Chapter Text
The crowd’s gathered as they do every six years. A sacrifice will be chosen today. Although they try to dress it up as a festival, a celebration, there’s a tension in the air thick enough to slice clean through. Some poor bastard is gonna die tomorrow.
Wade slices off another wedge of his apple, stuffs it in his mouth, then passes one to his daughter.
“I’m not hungry,” Ellie says, not taking her eyes off the ground. She’s drawing in the dirt with a stick.
A serpent.
“C’mon. Look at the size of this thing,” he says, holding up the puny apple. “I can’t finish this kinda feast all by my lonesome! Help a guy out, huh?”
A tiny smile. “You eat it. You need your strength, dad. I’m fine, I promise.”
“You’re my strength, kiddo.”
“Corny!”
The musical fanfare starts, and that’s their signal to shut up and pay attention. Wade quickly finishes off his apple and sticks close behind Ellie as she makes her way toward the front. Wade would rather stay behind the crowd, but he’d never dream of holding his dear Ellie back, or leaving her on her own, so he just pulls his hood a little farther down his face and puts on his big girl panties.
Next to the drawing station is an assortment of foods, a mouthwatering display of delicacies ranging from cakes to casseroles meant for the Sacrificial Saint and their family or close friends.
“Think I could snag a couple cookies or something on the way out without anybody—”
“No,” Ellie makes a sound but it’s not the laugh she was going for. “You’d get caught in ten seconds flat.” She’s uneasy, won’t stop squeezing Wade’s hand. “Now shh! It’s starting.”
He squeezes back firmly.
It goes down like it always does. The mayor comes up, announces what they’re doing as if they don’t all live in fear of this day, gives their thanks to the Golden Serpent, and then they get on with it.
Only this time, it feels like the rug’s been yanked out from under him when they call Ellie’s name.
This can’t be happening. She’s just old enough to be chosen, but her birthday was only a couple months ago and she’s just a kid and—
Everything slants sideways, goes fuzzy, then goes away.
Next thing he knows, he’s blinking up at his little girl’s crying face from the dirt.
“Dad! God, I thought you were dead—”
Wade sits up, doesn’t bother pulling his ratty hood up over his equally ratty face. “You’re not going.”
“What—?” Ellie’s dark eyes are wide as saucers.
Wade struggles to his feet, swaying, trembling with the force of his heart trying to bust right out of his chest. “Clause three,” he croaks, has to repeat himself more loudly because it was barely a whisper the first time. “Fuck this—I invoke clause three!”
“Mister Wilson,” says the mayor, her expression drawn tight. “I wasn’t aware you even remembered our rules.”
“Can’t break the rules if you don’t know ‘em,” Wade insists. He clears his throat. “Clause three: In the event a volunteer is willing to take the drawn citizen’s place, he or she may do so on the grounds that they are not an essential member of the community.”
“Dad!” Ellie shrieks.
Wade turns back to her, hands on her shoulders. “Ellie. Look…” Fuck, what does he say?
“No fucking way,” she insists. That’s his girl. “You’re essential. You’re not going anywhere. You—”
“Ellie-Bear,” he sighs. “You know I am goin’ somewhere soon. In the ground.”
“No—”
“But if I do this, it can be on my terms,” he continues, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
“No!”
“I promised your mom I’d keep you safe for as long as I lived. She’d rise up from the grave and kick my ass if I let you do this, sweetpea.”
“I—I d-don’t wanna lose you,” Ellie sniffles against his chest.
“You’re never gonna lose me!” Wade says, kissing her soft hair. Locking the smell of her into his brain one last time. “Me and your mom? We’re with you in everything you do. Every time you make a smartass comment or burn dinner, that’s me shining through.”
Ellie sniffles something that sounds suspiciously like I do not burn dinner but she’s still crying too hard to jab back properly.
“And that’s your mom,” he hugs her tighter. “Stubborn, unstoppable. You’re gonna be fine. You’re never alone. Okay?” He shrugs off his ratty red cloak, drapes it over her shaking shoulders. “You’re never alone.”
~
It takes forever, but eventually, Wade’s said enough goodbyes and shared every bit of the Saint’s Sacrificial dinner with Ellie. She hasn’t eaten much, but she’ll get all the leftovers.
She’ll be taken care of. Every person in this sad little excuse for a town adores her.
She’ll be okay.
Eventually, it’s night time and everyone’s asleep, either retreated to their homes, their tents, or a select few passed out right there on the ground from the festivities.
For most, it’s a celebration of life and luck. I made it.
And for the one chosen, it’s supposed to be an honor. To ensure the survival of your fellow man. That’s cool and all, but Wade’s more concerned about his daughter.
Not so lucky for her. She’s curled up in his cloak, slumped against him where he sits at the empty feast table.
He ate even less than she did. His appetite’s been shit lately.
Everything’s been shit, to be honest. He’s exhausted all the time, weak and feverish more often than not. His hair’s falling out in clumps, and then there are the sores, some scabbed, some scarred. It’s not pretty. Whatever it is, it isn’t contagious, but genetic. Sure, venturing across radioactive wastelands probably didn’t help matters, but he was sick long before any of that. He hopes he hasn’t passed it on to Ellie, but as it stands, he’ll never know.
