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Logan had no one but himself to blame because, honestly, Cable did warn him about it. Plainly, in six words:
Wade’s bitched, he goes into heat.
It was just that bitching wasn’t real. Logan’s fucked and been fucked enough times by alphas to know it ain’t hold water. People have been spreading that ugly myth for ages.
But he didn't clock Cable as the type to believe in it. Didn’t that time traveling son of a bitch come from a world fucked to oblivion?
“Yes, and I’m going to stop that future from ever happening, by starting here in the present time.”
“You got my vote of confidence.”
A man as hard-lined and pragmatic as Cable would fix the world out of sheer willpower. Hell, he would beat the timeline into submission with his bare fists, if he could. ("And he'd look good doing it, too," Wade would helpfully add right about now, like every other time Cable's Apocalypse-savior-complex had been put into question. "He could name himself 'Kwisatz Haderach,' Duke of Arrakis, and lead us all to Paradise like in the movie with Timothée Chalamet, and he'd look good doing it, too!")
To get back on track, Logan asked him, “Tell me they still have public health education in the future. Reproductive class didn’t die, did it?”
“It’s already starting to.”
“Wade’s bitched,” Logan repeated. Except that wasn’t possible. You couldn’t change how someone presented after puberty. Traits could be suppressed, others amplified. Submission could be forced by anyone: packs, mates, strangers. Conditioning to it might last years, but it was just that, conditioned behavior.
Not biology.
“He’ll go into heat soon,” Cable kept insisting. But fake heat flashes were known to develop in a weird side effect to another close-bonded alpha’s rut. Last Logan checked, Wade’s rut wasn’t synched to either of them.
Edgy pornos loved to make a show of alphas bitched into heat, but nobody really believed it.
Nobody.
“Oh, honeys, I’m home!”
Before Logan could question further, a duffel bag dropped heavy on the living room table between him and Cable. It bulged with wads of cash. Wade shuffled deep in the bag’s guts, and fished out a gold card.
“Being the main breadwinner in the established polycule trope is so exhausting! Here,” the card passed to Logan’s hand. “I told the girls to add your name to the ‘Deadpool & Co.’ roster. As the ‘& Co.’ half, you can fight over who takes the credit on the next hit.”
“Wade, I told you I’m just trying to lay low for now and get my bearings. I’m not gonna tag team merc jobs with you.”
“Rock-paper-scissors?”
“Why don’t you give the card to Cable?”
“I’m busy tracking the three billionaires who will merge their companies into the first super-corporation that kills half the world’s existing species,” Cable excused, pretty reasonably busy. “I plan to...schedule a meeting with them next week.”
Said meeting, heavily hinted with the slap of his big fucking gun, would probably go well in his favor.
“Good for you, I guess.”
Quietly, the alpha-bitching argument faded to cooking options and veterinary bills for Mary Puppins. She was, apparently, a lost cause well on her way to ultra-death, with a disease doctors anxiously wanted to sample and study in case it spread and mutated in other dogs. Except everyone who knew Wade knew the little Deadpool-dog-variant wouldn’t die of doggie-cancer.
They kept getting follow-up calls, though.
The day passed. Then the next day. Cable’s warning sank deep into Logan’s hindbrain and got lost somewhere on a left turn.
For once in Logan’s life, things were normal. The three of them were just normal alphas—
(Watching Wade eat an entire tub of mayonnaise and pickles right out of the grocery bag and Cable handcraft a fusion reactor out of the microwave was, maybe not ‘normal’. But they both growled and snapped their teeth when Logan stepped into their designated couches, so.)
—The three of them were just questionably-sane but all around box-fitting alphas, set loose in a minty new apartment. Territorial over the fridge’s contents, stubborn about the showering schedule, baring teeth when someone challenged their TV program choice for the night.
They were alphas. Naturally, they’d created an abominable alpha den.
All the rough-housing and daily fucking was to be expected.
Until Wade started smelling of heat.
Logan had no reason to act shocked either because, Wade wasn’t a normal alpha.
A few days prior, he’d found Wade with the laundry. Stared at him, eventually asked, “What are you doing?”
“They’re too clean now! All my hard work,” he whined, still rubbing his cheek on the fresh clothes. The flannel shirt in his hands was Logan’s, and the black long sleeve tucked against his stomach Cable’s. A sound had rumbled from his chest when he’d smothered himself into them, something light and shuddery that calmed the unhappy growl building in Logan at his pilfered stuff.
