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“Gasp! Dogpool, avert your eyes! Your papa is touching himself!” Wade bursts out as soon as he enters their apartment, clutching a squirming Mary Puppins to his chest as she desperately tries to wriggle down to go after Logan.
“What in the fuck? How does this even remotely look like I’m touching myself?” Logan fixes Wade with his best ‘why do I put up with your shit’ face from his spot on the floor by the couch — he’d been in the middle of a set of sit ups when Wade had walked in.
Wade loses the battle with Mary, setting her down and watching fondly as she scampers right over to Logan, climbing onto his chest to lick at his face. “I guess you’re right, peanut, my bad. Maybe I just wanted that to be the case.” But Logan isn’t paying attention to him anymore.
“Hi, princess baby, your walk good? Huh? Aw I missed you, too.” Logan coos at Mary, voice soft and sweet. It had taken all of twenty minutes of him living with Wade for his resolve to crumble and Mary had become his favorite girl in the house (don’t tell Althea, though). He was a sucker for any animal, really, which didn’t surprise Wade all that much. Wade watches as Logan puts a hand under Mary’s belly, pushing her up above him like he would a bar on a bench in an imitation chest press. “Whew, you’re heavy, girl.” He fakes huffing and puffing, breathing exaggeratingly heavy, pressing the dog up and down, much to her delight. She’s wagging her tail so hard she might start flying away at any second and her tongue lolls happily.
Logan grunts, setting her down to finally sit up and Wade thinks his ovaries are about to explode from cuteness (and horniness)(if he had ovaries) as he fixes him with a beaming smile, earlier teasing forgotten, and tells Wade he missed him, too. Wade swoons.
Logan had clearly been at his little workout a while, sweat clings to his tank top and has his hair curling a little at the edges with the damp heat. He’s flushed a pretty pink and bright eyed, clearly satisfied with himself and his efforts. Wade wants to eat him alive.
Instead, he asks him, “For real, though, what were you doing, honey badger? I didn’t think you worked out. I figured your healing factor kinda just, kept you lookin’ like… all that .” He indicates Logan’s body with a hand wavey circle, appraising him with a raised brow bone in appreciation.
Logan scratches at the back of his neck, avoiding Wade’s eyes. “Well, I mean… I dunno, I’m gettin’ kinda fluffy I think. Don’t wanna get out of practice, either. I used to work out before, but then um…” he trails off and Wade can figure out the rest. Logan didn’t do much else besides drink and wallow after the accident and subsequent killing spree. Wade knew he wasn’t getting nearly enough calories to feed his healing or fighting properly, but he had just enough left in the tank to keep on being unkillable — even from himself.
Shaking his head as if to clear it, Logan shuffles to his knees first, then standing. He pecks at Wade’s lips, murmuring, “m’gonna shower, then you can tell me about your coffee date with Peter and Vanessa?”
“M’kay,” Wade sighs dreamily, staring at Logan’s ass in his ( Wade’s ) grey sweatpants.
When the door to the bathroom shuts, an unpleasant twinge of insecurity unfurls in his stomach. If this were anyone else, Wade would’ve pushed, followed them into the bathroom and nagged to hop into the shower with them — but this isn’t just anyone, this is Logan . And Wade wants to do this , their new, tentative relationship, hot off the press, the right way. So help him god.
He busies himself in the kitchen, prepping a snack and post workout drink for Logan, and tries not to think that the reason they haven’t been intimate, haven’t even seen each other naked yet, is to do with him and his skin. Wade tries to rationalize it out, he really does. They’ve only technically been together a little less than a month. And it had been so fucking sweet how it happened, Wade can’t help but grin at the memory. He had made Logan laugh — his real, honest laugh, adorable snort and everything — and then Logan had leaned in and kissed him, still giggling softly between eager presses of his lips. Wade can’t remember the joke, it’s one of his only regrets, he wishes he could get it tattooed on his ribs, immortalized in some way, the moment he’d gotten The Wolverine to confess feelings for him ?
It’d been nothing but domestic bliss since then, sleeping cuddled up together all night, sharing morning kisses over coffee with sleepy soft eyes and warm mouths, take out and Friday movie nights, and everything Wade ever wanted but never thought he could have when he picked Logan up from that bar. It's perfect, except…
Except.
Every time Wade tries to escalate anything past heavy making out and some light petting, Logan balks, redirects. And that’s more than okay with Wade — he just can’t help but wonder if it has something to do with how he looks. That Logan doesn’t want to touch him, or see him, or let Wade touch him back.
