Pairing: Henry!Wolverine (Cavillrine) x Female!Reader
Word Count: 2.6K
Summary: After entering a dangerous biker bar alone, you’re almost assaulted. You are saved by a mutant with metal claws who might be more animal than man.
Warnings: alcohol use, swearing, unwanted attention, bar fight, Wolvie being Wolvie, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids, claw kink
Beta: @peyton-warren
A/N: The title is taken from this quote from Savage Wolverine #13: “Most people think I'm nothing more than an animal!” Thank you to my amazing beta, Peyton, for giving me this idea in the first place.
Dividers by me
Support/Reblog banner by me
Cover Art by me
My Masterlist
You couldn’t help yourself. You stand across the street from the biker bar, a flickering streetlamp above you casting an off-white haze. The only thing keeping you from entering the establishment is your sense of self-preservation. This place, Torque Tavern, screams danger. But that only draws you in further.
You’re dressed in your usual style: your favorite Joan Jett shirt with the sleeves cut off, a denim jacket, a pair of figure-hugging black jeans, and a pair of Doc Martens boots. While normally you walk around with a sense of power, tonight was different.
A chill in the air makes you wrap your arms around yourself. You step off the curb into a dirty puddle, crossing the street after looking both ways. With your hand on the bar door, you pull it open and step inside.
The smell of stale beer and tobacco smoke hits your nostrils as the door closes behind you. A dozen heads turn to you, and your heart pounds. You look across the dimly lit room and notice one person who hasn’t paid you any attention, sitting on a stool at the L-shaped bar. You walk up and sit on a stool, a couple of seats away from the large man.
While you wait for the bartender to attend to you, you peek at the behemoth that sits near you. Wild, dark hair that comes to a point on each side, bushy sideburns, and a non-connecting beard outline his face. A white tank top stretches across his wide, thick frame. Bulbous, sweaty biceps glisten in the glow of the lights behind the bar. Hairy, veiny forearms lead down to strong hands: one grips around a lowball of amber liquid so tight that his knuckles are white, and the other balances a fat cigar between two fingers.
“Take a picture, bub, it’ll last longer,” the stranger says, letting out a plume of smoke from his chapped lips before turning his tidepool blue eyes on you.
After a few seconds that feel like minutes, you’re finally able to turn around and look away, mumbling an apology. You can still feel his eyes on you for a bit before he turns back to his drink and his solitude.
Your eyes shoot up once the bartender knocks on the bartop in front of you. “What’ll you have?”
“Uh, yeah. Moosehead and a shot of J.P. Wiser’s,” you reply, unsurprised when the bartender raises a brow at you. He then shrugs, cracks open a bottle of lager, and sets it in front of you. Grabbing a shot glass, he pours you a bit of the blended whiskey.
As soon as the light golden liquor is pushed toward you, you lift it and inhale the vanilla aroma. Tossing it back, the taste of licorice and cinnamon cascades over your tongue and down your throat. You exhale the burn and turn your attention to your lager.
You notice the murmurs behind you. A chair is pushed away from a table, and heavy boots are walking up behind you. A strong hand lands on your shoulder, and you freeze. “Hey, doll. Can I buy you a drink?”
You hold up your beer and decline, “I’m fine, honey.”
“Aw, come on. Just one drink. Promise I don’t bite, ‘less you want me to,” the source of the voice laughs, coming around to lean on the bar between you and the cigar-smoking stranger, his bald head glistening in the low light as he strokes his long, scraggly beard. His beer belly is barely contained in a Limp Bizkit shirt. This man is a walking red flag, and you roll your eyes and shake your head.
“Look, pal. Let me enjoy the drink I have, ok? This is my one fucking night off this week, and I’m not in the mood to let you ruin it with any of your shitty pick-up lines or the promise of hanging out with you and the rest of the rejects from Sons of Anarchy, got it?” You surprised yourself by bellowing these words to a stranger, one who could probably benchpress you with ease.
You flinch as his expression turns dark and he raises a hand. “You stuck-up little bitch, I ought to—”
The cigar-smoking stranger interrupts, seizing him by the throat and lifting him effortlessly off the ground as if he were a mere feather. While holding him aloft with one hand, the other hand balls into a fist while sharp blades appear from his knuckles.
He’s a mutant! You’d never seen anyone use their abilities up close, but now a man with incredible strength and metal claws is gallantly defending your honor.
“I think the lady has everything she needs, so why don’t you and your little friends scurry along before I get really angry and carve you up in front of everyone, eh?”
The sound of a pump-action shotgun being cocked has every head whipping to the bartender. “Get out of my bar, freak!”
The mutant simply turns and deposits the asshole on the ground in a crumpled mess. Blowing another puff of smoke into the ceiling, he throws back the rest of his drink before grabbing a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar and walking out. Halfway to the door, he turns to you and asks, “You coming or what, bub?”
You couldn’t scramble off your stool quick enough after he challenged you to follow him. Stepping over the man left on the floor, you scurry after your mutant savior. Once back in the night air, you look over as he stuffs the bottle into the storage of his Harley-Davidson. As he swings his leg over the bike and settles into the seat, you can't help but notice the bike sagging under his weight, as if he weighs a ton.
He turns back to his storage, taking out a helmet and holding it out to you. You’ve seen enough movies to know that riding with a stranger is a dumb idea. However, if that mysterious stranger happens to be attractive and cruising on a Harley, who could resist the allure of a thrilling adventure?
Taking the helmet, you pull it down over your head and lift a leg to get onto the bike behind him. As he turns the key, you clench your thighs at the vibration and wrap your arms around his waist.
“You don’t have to hold me so tight,” he informs.
“Oh, this isn’t tight," you remark, suddenly realizing that you don't know what to call this man. You offer your name, and he repeats it before giving his own.
“The name’s Logan.” He drops his cigar butt on the asphalt and stubs it out with his boot before putting up the kickstand and backing out of the parking spot. He revs the engine, and you are off on your way to wherever Logan wants to take you.
