Tacos, Spider-suits and Sex

Chapter 14

"You're disgusting."

The man, who Peter had started referring to in his head as 'The Executioner', (his nickname, not Peter's) was still solid in his bout of disposition. He stayed faintly quiet, brandishing his glass again after someone replenished it. The conversation had died out rather quickly after that, and the end result left Peter being hauled up to his feet.

One of the goons who'd dragged him in earlier jerked him by his arm, muttering to his boss, "Where we keepin' him?"

The Executioner blinked once, slowly, like he was calmly considering. "I'd say the next room, but I rather like the idea of you kneeling by my feet."

Snickering, the guy pushed him forward. When he reached the man, he was flipped around and shoved down to the floor by his shoulders. He grunted, just dying to retaliate. His face must have given it away, because the guy returned his stare with a look of challenge, "Easy." he snapped, "I could knock you out with a single punch, kid."

"You willing to bet on it?"

"Why you little mother-"

"Reggie."

The goon, Reggie, scowled as he pulled himself away from Peter, snarling under his breath. Peter actually had to make an effort to hide his disappointment. Hand-to-hand combat would've at least given him a chance. His hands probably would have been freed, and at the least, he would've been given free range to move around. If you were to back up close enough to the door, it might be possible to...

"I can see the cogs in your head turning." his captor smirked, irking Peter away from thoughts of escape, "You may as well get comfortable. I think you may be here for a while, no sense ruining the experience for yourself."

"You expect me to enjoy this?"

He huffed, amused, "Of course not. If you were willing to cooperate however, I may choose to offer you a brandy, maybe tie your hands in the front. Little privileges." as if to accent his point, the Executioner tipped his glass in Peter's direction, "It is a pretty good year."

"I don't drink."

"Water then? I do also have coffee."

Peter suddenly felt a little misplaced, letting out an awkward laugh, "I can safely say this is the first time a kidnapper had offered me coffee."

"I'd like to think I rank well above modern criminals. Shame on you for assuming I was anything less."

Peter wanted to laugh. Wasn't this kind of ridiculous? Sitting on his knees in front of a man with a gun and a glass of alcohol, making small talk like there was no tight coils on tension between them. For gods sakes, he'd offered Peter coffee. Of course, it was probably safer of him to just assume whatever he was offered would be drugged, maybe even poisoned. Once they realized Deadpool wouldn't come, they'd probably kill him anyway. That was motive enough. He resolved then and there not to take anything they gave him. The man chuckled at Peter's hesitance, twirling a dismissive hand, "Suit yourself."

"So what now?"

"We wait for your boyfriend."

"He's not-" Peter frowned, training his eyes to the floor and scowling under his breath, "He's not my boyfriend."

"What do you call yourselves then? Lovers? Companions? Fuck buddies perhaps?"

"We're not called anything. Just-" he shook his head, licking his lips and trying to shut himself up. There was no reason he should let himself be baited here. "Just- Nevermind. It doesn't matter." he scoffed, suddenly annoyed with himself, "I'm telling you, he won't come. He'd not that stupid."