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I’m Terrified, But I Can’t Resist

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Wade knew Petey’s body nearly as well as he knew his own. It was easy, then, to bring him right up to the edge, to listen to the pants that meant his orgasm was imminent, and then squeeze the base of his cock until it hurt.

Peter’s confused, wounded shout made Wade smile.

“I warned you, Baby Boy,” he hissed, leaning over Petey and speaking into his ear. “Brats don’t get to come.”

It had been close—too close. Spider-Man, in an act of true stupidity, had decided to disarm a man with his bare hands, rather than with his perfectly good web-shooters. He’d nearly been shot—Wade could still see the burn mark along his shoulder from the heat of the bullet.

And as soon as Wade had gotten past his pants-shitting terror, he’d been pissed. Then relieved. Then frustrated. Then—because why not?—horny. Holding Peter down on the bed and refusing to let him come was the first, and kindest, punishment that had occurred to him.

Brown eyes stared up at him as his spider processed what was happening. “Oh,” he breathed. “Um, tofu, real quick?”

Wade nodded, sitting back on his heels. “What’s up?”

“You’re not, like, mad-mad, right? Since this is a sexy punishment?”

“I’m a little mad-mad,” he admitted. “But mostly, I was scared. So now I’m gonna fuck you until you remember not to do stupid shit.”

Peter huffed a laugh and stretched out under him, tilting his head back. Showing his belly and exposing his throat, two things that never failed to get Wade’s blood running hot. “Okay,” he agreed. “That seems fair.”

Wade flashed a grin. Then, he crawled up to kiss him, slow and deep, a reminder of his affection before he allowed himself to be mean.

Once he'd settled back between Peter's legs and shoved them further apart, he made a show of spreading lube over two of his fingers.

Well, okay, he wasn’t going to be mean quite yet. Petey-pie was still super new to anal play, and Wade didn’t want to risk any crossed wires there. Not for a while, at least. But he was pretty sure Petey would be hella into it if he ever brought it up.

He pushed his fingers inside a bit quicker than he usually might, but given Peter’s breathy gasp, he wasn’t concerned. Wade allowed himself a few moments to enjoy what was happening. His boyfriend was spread out under him, letting Wade touch him—letting Wade punish him—all because Wade had suggested it.

With that bit of contentment warming his dead and fucked up heart, Wade ducked down and swallowed down Petey’s cock.

“Fuck!” Peter let out a startled squawk and started to sit up, only to remember himself and drop back down.

Wade chuckled and started bobbing his head in time with the thrusts of his fingers. He might not have been any good at sitting and waiting quietly, but if he had something to occupy his hands (and/or mouth), focus and patience came much easier. Right then, he was excelling at all of the above and drank in all of Peter’s movements, sounds, and half-finished thoughts. He was pretty sure Peter wouldn’t be able to keep this up for too much longer, when—

“Gah! Wade, wait, wait, stop! I’m getting too close.”

He pulled off Peter’s cock with the most obscene sound he could manage. He hadn’t expected Peter to be the one to put a halt on things like that.

Peter, for his part, looked at least half as surprised by himself as Wade was. He also looked mildly irritated at himself, and Wade had to bite back the urge to coo. But he was so damned proud of his Baby Boy! Not that Wade would have let him come if he hadn’t said anything, but Peter didn’t know that for sure.

This was supposed to be a punishment for reckless endangerment, but now Wade wanted to praise him and cuddle him. Which was counter-productive, at best.

Biting, Wade decided, made for a good compromise. Getting Petey’s soft, smooth skin between his teeth was always a win in his book. And Spidey’s sharp hiss at the sudden pain was the icing on the cake.

He followed up the first bite with another, and sooner than he liked, one of his thighs was covered in bites and bruises ranging from pale pink to angry blues and purples. And his spider was moaning and squirming through the whole thing. Occasionally he’d shift and start to close his legs against the assault, only to spread them even wider at Wade’s slightest nudge.

But Wade’s first bite to his other thigh must have surprised him, or hurt more than he’d expected, or something. Because Petey flinched, and his knee connected painfully with Wade’s rib.

“Shit. S-sorry,” he breathed.

Wade growled and held him down, digging his teeth into Spidey’s hip, and making sure he was grinding against the bone. He was 95% sure he heard Peter bite his own arm to muffle the sound of his cry. 

Emboldened, now Wade could let himself be mean. Gone were the reassuring kisses and soothing licks. Each bite was immediately followed by another. One, three, a dozen dark mouth shaped bruises littered Peter’s leg.

And judging by the way he was trying and failing to muffle his whines and moans, Peter loved every single one. He rolled his hips thoughtlessly, thrusting up against nothing. When Wade shoved himself between Peter’s legs, close enough to breathe hotly against his sack, Peter keened and shook.

“Please!” he sobbed.

“Please, what?” Wade asked, righting himself.

His eyes were wet and shining as he blinked up at Wade. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Did you think I was gonna nom your nuts?”

“No. I. Maybe!”

Wade hummed thoughtfully. “So was the problem that you were scared it would hurt? Or that you’d like it?” He started fondling him, idly massaging Peter’s balls.

