Every time i sleep nude i wish i was waking up feeling a thick hard warm cock sliding in and out of me. Heavy hips slapping against my ass making me feel the force of each thrust. I wonder what my thoughts would be, how wet Id already have gotten, how much Id submit and let him finish using me and filling me up only to lay on me and fall back asleep with his cock still stuffed in my cunt. A guy can only dream…
we’re so back baby!!! Official kinktober list coming out soon with the actual fic ideas as well for you guys to look forward to. Enjoy. I have to admit my smut writing skills are a little rusty :/
warnings/description: reader is a nurse who is also a mutant with healing powers. She resides at the school and helps patch up any kids that end up hurting themselves. Except it’s usually Peter that’s coming through her door to get fixed up. But today he’s a bit down and reader wasn’t to find out why. Leads to.. Well I’m sure you know. smut, porn with plot, handjob, teasing, slightly sub!Peter, crappy writing oh and a tw for mentions of blood from a minor scrape Peter has.
When Charles Xavier reached out to you, asking if you’d be interested in taking a position at his school, you weren’t sure what to make of it.
Xavier’s School For Gifted Youngsters
It sounded promising enough. A stable job, a place to live and a place you’d be protected? You were a mutant as well, though you didn’t consider your powers to be as cool as any of the X-men’s. Healing. But not any of the cool, important healing, the most you’d ever been able to heal was a small cut or a broken finger or toe. Ease a bit of pain in the body at times. Still, Charles saw promise and potential in you. He drove you a bit mad at times. The man was odd but my god he was a genius. Sometimes having a conversation with him could actually hurt your brain because you just couldn’t keep up.
You’d also been introduced to the rest of the X-men. Most of which intimidated you. Minus Peter of course.
Peter Maximoff. Closer to your age then the rest of them, Peter was a silver haired kleptomaniac with a Hostess snack cake obsession and super speed. He’d been the only person who’d made you truly laugh since you arrived and it immediately eased you. He hadn’t been there long either so the two of you were sort of in the same boat with feeling a little like outsiders.
Unfortunately you didn’t have a lot of time to speak to him. He was busy with students and missions and you were busy making sure that no one died on the premises. It was a full time job. Literally. A school full of young mutants was a recipe for disaster. Barely held together.
You’d see him at dinners and meetings for the X-men that Charles sometimes allowed you to attend. According to him you’d be one of them one day. When you were stronger. You were sure he meant it to be a kind, hopeful sentiment but really it just made you feel like shit. Useless. Only good enough to be a school nurse.
Peter found any excuse in his free time to come to your office. You were torn between believing he’d truly done it because he wanted to speak with you, and the fact that you always had a little tray of treats for the students after they’d been patched up and treated. You presumed the latter.
Today was just like any other day at the school really. It had been a quiet morning which turned into a quiet afternoon and it was a much needed break from the chaos. The kids seemed to be behaving themselves today. Knock on wood.
You were sitting in your chair, feet propped up against your desk as you read from whatever book Charles had recommended you. Surely something you didn’t find any enjoyment in because he read the most boring books on earth. You’d taken one of the cookies from your tray of treats, holding it in one hand while the book was in another.
Just as you brought the cookie to your lips, there was a knock on the door and it caused you to jump, dropping the book onto the floor and losing your place. You cursed under your breath before turning your attention towards the door. Of course just as you’d started to relax someone had ended up hurting themselves.
“Come in!” You set the cookie down on your desk, surely to be forgotten while you waited to see which kid had gotten into trouble this time.
Except when the door opened, a familiar head of silver hair popped into view and it definitely was not attached to the head of a child. Maybe in spirit perhaps, but no, it was Peter.
“Peter?” You asked, brows furrowing as he made his way into your office before closing the door behind him, looking all sheepish and shy. That’s when you noticed he was bleeding from his chin. It looked to be just a scrape but still, you didn’t like the sight of blood on him. Someone you cared about.
“What happened?” You stood up, making your way around the desk to examine him closer.
Peter scoffed and shrugged his shoulders, an embarrassed blush splotched over his cheeks.
“Oh.. pffff, totally wasn’t running with my eyes closed to try and impress the kids and I definitely didn’t trip on a rock and fall chin first onto the concrete. That’s definitely not what happened.”
Your immediate reaction was to roll your eyes. Leave it to Peter to get the most ridiculous wounds from doing the dumbest things. It just made sense.
