Chapter Text
They didn’t talk much on the way home, nor when they arrived at the apartment, going their separate ways.
Wade got trapped in a conversation with Althea as she recounted her most recent date with Fred, the old guy who’d agreed to babysit Mary Puppins for a few nights and lived on floor two, He had invited her over for the night and Wade sure as hell didn’t want old people sex happening in his goddamn thin-walled home, so he was happy she hadn’t invited him over instead.
“Don’t scare my beautiful little shitstain with your sexual escapades or so help me I will never pay you back for that cocaine I stole.”
Althea flicked him off on the way out the door.
Logan sat in the chair he normally did when he sat down to read, legs propped up on the ottoman, glasses low on the bridge of his nose. He didn’t look up much, and only moved once when he got up at one point to take a shower and a piss.
When Althea finally left, Wade played Mario Kart in a cocoon of blankets, thinking about maybe heading out to St. Margarets to find a job to do. He hated the tense silence, hated Logan’s muted annoyance that rolled off of him from the corner of the room.
It started raining a couple hours later, ruining Wade’s plans to find a job. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to get drenched in rain and blood and mud all at the same time.
He planned on putting on some shitty romcom, eating the entire can of pringles Logan had bought for himself and poorly hidden in the back of the cupboard with the pots and pants, but as soon as the Netflix logo flashed across the screen, the entire goddamn apartment went dark.
Wind whipped against the windows, the old apartment structure creaking with the force.
Fuck.
“Fuck me I guess!” Wade announced, flicking on his phone flashlight and inadvertently shining it across the room, right into Logan’s eyes.
“Jesus, Wade–turn that fucking thing away from me.”
Wade pointed it downward, then sighed dramatically, “I was gonna watch Matthew McConaughey’s pretty face, damn it!”
It was Logan’s turn to sigh, and Wade heard the creak of his chair, “Guess you’ll have to make do without. Got any candles around here?”
-
There were twelve total candles in the whole house, three of which were the battery powered ones, which were so dim they practically did nothing.
An hour into the power outage, Wade was decidedly not having a good time.
“–we can’t cook, all our fucking food is gonna go bad. My phone is on like eight percent, fuck! That’s not nearly enough. I lost my portable charger two weeks ago like a fucking bitch.”
Wade was catastrophizing, as one did when the power went out. He was cold, even underneath a pile of blankets with Logan on the couch, and he itched to reignite his candy crush addiction, but his phone was twenty minutes away from dying.
And don’t even mention the boredom.
Logan had helped with the candles, gathered all the extra blankets in the apartment, then settled down underneath them with Wade, going right back to reading his book like the worst fucking thing in the world wasn’t happening right before their eyes.
“I’m sure the power will be back on soon, bub.”
Logan seemed to be in a slightly better mood, at least willing to give Wade the time of day. Or maybe he was just being nice, considering Wade was having a bit of goddamn crisis.
“But I’m bored. What am I supposed to do with myself?”
Wade had taken to shuffling and reshuffling the incomplete set of playing cards he and Al kept on the coffee table.
Logan sighed, setting his book face first down on the table, “Are you a fucking toddler? Can’t entertain yourself?”
Wade could see his amused smile in the dim light. Bitch.
“I could entertain myself, but you said I can’t throw knives at the wall anymore.”
“Have you considered literally any other option?”
Wade hated when Logan was right. Hated even more that Logan was removing himself from the blankets and grabbing one of the battery powered candlesticks from the coffee table.
“Where are you going? I’m gonna get hypothermia you asshole.”
Logan walked over to the thermostat’s little glowing screen, “It’s dropped half a fucking degree, Wade. You’ll live.”
Logan didn’t stop there, instead, wrenching open the linen closet next to the thermostat and moving a bunch of shit around on the very bottom rack.
Wade shuffled the cards again, then again, then again, listening to Logan rummaging around in the kitchen.
“You ready to be entertained?”
The cards went everywhere, Wade jumping and finding Logan hovering overhead, arms full of a bunch of shit that he couldn’t make out in the dim light.
Logan unloaded it all on the table. Two heaping bowls of ice cream, one with multicolored sprinkles, a stack of board games and puzzles, the prized portable charger Wade was certain he’d lost at the park, a stack of ancient gossip magazines from the nineties.
“What the fuck, Peanut?”
