FIC: Ultimate Control 2/3
FIC: Ultimate Control 2/3 - File 1.2: Wade Wilson
Author: niceandfluffy
Rating: Generally NC17
Pairing: Wade/Victor implied, Wade/Stryker, Logan/Victor
Warning: Bondage references
Summary: Stryker has a team to command, and finds himself with the awkward task of bringing Victor, Wade and Logan under vague control.
1.2: WADE WILSON
Was it possible to have ultimate control over a man like Wade Wilson? It was an intriguing question, although it was one of many when it came to this particular individual. The question of sanity seemed to arise on a regular basis, for example.
Stryker sighed and slid across another piece of paper from the base’s current psychologist. The base went through a lot of psychologists, which in turn caused plenty of problems when it came to keeping classified material classified. It was also hard to find the type of psychologist that held an excellent grasp of their subject whilst also dealing with the knowledge that the individual who sat opposite was most likely considering how best to remove said psychologist’s kidneys through his ears. Sometimes he sent Bradley to the shrink simply to give the doctor a break.
The current one, a Dr A.E Young, was under the impression that Wade was more insane than sane, although this report was full of inconsistencies and frequently seemed to argue with itself. This wasn’t unusual. Wade was either an insane man who was pretending to be sane, or a sane man who amused himself by pretending to be insane, and opinions on this varied day by day. Whatever Wade actually was, he was bright enough to know exactly how to cause maximum confusion to any official body, and the psychologists were fair game.
Insanity aside, Wade was an excellent soldier. His abilities were purely outstanding, and his efficiency tended to be excellent. Missions were completed on target and generally swiftly too, although sadly not without Wade’s personal commentary that often left the other members of his party a little upset. Stryker made another note to enquire whether gags could be made standard issue, and continued to read the report.
Wade could, of course, be perfectly silent when he needed to be, and that, Stryker realised, was half the problem. The man knew exactly when he needed to be perfectly silent, just as a tightrope walker knew exactly the point where the balance would lead to falling. Every other moment was exploited in a manner that could be deemed ‘creative’ if they were feeling particularly generous, and ‘fucking annoying’ if they weren’t. The man knew his worth and was more than happy to utilize it to its full advantage.
Stryker sighed to himself. The shrinks had confirmed the man knew about discipline, order and correct etiquette. Like the feral brothers, Wade simply didn’t seem to believe they would ever apply to him, and this had caused more than a few awkward moments at times when Wade’s attention was already wandering from the task in hand. Then again, this habit to poke at everything and everyone most likely had a more positive benefit; Stryker had no doubt that some of Wade’s amazing abilities would owe much to the young man’s ‘Annoy Everyone’ philosophy. You could not swap all of Zero’s regulation black underwear to lacy pink knickers without having a particular grasp of dexterity, after all. Wade might make most people in the nearby area want to kill him, but he was still alive at the end of it. That was a minor miracle in itself.
Tap-tap-tap went the pen on the report. Back to control, the method of control, the purpose of control, and with it came so many questions that seemed almost unanswerable.
When it came to persuasion, the old rule stated firmly that the choices were either the carrot or the stick. Stick seemed particularly difficult. Wade had a remarkable ability to be completely unafraid, which caused issues when it came to the actual threat itself. Dangers were acknowledged, but in the way that air was acknowledged; it was there, you used it, you got on with it and didn’t hold a ceremony to it. Threats were more likely to be congratulated or helpfully elaborated upon than cause any type of concern. Yes, the stick was tricky, although Stryker had to confess that it would probably be immensely satisfying.
Saying that, the carrot wasn’t much use either, unless you happened to have endless piles of treats to hand. It was almost too easy to reward Wade. He got excited over situations, missions, new toys, even a new shade of colour on the wall or a particularly sticky bun with raisins that had accidentally formed the shape of a smiley face on the side. But the excitement was short lived; Wade got his treat, he genuinely enjoyed it with all the bouncy feel-good factor of a small child at Christmas - granted, a disturbing image when the treat involved vast amounts of blood - and then he forgot about it on the search for the new and improved treat. Like a small child, Wade also couldn’t wait too longer between the promise of a treat and actually getting it either; anticipation worked for a short time before the young man got bored and his attention span started to walk up the wrong yellow brick road.
Stryker sighed to himself. Even the threat to drop Wade from the team wasn’t enough. You either gave Wade interesting official things to do, or Wade went out to find interesting non-official things to do. It was remarkable what could be achieved by endless imagination, and Wade had bucket fulls of it. Team X simply cut out the really boring side of murder by arranging the tasks for him, rather than Wade having to sniff them out himself.
He put the pen down on the table and slowly leaned back in the chair. Wade was an enigma, as one of the first psychiatrists had commented. That particular gentleman’s expression had altered in an interesting manner when Wade, who had been quietly behaving himself in the corner, had piped up with the query on whether ‘enigma’ was the fancier term for the thing that you shoved up your arse to make you feel better.
Stryker smiled ruefully, and glanced at the clock. Wade had complications on top of complications, which certainly wasn’t going to resolve itself in a few short hours. He needed time to think, and he needed time to rest. They had several small missions to complete before the end of the month, which did not require interruption. His control over Victor was proving remarkably beneficial already, and both Wade and Logan could wait.
He left his office and headed down the long corridor towards his private quarters. As it turned out, it wasn’t nearly private enough.
“Evening, sir!”
Stryker hesitated as soon as he had stepped into his room. He didn’t normally hesitate. Hesitation tended to be for the indecisive world, or the world that hadn’t quite considered consequences, but when it came to this situation he felt that perhaps hesitation was perfectly suitable. He ventured further into his room and carefully closed the door behind him, before turning once more and studying the man who had gained unlawful entry.
There was another pause, which under the circumstances seemed the most logical thing to do.
“Wade,” Stryker said finally, and with the most careful tone imaginable. “Could you kindly explain to me the exact reasons - and that would be motivation rather than a ‘how to’ explanation - why you are currently lying on my bed without clothing?”
“Well, I would have worn a special outfit .. you know, like a posing pouch.. but you always say in missions that you prefer to have everything out in the open,” Wade said helpfully, putting his hands behind his head and clearly getting himself comfortable.
“This is a novel interpretation of that particular quote,” Stryker frowned, and walked to the side of the room to put down his jacket on his easy chair. It was never beneficial to get upset on anything that Wade said or did, otherwise you would simply have a heart attack through stress by the end of the week. “And let me rephrase my original question. What gain are you expecting to achieve from being naked in my bed? Or have you destroyed your own?”
That was certainly a possibility. He still had absolutely no idea how Wade had managed to draw on his own bedroom ceiling, but he suspected that he had simply bounced up on the bed for each stroke of the pencil. Wade tutted and pushed himself up, leaning back on his hands as he looked at the other man cheerfully. He looked, Stryker realised, as though he was currently posing as an artist’s model. Completely naked, stretched out on the bed under a flattering light that gave shadow and depth to his impressive, lean, muscular physique, Wade seemed to picture careless abandon perfectly.
Wade flashed him a picture perfect smile, still completely at ease. “Can’t a guy simply want some company?”
“For you, no. And I hardly think I’m suitable company for whatever concept you have in mind.” Stryker stood at the end of the bed and folded his arms, trying to look stern. “And I do refer to mind quite loosely. Is there no one else who you wish to harass tonight?”
“Well, actually, no. You see, there’s a particular sort of thing I need to discuss with you,” Wade sent another sparkling grin Stryker’s way, this one so shiny that it almost spoke of used car sales and dodgy timeshares. “I’m bored.”
Stryker raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “This is perhaps supposed to be unusual? Wilson, you could get bored whilst being dipped in chocolate and hung upside in a den full of hungry lions,”
“Yeah, good point. But you, my dear, dear scary Commander Person With Big Eyebrows, hold the key to anti-boredom.” Wade stretched like a large, golden cat, then pushed himself up and crawled lazily on hands and knees to the bottom of the bed. Wade looked up at him, his back showing a smooth curve down to equally smooth, pert buttocks and his posture no doubt intended to gain body language for ‘very interested’. It faintly achieved this, although nowhere near the extent that it did for a ‘best in breed’ dog show.
Stryker eyed him, still unimpressed. Trying to keep Wade unbored would be a full time job in itself, rather than the reliability he hoped to achieve, and he was not in the mood to have someone else’s version of manipulation aimed at him in his own bedroom. He’d just had the carpet shampooed, after all.
“And what makes you deserve such a situation?” he queried, starting from the beginning. Wade sat down on his haunches and tipped his head to one side, clearly in the mood to take the canine metaphor and race with it.
