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Peter is no stranger to the experience of particularly mortifying situations. He has memories dating back to kindergarten that’ll keep him up at night if they strike at the right moment.
And yet this might be a new low, even for him.
After about thirty minutes of increasingly desperate attempts to fish a sex toy out of his ass, Peter has given up. He’s near tears. He knows that what happens next will be an experience so embarrassing it will never leave his psyche.
He imagines walking to the subway, limping because of the egg-shaped vibrator in his ass. Sitting on the train and praying no one else can hear it. He imagines going up to the counter at the ER, having to form and utter the words to explain to the poor receptionist just what situation he has gotten himself into. And then he imagines paying hundreds of dollars to experience the most humiliating moment of his life as a stranger sticks their fingers up his ass to do what he couldn’t.
Peter’s hopes soar and crash in equal amounts as he frantically googles his situation. One headline says Nearly 300,000 Americans go to the ER each year to remove ‘foreign objects’ from strange places and he sighs in relief, feeling less crazy. Maybe he will go to the ER. It’s nothing they haven’t seen before! But as he reads past the headline, he realizes that “strange places” includes ears, nostrils, penises, and vaginas. Coming up in last, with just 4,000 cases per year, is the rectum. Oh, God. He’ll be a freak show!
Further Googling only worsens the situation. It says that the cost can vary greatly depending on a multitude of different factors, but that the procedure typically ranges from the hundreds to the thousands. Thousands!
He was already mentally bracing himself for a hefty charge, but honestly, anything over two hundred bucks is going to financially devastate him, thanks to the fact that he doesn’t have health insurance. And, if he’s being totally honest, even that much fuck him over. He’ll have to beg his landlord for another extension. Maybe ask work for an advance. They’ll say no, because they almost always say no, so Peter might even have to stoop so low as to go crawling back to J.J. Jameson. He always accepts Peter when he comes crawling back — deep down, Peter suspects that J.J. is secretly fond of him — but it’s still not quite worth all the yelling and the deadlines and the taking stupid pictures of himself.
Unfortunately, it’s this exact line of thinking that leads him to the alternative option. Not the J.J. stuff, but the money stuff. Why should he pay hundreds of dollars to experience the lowest point of his life when he could do it for free?
The list of people Peter could ask for help is woefully short, however. Aunt May, who Peter would never ask in a million years, despite the fact that she’s a nurse. MJ, who Peter would maybe ask if he were desperate enough, but who lives across the country. And Peter’s third and final option: Deadpool.
Wade is Peter’s closest friend. After years of patrolling together and hanging out off-duty but in-costume, Peter finally bit the bullet and revealed his identity to him. That was almost a year ago, and Peter’s life has improved remarkably ever since. Probably because now he gets to socialize as Peter Parker and not just as Spider-Man.
And if he’s being honest, the second he decided he wasn’t going to go to the ER, he knew he’d be calling Wade. He’s done disgusting favors for Wade before, like collecting his scattered body parts and putting them back together. He’s reached his fingers into various cavities in Wade’s body to remove shrapnel and bullets and glass and all manner of things so that Wade wouldn’t have to heal around it. Apparently, his body doesn’t always push foreign objects out when he heals, and he can just feel them inside of him when he heals around them. Which means later on, he has to injure himself all over again just to get them out.
And, really, digging through your friend’s blood and guts is more disgusting than digging through their ass, right? If anything, Wade owes him this.
So he texts him.
Hey
Are you around
whats up buttercup
u hungry?
could grab thai or somethin
I need a really embarrassing favor
im intrigued
the answer is yes obv
what is it
Can you just come over?
omw
Peter regrets chickening out. He should’ve just ripped off the bandaid and told Wade what the favor was. Sure, Wade probably would’ve blown up his phone with a million texts — or, more likely, immediately called Peter — but at least the conversation would’ve been over with. And not in person, face-to-face. Fuck.
But the damage is done, and Wade has an eerie ability to arrive at Peter’s apartment sooner than he should be able to. Peter thinks he probably catches him when he’s out and about most days, and Wade just immediately deviates from whatever else he was doing, but he can’t be sure.
Still, Peter takes what little time he has to make himself more presentable. He puts his clothes back on. Combs his hair. Makes his bed.
Wade arrives not long after that — eerily fast, once again — but he’s wearing Wade clothes and not Deadpool clothes, which means he most likely did come straight from home. He lowers his hood once he’s inside, takes one look at Peter, and frowns.
“What’s wrong?”
Peter’s face flushes crimson the second he even thinks the words. Wade’s eyebrow-area shoots up in surprise and Peter grips fistfuls of his hair in both hands, a last ditch attempt to hold onto his sanity.
“Jesus, did you kill someone by accident? Do I have to help hide the body?”
