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“This job sucks,” Wade says to Nate. “You said we were just doing a little breaking and entering. Retrieving some artifacts. Killing some cult of child traffickers or something, I don't actually remember, I wasn't listening that closely. But I'm pretty sure brain-eating zombies and being trapped in an ancient labyrinth weren’t in the description!”
“You know,” Irene says from the back of the group, “for once in my life, I'm going to agree with him.”
“Actually,” Domino says, casting a glare in Nate’s direction, “I agree with him too.”
They're working their way down the stone hallway, checking chambers on each side for potential exits or zombies to kill. It's not the little zombies that are the problem, it's the massive ones outside the maze with the magic. Man, Wade thinks, if only Nate still had his cool, amazing powers. That would be convenient!
Anyway, they're checking rooms, and the one they’ve just walked into looks like it was probably a dungeon, or some kind of torture room. Very old-fashioned, very authentic, no waterboarding equipment in sight but lots of chains and manacles and spikes and weird twisted metal tools that look unidentifiably sinister, all in racks around a center table. Inexplicably, in the middle of the table, there's a necklace. Curious, Wade holster his guns so he can scoop up the jewelry and brushes off a layer of dust. It looks like brass or bronze or something similar, kind of goldish without being gold. The chain is a thin band woven out of small links. There's a large, maybe two fingers across, flat pendant attached to the chain. It’s big and thick and not particularly feminine. Wade turns it back and forth in his hands. There's some kind of star or sun on one side with rays radiating out from the center. On the other side there are designs around the edge that remind Wade of Celtic knot work, with symbols in the center. If they’re letters, they’re in a language that Wade doesn't know, which isn’t so surprising since this place looks like it was built a millennia or two ago.
“Wade, come on, we need to keep moving,” Neena says.
“Yeah sure,” Wade says. “Hey, this thing has a sun on it. Reminds me of you, Dayspring. Wanna try it on? Little souvenir from the zombie dungeon?” He tosses the thing over Nate’s neck because he’s funny.
And the damn necklace shrinks.
Not like Pym-particles-shrinks; the chain somehow constricts, the links thickening and tightening so instead of hanging halfway down Nate's chest, the medallion is now resting just below the hollow of his throat.
Nate gives a startled curse and grabs at it with the hand not holding the BFG, but even the techno-organic mesh doesn’t manage to stretch the chain in the slightest, and the necklace certainly doesn’t fit over his head now.
“Wade!” Three voices all yell it in unison.
“Oops?” Wade says weakly.
Domino and Irene are at Nate’s side in an instant, tugging at the chain as if they somehow are going to see something or find some geometry that lets Nate take it off.
“Nate, what is this thing?” Irene asks in agitation, yanking at the pendant hard enough that Nate actually sways toward her.
Neena narrows her eyes as she watches Nate. “Do you feel any different?” she asks.
Nate gently but firmly pries Irene’s hands off, then takes a deep breath. “Nothing seems out of line. I’ll let you both know if that changes.”
Wade has been leaning in the doorway and frowns. It’s so unfair of Nate saying he’ll let the girls know but not thinking good ol’ Deadpool might want to know too.
“Oh come on,” he grouses. “Obviously it’s fine, so stop worrying and just ignore it. You don’t need to bother anyone about it.”
Nate makes a weird little face, but he nods. “Wade's right. It’s fine, and we have more important things to worry about. We need to get out of here, and we don't seem to be finding anything in these rooms that's going to help.” And then Nate continues, laying out a plan that involves him blasting out of the labyrinth first and laying down lots of cover fire while the other three run past the giant zombies.
“Nate, stop with the self-sacrificing martyr shit,” Wade says, rolling his eyes. “New rule: no suicidal plans allowed anymore.”
Nate pauses right in the middle of opening his mouth, probably to argue why he should be allowed to go out first without telekinesis, body armor, or anything else other than his metal arm and his ridiculously good looks. He closes his mouth, seems to get his train of thought back on track, and says, “Alright, Wade, that’s off the table, but if you hadn’t noticed, we’re trapped. Exactly how do you expect us to get out of here if we don’t take some risks?”
Wade shrugs. “Okay, fine. Let’s change that to, no taking the most suicidal job for yourself. That’s what I’m for,” he adds with a crooked grin.
Nate sighs and then agrees, and Wade is the one who goes out the entrance of the labyrinth first, guns blazing, with Nate and Domino close behind him.
Nate only gets a very shallow cut from a zombie sword on his ribs and Wade only gets his brains eaten twice and everyone gets back to Providence safely, so really, it's an all-around win.
~~~~~~~~~
Even though the magical, shrinking jewelry doesn't seem to be doing anything other than sitting there, Nate's crew are still pretty disturbed by it and try to cut it off. No luck on that front, it’s apparently made of something harder than what any cutting tool or laser on Providence can handle. Then they spend a lot of time hollering about it. Wade ignores them. Nate seems fine, so there’s no harm done. Right?
~~~~~~~~~
Things continue to be pretty normal on Providence, meaning that other governments keep trying to kill them, and S.H.I.E.L.D. keeps trying to send assassins, and Nate keeps trying to save the world and stir up political shit apparently just to rub the noses of the international leaders in it.
And Wade hangs around, and even though he does love it when Nate is a total shit-disturber, he wishes that Nate weren’t so damn busy all the time.
Take today, for example, when he goes to snoop into whatever is going on in Nate’s office, and of course Nate is talking with his senior staff. Gareb actually gives him a little nod, but the others just ignore him. Sadly, that includes Nate.
“Hey, is anyone up for Mexican?” he says loudly.
Gareb looks amused, Johann and Irene glance at him and look vaguely annoyed and then go back to focusing on the plans on Nate’s desk. Prester John and Neena and Nate don’t even acknowledge the words.
