Dream Together
Jan. 4th, 2020 10:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
queenkatyastarTitle: Dream Together
Author: Katya Starling
Dedicated To: My beloved J, who's a huge Deadpool fan (This was one of my birthday presents to him last year.)
Fandom: X-Men/Deadpool
Characters/Pairing: Deadpool/Siryn
Rating: R/M
Word Count: 1,491
Date Written: 13 August 2019
Warnings: None
Summary: Maybe it's time they stopped running, and started doing things together.
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
He unconsciously turned his head as he slid the last of his needed bombs into pouches on his belt. He flipped the lids closed, securing them with barely a thought. All his thoughts had, in fact, come to a screeching halt in favor of one. Emotions tightened in his throat; he blinked them back and swallowed hard. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't yet. He could have, he knew, if it had been any other woman laying on his bed, any woman but her.
The reddish orange rays of the setting sun cascading over her fiery red hair didn't help either. For one long moment, all Wade wanted to do was say fuck the world -- which, granted, was nothing new for him. The new part came in along with the reason why he wanted to tell everybody else in the whole fucking world to fuck off. He wanted to climb back in that bed, hold that gorgeous woman in his arms, and make love to her -- or even just hold her while she continued to sleep. The fact was, quite simply, that he did not want to leave her.
"Take a picture," she murmured, her Irish brogue thick. "It'll last longer."
He cracked a wide grin. "That's what I love about you, Red. You always have a sense of humor."
"Really?" She quirked an eyebrow upward and looked at him through one beautiful, emerald green eye. "An' here'n I thought it was me body."
He whistled. "That certainly doesn't hurt." Actually he was starting to love a great many things about her, which was down right dangerous in their line of work.
She propped herself up on her elbows. "So where'n ye headed? I know we're just in a shitty hotel room, but I kinda did nae expect tae find ye bein' th' one gone."
He understood what she hadn't said. The words she had not spoken aloud were that she was the one who intended to be the one who was gone when he woke up. He felt almost shy suddenly before her gaze, something Wade Wilson did not do. "Well, you know," he shrugged, "places to go, asses to kick, people to kill -- "
"Ye've got an assignment."
"Yeah." A long moment stretched between them during which he watched emotions flicker in her bright eyes. He dared not identify them. He dared not try to recognize them. He damn sure dared not hope they were the same ones that had been beating within his chest all night.
What was wrong with him? he pondered. He knew better than this. He didn't do long term relationships. He didn't do serious. That crap never worked out. He'd get them killed or, possibly worse, they'd leave him of their own choosing and take a part of him with them. He could regrow anything that was cut off with ease, but he was tired of losing parts of himself that weren't mere body parts. He'd rather cut off any part of his actual body. His mind flashed back to last night and the passionate night he and Terry had shared. He couldn't help the grin his mouth cocked upward into at the memories. Well, almost any part, he relented silently.
He shook off his reverie and walked with a bold swagger over to the gorgeous Irish lass before him. They'd been together so many times. Yet every time felt both new and better than the last. This woman did things to him that no other ever had, that he never thought anybody could. He'd thought that part of him that was making him feel things now had been cut off. He thought it was dead, unable to be mended. Yet being near her was dangerously threatening to do just that.
He was being a fool, and Deadpool and Mister T didn't suffer fools. He should just turn away, leave, and get his ass onto his mission -- or grab her, fuck her hard one more time, and then leave to kill his next target. Either way, he'd be leaving her, and these feelings, behind. But there'd still be there, he knew. They'd been secretly harboring inside of him ever since the last time she'd let him into her life, her arms, and her bed. Every bit of it had come flooding back last night the moment he'd kissed her. It wasn't going away easily this time.
But he was ugly, he thought. Despite everything he always claimed to the opposite, despite all his bravado, what the Hell did he have to offer her? He was even on the wrong side of the law, and although X-Force often walked opposite from the authorities themselves, they still believed in a dream he couldn't support. That Lollipop Dream of peaceful coexistence was never going to happen. It was better just to watch out for Numero Uno -- even if he damn sure did want to be able to watch out for her too.
"For what it's worth," he said gently, barely even aware he was speaking, "this one deserves to be killed."
"Ye're nae jest a mass murderer, Wade."
He scratched the back of his head. "Well . . . "
"Shut up." Those words from anybody else would have triggered a quick and snappy retort. He would have hurt them quickly with his mouth. Yet even as she said them, she said them with no malice and a smile and tone that would have made him willing to accept any words from that luscious, red mouth of hers. Yet he was still caught unprepared by her next words. "Take me wit' ye."
"Huh?!" He couldn't help it: his surprise was obvious even from beneath his red and black mask. "What?!"