Peter shakes his head. “I have something stuck in my ass. I can’t get it out.”
Wade doesn’t do him the favor of not reacting. His mouth bursts open. “What?” He quickly presses his lips together, which does nothing to hide their amused twitching.
“Don’t laugh,” Peter says.
Wade’s nostrils flare, which always happens when he’s trying not to laugh. His lips are white, that’s how tightly he’s pressing them together.
“Wade,” Peter complains.
“I’m sorry!” Wade says, the words barely decipherable through his fit of giggles. “Can’t lie, I never thought this would be the reason I’d finally get to play with Spider-Man’s ass.”
Somehow, Peter flushes even more. “So, you’ll get it out?”
“‘Course, I will. Although, I feel the need to lecture you on the importance of flared bases. Like, that’s the number one rule with butt stuff. How do you not know that?” Peter barely registers that Wade’s leading him to the bedroom as he talks, a hand on the small of Peter’s back.
“I do know that,” he protests. “It was the only toy I had. I didn’t mean to let go. It was like it got sucked in.”
Honestly, Peter’s never quite gotten the appeal of anal. He knows that for cis guys, the prostate is a big part of it. But lately, for whatever reason, he’s been feeling curious about it. Part of him feels like he might be missing out, especially after excessive googling indicated that anal could be pleasurable and enjoyable for everyone, prostate or not.
Peter hadn’t even intended to experiment with it today. He was using his little vibrator like normal when that stupid article reared in his head. His hand drifted lower and he realized the vibrations still felt good, even down there. He pressed it in a little bit, just to see what it felt like, and that was good too. He didn’t realize he was pressing it any deeper. He didn’t realize how slippery his hand and his vibrator were, thanks to natural lubrication. One second he was laying there, enjoying himself, and the next the vibrator was slipping out of his fingers and sinking into himself. Peter’s asshole closed right around it like a seal.
“All right,” Wade says, and Peter finally realizes that they’re both standing beside his bed, just staring at it. “How are we doing this?”
“I don’t know,” Peter groans. “What’s easiest?”
“Hands and knees, probably,” Wade says. Peter moves as if to crawl onto the bed, but Wade holds a hand out, stopping him. “Probably gonna need to lose the shorts, huh?”
“Right,” he chokes out, ignoring the writhing pit of embarrassment in his stomach. Wade does him the favor of at least not blatantly watching as Peter kicks off his basketball shorts and briefs, although Peter knows the view he’s about to have is a million times worse anyway.
He crawls onto the bed on just his knees and then feels his entire body change to lead. He becomes a Peter statue, destined to spend the rest of his life in this position. He can see the installation now. Uncomfortable man with foreign object in his rectum. There’s just no way he can bend over and present himself to Wade like that. Maybe he should’ve gone into life-ruining debt after all.
He’s shaken out of his stupor when he feels Wade clamber onto the bed after him. His hand finds the middle of Peter’s back, lightly pressing as if to encourage him to bend over. “Alrighty, time to show me hole!” he says, horrifically chipper. “Dr. Deadpool is here to help!”
“Oh my God,” Peter mutters.
“I’ll have you chanting that in no time,” Wade promises. Somehow, Wade’s insane enthusiasm is the encouragement Peter needs. His body finally acquiesces and follows the pressure of Wade’s hand, which follows him all the way down until Peter’s face is buried in his pillows. He imagines he’ll stay here and possibly smother himself to death.
Wade groans. “I know I’m here for medical reasons, but I gotta say, the view is spectacular.”
“Please don’t talk to me,” Peter mutters.
“Unfortunately, that won’t be possible,” Wade informs him. “Okay, I’m goin’ in.”
Peter clenches his eyes shut and balls his fists in the comforter, holding his breath. He feels Wade’s hands on his ass. He’s pretty sure the gratuitous kneading isn’t necessary for removing foreign objects, but Peter knew what he was getting into. Wade has grabbed his ass on previous occasions, and Peter wasn’t even naked and presenting it to him.
He feels it when Wade’s fingers meet their intended target. The pressure feels worse this time, not like the easy invitation his vibrator received. Peter grits his teeth and starts listing state capitals in his head, hoping Wade can get it out before he makes it through the list.
“Okay, honey, I’m gonna need you to relax,” Wade mutters.
“What?”
“You’re tighter than a knot. Nothing’s getting in here.”
“It got in there,” Peter says. Still, he tries to relax. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes and instructs his body to be loose, be loose, be loose.
He wants to clench up all over again when he feels Wade’s finger. He takes another deep breath and tries to concentrate, to keep all his muscles unengaged. Wade’s finger is smaller than the vibrator but it feels bigger somehow. Bigger and longer and invasive and painful—
“This isn’t working,” Wade says, carefully removing his finger. “I can tell I’m hurting you.”
