Work Text:
What a gorgeous afternoon in April. The sun hangs uncertainly in the day, its rays licking across the cityline’s skyscrapers. Happy just to be alive, birds sing outside their—yes, their—window.
Wade and Logan are an item. Official, exclusive, boyfriend and boyfriend. Call it whatever you like, and please do fucking call it.
If you’d told Wade two months ago he’d score a man like Logan, he’d have laughed in your face because that’s funny and then shot you point-blank between the eyes because it’s cruel. Logan would never go for a man like Wade Wilson. The thought was both hilarious and devastating, somehow each coexisting together at once.
Then… on a hit, Logan fucking shredded some guy in Wade’s honor. Completely ripped him to absolute ribbons. It was a murder born to passion, undoubtedly, and they’d had the most disgustingly fucking romantic sex of their lives that night.
Wade drags his socked toes up the length Logan’s bare calf.
Since their first time, they’ve been experimenting. Light bondage, a little slapping, some degradation here and there, sprinklings of puppy play… but Wade wants to push things further. Always, he has to test his limits.
Logan turns to him. He pulls the backs of his fingers along the scars on Wade’s shoulder.
Wade hates his scars. He thinks they’re ugly, they’re offensive, but Logan begs him to keep his clothes off. When Logan touches Wade’s scars, they’re a part of his body again, something that belongs to him rather than something he belongs to. Logan makes him feel bigger than them.
Logan asks, “What’s on your mind, honey?”
The pet name makes Wade blush, but he can’t curb his mischievous smile.
Logan raises a brow. The grin on his face gives him away.
Wade asks, voice light and lilted by his own suppressed giggling, “Puppy wanna play?”
Logan smiles. Other than that, he doesn’t actually reply.
Wade loves the way Logan plays, the way he just fucking rolls over and gives it up. It’s so stupidly easy. Wade wouldn’t even have to ask. Just a gentle nip at the bolt of Logan’s jaw, a sweet nothing, and Logan is all his.
He does ask, though, because he loves the way Logan sighs, “Yes.”
It’s like he can't help himself, like he’s not even aware when he’s doing it. The dog is stronger than the man. He’s a sucker for pet names and praise, and Wade’s all too happy to oblige him, always so sweet at first before it gets mean.
Wade cups Logan’s face. “Pretty boy.” He mumbles.
Logan blinks, languid, and tosses his head back so Wade can get a better look at him.
Wade traces the shape of his lips with the pad of his thumb. “Pretty lips.” He smiles.
Logan sucks it into his mouth and bites, barely, only using the edges of his sharp canines just enough to get a reaction.
Wade gasps, his pupils dilating. “Ow!” He huffs, hooking his thumb into Logan’s cheek and pulling, closing in to take a peek at his fangs. “Bad boy. Look at those teeth.” He tuts. “Need to be careful with those, you animal.”
Logan pulls free, licking the taste of Wade off his laterals.
Wade leans away to see his grin. In the next second, he slaps Logan—hard—clear across the face.
Logan’s still grinning, unwavering, as his cheek turns red where Wade hit him.
Wade’s left breathing heavier with the thrill of the slap. His palm stings. He loves this, the give and take of it. The power struggle, the push and pull, and ending out with all of the control every single time.
“Please,” Logan begs.
Wade asks, “Please what?”
Logan looks at him. He opens his mouth to say something, but it gets clipped behind his tongue.
Wade smirks. “Say it.” He seethes.
Logan swallows.
Wade takes him by the chin. “Say it.”
Logan blinks. Scene is on. “Please…” he mumbles, the edge of a whimper in his words, “please, mommy.”
Wade grins. He asks, voice soft, soothing, cooing, yet somehow still sharp, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Logan looks down.
Wade demands, tilting his head and trying to meet Logan’s eyes, “Was it?”
“It was,” Logan mutters.
“What was that?” Wade asks, thumbing across his wet lips.
