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Wade ducked behind a pile of rubble, the sound of gunfire cracking around him, bullets whizzing by. “Peanut, hey, how about you leave some for me?” he shouted, peeking over the edge of a huge piece of broken concrete to see Logan slicing through the last of their attackers with practiced ease, claws gleaming in the dim light.
Logan didn’t respond. He rarely did during missions, too focused, too in control. Wade wasn’t used to that– having a teammate who didn’t need backup, who didn’t need saving. Hell, Logan didn’t need anything from him. He could probably handle this all on his own.
Meanwhile, Wade had to scramble, improvise, maybe get shot a few times (as a treat), and rely on his healing factor and insane luck to pull through.
Logan's competence was insanely attractive. Wade could watch his sweaty biceps for hours as he ripped apart people. But it also made him feel something else. A strange pang of… what? Longing? Something like that. For days long past when people needed him to swoop in and save the day, or at least keep them from dying awful, gory deaths. Vanessa relied on him to protect her. Teammates looked to him for an edge in a tight spot. Logan was just too damn capable. Too good. He barely needed Wade at all.
Logan stood in the middle of the now silent battlefield, claws retracting with a slick metallic snikt. His breathing was steady, no signs of exertion, while Wade was still catching his breath behind cover.
“Get the fuck out here,” Logan called, brushing dirt off his suit like it was nothing.
Wade stood up, wiping the dust from his gear. “Yeah, great. Guess I’ll just stand here and look pretty while you do all the work.” Wade threw out a leg and an elbow in his best impression of a pinup girl. “Have you ever, like, worked as a team before?”
Logan snorted and moved toward the door to the lab, not gracing Wade with an answer. That wouldn't do.
“Is that a no? Or just a rare occasion? You’re more of a solo-mission type of guy, right?” Wade chattered as he followed him into the lab. The place was dingy and out of recent use, the floors and lab benches coated in a thin layer of dust. The shelves held a variety of glass jars filled with murky fluid and rubbery organic shapes. Wade’s fingers trailed along them, touching every one as he passed. “Is it trust issues, Peanut? I’m extremely trust-able. Did a shit ton of trust falls before. The outcome really depends on the wind speed though, ask Peter–”
“I trust you enough,” Logan replied as he plucked a jar from a shelf. It was especially opaque. “I think this is it.”
“You sure?” Wade narrowed his eyes, skeptical. “Hank said it was gonna be red, but we can’t really see it…”
Logan held the jar up, trying to see the object inside, gently shaking it to try to catch a glimpse. “I’m gonna open it.”
“And what if it launches out of there Alien-style and eats our fucking brains?” Wade recoiled in horror as Logan’s hands braced to unscrew the lid.
“It’s dead, Wade.” Logan twisted the lid counterclockwise.
“Wait!” Wade launched himself over a lab bench, popping his head up to watch. “Okay, go.”
With a roll of his eyes, Logan opened the lid, just to take a peek–
A plume of red smoke leaked from the jar and Logan snapped it closed again, but not before it reached his nose. “It’s red. Fuck!”
“Close it!” Wade hissed.
“I’m doing it! It’s fine. Just fuckin’ smells weird.” Logan blinked rapidly. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Wade shot up from his hiding spot. “What's it smell like?”
Logan started walking toward the exit, and Wade followed. “I don’t know. Kind of a mix of stuff.”
“Okay, you got me, I’m curious. Let me have a whiff–” Wade made grabby hands, and Logan held the jar away.
“No.” Logan glared at him, then gave a sniff, like he was clearing his nose. “It smells like… Leather. Gunpowder…”
Logan’s eyes flashed to him for a second before he closed his eyes to sniff again, upper lip curling, like he was trying to remember the scent. Was he about to give a Flehmen response?
“Something sweet? Something medicinal.” Logan shook his head, like he was trying to get something out of it. “It’s making me feel…”
“Lemme try! I love to inhale things that make me feel weird. It’s my favorite!” Once again, Wade tried to make a grab for the jar and was met with a set of claws slicing into his gut.
“Fuckin’ cut it out.”
“Ouchies!” Wade winced when the blades slid out. “Fine. I’ll be your trip buddy then.”
On the way back, Wade noticed that Logan was acting… different. Wade could hear Logan’s heavy breathing even before he glanced over. Logan, normally stoic, silent, looked… tense. More than his usual “fuck the world” brand of tense. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. Muscles twitching under his skin.
“You okay over there, Wolvie?” Wade asked, tossing Logan a curious look.
Logan’s jaw tightened. He grunted.
That didn’t sound like a yes.
They turned the corner toward the apartment building, and Wade kept stealing glances at Logan. His shoulders were hunched, breathing more labored with every step. Streetlights illuminated the sweat gleaming on his temple.
“You sure you’re–”
“I said I’m fine, Wade,” Logan bit out.
“You didn’t say that, actually.”
Logan didn’t answer him, grumbling something incoherent as he stomped up their staircase. Wade bounded up past him, opening the apartment door and standing aside. Logan stormed past him with a grunt, barely giving him a second glance.
Wade took the opportunity to track him for a second, his keen instincts picking up on more now– Logan’s pupils were blown wide, and his breathing sounded almost…ragged. Weird.
“Yo, Logan. Maybe we should call Hank–”
“I need a minute.” Logan cut him off, already heading down the hallway, voice gruffer than usual, like he was holding back a growl. He slammed his door shut, leaving Wade standing there, blinking.
