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Wade choses the bar for three very good and smart reasons.
- The bar is within a block of the bad guy’s “secret lair.”
- The aforementioned bad guy has been seen in and out of it before.
And most importantly-
- Seeing Logan at a shitty tiki bar sounds fucking hilarious.
Wade finds himself disappointed, only correct on two of his three reasons, because Logan is sitting at the sticky bar of the most garish and kitsch tiki establishment Wade has ever been in and looks right at home.
“Oh come on . You’re telling me you’re into this?” Wade groans over a pitiful Mai Tai, gesturing to the crab lures and fish net ceilings.
“Bar’s a bar,” Logan shrugs, lifting a mug in the crude likeness of a mermaid, “Alcohol’s alcohol.”
How the hell is he making a drink with a twisty straw and two paper umbrellas look cool?
Wade is pouting. He knows he is pouting and it only makes him pout that much harder. Actually- he is wallowing. It seems like no matter what he throws at Logan these days, he is absolutely unfazed. It’s like he’s got Wade completely figured out- doesn’t so much as growl or grumble. Sometimes even laughs, but in that way that feels like he’s pandering or pitying him. And it’s driving Wade crazy.
It used to be so easy to get under Logan’s skin. But now. Now it feels like an undertaking.
And yes. Annoying someone incesively is probably not the smartest or most productive form of flirting. But it’s what he’s good at, and Logan is kind of stepping all over his usual courting method by completely shutting him down every step of the goddamn way.
Logan waves down the bartender, and Wade pounds the rest of his drink in a vain attempt to keep up with Logan’s breakneck drinking pace. The alcohol goes straight to his head, making him momentarily fuzzy while his healing factor works to burn it away.
“How on God’s burning earth do you work like this?” Wade moans after Logan orders himself a fourth Zombie and Wade his third Mai Tai. “Cocaine- well. I understand that. But working drunk sucks. Stimulants good, alcohol bad.”
Logan lifts an eyebrow, the smallest smirk pulling at a corner of his lips. God, his beautiful lips
“This is gettin’ you drunk?”
Wade is still pouting. Even Logan’s beautiful lips can’t stop the pouting. Nope. He won’t let them.
“We’ve been here for-,” Wade makes an effort to exaggerate the motion as he pulls down the sleeve of his suit and looks at his plastic watch, “-forty five minutes. So. Yeah. Sue me for having a liver that isn’t a fucking pickle.”
Logan snorts.
“Baby.”
“Weird time to pull out a pet name, not that I’m complaining.”
That gets Wade the tiniest of sneers. He takes the win.
“That was an insult, bub.”
“Ah. Can’t blame a girl for getting her hopes up.”
The banter is interrupted with the bartender placing the next round of drinks in front of them. Wade’s stomach turns, but he powers through the urge to vomit at the sight of another rum-lime-orgeat concoction and reaches for the mug.
Before he can wrap his fingers around the ugly mug Logan snatches his wrist.
“They’re spiked.”
Logan’s head is immediately on a swivel, trying to find whoever drugged the mugs.
“What we workin’ with, Wolvie?” Wade sing-songs, wiggling his fingers as if he could telepathically draw the mug into his hand.
He doesn’t stop the search, eyes narrowed as he scans the crowd. Logan’s nose crinkles. “Smells like a sedative.”
“Those bastards! And here I was really wanting to pound another overpriced cocktail.”
Logan lets go of Wade’s wrist, his scan coming up short, and grabs the mug to bring it closer to his nose. He takes another deep breath.
“Depends. How well do you hold your ketamine?”
The tone is almost a dare, just verging on a joke. It sends a spike of excitement down Wade’s spine.
He laughs, grabbing a hold of the garish Mai Tai.
“Oh, peanut, don’t threaten me with a good time.”
Wade knows that by the time they need to get moving, any amount of sedative in his system will have worn off. Shit- the last drink is already almost out of his system, leaving him just shy of buzzed. And there was no way a little horse tranquilizer is going to keep the Wolverine down. He got shot with like, five of those military grade tranqs in X2 and it hardly made him stumble.
He clinks his mug off of Logan’s, and throws the Mai Tai back, Logan following suit.
Wade sputters and groans the moment the glass is drained.
Instantly the drug is noticeable. Acrid and biter, overpowering in every conceivable way.
“FUCK- that was absolutely disgusting. Jesus Christ, did they expect us to not notice that?! My God, ketamine completely ruins the subtle complexity and balance of this historic tropical cocktail!”
Logan just grunts in response, his eyebrows crinkling in matched disgust.
“I’m pretty sure K doesn’t even absorb well orally. Isn’t it better to do it sublingually? Or as a spray? Or shit, intermuscally?” Wade pushes the mug away from himself, wiping his mouth with the back of his glove, “Seems like amateur hour to me. Fuck, it was grainy. How was it so grainy with all that crushed ice? Was yours grainy?”
There is another grunt in response.
“Soooo. Guess now we just. Wait…”
It doesn’t take long for Logan to wave down the bartender again and order himself his fifth zombie. Wade watches gleefully as the bartender tries to tell him that they cut people off after four zombies, but Logan does the growl and ‘fuck you’ eyes routine and has a fresh drink within minutes.
The ketamine on the other hand takes about twenty minutes of chattering on Wade’s part and three word answers on Logan’s to kick in. By then Wade has switched to a Shirley temple, extra cherries, and Logan has scared the manager into giving him a sixth Zombie.
The effects are subtle- euphoria, a comfortable numbing on the fingers and toes, a soft blanket of calm. Wade knows that if he didn’t have the constantly-regenerating-cells thing going on this would be incredibly dangerous (never mix K with alcohol kids!) but for the moment he lets the chill vibes wash over him. It almost feels like a hit of nicotine instead of a sedative meant to take down a horse.
For a moment he considers texting Al and seeing if her dealer has a K hook up.
Wade turns to voice the thought only to find Logan seeming to have a much different response to the spiked drink finally kicking in.
Instead of looking comfortable, Logan looks like he’s about to puke. There is an anxious slant to his brow, his palms flat to the bar as if to stabilize himself. His eyes are unfocused, staring into middle space. Wade’s euphoria sours as he watches the other man take a deep breath and hold it.
He’s seen enough bad trips to know when something if off.
“Hey, pumpkin. Thought you heavily implied that you could hold your horse tranquilizers? Or did the outrageous amount of 151 proof rum finally make its way through your adamantium skull to your brain?” Wade chirps, slowly pushing the half finished cocktail in front of Logan out of the mutants reach.
Logan shakes his head as if to clear it, reaching for his previously untouched glass of water.
“Oh, that’s not good. Water? Don’t the writers usually try to keep you as dehydrated as possible?”
He downs the glass, and grabs Wade’s to down that too. Without asking for a check, Logan pulls out a wad of cash and throws it on the bar as he begins to slip off the barstool to leave.
Wade is quick to snatch the money and grab Logan by the bicep in an attempt to keep him from getting up. “Hey hey hey hey. Why the rush, big boy? Maybe we should let that work its way outta your system?”
“M’fine,” Logan snaps, ripping his arm out of Wade’s grasp, “Just need some air.”
Wade quickly pulls his mask back over his nose and mouth, does some mental math (not his strongest skill, especially while under the influence, but he makes due) and throws down what feels like an appropriate amount of the cash onto the bar before scrambling after Logan.
Cold autumn air greets them both as they exit out onto the sidewalk. Logan has already slipped into the alley next to the bar, and Wade catches up right as he’s pulling his shirt over his head to expose the yellow and blue of his suit underneath. The snarky comment Wade is teeing up dies in his throat as Logan looks over at him.
There is something there- something Wade can’t quite place yet. The slant of the other man’s brow, the darting look in his eyes, the way his breath seems to be catching in his chest. If Wade wasn’t currently mildly intoxicated and under the influence of a goddamn animal sedative, he might be more observant and able to make an astute assessment. But as it is, the only solid conclusion he can draw is that Wolverine really can’t hold his ketamine.
Which is surprising! Wade would never have thought that Logan would have any issue shaking something like this off. There is a small part of Wade that really is concerned, gnawing at the pit of his stomach, but he also knows Logan’s tolerance for ‘mother-henning’ is practically non-existent.
So instead of showing genuine concern for this friend, a new snarky comment is promptly teed up in place of the dead one.
“Ha! Did a wittle ittie bit of a schedule III non-narcotic make wittle Wolves feel icky?”
Claws box Wade in the moment the words leave his mouth. His heart beats louder in his chest, the thrill making his nerve ending hum with delight, replacing the sedative numbness with ease.
Finally. Finally Wade is comfortably back under Logan’s skin. A place he feels so at home- a place he feels like he belongs . Would he rather gotten here without someone drugging them both unsuccessfully? Of course! But seeing Logan really react for the first time in what feels like ages makes him oh so very happy either way.
He giggles, another burst of warmth and euphoria flooding his synapses, leaving Wade feeling momentarily woozy.
