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Why the fuck did Logan ever think Wade fucking Wilson was a nice guy?
"What the fuck," he seethed, going straight for the cupboard where they kept the whiskey, "were you thinking?" He put the bottle to his mouth and swallowed greedily, downing a quarter of it in one go. That was the only way Wade fucking Wilson was going to survive the night.
"Peanut -" Wade tried, trailing him into the kitchen, but Logan wasn't fucking having it.
"I'll tell you what you were thinking," he snarled, shoving his way close to Wade, getting up in his face. "It's the same thing you're always thinking. It's nothing! You have nothing going on in that empty little head of yours but stupid jokes that no one finds funny but you! You can't even listen to basic directions." He shoved Wade, hard, so he stumbled, and took another long pull from the bottle. "You start fucking up jobs like that, and I'm going to have to bring a flask with me so I don't interrupt what we're doing to turn around and kill you."
"Wouldn't do you much good," Wade said, all while his suit covered in the ashy evidence of why Logan should try anyway. He wanted to make Wade fucking cower.
Logan shoved him again and snarled when Wade braced himself and didn't move. "Yeah, just what I thought, jokes again. You know what I think? You keep cracking wise and acting like a clown as a distraction, because if someone is laughing at what you do, they aren't laughing at what you are. And what you are is a joke. Look at you. You had to go get someone else to save your universe, because that's all you are when it matters. Hot fucking air."
Logan finished off the rest of the bottle in a couple of swallows and slammed it down onto the kitchen counter, heaving for breath. He could shout as much as he wanted, and boy, did he want - they always came home late and loud from jobs, so Al was long since asleep with earplugs in. Logan didn't give a fuck about what their neighbors thought, since they were smart enough to keep it to themselves.
Wade sighed deeply, and Logan could see his eyes rolling, even through the whites of his mask, it was that obvious. "What I am, Jim fucking Lahey, is provably a big damn hero and also, oh, hey, what else? Oh yeah, your best fucking friend. Who peeled you off the floor and took you in off the streets and gave you a place in a world where you aren't the worst fucking Wolverine." He maneuvered around Logan as casually as he'd dodge a stranger on the street, going back to the liquor cabinet to pull out another bottle. "Now, I think you need a nice little chill pill. Have another one. You'll feel better."
Logan had to let the claws out then. It was pure instinct, when faced with that much rage, and the liquor hadn't hit hard enough yet to keep them sheathed. "Don't fucking tell me what to do," he said, taking two steps forward to slam Wade's free hand into the counter and pin it there claws first.
"Oh, you want a fight?" Wade breathed, staring at Logan like he was completely unaffected, even as his blood began to flow off the counter to drip onto the floor. "You could have just asked, baby boy." Then he smashed the full bottle of whiskey over Logan's head and slashed at the arm holding him pinned with the broken remains.
Logan roared and pulled back, drenched in whiskey that stung at his eyes and at the little cuts the glass had left. His vision in one eye had literally gone red - no, that was the blood dripping into it. Reflex had him taking a solid swipe at Wade's head, but the other man ducked, and Logan hit cabinet. He had to check his blow, because if Wade made him waste the rest of the liquor they had in the house on this stupid little fight, he really would find a way to permanently end Wade fucking Wilson.
It put him off balance, enough for Wade to stagger him with a kick to the knees and then a knife to the thigh as he slid between Logan's legs to pop up behind him. "Baby knife!" he cooed.
"Fuck your goddamn baby knife," Logan said. He bent down to yank the knife out and get his balance back, and stabbed backwards with it blindly, claws pointed down. He missed, but the surprise made Wade skip back a step, giving him a little space. Which was all Logan needed to whirl around claws first, stupid little knife dropped.
"Oh, you little bitch!" Wade yelped. Logan had gotten lucky and managed to slice clean through the harness holding Wade's swords in place, along with a significant slice of the suit and Wade's chest underneath. "I just got this repaired." He grabbed for a gun and aimed it for Logan, who braced for the shot.