“I swear to God if you tear them up just to steal my shit,” but he let Wade be.
“Oh, don’t worry, peanut. I only steal jackets and sweaters like a good girlfriend.”
He hadn’t thought much of the sound at the time. Just, chalked it up to be a Wade thing.
Yesterday, all their bedsheets mysteriously disappeared from the linen closet, to be rediscovered piled up on the California King Wade insisted they fuck on. But again, Wade was a bit of a weirdo. He hoarded gift trinkets and job knick knacks. He stole almost every jacket Logan owned and refused to return them (“Like a good girlfriend!”). He cooed at Mary like she was his own child.
Today, though. Today Wade woke up antsy and disagreeable. He practically crawled to the bathroom, and then emerged half an hour later still in pajamas to eat the ham leg in the fridge. The whole ham. It was Cable’s. Weirder still, Cable sipped his morning coffee without so much as a hiss at his stolen ham.
“Have some more,” he said instead, and pulled Wade’s chair in so Wade could nibble off his breakfast of locally-produced New Jerseyan eggs.
Logan ground his palms into his eyes. These two, switching up attitudes on him. It was going to give him a migraine.
“I’m gonna go out for a jog.” Their scents were stuffing up the place.
“Oh! Since you're at it, can you take Mary Puppins to Al’s today? She promised to watch her this weekend while I get ready to man the hatches.”
“...Sure?”
If a multi-day job came up, he didn’t get why Wade needed to ask Al when Logan didn’t have any plans. Things being weirder than usual anyway, he took her on a long doggie walk by the old woman’s crack den and passed on Wade’s message.
“Oh, it’s about that time again, isn’t it?”
“I guess.” Did Wade make a habit of announcing a days-long job at the end of a season?
The dog yipped and bounded off to Al on the old couch. “Jesus Christ,” Al cursed when a long disturbing tongue licked at her hand for snuggles. “The things I fucking put up with.”
“She’s not so bad.”
“I meant that idiot’s bad planning. It’s always borrow a bomb defuser at the last fucking second, or he explodes on my doorstep.”
“You have a bomb defuser?”
“Good luck,” she told him, ominously.
(Wade’s handpicked circle of family was insane. Logan didn't ask.)
The whole walk back, Logan chewed over Wade’s last minute plans. He hadn’t clued him in on anything. Like to send the dog away, for no reason, because if he’d asked Logan to, he’d have fed and walked her any day. That mangy little beast was growing on him like mold on week-old bread. He’d already vowed to defend her from any vets knocking on their door.
He could stand to watch her for a weekend.
The thing keeping him from outright bitterness was that Wade hadn’t asked Cable to either. Maybe Cable was coming with on the 'Deadpool & Co.' offer. Maybe Cable had another billionaire to scare half to death. Maybe Logan should pick up the golden merc card from the counter and rock-paper-scissors Wade for his next kill.
“Just trying to lay low,” he muttered to himself. Just trying to get my bearings.
He liked living with Wade-plus-one. He didn’t want to miss out on his new chance at life, but what if he started out wrong?
Pairing up with a merc is probably not the best first choice.
The apartment loomed above him. How many days had he sat on its floor, fixing rusty plumbing and cleaning up takeout trash? When did it stop being tedious, to something he looked forward to? Leaving an impression in the home Wade opened up for him?
An alpha kept their home safe.
He failed that once. He could do better here.
He was trying to do better.
At the front step, Logan took a deep breath. He opened the door, hoping Wade hadn’t packed to go yet. “Wade—”
The air caught on his tongue.
He paused. Everything looked mostly in place. The gun rack hadn’t been emptied yet. Wade’s swords hung from the coat hanger. He hadn’t left.
The stuffiness of the early morning thickened further inside. Logan licked his lips. It was Wade’s scent. Something about it sat strange, a lot more mouthwatering. He followed it to the bedroom before he placed what it smelled like, what it reminded him of. Confusion cracked at the surface because — the pile of clothes and bed sheets at the center of the California King shouldn’t scream nest to his instincts. It shouldn’t wrack his dumbed down brain to walk closer, hover at the edge, waiting for an omega’s permission to cross. Because Wade had made it. And Wade was an alpha. Wade, who turned on his very sweaty, naked back at the disturbance of his scent, and purred, “m’alpha.”