The claws retract leaving a mark in the brick beside Wade’s head and him to catch his breath while he watches Logan shuck off the bootcut jeans that he had on over his suit. Logan quickly stuffs them into the duffle bag he stashed behind a dumpster when they first got to the bar.
“Shirt,” Logan grumbles, putting a hand out towards Wade without looking up from the duffel bag.
“Woah, forward much?!”
“ Shirt.” Logan repeats through clenched teeth, opening and closing his hand in the universal sign for ‘give it here.’
Wade rolls his eyes as he slips out of his yellow and blue Hawaiian shirt (that he definitely didn’t choose because it reminded him of Logan’s get-up) that is loosely hanging open over his suit and hands it over.
He didn’t see the point in putting another pair of pants on over the suit- that just seemed restrictive and uncomfy.
Logan shoves the shirt into the duffle and pulls out Wade’s katana’s, guns, and extra ammo before kicking the duffle behind a dumpster.
“As much as I’d love to watch ya get your perfectly toned ass handed to you by a designer drug dealer, y’sure you’re holding it together over there?” Wade asks, forcing his tone into the ‘gentle and meaningful’ box instead of the usual ‘snarky scamp’ box as he slips on his various harnesses and weapons. “If you aren’t, I’m totally cool with ditching, getting pizza, losing the hit money and saying ‘fuck it’ with the rent this month.”
The way Logan squeezes and releases his fists, shakes his head, and stands up straight gives Wade the immediate impression that no matter how shitty the other man may or may not feel, he won’t voice it. He pulls his mask over his eyes before looking straight at Wade. His jaw is clenched, the muscles of his neck tight from the effort of teeth grinding against teeth.
“I said I was fine, bub. Got my air. Let’s fucking do this,” Logan growls through those clenched pearly whites, shoulder checking Wade as he stalks past him.
The utter lack of vulnerability and truly nuclear levels of machismo shouldn’t do it for Wade. But fuck if he isn’t human.
Wade ignores voices in his head that whispers ‘you can’t fix him, but maybe you can fuck him and it might calm him down’ and follows after Logan.
——-
The ‘secret lair’ or more of a ‘not very secret or secure apartment building’ and Logan voices his frustration and annoyance in grumbled insults as they ride up the rickety elevator to the 7th floor.
“Recon is boring . It looked like a secret lair from outside. Stop being such a grumpy-pants,” Wade complains back, rocking on his heels impatiently for the world's slowest elevator to reach its destination. “Murdering bad guys is supposed to be fun ! You know what isn’t fun? Googling the blueprints of a building. Boooring.”
The elevator dings, and Wade steps out backwards, keeping his eyes locked on the brooding Wolverine.
There is something still distinctly off about him. His shoulders are a little more raised, and he almost looks… flushed? And Logan isn’t one for extended periods of eye contact, but it almost seems like he is avoiding looking at Wade all together.
Wade will admit he still feels a little giddy from the drugs, but nothing major or mission-distracting. Logan’s reaction seems to be so different , which comes off as surprising if not downright concerning.
“Does it feel warm in here?” Logan asks suddenly, sniffing the air as they move down the hallway.
Wade takes a second to actually notice the environment around him. Huh. Now that he thinks about it.
“Wow, yeah, it is toasty. These poor idiots are going to hate their power bill at the end of the month,” Wade supplies, “Also. Fuck you for not asking if it felt hot in here. Really could have set me up for a much better response.”
Logan ignores him completely, instead asking, “What apartment?”
“What part of ‘didn’t do required amount of recon’ isn’t sinking in for you?”
“You take the West end, I’ll take the East.”
Wade salutes Logan before stepping back and turning towards the right.
“That’s the East, dumbass,” Logan calls after Wade.
“Guess you’re going to have’ta be the West End Girl tonight then, kitten,” Wade calls back.
He starts the sweep humming Pet Shop Boys, kicking down doors and finding the first couple apartments bare or abandoned. It seems with every new apartment the building gets just a little warmer, sweat now collecting uncomfortably on the back of Wade’s neck.
Thoughts of Logan keep slipping to the front of his mind. Logan. Logan who will never ask for help, who would rather suffer and power through, who must have it stuck in his head that he doesn’t deserve the care offered to him.
If he wasn’t fairly certain it would earn him three fist daggers through the temples, Wade would have forced the other mutant to go home. Would have reassured him that everyone has a bad reaction to ketamine at least once, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.
He groans, trying to focus back on the task at hand.
“Maybe a little recon would have been a good idea,” Wade wonders out loud as he busts down the door of his fifth apartment door.
Walking into this apartment is noticeably different. The floor is littered with papers. The tiny kitchen is set up with scales and containers of various chemicals and elicit materials Wade is pretty sure the modern home chef wouldn’t need for every day meal prep. There are take-out containers and empty bottles and a designated place for shoes and grocery bags and even a coat hook.
Wade goes to press his earpiece to tell Logan he found the place, and realizes that in the hurry to leave the bar and make sure Logan wasn’t spiraling into a K hole, he forgot to put them in.
“Ah, fiddlesticks,” he mutters, smacking an empty Mountain Dew bottle off the counter in childish retaliation. “Well, he’s a big boy. He’ll figure it out.”
Without a second though Wade pulls both his pistols.
“Okay asshole. I know you’re in here. Come out and only one of us will get hurt.”
Nothing.
“I’ll count to three. And if you’re not out here by three mister, no dessert with dinner!”
There is a rustle from a back bedroom followed by a muttered expletive. Bingo.
“One,” Wade sings, striding right towards the source of the noise.
“Twoooo,” Wade draws out the word, poking the ajar door open with the tip of his boot.
Before he can get to three, he locks eyes with a slimy looking twenty-something in a god damn labcoat. Ridiculous. The scene is so perfectly set. Large glass windows looking out on the night skyline. More paper and science do-dads littering the floor. And a fucking labcoat .
What’s even more ridiculous than the labcoat is the gun in the greaseball’s hands, shaking as it’s pointed in the general direction of Wade.
“Oh there you are, kiddo. Me and your dad were worried sick ! You might want to take the safety off if you’re planning on using that big boy gun,” Wade quips, putting his guns back into their holster before pointing thoughtfully towards where the safety is.
The kid looks shaken, quickly flicking the safety off.
“There we go! Good j-“ the words get cut off as the gunshots ring out.
Unluckily for the kid, not that it really would matter, they are an awful shot. A total of three bullets actually hit the desired target (being Wade), one grazing Wade’s arm, and two lodging into his upper thigh. The other nine bury into the drywall behind him.
That’s definitely one way to get Logan’s attention. No way the furry guy didn’t hear all the commotion. Wade starts the mental countdown of when he roughly expects Logan to bust in, claws a-blazing.
“Well. You’re not getting that safety deposit back now!” Wade smiles. He watches as the kids' eyes widen in despair. “You done? Yeah? Okay, good. My turn.” With a swift motion he pulls both of his katana, makes his way across the room, and cages the labcoat wearing dumbass drug dealer against the cool glass of the window.
They are even greasier up close, their blond hair slick to their head. And. Jesus. Are they already almost crying?
“H-how are you standing?!” They ask in hysterics, katana pressed millimeters from their throat.
“Well, there are these things called feet! They are attached to my legs. Which connect to my-“
The kid snaps and cuts Wade off, “I know what fucking feet are! There is no way you should be standing after what I put in your fucking drink!”
Wade feigns surprise, gasping dramatically.
“Oh. My God. You put something in my drink? I thought it was supposed to taste like ketamine and lime!”
The hit is getting more and more frustrated. And from what Wade is quickly gathering might be a frustrated crier. Tears are collecting in the angry corner of their crinkled eyes.
“I knew the ketamine wouldn’t do shit, asshole. What I put in with the ketamine.”
Wade lets the katana pull back a little, his head tilting in confusion, a tiny “huh” escaping from his lips.
“Yeah, dumbass, it wasn’t just ketamine. I’m not a fucking idiot.”
Wade rolls his head, making sure the kid knows he is rolling his eyes behind the mask and steps back, dropping one sword down by his side and spinning the other in the universal motion for ‘go on’.
“Calm down with the insults, Heisenberg. We are 3300 plus words into this story. Cut the chit-chat and just lay out the evil genius game plan so I know what we’re workin’ with.”
The kid slumps forward, their hands bracing on their knees as they take a few deep breaths.
“I created a drug- a drug that mimics the body's hormonal reaction to arousal. Interacts with the host’s genetics to create a huge release of testosterone or estrogen or vasopressin and an obsessive desire for oxytocin,” they pant. They stand up straight, bubbling with the beginning of manic laughter. “You shouldn’t be able to stand, because you should be so fucking uncomfortably and violently horny that anything but getting off would make you feel sick.”
If this was a movie, or a comic book, this is the moment where the VX team or artist would show synapses connecting, lines being drawn between one idea and the next. A flash of Logan flushing in an alley, the comment about the heat of the building, the way Logan couldn’t even look Wade in the eyes.
