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Trapped In a Closet With A Lonely Island Song

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Peter ducked into the closet just as Fisk and his men rounded the corner. Peter could definitely take out the guards, but Fisk was a trickier proposition. After their last run-in, he wasn’t looking forward to taking him headon in a fight. Though the wounds had long since healed, Peter could still vividly recall the sensation of steel slicing through suit and skin and muscle, right down to the bone. Besides, this was supposed to be a stealth mission.

It was dark in the closet and cramped. Immediately Peter could tell he wasn’t the only one who’d chosen to hide here, and it wasn’t down to his spidey sense. Another body, taller and with imposing musculature pinned him to the door. It took all Peter’s restraint to keep from making a sound of surprise and he switched on his night vision. He found himself face to face--well, face to collarbone, with a familiar suit.

“Hello?” came the lilting tones, “Is it me you’re looking for?”

“Deadpool?” Peter hissed. “What are you doing here?”

“Spidey, is that you?” Big hands landed on Peter’s hips, like now that they had established familiarity he was allowed to touch, or something.

Peter tried to shift to the side, to put a little distance between their bodies, but there was nowhere to go. Most of the space was occupied by a cleaning cart, and the shelves packed in supplies on either side prevented him from moving to the left or right. The slightest movement started to knock a jug of cleaning liquid to the floor, and only Peter’s quick reflexes stopped it from making any noise.

Outside, Fisk was still droning on about some party he was throwing, and his expectations from his security force, so at least he hadn’t drawn any attention to their location. Peter let out a shaky sigh and placed the jug back on the shelf, then put his hands over Wade’s and removed them from his hips.

“What are you doing here?” he repeated, slower and with more feeling.

Wade dropped his hands back to Peter’s hips as soon as he was released. “Don’t be mad,” he said.

“I told you I could handle this alone.” Peter tried to cross his arms over his chest, but there was literally no space between their bodies. He focused on the impending headache building at his temples to distract him from the fact that Wade’s groin was pressed against his belly. “I begged you to let me handle this alone.” Stealth was not Wade’s forte.

“I haven’t heard you beg yet,” Wade said, voice pitched low. “But I have plans.”

Peter swallowed, dry-mouthed, and pointedly ignored that. “Wade.”

“In my defense, if things had gone how you planned, you’d never even have known I was here.”

“I don’t need you watching over me,” Peter snapped. “I’d been doing the Spider-Man thing for years before we teamed up.”

“I know that,” Wade said. His fingers clenched and relaxed their hold on Peter. “But--”

Peter brought up a hand fast to cover where Wade’s mouth would be, beneath the mask. The voices in the hallway had grown closer. Peter held his breath, listening to them drone on. They finally stopped at the juncture of hallways, only a few feet from the closet door. Fisk’s voice drifted away, down the way Peter had come, but the others remained close.

Fuck. Peter really couldn’t risk going out there. The whole point of coming without Wade had been to get in and out without any evidence of his presence. Fisk would know exactly who was responsible if he learned two of his guards had been knocked unconscious and stashed in a closet.

Wade’s thumbs swept over the ridge of his hipbones with a firm pressure that distracted Peter from the conversation. Peter put his hands over Wade’s wrists and pushed, and was surprised by the resistance. Usually when Wade crossed a line and Peter called him on it, Wade backed off.

There was the initial annoyance, bright around the edges with anger, followed by resolve. If Wade wanted to push this thing, he was going to lose out to Peter’s strength. But for whatever reason, Peter found himself standing still, grip on Wade’s wrist tight enough to bruise, but not pushing him away.

Normally right now there would be jokes from Wade to lighten the mood, insults from Peter to put him back in his place. Robbed of their voices, something thick and heavy fell between them. Wade nudged his knees between Peter’s with intent, and after a slight hesitation, Peter let him.

So thoroughly surprised by his own acquiescence, Peter went lax. His head rested gently against the door, body left loose for Wade to manipulate how he wanted. He splayed Peter’s legs wide enough to fit between them, using his grip on Peter’s hips to lift him just enough to settle over Wade’s thighs. It was a pleasant stretch, and lifted Peter just right to bring their groins together.

Wade bent his neck to tuck his head in the curve of Peter’s shoulder. Between the layers of spandex and leather, Peter shouldn’t be able to feel the heat of Wade’s breath, but he imagined he could. Like an out of body experience, he was aware of moving, though he would swear he wasn’t in control of the way he dragged Wade’s hands up to the seam where mask met suit, and finally released him to rest his hands on Wade’s shoulders.

