mutilated croissant

Who the winner is in this situation is really up for interpretation, but Wade wants to think they can both get what they want.

Clearly, they're on the same wavelength because Spidey grabs the tail end of the thought and runs with it. "I've got some ideas…"

The dark, masculine purr of Spidey's voice makes Wade want to lick into his mouth, so he does, groaning when Spidey lets him have it. It feels so unbelievably good to let himself want without compunction, to take what's on offer without having to break off pieces of himself to pay for it.

It has the strange side effect of making Wade unusually generous. Borderline pliant—especially when it comes to his favorite spider.

"Oh, yeah?" Wade asks. His vision is already starting to sparkle, body twitching under Spidey's hands from the venom. Wandering hands inevitably end up on Spidey's magnificent ass, squeezing hard, knowing he can take it. "You know what they say. Sharing is caring."

A hand comes up between Wade's legs, palming the erection that's been there ever since Spidey tackled him across a fire escape three blocks ago. He's not gentle, either. Wade pushes up into it, shuddering when the pressure doesn't let up.

Fuck it's good. But he's more interested in what's Spidey's got cooking.

"Here's what's going to happen," Spidey starts casually, cool as a cucumber. Wade's heartbeat picks up immediately. Spidey always has spectacular plans, especially when they involve Wade. "I'm going to get on my knees, and you're going to fuck my mouth. My prize, is going to be swallowing you down— as many times as you can take it."

The words hit Wade like a nuclear fucking blast, evaporating all the air in his lungs. He doesn't even pretend to think about it; just shoves his hands between their bodies and starts yanking at his suit like it's offended the honor of his house and name.

“I haven’t done this before,” Spidey’s voice is thick with anticipation, and the way he watches Wade unbuckle his suit, licking his lips like there’s a five-course meal waiting in Wade’s pants makes his hands shake. “But I’ve thought about it. A lot.”

His mouth brushes under the edge of Wade’s mask as he confesses, licking the seam of the merc’s lips before continuing down his chin. 

“Tell me,” Wade grunts, fingers clumsy as he tries to get his fucking zipper to cooperate- difficult when Spidey’s fangs scrape over the sensitive skin of his jaw, little pinpricks of pain and pixie magic that make his trapped cock scream in the suit.

“Been thinking about how it would feel on my tongue,” Spidey indulges, panting wetly against Wade’s neck. “Thought about holding you down and stretching my throat around you, wanna swallow till I’m sore-”

Wade tears the zipper clean off with an unhinged sound. Spidey huffs a laugh, something about being impatient, but he's far past caring. Fuck patience. Fuck the suit. Everything between him and Spidey’s ravenous fucking mouth needs to fucking disappear. 

It takes a few drugged, desperate seconds to summon the coordination, but Wade finally manages to pull out his dick, hissing in relief as he palms the throbbing length of it. He’s already painfully hard from the chase. The thrill of being so thoroughly roughed up has him leaking against the blood-slick leather of his glove where he twists it around the head. 

Spidey bats it away with a low, possessive growl that makes Wade forget to register the tired knee-jerk stab of shame about his scarring. All attention is devoted to the sight of Spidey sinking to his knees with inhuman, predatory grace, and the heavy curl of his hands around Wade’s hips, coupled with the sharp glint of his venom-streaked fangs, has his dick jumping like he’s been electrocuted.

Fuck, fuck— Spidey hasn’t even done anything, and Wade's on the verge of begging.

“C’mon, Fangs,” he pleads because shame is on vacation right now, fisting the edges of Spidey’s suit and spreading his legs as far as the leather will allow. He tries to flex his hips, but it’s no use. Spiderman is carved from marble, his hands immovable from where he’s anchored Wade. 

There’s barely two inches between Spidey’s mouth and his dick, but it might as well be a fucking mile. He glances up at Wade, and his smile is hungry and a little manic, tongue pink and lurid as he swipes it across his fangs.

“I’ll probably hurt you,” he whispers.

Wade’s brain rattles in his head. “Promise?” He begs, breathless because just the thought of it has him panting like a bitch. 

That was apparently the right thing to say because Spidey laughs and gets with the fucking program.

It’s been a while since Wade’s been on his knees for anyone. Even longer since he’s been on the receiving end, but given Spidey’s hungry enthusiasm, Wade expected to be halfway down the man’s throat by now.

But predicting Spiderman is an exercise in futility because instead of going to town or doing any of the normal things people do when presented with a cock, he bypasses it to press his face to the base of the shaft, inhaling through his teeth in heaving gulps.  

Oh, that’s right. 

It's been mentioned once or twice, how Spidey can taste Wade on the air, that their constant proximity means he can parse the merc’s flavor apart from the rest of the ambient soup of the world. 

Wade doesn’t know what that really means, but he doesn’t care because Spidey rolls his face against Wade’s skin, breathing deeply, fingers convulsing around the merc’s hips in fits.

It’s both blisteringly hot and strangely chaste— like Spidey is feeling Wade because he’s pleasing to touch, using his body to satisfy all the little urges he’s had to keep tucked away, just because Wade makes him feel good in some bone-deep way.

The feeling unfurls, rolling outwards till his legs are trembling. His hands scrabble against Spidey because his grip is the only thing keeping Wade from freefalling.

“Jesus, Slick,” Wade pants, trying to swallow around the sudden lump his throat, “You’re gonna fucking kill me, come on.”

“Pot. Kettle.” Spidey breathes, in time with Wade’s spiking pulse, “You’ve been driving me crazy. The way you fucking taste, you have no idea-”

Wade really doesn’t. He’s extremely fuzzy on what keeps Spidey here, but he’s not dumb enough to call his bluff, not when his gorgeous hunter leans back and rolls his tongue over the head of Wade’s weeping dick, groaning like the merc is doing him a favor.

The first real touch of his tongue has both of them shivering, and Spidey suddenly descends on Wade like a man starved. He works his lips over the head of his dick like it’s the world’s most delicious lollipop, leaving tingling iridescent trails in his wake as he kisses down the shaft.