And then it hit him.
Wade’s bitched. He goes into heat.
His feet froze on the ground. They refused to buckle.
“Wade. Do you...need me to leave?”
“Mmm? Oh, honey badger no please please come here.” He made grabby hands at Logan. Full permission to sink right into the sweet smell of his body.
“No, I mean,” he bit back a growl and the sudden need to scruff the back of Wade’s neck, “I don’t want to do you wrong.”
“You mean fuck me like the bitch in heat I am?” Wade giggled. It made his stomach flutter hot and drop icy to his feet. “I promise I want you to.”
And then Wade flipped over, lifted his ass—presenting to him—
From behind him, Cable said, “Don’t leave him whining.”
“Jesus fuck!—Where did you come from?”
“Downstairs. We have a lease obligation to notify heat-quarantine, remember?”
Logan did not, could not, remember anything that existed beyond these four walls. Kind of impossible to think of anything coherent, while he watched Wade fetch lube and finger himself open, two at a time, then three, moaning in wordless need for a knot—
The thing was, Logan liked sex.
There was a hole? He’d fuck it. He’d get fucked for it. Logan in rut had no standards. People didn’t think a big mean alpha like him would be into that, but Logan wasn’t most people. Figured it took telepaths to actually get it.
For Wade’s rut, he would’ve gladly taken his knot, and given his when the occasion called for it.
This wasn’t a normal-occasion rut to share.
It shouldn’t be possible, Wade was an alpha, and yet the bitching took. Which meant, someone bitched him.
Someone bitched him before he first presented.
“Shit.” He clenched his jaw and pushed the offending warm air out of his lungs.
Wade was a fucking beauty, on all fours and spreading himself for the taking. He smelled so good. Intense, but not in an aggravating spice way. Intense like heat. Logan wanted to slap those fingers off and taste it off him. The heat was triggering a pre-rut in him, he knew. He felt it. It would turn him wild—
No. But he couldn’t slip and turn into that kind of alpha to Wade. The kind that used him, hurt him, saw him as nothing more than a hole to fuck.
“I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“Please you won’t, not in any real way, please, I’m so ready for you.”
His soft needy mewls broke Logan’s heart. Fuck, pre-rut hit him hard and fast. Already sweat gathered on his back. His muscles jittered anxiously to mate. Give mate what he deserved.
“Fuck,” he grimaced. “I can’t—”
“He’s not ashamed of what he is. Are you?” Cable’s deep rasp drilled straight into his head.
Shame. That was it, wasn’t it? The cold feeling in Logan’s gut. Shame, guilt, hate for the animal that wanted to claim thoughtlessly.
Cable's bionic eye whirred on him. “Hmm. Here, I’ll show you how to do it. Settle on the settee.”
The couch in question was reserved for what Wade called ‘cucking o’clock’. Demoted to watching, not touching. Sitting on it eased some of the pressure off Logan’s chest, actually. He could let his rising rut simmer quietly, distantly, as Cable accepted the invitation to enter Wade’s nest.
“Nate! On a scale from ‘one’ to ‘manually rearrange my guts with your metal-better-half’, how are you feeling about fisting?”
“Sex is sex,” Cable spoke to Logan, “it’s all the same, in the mechanics. Well, you already know with him you need plenty of patience and lubrication.”
“Hey! If I could make slick, that would be half the ba—ttluh!”
Cable slipped four fingers of a flesh-and-blood hand so easily into a willing hole. They’d positioned so Wade could lay on his back and better lift his hips to a pillow. The bed shook from his wriggling. More lube from their nightstand drawer got Cable slicked to the wrist and spreading him to take the first nudge of a thumb.
“Give him eye contact. He loves it.”
With nothing to do but stare ahead, Logan nodded. Swallowed. He shimmied on the couch to relieve the tight fit of his pants. Right as he undid the bite of his zipper, Wade bore down on the hand struggling to slot it past his rim.
“I need, need it, I nnnate.”
“I know.” His eyes narrowed, but they didn’t drop from Wade’s blushing face. His fingers did the work of flaring an inch — Wade keening, jaw drooping limp — and there, the thumb pushed with its siblings. Wade’s body resisted the inward press, contracting, until it popped in, all at once sinking to the wrist.
