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Wade Wilson uses steroids.
Everyone knows — it’s the worst kept secret on the team. Stryker has to know. But Wade’s his golden boy, so as long as he keeps the rage to the field and doesn’t leave needles or pills around, he seems happy enough to turn a blind eye. Hell, even Fred’s figured it out, and he’s dumb as a rock.
That’s a problem because, as Fred tells it, steroids’ll shrink your dick. And Fred has a lot of opinions about dick size, and is overly willing to share them. In Logan’s opinion, any man who’s that concerned with what’s in other men’s pants probably has a dick that’s inversely proportional to the size of his mouth, and he very much does not appreciate how big Fred’s mouth is.
Logan does appreciate how Victor’s eyes narrow whenever the topic comes up, and how he runs his nails idly across the wooden table, scoring cautionary lines this way and that. It’s nice. That Victor still cares about him that way, given that what’s in Logan’s pants became very much a point of contention between the two of them. It’s nice to know Victor still thinks well of him, even if he couldn’t be what his brother wanted. He appreciates more that Victor looks to him before defending his maidenly honor. He doesn’t need Victor to ride to his rescue — he’s been subject to this flavor of locker room talk in every war he’s ever been in. He has thick skin.
Wade does not have thick skin. When Fred leers and says, “Those steroids, they’ll give a guy tits like a girl, that’s what I heard,” Wade’s cheeks flush ugly and he gets mean.
“How would you know?” Wade snaps. “Not like you’ve seen a pair other than your mommy’s.” He storms off, calling over his shoulder, “They’re nice, by the way. Your mom’s tits. Tell her to call me, will ya? She has my number.”
Team X is trying Logan’s patience.
~
Logan is an expert at avoiding communal bathing, a skill honed by over a century of practice. He waits until late at night to skulk into the locker room, after everyone else has finished and cleared out. It’s not that he’s ashamed of his body. He just doesn’t consider it anyone’s business but his own. So he watches the team’s patterns and figures out the optimal time to get his privacy.
The problem is, eventually a person watching the same patterns will reach the same conclusions. And since Logan sidesteps showering with the team, how the fuck is he supposed to know that someone else has been doing the exact same thing?
He’s gotten lazy, doesn’t even think to check if he’s alone as he strips down by the lockers. He only realizes his mistake when he rounds the corner and hears the sharp gasp.
“I,” says Wade. “You…”
Wade hasn’t turned on the shower. There’s no steam to cloud the view as he cowers back, tilting his hips away, knees pressed tight to hide what’s between his legs. But it’s hard to miss — or rather, hard to miss what’s missing. He’s hairy, but not as much as Logan, who can sometimes hide what’s different about him behind a nest of pubes.
Wade’s throat works. His eyes are glued to Logan’s face, too shocked to look at the rest of him (thank god). “Please don’t tell the guys,” he says. “They’d never let me live it down. I — it’s the ‘roids. You know? They shrink things.”
“Do they, now.” Logan stalks closer, not bothering to hide his stare. Wade doesn’t look quite the same as him, but he’s the closest Logan’s ever seen, so he’s looking his fill while he has the chance. His eyes move lazily up Wade’s body.
Wade never takes his shirt off around the team, not even when it’s boiling hot. He’s always showing off his arms, his shoulders, even his stupidly bulky thighs (Logan never really noticed, but Wade is somewhat bottom-heavy). But for all that he swans around the weight room bragging about his bench numbers, Logan is just now realizing that he’s never seen Wade shirtless. It seems an unnecessary precaution. Sure, Wade has some extra fat up there. His nipples are large, and a little darker than you might expect. But unless you knew what you were looking for, you’d never think he was anything but a man (especially with the steroids, if they really do give a guy tits like Fred says).
