||[Dec. 2nd, 2007|04:07 pm]
Cable x Deadpool
So, halfnorn and I shouldn't be allowed near any sort of fanart. Ever. Really.|
This is all to blame on this. And us taking it a little too far and egging each other on with an elaborate back story leading up to that. Our happy AU of m-preg via bodyslide gone horribly, horribly wrong glory.
Title: Two Guys Walk Into A Bar In Intercourse, Pennsylvania... Again
Rating: MA (Here thar be smut!)
There was a new waitress at the bar this time around. The old one, though Wade wasn't aware if this fact, had quit shortly after the kid who came into the bar years ago had turned into a rather scary and very very tall man. She now owned a small bed and breakfast in Maine.
And changed the channel when the leader of that island in the Pacific was on television.
Wade really would have found that whole story just fascinating, but he was a little busy watching the new waitress' ass as she bent over to get him some ice which he did not need.
"This is my new favorite bar," he announced happily. "Or, old favorite bar that has been rediscovered recently."
"The service has gotten better," Nate noted, curling his hand around the bottle he'd acquired.
Wade simply nodded, resting chin on his hand as he continued to watch the show. "I think my friend needs a glass of water too," He said before the woman would turn to give him his drink.
She shot him a look and went back to the ice.
"We are coming here so much more often. Screw the next big world ending event, this place is awesome."
"I'm not sure that could be ethically accounted for," Nate deadpanned, taking a pull off his beer and looking steadily at the back wall. "People might disagree."
All the more nicely shaped ass for Wade to look at. Or something. It made sense to him.
"Like they'd even notice. It's like a fucked up super powered mixer every time one of those happen." He paused, thinking it over. "Though I wouldn't mind running into Outlaw again."
"There's that," Nate replied, amused. Or stoic edging in that general direction, smirking slightly before taking another swig. "I give them five to ten, this time. Better start a tab."
Grinning cheerfully--okay manically, Wade downed the rest of his beer, putting it down on the bar with a clank. "Already did! I'm prepared. Like a Boyscout." He shrugged. "Or, ya know, cheap. Mr. Owns An Island."
"I'm just making sure they can't track us." This time. "Really, I admire their persistance, but it might be better suited to other things." Not involving his love life. "The last attack did a great amount of damage to the waste disposal wing..."
"We could solve both problems at once! Make the girls help out at the plant," Wade suggested, with more than a bit of an evil grin on his face. "That'd teach 'em to get all plotty."
A new beer was placed in front of him and he flashed the bartender a flirty smile before continuing on with his thoughts. "They get that from you, by the way."
"The staff, too." Nate entirely ignored the bartender's eyes on him. "Of course, then Irene will probably tell them about your exploits as a noir detective..." Smirk. He took a sip of his beer.
Wade stuck his tongue out at him. "I rocked the Humphrey Bogart look and you know it."
"Especially smelling of several liquid tons of island waste."
The waitress passed by again. "Would you like a refill?" she asked Nate. Cheerfully.
Nate blinked at his half-full beer. "No, thank you."
Of course Nate was the one that got hit on. Mr. No Sex Drive.
Wade rolled his eyes flopping over against the bar. "You're a horrible wingman."
"I didn't know I was your wingman." Nate took another drink of his beer and ignored the (slightly different) look the waitress threw him. Again.
"Well ya are and ya really suck at it," Wade replied, not hitting his forehead against the bar after seeing the waitress' look at Nate. "I'm gonna end up a monk at this rate."
Nate cupped his beer in a way that may have been vaguely sympathetic. "You might be better off trying on your own," he advised, despite realising this was really not a subject he was capable of advising about in any meaningful capacity.
The waitress lingered by him, making understanding noises as of yet too quiet to be noticed.
The thunk of his head hitting the bar this time might sound just a wee bit more painful than before. "The only time away from the girls I get is with you! Be a wingman, for god's sake, or I'm gonna die from the forced celibacy!"
Cue the Very Awkward Shoulderpat (tm). Nate took a swig and smiled at the waitress in a vaguely patronising fashion.
"Here's my phone number," she responded, shoving a note over the bar.
Nate paused. "I'm a little old for you," he said mildly.
"I like older guys!" More insistent shoving.
"I need to go to the bathroom." He got up.
