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“I have been looking for you for hours!”
“”S been five minutes.”
“Wh– how could you even know! You were missing!”
“I could hear you yelling,” Logan’s lip curls before she seals it over the bottle of whiskey. “You’re not gonna change my mind.”
Wade scoffs, hands on her hips incredulously. “I’m not here to change your mind! I’m here to tell you that you were really mean to Laura and she seems pretty sad! Also, where the fuck are we right now?”
Logan is still chugging for another few seconds before she finally pulls the bottle away with a gasp and a string of spit. Her eyes waver when she looks back at Wade, and Wade can’t tell if she intended to start her looking at Wade’s hips and drag up to her face or if she’s just that drunk. She blinks vacantly before glancing at the bed she’s slung across, a thin mattress on a wire frame like it’s out of an old-timey infirmary. There’s a disgusting and impressive stack of bottles and cans in the corner and rotting pages from magazines pinned up on the wall depicting babes, cars, and babes on cars.
“I think this was Johnny’s room,” Logan slurs, lifting the bottle to squint at the tiny amount of liquid left in it. “He was stealing from Gambit’s stash too.”
If she wasn’t so ticked off with her right now, Wade would be really hung up on how she’s stripped down to an action hero classic ratty tank top, the chest piece of her costume in a bloodstained heap on the floor. Whatever happened in the “car” last night (if you can even call that thing a car) had been eating at Wade all day– so close to something more and yet too bogged down in anger and frustration to get there. Wade was confident Logan had been just as aroused by their scuffle as she was, but with enough head wounds between them to put the NFL to shame, they’d passed out before it had gone anywhere worth writing home about.
“As the poster child for the DSM-5, I’m not here to do family counseling,” Wade starts, jabbing a finger in Logan’s direction. “But–”
“Sounds like y’are,” Logan snorts, finishing the last sip in what has to be the third or fourth bottle since they woke up in the resistance’s hideout that morning.
“Bratty when you’re drunk, aren’tcha?” Wade bites out, her temper flaring when Logan moves to grab a beer from a stash off the side of the bed. Wade’s foot flies out before she can think about it, pinning Logan’s wrist to the mattress. Drunk and uncoordinated, Logan just kind of flops over, looking up at her bemusedly.
And she does it again– looks at her starting way too low to mean anything else before blinking up to Wade’s face– cheeks red and a shit eating sneer pulling at the corner of her mouth.
But Wade came here for a reason, speaking both broadly and specifically, and she was running out of time.
“Look, we both know you’re just throwing a temper tantrum and you’ll show up tomorrow no matter what because you just can’t help yourself. So why’d you have to be such a cunt to all of them, huh? I know you don’t have the balls to apologize but you should at least say something to Laura–”
“This is a good angle on you,” Logan slurs.
Wade laughs, high and shrill. It is a good angle on her and Wade knows it– there’s a reason the spandex is form fitting– but it still pisses her off. “How often does that work for you, champ?”
Logan rolls her eyes, her smile crooked and toothy. “It’s worked before.”
The tendons in Logan’s wrist shift and roll under Wade’s boot when she grinds it down hard into the bed. Logan, to her credit, manages to maintain eye contact even as she hisses in pain.
“Oh, yeah? On who?” Wade asks meanly, bending at the hip to lean on her knee. It makes Wade’s thigh flex, and Logan looks, and it pushes Wade’s chest up against her elbows, and Logan looks.
When Logan finally remembers to answer, she drawls, “Worked on Jean.”
“Uh-huh?” Wade drops her voice and braces herself. “And how’d that go for you?”
It takes a second for the words to get through an inch of adamantium skull and slosh through enough liquor to wipe out an entire sorority with alcohol poisoning before Logan finally frowns. It’s cute– alarmed confusion as if she’d been slapped– before it becomes a scowl, contorting her face.
“Don’t you dare bring what happened to her into this,” Logan snarls. She’s sobering up quick, Wade can tell, and it’s only a matter of time before she gets claws somewhere vital, but that’ll heal. The only thing that’ll cut Logan as bad as she’s cut Wade is words.
Wade twists her boot again, hard enough she can feel the sheathed claws between the bones. “If you get to scream at me about how bad I fumbled Vanessa, then I think I can bring your little infidelity crush up. Anyone ever tell you not to go for the straight girls?”
With her legs spread over Logan’s body, Wade is expecting a cheap shot. Maybe Logan knows that and is trying to catch her off guard, or maybe Logan knows where this is headed and is saving them the only type of refractory period a girl like Wade has. Regardless, she sinks the claws of her free hand into Wade’s thigh, shoving her back. Wade only puts up enough of a fight to maintain appearances, letting Logan slam her into the wall and level her claws at her chest.
They were close in the car, and they’ve been close this whole time, but it’s hard to appreciate the height difference until they’re tit to abdomen like this. Wade is grinning when her back hits the wall, cocking her head to look down at Logan. “Bet she didn’t actually give you what you wanted, did she? First, second base? Maybe, just maybe, she fingered you, but I doubt she was up in the X-Mansion pegging Scott–”
It’s hard to talk with a collapsed lung, which Wade has now. Logan’s knuckles meet her rib cage and Wade laughs wheezily, blood filling the front of her mask. “You don’t know when to fucking stop, do you?” Logan says through gritted teeth. “At least– at least your girl is still alive–”
“She won't be for long,” Wade coughs, trying to keep her voice condescending around the blades in her chest. “If you can’t get your act together. At this rate, you’re gonna wind up fucking over another timeline.”
