#arf!

Wade’s so pretty when he cries.

That is the only thought occupying Logan’s brain right now as his jaw aches in its hinges, his arms tingle with pins and needles beyond the sore bend of his elbows, and his neck screams for mercy – he dutifully ignores each and every physical sensation that is not conducive to his ultimate mission, which is rending more fat tears out of Wade Wilson’s big brown eyes.

It’s not just the crying, either, Logan decides – it’s everything that goes with it. The pink flush scattered across the bridge of Wade’s nose and the ridge of his clavicle, darkening where it stains over the raised edges of Wade’s scars; the wet, ruddy O his mouth becomes, flopping open and closed, finally at a loss for words , silvered at the corners with unspilt drool; the pitiful, sweet noises that pour from him, unbidden, interrupted only by occasional sniffling and these gorgeous, ruined sobs that make his whole frame tremble.

Logan inches back just enough to inhale, the tip of his nose and lower half of his face drenched in saliva and Wade’s slick, and Wade shudders .

He’s been eating Wade out for what feels like the better part of two hours, and he’s still not fucking done. Every time he thinks he might be sated, might finally be ready to pull off and give Wade’s poor, weeping cunt a break, he fucking looks at it again – obscenely swollen, so flushed it’s nearly purple, the head of his engorged clit twitching like it’s begging to be sucked on again, and, well…Logan’s never been good at resisting temptation, and Wade is the fucking living, breathing embodiment of the word, so.

Wade flinches and keens as Logan’s warm breath fogs over his sensitive flesh, thighs instinctively trying to squeeze shut, but that proves impossible with the breadth of Logan’s shoulders still forcing them apart. 

“You fuckin’...d’ya lose somethin’ in there?” Wade slurs, chest rising and falling shallowly, one arm tossed over the upper half of his face and no – that won’t do. Logan rocks backward onto his knees and swats Wade’s hand away. The limb comes away wet, just like Wade’s tear-stained cheeks, and his red-rimmed eyes glisten when they meet Logan’s. 

“Got a ‘lil…right here,” Wade pants, weakly twirling his wrist to indicate the lower half of Logan’s face. “Y’need a bib, peanut. You eat like a fuckin’ slob.”

Logan grins, lazy and slow, tongue darting out to lick Wade’s cum off his lips as he rolls his neck out. “Doesn’t seem like it bothers you all that much.”

“Doesn’t…jus’ pointing out the facts…speaking of, little Wolverine seems like he wants a turn now.” Wade juts his chin, and Logan’s cock throbs responsively in his briefs. He’s so hard it fucking hurts , and he’s sure there’s a splotch on the front of his underwear from where he’s been steadily leaking precum into it, but attending to his erection would mean that he couldn’t devote 100% of his attention to Wade’s cunt anymore and that’s not a sacrifice he’s willing to make. He squeezes himself once, just enough to relieve a bit of the ache, and doesn’t miss the way Wade’s eyes hungrily track his movements.

Maybe later. Or maybe he’ll eat Wade out until the sun explodes – who knows, and who cares .

“‘M not done,” he says, hooking both hands in the ditches of Wade’s knees and yanking. Wade whines but goes without a fight, and Logan thinks that’s mostly because he’s successfully rendered all four of Wade’s limbs jellowy and useless. He’s found through much, much experimentation (sue him, Wade’s gorgeous and compliant and his ) that if he stimulates Wade for long enough, his reservoir of seemingly boundless energy will deplete until he’s nothing but a vaguely person-shaped puddle of sweat and cum and, most importantly, tears . And Wade, the beautiful, perfect, receptive little freak, takes all of it in stride.

Even now, as Logan tugs Wade up toward his mouth by the hips and pushes both of his muscled, shaking thighs back toward his ears, Wade moans for it. Logan thanks every god there is, and even some made-up ones, that Wade’s flexibility allows for such intense pretzeling because he really wasn’t sure how much more his neck could take in the prone position.

“You’ve broken your record already, you fucking show off,” Wade grouses, breath hitching when Logan drags his lips featherlight over his dripping cunt. Logan stopped counting how many times Wade came all over his tongue after around the fifth or sixth orgasm, and that was ages ago.

