[Fic] Helping Hands - Cable/Deadpool - NC-17 (original) (raw)

This is what I've been working on for the last forever. *potential facepalm*

Title: Helping Hands
Author: Guardian
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: Cable/Deadpool
Wordcount: 4,600
Summary: Wade has an embarrassing problem. Nate is his friend. Friendship can come with benefits.

Nate was the last person Wade wanted to see. Well, technically he was the first person. The only person. What he meant was, of all his options, Nate was his last resort. His last rational resort. His next option would be to either nuke himself (yes, as in nuclear bomb), or make a very awkward trip to the ER. In that order.

"Nate," Wade knocked at the front door for a long time (ten freaking seconds, Nate) and then broke into Nate's apartment. He was totally invited - ask anyone! - he just simply lost his key and this was an emergency.

"Naaate," Wade called out, tiptoeing through the apartment. It figured that the leader of Providence got posh digs and he had a lonely little room in another building. It was all Irene's fault, seriously. Didn't she even stop to think that something like this would inevitably happen and instead of being roomed right next door to his reliable pal, Wade had to get dressed and walk all the way across the island to get to Nate. Well, a block, anyway. Half a block. It was far enough, alright?

Wade went to Nate's bedroom, where the big lug was all sprawled out on his mattress fast asleep. One arm rested on his stomach, the other was flung above his head, and Wade would have made fun of him for sleeping in ballerina poses, but this was a serious visit.

"Nate? Are you awake?" Wade prodded his friend. "Nate? I got a small problem. Nate? Nate? Stop ignoring me, Nate. I'm really wigging out. Nate?" Poke. "Nate?" Poke. "Nate?" Poke. "Priscilla?"

Nate finally shifted, rubbing his eyes with both fists and then running a hand over his head while he blinked at Wade questioningly. "Wade? What's wrong?"

"_Every_thing," Wade whined, and began to pace.

"Wade, it's..." Nate sat up to get a better view of his clock. "Three in the morning. The island isn't on fire, is it?"

Wade pouted. "Who cares about the island? I've got a bigger problem!"

"What kind of problem?"

"The big kind!" Wade repeated, gesturing wildly with his hands. "The big, deeply personal kind that best friends don't tell to anyone else ever or I swear I'm not gonna bake you a cake for your birthday."

Nate frowned, half skeptical about the reason why Wade would possibly be in his room at this hour, and completely concerned about what had Wade in a fluster. Last time this had happened, it was because Wade was upset about some TV show that listed the sexiest women, and Bea Arthur hadn't made the list. What actually worried him was that Wade wasn't already babbling in explicit detail about what the problem was this time. "Tell me, Wade," he requested in his most reasonable tone, attempting to soothe Wade's tense muscles with just the timbre of his voice.

Wade sighed and looked flighty for a moment, but finally settled down enough to speak. "You know how a guy needs to blow off some steam now and then? Like, have a quiet night in with a bottle of KY and an episode of Friends? Well, I got a little... over-enthused and now it's stuck."

"I... I'm not following," Nate frowned, wishing once again that he could read Wade's mind, but convinced that it would only leave him ten times more confused.

"What? It... I can't get it out, Nate. Either help me or tell me where to get a nuclear bomb."

"What is 'it'?" Nate wondered what the hell he was missing.

Wade gave his friend a wild stare of frustration. "Nate, have you even heard a word I've said?"

"I did," Nate nodded, "but the way you said them didn't make any sense. You were watching TV?"

"Jesus, Nate, do I have to draw a diagram? I wasn't watching TV, I was playing the one-man orchestra. Doing manual labor? Some humans have this thing called a dick and it likes to get attention now and then."

"Okay, okay," Nate lifted his hands to stop Wade's angry tirade. "So... how did your... how did it get stuck?" as far as he knew, human anatomy wasn't so different from mutants.

