#wolverine 2013

the cold night hits in the apartment after a long and tiring day, you enter the small apartment slamming the door, logan from the couch observed this strange attitude of yours, he smelled in the air that something was not too right. as you headed straight to your shared room, he raised an eyebrow, this was quite new, not even a hi? how are you? where was your sweet smile? you always greeted him and chatted about each other's day, this was rare.

you entered the room, reluctantly removing your uncomfortable shoes, it didn't take long for you to sink your head into the comfortable pillow, letting the contained tears begin to escape from your eyes, moistening the pillow a little.

logan was quick to appear in the room, approaching the bed with a worried expression. He sits down beside you, the bed sinking under his weight, his large hand moving to your back, caressing it as he whispers, "what happened, sweetheart?” on your ear, trying to get to see your face. “come on, baby.. let me see ya..” He mutters as you get up, Sitting next to him.

your tears seemed to never stop, as you cried logan brushed away the rebellious strands of your hair that stuck to your wet face. "shh… take a deep breath okay? tell me what happened.." he says looking at you with love and understanding. you blinked a few times, trying to calm yourself down, he pulled you on his lap, letting you hide in his neck.

“i'm tired.. it was a long day and things didn't go well today..” you babble between tears, logan sighs as he keeps caressing your hair. “was it that bad baby?” you nod against his neck, his body began to rock you a little, trying to calm you down. it is warm, he is really warm. it is well known that logan james howlett is not a man of too many words, and in situations like this he really didn't know what to say.

you sob a few times before calming down completely, your head was pounding like crazy, like it was being hammered. you were crying inconsolably, it was obvious that it would pass at some point or another. you sighed as you let yourself be carried away by logan's slow rocking, your body snuggled more against his as you dried your tears. “thank you.” your somewhat hoarse voice whispers.

“anytime, sugar.” he says, kissing your forehead, he let you stay on his lap as long as you needed, he loved having you in his arms anyway, your cheeks were red and just like your eyes, your eyelashes were soaked and your lips were swollen. "let’s put on your favorite movie. i’ll grab ya something to eat, and then ya can take a warm shower. ya need to get your mind off this, yeah?” logan looks back at you as he lightly squeezes your arm, a silent gesture of ‘i am here’

he gently pulled you off his lap, sitting you on the bed. you were feeling so much better, you had a boyfriend who actually listened to you and cared about you. you were happy that you had found a man as attentive as him. logan came back with a glass of water. "take this, sweetheart.” he says, handling the glass to you. you drink the water slowly, he sighs and caresses your back. “ya know that i love ya, right?” logan says, looking at you lovingly.

It seemed that he always noticed when you were around, gaze lingering as he kept an eye on you. He wouldn’t speak unless spoken to, but he was the first to help you around the house when you asked. Sometimes you didn’t even have to ask him.

Logan showed up on your doorstep six months ago, dirty and disheveled. He seemed hunted and dangerous at the time—a wounded beast with dog tags around his neck that were similar to a pair in his pants pocket with a wedding band threaded on them. He knew your Henry, promised him that when he got back stateside from Japan he would keep an eye on you until you got back on your feet.

Either way, you watched him chop through a few more sections of wood. Your mouth was dry, lips parted slightly as you watched his muscles move beneath his skin like ropes. It was hard to pinpoint when you started feeling a pull toward him low in your gut. You tried to ignore it, treating him like the other people you rented rooms to, polite and distant. Attentive.

But it was becoming harder to pretend that your heart didn’t flutter or your cheeks didn’t warm when he entered the room.

The smell of the SPAM starting to burn brought you back to the present. You didn’t see the way Logan’s lip twitched when you spun back to the stove, looking flustered as you grabbed the pan off the heat.

—

Autumn brought evening storms with it.

It was raining something biblical outside that night, loud against the eaves and the shutters as you did the dishes after dinner. The boarders had returned to their respective rooms for the night, both of them laborers in the lumber yard that would need to be up early. 

You preferred it that way. They left you to your solitude as long as breakfast was on the table in the morning, dinner was on the table at night, the laundry was done, and there was still electricity and running water. At first you had tried to befriend the occupants of your two extra bedrooms, inviting them to listen to the radio with you or play cards. 

It fell flat, the men meeting you with little enthusiasm. You eventually left them alone.

But Logan helped you out around the house. 

