Two things are happening at once: for one, the sobering realization that he is currently sitting on Wade’s lap. Harry feels the flushed, reddish hue warming his entire face. Not to mention how Wade is greedily tugging at the bottom of his ironed shirt.
That and how the other other Mr. Wilson is twitching between Wade’s legs.
Harry’s sex life wasn’t exactly vanilla, by definition. Okay. Maybe it was a tad vanilla with a couple of saucy dirty talk tossed in and the occasional fuzzy handcuffs. But this? Let alone with another man? His first time with a man, mind you.
Well…Mr. Wilson is definitely exploring uncharted territory here with no YouTube tutorial to walk him through this.
A part of his brain calls out to pump the brakes on this now — take it slow. Treat it as you would any other date. A little cuddle here, a little foreplay there. Bring your hands up and unbutton your shirt one by one …
That brings us to the second thing in this equation: the other voice that’s telling that voice over there to shut the hell up. The voice who is clearly winning this internal battle when he can’t form any intelligible thought.
A pleasurable, husky purr that bubbles from Harry’s throat when he goes to peck his lips. ]
Now you’re just showing off, hot shot.
[ Then it hits Harry again. Ooh! Here we go again.
An immense wave of pleasure and a ravenous appetite for his skin to be rubbing up against Wade. He moans, rutting once more against Wade’s twitching member.
A desperate need to be ripped open and unraveled.
Both of their eyes stay locked in contact, Harry staring hungrily at Wade.
There is no thought being put into these next steps as he guides Wade to the collar of his to rip it apart. He can’t even keep his hands there for long before they're sliding down to grab whatever part of Wade’s extremely well-formed glutes he can greedily latch onto. ]
[Thing is, when you've got plenty of experience, as the chads say, dicking down, you can kind of spot a guy who's a bit new to the scene. Not that Wade had too much of a wandering eye once he got with Vanessa, but come on. He spent his best, most fertile years in the military. He's at least 70% of Marvel's canon pansexuals (and you can check the wiki). He manages carefully the line between twink and twunk -- or at least he's convinced himself of it.
Saying all that, it definitely helps he feels Harry's hesitation like a physical thing -- and it's weird, feeling it, 'cause he's about as far as you get from a telepath, and even for him, this is a new level of intimacy. It's like a cord cutting off the breath in his lungs. A gentle jerk of the leash.
Helpful, though.
And kind of reminding him of Cable. Not in a bad way -- not even in a good way -- but in the way where this kind of. Happened before. Wade gets a little wet in his garters and suddenly the other end of his red thread of horny is getting a little too sex now, think later.
Ugh. Hard to be the careful, selfless partner when Harry's egging him on. He rises to the occasion to kiss the bottom of his chin, leaving a little bite behind.] That's my secret. I'm always showing off.
[Right about the time Luther Vandross's dulcet tones in the background hits the high notes with Mariah, Wade's ripping Harry's shirt apart like paper, in two different directions, tossing them to either side of his chair. So. No hope of really sewing that baby up again. (Wait, does Harry have a Luther Vandross Greatest Hits album? Another point in the pros column.)
He brings him down for another kiss, hungrier than the last and a bit more demanding, like they've been reduced to one horny brain cell that's bouncing back and forth in God's most cursed game of Pong. On top of that, the cold fingertips of his hands are already starting to slide up Harry's naked waist. Normally, he's all for it. Lose himself in a fuck and maybe get stabbed in the heart in the middle of it. Nothing mixes better with an orgasm than a bit of bloodletting.
But this is his very human cross-canon [undefinable noun], and Wade. Fucking cares. If he does something to fuck this up. On their first. (Date? Is this a date?) Including being way too horny for his own good and sending it down someone else's way like he spiked a concussion-inducing volleyball.
He was. Supposed to be slowing his roll. Fuck. Fuck. He could still think if Harry wasn't fucking his leg. Probably.
He pulls off the kiss with a groan, throwing his head back. Big swallow. Big boy talk. Okay.] I gotta ask. [He really doesn't have to. He could just not. Asking is making this way harder.] You ever been with a guy before?
[That's character growth: recognizing not everyone spent their life flouncing through a series of sexual trysts with every willing participant. Especially with a full grown man pinning him down. Even though the guy went to college. Are you telling him not everyone in lawyer school is having orgies on the weekends, between the LSATs or whatever? American movies are just bullshit, huh? Can you even trust anything these days?
Even the chair is whining at the brakes being pumped. Or that could be the screws giving out.] Real talk, H-Dog, I can barely think straight right now. [Something something he's never thought anything straight in his life. But seriously, this isn't something you just jump into after a series of girlfriends on a first date (? still questionable) with the first ex-merc slash killer you happen to fall into the arms of. Twice. Three times?] It takes. You know. A gentle touch. And some patience. And a whole lot of lube.
[Or it hurts like a bitch. Ask him how he knows. He's had his own week of crabwalking, he's not about to inflict that on anyone else.]
[ Nights like these, Harry reveled in being the one to provide his ex-wife with everything she wanted and then some. A distinct pride whenever Grace begged and pleaded from underneath the covers as he pumped steadily into her, seeing her face flush in pure ecstasy. Years of experience (and trial and error) have led Harry to be the sensual and sensitive man he is today.
Look at him now.
His eyes were drunk with sex and animalistic yearning — the kind where you don’t think about how it affects how you walk the next day. When Harry looks to the side, he can find his nice shirt in tatters. Shirtless, but now he can feel how tight his pants have become. Looking down, he can see how much his member stretched and dampened the fabric of his pants with precum. The sheer horniness from Wade is enough to make Harry want to yowl and beg to be touched. To have this tiger, with all of his stripes, come in and give him what he wants.
He nearly whines when Wade pulls away from their passionate make-out session. If Wade can barely think straight, imagine the mental war zone Harry is currently trudging through. Pulling himself away from his date is out of the question; he is far too skin-hungry and hard to do anything rational.
His toes curl and dig into the fresh carpet as the chair continues to groan under their combined weight. Over three hundred pounds of two men sloppily pawing and dry humping each other.
Breathing heavily, Harry leans his head downward to hide underneath the crook of Wade’s neck and suckles around his skin while peppering in a love bite.
What if Harry screwed this whole thing up? He should have been upfront with Wade about being his first man. What if he isn’t good at this? Harry’s already set himself up to disappoint Wade, yet his pants didn’t get any less tight than before.
So, no. There's the answer to his question. ]
No! [ Harry chuckles while his face nuzzles at the cleavage of his muscular chest. ] I’ve never been with another man.
[ God. He knows this is supposed to be a serious talk. But he has become too smitten to change his tone. ]
I’m sorry, honey. [ One more peck on the lips. ] I should have told you. It’s just … I never realized this is how you felt around me.
[Pretty sure Wade being able to try to push for a real, non-sex-fueld adult conversation with a boner poking him in the stomach is something worthy of a Purple Heart. Possibly even two, considering there's two boners involved right now. One for each.
No! Okay. Stop thinking about the b word, or any b-related verbs associated with it. Chill the fuck out, Wade Jr. Not like we're about to go home completely dry. Pretty sure Harry might legitimately find a way to kill him if he suddenly tries to zip on outta here.
-- it's a miracle he's still actively thinking now Harry's moved to sucking on his neck. He might be catching on that the guy in his lap currently is an absolute freak. Apparently cancer is not always a huge turn-off when you find the right hungry, hungry hippo. Wade is not helping this by tipping his head back, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows the load in his mouth. (Of saliva!)
He seriously can't feel if it's even cold in here anymore.
Honey? My god, stooop. He's trying here.] It's no big deal. Lots of men were straight before they met me. [That's not even a good fucking joke. He swallows again.] You mean distractedly horny? I hate to tell you that's, like, my default state of being. [This is not romantic. Maybe Harry should throw him out before he keeps talking.] I'm starting to actually worry that I'm giving you some sort of horny, cancerous stormkissed brain damage. [Now say that five times fast.] Please tell me you're just repressed and ready to let your hair down in the unknown streets of homoerotic hornytown.
[ Okay. They’re doing this. Jesus Christ, he’s panting. ]
Okay. Wait here. Hold on. Let me —
[ As much as Harry doesn’t want to peel away from the stiff member brushing between his legs, this next part is crucial. He manages, although a few whines and yips escape his throat while running over to the other side of the room.
In hindsight, maybe Harry should’ve growled into Wade’s ear and said something along the lines of “I’m all yours”. Then again, that may be a touch too predictable for such an unexpected couple of two middle-aged men from vastly different universes.
