Washing/Cleaning
Oct. 10th, 2012 12:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deathtouchxoPrompt: Washing/Cleaning
Characters: Marvel Team Red (Wade Wilson/Deadpool, Peter Parker/Spider-Man, Matt Murdock/DareDevil)
Rating: M
Warnings: None
Summary: Two types of washing/bathing, and two types of cleaning. Enjoy!
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Matt is watching them.
He's got his arms crossed over his chest and a solemn expression on his face and he's watching them. Somehow the way he stands there like that makes Peter feel self-conscious and he bows his head, looking down at the water.
The bath is hot, and big wafts of white steam come floating up from the surface. There is Epsom salt, undissolved and gritty making a sandy carpet at the bottom of the tub. Peter can't see through the water enough to see that, but he can feel it under the backs of his thighs. The bath water swirling white with soap and salt and he can barely make out the shapes of his criss-crossed legs under the surface.
"I'm tired." he whispers, and he curves his head back hoping to catch it on Wade's shoulder. Wade is un-abiding and pushes Peter to sit forward.
"Then sit still and you can come to bed." Wade scolds him, and it's weird to hear him be serious.
The salt soaks in through Peter's skin, deep down through his muscles to his bones. The heat soaks in too. Peter soon feels like he's made of rubber, and he relaxes all over. His shoulders rise and fall with the weight of his breath, and Wade's got him tipped forward so he can scrub his back clean. He isn't gentle, he uses the wash-cloth too hard and Peter can practically feel his skin turning pink. He worries his lip between his teeth, but he doesn't say anything because it kind of feels good to get all the grime and dirt scraped off him.
"Arm's up." Wade tells him. Peter does as he's told. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Matt cross his feet at the ankle, leaning against the bathroom counter as he watches.
Peter is too tired to fully stick his arms up in the air. He's been spinning webs and slinging on them for the last two hours, his arms deserve a bit of a break after all that. He folds them neatly on top of his head instead, flattening down his messy mop of brown hair. Bath water trickles warm down his forearms, over his dry biceps where the water wasn't quite high enough to reach.
Wade scrubs his underarms clean. He dips the wash cloth in the water and wrings it out again, and Peter listens to the sounds it makes. Peter can hear him scrubbing soap and fabric together. Wade closes the gap between their bodies and reaches around Peter's smaller frame to work the cloth into Peter's pale chest. Peter tips his chin down to watch.
"Did you catch the bad guys Spidey?" Wade asks, and his words are a soft murmur coming from just behind Peter's ear.
Peter thinks about saying something clever, but he's just too tired, so he only nods instead.
When Wade pulls back, Peter realizes just how close they were. He relishes the skin on skin contact he had and resents the cold waft of air that has taken Wade's place behind his back.
"Arm's down." Wade says, and Peter obeys.
"Hurry up." Matt instructs from the counter. Peter and Wade take a brief second to look over at him before their cleaning regiment continues.
"Head back." Wade says.
Peter straightens his spine, sitting up-right. He tips his head back and be looks up at the ceiling just long enough to register that it's there before he closes his eyes. Peter notes the plunging sound of the pitcher being pushed under water. Wade raises it from the depths of the tub and it drips, drips, drips before the contents come splashing down on Peter's head. A trickle or two run hot down Peter's face, but most of it splatters down Peter's back before rejoining the rest of the water of the bath.
There is the click of the shampoo bottle and a wheeze as a glob comes emptying out into Wade's hands. Wade takes Peter's wet brown hair in his fingers, scrubbing shampoo in until it's foamy.
Wade is no gentler with him here. The heat of the bath and having his eyes closed makes Peter sleepy. He wants to doze off. He's fading. Wade rubbing shampoo into his hair is methodical at the very least and it's almost like a massage. The lights in the bathroom are bright but behind closed eyes they dim, and they're growing dimmer.
Another hot splash of water and Peter is straightening his posture, remembering where he is and what he's doing. Sleep comes later. Shampoo suds tickle over his shoulders, oozing down his spine. He rolls his shoulders, not sure if he likes the feel. Wade lays a warm, wet hand on him and tells him to stay still.
Another fill of the pitcher and it's tipped over his head, splashing down again. The last of the suds disappear with it, running down his clean skin like a sheet.
"There." Wade seems satisfied with himself. "How's that for you boss?" he asks.
"I'm not your boss." Matt informs, none too politely, and there is an underlying dig about Wade and his work.
"How's that for you sir." Wade corrects, and Peter knows he's raising his eyebrows the way he does.
"Rinse him off and get him to bed." Matt orders and he turns to leave. The noise of his shoes on the bathroom tile fades out as he walks away. He doesn't close the door behind him, but Peter and Wade relax like they're finally out of sight.
"Wade, I'm so tired." Peter whispers and his voice breaks a little because all he wants to do is go to bed and he can't even think about standing up. He moves to lay back, and this time Wade indulges him.
"I know Spidey." Wade smooths his hair back with a wet hand. "I'll help you." And he does.
Wade indulges Peter's relaxed lean for a moment longer before he stands. He loops Peter's arm around his broad shoulders and helps him up. Peter shamelessly leans his weight on the other male. While still supporting Peter, Wade drains the tub and turns. Salt crystallize grit together as they slide down the drain. The noise hurts Peter's teeth for some odd reason he can't explain. The water that was once white with soap swirls away ruddy brown from the dirt, and sweat, and blood that had been sticking to his skin. Peter is a little unnerved that he sat stewing in hot water full of dirt, but that's what the rinse is for.
Wade turns on the shower head and cool water comes rushing out at them. The water isn't ice cold, but the bath was so warm that Peter flinches away at the temperature. After giving it a moment, it feels good to cool down. The last of the dirt and the suds wash away with the spray of the water. Peter turns his face up to the shower head. The heat fades from his skin. He feels relaxed, and loose, and pliant and he is glad Wade's holding him.
