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strandedtoodeep · 1 month ago

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yeah maybe i was away for a little while BUUUT i'm still actively reading fanfic and it's time to remind you the fabulous work of Bee and to go check their other works (like, now, you won't regret it hihi) ❤️💞✨

Repentance, ch.3

ch.1, ch.2 Taglist Masterlist

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Logan Howlett/Wolverine

Rating: Explicit

Tags: fluff, sexual tension, canon typical violence, Downton Abbey spoilers, pet names, wet dream, somnophilia, masturbation, POV alternating

Word Count: 3.8K

If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated.

Actually, you know what? Taking a little sex siesta isn't even that hard, because he's so mature and awesome. And his dad had had the nerve to call him a “grimy little sex addict” who would “never amount to anything”. Well, take that, Dad! I’m being chill and mature in a fanfiction.

Ahem. Wade means he’s being chill and mature. Third person, third person.

As they’d predicted, they do sleep damn well that night. And with their dishes done by an army of well-fed, appreciative guests, they don’t even have to worry about cleaning up in the morning, thank fucking god.

The next day is all smooth sailing. He walks Puppins in the early morning frost, both of them shivering, and feeds her and Bonnet when they get back to the apartment. Logan shuffles up behind him as he’s washing their slimy little food bowls clean, his chest warm and solid against the curve of Wade’s back, and Wade lets the other man rest his head on his shoulder.

No, he doesn’t even think about being a perv and rutting back against Logan’s morning wood. He just takes the kisses to the cheek and smiles, appreciating the bear hug for what it is. For a guy who wasn’t keen about being touched without warning when Wade first brought him back to this timeline, Logan sure doesn’t mind it now. Big softie.

“You goin’ out today?” Logan asks as he makes himself some toast. Waving a piece of bread at Wade, who takes that as the you want some too? that it is, Wade nods at both questions.

“Mmhm. Got a nice little tip from someone in the biz that there might be someone interested in losing all his organs today,” he answers, getting the jam and butter out of the fridge.

Logan grunts appreciatively at that. “What’re you after him for?”

“Human trafficking. He’s got a solid security detail, but I don’t think any of them know the magic tricks that I do.”

No matter how many times he sees it, it’s never not fun to watch the look of surprise spread over some goon’s face as they watch Wade get back up after he’s hit with a spray of gunfire. The look doesn’t last long – katana in the chest tends to hurt a guy – but still. It’s the little things in life.

“How about you hit ‘em extra hard, just in case?”

Logan’s bent down, petting Bonnet gently, but Wade can tell from the forced nonchalant tone that he’s pissed about all the jobs that have been piling up lately. Human trafficking. Pedophilia. Mutant experimentation. It feels like as soon as they tear one down, two more operations pop right back up in their place. It’s brutal and disgusting to fuck with, but someone’s got to get their hands dirty. Someone has to keep these assholes from thinking they can do whatever they want.

The X-Men are out there, too – but in Wade’s opinion, doing it the “right” way can take far too long when you’ve got victims involved.

“I don’t pull my punches with scumbags, Wolvie. But if you’re scared I won’t pummel them hard enough, you could always tag along.”

He considers it.

“Next time,” he says at last, covering his toast in butter, then raspberry jam. “I’ve got some things to do here. Gotta stop by the shelter, too – they called me last night and I missed it.” He tilts his head like a fucking puppy, and no, it doesn’t make Wade’s heart seize up. “You gonna be alright on your own?”

“I’ll be fine. Go be adorable and selfless with all the shelter animals, peanut, I’ll kill a few guys and get the rent money,” Wade teases.

He gets an eye roll in answer.

Ever since Logan quit the mechanic place, he’s been volunteering at the same shelter that Vanessa goes to on weekends. And if the shelter adores Vanessa, they’re in love with Logan. Every time Wade’s dropped by to see him when he’s on a volunteer shift, the staff loses their minds talking about how helpful he is, how happy they are to meet Wade (“you’re Logan’s partner? It’s so nice to finally meet you!” with no trace of sarcasm, actually shaking his hand and meaning it), how Logan and his enormous muscles make things so much easier. How he’s so good for the animals.

