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Deadpool has popped many a random boner in his life, both because he had no sense of shame and also because he was sexually attracted to like, actually everything. At this point, he treated hard-ons like instructions. "Damn, the universe is telling me to get laid," he would think.
But when Spider-Man felt an erection in public, he would go out of his way to get away from people so he could curl up and die of shame, even if no one saw. Being friends with Deadpool for years, it was difficult to get used to his, well, eccentric lifestyle, and more specifically his eccentric sexual endeavors. Like the countless come-ons that Peter would never admit he enjoyed, or the downright batshit things he would witness at Deadpool's apartment on the occasions they would hang out after patrol. Namely a dildo in the shape of a tongue, with wolfish teeth at the base. Deadpool then proceeded to teach Peter all about monsterfuckers.
Needless to say, Peter was a pretty conservative fella. Seriously, when he was in his civvies you'd think he was a Mormon or something. He only knew missionary, and considered a blowjob kinky. Which is why when Deadpool explained the wide world of kinks, Peter spent about a week traumatized, then months hating himself after he realized he maybe sort of had a few.
Now, the thing about Deadpool's boners was that they happened anytime and anywhere, so when it happened as he and Peter were hiding out in a closet to escape a band of villains who were half-machine and much stronger than both of them combined, you can imagine what ensued.
In this particular, unfortunate instance, the closet was about two feet wide and Peter was pressed up against the wall, and Deadpool pressed against him. Okay, maybe there was a little space to move, but it was pitch dark and Peter didn't need to know that. Deadpool's imagination got the better of him then, fantasizing out of control when Peter would jolt at a crash, or his quick breaths. The man was lithe, his shoulders slim but strong, and god, he had the best ass in all of New York.
The villains continued their rampage through the office building, but the only thing Deadpool could hear was the moans he imagined Peter would make while he was being fucked silly. Almost on their own, his hands moved from their spots on the wall and onto Peter's waist, which made him flinch harder than before.
"You scared me," he breathed a laugh.
"Sorry, babes. No space, y'know?" Deadpool licked his lips under the mask.
"I guess," Peter whispered back. "When do you think they'll leave?"
"Soon. It's like edging, they can't hold out forever."
"Out of all the analogies you could've used..." Peter sighed.
"Heheh, anal-ogies."
"Shut up."
About five minutes and a lot of uncomfortable shifting later, Deadpool couldn't control himself. He said nothing when he felt his cock jump, or when Peter kept rocking back with boredom and accidentally brushing his crotch in a strangely stimulating way. It was driving him insane, and he found himself praying to the lord above to help him on this damned day.
Oh, and the lord did her work. The building rattled with a particularly loud crash, and Peter fell backward in surprise. Deadpool caught him easily of course, but now his ass was 100%, undeniably, right on top of Deadpool's very present boner. There was a pause and a swallow from Peter.
"I'm sorry are—are you...hard right now?" Peter struggled to ask, both appalled at what he just felt and suddenly nervous.
"Yah," said Deadpool causally, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. To be honest, it wasn't very out of the ordinary.
"Oh," whispered Peter, unsure what to do. "I'll move, uh, wait—"
"You can stay there," Deadpool teased with a grin. "Really, Wade Jr. doesn't mind."
"You're an animal," Peter deadpanned, shuffling forward.
"A horny animal," Deadpool corrected cheerfully.
"God, would you just shut up?" Peter whisper-yelled, slightly panicked when he realized he was the reason for Deadpool's boner.
"Shut me up."
"I would totally web your mouth if I could turn around, but here we are," he hissed.
Deadpool's hands travelled a little lower down Peter's hips, which elicited a sharp gasp. Deadpool leaned in closer, until his mouth was pretty much on Peter's ear.
"Do I make you nervous?"
"Very, actually," Peter swallowed. "Will—will it go down?"
"Doesn't look like it."
He jolted when Deadpool ran a hand down his inner thigh and squeezed, his own dick suddenly twitching. All he could do was gulp and breathe, nervous out of his mind, because right now the only thing he could think about was letting Deadpool fuck him right here in this closet with murderous villains on the prowl just beyond the door.
"My safe word is mitochondria," Peter said quietly, before considering it further. "Or three stomps."
Deadpool paused. "I didn't think I'd get this far. What do I do now?"
"You fuck me and stay quiet," Peter huffed. "Hurry up."
"Yes, sir!" Deadpool said enthusiastically, promptly tugging down the bottoms of Peter's suit.
