Wade loved Peter hips. He loved them. He worshiped them. Because of that they were always covered in bite marks, finger-shaped bruises, hickeys. Wade would never let them disappear. He checked on them every day, always ready to repair any damage that time could have done to his work.
Peter knew that, liked that, encouraged that.
He always laughed breathlessly as he watched Wade leave a wet trail on his skin as he kissed his way to the right hip after the inspection of the left one. Wade would answer him with a shameless grin that showed his teeth that would inevitably end up sunk into Peter's skin. And that made Peter's laughter die in his throat, leaving him only breathless.
As Peter kissed his way down Wade's stomach, he realized how his hands perfectly fit Wade's hips. He always liked the feel of hard bone there under his palms, that's why his hands almost unconsciously wandered there. He wasn't obsessed with hips like Wade was, he just like touching them. As he absentmindedly licked at Wade's navel, he realized he had never before kissed those hips. His hands knew their shape and he knew how they felt under them, but he had no idea how they tasted or felt on his lips, his tongue. Suddenly, that was the only thing he could think about - how it would feel to kiss Wade there, to bite and then sooth right afterwards. Somehow the next kiss Peter placed on Wade's body didn't go down like it was supposed to, but left, straight to the deliciously protruding bone. He could feel Wade's hand sneaking into his hair, gently guiding him… down.
His Wade, ever the romantic.
Peter sighed and went back to his original plan, assuring himself he would have plenty of opportunities to play with Wade's hips later.