Logan’s fist connects with Wade’s face, knocking her head back into the wall. It stuns her for a second, which is all the time Logan needs to sweep her legs out and fling her at the floor. Her claws tear through Wade’s costume on the way down, surely not intentional with the way she’s spitting and snarling like an angry bulldog, but it’s enough to expose what Wade suspects is a tantalizing amount of skin.
And her suspicions are right. Logan’s rapidly descending claws screech to a halt and lower to Wade’s chest slowly. Like an extension of her hand, the sharp tip catches on the edge of the tear and Logan peels it curiously out to the side. “Are you…” Logan says thickly, making that adorable face she’s been making where she’s so pissed but also so confused. Head tilted, eyes narrowed, “Are you not wearing a bra?”
Wade stretches out on the floor, crossing her legs daintily and resting her head on her arms. “Do you really think my bra survived the beating you gave me yesterday? You cut through one of the straps like six seconds in.”
Swallowing thickly, Logan peels her eyes up from Wade’s chest to her face. “What do you want, Wilson?”
Wade shrugs cheekily. “I want you to get over yourself and stop being an asshole to people you care about. I won’t deal with your angst if someone gets hurt or dies tomorrow, I’ve got bigger fries to fish. I might just leave your moody ass with Cassandra, let her stick her icky fingers in you– the unfun way.”
“So, what, you’re giving pep talks to all your little soldiers? What about the rest of us? What about our worlds?” Logan steps back, her claws retracting, and pinches the bridge of her nose.
“You ever been involved in one of these plots that didn’t become fully apocalyptic, proper noun or otherwise? The Mouse would not have paid so much money for me to just make this a low stakes endeavor. Everyone else’s worlds will inevitably get involved.” Wade sits up, shifts to her knees. “You and I aren’t heroes anyways, babydoll. Morally grey is practically a synonym for gets-to-be-selfish.”
“If I’m not a hero, then why do you care what I say to Laura?” Logan trudges back to the bed, sits down hard on the edge of it with her elbows on her knees.
“Because there’s a pretty wide chasm between ‘role model superhero’ and ‘asshat who's mean to children.’” Wade watches her go upside down in her periphery.
“She’s not a kid,” Logan grumbles. But she stares at the floor for a few seconds, chewing on the inside of her lip. “But I’ll go with you tomorrow, fine. Is that what you wanna hear?”
“It’s on the list.”
Logan scoffs, curling her lip when she asks, “What else is on the list?”
“You look totally smoking hot in that suit, darlin’. Or I’d like to sign onto a six movie deal, Mr. Feige.” Wade sneers as she stands, crossing her arms over her chest just to put a little lift in the new boob window in her suit. “I’d also take: let me suck your cock, mommy, but I recognize that one is a bit of a stretch.”
“You’re a fucking clown,” Logan groans. “If you’re done pretending to be my shrink, can you leave me the fuck alone?”
“Why, so you can rub one out thinking about my tits?” Wade steps back up into her space, undeterred by the angry flash of hazel glittering above ruddy cheeks. “If so, I guess that's fine. Though it is sad that you can only hit on girls when you’re plastered.”
“Is that what you want?” Logan spits back. “How’s your little girlfriend gonna feel if she knows you fucked me?”
Wade scoffs. “First of all, we’re not together right now. Second of all, I think I’d get a crisp high five and an extended discussion on how good of a fuck you are.”
Logan narrows her eyes. “You’re scared.”
“Excuse moi?” Wade studies the way Logan is sitting, she’s thinking two steps ahead, deciding if she’s dropping to her knees or straddling her hips. “I’m not scared of you or Vanessa.”
“You’re scared that we won’t get out of here in time. You’re scared to die.”
Wade throws her other plans out the window and grabs Logan’s jaw, cupping her face. “Yeah, duh I’m scared that everyone I care about is gonna die. But you and I are both about as suicidal as it gets, pookie. Two sides of the same coin. If we both die and they all live, that’s a pretty low amount of collateral damage as far as our track record goes.”
Logan doesn’t recoil. She just looks to the side, towards the tower of empty bottles, cheeks smushing in Wade’s grip. She grumbles, “You’re only pushing me because you can’t stand to be alone with your thoughts.”
Wade tuts and coos, “Is that not why you’re sampling every alternate universe brand of whiskey that Johnny-boy had stashed in this place?”
It’s unfair how long her lashes are, inky black and soft where they brush the dark circles under her eyes. Wade can feel Logan swallow, her throat shifting under her grip. “But you’re only here because no one else will have you. You’re not here for me.”
“Categorically not true. My X-Men comics are just as crunchy as my Playboys,” Wade giggles. Logan’s lip curls and finally she tries to pull back, but it only takes the tiniest tightening of Wade’s fingers for her to stay put. “Oh, christ, I get it now. You’re such a kicked puppy– none of your broodiness is melodramatic– you need someone to love you hard, huh?”
“Wade,” Logan starts, scowling, but her cheeks are red and her pupils are blown.