Wade is transfixed at the sight, pulse rabbiting as Spidey traces over the scars with his tongue, dipping into the grooves like he’s trying to ingrain them into his memory by mouthfeel alone. 

It’s the hottest fucking thing Wade’s ever seen. In fact, he wishes he could permanently pluck out his own eyes to make sure it’s the last thing he ever sees. Then again, maybe it's good he can't because there’s no way he’s missing the sight of Spidey chasing a drop of precum like it’s vital to his survival.

“You taste so pretty,” Spiderman slurs like he can read Wade’s mind, or maybe taste it on his tongue— punctuating the statement with a debauched kiss to the leaking tip. “So fucking perfect, wanna keep you here forever.”

The praise goes straight to Wade’s head, hips jerking uselessly against Spidey’s iron grip. “You can,” he sounds pathetic. “As long as you want, all yours.” And he is, fuck, he is— for as long as long as Spiderman can stand him. 

“Yeah?” A pink-slick tongue laves the underside of the head, tracing the throbbing vein there. Wade’s vision crackles; it’s so intense, “Whenever I want?” There’s something deeply satisfying in the way his fingers dig into Wade’s hip, ten sweet points of bruising pain that makes his dick weep.

“Yeah. Anytime, anywhere,” Wade promises fervently, sounding like the lovelorn maiden he is. He’ll let Spidey blame it on the venom. 

That gets him a crooked grin, pleased. Spidey purses his lips around the head of Wade’s cock, content to linger, pressing torturous little licks into his slit. 

Now, Wade is a well-known masochist, but apparently, he’s got a limit. “C’mon, Fangs,” he moans, twitching against Spidey’s mouth, heart jumping when the head of his cock hitches one venom-slicked lip high enough to see teeth, “Let me in.”

That earns him a heartfelt groan and a shiver. 

“I want, but-” Spidey hisses, rubbing his lips against scarred skin. Lips draw back in a facsimile of a snarl.

Wade pulls at Spidey’s shoulders, impatient, “Your teeth? Trust me, baby, it's all I've been thinking about. I want it.” Wade’s cock is literally jumping at the sight. Want doesn’t even begin to describe it. 

Wade needs it; needs to see that pretty needle-lined mouth wrapped around his cock before he wakes up behind whatever dumpster he’s offloaded his body. 

Spidey stares at him, breath coming out in harsh gasps.

"Please," Wade begs, and it must be convincing because Spidey twitches forward in an aborted movement.

“Show me,” Spiderman says, then shakes his head, sounding unhinged, borderline feral. “No…Make me.” 

The demand practically creaks under years of habits born in response to having fangs that don’t retract.

Jesus, he really hasn't done this before, has he?

The thought of being the first person to sink into Spiderman’s virgin fucking mouth drives him crazy. Wade isn’t delusional enough to believe he’ll be the last but fuck, he wants to make it so good that Spidey keeps coming back-

He remembers to tear his gloves off before fisting one hand into the back of Spidey’s mask, tugging hard, forcing the man’s head back until his neck is a pale, elegant line in the dark.

His gorgeous little spider doesn't even flinch; he just leans into the pain like it's a gift. The explicit show of trust sends all voices roaring, and the intensity of Wade's desire takes him by surprise. Violence, lust, love, all the lines blur until Wade can't tell the difference between wanting to fuck Spidey or kill him— whatever it takes to permanently mark him as Wade's.

Spidey chooses that moment to swallow, knowing that Wade's eyes follow the motion like a man possessed. Fucking tease. Wade's going to ruin him.

“Poor itsy bitsy spider,” Wade's voice is a velvet growl as he settles his other hand around Spidey’s jaw, reveling in how the simple touch makes him shiver. Has anyone else ever reacted like that to Wade? “Spent your entire life with that hungry mouth muzzled, huh?”

Wade doesn't wait for Spidey to confirm. He can already imagine the man's civilian life, a sad snapshot of carefully regulated emotions filled with close-lipped smiles and pursed grins. A real fucking shame because Wade recognizes a repressed slut when he sees one. Something, something birds of a feather.

“Don't worry, baby,” He slides his cock up and over Spidey's mouth, watching the wallcrawler jerk and pant as he spreads all that shiny venom over his cheeks, pushing up against the edge of his mask, “I'm going to pry you open just to see how soft you are inside.”

Spidey grits out a wounded noise, jaw hard enough to chew through gravel. He’s drooling through clamped teeth, venom, and spit trailing down his chin in rivulets. He wants it, bad, and Wade wants to give it to him.

Spidey just needs a little coaxing, and the challenge of it, combined with Wade's frayed impatience, makes his touches mean.

“Thought you wanted this?” Wade cruelly squeezes his fingers deep into the bone, right where the hinge is, just to watch Spidey flinch and take it. “Don’t tell me you chased me through the city just to pass on your prize?” 

He presses his cock against Spidey’s closed mouth, pushing past his lips to rub against his teeth and catch against his swollen gums, right up against the sensitive glands.

It must feel intense because Spidey shakes and whines, muscles spasming under Wade's fingers as he struggles to fight years of conditioning.

“Was it all talk?” He taunts, pulling back just enough to watch Spidey fight his grip to chase him. “Is it too much for you? Maybe I should put it away-”

It’s a bluff because Wade is fucking desperate, but Spidey’s jaw flexes in response, loosening just enough to unleash a furious growl. 

“No?” Wade pretends to think about it long enough for Spidey’s grip to turn dangerous. Wade's hips might be splinters by the end, but that’s just icing on the cake. “You want it?” 

“Yes,” Spidey chokes out, and Wade gives him a brutal little shake,

“Then, open up.” His voice is all malice, the way it gets when Wade's face to face with a target he’s looking particularly forward to taking his time with. “Let me break you in.”

That does it. A full-body tremor rolls up Spidey’s entire frame, and slowly, very slowly, his jaw begins to relax. 

What a perfect, fucking freak.