“God fucking DAMNIT. The sex pollen trope? Really?! That’s what this is about!” Wade groans, tilting his torso back to exclaim more at the ceiling than the panting drug dealer. “We couldn’t come up with something more original?!”
From down the hall, Wade can hear the rapid unsteady boot fall of Logan. He can tell the hit can hear it too, and is growing more hysteric by the second.
“How can you be functioning right now, man?! How are you not uncomfortably fucking horny?!”
With another groan, Wade loses any remaining patience for the situation and boxes the hit back against the glass with his sword, forearm braced across their chest.
“That’s my secret, Cap,” Wade sneers, his masked face close to the drug dealer's ear, “I’m always uncomfortably fucking horny.”
He can feel the kid shake with laughter beneath him.
“Well. I don’t think he always is.”
The sting of a dagger driving into Wade’s thigh causes him to flinch back, giving the hit just enough space to slip out of the way.
That is when Wade feels strong arms wrap around his middle as Logan tackles him through the window he is braced against.
He is falling, glass shimmering in the night sky, Logan snarling close to his ear as they plummet to the concrete below.
Falling always happens in slow motion. It’s sexier that way. Lena Heady in Judge Dredd. Robert Downey Jr in The Avengers. Magneto in Lord of the Rings. Snape in Die Hard. All falling slowly towards the unforgiving ground below.
Impact isn’t nearly as sexy, which is why the movie usually cuts away when it happens.
Wade and Logan crash into a car parked in an alleyway below with a crunch of bone and metal. It’s extremely unsexy.
“Mother fucker !”
Wade manages to get his leg that isn’t broken under Logan’s diaphragm and kicks him off. With a hiss he pulls the dagger out of the thigh, throws it aside, snaps his knee into the correct orientation, and then slides off the busted car roof.
He knows he isn’t being graceful and there is a weird combination of butterflies and anxiety roiling in his guts, because now he has to deal with Logan. Logan, who doesn’t do tender or feelings or at least will never admit that he does. Logan, who constantly is trying to make himself seem useful but won’t accept help without a fuck ton of persuading. Who is grumpy, and gorgeous, and who Wade still isn’t sure thinks of him as a friend or just tolerates him.
Logan, who is on a super drug that apparently makes anyone who takes it so horny they would do anything to feel relief and release.
He is crouched, a low rumble of a growl vibrating from his throat, eyes locked on Wade. He is panting, his bloodied chest rising and falling with exertion, his wounds from the fall working their way closed.
“Okay, kitten- Gonna need you to be really brave and use your words to describe all those big feelings. Because if what Dexter said up in that lab of theirs is true, you may be, and I quote, ‘uncomfortably and violently horny’.”
He shakes his head, sneering. “The fuck is this?”
Wade risks taking a few slow steps closer. Logan’s discomfort is obvious, every muscle pulled taught in effort to curl in on himself.
“Seems we’re beholden to a sex pollen situation, peanut. So, in order to keep this whole story from straying into dead-bird-in-a-paper-bag territory, really gonna need you to articulate what y’want and or need.”
Another growl vibrates from Logan’s clenched jaw as he curls into himself further. “Why does half the shit you say make no sense?”
“It makes perfect sense- just not to you. That’s not the issue right now- the issue is all those fucky-wucky chemicals coursing through your beautiful bulging veins. So. Let me ask you again-,” Carefully, Wade kneels down next to Logan and places a hand on his shoulder, “What do you want me to do.”
Logan shivers, pushing up and into Wade’s open palm, a cut off whimper escaping his throat. It’s a sound so foreign coming from the mutant that it catches Wade off guard. And he’s so hot, warmth radiating through the armored fabric of his suit and the leather of Wade’s glove, making him realize just how hot he is himself. It ignites something in Wade, makes his stomach swoop and his heart beat faster.
“C’mon, pumpkin. I need you to give me something here. I’m down for whatever,” he mutters, the words more gentle and even than he’s used to making them, “Just tell me what you want. Want me to take you home? Say the work and I’ll tuck you in and let you ride your right hand til the break of dawn, get it all outta your system.”
Sluggish and tentative, Logan turns to look Wade in the eyes. Behind the mask it’s hard to tell what is going on, what emotions might be flicking across his eyes and brow. But his mouth turned down into a small frown, his jaw working as if he’s chewing on what he wants to say next.
Wade doesn’t have time to analyze his feelings in detail because what Logan says next almost knocks him on his ass.
“Won’t make it. Gotta start here, then home. Just shut your fucking mouth, and get me off.”
Wade blue-screens. Yeah- he knows he just in a kind of roundabout way suggested he would give Logan a hand with the whole so-horny-he-could-die-thing. But he never thought in any multiverse, least of all his OWN, that Logan would say yes.
“Um. Ex-squeeze me?” Wade squeaks.
This is the unfortunate moment Wade realizes that he is, in fact, uncomfortably hard himself. And not just his normal ‘I’m on a job and that makes me half hard no matter what’ erection. This is a ‘could cut diamonds’ kind of erection. He can’t tell if the weird designer fuck-drug is finally doing its job, or Logan slowly uncurling and running his gloved hands up Wade’s biceps is making any remaining blood his brain was trying to use for cognitive thinking rush definitively south.
“Stop acting surprised, bub. We have been heading here for months,” Logan grits out, his thumbs hooking into the seam of Wade’s mask.
“We have?!” Wade squeaks again.
Logan growls, his canine teeth showing as his lip pulls back. It’s feral. It’s animalistic. It makes Wade even harder, which he didn’t think was possible .
Months? Is he missing something? Last he checked, which was literally a couple paragraphs ago, Logan was apathetic towards him at worst, tolerated him as a friend at best. And now the mutant is claiming they have been on the slow train to pound town for months?!
“Okay! Okay, Jesus Marvel Christ. Uh. Oh God. Um. Okay. Fucking in an alleyway. Getting our freak on right here by a destroyed Camry and this piss soaked dumpster. Okay. Yeah,” Wade chatters as Logan pushes closer into his very loosely enforced personal space and nearly crawls into his lap.
“Let me, oh jeez you are really handsy, mother fucking Mary, let me call an Uber and-“ Logan burries his nose into the curve of Wade’s throat, using his thumb to pull the mask up, his other arm twisting itself around Wade’s middle, petting at his sides.
“Fuuuuck, fuck. Okay. And gotta text Al to make sure she-“ Logan’s teeth scrape against a pulse point as Wade pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Oh god DAMNIT!”
He pushes Logan back an arms length, causing Logan to growl again and grab onto Wade’s arms possessively.
“DOWN BOY! I’m trying to be responsible, because someone’s whole brain has been chemically relocated to his cock ,” Wade snaps, no real heat behind it.
Logan whines, fucking whines, and Wade thinks he might be truly going insane.
Working as fast as he can, Wade requests an Uber, shoots Al a text that reads ‘Hey bitch. Great news. Wolvie and me got drugged with mega super viagra. About to earn the E rating. This is your metaphorical sock on the door warning. Best clear out. And take my beautiful child with you- I can’t bear to subject her to the fuck fest that’s about to go down’, and is answered with ‘disgusting bastard’, checks to see how long it will take for the Uber to arrive, and then shoves his phone back into his pocket, turning his attention back to Logan.
“Uber will be here in eight minutes. Which- who are we kidding- will probably be more like fifteen. Where do you want me, kitten, my ass is all yours.”
Logan’s hands still, and that small frown tugs on his mouth again. Wade stomach flips, trying to figure out what he could have done wrong. He springs to his feet, pulling the Wolverine up with him.
“Up against the hood of the car?” Wade asks quickly, draping himself over the crumpled hood of the Camry, “or, oh you kinky bastard, I bet you want to fuck me against the wall! God, let’s do that, that’s so hot.”
He wraps his arms around Logan’s neck, tugging him back so he’s pressed against the graffitied brick of the alley, expecting the mutant to hoist him up and have his way. But the frown remains, and Wade’s stomach sinks a little further.
“What gives . You were rearing to go one Uber request and text to a blind elderly roommate ago?” Wade whines.
Logan grumbles, and reaches in between their bodies to start undoing his belt.
“Okay! Here we go!” Wade cheers. He can’t see Logan roll his eyes, but he swears he can hear it.
He grabs one of Wade’s hands, brings the gloved fingers to his lips, pulls the glove off with his teeth and chucks it to the side. Wade’s squeaks, cock twitching against Logan’s hip, causing both of them to hiss.
Without warning, Logan shoves Wade’s freed hand down the front of his pants.
“Thought you already knew,” Logan mumbles, his voice low and ragged as he wraps his arm back around Wade’s middle as if he’s afraid he might flee. Wade’s scarred fingertips softly bump against the swollen nub of Logan’s cock before exploring lower between soft slick folds.
“Oh. Oh ,” Wade gasps. He pauses and risks circling his thumb across the bud of Logan’s dick. He responds with a groan, dropping his forehead onto Wade’s shoulder, fingers digging into his hips with bruising force.
