Work Text:
Logan is leaning against the dirty brick wall of their tiny balcony. He's holding a cigar between his lips as he attempts (and fails) to light it up.
He has this problem often. You see, when your entire wrists are routinely shifted and sliced to let claws come out, everything's a little fucky. Bones, nerves and tendons, all shift to accommodate them. The one single perk about the adamantium claws is that they're way slimmer than the bone claws he was born with. Those were a pain to pull out. You wouldn't believe how many tiny bones reside in the wrists.
Eight, to be precise.
(Wade got recently into anatomy stuff, and so Logan has been learning by osmosis.)
Although less, the metal claws still do hurt, but that's not Logan's biggest issue. He heals, after all, so a little carpal tunnel inflammation doesn't always ruin his day.
The problem with nerve and tendon damage is more about the lack of fine motor skills. Logan had long noticed that the day he pulls out his claws, he writes clumsily and can't do small precise things.
Like right now.
Can't fucking put his thumb on the little wheel on the lighter and make it spin. And he can't get too mad about it either, because he'll just accidentally crush the thing. And before you ask, holding those tiny matches with his sausage fingers isn't easier either.
He groans, defeated.
Wade has been watching him from the living room (because he hates when Logan smokes with the balcony door open and he's ready to talk his ear off about it) so when he sees Logan struggling, he seizes the opportunity to be his knight in shining armour.
Well. Knight in Hello Kitty pajamas.
As Logan puts the lighter down on the side table, Wade appears out of nowhere and places his hand over Logan's.
“Christ!” Logan exclaims around the cigar. He had been hearing Wade around the living room, knew he was around, but the guy moves fast.
Wade giggles, proud of startling the Wolverine. He snatches the lighter and bows with a flourish.
“May I allow you to indulge in your unhealthy habits?” He holds the lighter with both hands as if offering a sword to a king.
Logan snorts at his antics and leans closer. “Please, do.”
Wade squeaks in happiness. There's something so sensual, homosexual (homosensual?) about lighting up someone else's cig.
He crowds up into Logan's personal space and lights it. Then he doesn't step back because what is Logan’s is his too, much to the latter's dismay.
If he's annoyed, he doesn't show it. He takes a long drag and moans around it, (whore!, Wade thinks) then looks up into Wade's eyes with something like affection in his gaze, which melts Wade completely… And blows the smoke at his face.
“Ew! You little bitch” Wade coughs, dramatically jumping back and waving the smoke away. “You know I hate that!”
“Mhm.” Logan agrees, holding back a little smile.
“Also smoking is bad for you, and the baby. It'll give you cancer and you'll end up like me. Fuck, they should put my face on cigarette boxes. We wouldn't have to work anymore with the royalties…”
Logan just lets him ramble on, not mentioning that Wade used to do cocaine, he's gotta thank the man somehow for helping him. He taps the cigar on the ashtray and eventually takes another drag.
“Thing is, smoking is not bad for me.” He shrugs.
“Yeah but think about the kids! You're like a superhero, a role model!” Wade pouts.
Logan genuinely laughs at that. “If anyone's stupid enough to follow my steps, that's on them. Not a hero.” He takes another drag, pensive. “Also I'm pretty sure we'd be in a different tax bracket. Don't think Captain America lives in a shithole like ours.”
The shithole mention reminds Wade that he was meant to fix the leaking showerhead. Logan tasked him with it but his huge ADHD made him forget. Again. And that sucks cause Wade works less hours so he said he'd take care of this kind of stuff, but then he doesn't and Logan does it instead and-.
He must've made a face or taken too long to reply, because Logan immediately joins the dots. (Oh he's so astute, Wade swoons internally)
Wade clasps his hands together, ready to make up some excuse, but he's cut short.
“Ah, ah-! I know what you're gonna say and don't wanna hear about it. I can hear the shower dripping from here. Get on with it now.” Logan points a finger on Wade's chest. Sigh, he's the worst girlfriend ever, so strict.
Wade pouts. He grabs that finger and kisses it. “Who pissed on your Cheerios? Anyway, worry no more, Princess. Daddy's fixing it for you.”
Logan gags and just shoves Wade towards the door.
