Holding Back - 17. Chapter 17

‘. . . we have Trever Tate, the journalist who wrote the controversial piece in the Daily Bugle last week linking Spider-Man with the mutant mercenary Deadpool. Welcome, Trever!’

Wade’s gonna be so pissed when he hears he was referred to as a mutant, Peter thinks. He watches as a handsome man with strikingly blue eyes shakes hands with the host. He’s pretty sure he’s seen him at the Bugle’s offices at some point or another.

‘Glad to be here, Kate,’ the man says, flashing a bright smile.

‘There have been a lot of reactions to your article, some bad, some good.’

‘Haha, well that’s how it always is.’

Peter sighs and picks up the remote. He should just change the channel. Nothing good ever comes from watching press about himself.

‘What most people fail to understand is that Deadpool is a dangerous and wildly unstable individual. He’s responsible for death and destruction on a scale beyond what most super villains accomplish.’

‘And yet the X-Men, Avengers and SHIELD all just let him walk around.’

‘That’s exactly what’s so odd, yes. Why has no one tried to stop him? Personally, I believe all of these organisations to be corrupt.’

Kate turns to the camera. ‘But the people Spider-Man and Deadpool have helped tell a different story.’

The picture changes, to a middle aged security guard on crutches. ‘Those bank robbers would have gotten away with a lot of cash if those boys hadn’t showed up, and who knows what they would have done to me. I owe them my life.’

A young, blonde man’s face fills the screen. ‘The store where I worked was held up. Deadpool just strode in, cool as anything, and distracted the guys emptying the register while Spidey took out the one holding the customers hostage. Deadpool got them to take their guns off me so I could get out of the way. He took like a whole clip to the chest and was still standing, it was [bleep]-ing sick, man!’ He grins.

The picture changes again, this time to a dark-haired woman with her face blurred out. ‘Deadpool and Spider-Man saved me from a gang-rape. If it weren’t for them . . . I owe them everything. They’re making our streets safer.’

Back to Kate and Trever sitting in their comfy chairs. ‘It sure sounds like they’ve been doing some good in the world. Is it possible that Deadpool’s changed his ways?’

‘Look, even a broken clock shows the right time twice a day, you know? Thing is, even bad people can do good things, and even good people can do bad things. I’m not questioning Spider-Man’s intentions, but he keeps odd company, and I have to wonder about how this partnership came about. And psychotic murderers don’t just change their ways over night, Kate. It’s just a matter of time before he starts killing again. And that’s the problem, with mutants in general and most masked vigilantes. Here we have these superhumans with incredible strength and power, and can we really trust them with that power? I worry for the safety of American families, and so should you.’

Kate turns to the camera again and smiles, showing perfect white teeth. ‘Well, I’m afraid that’s all we have time for today. Tune in tomorrow for—’

Peter turns the TV off just as the doorbell buzzes. Wade’s supposed to come over so they can eat together before patrolling. He grins and goes to buzz him in and unlock the door. A minute later, there’s a knock on the door to his apartment. Wade doesn’t usually knock, he tends to just walk right in. Peter opens the door, and stares.

Mary Jane Watson gives him a small smile. ‘Hi, Peter. Is . . . Is this a bad time?’

Peter swallows. He wants to tell her that any time is a bad time, but this is the first time he’s seen her in over six months, and his voice doesn’t seem to work like it’s supposed to. He wordlessly takes a step back, and she walks inside.

She stands in the middle of his living room, facing him. She looks the same, her red hair perhaps a little longer. She’s dressed for fall in New York City, in knee high black boots and a checkered miniskirt over brown tights.

‘You look good,’ she says at last. ‘How have you been?’

Peter clears his throat. He’s wearing frayed jeans and a purple hoodie, and is pretty sure he doesn’t look especially good at all. ‘Fine,’ he says.

‘Yeah, you’re always fine.’ She takes off her gloves. ‘How’s school?’

‘What are you doing here?’ Peter asks, ignoring her question.

She blinks. ‘I just . . . I wanted to see how you were doing.’

‘And an e-mail or a text were out of the question?’

Mary Jane runs her fingers through her long hair and sighs. ‘You can ignore an e-mail or a text,’ she mumbles. ‘Look, I just, I’m sorry about the way we left things, okay? I was rash, and I’m sure you’re angry, it’s just . . . It was like you never got over Gwen, like I was still living in her shadow, and I . . . But that’s not why I came here. To throw blame around. I came because . . . Peter, I still—’

He holds up a hand to silence her. He doesn’t want to hear the end of that sentence. ‘I’m not angry,’ he says quietly, and is surprised to find that he’s telling the truth. ‘I’m past that. I spent a lot of time being angry and sad and all of that, but I’ve moved on.’ He gives her a significant look, one he hopes exudes finality.

‘You . . . You’ve moved on,’ she repeats. ‘Is there . . . Have you found someone new?’

