just encouraged him to go harder. Faster.

"Fuck!"

He got Peter to swear too. 10 points for Gryffindor. Dickindoor. Gryffindick? He could work out the pun later. Main point; miracle dick.

At one point he lost his leverage, and when he shifted the hand by Peter's head so that he could better anchor himself, he accidently knocked one of the pizza boxes loose, and the fort came tumbling down around them.

Peter yelled out in surprise, but Wade didn't stop. He grumbled, kicked a few boxes away, and lifted Peter's leg so he could pull the pant leg down off him completely. He hauled that naked leg high and tunneled into him hard as he could, grateful for the better angle, now that he didn't have to worry about knocking down the castle. "Fuck it." He growled, pushing himself up and lifting Peter's leg over his head. He could kiss Peter now, fucking mark the hell out of the other side of his neck, he could push Peter's legs up into his chest and just-

And then he was coming. Hard, and desperate inside of Peter's ass, groaning helplessly. He sucked hard on Peter's shoulder, hoping to spur on his orgasm too. Because Peter liked it when they came together. He didn't stop fucking him though, even as his own orgasm died out, he kept at it until Peter was right there with him, throwing his head back and white-knuckling around a fallen pizza box. Spurt after spurt painted his half-naked chest, and the torso of his costume. Moans during sex were nothing compared to the raspy, desperate keening Peter did when he came.

Wade chased down his breath, propped up on his elbows now, lazily kissing Peter and rumbling happily in his throat.

"We destroyed casa le Deadpool." Peter mumbled, after Wade finally gave up and lay beside him.

"So. Fucking. Worth it."

Dude. Their sex destroyed castles. 100 points for Gryffindick.