“Oh, by the way! Watch me demurely close the balcony door!” He holds the handle and acts shocked. “Oh wow this can be moved? Woah! Crazy technology. Allows us to separate two areas! And keep the stink out of our living room. Cause it's already hard to make this whore house a whore home and I'm feebreeze’s number one consumer by now. Your fault! ” Wade keeps babbling on, even after he closes the door behind him.
The stinky culprit just looks away and smiles to himself. What an idiot.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝
In the end, Wade replaces the whole showerhead. One hour and a trip to the hardware store later, it's all fixed. The water pressure is still shit of course, but at least the new showerhead has a rain and a jet option. Which it'll be choosing from many trickles to one fat trickle.
Anyway, time to show off.
Wade walks up to the kitchen, where Logan's cooking dinner already. He leans his arm against the wall, his other hand holding a wrench (which he just grabbed to look cool. Turns out fixing a shower is just unscrewing a thing and screwing in a new one).
“Well, sweetheart. Your bathroom's all fixed now. Pass the bill to your boyfriend when he comes back. Or…” Wade lowers his voice, attempting to sound sexy. “I'd gladly take alternative payments from you.”
“I'm sorry?” Logan wipes his hands on the towel hanging off the oven handle and turns to face the other. “I can't pay my own bills in your little stories?” He raises his eyebrows, amused.
“Oh, nonono, you definitely can!” Wade holds his hands up, realising Logan has actually existed in times where he couldn't. “It's just in this scenario, the guy you're dating only wants you for your looks - trophy wife kind of thing - so you're fine with spending all his money-”
Logan crosses his arms, resting his hip against the counter cause he feels like this'll take a while.
“And he's not even hot about it. No charisma, small dick, not even good looks. So when the hot plumber walks in, you want your pipes cleaned, if you know what I mean.” Wade points at himself with the wrench and wiggles his eyebrows.
Logan rolls his eyes.
“I just want the hot plumber to peel some potatoes.” He opens the junk drawer and fishes out the peeler, knowing damn well today he'd just drop the food on the floor if he attempted to use it.
Wade gasps excitedly. “You just said hot!”
“Yeah. Will that make you help me?” Logan says, almost perfect straight face but he can't help a little grimace at asking for help. He knows he shouldn’t expect Wade to always read his mind and it’s best to sometimes communicate, but in this aspect Logan is so spoiled. It’s like he thinks ‘jump’ and Wade already knows how high.
“Babe you just had to ask” Wade walks up to him in two fast strides and takes the peeler off Logan’s hand.
“I literally asked.”
“Okay but let's do it like in Ghost, I'm behind you and it's all romantic and-”
“No.”
“Fiiine!” Wade gets on with the task at hand. “But after this, you go see the shower and tell me how much of a good job I did and how proud you are, and how you’re gonna thank me profusely in bed tonight” He glances at his kitty cat, trying his best puppy eyes.
“Thank you for taking two weeks to fix it?” Logan laughs, already heading to the bathroom.
See? This is why he loves Wade: he makes him laugh. And it’s not about the jokes he says on purpose. Just the whole day-to-day whimsy he lives in. Wade's in his own happy little world, sometimes too stupid and carefree for Logan to handle. He wishes he could too choose to be thoughtless sometimes.
When he comes back, Logan nudges his shoulder against Wade's.
“You did such a good job, and…” he says in a monotone voice, like reading it aloud. “I am so proud and I will thank you profusely in bed tonight.” His eyes are glued on Wade's hands at work. Even if it's clearly a bit, Logan is close to blushing at his own words.
Wade's hands shake with excitement. Whoop!
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝
In the end, Logan does thank him profusely after dinner. It can't be helped, they both need to let out steam every single day (their condom usage rivals the Olympics numbers).
He rides that mountain of a man, his hands running up and down the valleys and craters of his chest. Wade's hands never leave his thighs, mesmerised with the minimal jiggle of Logan's lower belly, like he's finally not starving. He's such a kitty cat in all senses, he even has the cute pouch. A little corner of his mind mischievously wonders how would that pouch look if it were a baby bump that he caused.
Holy shit.
Wade’s cuteness aggression goes over the roof and he can’t help eating him out immediately after, like a starving man. His hands squeeze Logan’s love handles, tummy, tits, you get the gist. All the squishables.