“Well, I’m a good soldier. And I’m really good on missions. And I can wipe out anyone, and that’s in the whole deady-deady way rather than really energetic dusting.” Wade said, in a strange, solemn way that felt a little like a small child reciting a Bible verse for Christmas. He brightened. “And I’m cheaper than Victor.”
Stryker frowned slightly. “Cheaper than Victor?” he repeated.
“Yeah, well, you know what that pussy’s like. Give him an inch and he’ll stretch it out so far that he’s circumcised the world.”
Stryker blinked, and then sighed. “I assume that’s some reference to circumvent, but with Victor I can never tell. Anyway, I have no issues with him. He is a valuable member of the team,”
Wade sulked. “Yeah, with special status!”
A smile flickered in the corner of Stryker’s mouth. “Ah, is this the problem? You’re jealous?”
“Damned straight I’m jealous! You can’t give someone else a shiny button, it’s not fair,” Wade sulked further for a few moments before growing bored of the expression and brightening again. “So I thought I’d demonstrate my additional qualities,”
Stryker’s eyebrow rose in morbid curiosity. “And what would this involve?”
“A whole range of things. And chocolate sauce.” Wade rolled over like a dog in a muddy puddle and slid off the edge of the bed. He stood, stretching again as though he was planning some serious exercise, then looked back at Stryker with a disturbingly intense look on his face. Stryker shook his head.
“Wade, you are an excellent solider. However, your behaviour is less than impressive,”
“My behaviour? Victor once threw one of the base guards over a seven foot fence because he thought the bloke looked at him funny! And he’s always in trouble with the women or the men or anything that’s around!” Wade protested sulkily.
“There have been some regrettable instances in the past, but he is open to new ways of working,”
“I could be open to new ways of working. Hell, I’m even good with uniforms. A blue normally suits me.. or perhaps black and red. I’ve always liked black and red.” Wade rubbed his chin thoughtfully, lost in visions of his own personal wardrobe.
“The issues are not with your clothing.” Stryker paused as he caught sight of Wade’s left nipple, and then sighed. “Other than this particular situation, anyway. Could you perhaps find some underwear, if you’re not planning to become clothed?”
“You don’t find me sexy?” Wade pouted. “And not really, unless I steal someone else’s.”
Stryker sighed again, and made his way to his chest of drawers. Finding Wade physically attractive was one thing; the youngster’s body was a fine specimen of what a male could achieve, and he had such expressive velvety eyes that Wade could discuss a whole erotic novel in a little twinkle. However, Stryker also found tigers particularly beautiful to look at - this did not mean he particularly wanted to roll around with them, unless he really had no need for any internal organs.
A few seconds later he had tossed the man a pair of expensive shorts, which were caught easily by Wade. An interested gaze turned to them, as though he had been given a mystical, powerful gift rather than a pair of slightly boring, smartly laundered underwear.
“Oooh! Underpants of authority. I like that. Although I was expecting there to be some sort of little gold star or medal on your pants…,”
“Wade.”
“Sorry,” the underwear was pulled on, and Wade slid the palm of his hand down his hip as though to test the fit. Considering that the shorts were a little on the larger side for the leaner Wade, this failed to have the required effect. Wade glanced up.
“So, you want me to be under control?” he confirmed cheerfully. “I can do that. I even brought the props,”
Stryker hesitated, but the morbid fascination forced him to ask. “Props?”
“Yeah,” Wade grinned, moving to a black satchel and dumping it onto the bed. It clanked. That was normally not the greatest thing to hear when it came to Wade. He leaned over and unzipped the bag.
“Right,” Wade rubbed his hands together, and then began to toss the items onto the mattress. Stryker watched in faint bemusement as a little mound of glossy black leather items with a few metal ring attachments began to grow. One restraint bounced from the top and rolled towards him, allowing Stryker to lean forward and pick it up.
“There’s a choice of shackles,” Wade explained. “The one you have there is a traditional one, although that’s the heavy duty version rather than just a bracelet - you know, heavy duty for actually keeping someone down rather than just some pretty, delicate effect to go with the wallpaper. We have more for ankles, and there’s one here - hang on a minute, let’s get it untwisted.. ah! - that goes across the chest in a kinda gladiator way. Oh, and some cock rings, and things that can be used in more interesting ways,”
Stryker didn’t quite trust himself to speak, although he managed it after a short pause. “Is this supposed to be for you or me, in this little plan of yours?”
“Oh, me. I wasn’t sure on your size.” Wade shrugged carelessly.
“And exactly what am I supposed to do with you when you’re wearing all of these props?” Stryker turned the shackle in his hand again, and then looked up at the muscled young man who was still grinning at him.
“Well, that’s up to you. What takes your fancy?” Wade tossed a few random leather items from hand to hand in a show of bondage juggling, before dumping them back and turning his attention to the rug next to the bed. Another bag was put on the sheets and unzipped, although Wade merely waved a hand at it in invitation and took a step back.
All in all, the evening was taking a turn for the surreal. Stryker eyed the younger man carefully, suspicious of some type of attack. Wade casually wandered to the wall and leaned against it, his biceps taking a new level of impressiveness as he folded his arms to wait for Stryker’s decision.
Morbid curiosity propelled him onwards, and one little movement of his hand allowed the light to reveal the contents.
“You’re offering me whips…?” Stryker said to clarify the information his eyes were telling him.
“Whips, crops, and a few other bits and pieces. I put in a few butt plugs, but I’m not entirely sure where they’ve been for the past month, so they probably should get a bit of a wash first. For dust, stop looking at me like that, it’s not as though I shoved it up someone and forgot about it.” Wade rolled his eyes. “Anyway, see anything you like?”
Stryker raised an eyebrow. “I tend to prefer the more official type of punishment. The ones with reports attached, rather than physical exertion.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it,” Wade replied cheerfully.
“That’s not particularly comforting,” Stryker sighed. “As much as I appreciate the thought, I shall have to pass on your little social experiment. Perhaps Zero…?”
“Zero?” Wade snorted dismissively. “That guy still hasn’t forgiven me for the pink panties thing.”
“I know, that was why I suggested him. I doubt whether he would have any issue with the whip factor at all,” Stryker gestured to the bag. Wade sulked a little more.
“Awww, c’mon, boss. You’re supposed to relax too,”
“I suspect my idea of relaxation and yours may differ. My version has less leather and more comfortable chairs.” Stryker looked around the room and failed to see any evidence of Wade’s impromptu strip show. “Where exactly did you put your clothes?”
“I didn’t bring any,” Despite his sulking, Wade’s voice still hadn’t drifted from perkiness. “Start as you mean to go on, that’s my motto.”
“Mmmmm,” the noise was non-committal, not least because he could feel the predatory look from Wade and it was remarkably disconcerting. Wade licked his lips, his tongue sliding across his bottom lip as his dark eyes sparkled, and then he grinned again.
“Am I worrying you? I don’t mean to worry people. I’m actually very fluffy, although I try to keep that hidden as it plays merry hell with lubrication.” Wade’s voice was soft, although Stryker immediately identified the strength in the other man. It was ironic, in a way. Spend the whole day considering how best to influence control over Wilson, and end up having Wilson attempt to apply his own control to him.
Stryker’s mouth twitched upwards at the corner. At least Wade had felt threatened enough by Victor’s position to take things this far. That allowed him a little leeway.
“You’re smiling.” Wade observed. “That’s normally a bad thing.”
“Just thinking,”
“That’s definitely a bad thing.” Wade stretched again, completely relaxed in his partial nudity. “So there’s nothing I can do to change your mind? You know, about special positions.”
Stryker shook his head. “Your behaviour rules it out.”
“There’s that behaviour thing again. C’mon, I might talk a lot, but I follow orders, don’t I? I go where I’m supposed to, I don’t cause too many conflicts on the base, and everyone else is pretty good at messing stuff up too. Logan had a hissy fit in the surgery the other day and managed to smash up everything fragile within a five meter radius. Bradley sneezed and all the machines suddenly stopped, which was a bit of a problem for the vehicles coming through the automatic doors at the time. Wraith was busy taking secret photographs in the communal shower rooms yesterday-,”
Stryker raised his head. “Was he now?”
“- oh, hadn’t you got to that report? Yeah, took some good shots. I have a few under my mattress. But that’s not the point,” Wade waggled a finger. “All in all, I’m not too bad.”
“You annoy people.”
“Everyone has to have a hobby,”
“You’re unpredictable.”
“But that just makes everything so much more fun!” Wade waved his hands around, then sighed and sulked a little more. “So you’re not gonna ever give me more things to do?”