“Fine, I’ll take that as a no,” he pouts, hands on his hips, glaring at the incredibly boring party he wasn’t invited to. “You know, it’s rude to ignore friends. You should at least notice me when I come into your office.”
He didn’t expect Nate to pause, and then look up with a slightly confused and adorable expression on his face. It’s the one that makes his eyebrows draw slightly together over a vague frown but without true annoyance, just confusion.
“I’m sorry, Wade. What was it you wanted?”
It’s a miracle! Or maybe Nate is actually responding to Wade speaking up for himself? Wade doesn’t know and he doesn’t care as long as it’s working for him.
“Heya, Nate.” Wade saunters over and makes himself comfortable on the corner of Nate’s great big desk, ignoring the looks that Irene and Prester John are giving him for daring to interrupt Nate’s work. “Oh, it’s nothing. I just thought you might be getting bored in here, what with all this international diplomacy and world building and stuff. When you're done with whatever you five are working on, come with me to get some lunch.” He spreads his hands and tries to look persuasive, or at least not completely off-putting. “Relax and enjoy my amazing company while you eat. Come on, I bet you’ll have fun.”
Nate’s expression goes just a tiny bit unfocused, just for an instant, and then he shrugs and says simply, “Okay,” before turning back to his team.
Wade damn near fistpumps.
~~~~~~~~~
Even more miraculous than Nate saying yes, when they finally finish whatever it was they were talking about, Nate actually does peel away from the rest of his staff with polite excuses and does go out and have lunch with Wade.
Nate orders three tacos. Wade gets the enchilada plate. Wade's heart is all aflutter. Not that he lets it show.
It’s enjoyable. Wade had been afraid that Nate would zone out and ignore him, or just grunt a lot, but he does seem to actually let go of some of his dictator-adjacent job tension and actually enjoy Wade’s company until they’re done with the food.
Pretty much the instant the plates are cleared, he blinks a couple of times, like he’s suddenly remembering something, and says, “Wade, thank you for– I’m sorry, I really need to be getting back.”
Wade shrugs, because he hadn’t expected Nate to pay attention to him forever and says, “How about I walk back with you?”
Nate is quieter on the way back to his office and seems mostly lost in thought, but he doesn’t ignore Wade completely and does contribute to some of the conversation. Although mostly he seems to let Wade’s rambling wash over him. Most of his responses are simply an amused chuckle, although he does throw in a comment here and there.
It’s only when they’re in Nate’s office that he turns to Wade and really seems to focus again.
“Thank you, you were right, I needed a break. And I did enjoy your company.” The last would be a lot more exciting if the confused frown wasn’t back when he said it. Then he hesitates before finally adding. “Earlier, you said… You said I should notice you?”
“Is that an actual conscience poking through?” Wade asks, because needling Nate is fun, and it’s easier than actually telling Nate that being ignored makes him feel sad or angry and inclined to blow something up either way. “Finally feeling bad about always ignoring me when you’re working? You totally should be. Yes, I said notice your best buddy Wade.” And then, because if there’s one thing Wade Wilson can do, it’s not acknowledging anything emotionally serious except through jokes, he does his best anime impression and falsettos, “I want you to notice me, senpai.”
Nate makes a weird face, and it occurs to Wade that Nate has had the whole Infonet in his head, so he must know the exact context of that meme, which makes Wade feel a little panicky because maybe he doesn’t need Nate to realize Wade’s crushing on him.
He doesn’t expect Nate to step closer. That confused expression is back, like Nate has some internal conflict that he doesn’t know what to do with.
"What should I notice?" he asks, sounding a little lost.
"Whatever you like about me," Wade says with a shrug, even as he’s freaking out inside, because what the hell is going on?
"Oh," Nate says softly and blinks and looks again. He looks like he's really seeing Wade for the first time and possibly like it’s a revelation. His hands come up to either side of Wade's jaw, resting hesitantly, and all Wade can think is oh em gee, is this really happening?
"Oh, tell me you're thinking about kissing me," Wade breathes.
"I'm thinking about kissing you," Nate says. Then he looks confused. Then he pulls up Wade's mask and does just that.
Kissing Nate is way better than Wade’s fantasies had predicted, and his fantasies on the matter have always been pretty spectacular. It turns out that Nate is not just skillful, he’s also very dedicated to a long and thorough performance. Wade’s knees are feeling weak by the time he pulls back just enough to be able to talk.
“Okay, not that I don't like this, I totally like this, but I'm freaking out just a tiny bit you understand. What does this mean? I don't think I can stand to go too fast. Like, what if we had sex and then you told me it was a mistake and you didn't actually like me? Obviously my ego could handle it, but I'd be worried about your sanity if you turned down my awesomeness after getting a taste of it!”
“Wade,” Nate says, sounding amused and cutting through the rambling. “Do you want to have sex?”
"Oh god. When you put it that way. Yes. Fuck me. But not here. I want an actual bed."
"Okay," Nate says quietly, and there sure as hell is some emotion in Nate’s voice that Wade can’t place, but he also kisses Wade again, so Wade decides not to worry about it.
They bodyslide to Nate's room.
Nate does fuck him. He’s surprisingly unhurried about the whole thing, with lots of kissing and grinding, slowly working them up to it, and then they’re finally stripping together until the only stitch of clothing between them is the chain around Nate’s neck. When he finally does get to the fucking, he’s unexpectedly accommodating about it. Wade had always thought Nate would be very dom top, but apparently he’s more of a service top. Everything that Wade asks him to do, he does immediately. Harder, slower, faster, right there, more more more, he listens to everything. Wade runs his mouth the whole time it’s not otherwise occupied, babbling and telling Nate what he wants, and Nate listens and makes fondly amused noises whenever Wade’s babble gets ridiculously incoherent and fucks him like an absolute sex god.