She stood slowly, and he wondered if it was intentional as his eyes traveled slowly up her long, bare legs, her enticing core, her full breasts . . . He almost lost it as his gaze rested there for a moment. He almost rushed her and slammed her back into that bed and himself into her. But just before he could move to do that very thing, she spoke the words again. "Take me wit' ye. I'm tired o' living apart. I'm tired o' ne'er knowin' when I'm gonna see ye again. Ye knae, me Da may believe in Xavier's dream, an' I've tried an' all, but me uncle . . . "
"Your uncle was Black Tom. Not a good man." Neither was he. He didn't deserve her. He could never deserve her. He'd done so many dark things, so many horrible things, all for the sake of money and survival --
"I did nae say I wanted tae be like Tom either, Wade. We're not 'em. We're not what th' world thinks we are, an' we din't have tae be." He stood, frozen in place, as she walked toward him. "We din't have tae live by their dreams or their rules or even their laws. We can make our own. I want tae make our own," she stressed, gazing up into his eyes.
She touched his cheek and ran her long fingers down the side of his mask. She'd thought about this long and hard while they'd been apart, and she wasn't about to just let him go easily again. She wasn't going to let him go. His past didn't matter; their pasts didn't matter for she certainly hadn't been a Saint herself. All their differences didn't matter. She only wanted him, and a life with him.
He ached for the touch of her skin against his, and as though she knew, and yearning herself for there to be nothing between them, she slipped her fingers underneath his mask and caressed his cheek beneath. "I want tae make our own dream together." Her smile suddenly widened and brightened. "I may be full o' th' blarney or it may just be left o'er from last night. But I din't want tae be parted from ye, Wade, nae again. Whatever it takes, I'm willin' tae give it. Will ye dream wit' me?"
He felt like jumping. Emotions trumpeted through him. He wanted to bounce into the air and scream like a little kid. But he didn't want to ruin this moment. He'd just been given something he'd never thought he would. This beautiful woman actually wanted to try to make a life with him. He couldn't have asked for a better gift -- and he wasn't about to look this gift horse in the mouth!
"Hell yeah!" The target could wait. He grabbed her and bounced, with her held tightly in his arms, back onto the bed. The whole fucking world could wait. He'd just gotten what he wanted, and he wasn't letting it go. Terry shrilled with laughter as he buried his face in her breasts and himself inside of her, right where he finally felt like he belonged.
The End
Author: Katya Starling
Dedicated To: My beloved J, who's a huge Deadpool fan (This was one of my birthday presents to him last year.)
Fandom: X-Men/Deadpool
Characters/Pairing: Deadpool/Siryn
Rating: R/M
Word Count: 1,491
Date Written: 13 August 2019
Warnings: None
Summary: Maybe it's time they stopped running, and started doing things together.
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
He unconsciously turned his head as he slid the last of his needed bombs into pouches on his belt. He flipped the lids closed, securing them with barely a thought. All his thoughts had, in fact, come to a screeching halt in favor of one. Emotions tightened in his throat; he blinked them back and swallowed hard. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't yet. He could have, he knew, if it had been any other woman laying on his bed, any woman but her.
The reddish orange rays of the setting sun cascading over her fiery red hair didn't help either. For one long moment, all Wade wanted to do was say fuck the world -- which, granted, was nothing new for him. The new part came in along with the reason why he wanted to tell everybody else in the whole fucking world to fuck off. He wanted to climb back in that bed, hold that gorgeous woman in his arms, and make love to her -- or even just hold her while she continued to sleep. The fact was, quite simply, that he did not want to leave her.
"Take a picture," she murmured, her Irish brogue thick. "It'll last longer."
He cracked a wide grin. "That's what I love about you, Red. You always have a sense of humor."
"Really?" She quirked an eyebrow upward and looked at him through one beautiful, emerald green eye. "An' here'n I thought it was me body."
He whistled. "That certainly doesn't hurt." Actually he was starting to love a great many things about her, which was down right dangerous in their line of work.
She propped herself up on her elbows. "So where'n ye headed? I know we're just in a shitty hotel room, but I kinda did nae expect tae find ye bein' th' one gone."
He understood what she hadn't said. The words she had not spoken aloud were that she was the one who intended to be the one who was gone when he woke up. He felt almost shy suddenly before her gaze, something Wade Wilson did not do. "Well, you know," he shrugged, "places to go, asses to kick, people to kill -- "
"Ye've got an assignment."
"Yeah." A long moment stretched between them during which he watched emotions flicker in her bright eyes. He dared not identify them. He dared not try to recognize them. He damn sure dared not hope they were the same ones that had been beating within his chest all night.