The first time was after you’d complained about your leaking sink out on the porch with Lucy, the woman who lived across the street. You were both sipping lemonade, her darling toddler playing with toys on the slightly overgrown lawn. The sink had been leaking for weeks, you resorted to just changing out the bucket beneath it every morning. 

When you went inside to stave off the afternoon heat of July, Logan was already on his back beneath the sink. He had Henry’s old toolbox out, grunting as he grabbed blindly at the different wrenches before twisting the piping back into place.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t even ask for acknowledgement or a discount on the rent.

Soon enough he was doing all the odd jobs you had around the house, trimming tree branches and repairing holes in the walls and chopping wood. Logan eased some of the hardships that came from Henry’s absence.

You glanced outside, realizing he had stacked up all the wood on the porch where it wouldn’t be touched by the rain.  

The kettle you put on whistled, startling you for a moment before you poured yourself a cup of tea. There was a glass tumbler of whiskey on the counter, you grabbed it before heading upstairs.

A sliver of light was visible beneath Logan’s door, the quiet murmur of a radio playing just beyond. You bumped your elbow against the door to knock.

“Logan?” you called softly, taking a step back when you heard rustling on the other side. 

He pulled it open, still dressed in his work jeans and an undershirt. You felt your mouth go dry for a moment as you looked at him. His shoulders looked broad beneath his white tank top, the fabric sticking to him like a second skin and half tucked into his pants.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice low and rough. His hazel eyes ran over you once like he was checking to make sure you were still in one piece. One eyebrow arched like he was waiting.

You said nothing for a moment, just blinking at him before you came back to yourself. “Oh, um, I brought you this,” you said, holding out the rocks glass to him like an offering. Henry’s whiskey sloshed inside–you had poured a generous three fingers inside. Logan looked at it skeptically, like he couldn’t decide if you were trying to poison him or come on to him. “Consider it a thanks for chopping all that wood.” 

He let out a grunt, nodding once as he took the glass from you. His calloused fingertips brushed against yours.

You pulled your hand back like he was made of lightning, nodding once. “Well, have a good night, Logan,” you said, offering a tight-lipped smile. 

If he answered, you didn’t hear it. You were already headed down the hall to your own bedroom before he said anything. Steam curled off the mug of tea you carried as you shut off the hall light and closed your door behind you.

The storm was fierce as you settled into bed with that day’s newspaper in your hands. It was a habit you picked up while Henry was deployed, wanting to keep up with the most up-to-date information about the war. Now it was just a habit, bringing the newspaper to bed with you became a ritual you fell in with ease.

Thunder rattled the shutters, rain pelting the windows in big, fat drops. The house creaked and groaned, wind buffeting on the outside walls. It sounded like the house was going to blow away at any moment.

You were trying to ignore it, reading about town gossip by lamplight when lightning cracked across the sky outside your window. It illuminated the sky and your room through the space in the curtains. You jolted, crinkling the newspaper in your hands for a moment. 

Something close by popped, a boom that sounded far too close for comfort.

The lights flickered. Once. Twice. Then they died completely with a soft, electric sigh.

You huffed, still holding the paper in your hands as the house fell into silence aside from the rain. It was hard to notice the hum of electricity until it was gone, just the rain drumming against the roof filling the empty space. 

Heavy footsteps sounded down the hall between Logan’s bedroom and the upstairs bathroom. His steps were confident and certain, like the dark didn’t faze him at all.

You were suddenly restless in a way you weren’t before. The mug you brought with you sat empty on the nightstand–you needed more tea. Or water. Something to quench your suddenly parched throat. 

It was easy to feel around for your floral-patterned robe. The rayon satin was soft against your skin, covering your baby blue nightgown. It was long, cotton floating around your ankles as you groped for the taper shoved into a brass candlestick holder on your vanity, a box of matches lingering nearby. 

It took a few tries, but you managed to strike the match. The smell of burning sulfur filled your nose as you held the match to the wick, flicking orange light illuminating a portion of your bedroom.

It was easy to feel like Scrooge in A Christmas Carol as you picked up the candlestick, the brass cool beneath your fingers as you ventured out into the hall. The floorboards creaked beneath your bare feet, making you still for a moment before you took another careful step.

“Thought you turned in.” Logan’s voice carried from the stairwell. He had a glass of water in his hand, the amber light from your candle just barely reaching him. His eyes gleamed as they focused on you.

You shrugged. “I did,” you answered, a slight nod. You realized that you didn’t get up for water, you just didn’t want to be alone.