“How did you even manage- you know what, I’m not even going to ask. You know the drill, up on the table, let me grab some antibacterial wipes.”
You made your way over to the cabinets on the opposite wall of your office as Peter hopped up onto the table, eyes never leaving you. He hadn’t hurt himself on purpose but he knew if he had really wanted to he could have put his arms out in time to stop himself from falling. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to see you.
Coming back with the supplies you set it on the side of the table next to him, first getting a wipe to wipe off the blood. It revealed a fresh, raw scrape underneath where more blood began to bubble up slowly from the now open flesh. It wasn’t bad but he’d have a scab for at least a few days before the skin healed itself.
“You always get yourself into the most ridiculous situations.” You scoffed as you tossed the now bloodied wipe into the small trash can.
Peter nodded in agreement, unusually quiet which had you wondering if something else was up. You didn’t want to pry though.
You continued on in silence, cleaning the scrape before applying ointment and covering it with a bandage. You pulled away and tossed the rest of the trash away before reaching for the tray to offer Peter a treat, his favorite part of coming to see you.
Except he just shook his head and looked at you solemnly. “No thank you,” he muttered, clearing his throat as he looked away
Okay. Now you knew something had to be wrong. The Peter you knew would never turn down a little treat, it’s what kept him going! You’d never really seen him without one. You were determined to figure out what exactly had bummed him out so badly he didn’t even want a cookie.
“Peter…” you started, looking at him seriously. “What’s wrong? Something happen?” You hoped that he trusted you enough to tell but then again you weren’t sure.
“What? No.. no it’s nothing.” He flushed red now, picking at his fingers as he avoided your gaze. He hated lying to you. It felt wrong and he knew that you knew he was lying too.
“Peter Maximoff. You’re going to tell me what’s wrong right now or I’m going to have the professor read your mind. Spill.” You urged, kicking his foot with your own, gently. You just wanted to know what had happened to make your usual happy go lucky speedster so upset.
He finally made eye contact with you then, eyes wide at your threat. “Okay okay! Okay… Jesus.”
He swallowed hard, taking a deep breath before he started. “It’s just, I had a date… It went great, she seemed super into me but then she asked me why I’d decided to dye my hair silver and when I explained to her I didn’t do anything to my hair and told her about my powers she totally flipped. She left. Called me a freak and told me to never contact her again.” He rushed out, trying to just get the explanation over with. He didn’t want to talk about it any longer than he had to. It was as embarrassing as it was upsetting.
There was a silence that fell between the two of you then as you tried to find the words to comfort him. He was obviously torn up about it. Could only imagine how it had felt. You’d never experienced anything like it because your powers were quite easy to hide and play off. Peter’s on the other hand- not so much.
“Oh Peter… I’m sorry that’s-“ you didn’t have the words. Why were people still so cruel to mutants? Would it ever change? You’d heard Charles’s speeches countless times about change, how some day they’d be united but the more time that passed, the less you believed him. Was it even a possibility at this point?
“That’s horrible. You didn’t deserve that and she didn’t deserve you.” You hoped your words at least brought him a bit of comfort until he opened his mouth and spoke once more, the words he spoke next breaking your heart into pieces.
“Do you think I’m a freak? Like- I get it. The speed, the… The hair.” He’d never really had an issue with his hair but sometimes he wished that he didn’t have it. He’d kill to have a normal color. One that would make him less easy to identify as anything other than normal. But the fact of the matter was he wasn’t normal. Wouldn’t ever be normal as much as he tried to pretend.
Your brows were furrowed deeply as you reached a hand out to rest on Peter’s shoulder as he sat on the exam table, looking more solemn than you’d ever seen him. It didn’t suit him. You wanted the happy, goofy Peter back.
“You are not a freak, you’re a mutant. There’s a difference. You are you and you shouldn’t have to be scared of showing who you really are, Peter. There are always going to be people who will try and tell you who you should be but you need to listen to your heart.” You rested your palm over his chest, right above his heart as you met his sad, brown doe eyes.
He seemed to consider your words, picking them apart for a moment before he nodded. You were right after all. He hated how sensitive he could be. Wished he had tougher skin. Perhaps it would come in time, the older he got. He hoped he wouldn’t always have this sort of reaction.