There was a moment’s hesitation, Wade’s fingers tucked just under the edge of Peter’s mask, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Slowly, cautiously, constantly anticipating rebuke, he peeled the fabric from skin, rolling up the mask until it rested just over the bridge of Peter’s nose.

It wasn’t like Wade hadn’t seen him like this before--hell, in the dark, he probably couldn’t seeanything at all--and anyway, they’d spent plenty of post-patrol early mornings on rooftops over a pile of junk food. Yet Peter felt exposed in a way he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. And still, he allowed it.

Carefully, he brought his hands up to the back of Wade’s mask and peeled open the velcro oh so slowly as to not make a noise. Already their breathing sounded deafening to his ears, but the conversation in the hall continued, unawares. As soon as he had the mask peeled up, Wade had ducked his head again, mouth ghosting over bare skin this time.

Peter exhaled harshly through his nose. Wade’s mouth was warmer than Peter expected, open against the base of Peter’s throat. His knees tightened against Wade’s side, and Wade ran a hand up the outside of his thigh, like Peter was a wild animal that he wanted to calm. As absurd as the notion was, he couldn’t deny that it had the desired effect. He felt his muscles relax under Wade’s petting.

Wade grew gradually bolder, from the faint, almost chase brush of lips, to firmer, nipping kisses, and, when Peter didn’t push him away, the slick drag of his tongue over Peter’s pulse. Peter’s fingers dug into Wade’s shoulders, fighting against a whine. Wade’s breath gusted over the spot, drawing forth a shiver, before dragging his teeth together, catching the thin skin above Peter’s jugular between. He worked the spot gently at first, alternating the scrape of his teeth and laving tongue with suction.

Peter’s muscles drew tight and tense again, his whole body straining with the effort not to give over to the tug of pleasure. He was on a mission, for fuck sake. That was Kingpin’s voice a few short meters away, and Deadpool between his thighs. As if to remind him of it, Wade’s hand drifted higher, from where it rested just above his knee to stroke inward, up the trembling line of Peter’s inner thigh, while he sucked, hard.

Peter’s control broke, a moan bubbling up from his chest. It was barely audible, even to his own ears, but unmistakable. From the grin pressed against his throat, Wade had heard. Emboldened, he licked a path to Peter’s ear and caught it between his teeth. When he licked the shell, the last of Peter’s restraint broke.

Grip shifting from shoulders to Wade’s jaw, Peter guided him up, blinded not by the darkness of the closet, but his own eyes closed against the intensity of the situation, fumbling lips over scarred skin until their mouths met. Peter sighed in relief, the sound swallowed by Wade. He kissed just exactly as Peter had always pretended he couldn’t imagine--hot, dirty, and hungry, expertise made sloppy with a hint of desperation. Peter answered in kind, twining his arms around Wade’s neck, one hand on his back, the other splayed over the curve of his skull, holding him close and tight.

Wade rocked into Peter, and their costumes left little to the imagination. Peter could feel the shape of him, the weight and heat radiating between his thighs, making Peter throb with want. He rocked back, dragging the hard line of his cock against Wade’s.

If he could have spoken, there would be taunting words to drive space between them, to try to find some emotional distance, but the longer this went on, the only sound their rapid breaths, Peter had to face the truth. And the truth was that despite all his objections, despite Wade’s annoying babbling and impropriety, or fuck, maybe even because of it, Peter wanted this--had wanted this, for so long. His skin buzzed with anticipation and longing, to have Wade touching him everywhere. To have the clever tongue that licked across his palate tasting every inch of his skin.

The air in the closet was close and stale, and utterly stifling. Thank god he didn’t have his mask in the way, Peter could barely draw a breath as it was. They were so wrapped up in one another, that several minutes passed before the lack of voices outside the room filtered through to Peter’s awareness. He turned his head away, breaking the kiss, and Wade barely missed a beat, biting along his jaw, sucking the delicate flesh just beneath.

“Fuck,” Peter breathed, hands on Wade’s shoulders, meaning to push him away and clenching tighter instead. He bent his head back to give Wade better access and grinded down against his cock. “Wade, we gotta…”

“Just let me,” Wade panted back.

For a second, Peter had thought that speaking might break the spell he was under. Then Wade ran his hands down Peter’s legs again, and back up under his thighs, coming to rest on the curve of his ass. Through the fabric of the suit, Peter could feel the blunt press of gloved fingers probing at the sensitive skin between his balls and his hole.