“Fuckfuck fuckh!” Wade’s cock pulsed and bobbed, the tip leaking so much it pooled in the dips of his abs. “Fuck...I’m... Alpha—”
Blown out eyes fluttered and tilted to land on Logan. It took him a moment to realize, because of the deep, warm burr erupting from him.
Logan had a possessive streak. He didn’t pretend otherwise. Something about seeing his mate — and the mate his mate had laid claim to first — had his erection dangerously approaching an early, full blown rut knot. It wasn’t possessiveness burning him up, but he so very badly needed to be in that nest now. Not to interrupt Cable’s play, but to feel Wade tremble, gasp, tense under his efforts. Have him feel both his alphas. Not bitching him. Taking care of him.
“Are you done feeling shameful,” Cable warned, and, “I’m not finished getting him ready.”
Logan flexed his shoulders. He also had to practice his patience. He could stand to hear Wade mourn pitifully as the hand spreading him wide pulled carefully out, moan his sad emptiness to the room, before a hard cock filled him whole again.
Blink, and he would’ve missed Wade’s blissed stare. The fog of heat curled over his eyes, then. His precious warbled, “Knot, knot me please,” bounced around Logan’s head like a bag of marbles.
Cable fucked him hard, in shallow, even thrusts, easy for Logan to match his strokes to. Their synched punched out groans as the last swelling inch of his knot shoved in rattled Logan, had to squeeze the base of his dick just jutting out of his jeans—
He chucked his clothes off. It was too fucking hot and itchy. Need, need to knot his little alpha—
“Fuck,” he slapped his face twice. Fuck. He’d never been knocked so fast into a rut before.
But he could join them now.
Well, after some more mental preparation to not absolutely lose it feral style. And right now? Wade was stuffed full of Cable’s knot and whining so sweetly. “Yes yes, please can I—” Wade's hands kneaded down over Cable’s ass, “—can I please, can I?”
Cable groaned, then nodded.
Only Logan could watch and appreciate the artful rub of palms, in a soothing circle, one thumb catching on Cable’s rim. It pushed in. The snap of his hips hitched with his breath, but of course, with the knot, he didn’t budge. A second finger dipped the slightest inch in.
Before he knew it, Logan was in the nest and slipping whorl-textured hands off to replace them with his own. Those hands settled back over his, shaky, soft. His cock ached. Ached for his mate. Needed to burrow in his mate. But his mate’s mate wasn’t going anywhere.
“Patience,” spoke a firm voice, with a pat to Logan’s drooling chin. “Remember I don’t—regenerate.”
Logan kneaded his own hands down where Wade guided, to the meat of inner thighs, thumbed a couple metal veins curling over a hip bone. Then further, around the wet join of a knot tugging on a clenching hole. He felt them both up, with lazy, exploring touches. Hummed something pleased when Wade bucked and swallowed more of that knot. They all growled nice in tandem, before the return to base: one well-shaped ass.
It was an ass like any alpha’s. Logan’s seen and fucked plenty of those before. None of them were memorable. None of them needed to be.
After Wade’s aimless massaging, he could test Cable, fingerfuck him with two. They pushed in surprisingly well. The alpha in Logan approved.
His voice spoke mostly clear, to warn, “Not gonna hurt you in any way you won’t first beg for.”
“Fuck,” Wade whined from under. “That’s hot.”
“What do you think? Wanna find out if I can bitch you, too?” The words flew out of Logan’s mouth before he could rein them in. Zero thoughts, they were out before he realized what he’d said. What he’d fucking implied.
In the middle of his frozen stupor, Cable growled and pushed back onto him.
“You can certainly fucking try,” he grinned sharp.
Logan, blinked. That was an invitation. Clear, sassy, coupled with Wade’s whined, “Oh god, can I see please can I see your fat knot pop his cherry?”
“Jesus Christ, Wade.”
“What? Don’t you want it popped too, Nate? I don’t think I can, but,” slippery thief hands twitched and scratched on Cable’s tense shoulders. “We can make it work?”
Well. They did already make a lot work between them.
He grabbed the capped lube, measured how much to use without making an unnecessary mess. Decided, fuck it, let’s take it one step at a time, and squeezed a dollop where he was still fingering a pliant hole.
