Chapter Text
80.
The hot water in the bathtub was so warm. Deadpool's arm around his waist felt so familiar; that closeness made the boy bend forward towards him.
Wade.
The ever-present cinnamon-scented shower gel. Peter could breathe in all the scents his subconscious had long since memorized—the male hormones, a hint of blood, and the seemingly indelible smell of gunfire.
Peter wrapped his arms around Deadpool's neck, the texture of his skin so familiar. His palms brushed against every scar that sent shivers down his spine—those indelible marks that unmistakably identified the person before him as 'Wade'.
Climbing up like a tree from below, Peter showered Deadpool with passionate kisses, haphazard and chaotic, his heart pounding against the deeper, heavier, and more imposing roar of the man opposite him.
A tall, heavy, muscular body—Wade's body—projected above Peter, its shadow completely enveloping him. A kiss, brimming with hormones and a composed pressure, as if afraid Spider-Man might escape, as if Spider-Man could even run away. Deadpool held Peter firmly with his two strong, muscular arms, an unshakeable restraint.
It felt like their first kiss, yet they had clearly kissed in every kind of passionate, rough, tender, vanilla, and all sorts of other ways. How could this possibly be their first kiss?
"Welcome...welcome, welcome, welcome..."
Peter remembered how his virginity had vanished. When Wade finally decided to use the missionary position to get Peter to speak, he had even prepared scented candles, large candles, and a blanket of crimson Carola roses covering the clean bed, as if they were in some romantic love story, adorning the boy in the most beautiful and elaborate wedding dress—pristine white lace, embroidery, patterns, pleats, a perfectly fitted waist, a fishtail silhouette outlining his buttocks, and a delicate white veil with lace details about to be unveiled.
Wade lifted Peter's delicate white veil, hooking a wreath of pink blush and Juliet roses onto the boy's fluffy brown hair.
—Wel, welcome, Wade.
The mercenary ripped open the boy's skirt the instant Peter spoke and pushed him all the way down on the bed. The boy involuntarily cowered, closing his eyes tightly, whimpering and gasping for breath, feeling stretched to his limit, his stomach throbbing, as if he could feel the shape of the other man inside him. The boy's legs, spread wide, wanted to close, but even the slightest movement was too painful to move, so he could only continue to use his hands to pry open his knees.
It was a hot, burning sensation, being stretched open and stimulated against his prostate, yet half of it was a groan of unbearable pain. Even though Peter had been trained for a long time, and Wade had used his fingers to dilate him countless times before penetration, using expensive and patient lubrication, the boy could only breathe softly, trembling as if afraid of breaking him. He wasn't sure what Wade planned to do next—perhaps give him more time to adjust, or perhaps start thrusting directly into him. He could feel the other man touching his groin, felt Wade finally completely invading him.
The boy hoped it wouldn't be too fast, because… it was just too big; he wouldn't be able to handle it.
And remembering how the man had demanded he express his feelings, he squinted, timidly murmuring, "Gently… please, Wade."
The boy was then kissed until his eyes opened wider, moistening at the corners. Wade's kisses traversed his forehead, temples, corners of his eyes, cheeks, and lips.
"Let me look into your eyes, Petey. You'll understand I'll give you time to adjust, baby boy, just let me see your beautiful, innocent doe eyes, like a unicorn."
It wasn't a particularly deep, domineering voice, but a similar huskiness, tinged with a swallowed, almost choked tone. If Peter had the ability to discern emotions, he would understand it was called repression.
Peter obediently opened his eyes, and as Wade kissed the corner of his lips, he tilted his head slightly, responding by kissing the mercenary pressing down on him—the one who both frightened him and, even more so, pleaded with him.
"..."
"Spidey...?"
Peter jolted awake, seeing Deadpool's face before him. The mercenary was pecking at the boy, gently, carefully, almost sexually arousing.
Steam filled the air, and the bathwater was cooling.
Wade had never called Peter by his Spider-Man nickname in bed, ever since he'd taken Peter by his real name.
"I've been calling you that for ages, baby boy. Where did your pretty little pony go? But I have to say, that kiss was absolutely sizzling. A little surprise in my life, so sweet, except maybe a hint of my semen... uh, weird, like giving myself oral sex. Would 'You have my taste' be a better description? Damn, I should have said that sooner."
As if on an emotional rollercoaster, Peter stared blankly at Wa... oh, Deadpool.
