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No. 58897
Motivational Techniques
There were points in Deadpool's life where he stopped and wondered just how he'd gotten there. Like that time in Prague with the stripper and an orphanage and the stripper nuns... god he missed stripper nuns about now. Even the older ones. It had been like a room full of chaste Bea Arthurs.
...never mind that now.
Now he was laying face down on a bed, arms duct taped behind him like he'd been cuffed by the police. "If this is a kidnapping, I'm going to be so cross. And gonna hunt you down and beat you to death with your own arm. Which I'll rip off in the most painful way I can think of. Oh, I will. I have talents."
"It's not a kidnapping."
Now that was a familiar, kind of low, kind of George Clooney-y voice right there.
Very familiar. And not just because he'd watched the Ocean's Eleven movies over the weekend. ...he liked Matt Damon. Don't you judge him for his taste in action stars. You go watch those Bourne movies and tell him that wasn't cool! Like an emo James Bond with less making it with chicks and more killing people.
But he digressed.
"...Naaaaate? Whatcha doooooin'?" He drawled, trying to look over his shoulder for him. Sadly, Linda Blair he was not.
"You've been a little... distracted." It was a kind way of saying something about blue balls and frustration, most likely. One of Nate's hands - the big warm metal one - pressed down against his shoulder. "I wanted to help you out."
"With duct tape and a hotel room? Oh god, is this an intervention?!"
There was a short pause.
"Yes," said Nate. His hand moved away from Wade's body.
A few moments later, and you could hear the duct tape... tearing... ominously.
"This is our big epic, crossover event break up all over again isn't it?" Wade asked, struggling with the bindings. Duct tape! His one weakness! "If I end up on TV again, so help me, Nate," He growled, bucking up on the bed.
"Not really," Nate said, conversationally. "I hope not." A few steps brought him close to the bed again. Somebody was getting handsy again. With Wade's ass.
Wade was torn between holding still and seeing if this went sexy and the pizza guy showed up and dropped oil all over his muscular chest and they all had to get undressed and have a dirty threeway in the hottub.
...
He had a very active imagination and a healthy addiction to porn.
"Ooookaaaay. You're grabbin' my ass there. I noticed because it's my ass. That you're grabbing." A beat. "With your hand."
"With my hand," Nate agreed, amicably. And idly. The hand wasn't moving. Well, it was moving, kind of giving it a good rub, but not actually, y'know, leaving.
Which was really the only reason Wade wasn't donkey kicking the fucker right now. That and how nicely he was reacting to the rubbing. He shifted against the bed as he was already half hard from just that simple touch. "So. Got plans tonight? Dinner? Maybe a show? I've heard good things about that Fast & Furious. Homoerotic tension abounds."
"I have plans." Nate's hand slipped down and around to check up on... progress. Yes. "I'm in the process of working them out right now..." The bed sank a little under the weight of a knee or something like that.
Wade smacked his forehead against the bed a few times, ignoring how damn quick he was fully hard and ready to go at that touch. It meant nothing! Much like all that aforementioned homoerotic tension between then meant nothing! "With duct tape? Were they out of fuzzy handcuffs? I'll admit to being a fan of those. All fuzzy and soft and easy to break outta," he rambled. "Hey, remember that time I shot you in the head? Good times, man. Good times."
"Wade," he said, pulling away - but not before giving Wade's package a good rub. "Shut up."
That got Wade to attempt to turn around. "Have you met me? I don't shut up! I'll ramble and tell you about this one time, in band camp--"
And that would've been the duct tape Nate had ripped off earlier. He pulled it tight over Wade's mouth in one fluid, strong motion.
"MMPH!" He wasn't finished with the quirky story that was in no way original or his! Struggling against the bed with renewed vigor, Wade tried very hard to force the duct tape off his mouth. He wanted to ramble!
"I guess telling you to be quiet won't work," Nate mused, running his hand over Wade's spine and up, now, to the back of Wade's neck.
Wade was pretty sure he saw a porno like this once. It ended nicely, but then again, the one all tied up had been a woman, so he was beginning to be a wee bit worried about his tender flower. He was waiting to lose that at prom! PROM, NATE.
Even if the petting thing was kinda nice and, oh god, he was relaxing from the angry tension and arching his back like some sort of twisted cat. HE WAS NOT AN ANIME FANGIRL.
Nate's fingers wound up tracing the line of some scar on the back of Wade's head. Then they vanished completely. "But that's not what we're after today," he mused.
One or two footsteps brought him back behind Wade's legs and now his hands were on Wade's thighs, brushing them open.
This was different and strange and if he was gonna do what he thought he was doing, heads would roll. Unless it was nice. Then only small heads would roll. Maybe doll heads. But they would still roll!
God he missed being able to talk right now. Narration just wasn't the same.