~~~~~~~~~
Nate's staff is still trying to figure out what's up with the necklace. Gareb scours the Infonet for information. Prester John takes a look to see if he can read what’s on the back but doesn’t recognize the language. Merryweather in particular has a bug in her shorts about it and she drags Nate off to a lab to get it scanned multiple times and then assigns junior staff to dig into research archives from various museums to look for clues.
Wade, on the other hand, thinks they’re worrying unnecessarily. There’s no sign anything is wrong, so he doesn’t pay much attention to all the fussing.
~~~~~~~~~
A couple of fantastic days later, Wade walks into Nate’s office with a container in his hand and a sneaky look in his eye.
“What do you have there?” Nate asks, noticing him immediately and setting down the tablet he’d been tapping away at.
“Candied fruit,” Wade says nonchalantly. “There was this family with a stall down at the market, and I didn’t really pay much attention at first, but then … well … Let’s just say I couldn’t resist. Open wide and say ah.”
Nate immediately opens his mouth, and he actually does say ah, much to Wade’s delight. He instantly pops a candied kumquat into Nate’s mouth and watches Nate’s betrayed face kick into high gear.
“Ah ah ah, chew and swallow,” he says preemptively, wagging a finger.
Nate looks like he'd rather gag, but he doesn't. He chews as quickly as he can and finally swallows.
“I hate you,” he says with feeling.
“No you don't,” Wade says, picking out a piece of candied pineapple to pop in his own mouth.
“No, I don't,” Nate agrees, his face instantly softening, and Wade’s heart does a little flip-flop. “Although, you’re going to pay for that.”
"Oh really? Do you have a punishment in mind?"
"No, but I'll think of something."
He snags Wade by the front of the suit and kisses him until they both taste like pineapple instead of kumquat.
Nate ends up locking his office door and they use the top of his desk for activities it definitely isn’t intended for.
~~~~~~~~~
Honestly, they're having so much sex. It’s amazing. Although Wade does ask Nate to please keep it on the down low. “Just... Don't let your people know. Okay? I don't think it’d be good for either of our reputations, especially yours.” Nate just nods and agrees.
Wade wonders when the heck Nate got so agreeable. Probably about the same time he realized how much he liked Wade’s ass and jokes and entire shtick.
Wade’s also happy. Just … so incredibly happy. The sexy, principled, hot-as-hell, heroic guy he’s had a crush on for ages finally likes him back and they’re having wild and incredibly good sex on the regular? Yeah. Wade is so happy he’s practically incandescent. The only time he manages to tone it down is when he’s around the rest of Nate’s people, because he’s also trying to keep this relationship under wraps for now, for the same reasons he told Nate.
Well, same reasons and to be honest, he’s not sure he could handle having his relationship with another guy, even a guy as spectacular as Nate, outed right now. He tells himself he just needs some time to get used to the idea and then he'll be totally okay with people knowing. Sure, that’s it.
~~~~~~~~~
A couple nights in, Wade tells Nate he wants to fuck him. He's just rolled on top of Nate in Nate’s huge bed, both of them naked and Nate's hair still slightly damp from the shower, and Nate grips his upper arms and groans, “Okay, yes,” and Wade goes to find the lube. When he turns back around, Nate is on his hands and knees and Wade thinks that it’s a good thing he can’t come just from looking at something as incredibly hot as Nathan Summers with his ass up, or it would be all over. He kneels on the bed behind Nate, hands smoothing over Nate’s skin.
“Hey,” he says impulsively, “Let me eat your ass. You're going to love it. I promise, I'm really good at it.”
Nate makes an indescribable sound, almost tortured, but he also rocks his hips back towards Wade, which Wade takes as total agreement.
From the first swipe of Wade’s tongue, Nate does, in fact, moan like he loves it, and he keeps moaning and shuddering and gasping the whole time. Finally Wade can’t wait anymore, so he slicks up and presses carefully into Nate. He wants to pound Nate into the mattress, but instead he forces himself to remember that Nate doesn’t have a healing factor, so he’s careful and goes slow, asks if everything’s okay, asks what Nate wants, and then gives it to him.
Wade loves it. Hell, Nate loves it, if the way his breath is hitching with each snap of Wade’s hips is any indication.
Eventually Wade is so close, and he leans forward, panting behind Nate’s ear. “Come on, Nate. Come for me.”
And just like that, Nate does. Neither of their hands are anywhere near his cock, but he comes, shuddering and swearing, only because of Wade’s voice and his dick.
There is no way any man, mutant, monster, or anything in between could withstand something so absurdly hot. Wade comes instantly, moaning against the back of Nate's neck.
~~~~~~~~~
Neena and Irene are standing next to each other, apparently having a very heated but quiet discussion, so Wade sneaks over to that side of the command center. He manages to hear Neena say, “We need to tell him. We probably need his help to fix this,” and Irene hiss, “We can’t tell him! We don’t know how he’ll react! What if he just tells Nate to stand on his head?”
“Hey, that would be pretty funny,” Wade says from right behind them, just to watch them jump. Then he calls across the room, “Hey Nate! How about you–”
Neena slaps a hand over his mouth before he can finish the sentence and then she’s dragging him backwards toward a door to some supporting office space. Damn, this girl is strong, Wade thinks admiringly. Nate looks truly alarmed and starts to step toward them.
Wade feels something very sharp digging into the small of his back.
“Tell Nate not to worry or follow, or I swear to God, Wilson, I’m going to spend all afternoon cutting off your balls every time they grow back,” Neena hisses, and then she takes her hand off his mouth.
“Nate, it’s okay! The girls just can't keep their hands off of me! Go back to work, there’s nothing to worry about, we’re fine!” Wade calls hurriedly.