“A minute? What the fuck for?” Wade mumbled, then froze. Something clicked. The tension, the breathing, the sweating. The smoke was making him feel weird. Maybe it was a special kind of weird.
Wade raised an eyebrow, a slow grin curling at the edges of his mouth. “No fucking way…”
Unable to help himself, Wade crept toward Logan’s door. He just HAD to see…
He was halfway there when he heard it. The distinct sound of Logan’s fist hitting flesh. Furious slapping.
“Oh, it’s one of those minutes,” Wade said under his breath, barely containing a laugh. He leaned against the wall, listening as Logan worked himself behind the door, the low breathy grunts coming in short bursts. Wade’s ears perked up at a deep growl of frustration.
“Awww, you’re thinking of me!” Wade called out, his voice carrying through the door.
“Fuck off, Wade! Logan’s voice came out strangled, followed by another low, breathless growl.
“Y’know,” Wade’s smirk widened, unable to keep himself from teasing Logan a little more. “If you wanted a good time, you could ask me. I’m like, right here. Why waste a warm blooded, incredibly talented, smoking hot merc with an infamous mouth?”
There was no response. Just more frantic, desperate sounds coming from behind the door. Logan could work it out on his own.
“Fine.” Wade sighed, backing away. “But don’t say I didn’t offer my world-class, five-star, services…”
—
By the next morning, Wade had mostly forgotten the weird tension from the night before. Mostly.
He strolled down the hallway in his usual morning glory, t-shirt, pj pants, and mismatched socks, visions of pancakes dancing in his head as he made his way to the kitchen. But as he passed Logan’s room, he froze.
It wasn’t the furious slapping from the night before, but it was something close. The rhythm was off, more staccato, like Logan was… struggling. A grunt followed, low and strained, like Logan was fighting a losing battle in there.
Wade frowned. His pancake plans took a backseat for now.
“Logan?” Wade rapped his knuckles on the door, trying to keep his voice light. “You good in there, buddy?”
No answer. Just the continued strained sounds. Wade’s brow furrowed deeper.
“Logan?” Wade asked again, this time without the joking tone. “You okay?”
After a beat of silence, there was a rough, reluctant growl from the other side of the door. “Fuckin’ hell… Just–just get in here.”
Wade froze for a second. Logan never invited him into his room. That was off limits. Good thing the phrase ‘curiosity killed the cat’ didn’t apply to him, obviously.
He turned the knob cautiously, pushing the thin wooden door open with a creak, and slipping inside.
Logan’s room was very sparse and utilitarian, a stark contrast of Wade’s own eccentric, chaotic style. There was a worn leather jacket draped over a simple wooden chair in the corner, a katana mounted on the wall above it. A cigar box on the end table were those Cuban? He’d have to swipe one later, next to a half-empty bottle of whiskey.
And next to that was the jar that contained whatever life form was in it. Dead life form. Wade reminded himself.
It didn’t seem like a place Logan really “lived” in. Just a place to crash, or to hide out when he needed alone time. Which Wade assumed he was having right now.
And then there was the bed. It was nothing fancy, but the morning light shining through the window made the white sheets look kinda cozy. That illusion shattered when Wade’s eyes fell on Logan.
He was half-sitting, propped up against his headboard, a white sheet covering him from the waist down. His face was twisted in discomfort, body tense. One hand was clenched tightly in a fist, while the other– oh shit– was moving under the sheet, his bicep flexing in a way that left no doubt where that hand was and what it was doing.
“I feel like I’m interrupting your private time…” Wade’s voice trailed off, a smirk creeping up.
“No.” Logan’s response was sharp, his voice strained as he turned his head away, jaw tight. “Wade, I– fuck.”
His arm jerked again under the sheet, and a pained wince crossed his face. Wade’s eyes followed the movement, his usual humor quieting down like a puppy getting scolded.
“That fucking red smoke.” Logan’s voice was rough, each word sounding like it was being dragged out of him. ”I started feeling weird and Hank said it was…” His head tipped back, hitting the headboard with a dull thud as he stared at the ceiling, muscles straining under his skin. “It’s a fuckin’ aphrodisiac.”
“Yeah, no shit.” Wade held in a laugh at the irony. “Who knew mutant alien lab experiments could be so… spicy?” He glanced at the jar on the bedside table. You naughty thing, you.
“It was supposed to wear off after a few hours,” Logan continued, breathing heavily. “But Hank says my healing factors messin’ with it. I tried cold showers. Tried jerking off. Fucking nothing’s working.”
Those pretty hazel eyes finally landed on Wade. They were dark, intense. Desperate. “Can’t sweat it out. Can’t heal through it.”
Logan’s breath hitched, his body tensing as he shifted under the sheet, his hand still working. Wade noticed the wince. Logan’s dick must have been getting too sore to keep touching it. It was starting to hurt.
He looked exhausted, bags under his eyes, and a sheen of sweat on his skin. Finally, Logan let out a pained groan. “I need someone, Wade. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.”
The admission hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, Wade felt a pull inside his chest. Logan was unbreakable, untouchable. Wade was watching him crack right in front of him.
And for a fleeting moment, Wade almost considered offering.
The sight of Logan, laid out on the bed, lips parted, chest hair drawing an arrow down, down, down to where it disappeared under the sheets… It all hit Wade hard. Logan was so incredibly tempting.
God, he could do it. He wanted to do it.
