Work Text:
Touch
Like all proper romcoms it starts with a can of refried beans and some light telekinesis.
Wade’s about to have a hearty 3AM, post it’s-the-hard-knock-life meal, still healing a wrist that’s twisted at least twice more than what’s normal and all the while shuffling through their tiny kitchen, dripping blood that’s mostly not his own. On top of that shit-sundae he’s trying not to wake up Cable because that’s how nice he is. Also, one of these days Cable’s probably not going to appreciate the whole adorable “Oh you ARE SO happy to see me” routine they got going on whenever he pulls a huge gun in Wade’s face. There’s no jealousy involved here. Wade can appreciate other guy’s guns, big or small. Because really, it should only matter what you do with them, right?
But yeah, back to the food because the rumbling of his stomach is going to wake up the entire street at this point. And behold, here is where stuff goes all wonky like Wade stumbled in some sort of trashy ghost video. Before he even gets a chance to go for the can opener, the can starts rotating on the counter like it’s being opened by invisible hands – oh man, does Wade miss Brad Pitt sometimes – and then the lid is coming off neatly and drifts over into the sink. Huh. What a super clean ghost. Or, more possibly, if slightly more mundane, what a neat freak from the future abusing his sweet, sweet mind control powers. Or however that shit works.
Wade grabs the can to hold it still and prevent the nicety from reaching unbearable levels. Like, pouring the beans into a pan and heating them up. Gross. Suck it, Cable, the only warm thing filling Wade’s insides tonight will be the counterfeit bourbon he took off a drug dealer’s hands. While they weren’t attached to his body so it’s technically not stealing.
Just when Wade thinks this strange after school special on TK is done, a spoon is sneaking its way out of the pile of to-do-dishes and rinsing itself under some tab water before it comes floating towards him and dumps itself into the beans. It’s kind of cute. Even if slightly judgemental.
In the morning, Cable makes coffee like other people plan the seating arrangement for a wedding. With deadly precision, no remorse and not breaking eye contact once. Wade’s got a few ideas who could play his part in the inevitable Netflix documentary on… whatever it is where they’re headed here.
“I’m looking at a place today.” Cable tells him over the blubbering of the coffee maker.
They tend to have this conversation during business hours on weekdays, which is more routine than Wade has had since… well, since before shit hit the fan in the whole emotional baggage department. Again.
“That’s good, that’s excellent,” Wade’s being helpful, “maybe this time try to remember that you can fingerfuck people’s minds, so I don’t know, use that. Unless they got to you at the Mutant Academy for Gifted Asskissing and you’re suddenly morally... ungrey.”
Cable just grunts in reply. So much for the whole spooning thing they had going on the night before. He really needs to stop falling asleep while watching Brokeback Mountain.
Wade opens his mouth to fill the comfortable morning silence.
“I will rip out your spine through your ass.” Cable says.
Wade decides to mutter into his cornflakes instead. Ah, domestic bliss.
Predictably, Cable comes back just as homeless as he’d be without Wade’s natural sense of generosity. They watch TV for a while until it’s all cleaning product commercials and the kind of porn that leaves you vaguely unsatisfied and with a lot of questions and Cable doesn’t take long to abandon the couch but not without a light slap to the back of Wade’s head instead of the more universally used “goodnight, you hot piece of ass I call flatmate”. The future is rude and filled with sexual frustration, more old news at 6 o’clock.
Still, there are perks to having Cable and his TK around. Like the remote control that keeps nudging into Wade’s thigh like some small, battery-operated pet (oh excellent idea. Put that on the shopping list). Or how Wade’s keys mysteriously always end up in one of his pouches or pockets and he has to spend a lot less time crawling in through a window and setting off the neighbour’s dog in the process. Then there is the empty beer bottle next to Wade on the bathroom floor, that keeps replacing itself with a fresh one until he becomes bored of chasing a very temporary buzz and he can stop crying long enough to make it to bed where he drops off into a dreamless sleep. Also worth mentioning: every time a shut door is the only saving grace for any of his personal relationships, that door shuts.
