🎵 Believe it or not, Hugh isn't at home 🎵 🎷 Please leave a message at the beep 🎷 🎶 I must be out, or I'd pick up the phone 🎶 🎺 Where could I be? Believe it or not, I'm not home! 🎺
[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:]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
: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.