Logan with a virgin reader, expecting her to be this shy nervous little thing only to be met with a woman whoâs spent too much of her life with only her imagination to keep her company. Suddenly heâs the one nervous because youâre so eager to fuck him and youâre begging him so nicely that itâs hard for him to remember youâve never actually done this and he has to be responsible. You whine the entire time heâs stretching you out with his fingers, hands grabbing at him and pleading with him to replace his fingers with his cock and god damn it, youâre making it really fucking hard for him to focus.
Youâre both bare, losing your clothes somewhere between the living room and the kitchen. The feeling of skin against skin drives you wild, makes you plead for the cock thatâs throbbing against your thigh. You know he wants this just as bad as you do, you can feel how bad he wants this, but he settles for spreading you apart on his fingers.
You know youâre testing his patience but you donât care; not when you grind against him, not when his cock glides against your bare pussy, not when he pins you to the bed as your back arches off it.
âStop moving,â he begs, over and over. âStop it, stopâstop fucking moving.â
Youâre killing him; every time you look at him with those darling little doe eyes he can feel what little self-restraint he has left crumbling apart, every whine and moan and please Logan, gimme more testing his resolve.
âYou need to stop,â he begs, head falling forward as your cunt wets his dick, sliding against his length but refusing to push forward and take you. You shake your head, pull him in for a kiss thatâs anything but demure, lust pouring from your tongue as you lick at his mouth.
âDonât wanna,â you gasp, pulling him closer by his shoulders. Between each kiss you see his control waning, feel his hands bruised your skin, taste the depravity between his teeth. Slowly but surely you see his mask slipping away, a beast in disguise of a man, one that desperately wants to claim you as his.
A sick part of you wants that; to submit yourself, bare your neck against its fangs and beg for more when its teeth pierce your skin. You want to give yourself to Loganâall of him, even the parts that he himself doesnât want to show you. You want your first time to be just as enjoyable for him as it is for youâwhich is why you bring his hand to your stomach, to where his dick would leave an outline. You hold his hand firm as he stares with lust-blown eyes just imagining how full of him youâd be, in awe at just how willing you are to submit.
âI can handle it, you whimper, voice sweet like sin. âFuck me, please.â
And like that, youâre no longer faced with your loving boyfriend. Youâre now face to face with the Wolverine.
He pushes inside your velvet walls, still conscious enough to give you a moment to adjust. The feeling is new, full. Your voice wobbles when his thumb reaches down to circle your clit, just enough to get you to relax as he feeds your greedy pussy inch after inch.
âYâgotta breathe for me baby,â he rasps into the side of your neck, releasing a breath you never knew you were holding. He rewards your obedience with more of his dick, slowly rocking against you as you start to adjust to the feeling.
âFeels good,â you whisper, stroking his hair. Your eyes are locked with his, lost in his pretty emerald eyes. âYou can move.â
âAre you sure?â He asks. âNot sure Iâll be able to stop once I do.â
You know heâs telling the truth, itâs written all over his face. A need to possess you in body and soul, his eyes glued to where youâre both connected with a sickening fascination.
You know the actual question he's asking, even if he can't bring himself to say it. Are you sure you want me?
You realize he's just as vulnerable as you are, unsure of himself. It's a rarity that Logan ever talks about himself, always focused on you above all. You want to give him a break, want to make him feel as good as he makes you feel, want him to finally stop holding back and let go.
So you kiss him, long and deep, and hope that gets the message across. His answer comes in the form of hands on your hips, the deep timbre of his voice radiating from his broad chest.
"Don't say I didn't warn you."