The lube spread nice and quickly, thick like slick to keep sensitive alphas from snapping out of comfort. It was surprisingly enough to start pushing in three at a time. His steady dry hand on Cable’s hip. An appreciative hum rumbled from Cable’s chest. Not a burr, exactly, but with Wade’s broken motor rumble-purr, the animal in Logan settled. He re-focused. His mind emptied of the rush and the urgency of knotting.
Ruthead cleared, enough for him to wonder, “You ever actually take an alpha here before?”
“Something like that,” came the cryptic reply.
Which was not bullshit Logan could allow. “Yes or no, or give me a short answer.”
“I have toys! We tried toys,” Wade answered for them with a flushed smile. “You wanna try the toys, too? They smell like me.” He was settling back into place, calmed after Cable’s knot crested and stayed exactly where he needed it — stuffing him happy.
Cable’s sigh died a short life, as Logan adjusted behind him, his only warning being, “Don’t brace,” and bullying his cock in him.
He thought he might have to actually take it easy. But after the initial startle, the resistance despite the prep, the wet slide and slish of lube, the stretch that suddenly swallowed him in and seated him halfway, Cable loosened for him.
“Oh fuck,” Wade whimpered. “You’re...doing great, peanut. It’s—like a remote controlled pump. Fuck. Buttercup, your knot throbbed and I know you’re still coming down from it. Fill me. Plug me up again.”
“Shut up,” Cable muttered without heart. His hips bucked, as if undecided on what it wanted more, the heat-scented hole welcoming him home, or the unrelenting knot-thickness pressing him into surrender.
Logan huffed. “You know, I didn’t peg you for someone who’d like being on the receiving end.”
Cable’s snort hit something warm in his gut. “You don’t have to be on top to call the shots.”
Then, an interesting bit happened.
Pressure held Logan down flush against Cable. Invisible pressure, not of a physical body. He shuddered. A telekinetic pull wrapped around his hips, dragged him back, set the rhythm for him, into Cable’s slightly faster breaths.
Something not-quite-hand cuffed the back of his neck and forced him to bend. Presenting to no one, but with the knowledge that Cable was bending him to it like that. While he was working Logan’s cock and satiating their senseless Wade.
Cable looked over his shoulder back at Logan. It brimmed with the heat of rut, fierce, but also tempered. So fucking in control of how far the rut-beast reached. The strength of its maw. It didn’t bite more than what fed him.
And right now, Logan was feeding him his swelling knot.
“Holy fuck,” Logan panted, totally beyond turned on and whining the tiniest hitch. He tried to fight the pace set for him, but Cable wasn’t having that. He sank down as far as it pushed, the throb at the base of him catching on his rim. It was already getting too hot under his skin. Arousal nipped and tensed in his belly. He just wanted to fuck, fuck free, but the fucking herding hands on him refused.
He growled wild, but then Cable clenched. “You will be patient.”
Shallower and shallower, he rocked. As physically close as possible, until his knot hurt and nearly swelled to its peak. Desperate. But Cable kept him tame.
Just when it soothed to a frustrating normal hard-on, the TK grip tightened and pushed him insistently, all the way in, the tight fit of Cable’s body, hot and yielding—
“Fuck,” he swallowed, his knot catching on the rim, quickly swelling too fast, brought back from the edge too soon. He panted, rutted against that resistance with surprising allowance, until finally, one last shove, and they slotted fully in.
“Fuck,” Cable echoed.
Wade keened, squirmed, clawed trimmed claws down Cable’s back. He folded himself for a second, tensed, his chest spasming for air. Cable made a show of wrapping as much of Wade under him before burring, Move, into Logan’s head.
Move? Fucking what, the Earth and Heaven? Because that was what it felt like, grinding their bodies together.
Yes, like that.
The bed creaked like it begged for mercy. He scented under Cable’s jaw — instinct, in this position — and bit back a moan to smell so much of Wade on him. Wade, who suffused his scent on everything they all owned, but who knew Cable longest, probably shared in a number of bitch-heats.
Now Cable was going to smell of Logan. Of them, fucking in rut, his seed splashing his insides.
His cock hadn’t softened one bit on orgasm, and neither had Wade’s in the little breathing break. If his heat was anything like an omega’s, it wouldn’t end yet.
