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“Oh, god… Please, Wade, please,” you whimper so sweetly that he thinks he’s gonna need dentures by the end of the night. His boxers— the only thing he’s wearing right now, after some coaxing from you —are feeling tighter and tighter by the minute.
He looks up at you from between your propped-open legs. You’re trying desperately not to squirm and you fail when your eyes meet, biting your bottom lip and curling your fingers in the sheets a little tighter.
“Please?” you ask again, softer. He grins against your inner thigh before nipping at it and making you yelp softly. The flush of the bite fades quickly, just like the dozens of hickies he’d tried to give you before realizing dinner (his blood) was still coursing through you enough to ensure that no wound, no matter how lovingly given, would remain for a meaningful amount of time.
“Oh, you are just too much. I should be the one begging you to let me do this,” he says with a chuckle, hooking his fingers in your last article of clothing and pulling it off. With your soaked underwear out of the way, he can see what soaked it — a rose between your legs in a delectable shade, dripping with nectar.
He eases closer. You two have talked about this subject enough for him to know he’s not your first, but he’s still got an edge over you in age and experience, so he’s not in any rush. This is just the beginning.
But then, as soon as his breath is fanning over your most delicate, private place…
You shriek out a “No!” and kick him in the face.
Resetting his nose, he gets up from where you launched him off the bed.
“I’ll take ‘Under-Negotiated Kinks’ for $500, Alex,” he remarks, but seeing your stricken expression, he quickly realizes humor really isn’t the way to deal with whatever the fuck just happened. “Are you okay? You could’ve just said something if you’re not feeling it, babe.”
“Sorry, I- I panicked.”
“I… Figured that one out, hon.”
“Right,” you sigh, burying your face in your hands with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I just- It just occurred to me that you might not be able to do that.”
“Uh, princess, let me assure you, I most certainly am able to do that. I’m quite good at it, actually. I have a 4.8 star rating on Yelp.”
“No, I meant-” You look up at him with a groan before shuffling further back on the bed and curling up defensively, to hide yourself from him. That certainly won’t do. “Fuck, this is humiliating…”
“It smelled fine, I’m sure it tastes even better. And I like it the way you’ve got it; honestly, I’d be cool with it if you didn’t shave or trim at all, let it grow out! Makes a man feel rugged, and besides, at least one of us should have hair.”
“Not- Not that, Wade, I mean- The- The stuff down there, the… Organic lube, discharge, whatever you wanna call it… It’s got plasma in it. Y’know. Like blood.”
“Oh,” he squeaks. “So, there’s a good chance I literally won’t be able to do that.”
“Yeah,” you breathe, still grimacing. “I’m so sorry.”
“Whoa, hey, wait a minute,” he chides you. “First of all, you might have just saved my life. Secondly, as much of a cunning linguist as I am, I can live without it. Thirdly, we don’t know for sure. Have you ever gotten someone’s powers from mumbling in the moss?”
“Mumbling in the-” Despite your mortification, you giggle, shaking your head. “That’s a new one. I… Actually kind of love it. But no, not unless they were on their period.”
“Well, it doesn’t burn you, as far as I can tell. Has anyone ever gotten healed up by going pearl diving with you?”
“Not that I know of,” you admit, seeing what he’s getting at. “But-“
Your concerns, while valid, are swallowed by him as soon as he effortlessly drags your bottom half to the edge of the bed and his mouth engulfs your pulsing heat. It doesn’t take you long to get close, every poke and flick and swirl of his tongue making your thighs press harder against the sides of his head.
You moan between gasps, your grip on the sheets only growing tighter.
“Fuck, ‘m gonna… So…”
He draws back and you have to bite back a groan at the denial, though it emanates from your throat just enough for your frustration to be heard.
“Just wanted to point out how alive and well I am,” he assures you, standing over you now, but his grin is far too mischievous. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
“And what a relief it is,” you sigh out, because yes, it is a relief, but you’re going to need a different form of it. Then he slides two fingers in and once he curls them, you let out a noise that is the most devastatingly needy thing either of you has ever heard.
“Uh-oh, did I find your good girl button? Not that I really need to press it, you’re awfully sweet, but I sure do like to watch your brain melt out of your ears. What do you think?”
“Ghk, mmn, fuh-uck, Wade…” Your legs part wider as your hips twitch against him, seeking more, more, more.