Wade’s brain scrambles to catch up, every wet dream rewriting itself in record time. Words start to stumble compulsively from his mouth, “I’m learning so much about you tonight, princess. Wait- is that why you don’t like that nickname? Fuck! What can I do to make it up to you, babygirl. What do you want me to do? I’ll do anything. Fuck- can I suck your cock? Please please please please-“
Logan cuts Wade off by sinking his teeth into the side of the Mercs neck hard enough to break skin. In an instant Wade goes slack, like a fresh born kitten, and Logan smirks against the quickly healing wound, letting go and licking over the spot.
“I don’t care what you call me. Shut your fucking mouth, and get on your knees.” Logan growls into the crook of Wade’s neck, and if there are any bones keeping him standing, they are instantly transformed into jello.
As Logan steps back and lets go of Wade’s middle, his hand is unceremoniously pulled from the mutant's pants and he crumbles to the ground. His knees make contact with the dirty alley ground, which, ouch, sting on impact from the broken glass and metal. A small punch of air escapes his throat in a broken “oof”, but there is no time to linger on the sting as Logan grabs a hold of the harness cutting across the front of his suit.
He’s walked forward on his knees by the rough tug of his harness, catching himself with his hand as he stumbles so he is momentarily being moved on all fours, until Logan has him where he wants him- sitting on his heels, right between Logan’s thighs as he leans against the corpse of the Camry.
Wade’s thoughts sprint rapidly, mostly just the words ‘oh fuck’ over and over on repeat with the occasional ‘is this real’ and a peppering of ‘I’m going to come right here in my pants like a virgin.’ He might have said most of them out loud, he can’t be sure. He watches as Logan lifts his hips, undoing his belt and fly with quick efficiency before tugging his pants down his thighs.
Over the last couple months Wade has gotten very well acquainted with Logan’s body. Logan wasn’t exactly shy around the apartment- often beginning and ending his days in just boxers-briefs and a tank top. So that’s to say, Wade is intimately aware of the body hair, and the muscles, and that one vein that trails past the waistband of Logan’s pants, you know the one. But watching Logan edge his suit down over his thighs, revealing how the line of hair that travels down his stomach spreads thick between his legs and into the crease where thigh meets hip? It feels like a religious experience.
“Oh fuck,” Wade groans, running his hands up the furry skin of Logan’s thighs. “If you ever shave I’m gonna figure out how to kill myself. This is a real threat. I’ll fuckin’ do it.”
Logan smirks, his fingers leaving his pants to ruck Deadpool’s mask up over his mouth and nose. Wade feels his heart rabbit in his chest, and swears he’s about to start drooling like a cartoon character.
The hands on either side of Wade’s face run smoothly to the top of his head as Logan snarls between closed teeth, “Get to it, Mouth.”
Before Wade can think up a witty response, strong hands pull him forward, burying his nose into the thick thatch of pubic hair. He inhales on instinct, the overwhelming musky scent of Logan familiar but stronger and more intoxicating in a way Wade doesn’t think he could put into words. He could try, fuck he could try, but he sure they probably wouldn’t do it justice.
Wade wastes no time opening his mouth and laying his tongue flat against Logan’s center, and the noise he is rewarded with is one he could become addicted to. He vibrates as his hands find their way to Logan’s hips and run up his furry stomach, his tongue running through folds before his lips wrap around Logan’s swollen cock.
Logan’s grip tightens, verging on bruising as he holds him flush against him and in place, making Wade moan as he arches into his mouth. Wade responds with gentle suction, focused attention, encouraged on with thickened breath, muttered curses and the shuddering of hips.
It feels insane, like prayers answered and dreams come true, heat pooling in the pit of his belly as Logan fucks himself into Wade’s mouth. Madonna sings sweetly in his brain, and he gets it. The song about blow jobs makes sense .
He lets his mouth fall open with a low moan, allowing Logan grind himself against the flat of his tongue with filthy jagged movements. Logan responds with a grunt, head rolling back as Wade lets him rut against him, chasing his release.
Wade runs his hand down the mutant's hip, tracing the crease of his groin until his thumb rests next to his mouth. He strains against Logan’s grip, pulling himself off only to replace his tongue with the digit. He draws circles around Logan’s cock, his other fingers dipping between swollen spit wet folds until they bump against the edge of his entrance. He feels lightheaded as he asks between gasping airy breaths, “How do we feel about fingers, kitten? Or is this a ‘nothing goes inside me' situation?”
Logan’s head tips further back, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. He looks almost like he’s in pain, and Wade worries that he’s misread the last minutes. His fingers still, waiting for indication that what he’s doing is okay, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious.
Instantly Logan whines, his one hand leaving the crown of Wade’s head to slam into the side of the car, leaving a dent and causing Wade to flinch in surprise.
“Yes, fuck, don’t fucking stop,” Logan all but snarls.
“ Fuuuuuck , okay. Woah, did you know punching a car in the throes of passion was going to be so h-“
Logan doesn’t let Wade finish the sentence, pulling his mouth back to his dripping cunt. Wade melts, humming contently as he slides his middle and ring fingers into the tight flutter of his hole and laving his tongue over the swell of his cock, drawing a low sound out of Logan.
It’s quick work after that, just as easy bending his fingers to brush against Logan’s soft insides and bobbing his head along with the other man’s shallow thrusts. Wade feels as Logan bears down and every muscle goes taught, as he arches off the car and his fingers slip lower to grasp wild and painful at the back of Wade’s neck.
A low rumble of a groan fills the quiet of the alley and is puncuated with a broken “f-fuck,” as Logan curls over Wade, shivering and holding him still as he comes against his mouth. Wade doesn’t let up, trying to draw it out as long as possible for Logan, who shakes apart on his fingers and tongue.
As if on cue, Logan yanks Wade off of him by the back of his collar at the same time a car honks its horn at the edge of the alley.
Wade laughs, strung out and shaking with excitement and arousal, and wipes his slick wet chin on the sleeve of his suit.
“Look at that- right on time. How conveniently written is that?! Wanna help me up, peanut? My young knees might have superhuman regeneration, but alleyway concrete is hard. ”
Boneless and panting, Logan shifts himself from leaning to standing, does up his pants with a hiss, and puts a hand out for Wade to hoist himself up with.
“That’s not the only thing that’s hard,” Wade jokes, taking the hand that helped him up and pressing it to his straining erection. “But unlike you , I can control myself while under the influence of story-convenient horny drugs. What do you think about paying me back when we get to the apartment? Maybe give those blowjob handles of yours a test run?”
A smug grin pulls on the corner of Logan’s mouth. He grinds his palm hard into Wade’s hard on, making Wade gasp somewhere between pain and laughter.
“Might be able to do that…” Logan smirks, palming roughly at Wade through the constricting red fabric of his suit.
“Oh you motherfucker-“
The car lays on the horn again, and Wade stamps his foot, turning towards the sound.
“Very important plot things are happening, can you give us a fucking second! ” Wade snaps over the shrill sound of honking.
The horn stops and Wade mutters a small ‘thank you’ under his breath.
“C’mon, don’t want to leave them waiting,” Logan says, slapping Wade’s shoulder like he just won an intense sparring match as opposed to getting his face fucked by The Wolverine.
Wade watches as Logan grabs the duffle bag he stuffed behind the dumpster and walks towards the Uber, seemingly composed while Wade feels stuck in place. He blinks, grabs his glove off the ground, and follows.
——
The drive back to the apartment feels unimaginably long for a trip that takes seventeen minutes. For the first few minutes they both are fine . Yeah, Wade is a little uncomfortable rocking the boner of the year sitting in the back of a Hyundai Acura, but it’s doable. It’s livable. Logan sits along with him in the back seat, his arms crossed and jaw set, and looks his normal amount of grumpy.
By the third stop light Logan starts to fidget. Sinking down further in the seats, flexing and unflexing his fists, the tips of his claws poking out just a little every so often, his breathing growing deeper. Wade can feel it too, a wave of arousal fizzling in the air of the suddenly stuffy Acura.
“Can you turn the heat down?” Logan asks, his voice too rough to be polite.
The Uber driver wordlessly turns the knob a degree cooler. Logan growls. The driver turns it two more degrees. Logan sits further down in the seat and crosses his legs.
Watching Logan grow more and more uncomfortable over the next minutes, verging on desperate for any covert stimulation, turns Wade on in a way that makes him feel ill.
‘So horny violently horny that anything but getting off would make you feel sick’ is starting to make some sense now.
Wade for his part is sitting with his hands on his knees, fingers tapping anxiously with impatience. He knows if he moves his hands from their spot, bad things will happen. Things that will affect his already horrible Uber passenger rating. He just got his account unsuspended and he can not afford to lose it again. So, yeah, his hands are staying glued to his knees.
It stays quiet in the back of the cab, The Weekend playing at an acceptable volume from the satellite radio.
Wade can still taste Logan on his tongue, still smell him trapped behind the fabric of his mask, and it makes him feel dizzy. He wants to make a quip, joke about what happened mere minutes ago. He tries to think of something, anything to break the silence, anything to get his mind off of how much he wants to undo his seatbelt and pin Logan against the backseat of this god forsaken Hyundai.
