Chapter Text
WADE
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The night is jet black and dreary. A fine mist sheets across the city, making everything fuzzy around the edges. The streets outside are dotted with watercolor puddles stained by neon signs and street lamps. The diner has seen better days, but it's warm and dry. The faded booths are comfortable enough, and it's late enough no one bats an eye at an old guy with a metal arm and a freak in a gimp suit.
It's one of those 24 hour breakfast places. Wade had insistented . Something about liminal spaces, and the way french toast tastes at 3am. All of this food is still strange to Nate, so he really doesn't care what they eat or when they eat it. He has told Wade as much, more than once, but the man's memory might as well be a pipe into the void.
Tonight, Nate is feeling generous, so he doesn't argue as Wade babbles on about breakfast and something called Waffle House. Which, Nate has gathered from this and Wade's other ramblings, is a place for breakfast, drugs and parking lot sex (if you're lucky). Nate even lets Wade order for him, to Wade's delight. The food arrives, and Wade takes his plate and flashes his annoyingly infectious smile at the waitress. They always smile back, even when Wade is mid-slightly-offensive-rant about something nonsensical. Like many other things about Wade, Nate can't understand it.
Wade shovels eggs and bacon into his mouth, smacking his lips and making a string of lewd noises that make Nate blush. Nate's eyes follow Wade's fingers from the plate to his mouth and back. The way Wade sucks the grease from his gloved fingers is obscene, and Nate can't watch without heat gathering in his groin. He shifts in his seat, dragging his eyes away, only to be pulled back a few seconds later by Wade sticking a whole sausage down his gullet. Nate watches the muscles of Wade's throat work as it slips down his esophagus. Wade swallows it whole. Nate feels lightheaded, either because he forgot to breathe or because all his blood has just gone rushing to his dick.
"Are you gonna eat that or are you just gonna eyefuck me, babycakes?" Wade's voice breaks through Nate's thoughts, and Nate realizes he's been sitting here staring for several minutes, the food in front of him forgotten.
"Fuck off," Nate says, and picks up his fork. Wade laughs.
Nate eats his breakfast, and spends the rest of the night thinking about Wade's mouth.
---
"For fuck's sake, sit still -"
"But my leg's falling asleep!"
"Deal with it."
"You never let me do anything ."
"It's not about - Jesus H Christ, stop - shit ."
Nate gasps as Wade's ass settles in his lap. He can't see Wade's face, but he can feel Wade's wolfish grin.
Nate, Wade, Piotr and Domino are all crammed into Dopinder's backseat. Russell, being the youngest, gets the privilege of being in the front seat, despite Nate pointing out that putting Wade in the front seat would keep him out of trouble.
"What? You wanted me to sit still."
"Not - like that." Nate's voice is hoarse, his mouth dry. Despite the icy breeze cutting through the open window, he's soaked in sweat. He closes his eyes and grits his teeth, willing himself to think of anything else. But Wade's feverishly warm, and Nate hasn't fucked anyone in weeks, and all he can think about is what that ass might feel like around his cock.
"Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"
"I hate you so fucking much."
Domino laughs, high and clear, and slaps Nate's thigh. "Just get it over with and suck his cock already." The slap and the just-try-and-say-no look in her eyes completely derail Nate's efforts to stop himself from getting hard. She's almost as bad as Wade is, and worse, because Nate's almost positive it's not a joke.
"Stop objectifying me," Nate mutters, eliciting another peal of laughter from Domino. Piotr clears his throat, and does his best to sink deeper into his seat. Russell glances up at the rearview mirror, one of his expressive eyebrows raised.
"What are you guys doing back there?"
"Nothing. Avert your eyes, child." Domino says, her gaze flashing. Russell squints at her and frowns, but shrugs and goes back to whatever game he’s been playing on his phone.
"Oooh, baby . I knew it was big but I didn't think it was that big." Wade sighs against Nate's chest, head laying back on his shoulder like some love struck girl. Nate can feel the heat of Wade's breath on his neck, even through the mask. Wade wiggles his hips against Nate's in a way that drives everything clean out of his head.
"Fuck," Nate mutters. Wade giggles. Domino stares at them both with hungry eyes.
"If I might," Piotr said, clearing his throat again. "This does not seem like appropriate workplace conversation."
"Is Dopinder's cab considered a workplace?" Dom says, thoughtful. As she speaks, the cab nearly bottoms out on a speed bump, jolting them all up and forward. Wade lands hard on Nate's dick, drawing an honest-to-god moan from him.