On one hand, Nate doesn’t look like he buys the explanation for an instant. But at least he does turn reluctantly away and go right back to what he was doing, so score one for Neena and Irene and whatever they want from Wade.
Wade’s not quite stupid enough to actually hope they want him for his body.
As soon as the door is closed between them and the rest of the command center, Neena releases her hold and sheathes her knife.
“Wade, you need to tell Nate to take off that necklace,” Irene says, looking agitated, wringing her hands.
“Whaaaat? This again? Look, I know it's not his usual fashion statement, but it looks good on him! I don't see what your two’s problem is,” Wade sulks. “Anyway, it’s not like I know how to take it off either.”
“Wade…” Neena trails off and shares a concerned look with Irene. “I don't think we have a choice. He’s the only one who can do it. If he doesn't cooperate, I'm happy to tie him up somewhere where Nate won't find him.”
“Hey, no need for that,” Wade says with real worry. Neena certainly knows a thing about getting tied up somewhere Nate won't find someone, and he doesn't want to be on the receiving end of that kind of revenge. “What are you two talking about? I didn't do anything!”
Irene sighs. “It's the necklace, Wade. We finally figured out what’s on the back. It's magic, like a spell, and the writing basically says ‘obey.’”
Wade gets a sinking feeling in his stomach. No, worse than that, more like a sinkhole. A cave in.
“Are you saying…” He can't bring himself to finish the thought.
“Yes,” Neena says mercilessly, “Nate is doing whatever you tell him to do. Not going to lie, the bit where you told him not to be a suicidal martyr was actually pretty damn gratifying, but that much control over him is dangerous, not to even start on how unethical it is. Who knows what the hell you'll accidently tell him to do, or maybe on purpose tell him to do, I don't know how much I trust you.”
“Excuse me,” Wade says weakly, stumbling backwards. There's not enough air in the room. He’d been happy. He thought Nate actually liked him, enjoyed spending time with him, actually wanted to have sex with him. Suddenly little snatches of conversation are coming back to him, things he’s said to Nate that he thought Nate was agreeing to but… Oh no. No, instead it’s been Wade forcing Nate to do all those things.
It’s Typhoid Mary all over again. Except this time he is Mary.
The world is spinning, and he barely manages to grab a small waste paper bin from next to a desk before stumbling to his knees and completely tossing his cookies into it.
He throws up until there's nothing left and then dry heaves for a bit after that. When he finally spits into the damn thing one last time and sets it down, it’s to find Irene and Neena watching him with what can only be called barely restrained panic.
“Wade, what did you do?!” Neena says for both of them.
“Something bad. Something really bad. I have to… Oh shit, he's going to hate me. I have to– I have to fix this.”
He stumbles to his feet and charges back through the door, Irene and Neena right at his heels. He thinks vaguely they might be trying to catch him, in case he doesn’t actually do what he’s supposed to do, but he doesn't care. He careens back into the command area and halfway across the room before his steps falter when he’s still half a dozen paces from Nate.
Nate turns toward him, instantly aware of Wade’s presence. Noticing him. Noticing all the parts of Wade that he likes the best. He smiles.
“Nate,” Wade says, mouth dry and words hoarse, “take off the necklace.”
Without the slightest hesitation, Nate does so. Even though he’d tried to take it off multiple times before without success, this time the instant he puts his hands on it, the chain lengthens and thins, and he’s able to lift it easily over his head. Then he stands there, looking down at the chain in his hands while a series of emotions flicker across his face. Confusion, disbelief, horror, panic, and, ultimately the final expression to settle there: rage.
The fingers of Nate’s TO hand clench around the chain, and Nate is striding toward him, fast and potentially deadly like an oncoming locomotive while Wade is babbling hysterically.
“Nate, I didn't know, I swear I didn't know, I–”
Nate punches him in the jaw with every bit of his speed and weight behind it. Wade is spinning around, he sees explosions of light, he's pretty sure that's the floor that hits his face, his ears are ringing, and it’s like he’s hearing everything underwater, distorted and far too loud, but through it he hears Nate say, sounding like he’s nearly vibrating with fury, “Get him the hell off my island.”
~~~~~~~~~
Wade ends up dumped back in New York. The less said about the next days of depression and self hatred over having destroyed a good thing and hurting Nate, the better. Wade barely gets out of bed or off the couch, and he has no clue exactly how many days it’s been. He’s guessing that either Nate will ignore him forever or maybe he’ll bust into Wade’s apartment to finish hashing things out with his fists until Wade is nothing but a smear on the carpet. Every time Wade wakes up, which is not quite the same as it being another day later but might roughly approximate it, he’s more afraid the former is what’s going to happen.
What actually happens is something that Wade didn’t expect at all.
He’s fully dressed for the first time all week, because he’s trying and failing spectacularly to convince himself to go get some takeout. So one moment he’s sitting on the couch. The next moment there’s a popping sound and hands are dragging something over his head even as he hears, “Bodyslide by two.”
He's scrambling at the thing pressing against the front of his neck even as it feels like his stomach drops out the bottom of his feet and the world disappears and reappears. He’s shoved forward and he stumbles and ends up on his knees. A quick glance around shows he’s in a blank, windowless, metal-paneled room that Wade is 99% sure is a holding cell on Providence. He also suddenly guesses what is around his neck, snug like the collar of his suit, with a weight swaying and bumping against his throat as he moves. He can’t see it, but he runs his fingertips over a thick chain with a medallion and feels the raised sun rays on the front and intricate detail on the back. It’s the necklace.
“Stand up,” Nate's voice says, still full of fury even after many days, although it's a more controlled fury now. And Wade does.