Henry used to sit with you through storms.

You bit your lip, uncertain. It wouldn’t be hard to turn back, to pretend like you had just come out to check on the noise and go back to bed. Or forge ahead to grab a glass of water like you had originally planned. 

“I… I didn’t want to be alone,” you breathed. The candle flame guttered in the draft of your whisper. You were embarrassed as soon as you said it out loud, warming from your chest to your forehead as your gaze strayed from Logan’s perceptive stare. Some days it felt like he was seeing straight through you.

He paused for a moment, both of you staring at one another as you blinked.

Logan didn’t laugh at you, though. He could have. You were already imagining it, a huff of air through his nose that would substitute for a chuckle if he were anyone else.

But instead he nodded.

“You don’t have to be,” he said softly, that same gravel tone you had grown used to after months of him renting your room washing over you.

He walked to his bedroom door, leaving you space to decide if you wanted to follow. You did, scampering after him like an imprinted duckling as he held the door to his room open for you.

You lit the candle on his nightstand, setting the one you held on his dresser as you looked around. His living quarters were almost Spartan–any personal touch in the room was some decoration you had before he rented it out. Embroidery was framed on the walls, frilly and lacy in a way that didn’t suit him. But he didn’t seem to mind, his own sparse belongings neatly organized and tucked away.

He gave you little reason to enter his room, always piling his laundry outside his door before he left for work at the lumber yard in the mornings, expecting you to leave it folded in the same place in the evenings. 

“So, how have you been liking the room?” you asked, struggling to think of something else to talk about. He pulled out the chair from the small desk, nodding for you to sit down as he sat on the edge of his bed. It was still made, the quilt crisply tucked in like a soldier’s. 

Spending more time in his room made it obvious to you that Logan had served.

“Room’s fine,” he muttered, drinking more water before he fixed his hazel eyes on you. It seemed like he didn’t know what to say, his gaze cutting down to his hands. He flexed them.

“You know, I’m not very good company,” Logan said, softly, as though he didn’t want to let you down. His head turned, lifting just enough so he could see your face still. “I’ve got a lot of shit, y’know? I’m usually by myself.”

You nodded understandingly. Sitting across from Logan reminded you of caged lions at the travelling circus rather than a man. It was in the way his muscles moved beneath his skin, his jaw tense and brows furrowed. Despite his haircut and trimmed beard, he didn’t quite seem like belonged between four walls and in a bed. 

“I am, too,” you said, hands clasped together as you spoke. Loneliness became your constant companion. You thought the extra bedrooms in your home would be filled with children by now, but instead you rented them out. “But if you want me to leave, I’ll go.”

He grunted, shaking his head. “No, that’s not what I want,” he told you, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “But you probably should go.”

Your brow furrowed, arms crossing over your chest as you leaned back against the seat. The candlelight illuminated the curve of your cheek and the curious gleam in your eye. “Why?” you asked, guileless as you spoke. Logan had lived with you for over six months, he never seemed like anything other than helpful, maybe too introverted.

There was another huff of air out of his nose–an exasperated chuckle. “Because, I’m not the type of man you should get close to. I’m not someone you let in after the lights go out,” he explained, voice low as he spoke. 

You rolled your eyes at the cliche. “You seem just fine to me, Logan,” you said, tapping your fingertips against the silky fabric that covered your arm. “If anything, your reputation precedes you in being too helpful in this town. You do things without people asking you to, you don’t ask for anything in return. Not really a monster.”

He let out a huff, one side of his mouth curling into an almost smile. It was the closest thing to a smile you had seen him make. 

“Consider me a wolf in sheep’s clothing, bub,” Logan countered. There was a lift to his tone, an attempt at humor that wasn’t there before. It made you smile, still closed-lipped as your gaze drifted to your lap. 

You snorted, a brighter smile on your face as you shook your head. “I’d hardly consider you a sheep, either.”

Logan looked at you for a long moment, mirth flickering in his eyes before he shifted back on the bed, pulling a pack of cards from his nightstand and nodding for you to sit down with him. “You know how to play poker?”

You eased yourself onto his mattress, legs half tucked beneath you as you watched him shuffle his army-issued playing cards. His motions were fluid, well-practiced like he had shuffled a million times before. “I have nothing to bet,” you murmured, hunching to rest your chin in the palm of your hand. You knew enough to be dangerous.

“Just for fun, for something to do,” he said, dealing out onto the quilt. 