Logan, of course, takes the praise clumsily, insisting that he’s just glad to be able to help. But Wade’s seen the way he interacts with every animal that’s in there. He is good for them. They’re good for him, too.

Ignoring his own toast for now, Wade crosses the short distance to where Logan’s leaning on the kitchen island and squeezes his bicep.

“I’m gonna get dressed. Client wants this wrapped up ASAP, and the target’s a squirrelly little motherfucker from what we know. Better to start early.”

“We’re workin’ with a real tactical genius here.” Logan grins at him, and there are toast crumbs in his beard, and holy shit does Wade want him. Badly.

If Wade hadn’t put out the big red STOP sign, they’d be at it right now. Hell, Logan might grab him and hoist him up on the kitchen counter, pulling his pajama pants around his ankles because he didn’t want to waste even a second taking them all the way off.

Nope. Shut up, Wade. Get your shit together, Wade.

“Yep!” Wade replies, a little too loudly, spinning on his heel. “Here I go, putting on my skin-tight suit! With no impure thoughts!”

Struggling into his Deadpool getup in record time, Wade feels almost shy to see Logan waiting in the kitchen with his toast. He brandishes the heavily buttered and jam-slathered bread at him.

“Take the toast so you don’t get woozy.”

His stupid face feels hot. It’s one thing to daydream about Logan taking him on the kitchen counter. It’s another thing entirely to know that Logan knows that he’s hypoglycemic –and won’t leave him alone if he sniffs out a drop in blood sugar.

He hustles out the door with the toast in his mouth, anime style. The last thing he sees is the not-so-innocent smile sewn on Logan’s face. The I want you too but I’m trying really hard to be good look.

Goddamnit. Wade lesbians the shit out of that guy.

Several hours later, he’s chest-deep in at least eight other guy’s blood and other miscellaneous viscera. Like he’d guessed, it’d been a bit of a hunt to get to his target, but TBH that’s kind of Wade’s thing. Why take a boring job? He likes to play with his food, think about it, strategize. When you’ve killed as many people as Wade has, you start to get bored. You want to make it fun.

And so Wade likes to study up on who he’s pointed towards. What are their interests? What do they do when they’re not being the scum of the fucking earth? Most importantly, what are they afraid of? (That list is about to include him, sitting at the top.)

He knows it’s earned him his own private place in hell, if he ever manages to finally die, but Wade stopped believing in an afterlife a long time ago. Hopefully, if he ever really kicks the bucket, that’ll be it. Lights out. Sayonara. Curtains.

Anyway!

Blood spray from where he’s fired shots at the guy’s guards at close range (it’s fun to see how close he can get before they think they’ve grabbed him). Deeper, diagonal splatters from stab wounds he’s handing out like candy. All par for the course – along with a few cute little wounds of his own that heal right back up. Sometimes the bad guys get a lucky hit in…and yeah, he’s a little reckless, because why the fuck not. If he wanted to do a perfect run without getting a scratch on him, he could. Wade just doesn’t think that’s fun.

His mind isn’t as honed in as it should be, as he closes in on the quaint underground bunker the boss man’s locked himself away in. So cliche, by the way. Even as he raps politely on the thick steel door, hearing the sound echo back at him, he’s thinking about Logan back at home.

What’s the big guy doing? Walking puppies, warding off the advances of the little old receptionist at the shelter? Fucking Barb, that relentless flirt. She’s always asking him to lift heavy shit and then watching like a creep, and that’s Wade’s job.

(Would he leave again? A small, steel-cold part of Wade hasn’t recovered from the time he took off. He tries to tuck it away, breathe on it to give it some warmth, forget about the hurt that it left. He’ll be there. Wade could text him right now. Everything’s fine. Just gotta keep moving forward.)

Is Logan back in the apartment, jerking it, maybe? God, Wade wishes he was jerking it right now.

BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM.

The sound of rapid gunfire hits Wade before the pain of being shot many times through the head does, and he collapses like a tangled-up marionette. On his side, he can only lay there for a time, staring at the concrete floor and the grimy grey-ish pieces of his brain matter pooling around blood.