Logan flopped back on the couch, stuffing himself under the heaps of blankets and wordlessly handing Wade his bowl of sprinkle-covered ice cream.
“Seriously,” Wade said through his first spoonful of sugary heaven, “Where the fuck did you get all this?”
Logan took a bite of his own ice cream, and Wade hated–fucking loathed–the way Logan’s tongue flicked out to lick a drip of it off the base of the spoon.
“Althea throws shit in the bottom of the closet. Lost my belt once and found it in there, figured maybe there was something good down there.”
Fuck, how many things had he lost to Althea’s personal void?
Wade finished his ice cream quickly, Logan not far behind, and they played a few games as the hours ticked by, Logan even got a good start on the puzzle while Wade read out a bunch of dated articles from the magazines to Logan like it was the hottest fucking tea on the market.
His portable charger was dead anyway, but Wade was entertained at the very goddamn least.
Eventually, Logan got bored of cursing out the puzzle, and Wade was starting to get a headache from trying to read in the dim light. So they talked instead, talked about everything from Wade’s favorite childhood movie to Logan’s incessant need to wear jeans all the fucking time.
They live, laugh, loved it up, settled into opposite ends of the couch.
Wade didn’t mind closeness–he and Logan weren’t above cuddling in bed at night–but Logan was all over him, hands pressing over Wade’s calves, fingertips squeezing at his ankles.
It was a lot, so fucking much, so goddamn tempting.
Wade needed it to fucking stop, especially when Logan’s fingers trailed up to his knees, flitting over the lower parts of his thighs.
“Can you stop fucking doing that?”
“Doing what?” Logan’s hand pressed over Wade’s knee, then he trailed them even higher, pressing into the meat of Wade’s upper thigh.
“Fucking, that!”
“Touching you? Am I not allowed to touch my fucking boyfriend?”
Wade's heart skipped a beat, maybe just stopped beating in general.
Fucking what now?
“Wade?”
Boyfriend. He was, Logan’s fucking boyfriend?
Logan was saying something, face scrunched up with concern, eyes wide, arms out reaching out like he wanted to come closer and Wade fucking couldn’t–
Wade wrenched himself out from underneath the blankets, lurching a safe distance away from Logan, candles in between them, ears ringing.
It was then the realization came flooding in, hitting Wade hard in the chest all at once.
Oh fucking fuck. Shit. Damn. When the fuck did they become boyfriends?
Wade cleared his throat, tried to make his mouth form words. Logan just watched, obviously waiting for an explanation.
Fuck.
“I–just so we’re clear, I’myourfuckingboyfriend?”
Logan stared, gaze so fucking sharp Wade could feel it cutting into his chest.
“Yes?” Logan said carefully, sitting up a little straighter, breathing a little harder.
Oh fucking hell. When–
How–
“Great!” Wade squeaked out, wringing his hands together over his head and pacing, “Lovely. I was completely, one-hundred-percent aware of that.”
He didn’t dare another glance at Logan, the stark, horrifying silence was telling enough.
“You–you didn’t know? Fuck. Jesus fucking christ.”
If Wade’s limbs hadn’t felt almost completely numb perhaps he would have tried to keep up the ruse, pretend that he had, in fact, been completely aware the Wolverine was his fucking boyfriend.
But it wasn’t going to fucking work, that much was clear.
“Okay, yeah, I didn’t really know. I think.”
Wade tried to form a smile, but when he looked at Logan it faltered. Devastation layered over Logan’s cheeks, spread all the way to his eyes. Devastation, confusion, a hint of anger–
“You never asked? We never talked about it–” Wade said, trying to defend himself.
“We sleep in the same bed. And fucking cuddle. We hold hands. I hug you every morning. Jesus Wade, we fucking shower together. What did you think that was?”
Wade wanted to keep up his defense, wanted to say that all of that was normal behavior for a set of close friends, but the truth was, with the facts laid out in front of him, everything was starting to come into view.
“You didn’t initiate sex, Logan! You didn’t fucking kiss me, you didn’t–and people can platonically share showers, that is definitely a thing.”
Logan looked at him incredulously, laughing and shoving his face down into his hands, “No they fucking can’t, Wade. There is no such thing as a platonic fucking shower.”
Logan tossed the blankets off of his lap, heaving himself to his feet and running his hands through his hair.
