This Is What Logan Sees After He Forgets Himself And Rests His ENTIRE Weight On Top Of You By Accident

this is what logan sees after he forgets himself and rests his ENTIRE weight on top of you by accident

FUCK YOU !! (AND, UH, FUCK HER TOO) — LOGAN HOWLETT + SCOTT SUMMERS

ft. scott summers x f!reader x logan howlett

a/n: deadpool and wolverine full throttled me back into my x-men era... rewatched the first two movies and binge wrote this over the course of three hours... it's pure, shameless smut with slightly gay undertones idk what to tell you... reader is basically in place of jean!!

cw: 18+ content, double penetration, almost cucking, cheating, reader is scott's girlfriend, logan is an asshole, competitive sex?? fighting, clawsTM, biting, marking, mild possessive behavior, p in v, mild scent kink, assholery all round tbh, creampies, threesome. gay crisis for a second x

word count: 2.3k words

Scott is starting to think Logan likes his things way too much. First, it was the way he looked at you when he was first brought to the school, eyes raking over your form. Scott wasn't blind – the visor didn't impair his vision that much. He remembers walking into the room when the both of you were alone. He could sense the tension between the two of you before his presence was even made known to you.

It wasn't until a while later he'd figured out Logan probably smelt him coming. Cocky bastard probably wanted to be caught.

Then, it was his motorcycle. His very own pride and joy. Returned with an empty tank, his keys tossed to him like it was nothing. His eyes narrowed imperceptibly behind his visor as he chucked the keys back to Logan. He barely managed to reign in his irritation.

“You gonna tell me to stay away from your girl?” Scott had told him to do so after that comment, despite having the faith in you that you'd be able to avoid Logan's charms. He was clearly wrong. Logan didn't seem like the type to have much respect, but this was just taking the piss.

“Been meaning to test if these beams could pulverise Adamantium.”

All he gets in reply is a shit eating grin from Logan as he pulls away from the heated kiss Scott had walked in on, his hands still gripping your waist. You really had the audacity to get all wide-eyes and shocked, like you weren't just about to fuck Logan with your ass perched on Scott's bike.

“Shit. Scott, I'm-”

“Sorry?” He cuts off, gaze very clearly still trained on Logan despite the way his shades conceal his line of vision. “Yeah. Save it.”

“Thought I could smell that shitty hair gel.” Logan huffs, bringing his head down to nip and suck at your neck, adding to the wide array of marks he's already left. And you fucking let him, tilting your head back and gasping like it's the best thing you've ever felt. Scott's gonna kill you, then Logan, then quite possibly himself. “How long’s it take you to get that done in the mornin’ anyway, pretty boy?”

“Right. Says the guy with kitty ears?” Scott bites back, taking a few steps towards the both of you. “I'm gonna give you about three seconds to get away from my girl and my bike before we see how good your healing factor really is.”

Logan fucking laughs, kissing his way up your neck and along your jaw so he can whisper into your ear, breath hot against your skin. “Stay put for me, yeah? Shouldn't take long, sweetheart.”

He pushes away from the bike, turning around to face Scott. Cocks his head to the side like a damn dog, rolling his shoulders as his claws shoot out from his knuckles. “Don't make me embarrass you in front of your girl, Cy-clops.”

Scott fucking hates that, hates the way he drags out his name as if it's stupider than Wolverine. Hates everything about Logan, if he's being honest. Hates how easily the man manages to get under his skin every single time.

“You're such a fucking asshole, y'know that?” Scott squares up, trying his best not to hurl a beam directly at Logan with the hopes he'd be able to send him flying through the garage wall. He's meant to be a team player. Level-headed. He's not sure how the older man always reduces him to this.

“That really hurts my feelings, bub. I thought we were a team.” Logan stalks closer, and Scott's vaguely aware you've gotten up, ready to break up a fight that never comes. Claws sink into the drywall beside his head at the same time he hears you tell Logan to ‘stop’. His back hits the wall, and then the asshole leans down, lips brushing his ear just like he had to yours moments prior.

“Y'know, I can smell the changes in your scent when you're pissed, happy... Can also smell it when you're turned on.” He breathes out, inhaling deeply just to tease the man further. “So either you're really into you're girl gettin’ passed around, or you wanna fuck me. Shit, or both. Which is it, pretty boy?”

“I don't want you to fuck my girl, Logan.” Scott grits put. His looks literally can kill, and he's becoming increasingly tempted to prove that to the other man. “And I definitely don't wanna fuck you.”

“C'mere, baby.” Logan coos, gaze flicking to you. He tuts when Scott goes to move, pressing his body against his to prevent him from getting too far. “Ah-ah. Stay there, pretty boy.”

You're at Logan’s side in a second, peering up at him through your lashes like an obedient dog waiting for its next command. Shit makes Scott's blood boil, his body going rigid against the other man's.

“D'you wanna kiss me, sweetheart?” He asks you, cocking his head to the side with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. And you fucking nod, like your boyfriend isn't right there staring at you. “D'you think he wants a kiss from me, too, sweetheart? Think he deserves it? Can't have been treatin’ you right if you came runnin’ to me, huh? Maybe I should teach him?”

“Yeah, think he needs it. He's always so stressed, never wants to do anything.” Now you're airing out your relationship issues? Fucking great. Scott's practically seething now, lips parting to say something – anything – to defend himself.

He doesn't get the chance before Logan's lips crash against his. He tenses up, ready for a fight. His hands come up to push the man away, but fuck he's a good kisser. It's a lot different from a girl – rougher. There's a drag of his stubble, a pleasant burn that comes from it. His teeth sink into Scott's lower lip before tugging, then he's forcing his tongue into his mouth. Scott ends up dragging him closer, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses back.

