Inspired by a lovely ask/prompt from @flower-majesty-anon, who asked for some deadclaws lipstick marking and mirror shenanigans with a sprinkle of angst:)) thank you so much my dear for the prompt!
Logan is panting hard into Wade's mouth, making desperate little noises everytime Wade thrusts into him. The sort of noises Wade wishes he could literally keep in a bottle, because they are fucking glorious - and he puts a lot of that down to the fact it's The Wolverine making them. Who would've thought he would dissolve so beautifully during sex? Sound so sickeningly sweet?
Wade could admit he was obsessed. Who wouldn't be? It's funny, because back in the Honda odyssey days, Logan would've swore up and down that he was not a bottom, and yet the first time he let Wade try, one otherwise dull Tuesday afternoon - about a month ago, a few weeks post world saving... well, Wade hadn't had a dick in his ass since, and Logan had become his own personal flesh light.
And Wade was a gentleman. He left it to Logan everytime to choose which half he wanted to be, and then silently squealed in delight as the man, Logan Howlett himself, would blush the prettiest of pinks and ask to be fucked open on Wade's dick.
Life did get better, kids!
Their sex was violent, and rough, and neither of them would have it any other way. How else were you supposed to do it when you finally find someone who matches your immortality and boner for being ripped into?
Honestly, despite what most people would likely think, Wade was just a tad more on the aggressive side than what Logan was. Of course that was only because most the time the older mutant was getting fucked so hard and edged for so long that he wasn't cohesive enough to fight, settling for lazy bites on Wade's neck that barely broke the skin, because he was rocked into a moan before he could finish the job.
Wade loved to mark Logan. Biting and sucking hickeys everywhere he could reach, the marks smeared with a little bit of blood. It meant Logan was his. All fucking his.
"Fuck," Logan breathed, grasping his shoulders to stop himself from being smacked into the headboard with the force of which Wade was hammering into his body, the tightness absolutely fucking delicious, hugging his dick perfectly. Jesus, he wanted to be inside Logan permanently. It was his happy place. Screw unicorns and waterfalls and meadows - the best place he could conjure up in his cesspool of a head was here, with Logan all sweaty and desperate beneathe him while he hammered his g-spot.
He leaned forward, catching Logan's lips in a brief kiss before moving just below his jaw, nosing at the skin, sucking hard, nipping with his teeth.
It drove Logan crazy, as usual. Wade felt him tighten around him, and the brunette gasped, lifting his chin higher. Always so beautifully accomodating and obedient. His Kitty.
By the time he was done ravaging at his neck, they'd both came, and Logan looked like he'd been mauled. In the best way, obviously. His neck was bruised, hickeys layered atop of each other like some sort of dirty collage. He looked gorgeous, sprawled out on the mattress, chest heaving, marked up.
After a minute or two of being collapsed in a sweaty heap together, Logan got up to go grab a towel. And yeah, Wade knows as the 'fucker' that really ought to be his job, but he was comfy lying in the mess of bodily fluids, and realistically Logan had the easier job! He just had to lie there looking pretty while Wade did the hard stuff. Ha, get it? Hard stuff?
Yeah, not his best, but there was something about a two hour sex marathon and orgasming a half dozen times that turned his brain a bit mushy.
He watched Logan go, said mush brain not quite awake enough to muster an ass comment, so he settled for just staring at it. He was heading for the bathroom, but Wade watched him pause at their mirror.
His fingers traced over the marks on his neck as they healed into nothing.
The expression on Logan's face was... sad, as he ran his hand over his bare neck and jaw.
He didn't say anything, moving to get the towel, and returning without mentioning it. He cleaned himself up first, and Wade watched. There was rarely silence between them, mostly because of Wade- Logan could probably not say more than single word every half hour and there still wouldn't be lues of silence.
When there was, it was comfortable. As it was, the current silence was because Wade was studying Logan, trying to get a read on his earlier reaction.
Did he not like the marks? They went away pretty quick, and he enjoyed the process of their creation well enough. Was it too much? They didn't really have any limits at all when it came to sex, because they could always sort of tell when the other wasn't into something, but he could've sworn Logan was into having his neck turned into some sort of crude rendition of Van Goghs 'starry night'.
Wade's train of thought was cut off by Logan cleaning his dick, his light touch too much for the very sensitive part of Wade's anatomy.
"You're too quiet," Logan said as he wiped down his chest, which was sticky with their combined release.
