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Saturdays were for the boys. Boys as in Logan. Just Logan.
They had spent the last four Saturdays together. Wade spent the better part of each of those Saturdays trying to Logan to fucking notice him.
Because Wade sure as hell had noticed Logan, but it was hard to get noticed back in today’s economy.
Logan was an impenetrable fortress of silence and brooding who smelled like cigarettes and sounded like lust felt. He was all protruding muscles and long, drawn-out blank stares into his morning cup of coffee. He took excessively lengthy showers and used up all the water, but bought a frame for Wade’s polaroid of him and his friends, apologizing for the blood he couldn’t get off. He was horrible at talking shit if it didn’t involve excessive use of the word fuck, and wore these stupidly tight white t-shirts all around the apartment (which was freezing fucking damn-the-landlord cold) showing off his rock hard nipples like Wade didn’t fucking have eyes.
And Wade?
Wade was down-fucking-bad like he’d never been before. The kind of down bad that made him blush like a teenager on a first date when Logan did some shit like fold laundry or wrongfully yell at Yoshi in Mario Kart when he got hit by his own goddamn green shell.
Logan was objectively scalding hot, but like, the untouchable kind of hot that Wade would flirt with just to get a reaction. But that hotness became remarkably even more untouchable everytime Wade watched Logan drift to sleep on their shared pullout couch, and everytime Logan allowed himself a smile when Mary Puppins curled in his lap.
Logan had quickly surpassed hot and entered the so adorable I need to marry him yesterday territory.
And that was a whole fucking problem, wasn’t it? Because Logan was just there. He was in the apartment lounging around like he owned the place, tagging along to buy groceries, on walks with the dog, with Wade on jobs where a second line of defense was deemed necessary. He was always around, within an arms reach, but Wade couldn’t fucking touch him.
A forbidden fruit for Marvel Jesus.
So Saturdays were for Logan, and Wade’s unsubtle attempts at coming to a natural conclusion in their slow burn one-sided romance saga.
The fifth Saturday of operation Get Lucky (Logan and fucky combined into one word; Wade is a comedic genius, remember) was perfect.
Wade had surprised Logan by forcing him to walk down to a pop-up Christmas tree sale in the bitter cold of the early morning hours. Yes, all the good trees would be taken before seven a.m., everyone knew that.
Wade had decorated it while Logan watched from where he reclined on the sofa, eyebrow raised when Wade discovered that he’d put the white lights on the tree instead of the colored ones which ruined the fucking aesthetic goddamnit.
Logan eventually begrudgingly helped him, even putting a few ornaments on the tree before fucking off to Althea’s bedroom to take a nap, as if he’d done even one truly energy-sapping activity that whole morning.
Wade only watched him sleep a little.
They shared leftover soup after Logan stumbled from the bedroom with crusty eyes, and Wade made a hot chocolate for them to share that Logan drank three sips of before declaring it was too fucking sweet and that he’d rather eat day-old coffee grounds. Wade knew he’d say that, hence why he’d only made one hot chocolate.
By early afternoon Althea returned from her errands declaring she was going to meet her boyfriend (cocaine) at the library (her dealer’s house) and wouldn’t be back until after dinner.
Then it was just them, the boys, and Mary Puppins who cried at the door for a walk not seconds after Al closed the door. She got her walk and a million fucking treats before settling in her tiny bed and snoring louder than any creature of that size should have been capable of.
It was dark by four-thirty, and they hadn’t bothered with the lamps, just sitting in the dim blue-tinted light radiating from the Christmas tree as the credits rolled on Love Actually.
“Educational programming is good for Wolverines, especially in their old age. Have to keep your mind sharp, you know?”
Logan glared, blue light reflecting off his glassy eyes. He was reclined against the arm of the sofa, one leg propped on the back of it over Wade’s head, the other foot resting on the floor, knee tapping against the side of Wade’s thigh.
“If anyone needs educational programming it’s you.”
“Oh yeah?” Wade poked him on the nose, shifting himself so he sat with folded legs staring in Logan’s direction. Right between his legs. “I wasn’t talking about generalized education. I was talking about romantic education, a field in which I have a PhD already. But you, Peanut, wouldn’t want you to let that elderly sex-drive go to waste.”
Logan snorted, soft smile painting over his lips. Wade wished they had a fucking light on so he could see Logan’s inevitably pink-stained cheeks. Making Logan blush was his favorite no-contact sport.
“You think I need to learn more about romance? I’ve been alive for over two-hundred years, you ass. I think I know as much as I’ll ever need to.”
Wade rolled his eyes.
“And yet I haven’t witnessed you make a single move on anyone. No flirting. Nothing.”
It was a ploy, a scheme. Flirting about flirting.