A growl rises in Scott's throat when he hears you giggle at his reaction, but he doesn't have much time to think on it, ‘cause Logan laughs all breathy and hot into his mouth, and it's making him short circuit. The growl quickly transforms into a low whine, his lips chasing after the other man when he starts to pull back.

His eyes open just in time to watch as Logan grabs you by your hair to pull you into a needy kiss, his free hand grasping at your hip to grind you against his rapidly hardening length. Scott feels his own cock twitching to life at the sight, a breathless ‘fuck’ leaving his lips as he reaches down to palm himself through his jeans. He hasn't been this hard in months – maybe ever. He feels like a horny teenager again, leaking pre-cum steadily into the fabric of his boxers. He isn't sure what to think of it. Humiliating, is what it is.

Logan's lips are on his again, his hands sliding under his shirt, tugging him closer. He feels his cock pressing against the hard ridges of Logan's muscles, feels your own hands join his in exploring Scott's skin, your lips pressing kisses along his neck and jaw.

“Relax, Scott.” You say, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. Relax, yeah. His dick is rubbing against another man's for the first time while his girlfriend is reaching around him to unbutton his jeans, and you want him to relax. This is a totally normal scenario that isn't throwing him head first into an identity crisis.

He gets lost in the hands on his body, the lips against his skin. Before he knows it, the three of you are naked and panting and pressed against each other. Scott feels like he can't breathe properly. His eyes dart between your body, and the fattest dick he's ever seen in his life. He doesn't know if he should be turned on or really, really insecure. His cock answers by jumping against his abdomen and leaving a sticky trail of pre-cum. Traitor.

Logan grunts as he lifts you up almost effortlessly, his arms resting at the back of your knees, using them as makeshift slings to hold you up against his chest, which is flush to your back. He quirks an eyebrow as Scott just stares, unmoving. “Well? You don't need me to tell you where to put your dick, do you? No wonder she's so pent up.”

“Asshole.” Scott says simply in response, stepping towards you. His words lack any real bite – he's too turned on to even think about being pissy. He fists his length leisurely a few times before lining up with your entrance, pushing forward inch by inch until his hips are flush with the backs of your thighs, your legs dangling helplessly at his sides.

You gasp and whine as Logan moves to slide in alongside your boyfriend, nails digging into his skin until Logan is buried to the hilt inside of you. Scott instantly peppers the skin of your neck with kisses, trying to soothe you.

“You alright, baby?” He asks, all soft and sweet. He's forgotten why he was mad at you in the first place, mind foggy with arousal as your cunt clenches around him.

“She's fine, bub. She can take it. Isn't that right, sweet thing.” Another whine, then a nod. It eases Scott, if only slightly, when he feels you relaxing against them. A beat passes, and then another. His eyes meet Logan’s and they both start to move – slowly, at first, before picking up the pace.

You're so much tighter like this, sucking him in desperately as he tries to find a rhythm with Logan. He can barely focus in anything but your heat and the way his cock ruts against Logan's as they both fuck into you. It's almost maddeningly hot, and he's feeling overwhelmingly anxious that he's going to cum in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

Scott leans down, his lips meeting yours as he rocks forward over and over. His lashes flutter as he sucks on your tongue, kissing you greedily. He feels a hand tugging at his hair, pulling him away from you before sharp teeth start to nip at his lower lip, a tongue bullying his way into his mouth. He sucks on Logan's, too, kissing him back just as hungrily as he did to you. He rubs soothing circles into your hips as he picks up the pace, coaxing you into relaxing further.

A growl rumbles Logan's chest when he feels Scott fucking you faster, his hips snapping against the fat of your thighs with more intensity, like he's determined to fuck you better than the other man. He's bigger, tip bullying your cervix with every thrust in a way that makes you tear up. His nose twitches as he smells the saltiness of your tears, then he's pulling away from Scott to lap them off of your face.

“Shhh, shh… you can take it, sweetheart. I know you can.” He coos softly, moving to nuzzle the crook of your neck, nose running along the skin like he's scenting you. Both men continue to slide in and out of your slick heat, grunting and groaning like animals as they chase their release.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” Your boyfriend coos. Scott needs you to cum soon, because he's barely holding on as it is. He doesn't want to leave you unsatisfied – especially now he's very aware Logan will gladly pick up his slack. His hand falls from your hip to make its way between your legs, thumb rubbing circles into your clit until your muscles grow taut. He grins, sucking a possessive mark over one of the hickies Logan had left earlier. Take that, asshole.

Your walls flutter and clench around both cocks as you reach your peak, a shaky moan of Scott's name leaving your lips as your head falls back against Logan's shoulder. Check and mate.

“Hear that, kitty claws? I'm still her favourite.” He huffs out, hands returning to your hips in an almost bruising grip as he ruts helplessly inside your tight heat, balls tightening as his orgasm rapidly approaches.

“S'only ‘cause she's lookin’ at ya, dumbass.” Really, it shouldn't be Logan's gruff, fucked-out tone that drives him over the edge, but it is. He blows his load a second later, forehead dropping against the crook of your neck as he fills you with spurts of hot, white liquid. He gasps against your skin, nails digging into your plush flesh.

Logan isn't far behind, grunting as he forces every inch of his cock deep inside of you, head tipping back as he releases. The tips of his claws threaten to breach the skin of his knuckles, but he manages to suppress them enough that they never fully unsheathe. He pants softly, chest heaving as he thrusts shallowly through his orgasm.

“Fuck.” He hisses, slowly pulling out of you. He lifts you off of Scott's cock, settling you down on the seat of the motorcycle so you can all catch your breath. Logan rubs soothing circles into your back as Scott steps forward, all but slumping against you as he embraces you.