“Fuck–that’s why you–remember New Year’s Eve?”
Of course he did, Wade hadn’t stopped thinking about that shit, he dreams hadn’t stopped replaying what would have happened if Wade hadn’t been a fool and just kissed the man instead.
“I thought–I thought you wanted to wait, I thought you wanted to take things slow. But you thought I was trying to just fucking kiss you for no reason?”
Logan paced, one hand wrapped around the back of his neck.
“That’s why I never initiated, you fucking idiot, I thought you needed time. I wanted to wait for you to be ready.”
And fuck if that didn’t shatter Wade into a million fucking tiny little pieces. Logan was a good fucking boyfriend, a respectful, loving, heart-of-gold boyfriend and Wade hadn’t even been able to enjoy it because he was too busy playing mental gymnastics and pretending that daily cuddles with his goddamn roomate was normal behavior.
Fuck you, past Wade. Fuck you.
Logan had clenched his mouth shut, still pacing.
It was the kind of pacing that meant Logan was thinking, that meant his brain was somewhere else, that meant he was seconds away from making a run for it and leaving Wade alone in the pitch black with his fucking feelings.
So something needed to be said, and as much as Wade wanted to keep his feelings locked in that little cage in his chest where no one could reach them, he knew that wasn’t the right call.
Say it.
“I would have said yes.”
The footsteps paused.
“What?”
“If you asked me to be your boyfriend I would have said yes.”
Logan’s piercing gaze fell on Wade’s.
Alright bitch, Wade told himself, trying shove the swell of nervous nausea down, just fucking say it already, “I would have said yes because I’m kindofsortofinlovewithyou.”
The horrible, no good, awful, silence was back again.
“I’m like so fucking in love with you, like disgustingly fucking in love. It’s been killing me for weeks on end. Everytime you’re near me I kind of want to throw up because I love you but I thought you were just being nice. I’m a fucking dumbass and this is the one-and-only time I will own that because I really don’t want you to run away and never come back because I was stupid enough to believe you didn’t want me back.”
Logan was still quiet, remained completely still. Wade could have been convinced he’d been turned to stone.
“You mean that, bub? You aren’t just fucking with me?”
“I wish I fucking was, would have been easier to say it out loud.”
Wade started pacing himself, waiting on Logan to say something, anything that would ease the tension flowing between them, tight as a fucking rubber band.
He wanted the rejection, wanted to get it over with, face heartbreak head-on.
“I’m fucking pissed,” Logan said, walking around the coffee table.
“You have a right to be, I was a fucking dumbass capital D–”
“Not at you, at me.”
Oh.
“I should have just fucking asked you, but we were already sleeping in the same fucking bed, and we’d been out on a few dates–I should have just fucking asked.”
“And I should have not assumed that taking platonic showers was a rare thing.”
“They’re not ever a thing.”
“Point is, what if we just pretend this whole clusterfuck never happened and we’ve been equally aware that we’ve been boyfriends since…” it occurred to Wade that he didn’t know when Logan thought they’d started dating, “How long have we been together?”
Logan grimaced, “...since mid-december. Before Christmas.”
It was February fucking 12th. Two fucking months later.
“Well fuck me, I guess. It’s been that fucking long?”
“Thought we were pretending we both knew we were together all that time.”
“Right, never fucking happened. We were just taking things glacially fucking slow because you’re old as shit. There–that’s the official story.”
“How ‘bout we took things glacial slow because you fucking wanted to.”
“I’m gonna veto that. How about we say–”
Logan was in his space, moving ever closer, shadowing following him in the candlelight.
“How about you shut the fuck up and we do something about the whole glacially slow thing and actually fucking kiss for once?”
Wade blinked, smiling like the fucking idiot he was, “God, you are so fucking correct, I’ve needed to kiss the fuck out of you for so long–”
“Wade. Shut it.”
Logan was leaning closer, right there with his hands on Wade’s cheeks and lips hovering right there, Wade could feel the warmth of his breath.
“Can I kiss you?” Logan whispered softly.
“Please fucking do.”
Then they were kissing. It was gentle and soft, lips slotting together once, then twice, brushing over each other like they were made of glass. Logan swiped at Wade’s bottom lip with his tongue, licked into him when Wade opened his lips a little wider to let him in.
Their tongues swept past each other in sweet, languid strokes as Wade’s fingertips found the back of Logan’s head, brushing through his hair, pulling him closer. Deeper.