The heat starts to feel oppressive by minute fourteen, and Wade rolls down the window to the driver's voiced displeasure.
“Hey, we are dealing with a level five horny-drug issue back here. Be happy we aren’t getting freaky in your back seat- okay?” Wade snaps before sticking his head out the window like a dog.
The driver’s hands grip the steering wheel tighter, and drives a little faster.
Well. There goes his Uber account.
The Uber isn’t even completely parked by the time Logan rips his seatbelt off, opens the door, and jumps out, slamming the door closed behind him. Wade can hear the paint damage.
Definitely losing the Uber account.
Wade slips out of the back with a quick, “I promise I’ll tip you, please don’t give me a bad review”, and jogs to keep up with Logan.
Somehow the night air that was crisp and inviting now feels like a wet summer's day. Every inch of clothing feels damp, and Wade wants nothing more than to peel it all off. Inside the building is worse, and the energy to even climb the stairs feels oppressive.
Once at the door, as he fumbles with the key, with his heart pounding in his chest, Wade’s nervous chatter starts up.
“Okay. Al texted and said she’s gone. She also said that we are both irresponsible idiots, and that she hopes we rip each other's dicks off. So, let’s try to avoid that because I really want to prove her wrong. I was thinking we could take it slow, maybe light some candles, put on some Michael Bolton or Phil Collins or-“
The lock clicks.
Logan tackles Wade through the door frame, and kicks the door closed behind him hard enough to shake the wall. He wastes no time pulling Wade’s swords’ harness over his head and letting them fall to the floor in front of the door in a heap with the discarded duffle. His claws snikt out as he cages Wade in, sliding his knee between Wade’s legs, straddling his thigh. With a hiss, he grinds down before slicing the top of the red suit open, careless and quick, cutting three thin lines down Wade’s chest as he does.
“Or we can do this. This is fine too,” Wade gasps as Logan slaves his tongue over the rapidly closing stripes before sinking his teeth into the dappled skin near his collarbone, pulling Wade’s mask back up over his mouth and nose. “Oh, fuck . This is totally fine.”
The claws don’t retract, dragging scratches into the wood floor near Wade’s shoulders, and he has flashbacks to the back seat of a different car, and- God fucking damnit, why is that making him harder? Logan’s knee bumps against his erection and he groans, his head falling back, which the mutant takes advantage of by digging his canines further up Wade’s throat.
Wade feels the rush of warmth as blood streaks down his neck and collects in the ridge of the collarbone. He laughs. It feels fucking incredible and he feels delirious, and Logan is rutting against his thigh like an animal in heat as he uses Wade as a chew toy.
“Wait, wait wait wait wait wait- if this is going to get really bloody can we move it somewhere-“ Logan bites Wade again, harder and further up, and another gush of blood streams down his throat, “oh mygod, motherfucker, yeah like that. Can we move it somewhere easier to clean than this carpet?”
Logan stills, his teeth still grazing the skin right under Wade’s ear. “This carpet’s already fuckin’ disgusting.”
His voice is low, gravely. Wade shivers, warmth pooling in his stomach and finger tips. With how hard is cock is he isn’t sure how there is blood anywhere else in his body, let alone his brain.
Nevertheless, he persists.
“Okay, gonna take that as a yes for ‘this is going to get bloody’ -That’s. Super hot by the way. Can’t wait- Sue me for not wanting to steal a whole new rug. They’re heavy, and hard to get onto the subway.”
It’s unceremonious and bordering on too rough- the way Logan groans in compliance before he shifts and untangles himself from Wade, picks him up, chucks him over his shoulder and carries him into the kitchen. Wade squeals in surprise and delight, kicking his feet like a schoolgirl as he’s carried. Logan is gentler as he drops Wade, making sure he has his footing before completely letting go.
The second his feet are on the ground, Logan drops to his knees in front of him. And, Jesus shitfucking Christ, isn’t that a site to behold. Wade’s dick throbs between his legs, and it takes everything in his power to not faint on the spot.
In a flash of claws, Wade’s suit is slashed lower, and there is a sense of relief as his cock bobs forward finally released from the snug confines of his suit. A pleased hum rumbles from Logan as he takes in the view, a noise closer to a pur than a moan, his hands running up Wade’s thighs.
Wade sighs in relief, and tries not to let his abismal self-confidence when it comes to the state of his gnarled body get in the way of this moment. He leans back against the kitchen counter, the cool countertops a welcome sensation for his overheating body, and a let’s a shit eating grin spread across his face.
“Who knew the Wolverine would be such a cock slut?”
Wade is rewarded with a cautionary growl and three claws through the hip. He supposes he deserves it, and it does nothing to flag his erection, so he barks with laughter as blood drips down the side of the leg and grabs the swoops of Logan’s mask to yank his head back.
“Bad kitty!”
Logan snarls, his teeth bared and sharp, but does nothing to pull his head out of Wade’s grasp or his claws out of Wade’s hip.
“Y’want me to blow you or not, shithead?”
“Are you going to remove the murder mitten from my pelvis?”
Logan twists his fist, causing another rush of blood to river down Wade’s side. The pain is red hot and primal and punches another gasp of laughter from Wade, which is quickly replaced with a moan as Logan wraps his free hand around the Mercs cock.
“Such a way with words,” Wade sighs, and loosens his grip on the Wolverine mask, keeping his hands resting on the swoops while letting Logan move his head at will.
And boy does he.
It’s messy, and there is blood streaking across his chin, and Wade thinks this might be the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him. Because the way Logan takes him in his hot wet mouth feels like a homecoming. It feels like this is where his dick has belonged . And yeah, maybe that is the sex pollen or whatever talking. But Wade isn’t sure anything has ever felt this good.
And for Logan’s part, he seems blissed the fuck out. Making little noises, humming and slurping around Wade’s cock, his hand stroking Wade’s thigh almost softly. He keeps a brutal pace, and does this flicky thing with his tongue every time he reaches the head of Wade’s dick that makes his eyes roll into the back of his head.
Sure. Maybe there could be a little less teeth. And yes. There are still three long metal claws in his guts. But, in a weird fucked up way, he’s super into it.
When his cock nudges against the tight ring of muscles at the back of Logan’s throat, he can’t help but tighten his grip on those beautiful blow job handles and buck into that warm snug embrace.
That earns him a gag and growl and three more claws through his thigh.
“Oh fucking bitch ,” Wade curses, doubling over in a mix of pain and overstimulation, his hips betraying him and nudging against the back of Logan’s throat again. “Pumpkin, if you keep acting this way, this baby juice is going down your throat instead of your easy-bake oven.”
Logan groans, not letting up the ruthless bob of his head. He holds Wade in place, helplessly pinned only able to hold onto the wings of his mask for dear life.
By all accounts, Wade knows he should be feeling hotter. Between the arousal, the blood congealing on his skin, and the orgasm he is rocketing towards, he should feel close to overheating. But he doesn’t. He feels his body cooling as he races nearer and nearer to climax, like the moment before a nosedive into an icy pool.
When Wade comes it’s with a string of expletives. The catharsis is instant, like a metaphorical thorn being removed that he wasn’t even aware was causing him pain. Logan swallows around him, and Wade shivers with his release, curling over Logan. They both stay there, panting and holding each other in place, waiting for the other to let go.
Logan gets there first, his claws retracting with a wet pop. Wade groans, blood gushing from the punctures before the wounds quickly knit themselves closed.
“Did you get those weird body chills after you came? What is up with that? ” Wade pants, letting go of Logan’s mask. The mutant seems to ignore him, using the new freedom to lick a bloody stripe up Wade’s thigh.
“You’re really fucking good at that, beeteedubz,” Wade smirks, “Have a lotta practice? Or do y’have a secondary mutation that makes you the best at what you do, which is very very nice.”
“Shut up, Wade,” Logan sneers against his thigh, licking a matching stripe along his hip bone. There is no heat to it, instead his voice sounds strangely fond and far away as he works his tongue up the dappled skin of Wade’s exposed chest.
The heat begins to crawl back in as fast as it left, pressure building in Wade’s gut, and he realizes that his erection isn’t softening at all.
“Oh. Wow. Now that’s interesting,” Wade muses, running his fingers over his over sensitive cock with a gasp. He’s never done the whole sex pollen thing, but quickly draws on any knowledge he has to make an educated guess (wish?) that this was going to be a long night .
He taps Logan’s forehead to get his attention before asking, “You think you’re ready for round three, big boy? Or is giving me a tongue bath really doing that much for ya?”
Logan snuffles against Wade’s hip, nipping there and earning himself a light swat, before standing back up and throwing his mask on the counter.
Wade almost buckles at the knees, because Logan’s eyes are completely dilated, sex drunk and blown out. His hair is crazier than normal, wet with sweat, his little swoops standing up at even crazier angles. And he’s looking at Wade with his mix of desire and discomfort and insecurity and anger. All coming in flashes and shifting before Wade can save it to memory.