Really, there’s a lot of reasons Wade could be grateful.
The funny part is that Cable is still treating him like a punching bag pretty much the rest of the time. Occasionally a punching bag that Cable might want to put his dick into, but hey, who is Wade to judge. Okay so he judges the guy a whole lot for all the comments about his looks that sound way less sarcastic the more time goes by. But all other weird kinks? A-okay in Wade’s book. And if Cable wants to keep acting like his brain isn’t out there wooing the pants of Wade, or downright being a caring motherfucker, then that’s what they’re going to do until the third movie or so.
Around the five-week mark of Cable’s whole Jekyll and Hyde meets Carrie thing, it starts getting weird. Wade’s settled down on his bed for some quality time, lube and unicorn placed conveniently close by and he’s stripped from the waist down for maximum range of motion. He’s whistling “I’d Do Anything For Love” since he’s about to do THAT and spitting into his hand to get this show on the road, when there is a light touch against his right knee. There is a 50:50 chance Cable has heard him through the wall and is getting annoyed. So naturally Wade wraps a hand around himself and moans insistently. The touch returns. To his right knee, to his left knee, then sliding up his thighs on both sides. It’s still soft, barely pressing into his skin and it makes Wade’s breath hitch when the sensation brushes the base of his dick. His thumb rubs over the tip while the touches travel up his stomach, his chest, ghosting over where his nipples would be. And Wade jerks and comes just like that.
Well. If goddamn Nathan wanted him to be done already he certainly got what he wanted.
Here’s the thing though: goddamn Nathan still doesn’t act like someone getting what he wants. Au contraire, he acts like someone who’s not only NOT getting what he wants but on top of that also doesn’t have a clue what that would be. Besides ruining Wade’s enjoyment of everything.
“I am turning my music down if you ask nicely. Which you won’t. Because we both know you secretly love dubstep.”
“I will dubstep on your face.” Cable says. “Fucknugget,” he adds for good measure.
It happens again the next night.
“Oh god, oh fuck.” Wade can’t scramble up on his knees fast enough, the TK caressing up the back of his thighs and squeezing his flesh for a hot and heavy second that has him drop his face into his pillow to muffle a sound.
He’s so loose right now from working slippery fingers inside himself earlier to the fantasy of Vanessa giving him her best ever birthday performance (that woman was magic with and without a strap-on) and then that fantasy slowly morphed into Cable fucking into him with short (no pun intended), hard thrusts while Vanessa was watching them with a smile, leaned back against the headboard.
So all in all, even if it wasn’t for some awfully hot mind power thing that was tracing Wade’s rim right now, he’d still have a hard time keeping still. It feels so good to rest his cramping hand for a bit, motorboat the pillow and just let the TK touch him all over – up his spine, pressing into his tailbone for a moment like a kiss and then back to his ass, warm and gentle and so fucking frustrating because it’s not even close to what Wade needs.
What does a guy have to do to get a good plowing around here?
“Come on, come on.” Wade whimpers then shouts into the pillow, pushing back to spur the TK into action.
There is a light press to his hole, fingertip-like, potentially big enough to be a thumb, not even breaching him, shooting a whole shiver of delightfully frustrated tension through Wade’s body.
From the wall next to Wade’s head comes a bang and a muffled voice: “Keep it the fuck down, Wilson.”
The last thing Wade feels before he drifts off into a come-induced slumber is the TK pulling the blanket back on top of him.
*
“For the last time. Can’t read your mind. Healing factor.”
“You know, you’re a lot more talkative in the comics. Did they cut down your lines according to your height?”
Cable gives him an amused look over the bite of ramen noodle he’s testing for firmness right now. Wade’s heart does something gross and schmoopy and complicated that will not be addressed any further because it’s his fucking franchise.