He stuck his hand right in front of Peter's face, who tentatively pulled his mask up and bit the glove so Deadpool could slide his hand out. With an incredulous laugh, Deadpool reached down and gently stroked Peter's dick. It didn't take long until his knees were shaking and he bit the glove hard to stifle the noise he might make, drool, sweat, and the occasional tear soaking into it. He couldn't help it that the metallic tang to the glove turned him on a lot more than it should have, or that Deadpool was the handjob master.
"Shh," Deadpool would say, "fuck," "unbelievable," or "so pretty," too. With the hand that wasn't busy, he gripped Peter's hip tightly and pushed his crotch into him hard.
"Nn," Peter breathed when Deadpool stopped stroking him. He took the glove out of his mouth. "I-I'm already close. Please. Just a little longer and—"
"Shh," Deadpool whispered. "Calm down, I'll get you there."
"Please," was all Peter could say.
When Deadpool touched him again it was on the ass, his fingers wet and warm and squeezing everything. Peter almost cried aloud when Deadpool slipped his fingers in his hole, but luckily Deadpool clamped his hand around Peter's mouth. To be completely honest, it only made him want to scream. Coincidentally, Deadpool also turned out to be the master of fingering, and pressed into Peter so good that he could barely keep his balance and had to put all of his weight on the wall.
Peter scratched at Deadpool's hand until he dropped it. "That's enough," he whined.
"I just started."
"I don't care. I want your cock in me right now," Peter demanded, before adding a timid "please."
With a shrug, Deadpool made quick work of unzipping his fly and lining his cock up with Peter's wet hole. He stuffed his glove back into Peter's mouth, a bit too roughly, and slowly pushed into him. Peter collapsed, trembling, using his stickiness to grip the wall and keep him upright.
Deadpool was no one-minute-man, but when he felt Peter collapse like that, back arching, trying to control his noises, he fucking shivered with pleasure. That had never happened before, not with anybody. Peter was simply gorgeous, a natural at getting dicked down.
"I feel like I'm in Boogie Nights," whispered Deadpool.
Peter made a sound that teetered between a response and a moan, but Deadpool obviously couldn't understand him. So instead, he thrusted painfully slowly and as deep as he could, imagining Peter's eyes were rolling back by now. Knowing Peter had to be somewhat close still, Deadpool grabbed his dick and slid his thumb across the tip every odd thrust or so. He had no idea if Peter was into edging, but the signs pointed to yes when two minutes of this resulted in a crying mess of a man, shuddering hard and rolling his hips desperately. Deadpool didn't get him off properly yet, though. It was much more fun to watch Peter endure constant, torturous buildup to an orgasm he didn't even know if he was going to get.
Apparently unable to take it, Peter gripped Deadpool's wrist and squeezed, which was probably supposed to mean "stop fucking with me." With a satisfactory smile, Deadpool leaned in close to his ear.
"Is this your way of telling me to hurry up?" Deadpool whispered, then he decided to test if Peter was into degradation. "You're a fucking whore that doesn't know his place, aren't you? Get your fucking hand off me."
Trembling, Peter pulled his hand back like he'd touched something burning. Deadpool grabbed both of Peter's wrists and forced his arms above his head, pressing them firmly against the wall as he got back to work on Peter's abused dick. He was really going insane now, being completely exposed and helpless didn't ease the torture. Plus, the way Deadpool called him a whore did lots of things to him.
"Now you can't pull that shit, huh?"
Deadpool decided to give him a break and gave him a proper stroke every fifteen seconds or so. Not enough to make him come, but enough for him to go absolutely wild. Between strokes, Deadpool's hand explored other parts of his body that made him jolt. His nipples, namely, but he also discovered that Peter had a thing for people touching his sides. More accurately, grabbing them roughly as he was halfway split open with cock.
Peter was drooling like an animal, relying completely on Deadpool to stand, otherwise he would've been on the floor already. His dick was so hard that it ached, and he couldn't feel his toes. Yet Deadpool just kept playing with him, thrusting fast and slow and hard and soft, depending on what would drive Peter up the wall the most. When Peter had kept it together long enough and Deadpool was beginning to feel bored just edging him, he took the glove out of Peter's mouth.
"Please let me come!" Peter burst out immediately, far too loudly for the situation. "Ple—please, I can't do it anymore, please—"
Deadpool shut him up with a hand over his mouth again. "Are you trying to get us caught?" He asked with a grin.