“Turn around.” Wade does again. There's Nate, looking at him with the angriest expression Wade's ever seen on his face, and that includes the way Nate had looked at Wade during the whole Haji Bin Barat incident.
"Heya, Nate," Wade starts weakly. "Look, I–"
"Shut up," Nate says, and Wade's jaw snaps closed so fast that the sound of his teeth hitting each other is clearly audible. "You are going to stand there," Nate says, voice tight and full of controlled rage, “you are going to look me in the eye, and you are going to answer my questions truthfully. Complete truth. No lies. No omissions. Do you understand?”
Wade nods. He definitely understands. It's like there's an iron bar wrapped around his throat, around his every muscle, wrapped even around his will. He can't move, he can't speak, and he knows whatever he says when he opens his mouth will be the absolute, horrible truth.
Nate is controlling this. Nate is under no illusions about what the necklace does and is apparently way better at using it than Wade was. Nate’s going to get exactly what he wants from Wade, whether Wade wants it or not. There’s a certain solace in that, in an eye-for-an-eye sort of way.
"Did you know what this thing was doing? Did you know that you were controlling me?"
"No, Nate, no, I swear to god, I had no idea."
The worst part is having to keep his eyes locked on Nate's. He probably would have looked Nate in the eye to say this anyway, but the choice is taken from him. There's no other option except to keep his gaze on hard blue eyes. Well, eye, and whatever the white, flashy glowy one has going on. His only consolation is that Nate looks just a little, a tiny bit, ever so slightly less murderous at the response.
"Did you suspect?"
"No. I probably should have after the first couple times I told you to stop being stupid and you actually stopped, but I didn't. The first time I realized it was when Neena and Irene dragged me away and told me. I swear I had no clue until then. I would have stopped if I’d known, I swear I would have.”
Again, Nate looks very slightly less angry, although if anything he looks more frustrated. Wade gets that. It’s always easier if you have someone to blame for the bad shit that happens to you.
Nate takes a step closer. Wade would really, really like to step backward to preserve the physical buffer of distance between them, but Nate told him he was going to stand there and so he's standing there.
"Were you trying to humiliate me? Put one over on me? Prove you were better than me?"
"No! What the– How could– You're my friend, Nate! I'm not just– How could you even think that?!" The horror in his voice finally strips most of the rage out of Nate’s expression.
"Why did you make us have sex?" This question is quieter, and Nate's hands are clenched into fists at his sides.
Wade laughs at that, desperate and high pitched because, oh fuck, Nate really is going to make him admit everything. This must be what everyone else feels like around telepaths, every last thought laid bare. He wishes that he could turn away, that he could run, except that he also doesn't want to do that. He wants to stay right here looking Nate in the eye, and part of him understands that desire isn't his own, and part of him can't tell it from his own. He wants to keep his mouth closed and protect his pitiful secrets, even while his mouth is already opening.
"Well, you see, that would be due to the massive crush I've had on you for a while now. And the fact you're smoking hot and built like a tank and got that whole hero thing going on, which is all apparently a huge turn-on for me. I thought you liked me back. Why wouldn’t I want to have sex with you?"
"Do you still feel that way?"
Wade opens and closes his mouth a few times. "Yes. I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you," he finally croaks. Fuck it all. It had been so good while it lasted. All of a week of thinking Nate had suddenly started to notice him, to take his opinions seriously, to like him enough to tumble them both into bed. Gone. A fantasy. He can fall in love with Nate all he likes, but it doesn’t matter because Nate’s free will wasn’t present for it.
Nate takes another step closer. Either of them could reach out and touch the other, if they wanted to. Well, Nate could. Wade still can’t move.
"Think carefully, Wade. Did you ever tell me how to feel about you?" Wade looks confused, so Nate adds. “For example, did you tell me to like you or to love you?”
"I don't know, I don't think so, I–" He wants to give Nate a clear answer, but trying to remember every single thing he said over days and days? When his memory is kind of terrible at little details even after Nate fixed the big holes? Nate told him to tell the truth, but he doesn't know the answer to that. It feels like something is tearing apart his brain, ripping the breath out of his lungs, squeezing his heart. "I don't know!" He gasps, "I don’t think I would have told you to love me, that’d be pretty weird of me, but I don’t remember! Please, Nate, it's the truth, I don't think I did, but I can't promise it, I don't know!" He's gasping and trembling and every muscle feels like it's on fire.
"That's good enough." Nate says. Instantly Wade no longer feels like he's being torn apart. He can breathe again, there's no more conflict between what he's able to do and what he's supposed to do. He stands there gasping, uncomfortably aware that tears are running down his face.
And then Nate, that merciless fucker, manages to ask the worst question.
“Do you realize the consequences of what you did? Do you understand why I’m so angry?”
The words plunge like a knife.
“Of course I realize! Do I look stupid?! Wait, don't answer that. Why do you think as soon as Irene and Neena told me, I came back and told you to take it off?! Of course I realized! That's … that's …”
His voice is shaking, because this is torture. Actual torture, of the information being extracted against his will variety, and also torture of the everything he briefly thought he might get, falling apart variety. He really has been falling full-on in love with Nate, and now he knows he violated Nate, took his free will, made him have sex with Wade and his walking nightmare of a body with no choice in the matter.
That’s not how you get the hot guy to like you. That’s how you make the hot guy hate you.
"Dammit, that … that's rape." More tears are leaking from his eyes, words catching in his throat, and he wants to stop talking, he wants to turn away, and he can't do either of those and he hasn't told Nate the whole truth yet. "That's coercion, over and over. I feel like … just literally the worst person ever. I didn’t mean to do it, but that doesn’t change that I did. I'm so, so sorry. I'd shoot myself in the head if you wanted, I’d cut off my own dick, except none of it would stick. I don't know how to fix this.”
