First chapter finally up! This is going to be a long, slow burn story with character development. Stay with it, I promise the payoff will be worth it! (I'll also post some shorter/ one shot writing as this story is ongoing) This story is centered on the Worst Wolverine variant and is set roughly a month after Wade and Logan return to Wade's timeline from the void. This is my first fanfic, so any comments, constructive critiques, reblogs, likes and follows are greatly appreciated. Please don’t copy/alter/add onto etc.
Mature 18+ ONLY! Themes of alcoholism, suicide, depression, sexual content all will be explored over the course of the story.
After the Void
Chapter 1
Logan
Logan slouched on the couch in the apartment he shared with Wade and Althea. He took a long swig of his beer and huffed an impatient sigh. The tiny apartment was quiet for the first time in a long time. Althea was visiting family and Wade was out doing god knows what, but Logan knew he’d hear every sordid detail upon Wade’s return, whether he wanted to or not. Logan had been looking forward to a respite from Wade’s nonstop chatter and inane nonsensical commentary and having some damn peace and quiet, but now that he had his damn peace and quiet, he felt twitchy and irritated. The truth was, he didn’t quite know what to do with himself in this new timeline he found himself in. The world itself was quieter than he was used to. There were no looming, imminent threats or danger, Charles and all his friends were long dead, there were no x-men, and humans and the few scattered mutants coexisted, albeit with some tension. No one, other than Wade and his motley crew of friends, knew about Logan’s checkered past, no one here hated him, he didn’t get cursed out in the street, stared at with hatred and contempt or thrown out of bars just for existing.
Logan didn’t know how to navigate this world, and if he admitted it to himself, his feelings about it. Feelings were a luxury he didn’t care to afford to himself. First, there were people, lots of people, constantly in his space, who wanted in; Into his feelings, into his head and always wanting to talk. How was he, what did he think, what was going on with him, and on and on. He didn’t fucking KNOW how he felt. He knew he didn’t want to feel. He tried to keep people at a long arms distance, it was safer that way. No one got hurt if he kept his distance, physically, mentally and emotionally. But Wade. Wade, Wade, Wade. That damned merc with a mouth wouldn’t quit. He picked, prodded, pressed, and picked some more, nattering away at Logan, and no amount of cursing, growling or threatening would make him cease. No matter how many times Logan unsheathed his claws and stabbed whatever part of Wade happened to be closest, he wouldn’t be dissuaded. Even claws driven through his thick skull didn’t seem to drive the message home. He seemed to thrive on driving Logan to complete exasperation.
Then there was Laura. After her return to the Earth 616 timeline with him and Wade, she had stayed in contact. In fact, it felt like she was always around. She had moved into the Xavier Institute to take classes, and had become fast friends with Yukio and Negasonic Teenage Warhead. Since Yukio and Negasonic were good friends of Wade’s, the three girls, along with the hulking metal form of Colossus were constantly hanging around. Logan was trying to be understanding with Laura, but she was a constant reminder that a better version of him had lived and died in this timeline. That Logan had been a hero, through and through. That Logan had been a father to Laura. When Laura looked at him he couldn’t help but feel like a disappointment, a complete mess and totally awkward. He didn’t really know her, didn’t have that connection that she felt. He wasn’t what the other Logan had been to her, nor could he find it in himself to try to be. He wasn’t father, friend or hero material. Laura didn’t push, but he imagined he saw it in her face when she looked at him.
The first month after returning from the void had been ok. Everything was new, he had gotten settled in with Wade and Althea, gotten his bearings. But now, the shine had worn off and despite saving Wade’s world, and Logan felt all his old disappointments and a lifetime of trauma and pain come flooding back. Walking out on his friends, ridiculing their uniforms and refusing the one they made just for him, telling them the team was stupid, listening to them call for him but walking out, all the way to the bar and drowning himself in a bottle. Returning, completely wasted, seeing the mansion in ruins and his friends all dead, bloody and ripped to pieces. Knowing he let them down. The blinding animalistic, primal anger that overcame him, the killing spree, taking every bit of his pain and failure out on anyone and anything in his way, the guilty and innocents. The way the world turned on the X-men, their legacy and mutants in general, all because of his failure and rage.
Despite saving Wade’s world, the bloody pictures in his mind seemed bigger. His title sat in the back of his mind and popped up unbidden when he thought too long. The Worst Wolverine. The Worst. In any timeline in all the multiverse. His claim to fame was being the absolute bottom. The failure. The bitter feeling, the pit in his stomach, the dull pain in his chest, never left him and couldn’t be washed away with alcohol, not that he didn’t try. At first he had tried to stop drinking, but slowly he slid back into bottomless beer bottles and whiskey glasses at the local bar, a hidden stash of booze at home, hidden to keep Wade out of it. The endless nightmares and sleepless nights, his constant companions, returned in force.
Damn the apartment was quiet. He wouldn’t let himself believe he missed having people around, No way, and he definitely not Wade’s mouth. People were a complication that he couldn’t afford. When people got close they either caused him physical, mental or emotional pain, or he to them. If he stayed away, distant, from people, it was better all around, he told himself. He had been doing it this way for quite a few years now; no one got in. No one to let down that way. He wouldn’t admit to being lonely; lonely was a feeling he couldn’t afford. Feelings he couldn’t afford.
He felt like a caged animal in this timeline, itchy in his own skin and at odds with his mind. He got up and paced around the apartment. Sat down, flipped through the channels on TV. Threw the remote down in disgust. Paced some more. Drank another beer. He was used to being in a constant state of fight or flight, and Logan loved a fight. It was all he was good for, he thought. In disgust. Just a big, dumb animal, a weapon, the type of mutant that put people on edge. His powers weren’t pretty, he didn’t make water move, create beautiful things out of nothing or control weather. He was the type of mutant that looked dangerous, inhuman, a beast. He was good in a fight, and that was it. He longed for an outlet, a fight, something to take the edge off. But here, in this world, there was little need for that. He wasn’t content if people were all around and trying to draw him out of his mind, and he was antsy if it was quiet. He felt like he was going to explode. He needed something, anything, to stop thinking and feeling all the damn time. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair. Why the FUCK was it so fucking quiet?
Just then, the doorknob jiggled. A bunch of scratching and scrabbling at the lock. Someone was attempting to jimmy the door lock, trying to break into the apartment. Logan narrowed his eyes, and slid a look at the clock. 1 am. At last, something to break the monotony and take his mind off his shit. Whoever was breaking in was going to be sorry. A grim smile slowly spread over his features, as he clicked off the lights, cracked his knuckles and prepared to engage the intruder.
Summary: When Loki and a few other TVA agents wander into a quiet 1960s jazz club in New York, he finds himself drawn to the lead singer onstage for reasons he can’t quite name.
Tags: third person pov, original female character, slow burn, eventual smut, extreme fluff, heavy angst, tva!loki, au takes place in season 2 but am bending the rules of the universe a bit because it’s fiction, I'll update warnings as I go, I have no idea how long this is going to end up being
wc: 2326
ao3 link
a/n: Feeling suuuppper inspired by Olivia Dean lately but I've been so nervous, going back and forth with myself for months wondering whether or not I should post outside of the rdr fandom but fuck it this is my blog I hope you enjoy
The mission debriefing ends early for once—a rare stroke of mercy from the TVA—and before anyone can question it, Mobius claps his hands together with a conspiratorial grin.
“Well,” he says, “since we’re not being hurled into a crisis for the next couple of hours… how about we experience a little culture?”
Loki arches a brow, already suspicious of whatever Mobius considers “culture,” but B-15 shrugs, Casey looks thrilled at the idea of fresh air, and frankly, anything is better than the fluorescent yet dingy hum of the TVA’s hallways. And so, with no greater plan than Mobius’s vague enthusiasm, the four of them step through a time door and land on rain soaked New York sidewalk in the early 1960s.
The club Mobius leads them to is easy to miss, tucked between two weathered brownstones and marked only by a flickering neon sign in the shape of a trumpet. But once the door swings open, the world narrows into warmth—dim, golden, and pulsing like a heartbeat.
Inside, liquor glasses clink in lazy, syncopated rhythm. Soft conversations wind through the air like cigarette smoke. A small band is gathered onstage, tuning their instruments with the easy familiarity of musicians who’ve played the same room a hundred times. Velvet curtains frame the narrow stage, catching the light in deep crimson folds.
Mobius gestures toward an unclaimed booth. “Perfect view,” he says, already scooting in and waving over a server he spotted for a round of drinks.
Loki eyes the seat before sliding in beside him, smoothing a hand over his jacket as though brushing off invisible dust. “I can assure you, Mobius, there is no ‘perfect view’ of anything in this decade.”
Mobius grins, elbow nudging his ribs. “Oh, come on. Don’t pretend you’re not glad to be back.”
Loki shoots him a flat, sharp look. “Back? I attacked this city, Mobius. Hardly a sentimental homecoming.”
“Exactly,” Mobius says, cheerful as ever as he accepts the tray of whiskeys from the server. “You spent so much time here during your little… phase.” He wiggles his fingers to emphasize the word as he passes glasses down, as if Loki’s attack on New York had been some kind of moody artistic period.
“It was not a phase,” Loki mutters, shoulders stiffening.
“Right, right,” Mobius says. “A full-blown invasion. Much more mature.”
Loki exhales sharply through his nose. “I’m surprised the timeline didn’t shatter the moment I stepped foot here, considering my supposed reputation.”
Mobius smirks. “Relax. We're about 45 years too early. Nobody here recognizes you. And even if they did, you’re much better dressed this time. Less… dramatic cape action.”
Loki’s jaw tightens, though a reluctant sliver of amusement threatens to tug at his mouth. “My cape was perfectly functional.”
“Oh, sure,” Mobius says. “For sweeping theatrically into rooms and announcing the end of the world. Which, you know—points for commitment.”
Loki crosses his arms. “Are you quite finished?”
“Not even close,” Mobius says, leaning back comfortably. “But we’re off-duty, so I’ll give you a break.”
B-15 scans the club with a practiced, wary eye, arms crossed as she leans against the edge of the booth. “We shouldn’t linger,” she says under her breath. “The longer we stay in a timeline, the more likely someone notices something they shouldn’t.”
Mobius waves a dismissive hand, “It’s just an hour. Maybe less. Think of it as… a morale break.”
Her frown deepens. “Timelines don’t care about morale.”
B-15 gives him a look that says she’s two seconds from dragging them all back through a time door by the collars. “Mobius…”
He softens, leaning forward. “Hey. We’re just blending in. Quick drink, a little music, nobody touches anything, nobody alters anything, nobody starts an apocalypse—”
Loki, without looking at him, mutters, “You say that like it’s difficult.”
Mobius continues smoothly, “—and we’re out of here. Sixty minutes, I promise.”
B-15 rolls her eyes but not unkindly. “Casey’s the only one here who actually deserves a break.”
Casey brightens. “Really? Thank you! I’m just happy you all invited me. I thought it was a mistake at first.”
Loki rests his forearms on the table, trying—and failing—to ignore the feeling prickling at the back of his mind. Something is coming. He can’t see it, can’t name it, but it coils through his senses like a thread tugging him forward.
He inhales slowly. Jazz clubs are usually Mobius’s thing, not his. Yet something about this place feels… significant. Restless. Charged.
The band settles. The lights shift.
And then she walks onstage.
A hush ripples through the club—not imposed, but instinctive, the kind of quiet that falls when everyone realizes they’re about to witness something they’ll remember long after the night ends.
She steps into the spotlight with an easy grace, the soft glow catching on the simple black dress that drapes her figure. Nothing extravagant, nothing loud. But radiant all the same, as though the light has chosen her.
Loki’s breath stills. When she sings—when that first note escapes her—it blooms slow and warm, like honey poured over the rim of a glass. The sound washes through the room, silencing every stray thought until Loki feels the low, unexpected pull of it settle in his chest.
Her song is gentle, unhurried—intimate in a way that feels almost secret, as if she’s singing directly to someone, though Loki tells himself that’s absurd.
Still… every now and then, her gaze drifts across the audience.
And too often, he swears it lingers on him.
Loki shifts in the booth, jaw tightening at the ridiculous spark of heat that curls beneath his ribs. He convinces himself he’s imagining it. Just a trick of the lights. Just his own attention playing games with him.
But when her eyes find him again, soft and searching, the faintest flicker of a smile touching her lips—
He feels that unnamed something tug sharply at his chest.
As if whatever he sensed earlier… has just stepped into the spotlight with her.
Mobius nudges him with the side of his elbow, barely containing the smirk tugging at his mouth. “Careful,” he murmurs over the rim of his glass. “Looks like someone’s taking an interest.”
Loki doesn’t move at first, jaw tightening in a way that suggests annoyance—but the tips of his ears betray him, flushing a delicate, traitorous pink he hopes the shadows swallow.
Loki pointedly keeps his eyes on the stage, refusing to give the comment weight. But with every note she sings, every gentle run of her voice, something inside him loosens.
There is something about the way she carries herself:
Poised, but not rehearsed.
Graceful, but not performing for anyone’s approval.
Her voice moves like she trusts it. She sings like someone who’s made peace with every version of herself across every timeline.
And gods… he admires her for it.
When the final note of her set melts away, the applause rises around him in warm waves. He claps once, twice—slow, contemplative—then stands. Mobius raises a brow but says nothing. B-15 watches him go with mild suspicion. Casey is too absorbed in the lingering notes to notice at all.
Loki pretends he’s simply stretching his legs, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket, casually drifting toward the bar as though guided by chance rather than something far more dangerous.
She’s there: resting her voice, sipping water from a tall glass, her shoulders loosening after the intensity of performing. The glow from the stage lights hasn’t fully left her skin yet.
Loki hesitates—a rare, fleeting moment—before allowing himself closer.
“You sang beautifully,” he says, and curses the soft sincerity in his own voice.
“Thank you,” she murmurs. “It’s rare to see someone really listening.”
He doesn’t have the chance to come up with a carefully measured reply. His mouth moves faster than his restraint.
“Of course I was listening. It was impossible not to.”
Her eyes widen just slightly—surprised, pleased—and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, gaze drifting down as though trying to steady herself.
Silence hums between them, gentle but charged. Not awkward. Not forced. Just… potential, resting lightly in the air.
She breaks the silence first, clearing her throat softly. “Do you come to places like this often?”
“No,” Loki says truthfully. “Hardly ever.” Never, he means.
“Shame,” she murmurs. “You seem like someone who would appreciate a good song.”
He remembers the irony in her words.
“I should tell you…” Loki begins, one corner of his mouth lifting in something close to self-mockery, “I’m not particularly fond of music.”
Her eyebrows lift, amusement flickering to life. “No?”
He shakes his head. “Not usually. Too sentimental. Too noisy."
She laughs softly—surprised, warm, not at all offended. “And yet you listened to an entire set?”
“I did.” His voice is low, steady in a way that gives him away more than anything else.
She studies him with a new kind of interest, tilting her head. “So mine wasn’t too sentimental? Or too noisy?”
“No,” he says, almost before she finishes. His eyes hold hers, unflinching. “Yours was… different.”
Her smile softens at the edges, gentler now, touched with curiosity. “Different how?”
Dangerous question. Too honest an answer waiting on his tongue.
Loki inhales, then lets the truth—simple, unembellished—slip free.
“It didn’t feel like a performance,” he says quietly. “It felt… earnest. And I find that rare.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs, sincerity blooming across her face like a ripple of light. “That means more than you might think.”
He looks away for a moment, as if that will steady him. It doesn’t.
“I suppose,” he adds lightly, “if all music sounded like yours, I might reconsider my stance.”
She lets out a small, disbelieving laugh—understated and bright. “I’ll try not to let that go to my head.”
“I imagine it already has,” Loki says, lips curving.
Before either of them can say anything more, someone from the band calls her name gently from across the room—just enough to pull her attention.
She glances toward them, then back at him, regret flickering warm in her eyes. “I should go check in. But… it was really nice meeting you.”
Loki inclines his head, schooling his expression even as something restless stirs inside him. “The pleasure was mine.”
She steps away—but before she fully turns, she steals one last look at him over her shoulder.
And gods help him… it feels like the end of a song he already wants to hear again.
Loki watches her disappear behind the velvet curtain, her silhouette slipping out of view, the faint echo of her last glance lingering in his chest far longer than it should. He inhales once—steady, controlled—and then turns back toward the booth as though nothing at all has happened.
It’s a terrible disguise. Mobius spots him halfway across the room.
“Oh, here he comes,” Mobius murmurs, voice bright with trouble. “Look at that walk. That’s the walk of a man who has feelings.”
“I do not have feelings,” Loki says the moment he reaches the table, sliding in with far too much composure to be natural.
“Sure,” Mobius says, nodding like he’s humoring a child. “Totally. Just stretching your legs, right?”
B-15 snorts into her drink. Casey looks up, wide-eyed. “Did your legs feel better after talking to the singer?”
Loki closes his eyes briefly. “…Yes, Casey. Significantly.”
Mobius is beaming now, far too entertained. “So, what’d you talk about? Music? Art? The emotional resonance of a well-placed minor chord?”
Loki ignores him, folding his hands atop the table with regal indifference. “I merely complimented her performance. It was polite.”
“Polite,” Mobius repeats, leaning in. “Right. That explains the smile she gave you when she walked away.”
Loki stiffens. “She did not—”
“Oh, she did,” B-15 cuts in. “I watched it happen. It was pretty obvious.”
Casey nods enthusiastically. “It was a really nice smile.”
Loki glares at all three of them in turn, though his ears—traitorous things—are warming again. “You’re all imagining things.”
Mobius raises a hand. “Hey, no judgment. I’m just saying… looks like someone enjoyed the culture.”
Loki pointedly does not respond.
But in the dim reflection of the stage lights across the polished table, even he can see the small, unbidden curve of a smile forming at the corner of his mouth.
Before Mobius can get another word in, B-15 checks her watch, her expression sharpening instantly.
“All right,” she says, tone clipped and authoritative. “Fun’s over.”
Mobius groans. “We just got here.”
“We’ve been here fifty-four minutes,” B-15 replies, already sliding out of the booth. “And I said one hour, maximum. We’re not risking timeline contamination because you three got sentimental.”
“Sentimental?” Loki repeats, affronted.
She levels him with a stare. “You were smiling.”
Casey scrambles upright, nearly knocking over his water glass. “Right! Yes! Heading back. Definitely.” He pauses, glancing around wistfully. “It was really nice though. The music. The atmosphere. The—”
“Casey,” B-15 warns.
He squeaks and steps out of the booth.
Mobius finishes the last sip of his drink and pats the table with finality. “Well. Culture break successfully completed.”
B-15 rolls her eyes. “Just move.”
The group gathers themselves, weaving through the softly lit room toward the back exit. Mobius gives the club one last appreciative look. Casey waves awkwardly at no one in particular. Loki lingers half a moment longer than he should, gaze drifting back toward the stage—empty now, curtains still swaying faintly where she’d disappeared behind them.
Something tugs at him again—quiet, insistent.
B-15 snaps her fingers at him. “Let’s go, Daydream.”
Loki straightens, mask sliding neatly back into place.
“Coming,” he says, though the word feels heavier than it should.
Mobius hits the TemPad, time door blooming open in a wash of gold.
One by one, they step through—back to the cold halls of the TVA, leaving behind the warmth of the club, the music, and the impossible spark settling quietly in Loki’s chest.
Tags: Porn with little plot, oral sex (female receiving), p in v sex, light sub/dom undertones, sub-ish Loki, fake threats of violence, foul language, secret relationship, making up, and fluff.
Summary: Loki is sentenced to spend the rest of his life in Asgard’s dungeon. However, that doesn’t satisfy Odin. Especially with Frigga making sure he’s getting special treatment. So, Odin adds torture to his sentence.
And of course, with Loki’s bad luck, and unbeknownst to Odin, his designated torturer is the one woman on Asgard he had a secret relationship with that he pissed off personally and broke his promise to. He’s in trouble now.
(Despite the story title, there is actually no torture involved in this fic.)
Sentencing Loki to life in the dungeon was not satisfying enough for the Allfather. Especially with Frigga constantly making sure he got special treatment and comforts within his cell. So, Odin added another piece to his life sentence.
The sound of chains clanking together echoes down the darkly lit ominous hallway. The guards keep a tight hold on Loki’s chains as they pull him further into the darkness. Loki would never admit this out loud, but he is indeed full of dread right now.
Torture.
Loki knows Odin’s prized torturer all too well. Most of the Nine Realms know and fear her too. If Odin wants information from a tyrant or to damn a prisoner to pain and suffering she’s the one that gets results. Every time, without failure.
When the guards finally reach the door to what she likes to call her ‘playroom’ Loki feels a lump in his throat. You are the last person on all of Asgard that he should have pissed off. It wasn’t intentional, but nevertheless, he still did it. Now he’s about to be at your mercy.
One of the guards knocked before entering. They, too, know better than to anger or irritate you. Loki and the two guards wait with baited breath until they hear an overly polite “enter” called out through the door.
The guard that knocked chuckles quietly. “He’s in trouble. She’s in a good mood.” Then he pushes the door open. The two guards shove Loki inside first, then step inside behind him.
Loki can’t help but gulp audibly when he sees you sitting on a stool sharpening a knife, wearing a devious smile that truly means bad news for him.
“Well, well, my extra special prisoner of the day. I cleared out my entire day just for you.” You smile as you slide off the stool and step toward him. “Oh how the mighty have fallen. From prince to prisoner.” Your grin only grows wider and scarier with each step. “Kneel.”
“What?!” Loki blurts out and then immediately regrets it. He knows you said that just to get a rise out of him. To give you an excuse to exert your power. The power Odin is giving you over him.
You wave your hands to the guards with a dark look in your eyes. One guard kicks the back of his knees, and the other shoves him down by his shoulders, forcing him to kneel.
With the sharpened knife in your hand, you put the pointed tip under his chin while grabbing the chain attached to the metal collar around his neck, forcing him to look up at you. “In these walls, my walls, you are not a god, and your prince title means nothing. I am your master and you are at my mercy. Do you understand?”
Loki blinks his eyes a retort on the tip of his tongue, but for once, he thinks better of it. “Yes.” He whispers in quiet response.
“Yes, what?” You growl.
He narrows his eyes at you as a reaction, not thinking. He knows you just want to belittle him, to get under his skin. It’s certainly working. “Yes, master.” He hisses.
You laugh, but it’s a humorless laugh. “First order of business will be to snuff out your arrogant defiance.” Then you release your hold on the chain, which he happened to be foolishly pulling against. So when you let go, it caused him to fall backward and barely catch himself with his hands. You stand up and look at the guards. “I got it from here, fellas. I’ll call for you when he’s ready to return to his cell.”
Both guards nod at you. One mutters a ‘have fun’ and the other chuckles a ‘good luck’ to Loki. He flinches when the door shuts, leaving the two of you alone. With your arms crossed over your chest, you look down at the chained-up god on the floor. “Stand.” You say in a commanding voice, leaving no room for argument.
Loki climbs back to his feet and holds his breath as you approach him again. “You won’t be needing these for now.” You say as you unlock the chains around his waist. They fall and hit the floor with a loud and heavy clink. Leaving him now with just the chains cuffed around his wrists and the collar around his neck.
“Now, you may have a seat.” You grin, waving your hand. He flies across the room and lands in a chair. The purple mist in the air that is your magic fades. Just like his is green when he has the ability to use his. But the chains binding him prevent use of his magic.
Stepping over to the chair, you sit in his lap, straddling him. Lifting his chained wrists over your head so that his arms are now looped around you. “I bet you wish you could use your magic right now, don’t you?”
Loki swallows thickly, his body betrays him, getting excited at the feeling of you in his lap again after all this time. “(Y/N), I know you’re angry with me. But I can’t quite gauge how angry you are.”
You narrow your eyes at him. One hand slides up his chest to his neck, fingers sliding through his hair until you grip a handful of his dark locks. “I’m very, very angry. I just can’t decide if I’m angrier for you not keeping your promise or angrier for your deceit. Hard choice, really.”
“Will you allow me to explain?” He asks cautiously, not wanting to piss you off more.
“Hmm…” You mumble, pausing to think, tapping the knife still in your hand against your chin. “Fine, but if I don’t like what I hear, I will cut out your lying tongue.”
“Alright.” Loki gulps nervously. “I did not intentionally break my promise to you…”
“You were supposed to take me with you if your plan failed!” You hiss cutting off his words. “Which it very clearly did since you’re in the dungeon instead of sitting on the throne.”
Your past relationship with Loki was a well-kept secret. It was a very close and intimate relationship. You always saw there was more to Loki just as he always saw there was more to you. He confided in you when he was planning to impede Thor’s coronation to be king. And told you how he planned to steal the throne for himself. That’s how much trust he has in you.
He did have some doubts, though, if he was unsuccessful. If he didn’t become king and his plan failed, he was going to leave Asgard for good, and he swore to take you with him.
Well, he failed, but you got left behind.
“I did not foresee Thor destroying the Bifrost. I fought him and lost, and when I realized how badly I had lost I let myself fall. I was surprised myself that I survived.”
“Yes, that’s what leads us to the deceitful part. You let me believe like everyone else that you were dead. I meant that little to you?” Your voice is strong and angry, but he can still see the hurt in your eyes.
“That’s not true. I wanted to tell you I was alive, but if Odin found out about us, he would have killed you for treason. I couldn’t let that happen because of how much you mean to me. I was trying to protect you.”
Chewing on your lip you stare into his eyes. Something you learned about him early on, his eyes tend to contradict his words. His eyes are always more truthful. Which is all you are seeing in this moment, truth in his eyes. “What about your time on Midgard? I heard whispers you were getting acquainted with some human women.”
His face skews, his expression matching the disgust in his eyes. “Humans are weak and useless to me. You know I am nothing like my brother. I didn’t fraternize with any humans or anyone for that matter. There is only you.”
You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding and loosen the grip you still had in his hair. “I’d like to believe you. But I think you’re going to have to convince me and do some repenting.” You smirk. Dropping the knife onto the floor, you twist your hand around the collar chain. “And I admit, seeing you in these chains, it’s doing things to me.”
“There’s my naughty girl.” Loki smirks, happy to now be talking to the woman he adores. “Where should I begin with my repentance to earn your forgiveness?”
Moving your hand back to his face you trace your thumb along his bottom lip. “I think we’ll start with this silver tongue of yours. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I had you on your knees.” Then eagerly you press your lips against his for a bruising kiss, having missed the taste of his lips. But you end the kiss all too soon just as he was running his tongue along the seam of your lips. You tug on his bottom lip with your teeth as you pull away. Then move your lips next to his ear. “I do believe I saw your slacks tighten when I had you on your knees. You still like it when I boss you around, don’t you?”
“Yes.” He breathes shakily, feeling his slacks getting even more uncomfortably tight.
“Don’t worry darling, that’s still our little secret.” You say as you nibble on his ear. Then he sees a flash of purple light. You lift his arms over your head, unlooping them from your body. Then climb off his lap, pulling on his chain. “Come darling.” You smile.
He stands up, and follows you, seeing there is now a bed with green silk sheets. You sit down on the bed and pull him with you. “Can we get rid of these now?” He gestures to the chain on his wrists and the collar.
You shake your finger, tsking him. “No, I told you, I’m really enjoying you in these chains. I will give you a little slack for your wrists though.” The chain connecting the cuffs on his wrist extends giving him more range to move his hands. “Go on, feel how excited I am.” You grin as you lean back on the bed.
He hovers above you making you shiver when the cool metal touches your skin as his fingers dip into your waistband. His fingers move downward until he makes contact with your heat. He smiles at you. “All this for me? You’re practically dripping. I can’t wait to taste you again.”
“Better get to work.” You command, while ridding both of you of your clothing. Though you do both take a moment to gaze at each other’s bodies. It feels like a lifetime since you last saw and felt each other.
“Yes, master.” He smirks as he leans down, kissing his way down your body. When he positions himself between your thighs you hook your legs over his shoulders. He licks his lips with a hungry look in his eye. Then licks a stripe up your center, flattening out his tongue, coaxing a moan out of you.
Then he digs in like a man starved on a mission. A mission to please you. His tongue laps at your core, sucking on your clit. Making you roll your hips looking for friction. So he slips two finger inside of you, sliding them in and out as his tongue goes to work.
“Oh Loki!” You moan his name sinfully. Then you reach down, grabbing a handful of his hair, making him hum against your center. The vibrations bring you closer to the edge. “I have missed you!” You cry as he hooks his fingers, hitting that sweet spot.
You roll your hips faster, chasing your orgasm, fucking yourself on his fingers and tongue. Your grip in his hair tightens as your legs begin to shake and you cry out his name as you cum. He works you through your first orgasm and you push his head away when you begin to feel oversensitive. Your chest is heaving like you just ran a marathon.
He smirks at you, his face soaked with all of your juices. “You taste just as divine as I remember. You also look and sound satisfied, am I forgiven?”
“We’re just getting started.” You growl as you sit upright and pull on the chain around his neck. “I admit you are very talented with your tongue. But I’ve missed this too.” You say as you reach down gripping his hard cock. He moans the moment he feels your touch. You give him a few teasing strokes before commanding him to sit down.
He moves to the head of the bed and sits down. “Good boy.” You praise as you climb into his lap, straddling him the same way you were in the chair earlier. You see him preening at your praise and feel his cock twitch beneath you. Looping your arms around his neck you press your lips against his. You can taste yourself on his lips which just turns both of you on more.
His hands go to your hips, and he moans into your mouth as he tries grinding against you. The motion making you clench around nothing, making you ache to have him inside you already. Reaching between your bodies you grab his cock that feels painfully hard lining him up with your entrance and slowly sink down on his length. Both of you moan into each other’s mouths as he stretches and fills you. “You don’t get to cum until I say so, understand?”
“I understand.” He nods, eager to start moving.
“Good, now make me cum again.”
And with that, he grips your hips hard, so hard you’re sure his finger shaped bruises will be left behind as he thrusts up into you.
With your hands on his shoulders you start rolling your hips, bouncing up and down in his lap. “I missed your cock.” You whine, moving your hips faster.
“I missed being inside you. You feel like home.” He gasps.
You pull on the collar, the metal chain between your bodies begins to get warm. This sight of him turns you on more as you chase your second orgasm. “Do you like it when I use you for my own pleasure?” You moan, grinding down hard against him.
“Yes!” He cries in response.
“You like pleasing me, being my good boy, don’t you?”
You feel his cock twitch, and get even harder. “Yes. I do.” He moans, his nails now biting into the skin of your hips. Then he whimpers when you abruptly climb out of his lap and grip the base of his cock.
“I said you can’t cum until I say so.” You growl.
“I’m sorry, you just feel so good.” He whines in his defense.
“Fuck me until I cum all over your cock. Then you may cum.” You say as you move to your hands and knees, pulling his collar chain over your shoulder.
He immediately does as he’s told and moves behind you, pressing your front down with one hand and shoves his cock back inside you in one fast and hard motion. You moan, clenching around his cock and pull on the chain once more. “Harder.”
He didn’t need to be asked twice. He keeps on hand on your back and one on your hip, thankful you gave him the extra slack on the cuffs as he slams into you mercilessly. He has you seeing stars as he pounds into you over and over at a punishing pace.
It doesn’t take long before he feels your walls tightening and spasming around him. You cry out with his name on your lips a second time. He’s also unable to stave off his completion any longer. He works you through your second orgasm as he chases his own.
You feel his cock pulsating as he spills his seed inside you.
Once he’s spilled every last drop, he collapses on top of you. You actually enjoy the weight of him on you. But the chains pinch your skin, so you push him over and then turn to position yourself with your head against his chest.
The two of you just lay there silently for a while, trying to catch your breath. Loki is the first to break the silence with a quiet chuckle. “You’re never going to have me without the chains again, are you? You’re wetter than I’ve ever felt you before.”
You snort out a laugh. “Told you it was doing things to me.”
“So am I forgiven, back in your good graces again?”
“That depends.” You say as you lift your head so you can see his handsome face. “Are you still mine?”
He cups your cheek with his hand and smiles at you. “I never stopped being yours. I will always be yours, and yours alone.”
You smile back at him, a smile you reserve only for him that comes from a warmth only he can fill you with. “Then yes, you’re forgiven.”
“If Odin only knew the type of torture he’s truly sentenced me to.” Loki laughs.
Your smile fades, and your face turns serious. “Yeah about that. I’m going to have to make it look like you endured hours of torture in here.” Loki’s eyes go wide at your words, bordering on the edge of panic. Which makes you unable to keep up the façade any longer, and you start laughing. “Relax, I’ll use my magic. I’d never truly torture you.”
Loki slowly exhales. “Of course, I knew that.”
You kiss him sweetly on the lips and brush his messy hair away from his face. “In all seriousness though I’m going to need you to put on an act to go along with my magic. I fear Thor may be suspicious of us.”
“Has that witless oaf not ruined my life enough!” Loki hisses. “What makes you think that?”
“Odin had sent for me to discuss his plans. I heard Thor arguing with him on my way to the throne room. He was demanding Odin chose someone else for the job. And I don’t think he was doing that out of kindness. He must have suspicions, but no proof to give. So, let’s not give him any reasons.”
Loki sighs heavily, but nods his head. “I will pretend I just endured the worst torture ever instead of pleasing my lover to earn her forgiveness.”
“Good boy.” You wink knowing what that does to him.
He groans and looks at the clock. “One more round, then call for the guards?” He begs.
You gesture your hands toward Loki. “Have you no eyes? Exactly what you see you half-wit.” You growl, making the skittish guards take a step back from you. “He’s had enough for today. We’ll start again tomorrow.”
An hour later, you finally call for the guards. Thank goodness for your magic. Otherwise, you probably would have never rid that room of the smell of sex. Loki looks beaten and bloody. He pretends to be in pain and exhausted. You jab your knife into a nearby table, making the guards jump. “What should we report back to Odin?” One guard asks.
“Same time tomorrow.” The other guard nods, not wanting to irritate you like his cohort.
“Same time tomorrow.” You echo, giving Loki a wink when the guards turn their backs.
You can't wait to torture him again tomorrow.
There's just something about Loki in chains.... I admit I watch Thor 2 purely to see Loki in chains. 🥵
On that note, thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments are appreciated.
Also, here's a link to my original AO3 post:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
warnings/tags: 18+ only mdni, porn with a little plot, smut, oral, unprotected p in v, reader is afab, no use of y/n, reader is an enhanced mortal, loki is a menace in the best possible way, inspired by one of loki’s lines in loki s1, time period unspecified so imagine whatever you’d like
author’s note: i don’t even know what came over me while writing this. this was my first time ever writing for loki so please go easy on me, lol. it’s been a while since i’ve written a smutty drabble like this so… sorry not sorry :))
You feel him before you see him.
It’s a humming sensation beneath your skin that lets you know he’s back in your orbit. No matter the amount of time and space between you, your magic recognizes his magic.
The wards that you wove around your home begin to tremble. It’s only a matter of time before he breaks through. You hadn’t truly intended to keep him out. No, you’ve missed him too much for that. The wards are strong enough to be an inconvenience, nothing more.
When he left, he told you he’d be back in two weeks. That was a month ago. So, perhaps you’re being a little petty. You are still human, after all.
A human with abilities that set you apart from the rest of your kind, yes. But human nonetheless.
A ripple courses through the air and the candles lit throughout the room suddenly blow out all at once as your wards are rendered useless. You don’t have to look up from your book to know that he’s standing just a few feet behind you.
Every fiber of your being screams to run over to him. To run your fingers through his hair and feel his arms around you - but he’s kept you waiting for weeks. You can hold out for a few more minutes.
The floorboards creak as he takes a step forward.
“My heart,” he hums, amusement in his voice. “Was that truly necessary?”
You snort softly, shutting your book without turning to look at him. “You’re late. Two weeks late, in fact.” Another creak of the floorboards as he steps closer. Your breath hitches.
“Ah,” he muses, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “So this is my punishment, then. Cold shoulders and flimsy wards.” You sense his presence looming directly behind you now.
You keep your eyes locked on the dwindling embers within your fireplace, fighting against the way the corners of your lips threaten to tug upwards. “You kept me waiting.”
“I did,” he concedes, voice velvet-smooth. “And what must I do to earn your forgiveness, hm? Shall I plead? Shall I grovel at your feet? Perhaps I should have come bearing gifts.”
Finally, you tilt your head upwards to look at him. He smirks down at you, mischief in his eyes. “I thought gods don’t plead.”
The chair beneath you whirls in an instant, spun with a flick of his magic, and suddenly he’s kneeling before you.
“For you,” he murmurs, his hand slipping into his coat, “I would beg.”
He withdraws a small velvet pouch and sets it delicately in your palm. The weight of it feels deceptively ordinary, until you loosen the drawstrings and dump the contents into the palm of your hand.
A slender ring, crowned with a soft pink stone that glows faintly the moment your fingers brush against it.
You look back and forth between him and the ring. Your mouth hangs open, at a loss for words. “Loki…”
“It’s enchanted,” he says simply. “It will glow whenever I think of you. Which means, I fear, it’ll never stop.”
With one hand, he takes the ring from you. With his other, he takes your hand in his. As gently as if he were touching fine china, he glides the band onto your finger.
It’s ethereal. Otherworldly. You aren’t sure where he got it, but it undoubtedly is not from Earth.
Your thumb brushes over the stone, still glowing faintly against your skin. “I suppose you are forgiven,” you murmur, bringing your palm to caress his jaw. “But just so you know, a month is a long time to us mortals.”
His lips twitch, amusement sparking in his eyes at your teasing tone. “Is it, now?”
“It is when you’re missing the person you most want to be with.”
You don’t mean for the words to sound so raw and honest, but they do. The petty little charade you’d been putting on crumbles as you finally speak what’s on your heart.
For a moment, Loki is quiet, studying you as though you’ve just given him something as priceless as the orchid colored stone that now adorns your finger. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and steady.
“I’ve been alive for over a millennium,” he says, his blue eyes fixed on yours, “but this past month without you… it felt longer than all of those centuries combined.”
Your chest tightens, and you can’t help but smile. “You’re as dramatic as me sometimes. You know that?”
He grins, but it doesn’t lessen the gravity of his words. “And that,” he hums, bringing your hand up to his lips, “is one of the many reasons that we go so well together, darling.”
His hand lingers on yours a moment longer before sliding upward, tracing along your wrist, then your arm, as though he can’t help himself. By the time his fingers reach your jaw, his touch is firm, possessive in a way that sends heat rushing through you.
You lean into his palm without thinking. The tension that’s been crackling between you - equal parts mischief and longing - sparks into something more dangerous.
When his lips first brush yours, it’s tentative. But the second you kiss him back, the restraint shatters. The kiss turns hungry. Desperate. The kind of kiss that tries to erase every ounce of the last month’s absence.
His hands roam, sliding down your sides until they settle on your thighs with enough force to make you gasp into his mouth. He spreads your legs apart and leans in closer, caging you against the back of your recliner. The moan that escapes you is swallowed by him as he kisses you harder, his tongue sweeping past your lips to dance with yours.
“Too many layers,” he growls. A shimmer of green flickers through the air, and suddenly your clothes are gone, leaving you bare beneath his palms. He drags them slowly up your torso, savoring every inch of exposed skin before cupping your breasts. The groan that rumbles from his chest feels involuntary, as though the sight of you is enough to break his composure entirely.
His mouth abandons yours, trailing lower and lower - along your jawline, down your throat, across your collarbones. Hot, wet kisses leave a trail down your sternum, until he reaches your belly button.
“I’ve dreamt of tasting you,” he murmurs against your skin, “of kneeling before you like this, until you beg me not to stop.”
Your breath stutters, the heat of his words pooling between your legs as he spreads them further apart.
“Beautiful,” he rasps, leaning in until his breath ghosts over your folds. He parts you with his thumbs, then licks a slow, deliberate stripe up the center, savoring the way your whole body jolts in the chair.
“Loki—” your voice cracks on his name, your hands fisting in his hair as he seals his mouth around your clit and sucks hard, tongue flicking with blinding precision.
The chair creaks under you as your hips jerk helplessly, but he pins you in place, relentless in his ministrations. The room fills with the slick sounds of his mouth working you, punctuated by your gasps and moans. He hums against you, savoring every sound he pulls from you.
It’s overwhelming - simultaneously too much and not enough. With a whimper, you seize his jaw in both hands, tugging him up for a kiss. His mouth is wet, his lips slick with you, and the taste of yourself on his tongue makes you moan even louder into the kiss.
You need more.
Your magic responds to your desire before you’re able to form a coherent thought. The room blurs, and in an instant you’re no longer in the chair. You and Loki tumble onto your bed in a tangle of limbs, mouths still fused together.
He pulls back with a smirk, clearly delighted. “Mm,” he hums. “My clever girl.”
Golden sparks of your magic fade, leaving you sprawled on the bed with him above you, lips swollen and slick from kissing you. He wastes no time sliding back down your body, spreading your thighs wide again with a hungry look that makes your whole body buzz with anticipation.
He begins dragging his tongue through your folds once more, lapping at you like he’s been starving for the last month. His fingers grip your thighs to hold you open, his mouth devouring you, tongue flicking and circling until you’re writhing on the sheets. He slips two fingers inside, curling them just right while his tongue works your clit, building the pressure until your body arches, teeters, and finally shatters.
You’re still trembling when he pulls away, licking his lips, eyes dark with desire. He crawls up the bed, kissing you deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue before flipping you onto your side and pressing his chest to your back.
“Not done with you,” he growls against your ear, his hand sliding down your body to hook under your thigh. He lifts your leg, opening you for him, and you feel the thick heat of his cock pressing against your entrance.
You’re cocooned against him, his chest hot against your spine, his breath ragged in your ear and his hand keeping your leg high as he slowly pushes inside. Inch by inch he fills you, and the angle has you gasping, nails clawing at the sheets as he bottoms out with a groan.
“Gods…” he exhales, his teeth grazing your neck as he stills, letting you adjust to the stretch. “You’re perfect like this. Mine.”
When he begins to move, the strokes are deep, gliding, each one hitting a spot that has you keening. His grip tightens on your thigh, holding you open, driving into you with controlled precision. You cry out, clutching at his arm, your head falling back against his shoulder. He kisses your temple, your jaw, your throat. “Come apart for me again,” he whispers hoarsely into your ear, snapping his hips harder.
Your orgasm rips through you, body spasming around him, clenching so tight he groans and thrusts erratically, spilling into you with a shudder, his teeth biting down gently on your shoulder as he rides it out.
For a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths, the weight of his body pressed flush to yours, and the vibrant glow of the ring on your finger that pulses like a heartbeat.
Then, he falls back against the mattress, pulling out of you. You turn around, and he tugs you against his chest, taking your hand in his and examining the ring.
“It’s stunning,” you whisper with a soft kiss to his chest. “Thank you.”
He sighs beneath you, his lips grazing your forehead. “It’s the least I could do after leaving you lonely for the last month.”
You exhale a laugh, sleep threatening to overtake you now that you’re back in his arms. “As much as I love it, I’d prefer having you over jewels, though. No matter how beautiful they are.”
You feel him smile into your hair. “How does both sound?”
“Both would be ideal.”
He cackles at that, and tightens his hold around you. “Duly noted, darling.”
thank you so much for reading. reblogs and comments are very appreciated 🫶🏻 dividers by @/strangergraphics
AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have logan howlett brain rot and i’m not sorry. big smooch to everyone who let me yell about this to them including @eupheme @pedgito @wannab-urs @chaotic-mystery @kedsandtubesocks @undrthelights and @murder-wife 💕
WARNINGS: post deadpool & wolverine, variant!logan howlett, able bodied reader, reader being picked up (enhanced strength babyyyy), roommates to lovers trope, meddlesome pet cat, a splash of canon typical violence - mentions of blood and knife wounds, wade wilson/deadpool appearances, mild angst, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact) - dirty talk, pain kink, biting, pet names, praise kink, oral sex - m & f receiving, a little dacryphilia during a blowjob, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, begging, size kink. if i’ve missed any, please let me know!
LINKS: masterlists | support for palestine
If Logan has to wake up to Wade's constant yapping for the rest of his life, he's going to go insane. Every morning he's jolted awake by Wade singing in the kitchen. When he notices Logan is awake, the singing stops and the one-sided conversation begins and doesn't end until Logan finally gets up from the couch and leaves the apartment with nothing but the clothes on his back.
Today, with some money in his pocket from a few odd jobs he's picked up, he finds solace in a quiet coffee shop. Sat beside a bulletin board, he scans the postings.
Art show, art show, yard sale, job opening, roommate wanted, art show--
Roommate wanted? Logan tears the paper from the pin.
Room for rent in 2 bedroom/1 bathroom apartment. One cat. Laundry on site.