And now? Harry has to commit to the bit. ]
Don’t move — Ah, ah…!
[ There have been zero sexcapades, and already Harry is melting into a puddle of orgasmic ectoplasm. But this part is crucial.
All to … light a couple of candles by the nightstand. Two on each side for the extra layer of mood lighting, to be exact. ]
Alright. I’m almost do—NE!
[ If the rules of a stormkissed bond are true, then now this is Harry’s turn to let Wade in on what he is feeling at this moment. His erect penis is only a part of this equation. Here, Harry allows himself to sink into his shoddy spring mattress. Right now, though? This feels like a world class goose-down bed.
Luther Vandross fades out in the background. Cue Billie Holiday
Harry’s breathing as if he has just run an entire half-marathon. But he did it, smiling to himself and feeling a warmth inside his chest. A thin layer of sweat covers him from head to waist. As Billie's sultry voice plays on in the background, a new sensation blossoms from Harry. While Wade was the one to ignite the flames from within his loins, Harry is the one who waters the garden from beyond the rib-cage of Wade's chest - allowing the roots of his passionate emotions burrow deeper into Wade. An elixir combining one's lust and one's seeping affection to create a moment only poets could dream in their maladaptive daydreams.
He hums contentedly to himself, his erect cock sprouting like a spring lilac flower. This one is for Wade to unwrap. ]
[Okay, so the answer to that question was definitely a "yes, yes, oh god, yes!" with a little throw of the head back, visually. So, the probably last surviving thought in Wade's head has now gripped onto the Titanic of his self-control that is quickly being swallowed by icy, cold water, which is timed exactly with the amount of time it takes him to watch Harry jut across the room like --
Maybe the cat in heat comparison is really coming in clutch here. Oh, god. He's somehow gotten the power to invoke heat in men above their fifties. Clearly Nora Roberts is just gritting her teeth to write about him.]
I'm not moving, promise. [The chair thanks him for its survival of the night. Mostly he's trying to turn the sludge that is his brain into something resembling an organ that might make sense of what Harry is fucking doing --
My god. He cannot be serious. Watching a horny lawyer try to light candles like they're the key to his orgasm, all while sporting a full mast is definitely going into some permanent memory bank in the back of his head forever. It's one of those things you treasure forever, like the sight of a breaching albino whale.
Guess this is the part where he can move. He's moving. And while he's moving, it's the dexterity that allows him to kill men without taking a single hit that gets him onto the bed with the force of whatever pornographic brainblast he's on the other end of.
Oooh boy. Okay, so now he's suddenly understanding Cable's melting brain comment. Harry might be investing in some superb flowery imagery that he is about the furthest person from deserving, but Wade's brain's just sunk beneath the waves. Feels like his skin is on fire, prickled with heat and goosebumps that pluck up between the craters. There's just this blissful pit of nothing where he usually stuffs all the feelings about what he looks like, what his skin feels like under unbothered human fingers, what kind of man he is (the answer is: the worst). Maybe even the part where he's confused to this second about how he got to this point with the most seemingly normal human he's met here, who lived out a whole Twilight fantasy with him, rated R, and still invited him over for dinner.
This is. This is kinda nice. Is that what normal people feel like, in the day-to-day? There's no fourth party peeking in, nothing but this cozy-by-the-fire feeling that he might not be the absolute failure he's made himself out to be.
He ends up straddling Harry as if he's pinned to the bed, a knee pressed in against his hips, Wade's hands sinking into the mattress. So that's why he keeps the room for, huh? The nice bedding?] The candles, or what you're packing down here? [Wade figures he doesn't have to do much more than roll his palm over the cloth barely keeping Harry's cock covered to get him going.] Both getting a solid review from me. Definitely a B&B I'll stay in again.
[Already got rid of that shirt for him, so he can work on getting his pants off next. One hand works on that task, and the other coaxes its way up Harry's naked chest, picking up sweat on the way, tracking the rapid rise and fall of his lungs. It's only incredible core strength that keeps him from falling over. Good thing he's the closest thing to ambidextrous anyone gets to.] You good still? You can pump the brakes anytime.
[He can't help but give anyone this deep in with him their final out.]
[ In another timeline, if Wade didn’t stop when he did, there is a version of Harry Wilson reaching peak sexual brain rot (but the sexy kind of brain rot) — raw dogging all of Wade with half a tube of lubricant in his hole, moaning ever so loudly, “Want you in me so bad! Ungh! It’s so big!” By the twentieth pump, that metal chair would have broken clean through, turning a very sexy situation into one where Harry is walking like a cartoonish cowboy for the rest of the month.
And then he would have spent the rest of his days hiding from the fact that he shouted, “Stretch me out, big guy!” A perfectly normal thing to say when you’re doing the bedroom tango, but revealing enough for Harry to reevaluate where he has been keeping this power bottom energy this whole time.
But that’s for another cross-canon scenario (or further down the road. Gotta keep things tabula rasa, you know?).
Did Harry have to run around the bed, stiff as a board, tip-toeing with his buttcheeks and thighs clenched tightly together and squirming like some eccentric mating call? All to light four damn candles? Well, by the look on Wade’s face, it was well worth it. Sometimes you’ve got to cut loose and make it fun. Some people are not meant to be the main protagonists in those steamy 1980s novels your mom used to read under a hot bubble bath with the jetstreams going at it full-force.
Being straddled like this — tight enough that Harry doesn’t slip away but not enough to bruise his skin — it felt nice. He feels secure. The sensation of Wade palming over his cock makes him groan with delight. This time, he doesn’t have the same carnal desire to jump all over Wade’s bones. Instead, he looks at Wade with a softer gaze and a dimpled grin.
Now it was Harry’s turn to get curious around Wade’s body, tracing a hand over his thigh and making it over to his pert and perky ass — giving it an experimental squeeze. Softer than a pillow. ]
I’m still good.
[ His cock is exposed to the brisk, cold room after Wade methodically peels away his pants. The scent of fresh soap and musk melds together to create something tantalizing to the nose. Here he lies naked and exposed, inviting both Wade and himself into this very new venture.
Harry uses his other free hand to brush over the apple of Wade’s cheek. ]
How about we take this one from the top and you show me how it’s done? Nice and steady. And with no furniture at risk of breaking into pieces.
[Okay, but where is this power bottom energy stored? We're looking to find it.
Wade swears he feels that groan crawling into all his little crevices. If anything, he's giving Harry's wandering hand an encouraging little squeeze of his cheeks. It's. Nice. Real nice. Having someone new, touching him like they're happy to explore. And Wade? He obviously loves attention. Loves being stared at. Hence the suit with the tight Lycra around his ass. Sometimes on his better days, he'd go out even before his overly elaborate and meant to be permanent hair system just to make people look at him. Just a funny thing that, now? Yeah, Harry might be near naked, but Wade's feeling exposed, flayed to the bone.]
Dunno. [Prepping his next words with a cheeky little grin:] I'm pretty sure I could break this bed without trying. [Not to give an Edward Cullen flex or anything. Speaking of. He turns his head to kiss the palm of Harry's hand, lifting up on his knees to unbutton his cardigan, tossing that to the chair they abandoned, as well as the shirt underneath it. At least Harry's already seen him down to the briefs. Not much to explain there.
Holy shit. Okay, yeah. That's cold. Okay, note that he's at least stealing this guy a fucking space heater.] Dammit. [He just got warm. Things needs prepping, though, so he miiight spend a very unsexy moment lifting Harry enough he can shuffle them both under a sheet. And then another unsexy moment of having to give him a hold that thought as he slips out of bed to grab the lube he definitely brought for anticipatory reasons. And then a final unsexy moment of moving back to the bed, unbuttoning and shimmying out of his pants (okay, that little move might be kinda sexy), and then shuffling back under the covers, dropping the little bottle next to the pillow.
When you think about it, there's way too many steps to this shit when it's impromptu.
Maybe the fact that he's wearing a bit of lacy panties barely holding everything in, like he promised, makes up for all of that. When Wade talks, he means it.] I gotta admit to you, Hare, I'm not real good at being nice or steady. [He says as he starts kissing down his chest, down to his stomach, spreading Harry's legs on either side of him. Wade's hands draw up over Harry's naked thighs. Cover's trapping a bit of body heat. They're getting somewhere.] But I guess now's a good time for a bit of character growth.
[The character growth is also gonna be getting him through the steps and not just sucking him off. Like. It's right there.
Nothing says he can't give Harry's dick a tantalizing little lick, though, peering up through his -- oh, right, no eyelashes. But he gets big brown eyes gazing up at him from under the tent of the cover.