Wade swallowed, shifting a bit for a fight or flight sorta response. Or maybe it was just him getting comfortable with his god damn dick still trapped between his stomach and the bedspread. Which was not soft, might he add.
"You've been tense," Nate pointed out. Sensibly, really.
The bed shifted again, this time with his entire weight. One hand had found Wade's ass again, and gave it a little squeeze. It didn't linger.
Well, of course he'd been tense. There was sexual tension, hellooooo? That didn't mean he'd been looking to resolve it--hey! hey! Where was that hand going? He liked it where it was! Put it back!
Craning his head in an attempt to get a look at just what Nate was doing, he shifted his hips up and shoulders down more firmly. Bad position to be in. Bad bad bad.
Abruptly, that hand returned-- Nate reached forward between those lifted hips and took Wade's dick in a firm, warm, most obviously metal hand. "Figured I should help."
His angry reaction to the hip grabbing was very abruptly ruined by a hand on his dick there. So what came out was more of a muffled 'Nnngh' noise. It'd been a while.
With fine, firm motor control, Nate pumped his hand up. There were no sharp ridges. The metal was warm, like bodyheat. His thumb fell almost gently against the side. "Better?"
The noise he got for that could best be classified as Wade attempting to say 'NO. NOW DO THAT AGAIN OR YOU'LL WAKE UP LESS THAN A MAN TOMORROW.'
He was very expressive.
Nate's eyebrows might've raised. Or not. It wasn't really audible. His body shifted heavily, and then it was leaning into Wade. His hand pumped up again. "Hm."
Probably did. Nate was that sorta guy, after all.
Wade closed his eyes and just breathed for a moment or two. The whole... duct tape thing made it difficult to encourage a lil' something more. He was dying for friction here.
That smirk may have well been audible. It was pressed up against Wade's neck now as that hand picked up speed, lingering on the tip for all of a second. "Just to start with," Nate told him.
Smug bastard.
Breathing now picking up at that, Wade made a questioning noise. This better mean he was getting a blowjob or somethin'. Fragile, girly flower and all that.
Pop.
It wasn't completely obvious where the noise came from, but it was a definite popping sound.
Then something wet and warm and definitely thumb-like pressed against Wade's entrance without much warning at all.
Wade tried to get up on his knees to show just how little he cared for this. What happened, on the other hand, was more of a flopping and arching into Nate's hand. Let it never be said that Wade couldn't go with the flow. For a handjob.
For a handjob.
The thumb vanished, only to replaced by a long index finger that pushed in while he pulled elsewhere. Nate flicked his wrist a little on the movement. His breath left Wade's neck.
Right about now, Wade was very, very glad for the gag. If only because it kept him from muttering something about that being kinda not horrible and doing anything girly like sighing. He did make an odd sort of noise that wasn't angry or happy. Neutral. Really.
About a finger in his ass.
And then Nate curled it on an upstroke.
That got a less than neutral noise this time around. Wade closed his eyes and did nothing like lifting his hips up a weee bit more to help that angle thing Nate had going on. That would be silly to think we would. Because he wasn't gay. At all.
Whimper.
"There aren't a lot more sensitive places in the human body," Nate supplied, helpfully. His finger pressed in again, and then again, matching the rhythm of his hand. The bed creaked a little as he shifted on it, nudging Wade's thighs a little further apart.
Chest pressed firmly against the mattress, Wade didn't even fight that kinda nudge right now. He was trying very heard to focus on the things that weren't Nate's goddamn finger rubbing his prostate. Yes, he knew what that dealie was.
He'd read enough RPS of the Avengers. For the lolz. Really.
Shut. Up.
Nate wasn't saying anything.
Anymore, at least.
All he got was the answer press of a second finger against him, and a little harsher jerk up on his dick. "Hm."
And all Nate--Sonnovabitch Askani'Son with his smug hair and his long, long fingers-- got as an answer was a sort of vague pressing back to meet those two fingers. If you paid attention. Easily passed off as struggling. Really now.
It didn't take much to start fucking those fingers right into him in time. It left space for kind of idle conversation. "Maybe I should take off the duct tape," he said, then paused. "Ör maybe I'll leave it on all the while..."
Wade made an annoyed noise, trying to look back at him and glare, but it was a wee bit difficult when you didn't have any way to support your upper body now.
This wasn't hot at all. Just try not to notice how he hadn't once stopped being quite so hard.
It went on until it didn't. Nate yanked his fingers out completely, leaving a hand still on Wade's dick. "So," he said, "Where do we go next?"
What the-- you did not do that to a guy! Wade made an affronted noise, pushing back to shove him off the bed. Without too much force. It was a work in progress.
"I'm not going to take that as a no," Nate told him, and put his newly freed hand on Wade's hip. Significantly.
Oh. Oh.
Wade stilled significantly, wondering just when this went from dirty porn to... hardcore dirty porn. Probably somewhere around the same time Nate had his fingers up his ass.
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