“No,” Logan repeats, louder this time, “mommy.” And he glares, his jaw set tight.
Wade asks, tone sickly sweet and eyes glittering as he drags the backs of his fingers over the fresh mark on Logan’s cheek, “Oh, was I mean?”
Logan glares at him harder.
Wade smiles. “Are you mad, puppy?”
Logan huffs.
Wade just smirks. He takes a fistful of ash brown hair to yank Logan’s head back, kisses the bolt of his jaw and bites. His stomach turns over the sweet little gasp it earns him.
Wade whispers, his breath ghosting over Logan’s ear. He lies, “Mommy’s sorry, baby.”
Logan shudders. “Fuck.” He whines.
"Thought you said no dogs in bed?” Wade hisses to him.
“Was talkin’ about Mary.” Logan grumbles back.
Wade grins, wide and evil. “Get down, mutt.” He orders.
Logan looks up at him, defiant.
Wade’s wicked grin softens into a fond smile. “Okay.” He uses a gentle finger to close Logan’s mouth. Then, he slaps him another time. Harder.
Logan’s ears ring, but he still manages to hear Wade add, “I said,” backhand, “get down.”
Logan’s grinning as he rolls from the covers and settles in on his knees, the sick fuck.
Wade scoots to the edge of the bed and opens his legs. He plants his socked feet to the floor on either side of Logan, who reaches out instantly to stroke his hand up the inside of his boyfriend’s thigh.
Wade smacks it away and spreads wider, snapping, “Who trained you, dog?”
Logan looks at him, a question in his eyes. He knows God damn well that a telepathic request will be nowhere near enough, but he likes to hear Wade boss him around.
“Ask.” Wade purrs.
Logan swallows his pride by the ounce and takes his time doing it.
Wade waits. Part of his fun is observing Logan’s internal struggle.
“Please,” he relents, finally, his voice rough with his own resistance, “please, mommy, can I touch you?”
Wade laughs, carelessly cruel. “You may not.”
Logan looks up, unabashed about his clear-cut desperation. His resolve lessens by the second. “Please.” He begs again.
Wade sighs.
Logan starts to smell the heady, metallic scent of blood as his own pointed nails cut too deep into his palms. The sheer amount of restraint it’s taking to keep his hands to himself has made him bleed.
Wade looks him in the eyes. “Why should I let you?”
Logan pouts. “I’ll be good.” He huffs.
“Will you?” Wade asks, a wicked smirk starting to pull the edges of his lips.
Logan should know better—or maybe Logan knows better, but the dog doesn’t—than to say yes, but he says, “Yes, mommy. I swear.”
Wade hmms. “You’ll do anything I tell you to?”
Logan nods fervently and catches his own lip with his fangs. “Please.”
“Bark for it.” Wade tells him.
There’s a long stretch of silence. Wade’s smile grows with its length, wider and impossibly wider, as Logan turns crimson.
Then, he hears him rumbling with a short and noncommittal growl.
Wade’s smile lessens. His lips part. He’s still amused, but Logan can tell that he’s now trying to read crossed. “Did you just growl at me?”
Logan doesn’t have time to answer before Wade’s grabbing him by the jaw, dragging him in close. He feels the ball of his foot press to the tent in his sweats and, like the dog he is, Logan rolls into it instead of away from it.
“Are you being ungrateful?” Wade seethes to him.
Logan shakes his head and rolls his hips again, synced with his eyes and flittering lashes.
“Looks like it. You know, you won’t get it any better than this.”
Logan rasps, “I know.”
“You belong here with me.”
Again, Logan hoarsely whispers back, “I know,” and whines.
“Say it.”
“I belong with you, mommy.”
Wade puts a little pressure to Logan’s hard cock, toeing him closer to the floor. “Fuck,” Logan curses, “I belong here with you. Was made for you.”
Appeased, Wade smiles and hums. “Good boy.”
Logan’s panting already. He doesn’t know how he got here, but he knows it was too fucking quick. He can feel the hot flush on his skin, knows his eyes are dark, pupils blown. There’s absolutely no turning back from this.
