Work Text:
~~~
Wade
~~~
Falling... Searching…?
A plane between worlds, between life and death, free of time or location or circumstance. A feeling only he knows.
Except that’s not entirely true this time. Someone else is there with him…and they know this feeling, this place that is not a place, too. Just as well as he does, if not better. Normally there is nothing, but this time…this time is so much different. This time there is also a drumbeat. A steady rhythm for Wade to follow home.
Drifting, crashing, connecting.
They find each other in the darkness, without voice or vision to guide them. Atoms searching, cells screaming out for stability they can only find in each other. Logan’s hands are on Wade’s, trembling. Unsure if either of them are even real anymore, Wade struggles to grip him back.
Amidst the sparks and the wreckage and water chilling his broken bones, seeping into the scorched wounds hidden under his suit, Wade winds his way through the maze of nothingness, back to the warm glow of life with Logan’s hands in his, guiding him.
Heartbeats synching.
He awakens fully to shielded white eyes as vacant as his own staring back at him, half lidded and clinging to consciousness, but Wade can feel that heartfelt hazel gaze boring through him, obvious to him as a poorly concealed gun.
“Logan?”
Wade realizes Logan’s holding his upper body up and away from the hard rubble, out of the cold water, cradling him against his own chest, also fried with fading streaks of pure black like he’s been struck by lightning from the inside.
A pain, sharp and grating like metal on pavement scrapes through his abdomen—the upsettingly familiar sensation of a chunk of rebar being torn free. It’s nothing compared to what they just went through, but he’s just been born again, nerve endings firing fresh and fast, so he winces and moans in pain.
“I got you,” Logan breathes heavily. Wade feels the words more than he hears them as Logan tosses the rebar aside and it lands with a splash several feet away.
Logan’s body is a welcome beacon of heat, and Wade curls up into it, drawn like a moth to flame. Closer to Logan he feels like he’s healing faster than ever before, soaking up the other man’s presence and converting it into pure energy.
In the back of his swollen brain, he wonders if plants ever fall in love with the sun.
Wade’s heartbeat feels like it grows stronger, his blood hotter, more alive with every pump. His senses finally return to him in a manner he recognizes; scent, sound, touch. He reaches up to touch Logan’s mouth with smoking gloves. His eyes flutter and he leans into Wade’s touch unabashed. His grip tightens possessively on Wade’s shoulder and hip. Wade feels the showers of sparks dancing around them in his very veins, rooted to Wolverine’s bare fingertips.
He’s alone with the man who just broke down a sizable metal door and threw himself into the path of certain death to save his universe. To save him.
Wade’s never wanted saving before. God knows he’s needed it, but he’s never been willing to let someone try. Wolverine didn’t offer him the choice. He said ‘ fuck you, we’re doing things my way.’ And they did.
And it worked.
It worked, and they’re alive, and everything Wade felt while they were burning up together is real and true. He knows it, and he’s not afraid of it.
“I wanna kiss you,” Wade admits, too dazed to give a shit about how painfully unfunny and earnest that line is.
Logan laughs; a gentle, relieved sound that lights up the newly solidified space between them, and then there is no space.
“Then do it.” he mumbles, and his thumb is hooking under Wade’s mask, pulling it clean off so he can find Wade’s lips for a desperate kiss.
It is electric, as they tend to say in lovesongs and romcoms, but the current between them is practically tangible. One of them is the spark, the other tinder, but Wade couldn’t tell you who’s who, because they’re burning up together again at the slightest touch.
Wade’s arms wind around Logan’s exposed, furry shoulders. Logan cups the back of Wade’s mangled skull sweetly as their tongues slide against one another; he really does taste like electricity, scorched earth and stardust on Wade’s tongue.
Hands and mouths move too fast, or maybe not fast enough, greedy and overwhelmed and delighted with each other’s fractured pieces as they reassemble one another. There’s no way one could manage it without the other. They’re both built for this, to be broken over and over and over again, but either on their own wouldn’t have stood a chance against the Time Ripper. There are no words to describe the feeling of being torn apart on an atomic level, but they’ll never have to search for them anyway, because they both know . No one else will ever understand, but they’ll have each other.
When Wade drags his gloved hand down Logan’s chest, he groans like it hurts. But it would hurt far worse to pull away. Even through his thick suit, Wade feels the gravitational pull of Logan’s flesh, calling to him, so he clumsily sheds the gloves to anchor himself to his new anchor being.
Skin to skin, no barriers, exactly as they should be.
