Work Text:
Fuck winter.
The adamantium's as sensitive to cold as it is to heat. In the summer Logan feels melted, loose and lazy, mostly just lounging in patches of sunlight all day if he can get away with it. In the winter, he's a walking knot that's wound tighter with every painful movement. The metal stiffens and constricts around his joints until he can barely bend his elbows, can hardly walk. Until he feels and moves like he's much closer to his actual age than he looks. It's hell.
At least Wade is enjoying himself.
"It's not that I like seeing you in pain — I don't," Wade says, though he sounds delighted as he kneels over Logan on the bed they now share more often than not and applies a heating pad to the base of Logan's spine, Logan lying tense and naked on his stomach. He's not cold, the apartment's heating is on blast and there's a space heater by the bed to boot, the room's so warm that Wade's stripped naked, too. But Logan's still stiff. "It's just that it's not every day I get to see my grouchy peanut in such an adorable state of neediness. Usually getting you to accept a massage is like disarming a very stabby bomb, but now you're just a little cuddle whore, aren't you?"
Logan snarls, bares his teeth, the effect only partially diminished by the fact that his face is currently buried in a pillow, his arms folded uselessly above it.
"Whore is, of course, a term of endearment. Someday you'll be fluent in my love language, don't worry." Wade doesn't sound at all disheartened. He bends down and kisses Logan's nape, puts more pressure behind the heating pad, and Logan's snarl softens to a sigh. "So," Wade says brightly, "you're really like this all winter, every winter? Reminder that this is our first winter as roommates-turned-boyfriends, and I treasure every fun new tidbit of Wolverine info I learn."
Logan scowls. "We are not boyfriends."
"Fuckbuddies in love," Wade amends, as if this is more accurate. "Any day now you'll realize you love me for more than just my tight ass and massive wang. You also love me for my equally massive heart."
"Shut up." Logan rolls his eyes, nuzzles his pillow. "And get on with the fuckin' massage, bub. Heatin' pad's not enough."
"Yes sir, my beautiful little cat-boy brat who I would never dream of taming," Wade coos. Before Logan can flip over and disembowel him, locked joints be damned, Wade starts rubbing. Logan's breath hitches; Wade is unreasonably, unfairly good at this. "Oh yeah, that's the spot." Wade giggles, works away a knot between Logan's shoulders. The heating pad softens the muscles of Logan's back from stone to clay, and Wade kneads it gently, reshapes it into something less painful. "I'm really good at this, huh? Hey, maybe we should get the TVA to advertise my skills across the multiverse, so all those poor achy Wolverines will know the relief they can find in my scarred yet supple hands. For the small price of either two thousand dollars or two blowjobs."
Logan tries to snap his head up, snarling again, but Wade holds him down, kneading more forcefully. Logan's helpless to his small, satisfied whimper as another knot gives way. He drops his face back onto the pillow.
"What?" Wade asks, scoffing. "I said two blowjobs, that's one for each of us. C'mon, peanut, we could have so much hot consensual super kinky sex with your cool comic variants. Starting with Patch, that guy's dreamy.”
"M'gonna — I —" A purr rumbles unbidden from Logan's throat, as helpless and humiliating as always. Fuck Wade's stupid, wonderful hands. "Gonna fuckin' kill you, red. For — for real this time."
"Sure you are, kitten." Wade hums melodically, stroking up and down Logan's ribs. "Y'know, I earned my stripes as a masseuse by giving Nessa period massages." Wade snorts. "This is kinda like that, actually, except your period apparently lasts two months."
"Three," Logan says miserably. Especially in Vancouver. "Gotta move someplace warmer."
"Aruba, Jamaica?" Wade suggests, light and teasing but with an earnest edge. Logan hates that earnest edge; it's the reason he doesn't hate every ridiculous thing Wade says. "Or maybe Bermuda? Bahamas?"
"Too expensive," Logan mumbles.
"Aww. C'mon, pretty mama." Wade nips gently at Logan's earlobe. "We should start thinking about honeymoon spots anyway."