“Bark.” Wade commands.
Logan hesitates.
Wade says, his voice hard and flat, “Speak, puppy.”
“Fuck.” Logan pants, audibly deliberating. There’s another quick beat of hesitation between the swear and the barking, but Wade forgets all about it when his lover actually huffs out a couple short, clipped woofs.
Logan looks like he’s been shot, which is honestly fair.
Wade smirks. “Aren’t you too cute?” He taunts.
Logan tries not to react, but there’s something about that particular word when Wade says it. He sounds so evil.
Wade is not a very nice guy.
“Who’s my pretty boy?” Wade asks.
Logan growls.
Wade presses the ball of his foot harder to Logan’s cock and demands, his voice dark and dangerous, hissing through his teeth, “Say it, bitch.”
“Me,” Logan moans.
“That’s right. Now say thank you.”
“Thank you, mommy.”
“Good boy. Don’t growl at me.” Wade coos.
Logan nods.
Wade pushes down even harder, locking Logan, who immediately starts to open-mouthed pant, into an intense eye contact. He asks, his tone almost too sweet, too soft, and the contrast to the unforgiving pin on Logan’s dick is jarring, “Now, is that how I trained you? Do we growl, hm?”
Logan shakes his head.
Wade warns him, his tone glimmering with the threat of something horrible, “If I have to tell you one more time, baby, you’ll be so fucking sorry. Okay?”
Logan whimpers, his hips jerking.
Wade eases the pressure a little.
“Please.” Logan begs.
“Okay?” Wade repeats himself.
“Yes, mommy. Please. Fuck. What do I have to do to touch you?”
Wade pretends to think.
Logan is so stupidly fucking hard at this point that it hurts.
The air is thick, the need is all-consuming, and finally, Wade gives in. He can only resist those puppy eyes for so long. “‘Kay. You can touch.”
Logan reaches forward.
Wade doesn’t smack his hand away this time. This time, he just spreads his thighs a little wider and pulls his panties to the side, inviting Logan in.
Logan groans. “Thank you, mommy.”
Wade huffs a small laugh.
Logan dives right in, unwilling to spare another second. He dips down and follows a shining-wet line along the length of Wade’s cock with his hot, sandpaper tongue.
Wade bites the inside of his cheek and whimpers, splaying his thighs even wider apart, despite their tightening protest.
Logan noses at him, dragging his lips across Wade’s slick skin. He’s breathing him in, huffing about it, like he can’t get his lungs to fill. “Thank you,” he sighs, and Wade strokes the back of his hair.
“Good dog.”
Logan groans. “Your good dog.” He presses a kiss to Wade.
Wade can feel Logan’s fangs behind his lips where he’s trying to wrap them around the side.
Logan is always so eager, so fucking sloppy, happy to blow without shame. He gives kissing up and down Wade’s length a few more passes, mumbling, his words lost into his boyfriend, his tongue darting out occasionally, but Wade knows what he’s saying because he says the same shit every time, pretty. Tastes good. Mommy. Please. Thank you.
Wade hates waiting. His hand gets meaner in Logan’s hair, the heel of it nudging him closer. “Open your mouth.” He commands.
Logan opens his eyes and looks up at him, eager to follow orders.
Wade smirks. He presses the pad of his thumb to Logan’s tongue, pulling it down and away. “Good,” he mumbles, watching him drool, “so cute.”
“Hh,” Logan tries, but nothing real comes out.
Wade pushes his thumb in deeper, his nail touching to the roof of Logan’s mouth and scraping its ridges. Logan closes his lips and sucks, blue eyes watering with the pathetically ever-growing amount of raw need in his fucking chest, and Wade watches him with a fondness and a smile.
Finally, he pulls his hand back.
Logan blinks.
“Want it, baby?” Wade rasps.
Instantly, Logan sighs, “Yes. Yes, please, fuck. Want it so bad.”