Logan shook his head, scrubbed a hand over the coarse hair covering his cheeks. Wade watched him, forcing himself not to blink in case Logan’s tongue dipped out of his mouth and licked across his lips.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t. Doesn’t mean I won’t.”
There was something in Logan’s tone that Wade almost thought could be teasing, something that made Wade’s stomach flutter in what he hoped wasn’t misplaced anticipation.
Fucking holy shit.
“I don’t believe you,” Wade challenged, allowing his lips to upturn into the flirtatious smile he used on everyone, but especially Logan these days.
“Well believe it,” Logan shot back, sitting up a bit, large hands spreading over his own thighs, fingertips running over his jeans. Wade tried not to look, tried not to think about those thick fingers spreading over his own thighs, holding him in place.
Sure, he thought about that exact scenario daily while he fucked his hand, but what happened in the shower stayed in the shower.
“I can’t,” Wade whined, “You’ll need to prove it immediately. We could even have a little powerpoint party–”
Logan snorted, “Not in a million years, bub.”
Wade let out a dramatic sigh–one of his best–and scrubbed his hands down his face, “Then I guess we’ll need to try the old-fashioned method and LARP this bad boy out. We’re left with no other choice.”
“LARP?”
Logan’s head tilted in confusion and Wade had to physically hold back the need to swoon.
“Live-action roleplay,” Wade informed him, then scooted forward between Logan’s legs, “You can play you, and I’ll play the romantic love interest of your dreams, whatever your type might be.”
It was a leading statement, Wade knew that, but it certainly was not a question and there was technically no need for Logan to answer him.
Logan didn’t oblige, instead, watching Wade’s eyes like there weren’t a million other places to fucking look. The damn apartment was filled with interesting shit to look at, like the photo of Wade’s bare ass that he’d magnetized to the refrigerator himself because –ha– Althea couldn’t fucking see it and Wade had a great ass, if he didn’t say so himself.
“That’s stupid.”
“I like stupid things.”
Logan raised an eyebrow. The air felt thick, the silence even thicker.
“C’mon, Peanut, try something new for once. Might be fun.”
Logan stared right into Wade’s eyes –still, and jesus it was kind of fucking scary and hot all at once–then scrubbed his hands a little harder over his jeans while he thought.
“Fine. You’re a guy. About six-two.”
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuckity fuck.
“Oh? Do tell me more.”
Wade’s heart hammered in his chest as Logan lowered his leg from the top of the couch, shoving it beside Wade and shifting closer so their faces were close enough together that Wade could feel the warmth of his breath.
“He’s got a nice smile, wears too much cheap ass cologne,” Logan continued breathily, pupils growing wider, the blue light of the christmas tree flickering in them.
“Yeah? But you like the smell?”
“Course I do.”
Logan’s fingers found their way to Wade’s knee, tickling over the skin hidden by his plaid pajama pants, catching on the worn hole at the seam by the top of his calf. Wade’s skin grew hot.
“And what’s he wearing? Something pretty?”
“We’re in his apartment, so he’s dressed comfortably. Ratty pants, big sweatshirt.”
Wade tugged at the sleeve of his –in fact– big sweatshirt.
Oh. Oh.
Wade swallowed.
“Quite the premise, Peanut. Figured you’d like to take your dates out to expensive ass restaurants and fuck in a hotel penthouse afterward. You’ve always had a penchant for extravagance. That trailer camper in X-men looked fucking luxurious.”
Logan smiled, inching closer with every minute that passed. Wade could see that his lips were chapped, could smell the coffee on his tongue, could feel the tremor in Logan’s fingers where they toyed with the fraying fabric of his sleep pants.
“So you’ve already let him seduce you to his shitty apartment instead,” Wade continued, trying to school the tremble of excitement in his voice, clenching his hands at his sides in an attempt to stop himself from reaching out and rubbing his fingers over the perked nipple that stuck out from Logan’s –Wade’s actually– too-tight white shirt, “What next?”
“Probably sit on the couch, shoot the shit for awhile,” Logan whispered gruffly, fingertips trailing up over Wade’s knee, then across the lower part of his thigh and fuck, it felt as hot and jolting as an electric current zapping through his veins.
And Wade would fucking know–he’d been electrocuted at least thrice.
Logan licked over his lips, pink edge of his tongue stained with blue light, saliva glistening over his skin.
“Maybe tell him how good he looks,” Logan continued, moving in close, dipping right past Wade’s face, lips brushing just over Wade’s ear before pulling back just a hair, hot breath stinging the skin, “Kiss him right here.”
Wet lips skated over his neck, right over that little space right below Wade’s ear that made him fucking shiver.
He did as much, choking out a trembling moan and biting the wide of his hand as Logan’s tongue darted out of his mouth and licked a long stripe down the column of his neck, then back up again.
Oh fuck.