Glancing up, speaking to the ceiling, to a higher power, to you, Wade says, “Lord, I cannot fix her but fuck if I’m not gonna try anyway.”
“Wade–” Logan tries again, but Wade has been choreographing her next motion for the past three hundred words and effortlessly slides down into Logan’s lap, one knee on either side of her hips. Her mask comes half way up, over her nose, and she finally lets go of Logan’s face after she drags it in line with her own.
Logan gasps softly as Wade kisses her, her hands finding Wade’s hips and dragging her closer. Her neck is craned all the way back and Wade is hunched all the way over, her elbows resting on Logan’s shoulders and her hands buried in her thick hair. Logan kisses her with vigor, despite being trapped underneath her, and Wade uses her position to leisurely remove her gloves and push up her sleeves.
And now that she has Wade’s body here in front of her and apparently doesn’t feel like she has to be clawing it to shreds as an intricate excuse to touch it, Logan is handsy. She slides her hands around Wade’s hips to grab her ass, fingers digging into the muscle through the thin fabric. She works her way up Wade’s sides, holding her waist, clinging to her back, thumbs trailing along the outer curves of her breasts.
As much as Wade loves tasting the bitter twinge of liquor on Logan’s gums and finding out just how sharp her canine teeth are, Logan is quickly becoming increasingly persistent in getting Wade’s costume open, and Wade has to help her. Especially seeing as this one has to last Wade at least another twenty-four hours or until the world is saved, whichever comes first. She pulls back and Logan whines softly in the back of her throat, eyes falling to Wade’s hands as she forces the zipper down over the gashes in the spandex.
Without hesitation, Logan takes Wade’s breasts in her hands, big palms enveloping textured skin. Her mouth follows, eyes shut and eyebrows pinched like she can’t help but wrap her lips around one of Wade’s nipples, nuzzling into her chest. Wade cards her fingers into her hair and arches into her touch. It’s hard not to preen when Logan makes out with her chest like she was put on this earth to do it, kneading and kissing and nipping and rubbing.
“You’re so handsome when you can iron those scowl lines out, buttercup,” Wade says, running her thumb over Logan’s forehead just to watch it wrinkle with a frown. But Logan doesn’t stop, only grumbles as she switches sides, teasing the nipple she’d sucked to hardness with her fingers roughly. “If I’d known all you needed to calm down was to get underneath me, I would have taken my top off like forty five minutes of run time ago.”
Logan’s sharp teeth, rough hands, carelessness with her nails match perfectly with Wade’s scarred skin, lighting up dulled nerve endings that needed a bit of oomph to pleasure. It was lucky that Wade was reasonably blessed when it came to growing tits, and just another thing that felt a little too fated to be coincidental was how they turned out to be a perfect Logan-sized handful. And Logan clearly thought so too, eyebrows turned up and cheeks getting pinker by the second.
With Logan placated by a nice pair of tits in her face, Wade has a chance to really appreciate the crinkles at the corners of her eyes and the bony ridge of her nose and the way her breath comes quick and fast like this is all it takes to get her excited. One of her hands wanders again, dipping under Wade’s waistband to cup her ass, trying to hold her in place to grind against her even though they’re at no angle to achieve friction.
“You wanna get your claws on more of mommy, sweetheart?” Wade coos, pushing her ass back into Logan’s hand. “I can make that happen.”
“Don’t fucking—“ Logan starts shoving her backwards, keeping Wade from falling off her lap with one hand fisted in the back of her costume, an effort that makes her arm flex ridiculously. “Don’t call yourself that.”
She manages to tug Wade’s zipper down further until it’s obstructed by her belt buckle. Wade tests Logan’s strength even further, letting go of her shoulders to pop it open, allowing Logan to jerk the zipper another few inches to the bottom.
“It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” Wade teases, bucking up as Logan runs her knuckles over the bulge in the front of Wade’s panties. “Like this— do you want to touch mommy’s cock, kitten?”
“You’re repulsive,” Logan says, but she does want to, obviously, because she pinches Wade through the thin silky fabric to stroke her.
“We can both say things we want,” Wade says breathlessly, returning her hands around Logan's neck to grind her hips forward with more purpose. “You wanna stroke mommy off and mommy wants to get her mouth on your pretty pink pussy—“
Claws puncture into Wade’s chest like butter, at least there isn’t any costume in the way left to ruin, and Logan uses them to lift Wade off her lap and flip her onto the bed. She lands on top of her, straddling her hips, giving Wade the perfect bit of crotch to try to grind up into.
“You’ll find,” Wade wheezes, lung punctured, grinning through the blood surging into her mouth, “That it’s an incredibly effective way to shut me up.”
Logan snarls, but behind squinted hazel eyes, she’s clearly considering. The claws retract before her hands do, and when she shoves herself back up straight, it ensures six little puncture holes ooze just a little more blood. It’s a smooth motion, the way a wolf shifts from a stalk to a point to a pounce to a chase: Logan’s hands come back, bloodstained, and go right to the hem of her tanktop, arms crossed so she can pull it straight up over her head like a model.
Wade turns and spits a mouthful of blood out before reaching for Logan’s fly. Logan doesn’t stop her, peeling her tattered (by time and by their fight) sports bra off next, fighting with it like it’s suffocating her. There is no time for fanfare, though there fucking should be. Logan shoves her pants down, and Wade just watches, knowing if she goes for the goods, she might lose a hand, which is not super conducive to this next part.