He doesn’t want to wake her, but he owes her this. “Ellie? Hey you, snickerdoodle, it’s time to go.”
“Mm-mn,” she shakes her head sleepily.
“Do you want to walk to the temple with me, or not?”
“Fine,” Ellie mumbles.
~
The walk up the mountain is hard. Wade lets Ellie support him, because it means hugging her the whole trip. She’s little in his cloak, but she’ll grow into it. She’s only sixteen.
Only sixteen, and he’s abandoning her.
Guilt prickles through him along with a wave of nausea that he stuffs down to keep going because Ellie’s talking about the stars overhead, and he doesn’t want to miss a word.
The last goodbye is the hardest. Wade has never liked any kind of goodbye. But it’s not like he can say seeya later, Ellie-gator. He kisses her cheeks, her forehead, squeezes her with all his might and reminds her that no matter what, he will always be a part of her.
“If ghosts are real, I’m gonna be so annoying.”
“I hope so,” she sniffles.
“I love you, Ellie-Bear.”
“I love you too, dad.”
~
They walk in separate directions until Wade can’t see Ellie’s silhouette anymore. He allows himself a five minute rest before he continues on his journey alone.
You’re supposed to reach the temple before sunrise, but Wade’s slow, and by the time he’s made it the sun is already starting to creep up and turn the sky pink. He picks up the pace and manages to make it to the golden arch just in time to slip inside before the sun hits the door and, just as the legend says, it slams shut.
The walls of the temple all burst into flame–or that’s how the blinding flash seems, anyhow. Wade covers his face with one arm, peeks over it when the flare’s died down. Lines of torches are ignited, seemingly guiding his way. The walls are glittering gold overtaken with vines and dripping with water. He shivers without his cloak to comfort him, digs his hands deep into the pockets of his ratty old jeans that are two sizes too big and presses onward.
The temple goes deep. Waaay deeper than he’d expected from the outside.
Once Wade’s reached a much larger room with a vaulted ceiling that branches off into three corridors, he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do. None of them are lit. Darkness at every path.
A large pool of crystal clear water sits in the middle. Wade kneels by it, drinks palmfulls of water and studies his distorted reflection as the ripples still. Even as the water goes perfectly smooth, he remains deformed.
He stands, goes to walk, and falls on his face because his feet have fused to the floor. Actually, they’ve been rooted there by thick vines. Wade curses and struggles to get free, but they just grip him more firmly.
“Don’t worry. It’ll be over quick,” says a low, quiet voice.
Wade tries to find the source of the voice. It’s coming from one of the darkened corridors, impossible to tell which as the sound echoes through the central room.
Gooseflesh breaks out across Wade’s arms, his legs, the nape of his neck.
Glowing green eyes in the dark startle Wade. He doubles his efforts to escape momentarily, then the figure attached to those eyes comes closer to the light, starts to take form…a man-like form.
Wade goes very still.
Early depictions of the Golden Serpent pictured it as a man with a snake’s tail and goat-like horns. Over time, it became a simple snake with golden scales and emerald eyes. Apparently, early drawings were the most accurate.
There is no mistaking him. A man’s torso, broad shoulders and a surprisingly furry chest and abs, hips that break out in dazzling golden scales and give way to an impossibly long, thick tail. No horns, though. The Serpent’s hair is long, brown with a bronze luster to it, with charming cowlicks on either side. He can see how the silhouette of such a creature could seem like a horned monster. In the firelight, though, he’s glorious. It dances gleefully across his golden jewelry which somehow seems dull in comparison to his scales.
“Holy fucking shit,” Wade breathes.
The Serpent approaches.
“Are you gonna eat me?”
That seems to take the Serpent off guard. “Well…yeah.”
“Okay, cool. Are you gonna crush me first or swallow me alive? If I have any say, I’d like to be crushed, please, your…uh…serpent-ness. Serpency?”
The Serpent blinks those otherworldly eyes, circles Wade where he kneels on the ground. His tail seems to go on forever. Then he leans down, his face inches away from Wade’s. "Aren't you…ssscared?”
“Naaah,” Wade waves his hand dismissively.
“You’re going to die.” The Serpent says pointedly.
“Everybody dies,” Wade shrugs. “I’m just getting my ticket punched sooner than I thought. Honestly? You’re doing me a favor.” He closes his eyes. “I’m all set, pretty snake man. Go ahead and let ‘er rip.”
To his surprise, nothing happens. He opens one eye. “Hey. I said I’m ready.” The Serpent looks him over like a man who’s been handed an apple full of worms. “Oh, fuck, am I not up to snuff? Look, there was nothing in the rules that said the sacrifice had to be healthy.”
“Hmm…” The Serpent’s circle closes in on him, until he’s wrapped up tight. The Serpent flicks his long forked tongue out, tasting the air. Tasting Wade.
The scales are smooth, cool to the touch at the edges, but there’s warmth below. The coils tighten farther. Wade’s bones creak uncomfortably, ribs scraping each other under the skin. The serpent squeezes the air out of him. Wade’s vision is quick to go fuzzy. He doesn’t squirm, just closes his eyes again, ready for his fate.