Maybe he's putting off the main attraction for. A second. A minute. (And because sucking him off would be fun.) It's been the first time he's had to approach the "weird dick" warning part of this. Sure, he'd almost been naked running around that haunted house, but the whole on-fire melting flesh part of that changed things.] Listen. [He crawls back up, busying himself with opening the lube, slicking up the fingers of his right hand.] I'm like this. [He'd gesture if he wasn't busy.] All over. [Oh, look how fascinating it is to watch how fingers shine under neath the veil of candlelight. No, really. This might be his first time ever fucking beside actual candles. Usually it's in the dark.
As if he can't wait for the answer alone (he can't), Wade wraps a hand around Harry's dick like he's testing the lube's slick enough, giving him a good ol' distracting stroke. Yeah, that's slick all right.] If that's a dealbreaker. [That's probably cheating.]
[ Damn. He really needs to touch himself now. Even without the horn dog glasses, his cock is still hard while he waits for Wade. He soldiers through it, biting back how much he needs those hands to stroke and caress. Part of him feels a touch greedy, lying on the bed while Wade is putting on the final touches. Should he get up and fill two glasses of water? In case they get thirsty after they come.
But man… The more he waits, the more tender his loins become. His nipples are already stiff as a board. That same lustful sensation builds up from the bottom of his belly, salivating at the mouth for Wade to come for him.
As the saying goes, the best rewards come to those who wait. The bed shifts and dips when Wade comes crawling under the sheets in the most decadent pair of panties. The lining of his cock and balls under those delicate floral patterns stirs something inside him to reach out and get all over that sweet, decadent garden.
Of course Wade teases him. Never one to be nice and steady, yet here he is, softly stroking his hot member. The warmth of Wade’s tongue and breath tracing Harry’s cock sends him into a tailspin, knocking his head back onto the cluster of pillows and panting.
With Wade’s condition, it was never a point Harry felt all too compelled to bring up. Not unless Wade brought it up himself. Mostly because he can pinpoint all the gorgeous qualities of the man looking salaciously between his legs. Although, tough to convince a man covered head to toe in scars otherwise. Not something you can wave a wand over to wish one’s insecurities away. These things take time.
Harry can spot his uneasiness from underneath the covers. Naturally, he puts that unease to rest. ]
Oh, I know what I signed up for, and I’m still in.
[ Said with the confidence of a Southern man ready to dine at a hearty gumbo shop. ]
Besides, I’m your … [ His face goes beet red. ] pretty little kitty. It’d be a shame not to have a jungle cat as big as you to keep me nice and toasty.
[ He sounds nervous saying it out loud. Mostly unsure of whether he is making a total ass of himself or he really wants to take a shot at this entire pillow princess affair, and he wants to set the mood for the two of them.
Set the mood for Wade to lose himself for this one moment and put the shame with his scars to rest. ]
[There really is something to be said about Southern charm. Or maybe it's the stormkissed thing. Or maybe it's because Harry's gotten copious amounts of brain damage through his life that Wade doesn't know about. Thing is? In the moment, Wade believes him. That he doesn't give a shit. That it was a stupid thing for him to even bring up.
Look. It's been a while. It's been, maybe, longer than a while, since his last time with someone who can't benchlift an eighteen-wheeler. And it was always Vanessa, on both sides, smoothie Wade and fucked up mutant Wade, and even she needed a few drinks in her that first time after. Harry's never brought up what he looked like in that little train fantasy, didn't ask what the hell happened to you? Fall into a vat of acid? either 'cause he doesn't care or it doesn't matter.
Just something to note. Maybe it means something to him and, horny little crabwalker or not, that makes Harry. Really fucking hot, actually.
Not that he isn't already. There's something enchanting about the copious amount of crow's feet around his eyes and his penchant for loafers. And now, apparently, candlelit coitus.]
Mmhmm. [He laughs, lifting up to angle his face above Harry's big ol' brown orbs. (Wow. Like looking in a mirror.) Then he's diving in to kiss just under his jaw with an appreciative rumble to his words.] My pretty slick kitten. [He can't say where Harry's going with these cat metaphors, but they are making him laugh, a deep noise that gets stuck in his throat. (Secret furry? Hmm. Could be the type.) Yeah, no one adores a panther with mange who sounds like the worst version of Hal Jordan more than the human under him, apparently.
Can't argue the power that calling someone "mine" has, though. Wade's already about ready to kill for him if Hare has the slightest inclination towards wanting someone who mildly inconveniences him to live without both legs.
Woof. He might be in deep already. That's the sex-brain talking.
Much as he's naturally inclined to leave Harry just dying in the throes of his passion, he's here to give him a fresh, fun, undoubtedly homoerotic experience. So he moves the hand that's not currently stroking his cock (perhaps a little too slow) to pluck up the lube, and the way Wade can manage not only to open it but squeeze out enough to slick up his fingers with one hand probably lends to how much he's done this. (Mostly to himself, let's be real. He needs at least one dry hand to hold the unicorn stuffie, okay?)] Like you said. Nice and steady.
[He'll start with one finger, ringing his hole with the blunt tip of a warm index finger, watching Harry's face to gauge the levels of "whoaaa nelly" versus "this is definitely awakening something in me," until he finds an invitation to start pushing in up to his first knuckle.] First time means you get to set the pace, Mr. Wilson. [If he wants to draw it out like hell, or come as quickly as possible. Don't think that's gonna be hard. Both are an option.] Just gotta tell me what you want.
[ Alright. That was … a lot less awkward than he feared — tickled by both the warmth of the kiss and how he was, in fact, confirmed as a pretty little thing for Wade to dote on. Sometimes a man looks at himself in the mirror and declares that he wants to be claimed by a six foot two, muscular superhero. Now here he is, being stroked and petted in a way that makes his lips curl up into a wobbly grin.
There is a gentleness in the way Wade stroked him. The combination of a fully slicked, lubed palm warming against his dick, already wet with pre-cum. All while feeling a thick and steady pressure from bottom to shaft that makes Harry's toes curl with pleasure. If it weren’t for the blunt end of Wade’s finger carefully inching around the rim of his hole, he might have asked him to go faster. Now? His head sinks further into the pillows with his eyes rolling back until Wade hits just the right spot in his tight and slicked hole. Soft grunts soon crescendo into a sharp, pleasurable whimper. ]
There! [ Nodding. ] There.
[ He is about ready to burst. A barrage of sensual stimulation, of having his cock constantly pumped, and his hole eagerly taking in Wade, inch by inch. His brain is about to melt into a gooey puddle. Not in the same way as being a puddle of horny juice. This time around, he can feel the meticulous handiwork Wade puts in — like a chef to a finely crafted gourmet meal. It fills his belly with pure satisfaction in a way that will likely be remembered years from now.
His slim hips buck forward as he reaches over to cup the back of Wade’s head, bracing himself for what’s more to come. ]
More of that. Go steady for me, honey. I'm - [ He moans. ] Didn't realize how tight it was down there.
[Which is a really fun spin on things, because Wade has definitely been spending the majority of his life lately as the little guy on the receiving end of things. Only reason he's the one steering the boat right now is by the dearth of experience he got never being able to keep it in his pants. Not that he would claim the mantle of "natural bottom" (despite earning it.)]
Oh, yeah? Right here? [Yeah, they've hit peak "I'm already awakened." Much as he loves being a little shit, there's something to the way Wade follows commands in bed, teasing around the rim only with a second second finger and stroking a bit deeper to get at that perfect little spot (one might even call it the p-spot) with the first finger just to get him jerking.
He's enjoying this. It's good. It's easy. He's enjoying kissing under Harry's jaw and pulling back to watch the myriad of about forty different expressions he manages to make, the sculpted shapes of his crow's feet like the crackling of polished marble. Not to mention the salacious moans. If Wade was a worse person, one of those would be going in his phone as his newest ringtone. Midi style.
Wade lowers down as Harry's hand pulls him, hovering just above with a long stare at his lips. Something's been stopping him from just going full on tongue-hockey since they made it to bed, like there's something even more wanton about open-mouth kissing than the fact he's working on getting him off just with a finger. (Okay, a finger and a whole hand.) Also, talking. He does love to talk.]
Comes with the territory. It's your first day on the job. [He's being slow. Patient, even. Patience of a saint compared to Wade on a good day. But when something worthwhile's got his attention, it's got every scrap of it. He can ignore the music repeating, or one of the bedsprings poking his knee, or the fact all those wet panty jokes have truly come to pass, and his dick is barely hanging in there at all. They're gonna be a mess. But, you know, he's gonna enjoy being a mess -- and without any buzzing in his head that's telling him this is a bad idea, that this is one more attachment to get killed down the line, that he doesn't deserve this.]
