[If Wade is actively hiding the fact that he's having vivid, sexual fantasies on a near-constant basis, Cable is curious about what it looks like when he's completely unfiltered. Drop of restraint in a bucket of tom-foolery, he suspects.
Cable doesn't get to vocalise his obvious displeasure at losing a shirt. It's clearly not worth more than the kiss, though. He sinks down into it with little more than a grunt.
It's perfectly natural the way that they feed off each other-- but it's certainly emphasised by something in the water. Or the air. Cable, at the very least, doesn't half-ass anything in his life. His metal arm circles Wade, his flesh one holds his chin. He deepens the kiss and he no doubt enjoys it because for once in his life his mouth is open and he's not complaining.
His eye is also glowing. Brightly. A feature, not a bug.]
[Cable's sort of nailed it, 'cause Wade's kissing him and he's already thinking this could be their real time to dock, except he's not sure if Cabe's still packing a foreskin. Who knows what the hell people are up to in the future? Ooh, guess he might be finding out soon.
That definitely won't make it to the gossip room floor. Promise.
Cable's shirt does, though. To the floor. Because he definitely cut it off in the half second it takes them to smash together. What's the point of being handy with knives if you don't use them for emergencies? The knife goes to join his tattered shirt on the floor somewhere, perfectly landing point-down as it stands, at attention, in the shitty carpet of their motel floor.
Then he's free to indulge in sensation. The freezing cold of Cable's metal arm, the heat of his hand. The luxurious feel of a tongue in his mouth. God, it's been too fucking long. Maybe in general; maybe for being able to sink against someone he knows. That knows him. And is here, anyway. For whatever fucking reason.
And he can trust Cable not to disappear on him. (Until he fucks that up, too.)
Even if he might be blind in one eye by the end of this... worth it.
He slides a hand between Cable's very considerable shoulder blades, following his spine with a nail. When they separate for air, he manages a few words:] Should I cut your pants off next?
These are nice pants. [Cable remarks mildly, but there's a soft, sexual edge to his tone. As they break, his metal palm kisses Wade's stomach. His fingers spread, gently applying enough weight for Wade to know he's leaving his pants alone.
He follows this process even when he sits up to unbuckle his belt. His leg presses down on Wade's thigh. Not heavily, but heavily enough. His fingers flick his buckle and button open deftly, but his eyes don't leave Wade's face.]
We can't unring this bell. [This time he's not really searching for consent so much as he'd like to address the elephant in the room so he can promptly dismiss it and move forward. His hand moves to Wade's waist, so he knows lack of interest isn't precisely why he's addressing this now.]
[Okay, they're nice pants 'cause they're on Cable, but he's not saying that. Not yet. He's not melting into his gooey, big-wide-doe-eyes stage. (It's probably gonna come. Probably prematurely.) He's not showering compliments and calling him Karl Urban but in a better remake than Judge Dredd. Yet.
Right now? Honestly, Wade's not thinking much. Beyond the little twitch of his stomach as Cable's hand goes low, but not low enough.]
I've been ringing it in our shower for months. [He's about to chase after another taste of Cable's mouth when he pauses, laughing in a huff under his breath.] I heard the quotation marks around that. [Yeah, does he not? He's not going around Panorama, advertising his sexual prowess on billboards? One of Wade's hands covers the one at his waist, guiding it down. He's nothing but oozing encouragement.] You wanna do it with me. That's all I give a shit about.
[Easy as pie. He'll give him all the encouragement he wants, if that's what he needs.]
[Cable isn't surprised by Wade's laissez-faire attitude toward fucking his current friend, room-mate, confidant and former multiple-attempt murderer. His mouth still twists into his little frown of displeasure, though not because Wade is guiding his hand down like a horny college boy.]
You're allowed to give a shit about more than that.
[Eye contact has ceased and, since they're connected, Wade can feel all the complicated emotions one might feel when they're really starting to like someone but a few weeks ago they were holding their wife's charred corpse. Life comes at you so fast.
But he allows his hand to be guided, palming over Wade's perpetual boner. Firm, not rough. Touching him like he means it, but he's not rushing yet.
He tips his head closer, so they're almost murmuring in one another's faces. Not unusual for them.]