Wade wants to kiss him, wants to run his fingers into that dirty hair and kiss the fuck out of him, but it feels like something off the table. Something too real for whatever they are doing right now- this desperate attempt to feel any relief from the unrelenting discomfort burning under both of their skin.
“You deal with the temperature of the apartment, I’ll deal with the fuckin’ pull out couch,” Logan mumbles, breaking eye contact before pulling his bloodied gloves off and throwing them next to his mask.
“So the weird body chills were a thing for you?” Wade asks again, peeling himself out of the top half of the bloodied tattered suit. It drops in a pile on bloody kitchen tiles with a wet plop.
“Yeah, and now I feel like I’m in a oven again,” Logan growls, man handling cushions off the couch and into the corner. “And you understand how to work that stupid thermostat, so do somethin’ about it.”
“Don’t think the thermostat is gonna cool ya down, honey badger,” Wade snarks back with a chuckle, dutifully obeying and turning the heat off and the air down to a crisp 64 degrees. “If my hypothesis is right, given the sample size and data I’ve collected. Sounds like someone might need to come again.”
Logan responds with another growl, and pushes the coffee table out of the way.
“Do you think this is fuckin’ funny?” Logan spits, yanking the cot out of the couch with an angry creek.
Wade squeezes past Logan to open the window to the cold autumn air. He leans against the wall next to it to stabilize himself as he pulls off his boots and socks.
“Of course not! This is an awful invasion of our autonomy as two adult men. But- according to you ,” Wade pokes Logan in the shoulder with his freed foot, “we were headed here anyway! So! Might as well enjoy it.”
The words feel hollow, like he doesn’t quite believe them.
Once his boots are dealt with Wade strips the rest of his bloodied suit off, throwing it over Logan and into the kitchen with another wet splat. He leans back against the wall, bare chested and bloodied, dick out and already leaking onto his stomach, his mask the only thing still on, rucked up over his mouth and nose.
Logan turns from throwing pillows back onto the cot to snap at Wade, but goes quiet. Wade feels the insecurity bubbling, suddenly acutely aware that this is the first time Logan has seen him fully naked in all his cratered and pockmarked glory. Bickering is easy. This part never is.
“Like what you see, peanut?” Wade asks sarcastically, lifting his chin and crossing his arms.
Logan’s eyes are wide, sweeping down Wade’s body in a way that makes him want to run. (He wouldn’t even put clothes on. Just. Out the door. Gone.) The quiet feels like it’s dragging on far too long, and Wade is about to make a self-deprecating comment when Logan flushes, taking his bottom lip between his teeth for a split second before he smiles . It’s small, a quirk of one corner, but it reaches his eyes and it takes Wade’s breath away.
“Yeah. Get over here,” Logan says, sinking down onto the pull out and gesturing with his head to the space next to him.
Wade feels his heart pounding as he rushes the few small steps to close the space between them, unwilling to think about how those words make his brain fizzle and chest squeeze. He sinks to his knees, and braces his hands on Logan’s calves.
“C’mon. Don’t wanna be the only one naked here,” Wade mutters, pulling on the closures of Logan’s boots with urgency. “Gives me flashbacks to summer camp.”
The comment earns him another annoyed groan. He laughs at his own joke as he gets the first boot off, then the other, chucking them in the pile with his. Logan helps him along, quickly ridding himself of the top half of his suit, tossing it towards the kitchen to join Wade’s.
“You want to set some ground rules, Wolvie?” Wade asks, fingers idly tracing the edge of his waistband.
“Not breakable,” Logan grunts, lifting his hips so Wade can tug his pants off. He sighs happily as the dark trail of body hair reappears, and runs his fingers up Logan’s stomach, ending with his hand pressed to his sternum. Logan is hot . Not just physically, which, Christ is he hot physically. No. He feels like he is on fire .
“Just wanna make you feel good, babygirl,” Wade coos, “Or am I gonna have to root around like a truffle pig? Sniff out those kinks. I don’t have the privilege of being able to peruse the tags of this story like all our lucky readers.”
“Quit saying weird shit and stick your dick in me.” Logan pushes Wade away long enough to scoot back onto the pull out, “and take your mask off. It’s fuckin’ disgusting.”
Wade freezes, takes a deep breath, is very brave about it and peels the mask the rest of the way off before he pops back up. He watches Logan flip onto his stomach, pulling a pillow under his head and chest. He stretches his arms out, arches his back, and then settles on his knees, arms crossed under the pillow, cheek pressed into cotton and down so he can look back at Wade. It’s an obscene display, like something from a truck stop porn mag with a title like ‘Hairy Hunks, Bears that Bareback,’ or some shit.
There is this sheen of sweat already coating his back, and even in the low light of the dark apartment, just the ambient glow of the street lights filtering in, Wade can tell he is wet. Dark hair and soft fold glisten with slick arousal.
“You really do have such a way with words,” Wade sighs, his voice sounding dreamy and distracted. He climbs onto the cot behind Logan, running one hand up the corded muscles of his back, the other down the back of his leg. Logan shivers, eyes falling shut as Wade’s hard-on pressed against his thigh.
He lets his hands wander for a moment, presses his thumb into the thick muscle of Logan’s upper back, presses his fingers into the meat of his hips. He ruts his cock lazily against the skin of his inner thigh before he takes it in one of his hands and presses it against Logan’s cunt.
Logan whimpers. Straight up whimpers. It’s not loud, more of a cut off little noise, but Wade wishes he had the apartment bugged because he wants that noise as his new text message alert.
Wade digs his fingers into Logan’s shoulder, keeping him from moving away, and rocks up against him, rubbing his dick through Logan’s folds and up against his swollen cock. He’s so wet , and warm, and Wade can’t even imagine what he will feel like when he’s actually inside him if this is how it feels to just rub against. Every time the head of Wade’s cock runs over Logan’s, the mutant’s breath catches, another choked whimper breaking through.
He wonders how long he could get away with this, just froting against Logan until they both come. He wonders if he could come like this- at this rate he might. The arousal boiling under his skin and in the pit of his belly growing hotter and colder by every intoxicating second.
“You’re so fucking hard for me, pumpkin. And wet . Like a slip and slide. How do you feel about me just rubbing against you like a BYU student until I come on your stomach.”
“I swear to f-fucking God, Wade,” Logan growls between clenched teeth, his hips squirming, “if you don’t stop fucking around-“
On the next thrust and with the smallest change in angle, Wade buries himself inside of Logan with a ragged gasp. He hears the tell tale ‘snikt’ of claws as he bottoms out, his hip bones flush to Logan’s ass. It’s an easy slide with how wet he is already, but the squeeze is enough to make Wade curl forward, his hands scrambling to grab desperate and needy at Logan’s hips.
“You were saying?” Wade pants, laying himself over Logan’s back to nip at his ear.
It’s so hot, everywhere skin touches skin feels feverish. It leaves Wade panting without any effort, his hot breath heavy on the back of Logan’s neck. He noses into the sweaty edge of Logan’s hair, nipping at the nape of his neck, running his tongue over the salt collecting over his tendons.
Logan shakes his head, pulling away from Wade’s teeth before he pushes back and bears down, punching a surprised moan out of him.
“Oh, you dumb slut.”
Wade rears back up and slams a hand into the middle of Logan’s back, the other curling rough into his waist, pushing him further down into the creaking pull out mattress. Logan doesn’t fight back, lets himself be pinned in place, and Wade can feel the low rumble of what could be a laugh. He feels a quick flash of frustration, and digs his blunt nails into his skin in petty retaliation, eliciting a heavy content sigh.
He pulls out an inch before grinding back into Logan, evoking another heavy sigh and a shiver under his hands. Wade pistons his hips, slamming himself back into Logan a little harder with each thrust. And Logan still doesn’t fight back, instead seeming to melt into the mattress with each content little sigh. He just lets Wade keep him pinned, his face nuzzled into the pillow, his claws slowly retracting with every brutal thrust.
To make the matter worse, he feels so fucking good that Wade can already tell he is reaching his second orgasm, the strange creep of ice spreading across his spine. There he goes again, taking all the fun out of a situation, Logan's apathy crawls under Wade’s skin and makes him feel raw.
Wade leans down and bites Logan’s shoulder. Hard. Hard enough to draw a gush of blood over Wade’s teeth that drips from Logan’s shoulder onto the dirty mattress cover.
That gets a reaction, Logan’s face twisting into a snarl and his eyes snapping open to glare at Wade. The claws slip back out as Logan spits an angry “what the fuck,” up at him, which is ignored in wake of him slipping the hand that was gripping Logan’s waist down his stomach and between his legs.
He draws scarred fingertips over the swollen nub of Logan’s cock, circling it while he picks up the pace of his thrusts once again. His other arm wraps itself around Logan’s chest, roughly palming one of his pecs, his fingers finding the hard pebble of a nipple easily. Wade smiles as he runs his tongue over the already healed bite mark on Logan’s shoulder, doing more to smear the blood than to clean it up. Logan growls and spits beneath him, claws digging into the coils and fluff of the mattress, his teeth bared behind the snarl of angry lips.