Wade turns the spray off when he's deemed Peter properly rinsed and helps a slippery Spider-Man out of the shower. His muscles are big, and he is strong, and Peter has no qualms with letting him carry all his weight. Wade carries him to the counter where the top is clear and he set's Peter there while he retrieves a towel from the closet.
Peter prickles with goosebumps as the cool air dries beads of water on his skin. The counter top is cold under his thighs and backside. Wade wraps him up in a fluffy towel, sealing in warmth as he rubs Peter dry. Wade mops the moisture from Peter's shoulders and arms, and brings the towel in to his ribcage, rubbing all the water away. When Wade pulls the towel back, Peter isn't as cold this time. Wade rubs out his hair, making it stick up in all funny angles. Wade goes over each leg, and Peter would twist away about how the soft fabric tickles his feet, but he's still too tired.
Wade wraps his hand in the towel, and then he wraps his hand around Peter's cock. Peter bites his lip and he groans, because it kind of does feel good, but it's only in the name of getting him clean so Wade's hand is gone as quickly as it was there to begin with, and his cock and balls are dry.
Wade towels himself off too, but with less attention to detail, and when he's done he flings the towel aside to be taken care of later.
"Ready for bed?" Wade asks, and Peter nods his head. "Okay, cling Spidey." Peter wraps his arms around Wade's neck, and his legs around Wade's waist, and Wade carries him into the bedroom where Matt is waiting.
"Submitted for the approval of the midnight society..." Wade smirks. Peter tries not to smile too, because he knows that will get Wade in trouble, and he's right.
"What did you just say to me?" Matt asks, and if his tone sounds accusatory it's because it is.
"Submitted for your approval." Wade amends, sounding a little stiff.
"You want to make jokes Wilson?" Matt asks. "In that case, you can sleep on the floor."
Peter's eyes are closing, and he isn't seeing anything, but somehow he knows Wade has got that utterly offended expression his face. "C'mon that's bullshit, sir!" He complains, and he sounds like he's a mile away.
"Keep it up and you can sleep out in the living room, how about that." Matt adds darkly.
Wade doesn't add anything else, probably not wanting to get in trouble. He walks Peter to the foot of the bed and eases him down. Peter's whole body feels like lead and he is dead weight the moment he hits the mattress. He curls up on top of the comforter right there at the end of the bed.
Matt and Wade trade a few more brisk words with one another. Peter means to listen but they sound so far away and his eye-lids are so heavy. He is vaguely aware of the dip in the mattress when Matt joins him in bed. Matt hauls him up further by one arm, and Peter lets himself be pulled.
Peter falls asleep to the sound of Matt's voice, whispering how nice he smells and how good he was tonight. He's sad Wade wasn't invited to sleep with them, but it's nice to hear Matt's praise.
---
"You're like a dog." Peter sounds appalled. Wade's (unintentionally?) splashing more water at him, and he flinches away, annoyed.
"A dog!" Wade repeats, marveling at the concept.
"Oh no. No no. Don't you dare start acting like a dog." Peter looks down at himself. At his jeans covered in wet spots, and his t-shirt soaked in weird patterns. If this is what Wade accomplishes acting like a human, lord only know what kind of mess he will make acting like a dog. For God’s sake a dog. "Wade you maniac, don't."
But it's too late. Wade hooks a dripping wet arm, bubble fluff in the crook of his elbow, around Peter's shoulder's drawing him in to lick the length of Peter's face.
"Ugh. God. Wade." Peter twists out of the other male's grip, rubbing the slime from his cheek. "You're disgusting."
"Quick, get the collar from the closet." Wade grins.
"Stop it." Peter scolds, knitting his eyebrows together. "You know we're not supposed to go in there without Matt's permission."
"So? We'll put it back when we're done."
"What soaking wet and covered in bubbles? You think he won't notice?" Peter crosses his arms over his chest.
"If you're not going to get it, I am!" Wade announces, standing up, splashing water all over the floor. Peter jumps back, not quite sure why he's bothering to avoid getting wet when half his clothes are already soaked. Maybe it was just reflex.
"No you are not. Sit down, Wade! Now!"
Wade's stepping out of the tub, and Peter reaches out to snag his arm, trying to turn him around and shove him back in. Wade's opening his mouth like he's got a real good argument but it's not likely that he does so Peter keeps talking.
"If I get in trouble because of..." But Peter gets cut off because they hear the apartment door and they both grow still. Wade retreats to the tub and sinks back in to the water, the displacement making the foam bubbles crawl up the tub walls.
Matt's keys hit the dish. There is the thud of his shoes, slid off his feet, hitting the mat. Peter and Wade stay stock still. Neither one of them say a word, and its dead quiet in the bathroom. Peter is aware of the bathtub's faucet dripping water, and his own breathing.
Matt shuffles into the bedroom, and then turns his head towards the bathroom door. He approaches the doorway.
"What are you two doing?"
"Nothing." and "Playing." Peter and Wade answer at the same time. Peter flushes hot, distinctly aware of how incriminating 'Playing.' sounds. Matt will know he's blushing too, he can always tell.
"No sex." Matt warns, in accordance of his 'you don't get to come unless you ask me permission' policy in effect. Peter nods his head, serious. Wade is a little slower but he soon moves to do the same nod.
"Clean up your mess when you’re done." He adds, not unkindly.
"Yes sir." Wade salutes. Literally salutes, and there's foam bubbles on his fingers that fluff in the air in front of him as he jerks his hand away from his forehead.
Matt retreats to the bedroom, no doubt changing to go out on patrol tonight.
"You ass." Peter hisses.
"How the fuck does he know if it's a mess in here. He can't see shit. I don't think it's messy at all." and Wade scowls at the water slopped on the floor like he can will it away with his eyes so that his statement will be true.
"You realize he can still hear you." Peter frowns, worried about what Matt will think.