Hand roamed over Wade’s back, scratching from his shoulders down to the peak of his ass while Logan bit at his bottom lip, licked back into Wade like he couldn’t fucking get enough.
Logan pulled back after his lips trailed down Wade’s jaw, ending with a nip to his earlobe. Wade shivered.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Logan said, nuzzling into Wade’s neck.
Wade loved it, wanted more of it, wanted to inhale everything Logan into his fucking lungs.
“I’ve been hardcore daydreaming about that for so long. Once I almost daycreamed about it, if you know what I mean.”
Logan groaned, kept swiping the rough pad of his finger against Wade’s jaw, hitching on the scarred flesh, “I don’t want to hear about you almost coming in your pants, Wade.”
“You’re really missing out, it’s a great story.”
Logan pulled back from Wade’s neck, looked him right in the eyes, “You said you loved me? You sure you meant that?”
Wade felt heat rising to his cheeks, “I’m sure.”
Logan ducked his head down, pressed his forehead into Wade’s collarbone, “I love you fucking too.”
Being in love was one thing, being loved back was another.
The Ache didn’t go away, stayed right fucking there in Wade’s chest, but it morphed into something sweeter, something that felt less like a bowling ball rolling around inside of him, and more like the swell of overwhelming affection burning it’s way through his veins. It was a good kind of pain.
“Good. You want to fuck about it? Because my dick is getting hard at the speed of light, and I’m gonna need to do something about it. I will gladly fuck my fist in the shower, but just know, you have first dibs, if we are, in fact, dating.”
Wade petted the back of Logan’s hair, “Yeah, bub. I’d like that.”
There was a deeply unsexy interlude where they both gathered the candles and blankets up, carrying everything into the bedroom. Wade was perfectly happy to make it happen on the couch, but Logan didn’t want Althea to walk in on them fucking on the couch if she happened to come back home, because even if she couldn’t see, she could definitely hear.
By the time Logan shut the door behind himself and Wade had splayed out in just his boxers on top of the covers, space heater thrumming in the corner of the room, his erection had admittedly flagged.
But then Logan was pulling his sweatshirt off and showing of his perky fucking tits trapped behind the stretchy white fabric of his tank top, which was at least two sizes too small, and Wade’s dick was hard as a fucking rock again, straining against the fabric of his boxer shorts.
“Still want to fuck?” Logan asked, standing a few feet from the bed like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.
“Get on the bed and take my fucking undies off. And yes.”
Logan–who normally didn’t want anyone telling him what the fuck to do–followed Wade’s instructions without an ounce of hesitation, crawling right onto the bed, fingers pushing under Wade’s waistband and tugging.
“Fuck–Wade–”
Wade swore he watched Logan lick his goddamn lips. Yeah, Wade knew he was a snack, but that made him feel like a fucking whole ass meal.
“This isn’t a fucking museum, cupcake, you can touch. Please fucking touch me.”
Logan’s fingers were wrapped around his dick in an instant, moving upward in an an achingly slow stroke that made Wade’s toes curl. The second pass of Logan’s hand was even better, a firm stroke with just enough tightness. His hand was warm, a little calloused, perfectly fucking perfect.
Logan crawled upward after a few slow strokes, dropping himself down between Wade’s spread legs, jean-covered dick pressed right up against Wade’s, sharp edge of his belt buckle cutting into Wade’s stomach.
“I could have come from that, Logie.”
Logan’s thick arms framed Wade’s shoulders, his muscled chest hovering against Wade’s leaner one. Wade couldn’t help but note just how fucking red Logan’s lips were, how they were a little shiny with spit.
Wade imagined them stretched around the head of his dick, taking him deeper and deeper–
“Yeah?” Logan said, “I could have come from that too. It’s been awhile.”
What?
Logan’s eyes were half-lidded, and he lazily worked his hips against Wade’s, moving just enough to keep Wade a safe distance from the edge.
“I wasn’t even touching you.”
Logan’s cheeks were stained the prettiest shade of pink, teeth worrying his bottom lip.
“Doesn’t…take much.”
Oh god. Oh fuck.
“Oh really? You get worked up all on your own, princess?”
It was meant to be a harmless tease, but Logan’s cheeks were burning even brighter, hips grinding down a little harder.