He folds the ad up and stuffs the paper in the pocket of his jacket before gathering his empty coffee cup and tossing it in the trash on the way out the door, an uncharacteristic spring in his step.
Your phone rings with a number you don't recognize. You consider sending it to voicemail, already exhausted from fielding similar calls about your room for rent, but ultimately decide to answer.
"Hello?"
A man clears his throat on the other end of the line before responding with, "This the number for the rental?"
"Yep," you reply. "Were you interested in seeing it or have any questions?"
"How much is it?"
"Your half would be $950.”
"And it's a whole bedroom?"
"As opposed to a half bedroom?" You laugh at your joke but the man remains quiet and you wince. "I mean, yes. It's a whole bedroom."
"I'd like to come see it, if you've got the time."
"Sure, how's this Friday sound?" You suggest. "What's your full name?"
"Why do you need to know that?" The man's tone grows defensive and alarm bells ring in your head.
"Well, I'd like to make sure you're not, like, a wanted criminal or something," you tell him with an awkward laugh. He's quiet and for a moment you think that he may have hung up on you. "Hello?"
"Yeah, 'm still here," he sighs. "Name's Logan Howlett."
"Logan Howlett," you repeat. You give him your name in return, though he doesn't do much but grunt in acknowledgment. "Alright, well, do you have something to write down the address?"
"Just tell me, I'll remember."
After listing off the address, he ends the call with a rough goodbye. You get to work on your personal research, entering his name into a search engine.
No results.
You refresh the page, thinking that must be an error, but the same message appears.
No results.
You try spelling his name differently.
No results.
You set the phone down, anxiety starting to creep up your spine. It's hard to believe that there's absolutely nothing online about this man, who now has your full address, name, and phone number.
A sharp meow shakes you from your thoughts and you find that your cat has taken up residence on your lap, staring at you intently as his tail flicks back and forth. You run your hand over his head, scratching beneath his chin.
"You'll protect me, right?" You ask.
He leaps from your lap and struts away, fluffy tail disappearing down the hall that leads to your bedroom. You sigh.
Hopefully you haven’t just done something stupid.
Logan's attempt to leave the apartment unnoticed does not go as planned. Althea is sitting on the couch, a re-run of a talk show playing loudly, when he tries to make a run for it. He's distracted, watching her too carefully that he doesn't realize Wade has just returned from god-knows-where.
"Whatcha doin', twinkle toes?" Wade asks, startling Logan, who slams into the kitchen table with a curse.
"Fucking hell," Logan curses, rubbing his hip. "When did you get in here?"
Wade shrugs. "Sometime around the start of your 007 impression."
"My what?"
"Nevermind," Wade sighs. "You look snazzy. Got a hot date?"
"No," Logan grunts.
"A cold date, then?"
Logan pinches his nose. "No."
"Well, care to share, sugar plum? What's got you sneaking around like the Black Widow?"
"The who?"
"May she rest in peace," Wade says, tone suddenly somber.
"He's tryin' to move out," Althea chimes in. Wade's mouth drops open in shock.
"You're abandoning us?!" he exclaims. "After all we've been through?"
"Let the man do what he wants," Althea says. "Damn co-dependent freak."
"Harsh," - Wade places a hand over his chest, -"you know I have daddy issues. And mommy issues. And abandonment issues. And--"
"Enough," Logan snaps. "Yes, alright? I'm looking for a new place. I can't sleep on that couch forever."
"Is it because it smells like old people?" Wade whispers, pointing an accusatory finger to Althea, who flips him off.
"Look, this is your universe. Your timeline. Mine is gone and it's time I start making this whole thing less temporary."
Wade tilts his head and places a hand on Logan's shoulder. "My little Wolvie, all grown up," he says, wiping at a fake tear. Logan shoves his hand away, storming past him for the door.
"Remember to smile! Give 'em the ol' razzle dazzle!" Wade shouts as he slams the door behind him.
You pace your small living room and check the stove clock for the hundredth time in the past five minutes. Logan is due to see the apartment and your nerves have gone from a simmer to a full blown boil waiting for the mysterious man with no digital footprint to show up. Your cat is lounging on the windowsill, blissfully unaware of your inner panic.
Three sharp knocks at the door cause your pulse to skyrocket. You take a deep breath before crossing the short distance to the door, pulling it open with a smile.
"Hi! You must be--“
Your greeting dies on your tongue as you take in the man crowding your hallway. He's wearing a leather jacket over a white tank top that stretches tightly across a broad chest and jeans that highlight thick thighs. His dark hair is cut shorter on the sides than on the top of his head, the ends fanning out in a manner that reminds you of a cat's ears and he's sporting an impressively thick beard.
"'m Logan," he says in the same deep voice you heard over the phone, holding a hand out towards you. You slip your palm against his much larger one and you're surprised by how warm his touch is.
"H-hi," you stutter, shaking his hand. You clear your throat. "Sorry, hi. Uh, come on in."
You move aside to let him through the doorway, not missing the fact that his shoulders practically brush the frame as he steps inside. Your apartment opens up directly into the living room and kitchen with a small dining area set in between and you gesture around.
"Well, this is most of it, to be honest. I know it's not much but--"
"It's quiet," Logan interrupts. "Ain't used to quiet."
"Where, uh," -- you twist the hem of your shirt -- "where are you coming from? Exactly?"
"Kind of a long story. Right now I sleep on a couch in a shitty one bedroom apartment shared by an asshole who doesn't shut the fuck up and a blind cocaine addict."
"Oh," you reply, nodding despite your lack of understanding. "Yeah, it's just me here. Well, and Dumpling."
"Dumpling?"
As if summoned by his name, your cat appears, making a swift beeline for the newcomer. He twists around Logan's legs, butting his head against his shins. You bend down, scooping him up in your arms.
"This is Dumpling. He's cute, but he'll knock over any plants so I wouldn't recommend you take up indoor gardening if you decide to live here." Logan eyes Dumpling warily before holding a hand out. Dumpling sniffs his fingers daintily and rubs head against his palm. "I think he likes you."
Logan huffs, the sound close to a laugh, and it makes you smile. He looks up at you and for a moment you forget that you're complete strangers who have just met. He feels inexplicably familiar, his presence comforting, and you're surprised by it.
"Let's look at the bedroom," you finally say, breaking the moment. You turn, heading for the hall and he follows behind you, steps surprisingly light for such a large man. You take him to the last door at the end of the hall and enter the empty room. "This is it. It's kind of small, but all the rooms in New York are pretty much shoe boxes. It's got a closet and access to the fire escape, though.”
"Better than the couch," he says, looking around the room. "You said $950?"
"Plus half of the utilities," you add. He nods.
"Look, I'll be honest. I'm...between jobs right now." He sighs. "And my schedule can be...unpredictable."
"Oh," you mumble. You think about it for a moment. Renting the apartment to Logan would be a risk but...you can't help but notice that exhaustion in his eyes, how it's clear he's trying to get back on his feet in one way or another. "That's okay. We can work something out."
He raises an eyebrow at you. "Really? You sure about that?"
Were you?
"Yeah," you reply. "I'm sure."
Having a roommate is...an adjustment.
Logan is great. He does his dishes in a timely manner, doesn't leave any clothes on the bathroom floor, and even cleans Dumpling's litter box from time to time.
But he drives you insane and it has nothing to do with his qualities as a roommate and everything to do with how unbearably attractive he is. He could be doing the most mundane activity and suddenly you're more turned on than a faucet on full blast. On top of it all, he's surprisingly sweet for such a gruff man.
Currently, you're watching him pour himself a glass of whiskey. You know he's probably preparing to take the drink to his room so that he can have a cigar on the fire escape, but you find yourself wanting his company.
"Logan?" you ask. He looks at you over his shoulder.
"Yeah, bub?"
"Would you...want to watch a movie? With me?"
He turns to fully face you, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of his drink, dark eyes on you over the rim of the glass. You swallow nervously, prepared to retract your offer and hide out in your room for the rest of eternity, but he puts you out of your misery.
"Sure." He comes over to the couch, taking a seat that's a respectable distance away. "What are we watching?"
"Have you seen The Greatest Showman?"
A musical. He's sitting through a goddamn musical.
"You kinda look like that guy," you say from beside him. Logan tilts his head.
"I don't see it."
"It's the bone structure."
"I'm bigger than him." You mumble something under your breath that he doesn't quite catch, though he thinks it sounded suspiciously like yeah, you are. "You say somethin'?"
"Huh?" You shake your head. "No, nope. Didn't say anything."
Logan relaxes against the back of the couch, settling in. You're curled up against the armrest, a blanket covering your legs and your arms wrapped around a throw pillow. You look relaxed, at ease, a stark contrast to how you had been when he first moved in. You spent more of your time hidden in your room and he's happy to see you're getting more comfortable around him.
It's also torture. You're like a drug that he can't get enough of, a high that doesn't last long enough. He clings desperately to every smile you grace him with and falls asleep with the sound of your voice echoing in his head. He wakes up looking forward to seeing you, even if it's just in passing before you head out for your very normal job as part of your very normal life.
That's what gives him pause. You're not like him, not built for violence, and he would never drag you into that life. He thinks about Vanessa and Wade and the wedge that was driven between them they're working to repair and he can't bear the thought of having you just to lose you.
Logan's so lost in his own thoughts he doesn't realize that the movie has ended and you haven't moved. Your head is angled in a way that has to be uncomfortable, your mouth dropped open as you breathe slowly and deeply. He grabs the remote from the coffee table and turns the TV off, plunging the room into darkness as he stands and quietly approaches you.
He slides one arm beneath your knees and using the other to support your back, lifts you from the couch. You settle your head against his chest but otherwise your sleep remains undisturbed as he carries you down the hall into your room.
It's not the first time he's been in your personal space. One time he woke up to Dumpling clawing at his chest and he marched the animal back to your room for the night, barging in on you while you had been up reading. He remembers the queen sized bed in a wooden frame and a dresser with a drawer that won't shut take up most of the space, the plain white of your walls replaced by a soft blue. You've installed what he first thought were regular shelves but later learned are meant for Dumpling to use for late night acrobatics that he can sometimes hear from his room.
Logan sets you gently on your bed and pulls the quilt up to your shoulders. Before he can think better of it, he reaches a hand toward your face, tracing his thumb over the high point of your cheek. You turn towards the sensation, chasing his touch, and his chest grows tight. He sighs, stepping back and turning for the door.
Dumpling sits in the doorway, flicking his tail. Logan steps around him into the hallway, the cat's gaze following him.
"Shut up," he whispers.
Dumpling meows in return.
You're disoriented when you wake the next morning. The last thing you remember is being on the couch with Logan and watching The Greatest Showman, but somehow you've ended up in your room. You turn over in bed to find Dumpling on your other pillow, curled in a ball.
"Morning, Dumpy," you murmur, scratching his head. "How'd we end up here?"
Dumpling blinks unhelpfully at you before uncurling from his spot and hopping from the bed, leaving through your open door. It's then that you notice that you can hear grunting noises coming from the living room.
You get up to investigate and stop dead in your tracks, mouth dropping open when you find the source of the noise is a shirtless Logan doing push ups on the living room floor. The broad muscles of his back ripple with each movement, each push accompanied by a small grunt that makes your thighs clench together, imagining him making that noise when--
Logan stops, jumping to his feet and you shake your head free of the salacious image it began to create. He turns, giving you an uninhibited view of his thick chest that's covered in dark hair that trails down over defined abs before disappearing beneath the elastic of his sweatpants. You have to say something, anything, but your brain is full of static, unable to operate when he's standing there looking like that.
"Morning," he says.
"Good morning!" you reply, voice pitched higher than usual. You walk past him in a way you hope is casual, heading for the kitchen and prepping the coffee machine. "You got any plans today?"
"Got a friend who needs my help with something. Don't know when I'll be back." His voice is much closer than you expected and you turn from the counter to find him right behind you, a scant few inches of space between your bodies.
"Oh?" you whisper, keeping your gaze firmly on his face. "Is everything okay?"
"It will be."
He drifts impossibly closer, chest nearly brushing yours. Your heart pounds in your chest, a frantic rhythm that's become familiar ever since Logan entered your life. Reaching above your head, he grabs two mugs in one large hand, setting them on the counter behind you before taking a step back and turning to head for his room without another glance in your direction.
You sag against the counter, a wave of lust addled adrenaline crashing over you and leaving you breathless. The last thing you need to be doing is getting involved with your roommate, no matter how tempting he may be.
Dumpling jumps up on the counter beside the coffee pot and stares at you, likely waiting for food, but it feels more like judgment in his green eyes.
"Shut up," you whisper to him.
Dumpling meows, batting you with a paw.
You're sitting on the couch when there's an unexpected knock at your door. Logan is still gone, helping a friend and you're not expecting anyone, so you’re not sure who it could be. You check the peephole before opening the door and see the distorted image of a man in a red suit and mask supporting the weight of your roommate against his side.
"What the fuck?" you ask as you open the door in a panicked rush. The masked man waves his fingers at you.
"Hi there! I've got a very," -- he grunts, adjusting his grip on Logan -- "heavy delivery."
Logan's eyes are closed, head flopped back on the masked man's shoulder. Blood stains his t-shirt in spots that look suspiciously like knife wounds and you gasp.
"What happened to him?!" you shout. "Oh my god, he needs to go to the hospital--"
"He just needs a little power nap," the man says. "I'm Wade, by the way. You mind if I just--"
Wade drags Logan through the apartment, depositing him on your couch with a huff, wiping his hands together. He looks around and you're shocked when the eyes of the mask seem to move, as if mimicking his facial expressions.
"This is a nice place," he says. Dumpling meows and Wade gasps. "You have a cat?! I wish I could pet you, sweet kitty, but Dogpool would put me in the dog house. Ha! Get it?"
"I'm confused," you manage to say. "My roommate is bleeding out on my couch after being dropped off by some wanna-be Avenger--"
"Ouch!"
"And you're saying he doesn't need to go to the emergency room?"
"Nope." Wade lifts Logan's shirt. "See? Good as new."
Despite the blood and tears on his shirt, there's no wounds on Logan's body. He shifts, lifting an arm to smack Wade's hand away as he groans, eyes fluttering open. He glares at the man.
"Get out," he growls.
"Now, now, that's not being a very good host, Logi. What, were you raised by wolves?" Wade replies. Logan roars, a ferocious sound that's more animal than man. His hand curls into a fist and sharp metal blades extend from between his knuckles. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving, no need for the murder mittens." Wade looks at you. "You should come to Sunday dinner!"
"Wilson!" Logan shouts. Wade finally heeds the man's warnings, rushing for the door without another word, shutting it behind him. Logan sags against the couch, blades retracting into his hand. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes.
You stand there in shock, trying to make sense of everything you just witnessed. Logan should be halfway to dead by now, but he doesn't even have a scratch on him. He has claws. How does he have claws?
"Can hear you thinking," Logan says, eyes still shut. "Just say it."
"Say what?" you ask. He lifts his head.
"Tell me to get out, scream, whatever it is."
You sit down on the couch, facing him. "Why would I do that?"
"Because that's what you should be doing."
His hand rests on his thigh and you reach for it, lifting it to eye level for a closer look at his knuckles. You trace your thumb over the smooth skin, up over his strong forearm. He watches you, face almost pained.
"I'm not scared of you," you whisper. "You wouldn't hurt me."
"But I could," he bites back.
"You won't." You're certain of that. You set his hand back on his thigh and stand from the couch, intending to grab him a glass of water from the kitchen, but he stops you with a hand around your wrist. His grip is loose enough that you could break free, but you don't.
Logan looks up at you with an unreadable expression, something close to fear mixed with a conflicting emotion that you think -- or hope -- might be desire. He tugs your wrist, bringing you to stand between his legs.
"How can you be so sure?" he asks.
You place your hand on his cheek, the coarse hair of his beard scratching at your palm. His eyelids flutter and his lips part on a sharp inhale.
"You're a good man, Logan Howlett," you murmur. He closes his eyes tightly and takes a deep breath.
His next movements are quick -- a hand on the back of your thigh, dragging you onto his lap, the other wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you close, his lips capturing yours in a savage kiss. You melt into him, meeting his urgency with your own desperation, tongues tangling together and fighting for dominance.
You pull back to trail kisses across his jaw until you reach his neck, sinking your teeth into the tan skin, just over his hammering pulse. Logan groans, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, pulling you tightly against him as his hips buck into yours.
"Fuck," Logan says, voice a deep rumble that you feel to your marrow. "Do that again."
"Do what?" you tease.
"Bite me," he demands. "Make it hurt."
You obey, biting down into his shoulder with greater effort, sinking your teeth in deep until he hisses from the pain of it and you let go, lifting your head to look at the mark you've left behind. It fades quickly, disappearing without a trace.
"Jesus," he says, pulling you in for another kiss, slow and deep, as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "Let me see you."
You allow him to lift your shirt up and over your head, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. His touch makes you shiver despite the heat of his hands as he traces the curve of your waist up to your chest, his thumbs finding your nipples and teasing them with slow circles. You drop your head back with a moan and he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, your collarbone, moving down until his lips wrap around one taut bud.
"Logan," you whine, digging your fingers into his hair and holding tight. He hums, the sensation making your eyes roll.
"Thought about this," he murmurs, switching to your other breast. "Every time you'd wear those goddamn tight shirts of yours."
"Really?"
"Mhm."
"Wanna know what I thought about?" You tug his hair, pulling his head away from your chest. "Sucking your cock."
He raises his eyebrow at you and you take the opportunity to slide from his lap, settling on your knees between his spread thighs. You work his belt loose, followed by the fly of his jeans. He reaches past the waistband to free his cock and your mouth waters at the sight. You could tell he was big while you were on his lap, but he's even more glorious than you imagined. Thick, long, with prominent veins and a slight upward curve that you know will hit all the right places.
You take him in your hand, appreciating the weight of him in your palm as you hold him steady. With your eyes locked on his face, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue to lick from the top of your fingers to the flushed head. He groans, his hand curling into a fist that he presses to his forehead.
"Fuck," Logan hisses. You do it again, this time swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him into your mouth, moving down his length slowly. "God, look at you. Mouth stuffed so full you're drooling, huh?"
He's right. Spit gathers at the corners of your lips and runs down your chin as you use your mouth to pleasure him. The sounds he makes above you are downright filthy, deep moans and filthy praise that have you moving faster, taking him deeper, working to get as much of him in your mouth as you manage without gagging. He cups your cheek with one large palm, thumb tracing your stretched lips.
"Keep going, sweetheart. You can take a little more, can't you? That's it," he says. Tears burn your cheeks with the effort to obey, your throat tightening around the head of his cock. "Fuck, that's a good girl."
You breathe deeply through your nose, maintaining a steady pace and using your hand in tandem with your mouth for what you can't easily take. Logan's hips begin to flex beneath you, his words trailing off into guttural growls. His cock twitches in your grasp and he moans your name before his release floods your mouth and you swallow it down.
You pull off of him with a slick pop, gasping for breath. Before you can say anything, Logan is hauling you to your feet as he stands from the couch, lifting you up with one strong arm beneath your ass and urging your legs around his waist.
"What are you doing?" you ask.
"Just getting started."
Logan kicks the door open to your room, startling Dumpling from his perch. The cat races out the door, disappearing into the living area as the door clicks shut. He sets you down on your bed and quickly rids himself of his boots and rest of his clothing before returning his attention to you.
You're lying there in your little sleep shorts that drive him nuts. The fabric barely covers your ass and there's been more than one occasion where he's shuffled into the kitchen in the mornings to see you in them, all the blood in his body rushing south at the sight. He joins you on the bed, on his knees between your spread thighs, and extends a single claw. Your eyes widen, but you don't pull away. In fact, you start squirming, hips flexing minutely against the mattress.
"Scared yet?" he asks.
"I wouldn't say that.”
He carefully slips the blade beneath the hem of your shorts, inching it up until it peeks out above the elastic waistband before twisting his wrist and slicing through the fabric like it's nothing. Claw retracted, he removes your ruined shorts and takes a moment to appreciate the vision you make, legs spread wide and your dripping pussy on display.
"You're a mess," he says, smoothing his hands over the soft skin of your legs. He lifts one of your knees, pressing a kiss to the inside of it before resting it on his shoulder. "Gonna clean you up."
Logan dips his head to your center, dragging his tongue through your soaked sex, groaning when the taste of you blooms across his tongue. Your fingers curl against his scalp, a sharp point of pleasure-pain as he explores your body. He swirls his tongue over your clit, experimenting with broad circles and sharp flicks until you're writhing beneath him.
"Logan," you cry, hips bucking against his face. He dips his tongue into your cunt, nose brushing your clit as he does, and he hums in satisfaction as your thighs tense around his head.
He looks up at you and drinks in the picture you make, gorgeous skin glistening with sweat and your back arched from the bed, chest heaving with desperate breaths. He wants this exact moment burned into his memory, certain it could chase away the dark shadows that linger there.
Logan presses two fingers to your hole, sliding them in with little resistance. You're so warm and tight, squeezing his fingers beautifully, calling out his name as he curls them when he drags them from your body.
"I'm going to come," you gasp. "Oh, fuck, just like that!"
You pulse around his fingers and he slows his movements to work you through it until you collapse against the mattress with a deep sigh. He carefully removes his hand and sits up on his knees.
"Guess I made more of a mess," Logan says. Your eyes squeeze shut with a breathless giggle.
"I'll forgive you," you reply. You reach your arms up for him and he moves to hover over you to accept your embrace. "God, Logan," you murmur, tilting your chin up to kiss him.
In this position, he's able to drag his cock through the slick mess between your thighs and you shiver beneath him, gasping into his mouth. He does it again, more purposeful this time and it drags a moan from you both.
"Please," you murmur.
"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you want," he replies. "What you need."
"Need you to fuck me."
Logan reaches between your bodies and positions the thick head of his cock at your entrance, pushing forward. The stretch of him is unreal, almost too much even with how wet you are for him.
"Relax," he says, holding himself steady above you. "You can take it."
You nod and he pushes forward another inch, letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickles your sensitive skin. You've never been so full, no other experience compares to this. No other man compares to Logan, in any way.
He starts moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you're nearly empty before plunging back inside. Each thrust puts stars in your vision, makes the knot of want and need coil tighter in your lower belly, until you're moaning his name and begging him to move faster, harder, deeper.
Logan obeys, thrusting into you with enough force that your head board collides with the wall. He sits back on heels, dragging you up with him until you're sitting in his lap and he's able to thrust up into you.
"Feel so fucking good," he says, lips against your neck. "Need you to come for me, baby."
You nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and holding him close, meeting each of his thrusts with a rock of your hips that drags your clit against him, your nerves buzzing with the friction and fullness. While the orgasm he wrenched from you with his mouth felt like a wildfire, this one builds and builds, a wave cresting until it finally crashes and you cry out his name.
Logan leans forward to drop you back onto the bed, reaching a hand up to grip your headboard as he continues to roll his hips into yours, chasing his own release. His thrusts begin to grow more desperate until he presses in deep and you're flooded with warmth as he growls, long and low. The sound of splintering wood breaks through your post-orgasmic haze and you tilt your head back to find that his claws have extended through your headboard, splitting the wood and embedding into the drywall.
"I can fix that," Logan says breathlessly, tugging his hand free, claws retracting. You grin at him.
"Later," you reply, pulling him in for a kiss.
You've got better things to do right now.
Thank you so much for reading! For more of my writing, check out my masterlists!
Imagine if Loki found a way to stay inside of the TVA, like a CEO type ordeal. You were one of the few who decided to stay at the TVA once all the branches came to life. I mean, it's all you've ever known. Why leave? It caused you and Mobius to become closer, and that's when Mobius introduced you to Loki...
And it was like pouring gasoline on a campfire.
"I see why they made you Director of Strategics..." Loki first commented when you met, organizing one of your files by not only color, but alphabetical order. You were compared to the likes of Renslayer when it came to your skill and loyalty, but you didn't do it to curl around the Timekeeper's thumb, no... You literally did it simply for the love of the game.
And that's why Loki couldn't get enough of you.
It started out as innocent, really, with little teases and pinches on your side when he passed. Off-hand comments like "I don't think my boss should be talking to me that way," and "And I don't think my employee should be talking to me that way."
Then it evolved after a few glasses of wine in his office to closed-door kisses. Gentle whispers of the most devious things Loki could conjure up just to see you turn red in front of your peers. Only Mobius got the hint.
After months and months of tension, the pot finally boiled over one night after a tedious day of work. Your ass cheeks were indented into his desk, creasing your skirt as Loki's right hand held a tight grip against your nape, enveloping his own lips between yours.
You were breathless, he was flushed. His left hand molded you against his crotch to allow you to feel just what all you did to him. How you reduced the God of all Time to tremors of need.
"Up." He directed, lifting you by both thighs and sitting you fully onto his desk, shoving files and other stationery out of the way to make room.
"What happened to sending me home to get some well-earned rest?" You teased, breathless.
"Is that truly what you want?"
You sighed, shaking your head and craning your neck at just his tone. He dove headfirst, peppering small and large kisses alike all up from the shell of your ear to where your collarbone met your lapel. For a frost giant, he was burning alive.
"Don't worry though, I'll still make sure you have enough time to get some rest tonight." He smirked, wasting absolutely no time shucking you of your uniform, pulling that tight little skirt you mercilessly teased him in down to your ankles, diving right in between your thighs to lick all of you with no forewarning.
"Jesus Christ- Loki." You whined, gripping his hair. His tongue was freezing cold, an ice cube circling around your clit and into your cunt.
That didn't stop him, though. Nothing but your word would stop him right now in this moment. He needed you, and he needed all of you. He couldn't wait to make you cum. If you thought that his tongue was euphoric, wait until you felt his cock.
"Already worked up?" He whispered, unbuttoning his pants and sliding them just enough to free himself. "We just started."
You whimpered, grinding up against his tip that he dragged along your once freezing folds. His dick was much warmer, shocking your insides.
He was so damn thick, dragging himself in and out in slow strokes to get you acclimated inch by inch until his hips met your own. By that time, you were already a drunken mess, bucking with each thrust. You wouldn't call yourself the most patient person in the world, either.
"So desperate." Loki sighed, beginning a regular motion in and out, in and out, in and out, catching just a graze of your g-spot every time he bottomed out.
"Fucking hell, Loki-" You stammered, one hand splayed along the desk for balance and the other anchoring yourself to his shoulder. You were beginning to slide off the hardwood of the desk, so he took it upon himself to hold you by both ass cheeks. Now he controlled not only his thrusts, but yours as well.
You swore you were seeing stars, barely comprehending the words Loki was whispering to you hot against the shell of your ear.
"You were made for me, I swear it. Every time I'm around you, you drive me mad. Do you know how powerful you are? To drive the God of madness mad?" He growled, trailing down to meet your jugular with his teeth.
"Too much- I'm gonna cum-" You warned, breath choppy and fanning against his own. He just filled you so perfectly and hit every spot like he had done this a thousand times over.
Loki's pace quickened, brutal with his cockhead jutting right against your g-spot. "Cum then." He muttered, bringing one hand to position your jaw where you had no other choice but to look him in the eyes. "On one condition." He enunciated every word with the drag of his cock.
"Say my name."
"Loki."
He made a content hum, but shook his head. "Say my name." A warning, like you didn't do it right the first time.
"Loki." You whined, louder in pitch.
"Say my name!" He barked, jerking your jaw closer to his face.
"Loki!" You screamed out, squeezing your eyes shut as you finally let yourself cum. White climbed up your vision, face seizing into numbness with your mouth hanging open to strangle out pitiful excuses for moans, lost in your own euphoria.
Then, Loki came unraveled for the first time in a millenia. With you squeezing impossibly tight around him, he began to realize he was enthralled by just your presence and more. He genuinely couldn't get enough of you. Your voice. Your taste.
He needed more, and he couldn't wait.
"I'm so sorry-" Loki huffed, still rutting into you pathetically.
You managed to drag your head up, meeting him with dreary and fucked-out eyes. "For-for what, Loki?"
But before he could answer, he was jerking himself back in time, just before your initial orgasm. He wanted to feel you squeeze around him again, to cry out for him again, and with his newfound powers, he had all the time in the world to feel like for however long he wanted, and you would be none the wiser. As far as he was concerned, his powers only sent him back in time.
So he kept going.
He jutted back into you, allowing himself to become hard once more until he felt his peak building again. He was beginning to match the pitch of your moans, but you were becoming desperate. Even more desperate than he remembered the first time.
And then you came, and he followed shortly after, savoring the feeling of your walls strangling his cock to death. God, you were so warm, and he was so cold. You were made for each other.
Again.
Time was sent reeling backwards, pulling you and Loki just before your orgasms once more. It became a game. How close could he get to just before the moment you were cumming?
He was lost within his own euphoria, pressing his forehead to your chest as his cockhead pressed gentle kisses against your cervix. He had waited so long for this. He was patient with you. He allowed you to come to him. He allowed you to make the first move. He made sure you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. That's what made this all the more enthralling.
So he couldn't be satisfied with just one or two measly orgasms.
Again.
Again.
Again.
It must have been five rounds of you milking him dry, and it still wasn't enough. You turned him into an animal, grunting and growling against the heat of your neck as he unleashed yet another orgasm, totally lost in his own world of euphoria.
Until you finally snapped him from it.
"Loki!" You finally screeched, higher than the rest of your mantras, bursting into tears as you pressed your feeble hands against his abdomen. He jumped from his thoughts in response, the muddy and muffled sound around him clearing.
"Fucking-fuck, no more! No more- too much- way too much- Oh my God, I'm so sore-"
Loki's strokes slowed, the periwinkle hue of his irises glinting against the sweat of your body. "Too much?" He sighed, resting his member inside of you.
You were dripping with his cum, walls unbearably sore as cramps were already enveloping your abdomen from the abuse he unleashed on your cervix. This wasn't even to mention how bright red your clit was. Fuck walking tomorrow, you don't even know if you're going to wake up for the next twelve hours.
That's when the pieces of the puzzle slowly pulled together in his mind.
"Have you been feeling. every time you've cum?"
You crinkled your eyebrows in disbelief. "Yes! Oh my God, yes. Have you not heard me- heard me begging?"
Loki flushed, brushing a strand of sweaty raven hair from his eyes. Frankly, he hadn't been listening. He figured you were just saying what you said the first time you came. Did this mean that when he went back in time, anyone he touched went back with him?
"Stars, I... I didn't know." He stammered, at a total loss for words, watching the tears roll down your cheeks as your hands weakly found solace among his shoulders. You had to have orgasms almost six times now.
"I'm sorry."
He raised you up, pulling you flush against his chest before pulling out of you. You were flooded, dripping teardrops of his cum down your thighs to match the ones on your cheeks. "Let's get you cleaned up, little dove."
The arrogance, the wit, the cunning nature of Loki was drowned in the depths of his remorse for treating you so cruelly. Actions that made him realize deep down he was still a Loki. That would never change.
Yet, as he had done time and time again since staying at the TVA, he would amend his faults.
Loki used his abilities again, but not to send you reeling into yet another orgasm this time, but to transport you to his living quarters unnoticed. A warm basin of water and a washcloth were already at his bedside.
You were still trembling despite Loki's gentle touch, your legs jerking and twitching every time he soothed your core with the warm cloth. "Even now, I tend to forget how fragile you are." He whispered, brushing back strands of your hair. "You endured the stamina of a God, and that within itself is commendable, but never again, not without your word."
His heart hammered in his chest. You hadn't spoken since you begged him to stop. He was scared. Arguably, even more scared than when he faced the loom. He could go back in time, even before the two of you entered your office, and it would be nothing more than a measly strand of timeline lost to space forever, but that would be wrong. That would be immoral. All the things Loki wanted to be no more.
He would simply have to live with this mistake.
You raised your arm up, curling your hand around his bicep with a sigh. Your eyes swiveled towards him on the bedside, fluttering.
"Just next time- next time let me know."
Loki smiled, warm and fuzzy from your forgiveness.
Despite being his best employee, he would simply insist you take a sick day tomorrow.
please please please give me more domestic avengers tower loki
You think that you and Loki are dating. Maybe. Probably.
Two months ago, Loki waltzed up to you in the common room kitchen and instructed you—instructed being the apt word, because his snotty tone implied that there was absolutely no arguing—that you would be going to the theatre that evening.
“What should I wear?”
“Something nice.” His eyes had practically shredded your clothes, raking over your body with a devil’s intent. “Send me pictures. So we can match.”
He never called it a date, though. He just took you places. And held your hand. And offered you his coat, even when you insisted that you already had one, which he took from you with a rolled eye and held under his arm instead so that you had no choice but to wear his. In public.
So you had to be dating… right?
You’re lost in a daydream when a hand slides over the small of your back. You startle, spinning around to confront your assailant with enough force to scatter the onions you’re chopping in perfect semi-circle. Bewildered (and a little condescending), Loki blinks down at the shards of root vegetable scattered across his socks. “Did I scare you?”
You sigh, leaning your forehead on his shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, give me a second.”
His hand rises absentmindedly to rub your arm, soothing up and down your bicep until your heartbeat slows. “It’s only me, dove.”
“You were scary, once.”
“Hmph! I'm still scary.” The onions disapparate with a wave of his hand and a little sizzling sound. “What are you making?”
“Soup.” He smells good. You press your nose against the slip of skin between his shirt collar and his throat, trying not to be too obvious about how you’re drinking in his cologne. “Everyone’s leaving for that peace conference in New Zealand tomorrow, so I thought we could do a big dinner before they go. Wanda’s coming to work on the main course in a bit but this needs to sit in the Crock-Pot for a few hours.”
“You were planning on cutting a hundred onions by hand?”
“Help me?”
Loki's devious fingers trail along the side seam of your t-shirt. “For a price.”
“What price?”
He peels you off his shoulder, just far enough to look at you, and you can tell by the way his skin crinkles around his eyes that he’s aware of your secret snuffling. He doesn’t call you out on it, though; only rakes his gaze over you and smiles. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“That’s not fair. I can’t agree to something I don’t know the stakes of.”
“You’ll have to, if you want my help.”
“I could just refuse and work alone.”
“Oh, but then I’ll grow so horribly bored that I will have no choice but to act out. And who knows what I’ll do.” His hands creep under your hem, admiring the give of your skin when he paws at it. “I can promise you that we won’t be finished in time for dinner.”
“Fine.”
You put him to work chopping vegetables while you start on the roux. He’s only half-hearted in his efforts though, more concerned with staring at the side of your face. He loves to study you. Sometimes you catch him trying to pace his breathing to match yours, late at night; or you’ll spot his cheek twitching to mimic your smile whenever you laugh. He’s picked up certain mortal turns of phrase, only to use them incorrectly in the hopes that you’ll lecture him.
Your eyes connect for a heartbeat, and the clock display on the oven is wiped clean by Loki’s seidr.
“Are we dating?” You only half-mean to say it; it was more a fleeting thought than a real concern, but the silence that had settled over the two of you was begging to be broken. The rhythmic chopping sound ceases, and you internally wince without looking back at him.
“Have I not been taking you on dates?”
“Yeah, but—”
“But, what?”
“Are we… dating dating?”
“Speak earnestly, sphynx. I don’t have time for riddles.”
“Is this just for fun? Or is it for serious?”
Loki Laufeyson is holding a knife. A year ago, the Avengers wouldn't have let him within ten feet of anything with a decently sharpened edge, and now he blinks his pretty eyes back at you—covered in onion skin and scraps of carrot—like you’re a particularly unreasonable puzzle that he is remiss to solve. “‘For serious’?”
“Like, together. Boyfriend-girlfriend.”
“Am I not sufficiently domesticated?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Then why are you asking me such asinine questions?”
“You know what? Nevermind. I get it.”
“Sphynx. Faerie. Look at me.” He turns you around by your waist, holding you in place so he can shoot you an irate-but-loving glare. “Stop speaking in riddles and tell me plainly: do you love me?”
“Of course I do.”
“Well, then that answers everything, because I love you, too.”
“Oh.”
His mouth curls with a certain rose-coloured cruelty. Loki leans in just near enough that his mouth ghosts over yours, but his hands hold you firm, thumbs digging a warning into your hips when you try to cross the rest of the distance. “You’re so verbose. Oh.”
“Stop making fun of me.”
His lips slide to the curve of your jaw. “I’m afraid that is an impossible request, darling. Now, can you get these into your pot-of-crock? I have a very short fuse left before I must ravish you and it burns hotter every second.”
SUMMARY: As Logan learns to live instead of survive, he finds himself in the extremely dangerous position of sharing an apartment with you—Wade's friend. Extremely dangerous because Lord knows he can't keep his feelings a secret forever... not when your room is five steps away from his.
SERIES WARNINGS/TAGS: english is not my native language, no use of y/n, reader is a working adult (mid-late 20s) with a slightly written out personality, friends to roommates to lovers, slow burn, secret crushes, mentions of alcoholism and AA
CHAPTER WARNINGS/TAGS: 18+ MDNI this is smut all the way!!!, resolved sexual tension, making out, fingering, oral (f!receiving), dirty talk, nicknames, unprotected piv sex (please be responsible), creampie, aftercare, logan's kind of yappy???
AUTHOR’S NOTE: finally, the smut we've all been waiting for. the next chapter will be the last one, just a small epilogue <3
You ignore the loud scrape of the bar stool, pacing towards him.
It’s a little messy, the kiss. He doesn’t blame you. You’re eager. He’s tall.
He holds you steady by the waist as you get up on your tiptoes to slot your lips onto his, hand on his jaw gently dragging him down to meet you. There’s no such thing as space, not anymore, both in body and mind. His nose bumps against yours as he slants his face, letting you take his mouth however you want.
And you do. Not fast, not slow, but sure. Confident in a way that makes his heart pound at how wanted you make him feel. How proud he is. He told you to come get it and you do, more from want than from obedience.
The two of you tangle in the kitchen, his thumb slipping under your shirt just slightly while you drape your arms around his neck.
He lets you lead. You’re already closing in on his lower lip, tugging gingerly.
It fuels a fire in him, one that has burned since he first met you. That ignites more violently with every attempt at extinguishing it. He hums, continuing to kiss you. You sigh into his mouth. His blood boils.
Fuck, you want this just as much as he does. The thought stirs him into restlessness. He needs more.
His hands on your waist press you up against the fridge almost too easily. You gasp, surprised at the cool sensation of metal on your clothed back, but the sound melts into his mouth as he kisses you again.
Harder. Deeper. He’s bleeding with want for you and he’s showing it all.
Tongues meet in a greedy dance. He groans at your taste, the rumble reverberating from his chest to yours. Your fingers move, sinking into his hair, and it feels like coming home.
It’s like he can’t completely part from you, lips tracing your jaw, then your neck, where his teeth clutches flesh. You shudder at the drag of it. Didn’t this happen once upon a dream? Still, as he marks you, mouth closing in around your flesh, you realize you prefer reality.
Because reality is the warmth of his hands as they roam your body. The palms once gripping your waist slide, one towards your back to keep you arched against him, the other up your chest.
He’s learning the contours of you and it’s dizzying.
Then he starts talking with mouth against your ear and you’re not sure how you’re still standing.
“Smell so good,” he husks, nose grazing a spot on the side of your neck before it drifts back up. “Always smell so damn good.”
You shiver.
Lips close in on your earlobe, earning an airy sigh from you, which provokes him even more. His tongue teases, sucking, then tracing the shell of your ear while his hand grip the flesh of your hip. You’re close to becoming a helpless heap on the kitchen floor.
He titillates you, sending pulses of pleasure between your legs like it’s the thing he’s born to do. He awakens an ache, hot and familiar, pooling below your gut.
He’s all over you. Mouth on your other ear. Then your neck. Splayed hand travels across your front, maddeningly warm under your shirt, while the other kneads your ass like he’s deliberating how he’s going to pick you apart.
It’s electrifying. You keep a hand around his shoulder, knees close to buckling.
He pulls away.
“Not here.”
And just like that, you’re untethered from the ground, almost as if you’re weightless—lifting you with a sudden ease that makes you yelp. Dangled legs wrap around his waist by instinct, your arms around his neck.
He floats you into your bedroom, as if called by the coalescing of your scent.
Even now the space is sacred to him. Where you sleep and dream, where you always lay in bed alone—but not tonight, maybe not tomorrow night either, he thinks as he kicks the door closed.
You’re barely settled on the mattress, shifting on the sheets when you catch him staring at you like he’s withholding torrents of need.
“You sure?”
You nod, beckoning him, fingertips cradling his face. He crawls on all fours towards you, all heat and rippling muscle. A coiled panther, prowling, and you’re the willing prey.
He kisses you again, languid this time. You feel yourself getting lost in a fog of your own making, fingers carding through his hair.
“Up.”
Your hips lift, embarrassingly quick to obey. One tug at your shorts and it falls flimsily to your ankles, cool air cloaking your bare legs. He tosses it elsewhere without taking his eyes off your skin, drinking in the expanse of your calves and thighs.
“Tell me to stop and I will,” he says.
“Don’t,” you whisper, shaking your head like the thought of stopping made you sad, “don’t stop.”
He groans. Your voice is a remedy, restoring the rust that’s taken over the ancient thing in his chest that pumps blood. Chipping away at his self-imposed prison. Breaking him loose.
Your pulse drums loud in your ears as the weight of his arm sinks onto the bed, holding his body up over yours. His calloused hand snakes up your thigh, parting your legs as he wedges his frame between them.
A soft sigh escapes you. It hits him like intravenous ecstasy.
More. He wants to hear more.
He dives into the space between your shoulder and neck, inhaling the drug that is your scent before dragging his teeth slowly down your skin.
You pant while he sucks, hard enough to leave a mark. Your hands roam, needing to feel him, slipping under his tank top. The sensation makes him shiver, veins laced with a dangerous concoction of adrenaline and desire. You touch him and he’s melting.
That won’t do. He won’t let you distract him.
A hand collects both your wrists above your head and he cages you, keeping you still with his anchored weight.
Your eyes lock. Being trapped shouldn’t feel this exhilarating.
He yanks your t-shirt up, revealing your bralette and bare stomach, before latching his lips at the tops of your chest. You feel the sting of teeth on your skin, his tongue lapping after each bite like an apology.
You should care. Should tease him for being inconsiderate, but you can’t seem to give a shit. Not now, not when your entire body is screaming for him to take you.
Then his free hand presses your clit from above your panties and your nerves jolt alive, mouth open in a silent cry. The gusset is soaked with slick, stubbornly sticking to you. There’s no way he doesn’t realize the state of your ruin.
He pulls it to one side.
A finger teases your entrance. You let out a whimper.
“Logan—”
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he whispers, lips moving right next to your ear. A shiver racks your spine at his low voice. Maybe it’s a little pathetic just how worked up you are, evidence of it effortlessly coating the rough pad of his finger.
He lets you go completely and you almost cry out in protest, watching as he sits back on his heels, releasing your wrists to take off your t-shirt. It lands in a heap somewhere. You shudder, exposed rather than cold. Your underwear is the only thing between you and complete nakedness.
The corner lamp casts a warm glow in the room. You’re lost at how it diffuses the lines on his face, making him look like a hazy dream. Like this is yet another fallacy of your mind, pushing your desperation to the brink.
But he touches you and you know it’s real. He’s real. Fingertips gliding up your ribs, feeling your chest rise and fall with each breath. You stare at his hand as it treacherously moves higher, higher, until he brushes against the edge of your bralette.
The dim light doesn’t hide the subtle flash in his eyes, betraying age-old yearning laid threadbare. No disguise can contain it. You see it.
He stares back at you like you’re treasure unearthed.
And you really are. Body laid down on the bed just for him. Already flushed from kissing. Marks on your neck and collarbone. The bralette covers your heaving chest, its color complementing your skin. His touch is featherlight as he toys with the hem around your bust.
As pretty as it looks, he wants to see all of you.
“Can I take this off?”
You nod, biting your lip. He asks so nicely, this big man who could have ripped the thing off of you with a finger. It’s endearing.
He snakes his hand to the back—no fasteners. You watch as he pushes the elastic up from the center of your chest. Your arms move, helping him peel it off. It drops on the floor.
There you are, chest bare. He quite literally salivates.
“So soft,” he murmurs almost to himself, hand immediately cupping your bare breast, thumb flicking a hard nipple. You arch into his touch, feeling feverish at the way he watches your every move.
He takes his time with you just like that, occupying his hands with the shape of you, tracing slopes and curves into memory. Kneading each inch like he’s admiring a sculpture, pitching your fever higher with each stroke. You melt at the attention.
Half-lidded eyes rake a hungry gaze down your body, surveying what is soon to be his. Your collarbones and chest, the spots on them he would love to bite. Your arms wrapped around him. Your head hangs to one side, cheek against the pillow. Eyes closed. His hand captures your chin, tilting it back to face him.