I value your company. [In a low voice, right in the praise kink. Now is not the time to add "but I'm not ready for a serious relationship". It's implied, and he doesn't want to lose momentum too much. His hand snakes under Wade's layers until his bare, flesh palm is on his dick. He resumes stroking, thumb teasing over Wade.]
[Jesus, yeah, life comes at you fast. Like how he's suddenly having to confront the several years between them, because Cable's a few weeks out from being a widower and Wade's been texting him non-sequiturs for five years and getting radio silence, presumably because it was the wrong number. Or maybe Cable went back. Or maybe Josh Brolin was too busy renewing his career and turning into this generation's Roger Moore. To Wade, it makes sense he just fucked off and found something more important.
Did he seriously reference Roger Moore? God, he's so old.
Oh, hand on his dick. Brain rewired. That cures any bad thoughts, actually. Instantly. Like a fucking miracle.]
I care about lots of stuff. [He's like 20 seconds behind, let him catch up, Christ.] Like maybe the brain injury's that got you sayin' that so sincerely.
[But Wade doesn't give a fuck. The way his stomach flips over and he grabs the back of Cable's neck to smash their noses together so he can kiss him is what he cares about. (Okay, the words, too, because he's gonna repeat those in his mind and maybe jack off to them later, and probably do something else meaningful with 'em that's not sexual but holy god he's only thinking about sex right now). Thing is, the sexytime thought is mixed up so deep in a sense of slightly unhinged veneration that it's inevitably gonna hit Cable like a wave.
Whoops. Wade continues to do nothing halfway. He'll have time to worry about shifts in their roomate-siuation later.
He licks his lips. The groan he gives is not at all voluntary, along with the jerk in his legs.] Keep up like this and you're gonna have to choke me, Nate, 'cause I'm not making any promises.
[Seriously, that's not one of his superpowers. However, one of them is getting supremely horny about being threatened with death. If he wasn't hard before (he was), he's fucking rock hard now, and he's using all that strength he's got in his tightly muscled body (one of his superpowers, thanks) to drag Cable closer to their bed.] Maybe you should sit your ass down and let me blow you first, before it gets messy.
Uh-huh. [A little dismissive, mostly because he's distracted. His mental faculties are suddenly swept dramatically off their feet. He's experienced fondness before. He's also experienced horniness from time to time. He rarely allows himself to feel things at this level of intensity.
Unsure how to cope with it, he's visibly dumbfounded before he finally finds some words.]
You're a brain injury.
[He fires back, viciously articulate and absolutely not resorting to Wade's type of defence.
But he is trying to pay a compliment, because Wade is a brain injury that makes him stupider with his presence. And he is fond of him, sincerely. He gives him a lingering, cryptic look as he releases Wade's boner and rolls off him.
His metal hand reaches around the back of Wade's neck, guiding his head toward his lap. Not unlike the way Wade guided him to his dick moments before.]
I'm your brain injury. Permanent. Debilitating. Frequently causing migraines.
[Sure, he could tease Cable ruthlessly about both that expression and the fact he seems to lost complete faculties of his witty insults (no more mentions of clownery?) because Wade's at his same baseline of usual stupidity, but honest to god? He's so into it. He's so into it he's not gonna bring it up because then it might turn into a thing, and he wants to hear Cable say something else stupid, especially mid-fuck.
Wade easily slips to his knees, only taking long enough to get his fucking pants off. They're just in the way and if he's gonna be hard, he's gonna be hard and freeballing it, baby. Literally. If he's not already turned off by Wade's weird cancerous cock, he's not gonna be turned off by anything.]
But not erectile dysfunction, thank god.
[Oh, there's some of that Cable witticism.] I got a whole lot more mouth than I got money.
[At least he's not too interested in teasing it out to an annoying level, though. (Yet.) He's all method here, pushing whatever clothing's still remaining out of his way to get to Cable's cock, scooting himself between his spread legs, which are giving just enough room for Wade's weirdly big shoulders. Wade gives him a salacious glance upwards -- somewhat offset by how dewy his brown eyes are -- his hand rolling over Cable's dick with a quick one-two stroke (just like the horny romance novels, a little spit goes a long way) right before popping his mottled lips over the tip, wet with a swipe of his tongue.
He goes at it like a soldier with a mission.
The moan he gives isn't put-on. No, that's authentic, high-grade horny buffoonery. AAA Canadian wish fulfillment. And mouth fulfillment.]
