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24 April 2009 @ 02:09 am
I Can't Believe It's Porn! [Marvel]  

Title: I Can’t Believe It’s Not Porn!

Disclaimer: Any and all characters displayed in this fic are the property of Marvel and the animation studio that did this short. No copyright infringement intended. Just playing in the sandbox.

Fandom: Marvel

Continuity: Hulk vs. Wolverine.

Characters: Deadpool, Omega Red

Summary: So, how do you feel about tentacle porn? Pretty goddamn good.

Warnings: Slash, wallsex and tentacles.

Author’s Note: Ha, ha, this is why I veer off from the sexytimes most times.  I am so ashamed.  But hey, I tried, right? Right?





“Red, don’t, just don’t, just don’t, ah fuck—”


Rossovich wonders if Deadpool knows what he’s saying – and immediately revises it to wonder if he ever knows what he’s saying. Still, it’s nice, in a way, and that’s the only thing that stops him from strangling the idiot into perfect silence. Though he is tempted, sorely, when Deadpool manages to knee him in the sternum. But he takes it in stride like the gentleman he is, cracking the idiot’s head against the wall twice to daze him and once more for catharsis.


Wilson’s head rolls on his neck like he’s made of rubber, but Omega Red can clearly see the grin stretching under his mask. He’s a sick dog, Rossovich thinks, but that doesn’t stop him from grinding against the captive body before him. 


Not as if he could truly hurt him; Deadpool is one of those indestructible constants in his life, like cold or hunger or pieces of popcorn getting stuck in one’s teeth. And what’s the harm, then, of drawing off a little of that endless energy, just little sips that are either unnoted or unchallenged – it doesn’t matter one way or another, really.


“Aw, man, you know I don’t do the kinky stuff on the first date,” Deadpool croaks, hips working against Rossovich’s thigh, trying to get as much as he can before he is denied. This is the way it is; quick and fumbling, just enough to get them off but never long enough to be called any breed of intimacy. “Pull out that Doc-Ock shit and let’s get this show on the road!”


“No,” Rossovich growls, even if they are already out and writhing in excitement. He pushes Deadpool hard up against the wall, at arm’s length, enjoying the protracted whine at the loss of contact. “We do this my way, Wilson, or not at all.”


“What, your way? Your way is boring. Your way has no bumpin’. I swear I will turn this fine piece of scarred ass around and we will both go home without embarrassing stains. And you can just explain that to the drycleaner yourself.”


Rossovich smiles, slides the very tip of tentacle along Wilson’s throat, toying with the edge of the mask; he knows what Deadpool likes – mask half up, skin on skin if he can manage it – and it gives Rossovich no end of satisfaction to deny him it.


The prattling idiot stops, shivers, leans in a failed attempt to either rub his cheek on Rossovich’s exploratory appendage or bite it, and both are appealing in their own way. “C’mon,” Deadpool wheezes, “Lemme just…”


Careful to avoid anything but the barest touch, Rossovich tugs up the lip of the mask, drawing it up to rest on the bridge of Deadpool’s nose. Wilson’s head tilts to follow the motion, mouth ajar and rapid breaths panting warm against the cooler surface of Rossovich’s extraneous limb.  His tongue flicks out, trying to get a taste, a lick, something, but Rossovich has already moved away, toying with a hem here, a buckle there, all the while encircling, snaring…


“You fucking tease.”


Unexpectedly, Wilson twists in his grip, swinging a leg up toward his head in what would have been a devastating kick if he hadn’t slammed the pest senseless against the wall before he was even halfway there. Deadpool knows Rossovich likes the fight – though perhaps he meant it, really intended to knock Rossovich down and make his getaway. And that thought makes it even better. “Try harder,” Omega Red reprimands, and slips a tentacle down to the front of Wilson’s pants, toying with the buckle just enough to torment.


“Ain’t it happy-fun-time yet?” Deadpool asks brightly, unaffected by yet another blow to the skull, and angles his hips as best he can, held up against the wall as he is. “Are we getting to it or what? You know I love the foreplay, but I’ve got things to do, people to see, sniktbubs to bother and and and,” He makes a thin whine as the belt comes loose, rattling to the floor, and Rossovich decides to continue his southerly intrusion with a little more force, slithering in to wrap around Deadpool's obvious arousal. There is a wonderful moment of silence, punctuated only by a trailing whine. Wilson's mouth makes a crooked shape, a slanting line that suggests a smile even when it's not. “Fudge and crackers, mister, naughty puppet show!”


“This has nothing to do with puppets,” Rossovich replies, wishing that, for once, Deadpool could remain focused.


“It could. Anything can be improved with the addition of puppets. C-crimoney. You perv— you just like seeing me get off,” Deadpool pants, sing-song and sly, arching up, feet kicking for the leverage to wrest back control even though they both know he won’t get it. “Oh, no, help me, I need an adult—”


“Shut up, Wilson,” Rossovich growls, and squeezes just to remind him who exactly is in control right now.