You blink up at him, dazed.
“Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
He crashes his lips into yours. Sluggish, desperate. A muffled moan escapes you when his hand fondles your breast again. You arch shamelessly into his touch.
When he leans down to take a nipple into his mouth, he groans as if he’s been starved of this—of you—for a long, long time.
“Oh, god,” you gasp, hand finding his hair. He doesn’t stop. Eyes flick up to yours and you almost die like that, the sight of him lapping at your chest short-circuiting your brain.
Your mewl takes the vague shape of his name.
That excites him. He lets out a grunt as he sucks with ardor, worshipping your tit with swirls of tongue and bites of teeth before lavishing the other with the same kind of attention. You reward him with sounds, fingers tugging at the root of his hair as you melt further into the mattress.
Nothing exists outside of this bed—not the apartment, not the rest of the world. He’s the only one that matters.
And then his hand slips under your panties, fingers brushing against your folds, and you buck, eyes closed.
“Ah—”
Your hand clutches at the sheets when he glides circles around your entrance, spreading the mess.
“Like that?” he mutters, mouth still around your nipple.
What are you supposed to say to that? He drives you insane with anticipation, the rough pad of his finger grazing you, teasing a promise that you can’t wait to feel.
Your eyes blink open when he pulls away and find that he’s already staring. Waiting for an answer. Like he’s just going to stop playing with you until you say something.
“Yes,” you nod.
He pulls his hand away and you almost sob at the loss, but already he’s tugging your panties down your thighs. You curl your legs, letting him peel them off you. A strand of slick stretches between your core and the fabric. It breaks, drooling down your inner thigh.
He growls at the sight.
You look perfect like this, naked under him. Dripping, glistening cunt exposed for him and him only. More than that, it’s the look on your face. Lost and flushed like you just woke up from a long nap under the sun.
Better than whatever his feeble mind can conjure. Better than anything real he’s ever had.
He spreads your folds with his fingers. Your breath hitches, clenching around nothing.
Something about it loosens his lips.
“Look so good like this, sweetheart,” he hums, “all opened up and pretty f’me…”
You bite back a keening sound as he slowly plunges his finger into your arousal. It’s bigger than yours. Better than yours. Reminds you of the dream you had. That night feels like a lifetime ago, and the sensation is nowhere as bright as this.
You move your hips up, wanting more, and he curses, leaning down in front of your face, arm bracing next to you.
“Be a good girl and let me take care of you.”
His voice alone makes you shiver. A second finger enters you almost too easily. You whine. He curls them deep inside of you, and it’s so good it’s cruel. The way his digits stretch you feels like both punishment and reward—punishment for denying yourselves this for so long, reward for finally letting this happen.
It feels right.
It maddens you when his lips press against your ear, body and breath crowding you, both fingers moving in and out of you agonizingly slow. You want to scream. He seems to know, whispering honeyed words that send you tumbling down further into the abyss.
“Let it out, sweetheart. Wanna hear you.”
Your fingers curl against his shoulders as he tears a sob from your throat with his thumb on your clit, barely gliding against it, torturing you with mere ghosts of friction. The diligent pumps of his fingers are punctuated with your whimpers of pleasure that shallows his breathing.
Amidst the growing depravity, he places a loving kiss on your temple. Your chest aches.
Sweat mists your skin. He watches you writhe with eyes half-lidded, the ripple of your body under the warm light, the way your hair begins to stick on the sides of your face. You look like you’re at the edge of ruin.
Desire etches itself onto your face, the way your lips part when you look up at him, mouthing his name.
“Please,” your voice is low, wrecked. He hasn’t even made you scream yet.
“Please what, baby?”
The nickname twists your stomach. He hits a spot. Your muscles tighten, eyes screwed shut as bright dots dance at the edge of your vision.
“I’m—fuck—I’m so close…”
“I know, honey,” he rasps, eyes locked on your face. “Want you to look at me when you cum. Can you do that, pretty girl?”
He tries on nicknames like they taste different on his tongue.
It takes everything, but your eyelids flutter open, and you look at him. There’s a faint upturn on his lips and your heart is close to bursting, sensing his pride.
It does when he speaks again.
“That’s a good girl.”
It’s then that he presses his thumb on your swollen clit, finally flicking in earnest and moving tightly against it.
It’s enough. The tension snaps.
You shake, sobbing until the sound melts into a long cry, spasming around his fingers. Your hands grip on his shoulders like a lifeline while exhilaration wrecks every single nerve ending, fraying them. Rapture overflows.
He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t stop, low baritone drawling praises at you as his eyes lock with yours.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Let go. So fucking good for me, cumming on my fingers.”
You’re lost in it, reduced to a quivering live wire until the trembles cease and your lungs burn for air. He stays close, fingers inside you still, not pulling out, only slowing.
He kisses you, first on your lips, then on your cheeks and eyelids, gently guiding you back down from your high. You sigh, hands on his shoulders finally relaxing, knuckles sore. They look for his hair, fingers combing through his locks like you’ve always needed them to feel grounded.
He pulls his fingers out. They glisten in the low light, coated in your release.
And then he sticks them in his mouth. Groaning.
You feel a jolt within you, arousal gathering between your legs again as if you didn’t just fall apart a minute ago. The way he laps and sucks his fingers clean steals a whimper out of you, heat blooming down your neck and the tips of your ears.
When he removes his fingers from his mouth, they’re clean.
“Taste so good, baby.”
He sits on his heels, watching you from above like you’re his handiwork. There’s lust in his eyes, yes, but also something else that has four letters in it. It hurts in the best way, that gaze, full of unspoken things that rumble like thunder in the quiet, somehow louder than the beat of your heart in your ears. Your stomach flutters— and not because of the orgasm you just had.
You feel it too. It sings in your veins, tempered barely by the patience that comes with age and time.
You’ll say it one day, if he doesn’t say it first. There’s plenty of time.
He breaks the silence.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he husks, cupping your face in his hand, thumb stroking the fat of your cheek. “Wanted you.”
“Wanted you too,” you breathe, still dizzy, “so bad…”
“Not as badly as I do,” he soothes, still touching your face, “thought of this all the time. Of gettin’ my hands on you. All over you…”
And then he moves. A kiss on your lips, sweet, before his mouth trails down your body. Throat to the valley of breasts to navel, he devotedly maps a holy path further south, worshipping every inch of skin. The tenderness makes your heart twinge. You’re still reeling from your climax, but already the beginnings of another makes itself known in your lower gut.
Have you always been this greedy? You find no answer in your memory. It’s as if there was nobody before him.
Soon, he’s face to face with your sopping cunt.
“Logan, you don’t have to—” you pant, suddenly self-aware, about to pull back.
He doesn’t let you. Hands grip your hips and tugs you forward before they press your thighs apart, showing more of you to him.
“Want to,” he says firmly, hot breath against your folds.
He stares up at you. You feel faint again.
“Let me taste.”
The way he says those words, tides of need within three syllables, like he’d do anything to have this. The sight of his head between your legs like this, asking for you like this, nose nuzzling your mound you feel like you could cum again just like this—
Your legs fall open for him. He growls as he leans down.
Moans at the taste of you on his tongue when dipping into your folds, as if the reality of it absolved him from all the torments of his fantasies. As if he’s thankful to finally know what to imagine when he dreams of you.
The pace he sets is frustratingly patient. You’re already twitching, huffing, writhing at his attentiveness. Hands curl into fists on your sides, not knowing what to do with all this bliss other than clench around the sheets—until he grabs one and places it on his head.
He licks a broad, firm stripe from your entrance to your clit. You cry out.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he purrs, humming when he closes his mouth around the bud.
The vibration decimates whatever insecurities you have left. Doubt. Inhibitions. Every thought leaves you, dissolving like foam, except for him. Him and what he’s doing to you and how it feels.
Because feeling is the only thing you can do. And it feels so fucking good.
He laps at your core like a starving dog still seeking approval from his master. He’s so hungry, breath shaky, shoulders tense, yet his movements are controlled. The way a soldier waits for a command. You catch his eyes looking up at you. Watching. You clench around him.
“So good,” the barely articulated babbles tumble out of you without you meaning to, “you feel so good, Logan—”
That was it for him.
He yanks himself free from an unseen leash, eagerly tonguing you. Sloppy, noisy, fucking you with his mouth until saliva and slick runs down his chin, like he’ll never get to do this to you again. Strong hands pin you by your hip and thigh, keeping you open and still for him. You let out a noise that’s close to a scream.
The only warning you can give before you cum is a single tug at the roots of his hair, a string of unintelligible curses streaming out of you. He moans and keeps going as if he’s not doing this for you, but for him, mouth eagerly consuming your release on his tongue, dangling you over the border of overstimulation.
And then he groans once, sharp, shuddered.
You’re not sure how time works anymore, but when your vision comes back into focus, he’s kneeling between your legs. Gathering his breath. Mouth and chin slick, a hint of dampness in his beard that makes you weak.
Then you see the dark spot on his sweatpants.
The sight short-circuits you. Realization sinks in, then transmutes into thrumming desire.
“Did you just…?”
He nods, chest still heaving. “Yeah.”
“Fuck,” your voice catches, core pulsing. He came. Just from eating you out.
“Fuck’s right,” he huffs out humorlessly. “It’s ‘cause of you.”
He takes off undershirt, tossing it behind him without so much as a glance, revealing a bare and chiseled chest that already gleams with a sheen of sweat.
The sight hypnotizes you. It’s criminal that you haven’t laid your eyes on him like this. Wade really wasn’t exaggerating.
It’s like an artist sculpted him out of marble with the intent of making men cry. You’re almost surprised he’s the opposite of cold when you reach out to touch his abdomen. He watches you watch him, the glassy-eyed, fucked out look on your face quickly pumping blood down south, cock twitching alive again.
You’re busy getting acquainted with his chest, blinking almost in awe as you trace fingers through each defined line and coarse hair. The muscles tense and roil under your touch, more used to bullets than soft brushes.
“It’s unfair,” you whisper. He moves closer. Your hand finally stills above his wild heart, feeling the warmth of it from above his skin. It’s beating fast. Maybe even as fast as yours.
“What is?” he murmurs.
“How beautiful you are.”
He yanks his sweatpants down to mid-thigh, cock slapping against his stomach.
You spoke too soon. You can’t breathe, the size of him alone widens your eyes by a fraction. That vein on his lower abdomen leads a sinful path down to his erection, red and veiny, the tip coated in his own cum.
“Tell that to yourself, sweetheart,” his voice breaks your reverie as he adjusts you until you’re underneath him, safe under his shadow.
You love this, you realize, blanketed by his presence and his words. Makes you feel like there’s nothing to be scared about—not even your own demons.
He cups your cheek.
“Still with me?”
You nod, lashes fluttering from anticipation.
“Still want this?” his voice cracks a little like he half expects you to say no. You hold onto his arms.
“Yes. Please.”
Fuck, you beg so pretty, and he didn’t even make you. He lines himself up. Whispers the words like he doesn’t trust himself.
“Tell me if you want to stop. If it hurts. Anytime.”
You answer like you trust him, even if he doesn’t.
“I won’t.”
His jaw clenches, and then he moves forward.
You hiss. His shaft splits you open slowly, letting you adjust to his size. The stretch burns just enough to metamorphose into promises of pleasure as he sinks deeper. You’re already so aroused, so sensitive, the gratification almost feels inevitable.
He doesn’t take his eyes off you—can’t, focused on studying your face for even the slightest hint of discomfort, only once in a while glancing down as if he can’t resist the sight of your cunt swallowing his cock.
When he’s buried all the way to the hilt, you share a groan.
“Feel that?” he gasps, overwhelmed by your warmth and the look of want etched on your face. “That’s all for you, sweetheart.”
You moan.
For one second it feels like his pulse and yours are one. The heat of it inside you creates a heady rush that tickles your toes and shifts your hips. It asks wordlessly, greedily. More.
“Fuck, you’re so warm. So perfect,” he grits, pulling out of you, making you miss him before plunging himself all the way back inside.
He sets a rhythm—steady, deep—that wrests a stuttered “oh” out of you. A grip settles under one knee, lifting your leg up. You let him guide you, wrapping your leg around his waist, skin prickling at the suppressive heat in the air.
He spits sin next to your ear while you forget how sentences work.
“Sweet thing. Takin’ it all f’me. Gonna let me show you how much I think about this? Let me make you feel good with my cock?”
“Logan, please—I—fuck—”
Walls spasm and contract around his thick need as he thrusts, rolling his hips. Your head spins and the back of your hand presses against your mouth out of instinct rather than free will. He grabs your wrist and pins it next to your head, his larger hand firmly caging you.
“None of that,” he grunts.
Your other hand seems to learn, clutching his chest instead, and when he drives deeper and harder, your moans float freely in the air. It feeds into his hunger, shifts him into tighter slams, making you wrap both legs around him. Hips rock in time with his.
You don’t feel cognizant, sanity slipping further out of reach with each grind of his cock into you, hitting spots you don’t even come close to brushing when you’re alone.
The sounds grow louder.
“Hear that? So fuckin’ wet for me, baby,” he sighs, voice ragged against your cheek.
You mewl at his words and the slap of your bodies. Claw at his chest. His hand still keeps your other one beside your head, and your fingers flex, wanting to hold something, anything.
“Squeezin’ me so goddamn tight—like she’s made for me.”
You strangle out something that sounds like his name, and he lets go of your hand, only to press his on your lower belly.
Then he pounds.
“A-ah—!” your spine arches, hands moving to his back, nails dragging down the expanse of it.
“Feel me? That’s how deep I am inside you, sweetheart.”
You can, and it’s more than you’ve ever felt before. He’s all over you, muttering against your ear, mouthing on your forehead, an arm planted by your side holding him up as that other hand cruelly presses on your stomach, making you feel everything.
“Fuck, feels so good, can’t believe I fought this. You’re mine now, aren’t you?”
“Logan,” you choke out a sob, so close to coming undone.
“Answer me, pretty.”
“I’m yours, yours, please—”
“Mine,” he hisses, teeth around your neck, “come on—cum for me—fuck—let me have it.”
His hand moves to grab yours, fingers interlacing. The feeling breaks you.
You fall apart, your third orgasm ripping through you like a tidal force, spine arching off the sheets. You cry out sounds that are barely words, flooded with pleasure and the near-disbelief that something can feel this good, this much.
He watches you come undone, enraptured, memorizing every shake of your body, every twist on your face.
He did that. He made you do that. You trust him enough to let him do this to you. The thought alone almost pushes him over the edge, but he growls, holding on to both your hips now as he doesn’t stop rutting into you.
The sheer actuality of your heat convulsing around him eventually proves to be too much. His voice is broken when he chokes out the question.
“Can I cum inside? Fuck, wanna fill you up.”
You nod, whimpering at the prospect, ankles pressing against his lower back as if trapping him.
As if that’s not enough, he hears you sigh an airy “please, Logan, want it” and he loses it.
He stills, ropey muscles tensing as he coils around your body, sinking his face into the crook of your neck. Then, a long guttural groan against your throat. Sounds like your name. You whine. He fills you up, pulsing cock painting your walls as he releases in hot spurts.
And it doesn’t stop.
He’s still cumming. Sluices out of your slit, dripping down your ass and then the sheets. Messy.
“Mine now. All mine,” he breathes, kissing your temple. His hand never let go of yours.
You feel the words claim you. The truth settles in your bones, binding you with a force far more powerful than a signed tenancy agreement. When you lean up to kiss him, the feeling stitches itself onto your chest. Like two separate fibers of fate woven to one fabric, the final pieces of a beautiful tapestry.
You’re his as much as he’s yours.
The shower might have cleaned you up, but the haze remains.
Which is why it’s no surprise that you end up on his lap, naked again, sitting on his cock.
It’s all his fault, really. After he dried your hair, he murmured something about how he could hear you play with yourself. All the times you used your vibrator—which you learn isn’t discreet enough for enhanced hearing—not knowing he was home. How he fisted his cock in his room while trying so hard to walk the total five steps to barge in and make you feel even better than a piece of silicone ever can.
His words should’ve mortified you, but instead, you chose to tell him about your dream. How his fingers felt, how it was the only time, how you touched yourself to it but found that nothing compared.
Then he pressed his lips against yours and you melted without resistance, as if he didn’t already make you cum three times.
Now you’re sweating on his lap, body flushed with exertion and need and pleasure as you brace your hands on his midriff, anchoring you while you work your hips on top of him.
It was your idea. You put yourself there, wanting so badly to make him feel good, like he didn’t cum just from eating you out. He doesn’t resist. Why would he, when he has the unrestricted view of the way you move, the bounce of your tits, the lost look on your face?
But he can tell you’re struggling. You’ve been at this for a while now, thighs starting to tremble.
“Need help?” he pants, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You shake your head, biting your lip as you roll your hips into his again.
Stubborn girl.
“You don’t gotta do everything yourself, sweetheart.”
“But I—ngh—wanna make you feel good,” you huff, arms flexing, making up for the growing weakness in your thighs.
He grabs your hips suddenly, holding you up above him so that only his tip is inside you, effectively halting your movements. You squeal, surprised.
“You trust me?” he says.
“Well, yes, but—”
“Then ask. You’re my girl. Rely on me.”
He can see that you’re thinking, eyelids fluttering as you look at him. You part your lips.
“I’m tired,” you admit. He nods. Good. You’re honest with how you feel—a great start.
“And?” he nudges.
You swallow, voice small. “And… I need your help.”
“To do what?”
He hears the rabbit heartbeat in your chest, feels it on his cock. You’re hesitating, but only for one second.
“To make you feel good,” you whisper. “Make me feel good.”
There it is. The moment of your capitulation. His entire body sings with approval.
“Fuck, such a good girl for me. Let me take care of you.”
He groans, holding you still, then thrusts his hips up into you until it’s flush with yours. You cry out, pleasure skyrocketing at the fullness, hands clamoring to his shoulders while he relentlessly slams into you. Again, again, and again.
As many times as it takes for you to learn your lesson: that he’ll give you anything you ask for.
The night sky outside is a deep purple when he holds you. You’re dressed in a soft, overworn tee, face hidden in his bare chest, legs tangled with his. The air is cool enough for him to be in a pair of sweats, the cotton soft against your naked thigh.
As hard as it is to keep your hands off each other, the both of you swear the second shower will be the last, largely for your sake—you’re the one without regenerative healing. And now that the two of you are in your bed, cuddled comfortably against each other, the promise is kept.
You hum when he strokes your hair. Not yet asleep, but ready to. Sated in every way.
His half-lidded eyes peer down at your sleepy face. You let him fuss over you. Let him wash you up and lather your body with that damn soap that makes the both of you smell like a French bakery. In a typical fashion, you insist on washing him back. He relented.
But otherwise, you offered up no protests, no “are you sure”s. Just you accepting affection.
And that has him addicted. Makes him want to lull you into the safety of being supported, so that he can keep doing whatever it is that makes you happy and soft like this. He hopes you’ll keep letting him in.
A kiss on your crown makes you tilt your head up to look at him, eyes half-lidded.
“Everything okay?” you ask.
He nods. “More than okay.”
You smile, adjusting so that you can bury your face in the crook of his neck instead. Your voice is muffled.
“Thank you, Logan.”
“No need to thank me, sweetheart.”
“I know,” you yawn. “Want to say it anyway.”
Something tightens in his chest at that. He presses his nose against your hair, wanting to drown himself in your scent, as if sleeping in your bed isn’t enough.
He may not deserve you, but he won’t stop trying.
“Get some sleep.”
“Good night, Logan.”
“Night, sweetheart.”
It doesn’t take long for your breath to even out.
He keeps stroking your hair, and falls asleep at the thought of making you breakfast tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that.
finally my entry for @lareinedulune's wet hot logan summer ficathon is done!!
this is for @rosenclaws, who requested 2013!logan getting drenched to the bone. i chose ronin!logan. i'm so nervous, i hope you like it, rose 💕
the first thing i googled upon getting the prompt is "can wolverine swim?" (the answer is yes, but it requires so much more strength because of his weight, which is why if he got dropped in the ocean he'd probably drown)
ronin!logan x f!reader, 5.6k
WARNINGS/TAGS: 18+ SMUT MDNI!!!, porn without plot, heiress!reader, reader is alluded to be young ("little miss"), reader's hair is described as 'pinned up' and 'tumbles down' at one point, reader is horny LMAO, depictions of wealth, lampshading the wolverine plot and characters, descriptions of drowning, foul language, hate sex???, unprotected piv, creampie, fingering, rough sex, oral sex, nicknames ("princess", "pretty"), author doesn't know how to end a fic
AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is probably the filthiest thing i've written so far lol. also, zaibatsu means "money clan": a large family-run conglomerate, usually highly integrated within the power system
He’s seen this film before. A déjà vu so strong it conquers the very concept itself to become reality.
And it is. Real, that is.
The cream-colored cabin of the limousine and the newly-bought scent lingering in it are real. So is the tarmac under the wheels—Logan can almost taste the grind of rubber. Sceneries fly past. Rows upon rows of palm oil plantations stretch infinitely under equatorial blue skies. All those are real, too.
Unfortunately for him, so are you.
“I have a feeling this isn’t your first rodeo.”
There’s nothing imaginary about you. Nothing illusory about your crisp white shirt and neatly pinned hair, sitting with your legs crossed as if this 70 miles-per-hour car is your meeting room. A laptop on your lap, a phone on your hand. With hints of subtle jewelry and a shiny watch under a sleeve, you look more expensive than the Rolls Royce you’re sitting in.
And there’s that devious curl of your lips, equally capable of causing cars to collide into each other.
“Was it also an heiress, the last time you did this?” you ask, placing the laptop and phone on the seat beside you. “Maybe her daddy’s a big shot, who’s most concerned about his precious daughter’s safety despite what’s at stake. A power transfer. Or is it an inheritance?”
The way your eyes are trained on his face is nothing short of predatory. As if talons would materialize at the sight of even the smallest flicker of emotion.
“And that’s where you come in. Big strong man like you… protecting poor little princesses like me,” you lean back, crossing your arms. “Am I right?”
No silence. Just the all-too quiet white noise that is the engine.
The truth is, you’re spot on. Almost in a way that’s supernatural—or maybe superhuman, like you trespass in minds for fun.
Reminds him of someone red.
How he finds himself here isn’t as important as how eerily similar the situation is. Mariko happened a month ago. This feels like a cheap sequel.
Except it’s not cheap, because you’rein line to inherit a multinational mining business worth billions of dollars, and with only a few more days until the last legs of legal paperwork is complete, your security is paramount. Your father made that clear—as clear as when he declared his empire should go to you.
Coincidentally, he’s also dying.
…to spend the rest of his days as a retiree, loitering in a five-star resort in Panama.
“Looks like my guess is correct.”
He responds with a glare. You smile.
“You talk to yourself this much?” he grunts.
“You’re talking to me now,” you glance down at your manicured nails.
Where Mariko was calm as snowfall, you’re the human incarnation of a lightning strike.
You’ve been nothing but polished smiles, practiced precision, and a dose of cheek. He’s watched you make countless phone calls since stepping in the car, like a bolt in a thunderstorm—striking at spots in the sky with vindictive accuracy. You welcome stupid propositions like a saint before expertly shutting them down. No room for debate when the argument doesn’t deserve any. Politely ruthless.
When you’re agreeable, though? Nothing sounds better. You’re sweet, and not the kind that’s artificial and syrupy. The sharpness in your gaze wears off but for a moment, before the call ends, and you close your eyes, breathing before dialling another number.
Now, Logan can’t help but look at your eyelashes while you look out the window.
“Almost there,” comes the driver’s voice, muffled from behind the partition.
“Thanks, Anton,” you take off your earrings. Then to Logan: “So who was it?”
“Who was what?” he grunts.
“Your last princess.”
He narrows his eyes at your. You’re clasping on a different pair of earrings that appeared out of your handbag, silver streams that dangle near your jaw. Tapered fingernails pop off the buttons of your white shirt, one, two… until all he sees is soft a lace bra—dark red—and skin. Soft, beautiful skin.
“Well, are you going to answer the question?” you press, tossing the white shirt away and looking at him expectantly like you’re not half-naked.
Logan finally averts his eyes outside. Still oil palms “Yashida.”
From his periphery he can see you fish something out of the middle compartment.
“Yashida? The Mariko Yashida—from that Japanese tech zaibatsu?”
You laugh, the first time since meeting him. Arms slip into something shiny and Logan can’t help but look. A different top, satin and full of sensual promise. He tries to ignore the way your bra disappears from view as you dress yourself, wrapping yourself in luxurious fabric.
“Why, you go to school with her or something?” he grunts, focusing once again at the monotonous view outside.
“Yes, we’re Richie Rich’s classmates.” You shoot back, tucking the top in your long pencil skirt. He rolls his eyes. You smirk.
“Kidding. Met her in a business meeting a long time ago—you don’t get to become Japan’s industrial backbone without metal. Our metal.”
There it is, that tone in your voice. Authority. It drips with confidence and summons subservience. It sounds like the reason you extinguished the competition for your father’s business at your notably young age. It sounds like you’re ready for anything.
“Help me with this.”
Suddenly you’re sitting next to him, a necklace waiting on your nape. He holds back a bristle, fingers brushing yours when he takes it. The clasp is too small in his grip but he manages. The silver latches on, and just like that, you’re back to your seat across him, taking out the pins in your hair. It tumbles down like sin.
“I’d ask you more about Mariko, but you’re the brooding type and we have a luncheon to attend,” you murmur, tossing your hair out carelessly with your hands. You look so different now. That top flows down your body like water, and your hair…
It’s tastefully messy. Screams at him to look at you like you’re a woman first and a business opponent second. A sly tactic. Looking at you like this, even the most decent men can’t help but think about their lovers after a particularly strenuous activity.
“You seem relaxed,” he notes. The people at lunch would love for you to die to be next in line—and now that your life is his problem, he expected you to be a little concerned.
“You’ll be my food taster, won’t you? Be a good boy and make sure nobody spikes my coffee with cyanide?”
“Don’t call me that,” he growls, “and it’s not like I have a choice.”
You chuckle, running a hand through your hair one last time.
“Relax, it’s only a week more till this is over. I’ll survive. So will you, if what Dad said is true. He spoke highly of you, you know?”
Is that because your family loves precious metal? he wonders.
“I know I will,” he mutters.
“I’ll crack you open before the end of your contract.”
He glowers.
The limousine slows down to make a turn. Palm trees turn into manicured hedgerows as the vehicle approaches a gate made of curled ornamented iron. Four men stand guard, looking more like soldiers than security. You give them a friendly wave from a rolled-down window. The gates open.
Then the car drives down a gravel path before emerging into a lavish courtyard. Trimmed garden, central fountain, marble staircase curving up to a colonial-looking mansion. A display of wealth that would inspire rebellion.
Your driver opens the door. Logan steps out first. He doesn’t offer his hand to you.
You’re too focused to look bothered, high heels clacking up the steps. He’s right beside you. A butler makes himself known as soon as you enter the grand foyer.
“Ma’am. The party is seated and awaiting your presence.”
“Thank you. Oh, and—” you place a hand on Logan’s shoulder, “—please make sure this gentleman is seated next to me.”
“Right away, ma’am.”
You turn to Logan. “Hope you like Southeast Asian food, Roman.”
“It’s Logan,” he grits.
You smirk. Logan huffs.
You’ve found a button. You intend to press it.
Logan becomes your shadow in any given room. Following you from a distance, scanning each crowd, watching your back.
You attend galas and garden parties like a congressman on a campaign trail, a butterfly taste-testing flowers and noting if they’re sweet enough. Checking in on relationships and picking the fruits of them. Finding out if any are rotten or poisonous. War set to the music a violin quartet like a dance.
You’re in your element and it’s fascinating to watch.
He hates it.
Finds it frustrating, the way you pirouette and twirl over social minefields, all grace. The perfect timing of your handshakes and smiles as you compliment Botoxed faces and new money suits. Cloak and dagger, velvet and ornamented. The polish of your halo, a crown you fix on before entering a room.
Can’t stand you and your designer dresses. How they whisper slivers of your skin, promise more through the slit on your thigh. Sometimes you’re generous and wear one that’s backless, like you’re welcoming a knife to land there—both figuratively and literally.
Logan feels a twinge of pain whenever a hand that’s not his is on your lower back.
Every piece on you looks lustrous. Every pair of eyes stare.
He loathes the notes of your perfume. Could probably reconstruct it in an olfactory lab, the way it clings to him—even after the game of glamor is over and you’re back in your mansion, wearing an oversized tee and nothing else.
Guarding you at home is arguably worse. Not just because you somehow look better in your pajamas than you do at parties.
The various states of your undress shouldn’t faze him. The crop tops that exposed midriffs, the shorts that barely covered the curve of your ass—he’s no stranger to that brand of temptation. He’s slept with more women than the amount of years in his age.
Yet his hand twitches. They want to touch.
Earthly desires aside, he believes it’s you that infuriates him. You and your smart mouth, faster than a whip whenever you see that window. The way he’s learning the difference between your polite laughs and your real ones. How you’re the only person in a ten-mile radius who happily entertains his drinking habits.
Then there’s the duality of you. How you won’t leave him alone, then act like he doesn’t exist.
His hate stands on a razor’s edge, threatening to fall into something he’d rather not name.
It simmers quietly like a raging summer, low in his stomach, flaring with every flash of your bare legs as you walk around the house doing whatever it is heiresses do days before being named empress. One time he caught you in the living room, ice cream dripping down one wrist while the other scrolls on your laptop. Your gaze was laser-focused, scanning lines and the clauses between them.
He stayed long enough to see you lick at your own skin. Nearly broke a tooth, clenching his jaws that hard.
The worst part? He knows you know.
You’re far from a fool. Your furtive smiles show just as much.
So when he finds you long after sunset, lounging by the swimming pool with a baggy tee that barely covers the navy blue bikini underneath, he knows it’s a trap.
There’s a gravity that pulls him into orbit. His feet lack the wisdom, believing he’s contractually obliged to protect you, and that he needs to be close to do that.
His brain deems it a flimsy excuse.
He walks towards you anyway.
“Drink with me, Nolan?” you smile teasingly, beckoning him over to where you are at the chaise.
“For the last time, it’s Logan,” he grits.
Past the darkness of the night, illuminated only by the cool blue lights emanating from the pool, he gleans a slight flush dusting your face. On the low side table next to you is a glass, a bucket of ice, and a bottle of artisanal whiskey he hasn’t seen in any bar ever.
“You better not be drunk.”
“I’m not,” you sigh, laying back down while he takes a seat on the chair next to you. “Just tired.”
He knows why. Tomorrow’s the day. After finally suffering the crushing experience that is ‘getting through legal’, your father will issue a statement on the leadership transition in a televised press conference. About thirty media outlets will be there, though the actual amount of people in attendance will easily be double or triple that.
You’re expected to say more than a few words.
Tomorrow is also the day he stops working for you.
He takes the whiskey bottle in hand. There’s about half left.
“They won’t be nice,” he rumbles, uncapping it.
“You think I don’t know that?” you grunt, standing up unceremoniously. The water calls you.
You walk along the edge of the pool with your bare feet, kicking a bit of water with each step. “I’ve gone over the shareholder agreement a hundred times, memorized every single word in the NDA, stalked email threads from communications teams and press. I know what I’m going to say.”
He believes you. Doesn’t doubt you’ll be stellar, either.
“Meanwhile, Dad just sent me a link to a hotel in Central America with a shaka emoji,” you laugh, squatting just so your hand can dip into the pool.
It’s calming, the ripples, the coolness of it. A small escape from humidity and the reality of tomorrow.
Logan takes a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle. It burns as it goes down, then tastes a little like fruit, before the warm sensation ebbs like it was never there. You have good taste in liquor—that much he’ll miss, among other things.
The thought sinks in. He stills.
And distracts himself with a question. “He won’t be around?”
“Leaving on a jet plane right after the conference.”
You watch as Logan stalks closer, rippling muscles in that open button-down and white tank. Maybe it’s the light coming from the pool, but he looks even better like this. Towering over you. Leering.
You smile. What would happen if you splashed him?
The intrusive thought wins. So that’s exactly what you do.
Water gets all over his face and chest like a rude awakening, droplets of it darkening his clothes. He shakes the water off the way a dog would, hair damp.
And just like that, you laugh, the first earnest one all week that has your head tilted back. The weight on your shoulders are momentarily gone.
No high society to hide from. Just you and him. No tomorrow. Just right now.
“The fuck—”
You splash him again with a grin. It gets on his thighs.
“Brat, gonna pay for that…!”
Next thing you know, he’s lunging at you, and you squeal as you run away from him.
The only thing you can hear is the pitter-patter of water at your feet and the roar of your heartbeat in your ears. Somewhere in the back of your head, you remember doing this as a child, the butler begging you to stop on top of his lungs. Nobody’s scolding you this time.
Laughter rips itself out of your throat as you look back at his hot pursuit. He’s so close behind you, enough just grab your arm and—
A patch of pool deck that’s way too wet. Your foot slips. The world spins, your thoughts blank. Then you collapse headfirst into the pool, shrieking, a loud splash following.
Logan stops, panting. “Serves you right, messing around like that—”
His eyes narrow.
The pool is still.
You’re still submerged.
Why are you still submerged?
You gasp up like your lungs are flooded. Your shoulders break the surface, chin jerked up, arms flailing. The waters are choppy around your body—there’s no rhythm, none of the practiced precision he’s so used to watching you wear, only heavy thrashes that look like desperation. Jagged outlines of your legs from above the water tell him you’re kicking, but from the way you’re barely breathing, it’s getting nowhere.
“Help…!”
Fuck. You can’t swim.
He rips his outer shirt off and launches.
Adamantium body slams into the water and for one second he thinks he’ll drown, too. The thought is expelled as soon as his foot touches the tiles beneath. He’ll be okay here. Well-lit and eight feet deep is better than the dark depths of Mekong in the middle of war.
He finds you quickly, arms wrapped around your torso, then pushes upwards.
You cough as you surface, throat sputtering out chlorinated water. Your shirt sticks onto your torso the same way hair is plastered all over your face, wet against skin. He parts the drenched strands to see you, cupping your cheek as he keeps the both of you afloat.
“Hey, hey—you’re okay now, you’re alright—”
He narrows his eyes, aware of the feel of you in his grip.
You’re light.
You’re swimming.
And you’re laughing in his face.
Big grin, damp skin. Both your hands are on his shoulders, but you pull them away before he can react, diving back under like he didn’t just think you were drowning. You resurface five feet away with a siren smile and a drawn-out exhale.
“Can’t believe you thought I couldn’t swim,” you say, pushing your hair back.
He’s still stunned as you wade the waters to the pool’s edge, sitting yourself up. Hazel eyes watch your torso arch as you peel the soaked cotton that clings onto you, revealing inch upon inch of glistening skin. A forbidden expanse that he’s yet to witness, not even with the little amount of clothes you wear at home.
The shirt flops, waterlogged on travertine tiles. You’re in a two-piece swimsuit that looks much too easy to undo.
The pool is cool, but he feels it again—the heat in his stomach.
You swim to him, fluid as a mermaid, chin above the surface. You grew up in this mansion—how was he fooled?
As if making him worry isn’t enough, you chuckle. There’s something funny. Maybe it’s him: hair is flat on his head thanks to the good-for-nothing rescue, glowering like a cat that got tricked into bath time. He pushes it back with one hand, annoyed, letting you see the heat in his eyes.
“Are you mad at me, Ronan?” you coo.
It’s aggravating, the games you play, but he’s not just mad. There’s another emotion in the way he looks at you.
He has a feeling you know—you always do.
“What do you think?” he barks.
There’s no bite in his words.
That’s all you need to strike. You smile up at him, coy in a way that spells trouble. Hands find his chest, fingers curling around the wet fabric of his tank top. To bring him close or to undress him, he can’t decide.
Your lips hover close to his. There’s chlorine and promise in your breath. Hands travel up higher, palms flat on his pecs until they land on broad shoulders.
“I think, seeing as we’re already drenched… we might as well play for a little while.”
That’s all heneeds to snap.
His large hands find the flesh of your hips, gripping them as he hoists you up and out of the water, making you squeal and laugh in the process. The sound twinkles in the air, echoing with a lightness that defies the weight of want that charges around it.
He’s got you on the edge again before his body follows, breaking the surface. You’re under his shadow wearing a half-dazed, all knowing smile.
Then his mouth comes down to maul your neck and you moan.
Logan growls at the sound, lapping at the column of your throat like he’s trying to get rid of pool water from your skin. Biting like he hates you.
And you love it.
Fingers tangle in his plastered hair while a rush of blood down south makes you shiver and grin. You paw at his shirt. He gropes at your chest, parting from your neck only to take off his tank top before forcing his large hand underneath a bikini cup.
Your nipples are already hard. He thumbs it with lustful spite.
Wordless vengeance for every time he observed the hint of your chest under baby tees and thin camisoles. Your giggle melts into a mewl at his relentlessness, pinching and tweaking while his mouth stays mean on your shoulder.
He pulls away, only to crash his lips to yours, and it feels like homecoming. Whimpers ravenously swallowed. Chest heaves into damp chest. Hands scramble like they need warm skin to survive—and of course he bites down hard on your bottom lip while you trace his sculpted torso.
With a stern tug, he unties the halter-neck ribbon of your bikini top. The fabric loosens.
He peels it above your chest… and leans down.
“Oh, fuck,” you sigh shakily, back arching to let more of his mouth on your tit. He glances up at you, eyes glassy, noting the absence of a teasing smile. Pleasure takes over your expression, brows knitted, lips swollen and parted.
The rumble in his chest sounds like approval.
You prop yourself up on your elbows, amazed at the sight of your bodyguard sucking on your nipple like a lover and a babe.
Generously greedy for you.
His other hand doesn’t stop working, tending to your other peak until he eventually switches. Your pants and sighs float in the open air, the sounds carried over by the light breeze that rustles through the trees and shrubs that surround the private estate.
You should be concerned over how exposed you are, but the zing of desire between your legs says otherwise.
The sight must be unmistakably scandalous: two bodies drenched to the bone, yours curved into his mouth, letting him lave your chest.
Your reverie breaks. Two fingers press at your covered cunt. You let out a choked noise, head lolling to one side.
“Fucking soaked already,” he grunts. “Been waiting for this, princess?”
You lay back down on travertine, faintly smiling as he pulls at the ribbon on your hip.
“Mm-hmm,” you hum, watching the way he undresses you, “you have no idea…”
“Believe me, I have some,” he flings the bikini bottom away. “You and your damn schemes—”
You spread your legs to let him see you. All of you.
The rapture in his stare is well worth the wait.
His middle finger circles your pussy, almost marveling at the way you’re so wet for him. He coats his finger with your slick, then swipes up languidly to meet your clit, teasing it.
Your pretty hole chooses that moment to clench around nothing. His eyes flash.
“Jesus fuck—”
With one fluid motion, he sinks his finger in you, knuckle-deep. You’re so happy you start smiling and moaning at the same time.
Logan’s eyes stare the way they would in a crowded room, except this time he watches in a trance beyond habitual alertness. He leers at pebbled nipples, the sinful undulation of your hips, that blissed-out look at the way he stretches your walls.
Your eyes are closed, lips curled. Moaning like you’re not outdoors.
In and out, in and out.
He leans down again to suck on your breast, a hand gripping the flesh of it, feeding it to himself.
Then he adds another finger between your legs and you cry out, back hitting the stone deck. One of your hands grip the edge of the pool, the other in his hair, manicured nails gently dragging on his scalp. His reward is the climbing noises wrested out of you. That and your touch almost make him tremble.
“So fucking tight,” he growls against your skin.
It’s dizzying. Everything is. The way his fingers ruin you, scissoring, curling, hitting a spot so deep white spots start appearing behind closed eyelids. You encourage him with noises, sputtering things like ‘yes’ and ‘just like that’.
His thumb presses against your clit and you’re electrified.
You’re over the edge in an instant. Legs twitching, breath stuttering, mouth open in a delicious ‘O’. He doesn’t stop, still abusing your chest and cunt while you leak all over his fingers. You shake. He slows down.
Your breathing is wrecked as your lungs fight for air.
Air which you lose the moment he presses his fingers against your lips. The same ones that made you come.
“Taste yourself.”
You open your mouth and he presses his fingers on your tongue. The heady taste makes you moan around him, eagerly cleaning up, eyes boring into his. He smirks at the state of you: flushed and ruined, but not nearly enough to call it quits.
He takes his fingers out. Lips meet yours.
The kiss is open. Demanding. A hand sternly cups your cheek, not letting you move. His tongue swirls, and he moans into your mouth like your cum tastes better this way.
“Wanna taste you too,” you breathe when you part.
Just like that, he’s on his knees above you, busy shoving his jeans and boxers until they’re pushed down enough to reveal the raging arousal that is him. His cock looks angry, red with prominent veins all over. A hand slaps it against your cheek. You almost laugh.
Then he presses it right by your lips, another hand coaxing your mouth to open, thumb on your chin.
God, you can smell him. It’s making you wet again.
If it weren’t here and now, you would’ve teased him mercilessly—kitten licks and kisses, a word or two about how eager he is for you.
But you’re too hungry to play.
You take the entire tip in your mouth, reveling in the broken groan that rips out of him.
Then you lean forward. Deeper, more, until his cock kisses the back of your throat. Fuck, he’s so big, it almost makes you want to cry. You feel heat behind your eyes and a tingle down your pussy—already thinking about the way it’ll fit.
Or maybe it won’t. That turns you on even more.
“This fucking mouth,” he rasps, watching you suck him like you’re starving. Your hand wraps at the base of him and his back bows.
“Christ—”
He only allows you a few more bobs up and down his length before abruptly dislodging from your mouth. You whine at the loss of his weight on your tongue, but there’s no time for the loneliness to settle, because he grips your waist and pulls you up.
He sits, legs open over the pool deck. Your knees bracket his thighs but you’re not quite on his lap—his hands make sure you’re hovering on top of him, core open and dripping above his waiting cock. Your breath becomes shallow with anticipation, trying to ground yourself through your palms on his chest.
His heart is beating so fast.
Then, as you close your eyes to slide down to him, you realize you can’t. His hands don’t give.
“Uh-uh,” he tuts, looking at you. “You don’t get to. Not without asking nicely.”
He’s so close, the tip of his cock nearly kissing your folds. It’s just this side of aching, the way your cunt begs to be filled. Dripping. Waiting.
Desire floods your system. You’re almost dumb with it, but it hasn’t rendered you speechless. Not yet.
Pressing your forehead against his, you make sure he can taste every syllable you whisper against his cheek. Your voice is husky with want. Reedy with hunger.
“Please,” you breathe, “want you to fuck me with your cock. Wanna scream for you.”
There’s a swell in your chest that resembles pride when his exhale turns choppy after you speak. You stay still even as his hold grows lax, waiting while one of his hands rid you of the bikini top that no longer serves any purpose. That same hand travels, groping the flesh of your breast, snaking up…
…until they’re around your throat. Not squeezing. Just there. Big, strong. A show of control, just in case you misbehave.
He murmurs out an order.
“Say my name.”
The sight of you smiling like you’re in heaven nearly decimates his crumbling self-control.
“The right one, princess.”
You slant, lips over his ear.
“Please fuck me, Logan.”
The shape of your voice around his name—one that you’ve annoyingly avoided for so long—makes his blood sing. Before he knows it, the hand on your throat moves to your hair, tugging you away from his ear, tilting your head back. You let out a weak laugh.
“You’re no princess. You’re a slut,” he rasps.
“Only for you,” you grin.
“Then beg like one.”
You don’t spare a beat of silence.
“Fuck me on your big cock, Logan. Make me stupid with it. Wanna come all over it.”
The words are emphasized with the impatient roll of your hips. He doesn’t relent, still unmoving, but you can tell he’s brittle. Nostrils flared. Eyes pinned on yours like he’s going to eat you alive in a few seconds.
Just a little push…
“I’ll scream your name for you. Let the whole house hear. Let everyone know who’s fucking their little miss.”
That does it.
He releases your hair. Both hands grip your hips and he drives his entire length up in one squelching thrust.
You almost scream.
“There. That’s the cock you wanted so bad,” he grunts. “So tight. So wet. Wanted it for so long, hm?”
“Y-Yes—”
Fuck, your voice is breaking.
“Then take it.”
He’s strong, you know this. Seen him carry your suitcase as if it were a shopping bag. You just don’t know he’s this strong. Logan uses his hands to slowly drag your entire body up like you’re weightless. You feel every ridge of him as his cock drags, every pulse of him rippling throughout your body.
And on the downstroke, he pummels, slamming you on top of him.