Despite the multiple kicks.
(Once Wade presses a hand below Logan's navel and three fingers in his now sensitive hole, all fight is gone. And when he kisses his beautiful little dick, Logan moans sweetly, hips rolling up in waves.)
When they finally settle to fall asleep, tangled in each other, Wade notices Logan’s wrists are bent awkwardly inwards, pressed between their chests. He tsks lovingly and rearranges them so Logan is holding his own hands and therefore the wrists can’t bend.
This reminds him of what he saw earlier today, and many more days before that. Logan not only seems to struggle to move his hands, but it also hurts him, based on how his frown disappeared right now. Wade thinks, just like he has a thousand creams for sores and stuff, there must be something to be done for his kitty cat’s paws, right?
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝
The next day, Wade is suspiciously eager to walk Mary Puppins first thing in the morning. Logan doesn’t care enough to ask, so that's a win.
Of course, he walks Mary to the pharmacy and tells the person there that his husband (they're barely dating) seems to have mild wrist pain but can’t stop working to get a full rest. The pharmacist smiles sympathetically and shows him carpal tunnel wrist braces. These have a flat metal rod inside them which keep the wrists from bending. The ideal scenario would be to rest, visit a physiotherapist and wear these all day, but they concede that wearing them to sleep is better than nothing. Of course, they don't know Logan's condition but the advice seems perfect for him.
Wade buys them.
Now he only needs to convince Logan to wear them tonight, which might be the hardest part.
That's okay. If anything, Deadpool is a damn good strategist. Plus, he's already learnt that his wolvie is very food and sex motivated, which can be easily done.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝
Later that day, there's a sound of keys jiggling at the front door and Logan walking in with heavy steps. He just came back from work and feels dead like a corpse.
“Welcome home, my handsome husband” Wade sing-songs as he puts away his stuff and walks to greet him.
He's acknowledged with a grunt, as the other wordlessly unlaces his work boots.
“Dinner is ready, still in the oven so it's warm, thought we could shower first, sweetcakes?” Wade offers tentatively. This does not always work, firstly because Logan is a stinky stinky dog and secondly because Wade's cooking is… Not good.
Logan shakes his foot, frustrated, until the second boot falls off. Then scrambles to take off his pants, which stink of Work and contaminate their holy home scent. There should be a hamper at the entrance, he thinks.
Once he's done, Wade's words register.
“Oh, fuck yes.” Logan groans. “‘M so tired. C’mere, you.” He slumps against the front door and raises his arms. His hands twitch once like he intended to do grabby hands at Wade and then thought it twice.
That's so precious, a rare sign of wanting affection. Wade literally runs to him.
Then Logan slumps forward, burying his face on Wade's chest. The other stumbles with the weight but keeps them both upright with an arm around Logan's waist.
“Oh honey bunny, what happened? Rough day?” He coos, running his other hand through Logan's dark, coarse hair.
A muffled yes reverberates against his chest, which makes Wade want to squeal. Adorable. “Tell me about it?” He scratches behind his wolvie’s ear, which causes his shoulders to droop, relaxed.
Logan muffles something back which Wade doesn’t quite catch, then he butts his head against the other’s chest until he’s finally pushed back.
“Shower.” He repeats, walking Wade backwards. He soon gets impatient and lifts him up by the waist.
“Woah! Okay.” Wade giggles, delighted to be carried around.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝
Once they’re under the warm water spray, Wade washes Logan’s hair. He does not always allow this, even if it’s one of Wade’s favourite activities.
The reason he likes it so much is that he gets to give his wolvie a massage and watch squeezed shut eyes and raised shoulders slowly morph into relaxation. Wade’s careful about the water temperature and not wetting his face more than necessary, since he really does not like it. As Logan puts it, the Wolverine is a strictly terrestrial animal. No swimming, no flying.
Once Logan is squeaky clean, Wade turns them so he can wash himself now under the water spray.
“Lemme return the favor.” Wade hears behind him as Logan’s chest presses against his back. Something about it makes him blush, despite having seen Logan naked a thousand times. It’s the sweet moments that get him.