“Oh my god you liked that,” Wade whined, bucking up aginst him.
The moan that left Logan’s mouth was heavenly, borderline sinful.
“Seriously Wade,” he panted, lifting his lips upward with another pained whimper, “It really doesn’t take much. I’m gonna fucking come if you do that again.”
Wade didn’t know what to do with that information, because on one hand, now he really fucking wanted to do it again, but on the other hand, he was happy to tease Logan for hours and hours.
“Now I really want to make you come, Peanut. Can you come more than once?” Logan’s face somehow burned brighter, “More than twice?” Oh good fucking lord, “Five times?”
Logan buried his head in Wade’s neck, whining when Wade accidentally tilted his hips upward just a hair.
“I don’t know the upper limit, bub. I’ve had five. Once.”
Alright, yep, Wade was three seconds away from creaming himself all over Logan’s jeans.
“Peanut, I surely hope you do not regret telling me that information because I can and will be using that against you.”
Logan didn’t extract himself from Wade’s neck, instead, just squeezed his fingertips harder against Wade’s sides.
“Alright, upsie daisies big boy, take your fucking pants off.”
Logan was up and shucking his pants off in a split second, jeans and underwear coming down in one smooth motion, tank top discarded in another.
Of course, Wade had gotten a few glimpses, but it was different to have full authority to just look. So that’s exactly what Wade did, eyes drawn immediately to the fat, purpling dick nestled in a bed of coarse hair. Logan’s cock about as long as Wade’s but thicker, and drooling from the tip steadily where it stood at attention. It looked like it fucking hurt.
“Fuck, Logan. Fuck, you are so fucking pretty–”
Logan crawled back onto the bed, cock swinging as he dropped back between Wade’s legs, their dicks pressed right up against each other as Logan shoved his tongue between Wade’s lips.
Wade ground upward, basking in the sweet friction, letting his stomach tighten in anticipation.
It felt so good, so dirty and wet, Logan’s cock leaking all over his own.
Logan moaned into his mouth, pulling back with just enough time to whisper, I’m coming, Wade–fuck!
Wade was coming too, coming to the sight of Logan’s lips parting and eyes fluttering closed. Coming to the sight of Logan arching downward, grinding down harder through it, whimpering as Wade cursed.
“Logan–fuck.”
Logan pulled back eventually, got himself balanced on his shaking knees, staring down at the mess between them.
“Told you I wasn’t gonna last, bub.”
Wade eyed Logan’s dick, which was already stiffening up, still dripping wet with come.
“Didn’t want you to last, that’s what round two’s for.”
Wade winked for good measure, and Logan’s dick twitched in interest, and a drop of come slid down onto the bedsheets.
“Fuck–let me–I’ll be right back.”
Wade stayed on his back, watched as Logan got off the bed, ass muscles flexing as he opened the door. He returned a moment later, wet cloth in one hand, a roll of paper towel in the other.
“God, I wasn’t expecting aftercare. But I guess we have been dating for like, two months.”
Logan snorted softly, wiping down his dick with one side of the cloth before wiping Wade down as well. He laid down on the bed, shuffling his way up against Wade’s side when he was finished, dick already hardening where it pressed against Wade’s hipbone.
“Felt good,” Logan mumbled against his neck, “Been a long time since I last…”
Wade let out a hearty laugh, “Not counting Mr. Right Hand here, it’s been awhile for me too.”
And then they were kissing again, the breathless, sweet type of kissing with lots of tongue and hands dragging in slow circles over skin.
Wade let his hands roam, letting them explore the ridges of Logan’s skin, dragging across his muscled back then over the swell of his ass. Logan melted into it, let out soft gasps when Wade’s fingers brushed against his neck, dipped a little two low and dragged over his sensitive inner thighs.
Wade wanted to find every little patch of sensitive skin, every place that made Logan arch into his touch. He kissed down Logan’s neck, flipping on top of him this time, pinning his arms to the bed above his head.
“Keep those there, angel,” Wade whispered into his ear, biting at Logan’s earlobe, then sucking a trail of dissolving bruises all the way down the side of his neck and right over his collarbone.
He kept going, kissing his way down Logan’s chest, over his protruding pecs, giving special attention to a single nipple with the swirl of his tongue around the stiff peak of it.
Logan arched into it, fingers burying their way into the pillow case.