[As Wade will feel with his mouth, Cable is not turned off by anything he's seeing. Though he's not the type to say something trite about scars being beautiful, it is a feature he feels he has in common with Wade. Not the same, but bodily disfigurement is something he shares with him. And he is, regrettably, incredibly cute. Which is also not a word Cable likes to use. It's just the one that sticks.
He does quietly wonder if they'll ever talk about that, since his fingertips are tracing shapes over the topographical map that is Wade's shoulders.
Unsurprisingly, Wade is very good at this. He's a lot of talk, but he's not all talk. He gets the highest honour a man can get out of Cable-- a small, pleased huff as he relaxes into getting his dick sucked. His fingers run along Wade's spine, down his neck to his back and up again.]
You're very good at this.
[Some things don't need to stay secret in the internal monologue. Not when Cable's feeling particularly stupid. He meets Wade's big, brown eyes with his mismatched ones. It's still glowing, which means Wade is doing something right. He's also doing something right when the light disappears, because it means Cable is closing his eyes.
His hips roll up to meet Wade's mouth, murmuring:]
[Okay, but he is cute. Nine of out ten subreddits would agree.
Cute, attentive. Dedicated to the dick he's getting off enough he doesn't even pop his mouth off for a retort, only makes a low noise of agreement in his throat and the slightest of nods. Even words or a on-key reference aren't worth taking his mouth off, or moving his gaze away. Nah. He likes the taste of human connection and sex, all in that heady mix that is just about the only thing that manages to quiet Wade's brain enough to shut him up.
There's something fucking special about a glowing eye watching you gobble up a cock. Something that's gonna stick in his mind for a real long time. The only detriment to having a busy mouth and hands is he doesn't have any to take a picture.
Maybe, when Cable's eyes close, he can accept it's a little too special for a Polaroid.
To him. Maybe it's just a fun time for Cable, but --
Who gives a fuck? He's on his knees, getting a crick in his neck, and he keeps going until he's swallowing against the flood of saliva in his mouth.
It's the second comment that makes him pop off for a breath, though he immediately replaces his mouth with his hand. For the moment.] Nothin' says we can't.
[That's blanket permission. His mouth goes back to work and he works, until Cable's gonna be puddy in his hands. Or. Mouth. Tongue, specifically. Why's he so good with his tongue?]
Yeah. [Says Cable, who is dizzy with Wade's horniness.]
Nothin'. [He repeats the sentiment, mimicking Wade's inflection when he does. Somehow, it doesn't seem condescending.
Impressive when the other man is between his legs, sucking his dick. Cable doesn't see the need to waste time, so he finds the wherewithal to multitask. Something that telekinesis is very useful for.
Cable raises his hand, gesturing in the air until he can pluck lube out of the bedside table with sheer force of will (and genetically transferrable powers). Imperfect powers, too, since he drops the bottle on Wade's head with a soft thud.]
Oopsie. [Jesus. He gently pats Wade's struck head, apologetic. But his expression is like stone.]
[He's not exactly Tolstoy on his best day, but Wade's really catching onto either all of Cable's blood is needed to fuel his brain and when it's gone elsewhere the whole thing shuts down, or he's just that fucking good.
Obviously, he's picking that option --
Lucky he doesn't bite his dick in reaction. Real lucky. Wade's a pro.] Ow.
[Just so Cabes knows he's absolutely affected. Wait, did he seriously just say "oopsie"? When he looks up with a low laugh -- the kind that goes mostly through his nose -- he's the grinning clown to Cable's stone.] Sounds like I'm melting it. [He just manages to snag the lube with a hand, and he has just enough brain himself to steal a bit for his hands before dropping it on Cable's thigh.
His hand takes over where his mouth was, only 'cause he's gotta enjoy this while it's happening. Make it last a little longer.] Feel pretty good not to be overthinking for once in your life?
[He actually has no idea what he's doing, but he's 100% dedicated to keepin' it going.]
Feels like you're melting it. [He confirms. The second question he only answers by closing his eyes and breathing out. Like he started a thought and he can't begin to get it out.
He pushes through it to gain his focus back, taking the lube and wetting his fingers. With a hand on Wade's shoulder, he pulls him a little closer so his hand can reach his ass. His two middle fingers stroke Wade's hole up and down, not inviting a finger yet. Inviting the suggestion of a finger.]