He huffs a laugh; Wade shivers. “Wasn’t trying to. Just love how you taste.”

Wade rolls his eyes, but the flush on his face creeps down onto his neck. “Really? Couldn’t tell.”

“Should show you then.”

Wade all but squeals when Logan seals his mouth over him again. His back arches, head drilling itself into one of the throw pillows, and his legs spasm against Logan’s grip. 

Logan’s not lying – he’s obsessed with how Wade tastes. He’ll never be able to adequately describe it, other than – and he knows this is fucking gross – Wade tastes a bit like death. It’s a concentrated, wholly addictive version of Wade’s scent, of the sick-sweet stench of cancer perpetually writhing in his body and, therefore, soaking into his flesh from the inside out. He’s never tasted anything like it, but then again, he’s never fallen in love with a terminally cancerous mutate whose sickness is perennially being multiplied and stuffed into every available nook and cranny, either.

He swirls his tongue around Wade’s clit, laving a stripe over its considerable length before tonguing the underside and sucking it into his mouth. Wade howls, feebly shoving at Logan’s forehead and proclaiming, “ Fucking – be nice to little Wade, you animal. He’s been through a lot today.”

Logan hums, and the vibrations make Wade suck air through gritted teeth and push at Logan’s head more persistently.

“ That is not being nice.”

“You love when I’m not nice, bub,” Logan points out, and on cue, Wade’s pussy throbs . He huffs, clearly indignant at the betrayal, face a truly appetizing shade of crimson on account of all the blood pooling in the upper half of his body – well, all the blood that’s not currently filling his clit.

“‘S why you cry for it like a little bitch, isn’t it?” Logan purrs, and Wade snarls even as his slit gives another lovely twitch against Logan’s eager mouth.

“Oh, fuck you,” he gasps.

“Uh-huh.”

If Wade wanted him off, he would’ve donkey-kicked Logan across the apartment by now. He’s fucking strong ; honestly, negating Logan’s clear weight advantage, he’d bet money on Wade being equally as strong as he is. So the fact that Wade’s allowing him to scrunch him in half and abuse his undoubtedly raw cunt until he’s decided he’s done is a testament to how badly he actually wants this, and Logan plans to take full fucking advantage.

He releases one of Wade’s legs – “Hold that,” he says, and Wade obeys – and, without warning, brings his palm down sharply over Wade’s clit.

He wails , the poor thing.

“Mother fucker ,” Wade hiccups, tears prickling afresh at the corners of his eyes. Logan watches the rhythmic pulse of his clit, watches it bloom a deeper shade of red, and feels the gush of warmth against his fingers as he circles Wade’s hole.

“Told ya,” he says. “Fuckin’ slut for when I’m mean to you, huh, mouth?”

“You…” Wade takes a deep breath, air whistling through his teeth, and stares dead into Logan’s eyes over the soft swell of his lower stomach. Tears dribble down his temples and darken the couch cushion below.

Then, he grins , all crooked teeth and petulance. “You hit like a fucking girl ,” he hisses. 

Oh, so that’s what we’re doing.

Logan slaps him again, harder this time, making sure the blow lands dead center on Wade’s clit, and he tosses his head back with a shout.

“Th-That all you got, old man?” he asks. Logan can see his fingers blanching where they’re dug into the meat of his thigh, but he still keeps it up and spread.

“'S’all you can handle, crybaby,” Logan replies. Slap.

“Copout.”

Slap.

“So much fuckin’ attitude today.”

Slap.

“Tickles.” Wade’s breathing is growing watery and shallow, and his thighs are quivering. Logan wonders…

Slapslapslap.

Wade whines, bowing off the couch as he tries (and fails) to twist away from the stimulation as Logan unleashes on him, smacking his pussy harder and faster until –

“Fuck, fuck , oh my fucking God, you bastard –” 

Wade cums just like that, veins in his neck bulging, eyes rolled so far into his head only a sliver of the whites are visible, taut as a bowstring and – holy fuck – squirting all over Logan’s hand until rivulets of clearish liquid are running down his forearm.

Some gets in his eye. It burns – Logan does not care.