Wade shrugs, resolving to craft himself a foam beard with bubbles instead of hair. Peter thinks he looks suspiciously like Rasputin, but he's not going to mention that this time. He doesn't want Wade to hop up and start doing that dumb dance from Just Dance 2, which would really slop water everywhere. Or worse, to start acting like Rasputin. (Whatever that could possible entail. Probably being creepy. More creepy than usual)
With the promise of ‘the best fucking foam mohawk you've ever seen’ Peter finally agrees to strip down and join Wade in the tub. He leaves his shirt and jeans and boxers strewn carelessly on the bathroom floor. He's already all wet anyway what does it matter?
"You're gonna look like a fucking street shark." Wade informs enthusiastically, manipulating Peter's wet hair with his hands.
"I don't think any of the Street Sharks had mohawks..." Peter considers, wracking his mind for any information about the children's tv show. He never really watched it that much. Peter is vaguely aware that sitting like this, crossed legged in the water, facing the faucet with Wade at his back is strikingly similar to bath time when he comes home from a night out as Spider-Man but this is different. This is kind of nicer. It's fun. They're having fun.
"No, no. Not the show. Just a street shark. Like if a shark was walking down the street right now." Peter has no idea what Wade is talking about. But that's okay because he usually doesn't.
Matt's shadow passes by the bathroom door again, and Peter almost wishes he would come join them. Of course, he isn't the playful type and he wouldn't be very amused with Wade and Peter's games, but he could just stand there and watch with his arms folded like he usually does. That would be okay.
Peter worries that Matt doesn't get enough time to relax. He's always working so hard, whether it's at the law firm or as DareDevil, or taking care of Wade and him. When summer comes, Wade and Peter will drag him to the pool, Peter decides. He smiles at the idea. Hah. What would Matt do? He would probably stretch out on a beach chair and work on his tan, that's what.
Peter shares his idea with Wade, and the thought of Matt relaxing back in the sun. Wade snickers and nods, giving Matt a fruity drink and a speedo.
---
"Stop it." Matt says, and it's Peter's second nature to comply. When Matt gives orders, Peter follows them. His hand stills, and Peter sits on his haunches, chewing on his bottom lip. "Stop worrying." Matt admonishes.
Peter lowers his hand, twisting the wash cloth in his fingers. There's blood soaking in to the fabric; Matt's blood.
"I'm not worrying." Peter frowns. He isn't worried. He hates to see Matt cut up and bruised. He hates having the clean blood off his face like this. He hates that Matt gets this hurt some nights. Hating what he sees and worrying about what he sees are two different things, though. "I know you can handle yourself." He nods defiantly, because he does know Matt can handle himself, even if it hurts to see him hurt.
Matt reaches up to take Peter's chin in his hand. "Smart boy."
The words do something to him, and this warm happiness bubbles up in his stomach. Peter wants to melt. Without thinking he leans forward, capturing Matt's mouth in a kiss. Matt's lip is split and it tastes like blood. Matt hisses and pulls back.
"I'm sorry." Peter has to apologize.
When they kiss again, Peter lets Matt lead. Matt is careful, and ginger with him. Peter doesn't want to be careful right now, but he knows better than to try and take the lead. When they pull apart, Peter knows he's blushing pink. Matt does that to him.
"Finish up." Matt instructs.
Peter is eager to do as he's told. He turns the cloth in his hands, finding a perfectly clean section. He wipes the rest of the blood from Matt's skin, and holds the washcloth for a moment against the cut on the other male's forehead.
"Woah."
Peter starts a little at the sound of Wade's voice, having not expected him home. He half turns looking over his shoulder to register the him standing there in the doorway with a bag in his hand. He gives Wade a once over before looking back towards Matt, focusing again on the cuts on his face.
"Damn homie you look fucked up." Wade announces, rude as ever.
"You're one too talk." Peter says under his breath. Half of him hopes Wade won't hear because that's a mean thing to say, and the other half hopes he does hear it because he shouldn't come in here mouthing off and saying Matt looks 'fucked up'. It’s only going to make Matt mad, and neither of them wants that.
"Hey." Matt reaches up, grabbing Peter by the scruff of his hair at the back of his neck. Peter's spine stiffens straight at once as he's pulled to attention. "Be nice." Matt warns.
Peter breathes an apology. Wade's looks are a sore spot for him, and no one likes to push those buttons.
"Hey I got some food from the place you hate." Wade adds cheerfully, either not having heard them, or not caring. He lifts the bag in his hand, plastic rustling.
'That place you hate' may sound like some bizarre joke only Wade would make, but it's actually a sweet notion.
There is a steak shop on the corner of Grand Street where the food is mouthwateringly delicious. The kind of shop with a great big stove, and a counter so you can sit and watch them cook up your food. You can see, and hear it sizzle. Unfortunately for Matt, that's not all there is to hear.
The ice maker above the soda dispenser chugs out ice at irregular intervals, and there is a near constant thud / crack / clack of breaking ice. The stove spits and hisses with the sound of grilling meat, the fry-a-lator's grease screams when fresh potato cuts hit the hot liquid and then it beeps ERR ERR ERR when the fries are done, loud enough to hear from outside the shop with the door closed. Not to mention the owner likes to blast the radio like it's going to drown out anything else, and he prefers those terrible talk radio hosts who play wacky noises and clips from movies. The ones with their own laughter button and a donkey braying to play at guests who phone in. If that weren't enough the shop is endlessly busy, with loud New York and New Jersey customers constantly coming and going damn near yelling into their cellphones. There are actual jingle bells on the door that clatter and ring whenever it's opened and it opens often. Plus there's a bus stop across the street, so there's the constant squeaking of public transportation busses and their abused breaks.
Needless to say, Matt was close to breaking the first time Wade dragged him in because 'you fucking have to try these pepper things with the bits in them! The cheesesteak is so good it might make you actually like those scum suckers from Philly for inventing the damn thing'. The food was indeed delicious, and well worth it, but Matt has vowed never to return.
Wade still treats them sometimes, because the food really is good, but only when he feels like slipping out by himself to get it, because Matt won't even go anywhere near Grand street and Peter goes where Matt goes... Or in this case doesn't.
Matt smiles. "Thank you Wade."
