Holding Back - 18. Chapter 18

Told you Peter was kinky.

Orgasm delay is hardly a kink.

I’m sure there’s more where that came from. It’s always the cute, innocent looking ones, you know?

Wade rolls his eyes. One day his brain is going to stop arguing with itself, but today is not that day, it seems. When he looks down at Peter’s sleeping form he can almost block out the noise, though. Almost.

At least we know our dick is bigger than his.

What? No it isn’t! We’re almost exactly the same size!

Almost exactly the same length. We have more girth.

‘Shut up!’ Wade groans quietly, and Peter stirs next to him.

Oh, well done, Wilson. You woke him up.

Peter’s hazel eyes open a crack and look up at Wade in the semi-darkness. ‘Hey,’ he murmurs, and lifts the hand resting on Wade’s chest, bringing it up to gently caress his cheek. ‘You okay?’

Wade smiles. ‘I’m always okay. How are you feeling?’

‘Sore,’ Peter admits with a grin. His fingers wander up to Wade’s temple. ‘Busy up there, huh?’

Wade pulls Peter tighter to him, because it somehow means a lot that Peter can tell. He sighs into Peter’s messy hair. ‘When is it ever not? Busy, busy. You quiet it some, though.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’ Wade lets out another breath, closing his eyes for a moment and breathing in the scent of Peter’s hair. ‘Man, I don’t get it . . . I’m fucked up, Petey. I mean severely fucked up, like I shouldn’t even be functioning. Hell, half the time I don’t, not really. I’ve done so many fucked up things, my body is a mess, my brain is . . . Let’s not even talk about my brain. I don’t get why someone like you would want to be with someone like me. Why, when you could have someone like whatserface with the red hair and legs up to her tits?’

Peter presses a soft kiss to Wade’s cheek. ‘Because I don’t want her. I don’t want anyone other than you.’ Wade tries to pretend those words don’t put butterflies in his stomach and utterly fails. Peter sighs. ‘Besides, MJ and I . . . It was never quite right. From the start it . . .’ He trails off and bites his lip. ‘Do you even want to hear about this?’

Wade shrugs one shoulder. ‘Can’t say I’m not curious. Only if you wanna talk about it, though.’

Peter nods. ‘Okay. So, freshman year I started dating this girl, Gwen. She was . . .’ He pauses, and seems to consider his words carefully. ‘She was the prettiest girl I’d ever met, and the kindest. You know, she was just one of those genuinely good people.’

Like our Peter.

Bless him.

‘Yeah, I know the type,’ Wade murmurs fondly, pressing his lips to Peter’s temple.

‘She died,’ Peter says softly. His voice isn’t sad, exactly. More like melancholy, but accepting. ‘I couldn’t save her and she died. And while I was grieving her, MJ comforted me. And then comforting became flirting. She still had a boyfriend, even . . . That whole thing happened too fast, man. And that soured everything. About six months ago, she dumped me. She said it’s because she felt like she was still living in Gwen’s shadow, like I never got over her. Truth is, I never gave myself time to, and neither did she. I guess when someone you love dies like that, you never truly get over them, not the way you do when you break up or drift apart . . .’

‘Of course not.’ Wade runs his fingers through Peter’s hair. ‘And you’re not supposed to. She’ll always have a place in your heart. That’s just the way of things.’ He kisses the top of Peter’s head and smoothes back his hair. Cuddling is something he can definitely get used to.

‘You’re really insightful sometimes.’

‘I know, I surprise myself, too. What can I say? I’m smarter than I look. Not as smart as you, obviously, Dr. Genius McSmartypants.’

Peter laughs and shifts so he can reach Wade’s lips with his own. His tongue is like velvet, lips so soft, and he tastes so sweet, even through his I-just-woke-up-breath. ‘We should probably get out there soon,’ he whispers against Wade’s mouth. ‘Let’s go grab a shower.’

Wade smiles. ‘Hey, you know me. I’m always up for a shower.’