‘Yes,’ says Peter, without hesitating.

‘Oh.’

Just then, the door to the apartment flies open and Wade strides inside. ‘Hey, Petey-Pie! Your neighbour let me in downstairs. How’s—’ He stops, head cocked to one side, looking at Mary Jane. ‘Who’s this?’

‘Wade, this is Mary Jane. Mary Jane, this is Wade.’

Wade puts down the bag he’s carrying. It gives off a clatter of metal and wood and plastic. No doubt it contains his Deadpool suit and weapons. He reaches out a scarred hand towards Mary Jane and smiles warmly. ‘Good to meet you!’

She takes a step back, taking in his marred face and athletic build, eyes wide. She does not take his hand, and Wade’s grin falters.

‘Mary Jane is my ex,’ says Peter. ‘Wade is my boyfriend.’

Wade looks at him in astonishment. ‘I am?’

To illustrate his point, Peter grabs Wade’s hand and entwines their fingers. ‘So you see, MJ, I really have moved on.’

He would feel sorry for her. The hurt expression on her face makes his stomach do painful things, because he really never wanted to hurt her. But then he sees the horror in her eyes when she looks at Wade, and his pity vanishes like vapour. Wade’s had enough people look at him like that in his life. Still, he keeps his voice soft and as kind as he can when next he speaks.

‘I think maybe you should go.’

She snaps out of her thoughts, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment, and nods. ‘Uh, yeah. I probably should. I’ll . . . See you around, maybe.’

‘Yeah. Take care.’

She pulls her gloves back on, walks over to the door, opens it and is gone. Wade whistles.

‘Well, that was awkward,’ he says. ‘She’s hot, though. We could have asked her to stay.’ He flashes Peter a wicked grin, and Peter smiles in spite of himself.

‘That chapter of my life is over,’ he says, walking over to the bag of groceries he left on the kitchen counter. ‘Believe me.’

Wade crosses his arms and regards Peter with a quizzical expression. ‘So . . . Boyfriend?’

Peter blushes. It felt like the thing to say at the time, but now it occurs to him that maybe Wade would have liked to have a say in how they define their relationship. He starts taking groceries out of the bag, ingredients for chilli. ‘Yeah, I . . . If you want to be . . . I mean, I don’t need any labels, we can just go on like we are, which is all kinds of awesome. What I mean is we don’t have to be boyfriends if that’s not, if you’re not comfortable with—’

A pair of strong arms encircle his waist from behind, and Wade pulls him tight to his chest, his lips brushing the back of Peter’s neck. ‘I’ve never had a boyfriend before,’ he murmurs. ‘I haven’t been anyone’s boyfriend in a really, really long time. But if you want me . . . I’d love to be yours.’

Peter turns around, finds his lips and kisses him fiercely. ‘Of course I want you!’

Wade laughs softly. ‘No “of course” about it, baby boy. But I’m glad . . . Boyfriend.’

* * *

After dinner they end up in bed, as has pretty much been their routine for the past week or so. It makes Peter happier than he can properly express that Wade no longer flinches when Peter tries to remove his clothing. He now seems almost entirely unperturbed by revealing his body. When Peter touches him, runs his fingers over his marred skin, Wade closes his eyes with a soft sigh, his chest rising and falling, lips open. And when he has Peter naked before him he gives him this look of admiration and astonishment, like he still can’t quite believe it, and murmurs, ‘Beautiful. So beautiful.’

Wade crouches between Peter’s legs, lifts his ass off the mattress with his hands and takes the length of him into his mouth. Peter throws back his head with a hiss, tries not to thrust up into Wade’s mouth, but it’s hard. Very hard. He tries to breathe normally, but then Wade does something with his tongue that makes him whimper and squirm, and Wade chuckles around his dick.

Peter grabs his shoulder and gasps, ‘Stop! Wait . . .’

Wade lets go at once and looks up at him with concern in his eyes. ‘You okay, Petey?’

Peter nods and relaxes his grip on Wade’s shoulder. ‘Yeah, I’m . . . I’m fine. I just . . . Didn’t wanna cum yet.’

Wade smiles. ‘That’s what this is about?’ He takes him into his hand, slowly stroking. ‘So you do have a kink.’

‘Huh?’

‘Orgasm denial.’

Peter feels his face flush. ‘It’s not really that . . . I just . . . I don’t want it to end.’

Wade cocks a non-existent eyebrow. ‘We’ve got at least three hours before we need to go on patrol, baby boy. Nothing’s gonna end. No, this is about you and that thing you’ve got about holding back. So come clean, sweet cheeks. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.’

Peter licks his lips and looks away. ‘Well . . . I guess when I hold back, it feels even better when I let go. You know?’

Wade nods. ‘Yeah. I know exactly.’

