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The thing is. The thing is that Logan isn't actually trying to kill him, or even slow him down long.
From the start of this whole stupid thing, Logan could have fucking decapitated him, or disarmed him by means of cutting off his limbs--get it? Disarmed?--but no, the man has been going for things that are fairly easily recoverable from; broken bones, stab wounds, impacts like kicks and punches. Not even so much as a full disemboweling.
"You really just wanna keep at this, don't you, honey badger?"
"Shut the fuck up," Logan snarls, drives his claws through Wade's shoulder, "just--"
"Ow, fuck," Wade swears, getting his legs under him and kicking Logan away with both booted feet; Logan hits the dashboard hard, bares his teeth, animalistic, and Wade's on him in a flash, pinning him down with a katana through the shoulder and into the dashboard and a baby knife in his wrist. He's got him straddled, holding him down bodily from shoulder to hip, and--okay, wow, is Logan a little excited to be fighting him?
The lack of killing blow attempts suddenly makes a little more sense.
The worst part of all of this, Wade thinks, is that Logan is devastatingly sexy with Wade's blood all over him, and even though he really did just verbally tear Wade a brand-new asshole, insult his ex-girlfriend, and stab him at least a hundred and fifty-three times with his horrible knife hands, Wade would still, regrettably, smash.
In fact, he'd like to.
He'd like to a lot.
And, in fact, maybe that's the key here. Sucker-punching the guy had felt good, and fighting him has felt just as good, literally and figuratively bleeding off tension--but Wade knows he isn't exactly winning any favors with him here, and actually? Logan has every goddamn right in the world to be angry with him. Time to change tactics.
Logan growls, wrenches himself free and hooks a leg around Wade's for enough leverage to flip them over. The gearshift digs painfully into Wade's back, presumably smashing one of his kidneys into a nice fine paste. He raises a set of claws, drives them into Wade's chest and twists, and yeah, that hurts a lot, of course it does, but Wade still feels Logan's fucking boner against his thigh, and. Well.
"Alright, angel, new idea," Wade says, "how about I suck your dick?"
This is something Wade has offered to many people many times over the years, almost verbatim, and usually the answer is something along the lines of "absolutely, hell yes" right before he unleashes his patented Walrus-Sucking-The-Skin-Clean-Off-A-Seal Blowjob Technique and leaves them ruined for anyone else. He has never before gotten such a look of shock and contempt, which is, actually, in this case, exactly what he's going for, because now Logan's off his rhythm, and one of Wade's knives is still in his wrist.
Wade drives yet another baby knife into Logan's other wrist and flips them again, knee between Logan's thighs, pinning him instead to the back rest of the passenger seat with his hands above his head and knives driven through him straight into the upholstery.
"You're fuckin' disgusting," Logan spits, jerking his wrists, but Wade's got him between the radius and ulna and those knives aren't going fucking anywhere. He gets the strangest inkling that Logan isn't fighting as hard as he could be, either.
"Yeah? I'm not the one with the hard-on," Wade jeers, shoving his knee a little cruelly into Logan's dick.
That doesn't get the reaction he's expecting, actually. Logan grins, wild and mean, rams his own thigh up into Wade's crotchal region where--okay. Yeah, he has a point. "Bullshit," Logan hisses, "you're sick. You're getting off on this."
"And you're not? All I'm saying, peanut," Wade says, "is you could have had my head on a plate a hundred different ways by now and you haven't. You want to keep at this. You need to blow off this steam and you know what, so do I, so what if we pivot from the fighting and--"
"Shut the fuck--"
"I think we both know the only way you're going to shut me up is if you either cut my fucking head off or ram your dick down my throat."
Which is a frankly insane thing to say to the guy with knife hands, all right, especially when he's been actively stabbing you for the past fifteen solid minutes, but Wade has never had good impulse control, and he's pretty sure his own dick has never been harder. Blood loss to his brain, or whatever.
Somehow, though, this whole insane turn of events has totally changed the energy inside the totaled minivan.
"This whole goddamn fight was your fault. You started it," Logan snaps.