His crush on Logan was an open secret and a mile wide.
But… Logan didn’t want him. Not like that.
A huge grin spread across Wade’s face, practiced and easy. “No worries, man! I gotcha. I know plenty of people, super classy types. Only Fans top earners. I’ll make a few calls and, bam. Someone will be here in, like, five minutes tops. Total smokeshow. You’ll love her.”
Logan groaned, face contorting in frustration. “Wade, no– fuck, no it’s too late for that.” He shifted under the sheets, his body tense as if he was holding back a wave of something he couldn’t control. His next words were quieter, breaking through the last threads of his restraint. “I can’t wait anymore. I… I need it now”
There was something gut-wrenchingly real in Logan’s voice, something raw about the way he said it. It wasn’t just about the aphrodisiac, some physical itch that needed scratching. It felt like something deeper. A vulnerability Logan never let slip.
This wasn’t just some random hookup. Logan wasn’t just asking for just anyone.
He was asking for him. Wade.
Or at least that's how it felt.
Wade should have refused. He should have waved his hands and said, “Oh no thanks, buddy! I’m on a strict diet of ‘not getting my heart broken today!” But deep down he was ready to indulge. Shove that diet straight out the window.
This was everything he ever wanted: Logan needing him. Not in a fight or as a drinking buddy. But right now, like this. There was something buried deep inside Wade that he didn’t want to face that was starving for it. Aching for it.
But that’s what twisted the knife in Wade’s gut. Logan didn’t really want him. This wasn’t the real Logan asking; it was the aphrodisiac screwing with his mind.
It felt like he was taking advantage of Logan, even if he was the one begging for it.
But Wade couldn’t say no. Not to Logan. Not when he was like this.
Wade’s feet moved on their own, carrying him closer until he was standing next to him. His smile stayed plastered on, even though his chest felt tight.
“You sure about this, Peanut?” he asked teasingly, but there was an edge of hesitation that Wade couldn’t hide. “I could go grab my ‘How to Handle Horny Wolverines’ manual from my college classes. It’s a real page turner!”
“Wade,” Logan growled, his voice trembling with something dangerously close to pleading, a wild look in his eyes that could only be described as trapped-animal-meets-puppy-dog. His hand shot out, gripping Wade’s shirt hard enough that he could hear the fabric strain under the pressure. “I can’t–”
“Okay, okay,” Wade interrupted softly, taking Logan’s fist and gently prying his fingers loose from his shirt, like he was defusing a bomb– one that might explode into sexual frustration. He’d bend to whatever Logan needed. Logan’s hand trembled for a second before relaxing. Wade squeezed it as a quiet reassurance. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I got you.”
Logan seemed to settle, the tension in his body easing, just a little, at Wade’s touch. The words hitting some part of him that needed calming. Wade wished he could have some of that peace too, because his thoughts were swirling around the same phrases over and over:
You’re doing this because you have to, Wade told himself. Not because he really wants you.
He tried to push the thought aside, taking a careful seat next to him, keeping his distance, using his usual banter as a shield. “Dr. Wilson is in the house. Now, let’s see what the problem is.”
Logan stiffened when Wade reached for him, on instinct, even through the haze of the aphrodisiac. Wade gave him a soft smile. “Relax,” he murmured, his voice soft, like he was trying to pet a wild animal. “You’ve been up all night. Let me do this. Let me help.”
Logan inhaled shakily, his eyes closing for a moment as he leaned back against the headboard. He nodded, but his grip on the sheets stayed tight, like he was holding onto the last shred of control.
Wade swallowed hard, trying to keep his hands steady as he lifted the edge of the sheet, peeling it back slowly.
His heart pounded in his ears, the sound deafening, his brain repeating the same thought over and over: This is for him. Not for you. For him.
Any hesitation was thrown out the window when Logan ripped the sheets off of himself with a rough, frustrated movement.
Wade’s eyes snapped downwards. He let out a low, appreciative whistle as his gaze landed on Logan’s cock, stiff, flushed, and leaking. Logan’s hand was curled around the base, and he slowly let go, an unspoken invitation heavy in the air.
Wade swallowed again, trying to keep his usual swagger in check. “Well, shit,” he said, eyes still glued to the sight in front of him. “Have you considered moonlighting on OnlyFans? ‘Cause damn, Logan. You’re one click away from a viral sensation.”
Logan shot him a sharp look, then his chest bounced with a barely there laugh. For a moment, that crack in Logan’s hardened exterior made the whole thing feel less tense, more like their usual banter. A little more like them.
Boosted by the rare reaction from an especially stressed-out Logan, Wade decided it was time to test the waters.
He reached out, hesitating for a beat, feeling the gravity of the moment. His fingers hovered just above Logan’s chest, as if touching something dangerous, deadly. Then, with a deliberate breath, his fingertips brushed down against the center of Logan’s chest, right in the middle. Between those glorious pecs.
Logan’s body responded almost instantly, arching up into the tentative touch like he was craving more– needing it. Hypersensitive. Fuck. Wade could practically feel the heat radiating off him. Logan was burning up, fevered beneath his hand, skin flushed and warm. Wade half expected to hear a sizzle like a steak hitting a hot grill.
He flattened his palm against Logan’s chest, letting his hand spread wide across the muscle, feeling the steady thump of Logan’s pulse beneath his ribcage. His palm tingled from the contact.