“If you mean higher levels of authority, then it’s debatable. And no, that doesn’t mean I need you to talk any further,” Stryker waved off the inevitable cascade of words. “If you simply mean new things to experience and, yes, kill, then you will get that automatically,”
“I want more,” Wade spoke matter of factly, as though they were merely discussing the weather. Stryker snorted softly and waggled the shackle.
“And you thought this was the most logical way to get it?”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time. And I already had the kit ready.” Wade explained. Stryker nodded, not wanting to venture any further into that train of conversation.
“Well, I’ll give you the fact that few people turn up with quite such an offer-,” Stryker gave another careless glance at the restraint.
“You want me to prove I’m reliable and under control, don’t you? This is the perfect kit for that.” Wade interrupted. “All I need to do is to fix the irons to each corner of the bed, and then slip that leather item over here,” there was a little flurry of movement. “so the metal rings are over my nipples and the main leather straps are criss-crossing across my chest, and then lie in whatever preference you have-,”
“So what you’re saying is that I can only expect to have you reliable and under control when you’re tied to a bed getting thrashed or fucked?” Stryker said slowly, trying to ignore some of the other little gestures that were entirely too graphic. Wade looked surprised.
“Well, yeah. Any more than that and you’re getting greedy,”
Stryker sighed softly and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “I was hoping for a bit more control during things like missions rather than sex sessions,”
“Ah, that’s just old age talking there, sir,” Wade said cheerfully.
“Thanks.” Stryker tossed the shackle onto the bed, and gestured to the bag. “Anyway, just … no. I’ll think over your proposals and return to you later. I will, of course, expect you to be in full control for the next mission. That will mean no unnecessary talking, and a lack of people wishing to kill you. Well, other than the enemy, but the more you can annoy them the better,”
Wade saluted. “Understood, sah!”
Stryker waited until the other bag was packed before eying the other man suspiciously. “You genuinely turned up completely naked carrying two bags?”
“Yep,”
“Marvellous,” Stryker sighed. “And no, you don’t have to return the underwear. Just burn it afterwards.”
“Burn it?” Wade hoisted the bags over his shoulders and swivelled to grin at him again. “I’m planning to frame ‘em!”
*
For anyone else, unexplained bondage sessions would be worrying. For Wade, it was almost mild in comparison to some of things he could do, and Stryker had completely dismissed the event by the next day. Wade’s limited attention span all but guaranteed a new topic.
Apparently that new topic was well over six foot, muscular and bearing pointy teeth. Wade certainly knew how to play with fire. The trouble was, the fire liked to play too.
“Wade, a word please,” Stryker snapped as he walked past the men gathering in the meeting hall. Wade glanced at him before looking back at Victor and grinning casually, giving a little shrug and strolling after him. Stryker waited until Wade had entered into his office before shutting the door smartly behind them.
“What are you doing?”
“What, now? Standing in your office, talking to you. Ooh, I’m sitting now. Isn’t this exciting?” Wade perched on the desk and frowned downwards. “Hey, those are deep scratches-,”
“Leave my desk alone, and pay attention.” Stryker slapped the clipboard down hard on the surface of the desk. “Do not mess around with Victor Creed.”
“When you say ‘mess around’, are we talking emotionally or physically or simply rolling around in a patch of mud? Cause, to be honest, it’s really hot at the moment. I’m not sure I can find somewhere wet enough to be good for mud wrestling,” Wade’s fingers picked at the scratches thoughtfully. The clipboard was slammed down again, hard enough for the other man to glance up in surprise.
“You know exactly what I mean. Do not engage him either physically, mentally, or with a ball of wool. I do not want him upset.”
“Yeah? Why not?” Wade looked interested. “Would he cry? I bet he would. Underneath that psychopathic, hardened, toothy bastard shell is actually a little boy who wants his balloon? Cause I’m offering to be that balloon,”
“And you’d get popped.”
“Ooh, kinky,” Wade brightened at the thought of erotic popping. “Don’t worry, sir. I won’t make him cry. Promise.”
“Believe me,” Stryker sighed. “I have no concerns over you making him cry. I have several difficult missions lined up for the coming weeks. This requires you to have fully functional limbs, otherwise I’ll pass the task onto someone else.”
That finally made an impact. Wade’s head raised, his eyes thoughtful which was as close as he really got to properly alarmed. His fingers traced over the scars on the desk as he considered it.
“I’d be very careful.”
“Not good enough.” Stryker considered slamming the clipboard down again, as something to underline his sentences. “Stay away from Victor. And yes, I know now I’ve said that I’ve made him irresistible to you. There is no benefit to you from him.”
“You don’t know that,” Wade bounced off the desk and started performing little yoga poses. “He might like to snuggle.”
“We both know you’re not after sex.” Stryker snorted. Wade waggled a finger.
“Not true. I’m always after sex.”
“Fine. You’re not after sexual gratification as your primary aim.” Stryker fought the urge to wallop the yoga position with his clipboard just to alter the expression. “You’ll never be able to influence Victor, and you know it. You’re just after the challenge.”
“Hey, he’s supposed to be really good at blow jobs,” Wade hesitated. “Or was that blow up jobs? Anyway-,”
Stryker merely put his hand on the other man’s shoulder and pushed him toward the door. This had gone on long enough, and Wade had a nasty tendency to take a conversation and persuade it to do a full circle until the other person capitulated in sheer exhaustion.
“Enough talking. Just don’t do it. Clear?”
“So boring,” Wade grumbled. “Okay, okay, I’m going!”
Stryker had finally pushed the other man out of the room and was closing the door when a soft rumble to his left nearly made him jump.
“So what was all that about?”
Stryker sighed softly, and continued what he was doing. Finally he afforded the elder feral a particularly unimpressed look, unsurprised to find Victor lounging carelessly against the corridor wall as he waited for a response. There was a thoughtful, playful look in the other man’s eyes, which normally meant that they had to find something suitably distracting before Victor did something messy. Stryker was very relieved that Wade had already vanished to the meeting room.
“You know what Wade is like. He can make a drama out of anything,” he replied, idly. “And you were supposed to be organising the others to leave.”
Another careless gesture, this time a shrug, greeted that. “They’re organised. So what was this ‘anything’ he wanted to make a drama out of?”
“It’s none of your concern, Victor. Just because you are now Captain does not mean you have to know everything,” Stryker replied sternly. However, the stern voice clearly wasn’t stern enough; Victor merely raised an eyebrow, and settled himself into a better position that promised permanency.
“He was talking about some sort of plug before you whisked him off.” Victor replied idly. “And random sexual matters. Sounds like my business to me.”
Stryker sighed between his teeth. Give Wade five minutes and he could turn any conversation into a full sexual discussion with added nipple tassels, which made the lunch time dinner queue more of a hazard than it should be. Victor’s eyebrow twitched upwards a little more, suggesting that the random sexual matters had several sections to them and probably diagrams as well. This was clearly not going to be something that Stryker could simply remove from the equation, not with Wade’s persistence.
“He seems to be under the misapprehension that you might increase his influence in the team.” Stryker replied finally. “He’s trying to manipulate you.”
Victor grinned in amusement, showing his teeth. “Bless. Can I manipulate him back?”
“No.”
“Pity.” Victor scratched at his facial fuzz with a crooked claw. “Sometimes the only way to shut him up is to take the vocal into physical. I mean, if you’re not careful you might suddenly find him naked in your room trying to play bondage games…,”
Victor allowed the end of the sentence to hang innocently in the air. Stryker’s eyes narrowed, a hard and distinctly unimpressed look aiming itself at the feral. Wade might well have been talking - and if he was, he was going to find himself in a world of pain - but Victor had the look of a man who wasn’t entirely innocent about the situation.
“If I find out that you were involved..,” he began dangerously, when Victor chuckled again.
“Please. I have better ways to annoy people than send a naked Wade into their room bearing half a cow’s worth of dodgy leather equipment.” He rolled his eyes. “However, if he’s doing that then perhaps someone should have a quiet word to make sure he doesn’t do it again, hmm?”
Quiet word. Two very polite, innocent words, and yet full of suggestion. Stryker eyed him carefully, tempted but tugged by the fact that a Victor/Wade situation was more than likely to end up more complicated than he really wanted to deal with. Victor appeared to have added mind reading to his list of talents, as he chuckled again.
“No blood, no mess, no broken Wade.” Victor confirmed. “Even if I don’t get him to behave, what have you lost?”
“Dignity?” Stryker replied dryly, and then waved it away. “Fine. See what you can do with him. Do not give him any suggestion that he has any extra power at all, please. He’s already clashing with Zero as it is.”
“Everyone’s clashing with Zero. Man’s a tit.” Victor replied carelessly. Stryker fixed him with another hard glare that made the feral sigh. “Okay, okay, he’s your tit, I know.”