"Fuck you." Logan laughs through his purr, just a little. He's feeling less agonized now, and he doesn't find Wade's insanity nearly as obnoxious as he should these days. "Also, did you just call me pretty mama? Eat my ass."
"Uh, okay!" Wade is immediately shifting to kneel between Logan's legs. Logan flinches and flushes, realizing his mistake. "Don't threaten me with a good time, peanut!"
Logan's purr cuts off. "Woah, woah, woah —" He starts to roll over, but reconsiders at an ache in his lower back. He's still stiff, despite the heating pad and massage, and it's frighteningly easy to pull a muscle when he's like this. It hurts like a motherfucker every time, especially when it's his back, and takes forever to heal. He stays on his stomach. "I was just — I didn't actually mean —"
"Dude, why not?" Wade sounds far too eager about this, brushing his hands over Logan's ass cheeks. Logan scowls but doesn't object. Wade wasn't exactly wrong to call them fuckbuddies, they've fooled around a lot since Logan moved in four months ago — but they've never done that. Logan mostly just fucks Wade and gets his dick sucked, and occasionally, when he's feeling pleased and generous, returns the favor. "C'mon, let's have us some nice soft comfort sex. Orgasms are, like, nature's muscle relaxers, we'll get you fixed up in no time."
"Ugh." Logan's glad that he's on his stomach now; this way he can't see Wade’s shit-eating grin and Wade can't see that one part of Logan remains decidedly unstiff. Logan can usually get it up for Wade, but with the adamantium strangling his bones? No chance. "It's always sex, sex, sex with you, I can't get a fuckin' moment's peace.” He snorts. “And you called me a whore?"
"That hurts," Wade says, with the voice that means he's pouting exaggeratedly. Logan doesn't have to strain his neck to look, he can envision it well enough. "Also makes my dick hard." Wade's grinning voice. "So whaddya say, honey badger dearest? Shall I feast upon thy clenched cuisine? Thy eel's entree? Ass a la carte?"
A loud, long laugh bursts from Logan's mouth, though he tries to stifle it in the pillow. "Shut the fuck up!"
"See, about that," Wade muses, kneading Logan's ass in his hands now. Logan's face burns, though his chest is still bright with laughter. "In order for me to shut up, I need something better to do with my mouth. Like anilingus, for example."
"That's not a word." But Logan's already shifting his hips up a little. He's not quite brave enough to get on his knees; all it takes is one wrong, too-quick movement, and he'll be in agony for hours.
"Bullshit, badger. It's a thing, just ask Urban Dictionary." Helpfully, Wade slides a pillow under Logan's hips to prop him up. It cushions and engulfs his soft cock; he thrusts gingerly, sighs at a wave of soft, diffused pleasure. "Hey... Have you ever done this before?" Wade asks. He sounds almost innocent suddenly, fingers tracing the edge of the heating pad on Logan's back.
Logan snorts. "Duh. Even a pervert like you'd be hard pressed to think of somethin' I ain't done at least once in two hundred years," he says. "What about you?"
"Duh!" Wade echoes, vindictive, his touch incongruously gentle. "It's only my second favorite sex act. Second only to —"
"Sucking dick," Logan finishes, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, bub, I know. And I continue to be amazed that you ever had a girlfriend."
"Girls have asses," Wade says defensively, then softens his tone. He lays one warm hand on Logan's thigh. "Not as nice as yours, though. So, um. Am I to interpret all of this sexually charged banter as a yes?"
"Yes," Logan groans, because fuck it. He might as well make the most of this whole fuckbuddies thing, with or without his cock's cooperation.
"Yes? Yes!" Wade squeals, rocks the mattress when he bounces excitedly on his knees. "Just try not to scream too loud, okay? I don't want Al coming in here and messing up my mojo, and I already put the baby to bed."
"You mean the rat?" Logan says, deadpan.