“Well don’t be upset if I win,” you murmured with a smirk, organizing the cards as you picked them up.

He chuckled, hazel eyes flicking up to meet your gaze. There was a moment where he sized you up, his half-smile turning into a smirk. “Alright, bub,” he murmured, adjusting how he sat to better face you, “let’s see what you’ve got.”

–

Logan obliterated you so efficiently it couldn’t even be called cruel. It was obvious you didn’t know what you were doing, missing a full house and a three-of-a-kind because you thought you needed all four cards. He caught onto your tells, on the way you got a gleam in your eye when you got cards you wanted, the slight slump of your shoulders when you didn’t have anything good.

“Let me teach ya,” he murmured, leaning in as he pressed the top of your cards down enough to see over them. His forehead was nearly touching yours as you looked at the cards clutched in your hand, his warm fingers wrapped around your wrist.

He tipped his own cards into view. “See, right here you’d beat me,” he tapped your cards with his fingertip, the noise satisfying, “You’ve gotta full house–three of one kind and two of another. I’ve only got a two pair–full house always beats a two pair.”

You nodded solemnly like you were in church, hanging on to Logan’s every word. He dealt out the next hand, still keeping his close proximity as he talked in hushed tones about what you would do next. 

Despite nodding and humming in all the right places like you were taking it all in, you were distracted. The smell of cigar smoke and cologne and the laundry detergent you used filled your nose, a combination you found heady and enticing as you leaned in slightly to get a better smell of it. 

Logan had leaned in too, chasing the view as the cards in your fingers tilted back toward your chest on instinct.

His hair brushed your forehead, your gazes lifting. Logan’s nose nudged the side of yours, his hazel eyes shining like pools you could stumble into. 

It felt like gravity, both of you converging on a point. The progress was halting, breaths shared between you as you oscillated between hesitant and eager. Logan had always had a sort of weight to him, something that made him feel entirely inevitable. But he still moved like a man expecting to be turned away.

His mouth hovered over yours for a breath. For a second, all you felt was the heat rolling off him, taking in the way the flickering shadows of the candles moved over his face.

The kiss wasn’t rushed or hungry, not like you had expected it to be.

Logan’s lips were warm, if not a little chapped, melding with yours with a gentleness that you would think foreign for a man like him. He kissed you like it was his first and last time he’d get the chance to, slow and deliberate. If you had to guess, he was trying to learn the shape of your mouth by memory.

Your palm rose to his jaw, the scratch of his trimmed beard beneath your fingertips welcome as it cracked something wide open inside of you.

The last time you kissed a man was with Henry. You never realized how different it could be: Henry had always kissed you with purpose beyond just kissing. He was always clean shaven.

The press of your hand on his jaw unlocked something between you, Logan feeling for your waist over the silky fabric of your robe. The cards on the quilt were forgotten as he pulled you closer. Your knee pressed into his thigh, you could hear the stack of playing cards spill across the rug.

Logan cupped the nape of your neck, tilting you into him. You followed willingly, a lamb following a guardian dog’s steady guidance as you pressed yourself into the spaces he left for you.

You undid the tie of your robe with frantic fingers, the hand on your waist hesitant as it slipped beneath the open article to bunch in your soft nightgown. 

“Do you want this?” he asked against your lips, voice little more than a grunt.

You nodded frantically, pulling your robe off your shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. That was enough to convince Logan, his big hand splaying wide over your ribs as he dragged you across his lap and pressed you into the mattress beneath him. Your nightgown twisted around you, the robin egg blue fabric riding up on your thighs and the strap falling off your shoulder. 

He looked down at you like you were something marvelous. It had been years since someone looked at you like that.

“You ever let anyone touch you like they meant it?” he murmured, low and rough as his hands ran up the outsides of your thighs. It was like he was enchanted by each inch of skin he revealed, his eyes stuck at the lace-trimmed hem of your nightgown. 

You didn’t know what to say, warmth blooming on cheeks as you resisted the urge to cover your face with your hands under his gaze. 

He paused, like he wanted an answer from you before he was willing to continue. You let out a huff of air, a nervous smile twisting your lips. “Henry and I didn’t have a lot of time together to explore before…” You trailed off, not sure if bringing up your dead husband was the wrong thing to do. 

It probably was–you couldn’t imagine how that would really be exciting bedroom talk.

Henry’s wedding band was warm against your sternum, the gold glinting in the candlelight. Your fingertips drifted to it, wondering if you should take it off. 

