Chapter Text
Vanessa was…perfect. Beautiful. Smiling at him in that sharply sweet way of her’s that never failed to flay him to his core and make him love every painful, heartrending moment of being perceived. Her hand was warm against his own, strong and rough because sure she was all pencil skirts and paper work these days but once upon a time she’d been able to swing from a pole (or cage or trapeze and one time a shower rod) with a skill that would make a Cirque Du Soleil dancer weep. At least it had made Wade weep, on multiple occasions, usually right before begging her to do some tricks on his cock. The splits alone, fuck him, he could have written poetry about her splits. His already shaky grasp on an urge to live had really suffered without them.
And the flips.
Marvel Jesus wept.
To say nothing of her use of whichever of her cocks she felt he’d earned, or deserved to be punished with, on a given day.
No one played Good Boy/Bad Boy like Nessa. What Omega needed an Alpha to bark and growl to put them down when Nessa could do it just as good, better even, with a strap and a good firm paddle, beta pheromones be damned. She was a natural at it and it was a crime against the multiverse, disappointmenting shitfest that it was, that she hadn’t picked up being a professional Domme as a career path. Denying humanity the way she could grip a nape and make an omega’s eyes roll back so far they could converse with their inner demons was worse than anything Wade had ever done.
…recently.
Discounting that whole thing with Johnny Storm because wooo, that had been a little fucked up. Needed for the budget when they were already shelling out for Wesley and Jen and Hugh but maybe if they’d just had him be a CGI flame for a while they could have cut costs or-
But! What was done was done and there was no coming back from a full body degloving. Unless you were Wade or Logan or any number of other unlucky bastards with regeneration like theirs. And, also, degloving was a very innocuous word for what it was, almost sweet and a little sexy in the same way he’d found dead hero Wolverine’s shiney skeleton or Nessa on the edge of life and death a little sexy.
“You still with us?” Nessa asked, eyebrow quirking upwards, luring him out of the whirlwind of his mind like a siren calling sailors to jagged rocks.
Not to be confused with Siryn, who was more with the brain exploding than the calling men to their death but there was some of that too.
“I really regret that we didn’t intro Terry. Maybe next go around; Disney might even allow a threesome scene with the bank we’re making.” He murmured thoughtfully. “The Mouse doesn’t care about moral panic when the money is good.”
She nodded in agreement, humor lighting her eyes. “I’ll keep that under consideration.”
“Do that.” Wade flipped his hand over to slot their fingers together and swept his eyes over her. He wanted to tell her again that he’d done everything for her. That he’d thought about her every waking minute in the Void, dreamt of her, that every drop of blood had been in her name. And there’d been a lot of it.
Mostly his own.
He wanted to say he’d wait for her forever, that things would change because he was changing, that he finally had some major character development that wouldn’t be walked back in the next movie.
He wanted to look her in her eyes and tell her that time moved differently in The Void and because of that he’d been able to spend a glorious stretch getting dicked down nasty by Logan. So outrageously filthy it could only be ranked as catastrophic, Keter-class at the very least but he wouldn’t rule out Apollyon because it had been beyond reasonable containment. They had ruined a car, a couple trees and a once idyllic clearing and had probably scarred all manner of innocent wildlife, assuming there was any wildlife left after Logan had gone all feral hunt for a bit there.
Wade wanted her to laugh and set her eyes on the disgustingly attractive everything that was Wolverine and congratulate him for getting his back blown out by a fucking God- God of Fucking, same same this was not the time for semantics in this narrative, please keep up- and then to tell him that everything was fine and that there was no way going bareback while in his first heat since the Cancer -capital C very much needed- with fucking Logan would come back to haunt him. And that the fact he could still feel the echo of Wolverine’s teeth on his nape, felt his skin hot and itchy and stretched taut everytime he moved, was just some weird placebo effect thing because they both knew Wade could never be mated.
He wanted to tell her that he’d decided to sacrifice himself over Wolverine not just because he knew the world would be better for having Logan in it and not only because he hadn’t wanted anyone else to die in the name of his timeline, but because the idea of Logan ceasing to exist had Hurt. Viscerally. Overwhelmingly. It had been so real, so acute, that Colossus might as well have punched him full on in the chest for all that he couldn’t breathe around the thought. Not like when Nessa had died, no, but something adjacent and rending on a level he hadn’t known existed.