Suddenly, and while Peter was still very much pinned in place with a cock in his ass, thundering footsteps grew louder. Peter froze, heart beating wildly, and strained his ears. He could sense how close the person was, and how much closer they were getting. He held completely still as the person stopped outside the door.
Then motherfucking Deadpool started to move again.
They were slow, soft thrusts, enough to make Peter shudder but not enough where somebody could hear the slapping of their skin. He ran a rough hand down Peter's soft body, down from his neck until he'd traced a line that ended right at his dick. He didn't touch it—he knew Peter wouldn't be able to stay completely silent. The poor thing was deathly afraid, probably never having done this before. Right, Deadpool should've thought about that.
A crash sounded and the person beyond the door seemed more occupied with it than they were with the closet, and Peter breathed a shaking sigh of relief when he heard the footsteps grow quieter.
"You're insane," Peter whispered.
"It's my brand, sweetness."
A beat.
"Hey...can you, uh, talk like how you did before?" Asked Peter sheepishly, dropping his head in shame.
"It's my brand, sweetness," Deadpool repeated stupidly.
Peter was unable to formulate a witty response or call him an idiot, so he cut to the chase. "N-no, I meant—"
Deadpool knew exactly what he meant. One last time, he stuffed that glove into Peter's mouth, kept his wrists firmly pinned, and fucked him hard. Peter buckled, ass stinging from the slapping and so close he felt like he could come from this alone.
"How many filthy motherfuckers like being banged in closets while their lives are on the line?" Deadpool spat in a low voice. "You're dripping. How much do you like this, huh? Tell me how much."
Peter nodded, even though it didn't really make sense to, and Deadpool felt satisfied he was thoroughly broken. Peter shuddered hard when Deadpool grabbed his dick and started getting him off at the same pace he was fucking him. His moans were something out of the most hardcore of porn movies, and it sent electricity through Deadpool. Knowing he couldn't suppress it any longer, he pulled out and came on Peter's ass, who was trembling and slipping down the wall despite the grip Deadpool had on him. Deadpool felt the come on his hand and determined Peter came too, and he wasn't done. Shamelessly, he watched Peter ride out his orgasm and listened to his muffled cries. It went on forever, until Peter slumped over, breathing heavily.
"Shit," Deadpool muttered, processing the sight of his come dripping off of Peter's ass.
"How did—how did you do that..?" Peter mumbled, only slightly delirious. "Oh, fuck..."
"Magic touch, doll. I'm 210 pounds of pure, concentrated sex expert."
From a shelf, Deadpool grabbed what seemed to be a clean rag and used it to wipe Peter clean. If he was having trouble standing before, it was nothing compared to now; he was stumbling over on shaking legs, gripping both the hand Deadpool offered him and the wall. After they both pulled their clothes back on, Peter made himself as skinny as he could and flipped around to face him.
"Can you just hold me? I seriously can’t stand," he admitted with an embarrassed smile.
"I'll take that as a compliment," said Deadpool, bringing Peter's arms up so he could grab onto Deadpool's shoulders. "Wanna get out of here?"
"Huh? But the villains are still out there?"
"Trust me, baby boy, I've got a plan that I thunked through a lot." Deadpool said.
Normally Peter would only trust people who had a solid understanding of English grammar, but he was too fucked-out to care. "Mkay..." he yawned.
To let you in on a secret: Deadpool never thunked anything through, and he wouldn't start now. He kicked open the door, hoisted Peter up so he was hanging off of Deadpool like a koala, and bolted for a very thick glass window. Villains perked up left and right, thundering after them. Panicked, Peter squeezed the hell out of Deadpool's shoulders as he barreled toward the window, losing no momentum as he turned, crashed through it using his back, and shielded Peter's head in the same motion. Before either of them knew it, they were falling sixty floors and Peter frantically shot a web out and swung them to a nearby rooftop.
They landed less than gracefully and Peter breathed a shaking sigh.
"I thought you said you had a plan!"
"That was the plan. Run," Deadpool shrugged, hardly even noticing the glass shards that stuck out of his back.
"You fuck me in a closet and almost kill me right after," Peter mumbled, mostly to himself to help him process what just happened. "You're so stupid."
"That's not what you were saying fifteen minutes ago," Deadpool leaned back. "I seem to recall 'oh, Wade! Please let me come, Daddy Pool! Your cock is so veiny and thi—"
"Shut up," Peter groaned. "God, I'm never living this down."
"You aren't, princess," Deadpool agreed cheerfully. "So, round two at my place?"
"I don't think I have it in me, but I wouldn't mind Chinese and a movie."
"Consider it done.”