Holding Back - 20. Chapter 20

When Peter wakes up he’s alone on the mattress, though the spot next to him is still warm. He blinks blearily and looks around until he finds Wade seated on the floor a little ways off, polishing his sword. Literally, not euphemistically. Sunlight streams in through the windows.

Wade appears to notice his movement, looks up and smiles at Peter. He stands, sheathing his sword and carrying it to his weapons locker next to the mattress, and then comes to sit, legs crossed, on the floor next to Peter. He runs a hand over Peter’s hair.

‘How are you feeling?’

Peter shrugs his uninjured shoulder. ‘Better than can be expected, probably.’

Wade grins. ‘Good! Any pain? Want another painkiller?’

‘Couldn’t hurt, I guess,’ says Peter.

Wade reaches for the pill bottle and the glass of water on the floor and administers an oblong white pill to Peter, who swallows it gratefully. ‘You hungry? You have the excellent choice between cold tacos and cold chow mein. I’d make you pancakes, but . . .’ He gestures towards the closed kitchen door. ‘Like I’ve said. Total bio-hazard area. When you’re up to walking I’ll take you home and make you pancakes there.’

Peter smiles wryly. ‘Way you go on about your kitchen, I’m starting to wonder if it’s just a cover-up and that’s where you stash the bodies.’

Wade snorts and gestures dismissively. ‘Nah, man! I don’t stash bodies, I scatter them like decorations, leave them for people to find. More fun that—’ He cuts himself off, looking away, his grin abruptly gone. ‘Sorry. Bad joke.’

Peter can’t help but agree, but chooses to remain silent on the matter. Instead he shifts slightly on the mattress and suddenly notices how badly he needs to pee.

‘Help me up?’ he asks softly. ‘Kinda really need to go to the bathroom.’

Wade nods vigorously and stands up. ‘Sure thing, baby boy. Can’t have you pissing yourself.’ He helps Peter gently to his feet. ‘I mean, unless you’re into that. I’m kinda into that,’ he rambles, while Peter puts his arm around his neck and they begin walking towards the bathroom. ‘Haven’t done it in a long time, though. I mean, it’s not a huge kink, just a—’ Wade stops talking abruptly. ‘You know what? Never mind. My brain has reminded me that this isn’t something you’d wanna hear about, so forget I said anything.’

‘Um, sure,’ says Peter, feeling mildly bewildered. His mind is brought briefly back to the time Wade was shot in the head and lost control of his bladder. He finds himself wondering if Wade enjoyed that. Urine doesn’t bother him, per se, but it’s not exactly a turn-on either.

They reach the bathroom and Wade opens the door for him. ‘You okay from here? Need me to hold your dick for you?’ He grins again.

In spite of everything, Peter chuckles. ‘No, I’ll be okay.’

Peter’s legs feel like jelly, so he pulls down his boxers and sits on the toilet, not trusting himself to stand. Wade’s bathroom is surprisingly clean, if cold. He’s suddenly very aware that he’s only in his underwear, his nipples budding to hard pebbles against the chill. Through the closed door he can hear Wade moving around the living room, muttering to himself.

He sighs, resting his head in his hands. If he’s honest with himself, what Wade did still bothers him. That Wade would kill for him if the need arises has never been in question, of course—hell, Wade would probably kill for a chimichanga—but Peter had hoped that it would never come to that. Of course, he hadn’t counted on armed vigilantes coming after them, either. In Wade’s position, what would he have done? Would he have run before he would kill? Would he have found a way to dispatch the enemy without seriously hurting anyone? And in the end, does any of this really matter?

He thinks about Wade, about his muscular body and strong arms, about the way he fights and the way he fucks, and suddenly Peter’s pulse is racing and his body is responding to vivid images in his mind. Wade kissing him, holding him, sucking him off. Wade on his back under him, or on top of him. Wade’s hands, mouth, fingers, tongue. Wade, his Wade who would do anything for him, who would die for him if he could. Peter knows it to be true. If Wade could die, he would sacrifice himself in a heartbeat if it meant saving Peter’s life. And Peter knows he would do the same for him. He just doesn’t know if he could kill for him. When did Wade become this important to him? They haven’t even been together all that long, and yet . . .

Wade’s words echo in Peter’s brain. I couldn’t fucking live knowing that I let a light like yours go out of this world, and I would have to! Only the remains of Peter’s anger made him not fall apart when those words were spoken. He kept it together through sheer force of will. As much as Peter has loved and been loved before, he knows that he’s never been loved like that.

Peter manages to get off the toilet and wash his hands, before he opens the door. Wade is there almost at once, slipping an arm around his waist to support him, and Peter can’t help but smile.

