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Cable takes them back to his bedroom and pushes Deadpool back onto the bed, smothering his mouth with a kiss because that seems to be the only way to get him to shut up. He’s surprised that even that works, but he gets Deadpool’s fingers tangling in the hair at the back of his head, holding him close with a grip that is firm and demanding. Cable yields to it, bearing down upon Deadpool with all his weight. The material of Deadpool’s mask rasps against him, pushed up only to his nose to give Cable access to his mouth.
Cable’s hand travels down Deadpool’s body, over his torso before he reaches his hips and yanks Deadpool up and closer to him, the pair of them fitting together like they were always supposed to do. Deadpool moves like a wild animal, thrashing beneath him as they kiss, pinned in place only by Cable’s weight as he touches and grabs anything he can get his hands on.
Telekinetically, Cable takes Deadpool’s hands and eases them away, pressing them down against the mattress and holding them there. Deadpool wiggles against him some more. “I think you really haven’t got this hang of this yet,” Deadpool says, turning his head away from Cable’s mouth just so that he can speak. Cable grazes his lips against the stubble along Deadpool’s jaw, skimming over his scarred skin before he picks a spot and sucks. “Audience participation. You’re not supposed to throw me down and grope me.”
Cable sucks on the skin in his mouth, only releasing it with a sharp nip. “Why not?”
“Because I am not a heroine in a bodice-ripper,” Deadpool insists. “I’m not wearing the right outfit. No bodice. No ripping.”
“I’ll make do,” Cable assures him, allowing the familiar rhythms of Deadpool’s voice rolling over him as he winds his way lower down. He peels the neck of Deadpool’s outfit away so that he can reach the vulnerable hollow of his throat. He can feel every word as a vibration against his lips.
His telekinesis ripples wider and he begins to pull away the red fabric separating himself from Deadpool’s skin, only to have Deadpool suddenly jerk beneath him and thrash, shoving him off while he wrestles to keep his costume on. Watching Deadpool spin and fight the air around him is almost enough to be funny, but Cable isn’t laughing. He pulls back - body and powers both.
“Wade…”
“Nope, no, no way. If you’re wanting to get a piece of this action, then the suit is staying on. You don’t see me trying to take off your skin, do you?”
“The suit isn’t your skin,” Cable points out.
“Might as well be. Better that way. Believe me, you do not want to see what’s lurking under here. It’s like melted cheese.”
“I’ve seen it before.”
“Not like this, when we're supposed to be having fun sexy naked times. Nooooo, we’re keeping it on and that way everybody’s happy.”
“That way nobody’s happy,” Cable insists. “Take it off.”
“Do you really think you’re going to win this argument?”
“I think I can persuade you to take the suit off if I let you keep the mask on.” Cable stares into the black, unreadable patches where Deadpool’s eyes should be. He can’t tell what he’s thinking: he wishes so badly that he could reach out and pluck the thoughts from his mind once more.
“I can keep my face?” Deadpool asks.
“If you lose the suit,” Cable promises.
It works, just as Cable knew it would. He knows Deadpool so well by now; he doesn’t really need telepathy to read his thoughts. The suit comes off and the mask stays behind, allowing Cable to touch Deadpool’s skin and make him writhe and sob beneath him. Deadpool only gets louder when he’s coming. For Cable, that comes as absolutely no surprise.