But: the goods. Wade knew Logan’s chest was a little hairy, Logan was hairy everywhere. Her arms, her legs, her pits, the the edge of a happy trail— Wade had snuck a peak at anything she could in their brief time together— but she wasn’t expecting the hair to dust down her sternum and connect to the aforementioned happy trail, more like happy five-lane-highway, honestly, and encircle her tits like halos.
All that muscle makes her chest flatter, her breasts rising off her pecs in delicious swells of skin. An adorable tan line cuts across her torso in the exact shape of her bra, making her dark nipples look even more enticing against slightly paler skin.
There’s a second tan line on her hips that is also revealing itself to Wade as Logan strips, hidden just under the waistband of her boyshorts. As Wade ogles, she of course heals, and when Logan briefly stands to shove her pants the rest of the way off, Wade takes her chance to wrestle out of the rest of her costume.
“Leave those,” Logan says when Wade’s hands go for her panties. They’re not doing much to help her now, a mere suggestion of decency as her erection peeks out of the top, but Wade is happy to give Logan whatever she’s got the balls to ask for.
Wade snaps her waistband. “Whatever you want, baby. You like pretty things, don’t you?”
“What happened to you shutting up?” Logan grumbles, flushing as she kicks off her underwear.
Wade’s mouth is fucking watering. She needs a lawnmower, a machete, and a snorkel mask. She’s gonna do ninety down the happy highway right into the jungle.
“You gotta make me, sweetheart.” Wade is still propped up on her elbows, still half-laid on the bed, panting as she looks Logan up and down. “Come sit on mommy’s face, unless you’d like to jump right to sitting in mommy’s lap—“
That does the trick. Wade is a master strategist for things like this. Logan practically pounces onto her, knees landing on either side of Wade’s head in a shockingly easy motion. Wade’s tongue is already out when Logan grinds down, and then they’re off to the races.
She smells divine, at least to Wade. She smells like sweat and blood and something animal, a musky pheromone that by all intents and purposes should be repulsive and skunky but is currently driving her wild. And she tastes even better, the flavor of her arousal only making it all that much sweeter. There’s no way not to get hair in her mouth and that just makes Wade drool more, and Logan is placated enough by her tongue to let Wade wrap her arms around her thighs and pull her down.
“Shit,” Logan exhales, catching herself against the wall. “You wanted this bad, huh?”
Wade just hums in affirmation. No reason to lie. Who didn’t want their tongue squirming up into Wolverine’s pussy, their lips sealed around her clit, her low and growled moan echoing in their ears?
Honestly, Wade is surprised at how easily Logan moans for her. She’s dripping wet, an incriminating enough position to be in where Deadpool is involved, but she’s gasping and cursing like she’s never gotten head before. Thick thighs quiver under Wade’s hands as if she were a virgin. Wade knows she isn’t, wars have practically been fought over the X-Men’s Helen of Troy, but she knows why now.
Logan is fucking easy.
Wade scrapes her teeth over Logan’s clit ever so slightly and thinks her head might get popped like a watermelon the way Logan’s body spasms. Logan chases the sensation, rolling her hips down against her mouth, and frees up Wade’s hands to grope, taking greedy handfuls of her ass, her hips, her back, anything she can reach.
“Oh fuck,” Logan groans, low and rumbling, a fresh wave of flavor rushing out over Wade’s tongue.
If Wade didn’t have a conscience, and she barely did, she could maybe be okay with staying here with Logan forever in this purgatory bed. This was bliss. Maybe this is why no one has escaped the Void yet. Wade was running her mouth for the best possible cause, three hundred something pounds of metal and muscle and hair crushing her as Wade soothed her trauma lick by suck.
Wade seals her mouth over her clit, pulling at her harshly, maybe too harsh for most but she has a suspicion that immediately is proved true when Logan buckles, sagging down against her hard before she catches herself on the bed. She pulls herself up with a wet exhale, giving Wade a hit of fresh air that she doesn’t even want, ignoring Wade’s clambering hands as she moves.
It’s a positive move: she pivots, sitting across Wade’s face the other direction so she can fall forward to reach between Wade’s legs. Their height difference is still insane, Wade has to come up on her elbows to get her face back between Logan’s thighs but it’s more than worth it when a big, rough hand wraps around her dick.
“Fuck yes,” Wade croons, making use of the new angle to lick a broad stripe from the bottom up, pushing her tongue teasingly inside Logan for a second before saying, “This is better than I ever imagined.”
Logan spits onto Wade and slicks her over with a pump of her hand, ignoring her. It doesn’t hide the fact that Logan clearly loves this, wet and swollen, cunt throbbing with need against Wade’s tongue. Wade gets her hand on her and spreads her wide, palms on the swell of her ass and fingers dipping in between her thighs.
She teases two fingers at Logan’s entrance, gauging her interest. Logan huffs and groans just as she has been, and doesn’t stop her, but she does tense, her rhythm faltering. Wade licks right next to them and presses just a little bit further, mumbling against soaked skin, “This okay?”