Last chance to tell me you're a virgin. [Dryly. He presses his fingertip harder against him, still not inside him.]
[If only he could follow it up with my brain's not the worst place to be if they're gonna be on a wavelength this intimate, except it actually is. It's like expecting a nice beach vacation and ending up on a beach where a whale's carcass just let out a massive corpse fart and exploded everywhere, scattering organs across the sand.
So, he can't say that part. But he can say:] You should enjoy the ride.
[Melting brains can be a net positive when you're going for it, animal style. It's not like Wade's overthinking now they're in the throes of things. Not when he's got the taste of sweat and cock on his tongue.
He's starting to think he likes seeing Cable like this. 'Cause god knows he wants to hear him say oopsie again.
Wade raises up on his knees with the pull, like he's just another object being pulled around by his telepathy. Now there's a thought. A shudder moves its way across his cratered skin, the smoothest parts between the tumours tinting pink to red.
He grins.] I'm a brand-spankin'-new virgin every day. So you gonna pop that cherry, daddy? [He wiggles his ass enticingly. Look, Wade's not exactly a looker but the ass is undeniable. Muscular and succulent. Not even the least bit dehydrated.] C'mon. I'm waiting.
[Wade's unpredictable, unruly nature is uniquely challenging-- and Cable likes to be mentally stimulated. He can't deny, though, he does get a thrill whenever Wade physically submits without questioning it. Especially now.
It doesn't stop him from looking befuddled for a moment, visibly processing the new information. This is also uniquely challenging, because Wade is wiggling his ass. Cable shakes his head.]
Uh-huh. [He doesn't have time to unpack how he feels about that (good) when there's business to attend to. His finger pushes against Wade, working its way inside him. Like with anything in Cable's life, he's very precise about every motion. He pushes in to the base of his finger, then half out, then he's circling his finger inside Wade. He keeps the pressure on him, persistently looking for the places that make him squeak.]
[He'll love being compared to a cat with a slow-feeder mat after the coitus, promise. Whether he's actively killing Nate's braincells or providing visual and auditory stimulation does not matter right now.
As long as he's gonna get simulation soon. Before he starts resorting to more than just a little tease.
Which. Okay, he was kind of joking. Maybe. He can definitely say the first time being pegged hurt about the same amount as the tenth time, and that was before the mutation. Assholes are flexible. Wade's just happens to rebuild every time his cells decide to die and be sparked back to life, or replaced with spicier, cancerier cells. It's like a puzzle box that's rescrambled itself up just in time for every new sexytime.
This is the worst analogy (heh, anal-ogy) ever. Just forget he made it.
There. A beautiful spark rockets across his brain, probably frying one the lobes in the mean time.] Fuck. Finally. [One finger, no matter how thick and calloused, isn't comparable to a dick, but they're getting somewhere.
Maybe not quite a squeak. But Wade's about as vocal as he ever is, with little grunts and groans and another chill that moves him closer until he's all but straddling Nate's lap. Thing is, that's reminding him (fuck, he was not kidding, thinking is about as easy as swimming in maple syrup right now) he didn't finish his job.] Yeah. Fuck, yeah. It's good.
[Gives him a little encouragement, then he gives Little Nate a heated look between them. Give enough room for Nate to finger his asshole, give himself enough room for his lubed fingers to wrap around Nate's cock again and stroke again. Something something Kill before me and I'll come you. Wait. Close enough.] You? Good?
[They're nailing the conversational part of this.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Cable doesn't get to vocalise his obvious displeasure at losing a shirt. It's clearly not worth more than the kiss, though. He sinks down into it with little more than a grunt.
It's perfectly natural the way that they feed off each other-- but it's certainly emphasised by something in the water. Or the air. Cable, at the very least, doesn't half-ass anything in his life. His metal arm circles Wade, his flesh one holds his chin. He deepens the kiss and he no doubt enjoys it because for once in his life his mouth is open and he's not complaining.
His eye is also glowing. Brightly. A feature, not a bug.]
no subject
That definitely won't make it to the gossip room floor. Promise.
Cable's shirt does, though. To the floor. Because he definitely cut it off in the half second it takes them to smash together. What's the point of being handy with knives if you don't use them for emergencies? The knife goes to join his tattered shirt on the floor somewhere, perfectly landing point-down as it stands, at attention, in the shitty carpet of their motel floor.