“Fuck,” Peter said again, this time a high pitched whine. “We don’t have time--”

“Two minutes,” Wade pleaded, and when Peter groaned, he said, “One. Thirty seconds.”

Peter laughed weakly, but it died on another gasping moan when Wade found a particularly nice spot on his neck, at the same time his fingertip pressed in hard just behind Peter’s ball. His cock throbbed in time with the clenching of his ass.

“You’re gonna make me cum in my suit,” Peter protested.

“That’s sort of the point, Baby Boy.”

Usually, Peter would snap at him about the nickname, but right now he was feeling magnanimous. “I don’t wanna sneak around Fisk Tower with my suit stuck to my dick with jizz.” Even having said so, he couldn’t stop the desperate rocking of his hips.

“Mainly your fault from the way you dance,” Wade sang off-key.

“It’s your fault,” Peter whispered back. “You’re touching my butt, fuck, Wade, do that--yes--I’m very sensitive.”

“I’d say that’s a plus.”

Peter couldn’t quote lyrics with Wade’s fingers doing what they were currently doing. He couldn’t construct a single intelligible syllable at the moment beyond, “Please, Wade.”

Wade finally took pity on him. Or maybe it was meant to be torture. Suddenly he was lowering Peter back to his stand on his own shaking legs. “Wha--” Peter reached out, bereft.

“Where’s the zipper on this thing?”

Peter huffed in frustration and a little disbelief--not only at Wade, but at himself, as he reached up to trigger the release on his suit. This was the moment to gather his thoughts and take a step back and put an end to this. Instead, he was pulling the suit down off his shoulders. His hands got tangled up with Wade’s, reaching out to help get it past Peter’s hips. Then in one swift motion Wade was on his knees and Peter’s dick was in his mouth.

“Oh--” Peter bit down on his bottom lip to keep from crying out. His hands skated over Wade’s head, looking for something to hang onto. Wade wasn’t wasting any time, taking Peter all the way inside while leather-clad fingers fondled his balls. It was absolutely obscene, the sound of his throat working to swallow, all Peter could hear over the rushing in his ears.

His orgasm hit him hard, making his whole body shake, his knees go weak, as he bowed over Wade, clutching his head to his groin. “Fuck, Wade,” he hissed, pumping his hips into Wade’s welcoming mouth until the very last shuddering jolt.

Wade’s hands rubbed up and down the outside of Peter’s thigh in a calming gesture. He drew off Peter’s cock and pressed a kiss to the head, then another to his thigh, and then his pelvic bone. Peter allowed him to rest there a moment, cheek to thigh, nose in the crease of his hip, breath coming gradually slower, as Peter traced his fingers idly over the scars on the back of Wade’s head.

After a quiet moment, he exerted a little pressure, pushing Wade back from his skin. “I have to get upstairs.”

“If I promise to blow you again after we’re done, can I come with?”

Peter snorted, and shoved Wade harder this time. “Who says I’d let you blow me again?” he asked, fumbling to get his suit back in place.

Wade stood up so quickly, Peter tried to take a step back, forgetting the solid door at his back. When Wade kissed him, Peter could taste himself on his tongue. All he could smell was the scent of their mingled sweat, and cum. Wade was so warm pressed all against him.

“You says,” Wade murmured against his mouth.

“All I meant,” Peter said, trying to keep his voice even. Just as a general rule, the whole incredibly short refractory period was awesome, but right now was not the time. “Is maybe I want something other than blowjobs.”

Wade’s teeth gleamed white in the dark and he flicked his tongue against them. “You won’t regret it, Spidey. ”

“I’m regretting it already.”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour,” Wade said, making an x over his heart. Peter wasn’t sure Wade even knew what the phrase ‘best behaviour’ meant.

Peter arched a brow. “Sure you aren’t going to be...distracted?” He laid a hesitant hand against Wade’s chest and let it drift downward. He couldn’t believe himself, but well, it was only fair to give as good as he’d gotten. His mouth watered at the idea of getting down on his knees for Wade. No matter how much he protested, there was no use lying to himself.

“No more than I normally am, staring at that be-spandexed ass,” Wade said, catching Peter’s wrist in his hand. “Not all of us are so precious about jizzing our pants, Spidey.”

“Oh my god,” Peter muttered. Was this really the guy he was going to let fuck him? Some traitorous part of his brain pointed out that he found the idea incredibly hot, that Wade hadn’t been able to help but getting off on sucking Peter off.

“Don’t worry,” Wade said. “Around you I wear a rubber at all times. It’s a necessity.”

And scene.