Wade's head and the bar were becoming very close friends. BFFs even. He waved him on, not looking up yet. "Stupid single parent drama. Why can't I just meet a nice Julia Roberts type without the freakish frog mouth," he muttered.
And with that, Nate passed out of the area, moving through the dimly lit bar. His feet may have gotten sticky on something along the way, but more than a tiny fragment of a skip it didn't cause. He located the bathroom door in the back, opened it, then slammed it ever-so-gently closed behind him.
The waitress sulked over the bar. "Always taken or gay," she muttered.
Wade's head shot up at that. "He's not--We're not." He made a face, resisting the urge to headbar again. "Why does everyone think that? Is it the banter? Because just friends banter too!"
And that made her look up, too. "I was gonna bet on 'taken'," she said, mildly confused. And glanced back towards the bathroom, contemplatively. Huh. That made sense. Which left the matter-- "We're very accepting here these days," she said, wisely.
"We're no--" Wade stopped, giving a short cry of frustration. "The universe is against me getting laid, I swear."
He sighed, looking at his beer for a moment before coming to a conclusion and downing it in one go. He stood, quickly making his way toward the direction Nate took off in. "Eew, sticky feet," He mumbled, not even bothering to knock on the door and just barging in.
The waitress stared after him. "Poor things," she said, "Trouble at that age."
As the door to the bathroom opened, the distinct noise of flowing water filled the area. Echoing off bathroom walls in that weirdly atmospheric way that bar restrooms tended to have. Nate had the tap running, glancing down at his hands as he washed them.
"You!" Wade said, pointing at Nate and letting the door shut behind him. He pressed forward, getting into Nate's personal space. "It's a god damn conspiracy."
And kissed him. Hard. It wasn't romantic in the slightest, but that wasn't why he was doing this. Really.
He just really wanted to get laid.
It was a credit to Wade's ability to surprise him that Nate paused like a baffled puppy for a few seconds, his personal space entirely out the window. Then he pulled back a little -- a little -- and said, "Do you really think this is a good idea?" in as gentle a voice as he could manage, considering the proximity.
"No, not really," Wade replied honestly. "But when has that stopped us from doing anything?"
He was most certainly not looking at Nate's lips as he spoke. Because one kiss did not turn him into some lovesick little simpering harlequin heroine. He was from one of the good books. Maybe by Anne Rice before she went all scary. Oh, who was he kidding, she was always scary.
The space of a few seconds could be a lot like years in Nate's mind-- thinking and weighing until suddenly-- "You're never going to grow the hair," --because after a while in someone's head, you learned to follow their tangents-- curved a swift hand around Wade's head and kissed him again.
"I'll leave the long luxurious hair to you," Wade replied, kissing him back. To emphasize his point, he ran his gloved hands through Nate's hair, not so gently pushing him back toward the sinks behind him.
"You're a few years too late for that," Nate informed him, gripping Wade's side suddenly, pushing to spin them around.
Frowning at the change, Wade responded in a way to keep his masculinity intact. He yanked hard on the collar of Nate's shirt, hard enough to tear the fabric as he pulled him in for another kiss. "Think Irene has pictures? Blackmail like that would last for years to come."
Nate's hand slid down to Wade's hip as he pressed even closer, smirking into the kiss. He pulled back the tiniest bit, breathed, "Not really something I'm ashamed of," and moved back in, the hand on Wade's head moving downwards towards his neck.
"Not if Jean and Terry get a hold of them," Wade replied with a smirk, sitting back on the counter, legs spread just enough to let Nate stay as close as he had been before.
"Mmm," Nate let his fingertips settle just underneath the shirt of Wade's uniform, "I can deal with that."
Wade hooked a leg around Nate's waist, "Liar, liar pants on fire," Wade sang, nibbling his way down Nate's neck. (Oooo! T.O. Mesh! Finally, my curiosity can be satisfied!)
For that comment, Nate's hand went lower and squeezed. He smirked, too.
The other leg joined the first around Nate, this time, however, just with a bit more force as the heel connected with the back of Nate's thigh. "Groping is only allowed if you actually do something," Wade told him. "Otherwise I'mma have to shoot you inna head."
"That threat is swiftly losing its effectivity," Nate replied, sliding his hand back up Wade's shirt, running his fingertips past changing scars. The metal hand fell from Wade's neck to the small of his back, pushing slightly.