Then he's free to indulge in sensation. The freezing cold of Cable's metal arm, the heat of his hand. The luxurious feel of a tongue in his mouth. God, it's been too fucking long. Maybe in general; maybe for being able to sink against someone he knows. That knows him. And is here, anyway. For whatever fucking reason.
And he can trust Cable not to disappear on him. (Until he fucks that up, too.)
Even if he might be blind in one eye by the end of this... worth it.
He slides a hand between Cable's very considerable shoulder blades, following his spine with a nail. When they separate for air, he manages a few words:] Should I cut your pants off next?
[Shit. Gonna have to find another knife, though.]
no subject
He follows this process even when he sits up to unbuckle his belt. His leg presses down on Wade's thigh. Not heavily, but heavily enough. His fingers flick his buckle and button open deftly, but his eyes don't leave Wade's face.]
We can't unring this bell. [This time he's not really searching for consent so much as he'd like to address the elephant in the room so he can promptly dismiss it and move forward. His hand moves to Wade's waist, so he knows lack of interest isn't precisely why he's addressing this now.]
And I don't do this much. [A beat.]
"Hook-up."
throws this in your inbox outta nowhere
[Okay, they're nice pants 'cause they're on Cable, but he's not saying that. Not yet. He's not melting into his gooey, big-wide-doe-eyes stage. (It's probably gonna come. Probably prematurely.) He's not showering compliments and calling him Karl Urban but in a better remake than Judge Dredd. Yet.
Right now? Honestly, Wade's not thinking much. Beyond the little twitch of his stomach as Cable's hand goes low, but not low enough.]
I've been ringing it in our shower for months. [He's about to chase after another taste of Cable's mouth when he pauses, laughing in a huff under his breath.] I heard the quotation marks around that. [Yeah, does he not? He's not going around Panorama, advertising his sexual prowess on billboards? One of Wade's hands covers the one at his waist, guiding it down. He's nothing but oozing encouragement.] You wanna do it with me. That's all I give a shit about.
[Easy as pie. He'll give him all the encouragement he wants, if that's what he needs.]
Bless you
You're allowed to give a shit about more than that.
[Eye contact has ceased and, since they're connected, Wade can feel all the complicated emotions one might feel when they're really starting to like someone but a few weeks ago they were holding their wife's charred corpse. Life comes at you so fast.
But he allows his hand to be guided, palming over Wade's perpetual boner. Firm, not rough. Touching him like he means it, but he's not rushing yet.
He tips his head closer, so they're almost murmuring in one another's faces. Not unusual for them.]
I value your company. [In a low voice, right in the praise kink. Now is not the time to add "but I'm not ready for a serious relationship". It's implied, and he doesn't want to lose momentum too much. His hand snakes under Wade's layers until his bare, flesh palm is on his dick. He resumes stroking, thumb teasing over Wade.]
And if you come before I do, I'll kill you.
:D
Did he seriously reference Roger Moore? God, he's so old.
Oh, hand on his dick. Brain rewired. That cures any bad thoughts, actually. Instantly. Like a fucking miracle.]
I care about lots of stuff. [He's like 20 seconds behind, let him catch up, Christ.] Like maybe the brain injury's that got you sayin' that so sincerely.
[But Wade doesn't give a fuck. The way his stomach flips over and he grabs the back of Cable's neck to smash their noses together so he can kiss him is what he cares about. (Okay, the words, too, because he's gonna repeat those in his mind and maybe jack off to them later, and probably do something else meaningful with 'em that's not sexual but holy god he's only thinking about sex right now). Thing is, the sexytime thought is mixed up so deep in a sense of slightly unhinged veneration that it's inevitably gonna hit Cable like a wave.
Whoops. Wade continues to do nothing halfway. He'll have time to worry about shifts in their roomate-siuation later.
He licks his lips. The groan he gives is not at all voluntary, along with the jerk in his legs.] Keep up like this and you're gonna have to choke me, Nate, 'cause I'm not making any promises.
[Seriously, that's not one of his superpowers. However, one of them is getting supremely horny about being threatened with death. If he wasn't hard before (he was), he's fucking rock hard now, and he's using all that strength he's got in his tightly muscled body (one of his superpowers, thanks) to drag Cable closer to their bed.] Maybe you should sit your ass down and let me blow you first, before it gets messy.