They were both met by an empty click when Wade pulled the trigger. "Fuck!" he yelled, and tossed the useless weapon aside. "You want to play like that, peanut? Put your little steak knives away. If I'm that useless, it shouldn't be a problem to beat me with your bare fucking hands, should it?"
Logan wasn't quite sure that logic held up, but finally, the alcohol was starting to push past the adrenaline to blunt his thoughts, and he couldn't say exactly why. It would be more satisfying to lay into Wade with his teeth and nails, anyway. Logan sheathed his claws and threw himself at Wade.
They rolled over and over on the kitchen floor, using elbows and knees to wrestle each other flat against the cheap linoleum. Wade smashed Logan's head into a cabinet, pushing the glass that he hadn't shaken off right back in. For that, Logan leaned up and got a good mouthful of the Deadpool cowl that sat around Wade's neck and bit.
The fact that it was armored protected Wade from having his throat torn out, but Logan's canines pierced windpipe - he could hear the labored rattling, feel it against his mouth. He rolled them over, not much effort needed. Wade struggled under him a little, choking on his own blood and trying to shove Logan away, trying to flail a knee hard into his side. But Logan just held on, the animal part of his brain sated at prey caught and killed.
That or the alcohol both had the rage dripping out of him in waves. Here was what he'd wanted - Wade cowering. But slowly, as the worst of the fury left him, Logan began to feel guilty. Wade really was his best friend, wasn't he? Yeah, he fucked up, and he deserved to be taught a lesson. But maybe Logan had gone a little too far. He slowly unlocked his jaw and pulled back, licking up the blood dripping from his teeth and swallowing.
"You'll do better next time, huh?" Logan rasped, patting at Wade's face. Wait - he couldn't see it. He frowned and pulled off the cowl, impatiently batting away Wade's hands, still weak from blood loss. There. That was better. He could see Wade's face now.
"You'll do better, Wade. You can do better." Logan flexed his hand - oh, booze was working. The blades only came out a few inches, but that was fine. Perfect, even. Logan ran them across Wade's cheek, gently, but not so gently that they didn't leave blood beading in their wake. Wade nodded, not speaking. Logan must have pierced his vocal cords along with his trachea.
Logan sighed, letting go of the last of the anger and thinking about another drink. But the deep breath in made him aware of something he hadn't expected. Oh. All that adrenaline from their tussle and Wade rubbing on him as he wriggled around had made him hard.
Wade liked that, didn't he? He liked when Logan was halfway there, anyway, so a real hard-on was probably even better. This was perfect. Logan wasn't going to apologize, but this? This was a good way to show Wade he wasn't mad any more. Logan could do gestures. Logan did.
He shoved his hips down against Wade, not manhandling this time, just rubbing his hard dick against him. Was Wade hard? Hard to tell. Suits were too thick. He might not be, though. Logan had hit artery. Had been rough with his teeth. Took a little while for blood to come back. That was all right. Wade would get hard. He always did.
In the meantime, Logan was going to enjoy being the one with a working dick for a little while. He ground down again and couldn't help the little catch in his breath. It was fine, sometimes nice, when Wade touched him, but he was almost always in too deep for the sensation to really register, just a warm gratification. This wasn't that. This was the hot flush of true arousal. Real pleasure. Sex.
Wade's jaw was opening and closing, his throat closing up enough to let his voice whistle out. Still not coherent. Still healing that part. But he was trying to talk, at least. Flailed his hands all over, like he didn't know where to put them. That was funny. He'd always known before.
Logan reached up to him again, knuckles stinging - oh, the claws were still a little out - and patted him on the cheek. That was about all he had the control for. This was - it felt good. Felt good to be a real participant. That was good, right? Wade always took care of him. Logan had to make it up to him. He yelled, of course he yelled, Wade needed it. Needed to be corrected. But maybe Logan didn't have to stab him about it. He'd hurt Wade. Now he'd help him. Help him feel good. And it felt so, so good."
"I know, bub, I know," Logan said. His voice rumbled low in his chest, and he kept moving, kept grinding. Wade was maybe starting to get hard under him. That was good. "This is normally your job, right? Let me do it. Let me make you feel good."