“Wade–that’s so fucking good–”
Wade dipped lower still, lips dragging over the hair below Logan’s navel, over the creases of his abs, against the seams where his legs met his torso.
“Wanna taste you,” Wade murmured, looking up at the purpling dick in front of him, leaking again like Logan hadn’t come at all.
Logan moaned in agreement, bucked his hips when Wade’s breath ghosted over the tip.
“You want that, baby?”
Wade ran the very tip of his tongue over Logan’s slit, just brushed it over the precum beading there, lapping it up.
“Wade –please.”
Logan wanted it. Needed it, clearly. His eyes were nearly closed, lips open, head thrown back.
“Wade –fuck!”
Wade took Logan in his mouth with one smooth motion, tongue laving over the head, lips sinking deeper and deeper. Logan was big, fucking thick, heavy on Wade’s tongue.
He imagined Logan fucking into him with it, stretching him open–
“More. Wade c’mon–” It came out as a whine from above, and Logan bucked upward into Wade’s mouth, filling it to the fucking brim. With watering eyes, Wade took him, sucked him down and admired the way Logan thrashed. Then he pulled away, lips unsealing with a pop.
A strangled whine escaped Logan’s throat, hands finding their way to Wade’s shoulders, trying to pull him closer.
“You’re so desperate, aren’t you? You were about to come in my fucking mouth you slut.”
Logan’s chest was heaving, “Wade I need you to fuck me. Please. I need–”
Wade’s dick was so fucking hard for that, holy fuck. Wade was going to ask to be fucked, had been thinking about getting split open on Logan’s thick cock, fucked into the mattress.
But fucking Logan? That was a whole different treat. The Wolverine–his fucking boyfriend–wanted to be dicked down in candlelight, and Wade wanted it just as bad, probably more.
“Lube’s in the drawer, babycakes,” Wade pointed at his bedside table.
Logan ripped the drawer open, clumsily throwing the first bottle of lube he saw in Wade’s direction.
Peach. Good choice.
“Gonna fuck you open with my fingers, Loges,” Wade said, “Can you turn over?”
Logan followed instructions, he’d been following instructions the whole time, no hesitation, perky fucking ass right there waiting to be fucked.
Wade took one of his pillows, shoving it under Logan’s hips, propping his ass up and pushing his thighs apart, “If you weren’t so fucking desperate, I’d eat you out, get you all nice and wet for me.”
Logan moaned into the pillow where he’d stuffed his face, ass tilting upward just a bit as Wade covered his fingers in a generous coating of lube.
“Wade–I need you to fucking touch me–”
“On it, princess, patience is a motherfucking virtue.”
Wade let his dripping fingers spread around the taught ring of muscle, lightly massaging Logan’s rim, circling it a few times before he dipped the very tip of his index finger inside. Logan twitched under his touch, but Wade held him down by the hip, taking his time as he fucked in and out up to the first joint of his finger.
Logan spread his legs a little wider, so Wade pushed in, slowly fucking in and out, over and over, until he’d filled Logan all the way to his knuckle. Wade avoided his prostate, keeping his fingers straight. He wasn’t about to send Logan off again, not until he was balls deep inside.
“Another one–” Logan gritted out, face turned to the side.
And who was Wade to deny him?
Wade pressed in with two fingers, stretching Logan’s red rim with short thrusts, watching Logan bite down on his own fucking fingers to hold back another groan.
Fuck that was hot, so fucking hot. Wade wanted to force every pretty little noise out of him.
“Got something to say, baby? Hmm?”
“Fuck you–” Logan whispered breathlessly, biting back down on his knuckle.
“Not today, honey bunches, you practically begged me to fuck you.”
Logan couldn’t deny that, could he?
Wade lubed up his other hand, trailing his fingers over Logan’s exposed balls, admiring the thick, bushy hair surrounding them. He wanted to taste, wanted to lick a stripe between them, taste them, take his fucking time.
But Logan was rutting into the pillow underneath him, the tip of his swollen cock peeking out from underneath his balls. Wade decidedly wasn’t going to torture him.
“Gonna add another finger, Loges.”
“Add two,” Logan demanded roughly, “And get on with it–please–”
“So demanding all of the sudden,” Wade cupped his balls gently, rubbed his fingers in between them before pushing a little higher, settling them into the space right below his hole, stroking firmly against the sensitive skin.