“Did so good, baby. Was perfect.” He breathes out, pressing kisses along your bare shoulder. He pulls back just enough to look at Logan, who's already lighting up a cigar. “The fuck did that even come from?”

That shit-eating grin lights up the older man's face again as he takes a few short draws from the cigar in his mouth. He exhales the smoke, pulling it out of his mouth to speak.

“Trust me, pretty boy. You really don't wanna know.”

sleeping between LOGAN and WADE means getting absolutely sandwiched. they’re both 6’2 and both superheroes? yeah you’re getting crushed.

LOGAN sleeps behind you. His arms around your body and his large, rough hands on your stomach, practically absorbing your body heat. His face buried in your hair or your neck. Your back against his chest. Don’t even think for a second that you might be able to get up without waking him up. You’re not. He’s holding you like a teddy bear, you’re not escaping. He definitely growls in his sleep. And trust, him and Wade are gonna sleep as naked as possible. In nothing but their boxers, maybe a t-shirt. Skin to skin sleep for them >>>

WADE on the other hand, lays in front of you. His legs tangled in yours and his arm slung over you and Logan’s bodies. Your face practically stuffed into his chest or neck. He’d hug you if Logan didn’t entirely have you in his possession. So he just forces his way into y’all’s cuddling as much as possible. Logan definitely grumbles about it into your skin but he doesn’t do anything about it besides scratch stab him occasionally.

There’ll be nights where Wade manages to steal you and Logan “reluctantly” hooks onto him so he can hold you. And best believe, Logan turned your bed into a somewhat nest so there will never be a warmer place to be. Or when you lay at an angle, your head on Wade’s chest and Logan’s hands on your hips and thighs. Either way, you’re stuck between them and you’re never escaping.

Part 1: Honey, Don't Feed It...

Logan Howlett | Worst Wolverine x gn!Reader

Synopsis: Logan gets to know his next-door neighbor. Tags: Not Beta Read, Title From Hozier Song, It Will Come Back - Hozier, Next-Door Neighbor, Older Man/Younger Person, Reader Is Mid-20s, Logan Is 200, Reader Is Described As Shorter Than Logan, Gender-Neutral Pronouns For Reader, AFAB Reader, Fem Anatomy, Logan Is Down Bad, Horrendously Actually, He's A Little Pathetic, Alcohol Consumption, One-Sided Attraction, Not Actually One-Sided, Talks Of Masturbation, Part 2 Is Mostly Smut, Tags To Be Added Author's Note: happy to finally see hugh jackman getting the appreciation (simping) he deserves also i wanna gonna upload this in october, as it’s part of my kinktober challenge, but i wanna post it now too, so i’ll be adjusting the tags and stuff in 2 months :) Part 1 ❉ Part 2

Frustrated huffs filled the stairwell as Logan ascended to his apartment. 

Next was the jingle of keys, and curses that would make a sailor blush. It made him chuckle to himself as he reached his floor, not expecting the creator to be on his floor, attempting to get into the apartment next to his. 

He knew someone lived next to him, but he’d never met them. Guess now was a better time than any to make introductions, saying it had been a few weeks since he’d moved in. Your back was to him, piles of groceries in your arms, which was the source of your difficulties as you tried and failed to unlock your door. “Motherfucker…” he heard you grumble, adjusting the groceries that nearly slid out of your arms. 

“You need some help with that?”

You, understandably, jumped, the keys that were once in your hands hitting the floor with a thud. The items in your arms were about to meet the same fate, but you managed to get a hold of them just in time, spinning to face Logan. He had stepped closer to you, yet still kept a good amount of distance, not wanting to scare the shit out of you further.

Wary eyes scanned him before recognition flashed across your features, your tense state relaxing as you deemed him not a threat. He took that as the go-ahead to step closer, keeping his stance casual, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. “Let me help ya,” he repeated, no longer offering it as a question. 

“You don’t have to.”

“Please. It’s the least I can do after making it fifty times harder.”

That made you chuckle, a soft noise that made the corners of his lips curl up. “Fair enough,” you took a step back, letting him step into the space beside you to bend down and pick up the keys. “Thank you.”

Waving off your thanks, he thumbed through the various keys on the ring, stopping when he reached one that looked like his. Upon your nod of approval, he stuck it into the door. Tocked turned, but the deadbolt didn’t retract, which elicited a frustrated sigh from you. “It’s been doin’ that for months. If it’s the tiniest bit humid out, or if the universe just fuckin’ hates me that day, it’ll get stuck. You just gotta-” he watched as you jolted your body at the door, a faux shoulder check, “as you turn the key.”

Knowing he would most likely break your door if he bashed his shoulder against it, he opted to just tap it lightly, or at least his version of lightly. It didn’t take a lot of effort for him, the door opening with a creak as the deadbolt finally retracted. With a relieved noise, you entered your apartment, dumping the groceries on the first available surface as Logan pulled the key from the door. 

“God, I owe you one,” you exhaled, returning to Logan who stood in the doorway. “Thank you…” you trailed off, an unspoken question. 

“Logan.” He stuck out his hand, hating the way he hesitated momentarily, hand flinching back.

If you caught it, he had no idea. A warm smile crept across your face as you took his hand, giving him your own name in return. Your hand was warm, gentle in his grip, soft fingers dragging across his palm as you pulled your hand away. It nearly made him shiver. 

Repeating your name, he took this moment to let his eyes wander, to take in your features. He wasn’t blind; you were stunning. The kind of stunning you see out of the corner of your eye, that stops you right in your tracks. The kind of pretty that you remember, that sticks in your mind like a parasite. 

You were shorter than him, but that didn’t surprise him; he towered over most people. But he wouldn’t deny that something primal in him loved the fact that he was taller than you. He stopped his mind from wandering further, but the idea warmed his blood, an inaudible inhale pulled through his nose.

