Hunger (NSFW - 18+)
notes: hi!! first cable x reader in a while, but I have a few more cooking, so stay tuned.
tags/warnings: Porn Without Plot, PIV, Reader Has a Birth Control Implant, Flashing, Fingering, Finger-Sucking, OOC!Cable (I only really know fanon and DP2 but he's so dreamyyyy)
synopsis: You're a hungry psychic vampire sharing a motel room with a hot time traveler after taking a little bit longer than planned to retrieve a telekinetic cat. What are you supposed to do, not have sex?
“God, I’m starving,” you groan, eyebrows furrowed in dismay as you step out of the adjoining bathroom. X-Force’s latest mission was to find and recover a telepathically-gifted mutant, which just so happened to be a cat — a fluffy white thing not-so-cleverly named Snowball. It’s clear your little team still hasn’t gained the trust needed to get real jobs from the school.
Unfortunately, by the time she was coaxed out of the drain pipe she’d hidden herself away in, it was much too late for anyone to be driving the ten hours back to the school, not to mention you’re all filthy. Well, you were when you arrived at the motel.
At least Negasonic gained the trust needed to be authorized user of an emergency credit card from the school. She and Yukio are rooming with Neena, Wade’s with Logan, and Nathan is with…
You. You’re still standing there in that towel, Snowball licking your damp legs.
“Too late to order out,” Nathan mumbles, trying not to stare. Of course he ended up with you. It’s not like he won best of three in a rock-paper-scissors battle with Wade and Logan for it or anything, except for the part where he did.
“Mhm,” you hum, before gasping softly with an epiphany. “Oh, I know!”
You drop your towel, and Snowball scurries off.
You stand there, unphased, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. (Which, to be fair, it is, and maybe there is a god, because all of that can’t just be natural selection.)
“Ah, that’s better,” you sigh. “Still glad we brought our go-bags just in case, though. Thanks for the reminder!”
You turn, bending over to get it.
“Do you mind?” Nathan grits out, trying not to enjoy the view too much and failing. “What the hell- Why-“
“I’m a psychic vampire, I feed off of emotions. I was hungry, so I did something to shock you. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” he echoes softly, watching you put a pair of fresh underwear on.
“Oh,” you say softly, becoming aware of his other strong emotions right now. A smile tugs at your lips. “And here I thought that the reason I always felt so full around you was that you were annoyed with my stupid crush on you. In that case… I’m really hungry.”
“Really?” he asks. “I- I didn’t want to room with you just to- I mean- I’d like to take you out on a proper date at some point.”
“Sounds nice,” you agree. “But for now…?”
“For now,” he agrees with a nod, and you pounce, practically tackling him onto the bed in a collage of lips and hands and tongues.
Your hands are intertwined with his and holding him to the bed as you ravish his neck. You run your tongue along the seam where metal meets flesh unflinchingly, pointedly, if you’ve been fantasizing about doing it at the first opportunity. His hips roll up, anything for friction, but he wants more than just friction — he wants to take care of you, to feed you.
“How do I earn the privilege of touching you, your highness?” he half-jokes, squeezing your hands back. It seems to break whatever spell has befallen you, though, and you retract your hold on him with a squeaked apology. “I don’t mind. It’s cute. I just think there are other things you could do with my hands that’d be even cuter.”
He pulls off his shirt to level the playing field, running his hands up your sides with a ragged sigh of relief. God, he needed this, needed you. Your hips instinctively roll against his steadily-growing hardness in the most hypnotic way, your body curling forward and back like a writhing serpent.
He takes a handful of your chest, making sure to let his palm rub against your hardened nipple in a way that provokes a breathy moan.
“C’mon, c’mon,” you whimper, tugging at the waistband of his sweats and starting to drag them down. Okay, that’s enough. This isn’t going to be some quick fix.
You blink and find yourself flat on your back, effortlessly flipped and tossed there by him.
“Fuck,” you huff, and he’s almost worried he accidentally knocked the breath out of you or hurt you in some way until he sees the way your chest still heaves — you’re panting.
“Not yet,” he remarks, mouthing at your neck with the same fervor you showed him until you’re clawing at his biceps, legs thrashing around him.