"I can finish it too, big boy. If you know what I mean."
Wade can see the gears turning in Logan's head.
"I," Logan starts, "could not fucking despise you more than I do at this moment."
"That is suspiciously not a no on the BJ front." Wade grinds his knee down on Logan's dick a little more nicely, with a little more rhythm. "Listen, you're right," he says, dropping his voice a little lower, "I lied to you. I kidnapped you, I tricked you, and now we're stuck in the fucking Void, which is apparently a real place. But I still need you, I still need your help, and god you are disgustingly sexy. So how about I suck you off good and hard and we call it even?"
Logan laughs in his face. "You really think a blowjob would make us even?"
"I give good head, peanut."
"You just said you give shitty head."
"I would never fucking say that! I said they don't call me Truthful Timmy, the Blowjob Queen of Saskatoon. They do call me Lying Larry, the Sword-Swallowing Czar of the Greater Toronto Area, which doesn't have as good a ring to it, but--"
"Could have just stuck with the 'merc with a mouth' thing. That also gets the point across."
"All right," Wade twists one of the knives in Logan's arm a little, just to be an asshole, "I'm still not hearing--"
"You know what?" Logan says, a derisive, disbelieving laugh still coloring his voice. "Sure. Yeah. Knock yourself out. Suck my fuckin' dick. But we're not even."
Wade realizes that Logan isnt actually expecting him to do it. He's expecting him to be a total pussy and chicken out.
Joke's on him.
"Oh, sweet," Wade chirps, letting go of his baby knives and dropping down Logan's body to immediately paw at his dick through his suit; he grabs the lever under the passenger seat to abruptly scoot it back all the way and afford him enough space to sink into the shockingly roomy footwell so he can scrabble for the hidden zipper on Logan's suit pants a little better and also mouth sloppy at the line of his dick through both Logan's pants and his own mask.
"Jesus Christ," Logan sneers, all derision as he pulls his arms free and throws the knives in the back seat, "you could at least act like you're not desperate for it."
"What can I say, peanut? Violence makes me horny, and Horny Deadpool loves giving oral, now how the fuck do you get these pants off, because I feel like I'm failing an IQ test right now."
"You are."
"No need to be an asshole."
"We can go back to fighting, if you want."
"You gonna help me with your pants or am I gonna have to cut them open?"
Logan rolls his eyes in a very put-upon manner for someone who is about to get blown, immediately finds the hidden snaps and zipper and gets them undone. His dick springs free, because apparently this fucker goes commando under his suit--of course he does--and Wade lets out a low whistle. It's big, of course it is, it's pretty and flushed pink, and Wade's mouth waters.
"Alright, handsome, I take back the needle dick thing. I stand corrected."
"You're doing an awful lot of talking for someone who's supposed to be sucking me off right now."
All right, fair enough. Wade pushes his mask up over his mouth and immediately takes that pretty cock between his lips, across his tongue, and all the way into his throat til his nose is pressed against the thick curls at the base of Logan's dick.
It's not that he doesn't have a gag reflex, it's mainly that he's learned to suppress it over the years, a talent he's proudly honed. And it doesn't go unappreciated; Logan instantly groans, head tilting back a little but eyes still fixed on Wade.
Wade, who gamely works his throat, swallowing hard and slick around the head of Logan's cock before drawing back just to dip down again. He's gonna suck Logan's dick so good that not only will he not want to fight him anymore, but he'll agree to help Wade save the universe anyway.
It's nice to get swept away in the rhythm of it. Bobbing his head, working his tongue on the underside. Sucking at the tip, tasting his precome.
Logan is disturbingly quiet for a while until suddenly he isn't anymore, like a dam breaks in him. "God, you really are an eager little cocksucker, aren't you," he says, sounding just this side of disgusted even as his cock twitches in Wade's mouth. "Swallowing me down like a whore. No," he corrects, "whores get paid." His hips snap upward, one of his hands coming down to fist in the back of Wade's hood. "You're just a slut."