But what had Logan said? In answer to why he was working out? That he was ‘fluffy’? Maybe Logan was the self conscious one, in a shocking twist of narrative. That doesn’t make much sense to Wade, though, Logan is as perfect as he always is and the extra weight only enhances that. He looks well loved (even though they haven’t said that yet, Wade knows it’s what it is) and well taken care of. Hydrated and healthy. That really shouldn’t bother him.
Maybe he’s self conscious about his size? He’s felt up Wade while they make out on the couch, but always pulls Wade’s hand off of himself when he tries to reciprocate, never letting Wade get farther than his upper thigh. But that doesn’t make much sense, either, considering the eyeful of his bugle Wade had shamelessly ogled when he got home. I mean come on, he was in grey sweats for fucks sake, you’d sneak a glance, too.
The shower cuts off, then, rousing Wade from his thoughts. He stays in the kitchen, letting Logan make his way to their bedroom in peace. After giving him what Wade imagines to be ample time to get dressed, Wade makes his way to their door. “Knock, knock, peanut, lemme in.”
“Fuck, Wade !” Logan yelps, scrambling for the towel that he’d dropped on the floor. He’s still naked, clothes piled on the bed like he’d just set them out. Wade’s eyes flick down, tracking his gorgeous happy trail — possessed by habit, instinct, whatever you want to call it — to Logan’s crotch.
The sight that greets him isn’t at all what he was expecting. Logan isn’t packing a ten inch cock like Wade was picturing (vividly and often), instead he finds a glistening pussy, still slightly damp from the shower, pretty and pink between Logan’s hairy thighs.
“You’re— you have, um…” Wade gawks, can’t stop himself despite how much he knows he really fucking should. Logan growls, low and threatening, baring his fangs. “No, no, I mean—“
Logan looks scared in a way Wade hasn’t seen since he nearly couldn’t break through the door to get to the antimatter chamber. His hands are trembling where they cover himself.
“Sweetheart,” Wade’s voice shakes. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He knows it’s the wrong thing before it’s even out of his mouth, but he can’t stop it, because he wants to know what was holding Logan back from feeling completely safe with him.
“I’m— I’m sorry, s’just been a while, since I’ve had to tell anyone. And I didn’t really know how things were here in this universe yet, or how you felt and— I just didn’t want to ruin anything.” He cuts himself off with a distressed sound in his throat, clutching the towel in front of him like a lifeline. Wade’s heart cracks in two.
“Lo, honey,” Wade reaches for him, wanting to comfort him, taking a single step forward but Logan jolts backward like he’s been shot at, eyes wide and alarmed. “Fuck, I’m sorry. It’s alright, baby, I’m gonna go out here, okay? So you can get dressed. I’m sorry, Logan. I’ll be— I’ll just wait out there for you. And we can talk more if you want or, whatever you want.”
Wade backs out of their room, shutting the door behind him and he slumps onto the couch, slapping his hands over his face. “Fuck. Fuck .”
He aches to hold Logan, one of the things he’s learned since they became a couple is that Logan craves affection and non sexual intimacy. He loves cuddling and soft, chaste kisses all over his face. Wade had carried him to bed once after Logan fell asleep in his arms on the couch and he thought Logan’s heart was gonna burst out of his chest with happiness. He’d never purred so loud before for him. Love and safety break him down, make him soft in a way very few people have ever been lucky enough to witness.
Wade doesn’t know if he’ll get another chance to hold Logan like that again.
Minutes tick by, feeling like hours before Logan quietly shuffles out of their bedroom, fully dressed in his typical too-many-layers outfit. Wade crumples at the sight. He’s in stiff jeans, a tank top, flannel, and his leather jacket. Running away clothes. Not cozy, sit by my boyfriend and talk things out clothes.
It’s only now that Wade’s realizing he hasn’t seen these layers in almost a month. That Logan had slowly begun to wear less and less clothing, shedding the layers like armour as he got more and more comfortable with Wade. Flannels became unbuttoned, then turned into just tank tops, jeans were replaced with soft sleep pants or shorts if Wade was lucky. It stings to see him feeling like he needs fortification again.
His boots clunk heavy on the hardwood when he plants his feet in front of Wade. Each footstep like a stone in Wade’s sinking stomach. He meets Logan’s heavy gaze, the other's jaw is set, mouth tight. Pain laces through his eyes, but only because Wade knows where to look for it, how to see it. Logan’s braced for a killing blow.
Wade glances away. “I shouldn’t have asked why you didn’t tell me, it’s your business, Logan and you would’ve told me when you were ready. I’m sorry for not giving you enough time to answer before barging in like that. But this doesn’t change anything on my end, I think we’ve got a good thing goin’, angel baby, and if I didn’t royally just fuck this whole deal, I’d like to keep doing what we’ve been doing.”