Wade took the towel from him and gently wiped Logan's eyebrow, where he'd missed the bit of come Wade had landed there on his third (fourth, maybe...?) orgasm.
"I'm not the one staring at themselves in the mirror like some teenage girl the morning after prom night," Wade replied, and yeah, maybe the humour was a bit of a defence mechanism here - because he was internally panicking over the idea that Logan wasn't into this, them, as much as he was, and worse still - he didn't feel comfortable enough to let Wade know.
Logan looked uncomfortable.
Fuck, dammit!
He couldn't lose this. Now he'd gotten a taste, he'd be a damn addict for Logan's skin and...
And he was the person who could make Wade feel fucking alive, for the first time since he went and got himself tortured into a damn freak. There was something about dying and regenerating over and over - you come back, breathing and solid, but it's like there was still a death rattle beneathe your ribs.
When he was with Logan, whether they be balls deep in each other or just eating fucking breakfast, that coldness dissipated. Quietened down into something Wade could conceivably ignore.
"It's nothing, just drop it," Logan muttered, but that had never been Wade's strong suit.
"Nope, tell me what's up or I'm never putting my dick in your sweet ass ever again," Wade slapped said ass, and Logan growled, cheeks going red.
"It's... fuckin' stupid, you'll just make fun of me," Logan scoffed, folding his arms over his chest and looking down at the bedding rather than Wade himself.
"If it's upsetting you it's not stupid. Come on babygirl, spill your guts to daddy," Wade purred, which only made Logan's glare intensify and the redness to spread down his neck.
He huffed a sigh, moving to get up, but Wade grabbed his wrist.
"No, hey, c'mon! I'll stop, I'll stop. Just tell me what's going on in that head of yours, peanut," he said, and Logan settled back on the bed, pulling one of their blankets around himself so he wasn't completely naked.
Wade didn't really give a shit about covering himself up, lying spread eagle on the bed still.
"Just... no fucking laughing, alright?" Logan gritted, and Wade nodded, "pinky promise," he said, holding out his pinky finger which Logan ignored.
"I like when you leave marks. I... I really, really like it, actually because it..." Logan's quiet voice trailed into silence in the room as he fidgeted, growling low in his throat as he grew frustrated at finding the right words.
"It makes you feel owned? Like you're mine, baby?"
Wade really wasn't mocking this time, reaching out to run a hand over the exposed skin of Logan's thigh, which earned him a full body shiver. Bingo.
"Uhm- I- yeah, and I know it's pathetic but I... I like it. I like feeling like I'm- I'm yours," Logan admitted, somehow even quieter.
Wade sat up, cooed softly and brought his lips inches from his kittys, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, "you're all mine, hm? All mine forever?"
Logan's expression faltered a little at that last bit, and Wade frowned, "so what's the problem, angel?"
"The marks don't stay. They dissapear too quickly and there's... there's nothing. No proof of it- and I know it's stupid, cos it's hardly like I could show up to work looking like... but it just gets to me a little, seeing them fade as fast as they do."
Logan's staring down at his lap, struggling to swallow around a lump in his throat, and Wade just wants to melt into a pathetic puddle, because he understood what Logan meant but also to have his lover genuinely upset that he couldn't show off the fact he was getting fucked rough and good every night... it was as hot as it was depressing.
"What if you let me take photos next time? We could keep them in the drawer, and whenever you need a reminder..." it wasn't a perfect solution by any means, and he planned to brainstorm something better, but it would do for now.
Logan smiled softly at the idea, but it looked like he was still a bit dissapointed, "sounds good."
Wade kissed him, soft, just lips, and swore he'd make it his mission to make Logan look like his in a more long lasting kind of way.
//
Logan felt utterly stupid.
Why the hell did he admit that shit to Wade?! He must think he's the most ridiculous, pathetic person on the planet - and Logan wouldn't blame him.
He'd admit he may have some... issues. Issues that make it so he needs to feel owned, because if not he just feels like he's floating without purpose.
And, well, nothing in his life seemed to last, generally speaking. The x-men were supposed to, once upon a time, before he let them be slaughtered. His quiet life in the mountains was supposed to, his relationship with Scott and Jean... but none of it ever did.
The only things Logan had come to know as permanent fixtures in his life were pain and, ironically, loss.
And maybe it was because Wade had literally pulled him up from the abyss of nothingness, but he really needed him to be permanent. Needed them to be permanent.