The pressure subsides, like it was just a test, but he’s still immobile. Wade sucks in a deep breath as soon as his lungs are able to expand again. “What’s the hold up?”
“You really want to be eaten?”
Wade tries to shrug, but the coils are too tight. “Toldja, you’re doing me a favor. I’m a baaad apple. Rotten to the core, only got a couple good years left in me anyway… Frankly, I’d rather go like this than covered in my own piss ‘n shit. Makes for a much cooler epitaph. Wade Wilson, Sacrificial Saint: Eaten by Humongous Sexy Snake.”
The Serpent hums again. “Then perhaps I will. Later.” He releases his grip, allowing Wade the freedom to wobble on his own two unsteady legs.
~~~
Logan
~~~
Humans have never been anything more than a meal for Logan. Like clockwork, someone stumbles into his lair, the door seals them inside, and he swallows them whole.
What’s thrown him off this time is the strange air of calm about his prey. Logan’s used to struggling, screaming, crying, and futile attempts to fight back. But this human just closed his eyes and waited. And what’s more, he spoke to Logan like…like an equal.
No mortal could ever be his equal, of course. Logan is both offended and fascinated by his demeanor. That’s why he decides not to eat this human right away. There’s no escape from the temple, not for a creature like him. Small wildlife passes freely, but humans are bound by their very souls to the golden structure. The on;y way out is in Death’s arms.
But Logan’s been alone here for…centuries? He’s unsure. But he is sure of some things. He knows that he is a prisoner in his kingdom, bound himself by his failure. You see, he is a god, but the god of what? His kind are not born into their power. They must find it. They must perfect it.
Logan’s been shown his path; fortune. But he’s unsure how to follow it, seeing as he’s trapped here…alone.
Maybe having a bit of company will be good for him.
~
The human’s name is Wade. He talks far too much, about anything and everything under the sun. If it exists, Wade has an opinion on it.
At first, it’s irritating and Logan nearly unhinges his jaw and swallows him up several times. But a few hours later, Logan finds himself retrieving fruit from the high hanging vines that slither across the temple’s ceilings to offer Wade sustenance so he can continue talking to him.
Wade chomps on his fruit, licks the juice from his fingers and rattles off information about the pre-war world that Logan couldn’t care less about, but the timbre of his voice is something magical to Logan’s ears.
The smell of him is rank. His illness isn’t enough to dampen Logan’s appetite, but it’s hard to ignore, made worse by the sweat and grime clinging to the man’s patchwork skin and ragged clothes. It’s for this reason Logan insists he bathe. Wade is apprehensive at first, but Logan convinces him to follow him deeper into the temple, into the mountain itself until they reach one of Logan’s favorite rooms: the hot spring. The walls are golden as the rest, but the floor here is simply the stone of the mountain itself, painstakingly carved steps leading directly into the warm water.
“I bet you just wanna get me naked,” Wade jokes, tossing his dirty clothes. “Coulda just asked, y’know.”
He’s not exactly wrong. Clothes aren’t fun to swallow…but Logan’s also curious to see him. He makes no effort to hide his observation. Wade is gaunt, frail, but far from little so far as humans go. His build suggests he was once much stronger. His muscles are weak, atrophied. Not an inch of his skin has been spared, either; scars, open wounds, healing sores blanket him like dappled sunlight.
“Does it hurt?” Logan asks as Wade, facing away from him, gingerly tests the water with one foot.
“The water? No, it’s actually fucking perfect,” the human sighs, then he starts to disappear down the steps.
Logan slithers along the wall, using uneven bricks and ornamental carvings as leverage, hovering above the water. The heat rolls off it steadily, the steam settling under his scales and in his lungs.
“Not the water, idiot. Your body.”
“Oh. Yeah, but I’m used to it.” Wade sinks down until only his head remains above the water. He is a pale blotch amidst the dark rock. He sighs again heavily, closes his eyes. “This, though? This is niiice.” He sits there, unmoving, soaking quietly in the warmth and looking absolutely edible for some time.
Logan grumbles under his breath, descends silently to the water’s surface and eases into it as well. Above the quiet bubble of the spring, Wade doesn't hear him at all, and he startles slightly when Logan swims up behind him and runs his hands up Wade’s back, around to his biceps and gently reprimands him with a squeeze. “You’re not scrubbin’.”
“You’re supposed to say Marco,” Wade says in a small but steady voice.
“Think you got this backwards, bub,” he rumbles. Wade shivers like a chill’s gone through the water. “You do what I say, not the other way ‘round. Got it?”
“Of course, your Serpency,” Wade giggles.
Logan rolls his eyes. To say he’s an idiot is putting it lightly. Still, he wants to explore this idiot, so Logan’s hands find their way to Wade’s chest. They roam freely, rubbing in small circles to clean him off. He tries to be mindful of the raw spots, which make Wade flinch when touched. Mostly, the human chases every caress like he’s starving for it.
“Call me Logan,” he mutters into the back of Wade’s head, steam-dampened skin and sparse but hair soft against his lips where they brush his scalp.
Wade swallows audibly. “‘Kay.” His heartbeat’s like a distant war drum. He smells much better, though the decay inside him is still prominent. He’s a soft, pliable thing in Logan’s arms, leaning back against his chest when Logan prompts him with a subtle tug.