There was a moment when their hands were clasped, their screams were vaporized before the sounds could even leave their lungs and their bodies started to disintegrate from the core. In this moment, there was no barrier between them. Logan felt the rapid, feverish burn of Wade’s accelerated healing factor trying desperately to keep up with the Time Ripper as well as his illness. Wade felt the horrible buzz and hum of adamantium bones, superconducted with Vesuvial heat. Deep, churning grief mingled with fizzling and crackling melancholy, both bloodstained and bruised, but hearts still beating, beating, beating. A rhythm to guide him home. Wade isn’t sure the moment he died, or if he ever crossed the threshold at all. He feels like he went somewhere else this time, some sparkling nebula birthed just for Logan and himself. It’s the closest to Heaven he’s ever been, or probably ever will be.
Wade’s no stranger to desire, but the gnawing need to touch and be touched by this man is like nothing he’s encountered before. He rakes his bare fingers through Logan’s luscious body hair starting at his chest, dipping below the ruined remains of Logan’s suit up to the knuckles, just enough to graze the base of Logan’s straining cock.
There is nothing in this world Wade wouldn’t give up just to touch him right now. Hell, he was willing to die for him moments ago. Honestly, he still is. Just so long as he gets to do this one last very important thing on earth…
~~~
Logan
~~~
Wade’s fingers are cool and ridged, rough and smooth patches of scarring in high contrast with each other. It’s just a brush of two, maybe three fingers, but it’s enough to set Logan’s entire body alight. It’s been years since anyone’s touched Logan, since he’s let himself even think about laying his hands on someone else… but he feels Wade’s desperation, a mirror of his own, a completed circuit when their bodies are connected.
“I wanna fuck you,” Logan pants, bucking into the merc’s touch.
The borderline manic titter that escapes Wade ricochets off the metal walls of Logan’s skull pleasantly.
“Then do it,” he whispers excitedly, shoving his hand deeper to tease what he can of Logan’s cock in the confines of his suit.
Logan growls deep in his throat, yanks Wade’s hand out of his pants and manhandles him to his hands and knees, not that the other man puts up any resistance. He lets Logan yank him up by the hips and undoes his own belt and the lower half of his suit without prompting.
The merc makes for a gorgeous sight like this, face down inches away from the water they’re kneeling in and ass up for Logan. He’d love to just spread those supple, scarred cheeks and bury himself between them immediately, but he’s not so horny as to want to hurt Wade anymore than he has to, even if the little fucker is probably into that shit. Logan does spread Wade’s cheeks, squeezing the muscle and appreciating the way Wade’s pretty little asshole puckers excitedly when Logan’s rough with him before spitting on the opening, then narrowing his tongue to a point to drive it deep inside.
Wade’s groan is delicate, a soft thing that Logan barely hears over the crackling and buzzing of sparks hitting the water around them. His hand slips off the little chunk of concrete he’s resting his face on and into the water, splashing Logan’s thighs and hand as he’s undoing his suit and pulling his dick out, before it goes fucking numb. His suit was not designed with the size of his cock in mind. That’s not bragging, either. An uncomfortable, very inconvenient fact is what it is.
Opening Wade up is no easy feat. He’s a tight squeeze, even for Logan’s tongue, and all though the sounds he makes are excited and encouraging, he can’t seem to stay relaxed. Logan laps at the muscle and reaches between Wade’s legs to pull his cock and balls back, sandwiching them between Wade’s gorgeous thighs where he can lap at them as well. He drags his tongue from the tip of Wade’s cock up to his asshole and fucks him with it, repeats the process until Wade’s dripping with saliva and precome, flushed a pretty pink all over.
“Please,” Wade begs quietly as Logan drags his tongue up the underside of Wade’s cock, taking the time to nuzzle and suck at his taint before driving his tongue into him once more. “C’mon, please… ”
Any self restraint Logan had is eclipsed, lost in the shadow of carnal desire, and he’s on his knees behind Wade, trying to push inside, but he’s—
“So fucking tight,” Logan exhales with a shudder.
Wade whines and wriggles, gasping when the blunt head of Logan’s cock finally slips inside. His body resists at first, but the deeper Logan sinks, the more Wade starts to relax and contract around him. Logan’s aware he’s a little bigger than most, so he’s reluctant to give Wade everything at once, but Wade’s giving him no choice in the matter by rocking back against him.
Logan doubles over, groans as Wade tries to fuck himself. “Y’want it all?” he huffs against Wade’s shoulders. He’s just a little too short to reach the other man’s ear to whisper into it at this angle, but he’s never let his size discourage him. He makes up for it in other ways, surely.
“I want it all,” Wade gasps, looking over his shoulders, brown eyes sparkling. “I want it all… and I want it now,” he winks.
Wade’s a fucking idiot. Possibly the single most annoying person Logan’s ever met, and that’s saying something.
But Logan can’t look at him the same, because he knows who Wade Wilson really is now…now, he understands that Wade’s a special kind of hero. Maybe more like a guardian angel, if angels wore kevlar and carried firearms. He sees him, really sees him now.
You’d have to pry that admission from him along with the adamantium off his cold, lifeless bones, though.