“Huh.” Logan crowds Wade in, skimming up his solid waist to weigh a handful of pec. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe they did shrink something.” He tugs at a nipple and Wade shudders, tip to toe, so sensitive. Logan hums. “But I think…” He lets his hand meander down Wade’s stomach, appreciating the muscle flexing under his palm, the hair that catches between his fingers. Logan says, “I think not everything shrank. I think some parts grew.” And then he’s cupping Wade where he’s most vulnerable, feeling it harden in his fingers.
It’s big. Not as big as a man (not even as big as Logan). But far bigger than any girl Logan’s been with. Logan ventures further, sliding through a wetness he already knew he’d find. He smelled the arousal the second Wade’s back hit the wall, a mouth-watering tang perfectly entwined with a bitter spike of fear and shame. (It’s no surprise that Wade Wilson is a fucking freak in ways that have nothing to do with his anatomy.) Logan pulls his fingers back toward himself, trapping the swollen thing between two of them.
He puts his mouth right next to Wade’s ear and whispers, “Gotcha.”
“You can fuck me,” Wade blurts. “If you promise not to tell. I’ll make it good for you. Just. Please don’t tell.”
“That what you say to all the boys?”
Wade gulps. “Only the ones who find out.”
Then his hand is coy on Logan’s hip, seductive, and Logan growls and slams his wrist against the tile, gripping hard enough to bruise. Wade’s little cry of distress says maybe something’s actually injured, but that’s what he fucking gets for touching without asking.
“I touch you,” Logan growls. “You don’t touch me. Got it?”
Wade nods. And then the inevitable happens and his eyes flick down. It’s understandable. If he doesn’t get to touch Logan’s dick, he’ll at least want to look at it. Unfortunately for both of them, Logan is close enough that there’s no way Wade can see it from this angle, as much as it’s growing thick and heavy against Logan’s thigh.
“Oh.” Wade gives a nervous little laugh. “You’re, uh, juicing too, huh? That explains the muscles. Which I would very much like to be allowed to touch if we’re gonna do this, by the way.”
“You don’t get everything you want, sweetheart,” Logan says. He shrugs. “And I’ve always been like this. Didn’t even know I was different until I had to ask Victor why he could piss standing and I couldn’t. My family wasn’t what you’d call the best at facing problems head on. Far as I can guess, they weren’t proper sure what to do with me when I was born, so they went ahead and called me a boy. And that turned out to suit me just fine. So.”
He steps back. Cat’s out of the bag, and it’s only fair that Wade gets to look, too. And it’s… nice. To be seen. To have Wade’s eyes on him and see them hungry. Mostly Logan has sex in the dark. That works fine for him; he can see his lover more than well enough to appreciate them, but they don’t get to see him and make a thing of it. Victor used to look at him like this — hungry and wanting. But then Logan stopped giving him what he was hungry for, and no one’s looked at him like that since. (Sometimes it feels almost worth giving Victor what he wants, to get that again. Almost.)
Point is, it’s been a long time. And Wade isn’t just looking. He’s salivating. The bones in his wrist flex in Logan’s grip as he opens and closes his hand, though he doesn’t reach with the free one. Good boy.
“Can you even. Um.” Wade swallows hard. “You can still fuck me. If you. You know.”
“If I can?” Logan steps back in and cups Wade’s crotch, digging his fingers up and in, making Wade wince. “I don’t get complaints.” He tips his head, considering. “The other guys you gave this to. Did they know how much you hated it?”
Wade gasps, quick and sharp. His hips move restlessly as he tries to grind into Logan’s broad palm, to squirm away from the threat of his fingers, all at the same time. He huffs a humorless laugh. “They were men getting their dick wet. What do you think?”
Mmm. Logan knows that one. He pulls his hand away so fast that Wade sobs, then flips him against the wall. Wade’s cheek hits the tile. Maybe it’ll bruise. Maybe tomorrow Logan’ll be able to catch the shadow of it while they do their work. That’s a nice thought.