You gave him a small, warm smile. When you smiled at Peter it wasn’t just with your lips. It was your eyes and the way they lit up. Your nose with the way it scrunched up, and your cheeks with the way they reddened just slightly.
Peter felt a fluttering in his stomach as he looked at you. You who’d been here all along. He’d always sort of had a thing for you but never believed that he would have a chance. Fuck… He’d been rejected once already, what was one more?
You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.
Fuck it.
“Would you kiss me?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper but you heard it clear as day. Why had he asked such a question? You weren’t sure but you were certainly going to give him an answer.
Without much consideration at all you leaned forward and closed the gap between your lips, closing your eyes as Peter’s warm mouth came in contact with your own.
It was absolutely electric. The spark that seemed to pass between your bodies as you kissed. It started out slow, calculated and nervous before it began to become more free. Heated. You reached to cup Peter’s cheek in your palm as you leaned closer to him to kiss him deeper. It felt so different then any kiss you’d shared with anyone in the past. This one just felt right. Almost familiar as if the two of you had done it a thousand times before. Maybe in another timeline..
Eventually, much to Peter’s disappointment, you had to pull away to take a breath. Peter let out a quiet whine as his now swollen lips chased your own in desperate attempts to get you back on him again. Like he couldn’t live without it. His lifeline.
“Slow down,” you laughed softly, cheeks flushed. It was sort of ironic, telling the speedster to slow down because you were sure he probably didn’t know how.
“Telling me to slow down is like telling a cow not to eat grass,” Peter said with a straight face. Why was he so strange?
“I’m pretty sure that’s not an actual saying-“
“I’m pretty sure I don’t care- Come back here-“ he grinned as he pulled you into another kiss, his large hands coming to rest on your hips, keeping you close. He didn’t want to ever let you go. Slowly you felt yourself leaning into him, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders, feeling the material of his stupid silver jacket under your palms.
Peter was in heaven. Maybe that woman calling him a freak was the best thing that ever happened to him if it led up to this. Kissing you. He pulled you impossibly closer, feeling a familiar stir in his groin. He let out a little groan against your lips, his hips moving of their own accord trying to seek out much needed friction on his rapidly hardening length. He needed something, anything.
“Please…” He found himself whispering against your lips, already desperate. If he didn’t feel so needy he’d be embarrassed but there was simply just no time for that now.
You were fighting your own losing battle with your body, trying not to feed into the needs you felt when you laid your eyes on Peter, still sat on the table, brown eyes blown wide and lips swollen and red from kissing. He looked like something out of a wet dream.
“Peter we can’t- not here- not right now- what if someone sees?” You tried to be the voice of reason but Peter wasn’t having it. He zoomed over to the door, locked it and then zoomed back to you again, this time coming up behind you, pressing himself against you as he chuckled hotly against your ear. “Door’s locked now. We can do whatever we want.” He pressed warm, open mouthed kisses across the delicate skin of your neck, his hands beginning to creep under the bottom of your shirt.
“Plus I think I need a full body check-up. Just to make sure everything’s alright. That I didn’t hurt myself anywhere else.”
He was an absolute dork but that’s what you loved about him. With a little laugh you shoved him back against the table before your hands went to his pants, undoing his belt before trying to get the fabric down his legs which proved harder than you originally thought. Why were they so damn tight? Eventually though you did manage to pull them down, leaving him in a pair of black boxers, tented in the front with a rather prominent bulge.
He let out a shaky breath as he watched your every move, waiting to see what you’d do next because right now he was convinced he’d let you do whatever you wanted. Okay… Maybe not whatever. Definitely not like… anything super crazy but- UGH! His brain needed to stop moving so fast and just stay in the moment because he was sure it was about to become really memorable.
Your fingers curled under the waistband of his boxers before you were peeling them down as you got on your knees in front of him.
Poor Peter’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he watched you, trying to stay still when you pulled his boxers down leaving his lower half completely exposed to you. His length twitched and a shiver ran up his spine as he was exposed to the chill air of the room.
The chill didn’t last though because soon your warm hand was wrapped around him, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure to have him gripping the table with his hands, head tilted back as he let out a sigh of pleasure.
You looked up at him, a smirk on your lips as you stroked over him a few times before spitting in your hand and continuing your actions.
A moan bubbled up from Peter’s throat, filling the room before he bit down on his bottom lip to try and stifle the noise. The last thing the two of you needed was for anyone to hear because you’d never live it down.