‘So, how about it? You want some food?’ Wade asks.

Peter purses his lips. ‘I dunno. I don’t really feel all that hungry . . .’

Wade shakes his head. ‘You need to eat if you’re gonna heal, Petey-Pie. You don’t have my healing factor, remember?’

‘Yes, mom,’ says Peter, rolling his eyes. ‘Maybe just a taco, then.’

‘Of course!’ Wade helps him back down onto the mattress and goes to the fridge. ‘After you’ve eaten we should see about changing your bandage. You’ve, uh, started to bleed through.’

Peter looks down at his bandage and discovers a red stain in the gauze. ‘Huh. Didn’t even notice.’

‘Those painkillers are pretty awesome.’ Wade returns to the mattress and hands him a taco out of a paper bag.

Peter eats mostly in silence, and Wade prattles on, sometimes to Peter and sometimes to himself, while doing something on his laptop (‘Just web-stalking Ryan Reynolds, the movie’s coming soon,’ he says when asked). When they’re done, Wade gets to work replacing Peter’s bandages. He rubs his hands up with disinfectant and removes the blood-stained gauze with great care, examining the wounds.

‘Looks pretty good,’ he says. ‘Not that I actually know much about this sorta thing, but there’s no pus or nothing.’ He cleans around the wounds with a cotton ball soaked in disinfectant. It stings, and Peter bites his lip and shuts his eyes. ‘Sorry, gorgeous,’ says Wade softly. ‘Almost done. You’re doing great.’ One of the bullet holes has started to scab over, but the other is still bleeding freely, though not too badly.

Wade puts a gauze compress over the wounds and wraps up Peter’s shoulder in fresh bandages, taking great care to get it even. ‘There, all done,’ he says when the bandages are in place, kissing Peter on the top of his head. ‘You should get some more rest.’

‘I’m not sleepy,’ says Peter, pouting up at him. He slides sideways on the mattress and pulls the covers aside. ‘Get in with me again?’

Wade gives him a gentle smile. ‘I can do that.’

Peter manoeuvres himself so he’s supporting himself on his uninjured shoulder, cheek resting on Wade’s t-shirt clad pec. Wade puts his arms around him, sliding his fingers through Peter’s hair, and Peter shuts his eyes with a sigh. Wade is warm and his touch is gentle, and suddenly all Peter wants is more of that touch. He moves closer, slips his leg over Wade’s, cranes his neck to touch his lips to Wade’s neck. His hand snakes down the front of Wade’s t-shirt and slips underneath the hem to slide across the marred flesh of his abdomen. Wade makes a small noise of surprise as Peter scrapes his teeth gently across his skin, before slipping his fingers into the lining of Wade’s pants.

‘Not that I’m complaining or nothing,’ Wade says weakly, ‘but you sure you’re up for this?’

Peter tongues his earlobe. ‘Want you,’ he murmurs.

Wade lets out a shaky breath, the hand in Peter’s hair tightening it’s grip momentarily, and Peter can feel the larger man’s cock twitch against his thigh. ‘Okay, but then we do this my way. You’re injured, I don’t want you hurting yourself. Lie on your back, baby boy.’

Peter does as he’s told, and Wade sits up, pulling off his t-shirt and pants as he goes. Then he straddles Peter’s hips and leans down to kiss him, rough fingers caressing the skin of Peter’s neck. Peter kisses him back eagerly, wasting no time in pressing his tongue into Wade’s mouth, tasting him. There’s a lingering taste of jalapeños after the tacos. It makes Peter smile into the kiss, because some things with Wade are constant. Some things are always right.

Wade pinches one of Peter’s nipples between his fingers, and Peter grinds his pelvis up against him, his hardening dick pressing against Wade’s thigh through the fabric of their respective underwear. Wade moans into his mouth.

‘Fuck,’ he whispers, pulling back a bit. ‘Need you in me!’

Peter closes his eyes and lets out a shuddering breath, because that sounds like a really, really good idea. Wade gives him another deep kiss before he starts moving further down, lips and tongue making a trail down Peter’s smooth chest and stomach. He pulls down Peter’s boxers and all but swallows him whole, and Peter throws his head back in a loud groan.

He loses himself in the feel of Wade’s lips and tongue on him, the warmth of his mouth, and dimly manages to think that this has to be the best painkiller ever, because through the haze of pleasure he can barely even feel the ache of the bullet wounds, or the bruises from the fight.

Far too soon, Wade releases Peter’s dick from his mouth with a soft pop and nuzzles into his pubic hair for a moment before getting up. ‘I’ll be right back, precious,’ he promises. Peter watches him saunter to the bathroom. His ass looks amazing in bright blue satin boxer-briefs, and if Peter wasn’t feeling so weak he would get up, run after him and give it a good smack because, damn!