All Wade gets is a distracted, “Uh-huh,” as Logan pushes her hips back, her lips sealing over the head of Wade’s dick, and it’s better than Wade’s wildest dreams. In another fantasy, Wade would happily get railed on Logan’s strap. In another, she would happily top her with just her hands and her mouth, never dipping inside. In another, Deadpool gets her cock in the Wolverine. And is this reality that fantasy? It’s starting to feel like this might be that one, which is arguably the most unrealistic of them.
As Wade presses her fingers in, tongue right alongside them, easing them in, using all her restraint to not buck up into the wet suction of Logan’s mouth, she returns to an earlier thought. A much younger Logan pining after Jean, cornering her, kissing her, burying her face in her tits as she spreads her open on her big fingers– and all Logan wanted was Jean to take her apart, to push her dainty little hand between her legs and cram three fingers into her and fuck her silly. Wade knows bringing it back up won’t help, but she knows pretty little Jeannie didn’t give Logan what she needed, not like that.
Logan wanted a pretty girl to wreck her, even if she wouldn’t say so. But she would tell Wade to leave her panties on, she would get distracted staring at her chest and ask where her bra went, she would act all scandalized when Wade called herself mommy but get all hot and bothered about it anyways.
It’s a tough angle with Logan so far forward but Wade manages it, fingers in Logan up to the hilt and carefully twisting the rest of her hand away to still snake her tongue down to her clit. She was barely able to move her fingers but Logan took care of that, rocking back against her, and Wade rewarded her with hard sucks on her clit, the one that made her mouth fall off of Wade’s dick so she could curse.
“Fuck, Wade,” she bites, lips dragging against her cock as she holds it to her mouth still, hand twisting clumsily at the base. “God damn it.”
“Gonna come on mommy’s face, peanut? Please?” Wade teases, crooking her fingers ever so slightly. “Let me taste how sweet you are.”
“‘M not sweet,” Logan pants, the objection so automatic, so pathetic, that it makes Wade’s heart ache.
Wade’s thumb catches her clit, rubbing when her tongue can’t. “You’re sweet for me, stroking mommy’s cock, kissing it. If you really sucked it, I bet you could get your nose down to mommy’s pretty panties.”
“Shut up,” Logan growls, pressing her hips back, “Shut up, I’m so close, c’mon.”
Wade wants Logan to come just a little more than she wants to tease. She seals her mouth back to her clit, pumps her fingers as best she can manage at this angle, and follows through. As soon as she gets going again, Logan moans and twitches, her head falling to Wade’s pelvis, her hand stroking distractedly with no reason. It’s not nothing though, and Wade can’t help but twitch up into her loose grip, egged on by her eager sounds and the surge of her arousal on her tongue.
“Shit, shit, oh fuck,” Logan slurs, and Wade feels her nose press into her underwear, intentionally or not, face hidden from no one as she pants and shakes. It’s so easy to take her apart and Wade is addicted to it, pushing drool out of her mouth to slick everything along.
“That’s it Logie, come on,” Wade says, not sure Logan actually hears her over her own moaning, but she obeys regardless. Wade feels her body squeeze around her fingers and it makes her cock throb, desperate to feel it for herself. She works Logan through it, crooking into the spot that makes her whine, sucking on her clit until her tension turns into shivers.
Logan pants raggedly against her, and even as Wade pulls her mouth back, she can’t really move her fingers against the grip of her body. Slowly, her breaths even, no doubt her healing factor shortening her afterglow, and Wade is able to pull free, her head collapsing back down to the bed, neck burning from the angle it was at.
“Oh, damn,” Wade sighs, bucking up into the sudden firm pressure of Logan’s hand again. Her mouth is lower now, kissing and sucking near the base of her as she pumps the top. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, pumpkin.”
“Shut up, I’m fine,” she says hoarsely. “I wanna keep going.”
“Oh thank god, because if mommy does not get her cock inside of yo-o-ohhh my god–”
It’s impossible to goad when Logan swallows her down. It’s a quick and sloppy bob of her head, open mouthed to get her deeper than to actually suck her off, but it serves to shut Wade up sufficiently for a moment, brain fully and singularly focused on the hot slide of Logan’s tongue and bumping against the back of her throat. It’s not enough to get her there, not yet at least, but it makes her desperately need more with a sudden, painful clarity.
“Logan,” Wade pants, grabbing at her thighs, her ass, anything to try to get her attention. Her hips jump, held securely down by the bruising pressure of Logan’s hand, rendering her unable to pull her off or push her down or do anything at all.
With a spitty gasp, Logan comes off, and sits up, her ass pressed into Wade’s chest, leaving Wade to grab at her thighs uselessly as she jacks her off. “I wish I could fuck you,” she rasps, the tenor of her voice rough with use. “I doubt you’d be so much talk with my dick in your ass.”
“You’d be surprised,” Wade wheezes back, unable to get a full breath against the crush of Logan’s body. “But something tells me that letting me fuck you is not the burden you’re pretending it is.”
“I can still fuck you,” Logan says, looking down at her disdainfully over her shoulder.
Wade grins back at her, making a show of licking her lips. “Whatever you want, baby. Just know that I won’t tell anyone if you want me to plow you into next week.”
Every time Logan moves to reposition them, it’s faster and more purposeful than Wade can keep up with. One second she can’t get a full breath in from the weight of Logan on her chest, and the next she can’t get a full breath in from the way Logan is contorting her as she presses one of Wade’s thighs up as if she wants her knee next to her forehead.