Logan realized earlier he would give Wade anything , so he gives him everything he’s got and bottoms out inside the younger man, forcing a satisfied groan from them both.
Wade’s skin is so cool to the touch, but inside he’s a ravenous blaze. Hungry, demanding, his stretched asshole flickering like a flame as Logan starts to pull out, and finally relaxing significantly when Logan pushes back in. Reluctant to release, eager to accept. Logan’s senses start to dull as he fucks into Wade’s welcoming body, each and every one of them overtaken by him. Ridges and valleys of beautiful skin shifting under his fingertips, a breathy and broken voice like sweet wood ash drifting through the air…the tangy musk of Wade’s blood combined with his arousal dribbling from the tip of his cock and onto the wet rubble below.
“So good, Logan,” Wade moans, “you–unh, you’re so fuckin’ good, Peanut…”
No one’s called Logan good in about as long as no one’s touched him…his cock kicks inside Wade and he chokes on a grunt, has to bite his lip so hard it bleeds to keep from blowing it inside him right then and there.
We belong like this.
It’s neither a feeling nor a thought, it’s an understanding tethered between them that’s most alive when they’re touching. Entwined.
In Logan’s defense, as mentioned previously, it’s been a long fucking time, and Wade’s assault on his senses is breaking Logan down inch by inch, thrust by thrust. Every whimper and moan that falls from Wade’s incessant mouth is another wave crashing against his resolve, he can feel it eroding as his hips crash into Wade’s. The only thing keeping him from cumming is the desire, the need to make sure Wade cums first. Logan does his best to tamp down the burning in his loins.
Wade’s string of incoherent encouragements aren’t exactly helping. “Yeah, yeah ,” he’s chanting as he rocks back and forth on his hands and knees in time with Logan.
Logan wants to tell him to stop, to hold still and let him catch his breath for a damn second, but all he manages is a weak whimper that sounds vaguely like the word ‘fuck’ as he presses his body against what he can of Wade’s suited back and sparks start to rain down his spine, indistinguishable from the actual sparks flecking his skin and leaving little singe marks that melt away like snowflakes. He smells mostly of singed fabric and burnt blood, but underneath all of that, Logan can still smell him, his essence, the life inside him. He breathes it in, deep and intentional, flooding his lungs with it.
“Yeah,” Wade gasps more urgently, fingers searching for something to hold onto. They end up by Logan’s thigh, clutching at the bunched up fabric of his suit. “Ye-es, fuck… fuh …oh, G-god …” his babbling turns into heated whines devoid of syllables or consonants, and his body tightens.
Deadly taught muscles and soft, plush, pillowy insides feel like they're trying to squeeze the very soul out of Logan as Wade cums untouched. Even from behind, he’s so pretty Logan can hardly stand it. His lower back glistens with sweat, each ripple of muscle visible as wave after wave of pleasure racks his body, and he goes boneless under Logan.
Logan groans, eyes rolling back in his head as he wraps an arm around Wade’s waist just in time to keep him from slipping face first into the inch or so of water below. He doesn’t need Wade drowning on him, not now, not when his soft, hot hole is so relaxed that Logan’s able to nearly pull out and slam back inside with next to no effort and he’s so, so close…
“Ah,” Wade gasps, followed by a drunken giggle and a moan. “Ahh…heh… mmmn, Logan… ”
Logan hopes Wade doesn’t mind the decade’s worth of cum he’s shooting deep inside him. He continues to pump his hips with the aftershocks, appreciating the soft squelching of Wade’s gaping hole until his dick grows too sensitive, but he doesn’t want to pull out…so he presses closer, clutching Wade close as his cock softens inside him.
He doesn’t want to have to go back to the universe he calls home, because it doesn’t feel like one.
Wade, however, does.
~~~
Wade
~~~
“Thank you,” Wade pants, hoping Logan catches that it’s so much more than just a ‘thank you for the absolutely divine dick-down .’
Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for saving my family. Thank you for choosing me.
Logan doesn’t reply, just grumbles softly like a contented dog with a bone.
Voices carry faintly over the sounds of crackling electricity and crumbling concrete.
Fucking Paradox.
Wade wants to talk about all this, of course he does. They couldn’t have been at it for very long, but every minute they linger is one Paradox gets to spin his shitty little tapestry of lies.
Logan seems to understand this too, because he’s located Dialogue.exe and relaunched the program. “Y’good t’go?” he asks, squeezing Wade’s abdomen gently.
“Me? Fucking fantastic, princess,” Wade laughs, patting Logan’s hand. “Now, put your dick back in your pants, and let’s go take a piss on Paradox’s parade!”
“Mmm,” Logan purrs. “Sounds good.”
And we all know how it goes from there, don’t we?
~~~
"He has risen, babygirl!"
"FUCK!!"