Wade stroked his thumb in slow circles, tracing the ridges of muscle, down along the curve of Logan’s chest then back up again. This wasn’t for him. Wade repeated to himself, once again, even if he was taking full advantage and feeling up those luscious tits.
He could feel Logan’s breaths come a little quicker when he circled a nipple, his body betraying how much he was barely holding it together. He wasn’t even really teasing, just feeling Logan’s body react to him. Time to get the show on the road.
Wade’s hand slid lower, skimming just above Logan’s navel, following that trail of fuzz down to where it led.
“Feel good?” Wade asked, his eyes flicking up to Logan’s face, trying to gauge just how far he could go.
Logan’s head tipped back as a groan slipped through his gritted teeth, low and restrained.
He took that as a ‘yes’.
Wade lingered on his stomach, right at the edge of where Logan was so desperate to have him. The moment stretched, hanging between them like a taut rubber band ready to snap. It was just another place on his body to touch. He could do this.
Then, with a deliberate carefulness, Wade let his hand drift lower to stroke along Logan’s cock. Logan flinched. It felt good– Wade could tell by the hitch in his breath– but it was still too much.
Wade paused, his hand still resting on Logan’s cock, then backing off, reducing the pressure until he was just barely touching him. “Alright, we’ll take it easy. I’ve got the hands of a surgeon… or at least a guy who cuts people open with blades. That's roughly the same thing, right?”
With a featherlight touch, Wade swirled a slow circle over the head of Logan’s cock, spreading the copious precome that was leaking out, enough to glide smoothly. He could feel Logan’s body jerk in response like a live wire, his hips bucking away from Wade’s touch, even though part of him clearly craved it.
“It’s fuckin’ sensitive… I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it like this.” Logan thrashed against the headboard, slamming his head back against it in frustration. His claws flickered, poking through the skin of his knuckles, and Wade noticed the trembling in his hands. Logan’s jaw tightened, but it wasn’t enough to hide the wetness gathering in his eyes. “I can’t. I can’t.”
Wade snatched his hand away like he’d been burned. “Shit, I’m sorry–”
Logan shook his head, voice rough. “Don’t be. Oversensitive.”
“Would my mouth feel better?” Wade threw out, giving options.
Logan clenched his teeth and reached for himself again, but the moment his fingers brushed his cock, he hissed, jerking away in pain.
Wade winced. This was bad. But luckily there was an obvious solution. Something that could ease the tension without torturing Logan’s already abused dick.
He cleared his throat. “I, uh… there is another way. You know, to get you coming like a fountain. Without touching your dick.”
Logan’s brow furrowed, curiosity breaking through the frustration. “What are you talking about?”
“The prostate, Logan.” Wade explained. “You know, the magical button that makes everything go boom!” He spread his fingers in the air in an explosion.
Logan’s eyebrows jumped up, his lips parting as he inhaled sharply. He blinked, then lifted his chin and stared at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Wade watched it rise and fall under the skin of his throat.
When Logan finally spoke, it was soft, hesitant, his gaze still fixed upward. “I’ve never… I've never done that before.”
Wade’s jaw dropped. “You’ve gotta be shitting me. In, like, all your two hundred years? No ass play? Not even a little finger poke?” He held up his pinky for emphasis, wiggling it.
Logan gave a curt shake of his head, lips pressed together like this wasn’t the time for jokes– though the faint smirk on his lips said otherwise.
Wade heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Man, you’ve been deprived.”
Logan huffed out a rough exhale, letting a hint of amusement break through the tension.
“Look,” Wade held up his hands like he was a referee in the most ridiculous game ever. “It’s not even gay unless the balls are touching.”
Logan turned his head, raising an eyebrow, “Wade, I’ve done gay shit. Just not that.”
Wade blinked, his grin faltering for a second as the confession hit him. He was hit with all of the five W questions at once, but the biggest one on his brain fixated on with big neon sign letters was that pesky H. How??
“You’re telling me you’ve gotten down with guys and none of them wanted to test drive the Logan Express? No one thought, ‘Hey, I wonder if this badass can take a little more than a punch’? No one wanted a ride?” Wade smirked, leaning in a bit closer, voice husky. “Hell of a missed opportunity.”
Logan gave him that same stoic expression Wade got every time he said something flirty and outlandish. He shrugged a shoulder. “It just didn’t happen.”
“I would never waste delicious food like that.” Wade shook his head, recovering quickly as his eyes lit up with mischief. “After all of this is over, we’re so having a sleepover. I’m gonna need all the details about your boyfriends. And you better not leave a single thing out. I want names, dates, possibly a PowerPoint presentation.”
So Logan had been with guys. Fantastic. Wade wasn’t just hitting on him and getting rejected because of his sexuality. Wade having a dick wasn’t the issue. It was because it was him.
“So!” Wade clapped his hands together and stood. “Where do you keep the lube around here?”
“Drawer,” Logan answered, eyes lingering on Wade as he produced the tube. His expression turned into something more serious. “You’d do this for me?”
The sincerity in Logan’s voice threw him for a loop. Did Logan think he was just doing this as a favor? Suddenly, he was aware of how much this moment meant to him. Not just because he’d get to be Logan’s first in something (probably not a lot of firsts left at his age), but because it felt intimate in a way that made his chest feel tight and light all at the same time.
“You’d think it’d be a chore?” Wade chuckled, loud and long, with affection in his voice that he couldn’t mask. He gave Logan a sidelong glance, his tone of voice softer, more genuine than he intended. “Peanut, I’d love to.”