And you're doing such a good fucking job of taking it, kitten. [He deserves to hear about it. Harry's taking it like a champ. Like a smart guy. Like a guy who knows his limits, who isn't yelling "just shove it in me already!" at his girl wearing a strap-on that may have been a little ambitious in size while he braces himself on his knees and elbows. Let's just say, Harry deserves a better first-time experience. Because healing that, without powers? That was a bitch. Bitch and a half, even.] Tell me you can take a little more.
[ Things are fully in motion, and Harry is feeling things he never would have imagined. A second finger comes into play, and he gives a little shoulder shimmy in excitement. This particular sensitive spot is where Harry ought to be wincing in pain, but the pressure Wade puts onto his happy-spot almost causes him to shoot his load.
All while the two of them have been playing this back and forth of ‘Will they / Won’t they tongue’, neither of them seems to want to make the move to lash tongues around. Harry is more preoccupied with how Wade looks adoringly at him as they nuzzle each other's faces and peck each others with kisses.
Let’s not forget that cock fighting for its life in those panties. As much as Harry wants to savor this moment, he wants to give Wade a little parting gift to show him his gratitude — thinking how much he wants to try and lap his tongue around the shaft of his thick penis. Swallowing his whole member until the the mutant praises some omnipotent deity.
The headboard behind them taps against the wall. Old beige paint is finally showing off its cracks as small chips glide to the floor. It’s been a while since Harry has felt this dirty. The hot kind of dirty. The kind of dirty you saw in those straight to VHS action movies from the 80s. His hand glides down from the back of Wade’s neck right up to the meat of his pecs, giving it a soft squeeze.
He sits up further to kiss Wade on the lips before lying back down. Ever so gentle. ]
Only because I have someone to show me the ropes. Maybe one day I could…take more than a few fingers.
[ Alright. As the kids say: time to lock in. He wants to go as far as he can before his load lands all over Wade’s stomach. ]
Okay. Alright, I’m ready. Go ahead — [ Wait. Hold on. This is supposed to be heat of the moment frisky talk. Not a 9 AM business meeting. ] I mean… Think you could help me out? Could really use a big guy like you to use that powerful hand to make me … come?
[It's been a hell of a night. A basket, a dinner, a date, and fucking in positively coldest bed he's ever been in his life. Wade's brain this thick, viscous soup of easy pleasure unburdened by the -- fuck, the everything that's usually clogging it. Like surfing on a wave that's got no intention of bucking him off. At least as long as it lasts.
So he can do this. Watch Harry's flushed face, kiss him across a heated cheek, stroke inside him until he's jerking underneath like a slightly drunk bucking bronco. Enjoy him squeezing a handful of pockmarked skin without thinking of what it feels like to uncalloused hands.
Get a kiss without spiraling too much about it. Plenty of time for that later. Orgasm time now.]
Guranteed sequel, promise. [He says, heavy-lidded, voice grown fat and deeper on arousal, mumbled somewhere into Harry's neck. Maybe some of that train fever dream's still in his head, 'cause the crazy idea of just biting right into him pops into Wade's thick brain. A real bite. Deep and bloody.
-- Right. Intrusive thought. He bites, but it isn't hard at all, just a bare nip at the corner of his jaw as Harry gives him the lowdown. His laugh in response is a quiet, the finger strokes more intense, moving faster in a haphazard time that doesn't quite match the jerking around Harry's cock.]
We'll workshop the dirty talk. [Real sexy of him. Spoken like a guy who's maybe not had to have a back up safe word for his safe word. Wade's is blueberry muffins, by the way, which is really hard to say when you've got a gag in your mouth.] Next meeting.
[Now he's gotta live up to all his bullshit sexual innuendos, huh? Well, don't let anyone say he doesn't try to back up his words with his mouth.] Lemme give you a little lip service. Wouldn't want to waste any.
[And he's not about to roll right outta bed to wipe his stomach clean.
Let him overload the guy's brain with the world's greatest prostate exam, combined with a hand giving him a firm stroke, and then Wade moving down to cap off his dick with his mouth. A few rolling licks, a loud, wet suck that Wade dedicates his entire attention to, and then a heavy swallow once Harry's riding the orgasm train, jerking in his grip.
Top it off with a lick of his lips. You gotta end with the lick, you know? Keeping things neat and tidy, as much as two messy human bodies can be.
Wade slips his fingers free, planting both hands in the mattress. Is this the part where he says Happy Valentine's Day? His head's swimming. Doesn't feel like it matters much what day it is.] Should I ask for the first time review now or later?
[ The entire experience is something to behold. To be treated with such gentleness and fierce dominance that Harry can sink into this very mattress and astral project himself into Cloud 9. Each nip and kiss feeling as though they are stanzas in a poem, of feeling wanted and adored. From the way Wade teases his kisses on his neck, giving him the smallest of love nips, to how his voice goes low and husky, morphing into a ravenous growl.
Soft moans morph into pathetic whimpers, wet with arousal. The two fingers stroking inside his prostate feel as though Wade had found all those years of pent-up sexual frustration. It feels so, so damn good. A deep, pulsating desire emerges from Harry’s breath, to be so good for the man who is sucking his jawline raw. Outside these sheets feels like Antartica, but what was going on underneath might as well feel like a vacation in Turks and Caicos.
One hand continues to cup over the back of Wade’s head while his other hand massages his partner’s shoulder. ]
Uh huh… Want more of you. Please.
[ He wants to be so good for him. Every stroke, lick, and pump is bringing Harry that much closer to cum. When Wade shifts to go down on Harry, his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head. The way Wade methodically sucks and licks his throbbing dick is enough for him to yowl in saturated pleasure. His hands move back down to Wade’s perky ass, blunt fingernails digging into his plush skin.
Words fail him at this moment, being reduced to a domesticated animal deep in his heat. A barely audible ‘Yes! yes!’ can be heard underneath his breath as he braces himself to unload himself onto Wade until a steady stream of warm cum shoots out — and his mouth is right there to suck and swallow Harry’s load.
He takes a moment to watch Wade lick a piece of him from the side of his lips as Harry takes deep, panting breaths. Then he shimmies his hips upwards so he can sit more upright with his elbows propped on the pillows. He leans in to kiss Wade on his bottom lip. ]
Don’t think I could have asked for anything better.
[He gets a breathless, heady little laugh out before he moves in for the kiss.] Pretty damn generous review.
[That's one he can take home and hang on the wall, next to the first dollar he ever earned. Fuck, maybe he will. The wall's for him, after all, and this is a pretty good memory in a head full of bad ones.
This stormkissing thing's fucking wild, by the way. He didn't even get off himself and Wade's feeling like he's bathing in the afterglow, anyway, giving a little shudder as he falls onto the (icy) mattress beside him. His legs stretch out under the covers, a little groan of satisfaction making through his cracked lips. Nothin' wrong with a spicy bit of edging.
Okay, he does have a hand sneaking under the sheets. You can't blame a guy. Not like he wants his hands in the cold-ass air.]
You know, I never asked. [He shifts onto his side, propping his head on hand, elbow digging into a pillow.] Why'd you send a kid to drop off the basket?
[ Oh, Harry is basking in that afterglow. The temperatures may be below forty degrees, but he is about as giddy as they come when Wade lies next to him. There is a part of him (probably from their stormkissed bond) that feels like a dirty bad boy…but the real sexy kind. He adjusts the pillows behind him, fluffing them so that Wade has something fresh to rest on. Underneath the covers, it smells purely of sweat and sex. If it weren’t for the cold, Harry would climb out of bed to clean up, but right now? It’s just not worth risking hypothermia.
He lies back down on his back, his resting on top of his chest. All the while, Harry lets Wade grab whatever part of his body he wants to hold. The way Wade radiates body heat feels really nice, like one of those heating blankets, but with one setting. ]
Figured you might want some space.
[ It was very much trying to get a dog to walk on the grassier side of the street, but they’re too stubborn to paw around in their harness. ]
I know you always need some time to mull things over, so this was the best of both worlds. At least I knew if you didn’t come over, you’d have something for the rest of your shift.
think we can wrap this up!! in the next tag or two
[Seriously, why the fuck is he living here? Even Wade's motel isn't prone to giving him goddamn frostbite. And it's not like Nate's got the whole furnace thing going for him when half of him is metal. Well. The half that doesn't really matter.