Wade groaned, not really needing the encouragement to move forward. "I'll--Okay, so I don't have a threat right now, but I swear to Jesus, Allah, Buddha, Galactus and any other deity out there, if you stop now, I'm going to kill you. A year and a half, Nate. No fun, no fun at all," He said, yanking sharply on Nate's hair for another kiss. "Now is sex time."
Nate kissed back, open-mouthed, forceful. Moved his hand down to Wade's stomach, keeping it there, rubbing slowly as his metal fingers ran back up across Wade's spine. He didn't need a snappy comeback for this one.
"Cocktease!" Wade hissed, tugging off his gloves and ripping Nate's shirt the rest of the way off. "Making me do all the work."
"Spoiled." Nate smirked, voice low but strong, hiking Wade's shirt up with one hand as the other reached slowly-- slowly-- further downwards. "You're-- going to have to explain the shirt-- to Irene." Kissed him again, putting the slightest pressure on the skin under his fingertips.
"And let her know the betting pool is over?" Wade asked, sucking in a breath as the pressure increased ever so slightly. "Never." He was really going to have to do something about that annoying calm and in control thing Nate was doing.
Later. When he was actually thinking straight.
Oh, look. There was Nate's smug face. And there was-- a hand in Wade's no doubt entirely too narcissistic boxers, as Nate pushed further forward into a kiss. In control was where he lived. Most of the time.
Well, when they make Cable boxers, maybe Wade would wear those too. But for now? Deadpool boxers all the way.
Normally he'd want to smack Nate for that face, but the whole hand on his dick thing made anger a little bit hard to maintain. So he settled for digging his fingers into Nate's shoulders, head bent back at a painful angle. "Oh sweet Betty White, don't stop that."
Of course, this wasn't his general field of experience-- but the principles were the same, and Nate bent his head a little into Wade's throat, pressing against the skin. Rhythm, then, moving, skimming a fingertip over a sensitive edge. Warm. The edges of smug-smirk-smile, and ignoring other knowledge than before. Deal with it later.
Falling into a rhythm to counterbalance Nate's, Wade moved his hips. It had been a while-- At least, that's what he told himself-- that's why he wasn't going to last as long as he would like in this situation. It had nothing to do with Nate.
"God, Nate," he moaned. He actually moaned a name. Oh this was bad, this was poorly written and-- "You even think of stopping and you won't wake up tomorrow morning."
Okay, that was better.
Nate moved his face up, up towards Wade's ear and almost audibly grinned. "Anyone ever tell you you repeat yourself?" A swipe of a metal finger against Wade's lower back as he moved-- speeding up a little, just a little, moving his thumb up. "Constantly."
"It bears repeating," Wade said, head snapping forward again for another kiss.
And Nate moved into it, unoccupied hand a steadying presence on Wade's neck as he pressed on, eyes sliding shut for a moment.
Breathing speeding up and coming out in pants as if he had run a marathon, Wade pressed closer to him. He let his hands move down from Nate's shoulders to run over the metal and the scars scattered over the perfect, compared to his, skin there.
"Know what would be great about now? Faster. Faster would be very nice."
"Hm." Nate's eyelids flicked open, then shut again at the touch-- momentarily skipping over anything smug as he exhaled a breath, picking up the pace... a few moments after the request. The wait may or may not have been intentional.
"Controlling-" he gasped, not from pleasure or anything. No, not at all. He just thought Nate's hand was suddenly cold. Now, if Nate would please be so kind as to ignore the strained quality to his voice right about now- "Sonovabitch."
Of course it was intentional, it was Nathan Christopher Dayspring Askani'Son Cable Soldier X Priscilla Summers. He couldn't do anything he wasn't in control of.
And Wade, of course, couldn't live with letting him get his way and keeping that perfect little bit of control he had over the situation. So, cue him moving his hands down further, over Nate's abs to start unfastening his pants. A helping hand and various other annoying sayings.
Well, annoying sayings or proverbs did have a habit of coming in--
Good thing Wade hadn't said that one aloud.
"Having some trouble?" Because as always, Nate felt it was a good idea to keep pressing buttons - metaphorical buttons - even in high tension situations. He pressed his mouth just behind Wade's ear, moving, moving... not just there, but into Wade's hands as well-- instinct or allowance or both, probably both. Exhale again.
