[Fic] Helping Hands (Conclusion) - Cable/Deadpool - NC-17
Title: Helping Hands Part 2/2
Author: Guardian
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: Cable/Deadpool
Wordcount: 2,600
Summary: "You know, there's been a substantial increase in my laundry because of you."
Continued from the smutty beginning.
It became a well-practiced pattern between them. They sparred in training sessions during the day, and at night Nate brought Wade to climax as many times as was necessary until the mercenary was thoroughly worn out and could sleep soundly. He knew how to make Wade's body respond now, knew exactly the places to touch and bite that would leave Wade speechless and weak-kneed with pleasure. He learned that he could be unrelenting, forcing Wade to come repeatedly until his body couldn't take any more pleasure. Nate didn't care for that method because it shortened the time he spent with Wade, but he liked the reaction it got and liked to think that the neighbors could hear Wade screaming his name.
Other times, Nate was slow, tormenting Wade by taking his time. Wade greeted him at the door with smiles and kisses and anticipation. They lounged on the couch and Nate touched him like an old lover and Wade fell asleep in his arms.
If anything changed between them, Nate noticed that Wade became more relaxed during the day, more even-tempered and focused. But Nate felt distracted. He hardly held an interest in his work. He couldn't stop thinking about the night, and the day became an obstacle until he could touch Wade again.
Irene was outlining the latest document which detailed the growing alliance between Rumekistan and neighboring countries. It was all densely-worded legalities which amounted to very little right now, but was the beginning of a slow shuffle towards peace. Great progress for the future, but boring for the moment. And that unintended flippancy bothered Nate - long-term accomplishments were what he strove for.
"I need your signature here," Irene said, laying papers in front of Nate and pointing. "Initials. Another signature there..." she paused, the sound of the door opening overlaying the scratch of Nate's pen against paper.
"I'm filing a complaint," Wade said, a touch of whining in his voice.
Irene sighed, rolling her eyes without even looking at Wade and gesturing another spot for Nate to sign. "You can fill out an official form if you want, Wade," Irene said, knowing that the best way to threaten Wade was with paperwork.
"Is that what filing a complaint is? Forget that, then! But you did something to the food. Taco Mako isn't the same!"
"The people of Providence voted for healthier food, Wade," Irene said. "What you taste is a reduced amount of grease."
"Is everyone crazy? That's where the flavor comes from!"
"And heart disease," Irene muttered.
"This infringes on my right to clog my arteries," Wade grumbled.
Irene snatched the papers back as soon as Nate signed the last line, briskly organizing them in her arms. "That's all I need for now. I'll let you talk to your boyfriend about this outrageous taco crisis."
"It is outrageous," Wade agreed, oblivious. Irene shut the office door a little too hard.
Nate was amused and a bit worried at the same time. He suspected that Irene knew, that she had suspected even before anything was going on, but if she'd actually called him out on it so overtly then perhaps the entire island was full of the rumor by now.
"So..." Nate tipped back in his chair, raising an eyebrow at Wade. "Filing an official complaint?"
"For what?" Wade questioned, approaching the desk. "Oh, that. Nah, I'll bug Irene later. I came here for personal business."
Nate couldn't help but notice how Wade's voice lowered, thick and seductive on the last line, and how it lit a flame of desire in his stomach. Wade crossed to Nate's side of the desk, invading his personal space, and kissed him through the mask.
Kisses - the real ones, anyway - were rare. It seemed too intimate somehow, even though it was what Nate craved the most out of their encounters. Wade always seemed to reluctant to give them, like they were forbidden. He sometimes grabbed Nate after an orgasm and thoroughly explored Nate's mouth with his tongue, translating his pleasure into Nate until the intensity wore off, and then he would fall back onto the bed, embarrassed.
Nate seized the opportunity and lifted the mask, rolling it past Wade's nose. He kissed him fully on the mouth. Wade tasted like Mexican food, sweet and spicy on his tongue, and he felt more than heard Wade moan into his mouth, and the mercenary was suddenly in his lap.
He loved Wade like this - uninhibited and playful - the weight of him against his lap. He knew that this wasn't part of their normal routine. This served no logical purpose, it wasn't necessary and it didn't follow the pretenses, but he didn't care to question it, he just slipped his hand into Wade's pants and grasped him, stroking expertly.
Wade shivered and groaned and arched under Nate's hand. He told Nate a rambling story with no plot - a story that lost track twice and never recovered, and was interspersed with Nate's name and expletives.
Nate knew when Wade was close. Knew how to hold off just a moment to tease, and then bring him over the edge so that Wade had to bite Nate's neck to keep from howling.
