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An axe whizzed past Wade’s head. He booped the guy who’d thrown it on the nose as he went by, noting, “You look different,” before he weaved through a tangle of tables to the significantly less chic bar where Logan’s familiar form hunched over a pint. “You don’t,” Wade said, eyeing the 29” inseam as he slid into the next open seat. “Oh well, better luck next universe.”
The light of the bar's neon Live, Laugh, Lob Axes sign licked along Logan’s profile as he raised a quizzical brow. His nose twitched. “I know you?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Wade slipped the TVA doohickey into a pouch. He could get back to that montage anytime, this was clearly scored as an interlude. He traced a finger over the bar top. “Do you want to, hot stuff?”
A dismissive snort and Logan went back to his drink.
“That’s the big dick energy I know and love,” Wade said, propping his chin on his fist. This compact model was so far the most amenable Logan he’d come across. Pity he didn’t have the right look for studio executive sign-off and the extensive line of already designed licensed merchandise. Hollywood these days.
“Fuck off.”
“And you even come factory-equipped with that brooding, gruff, I’m-better-off-alone vibe. Still so sexy when it’s fun sized. Much cuter though.” He resisted the urge to boop a frown line.
“Look, pal,” Logan finished off his pint and scraped the beer off his lip with his teeth before turning to Wade, “I’m not in the mood.”
“You never are,” Wade said flippantly, and fingered the gun at his hip. He was fully loaded – he could go fourteen rounds with a nice axe if he had to. “But I could really use a breather. Fighting a half-dozen of you machismo-dripping musclebound motherfuckers has given me the kind of rock hard boner that won’t slide even for an R-rating. So, what do you say, do me a favor and help a guy out with a helping handie in the bathroom?”
Logan’s gaze flicked down to Wade’s crotch and noticeably held there for a half-second.
The bartender rocked up with a frown, his hand drifting under the bar where Wade could only assume some sort of weapon was concealed. Probably a shotgun, which would really be a shame since he’d just gotten this suit.
“This clown bothering you?” The bartender puffed himself up and gave Wade the stink eye. “What are you, some kind of kinky sex freak with a mask fetish? Or worse, a mutant freak?”
“Yes, yes, yes, and technically yes,” Wade replied, glancing over his shoulder to add, “I answered part one on behalf of the delectable petit four at my side, but they’re all a matter of perspective if you want to argue in the comments section.”
“We don’t serve mutants here.”
Wade’s fingers twitched towards his pistol. His eyes narrowed dangerously. “You sure about that?”
The bartender’s weight shifted, the white of his eyes betraying a touch of fear. Logan’s hand smacked to the front of Wade’s chest. “We don’t want any trouble. We’re just going to hit the head and then get gone.” He fisted the strap of Wade’s sword harness. “Isn’t that right, bub?”
Goody Three-Claws here might not want trouble, but Wade was a little more flexible. He considered the pros and cons as Logan hopped off his stool and towed him along. Waiting in his magazines was one bullet for every mutant-hating bigot in the place, but he would eventually have to find a Wolverine to drag back to his universe. Did he really want to waste an interlude on an ammo resupply?
He threw daggers with narrowed eyes. He might. That bartender was a champion dickwaffle.
“Wade,” Logan barked, shaking his harness hard enough it swung Wade’s attention away from the prospect of some light murder, “you gonna pick up the pace, or did you change your mind about that favor?”
About to ask what favor, he rewound the conversation in his head. Eyes widening, he looked down at Logan and found they’d stopped in the narrow hall outside of the men’s room. “Did you just call m—” A surprised yelp escaped him as Logan shoved him against the door and pinned him there with a fist just above his heart.
A completely different sound leaked through his mask as Logan muscled in and gave him a fresh sniff.
“Got a whole lot of blood on ya, and you smell different so it took me a minute.” Logan drew back to look up at Wade. “Don’t know when you decided to put on a suit, but I’d know that fucking mouth of yours anywhere.”