Logan’s eyes flickered with something deep, something Wade couldn’t quite place, and for a second he wished he could swallow his words. Shit.
“How do you wanna do this? On your back? On your front? My fingers work magic either way.” Wade wiggled his fingers in the air, trying to keep things light despite the knot in his chest. “Should I turn on some Madonna?”
“I’ll turn over,” Logan answered, almost too quickly, but Wade didn’t miss the undercurrent– the desire, laid bare, thick in his throat.
Wade felt a pang of disappointment. Of course. Logan wouldn’t want to face him, wouldn’t want to be seen while he was like that. Vulnerable in a way he’d never experienced to his best friend. It made sense. Wade tried to brush off the sting. This wasn’t about him.
But goddamn, he wanted to see Logan’s face. Wanted to watch him come undone, his mouth parted, face flushed– to see the exact moment when Logan lost control, because of him.
Not about you, Wade. Not about you.
Logan turned over and settled on his knees, head hanging low between his shoulders. Wade’s eyes traveled over his muscles, his back almost as much of a treat to look at as his front. Smooth skin, unmarred by scars thanks to that healing ability. His gaze dropped down further, seeing how painfully hard Logan was, his cock heavy between his legs.
Wade climbed fully onto the bed, dropping the lube on the sheets and settling in behind him. “You know, I did offer oral earlier,” he said, palms smoothing over Logan’s hips. “That offer still stands. Just saying.”
A shiver ran through Logan at his touch, one that Wade could feel when goosebumps rose on his skin. There was tension knotting beneath his fingertips.
“Fuck, Wade,” Logan rasped, his voice a rough croak, his head dipping lower. Wade’s hand stroked down his back, trailing fingers over hard muscle. “Fuckin’ yeah.”
Wade’s brain short-circuited for a second. Your brain ran into a problem and needs to restart. We’re collecting some error info, and then we’ll restart for you. 0% complete. Rebooting in recovery mode.
“You serious? I mean– shit, Logan. Don’t say stuff like that unless you’re ready to see me lose my damn mind,” Wade blurted out, his mouth running faster than his brain, barely keeping a lid on just how badly he wanted this. “I’m talkin’ full meltdown, slobbering like a dog.”
Logan didn’t respond– just spread his knees wider, back arching slightly in silent invitation.
Wade spread Logan open. He was hairy, but that didn’t bother Wade a bit. If anything, it was so Logan. Undeniably real, so much so it made his throat tighten. His pulse thrummed in his ears as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to one of Logan’s asscheeks, then another, and another, trailing open-mouthed kisses inward.
When Wade’s tongue finally darted out, tasting him for the first time, Logan groaned, a rough broken sound that Wade wanted to capture, record, and play on loop every time he entered a chat on Discord. Maybe by the end of this he’d have a whole soundboard.
Wade’s licked slow and deliberate. He heard a sharp inhale from above him, and then a shaky exhale. Wade’s tongue worked lapping, swirling, dragging across the tight ring of muscle before pressing inside, slow.
Logan made a noise– a thin, helpless sound that Wade had never heard from him before. Hell, he didn’t even know Logan was capable of making a sound like that. It went straight to Wade’s dick, throbbing in response as he buried his face deeper, tongue-fucking Logan with a languid rhythm.
“Damn, Wade,” Logan managed between heavy breaths, “Your mouth is a lot better when it’s not yappin’.”
Wade wondered if Logan could feel him smile.
The heat coming off Logan was intense, and when Wade finally pulled back to catch his breath, his eyes drifted low, taking in the sight of his cock leaking heavily onto the sheets. Wade bit his lip, wanting nothing more than to roll around in those sheets, soak himself in it like a dog rolling in roadkill.
Logan’s hand twitched toward his own cock, and Wade shot forward, grabbing his wrist in a tight grip. “Don’t even think about it,” Wade warned, voice laced with steel. “Unless you want me to tie you up, keep those hands to yourself.”
Logan’s body reacted immediately– his hips jerked, and Wade swore he heard a whine. That reaction sent a jolt down Wade’s spine, swirling heat low in his belly. Did Logan fucking want that?
Better not dwell on it. He had a job to do here.
Wade reached for the lube, popping open the cap with a flick of his thumb and squeezing some out to coat his fingers. “Alright, Honey Badger, I’m gonna put one in. So, just relax…”
He placed his fingertip right on the edge, watching as Logan’s muscles slowly untensed under his touch. Wade took a deep breath as he slid his finger inside, the heat and tightness making him swallow hard. His brain immediately skipped to how Logan would feel around his cock, the thought of it so intense it made his finger twitch. But what Wade really wanted– what he craved– was to see Logan's face. To check in, to make sure he was alright.
And maybe, selfishly, to see the look in Logan’s eyes as he fingered him open and realized how good it felt. And how it was Wade who made him feel like this.
With slow, deliberate movements, Wade worked his finger in deeper, gently opening Logan up. He leaned to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of Logan’s face. “You alright up there?” He asked, his voice quieter now, more intimate. “Feeling good?”
Logan’s response was a strained, “Uh huh…” Wade watched his hands twist into the sheets, knuckles white as he curled his finger just right. He could see the side of Logan’s face, his jaw hung open, eyes shut tight. There was something magical about how just a single finger could get Logan like this, all breathy and lost for words.