Logan’s hands kept moving up, your nightgown bunching on his wrists. If he was bothered by you bringing up Henry he didn’t let it show. He bent, capturing you in a slow kiss as your thighs parted over his hips. His hand found the swell of your hip beneath your nightgown, his thumb tracing circles on your skin.

His forehead pressed against yours, your breaths slow and heavy.

There was weight behind his gaze, he was steady, strong above you. He was watching you–something cautious and unsure behind his eyes. Maybe protective, even.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” he asked, his finger hooking over the waistband of your panties. Goosebumps ran down your arms.

“I don’t wanna…” he swallowed hard, “I don’t wanna take something you’re not ready to give.”

It was easy to see that he expected you to pull away. His shoulders were tense, bracing for your rejection. His free hand squeezed the sheets beside your head, like he already thought he took too much.

Your hand slid to the back of his neck, your fingers threading in his hair. 

Surprisingly enough, you were comfortable. You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, trying to pull him back in.

But Logan pulled away, trailing kisses down your cheek to your jaw. “Tell me. I need to hear it,” he said, his voice low and gravel-warm. You feel the blunt scrape of his teeth on your neck.

You whined, soft and a bit overwhelmed. It took a moment for you to find the words. “I want this,” you breathed into the quiet of his bedroom. “I want you.”

Logan nodded against your throat, hands moving again. “Okay,” he said, like a vow. “Then I got you.”

You sighed as your head tilted to give him more space. His palms slid beneath your nightgown, over the plane of your stomach. He felt you like a map beneath his touch, trying to memorize you without seeing. A hand dipped between your thighs, warm and sure as it pressed to the damp gusset of your panties.

Then–

CRACK.

The violent snap of wood echoed from outside Logan’s window. It was sharp and too close for comfort, followed by the wet thump of something falling to the dirt.

You both froze.

Logan lifted his head, eyes cutting to the window. The storm howled outside, rattling the glass. Wind buffeted against the outside wall.

“Tree came down,” he muttered as he pulled his hands away from you. They pressed into the mattress, his body tilting to get a better view of outside. “It was close.”

“Did it hit anything?” you asked, sitting up. Your heart was racing, but your lust was long forgotten. 

He listened for a moment, head still cocked to one side. “No,” he said definitively, looking back down at you. “But even if it crushed the fence, or the shed, I’ll fix it in the morning. Promise.”

You nodded, successfully talked down from the spiral of anxiety. But everything felt different now. Your skin felt warm from where he touched you, nightgown still rucked up haphazardly. The storm pressed in once more, the rose-colored haze gone from the room in an instant.

Logan leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. His hands smoothed your nightgown back over your thighs, curling around the backs of your knees.

“We don’t have to rush this,” he said softly, hazel eyes soft and sincere as he looked over your face. 

You were touched by his sincerity, looking up at him through your lashes. He wasn’t trying to push through the pause, you would have let him if he asked.

“Can we just sleep?” you asked, sounding small. Logan nodded, shifting off the bed to take off his jeans. You looked away as he changed into blue, drawstring pajama pants and blew out the candle on the dresser. The one on his nightstand flickered as he lay down next to you, an arm open to invite you in without a word.

He blew out the other candle as you settled against him, cheek to his chest, heartbeat under your ear.

“Gotta warn you,” he murmured in the dark, arm curling around your back to hold you close, “I’m not very good at staying in one place.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just placed your hand on his sternum. His dog tags made a metallic clinking sound beneath your fingertips. The rain was slowing outside, or at least you could convince yourself of it as your eyelids started to get heavy.

You were right on the edge of sleep when he spoke again, your lips parted, your breaths evening out and becoming soft sighs. It was so quiet you almost could convince yourself it was a dream. 

taking your last shot, wade pulls you out of the bar door. as soon as you're both out of the loud obnoxious building, he drunkenly kisses at your swollen lips, both of your breaths reeking of alcohol.

and with that, you're calling a cab to the home you share with logan.

stumbling up the steps, wade tries to hold you steady but trips a few times himself. hushing him, you pull your keys out. unsure if your boyfriend is home or not, quietly turning the lock and peeking into the house. confirming logan is gone, you pull wade inside and slam the door shut behind you.

giggles from both of you echo into the house, running up the stairs with wade. like teenagers, you strip eachother hungrily and impatiently. wade runs his hands down your curves until his fingers crawl under the lace of your panties. he pulls them down as his eyes fuck you right then and there with the way he stares at your exposed cunt.