But that would have been really awkward in front of their little family and what amounted to Logan’s sort of daughter. Plus he would have to acknowledge things he wasn’t ready to acknowledge and maybe never would be.
He was so good at denial, so good at it that he frequently rewrote things in his own mind and believed them. Sometimes he wasn’t sure his name was even Wade or if that was something catchy he’d went with and then forced himself to wrap his reality around.
He was basically Wanda, on a smaller scale and white without any awkward retconning being involved.
“How’re things with that guy? From work?”
She blinked once then, in a display that would have made lesser alphas quake in their boots, slowly smirked to show off way too many teeth. “Fine. Feel like I should be asking you that, honestly.”
He considered, for exactly point-three-seconds, lying to her face. Then, eyes drifting down to her mouth and the positively feral flashing of teeth, decided against it. Instead he tilted his head to the side and slipped his hand free so he could hold both up in an approximate measure of what he’d been dealing with.
Vanessa huffed out a laugh. “Nice. And the-” He curled his hands into fists and brought them together. Her eyes widened then, gaze slipping past him, she nodded. “I could see that.”
He opened his mouth to make a joke, something about if they both asked nicely enough maybe Logan would let her, but the words stuck in his throat, coming up as nothing but a choked off grunt. He did not, he realized with horror bordering on waking up and realizing you’d been turned into a fucked up, immortal mutant with a face like ground beef, want to share. It made his stomach clench and sour bile rise up in his throat just picturing it.
That was a problem.
The nape of his neck burned like acid was eating away at his flesh. He heard, distantly, Logan pause fractionally in what he was saying to Laura.
Again Nessa’s eyebrows lifted then, with a hum, she called for Dopinder to tell his god awful airpod story again. Her hand slipped back into his and, as Dopinder eagerly began to spin his tale, she squeezed gently. Everything was fine, the familiar pressure of her hand told him.
The squeeze he gave back was decidedly limp.
Which was funny when you considered that limp was the last thing he’d been while getting banged like a gong all over the Void.
That was, by the way, the cue to start up the flashback. Off you go, it’s gratuitous porn time; don’t let this glimmer of plot fool you, the writer has no idea what she’s doing with that.
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The Void
A Familiar Forest Road
The Moment it all Went to Absolute Shit
Wade was not at all above admitting that sometimes when tittering on the edge of life and death his cock and cunt got a little away from him. And also at times when death wasn’t really on the menu but intense pain was? Yeah, he’d been known to get so wet even Namor, the hot one that was giving BookTok Toxic Boyfriend Vibes, would have trouble dealing with it when getting shot or stabbed or crushed or- He was equal opportunity in that way, his wiring so irreparably fucked that the deeper the sear of pain the harder he was likely to get. He would have liked to blame it on the cancer or the experiment or all of the mental anguish and trauma that had followed but he’d always been like that.
A little spanking was nice, but Vanessa’s heels on his balls had been better, type of thing. Pulling his hair, sure, but it was transcendent when he choked to the point that his vision grayed out.
No surprise that a professional mercenary would be into less than vanilla things, he supposed, and it was only natural that functional immortality had made him a little more fucky. He’d never brought it home, there was no way he could let Vanessa see that side of him. Not because he’d thought she would turn away but because he knew she would do her best to embrace it.
She’d deserved better than “Hey honey, could you carve out my liver and maybe fist my kidney a little?” They’d had a good thing, unconventional but good, and his literal blood and innards had no place in it. It wasn’t like he was jonesing so hard to have his throat slit that it had ruined the many many sexy things they’d gotten up to. He just sometimes came so hard while impaled on a piece of rebar that he blacked out.
Or died temporarily.
It was hard to tell, the line was so thin.
With all that in mind, dear reader, it was pretty obvious where his little tussle with The Wolverine in the back of that actually not terrible Odyssey might have started to go wrong, wasn’t it? And that was why you would be shocked to know that everything was actually Logan’s fucking fault. Wade was very good at dealing with becoming a human slip and slide when someone was twelve inches of adamantium in his sternum. He angled his crotch away from Logan and was no stranger to the art of silently creaming his pants so there was no problem to be had. As long as the sweet sweet scent canceling suit those shitters at the TVA gave him didn’t have the dampening seals around his neck and wrists broken he was good to ride out what was by far the most intense fight he’d ever been in with no issues.