A primal rush surged through him as he slipped in a second finger, easing him open further, then, after a few moments, a third. The weight of it all settled over him– he was Logan’s first in this way, and hell if that didn’t stir something deep inside him. He felt a surge of possessiveness that came up from the depths and squeezed his throat in a chokehold.
Make this good. Wade thought, selfish with the need to make Logan’s first time unforgettable. Make him want it again. He pushed the thought further. Make him crave it, make him come to you for it.
Wade’s fingers moved with more intent now, curling, rubbing– Logan groaned, loud and deep– ah there it was. Wade focused on that spot, gliding his fingers over it again and again in an easy motion, pulling sounds from Logan’s throat. Every groan, every shift of Logan’s body felt like a win, feeding into the quiet fire starting to burn in Wade. He wanted Logan to not just crave this, but to crave him.
He’d do anything to have Logan hooked.
Logan’s hips began to move back against his hand mindlessly grinding onto him, his head sinking deeper into the pillow as his ass stayed high in the air. He was fucking back against Wade’s fingers now, desperate for it. Each push back was unrestrained, shameless, his body chasing that pleasure high on Wade’s hand.
“That's it, babygirl,” Wade encouraged, watching Logan’s hips flex and release. He was close. Wade could feel it. The tremble in his thighs, the way his body was drawing tight- he was unraveling under Wade’s expert touch with just a couple of fingers.
From the near constant noises Logan was making, he was right there, teetering on the brink.
“Come on,” Wade growled, voice rough. “I know you’re close. Don’t hold back on me now. Let go, baby. Show me how much you need it.”
“Wade–” Logan ground out, then broke into a full, raw cry as he came, shaking. His whole body jerked as if he couldn’t control it, like a live current.
Wade worked him through it, fingers never stopping, cooing praise. “That's it, come for Daddy. Make a mess of those sheets, just like that.”
After Logan finally finished, he collapsed forward onto the bed in a heap, panting and spent.
Wade grinned wide, preening as he pulled his fingers free, feeling a swell of pride. “Hell yeah,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “That's how you do it. You’re welcome.”
Logan slowly rolled onto his back, breathing heavily. His skin was flushed with post-orgasm heat, and Wade was about to get up, tuck him in, and make Logan the best stack of chocolate chip pancakes he’d ever had– but then he glanced down. Logan was still hard.
Wade blinked. “Wait…did you come?”
Logan nodded, still catching his breath. “Yeah… Harder than I’ve ever fuckin’ come in my life.” He exhaled, but his eyes– those hungry eyes– drifted downward, locking onto the wet spot on the front of Wade’s pajama pants. Logan blinked slowly. “But it’s not done yet”
Wade’s stomach flipped when Logan’s gaze traveled back up to meet his own, steady and intent. “Fuck me.”
The words hit Wade like a freight train. “Wait, what?”
“Fuck me,” Logan repeated, his voice deeper, more sure this time.
It was music to Wade’s fucking ears. He felt like every single prayer he’d ever muttered under his breath had just been answered all at once. The clouds parted, the sun was shining down, the angelic choir was here, and by god let them sing–
But then, evil, awful reality snuck in and turned out the lights with a flick of a clawed finger.
Was this real?
“You don’t want this,” Wade said, the words barely making it out of his dry throat. “You don’t want me.”
Logan’s expression didn’t falter. His jaw tightened, and his voice was rough, determined. “Wade, I said ‘fuck me’.”
The pounding in his chest was loud. This was starting to become something he hadn’t anticipated. Wade was stumbling over the steps of the dance. The line between aphrodisiac and Logan’s actual desires was blurring, tangled up in with the teasing and tension between them.
What the hell was happening?
“Alright,” Wade said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m gonna need you on your back for this though, Peanut.”
Logan shifted, sitting up on his elbows, legs splayed open. Wade was doing his best to act casual, like his nerves weren’t lighting up like fireworks, even though he’d just had his face buried in Logan’s ass less than fifteen minutes ago. How the hell did we get here?
Now it was Wade’s turn to feel vulnerable. Ah, how the turntables.
Wade knew he wasn’t exactly a pretty sight. His scars, the patchwork of his body, the damage done. Most of the time he could joke it off, but this was different. The air felt thick, like it was pressing in on him.
He moved quickly, like ripping off a band-aid, peeling off his shirt and avoiding eye-contact. Wade hesitated for a beat, then hooked his thumbs into the elastic of his waistband, pushing his pants down before could overthink it and chicken-out.
Logan didn’t say a word, but Wade could feel the weight of his gaze. It was heavy. Hot, and unflinching. It was… unexpected. He wasn’t just looking, he was studying every inch of him. There was hunger there, unmistakable heat. The scars, the damage, none of it seemed to matter.
Wade shifted and reached for the lube, needing something to do with his hands. He slicked himself up with a slow, controlled breath out. Good God, he’d been so hard for so long, neglecting himself during one of the hottest encounters of his life. Wade gave himself a few bonus strokes for being so patient.
Logan was still watching him, eyes dropping down to where Wade’s hand was moving. His hand twitched toward his own dick, like he wanted to try and take care of himself again, but thought better of it and pulled back, his fingers trembling.
“Hope I stretched you enough, ‘cause I’m not exactly built for beginners,” Wade muttered, a hint of teasing in his voice.
Logan didn’t answer. Instead, he crooked his fingers, beckoning Wade closer. No hesitation, all invitation.