[See, he can have top energy too. A little.]
no subject
Unsure how to cope with it, he's visibly dumbfounded before he finally finds some words.]
You're a brain injury.
[He fires back, viciously articulate and absolutely not resorting to Wade's type of defence.
But he is trying to pay a compliment, because Wade is a brain injury that makes him stupider with his presence. And he is fond of him, sincerely. He gives him a lingering, cryptic look as he releases Wade's boner and rolls off him.
His metal hand reaches around the back of Wade's neck, guiding his head toward his lap. Not unlike the way Wade guided him to his dick moments before.]
Put your money where your mouth is, Wilson.
no subject
[Sure, he could tease Cable ruthlessly about both that expression and the fact he seems to lost complete faculties of his witty insults (no more mentions of clownery?) because Wade's at his same baseline of usual stupidity, but honest to god? He's so into it. He's so into it he's not gonna bring it up because then it might turn into a thing, and he wants to hear Cable say something else stupid, especially mid-fuck.
Wade easily slips to his knees, only taking long enough to get his fucking pants off. They're just in the way and if he's gonna be hard, he's gonna be hard and freeballing it, baby. Literally. If he's not already turned off by Wade's weird cancerous cock, he's not gonna be turned off by anything.]
But not erectile dysfunction, thank god.
[Oh, there's some of that Cable witticism.] I got a whole lot more mouth than I got money.
[At least he's not too interested in teasing it out to an annoying level, though. (Yet.) He's all method here, pushing whatever clothing's still remaining out of his way to get to Cable's cock, scooting himself between his spread legs, which are giving just enough room for Wade's weirdly big shoulders. Wade gives him a salacious glance upwards -- somewhat offset by how dewy his brown eyes are -- his hand rolling over Cable's dick with a quick one-two stroke (just like the horny romance novels, a little spit goes a long way) right before popping his mottled lips over the tip, wet with a swipe of his tongue.
He goes at it like a soldier with a mission.
The moan he gives isn't put-on. No, that's authentic, high-grade horny buffoonery. AAA Canadian wish fulfillment. And mouth fulfillment.]
no subject
He does quietly wonder if they'll ever talk about that, since his fingertips are tracing shapes over the topographical map that is Wade's shoulders.
Unsurprisingly, Wade is very good at this. He's a lot of talk, but he's not all talk. He gets the highest honour a man can get out of Cable-- a small, pleased huff as he relaxes into getting his dick sucked. His fingers run along Wade's spine, down his neck to his back and up again.]
You're very good at this.
[Some things don't need to stay secret in the internal monologue. Not when Cable's feeling particularly stupid. He meets Wade's big, brown eyes with his mismatched ones. It's still glowing, which means Wade is doing something right. He's also doing something right when the light disappears, because it means Cable is closing his eyes.
His hips roll up to meet Wade's mouth, murmuring:]
We should do this more often.
no subject
Cute, attentive. Dedicated to the dick he's getting off enough he doesn't even pop his mouth off for a retort, only makes a low noise of agreement in his throat and the slightest of nods. Even words or a on-key reference aren't worth taking his mouth off, or moving his gaze away. Nah. He likes the taste of human connection and sex, all in that heady mix that is just about the only thing that manages to quiet Wade's brain enough to shut him up.
There's something fucking special about a glowing eye watching you gobble up a cock. Something that's gonna stick in his mind for a real long time. The only detriment to having a busy mouth and hands is he doesn't have any to take a picture.
Maybe, when Cable's eyes close, he can accept it's a little too special for a Polaroid.
To him. Maybe it's just a fun time for Cable, but --
Who gives a fuck? He's on his knees, getting a crick in his neck, and he keeps going until he's swallowing against the flood of saliva in his mouth.
It's the second comment that makes him pop off for a breath, though he immediately replaces his mouth with his hand. For the moment.] Nothin' says we can't.
[That's blanket permission. His mouth goes back to work and he works, until Cable's gonna be puddy in his hands. Or. Mouth. Tongue, specifically. Why's he so good with his tongue?]
no subject
Nothin'. [He repeats the sentiment, mimicking Wade's inflection when he does. Somehow, it doesn't seem condescending.