“Slut,” Logan repeats, grinning wolfishly, and he’s just about to dive back in and lick Wade’s mess off his plush inner thighs when –

“ Bad dog.”

He really shouldn’t have relinquished his hold on Wade’s leg.

Wade kicks out and wraps it around the back of Logan’s neck, the long line of his body moving fluidly as he rips Logan off the couch and onto the floor by his throat. He knocks into the coffee table on his way down, jostling long-forgotten and half-empty mugs hard enough that they topple and spill their contents, and then he’s flat on his back, cold black coffee and cran-raspberry juice raining down next to his face.

He has about .02 seconds to process that, though, before Wade’s knees hit the hardwood beside either of Logan’s ears, and his cunt is hovering just inches away from Logan’s mouth.

He surges up to claim it, but Wade stops him by tangling all five fingers in his hair and slamming his head back down. Stars sparkle momentarily behind his eyes; his cock kicks in his briefs.

“ Bad boy,” Wade pants. “That was a nasty little trick you did not need to learn, old dog.”

“Already knew you were a pain slut,” Logan reasons, hands flying to the slant of Wade’s waist. The tips of his claws eke out, and the flash of metal is enough to score shallow cuts in Wade’s sides; he shivers but presses on.

“Takes one to know one,” Wade counters, and his fingers tighten, liberating silver and brown strands of hair from their roots and earning a growl from Logan. “I shouldn’t even let you clean up your mess after that, ‘s just rewarding bad behavior. I don’t want to be that guy with the unruly little puppy. How embarrassing.”

Blood burns in Logan’s cheeks. Dammit . He loves hates how well that goddamned nickname works, how quickly Wade can wrench the reins out of his too-willing hands when he dusts it off and lays it out. His body misses the memo, however, and precum swells in sticky droplets from the head of his cock before smearing along the inside of his already-dampened underwear.

“I guess I could also rub your nose in it,” Wade muses. “But I dunno if you deserve a funishment right now.”

Logan grumbles, claws slipping out an inch further.

“Your jaw is gonna fall the fuck off, peanut,” Wade laughs, wiggling Logan by the hair before pinning him back down to the ground. 

“I’ll take my chances,” Logan says gruffly, and goddamn it, his mouth is watering. Wade’s smell is all around him, rolling into his nostrils; it blankets the back of his tongue with every humid inhale, and all he wants is to sit up and taste Wade again, but he fucking can’t. 

“Oh, yeah? Then ask me nicely, puppy.”

Logan wishes he put up more of a fight, wishes he grumbled and gnarred about the whole thing so he could pretend he’s just indulging Wade, but he doesn’t. “Please.”

“Please –” Wade forces Logan’s throat into a bend, pressing the base of his skull against the floor so hard he can feel the pressure behind his eyeballs, nails scratching over his already tingling scalp “ – what ?”

“Please – let me,” Logan chokes out, and somehow he sounds more fucked out than Wade does. His cock pulses in time with his heart, which is banging against his ribcage so hard he’s sure it’s fixing to burst through any second. It’s dizzying, disorienting, perfectly intoxicating the way Wade – and Wade alone – manages to do this to him whenever he wants, manages to turn Logan into a pleading, desperate mess with a few well-placed whacks to the right buttons.

Love does that to a person, he supposes. Or, well, maybe that’s just him. Either way, who gives a shit?

“Let you what ?” Wade prompts, and the smug motherfucker circles his hips above Logan’s nose. It’s like the carrot on a string, only one million times worse.

“Fucking – please , let me eat you out again,” Logan says in one short burst of air, “lemme clean up my mess. Please?”

“Ohh, good boy,” Wade coos, and maybe Logan could hide the way his dick jumps at the praise if Wade didn’t choose that moment to rest one big, warm hand right over the soaking front of his underwear. He chuckles, a filthy, sinister sound, and smooths his palm along Logan’s clothed shaft.

“Stick out your tongue, puppy, and don’t fucking move.”

Wade doesn’t wait more than a second – granted, Logan obeyed his request in half that time – before he’s sitting on Logan’s face. And it’s not a delicate, considerate sit, either, one that’s concerned with Logan’s intake of oxygen or whether his neck can support Wade’s weight – no, Wade shimmies forward maybe an inch, shuffles his thighs wider apart, and fucking sits his two-hundred-something pound ass on Logan’s jaw like he’s nothing more than furniture.