“Not today,” Logan decides. He leans in close, pressing his body against the long line of Wade’s side, and whispers, “When I fuck you like that, I’m gonna take my time. I’m gonna make it last, and I’m gonna make sure you hate every fucking minute. And I will get off on that so fucking hard.”
Wade whines, a conflicted noise like he’s not sure if the idea sounds very bad or very, very good. Logan grips his ass, thumb sliding rough over his dry hole.
Logan says, “I’m gonna fuck you here. Like a man. You gonna be a good boy and take it?” and before Wade can answer one way or the other, Logan spits on two fingers and presses them in, careful but relentless, ignoring how Wade tenses and yelps. He kicks Wade’s feet apart and straddles his thigh, groaning as his cock (what there is of it) slides up Wade’s skin.
He pushes in, deep as he can go. There’s a spot in there. A spot that’s easy to find on a girl, easy if you’re in the other hole and your fingers are facing in instead of back. But he bets he can find it on Wade if he digs hard enough. Sure enough, when he pushes against the silky wall of muscle and straightens his fingers to rock the knob of his first knuckle toward Wade’s front, Wade jolts, skittish and uncomfortable.
If this was a girl, Logan would work her up slow. Take his time, kiss and caress her until she was a puddle. But Wade’s not a girl, is he?
And the sound he makes when Logan bullies against that spot, the frantic whine… yeah, that’s what Logan was looking for.
“Hands on the wall,” Logan says. “If you move ‘em, you’ll be in the kind of trouble you won’t like.”
Wade does it quick, muttering, “Not sure I like the kind of trouble I’m in now.”
Logan chuckles. “That’s good, baby. Just like that.” Wade does melt a little then, sinking deeper onto Logan’s fingers with a wince, unhappy and soothed all at the same time. Logan uses his other hand to explore Wade’s chest, squeezing and stroking and pinching. When he flicks over Wade’s nipple, he says, “Steroids really did all this?”
Conversational, which is mean and they both know it, and Logan likes that. He flexes his fingers hard and says, “I asked you a question, boy.”
Wade takes a shaky breath, trying to get his wits about him. “Y-yeah. I was, um. I was always a tomboy. Sporty, you know? Lucked out, never got too busty. In high school I managed to talk my way into weight training. Well. I used my mouth to convince the coach. Didn’t involve too much talking, actually. I didn’t know why it felt so important. Just knew I wanted to be strong. Needed it.” Logan kisses Wade’s shoulder and Wade sighs, his voice a little steadier as he continues. “I was the only girl, just me and the boys, and after a while they forgot to keep it clean around me. They would talk about. Um. Juicing. What it did to guys. The bullshit Fred shoots off with. But they said it was the opposite with girls. There were pictures from the Olympics in the paper, of the Soviet girls, and they just looked so fucking strong, you know? All broad shoulders and flat chests and wide jaws. ‘You don’t want to be like that, sweetheart,’ the guys would say. ‘The steroids, they make a girl look like a man. Especially down there.’” Wade presses his forehead to the wall, tilting his face slightly away from Logan. He whispers, “I didn’t know till they said that, how much I wanted it. I wanted it so fucking bad.”
Then he yelps, because Logan’s free hand has been creeping down to settle low on his belly, almost but not quite to where the steroids made him big. Logan digs hard into Wade’s pubes while he flexes the fingers in Wade’s ass, trapping that little patch of tissue between them like if he pinches it hard enough he can pluck it out and keep it all for himself.
“Lo’.” Wade’s voice cracks. “Lo’, it’s too much.”
Logan hides a smile against Wade’s neck. “You said I could have it, honey. You promised you’d make it good for me. Don’t you want to be good?”
Wade bites his lip, then jerks out a nod. “W-what do you want?”
“Let me fuck you, yeah? Like you said I could. Want you to be good while I fuck you. That’s all I want.” Logan pulls back just enough to spit on the back of Wade’s thigh, then spits again down his crack. It drips obscenely to his stretched-out hole and wets the fingers holding him open. Logan kicks Wade’s foot a little wider, a little further back, and when his cock meets the new slickness on Wade’s thigh he sighs long and low.