"Did you get some of those pepper things with the bits in them?" Peter asks critically.
And when Wade confirms with a "you bet your ass I did!" Peter decides he can forgive him for the rude comment he made about Matt’s earlier.
---
"C'mon, can't I be done yet?" Wade groans and he's trudging his feet across the carpet, dragging and slugging along all dramatic like he's tired. He can't be tired. There's no way. All he did was dust the baseboards and the shelves. Of course, that's all the baseboards and all the shelves of their entire apartment, not just the bedroom, but this guy fights to the death on a regular basis. A little spring cleaning isn't going to wear him down.
"I thought you liked being our maid." Matt says, and he's doesn't sound particularly nice.
Peter's eyes close, letting the image of Wade in all his glory slip from vision. The maid-outfit is exceptional, and expensive. He went twice with Matt to get it fitted, and Peter can only imagine how that went down... But right now his thoughts are focused on the way Matt is jacking him off and Jesus Christ it feels good. A warm knot of pleasure has formed in the pit of Peter's stomach, growing ever larger with each satisfying stroke.
Matt squeezes his cock, thumb brushing the sensitive head and Peter moans, the touch is like a current running through him, lighting him up. "I said eyes open. Or you can join him cleaning up."
Peter opens his eyes at once, and he should have known better than to try to get one passed Matt. He burrows deeper into Matt's side, and Matt continues stroking Peter's cock.
"Cleaning is bullshit sir." Wade pouts. He tries to cross his arms over his chest but he's got a feather duster in his hand and it doesn't fit in with his arm folding technique.
"Watch your mouth." Matt warns, all stern and cold. Peter furrows his eye brows, his dick pulsing at the tone. He's sure Matt can feel it. Something about the way Matt gets angry with them is just delicious and hot.
"You two get to be all snug as bugs on the bed and I actually have to dust shhii uh... Stuff. That ain't right sir."
"You should have that about that before you let the apartment turn into a pig sty." Matt informs, splitting his attention between both Wade and Peter damn near seamlessly. He holds conversation with Wade, and coaxes Peter towards orgasm with a hand and nothing more. He speeds up his rhythm, stroking fast with his fingers curled tight around Peter's hard cock. Peter wants to squirm, and cry out, and writhe all over the place but he knows he isn't allowed. It feels so good though, and the pleasure of his climax draws nearer, muscles tightening all over.
Matt turns his attention to Peter for a moment, all too aware of the way his body is reacting. Pressed this close to one another, he can feel every little thing. Every tremor, every shiver. "Come for me." Matt whispers to Peter, and his voice is soft and quiet but it drowns out Wade's loud grumbling somehow. And as easily as Peter drew his attention, Matt's focus shifts back to Wade. "Front and center Wade. Ass in the air, grab your ankles." Matt calls out to the other male, never stopping his feverish strokes.
Peter swallows a moan as Wade assumes the position at the end of the bed. The ruffles and tulle of the maid uniform frame Wade's ass; the skirt is so short that bent over he bares all. Peter can see Wade's wearing a lace black thong too, and the image is bringing him closer and closer to the edge, the knot in his stomach pulsing. Matt working his hard cock over got him started, but seeing Wade so shameless and submissive is sending it home.
"Come for me." Matt whispers again, and his mouth is so close, his breath is hot against Peter's skin. Peter shivers, trembles, and the knot in his stomach finally breaks and pleasure seethes, washing over him. A current of delicious electricity sent straight to his dick as Matt strokes him through his orgasm. Come oozes from Peter's cock, dripping down, catching on Matt's fingers.
The aftershocks run through him, shaking his muscles. Peter cries out, unable to help himself. Everything happens in a flash. Matt's still stroking, the stimulation continues and it’s as intense as ever. Now Matt's hand is wet with come, slick and slippery and it should feel good but it's so much sensation and Peter just came not a moment ago. It's so much pleasure it's pain and he's sobbing out, moving a hand to still Matt's. "Please." Peter cries pathetically.
"What do you think you're doing?" Matt's words lash out, harsher than any whip they've played with. As punishment he squeezes tight, stroking with more vigor still, and the sounds of his motions make wet slick noises that echo in the room. Peter's cock feels white hot and his whole body shakes. He's turning, twisting in Matt's hand but he gets no relief.
"Please." Peter thinks there might be tears in his eyes. Matt doesn't let up, and Peter really does think he'll burst out crying at any second. His cock is screaming with sensitivity and Matt's still stroking.
"Are you going to let Wade make a mess of our apartment again?" Matt demands, his tone biting and harsh. His strokes match his tone. Peter whimpers out in pain.
"No sir." Peter sobs. "I won't I won't I won't. I promise." His words are a jumbled mess. He knows he could get in trouble for it, but he pushes on Matt's hand in earnest, shoving him away. Anything, oh god, anything for relief to ease the ache.
Matt allows Peter to push his arm away. Peter is breaking, making hysterical noises of relief, bring his hands to his face to weep into them. "Apologize." Matt snaps at him.
"I'm sorry." Peter cries, sucking in heavy breaths of air. The ache trembles through him once or twice more and the memory of the intensity of what he was feeling hasn't quite left him yet, but he's starting to feel less abused by the second. He wipes his eyes with his hands and lowers them, taking another deep breath. His face is all red. "I'm sorry sir."
"Good boy." Matt murmurs, and real relief washes over Peter. "Go, clean the clothes off the floor." Peter crawls off the bed, buck naked, cock still red and glistening with his own come, but it's flaccid now, hanging limp. Peter scrambles to pick up anything he sees cluttering the ground.
"Wade why don't you come up here on the bed and join me?"
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Author's Note: Rasputin Dance from Just Dance 2, some delicious peppers with bits in them, and thannnks for reading! :)
This is unbeta'd so I apologize for any heinous errors. Please let me know if anything needs fixing. If you'd like to beta for me in the future, let me know!
I'll make all this accurate and proper according to the kink-meme posting guide later, just worrying about getting it set up right now. Thanks everyone for your patience!