It’s easily one of the hottest things Wade’s ever done, and Logan only doesn’t cum in his briefs about it because he starts counting backward from one hundred in increments of seven.

He obligingly remains stock still as Wade grinds his pussy on his tongue, and it is the sweetest torture he’s ever endured. Wade’s taste blossoms inside his mouth, but it’s not enough; he needs to lick and suck and mouth at him so fucking bad – but he can’t .

Because Wade said so.

And he’s fucking whipped .

At one point, Logan doesn’t know when, Wade releases the chunk of Logan’s hair he’d been gripping in favor of bracing himself on the ground. Even with Wade’s thick thighs muffling a good bit of the world, Logan’s mutation prevails, and he can hear the way the air stutters in Wade’s lungs as he babbles nonsensically above him.

“Goo-o-d fucking boy, Wolvie, lettin’ me use you,” he wheezes. “And you call me a bitch? Fuckin’ begged for this, puppy, so if my math is right, that makes you my bitch, huh?”

Logan groans into Wade’s flesh, slick and drool beading hotly down either side of his jaw before collecting in the hollow of his throat. 

“What I fuckin’ thought. Your cock is makin’ my hand all sticky through those panties of yours, angel baby, ‘s that all it takes? Mm? I just have to ride your face, and you’re ready to blow, aren’t you? Dirty fucking dog.” Wade punctuates the insult (or accurate assessment, whatever) with a squeeze of Logan’s dick, and that, unfortunately, is all it takes.

Logan cums hard , his moan swinging high in his throat as he thoroughly ruins his briefs, and Wade laughs .

“That’s it, there you go – fuck, you’re making a mess back here, too, what a fucking slut, oh, God, fuck –”

Wade stills, the hand he’d been leaning on coming back to cup the top of Logan’s head, and whines his way through yet another orgasm, cunt throbbing against Logan’s slippery mouth. His claws snkit back into place, metal sliding against tendons, and Logan digs his fingertips into the meat of Wade’s hips. Wade doesn’t protest when he’s lifted far enough for Logan to start greedily lapping his release off his lips and inner thighs; just brings his other hand down to start carding and petting through Logan’s mussed hair.

Eventually, though, Wade does wriggle out of Logan’s grasp and shinnies down the front of his body until his big, wet eyes are on Logan’s, and his drooly, crooked smile is millimeters away, begging to be kissed.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Logan says.

Wade cradles the curve of his jaw and bends forward, slotting their mouths together, and all things considered, it is a very modest kiss. 

“Taste like me,” Wade murmurs, dragging his lips across Logan’s cheek.

“Wonder why.”

“I think you broke my junk.”

Logan snorts. “Doubtful. I’ve done way worse to it.”

Wade shivers, and Logan nudges forward, propping himself up on his elbows. “Lemme up. Back’s killing me down here.”

“You beat my cunt like it owed you money,” Wade deadpans, hefting himself off Logan’s middle all the same. “I think the big bad Wolverine can deal with a widdle bit of sciatica.”

Logan rolls his eyes and hoists himself back onto the couch, loosing what Wade calls an “old man noise” as he settles against the cushions –

And then Wade is there, goading his thighs further apart, deft fingers yanking his waistband down until his softening cock thwaps wetly against his belly. 

He’s got this fucking glimmer in his eye, too, and when Logan asks, “Fuck’re you doin’?” it only shines brighter.

“Hazard a guess,” he hums, head tilted to one side. He curls closer, licking a long, fat stripe through the cum splattered across Logan’s pelvis until his tongue brushes the base of his cock. He swallows his gathered mouthful – fuck – before sitting up straighter and tonguing circles around the crown of Logan’s cock.

He flinches, hard. “I just –”

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you under the impression we were done?” Wade asks, bald brow furrowing incredulously. He shakes his head like Logan is very, very stupid.

“No, no, peanut, that was a warmup. An hors d’oeuvre , you might say. We’re not even close to the main course yet, either. Might wanna hold onto something.”