“Not thinking much at all. Perfect!”
He sinks back down to his knees, still coiling his fingers deep inside, before reintroducing his tongue to your most sensitive place.
You get quieter as you get closer, keening whines devolving into precious little squeaks as your legs twitch and stutter around him.
Then, with a harsh gasp, you break his fingers. He holds in the reflexive whimper just long enough for you to do it again. And again.
Not that you meant to, of course. Your walls are closing in on him, your insides pulsing with the force of your orgasm, and again, your dinner was his blood. The superstrength has not worn off yet.
Once he’s worked you through it, he carefully pulls his shattered digits out. The crackling of him orienting them back into place snaps you out of your post-orgasm daze in the blink of an eye.
You sit straight up, hand flying to your agape mouth.
“Oh, my god, Wade, I’m so sorry, are you-“
“Still alive and well, beautiful. Totally worth it… But I’d rather not see the same happen to my undercarriage — you understand, right?”
You nod fretfully before you gesture to the aching bulge in his boxers, a soaked spot of precome prominent.
“I can still, uh… Return the favor. Just no deepthroating, I’m guessing,” you suggest with a sheepish smile.
“Much appreciated,” he concurs as he climbs up onto your bed. He’s under you in an instant, and you’re kissing him, ravishing his neck just as fervently as he did yours at the start of all this. You trace your tongue along the ridges of his scarred skin with an intoxicating mix of reverence and lust that only makes him throb harder.
Your drenched core is pressed against him through his boxers, and it’s tempting to just give in to the urge to bury himself in you, as excruciating as it would come to be once you reached the peak of bliss. You tease his neck with your teeth, and his hands tangle in your hair. Simultaneously, a delightful moan escapes him.
“Oh, I can’t possibly take another bite,” you rasp against his swirled skin. “I’m already so full… And I’d really like it if I could be filled up with something else later, wouldn’t you?”
He lets out a string of breathless, incoherent babble, his hips lifting to press himself harder against you.
It’s a rush unlike anything else you’ve ever known. He is. It was always him. There was never another option — you even had the foolish idea to try, more than once, to make it work with other people.
But no. No. This is everything you’ve ever wanted, even if you’re having to take things slower than you’d planned tonight.
You tug down his boxers, deftly teasing his length with your slick cleft.
“Gotta season the meat before you eat, huh?” he asks shakily, his brown eyes wide with need as his chest heaves. His hands snap to your hips, stilling them. Bruises left by his force appear before swiftly cycling out: red, purple, yellow, gone. A whiny sigh escapes him.
“I do quite enjoy my own cooking,” you reply in a murmur. “Especially the way it tastes on you. But you gotta let go if I’m gonna get down there, Wade. Can you let go?”
“Let it marinate,” he says just as quietly, still staring at your core, pressed against him in the most torturously tantalizing way, before he looks up to meet your eyes. “Fuck...”
“In a bit. Maybe I can down some water to speed up the process. Not before you’ve had your turn, though.”
“No, just- Is it even possible? For two people to be this perfect for each other? This doesn’t even feel real.”
“I broke your nose. And your fingers,” you remind him with a soft chuckle, if only to make sure he doesn’t completely lose himself; if only to confirm once more that he really doesn’t mind.
“Small price to pay to know you’re well-fed and comfortable, I’d say,” he replies, and while a bit of his usual lightheartedness returns, there’s an undercurrent of something in his tone that tells you that he means it wholeheartedly. His grip on your hips finally loosens, and you work your way down his body before taking him into your mouth.
Wade’s hands return to your hair, less haphazardly than before. He pushes it out of your face, before reaching down to caress your cheek.
“Easy on the suction, baby,” he warns you in a rushed squeak. You hum in acknowledgment and look up to watch the way his soul nearly leaves his body.
Even with you being careful not to literally suck him off, it doesn’t take long for him to unravel — his grip tightens in your hair, but he courteously doesn’t force himself deeper. He just needs something to cling to as his ecstasy pumps into you.
Once he’s no longer audibly shuddering and you can see more than the whites of his eyes, he gently tugs you away just to pull you back in, though higher up than before. He wraps you in his arms with a long, pleased sigh.
