Dear True Believers,

Okay, you guys really have to thank my friends for inspiring me to do a sequel with Logan and Peter meeting up again. I would also like to thank you guys for giving my stories the time of day. I am truly thankful. It is nice knowing that someone enjoys my hobby of...ugh, smut writing? Pfft. That sounded better in my head. Here's chapter one of...Honestly, I have no mofo idea on what to call this sequel. I joked around with a friend on calling it "Foremath" or just "-math" or even "When Spidey Finally Done Did the Do." If you have ideas, pass them my way. For now, I hope you like this. It might develop into something further than a two-parter. Maybe. How would you guys feel about that?

Sincerely,

Superhubbverine

P.S: I do not own Peter Parker/Spider-man or Logan Howlett/Wolverine, I just own the stories I have written.

It has been a good month and a half since Peter saw the ol' canucklehead. A good two weeks since the last wet dream he had about the mutant. He was happy, thrilled even at the growing fact that perhaps whatever spell Mesmero placed on the two is finally wearing off. It was nice to be free, unchained by the object of his obsession.

"Man, I feel like some recovering addict.", he tsked leaning back on the living room sofa. It is a lovely Saturday night and there was absolutely nothing for him to do. No bad guys to chase, no Fury to call him or yell at him for something moronic, no explosions, no damsels in distress or even a burning building and him saving the day by catching a baby. Nothing. Just him at his home, alone. He would of been fine with the loneliness if it were not for Agent Coulson asking his aunt out on another date. Or even the fact that he went through his whole contact list of six friends and they were all busy with their own agendas.

What the heck is the point of having friends, he asked himself.

An hour rolls by and Peter had at least flipped through the network channels a hundred times on that cursed television set. Another batch of nothing to add on to his night. He tossed the remote onto the cushion before flailing about in frustration, whining about dying of boredom and how come he gets to be the one that suffers all the time. It was not until he rolled off the cushions that a knock was heard at the front door, it was soft and meek but heard still. Peter figured his night would not get any worst and decided to live a little. Go on a damn adventure.

He gets up, brushing himself off and rearranging his Fantastic Four pajamas before heading off to the door. He waits in front of it, trying to peek through the peephole. He sees movement and a hunched figure but not enough to find out the identity of his soon-to-be guest. Peter shrugs, his spidey-sense had not went off. Maybe all is well. It was not until he unlocked the door and open it that he gets a handful of the hunched body, practically knocking him down to the floor. He blinks, gulping thickly as he stares at the body on top of him. He eyes the thick, messy blue-black hair that formatted into a familiar hairstyle. The body is heavy, bulky and muscled even. Peter took a look over at the trashed articles of clothing the man wore, and gulped once more. A ruined, bloodied tan and yellow suit.

Ah crap! And I was doing so well too!

On top of him is a wounded and fiercely Canadian Wolverine a.k.a Logan-Fucking-Howlett.

Sliiiiide. Thump. Thump. Groan. Pause.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Stop sliding down, you jerk. God you are heavy, what did you eat? Oh wait, duh, metal skeleton. Nice one, web-brain." Peter grumbles, grunting as he makes another try at pulling Logan's heavy body up another few steps of stairs. Suddenly, picking and moving the Hulk was easier than this.

"I swear I need to start charging every injured or sickly superhero that comes by the house by the hour. Oh man, come on. Almost there. Stop sliding." The teenager lifts Logan enough to prop him on his lean back as he stumbles to get the door open. It takes just about all of his focus to not whimper as the older man's heated and ragged breath raises goosebumps along the skin of his neck.

"I was so close to being over you, such a jerk! Oh man, j-just stop b-breathing. Keep it together, Spidey. C'mon. T-think happy thoughts, just not those happy t-thoughts. Y-yes!" Peter semi-shouted in victory when he was able to open the door and keep it gaped long enough to drag Logan's body into his room. He shuts the door as soon as he was able to drop the mutant down on the floor. Peter lets out an exhausted sigh, brushing a hand through his brown locks, starting to feel so much older than he is. Now, that he has a chance to look at the man he kind of thinks the Wolverine is healing slower than usual. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

Wolverine is unconscious, breathing heavier than the normal, his head shaking side to side in a slow, yet sickly manner. The torso of his suit is ripped apart and laid to shreds around his hips. Same in the smaller areas around his thighs. Claw marks, old blood, dirt and amongst others decorate his hairy chest; giving Peter what he thinks as an accurate idea of who did this. He notice Logan's skin is paler, his breathing getting more ragged and hoarse by the minute. He wonders if it is even possible for a super-healing mutant can get sick.