None of that matters though, not when the wet kiss of Logan’s cunt glides over Wade’s length. She straddles Wade’s other leg, one knee up past her hip and the other beneath Wade’s lifted thigh, and she pulls Wade’s cock down towards her roughly, as if she doesn’t care that every bit of friction Wade gets is bliss.
“Wow, no prep?” Wade teases breathlessly as the head of her dick pumps Logan’s clit and they both jolt. “My healing factor is good, but maybe not quite like that.”
“Jesus, just shut–” Logan groans, grabbing Wade’s face roughly, broad palm covering her nose and mouth. “Just shut up and take it.”
Oh, yeah baby, any day, Wade wants to croon, and settles for just licking her hand. Logan is undeterred, more focused on guiding Wade to her entrance.
As soon as she’s got herself lined up and cants her hips forward, her scowl crumples into a pleasured little frown. She’s soaking wet, mostly from her own arousal but Wade of course helped, and she’s plenty loose for Wade to slide right home. In a single press, her cock is halfway in and Wade is moaning against Logan’s hand while she tries to thrust forward. Unphased by her desperation, Logan digs her grip in underneath Wade’s knee and controls her own pace.
Wade has a pretty active imagination, and when Logan bottoms out, it doesn’t take much for her to imagine it’s Logan inside her, pinning her down. It’s a good thought, a great thought even, almost just as nice a thought as Wade pinning Logan down and fucking her until she cries. Logan’s wanton moaning from a little bit of sixty-nining meant big things for topping her, and if she needed to do a little dominance display to get there, well, who was Wade to complain?
Besides, she was hot and wet and on top of her. Her body was intoxicatingly warm, gripping her cock like she needed it in there, despite the way she pretended she didn’t. Wade could feel the sensitive pulse of her, rippling around her, clit throbbing against her base, dripping between them, all amplified as she held herself still to adjust.
And then Logan rolls her hips forward, grinding herself down on Wade’s cock. “Fucking her” Wade thinks with an internal giggle, groaning like it’s the best thing she’s ever felt. And it is!
Logan’s hand slips as she establishes a pace, thrusting forward, blurring the lines between who was topping who. It makes it so easy to moan, matching Logan’s breathy groans with her own sounds, entirely genuine. Wade had issues with sensitivity, both from the scarring and her transition, but this was lighting up all the right nerve endings that could get her somewhere.
Usually she had to get herself off long after Ness or whoever was done and more than satisfied, constantly adjusting what she was doing to get herself across the finish line. Everything up to that point felt good, felt amazing usually, and Wade had become resigned to not needing to come every time.
But whatever this was with Logan was different. Maybe it was the desperation and adrenaline of everything, maybe it was just the allure of meeting and fucking your hero, maybe it was learning said aggressive, muscular, butch hero was a sensitive little bottom, but Wade felt pleasure pool in her gut as Logan fucked her, like she might actually cum like this.
And Wade took no offense that Logan’s pleasure was taking precedent. She fucked Wade at the pace that felt good to her, rolling her hips steadily to work Wade in and out of her, body wringing her dry with each pass. Wade met her thrusts, rolling with her, arching off the bed to find the perfect angle to plunge into her.
As Wade’s mouth opens on a groan, two of Logan’s fingers slip in, pressing into her tongue. It keeps Wade from talking and makes sure every moan she forms spills sloppily out of her mouth. Wade licks her fingers lewdly, looking up at Logan through half lidded eyes, her hands coming from where they were resting above her head to pet down her own chest, teasing her nipples and pushing her breasts together.
“You’re a whore,” Logan pants, all but drooling as she watches Wade play with herself. “This doesn’t change anything.”
Wade manages to twist away from her fingers long enough to say, “You get sappy when your dick gets wet, don’t you? Could slap a pair of tits on anything and you’d start drooling like a dog.”
“You’ve been trying to fuck me since you dragged me out of that bar,” Logan growls, getting rougher, digging her fingers into Wade’s face again. “Touch me.”
Wade snickers, shoving one of her hands between their bodies, fingers squirming around until she can press them up against Logan’s clit. They both moan when Logan tightens around her, pace faltering, her nails digging into Wade’s thigh as she clings to her. All it takes is a little twist and Logan’s hand is next to Wade’s face, gripping the sheets, freeing Wade’s mouth up to kiss her wrist and say inane things.
“I’ve been trying to fuck you for four movies, babydoll, and within forty eight hours of having you, I have you ridding me like like that horse in Australia (2008)–”
“Don’t stay stupid shit when I’m–”
“No, you’re right, that’s such a crazy pull if you’re played by another actor. My point is, I think you would have followed any girl with a nice body and a death wish out of that bar if it meant you might get your hands on her.” Wade grins sideways, rolling her fingers over Logan’s clit as she grinds against her. Logan sags, mouth open like she’s going to protest, but Wade barrels forward, twisting her hand into the sheet above her head for leverage, stretching her chest out on display. “I’d like to think mommy’s got something special, but you’re just an easy lay, aren’t you?”