“Our strengths and skillsets continue to be complimentary to each other,” he remarks, nuzzling the top of your head and breathing in the sweet musk that is you. He’s seemingly sated.
You’re practically vibrating. From your perspective, it’s a miracle you didn’t turn into a useless, blushing mess the second he got hard — the rest is just icing on the cake. And now you’re cuddling. Naked.
It’s by no means the first time you’ve done this, but it’s the first time with him, and that… Well, that means a lot, considering you’ve been pining after him for basically as long as you’ve had the capability to be truly attracted to someone.
That restless energy ebbs away as he continues to hold you in place, the silence becoming tense after the first five minutes.
“Surely, I’m not that good,” you softly prompt him. “What’s going on? I didn’t hurt you again, did I?”
He shakes his head, holding you a little tighter.
“No, just still stuck on the fact that you’re… Well, you. And you actually want… Well, me.”
“Think you’ll ever get unstuck on that? I haven’t managed to escape the inverse, I could use some tips,” you reply, smiling against him.
Soon enough, though, you’re tapping out by gently patting his chest. He loosens his grip, a wrinkle of concern between where his eyebrows would be.
“Showtime. Be right back,” you tell him in a giddy whisper, wriggling out of his embrace and heading to the attached bathroom.
When you return, though, he’s pretending to be asleep. You can tell he’s pretending by the way his breathing sounds, the way he holds himself. It’s too measured, he’s too still.
You really messed up, didn’t you? You’d asked if he was okay multiple times, and he brushed you off, so clearly he wanted this, but…
Were you too eager? Too nervous? Too loud? Too quiet? Too needy? Too aloof?
You look down at your body. Maybe you’re not his type? Even if the emotional connection is there, if you’re big and small in the “wrong” places, he might’ve been trying to force himself to enjoy the physical.
You turn back around and head for the shower, still balmy with sweat and not wanting to disturb him with the scent of your tears burning your cheeks.
As you scrub yourself down, self-deprecating thoughts continue to plague you. You’re never gonna feel fully at home in this body. You still haven’t had it for as long as you were the way you were before. Maybe that’s what it was. Maybe he could sense that you aren’t fully in tune with yourself, and that turned him off.
He’s actually asleep when you return, and you settle down on the opposite side of your bed feeling more alone than if he weren’t there at all.
The sound of Wade saying your name in a careful, inquisitive tone is what wakes you. You're not sure why he sounds so concerned until the memories of last night come rushing back in. Damn it, you’d hoped you’d wake up before he did, that you’d eat before he could see how you felt.
“Damn it. This is exactly what I was worried about,” he mutters, and your stomach drops. You’re too emotional, then? Was that the issue? You didn’t think you’d been exceptionally difficult last night, well, other than panicking and kicking him in the face, but he didn’t seem to mind that too much once he understood… Or maybe he just pretended he didn’t mind. “We don’t have to do anything like that ever again.”
“O- Okay,” you stammer in the face of his disappointed expression. “I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head, pulling you into his arms just as he did last night.
“No, I am,” he says. He really hated it that much? Why didn’t he say anything?
“Do you want me to, uh, make you breakfast? Or we can go out?”
“Oh, no, that’s okay. I’ve got a job to get to. Honestly, I probably should’ve left sooner, but I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving my little cuddlebunny on her lonesome,” he coos, his embrace tightening around you before he lets go. He presses a big kiss to your cheek, then heaves himself out of bed to suit up.
“There’s a spare toothbrush and all that in the bathroom,” you tell him. He nods, heading that way. At least he doesn’t hate you, even if he apparently hates having sex with you. He did put it off for a while… Maybe you two can have an open relationship or something.
When he comes back, you’re sitting up in bed and contemplating everything that’s happened over the last 12 hours. It must show in your expression, because he hums fretfully, smooching your forehead.
“I’ll be back before you know it, ‘kay? Get some more rest.”
With that, he’s out the door.
He returns a few days later, baddies unalived and wallet bulging, to be smacked upside the head by a rolled-up Fangoria.
“You fucking moron,” Ellie spits at him.
“Jesus Christ on a bike, the fuck did I do?! I literally just got here!”
Ellie scoffs, rolling her eyes.
“You know what you did.”
“Oh. Right. Girls talk about that stuff. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t really realize until after that it probably wasn’t a good idea to add my name to that list.”