You moan loudly. You feel him in your stomach.
Hips slap up, driving his cock into you with a pace so punishing you feel tears forming in your eyes. It’s so hard, so fast, so deep. The slick sounds intoxicate you, sending you further down a spiraling abyss you’re not sure you can get out of—because why would you want to?
You sob. There’s nothing left but the incorrigible murmurs that escape your lips like streams. Your knees feel raw. You can’t care less.
“Look at that. Pussy’s fuckin’ leaking. You like it rough?” he pants.
You hiss ‘yes’ over and over again, lips open.
“Tell me,” he growls, watching your breasts bounce.
“I like it rou—hng—!!”
“Whose cock is fucking you dumb, princess?”
“Yours,” you cry. There’s drool out the side of your mouth. You don’t care.
He shifts, strengthening the grip on his feet to piston into you, and the slight change in his angle is maddening. You nearly give out above him, hands clamoring onto his shoulders as he grins up at you, all teeth and taunt.
He fucks into you again and you cry out, the noise keening and unmistakably lewd.
“You’re close,” he husks, watching you with darkened eyes. “Can feel you clenching me.”
“Yes—”
“Gonna come on this cock, pretty? Wanna show me how good you feel?”
“Please…!”
“Fucking beg for it, then.”
“Please, Logan, let me come on your cock, want it so bad, please, please—”
His voice is in your ear, gritted through teeth.
“Scream my name like you said you would.”
Then he flicks your clit and you do as he says, throwing your head back with a loud “fuck—Logan!”, thighs spasming, goosebumps all over your skin. It’s even more intense than the first, making your limbs shake and your vision blur.
He doesn’t stop, groaning while pounding into your fluttering cunt. Your release triggers his, and within three hard thrusts, you’re fully seated on his lap as he shoots his cum in you. Your moans mingle with his, chin nearly glued to your collarbone the way you look down at the sight.
It’s dirty.
There’s a mess where your bodies meet, the curls at the base of his cock sticking together with wetness. A creamy ring froths like debauched proof of your shared pleasure. He’s still coming, his mouth pressed tight on your neck while he twitches inside you.
You’ve never felt so full.
Suddenly, gravity disappears. He’s lifting you up to sit on his thigh, slowly this time. You shiver from the loss of him, but air quickly fills up your lungs—it’s so much easier to breathe.
The both of you groan in unison as thick milky driblets leak from your cunt, pooling on his skin.
Without thinking, you swipe his spend with your fingers and bring them to your mouth, tongue swirling for a taste. Cheeks flushed. Eyes on him.
The way his cock twitches alive is all too obvious.
You lick your lips, slowly pushing him down, his spine slowly bending to meet stone. You’re not far behind, leaning over him, lips dangerously close to his. He grits his teeth at the way your pussy settles on his abs, smearing his cum and yours.
“You know,” you pant, hands splayed on his chest, “I’m becoming CEO tomorrow and a spot for security just opened up.”
“What’s the pay like?” his voice is hoarse. You recognize the leftover desire in them, and it sounds like there’s still plenty.
“About the same as yours now,” you purr.
His hands find your ass, firmly squeezing. You smile.
⬩ pairing(s) logan "wolverine" howlett x mutant!female!reader
⬩ warning(s) language, sparring/fighting, a little bit of plot, a super teeny tiny bit of angst, smut, dirty talking, masturbation (mentioned), competency!kink (aka logan liking someone that can beat him in a fight), penetrative sex (p in v), bodily fluids (mentioned), rough(ish) sex, no pussy eating but logan is still a munch, no protection (wrap irl pls), yearning!logan, hold the moan vibes, female anatomy/pronouns are used. minors dni/+18!
⬩ author's note imposter syndrome set in but we're posting anyway because the love for logan is real! not sure how i did with his character but it's okay because this is fiction :) dedicating this to @joannasteez @rae-gar-targaryen @heavenbarnes @kyletogaz and anyone else who needs logan howlett as badly as i do. reader's powers are sort of explained but pretty vague so you can imagine whatever you want outside of what's mentioned in the fic. more logan coming soon and i hope you enjoy <3
⬩ word count 3.9k
Six months. Six months ago you’d started as the new counselor. Six months, and Logan can’t get you out of his head.
Extraordinary was the word the Headmaster had used. Logan thought it was just Charles being Charles when he’d introduced you as such, though he soon finds his boss was correct. Understating, even.
The realization comes on your sixth day of employment. Ororo, Logan’s usual training partner and woman who could double as Mother Nature, was a few hours east with Jean and Scott. This left Logan to skip for the day and settle for a good run instead. Well, that was his plan until he catches you on your way to the gym.
He doesn’t mean to stare but fuck. The leggings you’re sporting could bring even the strongest mutants to tears. In his haze, the man forgets that you can spot him and probably already have as he attempts to follow you. You’re hearing is as good as his, if not better, and your super acute senses are just that–super and acute. Hell, you’re ability to feel what others have to search hard for is one of the reasons Charles hired you in the first place.
Logan knows he’s caught when you’re already laughing quietly to yourself upon his entry to the gym. The room would be empty if not for the two of you and he couldn’t feel luckier.
“Just wanted to make sure you got to where you were going.” It’s a lie and a bad one, but your ass in those pants has his head too fogged to think of anything better. “Easy to get lost in this place. Lotta rooms.”
You hum at Logan’s words, already knowing that he knows you aren’t buying it. “I appreciate that. Had a couple hours free, so I thought I’d check this place out. Gotta keep up with the rest of you guys, somehow.”
Logan’s eyebrows accidentally raise, and you tilt your head at him.
“Why the face?”
Shit. Shaking his head, Logan comes to join you where you stand on the large sparring mat in the middle of the room. Soon enough, he gives in. No point in lying if he’s already fibbed once.
“...just didn’t think a school counselor would be into that kinda thing.”
“And what makes you say that?”
Logan huffs out something similar to a laugh, as your rebuttal came quicker than he was expecting. He can see the gears in your head working and the smile threatening to break out, but it can’t be for what he’s thinking, right?
“I just–”
Only the two words slip from his lips before you charge in his direction. He catches on fast enough to counter the leg you try and slip around his, but can’t catch himself when you shove him into the mat from behind.
Logan crashes to his hands and knees, stunned. He whips his head to you from his place on the ground, face reading what the fuck? The way you stand over him with a pleased look doesn’t give him a chance to be angry, however. In a matter of a few short seconds, the man’s shaking with an unexpected round of laughter.
“Well, fuck,” he exhales, finally standing with an impressed grin. “That’s one way to prove a guy wrong.”
Your shrug is interrupted by a pouncing Logan, who carries out the move you tried to execute to near perfection, causing your back to hit the mat with a short thud. When you blink yourself back to reality, you’re met with him dangling over you. Not that you really got any chance, but it’s his turn to gloat.
“Gotta sweep both legs, not just swipe at one.”
You roll your eyes, taking the outstretched hand he offers to help you up. Logan sniffs at the flame that shoots through his hand.
That’s how the next hour goes. One of you attacks, the other counters. Never with any true malice behind any of your intentions, but that’s not to say either of you don’t try to knock the wind out of each other once or twice. All of it is in good fun, concluding with the both of you panting atop the mat with matching grins.
“You’re good… and fast,” Logan sighs after catching his breath. “Where’d you learn how to fight like that?”
“...where we all did; surviving in a world that doesn’t like us very much.”
When you don’t tell him any more than that, he leaves it alone. You’ll tell him one day. If you don’t, that’s fine, too. He’s the last person to push someone back into memories they’ve obviously tried to forget.
This world is shitty enough. He’s searched enough to know there’s no sense in dipping behind locked doors.
“Same time tomorrow? Assuming Charles doesn’t need someone to save the world.”
Another laugh twitches Logan’s upper body as he peeks over at you. Your skin is damp after all your skillful offense and better defense. His eyes snake down your entire frame and linger for who knows how long. Lower lip sucking into his mouth, he has to flick his gaze back toward the ceiling before his dick can harden any further.
“Sounds like a plan,” Logan replies, hoping you can’t hear the wobble in his voice. You leave him a few minutes later with an aching member he hides all the way back to his room.
This becomes the routine. Once a week, the two of you meet in the gym, spar, and he runs back to his shower to pump one out over your competence. If the count he’s been keeping is right, you’ve got a slight edge on the matches–a fact he’d be surprised with if he didn’t already know the reason behind it.
You’re impossibly enthralling, even more so when you fight, and it really starts fucking with him the better he gets to know you. Like he said before, you’re fast. It keeps him on his toes, on and off the mat. What move will you counter with next? What story do you have for him today? What panties do you wear to keep those leggings so smooth?
Months pass and it gets harder to hide. Logan waits a little longer to push you off when you end up on top of him. His hands linger a little more when he’s pinning you to the mat with a victorious smirk. He stands a little closer when listens to you speak, your voice becoming a siren’s song that invades his mind into the hours past sundown.
Tonight is all the same, and as usual, a soda in the kitchen at midnight does nothing to help his attempts to sleep.
What that man would do for a cold beer.
He sits by himself at the counter, rubbing his eyes in half annoyance, half worked up. You had sparred with the man five days ago, and he’s still stuck on the move that made him tap out. Something with your thighs wrapped around his neck and squeezing until he smacks the mat. That evening, he rushed through dinner to finish grading exams before fucking one of his pillows for half the night.
Logan’s thrusted out of his daydream at the distant sound of footsteps, recognizing them instantly. He leaves his stool with an embarrassing swiftness but is able to collect himself as he travels through the mansion. The sound of your calming pitters is followed by Logan with ease, and the man finds his prize in record time.
“So it’s not just the kids that don’t get enough rest around here.”
God, it takes everything within Logan not to smile smugly at the way you pause and spin. Finally, you’re the one caught off guard for a change. It’s nice, the way you hide your squirm with a clearing of your throat and a tiny grin. You had to have heard him coming, so why the nerves?
“Hard thing to do when the mind’s always on.” The words come with a shrug that causes the straps of your loose tank to slip off one of your shoulders. Logan swallows at the sight of the skin, sucking in a quiet breath to keep an embarrassing noise from slipping from his lips. What would you think if he’d told you he’d dream about kissing that very spot? Inhaling against and sucking on it after at whatever time of day you’ll allow in whatever room you wish.
“And the mind’s a hard thing to turn off for people like us.” Logan eases to you, even steps echoing in the otherwise empty hallway. With a tilted head and barely-hooded eyes, the man’s growing somewhat drunk just off the smell of you. The thought of a good drink is somewhere else. It’s long gone as he breathes in your scent as deep as he can before continuing. “What’s keeping you up tonight?”
Logan waits patiently while you think. The subtle tick of your eyes to the right as you rack your brain is almost as stunning as when you glance back at him before dragging your gaze down to the crotch of his jeans.
“You don’t really sleep in those, do you?”
You haven’t moved your eyes. Why haven’t you moved your eyes?
Logan huffs out of astonishment more than anything, cocking one of his hips to the side. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip before having to bite the same spot to keep his chuckle down.
“My, uh,” he grins a little. “My jeans are why you can’t sleep?
Logan swallows when you finally look back at his face. You stare something wrong into his soul, something he feels in the smallest divots of his otherworldly joints, in the very meaning of his existence. He doesn’t realize he’s drifted even closer until the heat of you raises the hairs on the back of his neck. The mutant stares at you, into you, a slight sway leaning his body to hang even closer to yours.
“It’s… what’s under them that has me wandering the halls.”
Logan’s insides jump and twitch and flail as he processes your words. His mouth grows to feel extremely dry, and it seems impossible to say anything back. Somewhere deep down, he eventually finds it.
“Are we finally gonna do this?” Logan’s question hits out hard in the dimness of the hallway. Almost as powerful as the beats his heart pounds, a thudding ardor pulsing right alongside the blood pumping all the way down to his cock. He doesn’t hesitate in the gliding of a tender palm along your sides, hands settling to grip against your waist. He dips his fingertips, pressing into what he desperately wishes was your skin instead of the soft fabric of your shirt. “You finally gonna let me show you what I think about every time you walk into the fuckin’ room? Every time you knock me into that mat?”
There’s a vibration coming off your skin now, one that Logan feels rattle against his bones as your lips part in a slow grin. It doesn’t take more than a nod and soft yes from you to force a low growl from Logan’s throat. He almost sounds it again when you pull away to gather his hand into yours.
Logan studies you the entire journey to your room. It’s the furthest down the hall of all the instructors’ quarters, giving him ample time to dance lingering, heated looks at the way you move; it’s with such grace and attention, though the man knows you give it none. It’s just who you are, the slick moves and cunning ways that have him entranced.
The air inside your room is thick with want. A quiet clunk sounds when Logan shuts the door, his back resting against the wood in a slight lean.
“Nice place,” Logan comments quietly. It looks as put together as he thought it would. Tidy but lived in, and touches of you all over. You accept the compliment with a few strides to where Logan stands, and he welcomes the arms you snake around his neck with an embrace of his own.
“Can I kiss you?”
His badly stoked yearning makes the seconds it takes for you to bob your head seem like an eternity. The time it takes to kiss you, however, is second to none. Your faces sink together, tongues too impatient to wait before they meld together in a deep kiss. A moan slips from you, Logan drinking it with a groan of his own.
Logan drags his lips from yours, allowing you to breathe but only for a moment as he trails kisses down your jawline. His world glows golden when he finally makes it to your shoulder. The spot he’s wanted to feel against his lips oh so badly. He nips at and moans lowly against it, raising a round of goosebumps he can feel erupt across you. He’s doing that. He’s the one causing you to shiver like this, and it’s going to drive him crazy.
Logan snogs you the entire way to your bed, pushing you onto the mattress with a gentle flop.
“Off,” he commands, ripping off his tank in the blink of an eye before rushing to unbuckle his belt. “All of it.”
The two of you move quickly, ripping off shirts and slipping off bottoms in a single move. Your desperation forbids any kind of teasing, the two of you completely naked when Logan clambers on top of you. His cock noticeably twitches when it brushes against the skin of your stomach, but Logan’s too busy being slack-jawed as he stares down at you.
He could sob at your tits, and his hand has to tweak one of your nipples on its way down to your soaking lips. Right now, Logan doesn’t focus on taking his time, and you don’t let him. The man dives right in, incapable of waiting when such a ravishing meal like this is laid out like this before him.
A finger glides up your slit and just outside your entrance, collecting your already gathering wetness.
“This all for me?” A gasp spills from you, right into Logan’s mouth. He breathes it down without hesitation, pressing his lips into yours as he slides the drenched pads of his fingers up and down your puffing clit. Your legs try to clench together as the sudden spark that zaps through you, but Logan easily parts them with a single swipe of his knee, keeping you pressed open for him with a little tsk.
All you can do is squeak out a small ahs, a pair of thick fingers rubbing you roughly, while Logan relishes the way your head throws back, mouth parting. Your hand finds its way to his chest, where you clutch his forearm, and squirm underneath him. Another smirk darkens Logan’s face when your writhes forge into determined grinds against his working digits, and he makes sure to burn the image of this into his very core.
“That’s it,” he breathes out. “Use me, baby. Don’t fuckin’ stop ‘til your pussy creams all over my hand.”
Logan could burst at how you do exactly what he said to; you use the fuck out of the hand he has clamped against you, whining and jerking, pussy leaking a devastating amount of your juices out to coat his fingers. He talks you through when your first orgasm ricochets through your body, jolting your limbs and wrenching ill-restrained wails from your lips. Instead of stopping, he hurries to kiss you when you release a particularly loud sound at the overwhelming sensation. Telling you how good you’re being for him. Coming for him so well. You cling to him your entire way down, kissing at his lips and chin lazily as he holds you.
He waits until you return with a heavy breath before removing his hand. You tense at the removal, your shivers quickly decaying when he returns the warmth in the form of his member nudging back against your slit.
The head of his cock presses into you at an infuriating speed, but Logan can’t go any faster. Your center is a mess of wet and clings around Logan with a tautness that makes him pause halfway inside of you. He needs a second, or he’ll cum. Flood you before he gets a chance to feel you come around him first.
A lengthy oh draws from Logan, ending with a punched-out fuck only when his entire cock is entirely submerged inside your hole. He gives you both a moment to adjust, twining an arm under you to press a hand to your back while the other palms itself on your cheek. He clutches you close, testing a few deep strokes that he finds are the right move when you choke out a perfect whine.
Logan’s pace grows gradually, always angling his hips according to whatever makes you clench around him the most. You’re lucky your bed is bolted to the floor when Logan starts bucking with a new snap to his hips, a slick layer of cream appearing and glazing the cock that slips in and out of you.
“Fuckin’ take me,” he heaves above you, just over the slaps of his sopping thrusts. Every grind buries himself deep into your heat, Logan losing himself in the feeling. At this moment, it’s all he’s ever wanted–to rail you until neither of you can’t think straight. Logan’s already there, unable to form a single coherent thought that doesn’t revolve around you. He fucks you well, ignoring the way the muscles in his ass burn nicely every time he plunges himself into you.
Logan can see you staring back up at him, and he’s sure he looks something pitiful. He can feel his eyes trying not to roll back in his head when your body bounces back upwards to meet his thrust. The hair that usually sits perfectly on his forehead sticks to his skin now, and he’s sure that his face is stuck in an expression of pure, fucked out rapture.
“God, you’ve got a pussy on you, dont’cha? Fucking incredible,” Logan murmurs, the fat head of his dribbling cock spearing you open.
A little grin teases at your lips, taking just enough time to catch Logan off guard for you to use your legs to keep him from moving after his next sink inside of you.
“Oh, fuck,” the man shudders, eyes fluttering shut when you kiss him again. His world spins at your rolling over, head hitting the sheets at the way you stuff yourself full of him. Forcing his eyes open, Logan nearly closes them again. The sight and rush of you starting a leisurely rock is enough to inch him closer than he’s ready for.
“Shit, wait.” Even with the hand he squeezes strongly on the cheek of your ass, you keep steady in your grind. “Fucking wait.”
A low, forcing growl thunders through his voice, and he whips forward into a sitting position at a speed that has you seizing to grab at his shoulder. His grip finds the back of your neck, interrupting your gasp to yank your face just inches apart from his.
Your noses brush, eyes studying each other in a thick silence. Unable to help himself, Logan drags you into a long kiss. It steals whatever air is left in your legs, and doesn’t stop when he rolls his cock into you with a bite to your lip. It’s when you match his movements that the hand on your neck moves to the small of your back, helping you along.
“Attagirl. That’s better,” Logan praises between kisses, your hand sneaking under his arms to hook your grasp onto his wide shoulders. Your mouth slicks and pecks against Logan’s, waist easing into an intoxicating whine up and down his cock. “Fuck me, that’s it.”
Logan follows the words with a more forceful knocking of his cock into you, and he’s starting to lose it again. Before you know it, he’s flipped you onto your back once more, and your head almost hangs off the bed with the angle he’s contorted you both into.
Your bodies jerk and hump together with a new vigor. Logan can feel himself dwindling into nothing but a puddle of pitiful moans, eventually having to bury his mouth into the neck to muffle his strangled sobs. They rip from him anyway, vibrating with each flick of his hips.
All you can do is wrap your legs and take it, hanging on the man who’s got you seeing literal fucking stars.
“Fucking cream my cock, bub.”
You don’t have to tell Logan when you’re close. The harsh pulsing of your pussy around his dick alerts him well enough to rail you deeper. Pulling from your neck, Logan rises to watch as you look up at him, a mixture of lust and a hint of panic in your gaze.
“C-cover my mouth, cover my mouth,” you rush out, Logan barely sealing his hand over your lips before you’re falling apart around him. He fucks into you deep as you start to come, palm doing the bare minimum of dampening the long, loud moan that shreds your throat raw. Your hands don’t know what to do with themselves, clenching Logan then the sheets then Logan again while your body sputters under his with rough shakes.
“Such a good fucking girl,” Logan punctuates with matching thrusts, unable to stop his own wave from catching up with him. The first rope of cum spurts inside you when he bottoms out, the last of your peak squeezing him to a stomach-burning clench of his abs as he comes for you. The only thing that leaves his mouth are a slew of curses, all of them groaned with tightly shut eyes and a damp forehead pressing onto yours.
Logan pumps and pumps, removing his hand from your face to keep him from falling as you milk him into nothing but tiny whimpers and flinching aftershocks.
A hard, warm weight begins to sink against you, Logan’s breathing still shaky when you wrap an arm around his back. His cock remains inside you, twitching every now and again, some of his load seeping out of your still-stuffed center.
He doesn’t say anything for a while. He can’t say anything for a while, body feeling as if he’s floating. He can’t remember feeling this loose and free and adoring. He wants to sleep here. Can he sleep here?
“Can I sleep here?” Logan questions, voice hoarse with exhaustion. He smiles lazily at your answer.
“Only if you kiss me again.”
With the little energy he has left, Logan pulls his face to yours. He opts for your jaw first, kissing his way to your chin before planting a final kiss on your lips. This one is different, more careful than the rest. His eyes barely stay open when he retreats, pleased with the picture of your blissed-out expression.
Logan watches you attentively when he finally decides to pull out, his thumb reaching up to stoke at your cheek.
“Shh, shh,” he coos at your light gasp. “I know.”
“Still so big,” you groan quietly, and he shushes you with a peck to your head this time.
“I know, pretty, I know.”
He huffs when his cock falls all the way out, easing to lay next to you. His chest shines, damp, one of his arms folding behind his head while the other maneuvers you into his side. You give in to sleep fast, a cheek pressed into his built peck, and mouth open with steady puffs of warm air against his skin.
Six days, and he was yours. Six months, and you’re his–something certain when he wakes in the early morning to find you already staring back at him with those charming eyes and knowing twinkle.
A/N: Yes, I’m aware the image is from The Wolverine, but let’s pretend it’s Worst!Logan (this man needs more domestic scenes fr). Another one for my A Weekend with Logan Howlett event! The prompt was FURTHER. Title creds to Brandy.
MASTERLIST
Logan didn’t mean to kiss you.
Just as he didn't mean to unravel you, so mercilessly; two fingers deep, your desire a flame, licking at the edges of his own.
It so happened that, days ago, he'd eavesdropped on complaints of a broken AC amongst other casual chatter you and Wade shared in the hallway outside your apartments. And the thought of you, flushed and slightly dishevelled in the sweltering heat, was enough because the doorknob had somehow twisted itself, and just like that he was there with a playful "I can fix it".
God, he was such a liar.
Nerves coiled in his stomach every time. Still, he persisted, returning your sly comments, your teasing smiles, your barely-there touches. It was simply exhilarating - this game of cat and mouse.
So, when he showed up this morning, tools slung over a shoulder, mischief glazing his eyes, one thing was clear: trouble had certainly arrived. "Well, aren't you gonna let me in?" he'd drawled as you were suddenly, inexplicably, speechless.
Heat prickled his skin as he worked; the flannel stripped off without a second thought. Logan toyed with a bolt, biceps flexing with each turn until the wrench finally gave way. Even as your sharp gaze missed nothing - the slight tremor in his fingers, the slackening grip on the screwdriver - he remained stubbornly focused.
The lemonade you'd offered burned his throat with every swallow. He watched you tilt back, the ice in your glass clinking as you drank. A single droplet slid down your neck, his eyes fixed on its slow descent.
And then, snap.
It wasn't gentle, not at all. His tongue fought yours with a wild desperation, hands finding purchase on your hips until you were locked in place.
Logan had often imagined this. You, kissed by the warm glow of his bedside lamp, arching your back as he fucked you senseless. You, branded by his teeth marks, grinding against his abs till your cum smeared across his happy trail.
You. You. You.
But they were mere fantasies - well, until now.
Because somehow, in the stillness between one breath and the next, you're spun around. Logan's hand claims your chin, his thumb a shackle bruising your lower lip, forcing your gaze to the nearby mirror.
His fingers graze the hem of your skirt, the fabric bunches at your hips, and anticipation - tempting as the taste of forbidden fruit - stings between his legs.
Flush against your back, the jeans do little to conceal his arousal. Yet, he takes his sweet time, kneading the plump cushions of your thighs, savouring every whimper spilling from your lips.
It's almost lazy. The way his fingers pump in and out, a slow, mocking rhythm that just drips of cocky satisfaction - and the bastard has the audacity to pause.
"Eyes on me, darlin'," he rasps, leaving a fleeting kiss below your ear. It's enough, apparently. Dark lashes flutter in surrender as heavy lids part, finding him in the reflection. "Good girl."
His other forearm brushes your side, only briefly stealing your attention, before snaking beneath your shirt. The swell of your breast barely fills his palm, and he nearly loses it all right there.
Rough, calloused skin caresses your nipple. Logan rolls it between his index and thumb, toying the delicate bud until it hardens beneath his touch.
He could laugh, really.
And so, he does - something close to a growl that wakes goosebumps across your flesh. Even as you're writhing against him, hardly standing straight, he doesn't relent. Only deeper, only faster - his fingers thrust into your cunt.
"Fuck Lo– you're a lil’ shit, you know that?"
But he's heard the name you moan when you're playing with yourself. Late-night showers, hot water pounding down your back as you explore your body. Quiet afternoons on the couch, soft cushions muffling your gasps as you lose control. In bed, in the sun, in the shadows - whenever the mood strikes, it seems, he's on your mind.
"How 'bout you hm? Think I can't hear through these fuckin' walls?"
It's far from a threat, yet your laugh amuses him. Carefully, he brushes your hair aside, trailing his nose along your neck. And for a second - a single, pussy-drunk second - he's convinced you've doused yourself in every aphrodisiac known to man.
So he doesn't think twice.
His teeth close around your nape. Sharp and possessive, the bite makes you groan in pleasure. His tongue follows immediately, soothing the reddened bruise now begging to be kissed.
Mesmerised, Logan grins as your head slumps back on his shoulder, the world caught in a dizzying waltz as you lock eyes, your cum coating his hand while a sinful trail glistens down your thighs.
One lick.
That's all it takes; your sweetness lingers in his mouth as his fingers pop free, nice and clean. Logan twirls you between his arms until you're finally face to face. A visible bulge stretches the denim as you draw closer, your grip tightening around the contours of his biceps.
In the mirror, you're simply breathtaking.
His hands settle on your ass, playful squeezes shaping the soft curves beneath his touch. Giggles tumble from your lips, light and airy, as you melt against him.
"Since when do neighbours fuck like this?" you tease, kissing his jawline.
And suddenly, you're swept off your feet. Something like affection shines through his eyes as he nudges your bedroom door open.
"Think we're past that now, honey."
It's not long before your moans weave themselves into his name.
Summary: Nearly four months after your first meeting, Logan turns up on your doorstep, flowers in hand and a proposition of a date. (3.8k words)
Rating: Mature (Minors DNI)
Tags and warnings: Trilogy!Logan (but on the revised timeline in theory) x Mutant (psychometry) AFAB!reader (late 20s or very early 30s), post-X-Men 1, first date, kissing and making out, mention of parental divorce, marking, pet names (baby, beautiful, princess, sweetheart), oral f!receiving with panties on, doggy style, mention of vibrator use, Soft!Logan.
Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or The X-Men, its properties, or its characters—they are the property of Disney. The lyrics belong to Olivia Rodrigo.
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Seein' you tonight- it's a bad idea, right?
Seein' you tonight- it's a bad idea, right?
Seein' you tonight- it's a bad idea, right?
Seein' you tonight…
Fuck it, it's fine
It had been a quiet and productive Sunday in the middle of April. You had spent the day spring cleaning your apartment. Even though it was reasonably spacious, the clutter could accumulate quite quickly and you liked having a tidy apartment to ease your state of mind. You decluttered your wardrobe, decanted a load of medicines and toiletries that were clogging up your bathroom cupboard and drawers, and organised the growing number of DVDs and books you had accumulated over the last two years.
Exhausted, you lay on the couch, eating chocolate and mindlessly watching some reality television show. That was until the door knocked. You glanced at your watch and frowned. It was 18:32, and you were not expecting any visitors.
Wincing at the slight pain in your lower back, you pushed yourself off the grey couch and walked to the front door. “Who is it?” you asked, not wanting to take the risk if it was someone trying to break in.
“It’s Logan,” a voice responded from the other side.
Quickly, you opened the door and lo-and-behold, it was the man who captured your attention four months previously. The last you heard, he was heading to Laughlin City in Alberta, but now he stood in the doorway of your New York City apartment, holding a bunch of white, pink and yellow tulips and looking as gorgeous as ever. You, meanwhile, were clad in a pair of old, slate-coloured pyjamas. At least you had showered.
“Logan, hi,” you said in surprise.
“Bad time?” he asked.
“No, just…” You shook your head. “Just wasn’t expecting visitors. Come in.”
You let him through the door and shut it behind him. It felt like a dream that he was here, and you almost pinched yourself in disbelief. You padded on bare feet to the living area where Logan was looking around.
“Something’s different,” he commented. “Couch has moved.”
“Been cleaning and organising. Here, let me take the flowers.” You grabbed a vase from a cabinet, went to the kitchen sink to fill it with water and arranged the flowers. “They’re lovely. Thank you. So how long have you been back in New York?”
“A week.”
“A week?”
“I think. Not sure. I did think about calling, but a lot happened.”
“Well, it can’t be as ridiculous as what happened on Liberty Island the other day.” You caught Logan’s eyes; the silence was deafening. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Let me take you out for dinner, and you can hear the whole story.”
“Like a date?”
Logan shrugged, “If you want to call it that.”
“Well, if you don’t mind waiting while I get ready.”
“I’ve kept you waiting longer,” he replied with a small smile.
Since you had showered, you only had to put on some foundation, concealer, powder, blush, neutral eyeshadow, mascara and clear lipgloss. You threw on a simple, powder-blue button-up dress. With a pair of beige heels, it looked incredibly put together.
“You look beautiful,” Logan commented when you returned to the living room.
“Thought I would make some effort.” You tried to appear nonchalant but felt a heat rise in your cheeks.
“Where to?”
“There’s an Italian place on the corner. Not too expensive, but their pasta is divine.”
“Lead the way,” he said, taking your hand.
The restaurant, called Capiccio’s, was a stone’s throw from the apartment building, but while walking towards it, it dawned on you that you were going on a date with someone you initially brought home for a one-night stand. Not that you would never have gone on a date with him, but you got the sense he was not a dinner-and-dancing type. Granted, you didn’t think he was a call you up after two months or drop by your apartment type. The man had a talent for the unexpected.
The restaurant had low, cosy lighting, and the hostess seated you in a booth at the back. The way the booth was laid out, you and Logan sat very close together. As you glanced at the menu, you could not help but glance at his hazel eyes.
“Bourbon?” you asked.
“What are you having?”
“Pinot Grigio. Goes well with the carbonara.”
“You know from experience?”
“It’s my favourite pasta. I could be in Estonia and order it. Let me guess… arrabiata.”
“Actually was going to get the steak.”
“Of course. Rarer the better?”
“Medium rare.”
“So close.”
“I assume you like yours burnt to cardboard.”
“Actually, I like it medium.” With your food and drink orders in, you decided to bite the bullet. “So, what brought you back?”
Logan reiterated how a young girl named Rogue had stumbled across him in Laughlin City, both ambushed but saved by a group called The X-Men. He further explained that a mutant named Magneto needed Rogue for a plan to turn humans into mutants - which led to what happened on Liberty Island.
“Is she okay?” you asked, taking a nervous sip of your wine.
“I had to give her some of my healing abilities. Nearly killed me in the process, but she’s better. Hair got a bit fried, but no lasting damage.” You frowned in confusion. “She can absorb a person’s life force. If they’re a mutant, their abilities. She’s only seventeen.”
“Wow, and I thought my ability sucked.”
“Gave her my dog tags so I would come back.”
“Sounds like she’s a bit taken with you.”
Logan shrugged nonchalantly. “Got my eye on someone else.”
As much as you wanted to roll your eyes, you could not help but find his comment endearing.
“I guess you can be forgiven for not calling,” you said.
“Would that forgiveness be retracted if I said that I had to head back to Canada?”
“I thought you could not find anything out about your past.”
“I might have been given a lead.”
You nodded. “I suppose it’s important.”
“I started having flashes over the last week of some sort of facility.” You ghosted your hand over his knuckles. “Don’t think I was born with metal on my bones.”
“Someone put metal inside you?” You shuddered at the thought. “So where is the lead?”
“Akali Lake. It should not take long. Got a new ride.”
“Oh, do you now?”
“Goes very fast.”
“You just like boasting.”
“Take you for a spin if you like.”
“Around New York? What ride is it?”
“One carbonara and one bistecca alla Fiorentina,” the server announced, holding up two plates.
“Thanks, Nicole.”
As you ate your pasta, you brushed your leg against Logan’s. You occasionally glanced at each other, your eyes falling to his lips on occasion. Belly full, you pushed your plate away and grabbed your wine glass. Two glasses in, you were pleasantly buzzed. You itched closer to him, wanting to take in more of his earthy scent.
“What?” Logan asked, putting down his whisky.
“Just thinking about how much I want you to kiss me.”
Logan leaned forward and ghosted his lips over yours. You smelt the hint of oak and vanilla from the bourbon on his breath, and it felt more intoxicating than your wine. Your lips pressed against his. His arm wrapped around your waist to pull you closer to his frame as you deepened the kiss. He licked into your mouth, the wine and whisky melding. If you weren’t in public, you would have straddled him right there and then. You broke apart when you needed air and pressed your forehead against Logan’s.
“Want to take this upstairs?” Logan asked, his fingers dancing along your thigh.
“Thought you were going to take me for a spin on your new ride.”
Bill paid, you left the restaurant and Logan stood by a motorcycle, a little amused by your confusion.
“That’s your ride?” you asked. “Thought you meant a sports car.”
“Don’t like to live dangerously, princess?”
“Princess?” you asked incredulously. He cocked a smirk. If he weren’t so fucking handsome and sweet (and quite frankly, the best sex you ever had), you would walk away.
Admittedly, you quite liked being called princess, but only by him.
Logan handed you a helmet, and you put it on. You wondered if there was a second but you remembered he could heal instantly if you got into an accident.
“Hop on,” he said. You climbed onto the back, your arms wrapped tightly around Logan’s waist. “Where do you want to go?”
“Palisades?"
The engine kicked into gear, and before you knew it, you were out of Manhatten and making your way along Palisades Interstate Parkway. Suddenly, the engine went from thirty miles an hour to what felt like two hundred.
You couldn’t even scream from the shock of going so fast.
The motorcycle stopped at Peanut Leap Cascade, and you climbed off the bike, removing the helmet.
“Could’ve warned me,” you said, your legs slightly shaky.
“You okay?” Logan asked, a little worried by how unbalanced you were.
“Yeah, this sometimes happens after some high speeds. Don’t tend to fly a lot either - cabin pressure knocks me off balance.”
You sat on the edge of the cliff, watching the waterfall. Logan sat beside you after putting his jacket around your shoulders. Despite the day being warm, the night chills were coming in.
“It is nice up here,” Logan commented. “So, spoke a lot about me. What’s new with you?”
“Well, my parents are getting divorced.”
“You told your mother of the affair?”
You nodded. “Not the fact I’m a mutant. Might have been too much all at once. Despite everything, it was amicable. I wish I could have done it differently though. Give my father the chance to be honest with what he did.”
“He hid it for five years. If he was going to be honest, he would have done it sooner.”
“I know. It’s why I decided to be direct with my mother about it.”
“How did she take it?”
“There was a lot of silence like she was trying to work out if I was telling the truth. I think she realised quickly that I would not lie about something like that - especially if it involved Dad.” You looked at your nails. You changed them every month with a different colour; this month was yellow. “We were quite close when I was small. As far as I was concerned he could do no wrong. Until… Well, you know.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“I don’t know what there is to say really. It’s raw you know, and I am unsure whether I am ready to speak to him.”
“Have you had more visions?”
“Not since Christmas. Granted, I don’t touch anything personal. Mostly legal documents.”
“They not revealing enough?”
“Believe me, I have never seen NDAS be so dry. Though, if you can read between the lines, you can get something juicy.” You rested your head on his shoulder. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a cigar and lighter. “I assume if you can heal, smoking is not a problem.”
“Funny. Can’t remember much, but I could taste cigar smoke in my mouth.”
“Tried smoking once. Couldn’t stand it. Why cigars, though?” Logan shrugged. “Makes you look more macho?”
Logan let out a small laugh. “That appeal to you, sweetheart?”
“Eh, not my type, to be honest. Maybe it’s that you’re tall, dark…” You kissed him softly, the taste of tobacco coating your lips, “Brooding, mysterious…”
He kissed you again, deeper, his hand resting on the back of your neck. You cupped his cheek and stroked your thumbs over the beard. The chill hit your skin, and you shuddered.
“Let’s get you back home,” Logan whispered.
“Need a place to crash?”
“I’m sure the couch has missed me.”
-o-
You moaned deeply as Logan kissed your neck, his thigh lodged between your legs. You could not remember how long you had been back in the apartment, but since arriving, you and Logan had been making out on the couch like a couple of horny teenagers.
Your lips were undoubtedly swollen, but Logan was like a drug, and you needed more of his delicious lips. Your dress had bunched up around your hips, and Logan’s hand stroked over the outside of your thigh. His fingers ghosted the hem of your lace panties, and you felt a frown against the skin of your neck.
“You’ve shaved,” he commented.
“Tend to do that around spring. Gets everything ready for the summer,” you answered. “Not a fan?”
“Do whatever. It’s your body. Tastes all the same to me.” He kissed you deeply and dipped his fingers under the hem. “You want to do this?”
“Well, it is a school night. Bad idea, right?” You smiled and giggled as Logan lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist and your arms around his neck. “Take me to the bedroom, handsome.”
Logan carried you to the bedroom, moonlight bouncing off the orchid walls. Gently, he laid you on the bed, pulled off his red shirt and laid himself on top of you. His heavy frame pressed you into the mattress, leaving you a little trapped, but you quite liked the feeling. It allowed you to trace your fingers along the veins in his biceps.
Logan leaned down to kiss you, tender and sweet. He lifted himself slightly so he could start to unbutton your dress. He kissed each piece of exposed skin, his lips lingering for a moment or two. He sucked your breast through the bra, the lace scratching against your hardening nipple.
He nipped the skin above his navel, teeth pressing until the blood vessels broke. He licked the mark as you arched your back.
“Couldn’t leave without gifting you something,” he growled, unfastening the last button, the dress pooling under you like a lake. “Fuck, baby, could look at you all day.”
He licked towards the hem of your plum panties. His hands rested on your waist as his lips brushed along the inside of your thigh. You placed your hands on the back of his head and tugged the dark hair as his tongue dragged over the lace covering your sex. Your eyes fluttered at the brief friction and the feeling of Logan’s hot breath on your cunt.
“This okay, beautiful?” he asked.
“Yes,” you gasped.
He made a few exploratory licks, settling into the taste of you. “Just as sweet as I remember.” His tongue prodded your entrance, the scratch of the lace adding to the stimulation. You squirmed under his adoration, the grip on his hair tightening.
“Fuck,” you moaned, your head rolling back. “Logan…”
His lips closed around your clit. Your hand released from clutching the sheets to grip his shoulder, nails digging in so hard it broke the skin.
With a primal groan, Logan pushed your thighs further apart to pull aside your panties. Without much warning, one finger slid inside you and the suction on your clit became frenzied. It was as though he was a starved man; there wasn’t a particular plan or rhythm. He alternated between kitten licks on your clit and sucking the swollen bud, while your hips involuntarily bucked against his lips.
A second finger entered you, stretching your walls, preparing you for his heavy cock. He crooked his fingers against the spot he knew all too well would set you off.
Heat built in your pelvis; your breaths became uncontrollable. You were a spring under pressure and on the verge of extrication. Your body trembled, and your back arched. Stars danced behind your eyes, your walls pulsing around Logan’s fingers, and your mouth opened in a silent cry.
You felt his fingers slow to ride out your orgasm and his tongue lap at your juices. You prepared for another round of his fingers and tongue, but instead (annoyingly), he lifted himself, put your panties back into place, and kissed up the bare skin to your lips.
“Thought I would give you some mercy this time,” he said. The taste of your release on his lips sent a shiver down your spine.
You tugged at his vest, pulling it over his head. Within a few moments, you were both naked, clothes scattered on the floor. Logan lifted you so you were seated on his lap, your wet pussy sliding against his hardening shaft.
You looked at his right shoulder and pressed a kiss to the healed skin where your nails had cut. Logan kissed the spot under your ear and you felt yourself melt at the tender action.
“How do you want me?” you whispered. “Think I remember you saying you wanted to fuck me from behind.”
“That what you want, princess?” You nodded, your lips dancing along his neck. He let you dictate the position, the front of your body flat on the sheets, and a pillow resting under your pelvis to make it easier for Logan to get the right spot. “Got any lube?”
“Drawer,” you replied, reaching to the bedside table and grabbing the small bottle. You handed it to Logan, who opened it and squeezed a decent amount onto his palm. You tilted your head to see Logan stroke the lube over his deliciously hard cock.
You forgot how gorgeous this man was. His broad shoulders, defined chest, sculpted abs, the smattering of hair… If there was a possibility of a god, they did an excellent job creating Logan.
“You ready?” he whispered as positioned the leaking tip of his dick at your entrance, his chest pressing against your back, just enough so he did not crush you under his hulking frame.
“Yeah,” you replied. Gently, he pushed himself inside, inch by inch, until it hit the edge of your cervix. You let out a noise that seemed a confused combination of a whine and a squeak at the new pressure. You knew his girth was substantial but you underestimated the length. “Oh my god.”
“Am I hurting you?” Your heart tightened at his concern.
“No. Just that you’re so deep.” You twisted your neck and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”
“If it gets too much, tap my arm.” Slowly, he began to thrust, and your hands crushed the pillow. You moaned as you felt his hot breath on the back of your neck. “Feel so good, baby.”
You let out a small whine as he rutted against your walls. This was better than you remembered. Not just the feeling of his powerful thrusts, but the softness and consideration. For a man who looked rough around the edges, he demonstrated so much respect for your feelings and comfort. He almost seemed too good to be true.
You pushed back a little to meet his thrusts. Logan moved his hand around to cup your breast, his calloused thumb stroking your nipple. You arched your neck, allowing Logan to kiss and suck the column.
“Harder,” you panted. Logan tugged on the nipple, causing you to clench around him.
“Fuck,” Logan growled. His hips moved faster, his breath becoming more ragged.
Your head rolled forward again, your muscles beginning to flutter around him. Suddenly, you felt him pull you upright, your back to his chest. His one hand remained on your tit while the other strummed your clit.
You turned your head to Logan, and he kissed you deeply, his velvet tongue stroking over yours. When he broke the kiss, he asked, “You close, baby?”
You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut. He slammed some hard thrusts into you, and you felt yourself buckle against his strong frame. You let out a small whine, and with a final thrust, Logan filled you with his hot, white seed. He pumped slowly, his stamina just about keeping you both upright as he worked through your releases.
You collapsed on the bed, a sheen of sweat coating your spent bodies. Your breaths heavy, your mind drifted into a dizzying daze as you looked at his glistening frame. Logan ran his finger over the bruise forming above your belly button. You laced your fingers with his fingers, and he hissed.
“Sorry, skin is sensitive there,” he said. “Cuts through the flesh more often than any other injury.” You pressed your lips to the knuckles. He kissed your damp forehead and got off the bed. “Get you a rag.”
While Logan was in the bathroom, you grabbed his rust-coloured shirt from the floor and pulled it on, leaving a few buttons loose around your chest. When he returned, he pressed the damp cloth over your thighs and pussy, kissing the skin as he went. You hissed at the pressure of lips on your folds before he moved to reach your mouth.
“You look really sexy in my shirt,” he purred.
You smirked and reached into your bedside drawer. You held up a vibrator and said, “Owed you a show.”
-o-
An insistent, ear-piercing beep broke your slumber, and you groaned in your effort to silence it. Instead of getting out of bed, you rested your head on Logan’s bare shoulder and your fingers played with the hair coating his abdomen.
“Do you always wake at 06:30?” Logan asked, his eyes still closed.
“Believe me, it’s the latest I can sleep without missing my train,” you replied rubbing your eyes. “I do need a shower.”
Logan opened his eyes in response, “Well, we did work up a sweat.”
Owing to time, the most you could do was some light kissing. However, you noted something in Logan’s eyes. It looked like recognition when you applied your shower gel.
“You okay?” you asked.
“Nothing,” Logan answered. “Thought I recognised the smell.”
“Cherry blossom. Do you think you have ever been to Japan?”
“Perhaps. Come to think of it, I remember some sort of bunker and searing pain like my skin was burning off.”
“You think it might have been in 1945?”