"Wade, I swear to God - "
"A workplace that was not designed to carry two metal mutants," Dopinder says. "How much further, Mr. Deadpool?"
"Not far," Wade says cheerily, now openly grinding against Nate's lap. I'm going to die here, Nate thinks. I'm going to cream my shorts, and then I'm going to die.
"This job was a mistake," Nate said.
"I think it's going swimmingly," Dom says.
"Of course you do."
The sound of metal scraping against metal fills the cab, and for a moment Nate is transfixed as Piotr's metal skin ripples and turns to flesh. The cab creaks and sinks on Nate's side, no longer balanced.
"Better?" Piotr asks.
"Much," Dopinder says.
"I didn't know you could do that," Nate says, feeling stupid, and not just because his downstairs brain is currently running the show.
"Did you think he was just metal all the time?" Domino says, genuinely surprised. "Do you know anything about the X-Men?"
"Records from this century were heavily damaged," Nate mutters.
"Oh my God, am I literally the only competent one in this vehicle?" Domino says, rolling her eyes.
"I am very good at driving," Dopinder says. Wade and Domino both yell at him to shut up. Russell puts his headphones over his ears. This is gonna be a long drive, Nate thinks, and closes his eyes.
---
"For the hundredth time, the place is still empty," Cable says. Wade squints over his shoulder at the dark warehouse, frowning.
"But how can you know that? You didn't even use the binoculars," Wade makes a grab for them as he speaks. Nate holds them high over his head, out of reach.
"I just do," he says, scowling. Wade hops a little, still trying to grab the binoculars from Nate's hand.
"Yeah, just like you knew that guy was lying last week, and how you knew there were six goons waiting for us in that safe room, and blah blah blah. Insert more occurrences of Cable's mysterious spooky bullshit here. Gimme. " Another hop.
"No.”
"You're so mean to me."
"You'll lose them. I'm not buying another pair."
"No I won't."
"Yes, you will."
"This is Deadpool discrimination. Say no to hate. Gimmegimmegimmegimme."
"No."
Wade gives up, or seems to, and stalks off into the darkened room, muttering. Nate sits back down at the window, puts the binoculars on the windowsill, and waits. A few seconds later, Wade's hand darts into Nate's peripheral vision, reaching. Nate grabs his wrist before he can even get close.
"You're so fucking predictable." For a moment, Nate grins in satisfaction, then he hears Wade's wrist snap like a twig under Nate's metal hand. Nate lets go like Wade's arm has burned him, heart hammering in his chest. Wade hardly seems to notice.
"I'm sorry - I didn't mean - "
Before Nate can say another word, Wade is on him. He grabs Nate by his jacket and hauls him to his feet, the grinding and popping of the already-healing bones in Wade's wrist loud in Nate's ears. Wade pins Nate against the windowsill, crumpling the decrepit blinds and sending the binoculars teetering to the floor.
"Oh, yes. " Wade practically purred the words, slotting a thigh between Nate's legs. "Hurt me, daddy."
"What the fuck - " Nate gasps, his words choked off as Wade leans into his dick. His hands land on Wade's hips, acting of their own accord. Wade whines and wriggles in Nate's grip, drawing another gasp from him.
"C'mon baby," Wade turns up the edge of his mask, revealing a wicked grin. "Let me show you a good time." He whispers the words, his lips hovering over Nate's, so close Nate can feel his hot, rancid breath.
"What the hell is going on with you?" Nate should push him away. Whatever this is, something isn't right. He wishes, not for the first time, he could see anything in Wade's mind besides static. All he gets from Wade is a confusing mess of emotions, sometimes so strong Nate has to block them out to keep himself from drowning.
"Nothing," Wade says, pouting. "Can't a guy want another guy's dick without an interrogation?"
"You want my - " Nate's words are cut off by a strangled moan as Wade reaches between them, shoving his hand down Nate's pants in one swift movement.
"Yes, sweet mutant Jesus, have I not been hitting on you relentlessly since the day we met?"
"I thought you were joking."
”Does this feel like a joke to you?" Wade's hand wraps around Nate's cock, fingers rolling back Nate’s foreskin so Wade can press a thumb against Nate’s slit. Nothing about Wade’s touch is gentle, his worn glove feels like sandpaper against Nate’s skin, but it makes no difference. Nate’s hard and leaking cum onto Wade’s hand in a matter of seconds.
