[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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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?
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.