He tugs the sheets up around his neck. Which just leaves his bald head freezing in the air, but. It's fine. He's definitely had worse, even if he's definitely missing his hair system. Would've been ace at a time like this.]
Oh, yeah. Totally. Me, known for needing space. [What Wade does grab onto is mostly all of Harry, slipping a warm arm around his middle because he may be a lot of things, but a cuddler is. Definitely one of them. Eventually, he'll slip away. Let the guy sleep alone in the goddamn icebox that is his place. Maybe think a little too hard that this whole setup was for Valentine's Day, and a guy with a romantic edge enough to fine-tune a gift basket for him thought that Wade Wilson was, you know. Worth the effort.
He snorts. It's not an answer he has to pick at. Just, here he'd been thinking Harry wasn't super enthused about being seen with him in public.
Not that Wade could blame him for that one. Look at how much hair the guy has, first of all. His complete lack of on-the-books murders. Also, possibly, off-the-books.]
You really think I'd turn down a chance to freeze to death in the tundra, localized entirely in a motel room? Please. [Space. Something about it. Harry has put way too much energy into thinking of what he might like, in a way that is almost disturbing. He's not even part of the f-word. He's just... a guy. That Wade met. And carried around a few times.
Not even from the same canon.]
Well, you nailed me. [With the basket, not. Okay, that too.] Gonna be real tough to top that for next time.
[He kids. He doesn't expect shit. Honestly, if Harry wants anything to do with him in the future, it's gonna surprise him, good sex or not.]
[ This busted radiator that should have been fixed ages ago. Will Harry find a resolution to his icebox problem? The jury is still out on that one. All the phone calls between Harry and his landlord have been … productive. If by productive you mean getting hung up mid-sentence. Then, yeah. He is making real headway there.
Harry turns himself over onto his side with his back facing Wade. His little butt shimmies close to Wade’s pelvis as he lets the big guy wrap an arm around his midsection. Harry can’t see, but he is probably close enough for Wade to get a whiff of his hair. Freshly washed with a hint of pomade.
There, Harry brushes over Wade’s calloused hand with his and lifts it off his stomach, pulling it close to his lips. ]
Then I will try to make it worth your while. [ And he gives the back of his hand a soft peck. ] Perhaps … a day at the bathhouse and a half-decent seafood place?
[ He laughs. Won’t that be something? Seafood? On a piece of land with one enigmatic ocean? Good luck with that. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Two things are happening at once: for one, the sobering realization that he is currently sitting on Wade’s lap. Harry feels the flushed, reddish hue warming his entire face. Not to mention how Wade is greedily tugging at the bottom of his ironed shirt.
That and how the other other Mr. Wilson is twitching between Wade’s legs.
Harry’s sex life wasn’t exactly vanilla, by definition. Okay. Maybe it was a tad vanilla with a couple of saucy dirty talk tossed in and the occasional fuzzy handcuffs. But this? Let alone with another man? His first time with a man, mind you.
Well…Mr. Wilson is definitely exploring uncharted territory here with no YouTube tutorial to walk him through this.
A part of his brain calls out to pump the brakes on this now — take it slow. Treat it as you would any other date. A little cuddle here, a little foreplay there. Bring your hands up and unbutton your shirt one by one …
That brings us to the second thing in this equation: the other voice that’s telling that voice over there to shut the hell up. The voice who is clearly winning this internal battle when he can’t form any intelligible thought.
A pleasurable, husky purr that bubbles from Harry’s throat when he goes to peck his lips. ]
Now you’re just showing off, hot shot.
[ Then it hits Harry again. Ooh! Here we go again.
An immense wave of pleasure and a ravenous appetite for his skin to be rubbing up against Wade. He moans, rutting once more against Wade’s twitching member.
A desperate need to be ripped open and unraveled.
Both of their eyes stay locked in contact, Harry staring hungrily at Wade.
There is no thought being put into these next steps as he guides Wade to the collar of his to rip it apart. He can’t even keep his hands there for long before they're sliding down to grab whatever part of Wade’s extremely well-formed glutes he can greedily latch onto. ]
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Saying all that, it definitely helps he feels Harry's hesitation like a physical thing -- and it's weird, feeling it, 'cause he's about as far as you get from a telepath, and even for him, this is a new level of intimacy. It's like a cord cutting off the breath in his lungs. A gentle jerk of the leash.
Helpful, though.
And kind of reminding him of Cable. Not in a bad way -- not even in a good way -- but in the way where this kind of. Happened before. Wade gets a little wet in his garters and suddenly the other end of his red thread of horny is getting a little too sex now, think later.
Ugh. Hard to be the careful, selfless partner when Harry's egging him on. He rises to the occasion to kiss the bottom of his chin, leaving a little bite behind.] That's my secret. I'm always showing off.
[Right about the time Luther Vandross's dulcet tones in the background hits the high notes with Mariah, Wade's ripping Harry's shirt apart like paper, in two different directions, tossing them to either side of his chair. So. No hope of really sewing that baby up again. (Wait, does Harry have a Luther Vandross Greatest Hits album? Another point in the pros column.)
He brings him down for another kiss, hungrier than the last and a bit more demanding, like they've been reduced to one horny brain cell that's bouncing back and forth in God's most cursed game of Pong. On top of that, the cold fingertips of his hands are already starting to slide up Harry's naked waist. Normally, he's all for it. Lose himself in a fuck and maybe get stabbed in the heart in the middle of it. Nothing mixes better with an orgasm than a bit of bloodletting.
But this is his very human cross-canon [undefinable noun], and Wade. Fucking cares. If he does something to fuck this up. On their first. (Date? Is this a date?) Including being way too horny for his own good and sending it down someone else's way like he spiked a concussion-inducing volleyball.
He was. Supposed to be slowing his roll. Fuck. Fuck. He could still think if Harry wasn't fucking his leg. Probably.
He pulls off the kiss with a groan, throwing his head back. Big swallow. Big boy talk. Okay.] I gotta ask. [He really doesn't have to. He could just not. Asking is making this way harder.] You ever been with a guy before?
[That's character growth: recognizing not everyone spent their life flouncing through a series of sexual trysts with every willing participant. Especially with a full grown man pinning him down. Even though the guy went to college. Are you telling him not everyone in lawyer school is having orgies on the weekends, between the LSATs or whatever? American movies are just bullshit, huh? Can you even trust anything these days?
Even the chair is whining at the brakes being pumped. Or that could be the screws giving out.] Real talk, H-Dog, I can barely think straight right now. [Something something he's never thought anything straight in his life. But seriously, this isn't something you just jump into after a series of girlfriends on a first date (? still questionable) with the first ex-merc slash killer you happen to fall into the arms of. Twice. Three times?] It takes. You know. A gentle touch. And some patience. And a whole lot of lube.
[Or it hurts like a bitch. Ask him how he knows. He's had his own week of crabwalking, he's not about to inflict that on anyone else.]
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Look at him now.
His eyes were drunk with sex and animalistic yearning — the kind where you don’t think about how it affects how you walk the next day. When Harry looks to the side, he can find his nice shirt in tatters. Shirtless, but now he can feel how tight his pants have become. Looking down, he can see how much his member stretched and dampened the fabric of his pants with precum. The sheer horniness from Wade is enough to make Harry want to yowl and beg to be touched. To have this tiger, with all of his stripes, come in and give him what he wants.
He nearly whines when Wade pulls away from their passionate make-out session. If Wade can barely think straight, imagine the mental war zone Harry is currently trudging through. Pulling himself away from his date is out of the question; he is far too skin-hungry and hard to do anything rational.
His toes curl and dig into the fresh carpet as the chair continues to groan under their combined weight. Over three hundred pounds of two men sloppily pawing and dry humping each other.
Breathing heavily, Harry leans his head downward to hide underneath the crook of Wade’s neck and suckles around his skin while peppering in a love bite.
What if Harry screwed this whole thing up? He should have been upfront with Wade about being his first man. What if he isn’t good at this? Harry’s already set himself up to disappoint Wade, yet his pants didn’t get any less tight than before.
So, no. There's the answer to his question. ]
No! [ Harry chuckles while his face nuzzles at the cleavage of his muscular chest. ] I’ve never been with another man.
[ God. He knows this is supposed to be a serious talk. But he has become too smitten to change his tone. ]
I’m sorry, honey. [ One more peck on the lips. ] I should have told you. It’s just … I never realized this is how you felt around me.
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No! Okay. Stop thinking about the b word, or any b-related verbs associated with it. Chill the fuck out, Wade Jr. Not like we're about to go home completely dry. Pretty sure Harry might legitimately find a way to kill him if he suddenly tries to zip on outta here.
