Archive of Our Own ^beta

Peter landed on the roof with a soft thump, lightly displacing the gravel where he landed. 
“Well, if it isn't my beautiful twinkle toes— emphasis on the twink,” Deadpool called from across the roof.
“You're late.” He punctuated his shaming with the toss of a bag his way. By the smell of it, it was full of tacos from Cocina Del Rey. Peter made an apologetic sound as he ripped open the bag.
“It was rough getting over here,” he countered, shoving a taco into his mouth— a tool to keep himself from being held accountable for answering any more questions. He had no intention of Deadpool figuring out why he was actually late.
“Mhm. Well, you're just lucky it's so hard to stay mad at your pretty face for so long!” Deadpool mused. Be flopped down onto the roof, yanking Peter down with him.
“Not to mention that bounce-a-licious bubble butt— !” 
“‘Pool.” Peter snapped pointedly. He'd moved past the point of blushing at his remarks, but his dislike for openly discussing sex was ever-present. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, eating their tacos and listening for any sign of conflict. 
“So, why were you actually late?” Deadpool pressed. He leaned into Peter's space when he asked the question— his breath fanned across Peter's exposed cheek. Color spread in the skin where it touched. 
“I–I, uhm…” Peter scratched the back of his neck. He couldn't tell Deadpool he was late for patrol because of a hook-up. He'd never live it down.
“I had an appointment.” He said, looking away. 

Deadpool hummed, a noise of suspicion and disbelief. 
“Right. A dick appointment, maybe.” 
Peter sputtered, the lenses of his mask widening as his eyes did. He stared at him in shock, mouth poised to argue, but Deadpool waved him off.
“I can smell it on you, dude. I'm a spy. I'm observant." 
Peter swallowed thickly before taking his arm to his mouth and huffing a whiff of it. It smelled like sweat— like it always does —but lying under the scent of sweat was the smell of the man’s cologne. Still on his body from their sordid rolling around on the floor of his apartment building. 

“So?” Peter shrugged, trying to mask his humiliation with flippancy.
“So~, dish, boyfriend!” Deadpool squealed. “Who was the hot toddy? How hot was he?” Deadpool grabbed him and pulled him into his side.
“I wanna know everything.”
Peter frowned, picking at some cooled cheese on a taco wrapper. He sighed, shrugged his shoulders, and tossed the paper away.
“It was… fine,” he sighed. “He was fine.”
Deadpool hummed his understanding.“His junk was tiny, and you didn't finish?” He guessed.

Peter sputtered, looking up at him in a sort of disgust. That same burning aversion he had to the mention of sex roiled in his gut again.
“I–I… It wasn't tiny, it was…” Peter groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. 
“Y’know what? I don't have to do this!” Peter moved to get up, tugging his mask down. Deadpool grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him back down to his side.
“Acht, Acht, if it wasn't a teenie weenie, what was the problem?”
Peter sighs, scrubbing a hand down the back of his neck.
"He just..." He rolled his neck, huffing dejectedly. "My pleasure wasn't exactly the main goal of our coupling..." 
Deadpool frowns at him, scarred lips pulling down into a pout full of pity and sympathy. Peter turned away from it, as though the sight of it burned him. He sat in the shame of the silence that grew between them. It spiraled around his gut, cloying at him. 
"How long have you been doing this?" Deadpool asked. His voice was soft and soothing, his hand resting on Peter's shoulder like a lifeline and a parasite all in one. 
"Hooking up with people and not being satisfied?" 
Peter shrugged. He picked at the pants of his suit, scratching at the spandex. 
"As long as I could, I guess," Peter reasoned. "I have a heightened libido from my bite. I--I need sex, 'Pool." 

Deadpool hummed his understanding. Big, strong, Deadpool, Peter realized. Deadpool, who holds him close, Deadpool, who makes jokes about his bubble butt. Deadpool, who maybe-- just maybe-- might not be joking about wanting to have sex with him.
"Could you help me?" Peter asked. His voice is soft. Lilted. It breaks through the tension between them. It coils hot in Deadpool's gut as he looks at him in shock.
"Could I...What do you mean by that, Spidey?" 
Peter whines, squirming where he sits.
"You always tell me about how--how you would fuck me. How good you'd make me feel. Were you just--or--" Peter cuts himself off with his eagerness, scrambling over himself and falling into Deadpool's lap. 
"I was being as serious as you want me to be," Deadpool whispers into the space between them. Peter mewls at his words-- the closest thing he needs to yes-- to consent. He smashes his lips against Deadpool's with a moan, knocking him down into the gravel with the force of it. Pool yelps underneath him, grunting at the weight that settles on his chest. Peter moans into his mouth, grinding against Deadpool's abs. The ridges on the Kevlar press against his clit, sending sparks of pleasure burning through him.
"I--I don't have any lube," Deadpool breaths against his lips, "Or condoms! Or--"
"I'd think you'd be prepared..." Peter joked, voice dark and sultry. Deadpool whined at the sound of it, bucking up against Peter's hips. 