“Then–” Logan continued without prompting, pausing as he sucked softly at Wade’s earlobe, “I’d tell him what a tease he is.”
“Dammit, he is a tease isn’t he? Fuck–”
Logan didn’t let up, didn’t move away, just kept licking over his neck sloppily, soft lips sucking tiny biting marks down Wade’s neck that would disappear seconds later. Wade gripped at his hair, fingers curling into the soft locks, though never tugging.
Pulling away from Wade’s neck, lips open at their seam, Logan watched Wade with blown eyes and ruffled disorganized hair.
And fuck–Wade was over, this was his fucking end. He should have bought his own headstone when he had the chance.
He’d imagined Logan like this, fucked out expression on his face, wet lips, the whole fucking shebang. But nothing compared to the real thing.
Logan was beautiful, so fucking pretty with his feathery brown hair and scratchy beard, that subtle teasing smile he wore so well like he fucking owned it. Wade wanted him, wanted to fuck him or be fucked by him, it didn’t fucking matter, just as long as fucking was involved. He wanted to watch Logan’s long lashes flutter shut, wanted to hear little moans escape from him when he was so far gone he couldn’t hold them back anymore.
Wade wanted Logan so fucking bad it wasn’t even the slightest bit funny anymore. And everything was fucking funny to him if he tried hard enough.
Logan reached forward, hand pressing over Wade’s cheek, thumb dragging over the corner of Wade’s mouth before pushing over his bottom lip, tugging it down just a little bit.
“Think I’d want to kiss him here too.”
Wade’s dick had gone from pleasantly and firm to obnoxiously fucking hard and straining against his underwear.
“I think he’d say please and thank fucking you to that suggestion.”
“Oh, you think so?”
Logan’s nose brushed Wade’s, lips so close, so fucking close if Wade leaned in just a hair they would be touching.
“Yeah. I do. He loves a little tongue action with his holiday ambiance–”
There wasn’t a second of hesitation before Logan’s lips were on Wade’s, pressing forward softly at first, an easy brush that made Wade’s stomach flutter. It felt good, like everything Wade had imagined it would, but even better when Logan opened his mouth just a bit, sliding their lips between each other, edge of his tongue brushing over Wade’s.
Wade licked into him, pressing forward and planting his hands on Logan’s thighs firmly, because that’s exactly what his one-hundred percent completely imagined character would do in a moment of inspired confidence.
And Logan leaned back again in return, allowing Wade to lean over him, letting him lick his mouth open.
Their tongues clashed at first, but they built a rhythm, a languid pace that was admittedly, more on the romantic end of a spicy little couch make out session rather than the quick fuck with a stranger end of it.
Wade moaned into Logan’s mouth, licking over his teeth, biting tenderly at his lips, looking for more of the taste of burnt coffee. Logan followed suit, tongue rubbing over Wade’s palette, searching for more, greedy.
Logan pulled back panting eventually, only when Wade had straddled his lap, his hard dick only a few inches away from what he could only hope was Logan’s equally hard cock.
“I think he’d say you’re a decent kisser,” Wade coughed out hurriedly, restraining his hips from grinding down against Logan.
“Decent? Sounds like an insult, bub.”
Wade kissed him again–tenderly as fuck–and rubbed his own thumb against Logan’s bottom lip.
“Decent is the equivalent of a four out of five.”
“Where’d I miss a point?” Logan raised an eyebrow.
Why the fuck was the eyebrow raising so hot? Who allowed him to start doing that?
“It’s not that he thinks you missed a point, you just haven’t kissed the right place to earn it yet.”
Well damn, that was incredibly forward and full speed ahead, Wade. Nice fucking work. Now he’s gonna walk away because you violated the rules of courtship–
Logan swallowed after the words rushed out of Wade’s mouth. Their eyes locked, never straying, “Yeah? Think I could get him to give me a hint of where that might be?”
Oh?
Wade inhaled deeply, considered backing out of his plan, then pushed his thumb between Logan’s lips, watching them part easily for the intrusion.
“It would look a little something like this,” Wade murmured tentatively, though he kept his voice neutral.
Logan’s tongue dragged over the pad of his thumb, then he fucking sucked, eyes never unlocking from Wade’s.
And Wade? Well fuck, if he hadn’t grabbed at the base of his dick through the layers of his pants and boxers he would have come right there on the couch, approximately ten minutes into his first make-out session with Logan. Fuck.
Logan released Wade’s thumb after only a moment, then dropped back onto his elbows, “I think I could earn that last point.”
Oh sweet fuck. Logan could not be fucking serious. Could he hear the goddamn words coming out of his mouth?
It was one thing to sensually make out with your roommate who you desperately wanted to marry on the couch.
It was whole other ball game to fuck your roomate’s mouth on the couch.
“You sure?”