Directionless. Easy. Logan realizes that this tired shell of a man would likely let him do anything to him. He’s ready to die, ready to throw himself headfirst into whatever awaits him. It’s much different to be holding a human who isn’t struggling to escape him. The weight of him is actually very pleasant. Logan trails his hand down Wade’s body, over the soft curve of his stomach, feeling the abdominal muscles hidden below. The head of Wade’s cock, fully erect, brushes the back of his hand and Logan smirks, hissing in intrigue.
“Ssss’thisss?” he tilts his head to look over Wade’s shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of his pretty face.
“That? Ah!” He jumps as Logan takes him in hand, lurches into the touch. “Um, that would be my hard dick,” he breathes.
“Why aren’t you afraid of me?” Logan murmurs as he explores the feeling of him. Heavy, warm, similar to Logan’s own genitals but decidedly different. Only half as much to work with, but still plenty. Logan plays with the soft hanging skin below as well, rolling Wade’s testicles back and forth in his hand because he likes the sensation.
Wade seems to have a little trouble answering. “Holy…haaah…I—I might be. Just a little.”
But he doesn’t let his fear stop him. Interesting. Logan switches his attention back to Wade’s cock. The length of it disappears in his hand, he’s easy to work over with minimal movement. Wade flinches when Logan’s bicep touches a tender spot on his ribs, but he doesn’t seem to dislike the sensation. Logan thumbs the slit at the very tip of Wade’s dick, satisfied with the slickness he finds leaking from it. He has half a mind to taste it, but it disperses quickly in the water.
“Fuck,” the human trembles with restraint, reaching over his shoulder to hold onto Logan anywhere he can reach. His warm hand falls to Logan’s collarbone, jostling his golden necklaces. The sound of them clinking echoes faintly along with the water rippling and Wade’s hushed, raspy voice. “M’gonna…shit, m’gonna lose it—”
Logan grins triumphantly. “Hardly touched ya.”
“Mmmnghhh…” Wade nods minutely, presses back against Logan like he’s searching for more contact.
Logan gives it to him, folding his tail around the human’s legs, careful to only touch him with his softer stomach scales. He is sweet and docile and melts against Logan’s chest immediately, body failing him as he hits his peak with a whimper not unlike the final sounds Logan has squeezed out of countless other humans.
Now would be a perfect time to eat him. A kind time, even—the last thing he’d experience on earth would be pleasant. Logan’s fangs ache in his gums and his mouth is watering. He is painfully aware of his cavernous empty stomach…but his fascination outweighs it, just by a fraction. So he just squeezes Wade tight enough to hold him rather than collapse his lungs, inhaling the weirdly alluring scent of him while he regains his wits.
“I…was really expectin’ t’be lunch right there,” Wade laughs shakily.
“Thought about it.” Logan likes the way Wade tenses in his grip at that. Squeezes him just a bit harder, to remind him that he is Logan’s prey. “But you’re the most entertainment I’ve had…well, ever.”
Wade’s tired giggle heightens, becomes manic for a second, then cuts off suddenly. He’s boneless, would’ve slipped under the water and drowned had Logan not kept such a firm grip on him. He is unconscious, but breathing.
Logan scoops him up by the knees and shoulders and carries him out of the water.
If this dumb fuck dies on him after Logan just decided not to eat him, he’ll be pissed.
~~~
Wade
~~~
When he wakes Wade is, quite frankly, surprised to be awake. He’s lying in a bed of furs, silks, velvet, warm and glowing in spite of the aching flare of pain that roars to life the second he moves. That’s old news though, nothing he isn’t used to stuffing down. He’s not sure if he was having a horny fever dream or not until he realizes he’s naked.
Horny nightmare, maybe?
“Where’re my clothes?” He mumbles sleepily, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms.
“Don’t need ‘em,” drawls the familiar voice of the Serpent.
He’s right. It’s not cold or uncomfortable in the temple. In fact, when Wade puts his feet on the floor, it’s warm. He wiggles his toes, searches the room for the serpent but he’s nowhere to be seen.
“Okay, then where are you?”
“Here.” Subtle shifting above.
Wade looks up. The Serpent is lazily draped through branches of a tree that seems perfectly alive and intact in spite of there being no sunlight. It’s rooted right into the floor, knocking the gold and blue tiles aside as it needs to, churning the rock and dirt below. He’s resting his head on his forearms, looks comfortable as all hell, like he’s been there for ages.
Watching Wade sleep.
Wade’s ears flush and he hugs himself habitually, trying to cover up. “Seriously though, I do want my clothes back. I uh, run kinda cold.”
The serpent raises a brow. “You’d be shivering if y’were cold.”
“I’m not cold at the moment, but I might get cold later. Jeeze!”
“I’d keep you warm.”
Tempting. Teeempting. Wade sucks the back of his teeth. “Just...I really don’t like being naked.”
“Why?”
Wade heaves an exasperated sigh, tapping his foot. “Dude. C’mon, seriously? Look at me.”
“I am.” The serpent says dryly.
“So you can see why I don’t like people gawking at me, especially gods with perfect physiques.”