It catches Wade off guard completely when all three hundred plus pounds of shaky Wolverine land in his lap. Logan collapses onto him, knees on either side of Wade’s slim hips, and tucks his face into his shoulder. “Oh, whoa, hey, easy. Hi, hi , pretty baby. C’mere.” Wade holds him close, pulling Logan tighter to his chest, petting through his hair. He’s not crying, but Logan’s breath sticks in his throat, catching like he’s on the verge of tears. “Sh, Lo, it’s alright. You’re alright.”
Wade presses his lips to Logan’s ear, “I really am sorry, baby.”
“I wanted to tell you. I just don’t know how, and I couldn’t just show you cause that never goes well, either. M’not used to anyone touching me in ways that don’t hurt, Wade. It’s still—” Logan groans, wounded. “I’m sorry.” Wade hears his teeth click shut, fangs clacking. He knows he’ll shut down soon, close off, if Wade doesn’t play his cards right or choose his words carefully. Being together like this wasn’t a cure all, Wade wasn’t some Prince Charming with a magic kiss that could take away all of Logan’s struggles — he was still flighty and agitated sometimes, domestication grating on him like an alley cat picked up by a well meaning passerby.
Logan squirms, uncomfortable, skin prickling with anxiety. He fights down the whine building in his throat with some struggle, he’s already exposed himself enough to Wade for today, doesn’t want to push it by slipping up anymore.
“Logan…” Wade starts. “Why don’t you get changed again? Should be comfy. I made you some food earlier. I don’t think Puppins got to it, she’s too tiny to jump on the counter.” He doesn’t accuse or insinuate that Logan was about to bolt. Though, the implication was clear from his clothes that Logan prepared for the worst. But he doesn’t need to worry anymore. Wade’s not going to let him go. Nothing could ever shake his feelings for the other man.
Wordlessly, Logan leans back, shucking off his jacket to throw over the back of the couch beside them. His hands shake a little, fragile tremors in his strong fingers, but he determinedly unbuttons his flannel next. Wade stays stock still, frozen so as to not startle him. He fumbles when his hands reach his belt, a pinched look on his handsome face. “Lo, that’s not… you don’t have to do that, baby. It’s not what I meant.” It’s really, really not. He just wanted Logan to relax, remember he was safe within their apartment.
Logan shakes his head roughly, “I want .”
And Wade won’t ever argue with that kind of statement.
He growls softly. Specifically, his agitated growl that means whatever has him pressed is half his fault — that’s right, Wade’s working on becoming a translator from Wolverine to English.
Logan succeeds in wrangling his belt off, and he slides sideways off Wade’s lap to sit next to him on the middle cushion of the couch to unlace and kick off his boots. Left in his tank top and open fly jeans, he stalks into their bedroom once again, leaving the door open this time. Wade hangs up his jacket, brings his boots back to their place by the door before heading to the kitchen to throw ice in Logan’s now room temperature drink.
Logan finds him there, clad in a pair of Wade’s worn cotton shorts, the raw edge of them curling up his thighs. Much better. Wade sighs in relief.
—
When Logan doesn’t hesitate to snuggle up close to Wade that night, the last of his anxieties dissipate from his chest, snuffed out by the pressure of Logan’s body pressed against his own. Logan curls into him like he always does, but this time feels brand new. They’d both stripped down to their underwear before climbing into bed, something that only Wade usually does — Logan preferred shorts or pants previously. Wade’s stomach swoops as Logan even hikes a leg up over his hip, another new thing for the night.
There’s one tense, charged moment where Logan flinches slightly at Wade sliding his hand up a bare thigh to his hip, but the tension is soothed easily by Wade removing the offending hand, replacing it in a sweeping stroke up Logan’s side in a gesture that Wade’s learning he likes. The movement relaxes Logan instantly, propelling a purr from his chest as he noses at Wade’s neck, scenting him quietly. He sniffs at him just like Puppins does, curious and alarmingly sweet.
Wade hadn’t been attempting to start anything. Honest. He was just relishing in the warmth, the heat of Logan’s skin so close at hand. The other runs warm, a deep comfort to Wade that he quickly became addicted to. “Go to sleep, sweetheart, I got you.”
—
Wade is slowly learning that there are just some things that don’t translate well from comic book pages to the real world. Colorful ink on paper can’t quite capture the way Logan’s eyes light up when you offer him something sweet to eat, or the little slurp noise he makes on his first sip of coffee that if you point out he will swear up and down (left and right) that he does not make. There are certain little habits — like building blocks, that build up a human being into who they are. Obviously when conveying a character of such a caliber as the Wolverine, the smaller details get swept away. He has to become something bigger. Wade typically likes noticing and appreciating these smaller pieces of Logan, the harmless, interesting little details that play out in the mundane, the kind that make you fall in love.