“Why do you even want to know?” Cable seems to be satisfied with the food and in a generally good mood tonight. Never you fear, boys and girls and everything in between, Wade’s on the case to fuck that up real quick. Why stop when he’s so so good at it?
“Just good to know if someone’s ballsdeep in your grey matter soup.” Wade shrugs and switches the TV channel on an eternal Bea Arthur chase. “And copyright issues, mostly. It’s very Twilight and I gotta tell you, I’m not comfortable with you being Edward. Team Charlie all the way.”
Cable ladles the noodles into two bowls: “He’s her father, dipshit.”
“No, not that. For ME. Are you even listening, sugar tits? It’s like you don’t actually want to know what’s going through my head, which I find frankly insulting and you should know by now I’ll tell you anyways.”
“I don’t mind you telling me.” One of the bowls is set down in front of Wade on the coffee table. “You’ve got a nice voice.”
Maybe it’s not as easy to fuck up Cable’s good mood as per previous assumptions.
“That is waayy more what I’m talking about. Now say it with me: bodysli—"
Cable’s eye glows.
“Eat your goddamn dinner, Wade.”
In the middle of the night, Wade wakes up to ghosty fingers ghosting up his spine, a hot, wet sensation pressing to his neck. He’s arching into it all, still half-asleep, smacking his lips. The TK maps out his ribcage, presses into the dips at his hipbones, strokes the backs of his calves. He drifts off again for a moment, bathed in all the warmth the touches create, only to startle at the feeling of something solid plastered to his back and a very insistent pressure at his ass.
Oh hell yeah.
Wade exhales carefully, runs a hand down his stomach and toys with the waistband of his boxers. By the time he’s got a hand around himself, more not-really-there kisses have him squirming and pushing back, firm pressure sliding up his thighs and nestling between his cheeks, blood-hot and still not flesh and blood or metal or anything. Wade still messes up his hand and a good portion of the sheets.
“I don’t need your fucking help. In fact, stop trying to help.” Cable’s halfway out of the apartment already, from the sounds of it knocking over some innocent furniture in the process.
Wade’s enough into the drama to follow him through the living room. Not like he’s got anything better to do either. It’s just one of those lives.
“I’ll have you know that Faking A Relationship To Get A New Apartment is a well-established and widely beloved trope, originating from that island with all the people who speak British.”
Cable turns around to glare at him: “That would only work if we wanted to keep sharing an apartment, you cocktrap.”
Cocktrap? Wade wishes.
He also wishes this entire conversation could have been kept on schedule because it’s a lot less adorable and domestic like this.
“Yeah about that, I’m starting to remind myself of your wife because you can barely wait to fuck off as fast as you can and let me sort out the rest.”
The doorframe shakes for a full minute after Cable slams the door shut. At least they’re back on the fucking up part that comes to Wade so easily. Stick to what you know, right?
Wade’s barely got time to walk into his room and mutter a few curses that are for the biggest part directed at himself, before the TK lifts him off his feet and pins him to the empty space where the new Fjälkinge is supposed to go. Uhm, can you say unfair advantage and nervous erections? Wade’s mouth opens in a very attractive shape to give the TK a piece of his mind, but apparently that’s not going to happen today because there is a pressure clamping over his mouth immediately and it’s all kinds of wow and kinky if you’re into this. Which Wade would confirm very vocally if he could. So instead he just nods eagerness until it earns him a swift tug that results in the bottom part of his suit pooling around his ankles along with his underwear.
[I was so wrong; this is the angry sex trope, isn’t it], Wade thinks at the TK real hard, but doesn’t get much of a reaction.
Wade wriggles his feet in the air, lets his head fall back against the wall at the first brush of warmth around his dick. If ghosts gave blowjobs, it would probably be something like this. It’s not the actual feeling of a mouth around him, of spit and a hint of teeth and the unbearable softness of yielding flesh that makes his thoughts comes out all jumbled and grossly poetic, but it comes pretty close. Like someone plucked all the memories of past blowjobs from his head and made a remix, a sensation that could be convincing if it weren’t for the fact that Wade is currently flouncing and gasping on the wall in complete frustration.