Wade pets his cheek, tracing a little scar by his right eye. The imperfections and impermanence that nobody else is lucky to be close enough to see.
Logan leans into it, wanton, greedy.
Wade smiles, all teeth and no heart.
Logan can tell that he’s enjoying the tease. They’d tried something like this before, something softer, sweeter… Wade’s condescension had only peeked through, like spring weeds between cracked sidewalks, just threatening to bloom into a problem.
Here, he’s being especially cruel. The sick little thrill that crawls through Logan is inexplicable.
“Aren’t you humiliated,” Wade hisses, “begging for it like this?”
His wicked smile makes the space between Logan’s temples fill with static. “Yes.” He admits.
Wade grins.
Logan swallows his nerves, his embarrassment, the urge to snap and bite. He needs to keep his fucking head on straight, or he knows he’ll get nothing.
He looks at Wade. His eyes are hard.
Wade drags his hand down the curve of his lover’s neck, feeling the way his throat flexes when it moves.
“But you love it,” he starts, “don’t you, Lo?”
Logan barely cuts a growl before it verbalizes. “Fuck,” he bites, “yeah, I love it. Thank you, mommy.”
Just like that, his efforts get rewarded. Wade drags his socked toes down the length of his hard cock, giving him enough pressure to actually do something.
“Hff.” Logan puffs, rutting into it. “Fuck. Fuck, thank you.”
Wade smirks. It makes Logan sick with lust to be looked at this way.
Wade hooks his spare ankle around the small of Logan’s back and drags him closer. The fabric of his sweatpants soaks through as his leaking cock kisses the ball of Wade’s foot.
Logan groans. His gaze rolls back and his head tips.
Wade lets him rock, his slutty, breathy little thank-yous getting lost in the sound of wet fabric sliding.
After a couple minutes of just enjoying the pathetic thing that Logan’s been reduced to, Wade asks him, “Are you really going to come like this?”
And Logan, the pitiful wreck that he is, begs, “Can I?”
Wade pretends to think about it. He looks his lover over, then, and smiles.
Logan is fucking sweating. His cock strains in his boxers. He’s aching to take them off.
Wade presses the ball of his foot a little harder to Logan.
Logan gasps and bucks into it, his head dipping down. He only possesses so much restraint. “Please. Please.” He’s mumbling, again and again, almost like it’s just part of his every exhale.
“What are you begging for?” Wade asks, amusement clear in his voice.
“Please,” Logan huffs again, “can I take my boxers off, mommy?”
Wade giggles. “What, you want a footjob?”
Logan sighs through his nose, short and clipped. “I’d take anything you’ll give me.”
Wade grins. His toes curl.
Logan shudders, the fabric between them suddenly too thin.
Wade drags his socked foot up and down. The wet cloth clings to the shape of his boyfriend’s hard cock, and he watches, like he’s only bothering to do it for his own selfish gain (which is a half-truth).
Logan whines. His hips stutter and buck, but Wade doesn’t care.
Rather, he points out, his tone light, mocking, a little sing-song lilt, “What a sticky mess.”
Logan doesn’t even try with a response. Instead, he just takes Wade’s foot and guides it, rubbing the heel of it against his sensitive, aching dick.
Normally, Wade would scold him for this kind of greed. Now, though, he’s too fucking shocked at the display to say anything other than, “You’re depraved.” He spits, “You like feet?”
“Hh. Mommy. I like you.” Logan moans. “You love it, know you do, huh, you—you sick fuck. You like a pitiful man.”
“Huh!” Wade gasps. “Very mean.”
Logan just chuckles and grins, fangs glinting under the low light in their bedroom. “Hah.”
Wade doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. He rolls his eyes and pulls his foot away.
Logan huffs, his eyebrows drawn up in the middle. He had expected this outcome, and he was pathetically fucking close, so he’d baited for a cooldown.