“For fuck’s sake!!” he hisses, once the part of his brain that processes language redevelops. “You dirty motherfucker –”

Of course he’d have guns mounted around the door. Gotta protect the human trafficker.

Okay, he’s not playing around anymore. Time to shove his horny thoughts in the back drawer and get pissed off.

Wade knocks on the steel door again, hard, flicking a piece of his brain off of his mask.

“Oh, Charlie!” he calls out cheerfully. “We’d like to have a word about your car’s extended warranty! You’ve been avoiding our call for a really, really long time. You bad boy.”

Roughly an hour and thirty-seven minutes and lots of sobbing, pleading, bleeding and dying later, he’s got the job done – though sadly it’s not in a fun Chappell Roan The Giver sort of way. He pulls out his phone and snaps a pic of the target, sends it to the client with a string of thumbs up emojis, and sighs.

It’s hard work being such a bad bitch, but someone has to do it.

—-----

When he gets back to the apartment, Wade’s stunned still as soon as he closes the door behind him, frozen on the linoleum.

Holy fucking shit, it’s clean in here.

It’s obviously still their apartment. The couch still has its cozy pile of blankets. Mary’s still trotting up to greet him with her little tail wagging. Their mug collection’s still visible through the glass of the kitchen cabinets. But goddamn. Logan was in here scrubbing. The whole place smells vaguely like lemon cleaner and good hygiene.

Not that they live like wild animals, but typically there’s going to be signs of life. Papers and receipts scattered on the table, rings on the kitchen island from an overfull coffee mug, random tumbleweeds of cat hair here and there. Nah. Not today.

Wade’s very aware of the faint crust of blood flaking off of him and onto the floor.

“Fair warning, I’m flaking,” he announces to the apartment, and hears a faint bump from further in.

“You’ve been flaking since the day we met, bub,” comes Logan’s voice from the bathroom. Another thud. “Ow.”

Wade giggles a little, trying to strip out of his blood-soaked suit the best he can. “What’re you doing?”

“Fixin’ this damn sink.”

It’s not easy wriggling out of all of the leather while standing in almost one spot, but for the sake of their freakishly clean floor, Wade manages it. When he’s stripped down to the athletic shorts and tank top (disposable, dollar store blood-stained variety), he treks into the hallway.

And indeed he is, wearing nothing but a tanktop and shorts of his own, head buried under their cantankerous bathroom sink. Various cleaning supplies are scattered around his legs where they’ve been cast out in favor of fooling with the innards of the plumbing, while Puppins sits content by his side.

“I – I kinda meant –” Wade’s caught between amusement and scathing adoration. “Why did you scrub the apartment free of every germ that’s ever existed inside it?”

“Oh –”

Logan slowly extracts himself from under the sink, hair mussed, wrench in hand.

��Had time, figured the place could use it. Why, you miss the dirt?”

Fucking jerk. He is so not allowed to be almost waist level with sweat on his brow, earned from manual labor, and a cocky little smirk on his face. Again, Wade toys with the idea of just throwing his whole plan of no sex right out the window. They’d be fine, right? Everything would fall back into place where it belongs, right?

Not right. Goddamnit. Now he has to be a bad bitch and the mature one?

So he doesn’t give in to every urge and mental image that’s putting Logan on his knees in a much more entertaining way. Instead, he leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed, grinning down at Logan squeezing himself into such a small space.

“Dirt and I do have an intimate relationship,” Wade sighs. He folds himself to his knees. “It looks really good in here. Thank you, honey badger.”

The tips of Logan’s ears go red, and he slides back under the sink. “Wasn’t that much work.”

Wade ignores him.

“You’re nice.” He leans in and kisses him on the shoulder. “I like you.”

“Ughhh, quit, I’m covered in sweat.” The other man tries to shrug away, but Wade drops his full weight on him, making him pitch to the side a bit. “You’re a brat.”

“Yeah,” Wade concedes.

They say nothing for a minute, just taking comfort in a little bit of physical contact on the bathroom floor. They’re not going to be able to sustain it, but it’s nice to touch base after time away. Especially after a job. Wade’s getting weird these days – he used to come home from a job, do a line, crash out, and be ready to do it all again the next day. Now after he collects for a client he just wants to see Logan and order a fucking pizza. Sleep.

