Chapter Text
He should be ashamed.
It’s like taking candy from a goddamn baby, wrapped up in one of those fucky little sleeping bags. Not even his best acting, and that’s saying a lot. Green Lantern-level, if he’s being honest.
Logan is just too easy. All it took was a pensive look, as he had come in the door. A little shrug, an “I dunno babe, he’s cute and all-“
Paired with an appraising look, as his roommate’s lip curled, “I just-, sorry. There’s no way you’re using your mouth like I can.”
It works. Of course it fucking does, he’s a goddamn genius. Has cheat codes downloaded from GameFAQS that tells him just the right buttons to rile Logan up.
Logan bristles, this full-body thing that Wade can see. A sharp glint in his eyes, a rough growl in his throat.
Wrapped right around his finger.
Like he said, as he gives a sideways glance - too fucking easy.
Logan is a beast.
Should he taking notes? He should be doing something other than staring - breath caught in his chest as Wade watches him devour you.
His tongue is as long as the rumors, and the whimpers Logan pulls so sweetly from you proves he clearly knows how to use it. Fingers that match, plunging deep and curling. Macaroni in a fucking pot, and it’s not even noon.
One of your legs hooks over his shoulder, across the yellow suit, and Wade wants to thank his lords and saviors Liefeld and Nicieza, Dolly Parton - whoever the fuck is listening - that Logan had decided to leave it on, the little freak that he is.
The scene has him as hard as Cap’s shield, and he hasn’t even touched himself yet. Afraid he’ll burst, and if they’re playing some form of sex chicken right now - he’s sure as hell not coming first.
No, that honor goes to you. Logan’s name chanted out, begging - hips rocking into his beautiful, chiseled face as you gush around his fingers like a goddamn goddess.
A filthy glare shot in his direction from between your thighs - and Wade’s never come untouched, but this old dog is certainly willing to learn new tricks.
It’s a clear challenge - Logan’s lips slick with your release and the thought of tasting his girl on those lips have his nails sinking into his ballsack of a bean bag chair.
“Is that good enough for you, mouth?” It’s snarled out, as if Logan isn’t hard as fuck beneath all that leather.
“Oh,” Wade sighs, in a sing-songy voice, “Must have dozed off, peanut.”
Puts his whole wadussy into it, this time. Deserves an Oscar, really, with the way he stifles a yawn. Stretches.
Unable the help the grin. “Guess you outta show me what that jacked hughman can do.”