“Of course, kitten.” He says gently and passes the washcloth over.
Logan hums as a thank you but does not make a single move to unstick himself from Wade’s back. Instead, he waves the washcloth a little in Wade’s vision.
“Soap.”
“Aren’t you a demanding cuddle bug?” Wade teases just to say something, yet does as requested. Once there’s liquid soap in the cloth, Logan starts rubbing circles on Wade’s abs.
He takes his sweet time, lathering up and down Wade’s front. Eventually, a second hand joins and it feels more like a self indulgent exploration on Logan’s side than a real intention to get the other clean. Not that anyone’s complaining.
Logan presses his warm body as close as he can and nuzzles his head against the other’s back, purring. Wade isn’t sure if Logan’s feeling cuddly, horny or something in between but he’s ecstatic about the attention he’s getting. So much that he doesn’t dare to speak and accidentally break the spell.
There’s some more long strokes from stomach to chest, and then Logan decides he’s done with that part. He falters for a second, and Wade predicts what the other’s next move will be. Yep, that's one hand sliding down to his belly button, and lower, and lower. And a pinky finger nudges the base of his dick.
Wade bites back any funny remarks, he needs to know what happens next.
“ ‘M cleaning here too…” Logan mumbles an explanation as his hand wraps about the other’s soft length, incredibly slow.
As rough and muscular as Logan looks, his hands are incredibly soft. He can't have calluses. If you squint, his hands are dainty and delicate (and big for his size, and hairy).
It’s a tender and caring touch, and a kind of closeness they’re not used to. His hand glides up and down the length once, gingerly, and the attention makes Wade’s dick jump.
That always catches Logan’s attention, he knows it’s involuntary but it’s so mesmerising. An obvious sign of interest in what he's doing. He purrs again, now sweet and alluring on purpose, because he wants to convince Wade into something more. He lets his other hand caress up Wade's soapy abs and chest.
With his intentions now clear, he strokes the length again, enjoying the feeling of it hardening slightly and getting heavier.
Wade has been suspiciously quiet all this time. Even he knows this only happens once in a blue moon (or perhaps they’re becoming closer and this is the normal now), but unfortunately it’s best to stop it now. Otherwise, like it often happens, they’ll go to bed immediately after and skip dinner.
“Hey, princess-” He tries to get Logan’s attention, gently. There’s no response, so he puts his hands on the other’s wrists, stopping his movements. “Lo, my love.” He tries again.
That brings Logan out of his little haze and he hums in response, nuzzling against his back again. “Hm?”
“I bet you can feel how much I love this, kitten” He moves Logan’s hand away from his member. “and I love how cuddly you are. But it’ll be much better after dinner, in bed.” He turns around to finally face Logan. His pupils are blown out but not in his ‘cat about to pounce on you’ way. He looks sleepy, mushy, pliant.
Which doesn’t exactly help Wade. His dick jumps again, nudging Logan's tummy, and when Logan’s gaze lowers to follow it, Wade tilts his head up.
“Ah, ah. Eyes up here, can’t believe I am saying this.”
That makes Logan smirk. “S hard not to stare at you.” He headbutts Wade one last time before they both get out of the shower and towel off.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝
Logan doesn’t bother with clothes, he wraps a towel around his waist and makes a beeline to the kitchen, sniffing around in the time it takes Wade to get dressed.
It kind of smells like burnt pasta but subdued, it's been thrown away. How the hell do you burn pasta? Logan wonders, and he finally peeks into the oven and sees a very messy…
“Lasagna?” He takes the casserole pan out of the oven. It burns his hands, of course, he hisses and leaves it clumsily over the stovetop.
Wade walks in and hits him with the kitchen rag. “Hey! No stupid harm, you made that rule!” He chides, earning a growl from Logan.
“Hush, you!-. And yes, it's meant to be a lasagna. But I burnt the bottom layer somehow so uh…” Wade serves two dishes, shoving one on Logan's hands. “ I flipped it into a different pan, scraped off the burnt part and re-flipped. She did not enjoy that and sprawled all over the place.”
Logan is a good cook. It's always beyond him how Wade manages to fuck up every recipe, because to him it's pretty simple. But he's so thankful to just sit down and eat after a long day.