“I suppose I’ll find out soon if this lead goes anywhere.”
With the shower over, you dressed in dark mauve trousers and a grey sweater while Logan prepared breakfast. It seemed like déjà vu when you walked into the kitchen to the smell of eggs and Logan in just his jeans.
Something in your stomach fluttered at how domestic this all looked.
“You heading up to Canada after I leave for work?” you asked, taking a bite of your scrambled eggs.
“Quicker I leave, quicker I get back,” he replied.
“So you’re going to come back?”
“I made a promise. Don’t tend to break them.”
You looked at your watch, “Shit, I need to go.”
You quickly drained your black coffee and put the dishes in the dishwasher. Logan pulled on his vest and his two jackets. “Keep the shirt; looks better on you.”
Outside, you felt unsure of what to say, but Logan seemed to know what to do. He pulled you in for a deep kiss, and instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck.
Don’t take long,” you whispered.
“I’ll be back before you know it.” He took your hand and kissed your knuckles. “See you later, princess.”
Summary: Needing some extra cash, you take up an offer to become a nanny to an eleven-year-old girl named Laura. However, things become complicated when you begin to bond with her attractive but taciturn father, Logan. (15.3k words)
Rating: Mature (Minors DNI)
Tags and warnings: OldMan!Logan x nanny afab!reader, slight reader backstory, age gap (reader is 27/28), romance, parenthood, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut (vaginal fingering, implied blow job, cunnilingus, face-sitting, protected p in v sex (condom and pill mentioned)), depiction of coughing up blood, post-Logan 2017 (ending changed).
Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or The X-Men, its properties, or its characters—they are the property of Disney. The lyrics belong to Taylor Swift and Phoebe Bridgers.
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I've had (I've had) too much to drink tonight.
How did I go from growing up to breaking down?
And I wake up (wake up) in the middle of the night.
It's like I can feel time moving.
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22?
Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
You should have known that working in a start-up café was going to be a disaster.
It was only meant to be a temporary way of getting money for rent, food and utilities whilst you tried to compose the novel that every English major declares they would write when they graduated.
Only you were actually going to do it.
Since graduating, you worked a few menial jobs to ensure you could fund the venture, and you had the intention of completing it.
Eventually.
But the fact that you had to keep changing your job was not quite your own fault.
An office job had been the most stable of the jobs. It was tedious data entry, but it paid reasonably. However, the company folded into another, which meant redundancies. You did quit the bar work, but given that the owner was often spending more time drinking than managing, it was becoming too chaotic. You then helped a friend out with their start-up café, but after six months or so, the bills and costs were increasing exponentially and it became too much for your friend to cope.
“It’s this economy,” Josh said when he shut the doors for the last time. “The only business that seems to thrive is Starbucks.”
“I think they lace their coffee with something to make it more addictive,” you replied. “Well, guess we’re back to my favourite hobby: job hunting.”
“How is the novel coming along?”
“Ehh…” You had written some of it. Mostly scenes that came into your head, but you were still trying to find the connective tissue to link them together. And fundamentally, the heart of the story was evading you. Or you didn’t have the heart in it. Either way, it had been a work in progress for five years. “It’s there.”
“Well, luckily, I installed his board for odd jobs. Maybe you can get some quick cash if needed.”
“Yeah, I don’t think my parents can bail me out this time. I should have taken up that publishing opportunity when I graduated.”
“Didn’t you decline it because you refused to be a nepo-baby?”
“Well, it was just a low-paying internship, but I guess the progression was there. I’m nearly thirty, Josh, and nothing in my life is working out.”
You sighed and looked at the job board. Cleaner. Possibly, but you heard some horror stories about hoarders. Granted, you were not in a position to be picky. You glanced over a few adverts for guitar lessons and dog walkers. Nanny. You looked at that advert.
Nanny needed ASAP for sixth grader in the local area. Spanish-speaking ideal. Pay to be discussed.
“Yeah, saw the guy come in for that yesterday. Might be a single dad. Looks like he’s seen better days,” Josh said. “Quite good looking though.”
“You trying to get me a job or a date?” you joked. “Might be worth a shot, and sounds like easy money.”
“Looking after a kid?”
“The kid’s in sixth grade. All I need to do is feed them and make sure they do not jump off the roof.” You grabbed your phone and typed the number at the bottom. You didn’t get an answer, but managed to get the voicemail. “Hi, I saw the advert for the nanny job and was wondering if it was still available.” You left your name and number and went to collect your bag. You managed to snag some food as well since it would likely go to waste if you didn’t take it. “Well, here’s to the next disaster.”
It was later that night when your phone rang. You were barely keeping yourself awake, but it was a number that looked familiar.
“Hello?” you asked sleepily.
“ You were calling about a job ?” the gruff voice on the other end asked.
You sat up, adrenaline now waking you, “Yeah, the nanny job, right?”
“ How soon can you start ?”
“Well, luckily for you, I have had to find a new pasture in life,” you chuckled. You didn’t get much of a response. “Tomorrow too soon?”
“ Well, luckily for you, I got a day off so we can have some form of informal discussion .”
“Sure. I can be there at 09:00.”
-o-
While it was not a formal job interview, you thought you would at least dress nicely and make a good impression. It was a balmy late August day, so you put on a lilac sundress and white sandals.
The apartment was not too far from where you lived, and given the pleasant weather, you decided to walk the three or four blocks. Point in your favour: conveniently close.
You did not know what to expect when you arrived at the block. However, the last thing you expected was the dad to look like that . He was quite a bit older than you, if the salt and pepper hair and beard had anything to go by. Underneath the dark jeans and short-sleeved shirt, you could tell there was a solid, muscular frame. And then there were his eyes, which flickered between brown and green.
“You coming in or…” he said.
“Yeah, hi, sorry,” you replied. Given the weather, he offered you a Dr Pepper or sparkling water. Unsure if this was a test, you took the S. Pelegrino. While you watched him, you could not help but think he looked familiar. “I didn't quite get your name, sorry.”
“Logan,” he replied as he handed you the glass. “Ever done this before?”
“Honestly, no. I mean, I did the odd babysitting when I was in high school, but the kids were much younger and already in bed.”
“Well, you're going to have to pick Laura up from school, give her dinner and make sure she does her homework. This job I have at the moment is a lot of shift work, so it might be breakfast and dropping her off at school as well.”
“Seems straightforward. Does she have any allergies or medical conditions?”
“No, she's… very healthy. School begins about 08:30 and ends at 15:00. Laura decided she wanted to play soccer on Wednesdays so it might be 16:00.”
You jotted the notes on a pad, “Okay.”
“Of course, I’ll pay the expenses for food and travel.”
“The advert mentioned being able to speak Spanish, but you’re Canadian…”
“It’s complicated. Laura’s first language is Spanish. She's Mexican. Her English is coming along, but sometimes it helps to get some words in.” You did not think it was worth questioning for any sort of elaboration, but you did not know how this could be complicated. “How is your Spanish?”
“Bien. La mejor de mi clase.” Logan blinked at you, clearly not quite grasping the fluidity of your speech. “Highest grades in my class.”
“Well, I guess the only thing I can do now is introduce you to Laura.”
The apartment was not particularly large but had two reasonable bedrooms. It was much more homely than your studio apartment, particularly as you looked around Laura’s bedroom. It had pale blue walls, a baby pink comforter and a spattering of comics all over the small bookcase, along with some books that you thought seemed too young for an eleven-year-old. Granted, if English were not her first language, it might be used for a different purpose other than recreation.
On the bed sat a small girl, cross-legged and reading a comic. She turned her attention to you and Logan, her brown eyes squinting as if she were trying to decipher you.
“Kiddo, meet your new nanny,” Logan said.
“Hola, mucho gusto,” you said, perhaps thinking that speaking in her native language would break the ice. Laura blinked a little, still trying to work out if you were a threat or not. “I like your room.”
“Thank you,” Laura replied. She looked at her father, and you got the impression that she was silently asking who you were and why you were in their apartment.
Perhaps sensing that little progress was going to be made, Logan decided to return to the kitchen.
“I guess she takes a while to warm up to people,” you commented.
Logan snorted, “Given everything she’s gone through it ain’t surprising. Took her days to even speak to me.”
“Is her mom around?”
“I don’t even know who her mom is.” You looked at him, now feeling a little horrified and wondering if this was a good idea. “Not like that. It’s…”
“Complicated. You said.”
“Look, if this is not going to work, you can leave and not come back.”
You thought about it for a moment. You could leave and find something else. It would be less hassle, and you didn’t need the hassle. However, you and Logan needed something from this arrangement: he needed someone to look after Laura so he could keep a roof over their heads, and you needed this job to keep your roof over your head. As complicated as their history might be, you decided that it would not be an obstacle to what you needed.
“It’s fine. I won’t push. I can start tomorrow if you need me to.”
“Well, you’re in luck. I need to do a twelve-hour shift during the day. Laura’s school does not start until Wednesday, so she’ll need someone to be here.”
“Oh…” You had thought it would be a drop-off and pick-up for a few hours so that you could build rapport with Laura first. Twelve hours alone with a taciturn pre-teen was more daunting than you thought. However, you needed the money, and the number of hours could give you a boost. “Sure. What time?”
“Shift starts at 10:00, but be here for 09:30. I’ll make sure she’s up, cleaned and has breakfast.”
“Okay, deal. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
-o-
It was 09:27 when you knocked on the door for Logan’s apartment. Now that you didn’t need to dress to make an impression, you elected to wear jeans and a t-shirt, which hopefully would indicate to Laura that you were not a threat.
When Logan answered the door, he was wearing a white shirt tucked into some black trousers that really suited his- You cut yourself off before it got unprofessional.
“You look nice,” you commented and then mentally slapped yourself. It was not a lie. He did look nice. Really nice. So much for professionalism.
“I miss being able to work in jeans,” he muttered. “Okay, Laura is fed. Bedtime is 20:00 sharp. I’ll try to be back before 23:00. Food’s in the fridge, but here is my work number and credit card if needed.”
“Sure.”
“Laura,” he said to his daughter, who was sitting at the kitchen table and staring at you. “Be nice. She’s doing us a favour.” He kissed the top of her head and grabbed his keys.
And then it was just you and Laura.
Alone.
For ten and a half hours.
You had a bad feeling about this.
“So… ¿Te gusta el parque?” Laura blinked at you. Maybe your accent was the problem. “Maybe we can go to the park?”
“And do what?” Laura asked, her brown eyes flickering between suspicion and confusion.
“Play. I think there are swings and a roundabout. Maybe walk. Get some fresh air.”
“You play fútbol?”
“Soccer? No. Un poco en escuela but we can play if you want and get some practice in before you start school.”
Laura nodded. You took a deep breath. Progress.
In minutes, Laura put her trainers on, and grabbed a soccer ball and her rucksack.
There was a small park about two blocks away, with a small play area and a little soccer field. The goal nets were slightly torn but usable for taking penalty goal shots.
“Okay, so the spot is here, you just need to kick towards the goal,” you instructed. Laura nodded and tapped the ball. It rolled a little, but did not quite get past the posts. “A little more force there. Think like it’s the goal to win the World Cup.” This time, Laura kicked harder, the ball rolling over the goal line. “Good.” There were some more practice shots until Laura got the hang of the speed and velocity needed to kick the ball. A couple of times, she hit the post and groaned in frustration. However, you told her that it was normal and even the best players did it. “So I am going to be the goalkeeper, and you need to kick past me.”
“And what do you do?”
“Try to catch it.”
Laura lined up the ball and kicked it towards you. You decided to let it pass so she could build her confidence. You would put more effort in soon, but she needed to know that she could hit the goal with someone there. After about an hour and a half, you could sense she was tiring.
“Okay Laura, time's up. Full time,” you said, grabbing the ball.
“We can’t keep going?” she asked.
“Seems we burnt off all your energy, and we’re nearing lunchtime. Are you hungry?”
At the idea of food, Laura beamed.
While taking her to a diner would be easier, you were cautious not to overstep the boundaries by using Logan’s credit card when you knew there was food at the apartment. Theoretically, you could make something healthy. Or at the very least balanced.
“¿Qué te gustaría comer?” you asked. Laura shrugged. You hummed and went into the cupboard. You held up a jar of peanut butter and jelly (hoping she did not have a peanut allergy) and a half-empty bag of wholemeal bread (probably bought by Logan to at least put something healthy into his child). Laura nodded, and you got to work making the sandwich. “How about un manzana?” You found a Babybel and added that to the plate. So far, it was quite healthy, but there was always room for fun. Cheetos. Perfect. “Here.”
Instantly, Laura ate the sandwich, followed by the Cheetos and Babybel, much like a typical kid going for the less healthy items on the plate, but she did eat the apple.
“At least we know the safe foods for a packed lunch,” you commented.
“Packed lunch?” Laura questioned.
“Or are you getting cafeteria food? Granted, it’s been a while since I had school food.” Laura shrugged. You made a note to ask Logan later. You looked at the fridge and noticed a list. School supplies. “You got all of these?”
“No.”
“Okay, so maybe we can watch some television for a bit, and then head to Target and see what supplies we can get.”
-o-
You had thought shopping for school supplies would be a simple idea, but you did not realise how much stuff a sixth grader needed. When you were eleven, all you needed were pens, pencils, a ruler, a calculator and an eraser. Now it seemed like schools were being sponsored by Target’s stationery section.
You started with the basics before you could even consider everything else. The sheer number of highlighters was overwhelming - why were there neon, pastels, glitter and gel? They all did the same thing.
Laura was in the middle of picking out a water bottle when you heard your phone ring. You saw it was Logan, and you realised he might be on his lunch hour. “Hi.”
“ Everything okay ?” he asked.
“Yeah, we played a little soccer in the park, had lunch, and now we’re at Target getting some supplies for school.”
“ Fuck I knew I was meant to do something yesterday. Put it on that card .”
“You might regret it. A pack of pens is pushing $6 without tax,” you chuckled. “I think she’s warming up to me.”
“ Good. Listen, I gotta go. See you later .”
“See you later.” You hung up the phone and saw Laura had finally chosen a navy blue metal water bottle. “Like that one?” Laura nodded. “Okay, put it in the cart.”
You dreaded thinking about the total, but it was a relief that it was essential and not something frivolous. Laura seemed happy, and that was worth it. For the first time today, you felt like this was something you could do.
You spent the rest of the afternoon packing her pencil case and backpack, setting up a little study corner for her homework and preparing a dinner of spaghetti and meatballs.
“I might need to get better at my cooking game, but not bad,” you commented as you took a bite of the pasta. “Te gusta?”
“Si,” Laura replied, taking a large mouthful of sauce and smearing it all over her face.
You chuckled, “Good thing you’re having a shower after this.”
Seemed simple enough: food, shower, read, bed.
Wait, did Laura need to be read to? She was old enough to read to herself. Maybe that would be an idea while you cleaned up and checked her before she went to sleep. By the time Laura had finished her shower and put on her pyjamas, it was around 19:15, and bedtime was at 20:00. She brushed her teeth while you dried and brushed her hair and put it into a ponytail.
“Okay, Laura, what are you reading?” you asked, looking at the book on the bedside table. “ Matilda . It’s a good one.”
“She has these powers where she can move things with her mind. She’s like an X-Man.”
“There’s a name I haven’t heard for a while.” You looked at the desk and saw a pile of X-Men comics poking out. “You like the X-Men?” Laura was not paying much attention as she started burying her head in her book. You opened the first page and read the brief introduction to the heroes. However, your eyes focused on a man in a cowl. “I’m going to clean up okay. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” You kept the comic in hand and put it on the coffee table to read later. By the time you had put the dishes in the dishwasher and cleaned up the sides, it was time for lights out. Laura, however, had drifted off, the book resting against her cheek. Quietly, you took the book, placed the bookmark inside and switched off the lamp.
“Sweet dreams,” you whispered as you pulled up the comforter.
Logan would still be out for three more hours, so you brewed yourself a tea, took a seat on the couch and grabbed the television remote. After 20:00, there was not much on other than some police or hospital dramas, but they filled the silence. However, fatigue engulfed you. The next thing you knew, there was a click of a lock.
You sat up sharply and realised it was Logan.
“Sorry, busy day,” you yawned. You stretched and stood up. “Hungry?”
“I can eat,” Logan replied, exhaustion coating his voice. You weren't surprised after a twelve-hour shift.
You went to the kitchen, loaded a plate of leftover pasta, and put it in the microwave. “Busy?”
“Hmmm,” he answered as he grabbed a glass of water.
“What do you do? I never asked.”
“Just some security. The hours are shit but it puts a roof over our heads.” He sat at the counter and rubbed his eyes. “Getting too old for this.”
“You look in good shape to me,” you commented without thinking. You shook your head. However, Logan had already peeled off his shirt, leaving him in a white vest. Your mouth dried as you took in the lean muscle of his arms, shoulders and chest. His movements seemed strained, and you could see some scar tissue from old injuries. “Need some painkillers?”
“Top cupboard.” You looked up and wondered how you were going to reach it. Before you could dare try to climb onto the counter. Logan stood. “I’ll do it.”
“I guess it makes sense to keep it out of Laura’s sight.”
Logan snorted, grabbed two different packets. One was a very strong painkiller, while the other was something that you did not recognise. He popped two pills from each and swallowed them down, your eyes fixated on the way his Adam’s apple bobbed.
The microwave beeped.
“I should get back home,” you said, getting hold of yourself.
“Wait.” He got out his phone and put on some glasses. Within moments, you got a Venmo notification. “Thanks for today. Um… Tomorrow I have a late shift, and Wednesday I need to leave early.”
“What time tomorrow?”
“18:00. Probably won’t be back until after 01:00, and then I need to leave at 07:00.”
“Okay. I’ll be here at 17:30. Bye, Logan.”
-o-
The last day of Summer vacation came with the most unprecedented heat wave. No matter how much you tried to cool off, nothing seemed to work. It felt worse as you walked the few blocks to Logan’s apartment, praying that they had some sort of air conditioning.
“Hace calor,” Laura commented as you walked through the door. Her hair had been pulled back and she was wearing a simple t-shirt and short pyjama set. You had put on your loosest dress, but it was doing very little to keep you cool. “Lemonade?”
“Thanks,” you said, taking the glass. The ice was already melting by the time it touched your lips. “Shit.” You wiped the bit of lemonade from your collarbone and then looked up to see Logan looking at you. You felt sorry for him since he had to wear a full-on suit in what felt like Death Valley heat. Your eyes widened when you realised something. “Oh, sorry, I did not mean to curse.”
“She’s heard worse. Fuck it, she’s said worse,” Logan replied. You looked at Laura, who did not seem in any way put out. “I made up a small bed on the couch for you to stay the night.”
“Oh… I didn’t bring anything to sleep in,” you confessed. Then again, you remembered the shift pattern and knew you would be back within four hours anyway if you went home.
Logan went into his room and returned with a t-shirt and boxers. “You can throw your dress in the washing machine if you can’t get back to your apartment to change.”
“Thanks.”
“Dinner is on the stove. Thought I would save you the effort of cooking.”
“No creo que sea comestible,” Laura commented under her breath.
Logan ignored the comment and kissed Laura’s head. “Get to bed early, kiddo, you have school tomorrow.”
You gave Logan a small parting smile as he left you and Laura alone together. “Okay, let’s see what your dad has tried to poison us with.” You looked in the pot. It looked like some sort of chilli. You found a teaspoon and tasted the sauce. “Not bad. Bit questionable on a hot day but better than nothing.”
“He does not put enough spice in it,” Laura commented.
“Like it hotter?” Laura nodded, and you found some chilli powder, adding a small spoonful. “Should be picante enough now.” You plated two bowls and joined Laura at the table. “You have everything packed for tomorrow?”
“I think so. I need lunch.”
“I can sort that. What do you want?”
Laura furrowed her brow like you had asked her a complicated maths question, “What do people eat for lunch?”
The question threw you off guard for a moment, “Um… Well… It depends. Some people bring sandwiches, and then some other things like fruit or vegetables. Maybe I can do something like what I made you yesterday?”
“Me gustaría eso.”
You smiled and continued eating your dinner. “Your dad is not that bad a cook.”
“He burnt chicken last week.”
“Easy mistake to make. I made some chai cookies once and nearly burnt the house down. However, we learn our lessons, and I make some damn good cookies.”
“Can you show me?”
“Sure, cariño. Maybe this weekend.”
After dinner, Laura watched some television while you cleaned up and put the leftovers in the fridge for Logan. By 19:00, Laura knew her routine, but before you could tuck her in for the night, you helped her choose an outfit - a simple jeans and a t-shirt.
“Will people like it?” she asked.
“I think it’s appropriate enough for school. You’re in sixth grade - not Mean Girls .” Laura looked at you. “It’s a movie. Might show it to you in a couple of years. So, you’re reading, but lights out at 20:00. I’ll check on you in a bit.”
You yawned as you returned to the living room, found a home renovation show to put on in the background and waited until the first advertisement break to go into Laura’s room to check she was sleeping. She was curled up, the fan blowing and her breathing level.
You spent the rest of the evening taking a cool shower, putting your clothes in the washing machine and flicking through the comic you had left on the table. The names sounded familiar, but you could not quite figure out where you had heard them. However, you kept getting drawn to Wolverine. Something about his aloof and gruff attitude had some cogs turning in your head.
Shaking your head, you decided to leave it and return to your show. It was an hour later when your phone rang; however, rather than Logan, it was your landlord.
“Hey,” you said quietly. “I have the rent money ready-”
“ I wouldn’t worry about it .”
“Why?”
“ The heat caused an electrical fault in your neighbour’s apartment. A fire broke out .”
“Oh my god… Are they okay?”
“ No one has been hurt, thankfully, but the whole place went up, and smoke got into your apartment. Sorry, honey, but the Fire Department has declared it unsafe. Until I can fix it up, I’ll put your rent payments on hold. Insurance should hopefully cover the repairs.”
“Is my stuff okay?”
“ They said there is some smoke damage, but you’ll need to assess what is usable .”
“Okay, I’ll drop by tomorrow.” You hung up and put your face in your hands.
Fucking. Brilliant.
-o-
You barely slept.
Logan came home after 02:00, and you faked your slumber as he quietly moved around the kitchen before going to his room. Within three hours, he was up again, and you decided to stop pretending. Dawn had broken through the window as he prepared a black coffee from the percolator.
“My apartment has smoke damage,” you said before he could open his mouth.
He replied, “You okay?”
“I don’t know. I just…” You sighed and rubbed your eyes. “It’s just another thing I did not need. I don’t have anywhere close to here to stay.”
“You could stay here.”
“Really?”
“You need somewhere to sleep, and it’ll make things easier with Laura. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, you won’t even fit and your back-”
“Slept on worse surfaces, darlin’.”
You nodded, “Okay.” Suddenly, the shock and exhaustion overwhelmed you, and tears filled your eyes. “Sorry.”
“Come ‘ere,” he said, and instantly you fell into his strong embrace. Instantly, the smell of sandalwood, tobacco and coffee soothed you. It felt nice. Weird but nice. “Do you need anything?”
“Bit early for whisky.”
He snorted, “I’ll take the day if you need to get things sorted.”
“No. Besides, Laura will be at school most of the day. I’ll stop by the apartment after I drop her off. Maybe the best case scenario is a load of dry cleaning.”
You pulled back and felt your heart skip a beat when you looked into his hazel eyes. He really was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Your eyes drifted to his lips, and for a moment, you thought about leaning in, if only to scratch the itch.
“I should make Laura some breakfast,” you whispered, almost fearful of him letting you go.
“Good idea.” He let go, but you could still feel the imprint of his arms around you. “I’ll get my sheets in the wash and set them up for you.”
You nodded and proceeded to take your mind off everything by starting to prepare some pancakes. It seemed like a nice way to start the school year. However, it seemed to evolve from just the pancakes to added fruit salad and scrambled eggs. At least Logan could take some of the food.
“I think she’ll devour this up in no time. Kid’s like a vacuum,” Logan commented, now dressed in a fresh shirt and trousers.
“Probably going through a growth spurt,” you replied as you handed him a fresh coffee. “Um… do you need me to cover rent or anything while I am here?”
“It's a bit counterproductive that I pay you money just to send it back. Seems like you went through a shit time lately. Call it treating yourself.”
“I think I just attract bad luck.” You sighed, “Maybe this will give me the kick in the ass I need to get this book written.”
“Book?”
“Typical literature grad; always working on the next great American novel. Though I have always wanted to be a writer. I had notebooks of stories I wrote in high school.”
“Can’t use any of them, but you know, make them better?”
“At my parents’ place. I should’ve just taken up a job at a publishing house, or just become a teacher. Instead, I end up with dead-end job after dead-end job - not that this is a dead-end job. I actually like this one.”
“Teaching isn’t so bad.”
“How do you know?”
“I was one. History.”
“And now you work difficult shifts in security?”
“It’s a long story.”
“A lot of long stories.”
“I know.”
You held an awkward silence. You knew that Logan was hiding something about Laura, but the weird choice in career changes seemed questionable as well. Your eyes drifted to a photo on the bookshelf. You never looked close enough at it, but it seemed to be a group gathering. You could see Logan, a little younger and less dishevelled. Most of all, he looked happy, at least from what you could see in his eyes.
“I should get to work,” Logan said, breaking the silence.
“I’ll get Laura up.”
-o-
“How much smoke damage?” Logan asked when you walked through the door with a bag at around 11:00. You were surprised he was home, and even more concerningly, you could see his bleeding knuckles running under the faucet.
“Never mind that, what happened?” you asked.
“Some fuckstick got too clever for his own good. It’s fine. It’ll heal.” You dropped your bag and went to find the First Aid kit—a very full one. “Don’t fuss.”
“Part of the job description,” you replied. “Sit.” Logan followed your order as you took out some iodine and cotton balls. You dabbed the liquid onto the cut, and Logan hissed. “Sorry, I should have warned you that this was going to sting.” However, you saw something on the skin that seemed off. It seemed like the skin was growing back, to the point that the wound looked healed. You looked at Logan, who retracted his hand quickly.
“Told you it would heal,” he grumbled.
“Are you a mutant?” you asked softly.
Logan nodded, “So is Laura.” He rubbed his face. “Believe me, the whole truth is far worse.”
You went to a cupboard and pulled out a bottle of whisky. You only poured one glass since you needed a clear head before you collected Laura. “Hit me.”
“Laura’s my daughter, but technically she’s my clone. One of the nurses broke her out of this lab and found me. We went through hell just trying to get away from the people who made her. We lost-” His breath hitched, and he downed his whisky. “Charles.”
“Who’s Charles?”
“He took me in when I had no one. Gave me a home and a family.” He sniffed. “They’re all gone now.”
You looked at the photo on the bookcase and then the comic, “Charles Xavier. You’re Wolverine.” He winced as he popped out three claws. “Wow.”
“You seem a little starstruck there, darlin’.” He retracted the claws and sighed. “If you want to pull out of this deal-”
“Why would I? It’s not fair to Laura.” You rested your hand on his, noticing him wince. “Still in pain?”
“Around the X-Men, I played down my injuries. Tell ‘em I just shrug off the pain once I’m healed, but it’s not quite that easy. I’d feel phantom pains for months. Especially now.”
“Is that why you need the pain killers?”
“The metal on my bones is poisoning me. I have to take painkillers and anti-toxins to keep it at bay since my regenerative healing has slowed.”
“So you take a physically draining job?”
“Gotta feed us somehow. It’s not ideal. To be honest, it makes me miss the limo driving.”
“Your CV is becoming far more eclectic than mine,” you chuckled. “Does that normally happen to mutants? At some point, it just becomes… faulty?”
“Maybe with age, maybe with illness. You heard about the Westchester Incident, right?”
“Vaguely.”
“Chuck had the most advanced mind in the world. However, he got old, and with age comes dementia. Lost control, and one day he had a seizure. Killed everyone in the mansion and within a few-mile radius. Except me. My brain could withstand it to a point.”
“Is that what killed him in the end?”
Logan reached for the bottle again, “Maybe I should be glad that it was quick in the end.” Instead of pouring a glass, he took a swig from the bottle. “While we were trying to get to North Dakota with Laura, we stopped at a farm. Those bastards caught up with us and used a feral clone of me to kill him. Couldn’t even give him a proper burial.” You blinked as you took it all in. You were just getting around the fact that Laura was a clone and Logan was a member of the X-Men. “I started falling apart, but just about managed to survive a fight. Wouldn’t be alive if it were not for Laura. She shot the bastard with an adamantium bullet to the head. Got checked out, and the doc gave me those medications. It’s not perfect, but it’s the best I have felt in a long time.”
He was about to take another sip from the bottle when you put your hand around it. “You know, if your healing is slow, maybe take it easy on the hard liquor,” you said as you took the bottle. “Don’t think I need you ending up in the ER with liver damage.” You stood up and put the bottle back. “Listen, go take a shower. I’ll make us all dinner.”
-o-
Laura had been babbling about her day for a solid fifteen minutes. Given how taciturn she could be, you were surprised at how much she was speaking. It felt wonderful to see. School seemed to be the right place for her.
“Sounds like fun,” Logan replied, taking a bite of the chicken cutlet you had prepared.
“Makes me miss school. Felt so easy back then,” you added. You kept glancing at Logan from across the table. He felt more at ease now that he had freshened up and was paying attention to his daughter. You had the sense he wished his time would be spent more doing this than the job he needed to support them. “Do you have much homework?”
“I have math and some English,” Laura answered.
“Okay, well, after I clean up, we’ll have a crack at it together.”
“Not due until Monday.”
“Doesn’t matter. The quicker you start, the more time you will have this weekend to yourself.”
After washing up, you sat with Laura at her desk and frowned. It was meant to be sixth-grade math, but for some reason, it seemed like it was ninth-grade calculus. Math was never your strongest subject, and you only managed to scrape a B through hard graft.
“You don’t know, do you?” Laura asked.
“Honestly, cariño, this is like solving theoretical physics,” you replied. “Math for eleven-year-olds should not be this hard.”
“It’s the methods,” Logan said from the doorway. You looked over and saw he was leaning against the door, just watching you both. “They change it up every so often to fuck with the adults.”
“Do you remember how they taught you to solve the problem?” you asked Laura.
“I think so.”
“Well, you might have to teach me.”
You looked over at Logan and saw him move away. After about half an hour of working with Laura, you said she could watch some television before bed. You and Logan kept glancing at each other, your heart fluttering every time your eyes crossed his.
When Laura went to bed, you changed into some pyjamas and returned to the couch with Logan, who was nursing a beer.
“If you want one, knock yourself out,” he said. You opened the fridge and got one to join him on the couch. “You’re really good with her.”
“Given everything you told me earlier, she needs as much affection as possible.” Logan took a swig of beer. “You’re a good dad.”
“Not that good. Barely spend time with her.”
“You do all you can for her.”
“To be honest, I still sometimes look at her like she’s a stranger. She was just dropped on me, and I was already in over my head without a child.”
“Do you love her?”
“Took some time, but I do.”
“She thinks you hung the moon.”
“She called me a cunt once.” You snorted at the idea of Laura, who was tiny compared to her father, using such a vulgar word against the Wolverine. “First time she ever talked.”
“Takes her time to start trusting people, I guess. Listen, you both had a rough start on your relationship, but you love each other. You just need some time.”
Logan did not say anything, instead leaning over to kiss you on the cheek. The beard tickled your skin, and you gasped. He pulled back an inch, and you both looked at each other for a split second. Suddenly, you pressed a kiss to his lips. However, he did not pull back, instead putting his hand on your waist.
It felt nice. Tender but firm.
However, something nagged at you, and you pulled back, “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Logan nodded. “Yeah, bad idea.”
-o-
For two weeks, it had become awkward between you and Logan.
You both went about the same day-to-day routines for the sake of Laura, and it seemed to be paying off; Laura appeared oblivious to the tension. It was not as if you disliked the kiss and that was the problem. You liked it. Really liked it.
Josh’s birthday was coming up, and you had plans to go out for some drinks with him. It was perfect timing as Logan managed to get a few days off work. So one Friday night, Laura was taking advantage of her weekend bedtime of 21:30 and you emerged from the bedroom wearing a black dress with an asymmetrical collar and a hem that rested on your thighs.
“You look bonita,” Laura commented as you closed your clutch.
“Thank you.” You raised your eyes and looked at Logan, who was pouring a bag of popcorn into a bowl. “I’ll be back later. Make sure you go to bed on time.”
“Watching a movie first.”
“Cool. Have fun.”
“Hey,” Logan said, walking up to you and pulling out a $20 bill. “Have a drink on me. You’ve earned it.”
“Thanks. Don’t wait up for me. Might not be back until after midnight.”
About two hours later, you were slightly buzzed on margaritas and dancing to some music from the early 2000s. For the first time in weeks, you felt you could let your hair down and forget about everything.
You were getting another round when some guy started talking to you. He was nice-looking and smart, and your own age. You got into a comfortable conversation, and at the end, he offered you his number. Perhaps out of politeness, you accepted.
“I thought you had a thing for DILFs now,” Josh commented when you returned.
“What?” you asked, a little perplexed.
“Your boss, Logan. About six-two, greying beard, daughter about yay high,” he said, holding his arm to his chest. “Or am I being delusional?”
“Yes, you are,” you answered shortly as you sipped your drink. Josh raised his eyebrow. “Okay. We might have kissed a couple of weeks ago.”
“And…”
“Nothing. We stopped before it got too far.”
“Probably a good idea. Mixing work and sex never ends well, especially since there is a kid involved.”
“Exactly. Laura’s a great kid; she does not need any more confusion. Besides, I just met him.”
“And you moved in with him in what? Two days?”
“Only because my apartment nearly caught fire.”
“So, are you going to get under that guy to get over Logan?”
“I don’t need to get over Logan. We had a foolish moment after a drink.” You cast your eyes down. “That’s all.”
An hour later, you decided to get a cab back to the apartment. It might have been just after midnight, but you were starting to push your limit in terms of how many cocktails you could consume without throwing up. You could see the kitchen light was on, so you kicked off your heels and padded to the kitchen where Logan was sitting and drinking whisky.
“You’re back early,” he commented.
“Tired, need water and sleep,” you replied, going to the cupboard and grabbing a glass.
“Good night?”
“Yeah, it was nice to get out for a bit.” You filled up the glass with some water and took a few chugs. “Got some guy’s number.”
Logan nodded. “You going to call him?”
“Nah. Dating is too much effort. Still flattering though.”
“Don’t act so shocked when you look like that.” You caught his eye. “You’re stunning.”
You felt a heat creep up your cheeks and neck. “I thought we were going to keep things professional.” You downed your water. “I should head to bed.” You walked to the bedroom before stopping. You turned back to Logan, who had been following you with his eyes. Maybe it was the tequila, but against your better judgment, you walked back over to him and said, “Kiss me.”
“What?”
“Kiss me.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Believe me, I have never been so clear about anything in all my life.” You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips, whisky hitting the skin. You could tell he was trying to fight the urge, but suddenly he pushed the chair back and yanked you to straddle his lap. “Shush.”
“She’s dead to the world,” Logan whispered against your lips. His hands raked over the dress as though he was trying to memorise every curve. After a moment, he pulled back. “This is a bad idea.”
“I know.”
“If we go any further, we’re going to regret it.”
“I know.”
“We should stop.”
“I know.”
You held each other’s gaze for a long time. Logan was not wrong. He was far older, and you could tell he had a past that haunted him. Not to mention, he was technically your boss. Then there was Laura. It was a bad idea. You climbed off him and readjusted your dress.
“Maybe I should stay with Josh for a while,” you said. “I think living here…” You trailed off. You couldn’t do that to Laura. You put your head in your hands. “Fuck this is all messed up.”
Logan stood up and pulled your hands away from your face. “You’re not wrong.”
“You’re right. I’m drunk. But…” You sighed and ended up hitting your head off his firm chest. “I should go to sleep. Might clear my head.”
“Look, Laura has this fall festival thing at the school tomorrow. Maybe a day out where we focus on Laura is what we need to break whatever this is.”
“I’ll sleep on it.” Logan kissed your forehead, and you said, “Night, Logan.”
-o-
“How’s the hangover?” Logan asked as you sluggishly walked beside him and Laura on the way to the school. You tactically kept the little girl between you so that you resisted the temptation to even brush hands with Logan.
“Well, I have not puked so that is something,” you replied. Despite it being a cooler day, the sun was bright, and you had to wear some sunglasses - both to reduce your throbbing headache and hide the bags under your eyes. Laura insisted on wearing hers, which you thought was adorable. “So what can we expect from this festival?”
Laura shrugged. “Never been to one.”
“Think I remember apple bobbing, pumpkins and mazes. Surprised they actually still do these.”
It was going to be easy. Laura would stick around, giving you and Logan a nice distraction from each other. However, as soon as she saw two other girls, she sprinted away to join them.
“Chloe and Natalie,” you explained.
“Yeah, she mentioned them,” Logan replied.
“You know what I could do with: a coffee.” You pointed to a cart that was selling beverages ranging from hot cider to pumpkin-spiked lattes. You ordered yourself one of the latter, earning a very disgruntled look from Logan. “What?”
“I don’t know how you can drink that shit. It’s all sugar.”
“As opposed to black coffee?”
“I don’t drink it for pleasure. It’s purely functional.”
“Well, I drink my coffee for pleasure.”
Admittedly, given your hangover, the sugar was making you a little queasy. Not that you would admit it.
You both kept an eye on Laura and her friends as they walked around the different activities. The air was helping the migraine a tad, and you did find yourself enjoying the atmosphere despite the awkwardness between you and Logan.
“Bounce house,” Laura observed.
“Be careful,” Logan said. Laura nodded and walked over to play on it. “Problem with her being my opposite sex clone. Females have claws in their feet.”
“Wait, so is it a good idea to let her bounce on that thing?”
“She only does it when she gets pissed. Had to stop her attacking one of those animatronic horses once because it stopped.”
“Kids for you.”
“I only found out who she was about two minutes before. Had already been a stressful morning without having to pay for criminal damage.”
“Not sure how much damage she can cause. She’s tiny.”
“She’s like me. Stronger than she looks.”
“So when you say she’s your clone, how was she made?”
“I was experimented on, and they took DNA samples. After I escaped my facility about fifty years ago, someone else took the samples, created embryos and put them into women. I have no idea who her biological mother is. Probably dead knowing the fuckers who made Laura. Give them this, though; they at least didn’t put the metal onto Laura’s whole skeleton. Means she won’t be poisoned.”
You nodded like everything made sense. Then you frowned, “Fifty years ago? You ain’t that old, are you?”
“I’m nearly two hundred.”
“Fuck… That is some age gap.” You cocked a smirk, which Logan mirrored. “Thought a twenty-year gap was bad. Let alone a hundred and seventy.”
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of noises and laughter. By the time the sun began to go down, Laura was exhausted. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
“Should sleep through the night,” you commented as you sipped on some herbal tea. Your headache felt better, and you and Logan were sharing the leftover pizza from dinner. “Nice to see her behave like a normal child.”
Logan quietly chewed the pizza slice, only for some of the oil to drip onto his shirt. “Damn it.”
“Take it off and soak it with some dish soap,” you said.
Logan peeled off his shirt, sighing when he saw the oil had dripped into his undershirt. He pulled that off too, revealing his quite toned chest, stomach and arms. The saliva in your mouth felt like it had evaporated as you watched him scrub at the stains. His eyes caught yours, and you both looked at each other.
Your heart pounded. In a bid to stop whatever was pulsing between your legs, you got out of your seat, took the shirts and tossed them into the washing machine.
“You don’t smell of peonies,” he commented.
“What?”
“You usually smell of them.”
“Oh. It might be my perfume. I didn’t put it on this morning. My nose tends to be rather sensitive when I am hungover.” Your hands braced on the counter. “Surprised I did not throw up when we got to the fair.”
Logan touched your cheekbone. “You feel warm.”
“Still September. Might be fall, but tell that to climate change.”
Your heartbeat echoed off your ribcage, and despite the reservations, the dam collapsed, and you leaned up to kiss him. And a split second later, Logan kissed you back.
“I can’t fight it any more,” you whispered.
“Been fighting since you came in that lilac sundress,” he replied against your mouth. His hands found your ass, and he lifted you onto the counter so you were closer to eye level. You moaned - perhaps a little too loudly. “Quiet, don’t wake her up.”
You nodded and kissed him again, deeper this time. Your tongue pushed past his lips as his hand cupped your breast through the vest top you were wearing. Subconsciously, you opened your legs. Logan stood between them, and you wrapped your thighs around his waist, his growing member pressing against your dampening core.
“Seem quite excited,” you chuckled, detaching from his lips for air. Logan pulled off your vest along with your bralette and took a moment to glance over your body. “You okay?”
“Fuck you’re perfect,” he whispered, his lips now brushing your neck. He kissed and nipped the skin as you unbuttoned your jeans. While you were happy for him to dictate the pace, you had a need that if he did not settle now, you would burn yourself alive.
“Touch me, Logan.” You took his hand and placed it inside your jeans and panties.
“Already so wet for me,” he cooed as you bucked slightly against the pressure of his rough thumb on your swelling clit.
“Probably been wet since you took your shirt off.” You noticed how oddly sheepish he seemed at the comment, right up until he slid one finger inside of you. “Don’t be so shy, you’re gorgeous.”
“You’re just trying to flatter me because I have my finger in your pussy.”
“Believe me, Logan. I have been attracted to you since my first day.” He moved slowly, his lips brushing yours as you squeezed your eyes shut. You tried to hold back your moans as Logan crooked his finger. “Yes.”
“That’s it.” A second finger entered you, and your head rolled back, allowing him to nip your neck slightly. “Doing so well.”
“Logan,” you whispered as your stomach started coiling.
Given how you were squeezing around him, you knew your release was on the precipice. His lip attached to your nipple, and sparks shot through you, your head smacking off the back cupboard. You took a few deep pants as you felt him still working you through the release. He slowed down, lips decorating your damp chest. You barely felt the thumping in the back of your head as waves floated around you.
It might have been seconds or hours, but you opened your eyes slowly. Logan kissed your forehead and pulled his fingers out. He sucked the juices off his fingers and used his other hand to stroke over your cheek.
“You got a condom?” you asked, your hand teasing the button on his jeans.
“Fuck, no. You on anything?” You shook your head. “Damn it.”
He was hard, and while you wanted to relieve his desire, you couldn't risk getting pregnant.
You hopped off the counter and kissed him slowly, hand slipping under the waistband of his boxers. He hummed slightly against your lips when you gripped the base. Finally, you broke the kiss, lips moving down his neck, chest and stomach, eventually getting onto your knees.
“You don't…” Words failed Logan as you lowered his jeans and boxers. The moment your lips wrapped around the tip, his head rolled back. “Fuck that's good.”
-o-
Breakfast was quiet the next morning.
Laura did not seem to notice something was different about you and Logan as she chewed her cereal. You and Logan, on the other hand, kept making not-too-subtle glances at each other. After your dalliance in the kitchen, you both fell asleep on the same bed, your back pressed against his chest. It was probably the best night's sleep in years for you both.
“You're not eating,” Laura told her father.
“Already ate something this morning,” Logan replied. Your ears began burning. You noticed his smirk and glared at him.
“Come on, let's get you to school,” you said to Laura.
After you returned to the apartment half an hour later, you folded your arms and stared at Logan.
“Not the most appropriate joke in front of the eleven-year-old,” you chastised.
“Eh, she doesn't know what it means,” he replied with a light chuckle as he pulled you closer. “Besides, you were not complaining this morning.” A shudder ran through you as his beard brushed your neck, the ghost of it on your thighs tingling. “Well, we have six or so hours to ourselves.” He licked the spot behind your ear that made you whimper. “And I just ran to the store.”
His hands moved to your ass and grabbed the flesh. Within seconds, you were lifted with your legs around his waist. “Bet you got some odd looks buying condoms at 08:00.”
“Mixed it in with my meds. Barely bated an eye.”
Logan kissed you deeply, strided towards the bedroom, and you both fell onto the bed. Your hands tugged on his t-shirt, pulling it off in one swift motion. Your lips sought him again, your tongues melding as Logan stroked his hands up your sides. You peeled your shirt off and unhooked your bra, tossing it to the floor.
“God…” Logan whispered as he found your lower back and lifted you so you were sitting on his lap. Instinctively, you ground against him as he grasped your breast with his big hand. You whimpered at the touch, especially when he brushed his thumb against your hardening nipple. “You like that?” You nodded before your head rolled back. “Gonna take my time with you.”
You let out a small moan as Logan licked a stripe up your throat, your hands gripping his forearms. He let out a rough chuckle against your skin, his other hand rubbing circles onto your ribcage. You could feel he was getting hard through the barrier of your jeans, but he had little interest in settling his own arousal. His teeth dragged against your pulse point, gently nipping the spot.