* * *

Patrolling is so much more fun when you’re freshly fucked and giddy. They break up a few fights, stop a couple of muggings, and Wade even gets to threaten a couple of bad guys with his guns. It’s a good night, and Wade knows he’s staring at Peter’s ass a little more than usual, but it’s only because all he can think about is how much he wants to go back to Peter’s bed for an encore of the evening’s earlier activities when they’re done. All in a day’s work when you’re working with (and fucking) Spider-Man.

It’s two in the morning and they’re about to do just that when a cry for help reaches them. They follow it to an alley (and isn’t it always an alley?), and a young man comes running out just as they reach the mouth of it.

‘Hey!’ Peter yells after him as he rushes down the street. ‘What—’

Wade puts a hand on his shoulder. ‘Uh, I don’t think he was the bad guy.’ He points.

In the dim light of a neon sign he can make out at least ten people, maybe more. They’re all dressed in black, and from what Wade can tell they’re all armed.

Ooh, a real fight!

‘And here I was so ready to go home, have a cup of tea and go to bed,’ says Peter with an exasperated sigh.

‘We’ll do that after,’ says Wade, drawing both his swords. ‘This looks like fun.’

One of the men in the alley pulls his gun just as Wade takes a step forward. Peter leaps out of the way, clinging to the wall of the alley. Wade takes a bullet to the chest.

‘Hey!’ he shouts indignantly. ‘You shot me! I should shoot you right back for that!’

‘Deadpool!’ Peter calls, an edge of warning in his tone.

Wade rolls his eyes. ‘Fine.’ He walks forward, into three oncoming bullets. ‘I guess I’ll just stick to hack and slash.’ And the fight is under way.

Now that they’re moving, Wade can count thirteen. They’re all wearing ski-masks, and their black attire appears identical, like a uniform. The get-up makes them look vaguely ninja-esque, but they haven’t got the moves of ninja. Several of them are big, though, and strong looking, and they all have guns, but in the close quarters of the alley they seem reluctant to fire them in case they hit their comrades. Wade and Peter don’t have that problem.

Peter is dodging, somersaulting, clinging to walls and thwipping webs at the baddies to trip them up or try to disarm them. Wade tries to avoid mortally wounding anyone, hitting them with the back edges and flats of his blades where he can.

If we’re gonna keep not killing, we should get backwards blades, like Kenshin.

Man, that was such a great anime . . . The live action movie left something to be desired, though.

Yeah, but the actors were hot!

‘Mutie bastards!’ Wade hears one of the bad guys shout. ‘Get Spider-Man!’

‘Oh, no you don’t!’ Wade hits the man who spoke in the throat with the grip of his sword and he staggers backwards, gasping for breath.

A gunshot rings out, echoing between the brick buildings, and Wade feels a stabbing pain in his back. Two more shots follow.

‘Keep Deadpool busy!’ another man shouts.

Wade turns around to find three guys coming at him with guns blazing. Behind them, he can see Peter jumping up onto a fire escape, shooting a web at someone’s gun and removing it from play.

‘You think the three of you can keep me busy?’ Wade taunts. ‘You won’t last ten fucking seconds!’

He knocks the closest off his feet by swinging the flat of his blade low. The other two fire six rounds into his chest before he manages to disarm one and knock the other back with an elbow to the ribs. A fourth guy comes at him with a long knife, but Wade has swords. In the split-second he has to think, he considers just slicing off the hand that holds the knife, but decides against it. Peter wouldn’t like it. Instead he presses the back of his blade to the man’s throat and grabs his arm, twisting it and effectively disarming him. A swift kick in the ribs sends him flying.

Another shot echoes through the night. It takes Wade half a second to realise that this one wasn’t aimed at him. It takes another half second to register the cry of pain that follows it. There’s a second shot, and it dawns on him, too slow, like his brain is coated in honey and the world is too fast.

Peter’s hit. They got Peter.

With a furious roar, Wade rushes through the throng like a running back, tackling the bad guys out of the way, until he reaches the back of the alley, a dead end, and sees Peter on the ground, bleeding profusely from his shoulder.

Is he breathing?

Is he alive?