And when you grinned, a bashful laugh escaping your lungs at the way he whispered your name, he couldn’t help but smile in return. He felt like a goddamn kid, stumbling in front of his crush like a fool. But he kept a calm face, ignoring the way his heart began to patter in his chest. 

“You must be Wade’s new roommate, then.”

That caught his attention. “You talk to him, then?”

“More like he talks at me,” you muttered, making Logan chuckle lightly. 

“Yeah, that sounds like him.”

“I was just trying to do my laundry in peace, kept talking about multiverses and ‘Void’ and TVA, and then you. Thought he’d gotten into Al’s stash. Again. Guess I was the fool for not believing him,” you gestured to Logan. 

“Unfortunately, he was tellin’ the truth.”

You hummed curiously, an inquisitive glint in your eye that he couldn’t decide if he liked or not. You opened your mouth, about to speak, before loud yowling from behind you cut you off, making you turn away from him. It was like he could breathe properly again, without the heat of your gaze. 

“Maize,” you admonished, yet with no real bite as you watched the cat that snuck between your legs. It was a brown tabby, on the smaller side, yet with the largest ears he’d ever seen on a cat. In response, the feline let out another yowl, making you shake your head. 

“Maize? As in-”

“Corn, yes. I found her in a cornfield, back a few years ago on a road trip. Silly name, I know. Isn’t that right, Maize?”

Maize meowed in response, not even glancing at Logan. 

“You’re five minutes late to giving them dinner, and they act like you’re starving them.” You sighed melodramatically. 

“Sounds like a roommate.”

“Wade gets on his hands and knees and meows and screams at you until you give him food?” You paused, reconsidering your question. “Actually, it wouldn’t surprise me if he does.” He chuckled when you shuddered at the idea. “I’ll take the cat over… that.”

“If I could do the same, I would.”

“I’m sure there’s something you could do to change that. Though I figure he’d find a way to still talk your head off, even without human vocal cords.” Once again, you paused, this time a flicker of self-consciousness flashed across your face. “And here I am, talking your head off. As if you don’t have enough of that at your place.”

Strangely enough, Logan felt disappointed that the conversation was ending, instead of the usual relief he felt. “You’re doin’ nothin’ of the sort. Promise.”

You seemed to believe him, relief replacing self-consciousness, your lips turning into a soft smile. The sight made his stomach flip. “I won’t keep you any longer. Thank you again, for earlier. It was nice to finally meet you, Logan.”

Once again, he waved off your thanks. “It was nothin’. I’ll see you around?” He hoped he didn’t sound desperate. He used to be so suave, back when he was younger. He used to have everyone wrapped around his finger, them waiting for his next word with bated breath. Now he second-guessed everything he said, praying that he wasn’t crossing a line. He hated it. 

Thankfully, you didn’t seem put off by his question. In fact, a small smile, one softer than all the rest crept up your face, your voice hushed as you responded. “I’ll see you around. Have a good night, Logan.”

He already loved hearing you say his name, even though it didn’t feel worthy to be utter by your lips. You said it like it wasn’t something tainted, scorned, shameful. It was a clean slate, he realized. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

He hadn’t even registered that he’d let the petname slip until after he shut the door, squeezing his eyes shut and regretting every decision he’d ever made. That was until he heard a soft oh being whispered from the other side of the door, and he exhaled a sigh of relief, grateful that he hadn’t royally fucked everything up on the first introduction. 

He felt strange as he walked back to his apartment, a weird confidence in his system that he hadn’t felt in years. There was a small smile on his face when he walked in, one that did not go unnoticed by Wade, who was sitting on the couch when he walked in. 

He thought he could slip to his room unnoticed. How wrong he was. 

“What’s got you smiling like that?” A gasp left him. “Did you finally get laid?”

And just like that, his smile vanished. It was funny, how quickly Wade could do that.

“Shut the fuck up,” he glared at the merc, who looked like a cat who caught the canary. 

“You didn’t say no though,” he responded in a sing-song manner. “So, who’s the lucky girl? Or guy? Or person? Hell, it doesn’t even have to be a human, though I would prefer it if you keep the beast-”

“I didn’t get laid,” Logan ran an exasperated hand over his face. “Because you need to know, I met our neighbor,” he gestured with his head to the apartment next door.

Wade said your name, and he nodded in confirmation, something he immediately regretted when a shit-eating smirk appeared on his scarred face. “And they’ve got you smiling like you’ve just gotten the best fucking head in your life.”

“They didn’t-”

“You wished they did, though,” he waggled his non-existent brows, and Logan was silent for a second too long. “Ah, you’ve got a crush, you old sap!”

“You realize how fucking childish that sounds?”

Wade clicked his tongue. “And, once again, your lack of denial is very telling. I can’t blame you though. They’re quite the catch.” A loud wolf whistle cut through the air. “We used to have a thing, back in the day.”

“You… did?”

“Well, it was more of me flirting and asking them out, and them shutting me down every time. But it was romantic.” A dramatic, dreamy sigh escaped Wade before he raised a brow at Logan’s tense stance. “Ooh, did the idea of me touchin’ them upset you? Jealousy is a good look on you, peanut. The green looks good with all that yellow you wear.” He paused. “Or is it possessiveness? You know, a lot of people find that attractive.”

Wade’s ability to take one small thing and blow it out of proportion stunned him. He was truly at a loss for words, but luckily he was talking to the guy who never ran out of them. “So what are you doing here?”

“Whaddya mean?”

Wade sighed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why aren’t you over at their place, you know-” crude finger motions followed his words, and if he weren’t so used to it, he would’ve been embarrassed. “I’ve been dying to hear them get some action. They’ve gotta be lonely, just them and their cat. They’re a bit young to be going full ‘old crazy cat lady’.”