The drive is smooth, the city whizzing past you as Logan speeds down the highway. You end up at a garage that houses a few more Harleys in various states of repair. Logan puts the kickstand down and lets you get off the bike first. He watches as you take off the helmet and look around at where he’s taken you.
Exiting the bike, he takes the helmet when you hold it out to him. You don’t miss the way his fingers lingered on yours for a beat. He takes the bottle out of his bike pack and takes a hefty swig, then hands it to you.
You read the label, ‘Forty Creek Confederation Oak’, and put the bottle to your lips. Tipping it, you are delighted to taste the honey flavor. Handing him the bottle, you hold the liquor in your mouth until it starts to burn, and then you swallow and exhale the nutty finish.
He appears to be quite taken aback that you managed to drink without gagging, and his intrigue deepens as you begin to move closer into his personal space. The warmth in your chest from the alcohol has you feeling full and content. The heat coming off of his body as you stand close enough to breathe in his air has you feeling something completely overwhelming: pheromone-induced arousal.
Your libido is making itself known as you watch him watch you. Unable to stop your hands, they find themselves smoothing up his tank-covered torso until you tug at the collar. He gets the hint and sets the bottle down before removing his shirt.
You encounter a soft, furry chest that invites you to sink your fingers into its warmth. Tightening your digits in the hair on his pretty pecs, you revel in the growl he makes. He then levels the playing field, grabbing you by the nape of the neck with one large paw and bringing your face to his.
As you part your lips, a soft whimper slips out, unable to be contained, while he teasingly brushes his tongue against your lower lip. Growling again, he dips further to slot your mouth with his. He devours the moans that come out of you as he grabs a handful of your ass, chuckling into the kiss as you let him take the lead. His tongue licks into your mouth, and you feel drunk on his whiskey-laden kiss.
Breaking the kiss, he pushes down on your shoulders until you are kneeling at his feet. You start to unfasten his tight-fitting jeans, but he swats your hands away.
“Not yet, bub,” he warns. “I wanna try something.”
With that, he has you pass him the bottle. He takes a drink and then holds your cheek against his denim-covered cock. You can sense that he’s packing quite a surprise down there, and you’re eagerly anticipating the moment it’s unleashed.
“Eyes on me,” he commands.
You watch as he takes the bottle and pours about a shot’s worth of liquor over his chest. Watching as the liquid washes over him, you are more than eager to taste it directly from his skin. After you’ve cleaned his chest of all traces, he takes another drink. This time, he holds your face by the jaw and leans down, spitting the whiskey directly into your mouth.
You gulp it down eagerly, on the verge of pleading for another sip, when he scoops you up from the ground and twirls you around, positioning you over the bike you arrived on. He yanks down your jeans, your panties going with them. He lands a slap on each cheek before you hear him unzip his pants and feel his heavy dick teasing your clit.
He kicks your legs open further, pulls your denim jacket off, and lines himself up with your soaked entrance. Sliding in, he hisses at the heat of your tightness. You whine at his girth, stretching you more than any other cock you’ve ever taken. Once he bottoms out, the tip kisses your cervix, and his hairy ball sac rests against your puffy pussy. He pauses to let you get used to his size, but as he continues to take his time, it seems he is just tormenting you.
“Logan, please. Need you to move,” you plead, wiggling your hips to get any kind of friction.
You don’t see the toothy grin that covers his face, but you know by the way he tightens his grip on your hips that he is about to fuck you ten ways from Sunday.
Gradually withdrawing his hips, he eases out until only the tip of his shaft stays nestled within you, and then he thrusts back in with force. Doing it again, and then again, he pauses after each thrust to tease you. But on the third plunge, he doesn’t stop; he just keeps driving into you.
The rhythmic sounds of your sweat-soaked skin colliding form a captivating tune, harmonizing with the slick, squelching rhythm of his thrusts deep inside you. Coupled with Logan's deep, primal growls and your breathy moans, it creates an intoxicating symphony of desire.
You sense one of his hands sliding away from your hip, pushing your top up your back, and then a sharp SNIKT! pierces the air. You almost turn to inquire where the sound came from, but you soon feel something razor-sharp and hot to the touch sliding down your back. Once you realize that he’s touching you with his claws, you’re overcome with arousal, and your walls flutter around him. He fucks you through your orgasm and retracts his claws.
He slows his hips, pulling out and moving you both over to a nearby armchair. Sitting down first, he crooks a finger at you, and you remove your jeans and boots before straddling his hips. As you lower yourself onto him, you feel him fill you once more, the sensation overwhelming as you settle in.
You close your eyes and begin to ride him slower than before. Before you know it, you feel hot steel, or what you assume to be steel, at your neck and open your eyes to see his fist a few inches from your face. The claws, held within a millimeter of your jugular, glide across your skin.
“Hey, bub? You gonna keep pussyfooting around, or are you gonna ride this cock like the good little slut I know you are?” He asks, his pupils dilated until there is barely any blue left.
Your mouth opens and closes, but there is no sound coming out besides whimpers of fear that he might push those claws through your neck. Honestly, it added an extra little something to the experience, feeling that he might cut you at any moment.
The claws disappear back into the skin between his knuckles, and instead, he wraps a hand around your neck, guiding you to ride his length exactly as he wants. Your hands hold his thick wrist as you impale yourself over and over again.
“That’s it. Ride my cock just like that,” he praises, sticking two fingers in your mouth that you gluttonously suck. He locks his gaze on yours while you reach another peak of pleasure, your inner walls tightening around him as you release a wave of warmth that cascades down his length and between his legs.
When you threaten to slow down, he fucks into you, chasing his release. At this point, you are drooling over his fingers and looking like the fucked-out little doll that you are. You can tell that he is close as his hips stutter and his brows furrow as he removes his fingers from your mouth.
“Come inside me, Logan. Want it, need it so bad,” you beg, moving your hips as he drives into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. He lets out a throaty growl and buries himself to the hilt inside of you. Feeling him twitch inside you, rope after rope of his cum painting your cervix, you reach back and play with his balls.