Immediately, Wade pushes his fingers into the soft hollows of Spidey’s cheeks, forcing his jaw wider, crooning in pleasure as he watches bruises bloom under pressure. “That’s it, Slick. Open up those pearly gates, lemme see what heaven looks like.”

The fangs really are pretty- long and graceful, and absolutely drenched, gums swollen around the base of his canines— hypersensitive, if the way Spidey is twitching is any indication. His mouth is plush and bright pink, a salivating mess when Wade jerks his head up for a better look.

His cock throbs at the sight, and Wade reached his limit about two paragraphs into this whole thing, so he starts pushing, dragging the leaking tip past Spidey’s criminally soft lips.

“Fuck,” he breathes, hand shaking around Spidey’s jaw. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good. Wider, that’s it, yeah-“

Spidey makes a garbled, incoherent noise that makes Wade want to slam in. His spider is breathing hard and fast, hands tight across the merc's hips; Wade has to fight for every goddamn inch, earn every shallow, torturous slide into that glorious mouth.

The wet, needy sound that accompanies every slide is addicting.

“That’s it, baby, keep that mouth nice and loose for me. Let me give it to you, fuck-” he’s working his hips in little jerks, just dragging the head across Spidey’s drooling mouth, fighting not to come before he's given Spidey his damn prize.

Wade goes deeper each time, teasing both of them when he pulls out and dips back in, little thrusts that have Wade’s nerve endings sparking. Fuck, fuck, he needs more—

"Is that all you can take?" It's supposed to be a taunt, but the words come out twisted, desperate. Wade needs to get deeper; he needs to carve out a space in Spidey's body just for him.

Spidey makes a frustrated, guttural noise around Wade’s cock as he tilts his head. The new angle makes his fangs look obscene, like two gleaming daggers poised over the head of Wade’s dick, and his voice pitches embarrassingly high at the sight.

“In, wanna see you take it.” Panting breaths, Wade pulling as much as he can, pushing his hips at the same time, but there's no fucking give to Spiderman. “Come on, come on, c’mon, c'moncmoncmon-”

Spidey shifts, and Wade feels his jaw pop under his thumb, the final piece of resistance disappearing as he finally leans in, and god- Spidey's mouth is a fucking revelation, all scorching heat, so wet there's almost no friction, just a long, dripping, sinful slide.

Wade hears himself whine, a perfect counterpitch to Spidey's low animal groan.

It's too fast, especially given Spidey's inexperience, but the promise of bruising that beautiful throat from the inside out burns all of Wade's gentler impulses.

And Spidey sounds so fucking pleased, like Wade is everything he ever wanted, sinking further and further like he can't bear the thought of pulling back— like the weight of Wade's cock is more important than the air in his lungs.

“C’mon,” He’s babbling, comically delirious even to his own ears, leaking every thought right into Spidey's greedy mouth, “Take it, take it, sweetheart, it’s yours, all of it, anything you need, Slick, please—”

He's so close. The world is starting to go hazy, the wet sound of Spidey's mouth, the bruising grip around his hips, the chill breeze over his stomach, everything blurring together to tease the most monstrous orgasm of his life.

Right as he's about to tip over the edge, Spiderman retreats, and Wade nearly breaks his own fingers trying to claw him back over his aching dick. Wade's throat burns, loud and incoherent, a wash of white noise against the coming tide.

It doesn't seem to matter, or maybe it does, because Spidey just breathes deep and sinks all the way to the root, and the resounding crack of Wade's skull against the wall is nothing but a delicious accent to the absolute tidal wave of pleasure that swamps him.

Time turns to spaghetti, and by the time Wade floats back up, it's to the sight and sound of Spidey shaking, whining around the thick length of Wade's cock, nose pressed against the bone. He sounds pained, like he's hurting, or—

“Jesus, Jesus, baby, did you just-?” Wade shudders, staring down at Spidey's kneeling form in disbelief.

Spidey just makes a raw, broken noise, sounding as fucked out as Wade feels. He swallows, then nods.

His hands haven't moved from Wade's hips.

"Where did they make you? Fuck, you're so, —just— fucking perfect. You're gonna kill me," Wade chokes out, hoarse, twitching against the soft meat of Spidey's throat.

Spiderman seems to take this as advice because instead of pulling off, he sinks even further until his face is completely pressed up against Wade's abdomen.

It's immediately too much, and Wade scrabbles at Spidey's shoulders, hissing as his body instinctively tries to retreat.

He doesn't go far because Spidey fuckin’ snarls around Wade’s cock in protest, and Wade suddenly finds himself pushed against the wall hard enough to grind his spine into the brick. He’s pinned, completely immobile, save for his mouth- which is still running a mile a minute, 

“Fuck, baby, Jesus, you're a fucking lunatic—!" His voice cracks as Spidey inhales him, taking the entirety of Wade's shaft like he's going to find the meaning of life at the base of it.

He stays there for a long time, immune to the desperate, inarticulate noises tearing out of Wade's mouth. Wade's cock hasn't even had a chance to go down, and thanks to Spidey, is almost painfully hard against the back of his throat.

Enthusiasm aside, Wade knows he needs to ease up. Spidey can't be getting enough air— but Wade can’t pull back, not when he feels the tips of those fangs threaten him when he tries. Instinct paralyzes Wade, but the sound that Spidey makes, a low hum of warning, vibrates through his cock and all the way up his spine.

Those teeth press close, locking tight enough to be unnerving. There's no pain, not yet, but the threat, the mere idea of it, sends Wade's brain right into the fucking stratosphere.

When his ears turn back on, it’s to the sound of his own babbling, out of his mind on a heady cocktail of terror and pleasure, "Fuck, Slick, your fucking teeth, yeah do it, do it, do it, do it—" Wade’s voice is wobbly, wet as he shakes from the overstimulation.

Spiderman doesn't let up, forcibly pushing Wade deeper into the wall as he speeds up.

Spiderman pulls back and sinks down, dragging the sharp points of his teeth across Wade's cock over and over and over, carving shallow lines of blistering pain and pleasure that coil in the mess of his brain until they're indistinguishable from one another.