Oh, fuck yeah. That's the good shit. Wade moans around Logan's dick, takes him deep enough to tongue sloppy at his balls. Chokes a little, mainly for the theatre of it all.
"Fuck, you're filthy," Logan works out between low groans, hips thrusting up in a hard, heavy rhythm that Wade is more than able to take, and take admirably. It feels like he's at it forever, but not in a bad way; after so much outright violence it's nice to get lost in the simple, repetitive task before him; the easy pleasure of skin smooth and velvety on his tongue, the heavy taste and scent of arousal and need.
"Should have known you'd like this," Logan purrs, "being treated like a toy. Fuck."
He hears Logan's breathing quicken, feels his thighs tense under his palms, and that's really all the warning he gets before Logan is groaning and jerking and coming in his mouth; Wade was going to swallow anyway, he's no quitter, but he doesn't have much of a choice in the matter with the head of Logan's dick jammed that far back in his throat.
Wade's pretty sure his dick is about to explode. Not in a euphemism-for-orgasm way. In a fountain-of-blood, veins-rupturing kind of way. It throbs almost painfully in his too-tight suit; he grinds down on his palm to try and relieve some pressure but it doesn't help. Just makes it worse.
"Fuck," Logan whispers, letting Wade suck on the tip of his dick for just a little longer before he plants a boot on Wade's chest and pushes him off. He looks gorgeous, blushing and breathing like he's run a marathon, cock still at full attention.
"What did I tell you," Wade says, voice wrecked to his own ears, "I give good--"
"You really gonna waste that hard-on of yours by coming in your fucking suit?" Logan scoffs, looking him over with deep disdain.
"Oh? What would you rather be done with it, Your Majesty?"
"Your mouth was good," Logan says, "but you can give me something better."
Oh my god. This is a horny, horny dream come true. "You want to fuck, is what you're saying. Just can't get enough of my holes, huh--"
Logan shoves two fingers in Wade's mouth, pressing down on his tongue, and Wade would bite them except they're not supposed to be fighting anymore, and he doesn't want to go straight from fellatio back to stabbing, so he rolls with the gloved fingers in his mouth, sucks tacky, half-dry blood off them; it's filthy, it's disgusting, he's never been more turned on in his life.
This man is going to fold him like a pretzel and fuck him like an animal, and it's going to be amazing. Wade hasn't bottomed much in his life but he knows how to do it, how to get fucked, and honestly he's looking forward to it.
"I told you a blowjob wouldn't make us even," Logan says, lowly, all casual dominance with Wade still down half in the footwell and half leaning in his lap, "you're gonna have to work harder for that."
Wade pulls off of Logan's fingers with an obscene noise. "Yes sir," he purrs, "you like that? The 'sir' thing? I'm trying out new stuff and--"
"You should try shutting the fuck up," Logan says, trailing those spit-slick fingers down to Wade's chin, tipping his face up, and god. Logan was right. Wade is fucking attention starved, the gentle guiding touch sends a shiver down his spine and he hates it, hates that Logan was so right about every single goddamn thing he said.
He may be a jabbering little prick, a half-wit moron. But he's a damn good scratching post, and it looks like he just might be good enough to fuck, too.
That's enough.
"How do you want me? Face down, ass up? In your lap?"
"Not quite."
"Missionary? You kinky bastard!"
"I'd rather see if you're all talk," Logan starts, "or if you can actually make me come with that tiny dick of yours."
Wade's brain hits an error message and returns nothing but frantic dial-up grinds and beeps for a long second.
"Wait," he says, "you want--first of all, it's not tiny, it's very normally sized, second of all, you really want--?"
"I want you to work for it," Logan purrs, that challenging look still in his eyes, "you got some kind of objection to that?"
Um, no, there's no objection whatsoever, in fact Wade is fucking delighted to have the opportunity to rail the goddamn Wolverine in the back of a minivan, but the whole other problem is that Wade is re-evaluating some internal biases, right?
Wade's internal monologue is rife with complexity, multi-track drifting and crashing through this monumental shift in his world view.