"my eyes are up here, baby." you tilt his head back up, his eyes dumbly adverting back up to your own. your hand trails up to his scarred cheek, caressing it. wade wastes no more time, pulling his shirt off and pushing you back onto your bed. his knee separates your legs, pushing it up to grind into your clit. the friction causes you to moan out into wades mouth.

your hands wrap around the band of his boxers, teasing the hem as you slowly pull them down. wades half hard cock springs out of the restraint, already leaking from the little you've done.

you knew you shouldn't be doing this. especially in the same bed you and logan have fucked in numerous times. it felt dirty, but so fucking rebelling. being fucked by someone else was different. being fucked by his best friend was different. you just wanted something different. a different kind of fuck than what logan gives you.

the entire thought process of yours is interrupted by the feeling of wades warm spit between your folds. the feeling causing you to sigh out, digging your fingers into his shoulder. any puncture caused by your nails is quickly healed by wade with a groan.

his saliva mixes with your own slick as he rubs his cock through your cunt. it begins to create an opaque color, strings of it pulling apart between yours and his parts. both of you watch intensely, each move he makes. biting your lip from the lewd scene in front of you.

"you ready for this, babe?" wade whispers, probing your entrance. with just a nod, he starts entering into you. there's a slight burn from the new stretch but it was a good fucking burn. a new kind of feeling you haven't experienced in years. his hands groped your tits as you both got comfortable.

your boobs are played with, wade biting down on one of your nipples. earning him a grunt from you, your fingers scratching down his back now. his dick fully rests inside of you now. "so tight, christ." wade stammers, finding a good position; his hands holding your thighs and you cross your legs around his back.

wade sits straight up, watching as he pushes in and out of you slowly. still not used to it, he continues to take his time which causes you to grow impatient. thrusting onto him, you watch as he melts above you.

"that's not how you fuck her, bub." a voice enters into the room, the sound of the bedroom door closing behind himself, logan. quickly, you try to get wade off of you, but to no avail. it's too late. "logan. how long have you been home. or better yet, watching us??" panic coats your throat, trying to come up with a good explanation, he simply shakes his head. wade looks at him confused, embarrassed almost. "get off of her, let me show you how the slut likes it." logan bluntly says, clearly upset but felt challenged by you doing this.

hungrily stripping himself, wade pulls out of you with a whine and scrambling to get off of you. "im gonna fucking kill you after this, wade." they exchange deadly looks before logan replaces wades spot. one of logans hands come up to your neck, giving it a threatening squeeze. "such a dirty little thing. can't even appreciate the fuckings i give to you." all of the air is expelled out of you when logan begins to fill you up without warning.

wade catches himself masturbating, pumping his cock in his fist pathetically. finding out watching the real thing is better than any kind of porn video or magazine. catching a glimpse of wade, he approaches closer to your side. wrapping your hand around him, your thumb rubs over his slit, spreading his precum all over his tip.

a sting infects the side of your cheek, forcefully being turnt back towards logan. it makes you pout a bit, moaning at the waves of pain running through your face. logans rough grasp on your chin demands you to keep your attention onto him.

"keep your fucking eyes on me. you've given him enough attention for now." logan yells at you with a lower tone, almost a whisper but still yelling. his other hand evades your mouth, two of his fingers fucking your mouth. "open." as you obey, he spits into your mouth promptly. pushing all of it into your mouth, closing around his fingers and sucking onto them.

the pace he starts at is brutal, causing your head to be thrown into your pillows under you. at times, logan fucks you so intensely that your body freezes and you forget to please wade. accidentally biting down onto logans fingers, he groans, squeezing his eyes closed. any attempt to speak or moan is muffled by them.

opening your eyes, to surprise wade had crawled onto the bed behind your head. you look straight up to him stroking his dripping cock. logan forces your mouth open, you breathe in any air you can get before its stuffed again deeply by wades cock. "that's it, fuck yes.." he groans, his head falling back limp.

logan adjusts your legs, them now sitting ontop of his shoulders. not able to handle how deep he's able to get in this position, saliva bubbles up from the open crevices of your mouth. "so fucking close, you can take it, you dumb whore." he licks up your neck,collecting your sweat beads before biting down onto a spot. drops of blood are drawn, logan licking them up as it rushes out of the bite marks.