"Well, I am not gonna stand around and find out when he's dead.", scoffs the spider as he heads out of the room for supplies. It does not seem that Logan will not be moving around just yet.

An hour rolls on by, Peter is sitting on the floor leaning his back against his dresser, a bucket holding a cloth in cool water is placed next to him. He has been observing the Wolverine's status since he finished bandaging and cleaning the poor Canadian. He shudders briefly, closing his eyes shut while resting his head back in an attempt to drive out the reappearing lust that knots his stomach. The teen gulps, biting his lower lip to keep away the memory of bathing his wounded comrade. Don't think about it, he whines, Don't you dare fucking think about taking advantage! How the wet cloth brushed against the skin as cuts and bruises heal, droplets of water sliding down the torso making its way into those tan trunks. Almost looking sinful and teasing as they trace every inch of harden skin. Just watching the water being soaked up by the fabric makes him want to moan. Peter curls up in a fetal position, hating hormones, teenagehood and the Wolverine for being well, him. The naked flesh underneath the bandages flashed briefly in his mind. He placed his head in his lap as he groans in frustration.

Damn it, Brain! I thought we had a deal, you traitor!

Peter looks up as a soft whimper is murmured from the lips of a man who does not seem the type to do so. He looked on worryingly, he moves to lean over the bulky man while placing the back of his hand against the sweaty flesh. You're little feverish, tsked the teen, what kind of mess did you get yourself into? Peter reaches for the cloth rinsing it lightly in the bucket before patting it against Logan's forehead. The said man groans softly in appreciation but to the teen, all it did was send a flash of heat to his loins. Not now, begs the hormonal hero, please don't do this to me. He hisses, gritting his teeth when Logan let out a pleading mewl arching towards the moving hand as Peter takes the cloth to rinse it once more. He glares at the unconscious man.

You sir, are no help at all. When you finally wake up, I don't know if I want to punch you or kiss you. Probably both, they both sound reasonably justified.

Peter woke up. He does not know when he fell asleep but from looking at the clock it had not been long. Perhaps an hour or two. When he tried to move he realized something. He somehow managed to curl himself around the Wolverine, his legs wrapped around a meaty thigh while his arms are embracing the wide torso.

He blinks.

Well, that's great. Smooth move, Spidey. This is why you are single, you creep.

He tries once more to release his hold on his object of affection but when he looks up at Logan to see if he was doing okay he nearly leaps 10 feet into the air! Logan was staring right at him!

"THOR ALMIGHTY, LOGAN! Are you trying to kill me?!", glares the spidey-wonder his hand over his heart as the poor boy was just given his first and probably not last, heart attack. Logan just stares widely and blankly, tilting his head curiously almost as if he was trying to figure out the words the other was saying. His eyes voided of anything that seem familiar.

"Dude, are you even going to say you're sorry?"

Logan just stares his face nearing Peter and the teen can only blush as the space between them was getting less by the second.

"U-um, if this is about us being tangled. It is so not what you think. I can totally explain. Totally can.", he chuckled meekly only to gulp as Logan came so close he can feel the other's breath heating his face. He watches as the older man's nostrils flare up, the eyebrows scrunched down until the man's lips curl up in a toothy smirk. It reminded Peter of a starving animal who had found the prey he had been hunting for so long. It gave him shivers down his spine, made his member twitch and his thoughts were instantly claimed with the idea of being filled. Peter's eyes widen as he hears the next thing that flies out of Logan's mouth with such thick, raw, and primal need.

"Mine.", said the fierce mutant in a growl that was so low it rumbled in his chest like rolling thunder in a passing storm cloud.

Peter could of sworn his pupils dilated ridiculously if they have not already and he could not help the reply that flew out of his own mouth so quick that it shocked him.

"Always."

And with a big grin Logan rolls on top of Peter, pinning him into the floor.

All the teen could think of was, Fucking finally.

END OF CHAPTER ONE.