"I swear to God, Nate... You're really clueless, aren't you? Okay, look, Palmela Handerson is a fine time-trusted gal, but sometimes you need a little more. You know, visit Greece and all that. So I... I kinda might've sorta got something stuck inside of me."

"Inside," Nate repeated, blinking in surprise.

"I'm going to beat your ass, Priscilla, I swear," Wade grumbled again.

"I'm sorry, Wade, I get it now. Calm down," Nate immediately tried to soothe Wade's ire before he scared his friend away. "Is it bad?"

"Bad? Bad like, 'what the frig were you doing, Wade?' or bad like, 'how far could it possibly be?' Because the first answer is 'fuck you' and the second is 'way too fucking far'. I'm seriously pretty uncomfortable right now, so would you fucking help already?"

All the cursing stung him, and Nate felt a tinge of pain for not being able to understand what Wade was talking about. But Nate didn't need telepathy to understand that above all else, Wade was embarrassed and genuinely worried and needed his friend's help. So he ignored the harsh words and vacated his bed to address the issue seriously.

"Lie down," Nate suggested.

As nervous as he was, Wade felt relieved to finally get to the bottom of his problem – no pun intended. He carefully reclined on Nate's huge bed and wiggled up onto the mattress. Of all the ways to finally get into Nate's bed.... His only small salvation was that his mask couldn't reveal how red his face was.

Nate paused, perplexed as he moved to kneel on the bed in front of Wade. "I think you'll have to..."

"Right," Wade wiggled out of his pants and stripped off his boxers, attempting to be brusque about the subject. Nate helped remove the clothing, revealing the crease of Wade's thigh, the sharp cut of his hips, and the length of his member – as thick and long as the costume had always suggested. Nate had to resist the urge to lower his head and test the texture flesh against his lips, or taste him. Wade was tense and apprehensive as it was – he trembled ever so subtly when Nate gently pushed his thighs apart, and as wonderful as it was to touch Wade's skin in the most intimate way, the pleasure was squelched by his greater concern for Wade's well-being.

"What exactly am I looking for?" Nate questioned while Wade tried to lie back and think of Canada.

"Jesus, Nate. What do you think I could've possibly stuffed up there – a jelly sandwich? It's just a dildo."

Nate didn't know what the hell that was exactly, but decided not to press Wade further, lest he unleash any more abuse. Wade was already naked from the waist down, sprawled out and vulnerable. Anxiety poured off of Wade in waves and kept Nate focused. He rubbed his fingertips against the pucker of Wade's anus and found that it was already well lubricated. Two fingers readily slid inside, and Nate began to gently probe for the offending object.

"Ngh!" Wade's head thrashed on the bed as soon as Nate's fingers entered him, back and hips arching to Nate's far-too-intimate touch. "Give a guy a warning! Your fingers are fucking huge."

"Sorry," Nate said, soothing Wade's side with his other hand while he tried to minimize his movements for a while. Wade responded with an incomprehensible noise. After a minute of waiting, Nate pushed in as far as he could go, flexing his fingers in the tight heat.

"I don't feel anything, Wade," Nate said. He momentarily wondered if this was just an excuse to get him into a compromising position. His suspicion was alleviated when Wade made an angry, distressed noise at the news.

"I couldn't either," Wade said. "I think the other one pushed it in further."

"Other one?"

"Shut uppppppp. It made sense at the time," Wade whined. "Can't you just use the TK?"

Nate furrowed his brow in concentration. "Hold still." He focused on feeling inside of Wade with his simulated telekinesis. As he pushed further inside, Wade's breath hitched, he made a strangled noise, and his hands clawed at the mattress.

"Ah, fuck, that feels like--" Wade squirmed, his hips tilting to give Nate better access.

"Try to stay still," Nate encouraged.

It was easy for him to say. He didn't have a couple of huge fingers and a telekinetic sheath worming around in his ass. Wade had expected the TK to be ghostly somehow, barely noticeable. Maybe just a tickle. But this was like some thick cut cock inside of him – one that tingled and moved in exquisite ways that were both amazing and horrible because he couldn't just start fucking himself while Nate was trying to help, and – "Agh!"