Also available for you viewing pleasure right over here at my tumblr account: here
Characters: Marvel Team Red (Wade Wilson/Deadpool, Peter Parker/Spider-Man, Matt Murdock/DareDevil)
Rating: M
Warnings: None
Summary: Two types of washing/bathing, and two types of cleaning. Enjoy!
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Matt is watching them.
He's got his arms crossed over his chest and a solemn expression on his face and he's watching them. Somehow the way he stands there like that makes Peter feel self-conscious and he bows his head, looking down at the water.
The bath is hot, and big wafts of white steam come floating up from the surface. There is Epsom salt, undissolved and gritty making a sandy carpet at the bottom of the tub. Peter can't see through the water enough to see that, but he can feel it under the backs of his thighs. The bath water swirling white with soap and salt and he can barely make out the shapes of his criss-crossed legs under the surface.
"I'm tired." he whispers, and he curves his head back hoping to catch it on Wade's shoulder. Wade is un-abiding and pushes Peter to sit forward.
"Then sit still and you can come to bed." Wade scolds him, and it's weird to hear him be serious.
The salt soaks in through Peter's skin, deep down through his muscles to his bones. The heat soaks in too. Peter soon feels like he's made of rubber, and he relaxes all over. His shoulders rise and fall with the weight of his breath, and Wade's got him tipped forward so he can scrub his back clean. He isn't gentle, he uses the wash-cloth too hard and Peter can practically feel his skin turning pink. He worries his lip between his teeth, but he doesn't say anything because it kind of feels good to get all the grime and dirt scraped off him.
"Arm's up." Wade tells him. Peter does as he's told. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Matt cross his feet at the ankle, leaning against the bathroom counter as he watches.
Peter is too tired to fully stick his arms up in the air. He's been spinning webs and slinging on them for the last two hours, his arms deserve a bit of a break after all that. He folds them neatly on top of his head instead, flattening down his messy mop of brown hair. Bath water trickles warm down his forearms, over his dry biceps where the water wasn't quite high enough to reach.
Wade scrubs his underarms clean. He dips the wash cloth in the water and wrings it out again, and Peter listens to the sounds it makes. Peter can hear him scrubbing soap and fabric together. Wade closes the gap between their bodies and reaches around Peter's smaller frame to work the cloth into Peter's pale chest. Peter tips his chin down to watch.
"Did you catch the bad guys Spidey?" Wade asks, and his words are a soft murmur coming from just behind Peter's ear.
Peter thinks about saying something clever, but he's just too tired, so he only nods instead.
When Wade pulls back, Peter realizes just how close they were. He relishes the skin on skin contact he had and resents the cold waft of air that has taken Wade's place behind his back.
"Arm's down." Wade says, and Peter obeys.
"Hurry up." Matt instructs from the counter. Peter and Wade take a brief second to look over at him before their cleaning regiment continues.
"Head back." Wade says.
Peter straightens his spine, sitting up-right. He tips his head back and be looks up at the ceiling just long enough to register that it's there before he closes his eyes. Peter notes the plunging sound of the pitcher being pushed under water. Wade raises it from the depths of the tub and it drips, drips, drips before the contents come splashing down on Peter's head. A trickle or two run hot down Peter's face, but most of it splatters down Peter's back before rejoining the rest of the water of the bath.
There is the click of the shampoo bottle and a wheeze as a glob comes emptying out into Wade's hands. Wade takes Peter's wet brown hair in his fingers, scrubbing shampoo in until it's foamy.
Wade is no gentler with him here. The heat of the bath and having his eyes closed makes Peter sleepy. He wants to doze off. He's fading. Wade rubbing shampoo into his hair is methodical at the very least and it's almost like a massage. The lights in the bathroom are bright but behind closed eyes they dim, and they're growing dimmer.
Another hot splash of water and Peter is straightening his posture, remembering where he is and what he's doing. Sleep comes later. Shampoo suds tickle over his shoulders, oozing down his spine. He rolls his shoulders, not sure if he likes the feel. Wade lays a warm, wet hand on him and tells him to stay still.
Another fill of the pitcher and it's tipped over his head, splashing down again. The last of the suds disappear with it, running down his clean skin like a sheet.
"There." Wade seems satisfied with himself. "How's that for you boss?" he asks.
"I'm not your boss." Matt informs, none too politely, and there is an underlying dig about Wade and his work.
"How's that for you sir." Wade corrects, and Peter knows he's raising his eyebrows the way he does.
"Rinse him off and get him to bed." Matt orders and he turns to leave. The noise of his shoes on the bathroom tile fades out as he walks away. He doesn't close the door behind him, but Peter and Wade relax like they're finally out of sight.
"Wade, I'm so tired." Peter whispers and his voice breaks a little because all he wants to do is go to bed and he can't even think about standing up. He moves to lay back, and this time Wade indulges him.
"I know Spidey." Wade smooths his hair back with a wet hand. "I'll help you." And he does.
Wade indulges Peter's relaxed lean for a moment longer before he stands. He loops Peter's arm around his broad shoulders and helps him up. Peter shamelessly leans his weight on the other male. While still supporting Peter, Wade drains the tub and turns. Salt crystallize grit together as they slide down the drain. The noise hurts Peter's teeth for some odd reason he can't explain. The water that was once white with soap swirls away ruddy brown from the dirt, and sweat, and blood that had been sticking to his skin. Peter is a little unnerved that he sat stewing in hot water full of dirt, but that's what the rinse is for.
Wade turns on the shower head and cool water comes rushing out at them. The water isn't ice cold, but the bath was so warm that Peter flinches away at the temperature. After giving it a moment, it feels good to cool down. The last of the dirt and the suds wash away with the spray of the water. Peter turns his face up to the shower head. The heat fades from his skin. He feels relaxed, and loose, and pliant and he is glad Wade's holding him.
Wade turns the spray off when he's deemed Peter properly rinsed and helps a slippery Spider-Man out of the shower. His muscles are big, and he is strong, and Peter has no qualms with letting him carry all his weight. Wade carries him to the counter where the top is clear and he set's Peter there while he retrieves a towel from the closet.