There are other things, too, that don’t translate well, like the pained whimper Logan makes as his dreams shift into nightmares. Objectively of course, you know The Wolverine would have nightmares, with all the things that have happened to haunt him. But it’s another, Wade thinks, to actually witness them in person, as he lays there that night trying and failing to soothe a thrashing Logan in his arms.
The whimper always wakes him up; Wade is a very light sleeper and Logan is often pressed close enough to his ear that even the quiet, pained noise is enough to rouse him awake. After the whimper comes the kicking. Logan will twitch, kick his feet away like he’s trying to swim and not succeeding. If Wade can’t wake Logan up in time, he’ll cry out. Sobs and incoherent yells, tears staining his face and their sheets. No, a comic could never quite replicate the bone chilling aftermath of one of Logan’s nightmares.
Wade takes a harsh kick to his shin, tries to breath through his nose to stifle the pain. “Honey, come on. Wake up, it’s just a nightmare. You’re okay, no one’s gonna hurt you.” He grabs onto Logan’s arms, jostling him a little bit to wake him up. It works, but not before Logan lets out a heart wrenching sob into Wade’s face. He wakes with a cry, panicked and blindly aggressive.
Wade finds himself pinned on his back, Logan’s hand wrapped tightly around his throat, with claws a hair's breadth away from his nose.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” Logan snaps, looking wild, his hair is mussed from sleep and his fangs glint dangerously in the low light. Wade knows he’s not actually talking to him — it’s a desperate, too late threat at whoever hurt Logan in his dreams, but it stings all the same. Logan snarls, eyes dim and unseeing, pulling his arm back like he’s about to strike and plunge the claws of his left hand into Wade’s chest.
Wade makes a split decision, knowing Logan will be sick with guilt if he harms him, he wrenches an arm between them, grabbing at Logan’s wrist to hold him back. “Logan, it’s me. It’s just Wade. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“No!” Logan struggles, the desperate, feral fight of a cornered animal. He goes to bite at Wade’s hands on his arm, and loosens his grip on Wade’s throat accidentally. Wade surges to sit up, scrambling the few inches away that their admittedly small bed provides. Logan growls, low and terrible, shoulders hunching instinctively, protecting his throat as if he wasn’t the one just choking Wade out. It doesn’t matter to Wade, though, of course it doesn’t. The fingerprint bruises have already healed up, his throat no longer sore.
“Lo, please.” He whispers in the dark between them.
The fight fades from Logan slowly. He snarls and gnashes his teeth, shaking his head back and forth as if to clear it, much like a dog dispelling water. He’s hunched on his knees, arms braced on the bed in front of him; his claws dig into the mattress where it dents from his weight. That doesn’t matter to Wade, either. The light coming back to Logan’s eyes does .
“Logan—” he goes to say but is cut off by Logan all but launching himself off the bed and out of their room in three bounds. He sleeps closest to the window, tucked away from the door by Wade’s body, so he has to nearly spring over top of him to escape. The bedroom door slams behind him and Wade can hear him sob, broken and ragged, out in the living room.
Wade’s not a complete idiot, he knows when his presence isn’t wanted. He tries to sleep in the too empty bed, but it’s no use. The most he accomplishes is holding his breath to listen to make sure Logan is still in the apartment. Wade hears the clinking of alcohol bottles at one point, and what he thinks is the deadbolt to the door another.
The rest of the night passes, time playing tricks on Wade, going thrice as slow.
—
The scene he finds in the morning almost makes Wade believe in a higher power other than himself (and Thor).
Logan is sprawled on the couch on his stomach, covered up with the old king sized comforter they’d had to get to cover up Wade and The Wolverines when Laura comes over for movie night, too. Its scrunched up mostly around his middle, bare feet and legs hanging out the bottom. He clutches the neck of an empty whiskey bottle in his left hand, arm hanging from the couch to nearly graze the floor with his knuckles. There’s a harsh frown on his lips, and his eye bags are heavy and dark, but he’s here , still in the apartment and Wade could cry from sheer relief.
Wade wants to reach for him, touch him just to confirm he’s real, but he won’t after how last night went. Instead, he gathers Mary Puppins’ things for her morning walk, setting the coffee to brew before he leaves.
Logan’s just waking up when he returns, sniffing at the fresh coffee, blinking blearily in the morning light. He sits up, dropping the bottle with a wince, the blanket falling from his shoulders to pool on the floor. Wade notes that he’s still just in his boxers with warmth while Logan looks at him with a kicked puppy look as he greets him.
“Hi,” he mumbles, barely audible, focusing on Mary who licks at his outstretched hand.