An age-old competitive streak reared its head in Logan to ask, all teeth, “Ready to give in?”
“I’ll...wear you out first.”
The thing about ruts and heats together was, they lasted.
The haze could drown him out for hours. He could keep up with a lot of intense omega heats, where a lot of alphas tired and tapped out for a nice proper dildo to take their place. Wade kind of didn’t operate by any rules. Between the bitching, the healing factor, and elevated stamina, his heat, it turned out, lasted longer than most omegas. On and on, for hours.
Logan? Could keep up.
Two maladaptive, sex-crazed alphas synching up? All fine.
Add a man like Cable into the mix? Not quite aggressive, not quite a stamina stallion, plenty competitive to match? Well.
In the end, Logan did tap out with a toy. Just not for Wade.
“Catch a fucking break, I’m giving you this so you don’t die. You're ten minutes from cardiac arrest.”
Cable grumbled something unintelligible. In the time it took to paw the purple-toned beauty of a rut-fleshlight on his dick — agreeably, as he rested flat on his stomach and gulped water from a bottle just holding on to consciousness by a thread — Wade had pawed his way onto Logan’s empty lap.
They’d been at it for so long, and still Wade needed a little more. Still heat-horny.
They were all so fucking come filthy, it would take a hazmat security clean up to bring this bed back to order.
“My turn...?”
“You sound tired, bub. Are you sure you don’t want a break?”
“Just need...need one more...from you. Please?”
“Alright, one more.”
Logan settled them so he was resting against the bed frame, and Wade could sit his trembling weight over his thighs. He nuzzled into Logan’s shoulder, where his scent was strong. His face scrunched up, before relaxing slack.
“God, Log’, you smell so fucking tasty.”
And you smell so fuckable, he didn’t say. Wade’s alpha scent knocked into his face, leathery and soft. It had him drooling. He very rarely could stand someone else’s rut, but Wade? It hit him just right.
And kind of think of it, Cable’s wasn’t so intense either. With how Wade rubbed off on him (literally, more than anything), Logan was surprised it hadn’t tried overpowering the softness for an alpha’s imprint.
But forget that. Logan shook his ruthead into focus.
He had Wade whimpering and shaking, stroking himself so desperately on his lap. It tugged at his heart, an instinct to soothe him rearing up. Logan ran his hands down his back, brought him in for a squeeze of their hot bodies. From there, it was easy to line up, slot inside Wade’s slippery spent hole.
“I got you,” he shushed Wade from keening. His cock turned something animalistic in Wade, to rock their hips hard and fast, no thought for comfort. Logan had to slow him down — and bite his tongue because fuck was Wade good at taking him. “Let me,” his throat clicked with a swallow. He gripped Wade’s hips harder. “Let me fuck you right.”
“Yes. Yes, please, knot me knot me I can take it.” Wade babbled higher as fingers dug harsher into his skin. A little pain for his pleasure, Logan remembered. “Yes! Fuckfuck—” he slammed his weight down, popping the swell of Logan’s growing knot in him, “fffme, ah, Logan.”
Logan mapped Wade’s neck with his tongue. Groaning, he could only grind his fullness into Wade’s greedy hole. “I’m gonna knock you up, baby.”
“Please!” Wade gasped out and—bucking onto Logan’s abs, came—
Everything tightened like a vice. Logan’s breath hissed out his teeth, needing to sink them in hard. He gave another two, three grunts, buried to the hilt and more in Wade, and rode his orgasm with bloody bitten lips.
“No no, you bite me, bite me here.” Wade pointed lazy fingers on the crease between shoulder and neck, where scent glands would be marked and claimed—
Logan’s head buzzed empty. His heart thudded against his ribs, following the pressure Wade guided on the back of his head, to mouth and scratch and rip blushing flesh with his canids. A sound rumbled low from his chest. Satisfied here, in his Wade’s — his mate’s, his alpha’s — hug.
The blood was already stopping, and the mark, disappearing into whorls of scarred skin. Logan’s inner animal preened anyway. It kissed up the warm skin of Wade’s jaw and cheek, to lick inside a happy mouth. His. His.
The rest of the night ebbed and passed in a haze of rut and heat. Logan was sure he’d been woken up twice to drink something, fuck someone, then slip right back unconscious. In the morning, he stirred on his own, mostly clear of his ruthead.