"Me?" Wade asked, yanking down on Nate's pants suddenly. "Never! I'm fine and dandy-" He kissed the side of Nate's neck, biting down more gently than he felt like with all the frustration of a certain messiah's slow hand. "-like sour candy."
A low noise reverberated through that very same neck, the hand on Wade's dick moving faster suddenly as Nate began to press him further back. "Good to know," he rumbled, steady note inching towards slightly less steady.
No shirt and no pants, but then Nate was generally nothing if not shameless about that.
And here Wade was feeling a little over-dressed. Nate was good at being far too comfortable in certain situations.
But he just smirked as Nate's voice wasn't quite so in control of the situation any more. "I'd ask if you wanted to taste and see, but wow. I'm not that cliche bad porn in my dialogue just yet. Maybe-" He sucked in a deep breath and tried not to buck his hips up at the speed. "-maybe later."
"Later." Some level of what sounded like frustration, then, or maybe something else-- Nate kissed him almost harshly, muffling the noise.
Hey now, that hadn't been the kind of reaction he'd been going for, but it was nice nonetheless. Slightly painful, or at least it would have been if Wade hadn't been so damn eager for this to pick up. So he hooked an arm around Nate's neck, gripping his hair with his free hand to let the kiss last longer.
Open mouth. Pressing forward. Speeding up.
Nate hated fragments, or maybe not-- somewhere lost in the chaos, they went. A metal hand pulled Wade's shirt over his head at last, a momentary gap before he returned, with some force, slipping in, his hand pressing gently against Wade's jawline.
Still in control of many things.
Wade hoped to god that shirt didn't land somewhere dirty. Sure, he had a dozen of them back home, but it was just a waste of clothing.
Okay, so maybe he didn't think about the shirt. He might be a little more focused on Nate's hand and lips and how really, really nice naked skin felt against him. He would mention something about Florence Henderson, but his mouth was just a little bit occupied at the moment.
This was better, then-- the force fell back under Nate's own control and he moved, waiting, another slide of his thumb over the head, another swipe of his tongue. It was warm, but it was what it was. Always was, and a cloud of clarity reformed over his mind.
He knew very well what he was doing. And he was going to remember that. Not a wince-- he was in the moment.
The moment was a very lovely place to be, just ask Wade. Of course, that would entail stopping the kissing. Something Wade was very opposed to. He was going to win this fight, damn it.
The grip of his thighs around Nate's waist tightened for a moment before he finally broke the kiss. It was changing tactics, not surrendering. "You gonna fuck me soon, or will this be just the best darn handjob in a bathroom ever?"
Any kind of fire in Nate's eyes was just a figment of his imagination. Except for where it wasn't. "I didn't realise we'd moved on to that stage already," he offered, the occasional gasp breaking all of his words in half. Not his area just yet, any of this, but damn if he was going to show it. His metal hand moved down from Wade's face again, resting gently on his side (or something that seemed gentle), heartbeat thudding slightly through the techno-organics.
Wade raised an eyebrow at him, looking down at the position they were in and then back up to Nate's face. "Really? You didn't see that coming?" He was the one with experience here, this was an interesting switch!
"It hasn't really come up," Nate noted.
"Naked and horny. Sex time," Wade insisted. "It's not so hard, really-- No pun intended --You put tab A-" He took a firm grip of Nate's dick, running his thumb over the top before continuing. "-and put it in slot B." That he punctuated with a shifting of his hips.
"Easy as pie."
"I think I understand the fundamentals," Nate replied, dryly. Sort of. It may have been a little hard, considering the hitching of his breath halfway into Wade's explanation. "It's the timing." And the lack of anything that, hypothetically, would be necessary. Men's bathroom and all that. ...He still had a close watch on the door from the corner of one eye.
Some habits were hard to break.
Wade followed his gaze to the door, frowning a little at it. With more shifting of his hips, he reached down to grab a small throwing knife from a small collection of them he had hidden strapped around his thigh. What? there was no such thing as too many weapons. Not in their lives, at least.
He whipped the knife at the door, effectively blocking the door from opening.