It’s minutes before his cock softens enough to slip out of you, and you rest your head on his chest as his jizz drips from your thoroughly used hole. To your astonishment, his hand rises to gently stroke your back while you find yourself gripping his chest hair.
Little did you know, this was only round one with the big lug. He’ll let you get some shut-eye for now, but later? He’d like to fuck you on every available surface in his garage. And what he wants, he always gets.
A/N: I intentionally used a line from the X-Men (2000), but then failed at “Chekov’s Gun” sort of. But this story only has two acts. So, fuck Chekov. I hope you all enjoyed my little fuckfest here, and please do let me know what you thought!! Writers are fed by comments!
**Tag List**
@littlefreya @mrs-solo-walker @viking-raider
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Uhhhhhh, I don't know what line it was or how you failed at Chekhov's Gun and I super duper don't fucking care.
Jesus Christ, Elle! Fuck me up, okay???
Here we find the last time I'm cautious during this whole story, and it's like, paragraph two, or something:
crossing the street after looking both ways.
I can't really tell why I chose that bar, that night. But yet again, a point I don't truly care about, because he's there.
“Take a picture, bub, it’ll last longer,” the stranger says, letting out a plume of smoke from his chapped lips before turning his tidepool blue eyes on you.
I mean, come ON! It's perfect, Elle. The atmosphere. The description. The characterization. I am melting off the barstool as we speak.
And like, of course some loser with little to no respect for his mother, let alone me, is gonna try to ruin my nice night out. I have to be honest: I love some SoA boys. Jax, Juice, Opie... Your little snipe made me sad, but I think you're about to make it up to me and I can't believe my luck over here.
I just knew, as soon as you had my cheek pressed against his jeans I was in for some spit, and that isn't usually a kink I go for. I was hoping he'd turn my mouth up toward him and dribble the last shot he took right down my throat while he held my gaze from his vantage point.
But the chest licking and the mouth spray will do nicely I suppose.
I was waiting for him to agree that how tight I held onto him on the back of the bike when I first got on was nothing compared to the way my pussy squeezed him while he fucked me over that bike. Would've been music to my ears.
But, again, I guess I'll have to settle for yet another kink that doesn't usually do it for me. Somehow this time, I'm clenching just thinking about him saying this shit to me. The finger sucking kink here is real though:
“Hey, bub? You gonna keep pussyfooting around, or are you gonna ride this cock like the good little slut I know you are?”
and
“That’s it. Ride my cock just like that,” he praises, sticking two fingers in your mouth that you gluttonously suck.
I don't know, Elle. I hope this reblog is coherent enough to make you understand how fucking good this one-shot is. I was hooked, and was not disappointed.
It always makes me giddy when I get to read something that inspires my own creativity, even if it's just in the retelling of my reaction. It's an incredibly special talent to reach your audience in that way and I applaud you.
Thank you, sweet thing. This was fucking delicious!
After they’d finished setting up, Leah went to the bathroom to change. When she returned, Sy momentarily forgot how to breathe. She wore a black long-sleeved dress with thigh high socks and a pair of simple black Vans. The flowy skirt of the dress was short, ending a few inches above the socks and showing off her tattoos.
“Please tell me you’re wearing underwear under that,” he blurted out before he could think better of it.
Leah closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Wanna check and make sure?” she teased.
Sy hesitated for a second but decided to trust that if Leah was offering it was because she was prepared for the possibility of him saying yes. His hands followed the curve of her ass downwards, slipping under the hem of her dress and following her soft skin all the way to the edge of the boyshorts she’d put on under her dress.
“Good girl,” he praised, reassured that he wouldn’t have to threaten anyone with bodily harm for catching a glimpse of Leah’s ass.
The next hour passed in a blur of names and good food. Caleb knew his way around a grill, that was for sure. Throughout their dinner, everyone took a moment to greet Leah and welcome her home.
Once the plates had been cleared, a few of the guys prepared the fire pit. Sy was happy to see that it was one of those chiminea style ones. Fire combined with dozens of drunk boys was often a recipe for injuries or forest fires but that was less likely with an enclosed flame.
The music was turned up as guests started moving to the open space that apparently served as a dance floor. Leah was chatting with Killian and Trevor—two of her friends from high school—along with Camden, Lachlan and his girlfriend, Isobel.
At first, Camden and Lachlan had used every possible opportunity to grill Sy but eventually they either gave up or decided he wasn’t so bad and they turned their focus back to catching up with Leah.
Killian was in the middle of telling a story about some girl he’d been seeing when Sy’s phone rang. He frowned as he saw the video call request, briefly hesitating whether or not to ignore it, but he eventually decided he should take the call.
“Sorry,” he kissed Leah’s temple as he stood, “itʼs my sister. Iʼll be inside.”
The cabin was surprisingly well insulated, the sound of the music being nearly completely muffled as he closed the door behind him.
“Hey Liv.”
His sister didn’t return his greeting, jumping right into what she had to say.
“I called mama to know what night we should come over for family dinner and she said you’d gone chasin’ after some girl! Ya didn’t think to say goodbye?”
The old couch in the lounge area creaked as Sy’s weight sank into the cushions.
“To be honest, I didn’t think you’d notice. Ya didn’t mention y’all were plannin’ on comin’ by again.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Sy winced at what could only be described as a high pitched squawk. He wasn’t sure why she was so offended. If anything, he was the one who should have an issue with her.
“The other night y’all were only there for like two hours before goin’ home and ya said maybe three full sentences to me in that time.”
Olivia’s mouth dropped open as she scoffed. “It was a school night and the kids had homework.”
“Ya couldn’t have maybe written the teacher a note explainin’ that their uncle was back on American soil for the first time in years and that they could catch up on schoolwork another time?”
Sy didn’t know much about kids and schoolwork but he was pretty sure they could have played the returning hero card if they’d wanted to. Didn’t schools still say the pledge of allegiance every morning? And if not, how much trouble could they really be in for not doing their homework? The oldest wasn’t even ten years old yet.
“They can’t just skip homework, education is the most important thing at their age.”