The boy smirked: "So you've tasted your own dick before, why am I not surprised? Although I don't remember you being that flexible. Ugh, okay, I got it. Don't describe the scene to me, I don't want to know which part of your body separated from your body."
"As expected of my clever Spider-Man, red velvet, vanilla, chocolate in my life." (*Cake By the Ocean)
"You're talking like an American cliché now. You know you don't need to keep quoting Cake By the Ocean, right? I know you have more than that, now come and show me more."
Peter climbed on top of him, wrapping his legs around the boy, feeling the boy's penis pressing against his lower abdomen.
The boy stuck out his tongue and licked Deadpool's muscular, broad shoulder.
"You should be rolling with me*, don't waste time, let me taste your cream-pie*, I'm so sleepy, Deadpool." (*Cake By the Ocean)
"First, call me Wade."
"Then maybe it's time for you to go to bed, like all the pretty little ponies who lie obediently in the beautiful garden after the sun goes down. I'd love to give you the whipped cream on my beach cake*, but I also noticed—Yeap—I'm about to quote a lyric, and that's why I quoted the previous line." (*Cake By the Ocean)
Deadpool touches Peter with concern.
"Boy, why are those feet cold?"
81.
Due to Deadpool's touch on a sensitive area, Peter opens his sleepy eyes and follows the other's gaze, seeing the boy's penis, which the boy doesn't even realize is no longer so hard.
Uhm.
"Don't call me Spidery, Spider-Head, or any Spider-Man-related nicknames when we're in bed."
Peter turned his face away.
"Any other name you like."
"Really? Like sweetie, sugar-honey, baby boy, wonderful to the unparalleled miracle of life, the best most exciting sweet butt ever, Always can't wait to see how you could use your net on...?"
"Oh my god, shut up." Peter felt himself laugh, then unconsciously yawned.
Today, finishing patrol, he felt especially tired yet relaxed. Was it because of the hot bath? Usually, he'd just take a quick, intense shower, bounce onto the bed, and then toss and turn, unable to sleep. That is, until he started raising Boi. After cuddling Boi, he could finally fall asleep, feeling the tiny breaths and heartbeat of the other creature.
Peter yawned and complained, "I'm really sleepy, Deadpool, can't you just—"
"Then sleep, baby boy."
It was a deep, deep voice, rumbling from a solid chest.
The boy trembled, tilting his head back: "W-why...?"
"I said sleep, dear baby boy. Bad boy, why do I have to say it a second time?"
That word, for a split second, Peter reacted as if he'd been slapped hard. He pressed his lips tightly together, his hands, which had slid down to Deadpool's broad shoulders, clenched into fists, his toes twitched nervously, and his whole stomach tensed.
"...Ooh."
Deadpool, however, seemed to finally understand the magic of that word, scanning the boy's expression and carefully observing every reaction of the boy in his arms.
"What about 'bad'...?"
"--No! It's just..." Peter was tense, his whole body stiff, butterflies fluttering in his stomach, his chest tight: "No, don't do that...you're messing around, so no, please, try, you can't just do that...!"
"Bad boy."
The boy was instantly struck, his whole body tense, anxious, uncomfortable, and on the verge of tears.
He lay on top of the other, feeling small and timid against the other's strong, heavy frame, staring blankly into the mercenary's blue eyes, his entire being conveying utter bewilderment and confusion. His slightly parted lips couldn't utter 'Why,' only revealing his vulnerable Adam's apple, as if waiting for the other's next command.
Deadpool touched Peter's face, his scarred fingers rubbing against the lower half of the handsome face peeking out from behind the mask.
The boy couldn't decipher Deadpool's expression anymore, and it terrified him, terribly, as if he had returned to the time when he couldn't yet label every expression on Wade's face.
Peter began to tremble.
But he couldn't speak.
Until Deadpool pressed him against his chest. Tightly, tightly, as if the other truly wanted it. The mercenary's arms firmly encircled Peter's waist, hips, shoulders, and head, his strong arms pressing the boy into his embrace, stable and solid, a massive fortress precisely enveloping him. The water in the bathtub seemed to return to its scalding temperature, embracing him along with Deadpool. Hot, scalding, heavy, muffled…
“Sleep. My lovely, handsome Spidey…the perfect, perfect boy, baby boy. Sleep—now, right now, immediately, be my good boy, little boy…give me what I want.”
Peter trembled, biting his lip hard, but finally managed to make a sound.