Logan’s never fucked anyone proper, not the usual way at least. He’s good with his hands and his mouth, and it feels good to use them. Feels good to know that whatever his lover is feeling — be it pain or pleasure — it’s because of him, because he’s making them feel that way. He doesn’t need his dick for that. Still, he’s thought about it; of course he has. Imagined screwing his cock into someone, thought about how he could make it work. He thinks he could maybe get it in if he was really hard and they were wet and loose. But that would take a lover who saw him for what he truly was, and Victor’s the only one of those he’s had (and that sure as hell wasn’t the way Victor wanted to fuck).
Maybe it’s for the best — if Logan doesn’t know what he’s missing, he can’t be sad at the lack. But it feels good to imagine. Like this, rocking against Wade’s thigh, fingers buried where he’s soft, he almost knows what it is to be wrapped in that deep, tight heat. It’s like that phantom limb thing, how a man who loses an arm sometimes feels his hand, except for Logan it’s a prick he never had to begin with. He flexes his fingers every time he ruts forward, and each one forces a pathetic little moan out of Wade and makes his face screw a little tighter, and Logan swears he feels it, swears he’s fucking Wade for real. His fingers are still dug low on Wade’s stomach, rubbing the tiny muscles hard and mean in time with his grinding. It’s not a fun way to get there, but it’s effective — Wade won’t be able to stop the build, no matter how much he flinches away from it.
“Moved around a lot after that,” Wade says, the words breaking around his wounded mewls. The kid couldn’t stop talking if God himself told him to shut the fuck up, and Logan has no desire to try. It’s hard to tell if he’s trying to rile them both up, or if he’s after a different kind of release. Wade Wilson has never stopped a stray thought from pouring right out of his mouth in his entire life. Keeping a secret this big must have been murder. Logan sets gentle teeth against his neck, humming encouragement. “I, uh. Fuck. Did what I had to, got into gyms, got the good shit. Did as much training as I could before I got too big for them to want me. Then I’d move to the next town, find an owner or gym rat who thought a dyke was still hot enough to fuck. Some of them were even into it.” His mouth twists. “Those ones, uh. Not always great. They didn’t like that about themselves. Didn’t like me, and how I made them feel. But I did what I had to do, until I looked enough like a guy to get what I needed on my own. Got away with it most of the time. Not… not always. God, Lo’, Logan, it’s… I…”
Logan licks sloppy up Wade’s neck and nips at his cheek. “I like it, baby. How you make me feel when I fuck you. How it feels to want you this bad.” Wade keens and Logan kisses him. It’s not a romantic kiss. It’s a battle, and it’s one that Logan fully intends to win. “Does that make me better or worse than the shitheads who slapped you around? That I fucking love how I feel right now?”
“B-better,” Wade says. He hiccups. “I think.” He blinks hard, lashes wet, and Logan licks the corner of his eye to steal a taste of salt.
“Did they tell you you deserved it, baby?” Logan asks. Wade nods. “Because you do.” A pathetic little cry, like he’d rather Logan had slapped him across the face than said those words. “But not because you’re bad. Because you’re good. Too good. You think I don’t notice you following me around like a pup, all big wet eyes and need to please? Boy, you’ve been fucking asking for it.”
Logan kisses Wade right as he starts to cry for real.
Suddenly Logan’s so fucking close. He grits his teeth, forcing himself to hold back. Logan prides himself on being a thorough lover, and he’ll take care of Wade first whether Wade wants it or not. So Logan slows the roll of his hips and speeds up his hands, using his weight to press Wade into the tile. Wade shouts. He’s clenching around Logan’s fingers, so tight, so good, he would feel so fucking good spasming around Logan’s cock. Does feel so fucking good, so good that Logan’s having trouble holding out. He tugs on Wade’s earlobe and growls, “Come, you dumb fucking whore,” and that’s it for Wade, who wails and gushes so hard it splashes against the wall and up onto the back of Logan’s hand. Logan slides down to cup him, firm and grounding, and a few more waves splatter into his palm as he works Wade through the last of it.