But everyday he'd watched the marks the merc would bite into his skin, cushioned by affirmations of appreciation and devotion and ownership, dissapear into nothing, leaving no trace behind as if they'd never happened at all.
It hurt. It broke him a little bit to watch them fade, because he couldn't lose this and he didn't need the very physical visual reminder that with just one stupid fuck up, he very well could.
He might have already, in all honesty.
They hadn't fucked in two days. Which to most, is nothing. For them? Well, Logan can only fuck himself alone on a dildo so many times in a 48 hour period, and he thinks he's on track to set the damn record.
Wade is sort of just dipping in and out the apartment, never around enough for them to kiss, nevermind fuck, and Logan feels like some girl with a crush, sitting around twiddling his thumbs and waiting on Wade to fucking notice him - or more accurately, to take him to their room and fuck him stupid.
By day three, he figures it's probably over. He freaked Wade out with his chronic neediness and instability, and he pulls up apartment listings and thinks about packing his shit. If he really has ruined this, he just needs to be gone. He can't drag it out, not this, not with what they have. It's too much, and if it's going to disappear, Logan isn't going to hang around and watch it fade like the marks on his neck.
He'd say he has too much self respect for that, but in reality he's just a fucking coward.
On day four though, he's woken up to kisses.
On his chest. His neck. His shoulders.
Soft lips pressing against his skin, and he blinks awake, squinting against the sunlight creeping between the gaps of their shitty curtains.
"Hmph," he breathes, and those lips kiss his jaw, teasing the corner of his lips, "morning, gorgeous," Wade's familiar voice breaks through the fog in his brain.
He glances down, and at first he's confused by the red painting his skin. He wasn't in pain, and Wade didn't tend to make him bleed unless he was a willing, conscious participant.
Then Wade came into view, and Logan realises the red, for once, isn't blood.
It's lipstick.
"What..." he frowns, lifting a hand and pressing his thumb lightly to the mercs red lips, which stretch into a smirk as he does. His thumb comes back the same shade of red.
"It won't be permanent," Wade says, kissing his jaw, nibbling a little in a way which makes Logan's back arch the tiniest bit, "but it will last longer, especially 'cos the lady in the store told me this one was a right pain in the ass for staining skin," Wade wiggled his non-existent eyebrows, and Logan stared.
Stared for a bit too long, probably, because Wade is lifting off of him, the tiniest dredges of embarrassment visible in his expression, "if you think it's weird, we can stop. I just thought-"
"Not weird," Logan interrupted, pretending the hoarseness of his voice was purely from just waking up, "I just... you thought about solutions? You... you went fucking lipstick shopping? Consulted the damn sales clerk? All for..." Logan trailed off, his throat suffocating on emotion.
"For you, babygirl. Anything for you, you should know that by now," Wade finished.
Logan is almost relieved when Wade returns to kissing his way around his body because at least he doesn't see the way his eyes well up just a little.
He gets lost in the feeling of Wade all over him, relishing in it, by the time the merc moves to his ear, biting playfully at his earlobe and leaving a smudge of red there too.
"I want you to see. Want you to watch me mark what's mine," Wade spoke low in his ear, and Logan felt his entire body shiver at the notion of it, knew Wade did too by the way his smile widened, in that annoyingly smug way it tended to when he discovered something about Logan that he'd prefer to stay hidden.
"You like that idea, sweetheart?" Wade hums, sickeningly sweet.
Logan keeps carefully quiet, but Wade isn't exactly one to drop things and if anything, his evident embarrassment only eggs the merc on.
"Nuh-uh, princess. If you want something, you gotta use your words like a big girl or daddy isn't giving you anything," Wade pulls back a little, an obvious threat, and Logan glares because even that, those fucking nicknames, did something to him that he didn't get. Drove him insane with a need that he didn't know he had until he met Wade.
Part of him was just overwhelmed and pissed, never really one to submit quietly - but while Al was a pro at getting the blood out, she couldn't do much if Logan slashed up the sheets into ribbons.
He bit his tongue hard enough for copper to fill his mouth, and when he spoke his gritted teeth were stained red like the trail left behind from Wade's lips, "please, Wade."
"Please what?" Wade pushed, tilting his head and grinning from ear to ear.
Asshole.
"I- I want..." he swallowed, exhaled.
"Want what, honey?"
"Want to watch. Want- want to see you marking me and fucking me, please," it all came out a bit rushed, but Wade seemed pleased regardless.