This time, Logan’s gaze jumped to where Wade’s lips were hidden behind his mask. A quick hint of fang flashed in a blink and you’d miss it grin.
“Is that because we’ve done this before? Are we frenemies with benefits?” Wade groped for the latch and planted the sole of his boot to the door to nudge it open. He leaned against the heavy wood and let his body weight swing it the rest of the way in. Brimming with questions, he tracked Logan strolling past him. “Wow, you really are just eye level with my tits. You’re lucky my cup size isn’t dramatic enough that one wrong move would land you with a concussion.”
Logan ignored him and headed towards one of the two stalls. He heroically resisted the urge to ruffle those fluffy tufts of hair as he followed.
“Shut your yap, flip the lock, and get your pants open, dick for brains,” Logan said, undoing his belt buckle to drop trou. “Let’s fucking go.”
Seeing Logan prop his forearms on the graffitied wall above the toilet and spread his legs to shoulder width, Wade bit his fist. Beneath the mask his eyes misted up. This Wolverine, he realized, was a plucky little power bottom.
“Dreams do come true,” he breathed, eyeing the curve of soft flesh and taut muscles bared above the tangle of denim. He elbowed the stall door closed and latched it.
Whistling a jaunty little tune as he unzipped and stripped off a glove, Wade flipped open a pouch to produce a handy little packet of lube. He ripped the packet open and got to work, unleashing his cock and giving it a few quick jerks to slick it root to tip before painting Logan’s furry ass crack wet with the head.
He squeezed out the rest of the packet right onto Logan’s hole, then used his thumb to sweep the hair aside in little whorls and reveal the clench of muscle waiting for his cock. He rubbed circles over the flash of pink as Logan exhaled and invited his thumb to dip in past the rim. His cock surged at the lack of resistance, jumping with his pulse, ready and eager to join the push of his finger.
“I have to admit, Wolvie, I’m a little jealous that you’re such an easy access butt slut.” Wade pressed his thumb in all the way to the heel and whimpered. “If anyone wants to park in my bodacious back alley it takes some solid huffs of the good stuff or twenty minutes of pinkie play. God—” He stamped his foot and slapped his other hand on Logan’s cheek to spread him wider. “If you could only see what I’m seeing. You’ve got one hungry, hungry hole.”
“Stop looking and start fucking before they come in here to kick us out.”
“If anyone tries to pry me off you, they’ll get a fifty caliber kiss to the forehead,” Wade said off-handedly, absorbed with how Logan’s most tender flesh clung to his thumb as he drew it free. He sank it right back in to do it again.
Logan’s head dropped. “Fucking hell, every damn time. I don’t need you to loosen me up, just get your goddamn dick in me.“
“This is all news to me, short king, but okay, fine. Let me get you your crown, your majesty.” Wade gave Logan’s rim one last tug before he bent his knees and replaced his thumb with the flushed head of his cock. He drew in a deep, steadying breath as he watched the tip kiss that sweet pucker. “All right, here we go, baby’s got backshots in three… two...”
Logan wasn’t kidding when he said he was ready. His body swallowed Wade’s cock in one go like a champ. Wade’s eyes did a near one-eighty in his skull. Heaven, pure molten heaven. He had hardly shifted to stroke himself deep a second time into that perfect snug heat when Logan shoved back to meet the thrust with an impatient snarl.
A bottom didn’t have to buck against him twice, no sir. He got the message loud and clear: This Wolverine liked getting dicked hard.
Sending up a prayer to Thor that he wasn’t going to embarrass himself by popping off in a matter of seconds, Wade widened his stance, hooked a hand over Logan’s shoulder and got to fucking. Gritty pleasure shot through his dick and straight up his spine as he gave it to Logan in the fast, stabbing thrusts that he demanded.