“You’re responsible for any fallout from Wade,” Stryker’s voice was icy. “We clear?”
Victor gave a little salute. Stryker’s eyebrow rose, which resulted in another little sigh from Victor.
“Clear, sir,” he amended.
Stryker eyed him again, then nodded in satisfaction and began to lead them back to the hallway where the others were waiting to begin. Victor was manipulative enough to be impervious to Wade’s somewhat unsubtle attempts for personal gain, and if the feral was actively encouraging their meetings then it reduced the possibility that both men would end up in a violent, bloody clash of the furry titans. And, at this point, anything that kept Wade out of Stryker’s own bed so he could get some sleep was probably a good thing.
For a short while, Stryker thought the situation might have worked. It only took a few hours for Wade to calm down to a mere bounce, and it was clear from the little side looks the younger man gave to Victor that a few quiet words had already been given. The pair had also started to banter between themselves, each insulting the other but not too far that it caused genuine offence; a mere game in a sea of blood. It was strangely cute, in a way, a little friendly courtship from the University of Irritation.
He wasn’t the only one to have noticed. Logan had been watching them carefully with a peculiar expression on his face, as though the man was jealous of the time that Victor was spending with someone else. Stryker heard ‘What are you up to?’ growled softly in Victor’s ear, but if there was an argument between the pair then it was kept very quiet indeed. Stryker made a mental note to check the tapes in the bedrooms.
As for Wade, it seemed all seemed suspiciously fine. Of course ‘fine’ never remained with Wade for too long.
*
“You know, it’s really hard to balance like this,”
The words seemed to come out of nowhere. Stryker paused, then slowly lowered the glass of malt whiskey to the desk top and looked suspiciously around the office. Occasionally people forgot to switch off the intercom, which had led to several awkward moments and a few discussions with Human Resources. A brief investigation brought him to the office door, the corridor, and a door that he had never really paid attention to unless one of the workers needed to clear things up.
Clearly there was some type of air vent between the cupboard and his office, which he guessed was a good thing to know in the event of an airborne gas attack. However, there were plenty of situations which he was less enamoured with, and finding a private meeting in said closet apparently one of them.
“I have enough reports as it is without needing to put up with your nipples as well,” he said dryly to the two men, then looked up at Wade. “Get down.”
There was a little rustle of movement as Victor shifted position, glancing over his shoulder carelessly. A half dressed Wade, who had been perched in a most peculiar manner on a shelf that normally held nothing more exciting than cleaning fluid, gave him a cheerful wave.
“Hi, sir!”
Stryker raised an eyebrow, feeling irritation burn at him. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Yeah, but there’s an issue.” Wade shrugged.
“That issue being…?”
“His trousers are glued to the shelf,” Victor supplied helpfully. “Must have been an accidental spillage.”
“You wouldn’t believe how many clothes I get through because of accidental spillage,” Wade added, and then attempted to push himself up. Victor gave another toothy smile, leaning against the wall and risking his own set of spillages as his broad shoulder brushed against a shelf. Stryker eyed him, still annoyed. He knew he had been taking a risk letting the cat play with Wade in his squeakiest form, but he had at least hoped it would last a little longer and well away from the general public.
“And you couldn’t have this ‘meeting’ in your room?” he growled softly. “I warned you already. In fact, I have warned you both.”
“But you said no playing. You said nothing about closets,” Wade protested, giving a little tug which proved that, yes, the material had been stuck firmly to the surface. Stryker watched him for a moment, and then turned to the fully dressed Victor, who was still behaving as though they were in the middle of a busy, boring café ordering cake and tea.
“Get him down. Remove the material if you have to.” he ordered. “There’s a towel hanging behind the door which can be used to cover his modesty, and I use the word most wrongly.”
The grin that resulted from that comment was one that could have graced an alligator. Victor’s claws slowly extracted and he prowled a little closer, his eyes gleaming. Wade frowned at him.
“Okay, take it easy, I like my ass. It’s the thing that keeps my legs from dropping off, and hey!!!” there was a flash of claws and the material slowly began to peel away from the muscular thigh. Wade paused to test his leg, presumably to check it wasn’t about to fall off. “Not bad! Okay, could have been flashier, and you still haven’t cleaned under your fingernails, but all in all, pretty good.”
Wade paused to slide down to the floor, which was already pretty restricted for space as it was. The closest was designed for cleaning product storage rather than conversations, and certainly nothing as broad as Victor. Stryker stepped out of the closet to allow Victor to thrust the towel in Wade’s general direction. Wade looked at it for a moment, dried his hands, and then roped it around his waist in a particularly fuzzy version of a kilt.
“I don’t know what the pair of you are playing at, and I do not want descriptions, Wilson, but you’re on shaky ground.” Stryker growled, the majority of his fury aimed at the feral who had enough sense to comprehend consequences. Victor raised an eyebrow, and lifted one hand which turned out to possessed a bottle. Stryker’s gaze fell onto it dubiously.
“Liquid soap. For a wall.” Victor explained. “Certain people decided to tip flammable liquid over it… accidentally, mind.. and I’m not in the mood to toast myself. You know how accidents happen around this place. Wade got himself stuck when he was clambering up to grab a new bottle on the top shelf.”
“Can’t do the usual acrobatics in here,” Wade explained. “Which kinda explains why all the gays come out of the closet if they actually want to do anything- OW!”
“Anyway,” Victor continued in his soft, charming purr that would make any little old lady go scuttling off to offer him a big plate of cookies, and completely ignoring the younger man whose arm he had just punched. “We didn’t mean to disturb you, sir.”
The sir was still said in a slightly mocking way, but it was a distinct improvement on the way that Victor normally said it. Stryker’s gaze took in the rest of Victor’s pose; he seemed remarkably uncrumpled, which was the opposite that normally happened whenever Wade got himself frisky. Perhaps their appearance in a closet with Wade now completely naked was a coincidence, however unbelievable that sounded.
Stryker looked back into cunning, amused eyes, and remembered there were never any coincidences with Victor. Even if this was their version of completely innocent, the closet had been very carefully selected to ensure that Stryker was well aware that they were playing without organic breakages. Wade lounged against the wall in his barely adequate towel-shield, looking perfectly at home and with only a few scratches to show that he had in fact been in the company of Victor. For the feral, that was remarkably gentle.
Victor’s eyebrow twitched upwards, their gazes communicating a completely silent discussion.
“Happy now?” he murmured softly. Stryker raised his chin. Wade looked between them like a dog looking between two owners as it tried to decide which one was more likely to take it for a walk.
“This is like some sort of dominance leader thing, isn’t it? I can tell cause you’re both kinda got that psycho look in your eyes like you’re about to eat a kitten sandwich with freshly squeezed hamster salsa on the side, and that’s cute in an arrgggh sort of way, but not fantastic if I’m actually going to get anything fun tonight.” Wade folded his arms.
“No dominance thing, Wade.” Stryker spoke softly, although his gaze didn’t shift from Victor’s. “I think we both know the situation well enough,”
Victor’s mouth twitched upwards. “I’d say so.”
Wade looked between them again. “You guys gonna kiss, or something? Cause you’re not supposed to look at each other that intently unless you’re about to fight or fuck, and I’m assuming you guys aren’t about to get naked on me. Not that I wouldn’t be opposed to nudity, just… okay, okay, I know, shut up.”
Victor watched Wilson for a few moments, then glanced back at Stryker. “You sure you don’t want to reassess your decision?” his voice was wistful as he clearly thought back to the ‘no breakages’ rule when it came to keeping Wade in line. And he was in line, that seemed to be true. Wade might still be ‘mischevious’, but the main force of his pester power seemed to be aimed directly at the cat, and the cat seemed perfectly capable of handling both the attention and also the orders that gave him boundaries.
They said that nature abhorred a vacuum, and clearly Wade’s lack of control was one of them.
“Tempting, but no.” Stryker confirmed. Victor snorted softly, then straightened and wandered down the corridor, only pausing to hook Wade’s arm with his hand and pull him unceremoniously down the hall.
“See you later, sir,” came the parting purr.
“Hey, not so hard, I’m gonna lose my towel-! Towelist behaviour, this is! I’ll have the unions onto you!” Wade’s voice grew quieter as he was propelled along the corridor, and finally a door closed between them. Stryker tapped the wall of the corridor with his finger, before shaking his head ruefully and returning back to his office.
The boundaries had clearly been set. Cleaning fluid aside, he was surprisingly confident that Wade would be suitably distracted enough to avoid being a major pain to the group with his new ‘playmate’.
How long that would last for, of course, was anyone’s guess, but why waste an opportunity when he was given it? For now, control over Wade was messy, but complete. When it came to it, that was all that mattered.