“It’s fine,” Peter says. “Just get it out, please.”
“I’m gonna need at least two fingers in there, and I can feel you barely tolerating the one,” Wade says. “And it wasn’t even up to the knuckle yet.”
“What?” Peter almost sobs. Maybe he really should suffocate himself. Then Wade can dig around in his ass while he’s unconscious, problem solved.
Wade rubs his back with the hand that wasn’t just venturing to places unknown. “Why don’t you turn over for me? We’ll try something else.”
Peter sniffs. He rolls over, which has the unfortunate effect of reintroducing eye contact. Despite the previous position’s downsides, Peter can now appreciate that it at least saved him from this.
“You can stop looking like a kicked puppy,” Wade tells him. “I’ll get it out, promise. Just doing some recalculating.”
“Okay,” Peter mutters.
Wade leans over him and opens Peter’s bedside drawer, which is totally not cool. Peter’s squawk of wordless protest is ignored as Wade sifts through various sex toys before coming up with a bottle of lube.
“Those aren’t mine,” Peter tries, which makes Wade laugh, at least. What can Peter say, he’s a busy guy with not a lot of time on his hands, of course he isn’t sexually active! He’s doing just fine on his own with lefty and his assortment of silicone partners. The lube is necessary because ever since he went on T, it’s really hit or miss whether he produces any naturally.
The cap snaps open and Wade applies a generous amount to his hand. “You ever done ass stuff before, baby?”
Peter flushes. “Just the once, actually. And I think I’ve learned my lesson.”
“Don’t let this experience scare you off,” Wade says, rubbing the lube against Peter’s asshole now. “I’ve always pictured you as an anal type of guy. I think you’ll like it.”
“Why are you picturing me doing anal?” Peter says.
“Relax,” Wade instructs, and Peter does, taking a breath as Wade starts to press inside of him. “And ‘cause I’m picturing my dick in your ass, duh.”
Peter laughs breathlessly, which feels kind of weird when there’s something inside of him. “Well, now you know that that’s never happening.”
“I bet once upon a time you would’ve said that about my fingers, and look where we are?” Wade says, giving his index a wiggle. “Is this thing vibrating?”
“Yes,” Peter groans. “Hope it dies soon. Ah!” He’s surprised by a second finger, which Wade tried to sneak in alongside the first while Peter was talking. But the stretch is immediately too much and Peter clenches down, pushing him back out. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“You should be,” Wade says. “‘Cause now I’m definitely gonna have to jerk you off.”
“Wait, what?”
“Gotta distract you somehow. Apparently, conversation isn’t enough.” With that, Wade’s thumb finds Peter’s clit.
“I don’t think this is how the doctor does it,” Peter says, breathless. Wade’s thumb circles and presses and flicks while his other fingers just rub against Peter’s asshole, not yet pushing in.
“Yeah, I think they would’ve given you something to bite on,” Wade says. This time, when he starts to push both fingers inside, it doesn’t hurt. Peter would’ve considered that a good thing if he didn’t moan instead. “Oh, yeah?” Wade says, not having the grace to ignore it.
“Shut the fuck up,” Peter says. “You’re jerking me off. You know it feels good.”
“Feel free to keep making pretty noises for me.”
“So you can take even longer to get this shit out of me? No, thanks.”
It does take a little while, regardless. Wade’s a big guy with big hands. When it comes to getting both of his knuckles inside Peter, he has to take a break and pay extra special attention to Peter Jr. And when, finally, his fingers nudge the vibrator, they both have to stop themselves from freaking out.
“I feel it,” Wade says.
“Don’t push it deeper.”
“I’m trying not to.”
“Just grab it—”
“I’m trying—”
Wade really concentrates. His focus is solely on the toy now, not Peter’s comfort, which makes sense. They’ve made it this far, now they just have to get it out. Wade’s fingers curl and stretch and Peter groans in discomfort, replacing Wade’s now-still thumb with his own fingers for distraction.
“That’s good, baby doll, just like that,” Wade mutters. His fingers curl around the vibrator. Peter moans, arching into him. “Stop that! Did you just clench?”
“I don’t know?”
“Just stay still, I’m playing tug-of-war with your ass, here.”
“Okay,” Peter pants.
“And stop touching yourself,” Wade adds. “If you cum you’re gonna suck this thing right back in.”
“I wasn’t going to cum!” Peter protests, even though he totally was. He fists his hands in the sheets just so he can’t be tempted, but somehow, Wade’s fingers in his ass don’t even feel painful anymore. The stretch feels good, actually, he feels full, and the vibrations…
Oh, God.
Wade is dragging it out of him, slow and steady, but his fingers are curled around it and he has it pressed up against the inner wall inside of Peter. It feels really, really good. And suddenly, Peter remembers what one of those articles was talking about. It mentioned how anal penetration could stimulate the g-spot from the opposite side.