Wade is suspended, writhing in pure, terrifying sensation, and the sounds being punched out of his chest are humiliatingly small and honest. 

Spidey’s venom is shimmering on his skin, coursing in his veins, sinking into his fucking soul and staining the ragged thing electric pink. His entire nervous system feels like it's been doused with gasoline and set on fucking fire.

It's too much. Every inch of exposed skin feels flayed. Wade's cock is just a raw nerve, and Spidey’s mouth a fucking black hole, sucking every single thought out of Wade’s head with incredible violence.

“Fuckbabyfuckican't—" But he wants to, wants to give it to Spidey, but there's just no way, he can't.

Spidey doesn't give a shit about Wade's limits, because he pries one of the merc's hands from his shoulder, and Wade valiantly scrapes half a brain cell off the floor to pay attention when Spidey presses the bare palm to the side of his neck—

Everything slows down. Oh fuck. Oh fuck-

Then Spidey swallows and squeezes, and the feel of his fangs pressing in, his throat distending around Wade’s cock, under his palm-

That’s it. Game over. Wade’s entire body locks up, muscles convulsing as Spidey wrenches his second orgasm from the fucking pits of hell. He comes so hard his teeth ache. It lasts for centuries, time stretching and wringing out every drop of pleasure until Wade is whiting out, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

He’s not sure he ever really comes back down; just floats just over the precipice of consciousness, just low enough to hear his own overstimulated whimpers as Spidey swallows around him, just like he promised.

For the first time in ages, Wade's head is blissfully silent, and he basks in it for as long as he can.

Eventually, the world begins to filter in, but Wade's body still feels languid, lacking the telltale bite he associates with general living.

Cracking his eyes open— when had he closed them?— Wade is treated to the sight of a very satisfied, very smug spider.

"Fucker." He manages, voice broken and rough with affection.

His legs are completely fucking shot, and the only thing stopping Wade from buckling to the grimy cement are Spidey's hands holding him to the wall, keeping the entire bulk of Wade's considerable weight like he's nothing.

His thumbs are stroking over Wade's hipbones.

It's hot. It's...it's...

He runs a soft hand over the fading bruises on Spidey's jaw and gets a sweet kiss on his knuckles in return. Wade's heart does something funny in his chest, but the accompanying feeling isn't funny in the slightest.

Then Spidey nips the thumb, grinning wide, a little drunk and a lot vicious. The broken rasp of his voice straight up rewires the pleasure centers of Wade's brain, “Again?”

Wade feels the addiction forming, physically impossible but there all the same. And like every substance abuse story, Spidey is going to eat Wade alive from the inside out.

What a way to go.

Peter produces venom both on demand but also unconsciously when he's excited/high on adrenaline etc.

When he's producing venom, it mixes into his saliva and acts like a neurotoxin, which can produce intense highs that can quickly tip over into oversensitivity and pain.

His mouth is EXTREMELY sensitive because of this. Wade's skin is like the fourth of july for his brain.

Prolonged internal exposure (kissing/oral/licking a cut/etc) creates a headrush that leaves most normal people unconscious. Skin to saliva contact is just tingly.

(Making out for long periods of time/oral with MJ was NOT on the table- which had MJ coming to wrong conclusions.)

His blood is straight up poison. Would not recommend ingesting. (Don't eat brightly colored spiders, kids!)

His sweat is so negligible as to be be unnoticeable- unless you're wringing towels into your mouth.

His semen also produces intense sensation- mostly oversensitivity, that can be incredibly pleasurable, but can also tip into pain and paralysis for most people. Peter has no idea his semen can do this- because he's never experimented with it (always a condom. ALWAYS).

Because Wade has an incredible healing factor, as well as extensive nerve damage and scarring, he doesn't experience the negative aspects of Peter's venom. A big enough dosage could cause paralysis and death, but it's also going to have to be a WAY bigger hit than Spiderman would normally apply.

This is a super fun learning experience for them both!

Once again, thank you so much for all the support and the asks, it's been so fun figuring Peter's venom out and finding ways to play with him!

There's a split second where it's just a kiss, soft and exploratory, and then Spidey's fangs scrape over his lip, drawing blood, and Wade can't help it: he lets out the sluttiest, neediest moan of his slutty, needy life, and, well—it seems to do it for Spidey because getting eaten alive isn't too terribly far off from what happens next.

Spidey devours him: bites at his lips and jaw and chin, licks into his mouth and sucks on Wade's tongue. He kisses Wade with the intensity of a fucking category five hurricane—it's all Wade can do to keep up.

Spidey shoves one thick thigh between Wade's legs and grinds against him, which gets Wade letting out another absolutely pornographic sound. He can't help it, can't even pretend to be cool. He's rocking against Spidey's leg and clawing at his back with artless, desperate abandon.

It's so hot and so insane that Wade feels high— like, actually, legitimately high. His mouth goes hot and tingly and it's like Wade's senses start misfiring: Spidey feels like a drumline and tastes like purple, lurid and intoxicating.

"Are you fucking magic," Wade manages to slur in a spare, caught breath, "Or a like, fucking, incubus?"

"Hm?" Spidey says from somewhere around where he's biting at the hinge of Wade's jaw.

"Youfeelsofuckinggood," Wade pants, and yeah, he's rapidly losing his ability to fucking talk, which, wow. Achievement Unlocked.

"Ooohhh, fuck," Spidey says. "Whoops."

Spidey pulls back to stare at him, and Wade can see little strings of saliva—hot pink and shimmery, pretty—on his fangs.

"Whoos?" Wade echos stupidly. Spidey's so pretty. Prettiest boy Wade's ever seen.

Wait—thats a lie. Petey-Pie's the prettiest boy Wade's ever seen. Sorry, Spidey, but given, you know, Wade's never seen Spidey's face, Wade thinks he can be forgiven for that.

Spidey's the prettiest boy Wade's never seen, that's the correct version. Now they're both the prettiest.

Spidey moans, a deep sound that resonates through Wade's body like a bass drop.