*
TBC
Author: niceandfluffy
Rating: Generally NC17
Pairing: Wade/Victor implied, Wade/Stryker, Logan/Victor
Warning: Bondage references
Summary: Stryker has a team to command, and finds himself with the awkward task of bringing Victor, Wade and Logan under vague control.
1.2: WADE WILSON
Was it possible to have ultimate control over a man like Wade Wilson? It was an intriguing question, although it was one of many when it came to this particular individual. The question of sanity seemed to arise on a regular basis, for example.
Stryker sighed and slid across another piece of paper from the base’s current psychologist. The base went through a lot of psychologists, which in turn caused plenty of problems when it came to keeping classified material classified. It was also hard to find the type of psychologist that held an excellent grasp of their subject whilst also dealing with the knowledge that the individual who sat opposite was most likely considering how best to remove said psychologist’s kidneys through his ears. Sometimes he sent Bradley to the shrink simply to give the doctor a break.
The current one, a Dr A.E Young, was under the impression that Wade was more insane than sane, although this report was full of inconsistencies and frequently seemed to argue with itself. This wasn’t unusual. Wade was either an insane man who was pretending to be sane, or a sane man who amused himself by pretending to be insane, and opinions on this varied day by day. Whatever Wade actually was, he was bright enough to know exactly how to cause maximum confusion to any official body, and the psychologists were fair game.
Insanity aside, Wade was an excellent soldier. His abilities were purely outstanding, and his efficiency tended to be excellent. Missions were completed on target and generally swiftly too, although sadly not without Wade’s personal commentary that often left the other members of his party a little upset. Stryker made another note to enquire whether gags could be made standard issue, and continued to read the report.
Wade could, of course, be perfectly silent when he needed to be, and that, Stryker realised, was half the problem. The man knew exactly when he needed to be perfectly silent, just as a tightrope walker knew exactly the point where the balance would lead to falling. Every other moment was exploited in a manner that could be deemed ‘creative’ if they were feeling particularly generous, and ‘fucking annoying’ if they weren’t. The man knew his worth and was more than happy to utilize it to its full advantage.
Stryker sighed to himself. The shrinks had confirmed the man knew about discipline, order and correct etiquette. Like the feral brothers, Wade simply didn’t seem to believe they would ever apply to him, and this had caused more than a few awkward moments at times when Wade’s attention was already wandering from the task in hand. Then again, this habit to poke at everything and everyone most likely had a more positive benefit; Stryker had no doubt that some of Wade’s amazing abilities would owe much to the young man’s ‘Annoy Everyone’ philosophy. You could not swap all of Zero’s regulation black underwear to lacy pink knickers without having a particular grasp of dexterity, after all. Wade might make most people in the nearby area want to kill him, but he was still alive at the end of it. That was a minor miracle in itself.
Tap-tap-tap went the pen on the report. Back to control, the method of control, the purpose of control, and with it came so many questions that seemed almost unanswerable.
When it came to persuasion, the old rule stated firmly that the choices were either the carrot or the stick. Stick seemed particularly difficult. Wade had a remarkable ability to be completely unafraid, which caused issues when it came to the actual threat itself. Dangers were acknowledged, but in the way that air was acknowledged; it was there, you used it, you got on with it and didn’t hold a ceremony to it. Threats were more likely to be congratulated or helpfully elaborated upon than cause any type of concern. Yes, the stick was tricky, although Stryker had to confess that it would probably be immensely satisfying.
Saying that, the carrot wasn’t much use either, unless you happened to have endless piles of treats to hand. It was almost too easy to reward Wade. He got excited over situations, missions, new toys, even a new shade of colour on the wall or a particularly sticky bun with raisins that had accidentally formed the shape of a smiley face on the side. But the excitement was short lived; Wade got his treat, he genuinely enjoyed it with all the bouncy feel-good factor of a small child at Christmas - granted, a disturbing image when the treat involved vast amounts of blood - and then he forgot about it on the search for the new and improved treat. Like a small child, Wade also couldn’t wait too longer between the promise of a treat and actually getting it either; anticipation worked for a short time before the young man got bored and his attention span started to walk up the wrong yellow brick road.
Stryker sighed to himself. Even the threat to drop Wade from the team wasn’t enough. You either gave Wade interesting official things to do, or Wade went out to find interesting non-official things to do. It was remarkable what could be achieved by endless imagination, and Wade had bucket fulls of it. Team X simply cut out the really boring side of murder by arranging the tasks for him, rather than Wade having to sniff them out himself.
He put the pen down on the table and slowly leaned back in the chair. Wade was an enigma, as one of the first psychiatrists had commented. That particular gentleman’s expression had altered in an interesting manner when Wade, who had been quietly behaving himself in the corner, had piped up with the query on whether ‘enigma’ was the fancier term for the thing that you shoved up your arse to make you feel better.
Stryker smiled ruefully, and glanced at the clock. Wade had complications on top of complications, which certainly wasn’t going to resolve itself in a few short hours. He needed time to think, and he needed time to rest. They had several small missions to complete before the end of the month, which did not require interruption. His control over Victor was proving remarkably beneficial already, and both Wade and Logan could wait.
He left his office and headed down the long corridor towards his private quarters. As it turned out, it wasn’t nearly private enough.
“Evening, sir!”
Stryker hesitated as soon as he had stepped into his room. He didn’t normally hesitate. Hesitation tended to be for the indecisive world, or the world that hadn’t quite considered consequences, but when it came to this situation he felt that perhaps hesitation was perfectly suitable. He ventured further into his room and carefully closed the door behind him, before turning once more and studying the man who had gained unlawful entry.
There was another pause, which under the circumstances seemed the most logical thing to do.
“Wade,” Stryker said finally, and with the most careful tone imaginable. “Could you kindly explain to me the exact reasons - and that would be motivation rather than a ‘how to’ explanation - why you are currently lying on my bed without clothing?”
“Well, I would have worn a special outfit .. you know, like a posing pouch.. but you always say in missions that you prefer to have everything out in the open,” Wade said helpfully, putting his hands behind his head and clearly getting himself comfortable.
“This is a novel interpretation of that particular quote,” Stryker frowned, and walked to the side of the room to put down his jacket on his easy chair. It was never beneficial to get upset on anything that Wade said or did, otherwise you would simply have a heart attack through stress by the end of the week. “And let me rephrase my original question. What gain are you expecting to achieve from being naked in my bed? Or have you destroyed your own?”
That was certainly a possibility. He still had absolutely no idea how Wade had managed to draw on his own bedroom ceiling, but he suspected that he had simply bounced up on the bed for each stroke of the pencil. Wade tutted and pushed himself up, leaning back on his hands as he looked at the other man cheerfully. He looked, Stryker realised, as though he was currently posing as an artist’s model. Completely naked, stretched out on the bed under a flattering light that gave shadow and depth to his impressive, lean, muscular physique, Wade seemed to picture careless abandon perfectly.
Wade flashed him a picture perfect smile, still completely at ease. “Can’t a guy simply want some company?”
“For you, no. And I hardly think I’m suitable company for whatever concept you have in mind.” Stryker stood at the end of the bed and folded his arms, trying to look stern. “And I do refer to mind quite loosely. Is there no one else who you wish to harass tonight?”
“Well, actually, no. You see, there’s a particular sort of thing I need to discuss with you,” Wade sent another sparkling grin Stryker’s way, this one so shiny that it almost spoke of used car sales and dodgy timeshares. “I’m bored.”
Stryker raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “This is perhaps supposed to be unusual? Wilson, you could get bored whilst being dipped in chocolate and hung upside in a den full of hungry lions,”
“Yeah, good point. But you, my dear, dear scary Commander Person With Big Eyebrows, hold the key to anti-boredom.” Wade stretched like a large, golden cat, then pushed himself up and crawled lazily on hands and knees to the bottom of the bed. Wade looked up at him, his back showing a smooth curve down to equally smooth, pert buttocks and his posture no doubt intended to gain body language for ‘very interested’. It faintly achieved this, although nowhere near the extent that it did for a ‘best in breed’ dog show.
Stryker eyed him, still unimpressed. Trying to keep Wade unbored would be a full time job in itself, rather than the reliability he hoped to achieve, and he was not in the mood to have someone else’s version of manipulation aimed at him in his own bedroom. He’d just had the carpet shampooed, after all.
“And what makes you deserve such a situation?” he queried, starting from the beginning. Wade sat down on his haunches and tipped his head to one side, clearly in the mood to take the canine metaphor and race with it.