God, he’s getting old, isn’t he?

“Am I allowed to make a joke about laying pipe?”

“Only if it’s one you haven’t made before,” Logan mutters, going back to work on the sink.

“Shit.”

—-----------

They spend the rest of the night tucked up on the couch. After so much cooking the night before, neither one of them feels bad about splurging a little on takeout. That means the nice Chinese place from across town and the works – General Tso’s, crab rangoons, rice noodles, and Logan checking Wade’s phone every two minutes to see if their food’s been delivered yet.

And since it’s Wade’s turn to pick the show, they’re very much watching Downton Abbey while they half inhale, only partially chew their food.

“Okay but listen,” Wade says, pausing the episode after they’ve cleaned their plates – and put them out of reach of the pets. “No one was expecting him to spew blood that far. The look on Maggie Smith’s face? Legit. A hundred percent legit.”

Lying across Wade’s lap, Logan looks up at him, disturbed. “Well shit, I’d make the same fucking face. Was she – was she okay after that? Was he?”

“Oh, she’s fine, she’s immortal,” Wade says nonchalantly, flopping back on the couch. “I don't care about Hugh after he fucked around with the maid, to be honest.”

“She is not immortal. She’s at least as old as Al.”

“Well, maybe her mutation kicked in late, like me.”

His eyebrows raise. “You are lyin’ through your fuckin’ teeth.”

Oh, it’s so entertaining to get under his skin.

“Yeah, but it’s really fun to see your reaction,” Wade grins. “But she really didn’t know the blood was going to go that far! And they called it Hugh’s Mouth Blood. Is that or is that not iconic?”

“Gonna kill you,” Logan growls, but he only curls in closer.

—--------

That night, Wade wakes up to the bed shaking.

Shit.

He knows the drill by now – nightmares aren’t uncommon for either of them. It’s actually been a pretty good run, the past couple of days, with neither one of them getting their sleep interrupted.

Blinking the tiredness away, he turns over to find Logan in their nest of blankets, putting a hand to his shoulder.

“Hey, you’re alright, peanut.”

Of course, there’s no answer. Logan’s breathing is heavy, his body turned away. Wade’s never told him what he sounds like when he’s going through one of these – he’s sure Logan doesn’t care to know – but in the early days it fucking scared Wade, too. Because he didn’t sound like Logan anymore. He’ll groan and whimper under his breath, say things that Wade can’t quite make out. A lot of no and please. And Wade has no clue if talking to him through it even helps. He wants to think that it does, but who really knows?

He rubs his hand up and down Logan’s shoulder in little soothing motions, like Logan does for him.

“You’re okay, it’s just a dumb dream –”

Logan's breathing gets faster, soft huffs in and out. It's always sad to watch, knowing that he's still going to jolt awake terrified. Stab wounds be damned, it's seeing Logan look so goddamn scared that hurts.

With effort, Wade tries to roll Logan over. No luck – not that he thought he'd manage it, but he figured maybe the jostling would be enough to wake him up.

But Logan does turn on his own, facing him now. Enough for Wade to make out his face in the dark.

And that. That does not look like the face of someone having a nightmare.

“Wade,” he mewls, barely louder than a whisper. “Fuck, baby.”

Oh.

Okay. Code red. This has never happened before. What the hell does he do? Try and wake Logan up again? Leave the room? Start thinking of the least sexy thing he can to try and will his raging boner away?

Wade's frozen in place, heart thumping as he watches his sleeping partner more or less strangle the pillow he's gripping onto. He can see Logan's expression shift a tiny bit, and it's killing him to not know what he's dreaming about. There could be dozens of scenarios running wild in his brain right now – because they certainly are in Wade's.

Carefully, Wade pulls his hand off of Logan's shoulder, not sure he's blinked once since it clicked in his brain that what woke him up was Logan having the polar opposite of a nightmare. More than aware of how tight his boxers are, he swallows all the loose spit in his mouth and just…observes.