The words were stuttered out, and Logan nodded once–a firm nod–in response. He was so fucking sure.
“He’d want you on your knees then, if you’re so obviously eager.”
And Logan must have been fucking eager as hell, because he did exactly that, clambering off the couch swiftly and dropping to his fucking knees right in front of Wade. Before Wade could turn around and position himself, Logan grabbed his ankles, spinning him around and pulling him down so his ass was right up next to the edge of the sofa, feet planted on the floor.
“I’d need these off,” Logan mumbled, tugging at the waistband of Wade’s pants and pulling them down to the center of his thighs as soon as his fumbling fingers undid the tie.
Wade’s cock–which he could only presume was as purple as it felt–sprung free and bobbed up against his stomach.
For a moment, Wade felt his breath hitch, because it occurred to him that while Logan had seen him in various states of undress, Logan hadn’t fucking seen his cock. It was covered in the same jagged scars that spread across the rest of his skin, and there was no layer of coarse pubic hair surrounding it. What if Logan hadn’t been expecting a hair, what if Logan didn’t like bald balls and the hairless kitten vibes–
“Fucking hell–”
The words were muttered and breathless, and Logan’s fingers wrapped around the base of Wade.
“Fucking perfect.”
Wade could have died happy, even without the blowjob first, and that’s saying something because Wade had previously kinda wanted to die mid-blowjob. Logan fucking wanted him.
There was a momentary pause as Logan’s eyes drifted over Wade’s cock, admiring it like it was a precious fucking gift someone gave him for his birthday, then Logan’s soft lips wrapped around the head, tongue flicking over the slit experimentally a few times before he teased his tongue lower, the tip of it dragging around the base of Wade’s cockhead, then drifting lower and lower.
“Peanut, oh my god.”
Logan hummed, mouthing at the base of Logan’s cock, then dipping his tongue lower and licking across the smooth skin of his balls. Unhesitating. Unwilling to break eye contact.
It felt too fucking good, the kind of good that made Wade’s breath catch in his chest and his cheeks heat up. The kind that made arousal curl dangerously down his spine, a flicker morphing into a flame.
There were sturdy fingers trailing over his length paced with broad stripes of Logan’s tongue, both of which drove him closer to the edge at an unmatched pace that even Wade couldn’t keep up with.
Logan’s tongue went back to toying with the slit of Wade’s cock, dipping in and out, white precum strung from Logan’s tongue when he pulled away and tugged Wade with long, firm strokes, like a fucking bitch, because he had to fucking know Wade’s moans meant he was goddamn millimeters from the edge and he was this close to the point of no fucking return–
“Peanut, love –fuck, fuck, fuck!– love the shit out of this, but I am going to fucking come if you don’t stop.”
“Not stopping. Want you to come, Wade.”
Logan called him Wade. Logan called him fucking Wade–
“Not Wade, remember–”
Wade’s sentence was interrupted by his own horrendous loud gasp, because like any reasonable person with a fluffy-haired, sex-eyed Wolverine between their legs, and their name on his tongue, Wade fucking came.
“Oh fuck this, fuck you–!”
Wade watched Logan’s thick fingers work him through half-lidded eyes and pleasure so perfect it felt like agony. It swept down Wade’s spine, rocketing through his nerves; he could almost swear he felt it in his fingertips.
Logan said something, but Wade couldn’t hear it, distracted by the rush of blood in his ears.
Logan’s grip loosened only enough for him to allow the slick of Wade’s come to slip down his cock. It covered Logan’s fingers, dripping down his hand almost to his wrist before he released Wade and brought his own index finger to his mouth, tapping at the seam of his lips.
Wade’s refractory period was short, but it wasn’t fucking short enough, because he could have come again just from watching Logan suck the digit clean. Then the next. And another. He lapped at his fingers with just as much care as he had Wade’s cock.
Eventually, he licked down his wrist to capture the last drop, then swiped his tongue over his lips.
“Logan, jesus.”
Logan’s lips twitched into a half-smile.
Wade wished Logan wasn’t crouched on the floor between his legs, which was the first and only time he would ever dare that, but he couldn’t see Logan’s dick straining against the zipper of his jeans and that was a goddamn shame and half.
“Would I have earned that last point?” Logan asked, voice a deep grumble, eyes flitting over Wade’s exposed dick for just half of a second.
What?
Oh.
“I’d say, there would be a high likelihood of that.”
“It’s a yes or no question, bub.”
“I plead the fifth.”
Flirting. They were flirting.
Logan leaned back with a grunt and a shake of his head, then got to his feet and hovered over Wade, hands pressed over his hips, button of his jeans flicked open, but zipper still pulled up. Huh.
Wade looked away to find Logan staring downward at his own crotch.
“Would probably get myself off after that,” Logan answered before the question could be asked.