“Feel good?” You asked, as if Peter’s actions and movements weren’t telling enough.
“Course it does, baby- feels so fucking good I- can you use your mouth?” He asked shyly, glancing down at you.
“Why else would I be on my knees, Peter?” Your words seemed to momentarily make his brain short circuit because the next thing he knew, your beautiful lips were wrapped around the tip of his throbbing cock and he felt his knees nearly buckle at the feeling.
“Holy shit- mmmm, that feels absolutely amazing- like you’ve got no idea-“
You liked the way he vocalized his pleasure. It had you wet as you continued to swallow him down as best as you could without gagging.
Peter’s hips stuttered a bit, trying not to thrust into your mouth. He didn’t want to hurt you but it just felt so good and plus he’d never been great at staying still. It was truly impossible for the speedster.
You didn’t mind, breathing hard through your nose. You took him as deep as you could before pulling off of him to suck in a breath, a string of spit connecting your cherry red lips to the tip of his dick. Now that was hot, Peter thought. Hell, who was he kidding? It was all hot.
“You want to keep going like this or you want to do this properly?” You asked, brow raised at the silver haired man who took a moment to respond. You watched the gears turn in his head until it seemed to click.
“I- Holy hell baby, fuck yeah I want to do this properly let’s get this party started!” He shouted excitedly before you shushed him with a reprimanding look.
You stood up, pulling your shirt over your head before stepping out of your pants as well, leaving you in only your underwear and bra.
Peter whistled low under his breath, shaking his head. You were absolutely smokin’! He mentally kicked himself for not initiating all of this sooner.
“You look- I mean- you’re absolutely beautiful.” He whispered.
“I appreciate it Peter, but I’m not sure how much time we have and I’d like you to take off the rest of your clothes and get this show on the road, yeah? Think you can do that?” Your slight teasing voice had him twitching once more and he quickly threw off his jacket and shirt and kicked his pants the rest of the way off of his legs.
The two of you were urgent with your movements, wanting to get to it before a child inevitably ended up hurting themselves and rushing to your office. Your time was limited but lucky for you, Peter was just about the best person for a quickie. Hell, it was practically in his name.
Your lips collided again, teeth narrowly avoiding clashing against each other as you kissed fiercely.
Peter watched in awe as you unhooked your bra and slid off your panties, letting them join the ever growing pile of fabric on the floor by your feet.
“Do you have a condom?” You asked Peter. Before you had a chance to blink he rushed out of the room and not even a second later came back with one firmly gripped between his fingers.
“Did you just- Peter you’re naked! What if someone saw you?” You shouted, smacking his shoulder before snatching the condom from him, tearing the foil at the perforated edges before pulling the condom out.
“I’m fast as hell baby, no one was gonna see m-oh-“ He moaned as you rolled the condom onto his length, giving him a few firm strokes for good measure before you hopped up onto the table, spreading your legs to give him a good view of just how much you needed him.
He wasted absolutely no time in grabbing you by your hips and pulling you towards the edge of the table, stepping between your legs as he positioned his rock hard cock at your entrance. He was throbbing and practically shaking with anticipation as he looked up at you once more to make sure this was okay.
You gave him a little nod, wrapping your legs around his waist to urge him closer. His tip slid into you with ease thanks to how wet he’d made you and the both of you simultaneously let out a little shaky moan at the feeling.
Peter’s palms rested on either side of you on the metal table. He felt the cold beneath his palms rapidly heating from his body temperature as he glanced down at you. He was sure he’d never seen a more beautiful sight.
Slowly he began to press himself farther into you, watching as you just seemed to suck him in. More more more until he was fully seated inside of you, filling you up in such a delicious way that had you practically squirming for him to move.
“Peter- Please-“ You begged, looking up at him, a desperate and pleading look on your face. Peter didn’t waste a second, pulling back just to slam back into you, making your body scoot forward on the table before he was grabbing you and pulling you back.
You let your head fall back against the metal, hands reaching for Peter’s as he began fucking into you at a brutal pace, eyes clenched shut and lip bitten between his teeth.
“Oh Jesus-“ he breathed out. “This is so good- fucking hell you’re so tight- and warm- squeezin’ me like crazy- I’m not gonna last-“ Peter warned, gripping onto your hips so tightly you were sure he was going to leave bruises. But to you they were welcomed bruises. They’d serve as a reminder of the fun you’d had.