-- it's a miracle he's still actively thinking now Harry's moved to sucking on his neck. He might be catching on that the guy in his lap currently is an absolute freak. Apparently cancer is not always a huge turn-off when you find the right hungry, hungry hippo. Wade is not helping this by tipping his head back, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows the load in his mouth. (Of saliva!)
He seriously can't feel if it's even cold in here anymore.
Honey? My god, stooop. He's trying here.] It's no big deal. Lots of men were straight before they met me. [That's not even a good fucking joke. He swallows again.] You mean distractedly horny? I hate to tell you that's, like, my default state of being. [This is not romantic. Maybe Harry should throw him out before he keeps talking.] I'm starting to actually worry that I'm giving you some sort of horny, cancerous stormkissed brain damage. [Now say that five times fast.] Please tell me you're just repressed and ready to let your hair down in the unknown streets of homoerotic hornytown.
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[ Okay. They’re doing this. Jesus Christ, he’s panting. ]
Okay. Wait here. Hold on. Let me —
[ As much as Harry doesn’t want to peel away from the stiff member brushing between his legs, this next part is crucial. He manages, although a few whines and yips escape his throat while running over to the other side of the room.
In hindsight, maybe Harry should’ve growled into Wade’s ear and said something along the lines of “I’m all yours”. Then again, that may be a touch too predictable for such an unexpected couple of two middle-aged men from vastly different universes.
And now? Harry has to commit to the bit. ]
Don’t move — Ah, ah…!
[ There have been zero sexcapades, and already Harry is melting into a puddle of orgasmic ectoplasm. But this part is crucial.
All to … light a couple of candles by the nightstand. Two on each side for the extra layer of mood lighting, to be exact. ]
Alright. I’m almost do—NE!
[ If the rules of a stormkissed bond are true, then now this is Harry’s turn to let Wade in on what he is feeling at this moment. His erect penis is only a part of this equation. Here, Harry allows himself to sink into his shoddy spring mattress. Right now, though? This feels like a world class goose-down bed.
Luther Vandross fades out in the background. Cue Billie Holiday
Harry’s breathing as if he has just run an entire half-marathon. But he did it, smiling to himself and feeling a warmth inside his chest. A thin layer of sweat covers him from head to waist. As Billie's sultry voice plays on in the background, a new sensation blossoms from Harry. While Wade was the one to ignite the flames from within his loins, Harry is the one who waters the garden from beyond the rib-cage of Wade's chest - allowing the roots of his passionate emotions burrow deeper into Wade. An elixir combining one's lust and one's seeping affection to create a moment only poets could dream in their maladaptive daydreams.
He hums contentedly to himself, his erect cock sprouting like a spring lilac flower. This one is for Wade to unwrap. ]
Do you like it?
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Maybe the cat in heat comparison is really coming in clutch here. Oh, god. He's somehow gotten the power to invoke heat in men above their fifties. Clearly Nora Roberts is just gritting her teeth to write about him.]
I'm not moving, promise. [The chair thanks him for its survival of the night. Mostly he's trying to turn the sludge that is his brain into something resembling an organ that might make sense of what Harry is fucking doing --
My god. He cannot be serious. Watching a horny lawyer try to light candles like they're the key to his orgasm, all while sporting a full mast is definitely going into some permanent memory bank in the back of his head forever. It's one of those things you treasure forever, like the sight of a breaching albino whale.
Guess this is the part where he can move. He's moving. And while he's moving, it's the dexterity that allows him to kill men without taking a single hit that gets him onto the bed with the force of whatever pornographic brainblast he's on the other end of.
Oooh boy. Okay, so now he's suddenly understanding Cable's melting brain comment. Harry might be investing in some superb flowery imagery that he is about the furthest person from deserving, but Wade's brain's just sunk beneath the waves. Feels like his skin is on fire, prickled with heat and goosebumps that pluck up between the craters. There's just this blissful pit of nothing where he usually stuffs all the feelings about what he looks like, what his skin feels like under unbothered human fingers, what kind of man he is (the answer is: the worst). Maybe even the part where he's confused to this second about how he got to this point with the most seemingly normal human he's met here, who lived out a whole Twilight fantasy with him, rated R, and still invited him over for dinner.
This is. This is kinda nice. Is that what normal people feel like, in the day-to-day? There's no fourth party peeking in, nothing but this cozy-by-the-fire feeling that he might not be the absolute failure he's made himself out to be.
He ends up straddling Harry as if he's pinned to the bed, a knee pressed in against his hips, Wade's hands sinking into the mattress. So that's why he keeps the room for, huh? The nice bedding?] The candles, or what you're packing down here? [Wade figures he doesn't have to do much more than roll his palm over the cloth barely keeping Harry's cock covered to get him going.] Both getting a solid review from me. Definitely a B&B I'll stay in again.
[Already got rid of that shirt for him, so he can work on getting his pants off next. One hand works on that task, and the other coaxes its way up Harry's naked chest, picking up sweat on the way, tracking the rapid rise and fall of his lungs. It's only incredible core strength that keeps him from falling over. Good thing he's the closest thing to ambidextrous anyone gets to.] You good still? You can pump the brakes anytime.
[He can't help but give anyone this deep in with him their final out.]
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And then he would have spent the rest of his days hiding from the fact that he shouted, “Stretch me out, big guy!” A perfectly normal thing to say when you’re doing the bedroom tango, but revealing enough for Harry to reevaluate where he has been keeping this power bottom energy this whole time.
But that’s for another cross-canon scenario (or further down the road. Gotta keep things tabula rasa, you know?).
Did Harry have to run around the bed, stiff as a board, tip-toeing with his buttcheeks and thighs clenched tightly together and squirming like some eccentric mating call? All to light four damn candles? Well, by the look on Wade’s face, it was well worth it. Sometimes you’ve got to cut loose and make it fun. Some people are not meant to be the main protagonists in those steamy 1980s novels your mom used to read under a hot bubble bath with the jetstreams going at it full-force.
Being straddled like this — tight enough that Harry doesn’t slip away but not enough to bruise his skin — it felt nice. He feels secure. The sensation of Wade palming over his cock makes him groan with delight. This time, he doesn’t have the same carnal desire to jump all over Wade’s bones. Instead, he looks at Wade with a softer gaze and a dimpled grin.
Now it was Harry’s turn to get curious around Wade’s body, tracing a hand over his thigh and making it over to his pert and perky ass — giving it an experimental squeeze. Softer than a pillow. ]
I’m still good.
[ His cock is exposed to the brisk, cold room after Wade methodically peels away his pants. The scent of fresh soap and musk melds together to create something tantalizing to the nose. Here he lies naked and exposed, inviting both Wade and himself into this very new venture.
Harry uses his other free hand to brush over the apple of Wade’s cheek. ]
How about we take this one from the top and you show me how it’s done? Nice and steady. And with no furniture at risk of breaking into pieces.
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Wade swears he feels that groan crawling into all his little crevices. If anything, he's giving Harry's wandering hand an encouraging little squeeze of his cheeks. It's. Nice. Real nice. Having someone new, touching him like they're happy to explore. And Wade? He obviously loves attention. Loves being stared at. Hence the suit with the tight Lycra around his ass. Sometimes on his better days, he'd go out even before his overly elaborate and meant to be permanent hair system just to make people look at him. Just a funny thing that, now? Yeah, Harry might be near naked, but Wade's feeling exposed, flayed to the bone.]
Dunno. [Prepping his next words with a cheeky little grin:] I'm pretty sure I could break this bed without trying. [Not to give an Edward Cullen flex or anything. Speaking of. He turns his head to kiss the palm of Harry's hand, lifting up on his knees to unbutton his cardigan, tossing that to the chair they abandoned, as well as the shirt underneath it. At least Harry's already seen him down to the briefs. Not much to explain there.
Holy shit. Okay, yeah. That's cold. Okay, note that he's at least stealing this guy a fucking space heater.] Dammit. [He just got warm. Things needs prepping, though, so he miiight spend a very unsexy moment lifting Harry enough he can shuffle them both under a sheet. And then another unsexy moment of having to give him a hold that thought as he slips out of bed to grab the lube he definitely brought for anticipatory reasons. And then a final unsexy moment of moving back to the bed, unbuttoning and shimmying out of his pants (okay, that little move might be kinda sexy), and then shuffling back under the covers, dropping the little bottle next to the pillow.
When you think about it, there's way too many steps to this shit when it's impromptu.