Wade doesn’t take long to return, carrying a bottle of lube of what one might refer to as respectable size. He takes off his blue boxers (he’s sporting a magnificent hard-on that Peter under different circumstances would long to taste) and straddles Peter’s hips again, coating his fingers in lube and getting to work prepping himself. Peter feels slightly jealous of Wade’s fingers, but watching him do it to himself is a fairly spectacular experience, and Peter gives his own dick a few strokes instead.

Wade is at the moaning and panting stage by the time he finally lowers himself onto Peter’s cock. He’s tight and warm and slippery, and Peter bites his lip and almost whimpers with the pleasure of it. Once he’s all the way inside, Wade begins to ride him, eyes half closed as he moves with slow deliberation. Peter thinks it might be the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

Wade gasps. ‘Shit, Pete, you feel so good! Oh, you’re perfect, baby boy, fuck!’

Peter reaches down and takes Wade’s dick in his hand, matching the speed with which Wade is riding him, and Wade moans loudly when Peter’s thumb slips over the head. He begins to move faster, and then he leans forward, finds Peter’s mouth and brings their lips together in a deep and passionate kiss.

Peter grips Wade by the hips and fucks up into him, hard, ignoring the aches in his body, and Wade grunts, a deep and primal sound, as Peter’s thrusts hit his prostate.

‘Wade!’ Peter manages to say. ‘Wade, I’m close, God . . . So close!’

Wade looks into Peter’s eyes, pupils blown. ‘Me too.’ Then he kisses Peter again, and the feel of his tongue against his own is enough to push Peter over the edge, and he comes with a gasp and a cry of ecstasy. Peter reaches for Wade’s dick and jerks him off. It only takes a few strokes for Wade to come as well, collapsing on top of him and only narrowly missing his injured shoulder with his forehead.

They lie there together for a few minutes, panting, before Wade gets off him and flops down on his back next to him.

‘Well,’ says Peter breathlessly after a moment, ‘that was . . . That was great. My God . . .’

‘Mm,’ Wade replies. ‘It really was.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘I wasn’t sure if . . . I mean, I didn’t know if you’d want to be with me after . . . After that. After what I did.’

Peter turns his head to look at him, and finds Wade’s brown eyes looking back, full of sincerity.

‘For what it’s worth,’ Wade continues, ‘I am sorry. I mean, I’m not, not in the way I should be, probably. But . . . I want to do better. For you.’

Peter sighs and turns his eyes towards the cracked ceiling, chewing his lip. ‘I won’t pretend that it doesn’t still bother me,’ he says softly. ‘But I’ve been . . . I’ve been a real dick to you in the past, over things you’ve done, even when your intentions were good. You’ve saved my life so many times, and I’ve treated you like crap in return, when I should have been grateful. I should understand that sometimes you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. I need to learn to understand that.’

Wade turns over on his side and grabs his hand, squeezing it tight between both his own. ‘No, you don’t. Peter, look at me.’ Peter does. Wade’s expression is intense. ‘You are incredible. I mean it, I can hardly believe that someone like you exists, let alone that you’d be interested in me. The fact that we’re even friends, the fact that you want to be with me, I can’t even wrap my head around all that. And yeah, you give me a hard time, but you’re teaching me to be better. I want to be better. The fact that you’ll tell me what you’re thinking, that you won’t let feelings or sex or whatever get in the way of telling me when I’ve been an asshole, and then forgive me for it, that’s exactly what I love about you, and I never, ever want you to change. Ever.’

Licking his lips, Peter blinks a couple of times. Part of his brain got caught on a word towards the end, and it takes him a while to catch the rest of it. He feels simultaneously moved and like the biggest jerk ever, because all he ever does is try to change Wade. And then his mind moves back to that word and he has to swallow a couple of times before he can speak.

‘You love me?’ he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Wade blinks. ‘What? I . . . I said that? Did I say that? Oh. Um.’ He clears his throat. ‘Apparently I did say that. Um. Yeah.’ He nods slowly. ‘Yeah, I guess I do.’

Without a word, Peter rolls over on his side and captures Wade’s lips with his own. He blinks back tears, kissing him like he’s never kissed him before, hoping that this kiss can convey everything he’s feeling, because he’s sure he could never adequately put it into words. That he loves him, that he’s sorry, that he doesn’t want to change anything about Wade that Wade doesn’t want to change about himself.

When they finally break apart, they’re both panting again. Peter places a single, chaste kiss on Wade’s lips and whispers, ‘I love you, too.’