Why was I expecting him to toss me around like a chew toy and treat me like his bottom bitch all night? Why is it so shocking to me that he wants to get fucked? Getting fucked is great! Did I just assume that because he's musclebound and hairy--like, so hairy--he'd automatically top me? Why can't furry, muscly guys like dick in the ass? My god, do I have internalized homophobia to work through?
"I'm homophobic," is what he blurts out in his confusion instead of any of that thoughtful, measured shit.
Logan's eyes crinkle up, he snorts with laughter expressly at Wade's expense. "Yeah," he says, "most guys who suck cock that good are."
"No, that's not what I mean! I mean internalized, society stuff, because I was expecting--"
"I could not give less of a damn what you mean. Do you know how to fuck, or don't you?"
"I know how to fuck," Wade protests, sounding pathetic in his own ears, "I've got nothing but five-star reviews on both Yelp and Grindr."
"Prove it. I'm getting bored."
Logan pulls the lever to lay the passenger seat back as far as it'll go, and honestly they probably broke it earlier because the seat just kind of falls back flat, leaving them a good amount of room. He's shoving his pants down and off, and Wade feels--all right, a little intimidated, okay? Like he's about to stick his cock in a fucking bear trap. Still, bravely, he undoes his own pants, groans at the feeling off cool air on his dick. "All right, kitten," he says, ungloving one hand and holding it up to Logan's mouth, "either spit or I'll fuck you dry, your choice."
Logan growls and flicks out a claw, slicing a neat wound in Wade's side. He hisses in pain as Logan takes his own glove off with his teeth before sticking his raw fucking fingers right into the wound he just made, wetting his hand thoroughly before he grips Wade's cock and slicks it up and down with his own blood.
"Jesus fucking Christ, peanut," Wade swears, a little awestruck, "there's something really wrong with you."
It's disgusting. It's nasty. Blood is sticky, it dries and congeals fast, and it's not going to make for good lube. And yet Wade is pretty sure this is the worst, most horrible, hottest thing to ever fucking happen to him.
"No fucking fingering, this isn't prom night," Logan rumbles, "put it in, fuck me good, make me come. You can at least do that, can't you?"
Wade realizes, as Logan swings a leg over one of his shoulders, that they really are gonna do this missionary, or at least face to face. He scrambles closer, bringing his hips to Logan's ass. "You sure?" he asks, reaching to line up; he can feel Logan's hole furled against the head of his dick and he pauses. "It's gonna--"
"Don't think you're gonna cause me any problems, bub," Logan says, lip curled and eyes narrowed down derisively, "just--oh, fuck."
Wade cuts him off, shoves his way inside with a snap of his hips that really isn't very nice, but they've been stabbing each other for ages now and what's a little more pain? Logan isn't wincing away from it, either, no, he's baring his teeth and maintaining that challenging, burning eye contact with Wade's white-eyed mask, driving one set of claws clear through the back of the seat to give him leverage to push himself down against the intrusion.
It's so tight as to be fucking uncomfortable, actually, friction on just the wrong side of pain/pleasure; Wade pulls out enough to spit heavily on the base of his dick and push it back inside before Logan can stab him. That's more fucking like it, saliva evening the score, making the slide into Logan's ass still ugly and nasty and gritty but possible without chafing his dick skin clean off, thanks. Logan gives a low hum, mouth open, eyes roving.
It feels good, Wade's whole body sore with the effort of continuously healing for a long fucking fight, and the contrast of his body screaming for rest with the sheer animal pleasure of getting his dick somewhere warm is driving him insane. He's only got his cock and the lower half of his face out but still he feels naked somehow, overexposed, but god.
He doesn't want to stop.
"Now show me what you're good for." It's a growled order as Logan digs his heel into Wade's back, and Wade starts moving.
There isn't much room to maneuver and it's awkward in the front seat of the van but Wade manages to find a rhythm, falls into line with Logan's own hips rolling under him. It starts to feel good, really good, his own precome slicking Logan up on the inside, and he's tighter than a vice.