"Oh shit," Nate shivers, unable to stop himself from rocking into Wade's grip. Wade leans in, pulls down Nate’s shirt just far enough to suck a line of bruises onto Nate’s collarbone. The wet heat of Wade’s mouth clings to Nate’s skin like static, leaving him cold and wanting when Wade’s lips finally leave him. Wade pulls Nate’s cock free from his jeans, taking advantage of Nate’s moment of weakness, and lets out a low whistle. Nate blushes, feeling oddly vulnerable under Wade's gaze.
"I've been wanting to get my mouth on Cable Jr. for months," Wade says, and sinks to his knees. Before Nate can say a word in reply, Wade’s tongue darts out to curl between foreskin and cock, teasing Nate until he’s gasping and shaking from overstimulation. Wade moans like he's being fucked, and finally takes Nate in his mouth. He sinks down to the root, his throat opening for Nate like it was made for him. Nate can only moan and clutch at the windowsill, watching in horrified fascination as Wade’s head bobs along his length, taking all of him with every stroke. Nate isn’t a small guy, and he’s only encountered a few people who can suck him down like it’s nothing. Really, he shouldn’t be surprised - everything about Wade screamed cocksucker from the moment they’d met. Wade fondles his balls, rolling them in his fingers like he’s shaping a ball of cookie dough. Nate shouldn’t like it as much as he does, but it’s been ages since anyone touched him like this, and with Wade sucking his cock like a pornstar Nate couldn’t care less.
Nate wraps both his hands around Wade’s head and fucks his mouth, brutal and relentless. Wade’s eyes flutter closed. His hands move from Nate’s cock to his ass, groping him and pushing him forward with each thrust, as if somehow he’ll get a few extra inches out of Nate’s cock through sheer determination alone. Every time Nate sinks into him Wade swallows until he chokes, that same blissed out expression on his face. And every time, Nate almost spills down Wade’s throat, edged magnificently by Wade’s tongue rolling under his shaft.
Nate pulls out long enough to push Wade to the cracked linoleum and pin him there. Nate grabs Wade’s wandering hands and holds them still above Wade’s head. He hears more bones splinter under his metal fingers, but he couldn’t give less of a fuck. Wade’s throat, hot and tight and strong, consumes the whole of his attention. Wade moans around him, the vibration of his vocal cords finally enough to set Nate off. He plunges deep into Wade’s mouth one last time, and stays there until Wade has wrung every drop of cum out of him.
Nate sits back against Wade’s hips, panting. When his softening cock slips from Wade’s lips, he can’t help but shiver. Wade runs his tongue over his teeth, smiling a wicked grin up at Nate from between his thighs.
“Told you,” Wade says.
“Told me what?” Nate’s voice is still shaky, still swimming in post-orgasm endorphins.
“That you’d like my mouth.”
“You literally never said that.”
“Yeah I did.
And
I
literally
just made you squeal like a girl getting her pussy fucked for the first time.”
“I did not squeal.”
“You’re
exhausting
,” Wade rolls his eyes. “Play along,
for once.
”
“I’m not - “ Nate’s abruptly cut off by Wade rolling on top of him. He holds Nate down and descends on his cock again, suckling at the head until Nate’s eyes sting with tears.
"Fuck, I can't - " Nate gasps. "I can't, it's too soon - " This does nothing to deter Wade. Nate has no idea how long he lays there, helpless under Wade's determined mouth, but it's long enough for him to cum a second time, and then a third. By the end of it his balls ache and he’s got hardly any cum to spill. And fuck, Wade keeps at it, as if he can overwhelm the limits of Nate's biology with his mouth alone.
"Stop, holy shit. Stop. " Nate shoves Wade away with shaking hands, too weak to do anything else besides lay on the floor and gasp for air. Wade just curls against Nate's side, still grinning like a fiend. He runs his hands through Nate's hair with one hand, while the other slides traitorously down to Nate's cock. Nate grabs his wrist, cursing as Wade rolls his foreskin down and thumbs his slit again. He mutters something about too much but Wade ignores him.
He's not sure how long they lay there - Wade touching him, kissing him, whispering dirty nonsense into his ear. All he knows is that by the time Wade gets bored trying to get Nate's limp cock to respond, the sun is setting, casting the room in shades of gold and red. Nate shoves Wade off him and stands, quickly tucking himself away before Wade gets another chance to grope him. Nate turns to glower down at him, only to find Wade gone, and Nate's new pair of binoculars with him.
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