Maybe the fact that he's wearing a bit of lacy panties barely holding everything in, like he promised, makes up for all of that. When Wade talks, he means it.] I gotta admit to you, Hare, I'm not real good at being nice or steady. [He says as he starts kissing down his chest, down to his stomach, spreading Harry's legs on either side of him. Wade's hands draw up over Harry's naked thighs. Cover's trapping a bit of body heat. They're getting somewhere.] But I guess now's a good time for a bit of character growth.
[The character growth is also gonna be getting him through the steps and not just sucking him off. Like. It's right there.
Nothing says he can't give Harry's dick a tantalizing little lick, though, peering up through his -- oh, right, no eyelashes. But he gets big brown eyes gazing up at him from under the tent of the cover.
Maybe he's putting off the main attraction for. A second. A minute. (And because sucking him off would be fun.) It's been the first time he's had to approach the "weird dick" warning part of this. Sure, he'd almost been naked running around that haunted house, but the whole on-fire melting flesh part of that changed things.] Listen. [He crawls back up, busying himself with opening the lube, slicking up the fingers of his right hand.] I'm like this. [He'd gesture if he wasn't busy.] All over. [Oh, look how fascinating it is to watch how fingers shine under neath the veil of candlelight. No, really. This might be his first time ever fucking beside actual candles. Usually it's in the dark.
As if he can't wait for the answer alone (he can't), Wade wraps a hand around Harry's dick like he's testing the lube's slick enough, giving him a good ol' distracting stroke. Yeah, that's slick all right.] If that's a dealbreaker. [That's probably cheating.]
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But man… The more he waits, the more tender his loins become. His nipples are already stiff as a board. That same lustful sensation builds up from the bottom of his belly, salivating at the mouth for Wade to come for him.
As the saying goes, the best rewards come to those who wait. The bed shifts and dips when Wade comes crawling under the sheets in the most decadent pair of panties. The lining of his cock and balls under those delicate floral patterns stirs something inside him to reach out and get all over that sweet, decadent garden.
Of course Wade teases him. Never one to be nice and steady, yet here he is, softly stroking his hot member. The warmth of Wade’s tongue and breath tracing Harry’s cock sends him into a tailspin, knocking his head back onto the cluster of pillows and panting.
With Wade’s condition, it was never a point Harry felt all too compelled to bring up. Not unless Wade brought it up himself. Mostly because he can pinpoint all the gorgeous qualities of the man looking salaciously between his legs. Although, tough to convince a man covered head to toe in scars otherwise. Not something you can wave a wand over to wish one’s insecurities away. These things take time.
Harry can spot his uneasiness from underneath the covers. Naturally, he puts that unease to rest. ]
Oh, I know what I signed up for, and I’m still in.
[ Said with the confidence of a Southern man ready to dine at a hearty gumbo shop. ]
Besides, I’m your … [ His face goes beet red. ] pretty little kitty. It’d be a shame not to have a jungle cat as big as you to keep me nice and toasty.
[ He sounds nervous saying it out loud. Mostly unsure of whether he is making a total ass of himself or he really wants to take a shot at this entire pillow princess affair, and he wants to set the mood for the two of them.
Set the mood for Wade to lose himself for this one moment and put the shame with his scars to rest. ]
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Look. It's been a while. It's been, maybe, longer than a while, since his last time with someone who can't benchlift an eighteen-wheeler. And it was always Vanessa, on both sides, smoothie Wade and fucked up mutant Wade, and even she needed a few drinks in her that first time after. Harry's never brought up what he looked like in that little train fantasy, didn't ask what the hell happened to you? Fall into a vat of acid? either 'cause he doesn't care or it doesn't matter.
Just something to note. Maybe it means something to him and, horny little crabwalker or not, that makes Harry. Really fucking hot, actually.
Not that he isn't already. There's something enchanting about the copious amount of crow's feet around his eyes and his penchant for loafers. And now, apparently, candlelit coitus.]
Mmhmm. [He laughs, lifting up to angle his face above Harry's big ol' brown orbs. (Wow. Like looking in a mirror.) Then he's diving in to kiss just under his jaw with an appreciative rumble to his words.] My pretty slick kitten. [He can't say where Harry's going with these cat metaphors, but they are making him laugh, a deep noise that gets stuck in his throat. (Secret furry? Hmm. Could be the type.) Yeah, no one adores a panther with mange who sounds like the worst version of Hal Jordan more than the human under him, apparently.
Can't argue the power that calling someone "mine" has, though. Wade's already about ready to kill for him if Hare has the slightest inclination towards wanting someone who mildly inconveniences him to live without both legs.
Woof. He might be in deep already. That's the sex-brain talking.
Much as he's naturally inclined to leave Harry just dying in the throes of his passion, he's here to give him a fresh, fun, undoubtedly homoerotic experience. So he moves the hand that's not currently stroking his cock (perhaps a little too slow) to pluck up the lube, and the way Wade can manage not only to open it but squeeze out enough to slick up his fingers with one hand probably lends to how much he's done this. (Mostly to himself, let's be real. He needs at least one dry hand to hold the unicorn stuffie, okay?)] Like you said. Nice and steady.
[He'll start with one finger, ringing his hole with the blunt tip of a warm index finger, watching Harry's face to gauge the levels of "whoaaa nelly" versus "this is definitely awakening something in me," until he finds an invitation to start pushing in up to his first knuckle.] First time means you get to set the pace, Mr. Wilson. [If he wants to draw it out like hell, or come as quickly as possible. Don't think that's gonna be hard. Both are an option.] Just gotta tell me what you want.
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There is a gentleness in the way Wade stroked him. The combination of a fully slicked, lubed palm warming against his dick, already wet with pre-cum. All while feeling a thick and steady pressure from bottom to shaft that makes Harry's toes curl with pleasure. If it weren’t for the blunt end of Wade’s finger carefully inching around the rim of his hole, he might have asked him to go faster. Now? His head sinks further into the pillows with his eyes rolling back until Wade hits just the right spot in his tight and slicked hole. Soft grunts soon crescendo into a sharp, pleasurable whimper. ]
There! [ Nodding. ] There.
[ He is about ready to burst. A barrage of sensual stimulation, of having his cock constantly pumped, and his hole eagerly taking in Wade, inch by inch. His brain is about to melt into a gooey puddle. Not in the same way as being a puddle of horny juice. This time around, he can feel the meticulous handiwork Wade puts in — like a chef to a finely crafted gourmet meal. It fills his belly with pure satisfaction in a way that will likely be remembered years from now.
His slim hips buck forward as he reaches over to cup the back of Wade’s head, bracing himself for what’s more to come. ]
More of that. Go steady for me, honey. I'm - [ He moans. ] Didn't realize how tight it was down there.
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Oh, yeah? Right here? [Yeah, they've hit peak "I'm already awakened." Much as he loves being a little shit, there's something to the way Wade follows commands in bed, teasing around the rim only with a second second finger and stroking a bit deeper to get at that perfect little spot (one might even call it the p-spot) with the first finger just to get him jerking.
He's enjoying this. It's good. It's easy. He's enjoying kissing under Harry's jaw and pulling back to watch the myriad of about forty different expressions he manages to make, the sculpted shapes of his crow's feet like the crackling of polished marble. Not to mention the salacious moans. If Wade was a worse person, one of those would be going in his phone as his newest ringtone. Midi style.
Wade lowers down as Harry's hand pulls him, hovering just above with a long stare at his lips. Something's been stopping him from just going full on tongue-hockey since they made it to bed, like there's something even more wanton about open-mouth kissing than the fact he's working on getting him off just with a finger. (Okay, a finger and a whole hand.) Also, talking. He does love to talk.]
Comes with the territory. It's your first day on the job. [He's being slow. Patient, even. Patience of a saint compared to Wade on a good day. But when something worthwhile's got his attention, it's got every scrap of it. He can ignore the music repeating, or one of the bedsprings poking his knee, or the fact all those wet panty jokes have truly come to pass, and his dick is barely hanging in there at all. They're gonna be a mess. But, you know, he's gonna enjoy being a mess -- and without any buzzing in his head that's telling him this is a bad idea, that this is one more attachment to get killed down the line, that he doesn't deserve this.]
And you're doing such a good fucking job of taking it, kitten. [He deserves to hear about it. Harry's taking it like a champ. Like a smart guy. Like a guy who knows his limits, who isn't yelling "just shove it in me already!" at his girl wearing a strap-on that may have been a little ambitious in size while he braces himself on his knees and elbows. Let's just say, Harry deserves a better first-time experience. Because healing that, without powers? That was a bitch. Bitch and a half, even.] Tell me you can take a little more.
