Omg you need inspo? For Logan, I have 1 word: debauched
Warnings: Prostitute! reader, sexual themes
You were his respite in endless days of driving around drunks, guzzling his own booze, and dealing with Charles moods. The only thing he has to look forward too.
"Back again, so soon sweetheart?" You cooed when you walked up to him, your hand messing with his the collar of his shirt, loosening his tie. The man, Logan- he looked tired. Bags under his eyes, the lines of his face more prominent- but there was a fire in his eyes when they landed on you. "You were just here last night, bad day?"
"Always is." He murmurs. He never talks much, always prefers to get down to business- which is fine for you.
"And you came to me to make it all better, that right?"
He doesn't smile often, but you can draw one out of him, sometimes a faint one, or a real one. You don't know much about his life, but considering how he drags himself into the bar whenever he comes to visit you, looking the way he does you imagine it's not very easy one. That's the story for anyone who lurks in this place.
He took a step closer, that faint smile he granted you disappearing quick. "That alright?"
"Of course that's alright, hun." You laughed, grabbing his hand leading him out of the bar to the shitty motel next to it- one he's become all too familiar with in his visits with you.
Logan's a regular- but more than regular. He's coming around more and more often for your "services", it's the 4th time already this week...Not that you mind. He's one of your better customers, you never have to fake an orgasm with him, or deal with complaints. He seems to care more about getting you off than himself. Whether it's with his mouth, hands, or his cock. You're not sure how he affords you so often, but his moneys good and his dick is even better.
With him it's always passionate and heavy. His touch feels like worship on your skin. His hands large and calloused yet gentle as they can be with you. Kisses your lips and your skin like you're something to be devoured. You suspect he's becoming addicted to the intimacy, to your body, the smell of sweat and sound of pleasurable moans that fill the room when he comes around. The same way he guzzles an entire bottle of vodka through the night, or chain-smokes an entire pack of cigarettes- but it's you, and you don't mind the feeling of being worshiped by a man like him.
The door shut behind him, and you turned to wrap your arms around his neck. "How many hours you want tonight?" You purred, your hands playing with the ends of his silver hair. His grabbed your hips, tugging you against him where you can feel his very obvious desire.
"How much for the entire night?"
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