“Peter- do me a favor?” You asked, to which he looked down at you immediately, ready to comply with everything you said. “Don’t hold back.” You whispered between the two of you.
Something in Peter snapped and he began to fuck into you at a brutal pace now, the table squeaking with each of his powerful thrusts. He began to vibrate, something you’d soon learn he did when he was close and had a hard time controlling his powers. Something you’d learn to absolutely love.
He brought one of his hands down to your core, beginning to rub over your clit with his thumb. Just that felt amazing already but then he began to vibrate his thumb, the buzz setting your body alight as you arched into the touch, gasps and moans leaving your lips without thought.
“Peter! I didn’t- I didn’t know you could do that-“
“There's a lot about me you didn’t know. I’m sure you’ll learn soon,” he said in his stupid, flirtatious tone, never stopping his thrusts.
He began to lose his rhythm a bit, brows furrowed, silver hair sticking to his forehead as he tried to hold on. He wanted you to come first.
“Please- please come for me-“ he whispered breathlessly, applying even more pressure to your clit.
You didn’t need much more after that. His words and the buzzing sensation were more than enough to have you flying over the edge, gripping onto the sides of the table as hard as you could as you came, clenching down tightly on his dick, practically trapping him inside your warm, wet walls.
Peter thrust into you a few more times before stilling, filling the condom up so full it might burst. He leaned over your body, panting as the two of you tried to catch your breath.
“That was…” You panted, trying to find the words to even describe how absolutely magical that had been.
“Amaze-balls?” Peter finished for you, sending you into a fit of laughter as he pulled out of you, tying the condom off and throwing it into the trash.
“That’s not the word I would use, but sure. Yes Peter, it was Amaze-balls.” You scoffed, shaking your head.
Peter grinned lopsidedly at you before gathering up the clothes on the floor, handing yours off to you before he himself put his back on.
“I should get back to teaching the kids. I’ll see you later at dinner?” He asked excitedly.
Your eyes met his, absolutely beaming at you. He was adorable. Irresistible if you will.
“I’ll see you at dinner. Bye Peter.” And just like that, he left in a flash of silver, leaving you alone in your office to change and go back to reading your boring book and eating your cookie.
synopsis. he walks you home, then lets himself in.
pairing. logan howlett x f!reader. tags. [18+] dubious consent, vaginal penetration, female receiving oral sex, spitting. honey don't feed it, it'll come back type beat.
Some deep part of Canada, where everything was white.
Snowstorms that swarmed through the sky, and the only warmth you could find came from the bottom of a bottle.
The wood floor of the sticky bar you worked in was soaked from frost covered boots – haphazardly scraped across the welcome mat, owners preoccupied with getting their first drink than keeping the place tidy.
You existed there, behind the bar that patrons lent against, like a metal cage with leering onlookers. They paid in drinks, but you took the money home as tips, your warmth stoked in a fireplace.
How you’d ended up there in that forgotten part of the world, you didn’t know.
Perhaps you’d followed a narrow path, one strung out with thorns and rubbish, but the money was okay.
When it got slow, and there wasn’t much else to do, your boss let you read a bit, too, while you sipped on your endless supply of Coca-Cola.
At the end of your shift, your teeth were fuzzy from all the sugar.
An easy existence, but some nights, the patrons got too friendly.
They were fresh off their trucks, looking for some place warm to bury for the night, but you weren’t offering.
So, you’d peer at them, watch them make a fool of themselves as they spewed putrid words in your general direction – alcohol and lack of sleep causing the floor to sway from beneath their feet.
It was always the new boys who would try it.
Risk it all for a chance between your thighs, unaware of the hound sitting at the end of the bar, nursing a whiskey and a vendetta.
The first time he fought for you, the air had changed. Gone cloudy with the chance of a brawl – that sixth sense that all bartenders have switching on.
“Lady said no, ain’t she?” he bellowed from across the bar.
The voice thick with smoke and alcohol, you recognised him as the guy who’d been drinking whiskey all night, but he was as sober as a nun. No stumble to his step, or slur to his cadence, either.
He was built like an oak tree. You noticed when you served him. Slid him his drink and gazed at the sheer bulk of him. At the weathered, handsome age to his face, to the spray of grey in his brown hair.