Logan tries to growl, but Wade isn’t wrong; Logan is panting above her, drool dripping over her lower lip, grinding her hips onto Wade’s as if that’s what’s going to save the world. It’s a fucking sight, taking this brick wall of a woman down to dust. It felt like no effort at all, but maybe Wade just had that magic touch that broke butches down to whimpering little piles of goo.
Wade was pretty sure she had that magic touch that broke most girls down to whimpering goo, but it had been a little bit since she’d had the chance to try. It had been all Vanessa all the time for a very long time, and honestly, if they survive this, Wade doesn’t really care to further that experiment. She wants to get Logan alone in a room with one hundred of her favorite sex toys and see if she survives.
“Are you gonna cum on mommy’s cock? Don’t pretend you’re fucking me, you’re not, you needed me inside you so bad, huh?” Wade thrusts up to meet her jackrabbiting hips and Logan curses.
Theirs a soft snnk sound, the usual aggressive effect turned down to a whisper, and the cool glint of metal in Wade’s periphery. Her claws peek through her knuckles where her hand is wrapped around Wade’s thigh and where her other is tangled in the sheets next to Wade’s head. A vein pulses in her neck, sweat rolls down her temple, every muscle in her body is primed to ensure she doesn’t stop getting what she needs.
Oh, and Wade could take the edge off. If she could convince Logan to let her tie her down, keep her spread wide, Wade could make her see god at the end of a fantasy dildo and a high powered vibrator. Wade could work herself up the whole time, edging herself along until she just couldn’t take it anymore, pressing into her at the last second so she could make her mess all into Logan. Keep her tied down and pleading while Wade ate it back out of her, crawl up her chest to kiss it into her mouth, make her cum one more time just to see if she’d cry.
“C’mon baby, give it to me,” Wade moans, giddy that she feels even remotely close, slipping her fingers past Logan’s clit to get a little more moisture to swipe over her, easing her rapid pace. “Cum for mommy.”
“I hate you,” Logan growls, but she’s close, teetering on the edge, and all it takes is a little more of everything exactly right before she’s moaning open mouthed and silent, shuddering on top of Wade. Her orgasm works through her as if it was intended to put every sweat slicked bit of muscle on display just for Wade, her claws creeping out even a little further, her cunt squeezing tight like she didn’t want Wade to leave.
And Wade wasn’t going to leave, not when she could finish inside the dyke of her dreams. She let Logan ride her orgasm out in her cute little bottoming-from-the-top position until she crumpled down a bit, trying to ease off of Wade to get her face back to her chest. She’s fucked out and languid, more pliable than she should be when Wade catches her and shoves, rolling them over in a sudden burst of strength.
“Woah, hey,” she protests, eyes wide when Wade lands on top of her, still wide open when Wade surges forward to kiss her again. She pants into her mouth, making it easy for Wade to lick her teeth, tangle their tongues, bite her lip, swallow down her little noises of confusion as Wade hikes her thighs up.
It’s so easy to sink back into her wet heat, and at this angle, Wade can get so much deeper. She’s still throbbing from her orgasm, tight with shock, but she moans gruffly into Wade’s mouth as she slides in deep and locks her ankles behind her back in consent.
When Wade pulls back, it’s to the sight of her own pale and scarred hands on either side of Logan’s head. All that tan skin and hair swimming in her vision as she heaves up to her knees, folding Logan even further in half as she plows into her, chasing her own climax.
“You feel so fucking good,” Wade praises through her heaving breath, “So good, so wet, so hot. You wanna feel how good you make me feel?”
Logan is distracted, making little grunts in time with Wade’s thrusts, hands over Wade’s tits again, letting them bounce into her palms. Her eyes are half closed, unfocused, taking what Wade is giving her so roughly like a professional. “Yeah,” she says after a second, like she’s only just processed the question. “Yeah, fuck.”
“Yes, yes, gonna make you feel how wet you make me, fuck it into you so deep it’ll be leaking out of you when we fight our big epic battle tomorrow. Gonna save the world with mommy’s cum leaking between your thighs, aren’t you?”
“You’re insane,” Logan groans, but she arches into it, one hand slipping between them to touch herself.
“Fuck, are you going to come again?” Wade has won the lottery, hit the jackpot. “You’re such a little slut, oh my god.”
Warmth pools in Wade’s stomach, more and more with each passing moment. Everything in her feels tight, wound like a spring, and Logan’s body doesn’t get too loose or too wet and Logan herself doesn’t get bored or sore, she just takes and takes everything Wade has to give. In fact, she makes it better, her hand on her clit making her tighter, making her even more perfect. She’s so into this, so into Wade, and Wade is making her feel so good.
Her ego inflates more rapidly than it has any right to. She’s going to make the fucking Wolverine cum a third time in like ten minutes. The god damn Wolverine is letting Wade stuff her scarred dick into her over and over and moaning for more. She doesn’t even mind that Wade has a dick, that Wade looks the way she does, she just wants to feel good and she wants to let Wade let her feel good and Wade feels so good.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Logan gasps when Wade’s degrading line of dirty talk fades off into high pitched moans. “C’mon.”
“Say it,” Wade pleads, balls tight, so close that all the heat becomes cold, the only warm thing in the world Logan’s cunt. “Please, please–”
“What, you want me to say come in me, mommy, you sick fuck–”
Wade did want her to say that, she did so bad. Even mocking, it’s good, said right at the peak of Wade’s pleasure, just as she fucks forward and freezes, suspended as her orgasm over takes her. She’s aware she gets a little loud, but her orgasms are always so intense, so hard won from accidentally drawing them out that they hit her hard. Cold becomes hot becomes icy and numbing, pleasure radiating out from between her legs and making her feel heavy and liquid.