"There," Wade said. "And in one of these pouches I'm pretty sure I have something that could work. Or it might be some of the poison stuff Weasel got me for my birthday. I'm not sure."
"Hm." And Wade got the full eyebrow-raising quizzical glance. "They're your pouches," Nate observed.
Wade pouted, pushing him back. "Making me do all the work here. I swear, you better be damn good at this," He muttered, taking off the pants and searching through the pouches. "Earth-shattering even. I so will not accept anything less."
"Because this was my idea." The sarcasm was strong tonight. Which didn't keep Nate from smirking at Wade in a way+ that may have had a touch of filthy. Despite himself. He reached forwards, resting one hand on Wade's knee. "You're the expert," he said, in a tone that implied that very position granting him very little in terms of leverage.
Wade held up a finger to shush him, still searching. "I'm used to topping, which doesn't seem to be on the menu tonight. Just pretend I'm a woman."
(Waaaaait a minute.)
"I didn't say that," He added quickly. "You heard nothing!"
There wasn't a smirk to be found on Nate's face.
That didn't make the smug or in-control any less obvious to notice. "Of course," he said, moving his hand up a little as he waited. He had all the patience in the world.
"No, no, no-- When did I get an earing in here?" Wade asked, mostly aiming the question at himself as he frantically looked for the lubricant he was damn certain was in there. Or poison. Lube or poison. "Come on, come on, come ON."
Nada. Zip. Zero.
He snarled and checked the pants across the room. That'd learn them to not have what he wanted. Glaring at Nate for a moment, Wade made a small annoyed face as he contemplated something. He'd never done this without the lube thing and it had been waaay too long to try it now without anything. Also? OW.
"You so owe me," He said, yanking Nate forward. "Next time there will be planning and lube and a bed."
That got him an expression somewhere between amused and befuddled. "I believe this was your idea," Nate pointed out, smirking.
Legs wrapped around Nate's waist again, Wade reached down to take them both in hand. No more of that slow and steady wins the race shit. He was in control now.
He smirked, arching up to whisper in Nate's ear as he started to move. "Nate, you talk too much."
"You're one--" A gasp that seemed just a smidge on the uncontrolled side, "--To talk." Nate reached over with his left hand again, pulling Wade's mouth in. Keeping there. Best strategy was just to take away the ability-- the other hand joined Wade's, changing rhythm so very subtly. In charge, here.
"I am quiet as a church mouse!" Wade said. Or, rather, tried to say. It came out more like an angry squeak that trailed off in a moan. Damn Nate and his good kissing.
The attempt to take over did not go unnoticed. Wade had been around him far too long to not notice that. He bit down roughly on Nate's lip. Not enough to break skin, but to certainly voice his displeasure over backseat handjobbing.
Which was totally a word now.
Still a victory.
Not that it mattered. Nate pressed closer suddenly, applying just a tiny, tiny squeeze as his mouth slipped from Wade's and trailed across his cheek for a moment, thumb of his other hand settling against Wade's jawline. He was breathing more audibly now, face contorting for just a moment against Wade's, and he moved faster. No time to be argumentative.
They were never like that when it mattered. Really. Except when they did.
Wade couldn't help but take a little bit of pleasure from the look on Nate's face. That crack in the calm was something he would never stop craving. His legs tightened around Nate as he unconsciously moved his face into the touch along his jawline. "At the risk of stealing a lyric from an Andrea True Connection song-" He gasped a little, trying to catch his breath. "-I'mma have to say more of that would be nice."
"Mmm--" The rumble became an exhale, moving rhythmic, and Nate applied a little pressure again for just-- a moment. Breathing. Back to control.
Oh no. No, no, no. Wade wasn't about to let him take over again. Sex meant blissful mind numbing. No control allowed.
It was in the rules.
Wade's rules, anyway.
He blinked rapidly, clearing his head enough to take the offensive on this one. Pushing forward a bit, Wade kissed the side of Nate's neck, pausing when he reached the point where neck and shoulder joined. He bit down, licking the bruised skin before repeating it again. Who else could say they gave the mutant messiah of Providence a hickey?
Well, Dom could. Frequently.
Which Nate wouldn't mention, because that was a faux pas up there with confusing Vanessa's musical taste for Dom's.
His breath hitched up, and his hand grasped the back of Wade's neck.