Wade gasps, scandalized. "Excuse you, brat! I mean our precious goblin princess gremlin daughter!" He spreads Logan's ass cheeks firmly with his thumbs; Logan shivers. "That's it, time to remove the stick —"
"The stick up my ass, very funny." Logan scoffs. Wade's used that joke all three times Logan's let Wade fuck him. "Y'know, red, you could at least be fuckin' original —"
"Oh, by the way!" Wade says abruptly, a rare seriousness in his voice. "I know Little Logan's out of commission for tonight, and maybe the foreseeable future." Logan tenses, braced for humiliation, but Wade just rubs Logan's back and soothes, "Shh, peanut. Literally I could not care less, I love your dick no matter where it stands on the soft-hard spectrum. Anyway, as far as I'm concerned this is just the perfect opportunity to start paying more attention to your beautiful ass. Okay? Okay. Good talk."
And, before Logan can come up with a response, Wade grips his ass and dives in tongue-first.
Truthfully, Logan's never been a fan of this kind of thing. Every time a partner tried it, he winced and cringed his way through the experience, holding out for a handjob, but Wade is immediately different. He licks slow and savoring up Logan's crack, from between his balls to the base of his spine, moaning deep like it tastes good. Logan doesn't even want to imagine the taste. He's clean, he just showered this morning — with Wade's help, slouched on the shower chair while Wade hummed and washed his hair and kissed his feet — but, still. Logan's never put his mouth on anyone's ass, and he doubts he'll ever want to, but Wade is gasping and groaning like he's having some kind of sexual epiphany back there.
"Wade," Logan growls, when Wade kisses his hole but dips down to suck at his perineum instead. He can't even squirm, he's too stiff and afraid of throwing his back out. "C'mon, red." He thinks this is just foreplay, a new form of prep, and he'll get fucked soon. Wade's good at that, though Logan prefers to be the one doing the fucking. When he can, anyway.
Wade just laughs, the vibrations of it rattling up Logan's spine, and carries on. He licks over Logan's hole, again and again and again until the motion is borderline hypnotic, then massages the muscle with the tip of his tongue until it starts to give way, like any other knot. Logan gasps at the slick, gentle pleasure of Wade's tongue pressing inside him. It's not electric, nothing's touching his prostate, and his cock stays soft on the pillow, but it's warm and relaxing, Wade's hot mouth working with the heating pad to melt Logan's spine. Logan curls his fingers into the bedsheet.
"Okay," he whispers roughly. "Fuck, that's — that's okay."
Wade pulls back, Logan's hole twitching slightly at the loss. "Just okay?" Wade sounds more amused than offended.
"Well, yeah," Logan huffs, adjusts his face on the pillow. "It's fine, but it's not gonna make me come. You want me to jerk you off or somethin' real quick? Then you can fuck around down there all you want." Wade shouldn't be frustrated just because Logan's dick is broken.
But Wade laughs. "Oh, angel baby," he purrs. Logan's chest tightens; this is his secret favorite ridiculous endearment. "Sweetheart. Silly little kitten. I'm just getting started."
There's a sucking sound, and then two slick fingers are gliding into Logan's ass. Whatever Logan was trying to say — something something don't call me that shit — is punched from his mouth, and his eyes roll back as Wade immediately zeroes in on his prostate, rubbing it in rough, relentless passes of his fingertips. This isn't the fingering Logan's used to before Wade fucks him, a steady stretch and gentle, teasing grazes over his prostate to get him warmed up; this is more in line with a homing missile. Wade jabs at the spot, hard and precise.
"Holy — fuck!" Alarmed, Logan yelps and squirms as much as he can; so, barely at all. Wade holds his hips to settle him. "Wade, you gotta — ahh — let up a fuckin' little!"
"Of course, honey," Wade croons sweetly. "I'll let up just as soon as you come your pretty little brains out for me, promise."
"I — I can't!" Logan gasps at another harsh scrub over his prostate, dead-on. For all his many, many faults, Wade's always had perfect aim. Logan's cock twitches, but doesn't swell at all. "I'm fuckin' soft, asshole!"
"Hmm." Wade giggles. "I fail to see your point, you must be come-dumb already."
"Fuckin' excuse me —!"