“Nathan, please, I need this, need you, don’t be mean,” you beg; perfect little thing, didn’t even have to ask, so he rewards that good behavior by dipping his hand between your legs and exploring the wetness there. “Mmn, ah, Nathan-Nathan-Nathan-Nathan, more please, don’t stop, c’mon.”
He slides a finger into you, but you’re still impatient, trembling and whining and scraping your nails against his metallic shoulder blade, the nails on your other hand digging into his flesh like the sensation is supposed to be revenge for making you wait.
It’s not.
It’s encouragement.
Seeing you this worked up, this hungry for him, only makes him want to draw it out; make you scream for him for everybody to hear.
“Oh, do you want something?” he asks against your collarbone before nipping at it.
“You, you-you-you-you, please, needed this for so long, couldn't get off to the thought of anything else, god, got to a point where I couldn’t get off at all, Nathan, please,” you frantically entreat him, every word music to his ears.
“If you couldn’t at all, it would be pretty cruel not to help you out, wouldn’t it?” he purrs, pumping another finger into you. When his thumb meets your clit, you audibly shudder in relief, a sound that’s going to be ringing in his ears for a long time, though far more pleasant than the other ones he can’t seem to make himself forget. “I don’t have any-“
“Implant,” you cut him off.
“Perfect,” he rasps, fingers still churning inside.
“Then- oh-god-fuck-right-there, what are you waiting f-ah-or?”
“What do you think I’m waiting for?”
“Please?” you ask weakly. The look on your face, your eyes trying to stay open even as the rest of your expression scrunches up so adorably with the force of it all… It makes it hard to be so unfair, but not impossible.
“Not quite.”
“Then, I don’t kn-oh-oh-oh, c’mon, I’m already so-“
“That. That is what I’m waiting for,” he finally admits, pushing his thumb a little harder against that bundle of nerve-endings that makes you sing for him.
“Oh, oh-k-kay, I-”
“Just focus on that, hon. No need to talk,” he assures you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before letting his own rest against it. It doesn’t take much longer, no, not much longer at all, before you’re tumbling over the edge of bliss.
“Now,” you insist between gasps for air, not even giving yourself time to recover. “Don’t make me wait any more, please.”
He nods, pressing his fingers to your tongue. Your mouth closes around them and you suckle them clean without having to be asked as he shucks off his sweatpants and boxers, more than ready for you. He starts to withdraw his hand from your mouth, but you shake your head, both of your hands flying to his to keep it there.
“Aw,” he half-coos, his expression softening. Your hands look so small, so delicate when they’re encircled around just one of his, and with the tears of ecstasy still glittering in your eyes to top it off… How could he ever deny you? “Yeah, baby, that’s okay. You can keep ‘em.”
With that, he lines himself up with you, still glistening with your arousal and release, and carefully enters. You moan, long and low, though his fingers muffle it — so, there’s a dual purpose to it. Clever girl.
He works up a steady pace, your eyes rolling back and legs wrapping around him to wordlessly encourage him to go harder, deeper, faster. Even as you mindlessly shudder and whine, one of your hands leaves his to come between you, furiously scrubbing at your clit in a way that brings him ever closer to completion; so deliciously desperate, your walls pulsing around him.
And god, that eye contact. Did someone teach you that? When you can manage it, even if it’s brief, it’s deadly, especially when your mouth draws tighter around his hand. God, it’s so much, too much, and he knows it, he’s done for as soon as you come again, chanting your name under his breath like a prayer.
It’s hard for him to convince himself to pull out, but a passing glance at the bedside clock forces him to, if only so that you can get a somewhat reasonable amount of sleep until… Well, later this morning.
You finally let go of his fingers with a pop that should be illegal, breathlessly smiling up at him.
“Still hungry?” he asks, finding himself smiling back. You shake your head, and when he rolls onto his back, he takes you halfway with him, arms enveloping you while your head rests on his chest. “Good.”
Snowball promptly hops onto the bed, joining the two of you for some well-earned rest, though it’s clear who her favorite is, given that she curls up behind you.
“She’s taken a liking to you,” he points out. “Can’t blame her. Sleep well.”
“You, too,” you murmur, and it’s the last thing you say before sleep embraces you just as tightly as Nathan is.