Peter prickles with goosebumps as the cool air dries beads of water on his skin. The counter top is cold under his thighs and backside. Wade wraps him up in a fluffy towel, sealing in warmth as he rubs Peter dry. Wade mops the moisture from Peter's shoulders and arms, and brings the towel in to his ribcage, rubbing all the water away. When Wade pulls the towel back, Peter isn't as cold this time. Wade rubs out his hair, making it stick up in all funny angles. Wade goes over each leg, and Peter would twist away about how the soft fabric tickles his feet, but he's still too tired.
Wade wraps his hand in the towel, and then he wraps his hand around Peter's cock. Peter bites his lip and he groans, because it kind of does feel good, but it's only in the name of getting him clean so Wade's hand is gone as quickly as it was there to begin with, and his cock and balls are dry.
Wade towels himself off too, but with less attention to detail, and when he's done he flings the towel aside to be taken care of later.
"Ready for bed?" Wade asks, and Peter nods his head. "Okay, cling Spidey." Peter wraps his arms around Wade's neck, and his legs around Wade's waist, and Wade carries him into the bedroom where Matt is waiting.
"Submitted for the approval of the midnight society..." Wade smirks. Peter tries not to smile too, because he knows that will get Wade in trouble, and he's right.
"What did you just say to me?" Matt asks, and if his tone sounds accusatory it's because it is.
"Submitted for your approval." Wade amends, sounding a little stiff.
"You want to make jokes Wilson?" Matt asks. "In that case, you can sleep on the floor."
Peter's eyes are closing, and he isn't seeing anything, but somehow he knows Wade has got that utterly offended expression his face. "C'mon that's bullshit, sir!" He complains, and he sounds like he's a mile away.
"Keep it up and you can sleep out in the living room, how about that." Matt adds darkly.
Wade doesn't add anything else, probably not wanting to get in trouble. He walks Peter to the foot of the bed and eases him down. Peter's whole body feels like lead and he is dead weight the moment he hits the mattress. He curls up on top of the comforter right there at the end of the bed.
Matt and Wade trade a few more brisk words with one another. Peter means to listen but they sound so far away and his eye-lids are so heavy. He is vaguely aware of the dip in the mattress when Matt joins him in bed. Matt hauls him up further by one arm, and Peter lets himself be pulled.
Peter falls asleep to the sound of Matt's voice, whispering how nice he smells and how good he was tonight. He's sad Wade wasn't invited to sleep with them, but it's nice to hear Matt's praise.
---
"You're like a dog." Peter sounds appalled. Wade's (unintentionally?) splashing more water at him, and he flinches away, annoyed.
"A dog!" Wade repeats, marveling at the concept.
"Oh no. No no. Don't you dare start acting like a dog." Peter looks down at himself. At his jeans covered in wet spots, and his t-shirt soaked in weird patterns. If this is what Wade accomplishes acting like a human, lord only know what kind of mess he will make acting like a dog. For God’s sake a dog. "Wade you maniac, don't."
But it's too late. Wade hooks a dripping wet arm, bubble fluff in the crook of his elbow, around Peter's shoulder's drawing him in to lick the length of Peter's face.
"Ugh. God. Wade." Peter twists out of the other male's grip, rubbing the slime from his cheek. "You're disgusting."
"Quick, get the collar from the closet." Wade grins.
"Stop it." Peter scolds, knitting his eyebrows together. "You know we're not supposed to go in there without Matt's permission."
"So? We'll put it back when we're done."
"What soaking wet and covered in bubbles? You think he won't notice?" Peter crosses his arms over his chest.
"If you're not going to get it, I am!" Wade announces, standing up, splashing water all over the floor. Peter jumps back, not quite sure why he's bothering to avoid getting wet when half his clothes are already soaked. Maybe it was just reflex.
"No you are not. Sit down, Wade! Now!"
Wade's stepping out of the tub, and Peter reaches out to snag his arm, trying to turn him around and shove him back in. Wade's opening his mouth like he's got a real good argument but it's not likely that he does so Peter keeps talking.
"If I get in trouble because of..." But Peter gets cut off because they hear the apartment door and they both grow still. Wade retreats to the tub and sinks back in to the water, the displacement making the foam bubbles crawl up the tub walls.
Matt's keys hit the dish. There is the thud of his shoes, slid off his feet, hitting the mat. Peter and Wade stay stock still. Neither one of them say a word, and its dead quiet in the bathroom. Peter is aware of the bathtub's faucet dripping water, and his own breathing.
Matt shuffles into the bedroom, and then turns his head towards the bathroom door. He approaches the doorway.
"What are you two doing?"
"Nothing." and "Playing." Peter and Wade answer at the same time. Peter flushes hot, distinctly aware of how incriminating 'Playing.' sounds. Matt will know he's blushing too, he can always tell.
"No sex." Matt warns, in accordance of his 'you don't get to come unless you ask me permission' policy in effect. Peter nods his head, serious. Wade is a little slower but he soon moves to do the same nod.
"Clean up your mess when you’re done." He adds, not unkindly.
"Yes sir." Wade salutes. Literally salutes, and there's foam bubbles on his fingers that fluff in the air in front of him as he jerks his hand away from his forehead.
Matt retreats to the bedroom, no doubt changing to go out on patrol tonight.
"You ass." Peter hisses.
"How the fuck does he know if it's a mess in here. He can't see shit. I don't think it's messy at all." and Wade scowls at the water slopped on the floor like he can will it away with his eyes so that his statement will be true.
"You realize he can still hear you." Peter frowns, worried about what Matt will think.
Wade shrugs, resolving to craft himself a foam beard with bubbles instead of hair. Peter thinks he looks suspiciously like Rasputin, but he's not going to mention that this time. He doesn't want Wade to hop up and start doing that dumb dance from Just Dance 2, which would really slop water everywhere. Or worse, to start acting like Rasputin. (Whatever that could possible entail. Probably being creepy. More creepy than usual)
With the promise of ‘the best fucking foam mohawk you've ever seen’ Peter finally agrees to strip down and join Wade in the tub. He leaves his shirt and jeans and boxers strewn carelessly on the bathroom floor. He's already all wet anyway what does it matter?
