Holding Back - 6. Chapter 6

Wade groans and rubs the back of his skull. Getting shot in the head isn’t nearly as much fun when a bad guy does it. For one, the shot that went in through his forehead just above his left eye and straight out the other side didn’t knock him out. It just scrambled his brains and made him feel queasy and disoriented. His brain is already regenerating, but his control of his limbs is less than optimal and, oh yeah, he seems to have lost control of his bladder for a moment too, and isn’t that just great?

’Shit, shit, shit!’ Wade all but whimpers, clenching his muscles to shut off the flow as quickly as he’s able.

I thought we liked pissing ourselves.

Yeah, but this isn’t really the best time, is it?

He shakes his head, turning his focus to where Spider-Man’s fighting bad guy of the day. Or, bad girl, as it happens. She’s fast and talented, he’ll give her that, fighting with a pistol and hand-to-hand, but she’s not fast enough for Spidey, who yoinks the gun from her hand with a well aimed sling of web and has her pinned to the ground a few seconds later.

Wade staggers to his feet just as Spider-Man lands a particularly vicious punch to her gut, knocking the breath out of her and leaving him free to web her up before she can regain her momentum.

Wade looks down at her and clicks his tongue. ‘You know, time was I would have made a comment about your boobs right about now,’ he says casually, ‘but you know what? You just don’t deserve my admiration.’

Spider-Man stands up, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. ‘She put up a good fight, though, I’ll give her that. You okay, Deadpool?’

Wade makes a fist experimentally. ‘Yeah, fine. Headshots can incapacitate me for a while, but I always come back. I’m like herpes.’

‘In more ways than one, I’m sure,’ Spider-Man quips. ‘Well, I don’t think there’s much need to stick around. Cops will be here to collect her soon.’

‘Aye aye,’ says Wade and they set off.

‘Hop on my back, it’ll be quicker,’ says Spider-Man as they turn a corner.

Yay! Spideyback ride!

Wade touches the area around his crotch gingerly. It’s just a little bit damp, but it’s enough to make him grimace and say, ‘Yeah, you probably won’t want that. A bullet to the brainpan can have a whole bunch of unfortunate side-effects. Temporary blindness, nausea, loss of muscle control . . .’

‘I thought you were already healed?’

‘Yeah, pretty much, but loss of muscle control can lead to . . . accidents.’ He didn’t think he’d feel embarrassed saying it out loud, but now he finds he does. Pissing yourself is a hard thing to admit to when you’re a grown-ass man.

Spider-Man just looks at him for a moment. Then his gaze seems to travel down to where Wade’s suit is stained a slightly darker red. ‘Oh!’ he says as it dawns on him. ‘Um . . . Yeah, I can see how that . . . Hm.’ He falls silent for a few moments.

. . . And we grossed him out. Just as we were getting to be such good pals.

‘It’s okay,’ Spider-Man says suddenly.

‘I . . . What?’ Wade stares at him in amazement.

Spider-Man shrugs. ‘Hey, urine’s sterile. It is just urine, right?’

Wade nods.

‘Well, then. Hop on. I can clean my suit if need be. Not like I haven’t gotten worse stains on it before.’

Wade does as he’s told. ‘I less-than-three you so hard right now,’ he says, and Spider-Man laughs before shooting a string of web towards a nearby high-rise, and then they’re off, swinging through the streets of New York City.

Man, this is so giving us a boner!

Don’t tell Spidey. He won’t like that.

It does feel kind of good, being pressed up to Spider-Man’s back like this. Wade’s got his legs wrapped around his waist and is holding onto his shoulders, and leaping between the tall buildings like this is a total rush, leaving him breathless. Every time Spidey lets go of a strand of web to shoot another, Wade feels weightless. As Spider-Man makes a particularly long leap, Wade whoops happily.

They land on a roof with a view of Central Park, and Wade climbs off, laughing. Then he feels suddenly self-conscious again, though, and starts tugging at his utility belt, pulling it downwards, as if it will cover the stain.

‘You okay?’ Spider-Man asks him, head cocked to one side.

Wade nods. ‘Yeah. Fine.’ A pause. ‘Sorry.’

Spider-Man shrugs. ‘Not your fault. Blame the woman who shot you in the head.’ He rubs the back of his neck and looks away. ‘I guess it never really occurred to me . . . You know, what your body actually goes through every time you get injured. I keep putting you in the line of fire, and I’ve never even thought . . .’ He turns his eyes back on Wade. ‘It actually hurts, doesn’t it?’

Wade shifts uncomfortably. ‘I guess. I mean, my healing factor doesn’t make me impervious to pain, you know? But it’s okay. I’m pretty used to it, I don’t mind much. Some pain can be kind of sexy. Other kinds, not so much. Like growing back your intestines after being gored? Massively unpleasant. There tends to be puking blood involved. Aaaand I’m totally grossing you out, aren’t I? I’m sorry.’

‘No, don’t be!’ says Peter quickly. ‘I’m the one who should apologise. I’ve been letting you take bullets and all sorts, and never thought about the fact that being able to heal doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. I’m sorry.’