"Logan -" Wade rasped, his voice a strained creak. His face was - Logan didn't know. Crumpled. Strange.
Logan patted his cheek again. "I got this. You feel good. You look good. You made me hard for real, you feel it?" He thrust again. Shit, could Wade even feel this? Logan did, but it was muffled. Did Wade have a cup? Logan couldn't remember. It hurt to get hard in a cup. Fuck.
"Logan -" Wade tried again, but Logan ignored him. Instead, he pushed himself up, sitting back on his knees between Wade's legs. He fumbled with the clasps of his suit, pulling the top off. Wade liked his chest. That would be good for him.
Underneath him, Wade tried to kick again, squirming. Logan abandoned the suit pants to grab his legs.
"Hey," Logan said, pressing his claws into Wade's thighs, just enough to cut through the suit. "I told you, I've got this. Stay still. We'll feel good."
"I don't want -" Wade started.
"Stay still or I'll make you," Logan said, starting to get annoyed again. Why wouldn't Wade just let him do this? Logan let Wade. He let him all the time. Was Wade really that much of a control freak?
Yeah, he was. Wade's thighs tensed under Logan's hands. Logan pressed harder, reflexively, trying to catch the movement before Wade could get leverage. There was a gush of blood, and Wade's legs went limp.
Shit. Femoral artery. Both of them. Wade would be unconscious for a minute, healing that up. Logan hadn't meant to do that. He'd just wanted Wade to be pliant for him. The way Logan was.
Logan looked at the spreading puddle on the floor, surrounding them both, and felt a little guilty again. If Wade would just do as he was told, Logan wouldn't have to hurt him. He didn't like to hurt Wade. Not because he was being stupid, wasn't listening.
But. Wade was pliant for him now. That was good. Logan hadn't meant to make him bleed out, but now that he had, he might as well use it.
Logan fumbled the suit off of Wade, belts-boots-top-bottom, and threw the pieces to the side. They were bloody, but they'd already been bloody. They already had a mess to clean up. Who cared. Then he stood up, a little unsteady, and peeled off his own pants. He stared at the liquor cupboard for a moment. He didn't want to lose this hard-on, but he didn't want to get angry at Wade again either. And that needed booze.
Compromise. Logan took a swig from the second to last bottle in the cabinet and thunked it onto the counter. Then he bent down and hauled Wade up, putting him face down next to it. Just in time. His body was still slack and loose, but his lids were starting to flutter.
"That's better," Logan told Wade. "Isn't that better?" He kicked Wade's ankles until they spread wide. Shoved himself between Wade's thighs, leaning over, bracing his forearms on the counter on either side of him. Wade's ass was nice. Muscular. Logan thrust against it and panted at the skin on skin touch. The blood that had puddled under Wade was still wet on his ass. Made the movement slick but strange. Still good.
"Let me - let me have this," Logan said, grinding harder, working himself up, pinning Wade down with the full weight of his heavy adamantium body. "It's what you want, right? You always want to touch me. You have to let me touch you."
"You like it when I touch you," Wade gasped, still weak but coming more alive. His head lolled weakly to look up at Logan caging him in.
"Well, I like this better," Logan said, baring his teeth. "It's my turn. I'll do the work. You'll like it."
"I'm not good at it this way, baby," Wade said, but he was beginning to push back against Logan, find some grip on the floor and shove his ass against Logan's cock.
"That's all right," Logan said. "I'll make it good. Don't worry." He straightened up. Wade tried to come up with him. Logan shoved him down with a hand between his shoulders. Something cracked. He'd forgotten to modulate his strength. That was all right. Wade would heal.
Logan's buzz was fading, so he took a long drink. What did he want to do? Something different. Wade could rub up against him whenever he wanted. Logan wanted to do something he needed a hard dick for.
He wouldn't make Wade suck it. That wasn't the point. Logan wanted to feel good and he wanted Wade to feel good too. So he'd fuck him, Logan decided. Wade hadn't fucked Logan yet, even when he'd had the opportunity. Just his thighs. Had never so much as slipped in a finger. So Wade had to like it this way better. Why else wouldn't he have fucked Logan? It's not like Logan wouldn't have let him.