“But…? Cock shame? Too scared to show King Cock off–”
Logan interrupted him, deft fingers dragging his zipper down then hooking in the waistband of his pants, tugging them downward, “But I’d rather him do it. Would want him to fuck me.”
Wade’s brain shortcircuited with the inclusion of the words want and fuck me in one sentence coming out of Logan’s –his Logan’s– mouth in that filthy, grumbly tone that obviously left no survivors in its wake.
Stripping off his jeans, then his shirt, Logan stood again with his hands on his hips, tip of his cock peeking out from the top of his briefs. Even just the outline had Wade’s mouth watering.
Wade dragged in a shuddering breath, “Would you let him fuck you on his couch? Let him bend you in half and eat your ass? Let him–”
Logan growled, cutting Wade’s thoughts off before he could release the list of heinous shit they could do, and there was so so so much heinous shit Wade wanted to do, he could write a trilogy about it if he wanted.
“I’d let him do whatever the fuck he wants.”
Oh.
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
Fuck. What the fuck.
Wade reached for Logan’s hips, pulling him forward by the waistband of his tight black briefs that left exactly nothing to the imagination.
Not that Wade needed to imagine Logan’s cock for long, because he had them off in less than a second, shuffling them down Logan’s thighs and over his knees in one smooth motion.
“Oh fuck you, big boy. You’re saying I can do anything with this massive flesh dildo?”
It bobbed in the air, long and thick and curved slightly to one side. Curled hair collected around the base and trailed up toward his stomach. Logan was huge, colossal, fucking gargantuan, a cock to be reckoned with. It was expected, but sure as shit still a surprise because it was too damn obvious.
Of course The Wolverine had a massive cock. It was near common sense. Not to mention, Wade had taken more than one long look at the outline of it in the Honda Odyssey; he would have brought out his measurement app to clock that thing if Logan wouldn’t have threatened to cave his skull in if he did.
Wade didn’t take it in hand–not at first–instead letting the scarred pads of his fingers trail across the dense, dark hair that extended over Logan’s inner thighs. The skin was hot to the touch, scalding against his fingers.
“Flesh dildo?” Logan muttered from above, stifling a shiver that Wade absolutely felt regardless, “That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”
Wade shrugged, scooting his ass to the edge of the sofa and grabbing at the meat of Logan’s thighs, “What came first, the cock or the dildo? The world may never know.”
Thumbs digging into Logan’s hips and rocking inward, inching closer to his dick, Wade leaned forward and let his breath tease over the head. Logan shuddered, a full-body movement that left a trail of goosebumps down Wade’s spine because fuck, Logan’s body reacted to just the slightest touch, just the gentlelest contact.
Almost like he hadn’t been touched in years.
Wade hadn’t considered that per se. Back on earth whateverthefuck where Logan came from, he was a drunkard and a fucking gaping asshole of a miserable man (his own words-ish, not Wade’s), but he was still the Wolverine–even if he was a shitty one–and surely someone wanted to fuck him, right?
Not right, Wade could tell.
He wasn’t an optimist; something told him Logan wouldn’t have let himself get close enough to a single soul that a hug was made possible. He was touch starved, nerves oversensitized and raw.
The first brush of Wade’s fingers over his tip, just brushing over the slit, made Logan jerk and swear through an exhale, legs shaking for a moment too long.
“Feel good, baby girl?”
There was no answer, just another trembling fucking hell, and firm fingers curling into Wade’s shoulder.
There were a hundred different things Wade could do with his open invitation to do anything he wanted, but Logan was a goddamn livewire, so easy to tease, so supple and willing under Wade’s touch. Really, Wade wanted to make him feel good in the gross, making love to your husband of ten years on a heart shaped bed covered in chocolate and rose petals and shit with flavored lube on the side kind of way.
Wade touched him for a while, softly with lingering fingertips and gentle strokes that wouldn’t be nearly enough to get himself off. Albeit, his own dick nerves were a little fucked up.
But Logan? Logan was fucking into it, couldn’t get enough of the little presses of Wade’s thumb over that space just around the ridge of his head, or the trail of dull fingernails over the long vein that ran across the underside. Wade kept it up, murmuring encouragement, watching Logan melt underneath every touch with deep gasps and quaking legs.
Eventually Wade worked Logan into sliding strokes that lacked pressure, but were strong enough to fatten his cock up even more, the flesh turning an angry red.
“Red, I need fucking–I need something more.”
Logan was bracketed over the top of Wade, forearms resting on the back of the sofa, legs straddling over Wade’s. He shook relentlessly, warm breath flowing over the back of Wade’s neck as his head hung low.
“Is that so?”
Wade felt Logan nod into his neck. Another shuddering breath.