Spidey laughs for some reason, a huff of amused air against Wade's mouth, which reminds Wade that holy shit, he could be kissing that mouth instead of just staring at it, so he does: leans up and licks Spidey's shiny pink spit, sucks his bottom lip into Wade's mouth.

"Shouldn't," Spidey says between kisses, "Fucked up—"

He goes to pull back, pull away, except Spidey hisses sharply and follows him, pinning him back against the wall. He rubs his mouth and nose against Wade's cheek and down his neck.

Oh. Wade stutters in his movements. Yeah—yeah. Okay. That—well. To be expected.

"Not like that. Bit you too much. Couldn't help it, feel so good, Wade. Got you too high," Spidey mutters against his neck.

Ohhhh. Okay. That explains the tasting purple thing. Goddamn, move over beer flavored nipples, there's a new unrealistic dream sex standard and it's Spidey and his magic drug spit.

Wade didn't think Spidey could get more perfect, but, well, here we are.

"Don't wanna," the next part Wade kind misses as Spidey licks over his carotid artery, but it ends in "—consent."

Oh. Oh. Now, hey, Wade's got to set some shit straight. He tugs Spidey back up to look at him, the polymer lenses of his mask round and shining.

"Fuck me up, baby boy," Wade tells him, as seriously as he can while being, as he knows now, fucking zooted on his venom. "I fucking want it, you gotta know how bad I fucking want you—"

Then Wade doesn't have to focus on words anymore because, thank god, Spidey slams their mouths together and gets to the fucking him up part, thank god, thank you-thank you-thank whoa shit—

Spidey stands over him, tall and looming and both scary and extremely, mind-meltingly hot.

The whoa shit is because Spidey picks him up and pretty much bodies him onto the couch, where Wade lands with an oof.

He points at Wade's belt.

"Off, or I'm gonna rip it off," Spidey growls, and whew, yeah, holy shit.

Wade gets his belt off faster than he thinks he's ever managed before, new record, and is barely able to get the start of the pants of his suit unzipped before Spidey loses patience and is on him, pulling roughly at the fabric until it's shoved down around his knees and then Spidey bends him in half so that Wade's trapped ankles are hovering over his shoulders.

Spidey lays stinging bites and kisses over his ass and the backs of his thighs, and when Wade can only pant and make embarrassingly high-pitched whines, Spidey hooks his thumbs into the meat of his ass and spreads him open.

"Can I—" Spidey starts to ask and Wade just about strokes out in his haste to say, "Yesyesyesyes, anything, everything, fuck me up."

"Thank fuck," Spidey says and then dives in.

Wade would like to state, for the record: he is no amateur at getting his ass eaten. He's, you know, been around the block. He's no blushing virgin, no shy maiden. He's gotten eaten out plenty of times, is what he's getting at here.

This? He was not fucking prepared.

Wade feels like he's losing his mind—it's so good and so intense, whatever pink magic is in Spidey's venom seems to crank everything up to fucking 11,000.

"Oh my god?" Wade squeaks, which might be right after or days, because Spidey eats ass like it's his god-given mission in life to take Wade apart at the fucking seams.

Spidey eats him out sloppy, too: wet and messy and obscene, moaning like it feels just as good for Spidey as it does for Wade.

Wade ends up grabbing on to his own ankles like the bitch bar in a Honda Odyssey, hanging on for fucking, he doesn't even know any more, life?? He feels hysterical, inside out, un-fucking-tethered.

The moment Spidey actually shoves his tongue in Wade's ass, Wade thinks he dies. Straight up blue-screens. When he comes back, it's to the sound of himself begging shamelessly.

"Please, please, please—"

The fact that his stupid pants are in the way and he can't see is suddenly the world's greatest injustice—Wade manages to get his last two brain cells rubbed together enough to yank his boots off and shove his pants fully off to land somewhere Wade could give two fucks.

This accomplishes two things: first, it lets Wade see the dark top of Spidey's head as he works Wade open and the way he's got Wade's thighs gripped tight between his fingers—spectacular, mind-blowing, scorchingly hot—and the second thing it accomplishes is Spidey going, "Fuck yeah, good girl," and spreading Wade open even wider for his mouth.

Wade thinks he dies again at that. Just a little, but who can blame him??? He's only fucking humanish.

"Gotchu, I gotchu," Spidey says, which, understatement of the fucking year.

"Webs," he keens. He tries to shove back but he can barely move like this. His leverage is shit, he's 100% at Spidey's mercy.

Never let it be said that Spidey doesn't have Wade figured the fuck out, because he doesn't play games: he slides two of his fingers into Wade along with his tongue, the slick of Spidey's combined saliva and venom making things way easier and wildly better than Wade would have imagined.

Wade garbles something nonsensical, flailing. His hand ends up hovering just over Spidey's head, indecisive on if he's allowed to—when Spidey pushes his head into Wade's hand, winks at him and then starts fucking Wade in earnest with his fingers.

If Wade wasn't in love before this, well. That would have done it.

Spidey finger-fucks with the same unhinged intensity and attention to ruin that he does eating ass. Wade digs his fingers into the dark material of Spidey's mask—wishes it was the hair he can feel beneath, but he can't say shit—and accepts his fate.

It isn't until Spidey genuinely starts teasing a fourth finger that Wade gets impatient.

"Webs, fuck, if you don't fuck me—" he threatens. He's not exactly an intimidating sight right now, knees by his ears and ass in the air, but he's still fucking Deadpool.

Spidey pulls back, biting at Wade's thighs like he can't help himself.

"Condom?" He asks when he finally manages to stop snacking on Wade's legs. Wade snorts and shakes his head.

"Don't have 'em. Can't give you anything, Webs, and you can't give me anything. Kinda my thing, remember?"

Spidey freezes for a split second as he seems to consider that, and then he rubs the exposed part of his cheek on Wade's thigh. "Huh. Yeah—yeah, okay."

Happy days for Wade (and the innocents outside), Spidey gets back on task real quick—he does something with his suit that Wade doesn't quite catch. What he does catch is the movement of his arm as he strokes his dick, hidden behind Wade's body.