“And that’s just the reason.” Wade cocked his head to the side. “They’re young. Fuck, I’m old enough to be their dad, at least.”

“And that’s an issue because?” Logan was about to respond but was quickly cut off by the other man. “Look, are they a fully matured, consenting adult?”

He didn’t know your age, but if he had to guess, you were somewhere in your mid-twenties. So, he nodded to Wade’s question. 

“Do you hold authority over them? Are you their teacher, their boss, fuckin’ parole officer?”

He nodded no, furrowing his brows. 

“Did they seem put off by you, uncomfortable in any way? Reaching for weapons, looking for ways to escape, threatening you?”

“Is that from experience?”

“Just answer the question,” he responded through a forced smile, teeth gritted. 

“No, they didn’t.”

“Ding ding ding!” Wade chirped, the furrow between Logan’s brow deepening at the noise. “You’ve passed my ‘Am I A Pervert?’ test with flying colors! I’m fresh out of gold stars, though. But you are clear to go get ‘em!”

“I think we’re gettin’ a bit ahead of ourselves,” Logan backtracked. “I’ve just met them.”

“And whose fault is that, you reclusive fuck?” Yet again, he wasn’t given a chance to respond. “Now’s the chance to talk to them! And then-” crude fingers once again were demonstrated by the other man. 

He walked away at this point, shaking his head at Wade’s “advice”. Guilt ate away at him for thinking and talking about you the way they had; he had to put an end to it. You deserved far better, anyway. 

Yet he found his traitorous mind still wandering to you for the rest of the night, a feeling of longing that he hadn’t felt in so long. 

He was fucked. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

He had a job now, working in construction in the city. It had been some time since he’d had a “normal” job, but he liked the structure of it. The purpose it brought. And sure, his other skills were used from time to time, but there weren’t any world-ending threats that needed to be taken care of right now. For right now, he got to pretend that he was just Logan. 

Because of his job, it meant that he was out the door before the sun rose, and back home late, different from the 9-to-5 schedule that most other people followed. Up until now, he loved it; he didn’t have to see people as he walked down the hallway, traffic wasn’t busy, and he got to just keep his head down and walk. 

He hated it now. It was ridiculous, the way his eyes now wandered to your door as he passed it, hoping to catch a glimpse of you again. It had been about five days since your initial introduction, and he’d yet to run into you again.

It was another late night as he climbed up the apartment complex’s stairs. If he was any other man, his muscles would've ached from a hard day’s work, but the only exhaustion he could feel was in his mind; it was tiring, getting ordered around all day.

As he reached his floor, the jingling of keys caught his attention, and he was unable to hide the smile on his face when he heard your voice. Making sure his boots stopped against the stairs, he rounded the bend and was met with the sight of you once again trying to get into your apartment, your hands free of any groceries this time.

“You really ought to get that lock replaced.”

He didn’t scare you this time, thankfully. “I’ve put in a request, but that was at least a month ago,” you sighed.

“I could replace it for you.” It slipped out so easily, not even having to think about offering you his help.

You blinked at him, clearly not expecting it. “You… you don’t have to do that.”

“Maybe not. But I’m offering.”

He watched as you tried the lock again but to no avail. It seemed to finalize your decision, a heavy sigh leaving you. “You really would? I… I’ll pay you back. For the new lock.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’ve got it covered.”

Instead of simply hearing your reaction, he got to see the way your eyes widened and then ducked down to avoid his glance. You bit back a smile, though he could still see the corners of your lips curl up, your attempt unsuccessful. “Then at least let me make you dinner, or something,” you countered. 

He could hear the warning bells going off in his mind. He was getting too close; you deserved far better than an old mutant like him. Not to mention the fact that you were still so young. But he was already caught up in the idea of spending some time alone with you, and his heart answered before his mind could. Besides, this wasn’t going to be romantic. He could just be friends with you. Right? “It’s a deal, then.”

He wasn’t expecting you to stick out your hand, but he certainly wasn’t going to deny himself a chance to feel you again. “It’s a deal,” you agreed as he shook your hand. You were still so gentle, barely squeezing his hand; it had been so long since he’d been treated that way.  “Say, you wanna get me into my apartment?” You asked, and he pulled his hand away as you presented your keys with your hand. They jingled as you wiggled them, and he caught a glimpse of a small cat keychain. Cute. 

My apartment is always open, is what he would've said if he, A, lived alone, and B, not still worried about crossing a line. Instead, he kept his mouth shut as he grabbed the keys, playfully rolling his eyes as it was the most laborious task he’d ever been asked to do. That made you giggle, a soft “Thank you, Logan,” being uttered. Screw his job; this made him feel of use, purposeful. Even if it was to just get your door open. He almost wished he didn’t offer to fix the lock, just so that you’d come to him whenever you needed to get in. 

Just like the first time, it only took a light tap from his shoulder as he turned the key for the door to open. “You make it look so easy.” Your eyes ran over his body, across the broad expanse of his shoulders, down his muscular arms, to his forearms that peeked out from beneath his flannel. It was subtle, but your eyes widened a fraction, a reaction that really shouldn’t have made him feel as good as it did. 

He just shrugged, pretending like your not-so-subtle ogling didn’t get his heart hammering. Holding the door open, you ducked beneath his outstretched arm, pulling the keys from the door as you did. “I’ll come and fix it tomorrow.”

Your widened eyes narrowed; he realized you’d momentarily forgotten about his offer, too distracted by him. God, you weren’t even doing anything on purpose, and you’ve got him losing his mind. “I’m lookin’ forward to it.” He could tell you were sincere, a dazzling smile on your face. “See you soon, Logan.”

Your smile was the last thing he saw before he shut the door behind you.

