Work Text:
"I-" Peter mutes the TV. His eyes widen in disbelief as he stares dead ahead at the results that will affect thousands of other Americans. "The Cheeto Man won..." He mutters. His mouth is inexplicably dry.
His boyfriend, incredible and lovely, steps out of the kitchen still in his morning wear of nothing but boxers, a syrup-stained tank-top, and his mask. He snatches the TV remote out of Peter's hand and instead replaces it with a melted turkey and cheese sandwich. The crust has been cut off. The usual loving feeling almost cuts through Peter's shock.
Wade presses the power button and discards the remote on the couch-side table. It falls, and Wade only shrugs before going back for his own sandwich. "Want me to pew pew?"
Peter sighs and picks up his sandwich. "Don't joke about that." He mutters. The non-righteous side of him is itching to give Wade the go-ahead.
"Baby, we both know I'm not joking." He walks back to the couch, his own plated sandwich in his hands.
"Just sit down and let me cry on your shoulder."
Wade obliges. His knees and arms knock against Peter's own as he cuddles up to the man. "I'm prime for cryin' time."
Peter snorts; he can't find it in himself to truly laugh. He looks down at his sandwich. He barely squishes it between his hands before he drops it back to the plate. His appetite is completely gone. There's a bottomless pit that's replaced his stomach, and it feels like a black hole that's going to suck the rest of him inside. His throat has formed a maze of knots, and he's almost choking on every one. He discards the plate on the coffee table and leans back into Wade.
The mercenary isn't eating either; he hasn't even pulled up his mask. He doesn't hesitate to discard his own lunch before he wraps his arm around Peter. "Baby boy..." Peter's head falls on his shoulder. "Talk to me." Wade's voice is hushed as if Peter's a scared animal; it's more soothing than it has any right to be.
"I'm out of T-shots." The brunette replies. His hands fidget in his lap.
"We can get you more." Wade assures, his hand grabbing Peter's own.
"Yeah, but for how long?" Tears prick at the edge of the hero's wide eyes. He squeezes Wade's hand. "It took me forever to get them, Wade, to be myself..."
"I can get you enough to last a thousand years, if you want, bug."
Peter sniffles and then shakes his head. "I was so close to finally having enough for bottom surgery."
"And you're gonna get it." Wade says it like he has never been more sure of anything in his life: "Okay? No matter what some fugly ass orange says." He pulls Peter into his lap, letting the other man collapse against his firm chest. "You're so handsome, baby boy. So fucking handsome and perfect, and too damn good for this stupid world. You're too good for me. You're too good for this. You're too good... You know that?" No response. "If anyone does—If anyone says—If anyone fucking thinks some bullshit, you know I'll kill them for you." Even more deafening silence. "I would do anything for you, baby bug." Peter let's out a heavy sigh. "Can I kiss you?"
"...Please." The word is muffled against Wade's pec.
Peter listens as Wade rolls up his mask to his nose before there's a hand cupping the base of his neck. A thumb encourages Peter's head to tilt up. Lips meet lips in a quiet and passionate understanding. It's gentle and soft. Salty tears get caught up in the motion. Wade's hands slip under his shirt and rub the smooth expanse of his back. Scarred fingers caress over Peter's back muscles and bony spine.
"Can I suck you off? Please? Please?" Wade asks between kisses.
"Yes..." Peter breathes out. His boyfriend's lips are slowly trailing down his jawline and right to the column of his throat. Peter blinks, and he's already been maneuvered onto his back. Wade encourages Peter to lean his head back, and when he does, the other man licks and bites at the constellation of hickies he left last night. A low moan navigates through the knots in his throat and leaves Peter's lips.
"Shirt on or off?" Wade asks, stopping the gentle nibbles on Peter's collarbone. The brunette shakes his head with a huff.
Wade returns back to kissing up his jawline before giving languid kisses to his lips, and then right back to softly biting at the pretty bruises. He leaves Peter breathless with his tongue every time.
Finally, the merc slowly slips down and settles between his thighs. He rolls Peter's long-sleeved shirt up to just below his sternum. His mouth is much more gentle as he licks over his abdomen. Wade kisses just below his breastbone before he's dragging his nose down to his bellybutton. He teases over Peter's precious navel with his tongue. The other lets out a heavy breath. Finally, after ghosting hot air over his sensitive button, Wade dips his tongue in. He swirls it over the nub as skilled fingers tease over the rest of the umbilical region. Peter immediately arches his back, his stomach pressing firm against Wade's chin. He softly sucks at the nub as his hands get to work on untying the cotton drawstring bow on Peter's space-themed pajama pants.
First comes down the cut-off Big Dipper constellation, ruffling up the simplified replication of Jupiter on the thigh. The rest of space follows until it's the last moon trying to fruitlessly cling to Peter's ankle. The pants are thrown over the top of the couch.
Wade finally moves on from Peter's sensitive navel, giving it one last lick, before he's giving kisses below it and down to just above his boxer briefs waistband. Gentle kisses are given in rows as he peels off the black 100% organic cotton. Peter's cock lays bare and significantly wet from the navel play.
"Ain't no orange rat ever taking this away." He throws Peter's legs over his shoulders, jostling the other man.
"Can we not talk about Trump while you eat me out?" Peter asks, staring down in disgust.
"I thought Trump was why this was happening-"
"Shut up." Peter can only grin down at his stupid but lovely boyfriend. "Call me crazy, but I don't want to be reminded my rights can get taken away during head."
"Yeahhh, you're super crazy." Wade's mouth is hot against him, making the other shiver.
"Yeah, I don't think I want it anymore," Peter jokes while starting to sit up.
"Too late." Wade's wet tongue is immediately licking up his full length. Pleasure strikes through Peter with every lazy swipe, going straight through his insides and settling into his bones as the hero huffs in response. Wade spends his sweet time drawing sloppy circles between his legs before he's licking his full length again. He licks at Peter's labia before sucking it into his mouth.
The hero moans high and loud. His fingers gripping at the couch, and then Wade's mask.
When he coaxes Peter's clit out, the hero is absolutely done for.
There's nothing but Wade's mouth, his lips right around Peter's nub. For a second, it's euphoria. For a second, he forgets why he's even crying. For a second, he forgets the news. His thighs squeeze around Wade's head. He could stay here forever, but the other man only lets him suffocate him for so long before he's softly tapping at his thigh.
Peter relents, sighs, and wipes the tears that have fallen down his cheeks.
Wade crawls back up and cups his cheeks with his hands. "It's going to be okay, precious." He says it like he's sure of it, and Peter can only nod. He blinks, and those fucking results flash behind his eyelids. They're parasitic as they fill up his head, one thought infected by another.
He's going to be forced back into the life that he tried so hard to escape from. He's going to have to hear his old voice, his old name... It's torture all over again.
The waterworks are immediate. His fingers curl into the thin fabric of Wade's shirt. He grips his lover tightly, keeping him as close to him as possible. More kisses are peppered on his neck and collarbone. The rough leather rubs comfortably against gentle skin.
"Baby. Baby, I'm here." Wade promises. He cups Peter's cheeks again and lets his thumb wipe away stray tears. "You're okay." Mesh white eyes crinkle in sympathy. "It's all gonna be okay."
Peter can only roughly swallow, bury his face in Wade's neck, and try to pretend he believes him.