"Gonna fuck you," Logan informed Wade, and set the bottle to the side. "Why'd you say you're no good this way? Look at you. You want it bad."
Wade was panting underneath him, flushed. His blood supply was coming back. He squirmed under Logan again, but it didn't feel like a real struggle. Felt like Wade was trying to get more leverage. Push up against Logan harder. Why else would his ass be cradling Logan's dick so good, writhing like he'd learned to grind from his stripper ex?
"You don't - you don't even have anything to grease me up," Wade said. "Logan, baby, I don't like when it hurts, please."
"Don't worry," Logan said. "I won't let it hurt for long." He shoved Wade down again.
Drinking made his spit thick in his mouth. Normally it annoyed Logan, felt disgusting, made him feel like throwing up. But it was convenient now, as he gathered it up and spat directly on Wade's hole.
Wade jolted, and Logan spit again, on his hand this time. He rubbed his fingers together, getting them wet, before he spread his spit around Wade's hole and started to work a finger in.
"No really, I mean it," Wade said. His face was shoved against the counter. Made his voice a little muffled. "I'm not a natural bottom. I mean, I guess I could try, for you, I understand if you just can't resist me, but at least go get the lube, huh?"
Logan snorted. "Nah," he said. "Not letting you up. You'll try to fight me again." He pushed his finger in a little further. There was resistance - that was what Wade had meant by 'not good at it', probably. But Logan could work for it. Since Wade would like it. He'd even said.
"Maybe that should be a sign?" Wade said, trying to squirm away from Logan's finger. "About how I feel about this?"
"Doesn't matter," Logan said. "You haven't said no, huh? I don't say no to you when you want to feel good. I don't always feel like it. But I always let you." He spit on Wade's hole again.
"So - what's good for the goose is good for the gander, huh?" Wade said. "But you'll notice I never tried to fuck you for real."
"Uh-huh," Logan said. He was preoccupied. Trying to work in one more finger. It was slow going. "So you must not have wanted to. I want to fuck you."
"Well, I did want to fuck you, I just resisted," Wade said. "Ow, you fucking animal, how big are your fingers? When was the last time you trimmed your nails?"
"No, you couldn't resist me," Logan said. "You told me. So you're a liar." Logan knew that already. Fucking educated wish. Just a lie. "You must not have really wanted to fuck me." He took a swig from the bottle. Basic logic, but it meant he was too sober.
"I could resist hurting you," Wade said. His breath was labored.
"And I'm not gonna hurt you," Logan said. "I'll make it good." He let the hand pinning Wade down drift, finding its way underneath him. "See?" Wade was half hard under his hand. Cock swelling.
"Yeah, because I do have a sexy Wolverine rubbing all over me," Wade said. Panted. "You try to get one more of those sausages you call fingers in, I'm gonna lose that pretty quick."
Logan hummed. He didn't want that. He took another drink from the bottle, slowly twisting the two fingers he'd managed to get inside, making a little room. Then he spread them apart and leaned down. Opened his mouth. Let the whiskey drip directly into Wade's open hole.
Wade whined. "Butt chugging? That's your solution?" he asked, lifting himself up. Looking back at Logan. Not trying to get away any more. Logan smirked.
"It'll get you relaxed," he said. "Lasts a little longer. Healing factor has to work harder when it goes directly into your bloodstream." He took another gulp. Spread his fingers a little further. Then he tilted a perfect shot, a bartender's clean pour, into Wade's hole.
It did relax him. Fast. Wade slumped forward, head lolling. Didn't take long to get drunk this way. And around Logan's fingers, his hole loosened. Got soft.
Logan laughed, putting the bottle down. "See?" he said. "It'll be good." He shoved a third finger in, little resistance, and stroked Wade's cock.