“Well, I’m a good soldier. And I’m really good on missions. And I can wipe out anyone, and that’s in the whole deady-deady way rather than really energetic dusting.” Wade said, in a strange, solemn way that felt a little like a small child reciting a Bible verse for Christmas. He brightened. “And I’m cheaper than Victor.”
Stryker frowned slightly. “Cheaper than Victor?” he repeated.
“Yeah, well, you know what that pussy’s like. Give him an inch and he’ll stretch it out so far that he’s circumcised the world.”
Stryker blinked, and then sighed. “I assume that’s some reference to circumvent, but with Victor I can never tell. Anyway, I have no issues with him. He is a valuable member of the team,”
Wade sulked. “Yeah, with special status!”
A smile flickered in the corner of Stryker’s mouth. “Ah, is this the problem? You’re jealous?”
“Damned straight I’m jealous! You can’t give someone else a shiny button, it’s not fair,” Wade sulked further for a few moments before growing bored of the expression and brightening again. “So I thought I’d demonstrate my additional qualities,”
Stryker’s eyebrow rose in morbid curiosity. “And what would this involve?”
“A whole range of things. And chocolate sauce.” Wade rolled over like a dog in a muddy puddle and slid off the edge of the bed. He stood, stretching again as though he was planning some serious exercise, then looked back at Stryker with a disturbingly intense look on his face. Stryker shook his head.
“Wade, you are an excellent solider. However, your behaviour is less than impressive,”
“My behaviour? Victor once threw one of the base guards over a seven foot fence because he thought the bloke looked at him funny! And he’s always in trouble with the women or the men or anything that’s around!” Wade protested sulkily.
“There have been some regrettable instances in the past, but he is open to new ways of working,”
“I could be open to new ways of working. Hell, I’m even good with uniforms. A blue normally suits me.. or perhaps black and red. I’ve always liked black and red.” Wade rubbed his chin thoughtfully, lost in visions of his own personal wardrobe.
“The issues are not with your clothing.” Stryker paused as he caught sight of Wade’s left nipple, and then sighed. “Other than this particular situation, anyway. Could you perhaps find some underwear, if you’re not planning to become clothed?”
“You don’t find me sexy?” Wade pouted. “And not really, unless I steal someone else’s.”
Stryker sighed again, and made his way to his chest of drawers. Finding Wade physically attractive was one thing; the youngster’s body was a fine specimen of what a male could achieve, and he had such expressive velvety eyes that Wade could discuss a whole erotic novel in a little twinkle. However, Stryker also found tigers particularly beautiful to look at - this did not mean he particularly wanted to roll around with them, unless he really had no need for any internal organs.
A few seconds later he had tossed the man a pair of expensive shorts, which were caught easily by Wade. An interested gaze turned to them, as though he had been given a mystical, powerful gift rather than a pair of slightly boring, smartly laundered underwear.
“Oooh! Underpants of authority. I like that. Although I was expecting there to be some sort of little gold star or medal on your pants…,”
“Wade.”
“Sorry,” the underwear was pulled on, and Wade slid the palm of his hand down his hip as though to test the fit. Considering that the shorts were a little on the larger side for the leaner Wade, this failed to have the required effect. Wade glanced up.
“So, you want me to be under control?” he confirmed cheerfully. “I can do that. I even brought the props,”
Stryker hesitated, but the morbid fascination forced him to ask. “Props?”
“Yeah,” Wade grinned, moving to a black satchel and dumping it onto the bed. It clanked. That was normally not the greatest thing to hear when it came to Wade. He leaned over and unzipped the bag.
“Right,” Wade rubbed his hands together, and then began to toss the items onto the mattress. Stryker watched in faint bemusement as a little mound of glossy black leather items with a few metal ring attachments began to grow. One restraint bounced from the top and rolled towards him, allowing Stryker to lean forward and pick it up.
“There’s a choice of shackles,” Wade explained. “The one you have there is a traditional one, although that’s the heavy duty version rather than just a bracelet - you know, heavy duty for actually keeping someone down rather than just some pretty, delicate effect to go with the wallpaper. We have more for ankles, and there’s one here - hang on a minute, let’s get it untwisted.. ah! - that goes across the chest in a kinda gladiator way. Oh, and some cock rings, and things that can be used in more interesting ways,”
Stryker didn’t quite trust himself to speak, although he managed it after a short pause. “Is this supposed to be for you or me, in this little plan of yours?”
“Oh, me. I wasn’t sure on your size.” Wade shrugged carelessly.
“And exactly what am I supposed to do with you when you’re wearing all of these props?” Stryker turned the shackle in his hand again, and then looked up at the muscled young man who was still grinning at him.
“Well, that’s up to you. What takes your fancy?” Wade tossed a few random leather items from hand to hand in a show of bondage juggling, before dumping them back and turning his attention to the rug next to the bed. Another bag was put on the sheets and unzipped, although Wade merely waved a hand at it in invitation and took a step back.
All in all, the evening was taking a turn for the surreal. Stryker eyed the younger man carefully, suspicious of some type of attack. Wade casually wandered to the wall and leaned against it, his biceps taking a new level of impressiveness as he folded his arms to wait for Stryker’s decision.
Morbid curiosity propelled him onwards, and one little movement of his hand allowed the light to reveal the contents.
“You’re offering me whips…?” Stryker said to clarify the information his eyes were telling him.
“Whips, crops, and a few other bits and pieces. I put in a few butt plugs, but I’m not entirely sure where they’ve been for the past month, so they probably should get a bit of a wash first. For dust, stop looking at me like that, it’s not as though I shoved it up someone and forgot about it.” Wade rolled his eyes. “Anyway, see anything you like?”
Stryker raised an eyebrow. “I tend to prefer the more official type of punishment. The ones with reports attached, rather than physical exertion.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it,” Wade replied cheerfully.
“That’s not particularly comforting,” Stryker sighed. “As much as I appreciate the thought, I shall have to pass on your little social experiment. Perhaps Zero…?”
“Zero?” Wade snorted dismissively. “That guy still hasn’t forgiven me for the pink panties thing.”
“I know, that was why I suggested him. I doubt whether he would have any issue with the whip factor at all,” Stryker gestured to the bag. Wade sulked a little more.
“Awww, c’mon, boss. You’re supposed to relax too,”
“I suspect my idea of relaxation and yours may differ. My version has less leather and more comfortable chairs.” Stryker looked around the room and failed to see any evidence of Wade’s impromptu strip show. “Where exactly did you put your clothes?”
“I didn’t bring any,” Despite his sulking, Wade’s voice still hadn’t drifted from perkiness. “Start as you mean to go on, that’s my motto.”
“Mmmmm,” the noise was non-committal, not least because he could feel the predatory look from Wade and it was remarkably disconcerting. Wade licked his lips, his tongue sliding across his bottom lip as his dark eyes sparkled, and then he grinned again.
“Am I worrying you? I don’t mean to worry people. I’m actually very fluffy, although I try to keep that hidden as it plays merry hell with lubrication.” Wade’s voice was soft, although Stryker immediately identified the strength in the other man. It was ironic, in a way. Spend the whole day considering how best to influence control over Wilson, and end up having Wilson attempt to apply his own control to him.
Stryker’s mouth twitched upwards at the corner. At least Wade had felt threatened enough by Victor’s position to take things this far. That allowed him a little leeway.
“You’re smiling.” Wade observed. “That’s normally a bad thing.”
“Just thinking,”
“That’s definitely a bad thing.” Wade stretched again, completely relaxed in his partial nudity. “So there’s nothing I can do to change your mind? You know, about special positions.”
Stryker shook his head. “Your behaviour rules it out.”
“There’s that behaviour thing again. C’mon, I might talk a lot, but I follow orders, don’t I? I go where I’m supposed to, I don’t cause too many conflicts on the base, and everyone else is pretty good at messing stuff up too. Logan had a hissy fit in the surgery the other day and managed to smash up everything fragile within a five meter radius. Bradley sneezed and all the machines suddenly stopped, which was a bit of a problem for the vehicles coming through the automatic doors at the time. Wraith was busy taking secret photographs in the communal shower rooms yesterday-,”
Stryker raised his head. “Was he now?”
“- oh, hadn’t you got to that report? Yeah, took some good shots. I have a few under my mattress. But that’s not the point,” Wade waggled a finger. “All in all, I’m not too bad.”
“You annoy people.”
“Everyone has to have a hobby,”
“You’re unpredictable.”
“But that just makes everything so much more fun!” Wade waved his hands around, then sighed and sulked a little more. “So you’re not gonna ever give me more things to do?”
“If you mean higher levels of authority, then it’s debatable. And no, that doesn’t mean I need you to talk any further,” Stryker waved off the inevitable cascade of words. “If you simply mean new things to experience and, yes, kill, then you will get that automatically,”
“I want more,” Wade spoke matter of factly, as though they were merely discussing the weather. Stryker snorted softly and waggled the shackle.