His thick arms were snugly buried under a button up shirt, and you didn’t see, but rather imagined, the way his muscular legs were stuffed into jeans, and the way his size 12’s rested against the hardwood.
His eyes though, were hiding something. Milky brown concealing his curiosity – easily done with the hard panes of his face.
You imagined letting him take you home, and you thought about being friendly, before a whisper in the back of your cranium told you to back off.
Perhaps safer.
You didn’t know where this man had come from, let alone where he’d been. So, you continued to serve him drinks, and tried to ignore the quiet hum of his presence, until the hum turned to a crash.
The patron was scorned. He paused, and turned to the end of the bar, where the brown eyed stranger was waiting. “What’s it to you?” he slurred.
But the man with the whiskey wasn’t looking to him. He sipped his drink, and said, “she said no. You don’t remember your manners?”
The bar adorned an eerie quiet. Nerves sat low in your belly, heart picking up speed.
“This guy serious?” he asked you.
You went to say something, but he was already throwing words at the stranger.
“She yours or something?”
“It matter?”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
The stranger scoffed, and brought his drink to his lips, “whatever bub.”
“We got a problem?” the man uttered, stalking towards him, but his friend took him by the arm and whispered something in his ear, forcing him to deflate.
You wondered what he’d uttered. Whether there were rumours about the guy – a reputation you didn’t know about.
Brown eyes didn’t bat an eye when the man and his buddy slid out the door, cold filling the room before the door slammed shut.
The bar exhaled.
People went back to their business, and you thought about it, you really did. Thought about leaving him alone. Going back to your measly existence. Your home – the pit for all of your things.
But it didn’t win over in the end.
You topped up his drink. He took it, and glanced at you, brown eyes ringed with mystery.
“That happen often?” he uttered, voice a gruff grunt.
You put the bottle down, and looked away, thinking back to last week when you nearly fought a guy for staring for too long. You glanced back to him.
“Sometimes.”
“Your boss is an asshole for letting you work here alone.”
“That so?” you laughed, shocked at his candour. He nodded and downed his drink, eyeing you from over the rim.
Finished, he put the glass down on the bar, and shrugged his jacket on. He got up to leave, and you felt a chasm begin to open up in your chest.
You went to say something. Anything, to make him stay. But he paused and looked over his shoulder.
His jaw was clenched when he tentatively offered, “be safe.”
When you locked up, he was waiting for you.
It didn’t scare you. Really, it should, but when you left the bar and saw him standing there, toking on a cigar in the cold, all it did was make you pause. He stood there, gazing at you, eyes clouded by smoke.
“You waiting for me?” you uttered, making it real, even if the light drift of snow was giving the world a dream like quality.
He shrugged. “Just waiting.”
You nodded, and put the bar keys in your bag, ignoring the chasm get wider. If he was going to rob the place, he’d have to get through layers of receipts and tissues to get in. But you knew the bar wasn’t what he was after.
Something about his posture, the luring look in his brown eyes — curious, like he was trying to figure something out.
You began to walk past him, but when he didn’t follow, you paused. You peered over your shoulder, and he was still looking at you.
Taking you in.
“Well,” you started, hitching your bag up your arm, “you gonna walk me home, or what?”
He followed you in comfortable silence.
Just you, the night, and the crunch of dirt under his boots. His cigar smoke drifted by, and it wafted through your subconscious, followed by pine, and crisp scent of the snow.
He sounded like the noise of the woods — ever present in these parts. A comfort, if one had adapted to its unpredictability. When you got to your familiar walkway, you opened the gate, but he didn’t follow you through.
Instead, he stood by the entrance, watching you unlock your door like he’d just dropped you off from a date.
it was when you were halfway through that he spoke up.
“You work every night?”
“Yeah,” you started quickly, looking to him. “Apart from Wednesday and Sunday.”
He considered you, then gave you a sharp nod, and turned to leave.
That’s how you ended up with a wolf at your door.
Every night, he was the last one left, then he silently walked you home.
Some nights, you’d find him leaning against the entrance, and he’d quietly peel away from the door and follow you. At first, he simply walked closely behind, a looming shadow, until he began walking beside you.
Then one night, you let him in.
Made him a cup of coffee to fight off all the liquor he consumed, and he sat at your kitchen table, and drank every drop.
Watched you in the low, fluorescent lighting, and you did the same. Curiously studied him. He looked different in your home. In your kitchen. Looked a little softer around the edges, even if he couldn’t relax completely.