"I'm still wet from earlier. I'm clean. And I can't get pregnant. But if you don't want to, I completely--" Deadpool cuts him off with a kiss, grabbing him by the hips and hoisting him up. Peter whines as Deadpool takes him over to the wall, pressing his back against the hard brick.
"I want to, baby," Deadpool purrs, his voice a deep tenor that rumbles through Peter's bones. "Don't think for a second that I don't." 
Peter whines, biting his cheek as he swirls his hips against Deadpool's stomach.
"Then do it~" he whines. 

Deadpool growls, grabbing Peter's suit at the waist and tearing it down to his mid-thigh. Peter groans at the cool air on his dripping cunt, grinding against Deadpool like a bitch in heat as he tries to fish his cock out one-handed.
"You weren't lying about how wet you are, Spidey," Deadpool swears under his breath as he finally gets his cock free. He grips it firmly at the base, swiping the length of it through his wet folds.
"H-holy shit, Pool, you're huge!" Peter whines, trying to grind against his length. Deadpool chuckles at him. He presses the head to his opening, dipping it in just enough to get wet before pulling it out to swipe at his budding clit. Peter squeals, rolling his hips against him.
"Don't tease me," he whines. Deadpool shushes him reverently, rubbing a hand on his hip.
"I'm not teasing you, baby, just trying to get wet enough." 
Peter whines futilely, trying to fuck himself on the little bit of Wade's tip that's in his hole. 
"It's wet enough, 'Pool, just fuck me."
Deadpool's mask rolls its eyes, funnily enough, but he relents. He grabs Peter by the hip, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb, and slowly shoves his cock into Peter's cunt, inch by inch. 

Peter howls at the stretch, his hands flying out to clutch at any part of Deadpool he can reach. Pool shushes him as he bottoms out, pressing a gloved hand over his mouth.
"You're so loud, Spidey," he says into the skin of Peter's neck, "You're gonna get us caught." 
Peter's heavy breaths leave condensation on Deadpool's palm.
"Is that what you want?" He teases, hips starting to snap into Peter's cunt at a quick, steady pace. "Do you want someone to catch us?" 
Peter shakes his head, rolling into each thrust as Deadpool delivers it.
"Oh, I bet you do, think about the Bugle headline. Spider Slut fucked on roof by Evil Mercenary." Deadpool punctuates each word with a hard thrust. Peter screams into his palm, his walls clench so hard around Deadpool's ridged cock that his hips and legs start to shake.
"You like that, don't you?" Deadpool slips his hand away from Peter's mouth. He takes the glove off his scarred fingers and presses them to Peter's burning clit. "Don't you?"
"Fuck, yes!" Peter howls at the friction-- at the pleasing swirl of Deadpool's fingertips on his clit. They're ridged, but the skin is soft , and it drives him insane. The combined sensation of his cock rubbing against Peter's walls and his fingers toying with his clit makes him see stars. 

"I never thought you'd be such a noisy slut for cock," Deadpool muses, "but you take it so well! It's hard to complain." 
Peter pants, bouncing himself wildly on Deadpool's cock as it fucks into him.
"You gonna be good and cum for me?" Deadpool purrs. Peter's eyes roll back into his head as it lolls to the side. Deadpool's fingers quicken their pace, rubbing in short circles around his clit. 
"Fuck, yeah, m'gonna cum. Holy shit!" Peter squeals. He shoots forward, grabbing Deadpool by the shoulders and squeezing him hard enough to break. Deadpool groans at the squeeze, snapping his hips up and into Peter. 

Peter cums like a fountain. He gushes all over Deadpool's cock, screaming in overwhelm as Deadpool pounds into him one, two more times before cumming inside of him. 

They lay there together, leaning against the wall, for several minutes. They breathe each other's air, feel each other's bodies, and become even more entwined than they are. Then Peter puts his leg down from Deadpool's waist. 

"Thanks, 'Pool," Peter breathes, "I really needed that."