“And you thought this was the most logical way to get it?”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time. And I already had the kit ready.” Wade explained. Stryker nodded, not wanting to venture any further into that train of conversation.
“Well, I’ll give you the fact that few people turn up with quite such an offer-,” Stryker gave another careless glance at the restraint.
“You want me to prove I’m reliable and under control, don’t you? This is the perfect kit for that.” Wade interrupted. “All I need to do is to fix the irons to each corner of the bed, and then slip that leather item over here,” there was a little flurry of movement. “so the metal rings are over my nipples and the main leather straps are criss-crossing across my chest, and then lie in whatever preference you have-,”
“So what you’re saying is that I can only expect to have you reliable and under control when you’re tied to a bed getting thrashed or fucked?” Stryker said slowly, trying to ignore some of the other little gestures that were entirely too graphic. Wade looked surprised.
“Well, yeah. Any more than that and you’re getting greedy,”
Stryker sighed softly and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “I was hoping for a bit more control during things like missions rather than sex sessions,”
“Ah, that’s just old age talking there, sir,” Wade said cheerfully.
“Thanks.” Stryker tossed the shackle onto the bed, and gestured to the bag. “Anyway, just … no. I’ll think over your proposals and return to you later. I will, of course, expect you to be in full control for the next mission. That will mean no unnecessary talking, and a lack of people wishing to kill you. Well, other than the enemy, but the more you can annoy them the better,”
Wade saluted. “Understood, sah!”
Stryker waited until the other bag was packed before eying the other man suspiciously. “You genuinely turned up completely naked carrying two bags?”
“Yep,”
“Marvellous,” Stryker sighed. “And no, you don’t have to return the underwear. Just burn it afterwards.”
“Burn it?” Wade hoisted the bags over his shoulders and swivelled to grin at him again. “I’m planning to frame ‘em!”
*
For anyone else, unexplained bondage sessions would be worrying. For Wade, it was almost mild in comparison to some of things he could do, and Stryker had completely dismissed the event by the next day. Wade’s limited attention span all but guaranteed a new topic.
Apparently that new topic was well over six foot, muscular and bearing pointy teeth. Wade certainly knew how to play with fire. The trouble was, the fire liked to play too.
“Wade, a word please,” Stryker snapped as he walked past the men gathering in the meeting hall. Wade glanced at him before looking back at Victor and grinning casually, giving a little shrug and strolling after him. Stryker waited until Wade had entered into his office before shutting the door smartly behind them.
“What are you doing?”
“What, now? Standing in your office, talking to you. Ooh, I’m sitting now. Isn’t this exciting?” Wade perched on the desk and frowned downwards. “Hey, those are deep scratches-,”
“Leave my desk alone, and pay attention.” Stryker slapped the clipboard down hard on the surface of the desk. “Do not mess around with Victor Creed.”
“When you say ‘mess around’, are we talking emotionally or physically or simply rolling around in a patch of mud? Cause, to be honest, it’s really hot at the moment. I’m not sure I can find somewhere wet enough to be good for mud wrestling,” Wade’s fingers picked at the scratches thoughtfully. The clipboard was slammed down again, hard enough for the other man to glance up in surprise.
“You know exactly what I mean. Do not engage him either physically, mentally, or with a ball of wool. I do not want him upset.”
“Yeah? Why not?” Wade looked interested. “Would he cry? I bet he would. Underneath that psychopathic, hardened, toothy bastard shell is actually a little boy who wants his balloon? Cause I’m offering to be that balloon,”
“And you’d get popped.”
“Ooh, kinky,” Wade brightened at the thought of erotic popping. “Don’t worry, sir. I won’t make him cry. Promise.”
“Believe me,” Stryker sighed. “I have no concerns over you making him cry. I have several difficult missions lined up for the coming weeks. This requires you to have fully functional limbs, otherwise I’ll pass the task onto someone else.”
That finally made an impact. Wade’s head raised, his eyes thoughtful which was as close as he really got to properly alarmed. His fingers traced over the scars on the desk as he considered it.
“I’d be very careful.”
“Not good enough.” Stryker considered slamming the clipboard down again, as something to underline his sentences. “Stay away from Victor. And yes, I know now I’ve said that I’ve made him irresistible to you. There is no benefit to you from him.”
“You don’t know that,” Wade bounced off the desk and started performing little yoga poses. “He might like to snuggle.”
“We both know you’re not after sex.” Stryker snorted. Wade waggled a finger.
“Not true. I’m always after sex.”
“Fine. You’re not after sexual gratification as your primary aim.” Stryker fought the urge to wallop the yoga position with his clipboard just to alter the expression. “You’ll never be able to influence Victor, and you know it. You’re just after the challenge.”
“Hey, he’s supposed to be really good at blow jobs,” Wade hesitated. “Or was that blow up jobs? Anyway-,”
Stryker merely put his hand on the other man’s shoulder and pushed him toward the door. This had gone on long enough, and Wade had a nasty tendency to take a conversation and persuade it to do a full circle until the other person capitulated in sheer exhaustion.
“Enough talking. Just don’t do it. Clear?”
“So boring,” Wade grumbled. “Okay, okay, I’m going!”
Stryker had finally pushed the other man out of the room and was closing the door when a soft rumble to his left nearly made him jump.
“So what was all that about?”
Stryker sighed softly, and continued what he was doing. Finally he afforded the elder feral a particularly unimpressed look, unsurprised to find Victor lounging carelessly against the corridor wall as he waited for a response. There was a thoughtful, playful look in the other man’s eyes, which normally meant that they had to find something suitably distracting before Victor did something messy. Stryker was very relieved that Wade had already vanished to the meeting room.
“You know what Wade is like. He can make a drama out of anything,” he replied, idly. “And you were supposed to be organising the others to leave.”
Another careless gesture, this time a shrug, greeted that. “They’re organised. So what was this ‘anything’ he wanted to make a drama out of?”
“It’s none of your concern, Victor. Just because you are now Captain does not mean you have to know everything,” Stryker replied sternly. However, the stern voice clearly wasn’t stern enough; Victor merely raised an eyebrow, and settled himself into a better position that promised permanency.
“He was talking about some sort of plug before you whisked him off.” Victor replied idly. “And random sexual matters. Sounds like my business to me.”
Stryker sighed between his teeth. Give Wade five minutes and he could turn any conversation into a full sexual discussion with added nipple tassels, which made the lunch time dinner queue more of a hazard than it should be. Victor’s eyebrow twitched upwards a little more, suggesting that the random sexual matters had several sections to them and probably diagrams as well. This was clearly not going to be something that Stryker could simply remove from the equation, not with Wade’s persistence.
“He seems to be under the misapprehension that you might increase his influence in the team.” Stryker replied finally. “He’s trying to manipulate you.”
Victor grinned in amusement, showing his teeth. “Bless. Can I manipulate him back?”
“No.”
“Pity.” Victor scratched at his facial fuzz with a crooked claw. “Sometimes the only way to shut him up is to take the vocal into physical. I mean, if you’re not careful you might suddenly find him naked in your room trying to play bondage games…,”
Victor allowed the end of the sentence to hang innocently in the air. Stryker’s eyes narrowed, a hard and distinctly unimpressed look aiming itself at the feral. Wade might well have been talking - and if he was, he was going to find himself in a world of pain - but Victor had the look of a man who wasn’t entirely innocent about the situation.
“If I find out that you were involved..,” he began dangerously, when Victor chuckled again.
“Please. I have better ways to annoy people than send a naked Wade into their room bearing half a cow’s worth of dodgy leather equipment.” He rolled his eyes. “However, if he’s doing that then perhaps someone should have a quiet word to make sure he doesn’t do it again, hmm?”
Quiet word. Two very polite, innocent words, and yet full of suggestion. Stryker eyed him carefully, tempted but tugged by the fact that a Victor/Wade situation was more than likely to end up more complicated than he really wanted to deal with. Victor appeared to have added mind reading to his list of talents, as he chuckled again.
“No blood, no mess, no broken Wade.” Victor confirmed. “Even if I don’t get him to behave, what have you lost?”
“Dignity?” Stryker replied dryly, and then waved it away. “Fine. See what you can do with him. Do not give him any suggestion that he has any extra power at all, please. He’s already clashing with Zero as it is.”
“Everyone’s clashing with Zero. Man’s a tit.” Victor replied carelessly. Stryker fixed him with another hard glare that made the feral sigh. “Okay, okay, he’s your tit, I know.”