What was wrong with him? he pondered. He knew better than this. He didn't do long term relationships. He didn't do serious. That crap never worked out. He'd get them killed or, possibly worse, they'd leave him of their own choosing and take a part of him with them. He could regrow anything that was cut off with ease, but he was tired of losing parts of himself that weren't mere body parts. He'd rather cut off any part of his actual body. His mind flashed back to last night and the passionate night he and Terry had shared. He couldn't help the grin his mouth cocked upward into at the memories. Well, almost any part, he relented silently.
He shook off his reverie and walked with a bold swagger over to the gorgeous Irish lass before him. They'd been together so many times. Yet every time felt both new and better than the last. This woman did things to him that no other ever had, that he never thought anybody could. He'd thought that part of him that was making him feel things now had been cut off. He thought it was dead, unable to be mended. Yet being near her was dangerously threatening to do just that.
He was being a fool, and Deadpool and Mister T didn't suffer fools. He should just turn away, leave, and get his ass onto his mission -- or grab her, fuck her hard one more time, and then leave to kill his next target. Either way, he'd be leaving her, and these feelings, behind. But there'd still be there, he knew. They'd been secretly harboring inside of him ever since the last time she'd let him into her life, her arms, and her bed. Every bit of it had come flooding back last night the moment he'd kissed her. It wasn't going away easily this time.
But he was ugly, he thought. Despite everything he always claimed to the opposite, despite all his bravado, what the Hell did he have to offer her? He was even on the wrong side of the law, and although X-Force often walked opposite from the authorities themselves, they still believed in a dream he couldn't support. That Lollipop Dream of peaceful coexistence was never going to happen. It was better just to watch out for Numero Uno -- even if he damn sure did want to be able to watch out for her too.
"For what it's worth," he said gently, barely even aware he was speaking, "this one deserves to be killed."
"Ye're nae jest a mass murderer, Wade."
He scratched the back of his head. "Well . . . "
"Shut up." Those words from anybody else would have triggered a quick and snappy retort. He would have hurt them quickly with his mouth. Yet even as she said them, she said them with no malice and a smile and tone that would have made him willing to accept any words from that luscious, red mouth of hers. Yet he was still caught unprepared by her next words. "Take me wit' ye."
"Huh?!" He couldn't help it: his surprise was obvious even from beneath his red and black mask. "What?!"
She stood slowly, and he wondered if it was intentional as his eyes traveled slowly up her long, bare legs, her enticing core, her full breasts . . . He almost lost it as his gaze rested there for a moment. He almost rushed her and slammed her back into that bed and himself into her. But just before he could move to do that very thing, she spoke the words again. "Take me wit' ye. I'm tired o' living apart. I'm tired o' ne'er knowin' when I'm gonna see ye again. Ye knae, me Da may believe in Xavier's dream, an' I've tried an' all, but me uncle . . . "
"Your uncle was Black Tom. Not a good man." Neither was he. He didn't deserve her. He could never deserve her. He'd done so many dark things, so many horrible things, all for the sake of money and survival --
"I did nae say I wanted tae be like Tom either, Wade. We're not 'em. We're not what th' world thinks we are, an' we din't have tae be." He stood, frozen in place, as she walked toward him. "We din't have tae live by their dreams or their rules or even their laws. We can make our own. I want tae make our own," she stressed, gazing up into his eyes.
She touched his cheek and ran her long fingers down the side of his mask. She'd thought about this long and hard while they'd been apart, and she wasn't about to just let him go easily again. She wasn't going to let him go. His past didn't matter; their pasts didn't matter for she certainly hadn't been a Saint herself. All their differences didn't matter. She only wanted him, and a life with him.
He ached for the touch of her skin against his, and as though she knew, and yearning herself for there to be nothing between them, she slipped her fingers underneath his mask and caressed his cheek beneath. "I want tae make our own dream together." Her smile suddenly widened and brightened. "I may be full o' th' blarney or it may just be left o'er from last night. But I din't want tae be parted from ye, Wade, nae again. Whatever it takes, I'm willin' tae give it. Will ye dream wit' me?"
He felt like jumping. Emotions trumpeted through him. He wanted to bounce into the air and scream like a little kid. But he didn't want to ruin this moment. He'd just been given something he'd never thought he would. This beautiful woman actually wanted to try to make a life with him. He couldn't have asked for a better gift -- and he wasn't about to look this gift horse in the mouth!
"Hell yeah!" The target could wait. He grabbed her and bounced, with her held tightly in his arms, back onto the bed. The whole fucking world could wait. He'd just gotten what he wanted, and he wasn't letting it go. Terry shrilled with laughter as he buried his face in her breasts and himself inside of her, right where he finally felt like he belonged.
The End