Yes, best not bring up ex's in bed. Men's room. Whatever.
Wade, blissfully unaware of any connections with Dom, smirked a little as he continued to work on Nate's neck. He sucked on the skin there, starting up a rhythm to match the one set by Nate.
Which he then promptly attempted to speed up, threading his fingers with Nate's a little to get control back. Unpredictability was always good, after all.
Oh, there was a real gasp, and Nate leaned his head down incrementally, panting. He let his fingers move with Wade's-- just a little so the battle was undecided. He pushed up closer, closer, there was still a closer. The fingers at Wade's neck squeezed a little bit into the skin, finding bumps and ridges of scars.
"Na~ate." Wade's voice was somewhere between a sing-sing and a moan. His grip tightened just a bit as he pulled his mouth away from Nate's neck for another kiss. With his free hand he started tracing the line the T.O created along Nate's back. Curiosity and all that jazz. Not like he'd wanted to touch that for any reason other than wondering if it was a smooth transition or like a Frankenstien thing.
Okay, so maybe he just liked the touching. So sue him.
Another rumble passed through Nate's chest, low and drawn out. He may have clung more tightly to Wade's neck as they kissed, but he wasn't going to admit to it-- even as he felt the touch skitter over entirely too sensitive skin, made so by years of wear and aching soreness. He let them speed up, finally-- still allowing, nothing else.
Like Nate had to worry about Wade bringing up something like that. Ever. That would mean he'd have to think about why the fingers trailing along Nate's side were so gentle.
And they couldn't have that. Status quo would just collapse around them.
As he finally sped up, Wade broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against Nate's and grinning for a moment, eyes closed in something close to concentration. "Finally," He panted. "Took ya long enough."
"Patience," Nate muttered, breath hitching throughout the word, "Is a virtue," and let his eyes flicker shut as his face contorted again, "That doesn't last forever."
"Bitch, bitch-- Oh sweet baby Jesus, do that again --bitch." Wade kissed him again, abandoning the T.O. mesh to run his fingers through Nate's short hair. And if that also happened to help keep the kiss happening... so be it.
Nate pressed a lot closer a lot faster, shoulders moving with power, pushing Wade up against the wall, pushing into the kiss, metal hand impacting the wall. Slow was done with.
Apparently that made him pushy.
Wade couldn't find fault in the pushy right now. Maybe after his brain was less mushy and focused on two points of his body.
The kiss was broken as Wade panted and strained to keep from having the mushy brain take over. None of that, thanks. He liked being in control of his own actions. Even if those actions were simply moving in time with Nate, rolling his hips just enough to get more of that happyfunyay friction. "Naaaate," He keened anxiously. "Natenatenatenatenate."
Well that wasn't embarrassing to repeat over and over again. No. Never.
He would've gotten a resound mocking, too, but Nate was otherwise engaged, panting the hoarse edges of a chuckle into Wade's throat. He thrusted forwards into the solid heat, eyes shut, then reopening again. Straining his arm just a little against the cold tile, which, as a testament to some control, only cracked slightly.
And Wade would have totally pointed out that Nate laughed. But, ya know, occupied.
Maybe afterwards he would.
"Come on," He groaned, back arching at a painful angle to press as close as possible to Nate. Not that there was much distance there anymore, but it felt too damn good not to keep trying.
Or maybe not. Probably not bring it up.
There was an edge to Nate's breath that wasn't quite a pant any longer. Moving his head up, up, curling against the side of Wade's neck, forehead meeting tile for a moment. Another thrust and another tiny hairline crack in the wall. "Babbling," he muttered, although it seemed a little fuzzy whether he was admonishing Wade or his own thoughts.
"You--" The talking was getting a wee bit difficult now. "--you love the babbling," Wade muttered, turning his head to kiss any skin near him.
"It's-- very-- ambient." Oh, look. Words. Nate scraped his hand away from the wall, scratching past tiles to cup the back of Wade's head as he twisted his own over, forcing a kiss.
But the tile cracking had been kinda hot! But kisses, Wade supposed could be just as well.
Not to mention they effectively silenced the babbling. (Pretty sneaky, sis.) He rolled his hips again, moving faster and harder now. Almost there. Almost. Almost. His thighs tightened their grip, and had Nate been nearly anyone else, they would be leaving some pretty nasty bruises from the force.