"You're gonna look like a fucking street shark." Wade informs enthusiastically, manipulating Peter's wet hair with his hands.
"I don't think any of the Street Sharks had mohawks..." Peter considers, wracking his mind for any information about the children's tv show. He never really watched it that much. Peter is vaguely aware that sitting like this, crossed legged in the water, facing the faucet with Wade at his back is strikingly similar to bath time when he comes home from a night out as Spider-Man but this is different. This is kind of nicer. It's fun. They're having fun.
"No, no. Not the show. Just a street shark. Like if a shark was walking down the street right now." Peter has no idea what Wade is talking about. But that's okay because he usually doesn't.
Matt's shadow passes by the bathroom door again, and Peter almost wishes he would come join them. Of course, he isn't the playful type and he wouldn't be very amused with Wade and Peter's games, but he could just stand there and watch with his arms folded like he usually does. That would be okay.
Peter worries that Matt doesn't get enough time to relax. He's always working so hard, whether it's at the law firm or as DareDevil, or taking care of Wade and him. When summer comes, Wade and Peter will drag him to the pool, Peter decides. He smiles at the idea. Hah. What would Matt do? He would probably stretch out on a beach chair and work on his tan, that's what.
Peter shares his idea with Wade, and the thought of Matt relaxing back in the sun. Wade snickers and nods, giving Matt a fruity drink and a speedo.
---
"Stop it." Matt says, and it's Peter's second nature to comply. When Matt gives orders, Peter follows them. His hand stills, and Peter sits on his haunches, chewing on his bottom lip. "Stop worrying." Matt admonishes.
Peter lowers his hand, twisting the wash cloth in his fingers. There's blood soaking in to the fabric; Matt's blood.
"I'm not worrying." Peter frowns. He isn't worried. He hates to see Matt cut up and bruised. He hates having the clean blood off his face like this. He hates that Matt gets this hurt some nights. Hating what he sees and worrying about what he sees are two different things, though. "I know you can handle yourself." He nods defiantly, because he does know Matt can handle himself, even if it hurts to see him hurt.
Matt reaches up to take Peter's chin in his hand. "Smart boy."
The words do something to him, and this warm happiness bubbles up in his stomach. Peter wants to melt. Without thinking he leans forward, capturing Matt's mouth in a kiss. Matt's lip is split and it tastes like blood. Matt hisses and pulls back.
"I'm sorry." Peter has to apologize.
When they kiss again, Peter lets Matt lead. Matt is careful, and ginger with him. Peter doesn't want to be careful right now, but he knows better than to try and take the lead. When they pull apart, Peter knows he's blushing pink. Matt does that to him.
"Finish up." Matt instructs.
Peter is eager to do as he's told. He turns the cloth in his hands, finding a perfectly clean section. He wipes the rest of the blood from Matt's skin, and holds the washcloth for a moment against the cut on the other male's forehead.
"Woah."
Peter starts a little at the sound of Wade's voice, having not expected him home. He half turns looking over his shoulder to register the him standing there in the doorway with a bag in his hand. He gives Wade a once over before looking back towards Matt, focusing again on the cuts on his face.
"Damn homie you look fucked up." Wade announces, rude as ever.
"You're one too talk." Peter says under his breath. Half of him hopes Wade won't hear because that's a mean thing to say, and the other half hopes he does hear it because he shouldn't come in here mouthing off and saying Matt looks 'fucked up'. It’s only going to make Matt mad, and neither of them wants that.
"Hey." Matt reaches up, grabbing Peter by the scruff of his hair at the back of his neck. Peter's spine stiffens straight at once as he's pulled to attention. "Be nice." Matt warns.
Peter breathes an apology. Wade's looks are a sore spot for him, and no one likes to push those buttons.
"Hey I got some food from the place you hate." Wade adds cheerfully, either not having heard them, or not caring. He lifts the bag in his hand, plastic rustling.
'That place you hate' may sound like some bizarre joke only Wade would make, but it's actually a sweet notion.
There is a steak shop on the corner of Grand Street where the food is mouthwateringly delicious. The kind of shop with a great big stove, and a counter so you can sit and watch them cook up your food. You can see, and hear it sizzle. Unfortunately for Matt, that's not all there is to hear.
The ice maker above the soda dispenser chugs out ice at irregular intervals, and there is a near constant thud / crack / clack of breaking ice. The stove spits and hisses with the sound of grilling meat, the fry-a-lator's grease screams when fresh potato cuts hit the hot liquid and then it beeps ERR ERR ERR when the fries are done, loud enough to hear from outside the shop with the door closed. Not to mention the owner likes to blast the radio like it's going to drown out anything else, and he prefers those terrible talk radio hosts who play wacky noises and clips from movies. The ones with their own laughter button and a donkey braying to play at guests who phone in. If that weren't enough the shop is endlessly busy, with loud New York and New Jersey customers constantly coming and going damn near yelling into their cellphones. There are actual jingle bells on the door that clatter and ring whenever it's opened and it opens often. Plus there's a bus stop across the street, so there's the constant squeaking of public transportation busses and their abused breaks.
Needless to say, Matt was close to breaking the first time Wade dragged him in because 'you fucking have to try these pepper things with the bits in them! The cheesesteak is so good it might make you actually like those scum suckers from Philly for inventing the damn thing'. The food was indeed delicious, and well worth it, but Matt has vowed never to return.
Wade still treats them sometimes, because the food really is good, but only when he feels like slipping out by himself to get it, because Matt won't even go anywhere near Grand street and Peter goes where Matt goes... Or in this case doesn't.
Matt smiles. "Thank you Wade."
"Did you get some of those pepper things with the bits in them?" Peter asks critically.