“Mornin’, honey badger.” Wade keeps his voice light, wishing he was a mind reader, out of his depth and not knowing how to proceed. He wants Logan to be able to talk about it, but he’s not naively optimistic to think he’s going to.
Wade walks to the kitchen the same time Logan rounds the couch to get coffee, they square off, stumbling around each other awkwardly in the entryway. Wade jumps back, skittish and not wanting to push Logan’s boundaries this morning while Logan’s hands reach for his waist.
“I— I’m sorry.” He says, holding onto Wade, shifting them so they stand chest to chest. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“It was just a nightmare, sweetheart.” Wade finally feels like he can touch him, cupping Logan’s cheeks in scarred hands. Logan growls — his grumbly one of disagreement, but it peters out when Wade kisses his nose. “Coffee?”
Logan just nods, letting Wade go to grab their mugs from the cupboard, matching red and yellow of course, busying himself with pouring. “I can sleep on the couch for a while,” He says without looking at Wade, just sliding the mostly full mug gently across the counter at him. He left room for the stupid ridiculous amount of creamer Wade likes to add. “I um, they get worse after… I have to— Beast always said it was some kind of stress thing and—”
Logan looks like he’d rather chew glass than be having this conversation and Wade can’t help but feel like he’s witnessing a miracle in real time. Logan being as forthcoming and honest about his feelings as he can be? Somebody pinch Wade, he must be dreaming.
“Hey,” Wade says softly, finally drawing Logan’s eyes to him. “You don’t have to do that on my account. If it makes you feel safer to sleep away from me, that’s different. But if you’re suggesting this because you think I’m put off by or inconvenienced by your nightmares, then forget about that right now.”
Wade’s miracle daydream has run out. Logan stiffens.
“I’m… gonna go for a run.” He’s dressed and out the door in record time, could put the Flash to shame, Wade would tell him, if anything about the moment felt funny.
His untouched coffee mug sits on the counter, taunting Wade for the rest of the morning, leaving him wondering if maybe there’s a version of some working time machine for him out there so he can go back and never barge in on Logan and fix this.
—
Wade doesn’t mope while Logan’s gone. Not even close.
He feeds Puppins, makes breakfast for himself and Al. He checks the clock. He watches the mug.
He starts a load of laundry. He checks the clock. He watches the mug. He cleans his guns. He checks the clock. He watches the mug.
He puts on Adventure Time. He watches the clock. He thinks about the mug.
It’s a long morning and afternoon of not moping.
—
The door bangs open around one in the afternoon and Logan clatters inside, slumping against the frame when it’s closed behind him.
“I don’t want to sleep on the couch.” He pants, doubling over to rest his hands on knees. There’s a slight wheeze in his breath, stronger on the exhale than the inhale. “I want… I want to sleep with you.”
It’s the perfect opening. Like dangling a steak in front of a golden retriever. It’s pure bait, a carrot on a stick. Wade’s not even sure if Logan’s done it on purpose. The endless stream of jokes and innuendo he could make from that one statement alone. But Wade’s getting tired of jokes, of the mask, when it comes to moments like this.
Logan’s still panting, chest heaving as he slumps on the wall. He’s covered in sweat, Wade can almost smell him from his place on the couch. He looks at Wade wide eyed and a little wild, though different from how he was in the throes of his nightmare. This is the kind of wild Wade likes, the kind that doesn’t hurt either of them.
“Name the time and place, peanut. You’ve got an all-access pass to sleep with me.” Wade winks, okay, maybe now he’s getting tired of jokes. After this one. He can’t resist, especially not when it makes Logan snort, pushing off the door to shuffle toward the bathroom. He didn’t think Logan would take his words literally, but.
He pauses at the hallway, “do you wanna, um, shower with me? Gimme like, I dunno, five minutes to clean up and then? Join me?” He rakes a hand through his hair, scratches awkwardly at his beard, nervous. Wade can’t have that, Logan needs to know he’s wanted, desired. He pounces.
“Fucking of course I wanna shower with you. But you don’t even have to clean up, baby, I could just lick you clean, c’mere. You reek right now, I wanna bottle it and sell it as a cologne, except I’d get jealous if other people wore it so I’d have to keep it all for myself.” He babbles and slinks over to Logan, crowding into his space as the other blushes.
“M’fucking gross right now, shut up.” He mumbles against Wade’s lips as the merc kisses him. “Was running for too fuckin’ long.”