“There we go, welcome back to the party,” Wade whispered against Logan’s shoulder, biting him again to the sound of tearing cotton and angry growls, “Didn’t know you were planning on being a pillow princess about all this, woulda gotten you a tiara.”
Logan opens his mouth to say something but his response gets stuck in his throat as Wade slams home, thumbing over his cock with added pressure. Wade can feel him grow tense under his hands, his body pulling tighter around his dick, squeezing Wade greedily as he gets closer and closer to the edge.
Wade starts to babble, saying anything that comes to mind as he drives in and in and in, “There he is. There’s my big boy! Wanna come for me, kitten? Fuck, want you to come first, and then I promise I’ll shoot so deep in you, there is no way you won’t be pregnant.”
Logan shivers and whines high in the back of his throat, pushing back into Wade at the words. The reedy little sound sends a shock of excitement down Wade’s spine, an ecstatic grin cracking across his face.
“Oh really? Do you like that? Like the idea of me keeping you here barefoot and pregnant. Want me to stick a full litter in you? God, imagine all the little Wolverines. I’m gonna get you so pregnant, honey bear, gonna knock you up real good.”
Wade presses crescent shaped fingernail marks into the meat of Logan’s chest, setting his teeth against his shoulder again as he pounds into him with added fervor. Logan groans and whines and scrambles to find purchase, shaking as one hand comes back and nicks Wade’s thigh with his claws before grabbing a hold of his thigh, spilling more blood over his fingers and onto the pullout. The pain makes Wade feel giddy, a hysteric feverish laugh bubbling up and escaping into the nape of Logan’s neck.
“Tell me what you need, want to get you there. Want to make you feel so, fucking, good,” Wade pants between thrusts.
Logan twists his face into the tattered remains of the pillow, a frustrated little growl escaping the cotton confines before he mumbles, “Treat it like an actual cock, not just a big fuckin’ clit.”
The request takes Wade by surprise, but he is quick to move his hand and take the hard swell of Logan’s cock between his thumb and two fingers, jerking him off in time with his thrusts.
“Christ, Wade, just like that. I’m-“
The change must be enough, because it isn’t even a moment later that every one of Logan’s inconceivably well defined muscles is taught, and he shakes apart with a deep rumble of a gasp. Wade slows but doesn’t let, fucking into him as his body squeezes and flutters around his cock, sucking a crude bruise into the hollow of his throat, softening his touch but jerking Logan off through his release.
As Logan’s body begins to relax, muscles softening in the aftershocks of his orgasm, the chill begins to set in deeper. It makes Wade shake, his chest pressed close to Logan’s sweaty back, his hips moving in a filthy grind against Logan’s sculpted ass. Logan helps it along, pushing back against each thrust, lazily rutting himself against Wade’s hand. It feels wrong- backwards to feel his climax nearing paired with the full body chill, even if it’s a momentary relief from the feverish heat that clings to every inch of his body.
“Still want me to get you pregnant, peanut?” Wade asks in a breathless chuckle, holding a mostly boneless Wolverine closer.
Logan shivers at the question, squeezing Wade’s thigh. Wade takes that as a yes, and begins jerking him off again, slower and gentler. Logan arches into his touch, his mouth falling open and eyebrows crinkling with overstimulation and pleasure.
“Come on, give me one more and I’ll fill you up when you do. So fuckin’ lucky, went out into the multiverse and bagged me the best Wolverine. Perfect tits, greedy little cunt and a fat cock too? You were built for this, babygirl. Should’a been doing this to you way before we got sex pollened.”
The creep of ice sets into his fingers, his toes, the pressure building in the pit of his stomach, and then Logan makes this cut off little noise , this mix between a moan and a whimper and it’s obvious he is coming again. Wade curls himself around Logan, his forehead pressed into his shoulder, sticky with sweat and blood and drool, and he buries himself deep, vision whiting out as he empties himself completely.
Wade collapses on top of Logan afterwards, knees giving out from exertion he didn’t even notice until he stopped. He moves his one hand out from between Logan's legs to instead wrap around his middle, hugging him close in some resemblance of a snuggle. Despite being fully pressed against another hot body, for a moment, he feels a comfortable cool settling over him. Logan doesn’t shake him off, letting Wade stay inside of him, nuzzling his cheek into his back, all while he melts into the mattress and catches his breath.
They shiver against each other in the aftershocks of their orgasms.
It’s nice. It feels intimate.
Too intimate.
“Sooo, guess we can count on ‘breeding kink’ as well as ‘feminization’ being in the tags? Maybe ‘pain play’ or ‘blood play’ too?” Wade smiles, squeezing Logan’s tit playfully.
Logan pushes Wade to the floor. Wade laughs so hard his ribs start to hurt.
——-
The rest of the night is spent doing mostly the same thing, a cycle of ‘grow uncomfortably horny and feverishly hot’ to ‘fuck like angry animals’ to ‘weird freezing cold orgasms that feel amazing’ and then back again.
Wade realizes pretty early in the night that Logan has it way worse, watching as the feverish heat sets in faster and with far more intensity for the mutant. He lets Logan take what he needs. Wade’s more than happy to sit back and watch Logan spear himself open on his cock. And when his erection softens for longer than Logan’s refectory period he just lays between the mutant's legs and eats him out, letting him dig his claws into his shoulders and sides and have his way with Wade.
In the beginning he riles him up, gets him to growl and spit and snarl. Wade says anything to get Logan to react, to push back, to fight. By the end of the night, he sometimes just stays quiet. He lets Logan melt, lets him whimper and whine and sigh.
Those are the times that make Wade’s chest hurt, make his head swim with insecurity. Feel too real to be just ritualistic fucking, a means to a fucked up end.
It isn’t until the beginning of early dawn light starts to filter through the moth-eaten curtains that the cold starts to stick around longer than thirty or forty minutes for Logan.
Wade peels himself off the blood and cum soaked pull-out mattress and runs a lukewarm shower. He drags Logan into the tub, and they shower together. It’s a lazy routine of taking turns scrubbing dried blood and other bodily fluids off one another between languide handjobs, leaning against the soap stained plastic of the shower or one-another while they come against the other’s hand.
They decide to sleep in Althea’s room, the pull-out ruined, way past usable and in need of replacing. Logan collapses and is snoring softly by the time Wade comes back with a glass of water for him. Wade takes a moment to watch the rise and fall of his shoulders, to try and memorize the way Logan’s face softens when he’s asleep, the way his hair looks freshly towel dried in the soft glow of the early morning light.
Wade shivers, the apartment suddenly very, very cold. He takes it as a sign that whatever was in those overpriced drinks has finally worked its way through their systems, and slides into the bed next to Logan, pressing his chest to the other man’s back, and promptly falls asleep.
——
The fever crawls back in only an hour or so later. Wade wakes up sweating, every inch of skin touching Logan feeling like it’s on fire, his cock hard and leaking against his back. Wade can feel the heavy and uncomfortable rise and fall of Logan’s body against him, every stretch of skin clammy to the touch.
Wade noses the back of Logan’s neck, hissing at the friction when Logan presses back into him.
“You too?” Wade groans, running a hand up Logan’s chest as he ruts gently against the curve of his ass.
The vibration of agreement thrums against Wade’s fingers. He takes it as an invitation, and rolls Logan onto his back.
“Really was into this whole sex pollen trope about 8000 words ago, but it’s getting kinda exhausting now,” Wade mutters, moving on autopilot as he shifts one of Logan's legs, bending his knee to open his hips.
“I’m gonna kill that fuckin’ kid,” Logan grumbles, voice low and sleep laden.
“Couldn’t’ve said it better myself, pumpkin. Gonna soooo murder that little shit.”
Wade sits up, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes. His stomach does a weird flip when he finally opens them and sees Logan.
He’s laid out, one forearm thrown over his eyes to protect them from the morning light, the other arm bent and lazy above his head. The angle shows off his arms, flexed and strong, highlighting the musculature of his upper body. Wade roves his eyes over broad shoulders, swelling pecs covered in wiry dark hair, his heart rabbiting at the flush crawling up Logan’s chest.
Wade runs a hand down Logan’s calve, another up through the hair on his stomach and finally stops over his breast bone.
This. They haven’t done this. They wordlessly avoided doing this . Any other position or configuration but this.
“You gonna just stare, bub? Or are you gonna do something?” Logan grumbles, moving his arm enough to open an eye and raise a bitchy eyebrow.
“You’re so beautiful.”
The words slip out of Wade’s lips before he can stop them. Soft, and reverent.
Logan rolls his eye and closes it, covering it back up with his forearm.
“Great. Guess whatever the pervert gave us causes brain damage too,” he sighs. “Shut up and put your dick in me, red.”
Wade can feel Logan’s heart under his palm, a steady drum, and despite his composure and words, he feels it pick up just a smidge.
“Will take that as a compliment. Didn’t think you thought I had a brain to damage”, Wade replies, too shaky and soft to come off as snarky as he’d like.
Logan just hums in response.