Deadpool laughs breathlessly, and curves his back in a way no living human should be able to. “Hey. Hnn! Hey, Red, you’re touching my no-no place. Want me to call ya daddy?” He only laughs harder as Rossovich rolls his eyes. “I can squeal real nice. I bet you like that kind of stuff, you naughty boy you. Tell me I’m the prettiest pri—shwissh?” Fortunately, the impromptu gag of a tentacle, wrapped firmly around his head, anchoring his jaw, is enough to halt the stream of consciousness. Deadpool tries to speak regardless, unperturbed by the measures taken. Omega Red smiles in satisfaction—


And shudders, as Wilson’s warm, wet tongue slides along the metal, teasing and wanting and testing and the sensation shooting straight to his groin.  Dammit dammit dammit, he wasn’t ready for that part yet. Not at all.


“Oh shool, shoo kin fweel et,” Deadpool manages, writhing happily and lapping at the tentacle like dog or a whore or some combination thereof. “Shastes wike baw-wah-wees. Shish es kinna shick, weawy, et goesh insho shoor ‘rm an’ awl oh fshuuuck—” Rossovich has found the right tempo, the right pressure, and what little coherency there was is immediately gone, and Deadpool bucks wildly in his grasp.


This is the point where it’s safe enough to pull Wilson lower – though still flush to the wall and wrapped tight as Omega Red can manage – and remove the improvised bit.


“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Red, don’t you stop, don’t you fucking stooooop—!”


The struggle feels so nice – right up against him, arching and fighting and succumbing by inches until Deadpool forgets his initial intention entirely, and just squirms and thrashes against Rossovich madly, straining for every bit of flesh he can reach. Rossovich could barely help himself, drawing off more and more of that seemingly limitless source of life – there was a reason why he allowed these liaisons, after all, beyond the petty games. And then Deadpool’s thigh is wonderful and solid and sliding up between his legs, and his teeth find the junction between shoulder and throat and quite unexpectedly Rossovich's hands are around Wilson’s neck and squeezing


They freeze there, for a moment, for a handful of choked breaths before Rossovich’s hold slackens and Deadpool slips free to land awkwardly half-crouched and half-slumped against the wall, fingers clutching at his trousers. “What a jackass,” he croaks, rubbing his throat briefly before reaching down to retrieve his belt. 


Rossovich grunts, and leans his head up against the wall, chest still warm from Deadpool’s body heat. Wilson is still grumbling somewhere at his feet, and Rossovich musingly considers kicking him for good measure when the babble suddenly cuts off, and Deadpool raises his hand in a jolly wave.


“Howdy Logan! What’s up?”


Sonuvabitch. Rossovich jerks away, pivoting about to face—


Wolverine stands at the end of the hall, lips twisted in disgust and a cigar partway to his mouth. His narrow eyes shift from the cheerfully disheveled Wilson and up to Rossovich, then back again. He grunts, and turns to head back the way he came from, cigar still unlit.


Deadpool scrambles to his feet again, adjusting his mask as he calls, “What? You can choke me too if you want—”


Rossovich holds a hand to his face, rubbing at the hollows at the corner of each eye. “Wilson.”




“Shut up.”

Current Mood: embarrassedembarrassed
asreal01asreal01 on June 7th, 2009 05:59 am (UTC)
OMG do you know how much I wanted Deadpool/Omega Red after seeing that movie?!?!?! The chocking, the tentacles. GUH!

You MUST share this (and all your Deadpool stories BTW) far and wide across the interweb. I only stumbled upon yourself when I was playing 'click on random links' on ffnet!

Please, please, please post your stuff at cabledeadpool, esp. this series. *begggsssss*
burnedtoasty: YAYburnedtoasty on June 7th, 2009 07:03 pm (UTC)
Oh, good. I was beginning to think I was crazy for writing/liking the idea of Deadpool/Omega Red. Glad you liked it!

Isn't that community specifically Cable/Deadpool pairing-oriented stories only?
asreal01asreal01 on June 8th, 2009 12:11 am (UTC)
Nah...the fandom is pretty small so I think any and all Deadpool slash fics are welcome. Someone posted movie Logan/Wade there and nobody objected or anything :)

I'm sure everyone in the comm will get a kick out of Deadpool/Omega Red. Maybe you'll inspire more fics because lord knows there can never be too many fics with Deadpool and tentacles ^.^
sarkywoman: Deadpool sinistersarkywoman on June 12th, 2009 04:47 pm (UTC)
OMG I love that! 'Tell me I'm the prettiest princess' cracks me up everytime. I wonder how he'd react if someone did...
burnedtoasty: SRSLY.burnedtoasty on June 13th, 2009 06:47 pm (UTC)
I'm torn between saying he'd probably laugh his ass off and ruin the mood, or start talking in a high, effeminate voice for the rest of the night/week/month, just to be a jerk.
sarkywomansarkywoman on June 14th, 2009 02:52 am (UTC)
See, the kink in me likes to think he'd totally get off on playing princess.
hohaiyeehohaiyee on June 23rd, 2009 06:55 pm (UTC)
Cable/Deadpool Crackpot
Wade is the princess, Weasel is a prince he grows up with, and Nate is the dragon-like thing (just Nate with a lot of tentacles) that kidnapped Wade and held him at Providence. So Weasel goes to find Wade, only to find that Wade really doesn't mind being Nate's prisoner, at all.
Randi's Fanfiction Journalalternatedoom on August 28th, 2009 08:47 pm (UTC)
I loved this! I'm glad I'm not the only one who watched Hulk vs. Wolverine and had dirty Omega Red/Deadpool thoughts.

You give good tentacle porn. *nods*
Anne-Elisaetrangere on December 12th, 2010 05:07 pm (UTC)