Said god descends from his tree, lowering himself easily from the tip of his tail coiled around a branch until he makes contact with the ground. He looks smaller way up there in the branches, but Wade’s quickly reminded that he is a giant.
He doesn’t speak immediately. He does take Wade’s face by the chin, looks into his eyes for a second, and then he slides his hand down over Wade’s folded arms, his ribs, to settle on his hip. Wade is highly conductive, electric everywhere he touches.
Eyes like daggers stare Wade down. He’s terrifying. He’s beautiful. That’s when he remembers this beast has a name…Logan.
“I don’t see anything’ wrong with your body.”
“Bullshit.” Wade bites out.
“But if you insist,” Logan pointedly ignores his rudeness, “you can wear somethin’ from the pile over there.”
Wade eases up a little. “...Thanks.” He backsteps toward the pile he’d woken up in, wary of turning his back on the Serpent. He’s less scared than he is embarrassed.
He wishes Logan would just hurry up and eat him already.
“I dunno why you humans always bring me this shit. Gets caught on my scales,” Logan grumbles as Wade digs through the materials for something suitable.
“They’re offerings.” Wade explains. “How’re we supposed to know what to leave you? It’s not exactly like you have a gift registry we can browse through.” A deep red silk wrap serves well enough. It’s soft, doesn’t bother his skin unlike the scratchy plastic and cotton blend shirt he’d come in with.
“Thought you were the offering.”
“Well, yeah,” Wade mumbles as he’s arranging the fabric to cover as much of himself as he can, “But…eh, I guess some people just figure that, if they bring you more stuff, they’ll bring better luck to everybody else.”
“Yet you brought me nothing,” Logan sneers.
“I brought you my sweet ass, didn’t I?” Wade scoffs, tying off the end of his new robe. There. All covered—well, mostly covered. Toga style.
Logan just rolls his eyes.
~
There must be tiny openings in the temple, because certain rooms are teeming with life. Birds, insects, rodents that scurry across the floor between vines and weeds that sprout from cracks in the tiles in spite of the lack of sunlight. Bees pollinate the flowers of fruit trees in a vast orchard room that Logan slithers through gracefully, picking the ripest fruits and gathering them in a hand woven basket. He lets Wade take his pick, then deposits the rest in a vat where it will slowly turn to wine.
Wade sits down next to the serpent on a fallen tree when he’s finished. Logan lounges with his arms draped over the back of the log, his long gold and sapphire tail coiled loosely under and beside him like jeweled rope. Wade wishes he had a pencil and paper. He’s not great at drawing, but something so beautiful deserves to be captured in art in any capacity it can be.
“Why don’t you just eat the fruit?” Wade asks, opening up a wine skin as big as his own head.
“Need meat. Dead’s fine. Alive is better.”
“And I’m guessing the birds and mice don’t cut it, huh?”
“Not by a long shot.”
“Bummer.” Wade swigs the wine. It’s actually great, tastes faintly of honey, and is very strong. “This is pretty kickass. Too bad you can’t survive on wine.”
That earns him a single huffed chuckle. “I sorta do.”
“How’s stuff even grow in here? Y’know, without sunlight?”
Logan shrugs. “The temple does what I need it to do.”
“Besides open up on command, of course.”
“Mm.”
Logan shifts, rests his head back against the log and closes his eyes. His giant elbow grazes Wade’s bare knee. It sends tiny creepy crawly armies of yes please marching to his brain to disarm it. Wade wonders if he’ll get another handy at some point, or if the next time Logan touches him will be to prepare him for dinner.
~~~
Logan
~~~
Wade is cute when he’s drunk. He’s still chatty, but thankfully he gets to the point a lot faster. His disposition remains almost annoyingly sunny. He’s easier to talk to, easier to pry information from without the song and dance at every corner.
Logan learns that Wade’s fainting spells are a symptom of his illness, that they’ve only gotten worse over the years. He’s broken bones fainting. He’s caught his leg on fire. He’s run an old nail straight through his palm, and when he shows Logan the scar, he takes his hand.
Wade’s flush from the alcohol, but it darkens when he’s touched. Logan rubs his thumb over the scar in Wade’s palm, feels the fragility of his bones and skin.
“You’ve lived through a lot,” Logan observes.
“I…uh…yeah,” Wade nods a bit stupidly.
Logan’s been alive…for a long time, in human terms. But he hasn’t lived. He’s never left these walls. Never seen the sun with his own eyes. He feels like he was born in this temple…but then again, he’s not sure he was ever even born. He wasn't anything, and then one day, he just…was. And the humans came to him asking for his favor, for good fortune. He didn’t know what it meant, but he tried to give it to them all the same.
Logan contemplates telling Wade all of this for a second. Instead he asks, “So why are you so eager t’stop living?”
“It wasn’t really a choice,” Wade says, scratching the back of his head. A little bit of closely trimmed hair falls out. “It was me or my little girl. She’s not little anymore but, y’know, she’s still my baby.”
He didn’t know humans were capable of that kind of compassion, wouldn’t have suspected it anymore than a worm being selfless. It just hadn’t occurred to him. Then again, lots of things have never occurred to him, such as the thought of having sex with one of them. That particular curiosity is growing stronger by the hour.