“Think he’d want to open you up, now. Get you laying down, fuck you open on his fingers, make you all loose and wet. Would you want that …princess?”
Princess was an afterthought, but the guttural moan and twitch of Logan’s cock told Wade every fucking thing he needed to know.
“Yeah you would want that, wouldn’t you baby girl? Fucking hell, Peanut.”
Wade let go of Logan’s cock, wiping his precum covered fingers over his own stomach while Logan whined.
“On your stomach,” he demanded.
Logan followed instructions, flipping onto his knees and facing the arm of the sofa, ass stuck outward, legs spread wide.
Reaching into the small drawer on the coffee table, Wade extracted the unused bottle of lube he’d stashed there two days after Logan moved in, just in case.
And motherfuckers, in case, had in fact, arrived.
He cracked it open, spilling it over his fingers too quickly, a bit of it dripping onto Logan’s thigh, drops rolling down Logan’s skin.
Logan hissed at the cold, pushed his hips back with a grumbled please fucking touch me.
“Calm down, honey badger,” Wade used his thumb to rub the lube into his skin, “So fucking desperate for cock, aren’t you?”
Wade knelt between Logan’s legs, eyes wide and wandering over the expanse of heavy muscle and dark hair nestled between supple asscheeks. It probably tasted like black forest cake. Fucking delicious.
He’d promised fingers, but his mouth watered at the sight. Wade could imagine dipping his tongue inside, tracing it around the rim, tasting Logan’s salty sweat and musk–
“Wade–touch me. I need–”
Another time.
“Fine, since you’re being so demanding.”
With slick fingers, Wade pressed open Logan’s cheeks, knocking his legs even wider. He felt Logan’s rim under the pad of his index finger, tracing over the tight muscle for a moment before pressing his fingertip just barely inside.
Logan took him well, moan tumbling out of his mouth, legs falling open as wide as he could manage without Wade’s prompting. And fuck it was obscene, like so damn obscene Wade was committing the image to memory so he could jack off in the shower about it. Maybe even as soon as later that night once Logan went to bed and Wade’s nasty little spice-filled romance novel about fairies wasn’t doing it for him anymore.
The thought of Logan would get him off; the Wolverine, all wet and soft and melting like a perfectly toasted marshmallow.
“Fuck.”
Wade fucked into him once, finger pressing deep.
“I intend to,” Wade murmured.
Wade fucked his finger in and out, pressing in with firm strokes, letting Logan get used to the feel before crooking his fingers. He must have misjudged the angle, because Logan only let out a small breathy noise and wiggled his hips backward like he was trying to shift into Wade’s touch.
Wade snorted, “Watcha doing, Wolvie? Trying to fuck yourself on my fingers? Thought he,” right, sex LARPing, Wade had almost forgotten, “Was allowed to do whatever the fuck he wanted with you?”
Logan growled, but his attempts to fuck himself on Wade’s hand halted.
“Good girl,” Wade muttered, and didn’t miss the little jump of Logan’s cock between his legs.
It took another try or two, but eventually, Wade’s hooked fingers caught on a little ridge that made Logan shiver through a harsh intake of breath. Another prod sent Logan grinding back into his touch with a delectable little whine.
Fucking fuck that’s the fucking spot.
“Think I found the on-button to this thing,” Wade said, clicking his tongue and effortlessly showing no mercy, a second finger joining the first to rub into Logan in hard, jolted movements, drilling that spot with the perfect precision only an experienced mercenary could manage. And yes, that is a fucking brag.
“Jesus fuck –Wade–”
Wade was so fucking hard, leaking in fact, his dick red and neglected between his legs. He tugged at it with his free hand, a harsh, impulsive motion because he couldn’t fucking help himself, the image of Logan’s ass sucking in his fingers over and over again was like fucking cocaine.
“Alright,” Wade announced, feeling a familiar stir in his stomach, “Gonna fuck you now, Loges.”
“C’mon and do it already,” Logan panted, sneaking a hand in between his legs, reaching for his bobbing dick like Wade wasn’t right fucking there with a rock solid, purple cock ready to fuck him to high heaven. What an asshole.
“Hey!” Wade slapped Logan’s hand away, pinned it to the back of the couch, “You want to be fucked, you better let it happen babygirl. Your imaginary mystery man–with impeccable skill–wants to make you come all on his own.”
“Can’t come if your dick isn’t in me, bub.”
Logan was a little right, so Wade lined himself up and drove into him with a single, deep stroke that left his own teeth stabbed into his bottom lip, blood dripping onto his chin.
“Oh, fuck me, fuck this, fuck everyone–” Wade held still, teetering so fucking close to the edge that he could practically feel his dick throb. God he hoped Logan could feel that.
Breathing for a minute or two, Wade eventually pulled out, slamming back in with another deep stroke, angling himself toward that little ball of nerves.