you find yourself clenching around logan, your stomach uncoiling fast. as he fucks you through your orgasm, you're unable to say anything as wade fucks himself to his own orgasm with your mouth. your legs tighten around logans neck, waves of euphoria crashing through you intensely. quickly becoming overstimulated by his fast pace. you're reminded of how good he really fucks and realize you underestimated your own boyfriend.

wade fills your throat with his thick cum, giving you every last drop like a cum dump. gladly swallowing his cock, you squeeze him which milks him of even more cum. when he releases your mouth, it makes a lewd popping noise. strings of saliva mixxed with his cum snap off of his cock as he moves it to his hand from your mouth.

the cock inside of you throbs right before cumming inside of you. the warmth filling you rapidly. "so good, god. should've just asked me to fuck you better." he forces out, moaning at the feeling of the intervals your cunt squeezes his girth.

logan pulls out of you, whining from the sensation. thinking the 3 of you are done, you catch your breathe with a pant. sweat coats your entire body, your hair a mess.

"oh, we aren't done, peanut. i still haven't gotten my full turn." wade laughs, which makes logan cringe. your boyfriend picks you up, now under you as he positions you to lay flat onto him. your chest presses up to logans, your ass sticking up for wade. logan wraps your arms around his neck, both of your faces meeting close together.

wade rims his thumb around your asshole, sending shivers down your spine. goosebumps tickle your skin. any squirms from you, logan was there to hold you in place. "don't think I'm done with you yet either." he whispers into your ear, nipping on the outer shell of it.

spit once again covers your hole, wades fingers gently entering into it to open you up. the feeling isn't one your used to. yet, it felt good. two of his fingers fit inside before curling up and in a scissor motion. burying your face into logans neck, he runs his hand through your hair to soothe you. wades cock teases your asshole before pushing into you. your lips meet your boyfriends, he bites onto your bottom lip before kissing it again. his tongue glides across it, your own fighting his as you suck his tongue.

your ass is spread apart, giving wade a full view of everything. he watches intently as he stretches your ass out. his hand guides himself, making sure you are comfortable while doing so. when he's somewhat in, wade works through you gently. his thrusts are slow and small. just that has you crying into logans mouth.

"wade, oh my god" you manage to whimper out, your back arching even more. "just wade works." he smartly answers back, running his hand down your back to advert your brain to focus on that sensation instead of him fucking his way deeper inside of you. "you ready for me, bub?" your boyfriends hand brushes the loose hair of your face, taking your glazed eyes and desperate nods as a yes.

his cock slips between your folds, finding yourself grinding onto him involuntarily. "so fucking needy. need both of us to satisfy you." logan growls into your ear as your face meets the pillow next to his head. drool soaks up the pillowcase, two of your holes now being filled at the same time. wade holds your legs down, not allowing you to squirm. logan doing the same to your trembling body.

both of them take turns thrusting into you, their rutting becoming more out of rhythm. "i can feel you through your own girlfriend." wade giggles out, making logan fuck you harder from his sheer comment alone. he took it as a challenge. you couldn't tell who was enjoying this more, you or wade? with how loud he's being, you couldn't tell anymore.

approaching another orgasm, everything within you burned up. all of the sweat colliding between all of your bodies added more to the sensations that you were feeling. you felt like you were going to pass out, clawing into logans shoulders for your life. he held your torso, looking right into wades eyes as his cock hit your g-spot. wade gives your ass a firm smack before releasing his load deep into your ass.

a few more ruts are delivered into your ass, reddening up your buttcheeks before he decided he was done. you could hear him panting behind you, pulling out with a grunt. not being off of the hook yet, your sopping cunt continues to be beaten sloppily. logans balls slapping up against you. "im so close, princess. you're gonna take it all, okay? can you do that for me?" already knowing your answer, his second load warms your stomach once more. the feeling of your boyfriend cumming deep inside of you never getting old. keeping you on his cock, wade pouts, giving you two your moment besides his jokingly jealously.

"what do you say, bub?" he pants, giving your face hungry wet kisses. trying to find your words, you breathe desperately. "thank you, daddy" muttering out before falling back into his chest again. your body goes limp ontop of his body.

logan glares at wade as he pathetically strokes himself. "there's the door, bud" he points, keeping his attention on you now. wade collects his clothes, quickly dressing himself as he begins to sober up, realizing what had just went down. rushing out of the bedroom is a haste and out of the front door downstairs.