Nate loved to hear Wade's voice, but nothing sounded so beautiful as the broken, harsh pants against his ear while Wade tried to catch his breath. He leaned forward and licked the sweat out of the hollow of Wade's throat.
Wade sighed contentedly and sat back, muscles still atremble while he straightened out his clothes. He grimaced and laughed at the mess on Nate's shirt. "Oops. My bad." He attempted to wipe away the sticky trails and only succeeded in making things worse.
Nate snorted in amusement. "You know, there's been a substantial increase in my laundry because of you."
Wade snickered. "I bet," he responded, those two words loaded with a lot of implications as he glanced down at Nate's lap.
"Uhm," Nate only managed to shift awkwardly, finding no time to come up with a suitable excuse before Wade had gracefully slid off his lap, dropping to his knees.
"I got this," Wade said, like he was going long for a football pass or something, which was just ridiculous, and then Wade's mouth was swallowing him, slurping obscenely alllll the way down and Nate couldn't think anymore.
"Wade," Nate panted. He wasn't sure where the hell Wade learned to do this (make that 'didn't ever want to know') but it took several long minutes before he could regain the slightest resemblance of control or coherency. "Wade... you don't owe me anything..." Nate said, and that was all the shred of decency and morality that he could summon, because he sure as hell couldn't bring himself to make Wade stop, and definitely didn't want him to, even if it meant he was going to hell.
Wade stopped, his mouth making a wet popping sound when he lifted his head, which was way hotter than it should have been, and Nate felt horrible because he wanted to push Wade's head back down and all he could do was keep himself from moving at all.
"Shut. Up," Wade glared at Nate, clearly offended, and then proceeded to lick Nate like the most lewd popsicle until it was finally Nate who was tense and quivering under his touch.
"Wade... fuck, Wade," Nate muttered.
Wade lifted his head again and smiled. "Yeah, you can keep saying my name," he purred, and went back to work, unrelenting until Nate finally lost the last thread of control and came with a jerky shudder, his fingers grasping at Wade's scalp.
Wade swallowed everything with that crafty mouth, then took his time to lick him clean, smirking and pouting at the same time when he finished. "One shot," he mused. "Too bad."
"Some of us are only mortal, Wade," Nate reminded him.
"Nah, you're just old," Wade teased, and laughed when Nate cuffed him. Still kneeling, Wade rested his hand at Nate's hip, thoughtlessly kneading at the flesh. "So," a smile tugged at Wade's lips. "What do you s'pose this means?"
"Does it have to mean anything?" Nate questioned in turn, reaching out to touch Wade, to pet him and pull him back up.
Wade's hand stilled on his hip, his smile vanishing, and Nate realized he'd managed to say something wrong. He hastened to catch Wade, but his hands only touched air. Wade was suddenly on his feet, his mask pulled back down, expression unreadable.
"No, I guess it doesn't," Wade muttered.
"Wade?" Nate questioned, moving to stand up, but stalled by his level of dishevelment. "I didn't mean-"
"I gotta go," Wade interrupted, curt, the door slamming behind him, leaving Nate very confused.
~~//~~//~~
A change of clothes later, Nate could still feel Wade lingering on his skin. Despite washing up, he could smell him, and his body remembered Wade's touch, and felt strange to be without it now. He knew he ruined something important, though Nate didn't understand exactly what he did. He felt like the moth that flew too close to the flame, so taken in by Wade's magnetism and his own wants that he forgot the mercenary wanted nothing to do with him.
Nate spent the next few hours in his office, focusing on any bit of paperwork he had. He eventually ran out of things that needed to be signed or filed away. The words began to lose meaning and bleed together in meaningless streaks of ink. Hoping to clear his head, he shoved away from his desk and went to the window. He stared at the island city and mentally accessed the infonet, skimming through international news to see if there was anything dangerous and distracting for him to do.
The office door thrust open and Irene came inside, a folder in one hand, her evening coffee in the other. Nathan wondered if the woman drank anything besides caffeine.
"Nathan Summers," Irene said, in a tone used by mothers who were about to ground their children for life. "What the hell did you say to Wade?"
Nate opened his mouth, but she didn't pause long enough for him to speak.
"Half an hour ago, he burst into my apartment - while I was in the shower, thanks - and started... bitching about you, I think. I didn't catch most of it. But he was pretty angry, and he told me to tell you that he didn't want you coming around his place again."
"He said that?" Nate frowned, his throat feeling tight.