Wade laughs at him, teasingly, “you are gross, it’s perfect. Do wolverines have pheromones? You’re looking extra delicious to me right now, peanut. I could just eat you up. Do endorphins have a scent? Is that what I’m picking up on?” Running his hands under Logan’s shirt is tricky, it clings to his torso from the sweat, but Wade manages to slip his hands between the fabric and his abs to rub up Logan’s sides like he likes. A shudder runs through him at the feeling, eyelids fluttering. “Five minutes, baby?”
Logan blinks dumbly at him, before answering, “Um, yeah. Jus’ a couple minutes and then I’ll be ready.”
Wade grins, pats his stomach to spur him into motion. “Get goin’, time starts now giddy up, honey badger.” He slaps his ass, too for good measure when he finally turns to walk into the bathroom.
He counts down, five exact minutes from the moment he hears Logan turn the water on before he follows after him.
“Still want me to come in, sweetheart?” Wade asks, hands twitching at the hem of his t-shirt. Logan ducks his head out of the shower, “c’mon, darlin’.”
He cages Wade in as soon he steps under the warm spray, boxing Wade’s body against the shower wall with his forearm braced beside Wade’s head. Logan kisses him fiercely, mouth hot and insistent and fuck, fuck, fuck . Wade’s gonna blow his load before they even fucking start anything, this is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him. Logan’s arm is taught, flexing perfectly in Wade’s line of vision just before Logan’s mouth meets his in a searing kiss. He moans, loud and long when Logan dips his head low, nipping and sucking at Wade’s neck. There’s a frantic edge to Logan’s mouthing at him, teeth sharp and lips bruising — something darker and desperate underlying it.
“ Baby ,” Wade whines, canting his hips against Logan’s — who rolls with him, flexing his free hand against Wade’s left hip to encourage the movement, grinding Wade’s cock against his abdomen. “Lo, please .” He’s so hard it hurts, doesn’t think he’s ever gotten so worked up so fast in his whole life. Logan is everything, though, right now, everything he ever wanted and he’s every where . His scent fills Wade’s nose, cheap body wash and shampoo, smells of home. His heat covers Wade’s body, alights his nerves where they touch. Wade runs his hands over the muscled planes of Logan’s chest and abs, warm and slick from the water, pulls him impossibly closer. Admittedly, Wade thinks, near delirious with horniness, Logan is a little fluffier. His edges have softened, a healthy layer of fat protecting his organs and his skin. It makes him look stronger somehow, more alive.
Wade scrambles, needing some semblance of control to wake him from his haze, hands finding purchase around Logan’s waist before he grips at Logan’s chin, a little tighter than necessary, pulling his lips back up to meet Wade’s — this time, Wade takes the lead of the kiss, uses the leverage of his hold on Logan’s face to make it slow and filthy . He relishes in the breathy, pathetic whine Logan lets out at Wade’s display of dominance, notes the shudder that rolls through his body with delight. Logan follows Wade’s lead instantly, slowing to match his pace, lips softening sweetly.
“Oh, baby, you’re just full of fun surprises, aren’t you?” Wade pulls him back by his hair, fisting his hand in dark locks. Logan moans brokenly, lashes fluttering.
“ Wade ,” he gasps.
“Yeah, angel baby, m’right here. What do you need? Lemme give it to you. You want my hands? My mouth? Gonna have to wait for my cock, I’m sorry, don’t have any protection around here, yet.” Wade brushes his hands up and down Logan’s sides, petting him lightly.
His words seem to snap Logan a little bit out of his haze. He frowns, “I don’t um, I can’t get— don’t need any protection.” The words look like they taste bitter, soured memories. “The lab, during Weapon X, they uh, took care of that.”
Wade’s stomach drops, throat going tight. His initial reaction is panic, 100% complete dread and fear, but Logan said it like it was a distasteful afterthought, just a slightly stinging anecdote and not earth shattering new information. He takes too long to process this, he can tell as Logan goes stiff in his hold where he’d been so soft moments before. Logan pulls back.
“No, no, baby stay here, c’mere, fuck.” Wade lets some of his panic bleed into his words, needing Logan close right now to function. He grapples at Logan’s shoulders, looping his arms around his neck. Wade pushes his face into his neck, nose at Logan’s jawline.
“M’sorry. If I killed the mood. I jus’ thought you should know. If you wanted, we could—” Logan shakes his head, water droplets falling into Wade’s face.
Wade sighs when Logan stays put, wrapping his arms around the merc, “of course I want, sweetheart. How about we get out of the shower? Let me take you to bed the right way, huh?” They shouldn’t do this here. Not for the first time. Wade wants to do everything right for Logan.
Logan just nods, already reaching for the faucet.
They dry off quickly, not bothering with clothes as Althea isn’t home at the moment and won’t be for a few more hours. Her book slash cocaine club is having their weekly meeting.