It went like that for a while. It was on one of these nights that he gave you his name, followed by a shitty cup of coffee. Sometimes two.
Maybe a biscuit, or a piece of cake. Leftovers turned into home cooked meals. Sat at the kitchen table and watched him eat. Roast beef. Mashed potatoes. Lasagna.
Sipped at your cup of tea as he slopped up his pasta, using the back of his hand to wipe the sauce off his mouth.
You left him finishing off his plate to get ready for bed, and it was when you were sorting your hair out, that he came into your bedroom and began taking his boots off.
You stood at your mirror and watched him place them near your door.
Then he reached up and began unbuttoning his shirt.
One by one, you watched his thick fingers reach the bottom. He took it off, revealing a white tank off and broad chest, and hung the shirt up on your door frame.
Jeans next.
Popped the button and shucked them to his feet -- threw them with his boots and dragged himself towards your bed.
You went to say something. Anything.
But he looked so exhausted as he crashed onto your frilly bed, that all you could manage was, “You lock the door?”
Logan nodded. His eyes were already closed, and he was hugging the pillow when he uttered, “you coming to bed, or what?”
You let him stay the night.
Maybe it was raining, maybe he was too tired – it didn’t matter. All that mattered, was that he was warm, and sometimes, when you woke and felt the terrifying ache of being alive, he’d be there to quiet the pain.
Hush you with the soft swell of his lips and wandering hands.
You’d come with a hushed whisper, hot and sticky over his calloused fingers -- drowsy from how high he took you. Then he’d kiss you, fix your clothes, and go back to sleep.
Always the middle of the night. When it was dark and quiet out, and it felt as if you were the last people alive.
His skilled hands bringing you to the brink, a soft kiss, then back to bed.
You would wait for it. Watch him nurse his whiskey at the end of the bar, the night dragging with every drink you poured. Then, he watched you lock up.
Waited at the door for you, so you could walk home together, wordlessly taking the familiar trail.
He’d eat, you’d watch, then leave for your room.
Once, you woke to his head between your thighs. The night was quiet, room dark – slither of moonlight from your window cutting a line through your bodies.
You were slick with sweat, and as you flexed your taunt muscles, they fizzled and singed. Hot heat pushed low in your belly, rooted between your thighs.
Logan hummed, and you reached down and grabbed a fistful of his hair, whimpering his name to grab his attention.
He had palm fulls of you. Fists of your thighs, soft of your belly, leaving marks with his desire – desperation. The first thing he did was apologise. Muttered a hoarse, m’sorry, into your soaking cunt, but continued tasting you.
You used his hair as leverage, and hitched your hips up an inch, causing his nose to bump into your sensitive clit, and you hissed, as if in pain, but the sound trailed off into something similar to his name, and Logan grunted, moving your hips further up so he could twist a thick finger inside.
You took all he gave.
Moaned into the pillow beside you as you rocked your hips against his face, soaking his nose and mouth. Said shit you didn’t mean, but meant all the same, and Logan got off on it.
This mysterious man who had taken over your life, grunted your name like it belonged to him. Made you come on his thick beard and puffy lips, then made you taste yourself as he kissed you.
You hugged his sweat slick frame to you, fingers scratching his scalp, mindlessly grinding against his clothed cock. You were content to just kiss him, until he dragged his fingers between your thighs again.
You startled, gasping into his hot mouth, but Logan hummed, near smiling against your lips.
“’think there’s another in there for me,” he drawled.
When he fucked you, there was so much of him that you went blind with it. Eyes half lidded, delirious as he pushed inside, making himself fit. Stuffing you full, then pulling out, just to feel it all over again.
Again and again.
You moaned his name into his soaked, scarred chest. Felt yourself leave your body, so hot, so wet, that it was all sensation. Just the slap of his hips against yours, the feel of his hands on your tits, in your mouth, telling you to open wide.
He spat, and when he missed, he smeared the mess off of your chin and rubbed it into your cunt.
Made you come, then filled you with his own. Leant back, and watched it drip out of you. You were so consumed by him, that you didn’t have enough energy to feel self-conscious.
No, when he had his wild eyes on you, you reached between your thighs and stuffed it back inside.
The next evening, and he was back at the bar, waiting for you to bring him his whiskey. When you placed it in front of him, those wild eyes were on you again.