Spideypool Shots

Size

Spiderman had always marveled over Deadpool's towering body. He felt small and fragile under his gaze; if only he knew how Wade himself felt.

Smut and/or graphic imagery
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Peter should be better than this. He was Spiderman, he was supposed to be the responsible and stead-fast super hero. He shouldn't feel weak in the knees because of one mercenary. And yes, he was handsome, and funny to the point he laughed until his sides hurt, but his affections for the man we're getting ridiculous. Peter prided himself on restraint and capability. Being this hopelessly enamoured wasn't good for appearances. Luckily, Wade was a little oblivious it seemed, and it was easier to hide around him. For now.

He didn't know when it had happened. Just one day, out of the blue, he couldn't take his eyes off his partner in crime. A patrol, he assumed. He just remembered one night his suit seemed particularly tight. Apparently some kind of mishap at the cleaners. Peter gulped remembering the night, cleaning the dish in his hand harsher.

Maybe this wasn't the time to be thinking about that. His mind, despite himself, drifted anyway. It had just been so tight. It amazed him how it didn't tear over his bulking biceps, or rippling chest. If he stood close enough he could hear the spandex and leather screaming as it stretched. Even his legs were wonderfully sculpted, masculine and threatening. The things Wade could do to him if he'd let him. Even if the smaller man could easily over power him, despite the size difference, the idea of the mercenary towering over him with ease was titillating. His large hands roaming over his body; could he hold his wrists in one hand?

Hearing the dish clatter in the sink brought him out of his Wade induced trance, seeing it shattered in pieces. Groaning, he started carefully lifting the broken pieces onto a paper towel. He felt like a horny teenager again, and he really hated that feeling. He was 24 for god's sake, he needed to get his shit together. It really didn't help Deadpool was a flirtatious minx. He knew that's just how the gun slinger was, but sometimes it got in his head; that maybe somehow, he was really attracted to him. Shaking his head, he went back to cleaning his dishes.

Sure, Deadpool was a flirtatious person. But he always meant it when he was talking about his favorite hero. Part of him was glad the spider never took him seriously, and part of him ached to show the man just how much he meant his words. Sure, he'd never seen Spidey out of his suit, but, it didn't leave much to the imagination. His frame was so small, and mighty, and just drool inducing. Like a true spider, he was tiny but deadly, and it made his heart do cartwheels. The nights he didn't seem especially focused, Wade had never laughed harder, or felt so special.

Taking apart his pistol, the scarred man sighed. Was it even appropriate to be having these feelings? He had to be almost ten years older than the guy, at least he seemed that young. Which would make him a total creep. He did his best to not think about it, honest to God, but the spider was relentless in his thoughts. If the vigilante would let him, he'd bend him in half until he screamed, and then afterword cuddle him into a small little ball. Make that flexible little body really put the work in.

Clearing his throat, the mercenary put his weapon back together, having finished his work. All clean, all better.

[At least one thing in this place is]

{Hey, we keep this apartment fresh!}

[Yeah now we do that Spidey likes to come around. And I was referring to our horrifically filthy mind]

Wade wished he could feel bad about his thoughts. Maybe a better person would. He didn't have much time to think about it anyway, or he'd be late to patrol. The last time he'd been late, Spidey-pie had given him a tongue thrashing, and while frustrated spider is cute, he figured being late again wasn't a good idea.