"Fuckin' A, peanut, you feel--"
Fingers in his mouth, shutting him up, again. "Stop talking," Logan says, then adds "and for the love of god, show me this ain't the best you can do."
He has the audacity to sound bored. Wade makes a frustrated sound around the fingers in his mouth, grips Logan's waist and picks up the pace, hammers into him over and over.
Tries to impress him. Tries to be good for him.
Logan's laughing at him, quiet and derisive under his breath with the same grin on his face as when Wade's blood was dripping in his mouth; shame floods Wade even as pleasure mounts in him. "Attaboy," Logan purrs, all condescension, and it makes Wade's dick twitch and his body shudder.
He's going to fucking come, and it's going to be really embarrassing, and Logan's going to say degrading shit to him, and he can't wait to hear it.
He pauses long enough to adjust, to push Logan's other leg a little further up so he can drive into him a little deeper, at a slightly different angle, and the noise Logan makes tells him he's struck oil. "There you go, was that so tough," Logan gasps, teasing, "now--longer strokes, red, but hard. Let me feel all of you."
Logan's coaching him. Wade obeys instantly, keeping the angle but pulling out almost all the way before he glides back in, Logan's muscle gripping him all the way down and back up with every movement and it feels too good, it's a problem, actually. He moans around Logan's fingers, pulls back to speak again. "Stab me," he whines, and Logan raises his brows.
"Stab you? Why should I?"
"To distract me from how good your ass feels," Wade pants, "so I don't come my brains out in under three minutes."
"You really are pathetic," Logan says, voice colored with a chuckle. "So eager to please that you'd rather be fucking stabbed than disappoint me, huh?"
Wade nods, frantic, toes curling in his boots as he tries hard to resist orgasm; he slows, tries to get his composure back.
"After everything I said to you," Logan purrs, "you're still just begging for my attention."
The words burn Wade all the way through because it's true and oh, this was a mistake, fucking Logan was a mistake, this was a trap, one he makes no move to get out of. "Stab me, please," he begs again, "or--I--"
"No," Logan says, eyes glittering, and that's it. Wade feels himself pass the point of no return; even if he pulls out now, stops moving entirely, he's going to come. The process has already started, it's not avoidable. He whines low and desperate, buries his masked face against Logan's neck, hips stuttering and cheeks burning as he unravels, come pulsing into Logan with every frantic beat of his scarred heart.
"Oh, what a letdown," Logan sighs, theatrical, "don't know why I'm fuckin' surprised, though. Figures you'd be--"
Wade grits his teeth, pushes through the overstimulation, picks his pace up again. It's easier, hotter, wetter with his come, and Logan inhales sharp as Wade drives into him. The sensation is intense almost to the point of pain but it's fucking worth it for the way Logan's legs wrap around him.
"Attaboy," Logan purrs again, "maybe you're good for something after all."
Wade works hard to get his language centers back online, get words together even as he maintains his rhythm. "You really thought I'd blow my load and instantly quit like a little bitch?"
"Yeah," Logan says. "I did."
Pushing past the point of painful overstimulation is difficult, but Wade is persistent, and eventually the raw overwhelm of it all lifts and is replaced with pleasure again, less urgent this time, less desperate. "I told you I know how to fuck."
"You're not--" Logan groans low with a particularly hard thrust, "--not the worst I've had."
"I'll take it," Wade murmurs, spurred on, "but let's see if we can raise the score."
For the first time, Wade feels like maybe he has an inch of control here, and it makes him want to take a fucking mile. Logan's dick is hard and leaking precome onto his suit and Wade wraps his bare hand around it only to have his wrist instantly speared by three claws.
"What the fuck, kitty cat!"
"No," Logan hisses, "you'll make me come with your dick or not at all."
"Okay, fine! Put your steak knives away!"
Logan withdraws his claws and Wade replaces his hand where it was on Logan's hip. If that's what Logan wants, Wade's going to have to switch it up a little.