Part of him blushed, embarrassed, at the things he remembered saying— “Breed a whole litter of pups in you,” “Stuff you so full you can’t move—”
He waved the thoughts away before it got him hard again. Spied Wade curled in on himself within the center of the bed nest.
“...You alright, red?”
Wade groaned pitifully. “M’kay, just, second day cramps.”
He moved in to give a supportive kiss, but Wade bore his teeth and hissed at him.
“Nooo touchie. Bad touchie.”
“Alright. Where’s Cable?”
“Bathroom. He says it’s the most defensible position in a home.”
Logan raised a brow at that. Didn’t comment.
When he checked a minute later — he was so tacky with fluids, he needed that fucking shower — he found that, yes, Cable was sleeping in the bath, every towel they owned arranged under himself.
“What the fuck are you sleeping here for?”
“It’s the most defensible position,” Cable muttered, his normal eye open and staring. He looked surprisingly alert, and not surprisingly uncomfortable. He had, after all, chosen to sleep in the bath.
“I need to wash. You look like you need one too, actually—”
A low growl stopped his approaching step.
“Seriously. You’re going to front me now?”
The growl had tapered off to an unhappy rumble as he spoke. “Not fronting... Fucking feel shitty.”
“Are you...still in rut? I thought you got it earlier with Wade’s heat?”
“I did. They last longer than you assume, because,” Cable shrugged. He frowned into the towels. “I’ll get these out so they don’t sog up.”
The next five minutes were the weirdest, between co-showering, listening to Cable snap the air in front of his ankles because, the guy was still lying down on the bath floor, and feeling no cleaner at the end than he had at the start.
“You need some help getting up?”
“No, give me the towels when you’re done.”
“Christ,” Logan rolled his eyes, “You whine like you're in heat.”
Cable’s expression did a convoluted dance from snarl, to disbelief, to confusion. Which left Logan confused, too.
“Did you not...? Never mind,” Cable cut short and reached for Logan’s ankles. “Come down here.”
“Sure. If you need to burn the last of your rut off, I can—”
Cable did not say a word to his offer. He just grabbed Logan’s hand and shoved it down to his half-hard cock.
“Uh? Is that a yes?”
Not quite, their joined fingers slipped further down, on shower-spray damp hairs, the familiar seam of tight balls, the sensitive strip of skin that led to his ass...
Logan tilted his head and, rubbed that crease of skin again. He felt scar tissue. A surgically neat line that, when he followed it back up, curved under a twitching dick.
“Oh,” he understood, and took it all in properly: a flawless, if smaller than average knotdick. Very well made. “The future’s not all gone to shit, has it?”
“In very few, limited respects,” Cable deadpanned. His face colored slightly, though, when Logan wrapped his wide palm over the alpha’s cock and balls. The vein under his crown pulsed thick.
“So. Sorry I hadn't asked until now but. What do you need? For your rut?”
“I’ve always preferred fucking my alphas.” Cable quirked a brow, inviting him to share with the turn of his head, to show the flesh-half of his neck.
It was—not exactly an omegan gesture because holy fuck did Cable make it look like a threat, but Logan still distracted on his cock throbbing hard and dumb. The eager-to-please pup in him wagged its tail.
His throat dried. “Uh...”
“Typical response,” Cable muttered in the hot air between them. He wound his metal arm under Logan’s armpit and eased Logan’s fingers off his hardness. One push, and Logan was spread on rutting hips.
“Uh fuck.” His throat clicked when it swallowed. Not that Logan hadn't been fucked by an alpha before, but not during the peak of their rut.
“You saw how I handled Wade. You shy?”
“Shut up. We’re in the fucking bath, you fucker.”
“I can fit the towels where you need, knot you properly in my nest while I bitch you.”
“What the fuck,” okay, maybe pornography had a point. It was suddenly insanely hot on his collar and he could barely get air into his lungs that didn't want to immediately escape.
Prep barely lasted. Logan regenerated way too quick for it to ever not be a tight fit — and he really, really didn’t care. Not when he had a hard insistent length opening him up inch by craving inch, and a full-body telekinetic blanket keeping him propped up just right. The glide of the gel kept in the shower for personal time was enough.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Mismatched pupils dilated to their fullest. They ran over him like a physical caress. “Trained to have heat.” He shoved to the hilt in him, groaned, “You’d—beg for knot so hungrily.”