Screw Cable and his sexy, sexy powers.
Considering that it’s got him pinned in place, the TK is surprisingly gentle. It runs up the entire length of Wade’s dick, settles warmly on his stomach and then it’s back to the thing it did before, which would be torture even if it was an actual tongue on him.
“Mmmph.” Wade tries to encourage while squirming to get a hand on himself, whimper stuck in his throat when he succeeds.
The pressure on his mouth flickers for a second and disappears, a lot of air rushing into Wade’s lungs all at once and immediately coming back out: “Square-jawed garden gnome bastard!”
Still, Wade has to admit this position has a lot going for it, no arguing here. Doesn’t get much better than being held up and touched goddamn everywhere at the same time. You gotta leave it to the TK, it’s nothing if not thorough in a way that always seems to miss the point by half an inch or so. The point being Wade’s prostate. Sure, there’s nothing wrong with some teasing and oh fuck, is that a ghost tongue on his ass? But it also isn’t the real deal, hasn’t been anything but a promise of more to come and no delivery ever since it started.
Wade shuts his eyes, breathes in deeply, trying to lose himself in the feeling of a telekinetic blow/rim job and stripping his cock with increasing desperation. At least the TK lets him touch himself because he’s pretty sure they’d be here all night if he didn’t, kept on edge by Nate’s fucked up idea of make-up sex. Actually, thinking it out loud now, Wade would be very okay with that.
The TK is focusing on his ass by now (big surprise there. Can you spell ‘obsessed’?), pushing his thighs apart to not-lick deeper, so very fucking close to getting all up into Wade’s business which in turn has Wade shaking and trying to lower himself onto the sensation.
If the whole point of this is to prove how badly he needs some dick up his ass, this was a total waste of time. He would have written Cable a nice card saying the exact same thing. Maybe got one of those sky-writing planes to make it all wholesome and official.
-Don’t move out, I’ll ride you on the couch-
Fuck, that’s an idea. Wade’s dick twitches in his hand, the TK diving back in, still not as real as Wade needs, still not pressing inside, just brushing, lapping at his hole again and again, the shadow of something wet and hot and hard and oh god Wade is coming, actually shooting hard enough to mess up the top part of his suit and get a few splatters on his chin.
As quickly as it has come (hah) the TK lets go of him, so Wade’s slumping down the wall in a pile of I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-butter limbs.
“What in the ass…”
He gets maybe a few seconds of afterglow to himself, doing the sexy drooling thing and half-heartedly scratching at the come drying on his suit.
Then Cable returns, slamming the door again and slamming down some bags until the smell of Chinese take-out from the restaurant next door starts drifting in underneath Wade’s door. Figures that Cable is the person to angry-eat spring rolls.
Wade’s distracted enough by the proceedings of the evening to only notice the TK again when it tugs at his sleeve and slides a bottle of water across the floor towards him.
Sure, because staying hydrated is his actual problem here.
He still gulps the water down as quickly as he can, eyes closed and listening to Cable’s humming in the living room, while he allows the TK to pet his head.
As much as he hates to be honest with himself, Wade’s starting to think they might have a minor situation here.
*
Because of the author’s symmetry kink, it’s 3AM again when Wade bends over and into the fridge to get to THE worst placed carton of milk in the history of comic panels made entirely for the male gaze. You’re welcome, nerds. And honestly, the milk isn’t even a great substitute for the fuck-ton of booze required to cope with this whole pseudo relationship he has going on with his dick of a flatmate’s super power. Or with the dick of his flatmate’s super power? Ah the beauty of language.
So anyways, Wade has called a temporary time-out on the whole backrub the TK was giving him after his very cold and entirely unhelpful shower, meaning he’s walked out of his bedroom, still squirming and biting back little moans until the touches subsided. But now they’re back, rude as their owner, full force, cupping his ass and making him drop the milk carton all over himself and the still-good take out from four nights ago.