“You’re a father?”
“Not a great one…but yeah.” Wade gives a solemn nod.
“You kept her alive. Seems like you did your job well enough to me, bub.”
Wade smiles, but there isn’t any joy in his bloodshot blue eyes. “Thanks, Lo.”
Lo. Logan likes the simplicity of the syllable on Wade’s tongue.
~~~
Wade
~~~
It’s been three days now, and Wade’s still breathing for some reason. He follows Logan around like a stray while he’s awake, burying himself in the pile of fine fabrics to sleep, bathing in a hot spring and being fed fruit by a handsome god. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he’s already dead and gone to heaven, but there’s definitely no place for him there.
More than anything, Wade wants to touch him. He finds excuses anywhere he can. Brushing his fingers when he hands him food, ‘accidentally’ resting his hand on the tip of his tail, sitting close enough to him to feel the heat radiating off him in waves.
The temple’s warm as ever, but today, Wade’s cold, and he’s seeking that heat desperately. He could sit in the hot spring, but he chooses to inch closer to Logan in increments instead.
The serpent is sleeping, lying on top of his own carefully folded tail. He looks so cozy. Wade’s sure he can get close enough without waking him. Then he’s caught.
“What’re you doin’?” Logan asks without opening his eyes. Wade is less than a foot away, kneeling on the floor with his hand outstretched.
He clears his throat, gets to his feet and shuffles a few steps back. “Sorry. I was just…cold.” Yeah, sounds lame coming out of his mouth.
One emerald eye cracks open. “Ssstop sneakin’ around and c’mere, then.” That’s an annoyed hiss, for sure.
“Oh. Cool.” Wade had assumed he was teasing about keeping him warm the other day, but looks like his luck hasn’t run out just yet. He quickly sits by Logan’s side, close enough to lean against him.
Logan looks down at him expectantly, waves him closer with one hand. “Up here.”
“You want me to…climb you? Like a sexy mountain?”
“Yes. I ain’t movin’. Comfortable.”
“I didn’t bring any climbing gear, but…where there’s a will there’s a Wade!”
Nobody has ever found that joke funny, including Logan.
Wade’s careful. It feels weird to just step on Logan’s tail, but he doesn’t seem to mind. When Wade is within reach, the serpent wraps one arm around him and yanks him down against his chest. He is so much warmer at his core than his tail. His chest hair is thick and coarse but not unpleasant against Wade’s face and hands.
“I thought snakes were cold blooded,” Wade says conversationally. Mostly he’s trying to keep his mind off how big and strong and fucking smokin’ hot Logan is. Good luck, right?
“I’m not a snake.”
“What are you, then?”
Logan’s brows furrow. Clearly he just wanted to continue sleeping, not engage Wade in conversation. “Dunno. M’just…me, I guess. Quiet down, kid.”
Listen. He wants to be a good house guest, right? So he does quiet down, but that means his brain is that much louder. Just gives him that much more energy to devote to conjuring up extremely graphic scenarios in which he explores every single inch of the serpent, which wouldn’t be a problem if he weren’t trapped chest-to-chest with him at the moment.
It is sublime torment, the bare brushes of skin against his arms and legs. Logan’s all relaxed, sturdy muscle and toasty warm gold-flecked skin, and in no time Wade’s got a stiffy. Oops. In an attempt to be polite he just lays there like a good boy, hoping it will go unnoticed, but no such luck.
Logan doesn’t open his eyes. “That your hard dick again?”
“Sorry!” Wade tries to pull away or even just shift his hips so it’s not so obvious, but Logan’s arms don’t budge.
“Why?” He asks so earnestly that it makes Wade question it, too.
“For…erm…being annoyingly horny?”
“Only thing that’s annoyin’ is your mouth sometimes, Wade.”
Oohh no. Oh, his name sounds like buttercups and rainbows and whiskers on kittens when Logan says it. No, none of those are sounds but. Fuck. Wade’s cock throbs where it’s trapped between them and he barely manages to stifle a whimper.
Eyes still closed, the corner of Logan’s lip twitches into a smirk. His grip on Wade loosens just enough for him to slide one hand down his back, then brazenly grab his whole ass with those massive fingers and squeeze. Wade whimpers outright this time. Logan hums, a pleased sound deep in his chest that sends ripples of pleasure up and down and all around Wade’s fucked up nervous system.
“S’better. I like that sound.”
Wade buries his face in Logan’s chest hair, doesn’t bother muffling a moan when Logan palms his ass again roughly. He grinds down shamelessly into the heat below him, spreads his legs to straddle Logan’s hips. His poorly wrapped tunic rides up the perfect amount and they’re suddenly skin-to-skin and Wade has to bite his lip hard to maintain some semblance of composure. Logan’s abs are like…fuck. Fuuuck. They’re just so perfectly inviting. Wade grinds down into him harder.