More than the pure buzzing delight of the right nerves getting stroked by Logan’s sinfully soft insides, or the accompanying tempo of his hips slapping against that perky bottom, it was the sounds that Logan made that clawed right into the most lizard parts of Wade’s brain. Every half dozen thrusts a soft little whuff of breath would escape him, then the slightest hint of a groan broke free, and with that as a carrot Wade made it his sole mission to fuck this five-foot-something built like a cinder block Wolverine so good and so hard he’d start howling.
Logan’s rumbly laugh and the viciously flirty I dare ya look he tossed over his shoulder made Wade realize he’d said at least some of that out loud.
“Ya know, I liked this bar,” Logan told him. His hand on the wall curled into a fist, knuckles braced like he was ready to sink claws into the plaster. Each balls-deep smack sent ripples through the meat of his ass, his body rocking with the force.
“You’ll find another.” Shitty gimmick bars were a dime a dozen in any universe, Wade was sure of it.
“You really think you’re gonna make m—“
“Only one way to find out. Let’s switch this up so I really know what I’m dealing with,” Wade said, pulling out so abruptly Logan bit off a yelp. He dragged Logan up and spun him around, crowding him against the wall of the stall and bringing out Baby Knife to help him split Logan’s jeans right down the crotch.
“Whoa, hey! Play nice. I like these pants, too.” With one brow arched up, Logan planted a boot on the toilet seat to quickly strip the laces. He freed a leg. “You’re worse than Creed.”
“The band, or— Oh. Ohh. You know what, we don’t really have time to unpack that in a PWP, mini-muffin, so we’ll file that one away for now.” He punctuated the statement by flipping the blade around and resheathing it neatly. He clapped his hands to refocus. “Daddy’s got to make Daddy come so hard he sees stars. Do we normally kiss?”
Wade peeled his mask up over his nose and didn’t wait for an answer before he dipped down to capture Logan’s mouth and take hold of his thighs. He thrust his tongue in deep for a wetly curling lick, swallowing the grunt of surprise when he succeeded in lifting Logan up and dropping him right back down onto his dick like the God of Thunder himself had spared Wade a heaping dose of never-skips-leg day energy.
With Logan’s arms on his shoulders and the filthy encouragement of teeth grazing his lips, he even managed to do it a couple more times before he started sweating and wondering if he had maybe, perhaps, just possibly bitten off a bit more than he could chew. He worked his arms under Logan’s legs and curled them beneath him to see if that would help, and for a few blissful moments it became easier to work Logan onto his dick like a fucktoy.
God, if only.
Wade bit his lip. Maybe that line of merchandising could be remanufactured. Or, better yet, expanded. A Disney After Dark: Marvel line for adults would make bags of cash.
Sweat streamed down his spine as his muscles strained to keep going on what would be a PR breaking day at the gym if he ever stepped foot in one. Maybe he should, because whenever he got back to that montage, he might be lucky enough to find one of these that had the same look and the same insatiable hole.
Shitbiscuits, why was adamantium so stupidly heavy?
He definitely didn’t say that out loud this time because his tongue was too busy in Logan’s mouth, but as if this one was a mindreader, Logan ripped away from the increasingly sloppy kiss to reach up behind his head with both arms to grab the top of the stall like a headboard.
Wade blew out a thankful breath as the strain eased, giving him proper leverage now to pull back and slam in with enough force that it made Logan grunt.
The bolts groaned as the wall partition rattled alarmingly. Bar bathrooms—even surprisingly clean ones—were not made to hold up to the force of Wade trying to jackhammer his way inside Logan’s body dick first.
“That all you got, Mouth?” Logan huffed. His triceps flexed gorgeously as he engaged his abs to buck against each thrust. His dick was bouncing between them, slickness thicker than just precome stringing from the tip and leaving a spreading wet spot on his tee. His eyes glittered, his mouth tugged into a feral, pointy-toothed grin. “Thought you were gonna make me howl.”
“Who are you?” Wade said, awed. “If only I could put you in my pocket and take you with me.”