Though so soft it was almost imperceptible, he did speak, obediently hoping for more praise: “Ye…yes, Wade.”
Peter would obey.
Because he was a good boy.
Always.
A good boy exclusively for Wade.
“Good boy, that’s right…shh, shh, Wadey will take care of you, relax, relax…sleep now, that’s right, good boy, my best baby boy…”
82.
Deadpool carried the boy to bed.
He hadn’t expected Spider-Man to be so unguarded. Did the other man remember his mask was still half-open? When he picked him up, God, Spidey was so light, soft, and small compared to himself. He loved it.
He dried Spidey with a My Little Pony children's towel. Uh, there was nothing he could do; the store only sold the children's version. He'd already written countless complaint letters to those companies about it.
Throughout the entire process, Spidey didn't move an inch, as if he were truly asleep. In the arms of that damn mercenary, in the arms of that damn Deadpool who had repeatedly shown obvious unease, he slept so soundly and peacefully, calmly and relaxed—so relaxed that it almost made Deadpool's manhood throb again. He recalled how hot and passionate the blowjob Spidey had just given him.
God, that was fucking hot! Even now, thinking about it made his penis twitch. It was so wonderful and incomparable that Deadpool wanted to moan. He really would, if he weren't afraid of waking the soft, sweet baby boy in his arms.
He'd never imagined Spidey possessed such exquisite skills. He'd always thought Spidey was some shy little twinkle, a boy with a stunningly sexy body who was oblivious to it. Only 19? Were all millennials this good? The internet was a real bad influence on kids.
It wasn't that Deadpool didn't like it.
He was damn madly in love. That hot, so incredibly hot boy, the contrast that made him rock hard, the forceful way he made Deadpool 'shut up'—oh... fucking amazing, it was like a dream. He'd never imagined Spidey could be so proactive.
The other was always so silent, seemingly only tolerating his "offenses."
Or perhaps "offenses" wouldn't be the right word, because later on it was practically direct harassment, a complete invasion of his private bubble.
God knows how nervous the mercenary was when Deadpool tried to hug a boy from behind for the first time in his life. He could only keep opening his mouth and babbling terrible jokes (yes, he knew they were terrible, but he just couldn't stop), constantly afraid that Spidey would push him away, throw him off, or even throw him off the roof and smash him into a pile of Deadpool pancakes, and then condescendingly sign words like 'Fucking fraggot,' 'You sick,' and 'You disgusting me.'
Of course, his Spidey wasn't some cruel little brat; his Spidey was a living, breathing angel. But the little dramas in his head were always a bit exaggerated, especially since he was a genuine psychopath who constantly saw his own imagined halos, rainbows, and little flowers around Spidey.
Then the boy did nothing.
No, none, totally. Even when Deadpool tentatively rested his chin on the boy's shoulder, tightening his embrace even more firmly, possessively enveloping him with his massive frame, the spandex-clad hero didn't slap Deadpool or anything.
His boy simply tensed up, slightly shrinking back, and started playing with his toes, which he thought Deadpool hadn't noticed.
A mixture of hesitation and fear, or perhaps tension and apprehension, intensified Deadpool's tension and fear, making him tremble with dread, as if a screenwriter had flipped through the script and decided: "Okay, that's enough, now let's chop this guy's head off."
However, that entire night, as they stood on the rooftop of the building, the autumn wind blowing, vigilantly watching for any crime that might need to be addressed in the lights below, there was no anxious waiting for the second shoe to fall… because the boy didn't push him away.
Never, not even when Deadpool, taking advantage of the situation, stole a kiss on the boy's cheek while eating chimichangas.
Spidey remained quiet, silent, and tense, but he didn't push away the mercenary who should have been a mind reader. Never, ever, he even obediently chewed on the chimichangas that the mercenary had only tentatively offered him.
Then came bite after bite, and another. Each time Deadpool held the burrito to the boy's lips, the boy would open his rosy lips and silently take a juicy bite.
Ah, Raoh.
They shared the food, almost like lovers in the throes of passion, prompting Deadpool to kiss Spidey several times afterward. His little hero with the pert bottom, the beautiful, web-swaying boy, never refused him, only remaining awkwardly tense throughout.
Deadpool was ecstatic, almost ready to bungee jump off the roof.
But he remembered the boy's secret identity and didn't push him too hard. So, he said goodbye happily but reluctantly, and upon returning home, the mercenary went straight for his body lotion and unicorn plushie, obsessively thinking about the boy's scent in bed.