“It only smells a little burnt.” Logan lies as reassuringly as he can.
Wade laughs openly at that. “Wow. I think I prefer your mean Gordon Ramsay responses.” he says and they both sit down to eat.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝
When they're done and finally in the bedroom, Wade gets his plan into action. He needs Logan to be relaxed and pliant before showing him the wrist braces, because no matter how useful they'd be, he'll always say no to things that make him feel trapped.
The plan itself is to light up some candles, dim the lights and give him a massage. Then focus it on his forearms and hands and once Logan feels some relief, he'll be more likely to want more.
It's actually perfect that work was so draining today, Wade thinks as he dims the lights.
Logan is lounging over the bed covers, the towel discarded. He stretches, arms over his head, and rolls around a little, clearly pleased and comfortable.
As Wade lights some candles, he glances over and his throat feels dry. Goddamn his boyfriend is so sexy when he's safe and naked in bed.
“What you up to?” Logan finally asks, he's been observing for a while now.
“Thought I could give you a romantic massage tonight, sweetie. Since work today sucked, and all that.” Wade offers lightly, the equivalent of feeding with an open palm.
Logan kicks his legs in the air from where he's laying on his stomach, needing an outlet to express how cute Wade is, without actually saying it. “A romantic massage? With candles?” He raises an eyebrow. “I've heard of those, they end up with your fingers in my cu-”
Wade groans, not wanting to hear it. “Come on! I'd tell you if I wanted to finger blast you to next Thursday. I’m not sneaky about it.”
“True.” He snorts.
“So…” Wade rests a knee on the corner of the bed. “Can I?”
Logan nods, and his boyfriend wastes no time in rearranging him to lay on his back. He reaches for a bottle of massage oil and remains on the edge of the bed.
“Now, be good. No kicking.” Wade teases, now both hands massaging up Logan’s left thigh, the oil makes it slippery and warm, and after a few passes Logan admits he needed that.
“Mmm…” Logan stretches his arms, back arched for a moment, before going lax.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Wade coos with the intention to take Logan’s mind into a hazy place. He moves on to the other thigh, sliding his slippery palms up the muscles until they barely press against Logan’s heated middle. (What? This can also be a little hot if he wants to.)
He repeats the long strokes up his thigh several times.
A glance up and his eyes meet Logan’s half lidded ones, head lolling to the side. Oh he’s so so comfy. Domesticated.
Wade can’t help but smile, leaning to press a kiss below his navel. This causes Logan’s thighs to spread in an obvious invitation.
Honestly, Logan has been in this stupid little mood for a while now. Warmth and slow desire, which only grows with Wade’s touches. He’s lamenting that he wasn’t allowed to jerk him off in the shower. Between that, and Wade’s hands now moving to innocently massage his calves, Logan pouts a little.
Wade knows he’s getting distracted with a full body massage, but it’s kind of unavoidable. I mean, look at his kitty cat. Who would resist?
He does spend less time on his calves. Then his warm, big hands slide up to Logan’s hips, digging his thumbs in the delicate squishy skin encased by the hip bones.
Logan finally closes his eyes. The warm, slippery pressure on his already overheated skin feels so good. He purrs almost inaudibly, more of a rumbling sensation on his chest than a real sound.
More silent minutes pass by, Wade massaging Logan’s abs, feeling his ribs and adding pressure in spots the other didn’t even know he’d like so much.
Eventually, Logan feels Wade scoot up to sit on his thighs, hands no longer touching him. He makes a sad little questioning sound, like a cat ‘mmrp?’ kind of noise.
“Hush, ‘s all good… There’s more.” Wade whispers gently.
The cadence makes Logan trust him, he nods, eyes still closed. Then, there's a dribble of warm oil over his chest. Somehow, he manages to suppress a gasp about it, but not a second time, when both of Wade’s hands cup the mounds of his chest. (Being totally honest, it makes Logan’s cunt throb. He’s not the cheesy kind to feel ‘hot flames of arousal’, or anything about his ‘petals’ or ‘flower’. God, no. Tdick hard.)
He’s getting a thorough titty massage and now he’s certain: he won’t let their day end without a good fingering.