Wade spreads his fingers apart and licks between them, and Logan's brain short-circuits. Something gives; something about the pairing of Wade's brutal fingers and soft mouth. Logan buries his face in the pillow and moans deeply as his body goes limp, dick included. The only parts of him that aren't mush are his hands, which clutch the bedsheets, and his toes, which curl intermittently.
"Fuck, fuck, fuh —" Logan's voice cuts off into a high whine, Wade's fingers massaging that spot in tight circles, his tongue soothing the sting of too-much that follows. Logan's cock twitches constantly, and leaks pre-come onto the pillow, and his balls feel taut — but he knows he won't come from this. He can't, he's soft, and maybe that should frustrate him, but he mostly just feels like he's floating.
"You're gettin' close, huh, sweetheart?" Wade coos with his mouth pressed to Logan's hole, slurping and slurring, drooling down between Logan's balls. It's disgusting. Logan moans. "Yeah, I know. I know, baby. I'm gonna get you there, don't even worry about it."
Logan whines pitifully. "M'sorry." He feels close, but he's not, he can't be, and Wade's always so ridiculously eager to make Logan come, but tonight he's going to be disappointed —
"Aww, my kitten gets so sweet when I fuck him just right. Also! Looks like we found something you've never done in two hundred years, Mr. Experienced," Wade says cheerfully, and kisses Logan's rim where it stretches around his thrusting fingers. "Surprise, surprise; as gorgeous as that monster cock of yours is, you don't need it to be hard to come, angel baby. Actually, coming soft is, like, a religious experience, so brace yourself. And color me jelly. I need a cock cage to make it happen — it's my turn next, by the way, as soon as your dumb bones unlock — but your softness is au naturale."
Logan gasps, barely listening, too amazed by the thing that's building in his gut, huge and bright, almost an orgasm, but... "Wuh — huh?"
"Sadly I lost most of my sex toy collection when Ness dumped me. My uber-rare First Edition Shining Charizard, too." Wade sighs, curls his fingers. Logan's stomach jolts; the pillow under his cock feels soaked through. "Maybe this time I'll get a prenup. Would you sign a prenup, honey badger?”
Logan growls and lifts his head, snapped out of the pleasure-trance for a second. "What the fuck are you talkin’ —?"
"Shh, shh, shh, woah, boy!" Wade pushes Logan back down with a hand on his nape, recruits a third finger in the assault on his prostate and effectively scrambles his brains. He goes limp again, groaning despairingly. "I'm just kidding, baby, obviously you can have whatever you want in the unlikely event that you leave me and my magic prostate massages," Wade babbles frantically. "Fuck it, I'll sign over all my earthly belongings and my whole soul right now, just please don't get up."
"God," Logan says through a whimper, "you're pathetic."
"Yup!" Wade sounds pleased. He moves back down to kiss sloppily at Logan's stretched hole. "But only for you. Just like how you're only sweet and vulnerable and slutty for me. Right?" he asks, hopeful.
"Ugh!" Logan snaps. "Stop fuckin' talkin' to me when — when I'm — when you're — fuck!" His back arches automatically, and only aches a little. "It's not fuckin' fair!"
"Aww, sorry, sweetheart," Wade croons, rubbing from Logan's nape to his hips, skating his palm over the heating pad. Logan hears a click and knows, with unwelcome fondness, that Wade is making sure it's still turned on. "I'll stop rambling now, promise. My mouth's got better things to do anyway."
Logan wails when Wade snakes his tongue in alongside his fingers, and bites down hard on the pillow to stifle himself. True to his word — for once — Wade doesn't speak again, just works his tongue over and over Logan's hole, licking and kissing and nipping gently, while his fingers continue pummeling Logan's prostate. Logan feels struck over the head, dizzy and dazed, helpless to do anything but lie limp and take what Wade gives him. His locked joints act as an infuriating kind of almost-bondage, preventing him from turning over or even just looking back at Wade, whose face is undoubtedly a disgusting — beautiful — mess. At least, Logan would be infuriated if he weren't an increasingly melted puddle.
