alternatedoom: (daken + bullseye)
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Written anonymously for the Marvel Kink Meme here.

Prompt was: Logan is sick of hearing from villains he's fighting how they've all done his son in the ass.

Rating: R/NC-17




Loosely references the sextastic contents of the first Bullseye/Daken story on this page which you should go read immediately if you haven't already.


Logan's damn sick and tired of assholes bringing up his son's sexual proclivities. No father wants to hear details of his son's sleazy homosexual exploits, particularly when the apparent favorite activity is taking it up the ass from what seems like every single last one of dear old dad's enemies.

He's not homophobic, but the homosexuality is part of what gets to him. He'd be lying if he told himself he'd feel the same if Daken were fucking women. Though he wouldn't like that either. It's not like that straight machismo bullshit that some men like in their sons is any better, and Logan doesn't care if Daken's gay. He only wants him to be sane, and mentally well, and at peace, with the same chance at happiness as everyone else. Gay would be fine if he weren't so damn amoral and promiscuous on top of that, and taking it, always taking it, from the worst kind of villains. That's what disturbs Logan, what keeps him lying awake at night.

Wild Child sneered it at him while he had Logan all trussed up above the vat of molten metal. Goddamn smirking, pointy-eared bastard. Logan remembers Wild Child's secret, mocking smile and the way his assymetrical silver piercings glittered in the light of the ironworks. Pushed his blond hair behind his ears and talked with poetry in his voice about locking those rows of pointy white teeth in Daken's neck, and the way Daken shivered like a girl the first time he stuck it in him. Logan didn't believe it at first. Thought Wild Child was talking trash to make his end that much more unpleasant, knowing his weak spot was for the son he was longing to know. But the man got into details, lazily stroking his sharp nails along the railing, and by the end of it, Logan couldn't dismiss what'd he'd heard as nonsense. Wild Child was too animalistic to have that good of an imagination. The mental pictures were ugly, but he did his best to put the words and images out of his mind. If Daken swung that way, that was his business.

But the effect snowballed. Exploded, really. Thinking back, it puts some of the shit Cyber said into a new context. Pretty much the only enemy he's fought recently who hasn't mentioned putting the screws to Daken is Mystique.

Logan empathizes now with the lameass one-note-joke tv show dad whose little girl brings home a long-haired punk ten years her senior with an obviously bad reputation and a Playboy earring. The fact that Daken's male and 60-something years old is irrelevant. Daken's an adult and can't so much as catch a disease, but Logan can't smother his protective instincts.

* * *

Then he ran into Deadpool, who for some reason was wearing a white bandanna tied over the top of his mask and had an old-fashioned golden gun strapped across his chest. They hadn't even been fighting until the loon brought up Daken. "You know your son's great in bed. I don't normally go for guys, but he's really persuasive," Deadpool said in his quick, rambling way. "Does he get that from you?"

Logan signaled his desire for a swift end to the conversation by driving one set of claws down towards Wade's stomach. He knows he shouldn't let anyone know this topic gets to him, but sometimes he can't help it. Besides, Deadpool gets under everyone's skin sooner or later. Even his, once in a while.

Deadpool dodged the blow and quickly put some acrobatic distance between them. "Geez Louise, don't get all bent out of shape! It was a compliment!" Deadpool swiveled away when he leaped and ducked when he lunged. "I didn't sleep with him. Well, only cause we didn't make it to a bed, but still." Deadpool nimbly slipped under a swipe of his claws. "Crazy kid, though. I'm totally swinging a cannon here, but he took it really well. Fantastic with his mouth, too. What? I'm just saying."

No, no, NO. Logan refused to believe that his son could possibly have willingly hooked up with the cancer-riddled lunatic. Deadpool was an experiment gone wrong, and that wasn't Wade's fault, but fuck. Surely Daken had some standards?

"Hey, he propositioned me, okay? And the Evil Baby Wolverine thing he's got going on is irresistible. The little tyke thinks he's dark. It's just so damn cute!"

Logan scored claws across his shoulder. Wade yelped but hadn't lost his ability to dodge, and his mouth never stopped running as he emptied the clips of two guns into Logan's chest and stomach. "Yeah, okay, I can see why you might not want to talk about it, huh? Well, he's adorable and talented, that's all you need to know, and you should be proud." Deadpool sprang away from him, snatching the golden gun out of his chest holster next as he somersaulted through the air. "Having a kid who's a little minx in the sack, so what if he got that way from a lot of practice? It's gotta be better than the crappy refrigerator art most parents get."