Thank god because if Spidey was about to make him go to a bodega right now he was going to legitimately start murdering people.

Wade reaches out to touch, on god he wants to feel the hot length of Spidey in his hand, but Spidey catches his hand and brings it up to his mouth to kiss it.

"Sensitive," Spidey grunts. "Gloves on would be too rough, and gloves off—"

"Too ugly?" Wade offers. Spidey bites him, properly and sharp this time, and Wade hisses at the sting.

"Too good," Spidey corrects. "God, Wade, you've got no idea—if you want me to fuck you, next time, I promise."

Huh. Well. Wade doesn't know what to do with that information just yet. He tries not to hope at next time. He does know what he wants now, so he pulls his hand back and uses it to spread himself open a bit more for Spidey.

"Fuck," Spidey hisses, "Good—good, Wade, fuck," and then moans when he rubs the head of his dick against Wade's hole.

Wade barely manages to restrain himself from launching himself up and just sitting on it. He forces himself to be patient: all his wildest dreams are coming true right now and he wants to savor it, wants to take whatever Spidey's willing to give him right now.

Which, as it turns out, is a lot.

"Oh, fuck, fuck-fuck-fuck," Wade gasps as Spidey pushes in. Spidey's cock seems to get thicker in the middle, it goes on forever, and the stretch is so good it makes Wade's eyes roll back.

"Okay?" Spidey grits out, and Wade nods frantically.

"Holy shit, never better, knew it, knew you'd be big, baby, knew you'd ruin me," Wade babbles.

Spidey huffs, amused, and thrusts suddenly—a sharp motion that has Wade breaking off to moan.

"Yeah?" Spidey asks, "Think I'm gonna ruin you?"

"Haven't even started," promises Spidey, and then, boy, does he get started.

"Already have," Wade confesses stupidly, too sincere. Spidey doesn't seem to notice though, he just smirks and leans in to kiss him as best he can with the position they're in. It's mostly a sloppy, open-mouthed touch of their tongues.

Again, Wade would like to make a case for himself: he's been fucked so much! By so many people! A great deal of them super-powered!

Matty, Nate, the odd times Logan gets the itch to put Wade in his place—point is, Wade's been held down and fucked by people stronger and faster than him before, and it was great! 10/10!

Which is why this shouldn't be new or different for Wade, but it is. It's fucking outrageous: Spidey fucks him so hard, so good, that the world could be end outside and Wade wouldn't even know: all he can focus on is drag of Spidey's cock in him, over and over.

It shouldn't be different, but then that's Spidey for ya: everything he is and does seems to blow Wade's mind.

Wade's not as sensitive as he used to be back in GQ Wade days—the scars took care of that—but whatever witchcraft going in Spidey's venom seems to jumpstart all of his fucked-up nerve endings.

Pleasure shocks through him, lighting him up from the inside, where Spidey's making space for his cock, all the way to his fucking fingertips. His fucking nails feel erogenous.

He might be saying something—begging or whining—but who knows or gives a fuck. He feels incredible, all his normal pain transformed by the pleasure until it's all just one big tidal wave of sensation.

He's so busy just riding it out that he almost forgets about his dick until Spidey gets a hand on it. He makes a completely involuntary wounded noise and has to summon all the willpower in his body not to come.

"Spides-Spidey," he warns, panting, "I'll—fuck—I'll come—"

"Go ahead," Spidey says. The white eyes of his mask are narrow and intent on Wade's face. "Want you to, wanna watch. Gonna keep fucking you though, wanna make you scream."

Oh.

In that case.

Well.

Wade comes immediately.

It makes a mess on his chest where he's all scrunched up—he's gonna have to power wash the Pool suit when they're finished here but he doesn't care, doesn't give a single shit. Wade's too distracted having the best orgasm of his life. He feels like his brain is dribbling out his ears as much as his come is dribbling out of his dick.

Holy shit, Wade thinks wildly, entirely incapable of words. The mouth on Spidey—!

"That's it," Spidey is murmuring when his ears turn back on, "Fuck, that's hot, wish your suit was off, wanna see you come all over your tits—"

Spidey's true to his word—he doesn't stop fucking Wade. If anything, he picks up the pace. Wade can only squirm, an overstimulated mess, as Spidey pounds into him.

"Easy," Spidey tells him, "Be good, just take it, Wade, be good."

Good fucking night. It's so much: it's so intense and so overwhelming. It's so hard not to twitch away from it, but he forces himself to be still, forces himself to relax. Spidey hisses approvingly as Wade goes loose and pliant.

"Good—good girl," Spidey grunts and it's fucking unfair, the way he keeps slamming on all of Wade's buttons. Wade thinks he might go permanently blind with how hot it all is.

"Who made you?" He manages to wheeze incredulously. "Where did you come from? Fucking—perfect—oh my god, Spidey—"

Spidey laughs, and it's low and dark. "Me? You've got no idea, Wade, you've got no fucking clue, what I want to do to you, the way you feel to me—"

Wade breaks off to pant as Spidey grinds against his prostate and sends white hot shocks of pleasure shooting through his body.

Wade can only whimper helplessly as Spidey nails his prostate again and again.

Despite what Mormon fairy smut novels and AO3 would have you believe, there is such a thing as a refractory period, even for men "blessed" as Wade is with his healing factor. Normally he needs a good fifteen-twenty minute cooldown before he can even think about coming again.

A refractory period that Spidey appears to have taken as a fucking challenge. Wade never really got soft, not with the constant stimulation, but Spidey makes sure he gets fully hard again by sliding his hand over his cock: a slow, loose counter-balance to the hard, fast pace of his thrusts.

Wade's trying so hard to be good, be a good girl, take it the way Spidey wants him to, but he can't help but whine and shake his head when Spidey's grip on his dick changes—tighter, faster, with intent.

"I—Webs," he pleads, "I can't, s'too soon, no way—"

"You can," Spidey assures him, "You will."

He rolls the palm of his hand over the too-sensitive head and Wade chokes.