“That list? Seriously?! You literally almost married a sex worker, and now you’re acting like she of all people is, what, too much of a slut for you?!”
“Whoa, whoa, no! I meant that list of people who always fucking- They take and they take and they don’t even think about it! They’d drain her dry if it didn’t mean she’d fucking die, they keep her alive just so they can take more! They use her body for their own selfish benefit, I can’t stand it!”
Ellie’s furious expression dissipates.
“Oh,” she says quietly. “We have a problem. You have a problem. Do you know where Conference Room E is?”
“I could probably find it, yeah.”
Ellie scoffs and rolls her eyes.
“Just follow me. I should probably check on them anyway, and if they think it’s just me, they’ll unlock the door without erasing the evidence.”
“Evidence?” Wade echoes inquisitively, but Ellie just shakes her head as they proceed.
“You’ll see. Still a fucking moron, by the way.”
“What-“
“Shh!” she hisses. They pass the library and make a right in silence, reaching the last door on the left, the placard outside reading Conference Room E as promised. Ellie knocks.
“We have the room booked until three, sorry!” Yukio chirps.
“It’s me,” Ellie speaks up, and Yukio opens the door. Ellie gently nudges her aside, and Wade enters to see you standing in front of a whiteboard.
There’s a multi-Venn Diagram, the outer ring of circles listing Wolverine, Stefan Salvatore, Bowl of Cherries, Vanessa, Stuffed Unicorn, and Spider-Man. He can’t read what’s in the center, but the intersections have notes in different colors — pink is clearly Yukio, yellow is Ellie, and there’s notes in your favorite color, too.
“I’m stumped. I think it’s clear based on this sampling that I have things in common with the people, fictional characters, and inanimate objects he’s expressed sexual attraction to, but what do they all have in common that I don’t have?”
“Um,” Yukio squeaks, looking between you and Wade. He steps forward, resting his head on top of yours and his hands on your shoulders.
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding here,” he says, finding “Me,” written smack dab in the middle of the center circle.
“Shit,” you murmur. “You’re back.”
“Uh-huh... Now, I can draw my own conclusions based on what I’ve already heard, but how about you explain all this to me, yeah?” he asks, releasing one of your shoulders to gesture to the board.
“Well…” you start, and he can practically hear the grimace in your voice. You flinch when the door shuts loudly behind you, and Wade turns to see that Ellie and Yukio have left. “The other night, y’know… You weren’t happy. With what we did. With me. I just thought maybe if I could figure out why-”
He opens his mouth to argue, and while that alone stops you from continuing, you silence him with a look.
“You pretended to be asleep,” you insist, finally fully turning around to face him. Thankfully, there are no more scarred tear trails down your cheeks, but that doesn’t tell him much considering your thermos is on a nearby stool.
“Right. Again: Misunderstanding. I… I didn’t want to be- Everyone’s always taking stuff from you, from your body. Using you. You even told me that when you first started looking like this, you were having to deal with people ogling you. I didn’t- I don’t- I can’t… I would hate myself even more than I already do if I ever made you feel that way.”
You stare up at him in shock, perhaps even awe. He reaches past you and starts erasing the board, huffing in amusement at a few of the notes as he goes. As soon as he sets the eraser down, you’re hugging him.
“Just talk to me next time,” he says through a sigh, running his hands over your hair.
“I could say the same to you,” you grumble into his chest. “There’s a big difference, y’know, between you and the people you’re comparing yourself to: I love you.”
“I could say the same to you.”
You hug him tighter, chuckling against him.
“So… Maybe it’s a bad time to ask, but-“
“Yes,” you interrupt him. “As soon as possible.”
“Awesome, do you want to drive or should I?”
“Drive?”
“Yeah? I mean, we could have we could have the pizza delivered, but then we run the risk of somebody intercepting it, so…” he trails off, noticing the way you step back from him and your poorly-hidden glaring. “Oh. You were saying yes to something else. Really?”
“Yes, really, I’ve been waiting for the last half decade!” you huff, cheeks flushing at his skepticism as you defensively continue: “I’m in peak physical condition all the time, you know what that’s like!”
“Yep, understood. I’ll clear my calendar for the next thirty-six hours.”
“Make it seventy-two.”
“In that case, pizza first? We can’t all have a liquid diet.”
“If you insist.”