The first hit seemingly took Logan by surprise, a little croak streaming from his mouth, hips dipping a bit under shaking legs.
“Oh that’s it, isn’t it?”
Wade snapped his hips forward again, putting in extra effort to grind his hips just right so the head of his cock rubbed right over Logan’s prostate.
“Wade! Fucking shit–”
Logan sunk from his hands down to his elbows, ass up on the sofa, so exposed and breedable–
Let’s save that kink for another day, Wade thought, fingertips reaching for Logan’s hips, thumbs pressing into the dimples on either side of his spine.
Wade fucked him like that for a long time. It was all gentle snaps of his hips, grinding, tantalizing movements, fingertips working into Logan’s skin leaving bruises that wouldn’t stick. Logan let it happen, liquid under Wade’s hold, strings of wordless sobs mixing with little pleas for more Wade, right there Wade, don’t you fucking stop.
Once Wade reached forward, twisting Logan’s chin toward himself, wanting to see his face. Logan’s cheeks were red, hair a mess, and his eyes? Wet. Two tears leaked down his left cheek, dripping down onto the couch before Wade could catch them with his thumb.
Fuck, he’d broken Logan down to a begging, sniveling, crying mess.
All bets were off, Wade needed to fuck him in missionary. This wasn’t a game anymore, LARPing be damned. Any man–real or a figment of Logan’s imagination–would absolutely need to see his fucking face when he came, would need to see those teary, wide eyes when he finally lost control.
“Wade please–I need to come.”
Logan pushed his hips backward, looking for more friction, but Wade held them in place, leaning over the top of his back, lips grazing Logan’s ear.
“No problem baby girl, just gonna need you on your back if that’s what you want.”
There was zero hesitation when Wade pulled out, and Logan was on his back, legs thrown wide. It was a sight to behold.
Logan was hairy and drenched in sweat. He was a little softer around the middle than when Wade had initially brought him home, but his muscular structure was unmatched regardless. There was a bulging vein that led down to the jungle-like mess of condensed hair around his cock, which was matted with precum and sweat.
And his face? Devastating. Teary eyes, bitten lips, that fucked out look –damn.
Wade could have looked him up and down on repeat for another ten years if his cock wasn’t pulsing and leaking like the distracting little shit it was. Fuck his cock, it was needier than his first ex-boyfriend from freshman year of college.
Crudely shoving a throw pillow under Logan’s ass to raise his hips, Wade positioned himself in between Logan’s legs, pistoning into him with his own half-restrained sob.
Logan’s lips curled upward, his head thrown back. He shook under every thrust, arms splayed out to the sides and new tears leaking down his cheeks.
“Wade.”
“Not –fuck, oh shit shot to hell– not Wade, just some bitch–”
Logan growled out a sound that could have been a moan, but it was more possessive than that.
“–who you let bring you to his apartment.”
Pressure built in Wade’s stomach, arousal turning from a slow burn to a red hot, boiling desire that needed release.
“You just let whoever fuck you in missionary on their elderly roomates couch–”
Logan’s growl cut him off.
“Shut,” snap, “the,” snap, “fuck up.”
Wade obliged him, and not to be nice, but rather, because he was right fucking there on the edge, knee deep in Althea’s ancient, musty sofa.
It only took another snap of his hips to send him all the way, frantic hips rocking in and out as he rode the first crashing wave of pleasure down his spine.
“Logan, fucking damnit–”
Everything felt numb, but the good kind of numb that made Wade feel like he was floating ten feet over the ground on a cloud. He slumped into Logan for a second, letting it wash over him while his brain short circuited against his will.
“Wade.”
Was it the gods telling him it wasn’t his time to walk the stairway to heaven? He thought he was finally dying of happiness and satisfaction, the way he was always meant to go.
“Wade–fuck, I need you to keep–”
Before he could register who the fuck was talking and why the fuck they were making demands, there were hands on Wade’s waist.
Gravity disappeared for a second–perhaps it was only a theory and not a law afterall–and the world tilted on its axis and–
The last waves of his post-mindblowing-orgasm bliss turned weirdly sharp and hot and stabby-ish. Huh?
Wade’s eyes flew open and holy fucking shit on a stick, he was on his damn back with six claws buried in his chest. That explained the stabbyness.
The claws were attached to a bouncing, sweat-soaked Logan speared right on Wade’s dick, working himself on it with jolting, staccato flicks of his hips. He was rubbing right over that spot, using Wade’s dickhead like a toy, grinding his prostate right over it in between shallow bounces.
“I’m a flesh dildo,” Wade sputtered helplessly, blood on his smiling lips as he watched Logan bounce up and down like a sexy ass pogostick.