Wade was half hard - he was the one with whiskey dick now - but he would sober up some while Logan was fucking him. Not all the way, but enough to enjoy this. Logan was sure of it. But he was pliant under Logan now, his mouth opening and drool puddling beneath his cheek. Logan pumped his fingers a little longer, enjoying it, and then pulled out. He spit again, this time on his own cock, got it wet. Fit it against Wade's hole.
"Really taking hawk-tuah girl to heart, huh, baby," Wade slurred. Logan rolled his eyes and ignored him. He had better things to do. Like savoring the long, slow push into Wade's body.
He could fuck Wade hard and heavy, slam him into the counter like he was continuing their fight from earlier, but the drinks had Logan at a comfortable plateau, and he felt soft and indulgent. He fucked Wade slow, a little sloppy, just barely glancing over his prostate, a tease. Just enough to feel, not enough to get oversensitive, as Wade slowly, slowly, hardened up.
"Guess I deserve this," he mumbled. Face still smashed against the counter. Logan leaned forward, letting himself enjoy the hot clutch, keeping one hand softly teasing at Wade's cock. Slid his other hand under Wade's face.
"Yeah," he said, a growl in his voice. "You deserve to get fucked just like you wanted to. Maybe you'll understand, now." He snapped his hips, moving a little faster. "You're a follower. You need someone else to do the thinking for you. Just like this, huh? Feels good to let go? Have someone else in charge?" He squeezed Wade's cock again.
Wade shuddered beneath him, breathing out a little moan. His cock was almost all the way hard now, foreskin pulled back, wet at the tip. Logan grunted in satisfaction. He changed it up some, aiming for the sweet spot. The angle was a little awkward. Didn't always get it. But it was enough to have Wade's breath quick and heavy.
"Who - who knew you were so good at the degrading dirty talk?" Wade said. "The degrading, yeah, you're very good at that, but you made it sexy."
He was trying hard to keep up the chatter. Why? Logan could tell he just wanted to be fucked. Wade's cock was hard. It dripped. His ass was hot and tight and sweet around Logan. He shouldn't be talking. Not like this.
"Gets you hot because it's true," Logan said. He sat up. Moved one of Wade's hands to his own cock. Grabbed Wade's hips with both hands, lifting his ass up to angle him just right. "Why else would you let me do this?"
"Impeccable - impeccable logic," Wade gasped. "Except it's not. At all." His fist was moving fast and rough, the sound slick and obscene.
"Mm," Logan said, and started to slam into Wade, hard. Hard enough Wade had to brace himself against the wall. Hard enough Logan might be breaking bones. "But you like it. Tell me, huh, bub?"
"What," Wade said, "you need the validation?" His voice was strained as he pushed back into Logan, his ass clasping his cock tight, like it didn't want to let him go.
"I know you like it," Logan said. "You're not a natural, huh? Doing pretty good for someone who isn't." He was, gasping and moaning on Logan's cock, pink and pretty, shining with sweat, his thighs and ass tacky with his own drying blood. Logan shoved one leg, bent, onto the counter with the rest of him. Opened him up deeper. Made him stretch, like the way he used his legs in a fight.
Wade whined, heaving for breath. "You're not giving me much of a choice. Do you think I'm a rubber band?"
Logan laughed. "You can take it," he said, panting himself, fucking Wade hard and deep. "I know you like it. Got to admit it to yourself. It's a treat, huh?"
"For you, maybe," Wade said, but his hand never stopped. Went faster. Harder.
Logan thrust deep and stayed there, moving in short, quick stabs without pulling out, making Wade twitch and moan. "You know it's not just for me," he said. "Better enjoy it. You won't get it much." Logan was closer to sober than not for this. Had to be. Wasn't going to happen too often outside of the job.
Wade shook his head, but he stroked his cock faster as Logan fucked him, tilted his hips until Logan's dick caught him just right and made him whimper at every thrust. "No," he said, almost sobbing with it, crying with pleasure. "It's good for you, asshole, not me!"
"Oh yeah?" Logan asked. He laughed low in his throat and stopped completely. It ached, his balls tight and high, but the same thing in him that had wanted Wade to cower wanted him to say it, admit his submission. "So you don't want me to keep fucking you?"