Softer, he adds, one more time, “I'm so, so sorry.”
Nate looks like a man who wants to be angry, who needs to be angry, but who also sees that there's no good reason for it except the satisfaction of lashing out.
He just stands there for a long time, watching Wade. Finally the silence and the suspense and watching Nate’s gaze flicker between anger and deep hurt are too much for Wade.
“Please tell me what you want me to say,” he whispers.
Nate shakes his head. “No. It’s my turn. I’ve spent the last five days trying to convince myself that I hate you, remembering every time you– Every time I did something and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do it or if you wanted me to do it, but you’d told me it was fine and not to worry about it, so I didn’t. Every single time, Wade.”
“I’m sorry,” Wade croaks.
“I can't tell anymore what I wanted to do and what you made me do and what you told me to do but I would have done anyway.” Wade is familiar with that feeling, even after only a few minutes being controlled by the same spell. “I don’t know if you changed my mind for me or if you just said something that finally made me notice what was there. I remember enjoying everything.” He makes a face. “Except for the damn kumquats. I–”
He shakes his head.
Suddenly Nate’s hand is cupping his jaw and tilting his head slightly back, frowning down at him like he’s a puzzle that Nate can’t solve.
Wade holds his breath, not sure what’s happening but not wanting to do anything that stops Nate from touching him. Nate’s expression is hard to read, with some mix of confusion and anger and flickers of something softer around the edges.
“I need to know. I want you to know,” Nate growls, “what it’s like. I want this even. I want to fuck you with this thing–” his fingers tug at the chain “–on. I’m giving you one choice: do you let me, say yes or no. Everything else, you don’t get a choice, or dignity, or a say. Do you understand?”
“Make us even? That’s real eye-for-an-eye, tooth-for-a-tooth bullshit,” Wade croaks, heart hammering behind his ribs. “Yeah, I’m cool with that. Yes.”
Nate actually snorts, a flicker of amusement crossing his face, before it’s gone back under the hard mask.
“Bodyslide by two,” he says, and the world dips and then they’re back in Nate’s bedroom. Wade’s anatomy has started to have a pavlovian response to Nate’s bedroom, and his dick twitches inside his pants. “Strip,” Nate orders, and Wade does. No fooling around, no hesitating, he just pulls his hoodie and shirt over his head, toes off his sneakers, unzips his pants and pushes them and his boxers down, kicking them off as he pushes his socks off too, and then he’s standing naked, hands at his sides, and Nate is slowly circling him.
The big guy hasn’t removed a single piece of clothing, and Wade feels embarrassingly exposed. The intense scrutiny is making him uncomfortable, and Little Wade has decided this situation isn’t sexy at all, but it’s not like he can do anything to get away. Nate is coming closer as he circles, like a predator closing in for the kill. Wade’s not particularly surprised when Nate palms one side of his ass, then the other, as he stops behind Wade.
Nate pulls his ass apart, thumb pressing rough and warm and dry to his hole. Nate’s bulk shifts closer, warmth and the softness of cloth brushing against Wade’s back. “Do you remember telling me to love it when you rimmed me? I couldn’t do anything except love it. I don’t actually know how I felt about it. Do you know how it feels to not even have control over your own emotions?”
“I’m sorry,” Wade croaks, yet another time saying it, for all the good it does. Nate ignores it.
“I could fuck you dry, just like this, and tell you to love the pain. And you would,” he snarls. Wade knows he’s right. He half expects Nate to do it, but instead Nate lets go of him and steps back half a pace.
“Turn around,” Nate orders, and as soon as Wade does so, “and get on your knees.” Wade drops down with his face right in front of the crotch of Nate’s tac pants.
“Use your mouth. Blow me. Get me hard and then I’ll fuck you,” Nate orders, and Wade reaches with trembling hands to open Nate’s fly and pull his pants and underwear down to free Nate’s dick.
Somewhat to Wade’s surprise, Nate isn’t the least bit hard either. It’s actually a relief, because he doesn’t think he could like– oh, who is he kidding, love Nate, if Nate were the kind of guy who got off on what is treading a really fucked up line between consent and straight up rape.
Nate had said use your mouth, and Wade doesn’t think he actually intended to make that a limitation, but Wade can’t bring himself to take Nate in his hand. Instead he leans in, sloppy and–he hates himself for it, but this may be the last time he gets to do this–eager. He mouths and sucks at the head of Nate’s cock, licks along the shaft, noses under Nate’s soft cock to mouth at his balls. It actually startles a groan out of Nate, and that makes Wade’s dick finally twitch again with tentative interest, and he dips his head and finally takes all of Nate in his mouth.
Nate doesn’t get hard quickly, although once Wade realizes that moaning around Nate’s cock makes him twitch and fill out faster, he gets real loud about it. Still, Wade’s jaw is aching by the time Nate is hard and thick on his tongue. At some point, Wade has put both hands on Nate’s thighs, using them to brace himself, and Nate has taken a firm, two-handed grip on Wade’s head, although he hasn’t done much with it, just a hair of influence here and there.
Now he seems to finally decide to get rough.
“Choke on it,” he growls, and Wade instantly surges forward, trying to deepthroat and failing spectacularly, and Nate pulls him back while he gags and coughs.
“Swallow it,” Nate hisses, pupils blown, and Wade dives back in. This time he actually remembers all he knows about deepthroating and takes Nate to the root. His nose is mashed against Nate’s pubic hair and the techno organic mesh seam of Nate’s stomach, and the man is fucking his throat with tight little jerks of his hips.
Wade loses track of how long this goes on. Most of the time he can't breathe, and then Nate will pull him off, hands gripping the sides of his head, and Wade will get in maybe a whole breath before the compulsion drags him back down. The whole world narrows to getting air, getting Nate down his throat again, and swallowing convulsively around Nate's cock to keep from gagging. He's rock hard between his own thighs and doesn't care.