“Wade,” Logan whispers again, his voice all rough and needy.

“I'm right here, sweetheart,” he says back before he can stop himself. It's just instinct to talk back, especially when Logan sounds that fucking desperate and subby.

Since Wade doesn't know what's going on in Logan's head, his brain kindly cooks up a possibility. His partner on his back, knees crooked out, spread open for him. Wade's hands on all that perfect, unblemished skin, pulling him closer, making Logan gasp as it forces his cock inside deeper.

His mess of wild hair and flushed cheeks and the softest little sounds of pleasure, head tilted back and eyes half-shut. Wade muttering all sorts of nonsense at him, so fucking smug that he can actually get Logan to relax and let go.

And as if Logan can hear him, he whines in answer. He's rocking his hips now, only the tiniest motion, but it's enough to drive Wade up the fucking wall.

He mumbles something that Wade doesn't catch, a word that's barely a breath as Wade's cock cries for mercy through the straining cotton of his underwear. His huffs of breath get faster as Logan whines again – his claws slowly, slowly ease out and begin to shred through the pillow he's gripping.

Never let it be said that Wade doesn't have dubious morals. But even he has to draw the line somewhere, and that line exists about where consent forms. They've never talked about this sort of scene; for all he knows, Logan would be pissed at the thought of Wade actively beating off to it.

The old religious adage of wandering hands being the devil's playthings is bullshit if he's ever heard it, but Wade keeps all ten fingers above the sheets, even if he wishes he was jerking himself harder than a teenage boy discovering the wonders of lotion and his own palm.

Logan certainly isn't having any moral dilemmas. He's saying something again, his breath trembling in the electric space between their faces, and this time Wade can make out the word.

Harder. Then, Wade's name, transformed into something urgent.

“You're gonna drive me fuckin’ crazy, peanut,” Wade replies with a tortured laugh. “Christ.”

Logan's eyebrows scrunch together, mouth opening and closing soundlessly. He's panting now, muscles going taut in an oh-so-familiar way. Wade's dick jerks hard as he realizes what's about to happen.

“That's my good boy,” Wade breathes out. “Keep going, come on, I know you're right there.”

It doesn't take much longer. The pillow Logan's strangling shreds into ribbons of fabric and stuffing as he comes, his whole body going tight like a bowstring. He gasps like he's been punched – a high, quick sound that vanishes into the dark of their bedroom as quickly as it started. Then, the softest hum of satisfaction.

He relaxes back into the blankets, like nothing had happened. Like Wade's not lying there beside him on the brink.

Well. Only one thing to do.

Carefully, Wade slips out of their tangled blanket nest, watching Logan for his reaction the entire time. He doesn’t even twitch. Dude really wore himself out. Honestly? Good for him. Wade’s a little jealous; he knows he’s not going to sleep after witnessing all that.

Dodging Puppins with only a modicum of guilt – her little boba eyes project the certainty that she’s going to get an impromptu 2am walk – Wade shuts himself in the bathroom and turns on the water, stripping down.

He doesn’t bother to take his time. Grasping his cock in an almost punishing way, Wade stands under the water and plays back the fresh memory of Logan lost in some fantasy he couldn’t know. Slapping his free hand over his mouth to mute the echoed noises he’s spitting out, Wade leans against the shower wall and lets the feeling overtake him. He comes hard thinking about Logan caught up in his little wet dream.

Watching his own spunk slip down the drain, all Wade can do for a minute is pant, his mind feeling as slippery as the wall he’s leaning on.

Good god. At this point one of them’s going to have to become a priest.

----------------------------------------------------------

Taglist:

@flower-majesty-anon, @gods-perfect-idiots, @strandedtoodeep, @epcotwhore, @chaoticpotatodemon, @6up-5oh-copout-procon, @ruletheroost3, @loudupstairsneighbors

#deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #deadclaws #deadpool #wolverine #wade wilson #logan howlett #deadpool x wolverine #poolverine fanfic #poolverine fanfiction #poolverine fic #poolverine smut #deadpool fic #wolverine fic #ao3 #still kicking my feet reading this tehee #it's like 1am where i live but it's time to read more smut i guess????

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