Honestly, it might not hurt to have a spare. He shook his head rapidly to banish the thought. Letting his imagination stray towards the potential of being a piece of meat in the middle of a Wolverine sandwich was the path to nutting too quickly. Wade grit his teeth. He had one job right now and it was pounding some ropes out of this hairy short stack.
Redoubling his efforts, Wade shifted the angle between them until he was sure each stroke was giving Logan exactly what he wanted. The wild look in his eye never softened, but there were tremors shivering through him now, his core flexing as he chased the building sensation.
Wade caught a faint flutter in his lashes before another swell and surge of milky precome leaked out of his gorgeous cock. A few more strokes and his mouth went lax. Logan’s legs though, hanging heavy over Wade’s arm, tensed up fitfully. A rough moan poured out of him, the vibration of it seeming to travel through his whole frame and into Wade’s. His grip on the stall left dents.
Did it count if he was fucking Logan so good that the metal around them was wailing? Close enough to a howl, Wade figured. It was more of a vibe, anyway. A guideline, not a rule.
He leaned in for a not-quite-kiss, his mouth rubbing over Logan’s slack lips. “We don’t need to do this hands-free. You can get those knuckles wrapped around your stick and pump that batter out,” Wade said through a few guttural sounds of his own. He was already picturing it glazing the front of Logan’s tight black tee.
Logan nipped his lip just shy of drawing blood and snarled. “Shut up and don’t stop.”
“No sir, yes sir. Out of curiosity, how close are you on a scale of one to I’m about to bust?”
Logan’s hands gripped the top of the stall harder. It made his pecs jump, the tight tips of his nipples pinpointed beneath his shirt. “Jesus, you—”
“Yes? That close, huh?”
“Wade, you, fucki—”
“Fucking machine,” Wade finished for him, slamming in hard enough to cut his breath short before curling forward to rut into him in shallow little thrusts. He nuzzled his face briefly against Logan’s cheek. “I can’t help it, babygirl, I just like it when you growl at me. After you pop, when you’re wearing all that white, will you promise to fill out the courtesy card thanking your top for his excellent service?”
A fresh growl gusted hot against his mask like a reward. The tight clench around his cock was a delicious extra bonus.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Wade said, a shivering thrill going down his spine. He pulled away again so he could see when Logan’s reddened cock went from a taut bounce to a hard twitch, his thighs and hole clutching around Wade as he came.
Wade watched enthralled. It wasn’t tight shots streaking up to Logan’s throat, it was a surging flood that pooled right onto his belly, wave after wave pushed out by each deep stroking thrust.
Slowing to a near stop, Wade wriggled his hips and cooed as he soaked up the feeling of Logan wrapped so tightly around him.
“What’s the deal, Red?” Logan said. He hitched his hips and kicked a leg out, bracing his boot on the far wall to work himself on Wade’s dick. The come on his tee slid to drip down over his side and patter to the floor. “Ya ain’t done yet.”
“Fuck me, the mouse would never let me take you home, not when you’re an unstoppable hole with a goal. Is there a version of you out there that’s a throat goat too?” Panting, head dizzied by more than just the exertion, Wade let himself fall back against the stall to let Logan do the work now. “Please say yes, because I’ve been a very good boy for a whole ten minutes and it’s almost Christmas.”
His hands settled loosely at Logan’s sides, skin fever hot and come-slicked under his bare hand and only a phantom ghost of warmth seeping through the glove on his other. He bit his lip, mesmerized by the snapping rhythm of Logan’s hips, the still-hungry gleam in his eye that stood a blink away from the sharper gleam that had sent a fistful of metal into his grey matter more than once today.
When the world lurched and fell out from under him he thought for a second that maybe the good times were over, but it wasn’t the brief blip of a brain injury, it was at least two screws, maybe more, finally giving up the ghost. The metal partition holding him up peeled off its support, crashing to the floor and taking out at least one of the urinal basins as it went. The air whooshed out of Wade’s lungs as he landed square on his katanas and skidded towards a bruised tailbone to boot. He winced as at least one finger bone snapped back into place and knit itself back together. Well, that was a boner kill.
