Deadpool, bounced onto the tabletop, instinctively clamped his legs together, making it clear he rejected Star-Lord's proposal. After all, only his girlfriends, wife, and cousin were allowed to fuck him.
"Star-Lord's a good guy. All guys named Peter are good people, but we're not close enough to get physical yet, you know."
Deadpool turned his head and spoke to empty air, patiently explaining his standards and going into detail about the meaning of the verb "fuck," as though he were afraid the Livestream viewers might not understand.
His wedding venue had been decorated in a circus style, with red-and-white cloth everywhere and an excessive amount of colored lights. The light pollution alone was enough to make people irritable.
Classical music—or rather, music that sounded more like a nursery rhyme—echoed through the venue. The song was mainly about a group of ducklings going into the river.
"What? No, I wasn't thinking that. Ugh." Star-Lord dry-heaved and moved away from Deadpool, clutching his chest and crotch. "Actually, that word can sometimes be used as an interjection. It doesn't have any concrete meaning."
"I'll just assume that's true." Deadpool nodded repeatedly, a perfunctory smile curling beneath his mask—the sort of expression people wore when giving someone a way out. In an obnoxiously affected voice, he said, "Well, let's leave it at that for now. I need to go say hello to the Mutants. Not because I barely count as half a Mutant myself, but because I want to see Logan's expression. Hehe."
Without waiting for Star-Lord to respond, he covered his ass and ran off, as though he were still guarding against someone attacking him from behind.
That only made Peter feel even more disgusted. Although they often went out drinking or visited arcades together, Star-Lord had always thrown up at first. Gradually,