“If you’re going to mark me, don’t do it on the neck,” you ordered.
He nodded and cupped the back of your head to gently lift it. You melted into his kiss. It was as though he had centuries of experience - though it probably was true. Given how old he was, he had probably kissed a person from every continent. Probably made love on every continent. Maybe it was why his kisses were so gorgeous, and he knew how to work your body like a finely tuned instrument.
“Anyone ever tell you how soft your skin feels?” he whispered. “And you smell like cherries and vanilla.”
“Well, if you want to know my shower routine, you can join me,” you replied softly as he kissed your sternum. You gasped as he took your other nipple into his mouth. He had barely done anything, and you could feel yourself on the precipice.
“Your tits always been this sensitive?” he asked between nibbles.
“Little bit,” you gasped. “Might just be the right time of the month.”
“Good thing I got the condoms then.”
He laid you back down and started working the button on your jeans. His mouth ghosted your solar plexus, and his hands tugged at your jeans. You lifted your hips to help him pull them off, along with your panties, leaving you bare to his darkening gaze.
His lips trailed down your belly as he shifted the position so he was perched between your thighs. His rough beard tickled the sensitive skin. Everything felt and looked rough: his hands, the scar-coated back, his dry lips as he kissed over the hair covering your mound. Yes, he was absolutely the most handsome man you had the luxury of being in bed with, but there was an honesty his body gave that made him more human.
“You smell delicious,” he growled and pulled you closer to his face. You moaned as you felt him breathe against your soaked cunt. “Still can feel you coming against my tongue.”
His hands gripped your hips, pressing his fingers into the flesh almost bruisingly. You pressed your heels to his back as his nose brushed your clit, your hand finding purchase on the sheets. Instead of his tongue, all you could feel was his hot breath. He looked at you, pupils blown, and you could see a glint of something maniacal behind them. His lips made contact, but instead of your pulsing pussy, he kissed the inside of your thigh.
“You’re killing me here, Logan,” you groaned. Then a tiny yelp escaped your lips when you felt pressure and pain on the flesh. Logan let go, leaving a small indent where his teeth had been.
“You did say no marks on your neck,” he purred. His right hand moved from your hip, his arm hooking around the thigh as he pressed his thumb to your clit. You hissed at the slight sensation. “Still a little sensitive?”
“You made me come twice less than two hours ago.”
He rolled the bud, a shudder pulsing through your spine. Finally, his tongue made contact, circling your entrance in a way that made your eyes flutter shut. The strokes of his tongue felt different to the ones from this morning. He had licked you more lazily, the dregs of sleep still overtaking you both. Now he seemed more alert and attuned to your reactions.
Logan reached for the pillow beside you and said, “Lift your hips.” With the new angle, he put more pressure on your entrance with his tongue, narrowing slightly to penetrate. “You’re so sweet.”
You didn’t say a word. You couldn’t. Every exploratory lick and flick was causing a brain cell to zap. He settled into a rhythm between using the flat of his tongue to soak your lips with his saliva and the tip to prod your entrance. He was holding to his promise to take his time with you, as any moment that you felt a sensation build, he brought it back down again. Every brush of his beard on your thighs, every stroke of his tongue and every moan and grumble from his throat were sending you on a cloud you never wanted to come down from.
You flinched when he hit a nook you did not know about, a stunned moan falling from your lips. You felt him smirk against you, and he flicked the nook again. “Oh, you like that don’t you?” His arms tightened around your hips, and he pulled away. “Gonna flip us over.”
Your brain was practically mush, so his plan barely registered until you felt him roll onto his back. His hands braced on your ass, squeezing the flesh as you lowered yourself back down onto his mouth. This time, he rolled your clit with his tongue. You found purchase on the headboard and rocked your hips slightly. While your experience of face-sitting was few and far between, you liked the control it gave you. You would have been happy to let Logan dictate the pace. However, your pelvis, belly and spine were burning, and if you did not come soon, you were going to pass out.
Logan’s hand slipped behind you and began pressing against your entrance as he sucked harder on your clit. A finger slipped inside, and you whimpered when he found the right spot that shot lightning to your clit. A second finger followed swiftly, and your body buckled. Your hand gripped his hair, pushing him further towards your mound as he sucked and licked your swollen bundle of nerves. Your thighs contracted around his head, the tension in your spine becoming unbearable.
“You’re close,” he purred.
He moved his mouth lower, tongue pointed, and he found the nook from earlier. With just the right pressure, you shattered with a silent cry, white coating your eyes and your head rolled back.
“That’s it, darlin’,” he whispered between kitten licks. You kept rocking your hips slightly as each pulse flowed out your nerve endings.
After it seemed like it was over, Logan laid you flat on your back. He watched as you took heavy breaths, finger caressing your sweat-soaked skin. He brushed over your nipple and leaned down to kiss you, his beard damp with your come. You felt your walls clench around nothing.
After a moment, Logan pulled back and unbuttoned his jeans. Within half a second, he was as gloriously naked as you were, his cock hard and yearning. You wanted it in your mouth again.
“How do you want to do this?” he asked, his hand stroking over your sensitive mound. His finger pressed inside you, stroking your walls. You gasped at the slight pressure on your clit. “You wanna go on top? Be more comfortable for you.”
“Yes,” you hissed as he inserted another finger inside. You knew he was doing it to stretch you out before you sit on his heavy cock, his fingers separating slightly.
With you warmed up, he pulled his fingers out and put them to your lips. You sucked on them, making a moan that made him twitch even harder.
He grabbed a box from the bedside table, pulled out a wrapped condom.
“Can I?” you asked. He handed the condom to you. You unwrapped it, grabbed the base of his pulsing cock and rolled it down until he was fully covered.
You kissed him deeply as he rolled onto his back, your thighs bracketing his hips. Your heart pounded as you gripped his length, placing the tip against your entrance. You rocked a little, yearning a clenched groan from Logan.
“Ready?” you asked. Logan nodded and you began to slide down the shaft. “Oh my god.”
It burned slightly as he filled you. You sat on his lap, him fully inside you but didn't move.
“You okay, am I hurting you?” Logan asked, cupping your face.
“Just a bit bigger than I usually have.” Eventually the pinching eased. “It's fine.”
Slowly, you raised your hips and pushed down again. You both gasped at the new sensation and you settled into a rhythm. His hands rested on your hips, not instructing but caressing.
“That’s it, riding me good,” he groaned.
You grinned down at him and quickened your pace slightly, rolling your hips in a way that caused your swollen clit to brush up against his coarse, dark hair. “God, you feel so good inside me.”
You felt your walls flutter around him, his grip tightening on your hips. You could see his muscles clench slightly and his eyes closed as he surrendered to the euphoria. He bucked his hips to meet your bounces, and you let out a sharp gasp. The tip brushed up to hit the right spot inside you, sending pulses through your spine.
“Touch me,” you whispered as you rode him faster and harder, the bed creaking slightly with each motion.
Logan reached his left hand between you and rolled your clit in gentle circles. Your eyes clenched shut as the burning feeling built in your belly.
“Come on, darlin’, come all over my cock,” he ordered in a low purr.
The tension in your spine snapped, and you collapsed onto him, his release being signalled by the groan in your ear.
His fingers moved up your spine as you silently basked in the afterglow. Your head perched on his shoulder, and you looked at each other with hooded eyes. He kissed your forehead as he rolled you to the side. You moaned a little as he pulled out and got off the bed.
“Where are you going?” you asked.
“Get this in the trash and get a rag for you,” he replied softly. You nodded. He was back within a minute with a cool cloth. When you were cleaned up, he pulled the sheets back and let you rest your head on his chest. Your finger traced the crevices of his abdomen. “Been a while since I’ve done that.”
“Really?” you asked.
“Not a lot of time for one-night stands when you’re working your ass off and trying to keep a person hidden and safe.”
“Could have fooled me.” You smiled softly and kissed his collarbone. “What are we going to do now?”
“Round two?” You poked his chest. “Ow, what was that for?”
“You know what I mean. Laura is going to find out eventually. She’s too clever.”
“I know. It’s still new, this whole thing with her. I don’t want to make it more disruptive than it already is.” He put his large hand over yours. “Maybe we can take it slow. Could probably take you on a few dates. See whether we work.”
“We definitely work in this room,” you giggled and leaned up to kiss him. “Okay. One step at a time.”
-o-
“So you're going out to dinner together?” Laura asked a week later when you were putting on some mascara.
“Logan wants to thank me for all the work I have been doing with you since I started being your nanny,” you answered.
“Is it a date?”
You knew Laura was too clever. You hated lying to her, but you also hated the idea of getting her hopes up and destroying them if something were to go wrong.
“No. Just business.” Granted, your outfit wasn't very business-like. It was a long-sleeve pink dress that rested on your thighs and left your back exposed.
The neighbour arrived to look after Laura for a couple of hours while you went to a nearby Irish bar. Logan got a whisky while you ordered a red wine, and you shared a plate of chicken tenders and fries.
“Thought that without the kid we would be able to eat proper food,” Logan commented.
“To be fair, she eats better than you do,” you replied.
“I'm on the go all the time.”
“Doesn't mean that you should be eating burgers all the time.”
“How…”
“I can taste it on your breath when we make out, along with those cigarettes.”
Logan sipped his drink, “Okay, you caught me. Should probably stop if my metabolism is slowing. Won't be able to maintain this shape forever.”
“Maybe we could start running together if there are days you and I overlap.”
“Thought we were using that time for sex.”
“Running can be an aphrodisiac.”
Logan leaned closer and cupped your face. “You always make a good argument.”
He kissed you sweetly. When he pulled back, you felt your stomach twist. In the last couple of weeks, you noticed his eyes become brighter and softer, like for the first time in a long time, he could allow himself to be happy. Despite the small complication of telling Laura, this felt easy. He kissed you again, deeper this time. You rested your hand on his shoulder as his thumb stroked the inside of your thigh.
“I went to the doctor today,” you said when you broke apart for air.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, just asked to go back on the pill.”
Logan pulled back, “You serious?”
“I was thinking that we've had sex every day this week, and the condoms are fine, but we can't afford an accident if one breaks.”
Logan nodded, “Makes sense.”
“Do you want more kids?”
“I don’t know. I missed out on so much of Laura’s early life that some part of me does want to be there for a new baby. The more logical part of my head knows I am too old for that.”
“Not necessarily.”
“What about you? Do you want kids?”
“I don’t know. Suppose I have always seen this book as my baby. Right here, right now. No.” You gulped. “Is that a problem?”
“God no. I ain’t expecting anything from you.” He kissed your forehead. “Is there anything else you want to do tonight?”
“How good are you at bowling?”
“Really?”
“It’ll be fun.”
Despite you both being equally rubbish at bowling, given that the balls landed in the gutter more times than you hit the pins, you both enjoyed your time together. You flirted, giggled and let him kiss you at least six times between throws.
“I think I can call that a decisive victory,” you said, giggling as Logan lifted you slightly.
“Only because I let you win.”
“Sure you did.”
When you got home, you thanked the neighbour for babysitting, checked in on a sleeping Laura before heading to the bathroom. You switched on the shower before walking towards Logan, who was sitting on the couch with another whisky.
“Come on,” you said, taking his hand and leading him into the steaming room with a wry smile. “You said you wanted to see my shower routine.”
-o-
A hacking cough woke you up, and you turned to see Logan coughing into a handkerchief, and to your horror, the bile he brought up was black and red. And there was a lot of it. And he was struggling to breathe.
“Shit, Logan, we need to get you to the hospital,” you said, climbing out of bed. However, it seemed the volume of the cough alerted Laura.
She stood in the doorway, confusion coating her face. You could not quite work out if she was confused at the fact her father was coughing up black blood and was finding it difficult to breathe, or the fact that he was shirtless in the bed you had been sleeping in for the past two months. And you were draped only in Logan's old t-shirt and a pair of underwear.
You barely had a thought to explain, more focused on getting Logan into the emergency room. It felt like the longest seven minutes of your life before the paramedics arrived. You quickly pulled on some jeans and grabbed Laura’s denim jacket for her. It was 04:00, and it did not seem fair to ask your neighbour to watch her at short notice.
At the nearest ER, Logan was taken into a private room while you and Laura sat in the waiting room. She seemed to be avoiding eye contact with you, and you could not blame her.
“He’s going to be okay,” you said, admittedly more to yourself.
Laura remained silent.
After an hour, one of the doctors came out and sat in front of you both. “He's going to be okay. Sometimes this type of metal poisoning can be unpredictable. He'll need a higher dose of anti-toxins and bed rest for a couple of weeks. We'll keep him in for a few days in the ICU just to make sure the anti-toxins are working.”
“Thank you,” you said, putting your head in your hands. You wanted to cry, but you were so exhausted, your eyes refused to let any water drop from them. “I should let your school know you're not coming in today.”
“¿Por qué estaban los dos en la misma cama?”
You felt any sense of colour drain from your face, “Lo siento.”
“¡Lo siento no es suficiente! Me mentiste.”
You got out of the chair and crouched down to her level, “I know. Escúchame, your dad didn't want to disrupt your life more than it has already been. We needed to know if this was something we wanted, not just a frivolous fling. He was trying to do what he thought was best.”
“¿Así que nunca me lo ibas a decir?”
“We would have. It's still new between us. I didn’t intend for this to happen, Laura. However, your dad and I… We formed a connection. I get why you're angry, and I didn’t want you to find out like this.” Tears started pricking at Laura's eyes. You could still see anger inside them, but she did something you didn't expect. She launched herself and hugged you tightly. You hugged her just as tightly. “It's okay, cariño.”
A sickness built in your belly, and you had a horrible feeling it was going to get worse
-o-
Logan was quite sedated so after seeing him in the ICU for an hour, you took Laura home. She still wasn't the most talkative, but you didn't push her.
The next morning, she went to school as normal, having promised her that you would bring her to see Logan after school. You went to the hospital straight after dropping her off. He was sitting up in the bed, canula still in his nose and a blood bag attached to his IV. The vital monitors showed a stable cardiac rhythm. He looked pale but better than he had been the previous morning.
“Hey,” you whispered as you sat on the edge of the bed. Your hand rested on his, and you stroked your thumb over the rough skin. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit,” he grumbled. “Pain meds are keeping me comfortable, though. Gave me the good stuff.”
You laughed softly, “Maybe you’ll actually slow down now.”
“I’ll have to drop this job. Not what I wanted, but staying alive for Laura is more important.” Your lips thinned. “She figured it out?”
“Yep. She’s pissed, mainly at me.”
He took a deep exhalation, “She’ll come round.” You leaned in to kiss him, just a soft one on the lips. “I missed you last night. Both of you.”
“Well, the doctor just spoke to me. If you respond well, you could be out on Monday. I would take the peace and quiet while you can. In the meantime, I guess I can get back to job hunting.”
“You still have a job technically.”
“Logan, I think we both know that’s out of the window. Probably has been since the fire.”
“Probably has been since you walked through the door the first time.” You kissed him again, slower this time and cupped his face. Suddenly, you felt tears prick at your eyes, and some dropped onto Logan’s cheek. “What’s wrong?” He cupped your face, “Is it Laura?”
You sniffed, “Maybe. As much as I want to be with you, Logan, we need to put her first. Maybe we should just cool this off. I’ll take the sofa in the meantime.”
“Is that what you really want?”
“No, but want and need are not the same thing.” You stroked your thumb over his cheek. “I’m sorry.”
You could see his jaw tighten, but he rested his hand on yours, “Don’t be. You’re right.”
-o-
By Monday, Logan was discharged from the hospital with a higher dose of anti-toxins and painkillers and an order for bed rest for the next two weeks. Laura was thrilled to have him home, often spending time watching television in the evenings while you cooked and cleaned.
It seemed like things had gone back to normal, but you were miserable. You were finding strange excuses to be out of the apartment, just anything to avoid being completely alone with Logan. There were moments that you and he would lock eyes, and your heart would squeeze tightly.
Laura began speaking to you again, which was the only shining light. Sometimes, she would pick up on the tension between you and Logan and try to distract you. She took the news of your breakup quite well, maybe because you weren’t lying to her anymore. It was as if it never happened.
Except it did.
And as fleeting as it was, you had not been happier in years.
“That soccer practice must’ve exhausted her,” Logan commented when he came into the kitchen where you were making tea. Yours was a camomile while Logan had this anti-metal toxins tea (which was probably some marketing bullshit, but it was drinkable).
“Think she’s trying to become the next Sam Kerr,” you replied.
“Who?”
“Sam Kerr, Australian, played for Chelsea in England and is considered one of the best strikers in the world. Never heard of her?”
“I barely pay attention to sports as it is.”
“Not even ice hockey?”
“That’s just a Canadian stereotype.” You snorted and handed him the tea. “I might have found something work-wise.”
“Let me guess, something reckless like a cage fighter?”
“I was one once.”
“Of course you were.”
“I have a litany of weird jobs. Think I was in the army for about a hundred years.”
“What, so you retired from one war and then joined another right away?”
“Can’t remember to be honest. Everything before the 1980s is a blur still.”
“I wasn’t even born then.”
“When were you?”
“September 2001.”
“Wait… What day?”
“I didn’t want to make a massive deal over turning twenty-eight. Not like it’s something significant anyway.” Logan put his cup down and cupped your cheek. He pressed his lips to the other, and you shuddered. “Logan…”
“It’s just a gift,” he whispered, his lips inches from yours.
“I know.” You took a deep breath. “Listen. My landlord called this afternoon. The smoke damage has been fixed, and I can move back in tomorrow.”
“Is that what you want?”
“What did I say about want and need? I think we need to get back to the professional boundaries. I’ll look after Laura during the day and then go home.”
Logan nodded. “It’s better, I guess. Gives us a clean break.”
His lips were still millimetres from yours, and you could not take it anymore.
You kissed him, your arms pulling him closer as he settled into the kiss. When you pulled apart, you both looked at each other with heavy breaths. Your hand moved to clutch his, and you took it to lead him to the bedroom. He sat down first, with you sitting on his lap. He stroked his fingers over any piece of exposed skin on your arms and collarbone.
“You okay to do this?” you asked, conscious of how unwell he had been.
“I’ll go slow.”
You pulled your t-shirt off. You had already changed into pyjamas, so your breasts were exposed instantly. Logan’s hand moved down to one breast, but instead of going straight for the hardening nipple, he stroked the mound like he was trying to memorise it. He leaned down and took the nipple into his lips, sucking gently. You gasped slightly, and you reached down to pull off his vest. He had dropped some muscle from the bed rest, the lines on his biceps and chest not being so defined. It took nothing away from him.
Your lips met again, and carefully, he rolled you both over so you were on your back. Quietly, he pulled down your sweatpants along with your underwear. His gaze was fixed intently on you as his hand traced a path over your ribs and belly. He leaned over you and kissed your neck. You held back your noises in fear of waking Laura up as Logan made a slow path down your chest and over your stomach. Each brush of his beard set goosebumps on your skin, especially when he reached the apex of your thighs.
His tongue dipped into your entrance. It seemed like hours he was down there, trying to commit the taste, sight, smell, sound and texture of you to memory. If it was going to be the last time you two made love, he was going to make sure it was worth it. You had no doubts as two or maybe three orgasms tore through you from his mouth.
Logan kissed up your sweat-coated body until he met your lips. His tongue stroked over yours as you pressed your fingers over each scar and crevice on his back. Logan pulled away from your lips and removed his sweat pants and boxers, allowing the tip of his cock to brush up against your soaked cunt.
“You still on the pill?” he whispered. You nodded. You reached down and gripped his length to guide it to your entrance. Logan pressed his hips forward, allowing you to take him in inch by inch.
You hitched your legs up as he slowly began to thrust into you. Quiet moans and whispers echoed through the room, lips crashed together, and hands caressed skin. Logan went gently with his movements. It was not about chasing orgasms. It was about proving the connection only you two could create.
“Logan,” you breathed, your hand reaching for his cheek.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his hazel eyes locked onto yours.
You fought back the tears. Logan was close, judging by his ragged breath. Your hand reached between you and rolled your clit, making your eyes flutter shut. A whine left your lips as the orgasm reached the precipice.
“I love you,” you gasped as you shook violently, Logan following you over the edge.
Your foreheads pressed together as your bodies reacclimatised to the surroundings. He kissed you again before rolling to the side. He stroked his hand over your arm as you looked at each other, holding your gaze on his damp skin.
“Hold me,” you said. Logan nodded and allowed you to get under the covers, his chest pressed against your back. His arm draped around your waist as your hands laced together.
You didn’t talk. You didn’t need to. You basked in the quiet of the night in each other’s arms until dawn forced you from the cocoon.
-o-
Your apartment never felt so empty.
Having been in the company of two other people for the last couple of months, you missed the sound of the morning chaos. You just had dinner conversations while Logan finished off his workday. He had found something in a local high school. They needed a history teacher as soon as possible, and he had the credentials. While you wondered if working with teenagers was a smart idea given his health, he seemed happier.
“I’m good with teenagers. Don’t take their shit, but I ain’t going to torture them,” he said over dinner one night.
However, with the hours more consistent for Logan, your hours had dropped dramatically. There were some nights where Logan needed to do some meetings, but other than that, most of your day consisted of picking up Laura from school or soccer practice, feeding her and then leaving before she went to bed. You and Logan spent a lot of the little time you spent together tiptoeing around each other.
It was around late October when your mother paid a visit, bearing a gift of a box of old stuff.
“I was clearing out the attic and thought you might want some of this,” she said. You looked inside. There were some old school books from when you were in first grade, your baby book and then something else. You opened up an old notebook and started reading through it. It was a novel you started writing in the tenth grade that you finished. “I did read that by the way.” You cringed a little. The grammar was abysmal, and you felt the voice was too immature. “I think you had something there.”
“It’s hardly Margaret Atwood, Mom.”
“And who says it needs to be? I just think you have been torturing yourself to write this new novel that you don’t really care about, rather than something I know you put your heart and soul into. Besides, it’s a first draft. You have a chance to edit it to how you like it.” You put the notebook down and walked towards the coffee machine. “So, how is this job going?”
“Fine,” you answered, a little shorter than you intended.
“Oh…”
You sighed, “I messed up, Mom.” You sniffed and leaned against the counter. “I know I shouldn’t have gotten involved with Logan, but something drew us together…” At that point, tears burst from your eyes.
Your mother moved closer to you and pulled you in for a hug. “Hey, honey. Come on.”
“I don’t know what to do, Mom. I love him, but we hurt Laura…”
“Look, if you need to quit this job, your dad and I can lend you some money until you find something else. Or you can move back for a while.”
You shook your head, “I can cope.”
“Honey, I can see you’re struggling, and I don’t want you to become unwell because of it.”
“I know… Look, I’ll focus on writing this book to distract myself. It might be the kick in the ass I need.”
“Language.” You chuckled, remembering Laura had said far worse. “Well, you know where we are if you need us.”
After some coffee, your mother left, and you looked back over the novel. You read it carefully, and when you looked past the glaring issues, you found the story cohesive and entertaining. You grabbed a set of coloured pens and a sticky note, created a colour code and then began annotating.
-o-
It was a Wednesday afternoon when you went to pick Laura up from soccer practice. The chill filled the air as October shifted towards November, and you tugged your jacket around you as you approached the small field at the back of the elementary school.
You could usually see Laura running around the field, but you could not spot her at all. Logan would have told you if she was skipping practice. You kept scouring, but still no sign.
“Hey,” you said to the assistant coach, “where’s Laura?”
“She said she was not feeling well,” she answered. “Think she went home.”
You blinked. Laura could not have just walked home on her own. She knew to wait for you. You ran as fast as you could to Logan’s apartment. The door was still locked, and inside, Laura was nowhere to be found.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you yelled and dialled Logan’s number. He picked up on the third ring. “Laura’s gone AWOL. I’ve been to the school and checked the apartment. She’s not there.”
“ Fuck, right, I’m leaving work now. You stay at the apartment in case she comes back.” You nodded and hung up.
You tried not to panic and go through every possible place Laura could be. You doubted she would have walked to Logan’s workplace. The only other place that you could think of was the park where you first played soccer. While Logan had asked you to stay at the apartment, you thought it was worth a shot.
You ran to the park, looking around the play area and the soccer field. You were about to give up when you saw a little brown-haired spec on a bench. You took a deep breath and walked over to her.
“Hey, there you are,” you said, sitting down beside her. “I have been looking for you everywhere.” Laura remained silent. Quickly, you messaged Logan to let him know you found her. “We’re not mad at you, Laura, we were just scared.” She looked at you, and you brushed the tear falling on her cheek. “Why did you run off?”
“You and Dad are unhappy,” she answered. “It’s because of me.”
“No, cariño, it isn’t because of you. We just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be together.”
“Why?” You hesitated. “Fue por mi culpa, ¿no?”
“No. You didn’t do anything wrong. Your dad and I… We wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt again. Relationships are complicated, and there was no guarantee we would have worked out.”
“But you were happy.”
“Yeah, we were, but we wanted to put you first.”
“Fucking hell, kid, are you trying to kill me?” Logan shouted from about ten metres away. He stopped in front of you and bent down to Laura’s level. “Don’t do that again.”
“Pensé que habías dicho que no estaba enojado,” Laura said to you.
“I’m not mad,” Logan replied, his tone softer this time. “What’s going on?”
“It’s us,” you answered. “She thinks that she’s made us miserable.”
“How?”
“Because you broke up because of me,” Laura added.
“I just said we were putting her first,” you continued. “We shouldn’t have hidden it from you. I just needed to work out what I felt.”
“And?”
“Amo tanto a tu papá que me está matando.”
“Dad…”
“My Spanish isn’t great, but I guess she said she loves me.” Laura nodded. “I love her too, kiddo. So much that it kills me that I am sharing the same air as her.”
Laura looked between you both and then took your hands. Instead of holding them, she put yours and Logan’s together. You and Logan looked at each other for one heartbeat, and then he kissed you deeply. Relief and warmth spread across your chest as he pulled you closer.
“You ain’t going to be doing that all the time, are you?” Laura asked, breaking you apart.
“All the damn time now,” Logan replied before kissing you again. “If that’s what you want.”
You smiled brightly, “More than anything.”
-o-
One year later
“Still waiting to hear from that agent?” Logan asked as he found you sitting in front of your laptop and tapping your fingers.
“Yeah. I thought the meeting went well, and she seemed really interested in representing me,” you replied.
“It’s a tough market at the moment. Seems like more publishers want vampires again in the young adult sections. Or at least that's what it felt like when I took Laura to Barnes and Noble last week.”
“Publishing is a long process. What’s popular today won’t necessarily be popular in a year.”
“Right, well, I am pulling you away from there.” He closed the lid on your laptop and took your hand. “Come on. You promised Laura we would watch this movie.”
“Yeah, you’re right. This can wait.”
Laura was already sitting on the sofa, popcorn at the ready. You and Logan sat on the other cushion, your body pressed to his solid frame. His arm wrapped around your waist, and he kissed your head.
“You two are disgusting,” Laura commented, taking a bite of popcorn. You knew she was only half serious. She was in her pre-teen ‘adults are so cringey’ phase. However, she liked seeing how happy you both were.
Just as the movie started, you heard the notification ping from your laptop.
“Sorry, might be that agent,” you said, getting up. You opened the laptop back up and flicked through the email you received. “Oh…”
“Is that a good oh or a bad oh?” Logan asked, standing up to look. After a moment, you broke out into a smile, and Logan kissed you sweetly. “Well done.”
“Thank you,” you whispered before returning the kiss.
A cushion hit your arm, and you looked up to see Laura glaring at you. You tossed it back playfully. As you both sat on the sofa again, you finally felt an overwhelming sense of peace, as though for once you had everything you could have asked for.
Greetings, Loki enthusiast. Assume all writing is 18+. Individual warnings are labelled at the top of each post.
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I don't take requests, but always feel free to say hello. Reblogs, comments and shameless thirst is appreciated and encouraged😊Looking for an old favourite/collection? It will be on my
PREVIOUS MASTERLIST (2022)
Warnings: servant/master, possession, religious-ish themes, dom/sub, sex pollen, cockwarming, oral (female receiving), pain/discipline, fingering, p in v sex, language, 18+
Word Count: 5.0k
A/N: I’m rewatching the Marvel movies in order and my god. I forgot how absolutely diabolical and adorable young Loki is! I was inspired to make this VERY smutty, all-porn-no-plot fic. Takes place before the events of Thor 1. Hope you enjoy my first Loki fic!
Tags: @foxherder @lovingchoices14
The long linen fabric of your healer’s tunic brushed against the cold marble floor as you rushed past. Your steps were gentle and quick, trying to make next to no sound as you swept past the tall columns, and arched ceilings of the royal halls. Finally outside the gilded wood of the giant doors to his bed chambers, your breath seemed to stall in your lungs.
This simply was not done. You were approached, never doing the approaching yourself. Improper didn’t even begin to describe what you were doing.
Your gentle knock was virtually silent the first time, so you steeled yourself and tried again.
“Identify yourself.”
A lazy voice called from within, but his tone was laced with an undeniable authority.
You spoke your name, placed your title in front of it.
Healer.
You weren’t a lady, a warrior—hell, you weren’t even nobility.
You belonged to a class of healers in Asgardian society. Seen as a type of servant, but respected nonetheless. To serve in the court meant you had a sizable talent for basic magic, and for spiritual healing.
But, if you were a woman in this position, it also meant you were a glorified prostitute.
You and your healer sisters before you have served in the healing room for centuries, servicing warriors, tending to their injuries after battle. But Asgard has long been in a season of peace, so the healers needed to fill another role.
Asgard was now a land of paradise, a land of plenty. That is, plenty of food, drink, beauty, wealth, and of course, plenty of sex. The nobility needed a way to make this discreet. After all, the royal court could hardly be seen having frivolous dalliances with just anyone. They needed to marry for alliance, for power, and for proper bloodlines, of course.
That’s where the healers came in. Come to the healing room for a sleeping draught, or an ointment for a sore shoulder, and get a service on top of it. You and your sisters were carefully trained in the ways of pleasure, and secrecy.
But, here you were, in front of your Lord’s chambers, breaking every rule and propriety ingrained in you since you first worked in the court as a young girl.
“Enter.” He commanded.
With shaky hands, you pushed the heavy bedroom doors open with your slender muscles.
The sight was grand, and a bit unexpected. Thick, dark green drapes covered the walls from ceiling to floor, and deep cherry wood bookshelves lined an entire side of the bedroom. A fireplace and candles were lit, making the chambers seem warm, yet a tinge ominous. A sharp contrast to the golden pearly halls of the rest of Asgard’s royal chambers.
Loki sat at a massive wooden desk, cleaved from the center of an oak tree, and absolutely littered with a number of bottles and vials, books and scrolls. A lone curtain was left half open, letting in what little light was left of the setting summer sun.
He addressed you disinterestedly, not even bothering to lift his head up from his book.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Healer?” Loki called out quietly across the vast room.
Your back was pressed up against the door, unable to get your feet to move. Your body disobeyed what your mind wanted, forgetting to curtsey or even duck your head. Instead, your mouth opened, but no words came out.
Loki took a beat in your silence and chuckled lowly to himself.
“I must say, this is quite unexpected, and against the rules I might add.”
Amusement glittered in his eyes at the mention of breaking the rules.
After all, he was the God of Mischief. Breaking the rules was his bread and butter.
Loki finally gazed up and took you in more carefully, wondering why a healer such as yourself would dare incur the wrath of your order by entering a nobleman’s chambers without permission, let alone the prince of Asgard.
Second prince of Asgard, but a prince nonetheless.
Then he noticed you, really noticed you.
He took in your flushed face, the way you absentmindedly kept rubbing your hands up and down your arms as you hugged yourself, and your thighs pressing your legs together to seek any sort of relief you could.
Even from across the room, Loki’s god-eyes could see the steady thrumming of the vein on your neck, moving rapidly with your heartbeat. He wanted to taste your skin and feel your pulse under his hot tongue.
Loki was a keen observer. Knowing how to read body language, facial expressions, and tone of voice was more important than any magical mischief he could get up to. Reading people was enough to get him most things that he wanted in life.
And right now, he decided he wanted you.
“You may approach, Healer.”
As if the spell had been broken, you swallowed to wet your dry throat and stepped towards the prince.
“How did you get past the guards?” Loki questioned.
“I said you needed a sleeping draught. You’ve been having trouble falling asleep for the past few days.” Your voice came out squeaky and feeble, a far cry from your usual tone.
Loki pursed his lips. This was not untrue.
“Leave it here.” He gestured casually to the desk and went back to his reading, while keeping half an eye on you.
Your trembling hands set down the small bottle of liquid with a bit of a clatter, and you quickly stepped back, just a few feet from where Loki sat.
“There’s something else.” Loki murmured lowly, eyes still flicking over the pages.
“Yes.” You breathed out.
Before you could begin to state your wild request, Loki said something else that you didn’t expect.
“I know you.”
You flitted your eyes up at his handsome face, and was startled by his piercing blue gaze. Quickly, you looked down at your feet.
The younger prince of Asgard had long since caught your eye. Every time he returned from battle you snatched the opportunity to treat him.
Rumor had it that he rarely asked for a healer's services, even when he was at the peak of adolescence. Some said he had a taste for the other sex. Others said he found his pleasure off-planet.
Whereas Thor openly indulged in excess, including women, drink, and violence, Loki was careful, calculated, and purposeful in all his actions. His mysterious, unreadable nature only served to make him more attractive to you.
“Yes, m’Lord. I have treated your injuries before, alongside other sisters.”
“You sang to me.”
You gasped, shocked that he remembered. It was a particularly gruesome battle and Loki was crushed badly in the side. You and your sisters forced him into a spell-induced sleep so that you could bind his broken bones. The Queen was distraught and ordered a round-the-clock watch to ensure he was healing well. You ended up on night watch, singing lullabies when he fought demons in his sleep.
“I did not know you heard me, m’ Lord.” You whispered, the heat inside of you coming out in waves off your hot skin.
“Speak freely. What is it that you request of me?” Loki schooled his tone to sound detached, but you could hear the curiosity in his words.
Sucking in a breath, you relayed a stuttered story of how a nobleman asked the healers to create a love potion that would increase ones libido, but it would only work against someone they were attracted to. Eventually, they would be like a dog in heat, and could only be relieved by intense pleasuring from a potential lover.
And you were the unlucky soul who got “volunteered” to take the experimental potion on a test run.
Although they tried their utmost, your sisters were unable to bring you relief and now, a few hours later, you sought after your long-time crush, Loki.
Hoping he’d do something to help relieve you of your suffering.
Although what, you didn’t dare dream of.
Ashamed, you bowed your head, looking at the marble floor and wishing a hole would open up and sink you into the dark waters below your realm.
At best, he’d let you go back to the healing room and never speak of this again. At worst, he’d have you arrested and banished for attempting such a lecherous act against a prince of Asgard.
“Sit.”
Your head jerked up, and you stared. Loki wasn’t looking at you though, he was back to his book, but his palm patted his muscular thigh.
Gods, was he asking you to sit in his lap?
You slowly brought a leg over his until your core straddled his hips. His cool body temperature immediately soothed your hot one, and you carefully brought your arms to clasp behind his neck.
Moving quickly before he changed his mind, you immediately put your training to use.
“Would my Lord like a massage?” You offered quietly.
“Yes, darling, that would be lovely.” Loki agreed nonchalantly, again, eyes still glued to his book.
Your strong fingers squeezed the tight knots on Loki’s shoulders, feeling the firm, yet lean muscles there. You pulled up his flesh, pressing deeply until the tension melted away in your hands.
Moving upwards, you combed your fingers through his jet-black hair, massaging his scalp, and temples.
The man gave no signs at all that he was affected by your touch, or by having an attractive young woman in his lap.
But then, he turned, exposing a pale neck underneath the raised leather collar of his garments. You took that as an invitation to press your lips to his smooth skin. Loki could feel your warm breath exhale in a contented sigh as your thumbs continued to knead circles, followed by soft kisses all over his neck, up his jaw, behind his ear.
Even with your face pressed to his, you almost missed what he whispered next.
“Warm my cock for me, dearest.”
An uncontrollable whimper escaped from your lips at his dirty words.
To be fully honest, you didn’t know how far Loki was going to let you take this. And the answer seemed to be…
All the way.
You pulled off your undergarments and undid the buttons of his leather trousers. His member was already half-erect, but it came to life fully as you gently rubbed him in both of your warm hands.
Your head fell onto his shoulder, and you could feel the breath catch in his chest as his cock breached your tight entrance.
Your eyes squeezed shut immediately at the contact, having not loosened your sensitive core beforehand, and Loki was large. His member wasn’t the thickest you’ve ever had, but it was slender, and long.
Slowly, carefully, you sank down, half-way at first, taking a pause to adjust, then further in until your ass rested on his lap once again.
The tip of his cock pushed up against your cervix, and you’ve never felt more full in your life.
Relaxing, you pressed your chest to his, leaning in as your core wrapped its hot, moist flesh around him. Loki for his part, was completely silent, reaching his arms behind your back to continue flipping through his book.
“What are you reading?” You murmur, content to just be filled for the time being. The initial stage of insatiable desire had been temporarily slaked by simply having his length inside of you.
“A spell-book on illusion magic. Could be useful for battle, or tricking my brother.” A soft chuckle rumbled through his body, the vibrations stimulating your center immediately.
You moaned, losing yourself in pleasure, but Loki shushed you gently.
“Be a good girl and sit quietly. I want to finish this section.”
So you did. After having spent the past few hours in heat, having any kind of relief now was enough to lull you into a daze. The only sounds in the room were the crackling of the fire, the crinkle of pages of Loki’s book, and your quiet breath.
Every so often, he would shift his weight and it would push his cock in a different part of your core. You bit your lip each time to keep from making any noise, but the wetness that leaked from your pussy betrayed your arousal. You were sure that Loki’s thighs would be soaked by the time he finished reading.
Abruptly, Loki snapped his book shut with a bang. You flinched automatically at the loud sound.
“That’s enough, my dear.” He stated with finality.
You gingerly pulled yourself off, his still-hard member slipping out of your core, leaving you feeling empty and wanting. Legs wobbly from sitting straddled wide for so long, you tried your best to look put together, smoothing down your tunic, and taking a tentative step back.
“My Lord, thank you for—“ you attempted a statement of propriety, assuming that you were being dismissed.
Wordlessly, Loki grabbed you roughly by the neck and hauled you forward, an arm pulling your hips against his as he crushed you with a kiss.
Your body melted into his immediately, overwhelmed by the pressure of his lips against yours, his tongue forcing his way into your mouth, and —gods was that teeth?—nipping at your lower lip. You had no idea that a kiss could be so utterly demanding and violent.
Loki wasn’t just kissing you.
He was devouring you.
“It’s time for some discipline, healer. Do you know what a bad girl you’ve been tonight?” Loki growled against your neck, biting you not quite so gently there.
“No, tell me m’ Lord.” The response breathed out through bruised lips. Your pupils were blown out with lust and so were his.
“No? Then, I’ll help you count each disobedience.”
With that, Loki pulled your tunic and shift off, leaving you completely exposed before him.
“Exquisite,” he murmured, while licking his lips.
Roughly, he wrenched your arm and pulled you towards his generous bed, throwing you down the middle of the lush mattress.
Before you had a chance to sit up, he flipped you onto your stomach and smacked a hard slap to your ass.
“Fuck!” The expletive exploded out of you at the sharp sting.
“Number one: deceiving the guards.”
Another slap hit your other ass cheek.
“Number two: sneaking into the royal chambers.”
His hand met your bottom again.
“Number three: sneaking into my bedroom, a prince of Asgard no less.”
Another hit. The skin of your ass was already inflamed pink with the first few smacks.
Loki watched the color bloom before slowly raking his icy-blue eyes across your body. A sheen of sweat had broken out along your back and your face was buried in the sheets.
Loki’s never hurt a girl in the bedroom before, but seeing the redness of your ass, and feeling the tingling remnants of each slap on his own hand. Well, that awoke something sinister in his heart, and his loins.
“Number four: you were a fool to take the love potion. You are supposed to be a healer, not a witch.”
This next blow from Loki was even stronger than the last. The contact with your tender skin echoed off the high ceiling of his bedroom.
“Hells—Loki you are going to leave a mark!” The pain had you gritting your teeth, and temporarily forgetting your manners.
Hearing his name roll off your tongue made him laugh with delight. Who knew he would have so much fun punishing a troublesome little girl like you?
He leaned forward, pressing his erection into the swell of your ass, and spoke lowly into your ear.
“My darling, when I’m done with you, your body will be marked permanently.”
The threat made you shut your mouth and turn your burning face away from his, speechless.
“Number five: you were a fool to seek out me for relief.”
The final hit was the most painful. Loki lifted both of his hands and brought them down with so much force that you let out a scream of shock, pain, and pleasure all at once.
He immediately squeezed your pliant flesh in his palms, massaging the slap-warmed skin there.
After a moment of silence, he released his touch altogether and sat back on the bed, watching you.
Cautiously, you crawled up on your hands and knees and sat up, using your arms to hold up your weight rather than sitting on your tender bottom.
He studied your face in quiet contemplation as he watched a mixture of emotions course through you.
Pain, of course.
A bit of fear.
Apprehension, understandably.
But as you drew in shaky breaths, staring back at him, he saw what he was hoping for.
Attraction. Lust. Arousal. Greed.
Even after all of that, you still wanted him. Hells, even without the potion coursing through your veins you would have still wanted to fuck him.
The dominant, torturous streak was a surprise, but you never knew what Loki was capable of, to begin with.
Everything was a surprise with him.
And yet, you craved so much more.
Suddenly gentle, Loki guided you backwards until your head hit his soft pillows.
He settled in between your legs, prying them apart until his face was inches away from your puffy inner lips.
“How did that feel, my dear?” He pressed kisses against your inner thighs, loving how smooth and soft your skin was.
“It hurt.” You ground out, indignance lacing your tone, trying not to show how anything Loki did to you felt good.
Better than good. He was better than any nobleman you’ve ever had to service before. Sex with them was vanilla, predictable. Loki was anything but.
“Ah, but you liked it. Didn’t you, sweet girl?” He paused and looked up at you with those baby blues.
Underneath his steady gaze, you knew there was no point in lying. Loki could see through you in a heartbeat.
“Yes. It felt good.” You confessed.
Tutting with that silver tongue of his, endearments and praise continued to pour out of that sly mouth.
And kisses. Hot, wet, soft kisses to every part of your inner thighs, your mound, your puffy pussy lips.
“You naughty girl. Entering my chambers, asking me to give you relief.”
He pressed his lips to you.
“Sitting on my cock, letting me fill up that tight cunt of yours.”
A regal nose brushed against your slit, dragging wetness up your core.
“Enjoying pain with your pleasure. Letting me ravage your body. You’re a temptress, my sweet.”
A deep inhale. Gods, Loki was breathing in your sex right in front of you. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, your nails digging into your palms.
“Did you know, darling, that I could smell you the second you entered my chambers?” He exhaled, warm air tickling the moisture leaking out of you.
You didn’t dare reply, knowing that all that could come out of you now would be whines of lust.
“You, my dear, are ripe.”
With that, Loki dove head first into your cunt, licking and sucking like you were his favorite dessert.
The potion made your pussy swollen and sensitive, so everything he did felt ten times more pleasurable than anything your sisters tried.
Your hands gripped his wide shoulders and your knees fell apart as he ate you out.
“Loki—my Lord, I, I can’t!” You stammered out, head falling back as you enjoyed his worship of your pussy.
“Cat got your tongue, dear?” Loki joked, before taking your clit in between his perfect teeth.
“Fuck!” You positively screamed, which only made Loki double down.
Finally, he let go and you slowly loosened your grip, not realizing that you had been knuckle deep in his beautiful hair, tugging it, tangling it in your fingers. You saw pink half moons littered on the pale skin of his neck and face, evidence of your nails digging into his flesh.
Taking a beat to breathe, you smoothed his locks down on his head.
“Did I hurt you?” You inquired, feeling ashamed that you had lost yourself so completely in your lust.
“Yes. But I liked it, dearest. You can hurt me as much as you want to. Just as long as I can do the same.”
The dirty confession made your heart stutter in your chest, eyes wide. Seeing your expression, Loki laughed aloud, the sound blessing your ears.
He crawled up your body now, straightening your legs.
“Let’s see how ready you are for me, hmm?” Loki inserted one finger, then another into your pussy.
“Gods! That feels—!” You whined.
“Good, isn't it?” Loki finished for you. “Now, what about…here?”
He curled his digits upwards and put delicious pressure onto your spongy inner center.
Waves of stimulation shot through your limbs as your voice cried out in broken moans.