To say he was distracted at work the next day would be an understatement. 

He was a grown-ass man, yet he was as excited as a kid on Christmas when he walked home, stopping by a store to pick up the new deadbolt lock. But beyond the excitement, he could feel his nerves, buzzing and alight after years of dormancy. He then had to remind himself that this wasn’t a date; this was purely platonic. He was just being a good neighbor. Still, that didn’t stop the small shake in his hand as he raised it and knocked on your door. 

For a moment, he worried that you weren’t home after about a minute passed without a response. But just as he was about to knock again, the door swung open, and you stood looking a bit disheveled on the other side. “Sorry,” you panted, “had to wrangle Maize into my bedroom. Don’t want her dashing out while the door’s open.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

With that, you stepped back into your apartment, wordlessly letting Logan in. Stepping in, he glanced around at the new surroundings, at the space you called yours. Blankets and pillows adorned the couch in the living room on the right, and your kitchen on the left. He saw a pot on the stove and could hear the rapid popping of bubbles as the water in it boiled. The scent of garlic and tomatoes filled the air, something that made his stomach rumble. 

“Do you wanna eat before or after?”

Ah, the lock. Glancing at the plastic bag in his hand, as well as a few tools he’d grabbed, he shrugged. “It shouldn’t take me too long. Ten minutes, max.”

“That’s how long the pasta needs to cook for, so after, then.” You paused a flicker of disbelief on your face. “Only ten minutes?”

“Yeah, about. Why?”

You shook your head, chuckling softly. “You’d think with the way they ignored my request that it would've taken fifty years, but it’s that quick?” Shaking your head again, you turned into the kitchen, your back now to Logan. He took this time to glance around your place, your decorations, the pictures you had framed on the wall. “Thank you, again.”

He was getting distracted. “You don’t gotta keep thanking me, sweetheart,” he responded, making his way to the door and opening it. The sound of splashing water hit his ears as you added the water, slightly louder than what would’ve been expected. It was as if your hands slipped as you poured the pasta. 

He got to work, then, easily able to unscrew and remove the faulty deadbolt lock, setting it aside to be discarded later. He was just about to start installing the new one when he heard you drag out a chair and sit in it, presumably at the table in the kitchen as you waited for the pasta to cook. He could feel your eyes on him, but he found that he didn’t mind. Not at all. 

About of minute of silence passed, the sound of bubbling water filling the air. “You replace a lot of locks?”

“Not a frequent pastime of mine, no. But I’m good with my hands.” 

He caught the double meaning too late, grateful that his back was turned so that you couldn’t see his reaction. But that meant he couldn’t see yours, a cruel price to pay. He knew that if he concentrated, he could’ve used his enhanced senses to know, yet something about that made him feel dirty. 

“You a handyman, then?” He swore your voice was airier than it was before, but maybe he was being delusional.

“Close. Construction.”

“That explains it…”

“Explains what?”

“Your… muscles. It makes sense, then.”

He realized then that you probably had no idea who he was. Who he truly was. He was unsure if a version of him lived on this Earth, and if that version had been a mutant like him. Or maybe they were just a regular human, woven into the thread of society, instead of sticking out like a frayed string. In response to you, he just grunted noncommittally.

“You’re not just a construction worker, are you?”

He stilled, damn near dropping his screwdriver. 

“No offense to construction workers, but I don’t think Wade would’ve dragged one around on his ‘adventure’ if there wasn’t something else to them.”

He turned his head to look at you now and was met with your back as you stirred the pot. But upon his extended silence, you too turned a frown on your lips. “Sorry, that was too much. I- I didn’t mean to pry. You don’t have to answer that.”

The thing was, he wanted to answer you, something he’d never wanted to do before. There was nothing he hated more than questions, but when they came from you, he found that he didn’t mind them. Yet he had no clue how you would react to the truth, and he’d be pissed at himself if he scared you off. “You’re not… wrong,” he began. “I…”

“You don’t have to answer me now. Or ever. But, I should have you know, it probably won’t be the strangest thing I’ve heard. There’s been a lot of crazy shit the last ten years, let’s just say.”

Grateful for the topic change, he resumed screwing the new lock into place. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

You weren’t kidding. The next couple of minutes were filled with you telling him about the various takeovers and attacks on the city and across the world. There was Loki, Ultron, and then something called “The Blip”, just to name a few. “Maybe that explains the cheap rent.”

By this time, he had installed the new lock, making his way to the kitchen. It caught him off guard, how domestic it felt, a deep pining for a life he’d never had, and would never have. It was nice to imagine, though. It had only been about seven minutes, beating the food’s timer. The jangling of keys caught your attention, turning away from the stove to glance at Logan. “Done already?”

He nodded, holding out your new keys. “Go ‘head and try it.”

The smile on your face was infectious as he dropped the keys into your outstretched palm. When you closed the door, he locked it, and even though he trusted his work, he was still relieved to hear the smooth click as the deadbolt retracted, without you having to slam your shoulder in the door. 

Your giddy laughter is what he heard when you came back in, and knowing he was the cause of it made his pride swell. “God, I know you don’t want me to say it again, but thank you. Go on, sit,” you gestured to the table, “You’ve done more than enough for me today.”

The yowling of a cat cut into the conversation, followed by the scratching of wood as Maize pawed at the bedroom door. “Should probably let her out now. Don’t want her to tear apart my stuff,” you muttered to yourself, about to step away to do so.

“I’ve got it.” 

“Logan-”

“I’ve got it,” he repeated, not leaving any room for argument.

You conceded rather quickly, a huff of air leaving you. “Alright. It’s the first door on the left,” you pointed down to the small hallway. “Th-”

A brow raise from him was all it took to get you to stop your unnecessary thanks, a bashful smile appearing on your lips. Shaking his head with a small laugh, he followed your directions, opening up your bedroom.

