This time he does scream.

(It's so much more intense when it's not a fight, when he has his mask off and somebody is doing this to him because they want him to hurt–)

"Oh, fuck, please, touch, I, fuck–"

He shakes and moans up against the wall, incoherent with...pain? Pleasure? Something.

"Please touch wha-at?" Asher says teasingly, running his fingers lightly across Deadpool's scarred jawline. 

He leans into the touch, too out of it to be at all self-conscious.

"I–chest, cock, fuck me, anything, don't care, ah–"

He can already feel his arms trying to set up, muscles contracting in odd, unnatural ways to try to shift the bones into place.

That's not fun. Asher moves the bones so they can't heal. 

He yanks down Deadpool's pants and wraps one hand around his dick. He's not trying to hurt Deadpool, but he has superstrength; it toes the line between a handjob and CBT. The other hand wraps around Deadpool's neck again, this time with superpowered choking. 

"I wonder," he says, "if you can come before you die."

His whole body shakes and writhes – he can't even cough, he feels his neck close to crushing in Asher's grip, he can't help but buck his hips forward into the touch even with the crushing firmness of it and the cold metal of the glove.

Asher's going to kill him – first time they hook up, and he's going to kill him, he can't imagine something better.

His head swims, and his vision blurs, and he's so close as his consciousness starts to slip–

"You're beautiful." Asher sounds like he means it.

Asher kisses him. 

It's soft and gentle and sweet.

–oh.

He can't make a sound. He wishes he could. He can't cling, either, with both his arms broken.

(But that's not too bad. He's being held. Just...unconventionally.)

He shudders, and comes,

and loses consciousness.

Asher kisses his forehead, puts his bones back in the right places so they can regrow, takes off his gloves, and waits for Deadpool to come back to life.

His eyes flutter open after less than a minute.

"...hhhi. Wow. Fuck."

He sounds a little dazed. And also hoarse.

Asher hugs him. "Good time?"

He nods as vigorously as he can manage with his very bruised...neck area.

He does look a little teary, though.

"You okay?" Asher hugs him tightly. 

(He really wants a blowjob. But! Aftercare first.)

"Yeah. Yeah, 'm okay. Just, uh–"

Cough. Crunch. Ok, yeah, there it goes. Voice reengaged.

"...you're really fucking sweet."

Asher runs a hand over Deadpool's hair and then, conscientiously, over the scarred part of his head. "You kink on having your bones broken, I kink on being nice to people. We all have our fetishes."

Oh. He twitches, hesitates, then leans into the touch.

Being his kink is way better than nothing. Way better. He is really into Asher Stark being nice to him.

"My...uh."

Is this overshare? This feels like overshare.

"...my name's Z. Kind of. People who like me call me Z. Just...you know, so you know."

"Z," he says tenderly, continuing to run his fingers along both halves of Z's scalp. 

Ok, Z, be cool about this. Don't cry. That's weird. Detach. You can still break the fourth wall with your face out, it's just harder. This is all a really weird fanfiction and none of it matters.

Ow. That's kind of exhausting while he's having feelings, and he's already losing it. Noted.

He leans into the touch and takes deep breaths.

"I don't mind if you cry. I like... taking care of people."

"...you sure you're cool with it?"

He already sounds a little wobbly.

"I'm a rich hot genius superhero. I don't do things I don't want to do. You can cry on me."

He laughs, tearily, and puts his (working. how about that) arms around Asher's shoulders,

and cries on him for a little while.

(He's really, really tired. This feels like resting.)

Asher makes comforting noises and pets his scalp and holds him. 

Eventually he says, "you're hot."

Now he's laughing again.

"Asher Stark thinks I'm hot. Look in a mirror, dude!"