“Oh my God,” Peter gasps. Wade’s gaze darts up to Peter’s. There is fear in his eyes.
“Don’t do it,” he says.
“I won’t,” Peter says, mostly just willing himself not to. “Just — get it out. Quick.”
“I’m trying,” Wade says. “It’s really slippery.”
Peter groans. Why does it feel so good now? All the time it was stuck inside of him, it barely even felt pleasurable, and now Peter feels like a dam about to burst.
“Hurry,” he whimpers, struggling to breathe normally. He can feel his orgasm building inside of him. It feels inevitable. It feels like a tsunami, cresting up, up, up right before it comes crashing down.
Wade’s fingers wiggle inside of him, trying to solidly grip the toy. It feels like he goes a little bit deeper every so often, forced to readjust his grip.
“Wade,” Peter pleads, clenching around him, his voice a higher pitch than usual. Wade curses under his breath. Peter can feel himself begin to pulse around Wade’s fingers. There’s no stopping it.
“Fuck it,” Wade says, and he shoves a third finger into Peter without warning. The stretch burns but feels good, and Wade fingers curl solidly around the toy, tight against the backside of Peter’s g-spot just as he cums. He cries out, bearing down on Wade’s fingers, twitching and pulsing around them. It’s a more intense orgasm than normal, just like the articles said it would be. And it lasts a long time, several intense seconds of Peter gasping and moaning and cumming on his best friend’s fingers.
Finally, it ends, and Peter peers at Wade blearily, twitching with sensitivity. It’s still vibrating. “G-get it out,” he gasps.
It’s an even bigger stretch than everything else combined. Wade’s three fingers have to exit Peter, but this time alongside the vibrator. He whimpers in discomfort and Wade shakes his head at him, incredulous. “What? Can’t tolerate it now that you’ve had your pretty little orgasm?’
“Feels too big,” Peter whines.
“Guess I have to do everything around here,” Wade says. He descends, and somehow Peter doesn’t realize where he’s going until his lips are wrapped around Peter’s clit. He keens, still too sensitive but heady with pleasure now. Wade’s mouth works against him, licking and lapping and sucking, and Peter grinds against his face, gasping and moaning as he climbs toward his orgasm again.
He’s close, so close, when Wade suddenly leaves him bereft, his clit pulsing with anticipation. “W-what—”
“Good job,” Wade says, and he holds up his hand, Peter’s vibrator held between his index and middle finger.
“What—when did…?”
“A couple minutes ago,” Wade says. “You didn’t notice?”
“Why did you stop?” Peter feels desperate now. Is Wade really going to leave him like this? He pushed Peter right to the edge on purpose!
“What, did you want me to keep going?”
Peter considers their friendship, and the obvious attraction between them, and the fact that he’s held back for this long for reasons that feel arbitrary now. “I want you to fuck me,” he blurts.
Wade groans. Peter can see his cock through his sweatpants, which he’s already taking off. “This really violates the doctor-patient relationship, I’ll have you know,” he says.
Peter ignores him, pulling him up the bed until he’s hovering over him. Wade reaches down, lines himself up, and—
“Lower,” Peter says.
“Lower?”
“I want you to fuck my ass.”
“You are full of surprises today,” Wade says, and then he realigns himself. When he pushes in, it doesn’t hurt. Peter’s already been stretched wide. Wade moans as he sinks into him. “God, you feel good.”
“So do you,” Peter gasps. It feels different from his fingers, especially once he starts moving. His fingers were a steady pressure, constantly pressing further in, but his cock fucks in and out of Peter, a cocktail of stimulation.
“Wanna cum in your ass,” Wade pants. “Can I?”
“Yes,” Peter says, arching into him. Wade leans back, fucking him from a higher position, and his fingers find Peter’s clit again. He touches him easily, expertly, and Peter arches against the bed, moaning.
“You look so gorgeous like this,” Wade says, his voice deeper. His hips thrust into Peter, faster. “Beautiful boy.”
“Please,” Peter whimpers. It’s building again, creeping up through his extremities.
“Gonna cum for me, pretty boy?”
“Yes!” Peter cries, and then he’s shaking apart under Wade, jerking and gasping and moaning. Wade’s body covers his, his movements turning short and quick, and then he’s moaning in Peter’s ear, holding him tight.
They come apart slowly, afterward. Carefully. Peter flops onto the bed, exhausted. Wade kisses him. “Forgot to do that earlier,” he says, sounding embarrassed. “You feel okay?”
“Mhmm,” Peter says, tilting his chin up for another kiss. Wade rewards him. “I think I could go for Thai food, now.”
Wade laughs, pulling Peter close. “You got it,” he says, and Peter dozes off as Wade places the order, pressing kiss after kiss against the back of his neck.