“You think a little bite can scare me?” Wade smiles. “It can’t. I’m not scared of you. Fucking mutt.” He hisses.
Logan is given no time to react before Wade’s got him by the collar of his shirt, dragging him up and in.
Logan doesn’t even have to be told to cooperate. He slumps in and kisses him, lips soft and parted.
Wade lets his lover get a little sloppy before he tugs him back by the scruff, holding him at arm’s length.
Logan leans deeper into his knees. “Please. Please.” He begs, desperately trying to shuffle closer.
Wade smiles.
Logan looks so fucking good, his eyes dark, his face red, his chest heaving.
He’s more than strong enough to just take what he wants, but where would the fun be in that?
“You don’t deserve it.” Wade seethes.
Logan huffs. His mouth parts, but no sound comes out.
Wade raises a brow, daring him to talk back.
Logan takes the challenge. He grins, another quick flash of teeth, and purrs, “Maybe you should give me what I want.”
Wade is quiet for a beat. Then, he smiles. Gotcha. He starts to laugh under his breath, an afterthought. “Oh, poor baby. Are you frustrated, hm? Tired of being teased?” He mocks Logan, his voice dripping with fake pity.
Logan catches the rumble milliseconds before it turns into an audible growl. “Yes.”
“Why don’t you tell mommy what you want?” Wade prompts, sweet like poison.
Logan looks at him, waiting for him to take it back.
Wade doesn’t heel. Obviously.
Logan’s nostrils flare. His jaw sets tight.
“Come on.” Wade coos.
“Fuck me,” Logan pleads, finally, rough and rasping, his tone hard with his own desperation, “fuck. Please, I can’t.”
Wade loves that Logan likes to get fucked. Something about it just thrills him beyond words, an all-around man like Logan, strong, angry, dominant personality, collared, leashed, bitched and fucked by some motherfucker he calls mommy.
“Good boy.” He praises, finally releasing Logan’s shirt to stroke his cheek instead.
Logan doesn’t hesitate to lean into his touch. “Mommy.” He huffs, his eyes half-lidded as his tongue darts out to lick at Wade’s fingers.
“Yes, baby?” Wade giggles, pouting his lips a little.
“Please,” Logan pants, his eyes fluttering, “please.” He wants to kiss Wade so fucking bad it makes him look stupid.
“Alright,” he gives in. Finally. “Come up here, sweetie.”
Logan wastes no time scrambling up onto the bed, kicking his sweats and his boxers off.
Wade laughs and slides his hands under the bottom hem of Logan’s shirt, peeling it over his head for him. “Pretty boy.” He purrs, dragging his fingers down the centerline of his stomach.
Logan squirms under his touch. “You next. Please.” He huffs.
Wade glances up, and Logan understands the meaning behind his eyes.
“Take your clothes off. Please. Wanna see you.”
Wade grins. He slides off the bed and stands, pulling his shirt over his head, dropping his panties, then his socks, leaving himself totally bare.
Logan looks him over with a hunger that Wade feels deep in his stomach.
The mattress dips under the new weight as Wade climbs back onto it.
He kneels between Logan’s open thighs. He’s grinning, his eyes dark, hungry, as he crawls over him.
Logan’s heart pounds hard with anticipation. He feels so exposed, so vulnerable.
He wraps a hand into the ditch of Logan’s knee, pushing it up toward his chest. “Hold this for me, sweetpea.” He says, and Logan immediately reaches to obey, pulling it up closer to his collarbone.
Wade kisses him, open-mouthed, and Logan feels the press of his cock against his thigh. He can hardly stand how fucking much he wants this.
Wade nips at his bottom lip, making him gasp.
He reaches his free hand down to feel him, stroking the underside of his dick and making Logan groan.
Wade doesn’t tease after that. His hand slips further down to close around his own cock, guiding it where it counts.
Logan feels the blunt press of his cockhead wet at his hole and sighs. After the first couple of times, he’s started to really love his healing factor for reasons he never got to appreciate before Wade.