Finally Nate gasps, “Stop!” and Wade instantly pulls back, Nate’s cock slipping from between his lips. Wade sits back on his heels and pants, taking great gasps of air into abused lungs. Nate’s cock is jutting in front of him, rock hard and wet with Wade's spit, and Wade wants nothing more than to take it back in his mouth, work until Nate comes down his throat, but he can't.
“Up,” Nate commands, and Wade climbs unsteadily to his feet. Nate presses a bottle of plot convenient lube into his hand and says, “Get on the bed. Slick yourself up. Work yourself open for me. Make sure I can see. Make it slutty.”
Wade's really not sure what to think about this instant compliance thing. He hasn't even processed the words, not really, hasn't come to an emotional reaction to them, before he's already moving. By the time he’s starting to freak out about what Nate told him to do, he's already climbed on the bed.
He hates that Nate somehow knows what is going to humiliate him the most. Wade often makes himself look like a fool and sometimes even puts his body on display, like some kind of fucked up cautionary tale about trusting unscrupulous mad scientists and government programs, but that’s always a joke and he’s in control of it and the point is to make everyone else uncomfortable. This is different. Without control and with Nate looking dispassionately, Wade is laid out and vulnerable and he hates it and he loves it.
He's still processing this while getting on hands and knees on the bed. Then he’s reaching over his back, fingers slick with lube.
Nate said to be slutty. Wade’s not quite sure what qualifies, but he’s got the general idea. He’s pushing his hips back as he works his fingers into his ass and moans. He’s trying to work deeper, and then he’s trying to fit more of his fingers to clench around something thicker. He never had much of a problem taking Nate’s cock, even though it’s thick like the rest of the man, but Nate said to work himself open for him, and Wade is damn well doing his best.
He’s been focusing on sensation, not so much on what he’s seeing, but a sharply indrawn breath draws his attention to Nate standing next to the bed. He’s stripping to the skin while he watches Wade, and his cock is flushed and looks hard enough to pound nails. It’s bobbing whenever Wade pushes his fingers deeper or makes noise, which Wade instantly interprets as instructions on how best to be sluttier for Nate. When he makes a hitching moan as he twists his hand, he watches Nate’s face. The man’s anger looks mostly gone, replaced by confusion and lust.
“Enough,” he snaps, and Wade is instantly pulling his hand free. The bed dips and Nate’s hands are rough on his hips, then rougher when he smacks both sides of Wade’s ass, a quick one-two staccato that makes Wade yelp and try to jerk forward. The hands gripping him don’t allow that, and then Nate pushes into Wade.
It burns, just a little, and burns worse when Nate growls, “Clench,” and Wade instantly does so.
“Nate, wait, I can’t–” he gasps and Nate snarls, “You can,” and then, somehow he can. It’s not pleasant, but he can do it, he can take Nate, he can, he can be whatever damn thing Nate wants him to be, and Nate’s hips are grinding against his ass.
A hand smooths over the small of his back. “Relax,” and he does and the burn disappears, and then, “Talk,” Nate growls. “I want to know how it feels, what you feel, what you’re thinking.”
“Only you tell me to talk. Everyone else tells me to shut up,” Wade gasps and goes from there. He gives running commentary on how much of a bastard Nate is, how much he loves what Nate’s doing, how he’d like to punch Nate for making him admit that, how he never wants it to end, interspersed with whatever random nonsense crosses his mind, all occasionally interrupted by a startled yelp when Nate gets too rough.
Nate doesn’t seem to be actively trying to cause pain, but he fucks Wade mercilously. Wade’s rock hard, but Nate never touches his cock or tries to get Wade off, even with Wade babbling and pleading. Instead, he will periodically pull out without warning, startling a gasp from Wade each time, and tell Wade how he wants him next. On his stomach. On his knees, back pressed to Nate’s chest, with Nate’s metal hand curled over his hip and the flesh one around his throat. On his side with Nate behind him, holding him open. On his back, legs on Nate’s shoulders, and Wade hates that one. He moans that out to Nate, a confused jumble of begging for more and begging for something that makes him feel less vulnerable, less like a toy laid out only for Nate’s pleasure. When he tries to reach out to hold on to Nate, to grip his shoulders or arms or chest, Nate growls at him to cross his wrists above his head while he’s fucking him, and Wade sobs and does it.
There's no doubt this is the roughest fuck of Wade's life.
It’s like Nate’s trying to stay angry, trying to fuck Wade hard enough to make a point, but the only point that Wade’s processing is that it’s brilliant. Nate’s face says that he’s losing the point too, forgetting about anger in the sheer physicality of what he’s doing.
Finally Wade gasps, “Nate, I'm going to come!”
“No,” Nate grinds out. “You don't come until I tell you to.”
Wade didn’t think it was possible to stop an orgasm simply from willpower, but that’s what happens. It’s nothing like trying to distract yourself by thinking about Margaret Thatcher naked or baseball and more like a vice closing inside his balls, because Nate’s words don’t stop the pleasure or how turned on he is, but they do stop the orgasm, halt it right where it is.
Then Nate is grabbing the back of his thighs and folding Wade in half, knees by his shoulders. Wade’s a flexible guy, but even he's not used to being bent in half like a pretzel and his muscles pull and ache at the stretch.
He's still rock hard with no relief in sight, just a glorious forever of waiting for Nate to give him permission.
Nate's face is right there above him, and he can't quite tell for sure, but he thinks Nate might be having an emotional crisis. Not that Wade is doing much better. He opens his mouth and words come tumbling out.
