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Between a Rock and a Hard Place

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After the fact, when the dust and cum had settled and Frank was frantically digging through his mind for an easy rationalization, he realized that he must have been fucked from the start. Telepaths, he thought like a sneer. No such thing as privacy around a man who can read your mind like he's reading his daily journal.


What’s surprising then is how long it took Cable to act on Frank’s dirty little secrets. To say that Frank was standoffish was being generous, but he was hardly the baddest fucker Cable had ever dealt with. He worked with Wolverine for god’s sake. True, the man has the patience of a saint (or perhaps more accurately a martyr), but he was still human. Mostly. Depends on your definition of the word and/or how much of a bigoted asshole you are. The point is, they all had needs. Some more...colorful than others. Sometimes feelings are better left unexpressed.


Like most things in Frank’s life, it was his work and generally shitty attitude that got him trouble. The job was supposed to be simple. A gear grab, execution style. Basic in-and-out kinda situation. Of course, it turned into a shitshow. Bad intel, bad timing, bad everything.


While Frank is spraying bullets into the air, cursing his bad luck, he’s also got one eye on his temporary partner. Cable had brought out the big guns, literally, and was straight up vaporizing the bastards. The sight of Cable, face set grim, arms flexing against recoil, laser light show administering some apocalyptic future style justice, well, it gave him a real special kinda feeling. Like his brain and balls had forgotten which one was running the show.


It didn’t take long for the last body to hit the floor and for Frank to realize that, shit, maybe he'd be thinking a little too loudly because Cable is giving him a look. Frank had seen that look before. It was the kind of look that said he was about to be punched or kissed. Maybe even both. Honestly, Frank wasn’t sure which one he preferred at the moment.


By the time he realized Cable was cornering him, it was too late to move without a fight. In the dim light of the building, Cable’s eyes had taken on a dark, sinful tone, with a domineering hunger Frank had never been privy to before. They promised something decadent and wild. He knew what was coming before Cable shoved his back against the wall and locked their lips together. Cable was aggressive, no doubt, but also unusually gentle in his gruff sort of way. Downright gentlemanly compared to the perverse fantasies he typically had of the bigger man.


“Are we done playing games, Frank?” It was a voice that tolerated no disrespect, would give no quarter, and Frank doesn’t trust himself to speak with the scent of Nathan’s breath so close to his face. If he minds the silence, Cable doesn't show it. Instead, he leaned in closer, nose touching Frank's cheek and nibbled on his stubbly chin.


A dirty, abandoned warehouse isn’t the ideal place to hookup, but given how sleazy the whole event made him feel, maybe it was appropriate. He preferred it like this. He was no lover and the thought of waking up in a strange bed with stained sheets and breakfast in the morning filled him with a salacious repulsion.


“Just admit it. You’ve wanted this for a long time, Castle.” If Frank was being honest with himself Nathan comment was not without some justification. He had been staring at Cable openly, even wantonly for months now, with a level of indiscretion he would never dare in his younger, marine days.


The crush of steel on his back stung, but not enough to try and throw Cable’s weight off him. It felt good actually. He relished the little pricks of pain that shot through him only to settle in a lustful pool in his groin. He reached for Cable’s shoulders and felt his arms flung upward by an invisible force.


“Uh-uh, no hands,” Nathan commanded and Frank groaned. Fucking psychics. He squirmed, more than a little alarmed to have his arms restrained in such a way, and Cable chuckled at his discomfort.


“Calm down, Castle,” he said. “You’re going to enjoy this part.”


He brought his mouth to Frank’s neck and clamped down, teeth digging into the tender flesh, causing Frank to hiss at the rough touch. His wrists flailed, but the combination of telekinesis and Cable's ample bodyweight kept him firmly in place. He felt small and helpless and his mind bristled at the thought of giving in so easily.


“Fuck,” he whined. His cock was hard now and straining uncomfortably in the confines of his uniform. Cable moaned softly in approval around Frank’s throat and the tiny vibration sent tremors of pleasure down Frank’s spine. Goosebumps threatened to break out on his skin everywhere Cable touched him.


“You’re reacting even better than I’d hoped.” Frank felt his face begin to heat up, rising from a dull wisp of an ember in his loins. He thrusted forward, grinding himself on Cable’s thigh, which earned him a deep, masculine chuckle from his taller companion.


“Always making such a fuss,” Cable said. His lips went back to that spot on his neck, now a plummy pink, and Frank could feel himself starting to melt, his skin feeling flush with perspiration. Frank groaned and tried to push harder, but the angle wasn’t good and he couldn’t find the traction he wanted.


“Damn it,” he said. “Come on, stop teasing. I need more.” Cable’s mouth left his neck and Frank immediately missed the warmth of his mouth. The cold, night air made the moist saliva on his throat feel prickly where Cable had marked him.


“And what would you suggest, Castle?" Cable murmured, the ghost of a smile on his chiseled face. He circled a finger around the bite on Frank's neck lazily. Frank clenched his hands into angry fists. Clearly, the bastard intended on making him beg for it.


‘I don’t care. A mouth, a hand, anything, fuck!” he said. He wanted Cable to grab his cock, jerk him off rough and sloopy, while he whispered dirty nothings in his ear.


“Mmm, I don’t think you’ve earned that yet,” Cable remarked, and Frank ground his teeth in frustration. Cable ran his right hand down Frank's face, past his neck, and to his chest. He grabbed a fistful of Frank's left pec and gave it a mighty squeeze.