"Fuck you," Wade said, strangled. "Oh, you son of a bitch, fucking move or get out of me!" He was trying to fuck himself on Logan, as best as he could. It didn't work well.
"Oh, you want me out? Really?" He began to pull out of Wade, slow, making him feel it. "I don't think so." Not when Wade was so close to coming.
Wade lasted longer than he'd thought. Until Logan was about to remove the very tip of his cock. Desperately jerking himself as Logan moved, trying to make himself come. Couldn't. Right on the edge and couldn't fall over. Wade moaned in frustration and let his hand drop.
He turned his head to look back at Logan, tears in his eyes, welling up, wet and red. Desperate. "Yes, okay, yes, I like it, please, please!" he cried.
Logan laughed again, mouth wide, teeth bared, wild. "Was that so hard?" he asked, and then slammed home before Wade could answer.
It wasn't going to take long for either of them. Wade was moaning, sobbing, bracing both hands on the wall to push back onto Logan's cock inside of him, droplets of pre splattering on the counter from his abandoned cock. Logan was growling, his teeth clenched, his nails digging into Wade's hips. He let the claws out again, just a little, just enough to anchor himself, and slipped a hand down to tug at Wade's dick.
That was it for Wade. He lost it, spurting come onto his chest, his belly, the counter, Logan's hand. His ass gripped tight, and Logan sunk in deep and came.
It was his first orgasm in over a year. It whited him out. He was drooling onto Wade, maybe yelling, his hips jerking in short little thrusts to draw it out. It turned him inside out and left the room spinning.
When he came back to himself, his claws were back in his hand and his forehead was pressed to Wade's back. They were both dripping sweat. Stank of sex.
Logan cleared his throat, gathering himself, and pulled out slowly, turning around to collapse with his back against the counter. Wade put his leg down gingerly and pulled himself up, leaning his forehead against the cabinet above him. The kitchen was quiet, filled with the sound of their heavy breathing. Logan picked up the bottle and began gulping it down again.
"Sharing is caring, baby boy," Wade said, and wriggled his fingers. Logan passed the bottle over. Reluctant. Didn't want to let it go.
Wade only took a few swallows before passing it back. He turned around, facing out, taking a look at the kitchen in front of them.
"Al's gonna be pissed," he said. "Blood and come everywhere?"
Logan grunted and swigged from the bottle again. "You still got a stash, right?" he said. "Do a couple lines. Perk you up enough to get this cleaned up."
"Oh, you think I'm doing this alone?" Wade said.
Logan snorted. "It was all your fault," he said. His eyelids were starting to get heavy, the endorphins and the alcohol combining to give him a sweet warm lassitude.
Wade sighed. "I have no idea how you could come to that conclusion, but I can already tell you're not going to be much use for the rest of the night, huh?" he said.
Logan mumbled something in agreement. Things were getting soft. His head was fuzzy. Just how he liked it.
Wade sighed again. "Go sit on the couch, peanut," he said. "If I'm going to clean this all up, I will need a boost. If I'm still wired when I'm done, I'm going to take it out on you, I hope you know."
Logan waved a hand, dismissive. What else was new. He grabbed the other bottle and sank heavily onto the couch, closing his eyes.
Wade clattered around in the kitchen for a moment, opening drawers and then tapping something against the counter as he cut a few lines. Logan heard something he assumed was Wade rummaging around in his suit pouches for his lucky coke dollar. Then he snorted a couple of times, long, and cleared his throat. Sighed. Clattered around more, talking to himself.
Logan cracked an eye open when he heard Wade walking over to him, taking another slug out of the bottle. Wade's hand landed in his hair. Stroked it so firmly it was almost a pull.
"My thirsty little honey badger is almost out, isn't he," he murmured. "I'll run out and get you some more once I've got this place fit for human habitation again, how about that?"
Logan opened his eyes fully, looking up at Wade. "Sounds good," he said. Slurring now. Comfortable. No, he'd been right before. Wade really was a nice guy. Logan had to treat him right.