It was Sy’s turn to scoff.
“Don’t I fuckin’ know it. I’ve been comin’ second fiddle to your education since the day I was born.”
“That’s not true.”
Sy suddenly snapped, not managing to keep his cool any longer.
“Isn’t it?” he half shouted. “Do you know how many teachers I had that were excited to have me as a student until they realized I was the Syverson sisters’ dumb younger brother? Do ya know how humiliatin’ it is to be the only seven year-old in your class who can barely fuckin’ read? No, ya don’t ‘cause whenever I came to ask either of y’all for help, Abi was always out readin’ in the garden and you were yellin’ at me to get outta your room.”
Just like that, Olivia went from combative to defensive.
“That’s not fair. I was eleven, it wasn’t my job to play teacher.”
“No, you’re right, it wasn’t your job. As for fair? Is it fair that after barely showin’ me the time of day ya call me up to yell at me ‘cause I decided to go after somethin’ I want instead of puttin’ everyone else first for once in my fuckin’ life?”
“Ya can’t be that self-absorbed. When have ya ever had to put anyone else above yourself?”
Sy counted out on his fingers as he spoke.
“When I was six and ask my friend’s older brother to fake mama’s signature on my failed tests so that she could focus on takin’ care of two newborns instead of worryin’ about me. When I enlisted at eighteen so that our parents would have one less mouth to feed while they worked to put you and Abi through college. When I gave up on buyin’ my own place to help pay Jackson and Austin’s tuition and all four of your weddings. Where the fuck do you think our parents got thirty-five hundred dollars for your designer dress?”
Olivia’s face fell as she realized he wasn’t talking out of his ass.
“I— I thought that with mama goin’ back to work full-time and daddy’s promotion—”
“Mama’s a file clerk in the county records office and pops is a shift supervisor at a warehouse. Ya really think that’s enough to save over a hundred grand in less than ten years? ‘Cause that’s how much I’ve sent them.”
“Ya shoulda told me,” she whispered as she sank down on her pristine white leather couch.
“Why? Would ya have treated me differently if ya’d known? I shouldn’t have to pay ya to give a shit, Olivia.”
“I do give a shit! Itʼs just kinda hard to get along when you’re never here. Ya may have helped pay for our weddings but ya werenʼt there. You left us, not the other way around.”
“Iʼve got better shit to do than sit here and listen to ya have a tantrum. Say goodbye to the kids for me.”
“I hope sheʼs worth it,” she spit right before ending the call.
The sound of footsteps coming down the hall alerted Sy to the fact that he wasn’t alone. He looked up to see Caleb holding out a fresh bottle of beer. He must have been in the bathroom when Sy moved inside.
“How much of that did ya hear?”
“Basically all of it. It’s a small place, sorry man.”
“Honestly, that fight was a long time comin’. It was bound to happen at the most inconvenient time.”
To Sy’s surprise, Caleb fell into the seat across from him. He hadn’t planned on discussing the subject any further but it seemed the younger man had other ideas.
After a long moment of silent staring, Caleb finally spoke.
“You’re fucking perfect for each other, you know that?”
Sy wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting him to say but it sure as hell hadn’t been that. Feeling a little more at ease, he leaned back and finally took a sip of the cold beer.
“How do you figure that?”
“You’re basically the same, except that you had two really different upbringings.” Caleb looked over at the wall which was filled with happy family photos. One of them showed Caleb at what must have been his high school graduation. Another showed Leah half-way up some mountain she was climbing. Another was of the two of them with a man who was the spitting image of the both of them. Sy continued his perusal as Caleb began listing his observations.
“She wasn’t as strong as me in school despite trying really hard. For a long time after dad died she basically made herself invisible because she didn’t want to distract me. When she enlisted, she made me take her half of the inheritance so that I could pay for med school.”
Caleb was right. They were more similar than either of them had ever noticed.
“I wasn’t sure about you. It’s hard to accept that my baby sister is getting involved with a guy who’s not only a decade older—”
“Nine years, actually.”
Caleb smirked, shaking his head.
“A man who’s both almost a decade older and her superior but… I think you’re exactly what she needs because you’ll understand her. I think she’ll always want to put you first and that you’ll do the same for her.”
“Yeah, I will.”
Standing, Caleb clapped Sy once on the shoulder. “Just make sure you keep her alive and happy or I’m gonna show you that Leah’s not the only one who picked up a thing or two from our dad.”
Sy couldn’t help but smile. He believed with one-hundred percent certainty that Caleb would, in fact, follow through with his threat and the only thing it did was warm his heart.
“You know,” Sy stood to follow him out, “she doesn’t make the keepin’ her alive part easy. She’s fuckin’ stubborn as a mule and acts like she’s got nine lives.”
Caleb had one hand on the door, pausing before he pulled it open.
“Yeah, I do know. It was my job for four years. Why do you think I needed five other guys to help me take care of her? Tag, you’re it.”
The two men were laughing as they stepped outside, Sy making his way back to Leah’s side. Most people had joined the dancing but it seemed she was either uninterested or she was waiting for him to get back.
A familiar beat began to play over the speakers and a few of the guys were immediately hyped.
“Ooh!”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re far too kind!”
As Caleb and a guy he knew from the hospital began singing along, Sy realized the lyrics were wrong. He returned to Leah’s side, putting his arm around her and pulling her close. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s Encore by Jay-Z mixed with Numb by Linkin Park.”
As he thought about it, it wasn’t that strange of a mix. He’d never been a big fan of hip hop but he found that it worked over the beat.
“Yo Caleb!” one guy called from the crowd of people. “Run it back, run it back.” The dancers parted to let him and his girlfriend through. “Killer! Get your ass over here!”
Leah vigorously shook her head no, trying to wave him off. “No way. V, this is your dance.”
The woman, who Sy now remembered had introduced herself as Valentina and her boyfriend as Victor, pulled Leah up from her seat.
“It’s yours too and it’s not nearly as fun with a pregnant partner who can’t do half the moves. Go make his night, I’ll keep your man company.”