Spidey does something—Wade can't even begin to track anymore—but whatever it is it means Spidey has situated them so that they're closer now. The angle is different, somehow impossibly fuller, and Spidey's thrusts are slower, rounder, deeper.

Spidey's got one hand in the back of Wade's mask, pulling his head back so that Spidey can mouth at Wade's jaw and the exposed skin of his neck. The other hand he's still somehow got wrapped around Wade's dick, providing absolutely maddening friction.

"Webs," Wade tries again, desperate. His legs are shaking and his heart is going a million miles a second. He feels hysterical, out of his fucking mind, all of his nerve are endings screaming. There's no way. There is no way—

And then he bites him, his fangs sinking into Wade's neck.

"Wade," Spidey murmurs, dragging his mouth over Wade's frantic pulse point. "Come."

And listen. LISTEN. Refractory period-shmactory period. Wade comes, with a breathless whine, to a haze of purple venom synesthesia. Coming feels like being fucking raptured: he's tasting colors, he's seeing sounds.

And just when he thinks it's over, Spidey comes, with a sharp inhale, moaning, "Wade, oh, oh, shit, fuck, sorry—" and Wade has one delirious moment of hilarity wondering what the fuck he could be sorry for, when he suddenly gets the aftershock of a fucking lifetime.

It's like coming again but from pure prostate stimulation: waves of shimmery iridescent pleasure radiating from his ass. It's incredible. It's un-fucking-believable. It's so intense it rides on a knife's edge between ecstasy and agony. Wade writhes, caught, as it doesn't end.

He sucks in air in a desperate attempt to not just pass the fuck out. Every time he thinks it might be done it crests again until Wade is a shaking, sobbing mess.

He's distantly aware of Spidey petting him, pressing his weight into Wade so he doesn't fall right off the fucking couch, and making soothing noises.

Finally, after a period of time Wade couldn't put a number to with a fucking gun to his head, it eases up. It softens into a heavy, lingering sweetness throughout his body.

"Holy shit," Wade croaks. Spidey makes a soft, concerned sound.

"You okay?" he asks. "I've never done that before."

Wade can't help it, he snorts loudly. Then he chokes when that sends a new wave of tingles through his body.

"Bullshit," he gasps when he gets his breath back. Spidey laughs.

"No, no, not that," Spidey says, amused. "I've done...most of that before. I've just haven't come inside anyone before. At least, not without a condom. Never wanted to risk it."

Wade blinks. He's still having some difficulty putting coherent thoughts together, but, like. What.

"Webs," he says slowly, "I just want to make sure you know that you like. Super-duper cannot knock me up. Please feel free to try your hardest, anytime, but—"

Spidey sputters, laughing again. "Risk my venom, Wade. My saliva makes people high? I can poison people? I never knew what my cum might do to someone."

Oh. Right, okay, that makes more sense. A delighted thrill goes through him at being any kind of first for Spidey.

"Well, mystery solved, baby," Wade says smugly. "It's like, literally orgasm batter, holy shit. I don't think my prostate's ever gonna be the same."

Spidey huffs out a relieved breath. "Good, okay—it seemed like it was good but also a little like you were dying, so I wasn't sure."

Wade shrugs. "I mean, maybe. It was fucking intense. Who knows what it would do to a normie, but dying's cake to me. If it is, it's worth it, holy shit. Wowza."

There's a secret little smile on Spidey's face where his mask is rolled up. "Yeah? You liked it?"

Wade stares at him incredulously. "Liked it? Spidey, I think you broke me. I haven't been fucked like that—haven't felt anything like that—ever. You've ruined me for all others."

There's a sound that comes from Spidey, a noise that Wade can only describe as a purr, rumbling through his chest. He tilts Wade's head so he can lean in, a breath away.

"Good," Spidey says, before he kisses Wade again.

Wade opens up immediately, greedily. He's not sure how long Spidey's going to let him have this, and he wants to get his fucking money's worth. He'll be beating his meat to the last hour for centuries.

They trade kisses, open-mouth and languid, until Spidey shifts and Wade realizes that Spidey's hard, pressing against his thigh.

He starts to reach out but then stops, remembering what Spidey told him mid-fuck: gloves too rough, but skin potentially good? Big if true, but Spidey hasn't lied to him yet. He dithers for a second, caught in indecision, and then elects to trust Spidey. He pulls his glove off and lets it drop to the floor.

He wiggles his bare fingers before Spidey's face for approval. "May I?" He asks, gesturing towards Spidey's dick.

Spidey takes a deep breath, his eyes on Wade's hand. He stares at it for so long that Wade starts to feel like he made a mistake in offering when Spidey speaks.

"Can I—" he rasps. He reaches out with his own gloved hand and touches Wade's naked one. He shudders.

"Wanna put your fingers in my mouth," Spidey admits. "Please?"

Well. That's not what he was expecting, but it's fucking scorchingly hot.

"Sure," Wade says, magnanimously. "Go for it."

Spidey makes a noise that Wade can only describe as a hungry, and brings Wade's hand to his mouth. He rubs his closed mouth over the pads of Wade's fingers before parting his lips and sliding just the tips into his mouth.

The sound that rips out of Spidey—low and needy and desperate—is paired with the sudden jerk of his cock against Wade's thigh. As if getting two of Wade's fingers in his mouth was on the same level of pleasure as Wade jerking him off.

Wade stares, wide-eyed, in disbelief. There's no way in hell he can get hard again right now, but goddamn if his dick doesn't try to make the effort.

Spidey slides Wade's fingers further into his mouth, to the second knuckle, and rubs his tongue against the undersides. When he groans, Wade can feel the vibrations of it against his fingers.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Wade swears, reverent. "Look at you."

Spidey moans. He pulls another one of Wade's fingers into his mouth and sucks. His dick twitches against Wade, hips hitching in a desperate attempt for friction.

Wade pulls his other hand up and rips his other glove off with his teeth so he can worm it between them and finally—finally—get his hand around Spidey's cock.