Logan’s dick bounced with him, slapping up onto his stomach. As Logan’s hands were preoccupied, finger forks stabbing through a chest cavity, Wade reached forward as far as he could manage, a single hand wrapping around Logan’s dick, rubbing in short, weighty strokes right over the head.
“Ah–! Wade–don’t fucking stop–”
And Wade didn’t, instead squeezing just a little harder, flicking his mostly useless hips up just a little bit higher trying to stab into Logan right where he needed it, right over those buzzing nerves.
Logan cried out, a visceral sound that Wade was adding to his growing personal memory bank for things he wanted to beat off to in the shower.
“I’m–I–”
Losing control, Logan came all over Wade’s hand with long spurts, and ground down fucking hard.
“Fuck!”
Four hundred pounds of writhing Wolverine collapsed over Wade’s chest, Logan’s hot breath back against his neck.
Hell fucking yeah.
They stayed like that for awhile, Logan’s hips twitching, his lips grazing over Wade’s skin so fucking gently.
It was so good. Not even just the piping hot sex, but the skin-to-skin contact, the gentleness, the unmatched closeness.
Wade wanted to herd Logan into the shower, get him under the warm spray, and coax the dry come off his skin with a washcloth. Wade wanted to wash Logan’s hair and pat him dry once they got out of the shower. Wade wanted to brush Logan’s teeth for him, apply his deodorant, kiss the little droplets of water leftover from the shower off of his forehead.
Wade wanted to lead him to the living room and open the pull out, lay Logan out on the bed and drag a pair of briefs up his legs, maybe even pull one of his own t-shirts over Logan’s head.
Then Wade wanted to kiss him. Not the kind of kiss that led to more–no, the sappy, soft kind of kissing right before falling asleep. It would be all chapped lips, and slow rolls of the tongue, and Wade’s hands would scratch over Logan’s shoulder blades the way he liked.
And then they’d fall asleep, Logan curled up on Wade’s chest–
“Hi.”
The non-daydream version of Logan was looking at him with watery eyes and a hint of a half-smile.
“Howdy partner.”
There was a flicker in Logan’s eye, like he might say something dangerous, something so sweet and thoughtful and tempting that Wade would eat right up and he’d need to marry Logan even harder.
Instead, Logan stumbled off of him, reaching for the tissues on the coffee table, soft curses on his breath.
Wade watched him like he would a romcom, with a joy so profound he could force a single tear from his eye if he tried.
“Can’t believe you fuck nasty on the first date, Peanut. Thought you were an eighth date kinda guy.”
He watched Logan clean himself up, put away the lube, and throw the tissues in the bin.
“That’s two months of dates. You think I’m going that long without making a move?”
Logan grabbed a few more tissues and handed them to Wade.
“You went five weeks without making a move on me.”
Logan–though a man of few words–would usually have at least some smartass comment as a retort. Instead, Wade received a horrible, blank silence as Logan returned to the opposite side of the couch, still wearing nothing because of course not.
“Welp,” Wade groaned and slapped his knees, getting to his feet for the inevitable midwest goodbye on his way to the shower.
Moment over. Marriage cancelled.
He didn’t want to let Logan out of his sight, not when he was still butt naked and back to being sprawled out on the couch like the fucking god of the short refractory period, “It’s safe to say you have a half-a-percent more game than I was expecting, but–for educational purposes–I think a few extra classes on the pros and cons of fucking on the first date, couch sex 101, railed or riding, the benefits of both positions–”
“Wade.”
“I happen to teach a masterclass in hairless cock, myself, and I’ll offer it to you for the low, low price of another blow–”
“Wade.”
Logan scratched his beard with one hand, the other trailing down his own stomach, toying with the spread of hair that led lower, right down to his–
“Holy fucking cock. Holy fuck Peanut–it’s been like a hundred seconds, how are you doing that?”
Logan’s rock solid cock tapped against his stomach, leaking like Wade hadn’t fucked the come out of it not two minutes before.
He shrugged one shoulder.
“Round two?”
Wade blinked, mouth open. The suggestion hung in the air, but Logan didn’t lose confidence, the cocky upturn of his lips never leaving his face even after seconds of silence passed.
“He– our energy vampire of an imaginary LARPing friend–has work tomorrow, at the office. His cubicle farm awaits his soulless body, his keyboard misses his tender touch–”
“I want you to fuck me this time.”
Ohhhh fuck. It’s happening. It was shitting happening.
“But what about the bit? I know we were doing the whole–”
Logan groaned.
“Jesus christ, Wade. Can you shut the fuck up about the bit? I was fucking flirting, just like you said I couldn’t. Do I need to fuck you instead? Would that shut you up?”
Almost nothing could shut Wade up, he was resilient like that.
But fuck if he wasn’t going to let Logan try.
“That is a deeply unholy suggestion. Yes fucking please.”
Marriage uncancelled.