"Easy," Nate said in his low, rumbling tone of voice. "Just breathe."

The TK nudged at the base of the sex toy that had ventured into uncharted regions of Wade's insides. Nate figured out how to grab it, and the toy slowly slid out, each inch a relief until it was in familiar territory again.

"Somuchbetter," Wade sighed, wriggling his hips.

Nate could finally grab the strange, cylindrical object with his fingers and manually ease it out. Wade hissed at the extra stretch, subconsciously lifting his hips while Nate finally slid the toy out of him, and slumping back onto the bed with its absence.

It was kind of... huge. Nate could hardly believe that all of that had fit inside of Wade. It was also pink. And sparkly.

"I owe you," Wade said. "I owe you big. Just don't tell anyone about this, okay?" Wade lay back and caught his breath, and then finally tried to sit up. "Where are my pants?"

"Why would you even need this?" Nate questioned, staring at the rubber cock.

Wade groaned and clasped his face in his shame. "It's just a thing, okay? Humans have hormones and squiggly do-dads, and sometimes ya just want something a little weird. It doesn't make me weird. It's not my fault if you're from the future where everyone's a prude."

"No, I understand all of that," Nate said, setting the toy aside. "There's nothing wrong with needing to release excess energy. Sex is a perfect outlet. Clearly that..." he eyed the discarded toy again, "was to simulate intercourse. My question was really, why would you need to simulate it? You could have just asked."

"Asked?" Wade pushed himself upright. "Asked what exactly?"

"For help," Nate shrugged. "We train together, don't we? You could have let me know that the training sessions weren't enough or that you were having a hard time getting the stimulation you needed. I'd be more than willing to help."

"You're joshing me, right?"

"I've told you before, you can come to me for anything. And I meant it."

"Yeah, but asking your friend for a handjob-"

"Wade, it's just healthy," Nate reasoned. "It relieves stress and helps you relax. And clearly it's not a great idea for you to do it alone. I've had teammates before that masturbate the way you do-"

"Excuse me?!"

"Internally," Nate clarified. "So I understand it isn't easy to get the right sensations with your own hands. And if you have a high sex drive and aren't being satisfied, it can lead to distractions."

Wade made a weird noise while he fumbled with his pants. "You know me... I'm always distracted," he mumbled, dressing quickly and scooting off of Nate's bed. Apparently the conversation was over, because when Nate tried to open his mouth to reassure Wade again, the other man began talking over him. "So, I owe you lunch or something. Mexican? Or... Thai? Don't let me forget, 'k? Except this. Forget... this. This didn't happen, okay?"

Wade fled without a second thought, repeating a mantra of denial under his breath.

"Didn't happen, didn't happen, didn't happen..."

Fuck, why didn't you jump on that offer?

"Because it wasn't real... Pool'o'vision or something."

Since when does Pool'o'vision feel that amazing?

He managed to make it into his apartment and shut the door before collapsing to his knees.

The whole experience was as humiliating as he'd imagined, but for wildly different reasons. He'd underestimated how intense it would be to have Nate touch him so intimately. Nate's huge fingers pressing inside of him, and the TK...

Wade unfastened his pants and took himself in hand, jerking rapidly. He closed his eyes, just able to imagine Nate over him, replacing his fingers with his huge cock and slamming into him with one long thrust-

"Ah, fuck," Wade hissed, hips jerking as he came. When his spine stopped tingling, Wade staggered to his feet, remembered to lock the door, and started discarding his clothes.

He found a cloth to clean up the mess he'd made, and then went to bed and willed himself not to think about how Nate now knew how much of a pervert he was. And had Nate really offered to... to what? Give him a hand when he needed to get off? Use something on him? The TK, maybe? Or even... no, Nate wouldn't actually fuck him. And even if he did, how horrible would that be? It figured that Wade could get what he wanted most of all, and it would be absolutely horrible, because to Nate it would be not much more than a disgusting obligation.