Victor’s girlfriend dropped down across from Sy who tried not to think too hard about how much he liked being called Leah’s man.
“How do you know Leah again?”
“Me, Vic and Leah were in the same performing arts program in high school. I got hurt two months before our final performance and Leah offered to sub for me since she was a year younger and wasn’t doing the senior showcase.”
Vic dragged Leah out to the makeshift dance floor and Caleb started the song again from the beginning. Everyone gave them space as Vic began leading Leah through a routine that Sy guessed might be tango mixed with more modern styles.
It was clear Leah was not as skilled as Vic but she seemed to remember the routine well enough, jumping for the lifts and following along to the fast footwork. They were dancing close together—intimately close—but Sy wasn’t jealous at all. He could tell by the expression on her face that Leah was having fun and nothing more. Vic kept his hands in safe territory, never straying from her back or thigh unlike when he’d danced with his girlfriend earlier.
Out of nowhere one of the single girls took the chair at the end of the table and leaned in to catch Valentina’s attention.
“Are you seriously okay with her grinding all over your boyfriend like that?” She huffed, shooting a dirty look over at Leah. “I don’t know why everyone is so hung up, I swear even the girls are drooling over her.”
Valentina was stunned silent but Isobel jumped in without a second of hesitation.
“Tammy, you’re new around here so maybe you hadn’t realized this yet but if you’re looking to get with someone, whining over the fact that Leah’s getting more attention than you is a bad way to do it. I can guarantee that any guy here would drop you like a hot potato if Leah came calling, not because they want her in their bed but because they respect the fuck out of that girl and love her even more. If you can’t handle that then I suggest you find somewhere else to be.”
Tammy sat there, mouth agape. She looked at each guy in turn as if expecting one of them to come to her defense but none of them said a single word. Seeming to realize she’d just screwed her chances with every available guy present, she threw her purse over her shoulder and stormed off.
The strange remix song had ended and the couples returned to dancing as they’d been before Vic interrupted them. He and Leah walked back to the table together where Vic wrapped his arms around Valentina from behind and cupped her belly. If he had to hazard a guess, Sy would have said she was about five months along—far enough that she was noticeably pregnant. Sy looked away, feeling like an intruder in their intimate moment.
“Do you dance?” Leah asked, gulping down a few sips of water as she caught her breath.
“Not like that.”
Leah only laughed, motioning for Sy to get up from his seat. “I barely dance like that.” Reaching out a hand for him to take, she walked backwards as she led Sy towards the other dancers.
“I’d never really danced until I offered to help Vic.”
Her statement took Sy by surprise. He would not have been able to follow that choreography as a new dancer much less perform it at a showcase with only two months of practice.
“Then why’d ya offer to sub for Valentina?”
Nibbling on her lip, Leah looked almost embarrassed. “Because growing up I watched a lot of dance movies and I wanted to be just like those girls except I was too busy with martial arts and learning the best ways of skinning a deer.”
It was the first time Sy had ever heard Leah express anything but complete happiness with the way she’d grown up. He could understand how it might feel like a betrayal of her father who’d done everything for her. As much as she might look like a tomboy, she had a more feminine side hidden away as evidenced by the outfit she was wearing. He was willing to bet that his mama would be more than happy to have a little bit of girl time with Leah and give her all the motherly love she was missing growing up.
Leah wrapped her arms around Sy’s neck and his hands easily found her hips. A slower hip hop song began to play, giving him the perfect excuse to hold her close though he tried to keep things PG considering she had a half dozen pseudo big brothers around.
“What about you, where’d you learn to dance?”
“When I started goin’ to bars I was told girls like a guy who can dance. And that line dancing didn’t count.”
Leah let out an exaggerated gasp. “I’d take a guy who can dance to Fake ID over a guy who can tango any day.”
“Guess I’m in luck then.”
Her face lit up with excitement and she immediately ordered Sy to pull his phone out of his pocket, making grabby hands as she did. She’d explained earlier that they’d set it up a Spotify playlist so that everyone could contribute a handful of their favorite songs and they would play on shuffle throughout the night to keep things fair. Leah found the song she was looking for and queued it so that it would be the next one to play.
Fake ID was not a known line dance. Most people only learned it if they were big fans of the Footloose remake. It was harder to learn than most since it had a longer series of steps to remember before it repeated. Then there was the fact that it was fast-paced and was hard to pick up on the spot.
Sy’d learned it for his brother Jax’s wedding so that he could surprise his bride with a big dance performance but, in the end, Sy hadn’t been able to make it home. He’d look like a dumbass following the YouTube tutorial led by the movie’s choreographers in the barracks but he’d really been hoping to make his brother happy.
When the song came on, there was a round of cheers from the girls. Like a well rehearsed routine, the pairs came apart and everyone fell into place by forming two lines—one for the guys and one for the girls. Leah kept her eyes on Sy, watching him follow the steps as if he’d done the dance a hundred times before.
Giggling with the girls around her, Leah had a broad smile plastered on her face. She moved with confidence, hitting every mark and looking damn good doing it.
Just before the bridge one of the girls shot her a wink and tipped her chin towards Sy. He didn’t realize the wink actually meant anything until the song slowed its pace and all the girls turned towards the line of men who had all stopped dancing and instead begun walking backwards as the girls strut towards them looking like hungry felines. It was obviously something they had practiced before, twirling and shaking their hips as they kept their eyes on their boyfriends. The onlookers whooped and hollered at the sexy display before them.
Leah was giving off the strongest fuck me vibes he’d ever seen—so strong he almost missed the last chorus starting up again, causing him to jump back into the dance a few steps behind the other men.
When the song came to its end, it was followed by She Doesn’t Mind by Sean Paul. Despite the odd change of pace, it was a perfect follow up to the previous song because all the boys dragged their girls flush to them. Caleb had found himself a partner in one of the single girls who’d scored an invite and was completely absorbed by her. It was a good thing because the way Leah turned her back to Sy and ground her ass against him was downright salacious.