“Shit,” Frank hissed. Cable’s thumb and index finger tightened around the nipple and pinched gently. Frank’s groaned louder, pitch rising in beat to the punishing ministrations subjected to his flesh.


“Shut up, Frank," Cable said and put two fingers in Frank's gaping mouth. The taste of steel was a shock. Better than he had expected and yet somehow worse at the same time. The two fingers held his tongue down, halting the obscenities forming in his mouth. So in retaliation, he did the only thing he could with that mouth of his and that's to suck on the metallic appendages. Cable only seemed amused at this minor act of rebellion.


“For someone who wants to be manhandled so badly, you sure do like being insubordinate,” he remarked. He wasn’t wrong, though technically Frank never agreed to any form of submission. Not with words anyway.


“I'm going to have to train that out of you, but first," Nathan says. "It's time for a taste." He lowers his head down to Frank's chest and tightened his teeth on the fabric of Frank's costume. Frank's moan grew louder and probably would have been louder still if not for the fingers in his mouth.


“As much as I like you in black, Castle,” Cable began, demurely, grabbing a handful of tit. He grasped the shirt tightly and gave it a mighty tug, ripping the fabric and exposing Frank’s pec to the cool night air. “I think you look better like this.”


“Fuh...Shumhurs,” Frank mumbled around the fingers in his mouth. He was mortified by the high pitched whine in his voice. He was Frank Castle, he was the Punisher. Not some wanton slut. He wasn’t supposed to be desperate, ever.


“You like this Castle? You like having your tits played with?” Frank glared, refusing to dignify the question with any sort of answer. If Cable thought he could just ravish him like some sort of romance novel hussy, he had another thing coming. He tightened his body, pushing down the sensations of pleasure as best he can.


“See, here’s the thing, Frank,” Cable said. “We both know what you need. What you want. You’ve been advertising it like a Times Square billboard.” He gave Frank’s nipple an experimental lick, pleased by the way it hardened under his wet appendage.


Frank stifled a moan as Cable’s mouth closed around his nipple, sucking eagerly. Nathan worked methodically, alternating between tiny nips of teeth, a swirl of tongue, and a full-bodied clamp. Cable drew his waist closer, trapping Frank’s erection between his meaty thighs. It felt good, better than Frank could have hoped for, and he could feel himself slowly starting to come apart at the seams.


“I’m going to make you cum, and I’m going to do it just like this.” His thighs pressed harder against Frank’s groin and Frank couldn’t resist the urge to thrust himself against their considerable mass. Cable’s mouth moved to the other side of Frank’s neck, marking him there as well. Cable purred around the flesh in his mouth, savoring the taste of Frank’s sweat and need.


He brought his free hand back to Frank’s neglected tit and gripped it roughly, squeezing and kneading the flesh in his hand. He’s playing with them, Frank thought, like he would a woman’s. Clean, groomed nails dug in deeper and Frank hissed around the digits in his mouth. The metal was hot now and slick from the saliva that was beginning to run from his mouth and down his chin.


Frank could feel it coming. A rolling pressure, his balls rising tightly to his body in anticipation. He shivered at the thought and his hips moved faster, more erratically, humping like an animal. The combination of mouth and fingers and tongue proved more than he could handle and he came with a grunt, biting down hard enough on Cable’s metal fingers to make his teeth ache. He had cum in his pants, like a horny virgin who’d never been fondled.


“Outstanding,” Cable said, without a hint of irony in his voice. He let his fingers slid from Frank’s sore mouth and gently rubbed a wet thumb on Frank’s plump lips.


“You look good like this, Frank. All pretty and pink for me. Like a blushing bride.” Cable let his other hand roam south to where a mortifying stain was forming on Frank’s crotch and kneaded the mound he found there. Frank wasn’t sure he could flush anymore than he already was, but the way Cable talked about him. The possessiveness, the reverence. It touched something inside him, something deeper than base lust.


“Let me down, Summers,” His voice sounded coarse and raw, the way it sometimes got after a particularly long night on the job. Cable shook his head.


“We’re not finished here,” Cable said, and the hand on his groin squeezed tighter.


“You can't be serious," Frank croaked. Even after his recent orgasm, he could feel the blood rushing to his groin and his dick rising to the challenge. Nathan hummed in approval.


"C' mon soldier. Show me what you're made of."


By the time Cable had wretched two more orgasms from Frank’s abused body, his uniform, from neck to waist, lay in tatters. Bright red teeth marks covered his torso, chest, and neck. Some of them would likely bruise into ugly hues of blue and brown by morning. Frank dimly realized that Cable has yet to cum for himself, but Nathan pushed his reaching hands away and said in a tone reserved for a child, “Save that for next time.” Cable left shortly after, looking smugly satisfied.


So Frank wobbled back to his van, pelvis sticky with a heady combination of sweat, cum, and shame. His back and legs ached from the pressure exerted by the crushing weight of Cable’s mass and the wall he had been wedged against. Those would likely be worse by morning as well.


He drove home silently. His mind a whirl of guilty recriminations and angry, vindictive thoughts. He had debased himself for a moments pleasure, ruining the sanctity of his mission and turned a valuable working relationship into something perverse and demeaning. But worse, he knew that the next time he saw Cable his face would flush with the same desires and his body would ache in remembrance of just how thoroughly and easily the older mutant had conquered him.


It had been an accident. A silly, base mistake borne more from a life of dejected loneliness than a real desire for companionship. And maybe, if he told the lie loud and often enough he would even believe it the next time Nathan Summers came calling for his pleasure.