"Oh fuck," Spidey drools around Wade's fingers. It comes out more like "awfawk", but Wade gets the idea. Spidey's fangs drag against his skin and Wade shudders as the sharp tips catch on his scars.

"You like that, baby?" Wade croons. It's nice to turn the tables against him a little, now that Wade is operating with a few more functional brain cells. "My fingers in your mouth and around your cock?"

Spidey moans and nods, forcing Wade's fingers deeper. The tips bump up against the soft palate, hot and plush, and it elicites another deep groan from him. Wade jerks Spidey off with one hand and lets Spidey use the other to rub his mouth—alternating between running his lips over Wade's fingers and curling his tongue around them.

Spidey seems to love it—he gasps and moans and holds onto Wade's wrist in a grip that's definitely bruising. Which is great, fantastic even, but Wade's had a thought that's even better.

"Webs," Wade murmurs, "Got an idea. Let go of my wrist?"

Spidey lets go and Wade grins at him. "Feel free to stop me if you hate it, but I just want to try something."

And then he fucks three fingers into Spidey's mouth at the same time he jacks his dick. The response is immediate and deeply hot: Spidey keens and opens his mouth wider for Wade, his hips jerking against Wade.

"Holy shit, yeah, fucking-A, Spidey," Wade mutters. It's fantastic: the matching wet, slick slide of his fingers in his mouth with the motion of his hand on Spidey's dick.

It doesn't take too long for Spidey to start shaking, panting harshly against Wade's hand. Wade watches, enraptured. He wasn't able to pay that much attention the first time Spidey came, due to his own brain being dopamine soup, but he's greedily drinking in all the details now: the hot flush Wade can see peeking from underneath his mask, the hitching, involuntary moans he lets out. His mouth is red and swollen, shiny with spit and the venom he's leaking.

"God, Spides," Wade confesses helplessly, "If this is what it's like with my fingers, I can't wait to get my cock in there."

Spidey sucks in a sharp breath and comes all over Wade's hand, moaning around the fingers shoved deep into his mouth. Wade jerks him through it until Spidey taps out, his hand coming down to stop the motion of Wade's wrist.

"Wow," Spidey rasps once Wade slides his fingers out of his mouth. Spidey lets out a mournful sound once they're free, so Wade doesn't take them too far. He lets them rest on the exposed parts of his face— his cheek and his chin. Spidey tilts his head to press a kiss to them.

Meanwhile, Wade literally has something interesting on his hands. He brings his Spidey-cum covered hand up and inspects it.

It certainly looks like regular jizz. Wade wouldn't have guessed it's magic orgasm batter if he hadn't just lived through it. There might be just a faint iridescent sheen to it, but for the most part: yep. Looks like jizz.

Curious, Wade goes to lick it.

"Wade—" Spidey warns. "I'm, uh. Not sure what that will do to you. Might not want to do that."

Wade rolls his eyes. Adorable. "Websy," he chides, "Please. I am like the best person to try it. Fucking around and finding out is what I'm built for."

Then he licks Spidey's cum off his hand.

It tastes like—well, cum. Wade's not about to sit here on Michelle Obama's internet and lie about what jizz tastes like. It doesn't taste sweet or delicious or any of the other bullshit romance novels try to swindle people on. It tastes like jizz: salty and bitter. Maybe a little sharper and a little more acidic than the average guy's—and then Wade's mouth goes tingy and hyper-aware.

"Huh," Wade says. He rubs his tongue over his teeth and shudders. When he inhales he can taste—stuff. He doesn't know how to parse it. The air tastes Starburst-pink sweet and grassy green curious, terracotta worry, and beneath it all, a rich ocean blue of satisfaction.

He relays that to Spidey who tilts his head.

"Huh," he echoes. "Pheromones, maybe? I taste those."

Wade shrugs. Who knows, but it tracks with all the other synesthesia effects Wade's experienced from the venom.

"Hey, stick you fingers in my mouth," Wade says. "I wanna see what it feels like."

"Christ," Spidey mutters. He reaches up and hesitates. "Okay to keep my gloves on?"

Wade shrugs again. He's maybe a mite disappointed, given how bare he is in comparison, straight up Winnie the Poohing with his mask on, but he's certainly not going to judge.

He opens his mouth and Spidey slides two of his gloves fingers inside.

And, well, holy shit. He knew, obviously he knew that the mouth was a pleasure center. He just never thought about much more than taste and tongue and lips, yay!

His whole mouth lights up at the intrusion. He can taste the fabric of Spidey's glove: the unique material it's made of, Spidey's sweat and scent permiating it. He can feel each individual thread that make up the knit of it, and revels in the way the texture feels over his tongue.

The pressure and texture and taste of Spidey's fingers is so explosively good it momentarily makes Wade stupid.

He immediately understands why Spidey goes so wild for it. When Spidey pulls his fingers free he wants to follow them and shove them back in.

"Holy shit," Wade groans. "That's amazing. Your cum turns mouths into pussy. Moussy? Mussy?"

Spidey snorts. "Well, that's one way to describe it. A horrible way, but sure."

"Please let me get my cock in there some day soon," Wade begs. He's already dreaming about how fucking awesome it will feel—for him and for Spidey.

Spidey coughs. "About that, uh. Well…"

He trails off and Wade curses himself for assuming, his heart sinking.

"No is fine," Wade reassures him. "That's okay, baby. No pressure."

Spidey shakes his head. "Nah, that's not it. I've just, uh. Never done that."

Wade blinks. "Never…?"

There's a flush creeping down Spidey's cheeks.

"By the time I started sleeping with guys, I had my powers, and uh. Well, you saw. My fangs are a little unruly when I get excited. Seemed like a bad combo."

"Oh, baby," Wade croons. Another first!! Wade's going to die of happiness. "Maybe for some other scrub lord. But not for me. Please know that I am very, very into the idea of fucking your mouth with the fangs."

There's a pause where Spidey just stares at him, masked eyes white and round.

Then he says, "Jesus, what have we done? How the fuck are we going to get any patrol done? We're going to be fucking all the time."