Even if Nate let him do what he really wanted – to kiss him, and how girly was that? – it wouldn't be reciprocated. Nate would just be humoring him, and Wade was never really good with fuckbuddies. He always wanted that love stuff if he could get it. And as accommodating as Nate was, fucking someone and making love to someone were two vastly different things. And sweet mutant messiah, now Wade knew that he was totally pathetic. ...But the bitterly tempting idea lingered that he could at least be physically close to Nate. Maybe that could be enough.

~~//~~//~~

For the rest of the week, it seemed to Nate that Wade made himself more scarce than usual. Maybe it was just coincidence – maybe he'd never noticed it until now – but Nate had the slightly paranoid feeling that Wade was avoiding him. And Wade had every right to, as far as Nate could figure it.

From what he understood of this era, sexual matters, especially personal ones, were rarely discussed, just as nudity was taboo even among friends. He'd always found Irene's embarrassment more amusing than anything when he shed his clothes so freely in front of her. And Wade had been more than a little exposed on a few occasions – he'd certainly seen the mercenary naked a few times already.

That was different in a way, though. Wade sometimes purposefully showed his skin – even as little as taking off his mask – in a defiant way, daring others to take offense, to say something about his appearance. But the confrontational attitude wasn't the same as true confidence. Wade was at ease now and then, not the least bit concerned about lounging around in civilian clothes and without his mask (and Nate really did enjoy those rare moments; he always took the chance to admire perfectly sculpted feet and well-muscled arms, and Wade's expressive face shift as he watched television) but being caught off-guard was another story. The last thing Wade ever wanted to show was vulnerability.

What Nate didn't understand was how he'd managed to cross a line that actually had Wade ruffled. He'd seen Wade naked before, so that was out of the question. He'd even been inside of Wade before –well, technically Wade had been inside him, and it wasn't exactly sexual, but the point was that Wade had always referred to that incident with heavy innuendo and it hadn't ruffled him. So surely Wade wasn't that embarrassed about sharing his body.

Or was he? Because as soon as Nate had suggested that he help Wade relieve his sexual tensions, the mercenary had lost his shit. So talking (boasting) about it wasn't an issue, nudity wasn't an issue, and even invading intimate personal space wasn't much of an issue, but the suggestion of actual sexual contact made Wade run for the hills.

It was weird, really. There was a lot of stigma against homosexuality, Nate understood, but Wade had always stood apart by hitting on both sexes in his not-so-subtle ways. But Wade was never with... anyone, come to think of it. Despite the heavy flirting, Wade was contradictingly reserved about who he actually slept with, and who he actually let see his face when his guard wasn't up.

A sort of low, proud warmth settled into Nate's stomach at the realization that he was one of the very few that Wade was comfortable around. That he'd actually seen Wade in his moments of rest, shared an apartment with him on a slow day, and Wade had been at ease enough not to put up any defensive barriers. And he suddenly wanted to be one of the few to see an even further side of Wade – to make those blue eyes glaze with lust and pleasure, to watch and feel Wade's body tense under his efforts, to hear what Wade sounded like when he came. Did he scream? Laugh? Babble? Or even – impossibly –whimper and sigh softly?

Nate realized that he was falling pretty far down the rabbit hole, but he couldn't help but wonder all of these things and more. But all of it, he had to remind himself, hinged entirely on whether Wade would ever even let him near him. And chances were--

"Nate?" Wade's voice broke into his thoughts, and all of Nate's attention was turned to the costumed merc who had appeared in his doorway, stealthy as a shadow.

He hadn't spoken out loud, had he? Nate doubted it, even though Wade looked very uncharacteristically hesitant.

"I..." Wade paused, his hand grasping nervously at the door frame. "I, um... Never mind. I'll see you in the morning."