Logan hisses softly, and Wade feels the warm flick of a forked tongue against the shell of his ear. Tasting him. Wade whimpers again. Shit, if Logan likes the sound, he’ll make it for him all damn night. Day? Hard to tell what time it is in here…
Emboldened by his desperation to get off, Wade tries to sit up. Logan’s grip eases up, moving both hands to his ass instead. Wade rubs himself against Logan shamelessly and the serpent watches with hooded eyes. Hungry eyes. Wade imagines what it’d be like to be buried and slowly suffocated in his golden coils, and with that deranged thought he’s so damn close he can almost taste it, but then—
Logan’s hands tighten, holding him still. “Hold on,” he breathes.
Last time, he wasn’t nearly so…horny sounding. He was somewhat detached. Wade obeys because he has no choice, but his dick twitches in dismay, drooling precum that glistens in Logan’s body hair. Those strong hands slide Wade farther down until he’s straddling Logan’s tail. His stomach scales are a different sensation altogether, slippery and smooth but still warm as hell.
On his short trip, Wade noticed and slid right over a suspiciously hard bump right where human flesh and hair becomes shimmering gold. From a slightly reddened and swollen opening, what can only be a striking orange dick is just barely poking out, twitching to life before his eyes.
Wade groans, grinds his hips in little circles. “Please say I can touch you…?”
“Go for it, darlin’.”
A less courageous man, or perhaps a smarter one, would investigate with his hands first. Not Wade Winston Wilson. Nope, he goes in mouth first, tongue out. Logan’s member is satisfyingly smooth with small fleshy bumps dotted up the shaft, ribbed for Wade’s pleasure, and possibly hot enough to scorch his mouth. Logan hisses at first contact. Wade presses the flat of his tongue against him, savoring the new sensation, and it presses back. Wade quickly licks and kisses his way down to the opening itself, so he can cover every inch as it’s revealed to him. Then he gets more inches than he bargained for. He thinks he’s seeing double, because he is. A second shiny, flushed cockhead emerges not far behind the first.
“Holy…what in the romantasy erotica is this?” Wade nearly swoons.
“My hard dicksss...” Logan smirks.
“Touche!” Wade’s still giggling as he takes one of them in his mouth, the other in his hand. Logan tenses, bites out a soft sound that only encourages Wade. He swallows what he can, which isn’t much at first. Logan’s bigger than anything Wade’s ever handled. Cut him some slack, he’s not used to wielding a double barreled shotgun.
Wade sighs through his nose and forces himself to take more. Logan’s much thicker at the base of his cocks, impossible to get his mouth around but that doesn’t stop Wade from giving it his all. What he does manage sits heavy on his tongue, bumping the back of his throat as he swallows around it. The ‘barbs’ on Logan’s dick are squishy, flexible. Wade can’t stop playing with them, flicking his tongue back and forth over each one.
“Shit,” Logan breathes, and Wade has to open his eyes to get a glimpse at him. He’s magnificent, lying there propped up slightly on his elbows so he can get a good look at the show.
Wade shivers, puts more effort into his performance. Up and down he bobs his head, slow drags of his tongue across the hot flesh at first. The first pulse of precum startles Wade—it’s sudden, thick, and there’s so much of it that Wade thinks it’s gotta be more than pre-anything for a second. He chokes, tries to lift his head, but Logan grabs him by the back of the neck and shoves him back down with a quiet growl.
Tears prick the corners of Wade’s eyes and he gags, but he doesn’t make any effort to pull back. He swallows more forcefully, muffled sounds of distress and excitement dribbling from his mouth along with viscous drool. Logan bucks into his mouth and Wade moans, low and filthy, humping Logan’s tail shamelessly. The serpent’s other cock is dripping over his knuckles as he works him over sloppily. Wade smears the slickness around and squeezes, Logan bucks into the sensation again and Wade sees stars. He hums a low mhm when Logan begins to thrust, granting permission that Logan didn’t ask for and letting him fuck his throat…but what Wade really wants is for Logan to take that attitude to his ass. He whimpers. Christ, it’d probably be too much, even just one dick, but of course Wade’s brain skips right to I want both. Then it goes blank. Vacant and endless as the badlands in winter, eerily silent, somehow empty and crisp and fresh all at once.
Wade is cumming with a strangled cry, actually choking now, and this time Logan seems to know he can’t recover from it because he lets Wade lift his head and cough and whine and drool all over him as he rides it out.
Logan growls and the sound curls up through Wade’s body like smoke. “Y’gonna be okay?”
Ah, yes, last time Wade promptly passed out. That was mostly due to the hot water and the overwhelming impossibility of the situation. This time, Wade fights to stay present. “Mmm…mhm,” he nods, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and forearm. “M’great. Fuck. Haven’t cum that hard in years…” oh, but Logan didn’t cum at all yet. Gotta fix that. Wade rouses himself enough to sit up, take both of Logan’s gargantuan cocks in either hand and squeeze.
Logan’s lip lifts in a snarl of pleasure. He bucks into the touch and his gold framed eyes bore into Wade’s as he forms a circle with both hands, pressing Logan’s cocks together. His chest heaves with every breath, composure lost. He fucks Wade’s hands with more ferocity than he had his throat, and every roll of his hips travels down the muscles of his tail, rippling between Wade’s legs and making him bite his bruised lip. He’s spent, overstimulated, but can’t shift or take his eyes off Logan.
“Yeah,” the serpent groans, leaking profusely. The slickness only makes it easier, a perfect natural lubricant.