And really, there is a line here that has just been crossed. Enough is enough.
Wade’s never been in Cable’s room during the night, so it actually does take him a micro-second of hesitation before he pushes down the door handle and barges in, flicking on the light and then biting back another sound because Cable is in bed (obvious), not wearing a shirt (fan service) and groaning against the arm thrown over his face (very sexy).
He also has stopped reaching for his gun which should absolutely be counted as a milestone in their friendship.
“Nathaniel Daylight Saving Time oh fuck me, you have to know your actual name is funnier than anything I could come up with, plus I’m too mad for this so let’s get right to it. What in the super fuck is going on with you?”
Cable’s arm drops from his face and his gaze drops down to Wade’s Adventure Time boxers only for a second before finding its way back to Wade’s eyes: “You beat me to that line. Now I don’t know what to say.”
Gruff voice. Like Wade wasn’t having a hard-enough time here. Hard being the key word in that sentence.
“It pisses me off so much when you get all cute, unbelievable.” Wade’s somewhat aware he’s dripping milk all over the carpet, probably the most cleaning action this thing has seen in ever because it came with the apartment.
“Did you wake me up to tell me that?” Cable has the audacity to look relaxed, not as hot and bothered by Wade’s near-state of nudity as you could rightfully expect from someone who calls him “fuck toy” at least twice a day.
“What? Fuck no.” Wade kicks at the maybe-innocent carpet. “I’m here to tell you to turn off your mojo or whatever you want to call it because it’s got the worst case of penetration tease I’ve ever seen. It’s like NOT getting pounded by the Spirit of Christmas, only I don’t even get to come once a year. Okay I do but it undermines my point.”
Cable has pushed up on both elbows and stares at him with a blank expression: “What?”
“I’m saying, tell your brain to come back with a golden ticket next time because this chocolate factory is closed for business, if you know what I mean.”
There’s another groan while Cable sits up to rub at his face that is going right to Wade’s dick: “Pretend I don’t.”
Wade tilts his head because huh, is that how they’re going to play this? Well good luck, Nathan, because he invented playing dumb: “How can I put this into terms you’ll understand? Let me see, if your telekinesis is Hollywood and my ass is diversity then you’re managing to both screw and not even touch me.”
“That’s,” Cable gives Wade a once-over, “not a joke. You’re being serious.”
“Ding ding ding. Finally, one of us got there. Was it good for you too, baby?”
There’s a lot going on on Cable’s face which makes Wade shut up for once so he can watch. A flittering of emotions that varies in flavour until it seems to settle for something Wade hasn’t seen there yet. Controlled panic.
Cable’s voice is low but remarkably calm: “I don’t mess around like that so tell me what the fuck happened, Wade.”
“Are you shitting me right now? You have been driving me crazier for a whole ass week with all the petting and rubbing and groping your TK has been doing and never even going through with it and DOING me and now you’re telling me that wasn’t even intentional? That’s it, I want a divorce and I’m taking the dog.”
It’s quiet for a second and then a towel hits Wade in the face with devastating accuracy. The TK has been a lot nicer before when it was trying to get into Wade’s pants. He still starts drying himself off, just for the distraction it offers.
Cable clears his throat: “Stop obsessing over the neighbour’s dog. The guy’s deaf already.”
“Are you too or did you listen to a single word I just said, Nathan?”
“I did.” Cable inches over to one side of the bed, lifts a corner of the blanket: “Are you getting in or not?”
And Wade… freezes. Still freezing. Frozen? Can’t really let it go, no snowman in sight either and okay so by now they’ve probably been quiet for longer than any other time before, so it’s getting freaky.
“Wade?”
“Sorry, I was sure this issue would end here. Get our subscriptions up with a good, old-fashioned cliff-hanger, you know?”