Wade climbed back onto the bed, knees digging into the mattress as he positioned himself between Logan’s legs.
Logan shifted beneath him, laying back and giving Wade space to settle over him, leaving Wade suddenly feeling far more exposed than he’d expected.
As always, he masked it with humor. “And they were roommates,” he quipped with a crooked grin, grabbing the base of his cock to guide himself in.
The moment he began to push in, Logan’s body responded, his breath hitching, his hips lifting, inviting more. Logan was tight, a velvet pressure that wrapped around Wade like a vice.
“Christ…” Wade whispered, barely holding it together as he sank in further. Logan was burning up inside, and the friction, the heat– It was almost too much, like Logan was pulling him deeper without even trying. The intensity of it all had Wade gripping Logan’s thigh, needing to ground himself.
Once he was fully seated, Wade glanced down, checking in. “You doin’ okay, Peanut?”
Logan tensed beneath him, his hand flying up to grip Wade’s forearm. His eyes were wide, watery and filled with astonishment as he glanced down between them. With a sharp gasp and another gorgeous, broken moan, Logan came again, his cock twitching uncontrollably, spilling a fresh puddle of come onto his abs.
But the thing was still rock fucking hard.
“Holy shit,” Wade gave a breathy laugh, half in awe, half in disbelief. “Yeah, I take it you’re doin’ okay.”
Logan’s voice came out low, like gravel scraping at the edge of his throat. His grip on Wade’s arm was tight, his whole body trembling. “More. More, Wade.”
That word– more–sent a wild rush through him. It was a heady mix of power and desire, the kind that made his blood sing. A surge of control that spilled over to two places, his head and his cock. “Another one, huh?” Wade groused, oozing with confidence. “You wanna go again? I can do that for you, Peanut. I can make you come as many times as you want.”
It was cruel after the night Logan had, but that little voice in the back of Wade’s head that kept reminding Wade that this “wasn’t for him” was currently out of office. Gone. Taking a luxurious vacation somewhere tropical.
He shifted his hips, starting slow, grinding dirty, making Logan feel every inch. Logan’s back arched, a broken, punched-out groan slipping past his lips. Wade just kept moving slow, just enough to drive Logan wild without giving him exactly what he wanted. The way Logan’s muscles tensed and his breath hitched only made Wade want to drag it out more, wind him up, push him to the edge but keep him right there.
“You’re fuckin’ messing around,” Logan growled, though there was no real threat behind it– just frustration, his voice trembling from the way Wade rolled against him. “Fuck me.”
Wade grinned, cocky. “Oh, you sure about that?” he taunted, catching Logan’s half-hearted glare. He shifted, hitching Logan’s knees over his shoulders and, lining himself properly, teasing gone as he started moving in earnest, thrusting into Logan with a slow, deliberate force that had the bed squeaking.
“God, you take it so good,” Wade groaned, eyes glued to the way Logan’s body moved under him– every ripple of muscle, every flex pushing back in perfect rhythm. “Look at you,” he breathed, leaning in, lips against Logan’s ear. “Gonna make those abs work for it, baby. Gonna fuck you so hard your healing factor can’t keep up, and you feel me everywhere tomorrow.”
A desperate, needy noise came from Logan’s throat and Wade nosed at it, pressing an open mouthed kiss to the skin there, wanting to feel the noise on his lips, wanting to taste as Logan started to lose it again.
Logan groaned, his voice nothing more than a wrecked croak. “Wade–”
Wade felt him start to tense again in that now familiar way. “Yeah, that's good. Come again. You get so tight when you come.” Wade’s voice was practically dripping with satisfaction as Logan clenched around him, dragging him in deeper.
Again, Logan’s cock gave a pathetic twitch, spitting out a small glob of come. He was trembling now, overstimulation wracking his body. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes, spilling over as he gasped for breath. His whole body was shaking, hips moving uncontrollably, caught between pleasure and unbearable sensitivity.
“Fuck, Logan,” Wade whispered, slowing down just enough to let him breathe for a second. But Logan wasn’t having it– his hands shot out, gripping Wade’s hips, pulling him forward, desperate for more, begging without words.
“Alright, alright, Peanut.” Wade’s voice grew soft, a gentleness creeping in. “I’ve got you. You don’t need that.” Logan’s hand had been reaching for his cock again, but Wade grabbed it, pinning it down. “You need this,” Wade promised, and with a few hard snaps of his hips, he gave Logan exactly what he was desperate for.
He didn’t stop there. Wade knew he was half out of his mind when he pulled back to meet Logan’s eyes, needing him to understand who was making him come undone. Gotta make him want it. Gotta see him come from getting fucked by, him. Wade.
Wade’s voice dipped low, rough and dirty. “You like that? You like how I fuck you? You need me, don’t you? You need me.”
Logan’s eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide, body trembling as he gave a weak nod. The instant surrender– the admission– was all he had left before his body gave out. Logan’s body convulsed, muscles locking up, eyes rolling back in his head, the overstimulation wrung another broken, guttural sound from his throat.
Wade noticed the glint of metal on Logan’s knuckles as his claws slipped in and out. He’s struggling to keep them in. The realization sent a rush to his head. Logan was losing all control.
Once again, Logan came, cock spilling more come that was barely there. Logan had nothing left to give– but his body didn’t know how to stop.