Wade presses inside, slowly and smoothly.
Logan relaxes as much as he can.
Once he bottoms out, Wade waits a beat before he rocks into him, just a gentle push and pull.
Logan whimpers.
Wade kisses his chest and neck. “It’s okay.” He leaves his lips pressed to his shoulder when he starts to fuck him in earnest.
Logan rewards him with the cutest punched-out little uh-uh-uhs, and by the third real thrust, he’s already trying to fuck Wade back.
Wade mouths his track up to Logan’s lips again to swallow his moan. “You look so fucking pretty taking it, puppy,” he praises, which gets him another whine to lick from his lover’s kiss.
Logan can taste his smile. He knows how much Wade enjoys this.
When he doesn’t give him a response, Wade starts to slow his hips.
Logan breaks the kiss to beg, “Please, please, don’t,” his eyes wet with unshed tears.
Wade grins. After another few seconds, just to fake Logan out, he keeps in on his steady rhythm.
Logan tries not to get too sloppy. He holds his thigh and reaches to grab Wade by the back of the neck, pulling him in for another kiss.
Wade goes happily.
Logan feels his hand slide along his chest. Soon after, he feels the hot pinch of Wade tweaking his nipple.
His back arches, his hips jerk, and he moans—“ow, fuck”—into Wade’s open mouth.
Wade is smiling again when he pulls back. He kisses Logan on his nose, then leans further and grabs his waist instead. “You look so fucking good like this, I can barely breathe.” He huffs a laugh, cocking Logan’s hips to an angle with his hand and sliding home.
“Shit, mommy,” Logan curses, rolling down into it.
“Nobody does this like you do, sweetheart.” Wade praises.
Logan groans, his cheeks burning.
Wade’s always been a talker. Logan’s always liked that.
He says, his words dripping with honey, “Fuck, baby, you’re such a good dog. You’re taking it so well, aren’t you?”
Logan huffs and circles his hips.
“Aren’t you?” Wade prompts again.
It’s so incomprehensibly fucking tight, it’s honestly an effort to come up with coherent dirty talk. When Logan doesn’t reply, Wade nails his sweet spot dead-on and makes him sob.
“Yes.” He sighs.
Wade smiles. “Who’s mommy’s good dog, huh?”
“Fuck,” Logan swears, “I am. Fuck. I’m mommy’s good dog.”
Wade kisses his jaw.
Logan can feel him grinning, there, stamping kisses along the hard angle to the curve of his neck.
Wade picks up his pace and starts to fuck him harder.
Logan keens and gasps and swears and begs, his voice growing breathier and less sure. He lets his hand fall from his knee to his chest. The other reaches out for Wade. It gets stopped before it can go anywhere, its fingers laced between his lover’s and the back of it pinned flush to the mattress.
“So pretty like this.” Wade whispers into his ear.
Logan sighs, his head turning into the pillow, his eyes closed.
Wade is so good, his hips rolling, pace unrelenting, sliding home every time, his mouth sucking and biting a bruise on the side of his boyfriend’s neck that fades instantaneously.
Logan drools onto the pillow’s silk case.
Wade grins. He presses a kiss to the love bite that he couldn’t convince to stick.
“Please,” Logan whines, “please, please.”
Wade kisses his cheek. “Gotta use your words, puppy. Can’t read minds.”
It’s a real wonder how Wade manages to talk so steadily through such a brutal fuck. Logan’s breath gets knocked out on every reentry, but Wade’s words are smooth, controlled, collected. It makes Logan feel faint.
“I’m close.” He whimpers.
Wade mocks his cry. “Not unless I say you are.”
With zero hesitation, Logan dissolves into pleading. “Mommy. Please, please let me come. Please. Fuck, please. Please.”
Wade smirks, his eyes lidding.
Logan can feel the burn in his throat. The denial is going to make him cry, real tears. “Pleaseplease, mommy, please, stop or– or let me, please let me, please let me– I can’t, I’m—”
Wade kisses him, and it shuts him right the fuck up. Their tongues touch. Logan gasps, his fingers squeezing tight around Wade’s, sharp nails biting in.