“What do I gotta do to get ya all to myself for a while?” he murmured just loud enough for her to overhear over the music. She looked back at him over her shoulder, biting her lip.
“Go get a couple of drinks and meet me around the front.”
Leah reluctantly pulled away, heading inside as Sy watched her walk away. He collected a few beers as well as two sports drinks. He was not the type to tell a woman when she’d had enough but he also didn’t want Leah blackout drunk for whatever came next so he preferred having the option along just in case.
When he walked around to the front, Leah had retrieved her backpack from the bedroom and was stuffing something inside. She held out a hand for the drinks, dropping them in the bag and zipping it up.
“Where are we goin’?”
Leah smirked as she straightened. “Up.”
Sy’s gaze moved up the facade of the cabin all the way to the roof. “What is it with you and rooftops?”
“It started because I liked climbing things that weren’t supposed to be climbed. I kept it up because it was a good way to escape and clear my head.”
Leah jumped up, catching the rafter with both hands. She lifted her legs, hooking one knee over her opposite elbow and using the hold to free the weight from her other hand. Catching the vertical post, she switched her footing again to plant down on the bottom rafter and heave her other leg over the rooftop. Sy was too impressed by her skills for his attention to linger on the flash of skin caused by the movement of the skirt of her dress.
“You know I’m not gonna be able to do all that.”
Leah laughed as she reached a hand out. Sy raised the bag over his head, not wanting her to reach down and lose her balance as she gave him instructions. “Just do a muscle up and lift your leg onto the beam.”
“Why didn’t you do that?”
“Because the other way looked cooler.”
“You sure this old thing will hold my weight?”
“I could get you a ladder if you don’t think you can climb.”
That was the perfect thing to say to get him to stop asking questions and start climbing. It was lucky that his five day break was the longest he’d gone without a workout in over ten years. He did as suggested, easily pushing himself over the beam.
The porche’s frame was a triangular shape with a wooden beam going from the center of the main beam to the peak and two more going outward at an angle. He planted a foot and caught the center beam like Leah had and hefted his weight over the edge. He was much less graceful as he rolled onto the roof but at least he didn’t break his face.
Getting down would be much easier since the lowest point of the angled roof was only about eight feet off the ground.
Leah had unrolled a thick wool blanket above where the stone chimney sat, presumably so that they wouldn’t risk slipping off. It was by the front of the house where the living room was so they were out of sight from the people out back.
“I can see why you like this,” Sy said, stretching out on the blanket next to Leah and looking up at the unobstructed view of the night sky. It reminded him of summers back home in Georgia.
Without the trees’ protection from the wind or the fire, it was much colder but it seemed Leah had planned for everything. Pulling a second blanket over them both, Leah stretched out halfway over Sy with her head resting on his chest.
“I’ve never brought anyone here before.”
“What, ya never dated anyone who could do a muscle up?”
Leah shifted to put a hand on his chest and laid her chin over top. “I meant the cabin in general but you might actually be right about the muscle up thing.”
Sy folded his arm behind his head, propping himself up so he could meet her gaze. His gorgeous blue eyes were normally framed with dark circles and frown lines, a consequence of the hard lifestyle he led, but now his expression was softer, filled with fondness.
“Good. Ya looked fuckin’ sexy out there tonight, I don’t like the idea of anyone else gettin’ to see my girl like that. This outfit has been drivin’ me crazy all night.” His hand found her thigh, threatening to slip under her dress.
Until she met Sy, Leah had never thought she would find possessiveness attractive but his statement lit a spark of excitement within her. It was the same feeling she got whenever he praised her or said the words ‘good girl’. It was just another thing to add to the list of conflicting feelings she had towards sex.
She didn’t have much experience but she was pretty sure that made her submissive in some way though she wasn’t sure how that made any sense. Her knowledge of the subject was limited to what she’d read in books and those dom/sub relationships had all heavily revolved around sex.
“Hey…” Sy’s fingers tracing Leah’s brow pulled her out of her head. “Where’d you go just now? Your entire body went stiff as a board.” As if to prove his point, Sy put his hands on the back of her neck, using gentle pressure to knead the tension from her muscles. “Did I do something wrong?”
She hated that his honest question made her feel guilty for causing him to worry. That was another thing Leah had never realized until she met Sy. Her previous relationships had messed her up more than she ever thought they had.
“Leah, look at me.” That was his ‘captain’ voice—low and assertive. Leah had no choice but to obey. “You made me a promise,” he reminded her.
“No,” Leah licked her lips before pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Hoping he was reading her body language correctly, Sy slid his hand from Leah’s nape to her throat. He didn’t apply any pressure, only keeping a light hold that could easily be broken.
“You like when I call ya mine?”
She swallowed thickly, her throat moving against his palm before nodding.
Keeping his hand in place but being careful not to jostle her, Sy rolled Leah onto her back.
They were nose to nose as he spoke. “I got the impression you were in a particular mood earlier when you offered to let me check your panties. Am I right?”
“Yeah.”
“You still feeling the same way?”
“Yes.”
Getting to his knee, Sy took the blanket from where it had fallen as he flipped Leah over and quickly folded it up to tuck it under her as a pillow. He planted his hands on either side of her head, holding his body off her.
“Do you wanna take orders like a good girl or would you rather take the lead?”
“The first one.”
“Okay, then I need you to tell me exactly what you want. Where I can touch you, how much clothing comes off, how far you want to go.”
Sy was pleased that Leah took a few seconds to reflect on her answer, giving him confidence that she wasn’t pushing herself past her limits to please him.
“Clothes can fully come off. Legs, ass and everything above the belt is safe to touch however you enjoy. I’m not sure about oral but hands for sure.”
Lowering himself down, Sy placed a series of kisses down her jaw. “Thank you.”
Leah turned her head, capturing Sy’s lips in a sensual kiss. When she began to lift the hem of his shirt, Sy caught her wrist.
“Don’t wait for me to check in to tell me you don’t like something. You’re trusting me to stick to your limits and I’m trusting you to tell me if they change.” Sitting back on his haunches, he let go of her wrist. “Take my shirt off.”