Wade’s breath caught in his throat as he watched Logan’s brain liquefy. It was like a headshot straight through Wade’s skull. Logan needs me. There was something deeper about how Logan gazed up at him as he broke. Something unspoken. Surrender. Complete trust.
Logan’s body was spent, his cock softening, sated.
I did that. The thought pushed Wade to the edge faster than he thought possible. He buried himself deep, every thrust ruthless and frantic as his control slipped. “You need me,” Wade growled, leaning in, folding Logan in half as he pounded into him. The words came out again, ragged and raw, Wade’s mantra on repeat. “You fucking need me, don’t you?”
Logan, still shuddering from the aftershocks of his orgasm, looked up at him, eyes holding clarity they hadn’t before. A veil had been lifted. For the first time that morning, Wade felt like Logan was really seeing him. Something real was shifting between them.
“Yeah.” It was a breathless response, but there was no hesitation. Wade felt his vision blurring as it hit his ears, his head, all the way down to the tips of his toes. “Yes.”
This wasn’t just about fucking– it was about something more, being wanted.
That did it.
Wade’s hips stuttered as he buried himself deep, groaning low in his throat as his body gave in. The pressure building up had snapped, pleasure crashing through him in sharp, breath-stealing waves. He came hard, his whole body trembling as he gripped Logan tighter, the heat of him, the closeness, the way Logan gazed up at him, satisfied, sending Wade spiraling. He felt like he’d been stripped down to nothing, completely laid bare and lost in it.
Panting, Wade slumped forward, his forehead resting against Logan’s shoulder, his entire body feeling like jello. “Holy shit,” he whispered in disbelief, still riding the high as the reality set in. He still couldn't quite process it, even after everything. “You meant that?”
Logan’s hand, weak but steady, slid up to brush against the back of Wade’s neck. “Yeah,” Logan muttered, voice rough but full of something undeniable, something real. “I do.”
Wade blinked, stunned, and gingerly pulled out, leaning back just enough to see Logan’s face. Logan looked absolutely wrecked– sweat-slicked, his chest heaving, his eyes heavy– but there was a softness there, a quiet, peaceful happiness. The sight twisted something in Wade’s heart so hard it hurt.
For a moment, Wade just stared at him, a knot tightening in his throat. Then with a flicker of his usual bravado, he cleared his throat. “You most certainly do need me… to make you the best goddamn chocolate chip pancakes you’ve ever had.”
Logan frowned, his brow furrowing with that familiar grumpy look. “Wade, you fuck around too much. If you want it real… be real.”
“Okay,” Wade blurted, eyes wide. “Okay. Real. Yeah. I’m good at real. Maybe we should, uh–” he faltered, staring down at Logan, his impulse control playing fast and loose with his lips. “Can I kiss you?”
“Are you fucking serious?” The corner of Logan’s mouth quirked up in a half-smirk. “You already tongue fucked me. Of course you can fucking kiss me.”
Wade wasted no time. He dipped down, capturing Logan’s lips in a slow, tender kiss that was somehow softer than all the wild intensity they’d shared up to this point. This was different. Real.
When they finally parted, Logan gave a satisfied little hum, though he didn’t lose his dry tone. “I’ll take those pancakes though. I haven’t eaten yet, and I don’t really wanna move.” He stretched out, lazy, like an overgrown cat. “I’ve never come back to back like that before.”
“Back to back, to back, to back,” Wade corrected, counting each time on his fingers. “Well, I’m glad I could help you achieve a new PB.” He paused, glanced at the jar on the bedside table. They were supposed to turn it over to Hank and finish the mission, but…
“Pancakes.” Wade nodded to himself. He got up and stealthily snatched the jar, trotting straight to the kitchen.
After a bit, he returned with two plates of freshly stacked, buttered, syruped, chocolate chip pancakes.
“Yours,” Wade handed Logan a plate, who’d sat up in preparation for this grand romantic gesture of breakfast in bed. Wade took a seat next to him on the bed, looking down at his own plate. “Mine.”
Logan dug in with a murmured thanks, as Wade cut a piece and stuffed it into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully.
“These are good,” Logan complimented. Wade cocked his head.
“Are they?” Wade asked, causing Logan’s head to shoot up in confusion. Wade continued. “Have you ever had a pancake that tastes like pine needles before?” Wade swallowed, holding Logan’s gaze. “Fresh air?” He took another bite, then held up a finger as he chewed again. “Tobacco. Specifically Cuban.”
Logan’s jaw dropped. He glanced at where the jar had been on the bedside table, now a suspiciously empty spot, and then down at his own plate. Anger flashed in his eyes. Wade shook his head.
“Nope. Just mine. Made myself a special batch.” Wade leaned in, eyes glinting. “I guess you could say it’s a ‘limited edition’ kind of flavor, just for me to have.”
Logan’s glare deepened, but his lips twitched, the corner of his mouth betraying him with a barely-there smile.
Wade speared another bit of pancake, and offered the fork to Logan, opening his own mouth like a baby bird, waiting to be fed.
Logan hesitated for a beat, a flicker of amusement crossing his face before he placed the food on Wade’s waiting lips, watching as Wade took it off the fork around smug grin, eyes never leaving Logan’s.
“You should enjoy it while it lasts,” Logan muttered, voice low and tinged with something almost like a warning.
Wade paused for a second, swallowing the bite. He lazily dragged his finger through a line of syrup, licking it off slow, eyes locked on Logan’s. “This is just the warm-up.”