Wade nearly blue screens when Logan hangs up their towels, throwing a casual “I could top, too if that’s something you’re interested in” over his shoulder. Wade splutters.
“Oh honey badger, I’ll need to work up to that I think. Few days warning in advance. Not really a natural bottom.”
Logan just shrugs, grins shyly at him. “Fine with me.” Cheeky bastard.
Wade grabs him by the middle, hauling Logan over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry — now, the Wolverine absolutely does not shriek like a little girl, but Wade wants you to know it was very close. He carries Logan into their bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him as he goes. Logan growls but it’s nearly a purr, putting up a token protest without much effort in it.
He tenses when they approach their bed, expecting Wade to throw him onto it, bracing for the fall, but Wade surprises him by laying him out slowly, carefully like he’s afraid to hurt him.
Logan sighs, “oh.” Stretching out on his back languidly, baring his stomach and throat when he tips his head back. Wade melts at his vulnerability. He’s all long lines of muscle and soft, hairy skin, Wade wants to run his tongue over every inch of him. His erection is back in full force, dripping precome where he grinds his hips against Logan’s strong thigh.
“Wade?” He parts his thighs gently, exposing where he’s slick, hard and wanting between his legs. “Please?”
Wade groans, “can I suck your dick? Logan, I need it, might actually die if I don’t get my mouth on you.” He sounds desperate to his own ears, but Wade is well past shame. Logan cups his face in wide palms, guiding Wade’s face down to the v of his legs.
He shudders apart at the first pass of Wade’s tongue across his folds, pushing his hips up into Wade’s mouth, “oh, fuck. Fuck , Wade. Baby, so good.” Logan keens as Wade sucks his dick into his mouth, letting out a groan of his own at the way Logan fills his mouth. He’s perfect, just the right size for Wade to really wrap his lips around him, work it with his tongue under the hood. The action makes Logan arch, nearly coming off the bed completely. He’s close already, whining and whimpering softly with every pass of Wade’s tongue. Wade can’t wait to get him there.
Replacing his mouth with his thumb, Wade draws slick circles over the head of his cock, dipping his lips and tongue down to Logan’s hole to lap up his leaking arousal. He’s barely pushing his tongue inside when Logan cries out, coming onto Wade’s mouth, clenching on his tongue. Wade licks him through it, kneading his thighs and hips gently as he comes down. He pulls off with a small pop, pressing kisses and praises against Logan’s lower belly. Lips brushing his happy trail.
“Fucking gorgeous, god. So fucking pretty baby. I’m gonna need you to make those noises forever, ‘kay? Wanna play them on loop for the rest of my life.” Logan laughs at him lightly, head still reeling from his orgasm as Wade crawls up his body to kiss him sweetly. Tasting himself on Wade’s lips is addicting, like he’s left a claim on the merc, marked him as his.
“Can I fuck you now, sweetheart?” Wade asks breathlessly as they part, but backs up at the pinched look on Logan’s face, suddenly uncomfortable. He squirms a bit under Wade’s gaze. “Lo? What’s wrong?”
Logan mouths at his jaw, kissing up Wade’s cheek to rest his lips by his ear. “Um,” he whispers, confessionally, “S’been a while, and I’m always kinda tight even after coming once, can you— can I have a couple fingers first?”
“Jesus, fuck, honey did you think I’d just stick it in?” Wade’s voice is incredulous, but not that Logan would assume he’d do that, more so at the thought of other people having done it to him in the past. Logan simply shrugs, noncommittal.
“I know it feels better when it’s tight, but I don’t really want to hurt with you.” Wade kisses softly at his mouth, drawing a moan from Logan’s throat as he teases the pleasure higher. Blindly, Wade fumbles through the nightstand for the lube, slicking up his fingers before slipping his hand between their bodies to press into Logan.
“It won’t hurt with me.”
He starts slow, gentle with just one, rubbing at Logan’s sensitive walls, searching for that sweet spot. Logan gasps when he finds it, curling his finger into it. “Wade, please, more, I want another finger, I can take it, please.”
Wade pulls out, diving back in with two into Logan’s drenched hole, finding that spot again easily with more pressure than before. He alternates, scissoring his fingers apart to stretch him before going back to rub against him again. Logan is close again, clenching around Wade’s fingers, sucking them in like he needs them. “Fuck, m’ready, baby. Wade, fuck me.”
The needy whine of Logan’s voice is almost enough to get Wade off alone. Rough and desperate, he kicks his legs up around Wade’s waist, lining his cock up to rub across his slick heat. Wade pours more lube over both of them, easing the last of the tension in Logan before pushing the head of his cock forward slowly. They moan in tandem when the tip catches, slipping into Logan with no resistance. It's bliss already and Wade hasn’t even started fucking him yet.