Peter jerked, and a fat spurt of cum leaked down his shaft. He cringed and curled in on himself, and wow—Wade had never seen anyone ruin their own orgasm before. He was kind of impressed.

Except, for the first time that night, Wade saw real distress in his Baby Boy.

So he released Peter and moved slowly as he crawled up the bed and settled next to him, thumbing soothing circles against his shoulder. “Sweetie?”

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I didn’t mean to, I promise, I—”

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

But Peter wasn’t hearing him or at least wasn’t listening. He was shaking his head. “I fucked up. You told me what to do, and I fucked up. I failed and,” he gasped for air and curled up even tighter. “Please don’t be mad,” he whimpered.

“I’m not mad—”

“Please don’t leave me.”

Peter went silent, and for a moment Wade wasn’t sure if he was still breathing or not.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Wade promised quietly.

Eventually, “I know,” came Peter’s equally quiet reply.

“D’you wanna talk about it?”

Peter shook his head.

“Do you wanna cuddle?”

With a nod, Peter turned and let Wade pull him into his arms. He accepted the gentle touches and soft words of reassurance.

They stayed curled up like that for most of the night. They took turns dozing off here and there, but actual sleep eluded them both.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said as the first streaks of sunlight started invading their room. “I don’t mean to be such a fuckup.”

“Peter.” He flinched at Wade’s tone, and Wade did his best to soften it. “You’re not a fuckup.”

He shrugged and averted his gaze. “I upset you yesterday.”

“When you nearly got yourself shot, yeah, a little.”

“And then I came when you told me not to and—”

Wade reached up and pressed his fingertips against Peter’s lips. “Sweetheart, I need you to hear me, okay?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Wade frowned a little and debated trying to redirect that. The rest was more important.

“Peter,” he emphasized. “That was sex. Fun, kinky roleplaying, not… I am never going to be mad at you for something like that, okay? Ever.”

Peter pulled back and looked at Wade as though he were trying to make sure that he was telling the truth.

He should probably have shut up and just let Peter process, but he felt the need to explain himself. “Like, if we had kept going, I might have played like it. Been all stern and shit. But it would never have been real.”

“Oh. Um.” Peter swallowed. “I knew all that,” he said. “Or, I did, but in the moment it felt… Ugh, I don’t know. Now I just feel like an idiot.”

“I know the feeling.” Peter gave him a small smile at that. “You feel up to talking about it?”

“Do we have to?”

“Right this moment? No. At some point soon? Yeah, definitely.”

Peter groaned. “Coffee first?” He fixed Wade with unnecessary (but adorable) puppy eyes.

Wade made coffee, and once Peter had an oversized mug in his hands, he took a long drink.

Seemingly fortified, he took a deep breath and started, “I was scared yesterday, too.”

“Of me?”

“For you. He was aiming a gun at you, Wade.”

“Yeah. That’s a thing that happens to me once in a while.”

Peter let out a frustrated noise, “Do you have any idea what it’s like to see you get shot? It’s really, really, fucked up! And I know, you won’t actually die, so you apparently don’t care, but I care! And you were… You weren’t even trying to avoid it!”

“His aim was way off, Pete,” he started carefully. “I told you I would try to keep from getting hurt for no reason, and I am. He was never going to hit me.”

“It was pointed at your head!”

“How honest do you want me to be right now?”

At that question, Peter hesitated, looking confused. “In regards to what?”

“How I knew I wasn’t in any real danger. Because if you’d like me to tell you everything that was wrong with his stance, with the gun itself, with the poor judgment of going for a headshot at that distance to begin with… I can do that. I can layout the fucking ballistics of every shot he took in that warehouse.

“Or you can trust me that, when guns get involved, I know my shit. And that maybe, given that I’ve been handling pistols since I was five, my experience trumps yours.”

“Who gives a five-year-old a gun?” Peter asked, completely ignoring the rest of what Wade had said.

Wade snorted at Peter’s indignation. “Look, I know my parents were, like, objectively terrible humans. But it’s not like they handed it to me and just told me to go have fun. Gun safety was probably the closest I got to decent parenting.”

He didn’t look convinced, but Peter didn’t press. “Then, last night… You were being careful?”

“Yes. I mean, as careful as I can be and still beat up Bad Guys. Besides, you think I’m gonna let myself get shot and leave you to fight them on your own?”

“Of course not,” Peter sighed. “But I mean… It didn’t look like you were safe. And instinct said that I needed to interfere, or…”

“Or I was gonna get hurt.” Peter nodded. And, yeah, that made sense. Not that anyone liked seeing people they cared about getting hurt, but Peter’s personal baggage probably made the whole situation seem at least three times more dangerous than it was. “And then, later, leftover emotions got a bit misdirected?”

“A bit.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I was trying to set you up for success last night.”

Peter snorted. “Didn’t feel like it.”

“That was the point,” he grinned. “You were amazing, Baby Boy. I was so proud of you, you have no idea. Actually, I’m proud of you right now, too.”

“Really?”

“Of course!”

As they sipped their coffee, Wade made sure to explain in explicit detail every single thing Peter had done since punching out the would-be shooter that had made Wade proud of him. And, as he watched Peter squirm in a sort of pleased discomfort, the flurry of compliments and praise might work even better as a fun punishment game.