Which didn't mean it didn't bruise. A little.
Nate may have growled into the kiss, still pushing, thrusting steadily. But the movement was getting to him, too-- it broke as he pulled back just slightly, caught between clinging to his control and just letting go. It reflected on his face, eyes half-lidded, mouth slightly open.
Wade just breathed for a moment, looking up at him. Almost. "Nate." He panted a bit, thrusting back against him. "Please."
Nate's eyes flicked to Wade's for just an instant. Something changed in his expression, rendering him almost younger; he bent forward, burying his nose in the crook of Wade's neck, and made a noise in the back of his throat, pushing.
Exhaling shakily, Wade clung to him, eyes shut and silent save for the occasional quiet noise of pleasure. Now Nate found an almost surefire way to get him to shut up. This couldn't bode well.
Right on that edge. Almost. He held on, trying to outlast Nate. Yeah. Dumb idea, he knew, but a boy could dream.
Just noises and exhales, all around, muffled by a scarred shoulder. The same fate befell the words "Keep you," so quiet it might as well have been a breath. Nate's metal hand clung uselessly to Wade's other shoulder, curving around to pull him close.
It wasn't quite awkward dating and dining-- just history and the universe hitting him hard and tomorrow skittered from his grasp, leaving only this and fast-approaching edges.
Dating and dining wasn't really either of their styles. More drinking and fighting and now that rather delightful turn toward some very nice sex.
Wade ignored what he thought he might have heard. Sex made people say things they didn't mean. It was easier to assume his ears were playing tricks on him. Almost...
"God, Nate!" His muscles tensed and he clung to him tightly, going still and trying to catch his breath as he came. "God," He chocked out again. A year and a half. A stupid thought floated through his brain, that if this was the result, it might have been worth it. But that thought was gone as soon as he realized how stupid and teenage girl it sounded.
Another thrust. A second. A third. No names; just a strangled, broken gasp and Nate wasn't quite there yet, broken thought fragments flickering through his mind like-- he'd stopped trying to reach and now he was just breathing, moving.
No time to play the happy boneless little clingy merc. no, no. Work to be done still.
Wade tilted his head, exposing a bit more of his neck to Nate. Okay, so maybe that was mostly for himself. Shush, it felt nice. He tightened his grip on Nate, moving faster still. "Come on," He muttered, running his hand down Nate's back again, feeling the metal and flesh.
Broken vowel fragments in a tongue that must have sounded utterly alien; Nate tried to pull back from Wade's neck, but managed only the tiniest of increments, and gasped again. Raggedly. Then his face let go of strain, leaving something almost close to wide-eyed - just about there, actually, and then heat left and he found himself spilling forwards, one hand finding the tile before his weight took to anyone.
His knees may have almost given out there.
Well that was only because Wade was just that damn good. Really.
He smirked, resting his head against Nate's. "See? An excellent idea."
Nate sucked in a breath, pressing his forehead to Wade's. "Don't get cocky," he advised. Tone serious, at that.
Wade snickered, because he was secretly a 13 year old boy. "You said 'cock'." Okay so maybe he wasn't very witty right now, but there was orgasm to blame on that! Very nice 'can we do it again' orgasm!
And Nate sighed, because he was secretly Nate.
Then something beeped, and his head swiveled to find his pants, located somewhere in a corner. Pulling away from Wade, he made his way towards it, relaxation already spilling away from his muscles as he located the communicator and stuck it in his ear. "Talk to me."
But because Wade wasn't secretly a teenage girl, he didn't cling. Or show any annoyance at the dismissal so quickly after it was all over. He was fine. It was just about getting laid, after all.
Ignore the lack of a comment as he went to grab his pants again.
Nate had his on pretty quickly-- and, judging by the state of the shirt, he was going to have to go this one bare-chested. Sigh. As Irene spilled important details over the comm, he shot Wade a mildly apologetic look.
Which Wade ignored, picking up the rest of his clothing to get dressed. Once the mask was on, he just shot Nate a quick grin and grabbed the knife jammed in the door frame. "I'mma take care of the tab," he said, waving back as he exited the bathroom.
A few minutes later, Nate uttered three words, and blue light filled the bathroom, leaving nothing sentient in its wake.