"Your wish is my command," and then Wade was moving off of him, but bringing him with- fingers intertwining as the merc guided him off their bed and in front of the full length mirror they had propped in the corner of the room. It was dirty, and cracked in the corner, but Logan still felt his breath catch when he caught his reflection.
The trail of red smudges up his neck, around his jaw, bright and stark against his skin.
Marks from Wade. Kissed deep into his very being, born from a devotion he didn't deserve - because honestly? All Logan had ever wanted was to be owned, claimed as somebody's, but he'd always been tossed out. A stray. Good enough to pet, but not good enough to keep.
'Girls flirt with the dangerous guy, Logan... they don't take him home'
At least no one had ever thought so until Wade.
Wade, who found him at his lowest and claimed him - even all the way back then. Gave him a home and a second chance at life, and then did all of this. Went and bought lipstick, because of some dumb little hangup Logan had. Did all of this for him.
The gratitude was overwhelming. His knees buckled, his throat impossibly tight, and Wade caught him with ease, adjusting them so most of his body weight was pressed against Wade's scarred skin.
"Need a break, baby?" Wade asked behind him, lowering them both to the floor, tugging Logan back until he was sat on his lap, his eyes still on their reflection as he leaned his head against Wade's shoulder.
He shook his head the tiniest bit.
"Good girl," Wade praised, the words going straight to Logan's achingly hard dick which was standing to attention against his stomach.
Begging for attention Logan knows it won't get, not yet anyways, because when Wade's in this sort of mood, his cock goes completely ignored while he focuses on-
Fuck, there it is. A finger teasing his hole, dipping in just enough to make Logan groan, thighs jolting, his head hitting back against Wade's shoulder with a dull thump.
"Love your pussy, princess. She practically pulls me in," Wade teases a second finger, and Logan can see how embarrassingly red he goes.
"Wade," he scolds, unable to manage much more, and it's mortifying anyway because instead of the gruff warning he intended, his voice instead came out all breathless and squeaky.
"What?" Wade asks innocently, "you want me to stop?"
And it's not a question, not in the way Wade asks it - because he already has his answer.
He takes his fingers out, dragging them up his torso, tapping Logan's bottom lip. Logan's jaw drops open so fast it clicks, and Wade slides the digits in far enough to make Logan gag.
He glares at mirror Wade, biting down a little in retribution, which just earns a chuckle from the man behind him, "wet 'em, babygirl."
Logan swirls his tongue around them, unable to stop himself from nibbling just a little, until they are soaked.
Wade pulls them out, moves them back down, and Logan lifts up a little so he can slide them in like before.
He let's out a startled sound when Wade shoves him forward instead, barely catching himself with his hands as he's forced onto all fours.
Wade thrusts both fingers in all at once, wriggling them deep until they are simply pressing against his prostate with the most irritating, feather soft touch.
Logan tries to push back onto them, but Wade smacks his ass, tutting loudly.
"Now, now! If you can't be good, daddy is going to tie you up and make you watch him jerk himself to the most disgusting porn imaginable, all while you get nothing."
That stupid nickname again. Logan couldn't speak, his brain seemingly offline, so he just sort of whimpered instead, struggling so much to stay still that his arms began to shake, every cell of his body begging him to start moving and fucking himself on Wade's stupidly good fingers.
"That's it, good girl," his other hand trails until it's cupping his chest, a thumb grazing his nipple, which makes Logan moan.
He looks away from the mirror, mortified seeing his face twisted up in pleasure. How the fuck does that turn Wade on?
Wade notices, because of course the fucker does. He's always so damn vigilant, but it's like it gets cranked up to a thousand during sex. Or fighting. But Logan would put money on the fact it's higher during sex.
"Watch yourself, sweetheart. Look at how pretty you look with my fingers inside you while I play with your tits," Wade says, and Logan reluctantly meets his own gaze in the mirror, which makes Wade coo with praise, "there's my pretty girl, you're a damn vision! And you're all mine, aren't you sweetness?"
Wade punctuates his point by leaning forward, draping himself over Logan's back. The switch of position drives his wriggling fingertips into his prostate for a second, and Logan very almost buckles to the ground. He kisses along the bare side of his neck, starting at the junction where his collarbone is, biting down hard enough to tear into muscle.
The blood blends in lovely with the red lipstick, and Logan is panting like a fucking dog in heat.
"Mine, all mine," Wade repeats, and it's like everytime he says that magical little word, something punches into Logan's gut in the best possible way.