Until the next day, he discovered that Spidey had reverted to his old attitude towards him.
Uneasy, hesitant, tense, as if afraid of every approach from the mercenary.
To be honest, it was a little hurtful, but only slightly. After all, not many other heroes had ever given Deadpool a friendly look; Spidey was practically too kind in comparison.
And when Deadpool tentatively sneaked in again—because he was shameless—and slowly pulled the boy into his arms from behind, his Spidey didn't resist.
He just opened his mouth, tense, hesitant, and timid, but closed it again after a few seconds, silently biting into a chocolate chip cookie and pushing the small transparent bag next to him, indicating that the mercenary could have some too.
And so the habit continued. He or Spidey would bring late-night snacks, and he would, like the boy's most sordid and unspeakable secret, pull his awkward little boy in from behind.
Tightly, very tightly, he would press Spidey's supple, soft little body against the boy's, so different from the burly, strong mercenary, and sniff him from behind the nape of his neck, making sure the boy was still only covered in his own scent, absorbing the boy's natural, faint vanilla chocolate sweetness.
Then, carefully, making sure he looked like a guilty and remorseful hairless mole, he discreetly lifted the lower half of his mask, placing a mark of ownership on the boy's nape.
It was a little perverse, Deadpool knew it.
But he couldn't stop. No one stopped him. His Spidey… his little boy always accepted it, albeit with a hesitant expression.
The boy would tremble, Deadpool remembered it all quite clearly. But after each tremble, the boy would still push his little bag towards Deadpool, sharing the cookies he'd brought that day.
Usually chocolate, sometimes plums, cream, or cinnamon, and in winter, gingerbread—cookies that warmed your whole chest.
God, the other person was fucking perfect!
What kind of angel could ignore Deadpool's perpetually masked face (even when he's eating), and all the ridiculous rumors about Deadpool's twisted and pathological nature, allowing the infamous Deadpool to team up with him for nighttime patrols, even letting that deformed Deadpool kiss him with his mouth?
Only Spidey could.
Ignoring warnings from the entire Avengers, the Fantastic Four, and even the Defenders—all those renowned heroes—he remained silent, but never once banished Deadpool from his side.
Believe me, the mercenary knows exactly what his mouth looks like. Even Hawkeye once pulled out his hearing aids to stop hearing Deadpool, shaking his fingers like a jerk to indicate he couldn't hear anymore.
Yet Spidey would occasionally respond, nodding or shaking his head, offering insightful opinions with a few sign words.
That was damn spot-on, damn it, damn it—so damn witty and humorous!
When it first happened, Deadpool couldn't believe it. For three days, he'd thought he was just harassing the other guy with his incessant barking, like a stinky dog that wouldn't stop barking, covered in mange and reeking of rotten feces. His clean, pure, beautiful, sweet, and young hero was only putting up with him out of politeness.
But it turned out the other guy had actually been listening the whole time. The topic Spider-Man used to tease him was some story Deadpool's haphazard joke from the first day.
Deadpool was ecstatic.
It was only after that day that he truly started showing up around Spidey. Even though she was so silent, Spidey was one of the few heroes who genuinely cared about Deadpool!
Deadpool fucking loved him, his Spidey, his pure and beautiful baby boy, with such a noble and pure heart.
So, heaven knows how surprised, astonished, bewildered, and ecstatic Deadpool was when Spidey kissed him, yet he stood there dumbfounded like a fool, his heart pounding wildly.
It wasn't just a hug, a cheek kiss, or sharing food while appreciating the tranquility of New York; it was a fucking kiss.
A kiss is different.
Of course, the boy's passionate and skillful kissing technique was unexpected, but Deadpool should have known that a sweet little boy like Spidey, even without ever seeing his real face, could be imagined from the smooth, delicate skin of the lower half of his face, his rosy cheeks, his red lips, and his cute little nose. Deadpool could easily imagine how popular the boy must be at school, because he was a fucking fantasy darling; the lower half of his face alone was enough to conjure up images of Empress Sissi (the most beautiful woman in ancient Europe).
And Spidey didn't seem to care about his face at all.
The boy reached out and touched him, gently yet firmly, without any disgust as one might expect from someone suddenly seeing something dirty. He was genuinely unconcerned. Then the boy looked at his face, and Deadpool was absolutely certain the other was staring, because Spidey's mask, like his, could always adjust to different eye shapes.
The boy gazed at Deadpool's face and kissed him.