He changes tactics, leans more upright so Logan's half in his lap and half lying across the seat. He's able to rock his hips in short, quick up-down thrusts this way, a fluid, rolling motion that doesn't give Logan any time without his sweet spot under direct attack, Logan arches as if electrified, bites back a moan and works automatically back against Wade's cock.
Yahtzee.
Wade can do this all day; his thumbs rub circles over Logan's hipbones, he watches as the man in his lap begins to fall apart. A strange look crosses Logan's face, a look of--mild panic, maybe?
"C'mon, harder," Logan demands, and Wade shakes his head. He's trying to get Wade to fuck him differently, change it up, give him some relief; that's what that brief look in his eyes was about, that flash of uncertainty; he's going to come if Wade doesn't let up. "You can do better."
Realization dawns on Wade: Logan didn't think he could do it. Logan thought he'd fail, give up, tap out.
And he's losing his gamble.
"Nope. Not gonna quit what's working, kitten. I'm gonna get you there, just like you wanted."
"Oh, fuck," Logan bites out, head tipping back; Wade can see his chest heave, his stomach clench, can see his cock steadily dripping milky precome and he can feel Logan's thighs start to shake, can feel him tighten inside, and god does it feel good--not just physically, but psychologically to know that he's making the Wolverine lose it just by fucking him. Logan squirms, maybe involuntary, resisting the pleasure as it threatens to overtake him, like he's trying to curl in and shield himself against it.
"I'll stop," Wade murmurs, "just say the word."
Logan shakes his head. "Keep fuckin' going," he demands, voice shot rough, even as he punches both sets of claws through the seat and twists against Wade like he's searching for reprieve and simply not finding it. If he makes Wade stop, he admits defeat. If he comes untouched, he loses his own stupid bet with himself. Wade holds his hips tighter, uses all his fairly considerable strength to hold Logan in place and just keep going.
Wade can feel his own second orgasm begin to threaten him and prays to whatever god might have the misfortune of listening in to give him just a little more time because he thinks he needs to make Logan come just like this, while he's fighting it hard, because he wants to win almost as much as his body needs to come.
He's visibly losing the battle with his own body, panting and giving these almost distressed little grunts and groans that steadily rise in frequency as his hands curl into tight fists, as his legs twist and his toes flex and--
He makes a noise like he's dying, arches his back as he comes in thick lines across the front of his suit, fully gives in and rocks down against Wade to meet every roll of his hips, chases the feeling as far as he can; his asshole tightens rhythmic with each shot of come, and honestly, that's it. Seeing Wolverine come handsfree on his cock, feeling it happen, is enough to tip Wade over the edge. He lengthens his thrusts for his own pleasure, milking it out of himself using Logan's ass, finally stilling and twitching and unloading deep inside.
"Oh, fuck yeah," he moans, slowing his pace and savoring the sensations coursing through him, "didn't think you'd come from that, did you?"
"Shut the fuck up," Logan growls.
And, well, Wade's never had very good impulse control or self-preservation instincts, because he keeps talking. "You thought you'd be able to emasculate me some more but instead I just gave you the dicking of a lifetime right in this godawful minivan, and you don't even know what to do with yourself."
Logan gives an angry noise that sounds halfhearted, but full-heartedly draws his leg up to kick Wade powerfully in the stomach, driving him back against the dashboard and away from himself. "This was a mistake," he snaps, grabbing his suit pants and wriggling awkwardly back into them, "you're a goddamn mistake. This didn't happen."
And Wade's never been able to keep from ruining a good thing, has he? So he runs his fucking mouth, as he always does.
"Mm," Wade says, catching his breath against the dash as he puts his dick away, re-zips his pants, "I think the biggest mistake is putting that spandex back on right away, baby, you're gonna be leaking my come out of your ass for a while and I haven't seen a laundromat around h--"
With an animalistic, enraged sound, Logan launches at Wade claws-first.
"Stop! Fucking! Talking!"
Goddamn it, Wade thinks as Logan's claws shred through his ribs, he's all out of baby knives.
-
Shit happens.
They save the day. They save each other.
And everything changes, really fucking fast.