He kisses up to his jaw, then over his cheek, his tongue dragging over the kiss marks and smudging them a bit, making them messy.
Wade grins at him in the mirror, and Logan would smile back but his lips seem frozen in a permanent 'o' position as he watches Wade leave marks. As he watches them remain on his skin.
"Wade- daddy," he whimpers, and for the first time probably ever, he's the one who renders Wade speechless during sex, watches as his pupils expand so wide his eyes are practically black.
Wade is still on top of him, until a punched out breath leaves his lungs, his eyes rolling back a little, "jesus, Lo. Fuck," he mutters, and Logan blushes but feels distinctly proud of himself.
"Gonna fuck you so hard your healing can't keep up princess," kisses over his spine, and when Wade shoves him down a bit more, forcing his back to arch, he can see the trail of red left behind.
"Please," Logan breathes.
Wade takes his fingers out, brings both hands up to bracket Logan's hips, holding him firmly in place.
There's no lube involved when Wade pushes into him, and it burns. The stretch burns him from the inside out, but it feels so fucking good.
"So fucking tight. You feel like a damn virgin, you been saving yourself for me, Wolvie?" Wade's normally steady voice sounds a bit wild at the current moment, as he finally bottoms out. Logan moans at the fullness, squirming a little, holding his breath.
"Except no- because no virgin moans like the two dollar whore that you do. No virgin can handle a dick in their soaking cunt like you do, babygirl," Wade grunts, and Logan paws at the carpet, breathing heavy and uneven as every word makes that heat building low in his stomach even more intense.
Wade pulls back, then slams back in, holding him in place with nails digging into flesh, fucking him hard and fast and brutal.
Logan screams into the carpet. Wade grabs a fistful of his hair, yanking his head up, "fucking watch, bitch," he orders, never slowing or faltering in his rhythm.
Logan does. Sees the way Wade looks totally gone in his pleasure, thrusting ridiculously. Watches the way his body jerks with every movement, the red marks on his skin catching the sunlight, barely distinguishable from the ever so slightly darker shades of blood.
"I- I'm close, can- can I-" it's like Wade is pushing every word out of him, and Logan realises that he's going to come with his dick completely untouched, and that thought twists it so instead of his rapid run towards the end, he's barelling right past the finish line, and he should've came by now from the impossible tightness in his balls but it's like he physically couldn't. Like he needed Wade's permission and fuck, he really was his bitch in every sense of the word, wasn't he?
"You can come, baby," Wade says, and Logan does. Immediately. Like on fucking command, and he can hear Wade chuckling as his arms give out and he goes falling face first into the carpet, his lower half only staying up from Wade's impossibly tight hold.
He glances at their reflection, mouth dry as Wade continues to fuck into him, his thrusts getting more unsteady but no less forceful as he gets close.
Logan whimpers, his entire body tingling and oversensitive.
"Almost there, sweetheart. Want me to finish inside of you? Knock you up? Want everyone to see you with my baby in your belly and know you truly belong to me?"
And Logan really doesn't get how he manages it, because his dick was half softened, but he comes again, his stomach clenching in a way that hurts as his second consecutive orgasm rips through his utterly confused body.
He must black out, and Wade must come, because the next thing he knows is blinking through bleary eyes up at their ceiling, and it's like he's up there and floating, chest heaving with exertion.
"Lo? You back with me?"
Wade. Wade, he wants Wade. Needs him, now.
"I'm right here," Wade hums, pressing against him, and Logan whimpers, chasing his lips, eyes half lidded.
Wade kisses him all gentle, fingers scratching over his scalp, humming against his skin, "you look gorgeous, baby. Look," and he's tilting Logan's face slightly, just enough to see himself in the mirror.
He's still all marked up. All Wade's, and he makes a happy sound in the back of his throat.
"Are you purring?" Wade asks, incredulous but teasing, his tone light.
Somehow the glare Logan aims for is just a smile, and he tugs Wade in for another kiss.
He does have to shower eventually. They both do, when the come drying over their bodies becomes gross and sticky. The red is washed away, but Logan almost cries in relief when he discovers Wade was right about the staining.
It's subtle, slightly reddened spots on his skin which will likely remain for the next couple of showers, but Logan finds himself running his fingers along them throughout the day, smiling softly to himself.
And well - when they do fade into something no longer visible a couple of days later, Wade has no problem recreating them.