“Did I, um.” Wade flushes bright red, breath hitching. “I didn’t…”
“Piss all over me? Not sure, sweetheart.” With a smirk, Logan says, “Let’s find out,” and shoves all four fingers into Wade’s mouth.
It’s not piss (at least Logan’s pretty sure, although he wouldn’t be bothered if it was). He doesn’t know too much about how things down there fit together, except for what he needs to make it feel good. But he knows the smell and taste of piss, and this ain’t it.
Wade doesn’t seem to know that, and Logan isn’t inclined to tell him.
Instead, he jams his fingers down Wade’s throat until he gags, rutting against his thigh, jabbing into his ass like he can fuck Wade right through the tile. A nice side effect of getting Wade off first is that there’s no way being fucked like this still feels good, not without pleasure to sweeten the unwelcome stretch. Thinking happily about that gets Logan over the edge pretty quick, although from the panicked sounds Wade makes around his fingers, Wade must think it took more than long enough.
Logan lets it last, rocking lazily, letting himself indulge. It’s been a long time since he was able to enjoy himself this openly. He doesn’t mind taking care of himself discreetly, or even skipping it altogether — he really does get more from his lovers’ pleasure than his own. But god, he could get used to this.
That thought is as thrilling as it is terrifying.
It’s only once he’s worked himself through the aftershocks that he pulls his fingers out of Wade’s body. Wade cries when they slide out of his ass, no matter that Logan’s as gentle as he can be. The fingers that he removes from Wade’s mouth are coated in spit so thick it makes him want to pry Wade’s scared little asshole open all over again, and he only resists the impulse by wiping them across Wade’s face, the mucous mingling with hot tears and sweet humiliation. Logan holds Wade tight, wrapping his body around Wade’s back and covering him, keeping him safe from… Logan doesn’t know what. Safe from the world. Safe from all the people who aren’t Logan who dared to hurt something that’s rightfully his. He noses at Wade’s neck and Wade presses into the touch, so sweet, so needy.
“What happened after that?” Logan asks. “You bluffed your way into the army?”
Wade tries to speak, fails. Clears his throat and rasps, “Bluffed my way in, then yelled every other truth until they kicked me back out.”
“Got picked up by Stryker and figured you were safe, huh? Found a sure thing. Home free.” Logan grins with all his teeth. “And then I found you.”
“Yeah,” Wade says, sinking into his own head, pleasantly dopey. “Then you found me.” Fuck, Logan loves that. Loves that he did that to Wade.
Wade’s loose grin is showing off the adorable gap in his front teeth, and Logan wants to lick it, so he does. He loves doing whatever he wants to Wade. Wade’s wrung out, barely has the energy to stand, let alone drag himself to bed. If Logan wants more, he’ll have to make it happen himself.
Which is great, because Logan loves doing all the work.
He gently turns Wade around, leans him against the wall, and sinks to his knees.
Wade’s eyes go round. “I… you…”
Logan grips his hips and presses him against the tile, half to make him feel kept, and half to keep him from falling the fuck down. He licks his lips. “Anyone ever do this for you, sweetheart?” If anyone has, Logan bets cash money they weren’t any fucking good at it. But Wade shakes his head, breath hitching. “Good,” says Logan, and sucks Wade into his mouth, hard.
Wade jolts and wails and claws at the tile, and Logan pulls back.
“Good boy,” he says, hot against slick skin. “You need something to do with those wandering hands?” Wade nods, eyes dark and wet. “Go ahead and touch your body, baby. Touch yourself like I’m gonna touch you.”