The last of Logan’s rut burned in his gut, with a sudden fire to show Cable — to show Nathan what he was capable of. He saw the challenge in Nate’s stare, too, and met each of his firm thrusts with a timed roll.
“I don’t need to be trained. Already got what I—fuck—what I want.”
The swell of Nate’s knot bullied its hardest. It wouldn’t fit. Logan could practically smell the need off him. Sense it fondle its way to his mind. He spotted the little aftershocks of his rut drive him to frustration. It was easy to, now that he understood Nate’s rut a little more. Dense, animal dick-drunkness, need need need with no clear object to what need claimed priority.
Carefully, he stilled on that cock, waited for the mad growl to wither to a burr. Logan echoed it with his own rumble. “Relax.” The word vibrated on his throat.
“What did...” Nate sniffed the thick air. His lips parted to scent it better against his palate and — how much harder can Logan get? His cock was already dripping, swollen red and seconds away from coming. But the steady throb of it kept drawing in Nate’s threatening gaze and, he leaked another thin drop over Nate’s belly. “Ah. What did you mean, you got...?”
“What I want? Well. I got two mates to trade bitch rounds with. Why would I want any more?” As Nate’s hardness eased and his TK weakened, it gave Logan the chance to sit his full weight down, force his ass to take, stretch. Taut flesh popped indecently past his rim—
“Mfuck!”
He licked into Nate’s panting mouth, messy and spit-wet. Alphas both, they rutted and ground together, shallow. Just as the swell became unbearable, he felt as Nate pinched his hips, waist, for a split second all his muscles tight like a bow. Logan gripped the bathtub sides and submit to being filled, pumped quick and deep, likewise gritted his teeth as the pain-pleasure kneading along his sides and hips settled lower, one warm-metal hand fisting on his dick, the other skin-hot on his balls—
He came so hard, something creaked in his bones.
“Holy...shit. I think, I need an x-ray after this.”
The utter absurdity out of his mouth — probably requiring some actual explanation — stunted Nate. It stunted him so bad and so rut-far out of his mind, he asked, “Are you pregnant?”
They were alphas. Naturally, they got ruthead dumb and said stupid shit. Like, “Shouldn’t we be asking Wade that?”
The air in the bedroom gave them back some common sense.
Their in-heat third-half, in desperate need of a shower himself, rolled over curious. He eyed at his disheveled state. Looked down at the healing bruises on Logan's hips.
His face blew into a wide grin.
Logan started, “When I came yesterday—”
“Which time?”
“—when I came into the room yesterday,” he gritted at Wade's little shit smile, “I was gonna tell you I decided to join your ‘& Co.’ roster.”
“Gasp. You’d go out into the big scary world with me and rock-paper-scissors for the kill?”
“It’s not that scary.”
It was totally that scary. But not for any of the reasons people usually feared. Death and killing were Logan’s bread and butter. He didn’t want it to be. He knew he could do better. Be better.
Settling into their sex-filthy California King nest — and Nate passing out on the other side of a squirmy-happy-babbly Wade — Logan had a feeling he’d be fine, with these maniacs to back him up.
“Nate! You’ve abandoned your three-star bath nest?”
No response from the future-savior of fracking and ecosystem collapse.
“Oh God. What did the World’s Best Wolverine do to you?”
“Hey. It’s my ass you should be worried for.”
“Aw, are you blushing? Did he give you the ol’ Wham Bam Breed-you Ma’am treatment? Makes you feel all gooey-warm special inside, doesn't it?”
His heart did thud a little warmer. Not at the tease, but because, really, Wade truly did mean it every time he called him that. World’s Best.
“Shut up.”
Wade cuddled on him like an octopus sucking off his body heat. “Next time, you should both try to knot my bussy at the same time. I bet we could do it. I wish, I wish with all my heart...”
Logan didn't interrupt him. He burred and chuffed, and listened to Wade's own broken-motor purr answer him. Music to his ears.
For once in Logan’s life, things were...maybe not normal, but normal-adjacent. The three of them were a lease-ruining pack of mating alphas — and whatever alpha's meaning being, depended on the person and the day, but—
They were definitely each other’s alphas.