“Your knees are trembling, sweet girl.” Loki observed with amusement.
Indeed they were, and they continued to shake uncontrollably as Loki clamped down even harder, his fingers thrusting now.
“I-I can’t help it!” You cried out again, as Loki kissed your breasts, his hot mouth finding purchase on an erect nipple.
Your hands gripped his wrist and he couldn’t tell if you were trying to pull his hand out, or push it in deeper.
Regardless, he ground his palm against your clit, scissoring his digits inside of you, stretching you.
Preparing you.
“Oh my—I’m gonna cum!” You screamed out. Loki had already made you cum a few times. First, when his cock filled you up as you were sitting on his lap. Second, when he bit down on your clit.
And now, with his skilled fingers, he was making your pussy spasm and weep under his touch.
The orgasm was powerful, your whole body jerking up against his. With his free hand, Loki held you down, enjoying the wild ride.
Finally, as you relaxed, Loki released you and sat back. His forehead dappled with sweat, and his own breath coming in hard.
You couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. Loki, your prince, was pleasuring, no—worshiping your body like it was his personal gift from Valhalla. He made you feel pleasure at heights you didn’t know existed. Somehow, he simply knew your body even though this was the first time he had ever touched you.
Lost in post-orgasm bliss, your eyes lazily traveled down to his still clothed erection, fighting to get out of his trousers. A thought crossed your mind.
“My Lord, can I undress you?” You murmured, locking eyes with him.
Loki didn’t reply, instead, he simply watched your naked body approach his clothed one as you slowly snaked your hands up his torso. You found each flap, each button, and slowly undid it all as his garments fell down in pieces on the bed.
You pulled his pants off his long legs, and his cock bounced up to greet you. With a gasp of joy, you pressed a soft kiss to his member and continued your kisses up the toned flesh of his chest until you got to his lips.
The action was intimate, like what lovers would do. And Loki let you touch him, admire him, without a word.
In the last bit of light of sunset, Loki’s skin glowed golden orange. He shone like the god he is.
“Beautiful.” You whispered in awe.
An arrogant smile curved along his face and he cradled a hand along the back of your head. He pressed a long, sensual kiss to your warm mouth.
“I’m going to fuck you now.” He murmured the dirty words against your smiling lips.
Stalking over you like a predator hunts its prey, Loki climbed over your prone body, lining up his engorged cock with your weeping slit.
He watched you watch him as he slid in, inch by inch, your eyes watering as he forced his way into your cunt.
A self-satisfied smirk emerged on his face, knowing just how full he could make you feel.
Gently, he lowered his weight on top of you, pressing down so that his toned flesh covered your supple breasts and soft curves.
As he started to slowly thrust in and out of your tight core, Loki found both of your hands and brought them next to your head, interlacing his fingers with yours. Your palms were hot and sweaty, overwhelmed with the intimacy of his actions.
Summoning all the boldness you had inside of you, you dared your gaze to meet his and he was staring back at you with a mixture of lust and affection.
And also, possession.
Fuck.
What have you gotten yourself into?
Without warning, he pushed faster, his hips smacking into yours with a vengeance. You instinctively brought your knees up to allow him deeper access. The wet slap of his cock into your pussy was sinfully loud in the cavernous bedroom.
All manner of helpless yelps and whines came out of your throat, your hands squeezed his as he fucked you raw.
“You need to be fucked, hard and often, healer.” The way he said your title could have been synonymous with whore.
The intensity of his look was almost too much, daring you to look away, but you found that you couldn’t. You were entirely addicted to this man, stronger than any drug you could have created in the healing room.
By Odin, he was the only one for you.
You pressed your forehead to his as he continued to slam his cock deep inside of your womb.
“I’m yours, my Lord.” The words tumbled out of you before you could stop them.
“Loki.” An unreadable expression crossed his face as Loki pushed himself up. He pulled your legs to wrap around his hips as he knelt on the bed. Your pussy was still clenched around his cock and you took the opportunity to suck in a few deep breaths.
“Wha-what?” You panted, confusion furrowing your brow.
“Say my name. Say that you belong to me.” Loki commanded. He rose up, pulling his shoulders back, looking every bit like the prince, the god that he is. His dark hair was pushed back on his forehead, sleek with sweat, framing his sharp features like a crown.
Automatically obedient, the declaration left your lips with sincerity and conviction.
“I belong to you, Loki.”
With a laugh of triumph, Loki grabbed the pliant flesh of your hips and slammed your body against his own. He railed your core with his cock, hitting deeper than you ever thought possible. Your ass slid along his strong thighs, the friction smarting your skin that was still tender from his earlier disciplining.
“Loki—it’s too much!” You cried out, losing yourself in pleasure.
“Cum for me, my sweet girl. Worship me with your cunt!” Loki growled out, thrusting impossibly harder, impossibly faster.
The sensation built and built, his name spilled out of your mouth in an endless stream of moans, until suddenly the pleasure peaked.
In that instance, time stopped. Your lips parted in a silent scream, and you saw him.
Veins bulged in his forearm as he pulled you flush against his hips. Nose scrunched up in effort as he fucked you deeply. His eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, wild in the throes of ecstasy.
Loki was your god.
And he was glorious.
Finally the air in your lungs released in a long-awaited scream and the orgasm crashed down. Nerve endings lit on fire, and your muscles jerked and spasmed underneath his strong grip. In the midst of your pleasure, you heard a faraway groan from your prince, and you could feel jets of hot cum coat the inside of your womb. He was marking you, claiming you as his.
You knew you would be his forever.
A few seconds later, Loki unceremoniously pulled out of your well-used pussy, and collapsed beside you, chest heaving with exertion.
Lying with one arm underneath his head, he lazily stroked your back as you curled up on his naked chest. Finally, the effect from the love potion had dissipated, leaving you with sweet relief.
Minutes passed in comfortable silence, but your mind started to swirl with insecure thoughts. You steeled your nerves to ask a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind.
“Why did you never use me?”
“What do you mean, my dear?”
“Why did you never take a lover? Or ask for a healer’s services? I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, that you’re—“ Your mouth shut with an audible clack of your teeth.
Your clumsy tongue always got ahead of yourself. Worried you may have crossed a line, your cheeks burned with embarrassment.
But Loki answered honestly.
“You’re not my first. But I have long since known that I can’t fuck and forget like my ape of a brother.” He grimaces, and breathes in deeply before saying more.
“When I have sex, I need to own them. Possess them. I'm sure you noticed my dominant streak, my darling.”
“Then why’d you let me come in tonight? Why take the risk?” You wondered aloud.
“I’ve been watching you, my sweet little healer.”
You tensed automatically in surprise. Since when? What did he see? Why did he notice you?
Loki’s gentle voice brought you out of your thoughts as he confessed more.
“If you hadn’t approached me tonight, I would have snatched you from the healing room and made you mine before long.” He chuckled, the sound vibrating deep within his chest as you lay on his skin.
The revelation sank in slowly until finally, Loki pulled you up until your face was level with his.
“You just beat me to it, you naughty girl.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, and your furrowed brow automatically relaxed.
“Tell me again. Will you belong to me, and only me?” He searched your eyes for any hint of deception, any trace of a lie.
A/N: This man bout to risk the whole future for some pussy.
Anyway big thanks to the lovely @damimami1994 who has been like a cheerleader for me and read this fic so many times I lost count and helped me so much!!!! <3
Warnings: MAJOR SMUT. 16K+ Word Count, reader is 20+ college student, loss of virginity, logans a goddamn menace, creepy dude flirts and gets rough with reader, reader doesn't really have a survival instinct (its the 70s) , unprotected piv, handjob, F! Oral recieving, fingering, missionary + doggy (yay!), logan is NOT beating pervert allegations, overbearing mother (tbh i can't blame her), 1 (one) booty smack, logans dirty talking off the roof, cum eating?, mutant politics kinda, reader smokes a few times, some fluff, and aftercare
Magic Man - Heart
“Where the bloody hell are you going now?”
Logan glanced back at Charles, who stared at him with crossed arms and an indignant look on his face.
“We leave in the morning, Logan. You are the one wanting to pull off this heist.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back before then.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Got something pressing.”
“More than saving the future?”
Logan smirked, “I’m going to see my girl. See ya later.”
“Yeah can I get a uuuuuh…..Toms Triple Decker Burger- but leave out the lettuce, tomato, all the healthy crap, can you do that darling?”
You forced a smile. “I sure can! just bacon and cheese then?”
“Yeah sweetheart….a side of these uh…Toms extra cheesy cheese fries too. And a diet coke.”
“That’ll be all?”
“And your number?”
Your smile dropped, and you quickly replaced it- more forced than usual. Your skin crawled at the look that your customer was giving you. Greasy, twice older than you, and had his two kids at the table with him- both staring at you with confusion. An awkward laugh escaped you as you finished writing down his order.
“Not on the menu sir. But thank you-” You gave him a polite nod, then smiled at his poor kids before turning to walk away, ripping the order off your notepad and shoving the notepad and pen into your apron and making a face of actual disgust at your coworkers who watched you with amusement.
“How bad was he?”
“Asked for my number in front of his kids.” You scoffed, handing it to your fellow waitress, Maria, to take to the cook.
“Why it always the greasy ones?” Kim sighs.
“As if you wouldn’t.” Maria teased her, “Remember Arthur?”
“Arthur was nice!” Kim remarks, her nasally voice becoming high-pitched in her defense. “He was a good father,”
“He was a good husband too, till you came around.”
You laughed, shaking your head while Kim huffs around.
“Oh, by the way….” Maria shot you her msichevous look. “ you’re very popular today.” Maria leans onto the table and nods to something behind you. Her voice turns low and saccherine. “That handsome fellow has been watching you for a while. Tried to get his order but he waved me off- Staring at you.” She poked at your shoulder with her manicured nail. A her painted lips tilted into a sly grin.
You didn’t look right away. Twiddling your fingers nervously. Finally you lifted your head, turning to look at who she was talking about. You felt your heart stopped when you met his eyes.
He was handsome. And he was staring right.
At.
you.
“Oh my god.” You muttered quickly looking away.
“Are you going to talk to him?”
“Me?!” You stammered. “Oh, Maria, no way. I could never. Plus he’s like…Way older than me!”
“The older the better.” Kim winks. Maria cackles. “You should talk to him! It’s just talking, what’s the harm?”
“Yeah, poor guy looks hungry.” Maria makes a mock sympathetic voice, tilting her head and pouting her lip. “Go on, try to get his order.”
You sigh, butterflies turning in your stomach. You hopped off the diner stool, scowling at your friends as you forced yourself to walk to the corner where your so-called admirer sat. It felt like there were rocks in your feet, every step hesitant and slow as you approached him, not looking up until you reached his table.
You pulled out your notepad and pen, “Hello sir, how are you today?” You looked up- your best customer service smile plastered on your face- only it quickly melted into a real smile just by the look in his eyes. He looked even better up close.
Hazel eyes looked back into yours. Chestnut brown hair slicked upwards, mutton chops that ran down to his chin. Broad shoulders and nice hands. A nose you wanted to nip and lips you wanted to kiss. You couldn’t dream of a finer man than him.
“Was wondering when you’d make your way over here.” He smirked, his voice a low rumble that made your knees weak.
“Well… Yeah, sorry about that.” You nervously tucked your hair behind your ear. You hoped he didn’t catch how flustered you were feeling. Fortunately, working customer service is a wonderful opportunity to mask emotions.
Usually anger, but you can improvise.
“Can I get your order?”
“That guy over there, with the two kids. He make you uncomfortable?”
You mouth fell open, as you looked back to the table you were previously at. The kids were fiercely drawing with crayons on the paper you’ve given them- brows concentrated on their masterpiece. Their father seemed to have no interest, reading a newspaper he picked up at the door.
“Oh, no it’s- it’s fine.” You smiled shaking your head. “He was just being friendly.”
“Mm.” The man was shooting daggers at the fathers back.
“Sir?”
His attention snapped back to you. You gave him a kind smile, tilting your head and your hair fell over your shoulder. “Is there anything I can get you? Maybe a coffee?”
He stared at you. There was recognition in his eyes, something soft and loving but you didn’t know. He was intense, you could feel a certain aura of darkness to him- something that should send warning bells off- but it only made you curious.
“Yeah, sweetheart. A coffee would be good.” He nods, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on the table.
“Cream and sugar?”
He paused, a heartbeat passed. “Black is fine.”
“Anything else?”
“What would you recommend doll?”
“Uh…Well,” You considered the choices. “We have this really good c-”
“Chicken sandwiches?” He asks. You smiled, tilting your head with a small scrunch of your nose- wondering how he managed to finish your sentence. “I’ll take one.”
“With fries?”
“Sure.”
“Okay!” You returned your notepad to your apron. “It’ll be right out.”
“Thanks.” He replies leaning back in his seat. You lingered for a moment, wanting to talk to him more- but you didn’t know what to say, just nodding and turning to return to the counter where your friends were both smiling at you devilishly.
“Let me guess, he ordered something?”
“Shush, maybe he wasn’t hungry yet?” You argued, going around to their side of the counter, where you went to a pot of coffee that was brewing, and grabbed a mug from the shelf above it. As you poured, you snuck a glance back at the man. He was still watching you.
Quickly snatching your eyes away from him, you focused on the coffee.
“Oh, breaks over.” Kim looks at her watch, “It’s your break.” She looks at you, reaching for the coffee, “I’ll take over till you come back.”
“No-” You took it away, tone defensive before realizing your mistake as Kim raises her eyebrows “I- I’ll give it to him. Then go on break.”
“Alright.” She smiles, side-eying Maria who looks equally amused. Embarrassment filled your soul as you sigh dejectedly, going back around the counter, avoiding the stares of the girls as you brought the coffee to the mans table.
“Thanks sweetheart.” He reaches for it, his fingers brushing over yours in a move that felt purposely, he looked up at you as he set it on the table. “Going on break?”
“Uh..” You blinked in surprise. Eavesdropping much?
“Yeah.” You nodded. “Um, she’ll-” You nodded to Kim at the counter, “Will bring out your food for you.”
“Alright,” He sips his coffee. Brows raised in surprise. “Pretty good. Was told you guys had great coffee.”
“Oh, yeah uh…The owner gets a real special brand. He’s a real stickler about good coffee and all. Wants the diner to be one of those diners that can truly say it has the worlds best coffee.” You threw your hands up, before smoothing them over your apron.
He nods, leaving you both in quiet silence.
“Um, well…” You smiled, “Enjoy!”
“I will.” He looked up at you, taking another sip of the coffee. “Enjoy your break.”
“Thanks. You too!”
He quirked a brow, the corner of his lip tilting up in amusement.
“I-” You didn’t bother coming back from it.
You turned around, making a face at yourself and walking away from his table where you headed towards the kitchen, making fists at your side. Why did you have to be so awkward?
“He’s checking out your ass.” Maria mutters to you as you passed her- and you felt the embarrassment dig itself deeper. Ignoring her, you entered the kitchen passing the cook and out the back door- grabbing your purse on the way, scoffing at yourself for being a complete weirdo.
Cold wind blew over your face- giving you a feeling of freedom from your job that you can feel is slowly taking away bits of your soul with every fatty meal you serve.
You found a quiet spot at the back of the restaraunt. Your usual spot to hide from nosy coworkers or customers so you can decompress. The diner back into a vast woods, one that you have explored many times growing up and knew like the back of your hand. It was your favorite place- the only place where you could taste freedom, to be open and curious about the world.
Reaching into your purse, you pulled out a pack of reds and a lighter, picking a cig from the pack and placing it between your lips. Truth be told- you didn’t actually like smoking. It tasted awful, made you smell, and was honestly a waste of money.
Yet you liked the feeling of choosing to do it anyway.
You used your hand to protect the flame of the lighter from the wind as you creased your brows in concentration, taking a deep breath as the butt begins to burn and ash. Smoke filled your lungs- and made you cough.
You stared off into the distance- watching a cardinal as it lands on a branch, its wings fluttering as the cardinal seems to decide it’s next move. Then tipped your head up to the sky. Blue with some white fluffy clouds that seemed to idly float by.
“Shouldn’t be smoking those.” You heard a deep voice by your side. You nearly jumped out of your skin, almost dropping the cigarette. You looked at him with wide eyes, and he just smirked. Reaching over, he plucked the cigarette out from between your fingers. “They’ll make you sick. You don’t even like em.”
You scoffed- open your mouth wanting to share a few choice words for how he just walked up to you and snatched your cigarette away. You stared at him incredously- unbelieving of the nerve of this stranger, but your expression quickly fell and heat bloomed in your cheeks as he stuck your cigarette between his lips, and you could see his tongue run over the end- like he was trying to taste you off it.
“How do you know?” You managed to say, sounding less angry than you wanted, your eyes looking up at him from your stolen cigarette, which was now resting on his lips. You were trying to be accusatory, to stand up for yourself against the stranger who’s presence had now become overwhelming- but your voice was instead quiet and timid. You didn’t realize when he was sitting in the booth just how big he was. He was towering over you. “You don’t know me.”
His eyes trailed over your figure. “No, I don’t.” He says, a moment of hesitation in his voice. He took a puff of the cigarette. “But I can take a guess. You’re a pretty, young, innocent, lil lady, going to college in her hometown, working at a little diner just to make ends meet. You got an overbearing mother, you drive a ‘61 Chevy Corvair, passed down from your granddad. You like art, painting especially, blare your music with the windows down, and you hate ketchup- you think it smells weird.”
You blinked. “Have you been stalking me?”
“It’s just a lucky guess, sweetheart.”
You scoffed, crossing your arms and looking away. Now put off by him, figuring you encountered just another creep- this one happened to just be handsome. “Well, maybe you should go away.”
“Aw, cmon.” He removed the cigarette from his lips, dropping it to the ground and stomping it out with his foot. “Don’t be like that.” His hand came to your cheek, gently leading you to look back at him. He was even closer to you now. The scent of cigars and cologne clung to him, and made you lightheaded. “I can make a few more lucky guesses about you…” He grinned. ”That you carry the world on your shoulders, considerate and kind. You crave adventure. You want to see the world and what it’s got to offer….”
His thumb brushed over your bottom lip. His eyes flicked down from yours, tracing over your parted lips. His turned low and suggestive. “and you want someone that’ll take good care of you, don’t you princess?”
Now your heart was pounding out of your chest, holding your breath, unable to take away your eyes from the handsome stranger who had now completely captivated your attention. He had this arrogant look in his eyes but you couldn’t bring yourself to care despite all the signs that told you he was trouble. You could only imagine how you must look to him.
“What…What’s your name?” You asked, remembering to breathe.
He seemed to pause for a moment. “James. But you can call me Logan.” His voice turned soft, lips forming into a handsome grin. Your knees went weak at that smile. His hand dropped to his side, and he braced the other against the wall as he leaned towards you.
“Logan.” You repeat. “Why did you come back here? Don’t you have food you were waiting for?”
“Guess I was missing your face already.” He says. “You don’t see someone as beautiful as you often.” You pressed your lips together and looked away, bringing your hands together and anxiously fiddling with them. This man was so strange.
You were used to unsolicited flirting, but for once you couldn’t mind him. Despite how…Brazen and odd he was being.
“Couldn’t wait another 10 minutes?” You remarked.
“Clearly.”
You smiled, a bit bashful as you avoided looking at his face. Silence filled the air, and all you could think about was how good he smelled. You could feel him staring at you, unable to take the silence longer- you decided to deflect him, distract from the strange feeling you had in your heart.
“So..Logan, why are you here? Like why did you come to this little town? Not much to see around here, y’know. Unless it’s to lecture me about my habits and ask my recommendations off the menu…”
A smirk at your comment. “Passing through.” He responds, his smile dropping. “Just uh……” He trailed off, and you could see him thinking. “Seeing a good friend of mine.” a half smile grew on his face as he says it and a glimmer in his eye.
You nodded, dropping your gaze to the concrete and crossing your arms.”Who? I probably know them. Almost every knows everyone around here.”
“Ah, you wouldn’t.” He says. You looked back up at him.
“Try me.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “You really wouldn’t, sweetheart, trust me.”
You sigh exasperated, and in the back of your head, it made you wonder if maybe it was a woman. There’s no way a man like him doesn’t already have a lady- probably multiple ladies under his arms. It irked you, to know that you’re likely not the first- or only woman who’s going to flirt with today.
You’ll likely never see him again, though.
“Where’d you come in from?” You ask, in attempt to find out more about the stranger- who seems to be so “lucky” at guessing about you. It’s not like you told him that it was true, but you needed to know his story.
How did he know your story? Was it that common? Were you predictable?
“New York. Westchester.” He says.
“That’s a nice area. You live there?”
“Not exactly.”
You pout. He smiled.
“You’re cryptic aren’t you?” You mutter.
“For good reason, don’t worry about me.” He says. He reaches out, fixing a strand of hair back into place and smirking.
“It’s still a little weird you know so much about me.” You say crossing your arms. “Or-” You caught yourself, “What you think you know about me.” He chuckles, silent for a moment- His eyes observing you.
“Your friends told me.” He says finally, letting the truth fall out. Your face fell. He smiled sympathetically.
“I’m going to kill them.” You sighed dropping your arms to your side. Your friends mean well, always encouraging you to do more, especially in romance- but this was too much.
“I asked.” He tipped his head towards you. You looked up at him.
“Couldn’t ask me yourself?”
“You seem a bit shy…”
Embarrassment rushed through you. Only you were distracted by his hand gently gripping your chin to turn you to look back at him.
“That’s okay.” He smiles. “It’s cute, seeing you like this.”
The phrase was strange, but you couldn’t pay attention to that when you looked into his eyes. A pretty hazel color, you found a new sense of appreciation for it- It almost green in the sunlight. You couldn’t help but lean in closer to him. His smile grew.
“Your breaks over- Ah-! Sorry!” Kim stops in her tracks as she pushed the door open. She suppressed a grin at the intimate moment you found yourself with the stranger. You quickly stepped away, while Logan dropped his hand to his side.
His expression held a tiny bit of annoyance, not glancing at Kim.
“Better get back to it, little missy.” He teases you. You rolled your eyes,
“Your foods ready by the way, sir-” Kim says a bit awkwardly. He nods.
“See ya inside.” He winks.
He turns to walk back around the building, and you stood there watching him- completely dumbfounded. Kim was watching to, a faint smile on her face as she turned to look at you. You finally broke you stare when he turned around the corner, and met with Kims eyes.
“That was cute.” She scrunched her nose.
You shook your head, “I’m not talking to you.” you say in passing as you walked inside.
“wh-What? I didn’t mean to interrupt the moment!”
When you went back inside, to your relief- or despair, Logan was gone, having taken the sandwich with him. He left behind his payment, and a hefty tip. You went to split it with Kim, since she technically did half of what you did.
“No no, that was definitely all for you.” Kim giggled pushing the money away.
“You literally gave him the food.”
“Yeah but he wasnt even at the table anymore when I brought it out. That tip is for you. Didn’t leave his number though…”
“Are you sure?” You ask. “You said earlier you were strapped for cash.”
“Yeah but I helped that creepy dad with his kids while you were on break too, and he gave me a huge tip, and his number.” She winked. You gave her a forced smile, nose scrunching in digust.
“Your taste in men worry me.” Maria remarks. “Have you considered a therapist?”
You went through the rest of your work day, it was slow, and when you got off work decided on spending some of your hard earned cash at your favorite shop.
You drove down the familiar suburban streets and parked in the towns square, a busy little center of your small town with a park in the center, and various shops and restaurants surrounding it. As you walked the sidewalks, you found yourself searching for Logan. If he was visiting a friend, surely they would come hang out somewhere around here? Your little diner was just a fluke place that happened to be nearly on the outskirts of town- almost everything was located inside the square.
You didn’t spot him anywhere to your disappointment- his eyes lingering in your memories. Shaking it away, you continued about your day, entering your favorite shop.
You stepped outside of the shop after a half hour of browsing, indecivisely deciding on what you wanted to buy. New records, jewlery, perfume, and a candy bar- for a treat.
Looking at the small park that was filled with people. Children were riding bikes, shooting out in front of cars who lay their horn. Couples holding hands as they walked down the street. Various other folks, playing frizbee, jogging, or just enjoying the afternoon.
Your little small town was a beautiful place- and you did appreciate and admire it’s quirks and people. However, a nagging feeling resided in you- a feeling of wanting to see more. Like there was something out there- Meant for you.
That man, Logan, had hit the nail on the spot for what you wanted in your life- especially right now.
Who was he really?
You thought about his face, his eyes and smile. It was like he walked right out of dream. You hope you’ll see him again; then again, maybe not. Him, with an awkward girl such as yourself?
No chance that’s happening.
You were lost in thought, walking on autopilot as you thought about the mysterious man that was Logan, and honestly, what an odd interaction it was.
You didn’t notice the man you were walking towards, but he noticed you.
“Well, hello again, honey.”
You almost didn’t hear or notice him until his hand went to your shoulder to stop you. You looked up in surprise, and felt your stomach sink in dread.
Your customer from earlier, the father who had more of an interest in a girl twice younger than him, rather than an interest in spending time with his children. The one who somehow managed to get lucky enough to appearance Kims poor decisions and have her take his number. His smile made you uncomfortable, and the grip on your shoulder sent alarms off.
Gently stepping away, you forced a smile.
“Hello,” You say simply.
“You off work?”
“Uh…”
“Silly question.” He laughed, “Seeing you got groceries and all. I’m done too, yknow, babysitting.” He makes a cringing face, as if spending time with his kids was unwanted thing.
“Okay.” You nodded, glancing around for an excuse to escape this awkward interaction.
“Now I know you turned down giving me your number earlier but uh…Seeing we both got free time, maybe we can go get a coffee?”
“Oh-” You forced a smile. “I’m sorry but I’m just not interested, and I have assignments for classes that are due tomorrow and all.” You nod, hoping he’ll take that for an answer. He doesn’t.
“It’s just for an hour, what’s the harm?”
“I’m sorry but no-” You say firmly, turning away to get away from the creep. Only you felt him grab your arm and yank you back to him.
“Why are you being so rude? I was polite to you lady.”
“Hey, let me go-” You try to tug your arm free, but his grip tightened.
“Your generation is full of stuck ups, you know that?” He sneers. “I-”
“Hey bub.”
You and the man both turned your heads, where Logan stood- an unimpressed look on his face. He grabbed the wrist of the hand holding you- squeezing it so tight the asshole had to let go of you, which you quickly yanked yourself away and watched with wide eyes.
“Hey! Mind your business, let me go!” He shoves at Logan who didn’t even budge from his touch, before attempting to wiggle his arm free. Logan twisted it, making him shout in pain, before his other fist come up to his face.
You watched in bewilderment as three sharp and boney, claw-like appendages slid out from between his knuckles, in front of the eyes of your attacker. He shouts in surprise.
“What the hell?!”
“Don’t touch her, don’t look at her, don’t even fucking think about her- or these are going to go where the sun don’t shine, got it?”
He barely lets out a whimper before Logan shoves him to the ground. You let out a small gasp, your eyes staring at the claws on his fist- not even the man as he attempts to scurry away in fear. You watched them retract back into his hand- small bloody cuts that healed over just as quickly as they appeared.
You were so flabbergasted you didn’t even hear Logan ask if you were okay.
“Hey-” He snapped his fingers in front of your face, snapping you out of your trance. “You got your head in the clouds sweetheart, you need to be careful.”
“Oh- Um..Thank you.” You say, blinking a few times. “I didn’t even notice him.”
“That’s what I mean, he’d been watching you since you left that shop.” He says, brows creasing as he looks down at you. “Gotta get out of the pretty head of yours and focus on what’s going on around you. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
“Right.” You laughed nervously, attempting to snap out of the haze you were finding yourself in. You couldn’t get the image of his claws out of your head, as your eyes went down to his fist again. He caught you staring.
“That scare you?” He asks, and you watched his fist clench at his side.
“Well it was…A little strange to see- Did I see that right?” You looked up at him. He smiled, noticing people approaching from behind you. His hand went to your hip, gently encouraging you to step to the side into an alleyway next to where you were.
He didn’t need to be flashing those all over the place anyway.
Your mind went to the feeling of his hand on your hip- noticing how warm it felt, like it belonged there.
“Why don’t you see for yourself?”
His hands made a fist, and you gasped as you heard a Snikt! Revealing boney claws protruding from between his knuckles. Your mouth hung open, as you reached your hand up to touch them- but stopped, looking at him.
“Go ahead, just be careful, they’re sharp.”
You nodded, touching one and feeling the rigid surface. “That’s…” You shook your head. “That’s amazing! And you can heal too?”
“I sure can.”
“Is it…Like magic?”
He smiled, like he knew you were going to say that. “I’m a mutant sweetheart.”
“A mutant? I thought…” You pulled your hand away. “I thought they… were dangerous.”
He frowned, his claws retracted back into his fists. “Who told you that?”
“Well….” You looked away, a nervous laugh escaping you. “You know how the world is. Everythings bad news now.”
“Do I look dangerous to you?” He stepped closer, his voice low. You looked down, fiddling with your hands, stammering with your answer but his hand came up to cup your chin- forcing you to look up at him. “Hm?”
“You…You seem nice.” Your voice was practically a squeak, and he smirked. “I just…You hear all this stuff about them.”
“I know. You don’t know better. Yet.”
You blinked up at him. His eyes regarding you with gentleness, understanding. It felt like he understood you. Like he gets it, everything you feel. Like he saw right through you.
“Logan?....”
“Yeah?”
“I-”
“Who is this?”
Your body and soul jumped at the shrill sound of your mothers voice. You stepped back and Logan only looked extremely irritated.
“Mama-”
“What are you doing?” She walks over. “You- Stay away from my daughter-!” She points at him, but he didn’t look too impressed.
“Ain’t here to hurt her, ma’am.” His tone one of annoyance. He dropped his hand to his side, claws retracting.
“Sure you’re not, you mutie.” She hisses. “I saw your…Your claws! You freak!” She sneers, and spits at his shoes, but he only smirked. “Come on, I’m taking you home.” She snatches your arm, dragging you along with her out of the alleyway.
“Mom!” You tried to argue but she only tugged you to continue following her. “I’m sorry,” You looked back, apologizing to Logan, but he smiled.
“S’alright sweetheart, I’ll see you later.” He winked at you, before moving to pull a cigar out of his jacket. You stumbled, and looked back at him- fascination growing in you as the magic man stood in the alley, watching you with half-lidded eyes as he smoked.
Something inside you stirred, hearing his words. He’s so sure of it.
You were going to make sure of it as well. Initially brushing Logan off wasn’t the plan anymore- You felt like a magnet, drawn to him.
Your mother shoved you into her car, before her heels clicked against the concrete loudly as she walked to the drivers side. She was silent as she got in, keys clashing and her purse tossed to the floor of the car by your feet.
“I have my own car.” You argued,
“Well clearly you can’t be trusted to be alone. We’ll go get it tomorrow.” She mutters. You scoff in disbelief, but she didn’t say another word.
You didn’t say a word either. Frustrated by your mother's protectiveness. She insists the world is out to get you. You had to fight tooth and nail to go to college, to have most of your independence. Some days you feel like you won the war, your mother letting go of her tie on you just a little bit more- but then things like this happen.
It was silent the entire drive home- but you held your own. Irritation of her interrupting your conversation with Logan. Yes, maybe you were curious, Logan was handsome, he seemed kind, he had your attention - but you’re not dumb.
You kept your head high and shoulders straight.
It wasn’t until she pulled into the driveway that she finally spoke.
“Why were you with him?” She asks, her tone full of irritation. “Who was he?”
“A customer. I was saying hello to him because I saw him earlier today.” You say casually.
“So what, he was just…showing you his…Mutation?” She says with disdain.
“So what if he was?” You asks. “You always acted like mutants are sooo terrible, but why? They’re just people. They’re bad people out there too, that aren’t mutants.”
“We’re not talking about other people we are talking this man you’re hanging out with. How old is he? He looks much older than you.”
“Okay? And?” You say. “We were just talking.” You finally turned towards her. “He actually helped me, I was being harassed by another man and he scared him away.”
Your mother scoffs, shaking her head. “Using his claws?” She asks in disgust.
You rolled your eyes. Grabbing your shopping bag and purse, you left the car without saying another word to her.
On one hand, you knew your mom meant well. She was screwed over by your father who you never met- young and left alone to raise a child in a society who looked down on her... There was a time where you two were best friends but as you grew older, curious, and wanting your independence she clung to you tight- but it would made you struggle harder.
On the other, the hatred she spews about other people. Especially mutants. You never took her too serious. The way she treated Logan though- awful.
You went straight to your room, changing from your work uniform into a simple outfit, jeans and a blouse. There was a paper for class due in a few days - but working on it seemed futile. Logan kept crowding your mind. After another attempt to reread a passage of the book your paper was about- you slammed it shut and looked at the ticking clock that sat on your messy desk. It was evening now, as you glanced out the window and saw the sky was beginning to fade, the blue of it still visible, but the evening sun had grown tired and was beginning to set.
You hadn’t snuck out in a long time. A very long time. Able to more boldly leave the house in the past but this time you didn’t feel like having another argument or dealing with the headache of your mother's worries.
You wanted to see Logan, a man who just seems magical to you. He seemed so confident, sure of himself and the world.
Walking over to it, you shoved your broken window up, the frame was uneven, making the window nearly impossible to open without having to smack your palm against it to push it up. It squeaked, fighting against you before you finally got it up enough that allowed you to squeeze out.
You turned back to grabbed your bag, and when you looked out the window-
You’re greeted by the sight Logan on your lawn.
“Sneaking out darling?” He calls up to you.
“What!- What are you doing here?” You kept your voice low, at risk of your mother hearing you- or noisy neighbors who snitch.
“Was going to do some old fashion serenading but I forgot my guitar.” He smirks at his sarcasm. “You going somewhere?”
“Uh….” You turned to sit on the windowsill, looking away from him. You didn’t want to admit you were sneaking out to see him. You wanted to talk to him more, you liked his kindness, fascinated that he was a mutant- but you couldn’t admit that.
Or maybe it was the way he looked at you. Someone to be desired.
“I was thinking about just going out.”
“Why not use the front door?”
“I got into a fight with my mom.” You say, embarrassed at how childish it sounds. You began to fiddle with your hair, trying to style it and distracting yourself.
“And don’t feel like dealing with her more, yeah?”
You sighed, letting your hands dropping in your lap.
“I don’t blame ya. Come on sweetheart.” He waved his hand at you to come out. “Lets go for a drive.”
You face fell at his offer- you probably shouldn’t go drive around with a man you just met, but then you look at him and your mind led you to wonder if Logan was searching for something more than the pleasure of your company- with the way you see his eyes scanning over your figure; and you wouldn’t mind giving it to him.
So you smiled, and nodded. Returning to climb out, you first stuck your legs out until your hips were out the window. You had to be careful, your window was located several feet from the ground. Not a terrible fall but wouldn’t feel great if you did.
Fortunately, you’ve had a lot of practice.
Twisting yourself so you were now facing your bedroom, you began to climb out. You felt his hands on your hips, holding onto you securely as you climbed out, allowing you to hop to the ground safely. He didn’t let go of you, making you bump into his chest.
“Sorry,” You looked up at him, but he just smiled- his hands tightening on your hips, before letting go, reaching for your hand and taking it in his.
He led you to his car, a black Buick- a nice car. You couldn’t help but wonder if he had some money. He did say he was from Westchester.
When you reached it, he reached over and opened the passenger side for you, letting go of your hand so you could get into the car.
“Buckle up.” He winks at you, before shutting the door and walking to the other side.
He climbed in, a small groan escaping him as he shuts the door, and starts the car.
“You need to put on your seatbelt.” You tell him, repeating the same sentiment. He smirks.
“I don’t need it.” He throws the car into drive,
“What, you can heal so you just throw yourself into danger anyway?”
“Something like that.”
You both were in silence, save for the radio that played rock music. You reached over, turning it up to fill the silence. a Led Zeppelin song was playing- one of your favorites.
“Knew you would do that.” He says quietly, a thoughtful look on his face. You looked at him, adjusting yourself against the seat.
“How?”
“You…” He stopped, “Just seem like the type to like this band.”
You made a face, unbelieving of his expression. “Sure….”
“You hungry? You have dinner yet?” He asks, quickly changing the subject.
“Um no dinner yet.” You shook your head. “I’m a little hungry, but you don’t need to buy me anything.” He turned on his blinker despite your words, turning into a parking lot of a fast food place. As he reached the speaker, the cashier spoke up asking for the order.
Before you could tell him what you wanted- He said it. The exact order you were going to ask for. You stared at him in disbelief, brows creased and lips set in a frown. After he finished yours, he said his own. The cashier gave the total and told him to pull up to the window.
He began driving, glancing at you, and then a double take when catching your expression.
“What?”
“I-” You shook your head. “You know what, I’m not going to ask. I’m just gonna assume maybe your mutation includes reading minds or something.”
He smirked. He pulled up to the window, taking out his wallet and paying the cashier, grabbing the food and handing them to you.
“I can pay you back,” You offer.
“No,” He shook his head. You reached into the paper bag, searching for Logans order, and unwrapping it for him before handing it over. “Thanks sweetheart.” He took a bite, as he continued to drive.
“Where are we going?” You asked.
“Any requests?”
You shrugged, tossing a fry into your mouth. “Why are you um…Y’know, trying to hang around me?”
You thought you knew, but you wanted to hear his excuse.
He quirked a brow. “The last few times we’ve run into each other is just a coincidence.” He says, before taking another bite of his food.
“Sure…” You spare him a side glance. He showed up at your house. Another moment of silence. “Did you see your friend?”
“Yeah, I did.”
More silence.
“Logan.”
“Yeah?”
“Who are you?”
He didn’t say anything, but you swear you saw the corner of his lips twitch, resisting a smile. You watched him, observing the details of his face. Your eyes glanced around the car you sat in, and went to casually toss another fry in your mouth, still staring at him suspiciously. You could tell he was wracking in his head an answer to tell you.
“You’ll find out.” He says. You blink. “But I’m a friend.” He quickly adds.
“That is SO cryptic oh my god!” You laughed, shaking your head.
“I know it doesn’t make sense but-”
“No, no, far be it for me to yknow…Be nosy I guess.” You shrugged. He smirked. You heard the turn signal flip on, and he turned into a park. It was a place you’ve went to before with friends. It had a big lake to swim and boat in, and hiking trails.
“Heard the sunset was pretty to watch here.” He says, changing the subject, again.
“It is.” You ate another fry as he parked the car. “I would come here to watch it with my friends.”
“Yeah.” He sits. “C’mon, lets watch it.” He opens the driver door, stepping out. You stared at him dumbfounded as he walked around the car, and opening the passenger side. He waves with two fingers for you to hop out, grabbing the fast food bag for you.
He had you sit on the hood, laying his jacket over it and lifting you up to sit. Everytime his hands touched you- you thought about the claws. You didn’t feel a single ounce of danger though. Logan felt safe, his touch was warm, and the way his eyes regarded you- it made you bashful, unable to look at him for long.
You ate together in silence.
“So, what do you want to do, after college?” He asks.
You don’t recall telling him you’re in college- oh well.
You answered, telling him about your degree. He listened to every word, eyes focused on you. He smiled at the stories you delved into, yapping away without realizing. It just felt comfortable to talk. It simply isn’t easy for you to open up to anyone- especially a stranger like Logan. There was an energy between you that fit. He interjected occasionally, his own sarcastic comment or to compliment you. You talked like you were old friends.
At some point his hand reached over, brushing against your thigh. You glanced at him with a curious look.
He quirked a brow, “Just grabbing my cigar.” He says, hand climbing into the pocket of his jacket.
“Oh.”
You watched him. A single claw popped out, slicing the cap of the cigar off, before he stuck it between his lips, lighting it with an old flip lighter.
“Can I try?”
He glanced at you. “You don’t like smoking.”
You rolled your eyes. “I just wanna try.”
He clicked his tongue, handing the cigar to you. You barely under how to hold it- to big between your fingers like a regular cigarette. So you settled to keep it pinched between your thumb and forefinger. Your brought it to your lips.
“Just don’t-”
You took a deep inhale, only to fall into a rough coughing fit that brought tears to your eyes. You gave it back to him, hacking a lung and he reached a hand over to rub your back.
“Okay.” You cleared your throat, quickly wiping away the tears. “You’re right I don’t like it.”
“It’s about the taste sweetheart. You’re not supposed to inhale it.”
“Yeah? I’ll pass anyway….” You trailed off, now embarrassed that you hacked a lung out in front of him.
The sky changed into oranges and pinks, the deep blue slowly bleeding into it as the sun disappeared in the horizon, leaving you and Logan in the dark. Your food was finished, and you both sat in empty silence.
“Ready to go home?” He asks.
You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to leave Logan either. You nodded anyway, taking Logans hand as you hopped down from the hood. He grabbed his jacket and pulled it on, before following you to the passenger door and opening it for you.
“Logan.” You stopped, leaning against the open door.
“I don’t really want to go back home yet.” You say quietly. He smirked.
He brought you to the motel on the outskirts of your little town.
“Stay here, I’ll pay for a room and come back, k?”
You nodded, watching him climb out and leaving you in the car. You waited quietly, listening to the crickets chirping softly outside. You were left to your thoughts until a knock on the window took your attention. The door opened, and you climbed out, where Logan put his arm around you and led you to the room.
He unlocked and opened the door, before handing you the key.
He walked in after you, shutting the door behind him. “One of the nicer motels I’ve been to…” He mutters quietly looking around the room, walking to peer into the bathroom, and then the closet- he looked like he was checking for people. “Should be safe, but keep that door locked.”
He was right, you never actually stayed in a motel before but heard stories- this place, It wasn’t bad, it looked clean with simple cream painted walls, and the typical brown checker patterned curtains and bedsheets and red carpet to match. You look at him over your shoulder.
“You’ve been to a lot of motels?”
“I’ve traveled a bit.”
“Yeah? Like where?” Your face brightened, as you turned to sit on the edge of the bed and tilting your head.
He chuckled, walking over to sit next to you, the mattress groaning under his weight. “Lots of places. Been all over the states, and a few countries.”
“Wow, really?” You brought your legs up, criss crossing them on your lap. “For fun or?”
“Uh. Work.” He says. “Mostly. Some of it was because I didn’t have a home, so I was just wandering.”
“No home?” You asked softly. “You don’t have any family or anything?”
“Well….” He looked at you. “I do. I just didn’t always have them in my life.”
You smiled. “They are now?”
A heartbeat passed, a solemn expression on his face before he quickly turns neutral. “Yeah.”
You nodded, taking a deep breath, before looking back at him with excitement. “So, the places you visited?”
“Ah, heh.” He leaned back on the bed on his side, using his elbow to brace him up and looked up at you. “Few places in Europe, France, Germany, England, some other smaller countries around there. Vietnam, Japan.”
“Vietnam…” You fiddled with you fingers, glancing down and back up at him, “Were you in the army?”
“Yeah, I was.”
You nodded, deciding not to ask more about it. It was a sensitive topic these days anyway.
He continued recounting a few places he traveled. “There’s city called Madripoor I was living in for a bit- for work- it’s in Southeast Asia.”
“Really? What was it like?”
“Ah, this place was disguised to look like a paradise but it was filled with trash. Crime-ridden and everything. It had it’s own charm though.”
“Sounds like an interesting place.” You sounded amused.
“Heh, you…” He trailed off, his smile fading for a moment. “You didn’t-” He stopped, correcting himself. “- wouldn’t have liked it, so you’re not missing out.”
You added that to your growing list of odd things about Logan.
“No?”
“Nah.” He pushed himself back up.
“Well, out of all the places you’ve been to, which one would I like? Especially since you seem to know so much about me anyway….”
He laughs, and without hesitation answers your question, looking off at the wall with a dreamlike expression. “France. You would like France.”
“Yeah? Sounds nice…Too bad I probably won’t ever get to go there one day.”
“Ah, don’t worry sweetheart. I get the feeling you will.” He reached a hand over, placing it on your knee and squeezing it. You looked up at him,
“Must be true, because you know everything about me.” You mention again. He didn’t say anything, but looked at you. “How do you know it all?”
“I’m just good at reading people.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “That’s more than reading people!” You giggled. “You knew I don’t like ketchup because of it’s smell! You knew my exact order at that restaurant, That i’m a college student and..those other things…I know you said that you asked my friends but they said you didn’t ask them anything, unless they’re lying…” You shook your head. “Is this just some…Really elaborate prank?”
“No prank sweetheart.” He says.
“No? So…” You clasped your hands together in your lap. “Why are we here?”
“You asked to come here.”
“Well-” You stammered and looked away.