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All while the two of them have been playing this back and forth of ‘Will they / Won’t they tongue’, neither of them seems to want to make the move to lash tongues around. Harry is more preoccupied with how Wade looks adoringly at him as they nuzzle each other's faces and peck each others with kisses.
Let’s not forget that cock fighting for its life in those panties. As much as Harry wants to savor this moment, he wants to give Wade a little parting gift to show him his gratitude — thinking how much he wants to try and lap his tongue around the shaft of his thick penis. Swallowing his whole member until the the mutant praises some omnipotent deity.
The headboard behind them taps against the wall. Old beige paint is finally showing off its cracks as small chips glide to the floor. It’s been a while since Harry has felt this dirty. The hot kind of dirty. The kind of dirty you saw in those straight to VHS action movies from the 80s. His hand glides down from the back of Wade’s neck right up to the meat of his pecs, giving it a soft squeeze.
He sits up further to kiss Wade on the lips before lying back down. Ever so gentle. ]
Only because I have someone to show me the ropes. Maybe one day I could…take more than a few fingers.
[ Alright. As the kids say: time to lock in. He wants to go as far as he can before his load lands all over Wade’s stomach. ]
Okay. Alright, I’m ready. Go ahead — [ Wait. Hold on. This is supposed to be heat of the moment frisky talk. Not a 9 AM business meeting. ] I mean… Think you could help me out? Could really use a big guy like you to use that powerful hand to make me … come?
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So he can do this. Watch Harry's flushed face, kiss him across a heated cheek, stroke inside him until he's jerking underneath like a slightly drunk bucking bronco. Enjoy him squeezing a handful of pockmarked skin without thinking of what it feels like to uncalloused hands.
Get a kiss without spiraling too much about it. Plenty of time for that later. Orgasm time now.]
Guranteed sequel, promise. [He says, heavy-lidded, voice grown fat and deeper on arousal, mumbled somewhere into Harry's neck. Maybe some of that train fever dream's still in his head, 'cause the crazy idea of just biting right into him pops into Wade's thick brain. A real bite. Deep and bloody.
-- Right. Intrusive thought. He bites, but it isn't hard at all, just a bare nip at the corner of his jaw as Harry gives him the lowdown. His laugh in response is a quiet, the finger strokes more intense, moving faster in a haphazard time that doesn't quite match the jerking around Harry's cock.]
We'll workshop the dirty talk. [Real sexy of him. Spoken like a guy who's maybe not had to have a back up safe word for his safe word. Wade's is blueberry muffins, by the way, which is really hard to say when you've got a gag in your mouth.] Next meeting.
[Now he's gotta live up to all his bullshit sexual innuendos, huh? Well, don't let anyone say he doesn't try to back up his words with his mouth.] Lemme give you a little lip service. Wouldn't want to waste any.
[And he's not about to roll right outta bed to wipe his stomach clean.
Let him overload the guy's brain with the world's greatest prostate exam, combined with a hand giving him a firm stroke, and then Wade moving down to cap off his dick with his mouth. A few rolling licks, a loud, wet suck that Wade dedicates his entire attention to, and then a heavy swallow once Harry's riding the orgasm train, jerking in his grip.
Top it off with a lick of his lips. You gotta end with the lick, you know? Keeping things neat and tidy, as much as two messy human bodies can be.
Wade slips his fingers free, planting both hands in the mattress. Is this the part where he says Happy Valentine's Day? His head's swimming. Doesn't feel like it matters much what day it is.] Should I ask for the first time review now or later?
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Soft moans morph into pathetic whimpers, wet with arousal. The two fingers stroking inside his prostate feel as though Wade had found all those years of pent-up sexual frustration. It feels so, so damn good. A deep, pulsating desire emerges from Harry’s breath, to be so good for the man who is sucking his jawline raw. Outside these sheets feels like Antartica, but what was going on underneath might as well feel like a vacation in Turks and Caicos.
One hand continues to cup over the back of Wade’s head while his other hand massages his partner’s shoulder. ]
Uh huh… Want more of you. Please.
[ He wants to be so good for him. Every stroke, lick, and pump is bringing Harry that much closer to cum. When Wade shifts to go down on Harry, his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head. The way Wade methodically sucks and licks his throbbing dick is enough for him to yowl in saturated pleasure. His hands move back down to Wade’s perky ass, blunt fingernails digging into his plush skin.
Words fail him at this moment, being reduced to a domesticated animal deep in his heat. A barely audible ‘Yes! yes!’ can be heard underneath his breath as he braces himself to unload himself onto Wade until a steady stream of warm cum shoots out — and his mouth is right there to suck and swallow Harry’s load.
He takes a moment to watch Wade lick a piece of him from the side of his lips as Harry takes deep, panting breaths. Then he shimmies his hips upwards so he can sit more upright with his elbows propped on the pillows. He leans in to kiss Wade on his bottom lip. ]
Don’t think I could have asked for anything better.
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[That's one he can take home and hang on the wall, next to the first dollar he ever earned. Fuck, maybe he will. The wall's for him, after all, and this is a pretty good memory in a head full of bad ones.
This stormkissing thing's fucking wild, by the way. He didn't even get off himself and Wade's feeling like he's bathing in the afterglow, anyway, giving a little shudder as he falls onto the (icy) mattress beside him. His legs stretch out under the covers, a little groan of satisfaction making through his cracked lips. Nothin' wrong with a spicy bit of edging.
Okay, he does have a hand sneaking under the sheets. You can't blame a guy. Not like he wants his hands in the cold-ass air.]
You know, I never asked. [He shifts onto his side, propping his head on hand, elbow digging into a pillow.] Why'd you send a kid to drop off the basket?
[Considering he was inviting him over anyway.]
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He lies back down on his back, his resting on top of his chest. All the while, Harry lets Wade grab whatever part of his body he wants to hold. The way Wade radiates body heat feels really nice, like one of those heating blankets, but with one setting. ]
Figured you might want some space.
[ It was very much trying to get a dog to walk on the grassier side of the street, but they’re too stubborn to paw around in their harness. ]
I know you always need some time to mull things over, so this was the best of both worlds. At least I knew if you didn’t come over, you’d have something for the rest of your shift.
think we can wrap this up!! in the next tag or two
He tugs the sheets up around his neck. Which just leaves his bald head freezing in the air, but. It's fine. He's definitely had worse, even if he's definitely missing his hair system. Would've been ace at a time like this.]
Oh, yeah. Totally. Me, known for needing space. [What Wade does grab onto is mostly all of Harry, slipping a warm arm around his middle because he may be a lot of things, but a cuddler is. Definitely one of them. Eventually, he'll slip away. Let the guy sleep alone in the goddamn icebox that is his place. Maybe think a little too hard that this whole setup was for Valentine's Day, and a guy with a romantic edge enough to fine-tune a gift basket for him thought that Wade Wilson was, you know. Worth the effort.
He snorts. It's not an answer he has to pick at. Just, here he'd been thinking Harry wasn't super enthused about being seen with him in public.
Not that Wade could blame him for that one. Look at how much hair the guy has, first of all. His complete lack of on-the-books murders. Also, possibly, off-the-books.]
You really think I'd turn down a chance to freeze to death in the tundra, localized entirely in a motel room? Please. [Space. Something about it. Harry has put way too much energy into thinking of what he might like, in a way that is almost disturbing. He's not even part of the f-word. He's just... a guy. That Wade met. And carried around a few times.
Not even from the same canon.]
Well, you nailed me. [With the basket, not. Okay, that too.] Gonna be real tough to top that for next time.
[He kids. He doesn't expect shit. Honestly, if Harry wants anything to do with him in the future, it's gonna surprise him, good sex or not.]
let's put a lil 🎀 on this old man yaoi
[ This busted radiator that should have been fixed ages ago. Will Harry find a resolution to his icebox problem? The jury is still out on that one. All the phone calls between Harry and his landlord have been … productive. If by productive you mean getting hung up mid-sentence. Then, yeah. He is making real headway there.
Harry turns himself over onto his side with his back facing Wade. His little butt shimmies close to Wade’s pelvis as he lets the big guy wrap an arm around his midsection. Harry can’t see, but he is probably close enough for Wade to get a whiff of his hair. Freshly washed with a hint of pomade.
There, Harry brushes over Wade’s calloused hand with his and lifts it off his stomach, pulling it close to his lips. ]
Then I will try to make it worth your while. [ And he gives the back of his hand a soft peck. ] Perhaps … a day at the bathhouse and a half-decent seafood place?
[ He laughs. Won’t that be something? Seafood? On a piece of land with one enigmatic ocean? Good luck with that. ]