The deeply annoying thing about battling Deadpool had always been his tendency to talk through the whole thing. It was when Deadpool offered him some friendly advice that he finally lost it good and proper. "I don't get the absentee father thing, you don't strike me as the type. But now he's here and he's queer you might want to pay him some attention once in a while."

Logan's mellowed out a lot over the past decade or so, especially since dealing with the fallout from getting all his memories back. He hadn't gone berserk in a while, and it was only a brief slip, but it made the fight a helluva lot shorter than their last one.

"Massive daddy issues, everyone talks about it," Deadpool wheezed confidentially on a dying breath. "Hey! Just... tryin'... to ...help."

He'd disemboweled Wade, slicing open his chest cavity from collarbone to groin and watching the light go out of his eyes. He'd ripped out half a dozen major organs before he cooled down a little, noting as if from far away that Wade's internal organs had the same bubbly tumored appearance as his skin. He'd never noticed that before he saw them exposed and lying on the street. Deadpool was probably fine ten minutes later, but dismantling him felt good. Way too good. Like he was eviscerating everyone who'd ever taken advantage of Daken having a tragic, broken life, being brainwashed by a monster, not dwelling in his right mind.

Apropos of nothing, Logan wonders if Cyke's ever had to listen to Wade prattle on like a retard about doing his only son.

* * *

Bullseye seemed to enjoy taunting him with it the most, and the mental picture he planted in Logan's brain still grits his teeth weeks later. Bullseye bragged using the coarsest possible language. Claimed he'd had Daken against a wall on a rooftop, with no lube, and that Daken took it like a champ. "It was his idea," he'd said casually, shrugging, but his grin was malicious. Logan can't help but see that picture now when he closes his eyes, Bullseye's pale flanks see-sawing back and forth, thrusting hard into his son, Daken's upper body pressed against a brick wall. Daken would have grimaced at first from the pain, his legs trembling slightly, but then his expression would have smoothed out as he took it. "But I'm not special, I think everyone's had a go. Norman, Mac, the roach prince... your kid gets around."

When Bullseye's escape route failed, Logan slammed claws deep into his chest, near the shoulder. He would have killed the smug little prick for real if they hadn't been interrupted by the kid in question. Maybe Osborn sent Daken on a rescue mission, not wanting to lose his precious Hawkeye impersonator, or maybe Daken was there on his own, following Bullseye. Dressed in street clothes and wearing that arrogant expression, Logan didn't scent him coming. Unnerving as hell, that. Daken can suppress everything. Most people are a wild blend of smells, with a dozen or so coming off them at any given time--shampoo, soap, hand lotion, hand sanitizer, anti-perspirant, perfume or cologne, the list goes on. Logan couldn't even detect the laundry detergent used to wash Daken's clothes.

After beating Logan into the pavement, Daken refrained from killing him yet again. Logan doesn't think for one instant that Daken's softened on wanting to torture him and end his life; it likely had more to do with Daken wanting to take his time with it, plus the issue of getting the unconscious mercenary to a hospital before he bled out. Logan had watched from the ground out of his remaining eye. Daken picked Bullseye up with more tenderness than Logan would have expected, and for one fleeting disconnected moment Logan found himself hoping there might be something more between them than one casual, violent fuck on a dark rooftop.

He knew even as he thought it that it was ridiculous, that his love for his son was inverting his good sense. He'd never hoped for something so futile and downright dumb.

Daken smiled down at the fake superhero in his arms, an evil little smile, twisting Logan's heart and instantly killing the stupid half-second's wish. Daken glanced up, refocused on Logan for a moment, and then turned and walked away. Yeah, his son cared about Bullseye. Cared about him as a project of some kind, or a pet, or the means to an end.

In the aftermath, Logan lay on the cold street for a while, thinking about that small dark smile as his injuries healed up and it started to rain. Logan doesn't want to know about Daken's sex life, but he longs to know his son can feel something, anything good. Like even feelings for a waste of space like Bullseye would be better than nothing.

But he knows better. It's Daken. His son's been programmed and not for positive feelings of any kind. The main emotion housed behind those cold, beautiful features is hate, with the occasional shaking rage, probably the cruelest kind of lust and almost certainly that oldest-of-the-old classic, the hunger for power. And he masks it all with that facade of sophisticated, over-educated carelessness. And lately his pop's costume.

Logan wonders if Daken likes the sex at all.

Logan doesn't know everything that's wrong with his son. Sometimes he suspects his knowledge encompasses only the tip of the iceberg. But he knows enough of human nature to realize that Daken's at least partially doing it to get to him. Logan hates himself that it's working.
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