"Wait," Nate's voice stilled him even as he tried to flee. He carefully set aside some papers on his desk, as if he'd actually been working on them, and rose to his feet. "What did you want to say?"

"Nothing. Nothing. You know me, I just babble," Wade rubbed his palms against his thighs. "All the good ones are taken, after all. Hey, you know what's the funniest word? Buttresses."

Nate watched Wade, unconvinced, while the mercenary chuckled halfheartedly and then began to bicker with himself out-loud, fidgeting and avoiding Nate's eyes the entire time.

"What's on your mind, Wade?" Nate asked.

"Was whoever came up with the word 'buttress' trying to keep a straight face the whole time, or did he really not get it? Like the guy who named Uranus-"

"I meant what's bothering you, Wade," Nate said, though he smiled at Wade's ramblings.

"Serious? Like real talk? I just... I can't seem to sleep at night, and I... So I was..." Wade halted and switched topic. "You ever wonder if fish get seasick? Like, are they all immune to it, or is there sometimes like this one fish..."

"It's alright, Wade. You don't have to ask," Nate said, his tone low and reassuring. "Just let me know that it's what you want."

Wade nodded, dizzy, and stood still until Nate closed up the office and left with him. Wade began talking nervously again as they walked. He rambled on about how strange platypi (platypuses?) were, and not just because of the beaver/duck mashup – apparently they had poisonous claws that Wade had always taken as a joke until one day he was, no shit, mauled by a platypus who didn't take kindly to being grabbed by the tail. Nate merely listened until they finally reached Wade's apartment, and shut the door behind them.

Wade shivered, all at once aware that they were very much alone and Nate had offered to help him with things and Nate was looking at him.

"You don't have to..."

"Relax," Nate said, realizing that he would have to take the lead in this. "If I do anything that you don't like, just tell me and I'll stop. Okay?"

Wade nodded again, "Alright," and Nate cornered him against the door, beginning by pressing a kiss to Wade's jaw – as near to Wade's lips as he could imagine without maybe getting punched. His hands slid around Wade's thin waist. He pressed himself close to Wade, his mouth working to Wade's ear, where he bit and sucked, even through the fabric of Wade's mask. He stroked his hands down Wade's sides and up again, caressing every bit of him that he could risk getting away with.

Wade made no complaints - only a string of babble that went on until he had to pant between words. Nate had to resist the desire to properly kiss Wade, hard and claiming and breathless. But this was about pleasure and physical release. He could feel Wade hard against his thigh to remind him of that. This was about what Wade wanted, and that was simply an orgasm - the sooner the better. Nate would have to entertain the foolish idea of simply kissing Wade on his own time.

Nate began to pull away, leading Wade from the doorway to the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed and urged Wade up onto his lap. There was a sort of nervousness as Wade straddled him, one knee on each side of Nate.

Nate ran his hands over Wade's back, trailing fingertips all the way down to the base of his spine. He felt Wade shift, hips rocking as he cupped Wade's ass and squeezed, pulling Wade against him and massaging the solid flesh with both hands.

"Fuck. Okay, that feels good. Only... yesss."

Wade lifted his hips, back arching, allowing Nate fuller access to touch him, and simultaneously murmured praises and curses as Nate's huge hands worked his flesh like dough. He couldn't help but rub and thrust up against Nate's chest, seeking friction while his ass started to ache in the most embarrassing ways and then Nate had figured how to undo his pants and slip them down, and fuck him because Nate knew exactly what Wade needed -- two fingers inside of him, rubbing that perfect spot, and the other hand continuing to fucking squeeze him, and then he was biting Nate's TO neck and shuddering and breaking apart with pleasure.

It all happened so quickly, Nate wasn't entirely sure that Wade had cum, except that he had. He'd felt Wade tense and tremble in his arms, felt his hips grind against him, the hot, dampness between them, Wade's forehead resting against the metal of his neck, and could feel Wade's racing pulse.