Impressive when the other man is between his legs, sucking his dick. Cable doesn't see the need to waste time, so he finds the wherewithal to multitask. Something that telekinesis is very useful for.
Cable raises his hand, gesturing in the air until he can pluck lube out of the bedside table with sheer force of will (and genetically transferrable powers). Imperfect powers, too, since he drops the bottle on Wade's head with a soft thud.]
Oopsie. [Jesus. He gently pats Wade's struck head, apologetic. But his expression is like stone.]
What are you doing to my brain?
no subject
Obviously, he's picking that option --
Lucky he doesn't bite his dick in reaction. Real lucky. Wade's a pro.] Ow.
[Just so Cabes knows he's absolutely affected. Wait, did he seriously just say "oopsie"? When he looks up with a low laugh -- the kind that goes mostly through his nose -- he's the grinning clown to Cable's stone.] Sounds like I'm melting it. [He just manages to snag the lube with a hand, and he has just enough brain himself to steal a bit for his hands before dropping it on Cable's thigh.
His hand takes over where his mouth was, only 'cause he's gotta enjoy this while it's happening. Make it last a little longer.] Feel pretty good not to be overthinking for once in your life?
[He actually has no idea what he's doing, but he's 100% dedicated to keepin' it going.]
no subject
He pushes through it to gain his focus back, taking the lube and wetting his fingers. With a hand on Wade's shoulder, he pulls him a little closer so his hand can reach his ass. His two middle fingers stroke Wade's hole up and down, not inviting a finger yet. Inviting the suggestion of a finger.]
Last chance to tell me you're a virgin. [Dryly. He presses his fingertip harder against him, still not inside him.]
no subject
So, he can't say that part. But he can say:] You should enjoy the ride.
[Melting brains can be a net positive when you're going for it, animal style. It's not like Wade's overthinking now they're in the throes of things. Not when he's got the taste of sweat and cock on his tongue.
He's starting to think he likes seeing Cable like this. 'Cause god knows he wants to hear him say oopsie again.
Wade raises up on his knees with the pull, like he's just another object being pulled around by his telepathy. Now there's a thought. A shudder moves its way across his cratered skin, the smoothest parts between the tumours tinting pink to red.
He grins.] I'm a brand-spankin'-new virgin every day. So you gonna pop that cherry, daddy? [He wiggles his ass enticingly. Look, Wade's not exactly a looker but the ass is undeniable. Muscular and succulent. Not even the least bit dehydrated.] C'mon. I'm waiting.
no subject
It doesn't stop him from looking befuddled for a moment, visibly processing the new information. This is also uniquely challenging, because Wade is wiggling his ass. Cable shakes his head.]
Uh-huh. [He doesn't have time to unpack how he feels about that (good) when there's business to attend to. His finger pushes against Wade, working its way inside him. Like with anything in Cable's life, he's very precise about every motion. He pushes in to the base of his finger, then half out, then he's circling his finger inside Wade. He keeps the pressure on him, persistently looking for the places that make him squeak.]
Good?
no subject
As long as he's gonna get simulation soon. Before he starts resorting to more than just a little tease.
Which. Okay, he was kind of joking. Maybe. He can definitely say the first time being pegged hurt about the same amount as the tenth time, and that was before the mutation. Assholes are flexible. Wade's just happens to rebuild every time his cells decide to die and be sparked back to life, or replaced with spicier, cancerier cells. It's like a puzzle box that's rescrambled itself up just in time for every new sexytime.
This is the worst analogy (heh, anal-ogy) ever. Just forget he made it.
There. A beautiful spark rockets across his brain, probably frying one the lobes in the mean time.] Fuck. Finally. [One finger, no matter how thick and calloused, isn't comparable to a dick, but they're getting somewhere.
Maybe not quite a squeak. But Wade's about as vocal as he ever is, with little grunts and groans and another chill that moves him closer until he's all but straddling Nate's lap. Thing is, that's reminding him (fuck, he was not kidding, thinking is about as easy as swimming in maple syrup right now) he didn't finish his job.] Yeah. Fuck, yeah. It's good.
[Gives him a little encouragement, then he gives Little Nate a heated look between them. Give enough room for Nate to finger his asshole, give himself enough room for his lubed fingers to wrap around Nate's cock again and stroke again. Something something Kill before me and I'll come you. Wait. Close enough.] You? Good?
[They're nailing the conversational part of this.]