Immediately, the small brown tabby stuck her head out the door, hesitating when she realized it wasn’t her owner on the other side. A small, pink nose sniffed, large ears flicked back as she took in the unfamiliar scent, her hackles raising slightly. 

Bending down, Logan offered a hand to the feline, who inspected it with weary eyes. But when he didn’t make a move, Maize relaxed some, extending her head so that she could sniff his hand. After a few moments, her ears flicked back up, hackles lowered, and he took that as the go-ahead to pet her. 

Maize let him pet her for all of ten seconds, before scampering out the door and disappearing to somewhere in the apartment. “Are you a cat person, Logan?” He heard you ask as he made his way back to the kitchen. The pasta, spaghetti, he now saw, had been drained, and you were currently dishing up servings for both of you. 

Finally sitting, he flashed you a grateful smile when you set a plate down in front of him, but no matter how badly his hungry stomach wanted to, he didn’t dig in yet. “Not particularly. But I don’t mind ‘em.”

With a hum that made it seem like you didn’t quite believe his indifference, you quickly finished setting the table, setting your own plate opposite of his. “You want something to drink? I’m afraid I don’t have a lot of variety, I… I don’t get a lot of guests.”

It was at that moment Wade’s words came trickling back into his mind. You lived alone, that much was clear, but it seemed there wasn’t anyone sharing your company. It sparked a bit of hope in his chest, something he immediately stomped out. This didn’t mean anything, as much as he wanted it to. 

“You got whiskey?”

He expected the shake of your head. “I’ve got a bottle of red wine that’s covered in cobwebs. Can’t guarantee it’s anything spectacular.”

“If that’s what you’re having, then I’ll take it too.”

Before long, two glasses of wine joined the plates, and you were about to seat yourself before Logan stood, pulling out your chair. He hadn’t lost all of his manners, it seemed. Your wide eyes crinkled as you smiled, not expecting him to help you in, but letting him do so nonetheless. 

A comfortable silence fell over you two as you began to eat, something that was broken by an appreciative noise from Logan. You paused mid-bite, your expression unreadable. “Is it good?”

“Delicious,” he responded. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a proper meal like this?”

A flicker of relief flashed across your face. “You don’t cook much?”

“Fuckin’ terrible at it. Don’t have much time for it, anyway.”

“Well, I always make too much, so if you’re ever hungry…”

How could he tell you there was a different hunger festering in his gut, something that only you could satiate? “You’re spoiling me,” is what he said instead. “I might just have to take you up on that.”

“Please do.”

The rest of dinner was filled with comfortable chatter, questions being asked on both sides. He learned more about you, your job, where you went to school, where you grew up. And with every sentence that left your lips, he found that little “crush”, as Wade called it, sinking its claws deeper into his heart, sharper than the ones in his hands. 

You were so animated when you talked, your eyes lighting up when Logan implored further like you couldn’t really believe that he cared. You were interesting, yet in a normal person's way. It had been so long since he simply talked with someone who wasn’t like him, who wasn’t enhanced, mutated, whatever. He found he rather enjoyed it, and not just because it was you, although that part did help significantly.

The conversation continued even after the plates were empty and the wine drunk. He found it so easy to talk to you. There weren’t any expectations, any judgments, nothing like that. You were innocently curious, with no ulterior motive behind your questions. You just wanted to get to know him. He was fully prepared for you to ask more about him not just being a construction worker, but you never asked. He couldn’t tell if it relieved him.

He also couldn’t tell if you wanted more. 

Sure, your eyes wandered as he spoke, running over his exposed skin, where his flannel and shirt didn’t cover. And when he did eventually shrug off his top layer, resting in on the chair back behind him, he watched as your eyes jumped to his arms, trying your damnest to be subtle. 

But he just wasn’t sure. Would you recoil if he were to brush against your fingers, where your hand sat outstretched on the table? Would you be uncomfortable, disgusted, if he were to cross that line? Would this whole thing crash and burn before it even left the ground? Was this even a thing?

So he kept his desire locked tight, some of it escaping in small compliments and light, teasing remarks. And he spent the rest of the night wondering what if.

But eventually, like all good things, the night had to end. He hadn’t even realized how late it was until you yawned, stretching back on the couch the two of you had migrated to. You sat on one end, Logan on the other, a full cushion’s distance between you, which was occupied by a cat. You rested your back against the armrest, knees tucked up into your chest, reaching down to mindlessly pet Maize. 

Glancing over at the clock on the stove, he cursed. “Shit, I didn’t even realize how late it was.” He wasn’t kidding, having gotten so caught up talking with you. To him, it only felt like an hour had passed, at most. 

But he now saw the way your eyes drooped, though there was still a small smile on your face, one that hadn’t really faltered the entire night. “It’s alright. I didn’t either,” you chuckled, leaning back as you stretched. He had to force his eyes to your face so that he didn’t watch the way your shirt rode up. “God, I haven’t talked that long in… years.”

“Me neither. I’m surprised you haven’t gotten fuckin’ sick of the sound of my voice.”

“Nah, I don’t think that’s possible. You… never mind.” The way your eyes widened, he realized you were about to say more than you intended.

Well, now he was curious. And the tiniest bit hopeful. “You…?” 

You weren’t looking at him anymore, staring holes into your cat. “You have a nice voice,” you whispered, barely audible. 

Logan has heard enough pick-up lines, enough flirtatious remarks to fill up a book, yet none of them got his body warming like your simple compliment. Sure, you weren’t confident in your delivery, but it was honest, not just said to get him in your bed. “You think so?” He hadn’t meant to pitch his voice lower, but he knew you weren’t complaining. 