And when Wade confirms with a "you bet your ass I did!" Peter decides he can forgive him for the rude comment he made about Matt’s earlier.
---
"C'mon, can't I be done yet?" Wade groans and he's trudging his feet across the carpet, dragging and slugging along all dramatic like he's tired. He can't be tired. There's no way. All he did was dust the baseboards and the shelves. Of course, that's all the baseboards and all the shelves of their entire apartment, not just the bedroom, but this guy fights to the death on a regular basis. A little spring cleaning isn't going to wear him down.
"I thought you liked being our maid." Matt says, and he's doesn't sound particularly nice.
Peter's eyes close, letting the image of Wade in all his glory slip from vision. The maid-outfit is exceptional, and expensive. He went twice with Matt to get it fitted, and Peter can only imagine how that went down... But right now his thoughts are focused on the way Matt is jacking him off and Jesus Christ it feels good. A warm knot of pleasure has formed in the pit of Peter's stomach, growing ever larger with each satisfying stroke.
Matt squeezes his cock, thumb brushing the sensitive head and Peter moans, the touch is like a current running through him, lighting him up. "I said eyes open. Or you can join him cleaning up."
Peter opens his eyes at once, and he should have known better than to try to get one passed Matt. He burrows deeper into Matt's side, and Matt continues stroking Peter's cock.
"Cleaning is bullshit sir." Wade pouts. He tries to cross his arms over his chest but he's got a feather duster in his hand and it doesn't fit in with his arm folding technique.
"Watch your mouth." Matt warns, all stern and cold. Peter furrows his eye brows, his dick pulsing at the tone. He's sure Matt can feel it. Something about the way Matt gets angry with them is just delicious and hot.
"You two get to be all snug as bugs on the bed and I actually have to dust shhii uh... Stuff. That ain't right sir."
"You should have that about that before you let the apartment turn into a pig sty." Matt informs, splitting his attention between both Wade and Peter damn near seamlessly. He holds conversation with Wade, and coaxes Peter towards orgasm with a hand and nothing more. He speeds up his rhythm, stroking fast with his fingers curled tight around Peter's hard cock. Peter wants to squirm, and cry out, and writhe all over the place but he knows he isn't allowed. It feels so good though, and the pleasure of his climax draws nearer, muscles tightening all over.
Matt turns his attention to Peter for a moment, all too aware of the way his body is reacting. Pressed this close to one another, he can feel every little thing. Every tremor, every shiver. "Come for me." Matt whispers to Peter, and his voice is soft and quiet but it drowns out Wade's loud grumbling somehow. And as easily as Peter drew his attention, Matt's focus shifts back to Wade. "Front and center Wade. Ass in the air, grab your ankles." Matt calls out to the other male, never stopping his feverish strokes.
Peter swallows a moan as Wade assumes the position at the end of the bed. The ruffles and tulle of the maid uniform frame Wade's ass; the skirt is so short that bent over he bares all. Peter can see Wade's wearing a lace black thong too, and the image is bringing him closer and closer to the edge, the knot in his stomach pulsing. Matt working his hard cock over got him started, but seeing Wade so shameless and submissive is sending it home.
"Come for me." Matt whispers again, and his mouth is so close, his breath is hot against Peter's skin. Peter shivers, trembles, and the knot in his stomach finally breaks and pleasure seethes, washing over him. A current of delicious electricity sent straight to his dick as Matt strokes him through his orgasm. Come oozes from Peter's cock, dripping down, catching on Matt's fingers.
The aftershocks run through him, shaking his muscles. Peter cries out, unable to help himself. Everything happens in a flash. Matt's still stroking, the stimulation continues and it’s as intense as ever. Now Matt's hand is wet with come, slick and slippery and it should feel good but it's so much sensation and Peter just came not a moment ago. It's so much pleasure it's pain and he's sobbing out, moving a hand to still Matt's. "Please." Peter cries pathetically.
"What do you think you're doing?" Matt's words lash out, harsher than any whip they've played with. As punishment he squeezes tight, stroking with more vigor still, and the sounds of his motions make wet slick noises that echo in the room. Peter's cock feels white hot and his whole body shakes. He's turning, twisting in Matt's hand but he gets no relief.
"Please." Peter thinks there might be tears in his eyes. Matt doesn't let up, and Peter really does think he'll burst out crying at any second. His cock is screaming with sensitivity and Matt's still stroking.
"Are you going to let Wade make a mess of our apartment again?" Matt demands, his tone biting and harsh. His strokes match his tone. Peter whimpers out in pain.
"No sir." Peter sobs. "I won't I won't I won't. I promise." His words are a jumbled mess. He knows he could get in trouble for it, but he pushes on Matt's hand in earnest, shoving him away. Anything, oh god, anything for relief to ease the ache.
Matt allows Peter to push his arm away. Peter is breaking, making hysterical noises of relief, bring his hands to his face to weep into them. "Apologize." Matt snaps at him.
"I'm sorry." Peter cries, sucking in heavy breaths of air. The ache trembles through him once or twice more and the memory of the intensity of what he was feeling hasn't quite left him yet, but he's starting to feel less abused by the second. He wipes his eyes with his hands and lowers them, taking another deep breath. His face is all red. "I'm sorry sir."
"Good boy." Matt murmurs, and real relief washes over Peter. "Go, clean the clothes off the floor." Peter crawls off the bed, buck naked, cock still red and glistening with his own come, but it's flaccid now, hanging limp. Peter scrambles to pick up anything he sees cluttering the ground.
"Wade why don't you come up here on the bed and join me?"
________________________________________________________________________________
Author's Note: Rasputin Dance from Just Dance 2, some delicious peppers with bits in them, and thannnks for reading! :)
This is unbeta'd so I apologize for any heinous errors. Please let me know if anything needs fixing. If you'd like to beta for me in the future, let me know!
I'll make all this accurate and proper according to the kink-meme posting guide later, just worrying about getting it set up right now. Thanks everyone for your patience!
Also available for you viewing pleasure right over here at my tumblr account: here