Still hanging off the wall that remained standing like he was doing his best Spider-Man impression, Logan huffed a breath and lowered his feet to the floor.
Wade reached for a hand up.
“Wall gave up. You quittin’ too?”
Wade curled his fingers and hesitantly withdrew his arm. “No?” The flagging in his cock abruptly reversed direction as Logan stepped one leg over his hips and stared down at him.
“Good,” Logan said, and dropped to straddle him. He jacked Wade’s cock back to full mast and eased himself right back onto it. “Never took you for a quitter.”
“You should know that I quit things all the time. In fact, sometimes I start things solely to quit them, but right now I am one-hundred percent committed to— Oh fuck, that’s hot.” Both Wade’s babbling and his bobbling head came to a stunned stop as Logan reached overhead and stripped off his come-smeared tee.
He tossed it aside like a rag then flattened a hand against Wade’s chest to ride him like a coin-operated bull. A swooping thrill seized Wade’s guts, all the blood in his body surging into his dick when Logan’s thick-fingered hand skidded up to tuck under his jaw. He moaned when his head was forced to the side, and again when soft whiskers brushed against his throat and Logan inhaled deeply.
“Thought it was just whatever scarred you up had changed your scent, but it’s more than that, ain’t it.” A wet lick swiped across his pulse point. “S’alright. You’re close enough.”
Teeth ghosted along Wade’s neck, and he wondered what it was that Logan could smell on his skin or in his blood. What about the language of his body had betrayed him if it wasn’t his mouth? Also, that faintly possessive lick. He shivered with delight. Did Logan just scent mark him? Was that even a thing?
He was about to ask when the bathroom door swung inward.
Without missing a beat, Logan reached to whip baby knife out of her sheath and fling her expertly at the door. She thunked into the jamb, quivering there as whoever had thought to check on the racket shrieked and scrambled away.
In near unison, Wade called and Logan roared a warning that the next person to poke a head in was going to lose it.
“Jinx,” Wade said, grinning.
Logan shot him a look dirtier than the floor and with those thick perfect thighs tightening around him, Wade came so hard he nearly blacked out.
“So you and other me are definitely fuckbuddies,” Wade mumbled, when he found his senses. His head thunked down against the floor, his entire body tingling. Logan still hadn’t stopped moving. Didn’t, until Wade was so soft he slipped out. “The lucky bastard.”
Wade inched up onto his elbows, the euphoria leaving a wide grin plastered across his face. “Was I better?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Logan gave his cheek a love tap before he stood and ripped a bit of paper off the roll hanging from the still upright wall to wipe up. He dragged his jeans back up and hitched his belt. Something about his posture said he was listening for something Wade couldn’t hear.
“I would very much like to know. Give it to me straight, sugartits.” Wade did a kip-up and got himself sorted as Logan stamped back into his boot and ignored him. “I’ve got at least two minutes to spare based on the musical cues.”
Wade eyeballed him—slowly—as they exited back into the hall. Absently, he wrenched his knife free of the jamb, but didn’t put her away yet. He gestured towards the furry planes of Logan’s front. “You’re just giving up on your shirt then? Not as much sentimental value as your pants? It would make a great reminder of our time together.”
“Law’s coming.”
Sure enough, the distant wail of sirens was creeping closer.
“You take the back door, babycakes, since that’s your speciality. I’ll go out the way I came in. No unnecessary killing, I promise.”
He crossed his heart for emphasis. Ridding this world of that bartender was absolutely necessary.
Logan didn’t look convinced he was making the right call, but he headed for the emergency exit anyway, his hand fisted in readiness.
“Tell your me I said hi,” Wade called before the alley door swung shut behind Logan. He tugged his mask back down and spun on his heel. The music was already changing. Guess there was going to be an ammo resupply after all.