Logan rocks his hips when Wade bottoms out, whimpering as the motion grinds his cock against the base of Wade’s — the skin is textured there, too, of course and Wade’s scars catch deliciously on the head of Logan’s sensitive dick. “Move, baby, c’mon.”
Wade trembles above him, arms braced on either side of Logan’s head, his chin dips low, closing his eyes as he breathes through it. “Trying not to fucking embarrass myself, here, sweetheart. Gimme— gimme a second or this is gonna be over before it even starts. Christ. You’re fucking perfect, Lo. Feel so good.”
Logan’s hole flutters at the praise, a whine slipping past his lips. Wade feels fire roar in his belly.
“ Oh , that’s right. You wanna be good for me, don’t you angel baby? Yeah, you do. Don’t think I didn’t catch your little sub act in the shower. Fuck.” He starts to roll his hips slowly, barely fucking into Logan, pulling out just a few inches before grinding back in.
Logan draws blunt nails down his back, bucking his hips to spur him on, “yes, yes, please. Wanna be good for you, Wade. Fuck.” His begging works, Wade pulls out nearly the whole way before slamming back inside, setting a rough pace that has Logan seeing stars.
“Taking me so well, Lo, fuck, look at you. Being so good for me.” He tightens at the praise, clenching around Wade’s dick. “ Fuck , baby. Come with me this time, sweetheart. C’mon. Gimme one more.”
Wade fucks him relentlessly, hiking Logan’s legs further up his waist, angling their hips together perfectly. He’s hitting that spot on every thrust, where his fingers had been just teasing at earlier, this pleasure is intense and all consuming. It breaks him down, wrecks the barrier between his mouth and his words. Logan babbles as he gets pushed closer and closer to the edge.
“ Wade , need to come, please. Want you to come inside me, fill me up. Make me yours, I wanna be yours, please. Please.”
“Christ, you are mine, baby. All mine, gonna fill you up, Lo.” His hips stutter in their rhythm, Wade slips his thumb down, stroking over Logan’s dick.
Logan sinks his teeth into the juncture of Wade’s shoulder when he comes, biting hard and whining pathetically around Wade’s skin. It tips the other over the edge, pain mixing perfectly with his pleasure, he pumps Logan full of his come, fucking it into him as he rides out their shared orgasm. Wade collapses onto Logan’s chest in the afterglow, dislodging his fangs from his neck with a wet gasp. He clutches Wade close, licking his blood from his teeth and lips. Mine , Logan thinks deliriously.
“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m all yours.” Wade slurs, nosing at Logan’s bearded chin.
Oops, he’d said that out loud. Whatever.
Logan purrs as their breathing evens out, heart rates calming down. He barely winces as Wade pulls out, come running down his thighs. Wade dips his head to lap it up, cleaning Logan’s and his own release from his skin. Logan whines, batting at Wade’s head to pull him back up into his arms, wanting to cuddle instead. The mess doesn’t bother him, he likes smelling like Wade and him combined, feeling pleasantly marked and safe .
Wade gets the message, laving one last lick to Logan’s fucked out hole before shifting their positions, lying on his back and pulling Logan onto his chest. “Alright, alright. I get it, c’mere, baby.”
Logan’s purr redoubles, ramping up louder in his chest and reverberating into Wade’s when the other cards his fingers through his kitty ear cowlicks. He noses under Wade’s jaw, licking the sweat from his skin delicately.
“Jesus fuck, peanut. If I had known a couple orgasms would’ve made you so sweet like this, I would’ve begged to fuck you ages ago,” Wade says, digging his chin into Logan’s forehead. “You were so good for me, sweetheart.”
Logan hitches his purr into a growl, a mild warning, but he remains limp in Wade’s arms, dripping with residual pleasure and relaxed.
“Can growl all you want, baby, you’re still my good boy. Growls and bites don’t make you bad, or change how sweet I know you can be.” Wade’s undeterred. He’d never ask Logan to stop or change his ways. He’s perfect just how he is, fangs and rumbling growls and all.
Logan tenses slightly, unsure until Wade sweeps his hand down his side, chasing his unease away with gentle hands and his soft voice. He finds he believes Wade when he tells him it’s okay to be how he is, can hear the undercurrent implying that Wade means even more than he says. That it’s okay for Logan to be exactly how he is.
His eyes slip, heavy with the pull of sleep, but he fights it, not wanting to risk hurting Wade with another nightmare. Its futile, though, once Wade presses warm lips to his eyelids softly. Murmuring, “s’alright, Lo, go to sleep. I’m staying right here.”
He drifts, held in strong, safe arms. The nightmares don’t find him there that afternoon.