Wade drops the towel and carefully moves over to the side of the bed, lowering himself into body-warm sheets until they’re lying down side by side, staring at the ceiling. Poetic cinema.
Cable’s voice rumbles beside him: “You didn’t think about talking to me about my powers touching you?”
“Way to make it sound super creepy. And that didn’t exactly feel like the kind of conversation I wanted to have with a guy who’s been trying to move out ever since he moved in. So sue me.”
Cable groans, shifts next to him to roll on his side and fix Wade with a stare: “I’m not trying to leave you, asshole. I just think you need to sort out some shit before you get involved with someone.”
For all Wade knows, Cable might actually try to kill him like this.
“Someone being you?” Wade turns his head to look at Cable, “Yeah, that worked out pretty great so far. Congrats on your healthy coping mechanisms, which, I’ll have you know, is a pretty burning insult coming from me.”
“I didn’t exactly plan for the TK to start before I had a chance to talk to you. Can control it much better usually too.” Cable looks troubled for a second. “I’m sorry.”
Ignoring the obvious firstness of an apology from everyone’s favourite wannabe terminator, Wade wasn’t really looking for a guilt trip here.
“Like I said, the only thing you should be sorry for is leaving me dry and hanging because this is the most blue-balled I’ve ever felt.”
The light flicks off at that, leaving them in the glow of the street lamps outside, filtered through the curtains Domino made them buy. Bless her good intentions and consideration of the neighbours.
Cable’s voice sounds a lot closer in the semi-dark.
“Want to change that?”
“You really feel the need to come on to me now that you already got me into your bed?” Wade has a lot more to say on the subject but the mattress dips when Cable inches closer still and then there is an actual hand on Wade’s stomach, a strand of hair brushing his cheek when Cable presses a kiss against his throat and all that comes out of Wade is a compressed whine that sounds a lot like ‘lame’.
“I want to, Wade. Do you?”
“Not fair. Not fair at all with your voice and your stuff and your body, yeah meant to say that first, I blame you for making me this shallow. I came in here to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.”
“Just say yes or no, moron.”
Wade shifts into the touch, into the warmth pressing up against his side, sooo much more solid than the TK he could actually start crying.
“Fuck yes.”
He really expects Cable to comment on that some more now that they’ve gotten into talking but nope, that mouth get used for entirely different purposes, travelling up Wade’s throat at the same time the hand on his stomach travels down, palming Wade through his damp boxers without missing a beat.
Wade arches up into the touch, should have known Nate wouldn’t fuck around if it came to this and blame it on the TK that it makes him want to sob in relief already. He slips a hand into Cable’s hair, playing with the strands, breathing an unfocused kiss on Cable’s cheek. Mmh stubble.
“Super great foreplay, perfect amount, I’m good to go.”
Cable just snorts, the next kiss at Wade’s earlobe unsurprisingly toothier but it still knocks a squeal out of Wade.
“You’re ready when I say you’re ready.”
“You know, it’s lines like these that make me wonder if introducing you to porn was a huge mistake or a blessing in disguise and yxdfhestewt-“
Cable’s mouth on his jaw is scorching hot, trailing kisses all up to the corner of Wade’s lips where he stops, making Wade feel his smirk. Sadist. Wade opens his mouth to say as much but doesn’t get further than that due to the fact that Cable's next move includes his boxers getting slipped off and dropped on the floor while Cable settles between his legs with a frown.
“You want to repeat that last word?”
“What did I say about the whole being cute thing, Nate?”
All it does is get Wade a huff and then a mini-stroke when Cable pushes his thighs apart with a sure grip to lick a long, wet stripe from where his fingers dig into Wade’s skin to just below Wade’s balls. Nevermind, he’s just decided that this definitely is Cable’s way of killing him this time around.
It also doesn’t stop there. Cable just takes a few breathes, inhaling Wade’s scent like the sick pervert he obviously is and dives right back in to give Wade’s hole a few broad strokes of his tongue, licking into him the second Wade relaxes. How he’s relaxing with some time-travelling killing machine between his legs we’ll never know. Someone call Marvel, eating ass like a pro can’t be in Cable’s character description. Just like shutting up isn’t in Wade’s.