But yet...

Nate slipped his fingers out of Wade, and felt himself throb in response to Wade's breathy, whining moan. Moving his hand between them, Nate encircled Wade's dick and lightly played with it, rubbing his thumb over the slit until Wade thrust up against him, fingernails digging into his shoulders.

As he suspected, Wade was still hard.

His dick fit nicely in Nate's huge hand, and Nate began to jerk him with long, even strokes.

"Round two?" Nate questioned, though he already took the hard flesh straining against his hand as an answer.

"Ding ding," Wade responded. He chuckled and then groaned as Nate squeezed him and rubbed his thumb over the slick tip of his cock, smearing precum up and down until he was slippery.

Every movement of Nate's arm was perfect, strong, controlled, even. He built up a rhythm that had Wade panting in a matter of minutes. It was every fantasy come true - except that in his fantasies, Wade was usually very naked by now, on his back with his flexibility being put to the test.

"Ahh... Fuck, Nate..." Wade panted. "Not that I... This is better than... But I need... Shit, Nate. Touch me how you did before. Please."

Nate nodded. His metallic hand went to the small of Wade's back, stroked down over the bare curve of his ass and then up again. Wade made a whimpering sound in his throat, and he felt one of Nate's fingers slip between his cheeks, pressing hard and rubbing over his hole without actually entering him.

"More," Wade whined, his head falling back, his hips trying to work against Nate. It was so good, but he needed just a little more...

"Patience," Nate responded, eliciting a groan from Wade. He kept Wade on pins and needles, working him to the edge with just his fingertips until Wade was cursing in multiple languages, alternately making promises and threatening Nate's life.

"Easy," Nate urged, letting up the sensual torture for a moment to let go of Wade's cock and put that arm around his waist, steadying him. Wade came with a cry as soon as Nate's fingers pushed into him. Nate attacked that sweet spot, keeping up a furious movement until Wade was whimpering and growling and couldn't seem to take anymore.

Nate withdrew, enjoying Wade's heavy breathing for a moment. The mercenary seemed so lost, and Nate was proud - all of that was caused by him. He pressed a hard kiss to Wade's neck and then ran his thumbs up and down the sides of Wade's belly until the (half) costumed mercenary finally leaned against him with little sighs.

"Do that again," Wade requested.

"Again?" Nate repeated, and felt his friend flinch.

"Yeah. Sorry. I've got a quick reload time," Wade said.

"Don't be sorry. Do you know what your limit is?" Nate questioned.

"Limit?"

"How many times can I expect you to come before you're sufficiently worn out?" Nate clarified.

"Since I'm not pushing myself... Just one or two more," Wade answered. "But you can go... if you want...."

"Not until I get you tucked in," Nate teased lightly. "We should've undressed, though," he added, looking down at his stained shirt.

"Sorry," Wade mumbled again.

"Don't..." Nate brushed his lips against Wade's ear, "...apologize." He pushed his friend over onto the bed, helping to divest him of his costume until Wade was naked, flustered and embarrassed to have all of his scars exposed, but also hard again. Nate stripped off his shirt and went back to work, enjoying the way Wade babbled nonsensically, and his muscles tensed when he came - the bliss that came over Wade's face after each climax.

Wade's count was off just a little. After Nate helped him come for the seventh time, Wade finally fell asleep, curled up on his side. Nate pulled a sheet over him and left the bedroom, but stopped into Wade's bathroom to finally relieve his own painful arousal. After waiting for so long, he came with just a few strokes, imagining himself thrusting into Wade.

He caught his breath, cleaned up with his soiled shirt, and stepped back into the dark, still apartment. Nate had to resist the natural urge to go lay down with his lover – had to remind himself that 'lover' wasn't what Wade was, that he didn't expect anything in return. Not even a new shirt, Nate thought, and chuckled to himself as he walked home without it.

Exciting conclusion here!