He cares! Spider-Man actually gives a shit about us!

Of course he cares. He cares about everyone. He’s a hero. That’s what heroes do.

But no one cares about us. No one’s cared in a long time . . .

Wade smiles and shakes his head slightly. ‘You really are one of the good guys, aren’t you? Either that or I’m hallucinating again, which to be fair is a definite possibility.’

Spider-Man chuckles. ‘You’re not hallucinating, Wade. At least I don’t think you are. Seriously, though, I’m gonna try harder not to put you in harm’s way unnecessarily, okay? I’ll think of better strategies that don’t rely on your healing factor so much.’

‘You don’t have to do that. I’m fine.’

‘Well, I want to. God knows you’ve experienced enough pain for fifteen lifetimes already.’

Fuck, he’s so noble. Like, who does he think he’s kidding? Nobody’s that fucking nice!

But he’s being nice to us! Isn’t that amazing?

‘I’m gonna hug ya now, Spidey,’ says Wade.

‘Okay,’ Spider-Man replies, and Wade puts his arms around him and pulls him into a tight embrace.

‘Would you be uncomfortable if I squeeze your ass?’ Wade murmurs into Spider-Man’s shoulder.

‘Yup.’

‘Even if it’s just a teeny, tiny squish?’

‘Definitely.’

‘Okay. I respect your boundaries.’

Spider-Man gives a snort of laughter. ‘You do? That’s new.’

‘What can I say? For you, baby boy, I’m willing to turn over a new leaf.’

‘That mean you’ll let go any time soon?’

Wade hugs him a little tighter. ‘No.’

‘. . . I’m not gonna punch you again, Wade.’

With a frustrated sigh, Wade lets go of Spider-Man and pouts at him through his mask. ‘Party pooper.’ He scratches his cheek absently. ‘I guess I should get home and clean the suit . . . Same time tomorrow?’

‘Sure,’ says Spider-Man. ‘See you then.’

* * *

After rinsing it as best he can, Wade drapes his suit over a radiator to dry. Without putting on anything else, he settles into his nest of pillows and blankets, covering himself in warm softness. He doesn’t sleep every night. He doesn’t need to as his healing factor increases his stamina and halts fatigue, and his brain is in a constant state of repeated regeneration anyway, but tonight he’s tired. Which of course means that, try as he might, he simply cannot fall asleep.

Spiderman was nice to us! He was concerned about our wellbeing!

We’ve been over this. Hero, remember? It means nothing.

It has to mean something.

All it means is that he doesn’t consider us to be a bad guy.

See? Improvement! Besides, he wasn’t just nice, he was totally cool about the piss thing.

‘Shut up!’ Wade growls, covering his ears, which of course does no good at all.

We should play with that some more . . . On our own, obviously. The pissing thing. Holding it in is haaaaaard, though.

Wade groans and throws himself onto his back, staring up at the dark ceiling.

Ooh, idea! We could super-glue our dick shut! That would hold it!

That’s a terrible idea. How would we get it open again? Sharp pointy objects near dick equals not fun.

I thought we liked pain.

Sure, but not cutting-our-own-dick-off pain!

‘Seriously,’ Wade mutters, ‘it’s like my issues have issues. Would you shut up so I can sleep, or do I have to shoot myself in the head again? Cause one bullet to the brain in a night is really one too many, but I will make it two if it means I can get some fucking rest!’

That’s a little extreme, isn’t it?

We don’t like it when we blow our brains out . . . It’s like we disappear, and what if we don’t come back?

‘What a fucking loss . . .’ Wade grumbles. Then he sighs, too exhausted to go through with his threat. ‘Look, I just wanna sleep, okay? And preferably have sweet, wet dreams of one certain superhuman arachnid. That too much to ask?’

Mm, dreams of Spider-Man . . .

He’s got a pretty mouth. And soft, soft skin.

Wonder if his dick is bigger or smaller than ours?

Wonder what we could do to that dick . . . Or what it could do to us.

Wade whimpers involuntarily and feels his own cock twitch slightly. He lets his hand slide down to his crotch.

Who would top? Would we fuck his tight hole? Or do we want him to fuck us?

Never bottomed before, but if it was Spider-Man . . . Oh, we totally would.

It’s easy to imagine. Lips, tongue, hands. Bodies pressed together, with their suits as a protective layer covering Wade’s sores and scars. But then, this is a fantasy, so maybe Wade doesn’t have sores or scars? He pictures Spider-Man’s hands on his skin, miraculously smooth and clear again. Now they’re just two people, sharing touch. Lips pressed together, hearts hammering against one another, bodies entwined. Then Spider-Man whispers, ‘You’re so good, Wade. You’re doing so well. Come for me!’ and Wade does, jerking up into his own hand.

He should clean up, he knows that, but the aftermath of his orgasm leaves him blissfully exhausted. Ignoring the boxes, ignoring everything, he lets his eyes fall shut and drifts off to sleep. In a few hours he will wake up cold and sticky and in serious need of a shower, at which point he’ll probably get off again, just cause showers are a good place to do that, but for now wonderful, dreamless sleep awaits him. Tomorrow can wait until tomorrow.