Cable’s laugh ends up somewhere inside of him: “How the fuck do you breathe while running your mouth like that?”
Wade shifts his hips in Cable’s grip, trying to remind him that stopping is a very bad not good at all idea. The opposite of that, really. He also wants to touch his hair again but that could end up in pulling really fast at this rate.
“Pretty condescending coming from the guy who’s going down on me without having kissed me even once.”
Cable just nuzzles his balls, eliciting yet another embarrassing sound from Wade and proceeds to slip his tongue back inside him. It almost distracts Wade enough from the lights flicking on again. Almost.
So… sick pervert and proud of it, message received.
The lube misses Wade’s head just so (after the towel this fucker really must be doing this because he thinks he’s funny), swooshing into Cable’s hand super smoothly otherwise. That dick doesn’t even look up when he catches it, only pulls back so he can press slick fingers inside of Wade, the lube warm enough to take away discomfort. Five-star service, 10/10 would come again. Wade stops squirming for a second to grab Cable’s other hand, bring it up to his face and let out a low moan at the sight of flesh and blood fingers because sweet baby Jesus, Cable doesn’t need to read his mind to know about that pesky TO-kink he gave him. Talk about soulmates. Wait no, we said not to bring up that schmoopy stuff anymore.
Speaking of grossly romantic things, Cable is taking his absolute sweet fucking time with the prep. What exactly Wade expected he doesn’t know. Perhaps a quick and dirty fuck against Cable’s bedroom door, all spit and whispered name-calling, pretty much just grinding it out. Maybe next time.
Because it’s abundantly clear that Cable isn’t in any kind of hurry with how he’s working his fingers into Wade, sinking them in knuckle by knuckle until Wade bucks against him, the few kisses he manages to press to Cable’s palm very warm and probably a bit gross.
“Now you’re just thinking so loud I can almost hear it.” Cable says and just like that flips him over on his stomach.
At this point Wade feels so stretched and wet with spit and lube it almost feels sloppy. He’s pretty sure he’s dripping on Cable’s sheets at both ends and really, if that doesn’t scream “someone’s bragging about their dick” than he doesn’t know what does. He’s also so ridiculously turned on he could probably come like this. And seriously, at this point he’s just trying his best not to push up his ass any further, face pressed into Cable’s sheets which is definitely not the only thing belonging to Cable he’d like to pant and drool against. Okay maybe replace the drooling with another spit-filled activity but you get the picture.
Let’s be real here for a second, Wade loves sex. He’s not beneath begging either that can always be fun for all parties involved. He’s also very much not even a little bit virginal so anyone looking for that kind of chapter should hit the back-button. Still, a dick is a dick is a dick. And this dick is currently not only changing the level of annoyance Wade might feel about the person attached to it, but also pretty much all expectations regarding penetration. Because hot damn.
“I’ve waited way too long for this for you to make it into a love-making scene, seriously, can you put your hips into it sometime before I die?”
In all fairness, it’s been a while and all the TK-action wasn’t exactly the best preparation for the real deal. For once, what’s pressing against Wade’s ass is a lot more there than ghost dick. It also generally is a lot more. Fuck. Someone wasn’t bragging without delivering. Not that he’s complaining.
Cable is making some noise behind him that has Wade’s pulse skyrocketing and makes him intensely, intimately aware of how hard and wet he is where he’s rubbing himself against the sheets. And speaking of intimately, you can’t get much further on the BFF scale than this. Wade shuts his eyes for a second, relaxing some more and the head slips over his rim with an almost audible sound, finally catching.
“Fuck.” Cable says without any kind of edge or sarcasm and while Wade is still trying to gain back control over his voice he wholeheartedly, if quietly, agrees.