They are both sleep drunk and slow moving. Wade nudges Logan’s unbent leg, bending to match its pair, and slides into the space between them. He lets his eyes wander hungrily over the mess between them, shiny with slick, the angry swell of Logan’s cock peeking out from the dark tangle of hair. Logan’s chest heaves, but he stays otherwise relaxed, arms still thrown over his head, eyes closed and calm.
Wade hesitates before he shifts his weight onto his arms and climbs forward. Logan tilts his hips to meet him, one of his hands smoothly sliding from its resting spot to between them. He runs his fingers through his folds before taking Wade’s cock into his hand, lining it up with his cunt and guiding himself onto it.
Despite the previous nights itinerary of endless fucking, Logan is still deliciously tight, soft walls wet but still providing just the right amount of friction to make Wade groan as he slides home in the first thrust. He feels himself shaking, drunk on arousal with his chest in strange knots, his body uncomfortably close to overheating. Logan hums around him, gently sighing as Wade bottoms out. His legs wrap lazily low around Wade’s waist as he rolls his hips up in a slow grind.
Wade can’t take his eyes off Logan, suddenly transfixed by the languid movement of his body, the way his sleepy muscles slowly stretch and relax. The way his perfect chest rises and falls with content breath.
Logan keeps his hand between their bodies, slowly running his fingers in unhurried circles around his cock. Wade matches his movement, follows the bone-ideal tempo that Logan sets, and it feels like too much.
He knows it’s just exhaustion, it’s just half-asleep lazy missionary morning sex. But, fuck. Half-asleep missionary morning sex isn’t something you do with hook-ups. At least it isn’t something Wade does with hook-ups. It sure as hell ain't something Wade expected Logan to want to do, period. But there he is, laid out and boneless, sighing as he chases a sleepy orgasm in the soft morning light and-
Fuck.
His heart feels like someone reached into his chest and squeezed. It’s this awful soft and aching sensation that he doesn’t want to think about because this story isn’t meant to feel this way. It’s supposed to be porn with no real plot, angry sex between two people who bicker and fight and sometimes stab the fuck out of one another.
And he wants to kiss him. They fucked countless times but hadn’t kissed , because you don’t kiss someone you’re using as a means to an end. You don’t kiss an angry hook up.
“Hey- you okay up there, bub?”
Logan’s voice cuts through his racing thoughts. He was staring. He was staring and now Logan is looking at him with a crumpled brow and concerned eyes. Eyes that in the morning light look almost green, soft with wrinkles around the edges. How fucking dare Logan have such pretty goddamn eyes.
Wade opens his mouth and for once, nothing comes out. His stupid goddamn eyes betray him once more, the bastards, as they glance at Logan’s lips before flicking back to his eyes.
Of course Logan notices, because he doesn’t have to be an X-man with superhuman heightened senses to notice something like that. And Wade watches as his face changes, and he’s positive Logan is going to tell him to fuck off, or stab him in the chest for even thinking about it. Wade screws his eyes shut, bracing for three metal blades to slide between his ribs.
Instead, he feels calloused fingertips slide to the back of his neck, drawing him down closer.
Logan gently presses his lips to Wade’s. It’s chaste, no aggression or teeth, just a slow peck if anything, but it makes him gasp against Logan’s lips, his eyes blinking back open.
It only lasts a second, Logan pulling away before he leans his forehead against Wade’s. Their noses bump against each other, the intimate feeling of sharing breath while Logan nuzzles against the bridge of his nose making his hips twitch. There are fingers rubbing circles into the scarred and dappled skin on the back of his neck, and the hand trapped between their bodies is still slowly moving despite the fact that he is frozen still, and his brain works overtime to figure out what is happening. The room hangs heavy and quiet, Wade shocked and motionless.
“C’mon, didn’t your mom teach you it’s rude to stare?” Logan murmurs, and it’s so gentle and so stupid and it makes Wade’s chest soar. His eyes are soft, still sleepy and relaxed beneath an uncharacteristic soft brow.
“I can’t think of a joke,” Wade whispers, rushed and shaky, “I think I’m broken. You mentioned my mom and I can’t think of a joke. You fuckin’ broke me.”
He feels the smile instead of seeing it, and Logan is kissing him, the deep vibration of a laugh caught in his throat. He couldn’t think of a joke but he still managed to make him laugh.
This kiss is different. Wade kisses back, for one. Which makes a hell of a difference. It’s longer, a more focused slide of lips. Logan holds the back of Wade’s neck, firm but achingly gentle, tilting his head to deepen the angle. It’s still slow and soft, but it makes Wade’s heart feel like it might burn a hole through his chest and melt onto Al’s cuz mattress.
He wraps an arm around Logan’s waist, pressing himself closer against his chest, his other hand cupping his jaw and pulling him deeper into the kiss. Logan arches his back into him, rolls his hips, and Wade keens against his mouth.
All at once, things go from easy and slow to something far more enthusiastic and verging on desperate. Wade is thrown back into motion, grinding down to meet Logan where he’s arched up. He runs his tongue along the seam of Logan’s lips, and when he groans against Wade’s mouth he takes advantage of the situation. The slide of tongues and bump of teeth is enough to drive Wade closer to his edge, to feel that creep of ice down his spine once again.
Logan is tensing up underneath him, reaching a similar edge of his own. He breaks the slide of lips to kiss across Logan’s jaw, pressing his lips to the hollow of his throat. He smells like Wade’s coconut body wash and sweat, and Wade buries his nose into that divit where neck meets shoulder and breathes in deep .
Logan is shivering, free arm now wrapped across the plane of Wade’s shoulder, the rise and fall of his chest mirroring the rabbit speed of his heartbeat against Wade’s lips. Wade chases his racing pulse, taking the sensitive skin between teeth before soothing it with his tongue, picking up the pace of his thrusts to match it.
“Fuck, darlin’, just like that Wade. Don’t fuckin’ stop don’t you dare fuckin’ stop. Wade, fuck-“
His voice sounds wrecked, words babbled between panting breath and incoherent whimpering. But that isn’t what hits Wade like shotgun shrapnel to the chest.
Logan called him darling .
The hand in between them stills as Logan’s body shakes apart, his head thrown back, nails digging and catching across the topography of Wade’s back. Wade feels the vibration of his moan against his lips, feels the way Logan clenches and flutters around his cock, the way his legs tighten around his waist. It leaves him breathless, his body rocking Logan through his orgasm, the pressure in his gut curling tighter and tighter.
“That’s it, fuck, I got you, Logan. Feel so fucking good for me,” Wade whimpers against his throat before making his way back to Logan’s mouth, kissing him hard and messy, his fingers sliding into Logan’s pillow tossled hair, grinding his cock deeper into the tight squeeze of his climax.
Logan pants into his mouth, his tongue sliding against Wade’s as his body begins to relax. He frees the arm that was crushed between their bodies and twists it around Wade’s middle, pressing himself closer as Wade’s hips begin to lose any sense of rhythm.
“Logan, I-“
“Come on, Wade. Let it go,” Logan whispers against Wade’s lips between open mouth kisses.
Wade comes with Logan’s name on his tongue, with his hand twisted in those forever cowlicks, his arm squeezing him as if their bodies could meld into each other. The cool relief washes over him like a wave, pulls him under as he empties himself deep inside the other man.
There is a moment of suspended action, of heavy breathing against each other's mouths amid slow deep kisses as they melt into a boneless pile, exhaustion quickly reclaiming them. Wade rolls to the side, keeping his arm thrown across Logan’s chest, the other carded through his hair. Logan keeps drawing his hands lazily up and down Wade’s sides and back, thumbing over his cheekbones and jaw. They don’t stop kissing, just stay that way making out like most people would before fucking.
But they sure as hell ain’t most people, Wade supposes.
Eventually the kissing slows down, yawns rudely interrupting the lazy press of lips.
The room is freezing, and Wade suddenly realizes his toes are like little cancerous ice cubes. Logan must realize the chilly temperature at the same time because he extracts himself wordlessly from the cuddle-puddle (to Wade’s vocal disapproval), leaving him even colder without Logan’s body heat.
Seconds later he returns with a heavy quilt from the hallway closet that Wade honestly forgot even existed. Logan wastes no time spreading it over him and climbing back underneath, gathering him into his arms again in the process.
“Y’think it’s done for realzies this time?” Wade snuffles, his face nearly squashed into Logan’s armpit, quilt tucked all the way up to his chin.
Logan runs a thumb across his shoulder as he thinks. It’s so painfully tender, so intimate, and Wade feels another soft swell of affection flutter across his chest.
“If it’s not. Not the end of the world,” Logan finally murmurs before pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
They stay that way, in that blissful state of almost-sleep, heartbeats and breathing slowly seeking out and matching one another.
“Fuck. Wait. I got it. Okay. Ask me again.”
“Ask you what, Wade?”
“The thing. The thing about my mom.”
Logan pulls him in closer with a heavy sigh that sounds more endeared than annoyed.
“Go to sleep, darlin’.”
And Wade does.