“You think you deserve it now?” Wade drops into his open mouth.
After a second, Logan starts to sob, his thighs trembling. It’s pitiful how wet his eyes are. “Please. Please.” He mutters again, bordering on incoherency.
Wade grins and reaches down between their bodies, wrapping his fingers around his lover’s hard cock.
Logan groans. He wants to close his eyes, to focus on the feeling, but he refuses to miss even a second of Wade’s pretty brown stare drinking him in.
Wade starts to fuck him faster, rougher, the grip on Logan’s pulsing length matching his pace.
Logan hiccups, his hips bucking up into his touch and then down into the fuck. He feels the coil in his stomach, the pressure and the heat drawing tight like a bow, too tight. “Please. Please. Please let me, please, fuck, please, please,” he babbles, on and on until Wade drags their joined hands over and puts both his fingers and Logan’s own to his lips to shush him.
“Do you deserve it?” Wade asks again, low and hissing.
“No,” Logan wails.
Wade caresses his cheek, soft and warm. Reverent as a church. “Good boy. You can come.”
It doesn’t take more than that.
One and a half more strokes and Logan’s coming with a strangled moan, his back arched and hips ticking. He spills into Wade’s soft palm and all over his own chest, thick and white and stretching, and Wade smiles at him the entire time like it’s cute, watching him shake.
His vision whites out. His breath is gone. The world narrows down to nothing but him, his man, and all the unfathomable love in the room with them.
His senses come back online one by one.
First, his sight. He sees the ceiling.
Then, his hearing. Wade’s still panting, fucking him nice and slow and deep. Feels nice, which is what he registers next.
His breathing returns, ragged and heavy. He realizes his throat is raw, then he realizes his face is wet.
Finally, his brain catches up.
He takes a second. Just one. Then, he starts to beg again. “Please, mommy. Please. Please.”
Wade has mercy on him this time. Partially because he’s so fucking close, himself, but mostly because he always gets extra sappy with Logan after he comes for a hard scene. He peppers kisses over the side of his face, lips burned by the hair there. “Good boy. Good boy.” Wade mutters back to him, his temples pounding.
“Please. Come on.” Logan huffs, his words a slurred disaster in and of themselves.
Wade nods, his nose knocking his lover’s cheek. “You were so good, angel. Make me so proud.”
He keeps his pace, just like that, the slick noise of their bodies connecting and disconnecting getting buried by the sound of Logan still whimpering, fucked-out and weak but encouraging, nonetheless.
“Fuck.” Wade swears. Logan splays his thighs wider just in time to get filled, the sudden rush of warmth and pressure inside of him making him sigh, contented.
They spend a long while just basking in the afterglow, tangled up in each other.
Wade is the first one to move.
Logan can feel his heartbeat hammering in his chest, pressed flush against his own ribs, when Wade finally pulls out.
He hisses. Empty. He hates this part, at least until Wade pulls him across the mattress and into his waiting arms to kiss all over his face.
“You’re so good.” Wade whispers.
Logan’s lashes flutter a little. That’s about all the brain power he has to offer for a response. “Hmh.” He huffs.
They share another brief silence.
“Thank you, mommy.” Logan mumbles, tired all over again.
“Thank you, baby.” Wade smiles. He slides a hand along Logan’s bare side, cupping his cheek to lead him into a kiss. It’s soft now, sweet, appreciative. Logan leans into it.
“Love you.” He mutters.
Wade turns his attention to the window, watching the day sink toward the horizon in a pretty lilac sky. The clouds are fluffy, white, and the sun seems more sure of its place among them now that it’s closer to evening. It’s a gorgeous sight, but it bores Wade. He turns his attention back to Logan, who is prettier than sunsets, and already asleep again.
Wade pets his hair from his eyes. “Love you more.”