“Yeah?” Wade leans down and licks both cockheads in succession, savoring the rich, bitter flavor of him. Logan grunts, pumping out more of that delicious elixir and Wade can’t help sucking one into his mouth. If he’s anything like Wade, the pulsing and twitching means he’s close. Wade switches, popping the tip of the other dick into his mouth and sucking it clean vigorously.
“Fuck…Waaade…”
If it were even marginally possible for him to get it up again, that would’ve done it. “C’mon, baby, give it to me,” Wade mumbles between messy licks and open-mouthed kisses.
“Fuck!” Logan snarls.
The muscles in his tail spasm and his hips jerk. Wade lets him buck into his mouth and hand, swallowing dutifully when he starts to cum…but there’s no way to keep up. A quiet metallic ring cuts through the room. Wade pulls off before he fucking drowns in the stuff, and it spurts across his chin, his chest and shoulders, thick ropes of pearlescent slick that just go on forever. So much for his tunic. Oh well, he’ll just find another scrap of fabric to hide under later.
Wade sees him through it, milks him for everything he’s got, eyes fixated on something much more fascinating than his soiled garment; three golden blades like claws or talons have split the skin between Logan’s knuckles, hidden weapons he brandishes at his sides, pointed out and away as not to nick Wade with them accidentally.
“You…you are so fucking beautiful,” Wade breathes.
Now, he can’t prove it…but he swears that makes Logan blush.
Wade takes a calculated risk—meaning he doesn’t think about it at all. Just leans in and slots his lips against Logan’s. He’s not expecting the serpent to open up for him, to hesitantly meet Wade’s tongue when it licks across his lips and kiss back so softly, so gently, almost…timid.
Dirty red rags discarded, Wade sleeps like a baby curled up naked in Logan’s embrace.
~~~
Logan
~~~
Needless to say, nobody’s ever called Logan beautiful before. The extent of his conversations with humans have been please no, or aaaaauughhh!!!
Ages ago, before humans had burned their entire society to the ground, he was once called a monster by a man of the cloth. An abomination of God. Satan’s minion.
As if Logan would ever willingly serve anything or anyone. He swallowed that man alive.
He doesn’t serve Wade. He simply…humors him. And kisses him. A lot. Kissing is nice.
~
After feeling Wade’s mouth on him, it’s pretty much impossible to stop thinking about it. Logan’s only ever known the feeling of his own hands or the folds of his tail. Wade’s skin, textured and warm and alive, is far more addicting than the wine he drowns his boredom in regularly. His mouth is warm as sin and makes Logan feel divine.
Logan quickly becomes obsessed with that mouth in every capacity. Listening to Wade talk or sing. Sticking his fingers in it when he feeds him small berries. Kissing him breathless and then making him cry out in ecstasy as often as possible. Tired as Wade may be from his illness, his mouth draws from an endless reserve of energy. Even in his sleep.
He’s cradling the human in the coils of his tail one evening when he breaks the silence. “Shoulda been May...”
He speaks softly but surely. Logan thinks he’s awake at first. “What’re you on about?”
“Fucking…Radio Shack,” Wade grumbles. His face is twisted up in frustration. He mumbles something else indistinguishable. “Sacrificial lamb of…goldfish, gold—god…bullshit…”
“Shh,” Logan soothes, now understanding that he’s just babbling in his sleep.
“She’s all alone,” Wade whines.
“It’s okay,” Logan promises, hugging Wade tighter. “She’s fine.”
That does the trick. Wade doesn’t relax right away, but slowly, the tension in his muscles eases and he drifts into what Logan hopes is a more peaceful sleep. He wonders what Wade’s dreams are like. He himself has none that he can remember. He’s not even sure if he dreams at all.
~
Wade’s health starts to decline rapidly.
Logan catches small birds, finds the eggs in their nests to give Wade a boost in energy, but his appetite is failing too. More often than not, he’s too tired to even move around on his own. Logan knows it’s bad when Wade stops talking, even while awake.
If he doesn’t do something, Wade will die.
Sure, Logan was planning on eating him…eventually. Eventually. But not so soon. To have this, to have Wade taken from him before he’s ready is absolutely unacceptable. Everything in the temple obeys Logan, and that should include Wade’s illness.
But no. No, he has no control over that. Fuck.
Logan grows irritable, inconsolably agitated over the impending loss of his companion over the next couple of days. He does not sleep. He watches Wade sleep instead, listens to his heartbeat grow weaker and weaker until it’s too much to bear.
He decides that he will use his venom instead of suffocating Wade. It’ll be less painful.
The next time Wade wakes, he’ll say his goodbyes and end his suffering.
~
Wade stirs. Logan prepares for the inevitable. When those blue eyes open and find him, Wade’s chapped lips curl into a lazy smile.
“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”
“You,” Logan snorts humorlessly, putting the back of his hand to Wade’s forehead. The fever is boiling him from the inside. He won’t last much longer.
Wade grabs his hand and kisses it sweetly, right between the knuckles. Where he knows Logan’s claws lurk.
It’s then Logan decides he won’t part with him, not willingly. However, his previous plan does give him another idea…gives him hope.
“D’you trust me, kid?”