Give It To Me

BY : DictionaryWrites
Category: Marvel Verse Comics > Deadpool
Dragon prints: 77
Disclaimer: The wonderful world of the Marvel Universe belongs to Marvel Comics & to Disney, respectively. I profit not at all from writing fanfics in this fun world!

Peter is working when the window is carefully cranked up – not with a crowbar, like a normal person breaking into a building, but with a katana. Brow furrowing, Peter wonders when he started thinking there were normal people that broke into buildings.

“Hey there, baby boy!” Wade says as he swings himself into Peter's bedroom, and Peter considers exactly what he's about to do as he finishes up the article in front of him. He presses the ENTER key and then swivels in his chair, watching Wade as he (oh-so-politely) closes the window behind him and puts his katana aside.

“Good day?” Peter asks, and he makes his way forwards in a sliding, slow fashion, and Wade grins at him, having removed his mask. The rest won't come off, of course, until they're under the covers – Wade isn't so fond of having his skin on show, for the most part.

“Aw, yeah, got me some snow cones, and some hot dogs, and I-”

Daddy.” Peter says, in a blunt and drawn out tone; Wade drops his bag on the floor, staring at Peter with his eyes sort of wide and his mouth wide open.

Hngh.” Wade says in return, and Peter puts his hands forwards, thinking of Wade's thing about calling him “baby boy”, thinking about how Wade loves how he's older than Peter and bigger than him, runs ideas of power and dynamics and Wade's knees are quaking.

“My day was pretty good.” Peter says lightly, and God, God, God, he hadn't been hot for this a few seconds ago, had been intending on just doing it to push Wade Wilson's buttons, but now a flush of heat thrills through him. “Daddy. But I think it'd be better if I had a cherry on the cake.”

“Kinda cherry?” Wade asks, and Peter thinks he might actually be drooling, which is on the gross side of Wade as opposed to the hot one.

“Mine?” Something clicks in Wade's face, and then he has Peter back on the bed and Peter's clothes are being ripped as they're thrown aside: Wade bites at his skin, at his neck and his chest and then at his nipples and oh, God, oh, God-

This is one of the best ideas Peter's ever had.

Wade drags his mouth down Peter's chest and over his belly, and then he licks a stripe up Peter's cock as he shoves lubed fingers forwards; unecessary, of course.

“You prepped yourself already?”

“Had to be ready for my daddy, knew you'd take care of your- agh, God, do that again- baby boy-Wade-fuck-me-” The words come out a garbled mess as Wade sucks really hard at the base of Peter's dick, and then he's fucking forwards, and Wade's dick is in him again and oh, Peter loves this, loves it.

He feels hotter than he usually does, like he's blushing all over, his cock is hard and twitching and electric with feeling, and he wants more.

“Petey, Petey, God, you're hot, so perfect, my baby boy-” Wade hisses out, and his hips thrust again and again – if Peter wasn't cut through with powers from a gene-spliced super-spider, he'd really be feeling those movements. “Mine, mine, mine, my baby boy, my baby boy-”

Daddy.” Peter returns, and the word feels heavy on his tongue, heavy in a way that's really good, really good, really perfect. Wade's cock is thick and slick in him, and Peter can't help but squirm when Wade's hand closes around his cock.

“Gonna come for me?” Wade asks. “Yeah, course he is, he always comes for me-” The second part isn't directed at him, but Peter is too focused on the hand around his prick to take offence. “Gonna come on my dick, baby boy, gonna come on your daddy's banana?”

“Are you really calling it a fucking banana right now? Wade, this is why I don't usually let you to-o-oh-”

“What's that, Petey?”

“How the fuck do you twist your hips like tha- Daddy!”

“That's right.”

Peter is gasping, and he doesn't know where to put his hands, can't really breathe when Wade's mouth is on his neck and his hand is around Peter's cock, and his cock is moving fast and Jesus, Jesus, that twisty-hip thing should be illegal.

Peter comes way sooner than he'd intended to, and Wade is filthy: “That's it, all white on your belly, pretty boy, gonna clean you up, gonna pull you in the shower and take you on my dick again, Petey, gonna have you so many times tonight you're going to cry for Daddy to give your poor little ass a break-”

Peter falls back, heaves in breaths as he looks up at Wade. “Yeah.” He says, and he nods. “Yeah, want it, want you to make me cry, Daddy, let me have it, God, let me have it-” Wade looks like he might cry.

Peter knew this'd get him hot, but he might have underestimated the extent.

Wade comes, comes and falls forwards, on top of Peter, and he rolls his eyes at the sudden weight on top of him, at Wade's face mashed into his neck.

“Is the marathon sex off?” He asks teasingly after a second.

“Don't you sass me, son.” Wade says in some sort of terrible Southern accent, and Peter can't help but wonder if there are any accents he can do.

“But, Daddy,” Peter says, electing to let the accent thing drop. “What if I wanted a spanking?” Wade looks up at him. He's drooling again. Gross.

“You are the dirtiest spider I know, Petey.” Wade says: Peter smiles at him, and wipes his face with a pillow.“I love it.” 



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