“Nate, please! I sure hope you're finding what you're looking for because I want this again. I want you to like it. I don’t want to lose you, Nate, I was sure I’d already lost you and it scares the shit out of me. Please, Nate, please please–”
Whatever else Wade is going to say is cut short when Nate surges down and kisses him. It's just as rough and dirty as the rest of what Nate is doing to him, and it goes on and on. When Nate’s tongue finally stops absolutely ravaging Wade’s mouth, it’s only to separate far enough to order, “Come.”
Wade does. If he thought that not coming from willpower alone shouldn’t be possible, then the opposite is even more inconceivable. There’s no progression, no warning. It’s ripped out of him in an instant. Every muscle in his body spasms, and he's painting his chest white as his eyes roll back in his head. Nate makes a noise between a yell and a curse and then is shuddering and grinding against him.
Wade’s heart is hammering. He’s floating. He doesn’t have a single thought in his head, only sensation and pulling in gasp after gasp of breath. Nate apparently knows how to make him finally shut up, and it’s through mind-blowing forced orgasm. He’s twitching and moaning helplessly, hands still pinned by nothing over his head, while Nate grinds it in deeper and then finally goes still, panting next to his ear.
Eventually Nate carefully pulls out and unfolds Wade, and then he grabs a corner of a sheet to wipe off Wade’s chest before collapsing half on top of him. Only then does Wade finally come back to himself.
“Oh my god. Oh my god! That was amazing. Except for the honesty.” Wade can feel his face growing hot. “And the coming on command part, that was ninety percent amazing and ten percent torture. I'm really sorry I did that to you a couple times when you couldn’t tell me if you actually liked it. If you were trying to teach me a lesson, I don’t think it worked. You'd better kiss me again, or I'm going to start telling you how much I love you. God damn it. Please kiss me? Unless you still hate me, in which case I swear I’m going to start crying and that’s going to be embarrassing for both of us but especially for me and–”
Nate does kiss him. He kisses with the intensity of a man trying to convey a great many feelings. Or one who is trying to keep Wade from talking. Probably both.
The instant they separate, Wade continues, completely undeterred, “So, the hate fucking helped? Do I have a chance with you?” The last is said very anxiously, and, very much not for the first time, Wade really wishes he could shut up.
Nate groans and flops onto his back. “Yes. It helped. It was actually better than I remembered,” he adds, sounding a little shocked.
Wade snickers, and rolls on his side, propped up on one elbow to look down at Nate. “I’m a hot piece of ass. I mean, if you can look past the microwaved Ken doll exterior.”
Nate sighs. “I’m still pissed that it happened and I’m going to need some time to work through it, but I believe you didn’t do it intentionally,” he says, and Wade’s heart does a little flip-flop, because only Nate can let Wade’s bullshit wash over him and then say precisely the thing that Wade needs to hear.
“Oh. I mean. That seems fair.” Wade’s mind is spinning. “I’m glad you figured out you like me. Wait, I said the ‘love’ word out loud. More than once. Oh fuck. In this one very specific context and way, I think you really suck, bee tee dubs.”
“How lucky for me it’s only this one way,” Nate says dryly.
“I am a complicated man with complicated emotions,” Wade says with as much dignity as a man with cum leaking out of his ass can manage. “And fuck you, I am legitimately freaking out right now because I feel vulnerable. Do you love me? Fucking fuck I hate this, for once in my life I want to shut up more than other people want me to shut up.”
“Give me a chance to get used to liking you first before I answer that,” Nate says, but he rolls onto his side and kisses Wade very gently. Or maybe he kisses him very cautiously, like he is, in fact, still getting used to it.
Wade pouts into the kiss, because that’s a bullshit non-answer. As soon as he can talk again, he says, “Well, at least you decided you like me. If I hadn’t fucked up and tossed this thing on you, you never would have figured that out. Speaking of which, are you going to let me take it off?” He looks slightly panicked. “I guess there might be benefits of keeping it on. I really would be your pet mercenary and I’d always come to heel when you told me, no more peeing on the rug, metaphorical or literal.” He claps a hand over his mouth, and it’s very muffled but unfortunately still understandable when he says, “I wouldn’t mind, or at least, not as much as you'd think I would. I mean, I’d be ashamed that I was just your toy and your possession but I’d also love it, because I wouldn’t have to try to be good, I'd just be good, exactly what you wanted me to be.” Then, lowering his hand, “Nate, please, tell me to stop oversharing, I’m begging you.”
Nate looks intrigued but also tugs at the chain. “Take this off,” he says.
Wade scrambles hurriedly to grab the chain, which obligingly lengthens and thins and then he’s lifting it over his head. It feels like coming up for air when he hadn’t even realized he was underwater and the full weight of words and actions slams into him. “Oh shit,” he whispers. The sex he can deal with, even with the shame of how Nate had used him and he’d liked it. But the words, oh shit, the words. He had probably needed to tell Nate some of that stuff, but he’d shared so much. Some of that shit he’d never even admitted to himself.
“Breathe, Wade,” Nate says, gently taking the chain out of his hands and then pulling Wade closer.
Wade closes his eyes and tucks his face against Nate’s chest. “I’m going to actually shut up for a while now,” he mutters, and then does just that. He focuses on the smell of Nate's skin and the tickle of hair against his nose and the gentle rise and fall of Nate's chest and the glorious freedom of keeping his thoughts to himself.
Lying here with Nate feels fragile. Nothing is guaranteed. Nate doesn’t have to be agreeable, or gentle, or accommodating. Wade has no control over the situation or Nate or whether this works out. At least the same is true for Nate: the only control he has over Wade is what Wade willingly gives him. Wade doesn’t have to toe the line for Nate. Wade doesn’t have to give him the truth unless he wants to. Wade can choose what he wants to give Nate.
It's not an easier way to be, but it is better.