The cold wasn’t a concern for Sy but he didn’t know if his body heat would be enough to keep Leah warm so he didn’t want to undress her just yet.
She didn’t seem in a rush either, studying his body as her fingers explored his skin. Unlike the first time she’d touched his stomach, her touch didn’t cause anxiety to spark in his chest. He hadn’t expected for it to feel freeing for her to know the story behind his scars and for her to accept it but it was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
When Leah sat up, Sy expected for her to pull her dress off but, instead, she slid a hand to the small of his back, holding him close as she placed gentle pecks along his collar bone. Her movements were tender, almost reverent as she worked her way over both shoulders before moving up to tease his neck with open-mouthed kisses.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on the receiving end of this kind of affection. Maybe even never.
It felt amazing. How had he made it over fourteen years without ever realizing his neck was that sensitive?
The soft scratch of her teeth as she nipped his throat pulled an audible groan from him, leading her to move her hand up to hold him in place as she repeated the action with more force. His head fell to the side in a silent message for her to do with him as she pleased so she took the opportunity to lock her lips over his pulse point and suck.
Eyes tightly shut, Sy relished the slight sting of his blood being drawn to the surface. With how badly his cock was throbbing, it was hard to imagine there was even any left to leave a mark but when Leah finally lifted her head, she made a pleased sound at the sight of the newly formed hickey.
“You like seein’ your mark on me, baby?” Sy’s hands gripped both of her thighs, possessively kneading her flesh. “You like knowin’ that I’m yours as much as you’re mine?”
For someone who was not normally a big talker, Sy was surprisingly proficient at dirty talk. It was still quite tame all things considered but it still made her heart race.
“Yes.”
Looking down at her spread legs, Sy caught sight of the black lines poking out from the skirt of Leah’s dress.
“Lay back,” he ordered, taking a moment to undo his pants and give himself a bit of relief. “It’s my turn.”
Her breath hitched as she obeyed both from the arousal brought on by his command and the worry of what Sy might do next.
Sensing the shift in her body, Sy made his intentions clear. “I want to see your tattoos up close. I wanna memorize how each one fits your curves just right.”
He dragged the hem of her dress upwards, pausing only long enough for Leah to lift her hips and allow the fabric to pool around her stomach.
With the clear night sky and the distant glow of the bonfire, Sy could clearly see the intricate patterns dancing across Leah’s creamy skin, only obstructed by her underwear.
“Can you take these off for me, darlin’?”
She’d already said that clothing could fully come off but he was about to get up close and personal with her thighs and he didn’t want her to feel over-exposed. He was giving her the option to refuse but she didn’t take it, simply working them down her legs at what felt like a torturously slow pace.
Sy could see the glistening of her arousal at her apex and he made a mental note to ask her about that later. She’d been clear the night before that she wouldn’t want Sy to reciprocate if they did something intimate but she hadn’t said if that meant that she didn’t want to come at all or simply not by his hand.
For now, he turned his focus back to his task and traced her ink with his lips. Once he finished exploring her right leg, he moved to her other side, being mindful not to touch the fresh tattoo with his hands or his mouth. The last thing he wanted was for it to get infected and cause problems once they got back.
“Fuck babygirl, you are so goddamn beautiful,” he mumbled as he pushed the dress higher and made his way up Leah’s stomach, seeking out her final tattoo. “Nothing I imagined over the last months even came close to the real thing.”
With her dress completely removed and her bra following soon after, Leah was left in only her long socks and the look was way sexier than it had any right to be. It somehow simultaneously looked innocent and dirty and Sy couldn’t help picturing Leah kneeling for him in that same outfit.
He’d never ventured into BDSM further than giving the occasional order during sex but if Leah was amenable, he’d take great pleasure in learning what they both liked.
As Sy gazed down at Leah with obvious adoration, all Leah could think was how lucky she was. She wanted to express her happiness but her stupid feelings left a giant lump in her throat and the words just wouldn’t come so instead she tugged on Sy’s beard and brought his lips to hers.
It was nothing like the gentle caress they’d previously shared. This kiss was dirty and frantic like they were both afraid that the other would disappear at any moment.
Needing to give his aching dick some relief, Sy palmed his crotch over his underwear but it only seemed to make him more desperate.
“What should I do with this, baby?” he asked when they both took a second to catch their breaths. “You wanna watch me get myself off or do you wanna help?”
“Help.”
“Then take me out,” he growled, removing his hand to lift his body into a push-up position.
Leah slid his underwear and jeans over the curve of his ass. When she couldn’t reach any farther, she pushed them the rest of the way down with her foot. They got caught around his ankles since neither of them had taken the time to remove their shoes but it was good enough.
Sy could have wept when Leah finally wrapped her hand around his erection. Despite coming just a few hours earlier, Sy already felt like he was teetering on the edge and about to tip over at any moment.
Forehead to forehead, they both watched with rapt attention as Leah’s hand moved up and down his shaft. Then, in a completely unexpected but immensely arousing move, took her hand away just long enough to collect the wetness that pooled at her entrance and use it as lube.
“Oh fuck, that’s hot.”
His head fell to the crook of her neck, his hot breath fanning her skin as he panted. With Sy’s shoulder presented so nicely, Leah didn’t think twice before sinking her teeth in the defined muscle. Cute aggression was a real thing. Tangling his fingers in her hair to keep her in place, Sy released a deep groan.
It took all of thirty seconds afterwards for thick ropes of cum to paint Leah’s stomach. Sy’s entire body shivered as the pleasure coursed through him, the hand on his cock not stopping until it milked every last drop of his release.
Feeling boneless, Sy rolled onto his side before he collapsed over Leah and crushed her under his significantly heavier weight.
“Give me a second and I’ll find something to clean you up.”
He needed to recover from the out-of-body experience brought on by that orgasm because he had never come so hard in his entire fucking life.
“There’s baby wipes in the bag.”
Sy huffed a laugh. “Life of a soldier.”