The best day, ever!
At least that's what Deadpool thought, until today.
Today is the best day, ever!
Honestly, the mercenary almost had to check his calendar to see if he'd forgotten his birthday, or if that damn God had finally decided to grant him some of the precious things he'd always dreamed of.
...but the mercenary also had to find out one day which bastard had taught his little angel how to use a dangerous weapon like a handgun.
It wasn't that the mercenary didn't want the boy to learn; after all, their lives were so dangerous, and it was always good for Spidey to acquire more skills. A man certainly didn't want his baby boy to end up like that. He was unhappy that some other bastard was teaching Spidey, because everyone knew Deadpool was the most dangerous and best in the industry. And since he was absolutely certain that his Spidey had practically never even touched a gun before, it was clear someone had taken advantage of the situation and stolen his teaching rights, even though he and Spidey were BFEO* (born for each other).
Deadpool would make them pay.
Well, given that the other person might be a close friend or relative of Spidey, a light price.
83.
Spidey was having a nightmare.
Clearly haunted by the nightmare, he trembled on Deadpool's bed.
The mercenary had dressed the boy in his own pajamas, a very nice pink kitten robe that looked quite oversized on him.
Now the back of the robe was almost soaked with sweat, and Deadpool hesitated whether to wake his little boy. Yes, the mercenary wasn't asleep yet, because how could he miss every adorable little snore of Spidey in his sleep? He absolutely had to etch this day into his memory archive forever.
"Spidey...?"
Seeing the other's breathing become increasingly labored, Deadpool, propped up on his side, couldn't resist touching his little hero and gently shaking him.
"Baby boy, wake up, baby boy?"
"!"
The upper half of the other's mask revealed two large, white eyes that snapped open. His chest was still heaving, but he quickly aimed in Deadpool's direction.
Then he clung tightly, very tightly, like climbing a tree or driftwood in water.
"I'm sorry—I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Wade, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry… Please forgive me, please forgive me, please… I, I just can't, all of that, I, I just can't anymore… I—"
"Shh… Calm down, Spidey, I don't think you did anything to me. Now, come here, you pretty boy, sweet cheeks, come into my arms and be good…"
Deadpool scooped the boy up like a big spoon, stroking his trembling body beneath his little hero Kitten pajamas.
"Sweetie, baby boy, take a deep breath now... good. And whatever it is, I forgive you, OKey? There's nothing Daddypool can't forgive, as long as you're still swinging that perky butt around the city instead of killing and burning, uhm? But if you ever actually do kill or burn, I might blow myself up first to check if... um, on a side note."
"Anyway, calm down, okay? Whatever you were dreaming about, it wasn't real. Want me to spin you a little top? (*Inception). While I'm glad I had the honor of appearing in your dream, if it's a nightmare that gives you this kind of reaction, I'd rather not have it, understand, baby boy?"
Spidey stayed in his arms for a while.
"Hmm..."
The boy made a small sound, as if still slightly dazed.
"Wade."
Deadpool was delighted that his boy had called him by his real name, and happily replied, "Yeah?"
The boy nuzzled against him, almost playfully, so soft and beautiful, so different from his appearance in the bathroom, that Deadpool was so focused on admiring and remembering him that he almost missed the slightest sound the boy made.
Then, as he listened and processed it, the whole world seemed to flutter with millions of butterflies, making Deadpool so excited he was practically dying inside. He screamed like a girl in love, hugging the spoon-shaped boy even tighter, passionately kissing his face, whether it was covered by a mask or not.
"Same here, Spidey, same here! Oh my god oh my god oh my god, Wonderful to the unparalleled miracle of life, The best most exciting sweet but never!"
Deadpool babbled incoherently with all sorts of affectionate nicknames, smearing all his passionate saliva on the boy's face.
"I love you too, baby boy!"
(This was written with great passion, so please share your thoughts! <33 For example, which parts were heartbreaking, and which parts were sweet?
This chapter also includes Deadpool's POV. Do you have any new thoughts about their relationship now? <333)
annnnd
This is a story I translated from Mandarin into English myself.
In fact, I’ve already written 500,000 Chinese characters in the Mandarin version of the novel. So, the update speed here is nowhere near how fast I update in Mandarin.
If you understand Mandarin or don't mind using translation tools, feel free to visit my profile to check out more of my work, as there are still many stories I haven't had time to translate yet.
Also, please note that I don't have a Beta reader. Thank you so much for your patience and understanding!