‘Wade?’ Peter locks eyes with his lover—his boyfriend—again. ‘Will you . . . Will you top tonight?’

Wade blinks his brown eyes. ‘I . . . You sure?’

Peter nods. ‘Yes. I’m . . . I’m sure. Please?’

‘Well,’ says Wade, in barely more than a whisper. ‘When you ask so nicely, how can I say no?’

He scoots to the edge of the bed and takes the lube from the nightstand. Then he kisses Peter deeply and thoroughly. Peter can taste himself on that kiss, and that’s more of a turn-on than he ever thought it would be. Then Wade kisses and licks his way down Peter’s torso. He gives his dick a teasing lick before squirting some lube onto his fingers.

This is clearly something that Wade has done before, and he is extremely skilled at it. ‘That’s it, baby boy, just relax . . . You’re doing great. Breathe. I’ll make it so good for you, I promise!’

And then he’s inside Peter, filling him, and Peter can do nothing but gasp and groan because it feels that good, like heat spreading through his body, and they’re still for a moment. Peter waits, and Wade lowers his body so they’re flush together and kisses him before he begins to move.

‘Oh, Petey . . . Your ass is magnificent! So fucking tight, God . . .’ He pulls almost all the way out and rolls his hips, thrusting back in.

Without thinking, Peter all but whines, ‘Fuck!’ He’s clinging desperately to Wade, the feeling simultaneously too much and not enough.

Wade laughs softly in his ear. ‘You should cuss more, Pete. It’s sexy as fuck. I love it.’ He presses his lips to the sensitive skin just behind his earlobe. ‘You’re so hot, Peter, so tight and beautiful, shit . . . How’d I ever get this lucky?’ He kisses every part of Peter’s face he can reach, his cheek, his forehead, his nose, his eyelids.

It’s easier to relax now, but the warmth of it, the way Wade fills him up still makes him tremble, and with every thrust he squeezes Wade’s arm or waist, or grasps at the sheets, his breath coming in ragged gasps because how is it possible to feel this much at once?

‘Wanna cum yet?’ Wade murmurs.

Peter shakes his head. ‘You . . . You first.’

‘That’s boring. Same time?’

Peter laughs in spite of himself. ‘Think you can pull that off?’

‘Baby, I’m so close I could shoot any second. Do you have any idea how hot you look right now?’

‘Probably . . . Probably about as hot as you look when I’m fucking you?’ Peter gasps.

Wade makes a purring noise deep in his throat. ‘There you go cussing and being so sexy again, Petey . . . How’s a fella meant to hold back?’

He makes a particularly hard motion with his hips, and Peter moans loudly because that thrust was perfectly angled. Wade reaches down between them and grabs Peter’s cock, stroking it slowly at first and then picking up speed. He locks his gaze to Peter’s and Peter decides that he’s not giving in, not looking away and not coming first.

Peter grits his teeth, tries to fight the feeling building in his lower abdomen and threatening to take over, to make him lose control. He clenches his muscles, trying to fight it. Apparently, this makes his ass tighten around Wade as well, because his lover groans and swears loudly. It’s almost like they’re up on the roof of Wade’s apartment building again, sparring, trading blows. It’s a competition, and one of them is going to lose.

Peter lost that time, and he realises as Wade rubs his thumb over the head of his dick that he’s going to lose again. He only tries to fight it for a moment longer. Then he throws his head back and lets go, his breath catching in his throat as he finds his release. To his surprise, Wade seems to let go at the exact same moment, and they ride it out together.

After, they clean themselves off with tissues, and Peter lies down with his head on Wade’s chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat. Wade runs long, strong fingers through Peter’s hair and kisses the top of his head softly.

‘If you wanna sleep for a bit I can wake you when it’s time to patrol,’ he tells him softly.

‘Mm, I am kind of tired,’ Peter admits. He hesitates for a moment, considering his words. Then he says, ‘That journalist, Trever Tate, he was on TV today. He was interviewed about his article about us.’

‘Really?’ Wade sounds disinterested, but Peter can feel the muscles of the arm he’s resting on tightening ever so slightly. ‘What did he say?’

Peter shrugs one shoulder. ‘Just a bunch of crap. They called you a mutant, of course. And then he talked about how bad people don’t just turn good or something like that. He wasn’t very convincing. But they’d talked to a few other people, too. The security guard from the bank last week, a clerk from a convenience store we saved, an almost rape victim, dark haired girl, remember her? And they all said they owed us, that they might be dead if it weren’t for us. It was . . . nice.’ He raises his head and looks at Wade. ‘We’re making a difference. We really are. We’re saving people. You’re saving people, Wade, and they’re grateful to you for it.’ He smiles. ‘I just thought you should know that.’

He gives Wade a soft kiss before resting his head on his chest again, and then, confident that Wade will wake him when it’s time to go out, Peter allows himself to drift off to sleep.