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If you were to ask Deadpool about the sexiest, kinkiest thing he could think of, you’d probably be expecting something wild. Right? Wound-fucking, double penetration, full-body latex suits and crisco? That might’ve been his answer a couple months ago.
But things are much different than they were a couple months ago. He saved the multiverse. Adopted the world’s most precious walking tumor, Mary. Held hands with the one and only Wolverine. (Shut up, this one is the only one that matters.)
So, what is the most debauched, steamy, insanely hot thing he can think of these days?
Kissing Logan.
Wait, hear him out first!
Kissing Logan is different than kissing anyone he’s ever been with. The man has roughly two-hundred years of experience, let that sink in. Yeah, let it sink in the same way Logan’s fingertips sink into Wade’s flesh, possessive little divots too gentle to bruise but rough enough for Wade to get the message loud and clear: you belong to me.
It would be embarrassing, how down bad he is for this man, if he hadn’t already admitted it to him a million times. Perhaps Wade should stop declaring his undying love for the man at every corner.
Naaaah.
Men like Logan need to be told how perfect they are. Men like Logan don’t go for shit shows like Wade…but here he is, crammed into the tiniest little hollowed-out space between two buildings with 300 pounds of Gorgeous pressed up against him and kissing him deep and slow while they wait for the bus and try to stay dry. It’s raining, coming down hard. Almost as hard as Wade, which Logan points out with a soft chuckle.
“What’re you so worked up about, sugar?”
“That’s the dumbest question I’ve ever heard. Look at you—all cozy in your lumberjack coat, and little sparkly raindrops in your hair like an anime character.” Wade runs his fingers up the back of Logan’s neck and scalp, grinning when the other man tilts his head back into it and closes his eyes. “You’re so fucking perfect, Lo.”
“Pot, kettle,” Logan says with a lazy smile as he opens his eyes again. “C’mere.”
Logan’s lips aren’t always chapped like they used to be. As a dry, crusty-ass-bitch, Wade’s always got lip balm on hand. Logan doesn’t use it; however, constantly kissing Wade means direct lip-to-lip transfer. He prefers it this way.
Somehow, Logan is both sweet and gruff. He likes to hold Wade by the neck and waist, likes to pin him down and seek out exposed flesh with wandering fingers. Right now, both hands are on Wade’s hips, only the pads of his thumbs slipped up the hem of Wade’s shirt to gently caress the gnarled scar tissue below while his tongue mirrors the motions.
Wade’s underwear feels wet. Thankfully, if there is a wet spot, he can blame it on the rain when the bus arrives. He wants to grind against Logan so bad, but a large wet spot will be much harder to hide if he creams his jeans. Logan’s not making that easy, though. He’s doing that thing where he nips at Wade’s tongue just enough to draw blood and Wade goes boneless, whimpering into the kiss—and Logan? That motherfucker laughs. He laughs like Wade’s misery is his favorite cocktail and drinks him in, using his weight to crush Wade against the wall just a little bit and squeeze another sound out of him.
“Fuck, stop it,” Wade pants. “Or I’m gonna pop like a balloon.”
“Really?” Logan snorts. He noses along Wade’s neck like a dog snuffling for truffles, but like. A sexy dog. With a big bone. And big hands that slide around Wade’s hips and down to grab his ass.
“Really,” Wade shivers.
“From a little kissin’?”
“I don’t think you quite comprehend just how fucking into you I am, Logie. Like. Immeasurably. Inconsolably. Illegally.”
“Glad you’re not prone to overexaggeration,” Logan chuckles sarcastically before placing a warm, open-mouthed kiss right next to Wade’s Adam’s apple.
“Never,” Wade whispers, taken aback by the volume of his own voice. “Nothin’ but the facts, your honor. Swear on the bible. Swear on the TV guide. Swear on—oooaaah…fff…”
Logan licks his neck again, fangs grazing as he sucks a temporary dark bruise into the skin.
“Seriously?” Wade whines.
“Like the way you squirm.” Imagine if a bass guitar was fuckable. That’s Logan’s voice. Jesus Fuck and Friends, he could actually make reading the phone book sexy, Wade knows it.
Logan’s mouth is back on his, that skilled tongue licking across every centimeter of Wade’s, and Wade licks right back, until the kiss turns heated and a little sloppy and Wade feels Logan’s hands slide up his lower back, possessive and warm and just…loving.
Oh, now Wade’s brain feels like boba tea. Sloshy, thick, brain cells bouncing around aimlessly like a 90’s screensaver, lighting up with little popping fireworks at every contact point.
Logan’s letting Wade suck at his tongue, taut at first, but then he relaxes it and lets Wade feel the whole of the muscle. Another whimper gets lodged in Wade’s throat. Logan groans against his lips, petting his lower back encouragingly and panting through his nose.
That’s what makes kissing Logan so goddamn perfect. He may not be as vocal about it, but he likes it just as much as Wade. He may not be harder than vibranium, but he’s got a little chub that Wade feels the heat and heft of against his thigh, and the way he can’t keep his hands out of Wade’s shirt makes him feel like something desirable. Wanted. Not to mention, they're in public. And it's not so much the sex-in-public angle that gets him going, but the fact that Logan's not ashamed to be seen fondling his wrinkly nutsack of a face where anyone could see.
Wade tries to break the kiss because he’s tingling and his stomach is tight and he’s tiptoeing the razor’s edge of orgasm, but Logan won’t have it. He digs his fingernails into Wade’s back, squishes him between the brick wall and his rock-solid chest so he can’t move an inch and Wade is cumming, long shuddering waves of ecstasy that quite literally rock his world, but Logan keeps him steady. Logan holds him and peppers tiny kisses across his lips and his cheeks, all while laughing at him.
“N-not it to do laundry,” Wade whispers the moment his brain servers reboot themselves.
“Fine. Consider it part of your Valentine’s Day present.”
“Now that's chivalry.”