Wade stares down at Peter’s prone form. He could be sleeping, like he was five hours ago when he was lying in Wade’s arms. The horrible thought hits him that Peter may never sleep in his arms again, may never kiss him or laugh at his bad jokes, never look at him like the scars aren’t even there, ever again, and Wade wants to cry. He wants to drop to his knees, check his pulse, make sure he lives, but there are nine men behind him still standing, and he doesn’t think they’re gonna stop coming. He turns around.

‘That,’ he growls, ‘was a really stupid thing to do!’ He points one of his blades at the nearest of them, one of the guys Peter already managed to disarm. The tip stops an inch from his throat. ‘I’m gonna give you fucks one chance to lay down your weapons and surrender.’

‘What are you guys waiting for? Shoot him!’ the man with Wade’s sword at his throat shouts frantically.

‘Wrong answer!’ says Wade darkly. He leaps forward and thrusts the tip of the blade straight through the man’s throat. It comes out the back of his neck covered in blood. Through the holes in his ski mask, Wade can see the man’s eyes popping. He pulls the blade back, and the man crumples to the ground with a gurgling noise and is still.

Now everything happens at once. The dead man’s comrades raise their guns, those who have them, and those who don’t come rushing at Wade with knives, fists, whatever they’ve got. Wade drops the sword in his left hand and draws his sidearm, intermittently firing at the ones furthest away while slashing at the ones nearest.

The next few minutes are a blur. Wade moves methodically, cool as ice while under the surface wildfire burns. He doesn’t try to spare them this time. Behind him lies Peter, bleeding and perhaps already dead, and these are the fucks that hurt him. They will pay with their lives. He ignores their screams, their cries of pain. He ignores the voices in his head telling him that Peter would not want this. He ignores everything else as he ends them, each and every one.

When it’s over he’s standing in a pile of corpses, covered in blood, the stench of death and viscera filling his nostrils. At this moment, it’s familiar, almost comforting. This at least is something he knows. Then reality washes in over him, like a wave of nausea. He sheathes his weapons and staggers back to where Peter is lying. Still. Too still. Wade takes off his glove and sticks two fingers, shaking with adrenaline, under Peter’s mask. He can feel a weak pulse at his throat. He’s still alive, but barely. He has to get him out of here, now.

Wade is about to lift Peter’s prone body when he hears a noise at the mouth of the alley. Without thinking he draws his gun again and points it. ‘Out where I can see you!’

It’s the young man from earlier. His eyes are wide and he holds his hands in the air.

A victim?

No. A victim would have called the cops, or at the very least run away. This guy? Bait.

‘Come closer,’ Wade commands. He cocks the hammer on his gun. ‘Now!’

The kid does as he’s told. He’s Peter’s age, probably a little younger. He looks terrified. He stops a few feet away, the blood on the ground staining his white sneakers red.

‘This was a trap,’ says Wade. ‘I’ve figured that out already. You’re with these guys. Some of them may still be alive. I don’t rightly give a fuck. Whether you survive this is entirely dependent on you answering my questions. Understood?’

The boy nods.

‘Good. Was this a trap for us specifically or were you hoping for any old superhero?’

‘It-it was for y-you,’ the young man stutters.

‘Who are you people? Who do you represent?’

‘Th-the Anti-Mutant Defence L-league.’

‘And how would I go about finding the folks in charge of your little gang?’

The kid shakes his head, mouth opening and closing comically. ‘I-I don’t know, I swear! I’m new, totally junior!’

He’s lying!

No, he’s telling the truth. Look at his face, his body language. Kid’s shitting himself. He couldn’t lie right now if his life depended on it.

Wade takes his gun off the kid and holsters it. ‘Fine. I believe you.’ He stands up and picks Peter up in a fireman’s lift. ‘When you talk to your contacts, you tell them they’ve made a huge fucking mistake. You tell them that Deadpool will find them, and end them. Nobody comes after Spider-Man on my watch. Nobody. Got it?’

The kid nods frantically.

Wade pulls up Peter’s sleeve and detaches his web-shooter. He straps it to his own wrist and uses it to hoist them up onto a fire escape. He climbs to the roof with Peter over his shoulders, and then sets about parkouring his way north across the city’s rooftops, towards the Bronx.