Logan slides Wade back into his mouth, gentle this time. He’s fucking good at this and he knows it, but a big part of being fucking good is taking his time to learn a lover. Everyone’s different, and Wade’s about as different as they come, similar to both the boys and the girls but not quite either. Logan wants to suck Wade until he screams, wants to do it hard and fast, so fucking much that Wade can’t even get there. It makes Logan throb to think of Wade wailing and thrashing, begging him to stop, to slow down, to let him come, please. But he’d rather figure out how his toy works before he breaks it. So he takes it slow. Wade rests fat on his tongue, just big enough for him to bob his head like he’s sucking a real cock, glancing up through his eyelashes, making a show of it. He wonders how many times Wade has been the one on his knees like this. Making a show of being pretty. Of being pleasing.
If Wade’s sounds are any indication, Logan’s doing a damn good job of being pleasing, and he sucks up those sounds just as hungrily as he sucks on the dick in his mouth. Wade doesn’t have to work to be pretty and pleasing. He just is. Sweetly, he finally starts to move his hands over his own body, stiff and unsure. Logan pulls back and clicks his tongue.
“Is that how you think I want to touch you, baby? You think I’m gonna touch you soft and sweet, like a goddamn girl?”
Wade hisses and shakes his head, hands getting rougher, pinching at his nipples, pulling meanly at his own skin. Logan wraps his mouth back around Wade and hums approval, and Wade shudders hard. His hand creeps up and then he’s gripping his own throat, eyes rolling back, and Logan groans around his mouthful as his own dick swells hot and sticky between his legs.
He keeps having to remind himself to be careful, to take it slow. It’s Wade’s first time getting this and Logan wants it to be good. He’s guessing most of Wade’s firsts weren’t all that great. But more importantly, Logan wants Wade ruined for anyone else’s mouth for the rest of his fucking life. There’ll be time later to use his mouth like this to hurt Wade (at least, Logan is starting to hope there will be). If Logan wants to be mean he’ll be mean and if he wants to be sweet he’ll be sweet, and he’s not all that concerned about Wade’s opinion on the matter. So this time? He’s happy keeping it sweet.
As unhurried as Logan is, Wade is fucking easy. (So fucking easy. If anyone who fucked him before couldn’t figure out how to get him off, they were a goddamn idiot. Though he doubts most of them even tried.) It’s only a few minutes before he’s over the edge, splashing across Logan’s chin and whimpering his name. When Logan stands up for a kiss, Wade’s head slumps against the wall and he can barely focus his eyes, but he grins up at Logan like a dope.
Logan should really put him to bed.
There’s just one problem: he really doesn’t want to.
Logan’s cock is hard and Wade is right here, pretty and pleasing, and Logan wants. So he braces Wade against the wall and hitches Wade’s legs around his waist, and then over his elbows when Wade proves too floppy to even try to wrap around him. Logan leans in to nuzzle at his throat and says, “Aren’t you going to thank me, baby?”
Wade blinks slowly, tongue thick. “Than’ you, Lo’.”
“Nope,” Logan says, and Wade’s fuzzy expression goes pleading. “You really are just a dumb little pup, aren’t you? Thank me properly.” He rolls his hips into Wade, and that seems to get the point across because Wade’s face slowly crumples.
“Can’t,” he slurs.
“Wrong answer,” Logan says. “Here, let me help.”
He puts Wade’s arms around his neck and Wade’s lips part, so fucking grateful to be allowed to touch Logan’s skin. Logan doesn’t want Wade’s hands anywhere else. But this feels nice, letting him cling so sweetly. He leans in and kisses Wade, hiking him tight against his stomach.
“Ride my dick, baby. I know you know how.”
Wade sniffles, trying to shake himself back to awareness. He hisses through his teeth at the first pass against Logan’s belly, and Logan grins.