It's not fair, he thinks, gasping brokenly against the pillow, clawing his fingers into the bedsheet either side of his head, his actual claws as stiff and stuck as the rest of him. Wade shouldn't be able to do this to him. No one's ever been able to do this to him.
With a cheerful hum and gentle hands Wade lifts Logan's hips and reaches underneath to hold Logan's stubbornly soft but steadily leaking cock, trapping it between his palm and Logan's stomach. The pressure doubles when Logan's hips drop back down and press Wade's hand into the pillow. It's a useless gesture, and Wade's not even stroking, just cradling, just rubbing barely-there circles with his thumb over Logan's foreskin, but it kicks Logan toward the finish line. Which, somehow, no longer seems out of reach.
"W-Wade?" Logan's a little concerned, actually. He's never felt anything like this, like the pleasure is building not in his cock but in his core, slower and deeper. It almost feels like he has to piss. “I don't — I —”
"Shh." Gently, Wade licks between Logan's improbably tightening balls, kisses one and then the other. Roughly, he swipes three fingertips over Logan's prostate. Logan yelps. "I've got you, peanut, just let it happen. C'mon..."
So Logan comes, gasping and whimpering through the most intense orgasm he can ever remember having. It's never been this good, like an explosion in his gut, every muscle in his body drawing taut before releasing completely. Wade works him mercilessly through it, but slows and stops when the pleasure grows teeth and Logan starts to sob. It's a long time before Logan can see straight again, let alone think, and when he finally comes down he's lying on his back with Wade curled beside him, humming and kissing his shoulder and wiping his stomach with a damp washcloth. Logan's still stiff and stunned, but he manages to lift his head enough to look down at himself — only to grimace at the small puddle of fluid his cock drooled out. It's thinner than come, hardly anything, gone with one easy pass of the washcloth.
"Oh my god." Logan turns and hides his face against Wade's neck. "That's so fuckin' embarrassin'..."
Wade scoffs and says, not unkindly, "Oh, stop being so toxically masculine all the time, you must be exhausted after two hundred years of that shit. It was adorable, you —"
Logan bares his teeth over Wade’s jugular. "Don't you dare, Wade. I mean it."
With a delighted, wicked giggle, Wade coos, "My pretty little kitten squirted for me!"
And Logan just growls weakly into Wade's neck, doesn't even bite down. He tells himself it's only because his joints are locked up, or else he'd tear Wade limb from limb for that, but... Actually, he'd probably just lie still and not do a damn thing about it even if he had a choice.
He's gotten to be pretty damn pathetic, too, in recent months.
"Such a good boy! Yes you are!" Wade flings the washcloth off the bed and takes to kissing all over Logan's face, squeezing Logan close with one hand and stroking Logan's hair with the other. Logan scowls but doesn't squirm. "And don't even try to tell me that wasn't the best damn orgasm you've ever had in your freakishly long life." Wade pauses, and gives Logan a pleading look. "Feel free to tell me it was, though, give my ego a little stroke. Kinda the least you can do..."
Logan rolls his eyes, sighs. "It was real nice," he offers, and, while Wade squeals triumphantly, "You want me to jerk you off now?"
"Oh, no need!" Wade presses a loud kiss to Logan's cheek. "Humping the bed and making my kitten squirt was more than enough for me." Sure enough, a glance between Wade's legs reveals that he's as soft as Logan.
"Mm." Logan turns his head away, not wanting Wade to see his blush, but it's too late. Wade coos, sickly sweet, and kisses Logan's cheek twice more. "I hope you brushed your teeth when you got up to get that washcloth," Logan snarls, though he'd smell the toothpaste if Wade did.
"Uh..." Wade smiles sheepishly.
"Whatever." Logan scoffs, and tries to reach for one of his cigars on the nightstand, only to cry out at a sharp pain in his shoulder, a stabbing strain. "Ah! Motherfucker, goddamnit —!"
"My poor badger! I'm here, it's okay, please don't try to move anymore." Wade frets, grabbing Logan's arm and returning it gently to a more comfortable position, cradling Logan's head to his shoulder. "You're undoing all my hard work! We've been over this, baby, you tell me when you want something and I get it for you, simple as that, just consider me your full-time manservant." Wade reaches over Logan and picks a cigar off the nightstand, the movement as smooth and easy as it should be for Logan. He glowers. "See?" Grinning, Wade waves the cigar in front of Logan's face. "I've got you, boo."