"And then he made up some ridiculous story about how he was leaving on a job in Argentina and he wouldn't be back for a few months," Irene added. "But he hasn't left his apartment. If you don't apologize or at least explain yourself, I'm going to personally kick your ass."
"I... I have no idea, Irene. I really don't," Nate said.
Irene sighed, slapped the folder down on Nate's desk and perched on the edge of it. "You're not stupid, Nate - I'm sure you realized what it would mean to start dating Wade. Please tell me you didn't break up with him."
"I..." Nate hesitated, frowning at all the different things Irene was accusing him of at once. "We were never dating to begin with."
Irene stared at him as if he'd just said that the Earth was flat. "Right, Nate. That's why you've been going to his place every night for the last two weeks to have sex with him. And that explains the hickie on your neck that wasn't there before Wade stopped by. I wonder where I got that silly notion."
Nate opened his mouth and then shut it, realizing that further denial would sound truly asinine. "I didn't know that you'd noticed."
"You mean aside from everyone on Providence talking about it, and Wade making doe eyes at you all the time? No, of course I didn't notice," Irene said, giving Nate a withering look.
"Wade has never made 'doe eyes' at me," Nate responded.
"I don't know what rock you've been under, but Wade is crazy about you," Irene snorted in return.
Nate frowned, suddenly unsure of everything. "I don't think he is," he said, afraid to think otherwise.
"Right. So Wade's been turning down assassination jobs because he suddenly doesn't like money or something. And he's been staying on Providence because he likes the climate," Irene said. "But I know you must be kidding, because you couldn't be stupid enough to not have noticed that Wade adores the crap out of you. And if you like him too, you'd better start apologizing now because it might take a while before he forgives you. All night, even." Irene paused for a moment to stare at Nate pointedly. "So... should I clear your schedule for tomorrow and push the meeting with the British Prime Minister to next week?"
"Yes," Nate answered, rushing out of the office.
He just about ran all the way to Wade's apartment. For once, Wade had locked his door, and when Nate pounded on it he heard the mercenary yell at him to go away. Nate didn't hesitate to force the lock with his TK and shove the door open.
"Goddamn it," Wade cursed. "Fuck off, Nate - Jeopardy is on."
"You hate Alex Trebek," Nate reminded him, crossing into the living room. Wade was on the couch, wearing only a t-shirt and boxers. His knees were hugged to his chest and he looked absolutely miserable.
"Just his mustache," Wade muttered. "It's the source of his evil trivia power."
Nate fell to his knees in front of Wade, cupped Wade's face and kissed him tenderly. The mercenary made no resistance, but when Nate broke the kiss Wade still looked bitter.
"I'm not in the mood tonight, Nate. Gonna watch TV instead. Thanks," Wade grumbled, and tried to keep watching Jeopardy as if Nate's head wasn't blocking his view.
"Wade," Nate stroked his thumb over Wade's cheek, trying to get him to look at him. "Do you love me?"
Wade's blue eyes gave Nate a look - the same one Irene had given Nate when he tried to deny that there was anything between him and Wade.
"I thought the author was ignoring the part where you lobotomized yourself," Wade answered cryptically.
"Do you love me, Wade?" Nate repeated.
"You're stupid," Wade muttered, his hands fidgeting. "Of course I do."
Nate smiled briefly, his senses flooding with relief, and then kissed Wade again, hard and crushing, trying to flood his senses with Wade instead.
"So," Wade paused, waiting for Nate to stop and staring at him, all dazed and flushed from kissing. "Do you like me too or what?"
Nate kissed him again, biting his lips and claiming his mouth in sensual conquest, pushing forward until he was half over Wade's lap and the smaller man had arms and legs wound around him in confusing but good ways. "Nate," Wade tried to speak while Nate was still kissing him. "Are you gonna answer me?"
"Yes, Wade, I love you," Nate said, though it was an effort to keep himself from kissing Wade long enough to answer him. The effort was worth it for the smile that crossed Wade's face - a smile that sent tingles all the way down to Nate's toes.
"Okay," Wade said, suddenly very coy.
"Okay?" Nate repeated, quirking an eyebrow and smiling back gently.
"Okay," Wade repeated, nodding and biting his lip. "'Cause, ummm, I don't think I'll possibly sleep tonight unless you tuck me in. And by that I mean fuck me silly."
"I got what you were hinting at," Nate smiled.
"I just wanted to be clear, 'cause you seem to need things spelled out for you," Wade teased.
Nate grinned. "Maybe you can spell out exactly what I can do to help you fall asleep tonight."
The joking mood broke.
Wade eyes changed, suddenly bright, his voice low and sincere. He grabbed Nate's hand.
"Stay with me."