It’s so much slower than Wade had pictured. Because of course it is.
Cable’s rolling his hips, inching inside only to withdraw again, repeat it over and over until Wade feels ready to burst out of his skin.
“You’re doing this on purpose, you asshole, you’re the worst, I can’t believe I’m even letting you tap this you certainly don’t deserve it... oh yes right there.”
At this point Cable’s deep enough inside him so Wade can feel the laugh shaking through him: “Doing this on purpose? Fucking you? Yes, I’d like to think so.”
Wade sometimes really hates this guy.
Hate was the feeling with the butterflies and the acid-reflux-like-heartache, right?
Between grabbing at the sheets and failing at getting his knees under himself for some leverage, Wade is labelling this the kind of sex that makes your brain pack a suitcase and go on vacation. Not that there was a big threshold to cross in the first place.
“Are you planning on moving or have I tired you out already?”
Fine, so Cable IS moving but it’s nothing more than some slow thrusts, basically reseating himself again and again, the head of his dick only ever brushing up against Wade’s prostate in a manner that screams ‘high-five’ much more than ‘full body hug’.
“Oh, you mean like this?” Cable pushes in again, faster now, easing himself over Wade’s back to kiss his shoulder like it isn’t unbearably sweet and like it doesn’t get him deep enough for Wade to glimpse the beginning of time itself.
“Priscilla, seriously.” The words are punched out of Wade when Cable picks up his pace immediately, rutting into him in with apparently all that he’s been holding back, just this side of rough.
“I really fucking hate that nickname,” is growled against Wade’s back, the bedframe knocking into the wall in what can only be described as a cliché.
Not that Wade cares.
There is even a possibility that he has shut up by now, every fibre of his being focused on the slide in and out, every time their flesh meets producing a sound that might be illegal. He’s hot all over, no surprise there, desperately trying to shove a hand underneath himself and wrap it around his leaking dick but it ain’t easy with the way Cable’s rocking into him, slowly on the pull out and then slamming back home, making both of them groan and Wade abandons his jerking-off mission to get a hand behind himself and on Cable’s thigh to try and pull him in deeper.
“Jesus, Wade…”
One hand settles on his hip, the other gets pushed into his chest, tugging him up and off the sheets, higher and higher until Wade can’t do much but lean back against Cable’s chest, a bit ragdoll-like with has zero right to be as hot as his genitals find it.
“Nate. Nate please-“
This shouldn’t even work. He should be too tall to squirm on Cable’s lap and dick like he’ll never get a chance again but here they are. Squirming and grinding and groaning and all other things good and sweaty. The undeniable benefit of the position is that Wade can lift and lower himself in Cable’s hold, twisting his hips to get that angle just right and work himself over until that bundle of lovely nerves inside him is as much as shivering mess as he is.
Scientifically speaking, Wade’s really close to fucking nut all over these sheets. It’s extra helpful to have the hand on his hip sneak down and wrap TO-fingers around him, the sight simultaneously making him want to shut his eyes and keep them open forever just due to the whole wow-factor of it.
“You really are a sex toy.” Cable grinds out between his shoulders, squeezing him right below the head and Wade’s jerking and coming because there is no alternate universe in which he wouldn’t.
Not to break out the poetics again but it does feel like some fucking dam is getting destroyed, the tight heat in his guts suddenly liquified and flooding out, his fingers digging into the arm Nate has wrapped around his chest like a lifeline.
There are more words mumbled into his skin now, broken curses mixed with his name, the first sign of Cable getting there as well even before hips stutter against his backside, slipping through lube and sweat and driving deep before they still, Cable shuddering against him, moaning.
It feels full, not uncomfortably so but strange. A faint pulsing of heat, slick and intimate.
“You came inside me without kissing me. I want a romance refund.”
Cable gives a sound that very clearly means his afterglow is being ruined, tightening his grip around Wade to nuzzle the back of his neck.
“Let me brush my teeth and then I’ll never stop.”
The End