It’s worth mentioning that not everyone gets to see the Wolverine shirtless (if he can help it. He usually can’t. Clothes rip so often somehow) Much less is anyone allowed to get close enough to touch. This is, of course, firstly because Logan is not a touchy person, and secondly, the fierce urge to protect his identity and integrity.
He has mixed feelings about his chest. On the one hand, he’d rather not have breast tissue but there's no way to get rid of them. For some reason his bone claws never grew back, but breasts cruelly do.
On the other hand, he’s aware of his luck. They’re very well concealed with his muscular, hairy, masculine frame. Half of the disguise is psychological. It’s like people can’t possibly imagine breasts on him, despite the clear soft swell and overhang on his pecs, and the look of his nipples. Still, he has always hidden his chest as much as he could. Although not as thoroughly now. These last years he hasn’t bothered to bind that often, either because he was drunk as fuck, or because his companion is even more ridiculous and takes the spotlight.
Either way, no one’s getting close enough to discern anything strange over his t-shirt.
He should also mention Wade is a big reason why he’s less stressed about his body lately. He finds Logan hot and beautiful because and never despite. And being how he is, he doesn’t understand why there should be barriers in the privacy of their own home. If breasts are sensitive, he’s gonna fucking squeeze them. Wade genuinely doesn’t stall and think oh that’s a ‘girl’ thing and would humiliate Logan, let’s not do it. His actual and very real gender blindness did cause some fights at first, because Logan did think he had to feel ashamed about his body parts, but thankfully Wade is annoying as fuck and convinced him otherwise.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝
Logan loses track of time, lost in his thoughts and Wade's indulging hands. There's a final, generous squeeze and his nipples get pinched, before the hands move to his shoulders and down his forearms. That brings him back to reality.
“No, come back. Was good.” Logan mumbles, just a little slurred. He puffs his chest out in case he wasn't clear enough.
Wade holds back a giggle. “Oh yeah, kitten? You like it when I play with your tits?” He purrs. It's cheesy like out of a bad porno. Logan stifles a laugh and doesn't dignify that with an answer.
That earns him one last pinch on his nipple, before Wade focuses on the main thing.
He leans back and holds Logan's hand like a handshake, straightening his whole arm, as his free hand glides in a tight squeeze from wrist to elbow. This is an actual thing you can do to people with carpal tunnel, Wade did his research.
On the fourth pass, something clicks and Logan feels his index finger less numb than these past days.
“Ow, motherfucker. Keep doing that.” He hisses but doesn't push the other away. There's an immense relief going on, mixed with a bit of pain, and if that ain't the sauce of life.
Wade smirks, prideful, and continues his ministrations. He remembers when he couldn't even touch Logan with a pole without getting killed. Now, he actively asks for more touches. It's not dissimilar to socialising a feral kitten, you kinda pet your Logan and deal with the bites and scratches until he realises being pet is good.
He does the same thing to the other arm, noticing how Logan opens and closes his now free fist. Hopefully, the movement range improved.
There's a couple more stretches to do, like loosening the wrists with a gentle swaying and digging a thumb on the palms. Once he's done, Wade holds both of Logan's hands, intertwining their fingers.
“How's that, Peanut?” He kisses his knuckles because can't stop touching him.
Logan sighs happily. “Pretty good, th-”
“Ah! Don't waste your daily thanks, there's something else.” Logan raises an eyebrow at the implication that he never says thanks, which is true, and watches as Wade gets up and rummages through a shopping bag.
When he comes back to bed, he kneels by Logan's side, holding something made of cloth. Polyester because it doesn't smell like cotton. Logan scoots to sit up against the headboard. You'd think he'd be excited and curious about new things like a dog, but he's kind of newphobic. Like little parrots.
“I haven't even started and you're already wary.” Wade rolls his eyes, something he doesn't do often, and Logan feels a small pang of guilt. Guilt tripping always works.
“No. Tell me.” Logan says as neutral as he can, which is pretty gruff still.
“Okay!” Wade is cheerful again. “Let me start from the beginning: so I noticed a while ago that you're clumsy as fuck, which doesn't make sense cause you're also a great fighter, agile, great ass, etc. And that tickled my curiosity pickle, and realised you suffer from sausage fingers. Your fine motor skills suck!”