It’s Logan’s turn to use her climax to reposition them, helping Wade collapse to her side, head pillowed on a firm bicep, nose mashed into the side of her breast. Her hips are still twitching, and she whines as her soft, oversensitive cock brushes Logan’s thigh, her hand clenching against Logan’s furry stomach. Logan has other ideas, catching her hand with wet fingers and shoving it between her legs.
“Come on, mommy, don’t leave me hanging,” she grits against the top of Wade’s head, grinding down against her hand.
Wade can’t even get her eyes open, but she can find Logan’s sloppy entrance like a homing missile, slipping two fingers into her and curling them hard, listening to her mess squelch inside of her. Logan moans, low and pleased, going right back to touching herself vigorously, leaving her body wide open for Wade to drink in.
She isn’t even fully aware of how deeply she’s breathing in Logan’s scent until she shifts forward to mouth at her breast, fresher air filling her lungs. Still, that sweaty, musky smell of her is now flavored with arousal and sex, heady and animalistic. Wade flicks her tongue out over a dark, puffy nipple until it hardens under her attention, pebbling as the spit cools it.
“Yes, fuck, ‘s so good,” she murmurs directly in Wade’s ear. Her healing factor cannot keep up, even though her cock twitches in interest, Wade cannot even imagine going this hard for so long. She’s enamored with her, her big burly hero using her for orgasm after orgasm, tormenting her right back as Wade dreams about overworking her.
Cum foams between her fingers as she curls them into Logan’s cunt and it only takes a moment before she’s quickening her pace and moaning in earnest. Wade bites down hard next to her nipple, sucking a rough mark into tan skin that she knows won’t last and Logan jumps like she’s been shot. Surging further up, Wade shoves her face under her jaw, nipping over her pulse point, chomping down hard on the thick line of muscle that pulses with the effort of working her clit.
“Logan, Logan, fuck, I’ve got you, come on,” Wade murmurs into her throat, right up close to her ear. Their fingers make slick sounds as they work Logan over, obscene in the quiet of the room. They’ve been anything but quiet, what they’ve done is no secret, but somehow the noises they make now feel deafening, more obscene than anything else. It only makes Wade curl her fingers harder into her, up into the spot that makes Logan thrash and grind down to meet her.
Logan’s moaning peaks and becomes rapid quick breaths. “Oh, oh fuck,” she whines, eyes slammed shut, and she cries out, what was already obscene made even wetter as she cums, their hands dripping with her release. She pulls her own hand away, overstimulated, but Wade keeps her fingers inside of her, enamored with the way she pulses and throbs like she can’t bear to let her go.
Eventually, as Logan’s breathing evens, Wade does shift her fingers out, curling over Logan to kiss her through the almost pained hiss that follows it. It’s a slow and easy press of lips, breath mixing between them, Logan’s hand sliding up the curve of Wade’s ass to hold her hip. It’s obnoxiously intimate for two people who were fighting to what should have been the death not half an hour ago, and Wade is so scared for it to break.
“D’ythink they have a shower?” Logan says eventually when their making out has trailed off into sleepy nuzzling.
“If they have a shower, more food, and more liquor, then we can forget saving the world. I’ll be just fine to stay here,” Wade says against where Logan’s hairline meets her forehead.
Logan snorts, “You were the one who came in here demanding I show up tomorrow.”
“You will though, right?” Wade asks hopefully.
The put upon grumble doesn’t sound as begrudging as she wants it to. “I will,” Logan concedes. “I might have fucked up everything else, but I still know shit like this can’t be allowed to fly.”
“That’s my good little hero,” Wade coos. “There will be plenty of time to work through your trauma in the post credits scene.”
“When you’re not fucking me, your chatter is a lot less endearing.”
It’s Wade’s turn to laugh. “You would not have let me hit it if you didn’t find my chatter at least a little endearing.”
When Wade pulls up to look down at her, Logan has her teeth bared, all the way back to aggressive and pissed off. But Wade can see the fractures in it, the pink in her cheeks and the way her eyes flick to her lips and the red tint around her eyes from how Wade fucked her so good she teared up.
No one could love Logan as hard as she needed, Wade knows now, as evidenced by her existence as the worst. The patron saint of fuck ups and squandered chances. It wasn’t Jean’s job to save her, or Mariko’s, or any other poor girl Logan might have encountered before this, but Wade was eager and willing to do the work. Logan would show up tomorrow, and maybe they would live, and maybe Logan would show up again and again, even if just for the type of hard love she needed.
Everything made a lot more sense laying on Logan’s broad chest while trapped in purgatory than it had a week ago when Wade had been staring up at the ceiling of Al’s apartment, alone.
Wade had been looking for Logan for a lot longer than a few hours, or five minutes, whoever was telling the truth. Longer than when Vanessa left her. Longer than four movies. She’d just been looking in the wrong places. Wrong timelines, maybe. But it was right now, almost. Another few rounds of trauma to go, another few hundred Wolverine orgasms to come. That should balance it out.