Reaching behind him, Sy retrieved the bag and found the plastic packet at the very bottom along with meal replacement bars, a knife, a flint and a paracord bracelet.
“What kind of kinky shit did you have planned for us up here?” he teased, pulling out one of the wipes and diligently cleaning Leah’s stomach and chest.
“That’s my cabin bag,” she defended, “those things are always in there.” She had to admit that with a bit of creativity, those items would, indeed, make for some kinky love-making.
“Hand,” he requested as he pulled a fresh wipe from the pack.
Once he had finished with Leah, Sy took care of himself and set the soiled wipes aside to be dealt with later. He pulled his pants back up but left his shirt off for the moment.
Leah followed his lead, redressing before pulling their drinks out of the bag.
“How long have we got before they come looking for ya?”
“They won’t really be looking for us unless one of them is about to leave but I’d like to go spend a bit more time with them before the evening is over.”
“Of course,” Sy agreed, shuffling around so he sat with Leah between his legs and wrapped them both in the soft blanket.
They stayed that way until they had finished their beers then Leah showed Sy the best foot holds on the stone chimney to help them climb down a few feet before having to jump the rest of the way.
Valentina shot Leah a knowing wink as they rejoined the dancers while the boys glared at Sy when they noticed his neck but none of them attempted to punch him in the face so he considered it a win
There were only a few people left by the time the fire had almost fully died down, most of the people having carpooled to have a designated driver. Everyone had pitched in to clean the yard so all that was left to do was load the speakers back into Camden’s car and fold up the remaining lawn chairs that had been arranged around the fire pit.
The music’s volume had been lowered to serve as background sound for the quiet conversation. Leah was falling asleep on Sy’s lap, bundled in one of his hoodies, but she refused to go to bed until all her friends had gone home. In the end, Sy had to carry a sleeping Leah to bed under Caleb’s watchful eye.
Out of habit, Sy walked Caleb to his car as if it were his own home. Before getting in, he offered Sy his hand to shake.
“I was planning on meeting Leah for lunch next week. I hope you can join us.”
Hello my pretty little ones, this is where you can find Henry Cavill and all his characters’ related fanfiction, drabbles, imagines and headcanons written by yours truly satan.
*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of it. Please don’t add your additions or spin-offs to my existing story.
*Most stories contain 18+ content, please read the warnings responsibly and proceed on your own account
Viv ran a finger over Blackblood’s new incarnation, cut down to an icon of her former self. Then, she just stared at it.
“Do you… like it?” asked Tandri. “If you don’t, we can unmount—”
“It’s perfect,” said Viv.
I wish kinky sex ed wasn't so stigmatized even among left-leaning "sex positive" circles. Everyone's all "uwu I'm a sub I'll do anything you ask" okay mommy wants you to read The New Bottoming Book so you learn how to sub without hurting yourself since your sex ed up to this point is porn and your ex boyfriend Jared who liked to choke you incorrectly
I’m so glad you asked! Let me list off what I’ve got for you:
Books I personally recommend:
- The New Topping Book and The New Bottoming Book, by Dossie Easton and Janet W. Hardy
If you’re having kinky sex at all, you need to read at least one of these two books. Point blank. They’ll teach you the very basics of negotiating properly (which is critical!), and help you identify what you are and aren’t into.
- Mindfucking Mindfully, by Sir Ezra
Where this book really shines isn’t actually in helping you “mindfuck” people, it’s in taking a close look at how to do so ethically. It’s a great answer to the question “how do I get someone to consent to something and still surprise and shock them with it?”
- Real Service by Raven Kaldera and Joshua Tenpenny
This is a slightly niche pick but there simply isn’t a better book on the subject. It’s written from a 24/7 M/s perspective, which is not what I do, but the book itself is an indispensable guide to giving and receiving service. The phrase “if the Master doesn’t want it, it isn’t service” will be burned into my psyche for quite some time. I love this book a lot. Maybe my favorite out of all of these.
- Enough To Make You Blush: Exploring Erotic Humiliation, by Princess Kali
This one’s high on my reading list; I’ve heard it recommended by a number of people whose opinions on these things I trust.
- Pretty Much Anything Midori Has Ever Done
Midori is a great resource for this stuff - I haven’t personally read much of her work, but she’s a well known sex educator and great at what she does. She’s known for bondage, but has a lot of range beyond that.
- This Negotiations Worksheet from Bex Talks Sex
This is what I default to using a lot of the time for negotiations. Forget BDSMtest, you don’t need that, it’s no good. Just look through this worksheet’s wordbank with your partner. Big fan especially of the “how do you want to feel?” section.
Books I can kind of recommend:
- The Ultimate Guide to Kink, edited by Tristan Taormino
This book is weird. There’s a lot of good info for experienced players, but some of what’s written here skeeves me out. I think if I had a top that thought the way some of the tops in here think, they would not be topping me for long. But there’s some good techniques and so on to pick up that I wouldn’t have otherwise. I liked the distinction one of the authors makes between being sadistic in the sense of inflicting pain and being sadistic in the sense of doing something your sub doesn’t “enjoy.”
- The Ritual of Dominance and Submission, by David English
Man, this book fucking sucks. The writing and editing are garbage, and the fear and protocol play described need way more careful negotiation than he ever lets on, let alone recommends. This is some 50 Shades bullshit. The only time I recommend this book is to tops like me who tend to be very affirming to their partners and need a guide on how to really scare them - when their partner consents and when you negotiate it, which this book sucks at teaching you. Really good content on fear, punishment, and protocol play, really terrible presentation of the topic though. Don’t read this if you don’t already know what you’re doing.
- Paradigms of Power, by Raven Kaldera
I love this book. Great book. Very focused on 24/7 M/s play though, and, being an anthology, some chapters are better than others. If you can’t read something and pick out what is and isn’t for you, don’t bother. But some really great inspiration, and generally pretty well written. Big fan of the discussion of leather throughout the book.
Hope some of these are helpful for people ^-^ for the average person reading this I recommend New Bottoming/Topping, but they’re all important parts of my library and I’ve recommended all of them to friends at some point or another.
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