“You’re responsible for any fallout from Wade,” Stryker’s voice was icy. “We clear?”
Victor gave a little salute. Stryker’s eyebrow rose, which resulted in another little sigh from Victor.
“Clear, sir,” he amended.
Stryker eyed him again, then nodded in satisfaction and began to lead them back to the hallway where the others were waiting to begin. Victor was manipulative enough to be impervious to Wade’s somewhat unsubtle attempts for personal gain, and if the feral was actively encouraging their meetings then it reduced the possibility that both men would end up in a violent, bloody clash of the furry titans. And, at this point, anything that kept Wade out of Stryker’s own bed so he could get some sleep was probably a good thing.
For a short while, Stryker thought the situation might have worked. It only took a few hours for Wade to calm down to a mere bounce, and it was clear from the little side looks the younger man gave to Victor that a few quiet words had already been given. The pair had also started to banter between themselves, each insulting the other but not too far that it caused genuine offence; a mere game in a sea of blood. It was strangely cute, in a way, a little friendly courtship from the University of Irritation.
He wasn’t the only one to have noticed. Logan had been watching them carefully with a peculiar expression on his face, as though the man was jealous of the time that Victor was spending with someone else. Stryker heard ‘What are you up to?’ growled softly in Victor’s ear, but if there was an argument between the pair then it was kept very quiet indeed. Stryker made a mental note to check the tapes in the bedrooms.
As for Wade, it seemed all seemed suspiciously fine. Of course ‘fine’ never remained with Wade for too long.
*
“You know, it’s really hard to balance like this,”
The words seemed to come out of nowhere. Stryker paused, then slowly lowered the glass of malt whiskey to the desk top and looked suspiciously around the office. Occasionally people forgot to switch off the intercom, which had led to several awkward moments and a few discussions with Human Resources. A brief investigation brought him to the office door, the corridor, and a door that he had never really paid attention to unless one of the workers needed to clear things up.
Clearly there was some type of air vent between the cupboard and his office, which he guessed was a good thing to know in the event of an airborne gas attack. However, there were plenty of situations which he was less enamoured with, and finding a private meeting in said closet apparently one of them.
“I have enough reports as it is without needing to put up with your nipples as well,” he said dryly to the two men, then looked up at Wade. “Get down.”
There was a little rustle of movement as Victor shifted position, glancing over his shoulder carelessly. A half dressed Wade, who had been perched in a most peculiar manner on a shelf that normally held nothing more exciting than cleaning fluid, gave him a cheerful wave.
“Hi, sir!”
Stryker raised an eyebrow, feeling irritation burn at him. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Yeah, but there’s an issue.” Wade shrugged.
“That issue being…?”
“His trousers are glued to the shelf,” Victor supplied helpfully. “Must have been an accidental spillage.”
“You wouldn’t believe how many clothes I get through because of accidental spillage,” Wade added, and then attempted to push himself up. Victor gave another toothy smile, leaning against the wall and risking his own set of spillages as his broad shoulder brushed against a shelf. Stryker eyed him, still annoyed. He knew he had been taking a risk letting the cat play with Wade in his squeakiest form, but he had at least hoped it would last a little longer and well away from the general public.
“And you couldn’t have this ‘meeting’ in your room?” he growled softly. “I warned you already. In fact, I have warned you both.”
“But you said no playing. You said nothing about closets,” Wade protested, giving a little tug which proved that, yes, the material had been stuck firmly to the surface. Stryker watched him for a moment, and then turned to the fully dressed Victor, who was still behaving as though they were in the middle of a busy, boring café ordering cake and tea.
“Get him down. Remove the material if you have to.” he ordered. “There’s a towel hanging behind the door which can be used to cover his modesty, and I use the word most wrongly.”
The grin that resulted from that comment was one that could have graced an alligator. Victor’s claws slowly extracted and he prowled a little closer, his eyes gleaming. Wade frowned at him.
“Okay, take it easy, I like my ass. It’s the thing that keeps my legs from dropping off, and hey!!!” there was a flash of claws and the material slowly began to peel away from the muscular thigh. Wade paused to test his leg, presumably to check it wasn’t about to fall off. “Not bad! Okay, could have been flashier, and you still haven’t cleaned under your fingernails, but all in all, pretty good.”
Wade paused to slide down to the floor, which was already pretty restricted for space as it was. The closest was designed for cleaning product storage rather than conversations, and certainly nothing as broad as Victor. Stryker stepped out of the closet to allow Victor to thrust the towel in Wade’s general direction. Wade looked at it for a moment, dried his hands, and then roped it around his waist in a particularly fuzzy version of a kilt.
“I don’t know what the pair of you are playing at, and I do not want descriptions, Wilson, but you’re on shaky ground.” Stryker growled, the majority of his fury aimed at the feral who had enough sense to comprehend consequences. Victor raised an eyebrow, and lifted one hand which turned out to possessed a bottle. Stryker’s gaze fell onto it dubiously.
“Liquid soap. For a wall.” Victor explained. “Certain people decided to tip flammable liquid over it… accidentally, mind.. and I’m not in the mood to toast myself. You know how accidents happen around this place. Wade got himself stuck when he was clambering up to grab a new bottle on the top shelf.”
“Can’t do the usual acrobatics in here,” Wade explained. “Which kinda explains why all the gays come out of the closet if they actually want to do anything- OW!”
“Anyway,” Victor continued in his soft, charming purr that would make any little old lady go scuttling off to offer him a big plate of cookies, and completely ignoring the younger man whose arm he had just punched. “We didn’t mean to disturb you, sir.”
The sir was still said in a slightly mocking way, but it was a distinct improvement on the way that Victor normally said it. Stryker’s gaze took in the rest of Victor’s pose; he seemed remarkably uncrumpled, which was the opposite that normally happened whenever Wade got himself frisky. Perhaps their appearance in a closet with Wade now completely naked was a coincidence, however unbelievable that sounded.
Stryker looked back into cunning, amused eyes, and remembered there were never any coincidences with Victor. Even if this was their version of completely innocent, the closet had been very carefully selected to ensure that Stryker was well aware that they were playing without organic breakages. Wade lounged against the wall in his barely adequate towel-shield, looking perfectly at home and with only a few scratches to show that he had in fact been in the company of Victor. For the feral, that was remarkably gentle.
Victor’s eyebrow twitched upwards, their gazes communicating a completely silent discussion.
“Happy now?” he murmured softly. Stryker raised his chin. Wade looked between them like a dog looking between two owners as it tried to decide which one was more likely to take it for a walk.
“This is like some sort of dominance leader thing, isn’t it? I can tell cause you’re both kinda got that psycho look in your eyes like you’re about to eat a kitten sandwich with freshly squeezed hamster salsa on the side, and that’s cute in an arrgggh sort of way, but not fantastic if I’m actually going to get anything fun tonight.” Wade folded his arms.
“No dominance thing, Wade.” Stryker spoke softly, although his gaze didn’t shift from Victor’s. “I think we both know the situation well enough,”
Victor’s mouth twitched upwards. “I’d say so.”
Wade looked between them again. “You guys gonna kiss, or something? Cause you’re not supposed to look at each other that intently unless you’re about to fight or fuck, and I’m assuming you guys aren’t about to get naked on me. Not that I wouldn’t be opposed to nudity, just… okay, okay, I know, shut up.”
Victor watched Wilson for a few moments, then glanced back at Stryker. “You sure you don’t want to reassess your decision?” his voice was wistful as he clearly thought back to the ‘no breakages’ rule when it came to keeping Wade in line. And he was in line, that seemed to be true. Wade might still be ‘mischevious’, but the main force of his pester power seemed to be aimed directly at the cat, and the cat seemed perfectly capable of handling both the attention and also the orders that gave him boundaries.
They said that nature abhorred a vacuum, and clearly Wade’s lack of control was one of them.
“Tempting, but no.” Stryker confirmed. Victor snorted softly, then straightened and wandered down the corridor, only pausing to hook Wade’s arm with his hand and pull him unceremoniously down the hall.
“See you later, sir,” came the parting purr.
“Hey, not so hard, I’m gonna lose my towel-! Towelist behaviour, this is! I’ll have the unions onto you!” Wade’s voice grew quieter as he was propelled along the corridor, and finally a door closed between them. Stryker tapped the wall of the corridor with his finger, before shaking his head ruefully and returning back to his office.
The boundaries had clearly been set. Cleaning fluid aside, he was surprisingly confident that Wade would be suitably distracted enough to avoid being a major pain to the group with his new ‘playmate’.
How long that would last for, of course, was anyone’s guess, but why waste an opportunity when he was given it? For now, control over Wade was messy, but complete. When it came to it, that was all that mattered.
*
TBC