“Because of th-” Logan needs to defend himself.
“Because of the kitty claws, I knowww.” He takes one of Logan's hands and stretches the fingers back as far as they go, which isn't much.
“See that? So I've been reading about it - and I know most health advice doesn't really apply to us - but you might have carpal tunnel syndrome. Or at least, I assume the movement of your claws pinches your nerves badly enough that you have it for hours.” Wade sounds genuine and there's no stupid jokes. “I-... Well, I've been watching you struggle and thought we could try one solution. Worst case scenario nothing happens, best case you feel better. Sounds good, my Lo Love?”
Everything Wade said makes sense and isn't bad per se. Yet Logan is the kind of guy to think it’s his fault and must suffer in silence, and this is a painful reminder of who he is, blah blah.
“It’s not that bad, just part of the whole claws deal.” He shrugs. Can’t have the cake and eat it too, right? Cool claws come with pain.
Wade huffs. It’s so irritating to be the only one who’s gone to therapy, and also he’s getting impatient for the praise he’s expecting to get later. “Yeah yeah, you’re so edgy and hot, and so good at sulking in a back alley with a cigar. Just gimmie a hand!” He gestures with his hand a hurried ‘come over’ sign instead of just forcefully grabbing the hand.
Logan glares a hole into the ceiling for three seconds. He can’t get mad after that wonderful massage, and he wants more of Wade’s hands later. He places his hand over Wade’s and doesn’t even seem reluctant about it.
The taller man takes no time in wrapping the thing - which now Logan has identified as a wrist brace - around, well, his wrist, and tightens the velcro.
“See? This won’t let you bend your wrists so badly like you do in your sleep. Cause I watch you sleep, yeah. You just wear it at night and that’s eight hours of rest for your paws.” Wade says, busying himself with Logan's other hand.
Logan lets his arms fall heavy on his sides, thinking it’s pretty gay that Wade watches him sleep. He’ll admit that the pressure feels like a toned down version of the massage. Slowly, he realises that instead of a constant little nagging tiredness in his wrists, there’s a constant relief. Subtle. He doesn’t like having his hands restrained, but this is good. And he could easily shred them, so he's not trapped, he reasons.
Logan gets lost in his thoughts. He had never bothered to find a solution - which speaks volumes about him - and Wade notices twice he's uncomfortable and fixes it immediately. Damn. Why do Logan's cheeks feel warm all of the sudden?
“Can I thank you now?” He huffs after a beat of silence.
“Oh god yes please. I'm dying without the validation.” Wade replies, so serious and urgent that Logan raises his eyebrows in concern. “If it's too difficult for your emotional constipation, you can thank me with a gesture, no words needed.” Ah there's the joke and the dirty smirk. Logan changes his concern for annoyance.
“Too bad. Can't jerk you off now.” He shrugs nonchalantly. The truth is his mind is racing with strategies to get those scarred fingers in him and make it seem like a reward for Wade. (He should know by now that his boyfriend would gladly accept anything, would kiss the ground he walks on. Getting to touch his kitty cat is like winning the lottery).
“Awwh…!” Wade fakes a pout about it, misinterpreting what he means. He leans down, forearms now on either side of Logan's head. “Don't worry about it, say the magic word and can sleep all cuddled up.” He whispers, ending the sentence with the softest peck on his lips.
“No, we're not sleeping, bub.” Logan whispers back with a growl, and now that they're close, he wraps his naked legs around him and flips them over.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝
“Yee haw, am I right?” Wade says breathlessly, spread out under him.
“Pretty sure that's for me to say.” Logan huffs a laugh. Even after the orgasm, he can’t stop rolling his hips mindlessly. His hair is wet with sweat, partially covering his vision but he can’t push it back because Wade has been holding his wrists the entire time, with the excuse of not letting Logan get hurt. The truth is Wade loves to restrain, mess with Logan, anything that’ll make him beg for Wade to do something. It hasn’t happened tonight yet, but with the way his kitty cat keeps moving those hips, there’s still time.
God. He loves that idiot and he’s gonna fuck him through the mattress until he drools and falls asleep. And after that, a bunch of aftercare cuddles. And rinse and repeat.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