Logan looks away, glares resentfully at the wall while Wade lights the cigar with Logan's lighter, which he retrieves just as easily. Logan's silent and sullen while Wade holds the cigar to his mouth for him, and Wade's uncharacteristically quiet, his face furrowed with concentration, attentively making sure the cigar is between Logan's lips every time he opens for another drag. Wade only takes two for himself, and doesn't light himself a cigarette like he usually does.
It gets to be oddly hypnotic, Logan's resentment lulled away. He's almost disappointed when he reaches the filter and it's over, Wade stubbing out the cigar in the ashtray on the nightstand. The spell is broken, and Wade's grin returns. He nuzzles Logan's shoulder.
"So," Wade begins, singsong. "You've had your postcoital cigar and regained some of your macho-macho-manliness. You feeling secure enough in your masculinity to let me cuddle you?"
Logan just shrugs, frowning, but he turns his head toward Wade, rests one stiff hand on Wade's hip. Wade giggles and hugs him closer. Logan's purr returns as Wade strokes his hair, a rumbling born deep down in his chest, helpless but not quite humiliating this time.
It feels good.
"Hey," Wade whispers, after a while of holding and purring. "You didn't get my reference, when I was talking about Aruba and Jamaica and shit. I was subtly serenading you with song lyrics. A lame old man song for my totally un-lame old man."
"Oh, yeah." Logan snorts, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "Y'know," he says, uninhibited in the afterglow, "if we actually went to any of those places, I'd just bitch and smoke and drink the whole time."
"I know." Wade sighs, ridiculously fond, and kisses Logan's jaw. Logan stopped cringing after the hundredth or so kiss; it's his ass, after all. "Wouldn't have you any other way, angel baby."
Logan considers this, and the bright pang in his chest. "I, uh..." He hesitates, but only briefly. He rambles to Wade fairly often; not while sober, but… "I get why you've had girlfriends," Logan continues. "You're...sweet." He cringes at himself a little, though it's true. Wade is sweet; strangely, incongruously, incorrigibly sweet. "You take care of the people you care about. I've never been like that, y'know. I'm an asshole." He huffs out a dry laugh. "Guess that's why all I've ever had are one-night stands and disasters."
Wade smiles, his eyes soft, his fingers moving gently through Logan's chest hair. "Peanut," Wade says, "I'm the undisputed king of disasters, and I'm not ever gonna let you go."
Logan's eyes sting. Usually, this would be his cue to leap up and flee the bedroom, retreat to the pull-out couch for the remainder of the night, but he can't this time. He's stuck in Wade's sweet bubble, and he can't even bring himself to hate it.
"Also, I'm so sorry, I can't resist, you really should've just called yourself a douchebag or something." Wade snickers and drawls, playfully sultry, "'Cause you may be an asshole, but you're my asshole. My delicious, succulent, tender little —"
"Okay, ew!" Logan musters up the strength to shove Wade's chest. "Shut the fuck up, or I'll make you bring me a gun to shoot you with."
But Logan's grinning, helpless to it, Wade's uncanny ability to lift even Logan's darkest moods.
"Sorry," Wade says, not sounding sorry at all. He tugs Logan's heated blanket over them, turns it on, and rests his head on Logan's shoulder. "Guess I'll see you in the morning?" Wade asks, as if Logan could leave even if he wanted to.
For once, Logan doesn't. He'd rather move to fucking Antarctica than to the couch.
"Yeah," he mutters, and stops himself there. Wade's insufferable enough without knowing what he does to Logan, powerful orgasms notwithstanding. Without knowing he's the first person in years to make Logan laugh and purr and relax; the first person in centuries to make Logan feel really, wholeheartedly safe.
Wade smiles and hums, satisfied enough to match Logan's purr, but if he suspects, he does Logan the kindness of keeping his mouth shut.