“Too much?” Logan asks. Wade nods. “Too fucking bad. Your job is to get me off, and we’ll stay here till you do. Better hurry. Sure would be a shame if the other guys walked in on you like this. You might be too stupid to get me off, but I bet I’ll get myself there so easy, watching what they do to you.” Wade makes a horrible noise in the back of his throat, a gutted, punched-out thing, but he seems to steel himself, even though he starts crying as he ruts against Logan. The movement is jerky, and Logan has to put one of Wade’s arms back around his neck when it flops down. He raises an eyebrow. “You’re boring me, Wade. No wonder you get slapped around so fucking much.” Wade flinches and Logan softens, cupping his face and kissing the corner of his mouth. “Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart. You know I didn’t mean it. I just know you can do better. Yeah?”
Wade tightens his jaw and digs his fingers into Logan’s shoulders. It’s so hard for him, he’s trembling, but he manages to set a good pace once he puts his mind to it. Logan can’t wait to have him in his bed, bouncing on his hips. Maybe with something in him, stretch him too fast and too rough, make him hurt himself just to put on a good show. The idea makes Logan absolutely throb, the wet heat of Wade sliding across his belly going straight to his cock, tight as a vice, like Wade is actually bouncing on it. He sees the exact moment Wade slips from distress to exhausted pleasure, the moment he goes from suffering for Logan to enjoying for himself. Logan isn’t sure which he likes more. He loves seeing Wade feel good, but also he wants to grip Wade’s hips tight, mark him up, stuff him so full he cries.
Logan wants to take. And by this point, he has no doubt Wade will let him.
And if he doesn’t? Well. Wade can try to fight back, but they both know he’s no match for Logan. He’d still look awfully pretty in the attempt.
“Fuck,” Logan gasps, because the thought of slamming Wade to the mat and dragging him screaming back onto his cock is too much for even him. “Fuck… baby… You’re gonna make me come. You want that? You feel so good, say you want it, baby, please.”
“Please,” Wade slurs. “Please, want it.” His hips jerk and he bites his lip hard, lungs heaving as he grinds against Logan. He’s way too tired to keep this up, but he seems to know that his pleading eyes and pretty tears won’t save him. He screws up his face and speeds up his hips and holds his breath until he’s almost purple. “Please… god… please Lo’, are you gonna? Please?”
“Yeah. Fuck, sweetheart. You gotta do it with me, though.” Logan finally starts to rock against Wade. Not taking over, but enough to help the both of them. The rhythm of Wade’s hips jostles through his pelvis and into the base of his dick, making it swell and pulse, making it so, so easy to believe that it’s actually inside Wade’s body. This won’t be the strongest orgasm, indirect like this, but strong and good aren’t always the same, and the wounded little yelps Wade makes as Logan’s hands roam his pinked-up skin are better than any touch. When Wade finally jerks, crying out, Logan groans and thrusts hard to meet him, and pleasure blooms through his core and white flashes behind his eyes. He doesn’t stop until Wade is flinching away, and his own cock is sore from the friction of his thighs.
Logan lowers them to the ground. He props Wade against the wall and stands, shaky-legged, to turn on the water and wash Wade right there on the floor. Wade preens, pressing into Logan’s soapy hands, eyes too heavy to keep open but still trying, like looking at Logan is the only thing he wants to do. (Logan is definitely going to be carrying Wade to bed.) When they’re finally clean, Logan crouches to press his forehead against Wade’s, and Wade cuddles in.
Wade murmurs, “I like it. Doing it with the lights on. ‘s nice.”
“Yeah,” Logan says. He can feel himself smiling, a soft thing that he isn’t used to having on his face. “Yeah, it is.”
“Can we, um. Can I…” Wade turns his face away. He’s so used to rejection. So sure he’ll get told no that he can’t even bring himself to ask.
Logan cups his cheek and turns him back. “Gonna take you back to my room and keep you. How’s that sound?”
“You can keep me forever. If you want.”
“Good,” says Logan. He gets to his feet, heaving Wade up with him and into his arms. “Because I wasn’t fucking asking.”