And Logan fucking gasped, a breathy, delicious little sound that made Wade’s dick twitch violently against the pane of his stomach.
Fuck, Wade needed to be inside him right the fuck now.
“I’m gonna fucking come, Wade!” Logan groaned, and Wade rubbed his fingers over that spot a little harder, just for a split second, then stuffed a third finger into Logan’s hole, pressing all three in for a few, stiff thrusts before pulling them out and tapping at Logan’s shoulder.
“Alright, Peanut. Want me to fuck you like this or in missionary?”
Logan sucked in a shuddering breath as Wade trailed wet fingers down the length of his spine, “Doesn’t matter, just fuck me, Wade.”
And yeah, maybe Wade was feeling a little sentimental, a little love-dovey given the whole love-confession ordeal they’d worked through that evening. Maybe he wanted to fuck in missionary, watch Logan’s eyes flutter shut, watch his expression as Wade fucked into that spot that made him squirm–
“Earth to Wade. Jesus–”
“On your back, sweetums. As much as I love your ass, I want to see that o-face so fucking bad.”
Logan was on his back before Wade could finish his sentence, legs thrown wide open, inhibitions dropped to fucking floor.
Wade could see everything like this. Logan already looked fucked out, his heavy duck bobbing up against his stomach, leaking everwhere. His skin was shaded pink, forehead scrunched, eyes glassy.
So fuckable. And all fucking Wade’s.
“Gonna fuck you now, sweetheart.”
Wade wrapped his arms under Logan’s thighs, slotted himself between them, dick rubbing up against the loosened edge of his hole.
The first push inside felt like electricity, like a shot of extra-strength morphine exploding through his veins, scalding his nervous system.
“Fucking hell, Logan. Fuck you’re tight.”
Logan’s eyes were on Wade’s, watching him, trusting him.
So Wade pressed in a little deeper, eventually seating himself fully inside, trying to adjust to the heat and tightness and the goddamn look on Logan’s face that made him want to come right then and there.
But he needed more, needed to hear another little pleasured whimper erupt from Logan’s lips, needed fingernails digging into his skin, needed Logan’s come dripping all over their chests.
Wade fucked into him once with a pointed thrust, strained cursing caught in his throat behind a wave of bursting pleasure and adrenaline scalding through each cell in his body. So he fucked in again, harder this time, snapping his hips down just as Logan fucked upward looking for more.
“God, you’re fucking impatient, aren’t you?”
Logan answered with another upward thrust of his hips.
“Alright, message received wolvie, gonna fuck you real good.”
Wade wasn’t one to break a promise (yes he was, but let’s pretend otherwise), so he pinned Logan’s forearms to bed and fucking fucked him.
He angled for that spot, angling his thrusts in every direction, searching for Logan’s on-button with whispered encouragements.
So good, Logan.
Fucking taking it so well.
You’re so loud, baby.
On one upward stroke, Logan shook underneath him, inhaling sharply through spread lips, eyes fluttering closed.
“That feel good, Loges?”
Logan moaned, a deep throaty noise that sent a shiver down Wade’s spine.
Yup, that’s it, right there.
Wade fucked him right there, over and over again, pistoning into Logan with sharp, rhythmic snaps of his hips. Logan fucking took it, a sobbing mess of a man, not even bothering to request his throbbing dick be touched, not forming a single coherent word formed as Wade nailed his prostate time and time again.
And then, without warning, Logan was fucking coming, cock jerking as Wade ground into him with a lazy circle of his hips.
“Oh my god, holy shit Logan, you’re coming–oh fuck!”
God, it was delicious to watch, Logan shaking apart, tearing at the seams, heaving his hips upward in jolting movements that made Wade fuck into him even harder.
Fucking hell.
Wade was fucking coming just looked at the perfect little tear drops streaming down the sides of Logan’s face.
It felt like heaven. Better than heaven. Like heaven on crack, for sure.
-
They fucked a lot that (technically) ninth week of dating.
It was Valentine's week after all.
It was love making, all sweet and soft and sugary. Sometimes it happened in the shower, other times in the kitchen when Al was out. Once, Logan fucked Wade’s fist on the fire escape underneath a blanket.
But fucking Logan wasn’t the best part of the whole thing.
It was the coupley shit.
It really had always been the coupley shit, hadn’t it?