He smirked, leaning in closer to you. Your heartbeat grew fast at his proximity. “I just- this is really strange I mean…You’re visiting your friend, and I’m...just some random waitress?” You glanced down at his lips.
“You’re not just some random waitress. You’re also gorgeous” He hums. You laughed again, attempting to hide your fluster.
“You’re changing the subject.”
“For a good reason.” He leans in closer.
“Being?” You didn’t budge, even as you could feel his breath on your lips, your eyes didn’t leave his even in his close proximity. Your heart was pounding out of your chest.
He hummed, his lips brushing over yours as he talked. “Remember how you called me magic earlier?”
“Yeah…”
“Lets just say all this is magic. Alright baby?”
You stared at him incredously, your lips just barely touching, and you burst into laughter. “Magic, yeah?”
He chuckled at your mirth. “Yeah, it’ll make sense one day.”
You didn’t stop him as he leaned in to press a kiss against your lips. It was so soft you could barely feel him. You felt yourself leaning into him. His hand resting on your knee squeezed it gently, before sliding up your thigh.
It was like something triggered in you, and you stood up abruptly and stepped away from him.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” He says standing up, concern on his face.
“No! No, don’t be. I just…Realized how insane I’m being right now.” You reassure, and nervously laugh. “God I just- What am I doing?” You looked at him. He raised a brow. “I don’t know you but I just…Snuck off with you like it was nothing?”
“Well…”
“Every time you look at me I just get this feeling like…Like in the pit of my stomach-”
“I could probably tell you what that is.” His tone cocky as he smirks, but you just shot him a scowl.
“Not that.” You scoff. Although you couldn’t deny you felt that too. “It’s like… Like I’ve always known you. I never felt that before. Like I could trust you. Then you act SO weird and know all this stuff and honestly I should have ran away back at the diner but instead I just want to be closer. Now I’m here in some random motel- with you, I only known you a few hours, and it feels right but…”
He stepped closer. “Then why deny it?”
“I…Don’t know.” You looked at him, wides eyes and nerves on fire. “I don’t know what I should do.”
He brought his hand to your cheek. “C’mere. I’ll show you.”
Leaning in, he met you for another kiss. Sweet and gentle- you never shared one that felt so loving. Past kisses felt awkward, forced, but his felt like he knew how to fit his lips against yours. You leaned forward, deepening the kiss. His hand moved from your cheek, climbing into your hair.
His lips moved against you, parting open to lick your bottom lip for entrance and you let him in. The feeling of his tongue surprised you. Warm, invasive- you weren’t sure how to counter it. A small chuckle escaped him.
“Don’t be shy gorgeous.” He purrs. “Just follow my lead.”
You swallowed, heart pounding in your chest. You pushed down your doubts, hesitation, for once you were going to take the leap and do something absolutely insane. Finally nodding, you kissed him back, attempting to return the same passion he was giving you. Another warm chuckled escaped him,
“Hey!” You muttered, “I’m new at this….”
“I know darling, you aint’ doing nothing wrong.” He brought his other hand to caress your cheek. “C’mon, give me some more sugar.”
Now it was your turn to giggle. “That was so cheesy!” You teased him, ignoring the rush your body felt when he said it.
“You liked it though, didn’t you?” He hums, pressing his forehead against yours.
“Maybe….”
“And you like how I taste, hm?”
Your face turned hotter, your thighs pressing together at his words. You nodded in reply. He was impossible, but you couldn’t stop now.
“You have no idea sweetheart, the things you can do.” He mumbles. “Don’t worry about me, alright, because all I am to you is someone who wants to take care of you- alright?”
Meeting his eyes, they were so intense the way they looked into you- right through you. You nodded. Maybe putting your full trust into someone you met wasn’t the smartest thing to do. You, all in-experienced and awkward shouldn’t be hanging with a man twice your age-
But hey, its memories, right?
He met your lips again, and you responded with the same eagerness. Slowly, but surely, you began to figure it out- melting into a deep sensual kiss that made you moan- your body pressing into him and your hands tightening its grip on his jacket. You were becoming light-headed- unused to the lack of air- you had to pull yourself away gasping, a string of spit connecting your lips.
Logan’s eyes looked dark, he didn’t give you much time to catch your breath, his hand came to cup the back of your neck, pulling you back to him again as he captured you in another deep, searing, messy kiss. He swallowed your moans, responding with his own that made your panties uncomfortably wet.
His free hand, settled on your hip, slid up your shirt, cupping one tit and you gasped pulling back.
“Too much?” He asks gently,
“I- I just…”
“It’s okay, we don’t gotta do anything you don’t want to…” He mumbles gently, bumping his nose against yours. You shook your head,
“I want to. I just never did anything…like this.” It makes your face burn to admit that, a hit to your ego- especially to admit it to a man like him who is likely able to get ass whenever he wants. It made you wonder,
Why me?
“S’alright. We can take it slow, stop whenever you want. How about we start with me first?” He smiles. He leaned back, grabbing your wrists. “Take off my jacket.”
You nodded, helping him slide it down his arms, dropping it to the floor. He leaned down, catching you in another kiss as he brought your hands to the first button of his shirt. Your fingers traced over the cool fabric, before you carefully undid one button.
“Thatta girl.” He smiled against your lips. “That’s what this is all about, taking care of each other. Understand?”
You nodded, undoing another button, and another, your fingers working quicker with each one to get the shirt off him faster, anticipation filling your lower belly. He rested his forehead against yours, waiting patiently as you undressed him and helped you slid the shirt off his shoulders.
Your eyes practically bulged at his biceps, your hand coming up to stroke his muscles- you noted that his bicep was bigger than your entire hand.
“You like it?” He smirked at your expression. He flexed, making the muscles, along with several prominent veins pop out. Your mouth fell open in a soft gasp.
You’re not going to survive this.
You traced your hands to his chest, where a white undershirt left it covered, your hand resting where his heart was beating. You didn’t catch the look he gave you- a look of yearning, an ache in his eyes.
“You like your layers don’t you?” You smiled looking up at him. He laughed.
“I’m from Canada.”
“That explains a lot.”
He grabbed your hand, pressing his lips to your palm. “That suppose to mean something?” he mumbles into it. You stared at him a bit dumbfounded by his lips against your hand. He smiled down at you, leaning forward to catch you in another kiss- reminding you of where you both were.
Feeling more confident, you grabbed the bottom hem of his tank, tugging it free from being tucked in his jeans, you lifted it over his head breaking the kiss, only to immediately return again. You pulled away once more, hands pressed to his pecs as you take in his chest- wide, hairy, muscular, you bit your lip and began wondering how the actual fuck you got so lucky.
You noticed the dogtags that rested on his chest. Your hand slid over to take them between your fingers. Two sets of tags, one had his name. “James Logan Howlett” You whispered.
“That’s me.”
The other, “Wolverine?” You looked up at him. A gentle expression in his eyes, he brought his hand over yours.
“That’s me as well.”
“What does it mean?”
“It’s a long story.” He says. “Not all of it good. But it’s led me here…” He stepped closer. “In your arms.”
You looked up at him with bright eyes, and nodded. “You’re here with me.” You say. He smiled, squeezing your hand.
“Now…Want to see more?” He asks, his low, almost a purr. He took your hand, bringing it down to his belt. “You can take it off.”
You stared at the belt, fascinated by the buckle that you traced with your fingers. Hesitation at first- wondering if you thought you were ready. You looked up at Logan, who waited patiently for your next move, and he gives you an encouraging nod.
The belt clinked as you removed it, and then in turn focused on the button and zipper of his jeans. Your hands shook slightly, as you noticed the bulge that sat in the confines- but curiosity only made you keep going.
Tugging the zipper open, you found he didn’t even have underwear underneath. Greeted by a bulging vein and a mess of dark curls that disappeared deeper into his jeans, you looked up at him with wide eyes.
His arrogant smirk grew wider as his thumbs hooked into the belt loop of his jeans and he pushed them down.
An audible gasp escapes you as you take in his girth. He was big. Hair covering most of him. His cock hung heavy, a thick vein ran from his pelvis to his tip, red and swollen- you could almost see it throbbing.
You felt your mouth water staring at it.
“What do you think?”
“I-” You couldn’t think of a reply. He once again grabbed your hand, placing it on his belly.
“Go on baby, you can touch it. It’s all for you.” His voice rumbles low, sending shivers down your spine. Your nails gently scraped the skin of his belly, lowering to his base. You fingers tracing the vein to the tip- soft, like you were afraid you would hurt him. “Here…”
He gently led your hand to wrap around him. You noted how firm he felt, his skin hot, and he throbbed under your touch. “I like it like this.” He squeezed your hand, making you hold him tighter. A small groan escaped him. “Normally, you want to get it a little wet first.” He removed your hand, and spit into your palm, then nodded at you to return. You obliged, and began stroking him up and down. “Good girl..” He breathes, “Just like that.” He tipped his head back, his Adams apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed hard. “Lil faster…..”
You watched a milky white fluid bead at his tip, your hand coming up around it, and rubbing your thumb over the slit.
“Fuck- that’s good baby, keep doing that.” He mutters. His hand on your shoulder climbing into your hair, and he tugged you forward to kiss him. Hot, open mouth kisses, he began pressing them along your jaw and neck. You slowed your stroking over him, distracted by the feeling of his teeth and tongue, a small wince when he nipped at the crook of your neck. You heard breathy groans leaving him with each press of his lips as you stroked him faster- now wanting to watch the end result as you felt him grow harder in your hand.
But he stopped you.
Breathless, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “That’s good sweetheart-”
“But-”
“Lets save that part for the end yeah?” He mumbles, taking your hand off him. His head fell to your shoulder and you watched his stomach flex- resisting the building orgasm until the tension in his belly disappeared.
“Want to give yourself a try?” He mumbles into your ear.
“I….Maybe. I think so…” You say quietly. You had butterflies, a million worries in your mind over the thought of undressing and being with this man- for your first time ever.
“Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy it.”
His voice was like a growl, goosebumps ran down your arms as he met your lips again. He slowly took your shirt off, before returning to kiss your lips, before messily moving down your chin and your neck. You shrieked when he suddenly picked you up, hands on your thighs and placed you onto the bed.
Moving down to press kisses to your collarbone and the top of your breasts, his hand kept him supported above you, while his free hand roamed over your curves.
“Just tell me if it becomes too much, alright?”
You nodded, but you already knew you didn’t want him to stop at all. It didn’t matter how overwhelming it felt, how the butterflies in your belly felt like they were ravaging your insides. You wanted him,
You needed him.
He had some kind of spell on you. He talked to you like he’s known you your whole life. His eyes carried something inside that made you want to discover what it was. His hands, calloused and rough, still felt delicate when he touched you. In your head flashed the claws that he so menacingly threatened the creep from earlier today with- but you felt no fear. He mapped out your body like he knew it- he was a stranger to you but his touch wasn’t strange.
He grabbed the cups of your bra, tugging them down to expose your breasts. Your nipples peaked to the cool air. You heard him muttering, ‘perfect’ under his breath.
You gasped when you felt his tongue swirl over a bud. Then he switched to the other one, repeating the same motion. He pressed kisses over your breasts- gentle and filled with tenderness as he worships your breasts before finally taking one into his mouth and sucking, using a free hand to play with the other one.
The feeling of his lips and tongue made your core ache, almost painful. Your hand came up into his hair, shutting your arms and arching your back into him, desperate for more.
He let go of the first one, turning his attention to the second and repeating the same action. His tongue flicked at your peaked nipple as he looked up at you with a sinful smile.
“You got some pretty tits darling.” He grinned, and heat rushed through your body to your core at his words. Only managing a small gasp in response.
He continued pressing pecks over your breasts, upgrading to small love bites before he moved down your belly.
He hands moved to your jeans, sitting up to unbutton them slowly and carefully watching your reactions. You were nervous- but you were nowhere near ready to stop. “Want me to take this off?”
You nodded, helping him by lifting your hips off the bed as he slid your jeans off, along with your shoes and discarded them to the side. He stood over your, his eyes grazing over you barely-clad figure.
He leaned back over you, slow and careful in his movements. One hand on your knee, he gently pushed it open, allowing him to slot himself between your legs. He braced himself on an elbow over you, his free hand reaching to snap at your bra.
“Lets get rid of this pesky thing, hm?” He asks. You nodded. His hand clenched, and a single claw came out, making you gasp as you watched him carefully tuck it under the center piece of your bra, and ripping it. He then ripped the straps, and tugged the torn remnants of your bra to the side, leaving you completely bare over him.
He towered over you, his weight a comforting- but a significant presence against you. His cock rested on your belly. He pressed a few more soft kisses to your lips, and along your jaw.
“Doing alright darling?” He hums in your ear. You brought your arms to wrap around his waist, and nodded. “Yeah? You sure?”
“I’m okay.” You reassure.
He pressed a kiss to your temple, leaning down to nip your ear. “Fun fact about me sweetheart….The claws, and the healing factor ain’t the only thing I can do.”
“No?” You tilted your head to look at him.
“No. I got some good senses too. I can hear how fast your pretty heart is beating.”
Your lips parted as you processed what he was saying. He moved to press a peck to the tip of your nose.
“Could hear how fast it was every time I got close.” He was looking into your eyes now. “I can smell you too- how wet you were getting. How wet you are now.”
His hand slithered between your bodies, finding your panties and pressing over them, two fingers rubbing circles into the fabric where you clit was. He smirked at your expression. “Panties are soaked. First time a mans touched you like..Right?”
“Uh…”
“Nothing to be embarrassed about.” He leans down to nuzzle against your cheek. “I’ll show you how to be taken care of- just the way you like it.”
Pressing another reassuring kiss to your cheek, he began working down your torso again, leaving kisses to each tit, and then a trail down to the hem of your panties. As he reached your core, he pushed your thighs onto his shoulders, before dragging you down to the edge of the bed with his arms hooked around them.
“Mm.” He hummed, admiring your wet panties, leaning forward to take a deep inhale. “Fuck.” He cursed under his breath. You covered your mouth at the sight of him. “Smell fucking amazing sweetheart.” He groaned. He stuck his tongue out, lapping at the wet that stained your panties and moaned, his eyes rolling back as he licked at it again, using more pressure that made your muscles tense in reaction. He noticed, opening his eyes to look up at you. “Relax darling, it’s going to feel better if you do, promise.”
You watched him return to your core as you attempted to settle your nerves. Leaning forward, he found your clit through your panties and wrapped his lips around them.
“Oh!” You gasped, your head falling back at the warmth that engulfed you. You stared up at the popcorn ceiling, mysterious stains speckled over it but you couldn’t focus on that as Logan sucked on your clit through your panties.
His hands cradled your thighs, small groans escaping his throat as he savored your taste. He finally lifted his head, tugging your panties off and discarding them to the side. You closed your legs as he returned his hands to your knees.
“Come on.” His hands squeezed your knees, his eyes heavy with lust. “I want to see your pretty little pussy.”
You nearly imploded at his words, but he just grinned and forced your legs to spread, his large hands felt warm against your skin, pushing them apart
“Ah!” You couldn’t tear your eyes away. He was looking down at your core, practically drooling at the sight. You saw his cock jump against his stomach, his tip beading more pre-cum. His hands firmly kept your thighs spread as he lowered his face to your core and began teasingly lapping at your folds. Your breath hitched at the feeling of his warm tongue, hands snapping into his hair. His eyes opened to look up at you, lifting his head up just enough for you to see, he teasingly flicked over your clit with a sinful grin.
Filthy.
Your grip in his hair tightened, and he groans, diving further into your pussy, as he continues to drink up everything you were giving him. Only coming up once to speak,
“Taste like fucking heaven darling-” He coos, his beard and lower half of his face glistening with your juices, before returning to his place.
You squirmed, his tongue swirling over your clit in circles. Lifting your hips off the bed, you began to wiggle, your hands tugging at his hair. You grind your hips against his face involuntarily, your body instinctively seeking out the finish you were craving.
“Logan-” You whimpered. His hands came up, pinning your hips to the mattress. He mumbled something against you but you couldn’t understand or bother to even focus.
You felt his tongue delve into your hole, and you tugged at his hair hard- it must have hurt, because he moaned in response. Loud.
The longer he lapped at you like a man dying of thirst, the tighter the feeling in your lower belly grew. Your muscles tensed, and you squeezed your thighs around his head. His lips wrapped around your clit again, and finally you reached your peak.
It was stars in your eyes, ripples of pleasure rushing through your body. Your mouth fell open, repeating Logan's name over and over- you didn’t even know what you were doing, your body just reacting on impulse.
You never felt something so good before.
Just as it ended, you wanted more.
Logan seemed to understand that. He never stopped. His eyes falling open to look up at you as your chest heaved and aftershocks ran through your limbs. His tongue returned to playfully flicking your clit, making you flinch from the overstimulation.
“How’d that feel sweetheart?” He hums, adjusting his position, bringing two fingers to his mouth and began to suck on them while waiting for your answer..
“I….” You couldn’t think.
“Yeah that’s what I thought.” He chuckles as he pops his fingers out. He brings them to your pulsing hole, soaked with your arousal and his spit, gently teasing it. “You looked real pretty cumming like that. Lets do it again yeah?”
He sunk one finger in slowly and you gasped at the feeling. His hands were already big, that one finger making you feel full already. Slowly he began to pump it in out and of you. He pressed his thumb to your clit, rubbing teasing circles into it and smirked at your face.
“Barely got started and you’re already fucked out.” He hums.
“No…” You let out a small whimpered and shook your head. “I don’t want to stop-”
He pressed soothing kisses to your inner thigh. “Who says anything about stopping sweetheart?” He coos. Slowly, he adds another figure. Your breath hitches at the feeling of his fingers stretching you open. “You okay?” He asks as he stroked his fingers in and out of you slowly, curling them to press into the perfect spot inside you- like he knew exactly where to touch.
You took a shaky breath and nodded.
“That’s my girl.” He grinned, moving to press kisses along your pelvis. His words sent shivers down your spine.
He continued gliding his fingers in and out of you, stretching you open. Pulling out, he stuck them into his mouth, sucking them clean with a deep moan. “Can’t get enough of you…”
He leaned down to latch on your clit again, returning his fingers inside you and continuing to curl them, pressing into the same spot that was making you see stars. Small satisfied grunts escaped him as he swallowed down your essence.
You managed to prop yourself on your elbows, tipping your head back,a grin grew across your face. Your second orgasm was fast approaching. Logan wasn’t slowing down, seemingly picking up on your cues.
You heard a snapping noise, and look down at him. He snapped his fingers from his free hand to get your attention, his eyes open while half his face was buried in your cunt. He made a motion with his freehand, telling you to keep watching.
You nodded, your hands clenching the sheets. Your second wave of pleasure finally came, taking ahold of you but just as Logan ordered- You didn’t look away, didn’t shut your eyes. He wanted to watch you come undone on his mouth and fingers. He wanted you to see him.
Your body shook with each pulse that Logan dragged out with his fingers and tongue. You could barely register the drunk look on his face as he swallowed you, unable to get enough.
You finished, muscles relaxing and collapsed back on the bed.
Holy shit.
He sat up, an arm going around your waist and pushing you further up on the bed as he settled between your thighs.
“Looked real pretty that second time princess.” He coos, nearly breathless and face flushed. He gave you a quick peck. You could taste yourself on him, his face drenched with your juices. He licked his lips. “Ready for the main course?”
Without waiting for your answer he sat back on his knees, hands going under your thighs to spread them open further. His cock resting over your pussy. With a small thrust, he pushed through between your folds. A loud wet noise filled the room. You squeaked in embarrassment, your hands rushing to cover your face.
You didn’t know why that made you so embarrassed. It was lewd, uncomfortable sounding, yet Logan didn’t pull away. You could feel him resting on you. Hot and heavy, an occasional twitch before he slides through your folds again in a swift motion. You pressed your lips together- unable to look at him or anything.
“Why don’t ya take a peek, darling? Don’t be scared.” He cooed. His hands came to your wrists, gently pulling your hands away from your face and pining them to the mattress, revealing a flustered expression and pouty lips. He smirked.
Your eyes finally glanced down to where his cock was resting between your folds. He begin with long, drawn out thrusts, his tip bumping into your clit- sending shivers into your thighs as you gasp from the dirty sight.
“See? Don’t you like how that feels baby?”
You nodded, pressing your lips together as you watched him push his cock through your folds. More pre-cum beaded at his tip, leaking onto your clit.
He didn't seem to pay mind to the wet noises your bodies were making together. He kept moving, gathering all your wetness over his cock. He was watching it- admiring it like it was art.
“Look at this baby-” He murmurs, “Gorgeous sight ain’t it?”
God he’s such a pervert.
He’s right though.
He told you he was going to do things, just the way you like them. Yet you didn’t even know what you liked yet. You just knew that you did like everything he’s done tonight, how could you not?
“Logan…” You were breathless. The butterflies raged inside you as you considered your next word. “Inside?”
The grin he gave you was devilish. “Whatever you want.” He leans down to give you a soft kiss, one arm going around your hip to lift you up more comfortably. He gathered a bunch of spit on his hand, using his free hand to lube his cock and aimed his tip to your hole. Leaning forward to hold you in a kiss, he pushed inside.
“Oh-” You gasped, the sting of the intrusion was already too much as you felt yourself being stretched open. You grabbed onto his arms in response to the sting, tempted to tell him to stop, but you didn’t want him to stop either.
“S’alright, deep breaths.” He pressed his forehead against yours. “You can take it baby. I know you can.”
Your nails dug into his skin while he gave you a moment to adjust. Then he pushed deeper inside.
“Logan-” You whined. A part of you wanted to do good for him- to take all he had to give. He just has a lot to give.
“Oh I know darling.” He coos softly. “It’s a lot ain’t it? But you’re being a such a good girl. You feel so good, just give it a minute, just relax.”
He leaned down to press his nose against your cheek, continuing to praise you as he went deeper. You took deep breaths, spreading your legs wider to accommodate his size as tears began to spring in your eyes. His fingers didn’t compare to the size of his cock, but you couldn’t complain. The longer it went on, the more the ache went away and you find yourself melting into the mattress feeling the warmth he filled you with.
“There we go… Feels good now, doesn’t it?”
“Mhm.” You barely nodded, shutting your eyes, and tipping your head to the side. You took deep breaths, still growing used to the feeling of being so full. He cradled your head with his arm, while keeping his other arm wrapped around your hips and slowly pulled out, before thrusting back in, equally as slow. “It’s a lot” You breathed, your arms wrapped around his neck.
“Just keep breathing baby-” He coos, “I got you.”
You nodded, eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of him inside you. He buried his face into your neck, pressing soft kisses and murmuring sweet things into your ear, as he slowly thrusted in and out of you.
He lifted his head up, hand coming up grip your face and make you look at him. “This is how a mans supposed to treat you darling. Supposed to gentle, make sure you’re happy.… Got it?”
“Mhm.” Your lips puckered as he squeezed the plush of your cheeks together. He smirked.
“Course, with me, you don’t need to worry about that.” He rests his forehead against yours, a breathless sigh escaping him. “You ready for more princess?”
“Yeah…” You nodded. Your brain was static- the feeling of him inside made you dumb, never felt this way before.
You and your friends have gossiped about sex before. Most of your friends who have lost their virginity complained about it being boring- the guys they were with not knowing what they were doing. Other friends described it as the most magical thing of their lives- and you’re pretty sure they were lying.
You didn’t know how your first time would go- you expected, or at least hoped it would be with someone you cared about- who cared about you. That it wouldn’t be painful- or a snooze fest.
He braced a hand beside your head, his arm still cradling your waist as he began thrusting faster. A new shock of pleasure ran through you as his cock glide against your walls. Your mouth falling open and your eyes growing heavy.
His moans graced your ears, as he kept a steady pace thrusting into you. Your body melded into his, as your head rolled back and forth- the new pleasure that Logan was giving you was so much. Your nails dug into his back, and you hooked your ankles around his hips- wanting him to be as close as possible.
Definitely not a snooze fest.
“Taking my cock so good sweetheart-” You heard him, “Like you’re fucking made for me.”
A whine escaped you as he began thrusting faster, one hand coming up to cradle you face.
“What’s that sweetheart?” His thumb brushing over your lips. “Feeling good aren’t ya? Doing okay?”
You nodded, shutting your eyes. You felt his lips on yours, giving you a messy kiss as he continued to fuck your brains out- You were in another world, mind lost in a swirl of new pleasures and unable to return his kiss.
“C’mon-” His hand gripped you face again, making you open your eyes. “Kiss me properly darling.”
You pouted, only making him more arrogant.
“I know my cock feels so good doesn’t it?” He cooes, almost taunting. “but if you don’t want me to stop you better give me a real kiss.” He began to slow down his thrusts. The heavy swirl deep in your belly began to fade and you cried out.
“No, no! Don’t stop!” Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down as you kissed him desperately. Hands climbing into his hair and tugging as he returned to his pace, his body pressed yours into the mattress. Your thighs tightened around his hips, refusing to let him go.
You moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed each one with a moan, licking into your mouth, as spit was shared and left your head spinning. You couldn’t focus- his cock pounding into you, while his lips distracted you, and his body weight kept you trapped underneath him.
The feeling returned, your felt your legs shake, in the back of your mind, you registering how hard the bedframe was slamming into the wall. Hopefully you don’t have neighbors.
“Logan-” You whimpered,
“Huh? Getting close baby?”
You nodded, mouth falling open as you tipped your head back, you felt Logans hand press over your clit, circling over it with two fingers- sending a new wave of pleasure through you.
“Cum for me sweetheart, don’t be shy.”
“Oh- Logan…” Your body tensed up, your core felt like fire as he fucked you through your third orgasm of the night. This one more intense- seeing stars in your eyes. You squeezed his cock so hard he could barely pull out. Pleasure wracked your body, tensing your muscles as you silently screamed Logans name- voice becoming hoarse from your moans.
Logan didn’t stop, continuing to thrust as he pants and grunts in your ear. He watched you come undone on his cock, feeling your cream soaking both him and sheets. You felt him rut into you hard, before quickly pulling out. A low moan- nearly a growl graced your ears and you opened your eyes to watch as he jerked his cock to completion- warm cum painting your belly. His mouth was open, brows creased angrily, sweat beading his forehead and muscles.
“Fuck-” He moaned, the last spurts of him leaking out as he slowed his rhythm over himself.
He chuckles breathlessly, sweat beading his brow as he looks down at your fucked-out form, spread open, sweat and shivers running over your body. He noticed you staring at the mess he’s made on your belly.
“Want a taste?” He asks with an arrogant grin, his voice still on edge from his coitus.
A swiped two fingers over your belly, collecting a generous amount of his cum onto it, before bringing it to your lips.
“Open up.”
You listened, any common sense, intellect, pride, was gone the moment Logan pushed his cock into you. You acted on baser instinct- and that was to let him do whatever the hell he wanted as long as he didn’t stop.
He pushed his fingers between your lips as you parted them, swiping them over your tongue. You naturally closed your lips around his fingers, and a shaky breath escaped him.
The taste was different- not what you expected, but not entirely unwelcome either. You shut your eyes, sucking his fingers clean, teeth grazing over the skin of his fingers, your tongue flat against them, ensuring every bit had been licked clean.
“You’re a natural.” He grins. You opened your eyes, exhaustion plaguing you. Leaning down, he catches you in another deep, searing kiss. It shoots down your spine, and you find yourself wanting him again even as your legs tremble and your body wanted sleep.
He must have read your mind, his hand swiping up your body. “Want more, yeah? Don’t blame ya.” He purrs, leaning forward to kiss you.
You ignored the sarcastic remark.
He sat up abruptly. “How about I show you a different position.”
He picked you up, manhandling you with such ease and pushing you into a new position- on your hands and knees. His hand pushed your knees apart, while the other pressed into the arch of your back.
“It’ll feel better like this babe.” He says, another hand going to your shoulder to lower your top half to the mattress. His hands moved again, grabbing your hips and pushing his cock through your folds again.
He’s already hard again?
You admittedly didn’t know much about mens biology. You were led to believe it was one and done. Logan however seemed eager to go at it much longer. The exhaustion that was plaguing you faded, disappearing as you prepared yourself for another round.
Your hands gripped the sheets as you felt him push inside once more.
“Goddamn.”
You glanced over your shoulder, watching him tip his head back with parted lips. A burst of pride went through you, over how good you were making him feel.
Feeling confident, you arched your back more and began rocking your hips against him- unable to wait longer and wanting to show him that you aren’t some naive little virgin- even if that was exactly what you were. Your eyes rolled back at how good he felt, especially in this position. His hands tightened on your hips almost enough for his nails to break skin, as he tipped his head back forward. Watching with half-lidded eyes, he smirked.
“Gonna take a ride, sweetheart?” He hums. He lets go of his hold on you, hands falling to his side. “Go on, show me what you got.”
You continued rocking against him, going faster every time you felt confident you could maintain the rhythm. Logans moans spurred you on, you could feel his hips slowly start to move with each bounce on his cock. Unable to sit still for long, Logan began meeting you with his thrusts- sending a rush through your body.
Grabbing your waist and pushing it down on the mattress, he began thrusting into you- rolling his hips slowly and dramatically with each thrust, making sure you felt every inch of his cock in and out of you.
“That’s it beautiful- take it all.” He moans. He began thrusting faster. You squirmed, wanting to meet with each thrust but he had you pinned. He leaned over you, his chest pressing into your back, heavy breaths in your ear. “This pretty pussys all mine, got it?” He growled. You whined. “C’mon, I want to hear you say it.”
“It’s yours-” You breathed out, eyes rolling back.
“Not like that, tell me your pussys mine.” He demands, nipping at your ear. “You can do it baby, word for word.”
Despite the fact that you were currently being railed, embarrassment rose. You already were so vulnerable with him, and now he wants you to say those words?
They were filthy!
A twisting in your stomach as you urged yourself to just say it. His hand, braced on the mattress slithered up your body and over your throat. He didn’t squeeze, just tilted your head enough to make eye contact.
“Say it.” He says firmly. His cock glides in and out of you with ease. Your mouth fell open, staring into his hazel eyes. The corner of his lip twitched upwards.
“I-” You couldn’t take your eyes off him. “My…” Your lip quivered, humiliation pricking your senses. “My pussys yours…”
An evil grin grew across his face. “Damn right it is.” His hand came up to squeeze your cheeks, forcing you to keep looking up at him as he pounded into your cunt.
You felt another orgasm approaching. You fell apart completely in his arms again, a sob escaping you, your eyes squeezing shut as you are pushed into overstimulation and he still didn’t stop.
“Logan-” You squirmed, your hand reaching around, digging into the skip of his hip. Your eyes opened and looked up at him again begging. A look came across his face, something thoughtful came across it.
He leaned forward, catching you in another kiss. This one just as messy, but sweeter. Tears pricked your eyes from his cock pounding into your sensitive walls, your body was becoming numb. He dropped his hold on you, both hands falling to brace himself on either side of you. He began rutting into you, small grunts escaping him before he quickly pulled out with a shout of your name, spilling himself onto the mattress. You dropped your gaze to the mattress, just in time to see the claws slid out as he grunts. They prick the bed, his hands clenched in tight fists. They retracted, leaving behind only the holes in the sheets.
Logans heavy pants filled the room, as he continued to lay over you, before pressing a few gentle kisses to your shoulder.
“Stay right here sweetheart.” He says in a softer voice. You barely nodded, not that you could move anyway.
He climbed off you, the mattress groaning from his disappearing weight. You heard footsteps, and the flick of a light switch. The sound of a sink running before he came back and gently rolled you onto your back.
He gently cleaned you with a warm wet rag, careful not to be too rough. Your body shook while you were afloat in your after-sex dream world, barely able to register a thing around you. You could feel Logan's tende care though.
“Need some water?” He asks, brushing your hair back gently. You cleared your throat, shaking your head.
He tossed the rag to the side after cleaning himself off, climbing back onto the mattress and pulling you into his side, tugging the sheets over the both of you. Your shaking slowly turned into small shivers, as Logan softly rubbed your back.
“You okay?” He asks. You nodded against his chest - noting how much you liked being close to someone- especially him.
He was warm and flush still from your proclivities. Your arm wrapped instinctively around his waist. Sleep calling your name. His hand climbed into your hair, softly running his fingers through it.
“You did good sweetheart.” He turns his head to kiss the top of your forehead. “Amazing even.”
“That was my first time.” You mumbled quietly, opening your eyes again to stare at the wall.
“Yeah, what do you think?”
“It was nice.”
A warm chuckle escaped him. “Yeah, it was. Get some sweet baby.” He turned to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be here.”
When you woke up, it was when you felt Logan stirring. Drool was stuck to the corner of your mouth, dried onto his chest, but you could barely register anything before he spoke up.
“Shit…” You heard him mutter. “Sweetheart, you up?”
“Mm?” You grumbled, pulling yourself closer to him- Not ready to get up and leave the comfort of him.
“I got to go.”
Your eyes snap open. He gently removed your arm as he climbed out of bed. You watched with fluster and desire as he crossed the room ass naked, gathering your clothes first and setting them on the bed- and then grabbing his.
You frowned sitting up, using the sheet to cover yourself. “Go?”
“Yeah, I got some stuff I need to do.” He says, stepping into his jeans. You watched with disappointment as his lower half disappeared, before shaking your head and snapping out of your lustful gaze.
“C’mon, I’ll take you home.” He looks at you, before tossing some of your clothes your way.
You looked at him, a tad disappointed. On one hand- you knew that he wasn’t going to stay, another man just looking to get his and leave. You didn’t regret the night, knowing it was an experience you’ll remember forever. On the other, you were attached already- he just fascinated you. With his claws and his magic healing, the way he talks and looks at you- like you’re his world.
No one’s ever treated you the way he does.
A bit of stubbornness ran through you as you sat in place. Logan turned to look at you as he pulled his undershirt on.
“Well?”
He waited for you to say something, but you didn’t. A small laugh escapes him as he walks back over to you. “Should’ve known you’d be too stubborn to leave. Never been one to miss out on a good thing, are you?”
You blinked in confusion at him.
“Listen baby, I have to go.” He says in a soft voice, hand coming to tip your chin up at him. “ I got something important- really important to take care of. You- You got your life to live.”
Your nostrils flared in frustration at his words and his smile grew.
“Am I going to see you again?” You ask in a small voice. You wanted to come off more angry than that, but you came out more disappointed than you wished to seem.
“Yeah you will.” He says softly, his thumb brushed over your bottom lip. “It’s gonna be awhile though. A long time. You’re going to go through some serious stuff. You’ll get through it though.” He smirked, eyes glancing at your lips before meeting your gaze again. “And when we see each other again I might not going to remember this-”
You open your mouth but he holds his finger up. “There’s a good reason why- So just trust me, alright?”
“Why can’t you tell me?” You asked.
“It’s a long story sweetheart. I promise you though…You’ll come back home to me.” He leans in, kissing you gently.
You melted into that kiss. The back of your head told you this was utterly ridiculous, that he was feeding you a bunch of bullshit excuses.
Yet, another part of you can’t help but believe him. He parted.
“We good?” He asks.
“I guess.” You say, letting a small bit of attitude out. You had to resign yourself to accepting it anyway. He chuckles, seemingly unphased as he snatches your shirt and teasingly tosses it to your hands. You looked down at your shirt. “You ruined my bra.” You look back up at him.
He just winks, standing back up to grab his other shirt, pulling it up and beginning to button it up while you got dressed.
Your body was limp, tired, and when you stood to pull your panties and pants on you fell back onto the mattress- unused to the shaky feeling in your legs. Logan looked over, let out a small sigh.
He walked over to you, crouching down. “You okay? Not hurting too much are you?” His large hands rested on your thighs, gently massaging them- and you found yourself wishing he would finger you again.
“I’m fine.” You say, a tinge of attitude in your voice, looking away as you smoothed out your pants from wrinkles. Logan smirked.
“After the way you screamed my name last night? I know you are.”
You gasped, shooting him a glare and he laughed, standing back up and quickly pressing a kiss to your forehead. You pulled on your pants with a grumble and stood up, only to be greeted with a smack to your ass.
“No more attitude.” He says firmly, like he was lecturing you.
“You’re not the boss of me.” You muttered quietly as you quickly slipped on your shoes. You really hated how much you liked that though. You followed him to the car where he once again opened the door for you.
The drive back was a bit awkward. While you claimed to understand Logan, you couldn’t help but feel used. No matter how many times you told yourself that you knew that he was just wanting some fun.
“You got class today?” He breaks the silence.
“Um, no. Tomorrow.” You say. “I got this paper I’ve been slacking on. Probably won’t get a good grade. Going to have to work on it all day today.”
“You’ll be fine.” He says. “Hey what’s the date again?”
You glanced at him, “It’s Thursday…the….18th.” You wracked your head. “Why?”
A solemn expression on his face. “Uh…Nothing. Just…Be careful going to class tomorrow, alright?”
“Okay.” You say softly just by the look on his face. You decided not to inquire more. He’ll just deflect anyway.
When he pulled onto your street- there was a sinking feeling in your stomach. Your mother.
Fuck!
You’re surprised there weren’t cops covering the street by now, that your face isn’t plastered on every milk carton and telephone pool in the town. She’s going to be pissed.
You glanced at Logan, eyes trailing over his figure, down to his hands. Your mind fell to the soreness of your legs and core from last night.
Fuck it. Worth it.
When he pulled over in front of the house, you stared at it, unmoving.
“Hey.” His voice drew you out of your thoughts. You looked at him. A sweet smile on his face, “You’ll be alright sweetheart. Don’t worry, we’ll be together again one day. Alright?”
You nodded. He hopped out of the car, walking around to open your door. You stepped out, looking at the ground, before glancing up at your house again.
Your mother stood on the porch with her arms crossed. You merely glared at her back, before turning back to Logan, who only looked satisfied. His eyes met yours, and he reached for your hand, to kiss the back of it.
You weren’t satisfied with that.
Just as he leaned back, you stepped forward to kiss him. Grabbing his collar, standing on your tip toes and pulled him down to you. His hands rested on your hips and he kissed you back despite the growing smirk on his face.
You parted. “I’m going to totally kick your ass if you’re lying to me.” You mumbled quietly.
“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” He hummed, brushing some hair behind your ear. You let him go and turned around, walking up the sidewalk to your porch until you reached it, your mother looking down at you.
“I hope he was worth it.” She says simply.
You bit your lip, glancing back at him. He was still standing by the car and watching. “Yeah momma, he was. He’s a magic man.”
Logan howlett x reader who’s embarrassed about her facial expressions during the deed so she often pulls pillows over her face or shoves her face into the mattress and Logan gets feed up with it because she always dose it when she finishes so he’s never seen her finishing face
There was a small habit you adapted during your more vulnerable moments in the bedroom, a little self conscious act you found hard to part with. You would often result to a shielding of your face, hiding expressions and minimising your noises like you were ashamed of them.
Originally it was something Logan found endearing, sweet even. But he expected this habit of yours to pass with time, for it to dwindle and eventually disappear with each intimate session you two shared. It was a firm habit of yours that he was eager to alter and change, the thought of only ever seeing a pillow or a bent arm replace your face was starting to rub him the wrong way.
And while he sees your face throughout all hours of the day, he’s never seen your face face. The face of pure unadulterated bliss by the means of him. He needed to see how he made you feel, not just hear your muffled sounds though skin or fabric.
Logan’s eyes cast down as he looks at your lips, gaze quite like he’s assessing you beneath him. He’s close, chest sandwiched firmly to yours, face just mere inches from yours as he hovers a top — weight balanced on a forearm beside you. His other arm slots between either of your stomachs, hand clasped around the base of his cock as he begins to feed himself into you.
He swallows the little gasps you make with every passing inch — the slow, steady sinking of his dick into you knocks the air from your lungs. The hand you have behind his neck trails upwards, fingers beginning to rake through his short dark hair as you bring him further into you, forehead pressing against yours.
He throbs as he stills inside you, the full length of him seizing movement as if to allow you both a moment to simply feel the presence of the other. For you to feel the weight and stretch of his cock and for him to feel the warmth and snug fit of your cunt. He adjusts back over your, both forearms either side as he cages you to the mattress.
“All good, baby?” he gruffs against your lips, voice low and quiet as his mouth ghosts yours.
You hum, head nimbly nodding against his with eyes screwed shut. You breathe heavily against him and begin matching your intakes of air with the slight and ever so faint roll of his hips. Your delicate sighs grow shuddery, each one sounding all the more strained as he starts easing in and out of you.
To him, there was no other sound that could top this. No other sound in the world could even come close to the way you fill his ears. So beautiful, so errotic. So you.
He lifts his head from yours and he looks down to you below, eyes flickering over yours briefly before he rekindles the contact of your mouths. The act an attempt to sweeten you up before he suggests something you may not particularly like to hear.
His kisses trail from your mouth and across the side of your face, lips seering warmth to the patch of skin below your ear. But he cops out and discards his thoughts, not keen on ruining the moment with something that could potentially upset you. And so he repositions himself once more: parting from the close contact of you to sit back on his heels — perching on knees between your parted ones.
His hands trail down your stomach, eyes glued to the way your body jitters and twitches beneath his palms. It was like your body was perfectly in tune with him.
The motion of his hips begins to build and a pattern gradually falls into place, each thrust growing closer together with the slight increased speed. A consistent, steady rutting replaces the experimental, precautionary pumps and the change is evident across your face: bottom lip caught between teeth, brows curling in the centre, eyes clouding lustfully. All of it a true sight to behold.
His gaze darts across you like he can’t quite decide what should entrap his attention first: tits circling in beat with his thrusts, your tempting blissed face, even the way your hands reach for his wrists. He’s utterly spoiled for choice.
Logan notices a fidgeting in your hands as they trail up the sides of your body, your hands growing antsy while they settle beside your head. He grew to learn much about you during your few short months together and he knew what that meant, what was about to happen next. And so he acts without thought.
He releases his grip around your waist and leans over you again, not once faltering in dicking he is giving you. A hand extends and he swats away the pillow on your right and then to the one of your left, pushing away your shielding devices. You turn to look either side and then to Logan above, a faint, lazy smile turning into something far more devilish, cunning even.
Though he doesn’t wish for you to feel deceived by the spontaneous change, so he resumes his original position atop you, foreheads pressed together from the sheer closeness.
“Why’d you do that?” you whisper raggedly against his lips, asking the question without a chance to think it over.
“It was time.”
Though it was daunting, you knew that was true, and that you had to let it up at some point. But it left you feeling exposed and you weren’t overly certain why. Sure you were completely and utterly naked, but that was different — having to show your face when you let go is another type of vulnerability.
And Logan could sense that: he could see it in your eyes, could feel it the way you anxiously twitch and tighten around his cock. He knew it was scary for you, though you had no real reason to feel such a way. And you knew that too, but old habits die hard, and this one was quite an old habit.
He alters his weight above you and rests on one arm so that his free hand can hold the side of your head. His palm cups your ear and his thumb begins to caress the hairline by your temple, touch delicate and gentle despite the rough and almost harsh nature of his fucking.
You relax under his touch and the fear subsides. The panic, if you want to put it that way, dissipates and you soon find yourself stepping closer and closer to that edge inside of you. Your brows begin to knit and your breathing grows more strained, each pant sounding strangled as he fucks you towards climax.
“Go on,” he reassures. “Let go,” he whispers, eyes honed in on yours as he watches it all build within you.
You fight the urge to bury your face in the crook of his neck, to hide, but he pulls away, getting a better view of you from above and ultimately hindering any chance for you to shield yourself.
The precise formation of the fucking remains intact, the pattern just as strategic as it had been the entire time and you hang on the cusp, dangling there for a moment. Logan gives you a subtle nod, a small act of encouragement to get you off.
You inhale deeply and your eyes screw shut, mouth hanging agape as your head tilts back against the mattress. The intensity of it all strips you of any sense, brain utterly empty as he fucks you into bliss. You cling onto him, fingers pawing and squeezing at the firm muscles on his upper back.
“That's my girl,” he grunts above you, gaze locked on you like he’s mesmerised. “That’s my girl,” he repeats softly, voice drawn out.
Logan finds it far harder to control himself with the way you look in addition to how you sound and feel clamping around him, and it becomes apparent he has much less control than he originally thought. And so he joins you mere seconds later, retracting his cock from you to cum on the crease of your upper thigh, releasing a full load right beside your cunt.
Your breathing begins to even far sooner than Logan’s, and you stare up at him above, watching him intently as he slowly comes down from his own high. He chuckles lightly as he shakes his head, wordlessly finding amusement in your gawking. His forehead presses against yours as he breathes you in, his own grunt-like pants eventually reducing to almost nothing.
“Can’t believe you’ve been hidin’ that from me.”
⎯ ☆ ⎯
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