There was something about having claws buried deep in his belly and into and down his throat at the same time that was really working for him. He hadn’t been stuffed so full since his pre-Vanessa mercenary days, and never had it been even close to as good as it was with Logan nor had he always been completely onboa- and wow, no, that was too dark for this story. Anyway.
He was real fucking into getting throat fucked with claws, was the point. Too much, maybe, because he was too busy thrashing around in a white haze of pleasure pain and gurgling around the flood of metallic blood filling his lungs for his, admittedly lackluster, sense of self preservation to kick in. He didn’t process how bad an idea it was to have claws fully expended and tickling his trachea until they weren’t there anymore, slicing him from chin to collarbone in a display that would be too graphic to detail in this story. This is E for smut, not gore.
Wade had two wildly different but very distinct thoughts. The first, as his back bowed off of the mangled car seat, was that the lower half of his suit was good and truly ruined and it was lucky that lame ass version of him had some spares pushed under the backseats. The second, as he heard a worrying hiss and crackle and felt a static tingle across his skin, was that nothing good ever sounded like that. His vision was dim as he took in the remains of the black collar that he knew housed part of the scent neutralizing system dangling from Logan’s claws.
Not so dim that he didn’t see the other man rear back, gagging loudly as he slapped one gore streaked hand over his own nose and mouth.
‘Sorry Peanut,’ he would have said if he had the working parts to force air in and out of his body to make more than wheezy whistling noises, ‘I know I smell like a Brooklyn street in summer the morning of trash pickup. Side effects of the cancer.’
Too little too late because his pupils blew wide in one beat, went cloudy and unfocused the next, were overtaken by the distinct sheen of red the third. Wade, dancing on the edge of a slip into death even as his throat began to knit back together and regrow what was missing, finally had the faulty part of his brain that recognizes danger kick in with a dizzying scream.
Run, something in him howled. Get up! Run!
His escape from the car through a busted out window was not graceful, and involved face planting in the dirt and rolling away from the road as his vision slipped in and out of darkness. There may have been a little crawling and worse, his knees slipping in the slug trail of blood his throat was spilling. Thankfully the only person aware of it was Logan who was, Wade noted when he cast a glance backwards, watching his glorious retreat with eyes glowing like red hot coals.
For those of you not in an Alpha-Omega designated universe it is worth noting that red eyes were the most obvious sign of an alpha who had slipped into a feral state. Which could be a bummer since feral alphas were interested in a very limited number of things, namely breeding and murder.
Now you might be thinking “That doesn’t sound so bad” but please considering that Wade was unbreedable, thanks to his out of control healing factor vs cancer thing, had a scent like a sewer, and had been registering as a threat to alphas since he’d hit puberty and stood head and shoulders above most of them. Fucking was likely off the table, sadly, which left the other option.
But Wade, you’re thinking, aren’t you into that? Didn’t you just drop a load in your pants because of that?
Yes, of course sweetie, but have you considered that a feral Logan might actually do something crazy like cut Wade’s head off or crack his head open like a watermelon and dig out the scrambled insides instead of just using his claws to stir up some no-no places?
Wade got to his feet, more on the side of the living than dead as he stumbled from tree to tree, picking up speed and becoming more steady with each passing moment, and wondering if maybe this Logan was just on demon time, not alpha time, and wasn’t about to lose his shit after all when he heard a metallic thud and crunch.
“Well, okay,” He muttered, bursting into a sprint. “That might be fine.”
An ear splitting roar tore through the air. A chill raced down Wade’s spine.
“Could be a bear. Or another Sabertooth variant. A Hulk maybe, but hopefully not one of the cannibal versions because hah, let me tell you, being eaten is not fun at all. Do not try that one at home.”
He dared to look back again, catching a streak of yellow barreling towards him through the gaps in the trees. It was close to the ground, like something running on four limbs instead of two.
Wade nodded to himself. “Nope nope, that’s. That’s really bad. Maybe it’s time for a fade to black or, uh, a chapter break before coming back to a scene of me safe and sound. How’s that sound? …hello? …Fuck.”