You had lifted your head more upon not hearing his rejection of your compliment, and he watched as your throat bobbed as you swallowed, nervous. “Yeah,” your voice was breathy, but he couldn’t tell if it was from nerves or desire. 

He wanted to touch you. He craved it more than any cigar, any drink. His fingers twitched from where his arm sat slung over the back of the couch, and he watched as your eyes flicked to them. But he didn’t move, no matter how badly he wanted to. The ball was in your court now. 

“I-I should probably let you get home.”

He tried to not feel the sting of rejection. You probably should, before something happens that you’ll regret. “Yeah, okay.” With a tense smile, he eased himself up from the couch, you following behind him, the cat by your feet now glaring angrily at you for disturbing her rest. 

Picking up his flannel from the dining chair, he felt your eyes on him as he moved, everything about your demeanor now uncertain. But he didn’t push it; you made your choice for tonight, and he’d never force you to choose otherwise, no matter how much he wished you would. 

It was when he stood in your doorway that he finally turned to face you. “Thank you, for dinner,” he smiled, this one less forced. “And for the company.”

“I should be the one thanking you, but I know you’d just tell me I’ve thanked you enough,” you chuckled, some of the tension dissipating. “I… I had a good time tonight.”

“I wasn’t kidding, earlier. I’d like… you’re welcome over, anytime. For whatever reason.”

And just like that, that little flicker of hope that he’d held the entire night reignited. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

That made you grin. “Good. I’m home pretty much every night, so don’t be afraid to knock. I’ll see you later, Logan.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

He liked the way you ducked your head when you were a bit embarrassed. “Goodnight.”

It was nearly midnight when he arrived home, getting the shit scared out of him when Wade sat up, Frankenstein-style, from the couch. “Fuck,” he grumbled, retracting his claws back into his hand, though he considered slashing into the other man for startling him. The only thing that held him back was that he didn’t want to have to clean the blood out from the couch. Again. 

“Earth to Logan,” Wade knocked against his own head. “Anyone home?”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t dignify him with a response. Wade, of course, didn’t like that, jumping from the couch and cutting Logan off as he tried to head to his room. “What’s got you so distracted?” Wade continued. “Maybe a certain… neighbor?”

He really needed to get better at not hesitating before he responded, Wade’s eyes widening as Logan’s lack of response answered yet another question. “Oh, shit. Oh, shit!” An almost victorious laugh left him, punching Logan in the shoulder. He didn’t budge, a scowl appearing on his face, which was almost like a second skin. 

Despite what an outsider might think, Logan didn’t hate Wade. He would never admit it, but he rather enjoyed the eccentric man’s company; he was opposite to him in so many ways, offering a new perspective. He’s talked about many a subject with Wade, and never once had there been a topic that he didn’t want Wade’s input on. 

Until now. 

He couldn’t stand the fact that Wade was talking about you, talking about his “relationship” with you. Maybe Wade was right. Maybe he was possessive. But for once in his life, he wanted something that was just his. He wanted to create something without the help of others, something without outside influence. 

But he was never good with his words. And he was certain that Wade would never let it go if he tried to explain why he hated hearing your name leave his mouth. So he just grumbled a familiar, “Fuck off,” hoping Wade got the message.

Wade, as he should’ve expected, didn’t get it. Or he just chose to ignore the warning in his voice. Either way, Wade continued on like Logan hadn’t uttered a word. “You were over at their place, weren’t you?” 

There were some days he swore that Wade could read his mind. “I was fixing their door,” was what he finally muttered, indirectly agreeing to his question. 

“And that took,” Wade glanced down at his wrist, which was notably absent of any watch, “Almost five hours? Didn’t realize rearranging their-”

“For the love of- there was none of that. I fixed their door, they made me dinner, and then we talked.” He didn’t dare mention that he had been on your couch, your compliment still ringing in his ears. 

“Talked?”

“Yes.” A scoff from Wade made him scowl. “What?”

“Did you lose your balls in the Void? You didn’t make a single move? Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

“It wasn’t like that. They don’t-”

“Oh, but they do. God, I forgot all your stats were put into strength, you dense fucker. People don’t spend hours talking to someone they're not interested in. And they don’t just make dinner for anyone.” He paused. “What did they make, anyway?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “Pasta.”

“With wine?”

A singular nod. 

It nearly startled him, the bark of laughter that left Wade. “Oh, my sweet summer child,” two scarred hands now rested on Logan’s cheeks, and he was too confused to brush them off. “They wanna fuck you.”

That snapped Logan out of his confused daze, slapping Wade’s hands away with more force than was necessary. It wasn’t like he could do lasting damage, anyway. “Those have no correlation, you dumbass.”

“Uh, have you ever seen The Lady and the Tramp? You know, the one with the two dogs, and then the spaghetti, and then they fu-”

“I don’t think that’s how the movie goes-”

Wade waved him off. “What I’m trying to say is that they made, like, the most romantic dinner for you, and you didn’t think that they wanted you?”

This was another reason why he shouldn’t talk to Wade about this; he was getting his hopes up. With a huff, he shoved past Wade, who, thankfully, let him go. At least, only a few feet.

“Did they invite you back?”

He debated ignoring him, but the serious tone Wade had taken intrigued him. “Yeah, whenever I want.”

“And do you plan on it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Don’t lose this. Don’t lose them. You… you’ll regret it.” There was a pause, the fresh familiarity to Wade’s words made him stumble. But just as that sincerity appeared, it vanished, Wade clapping his hands together. “Well, I’ll be sure to steer clear of your door tonight, while you work out your… frustrations. Sweet dream, peanut.”

Logan just grumbled something in response, failing to see the small, rare frown that pulled at Wade’s lips, and failing to notice the way his words had fallen flat, how forced they’d seemed. He was too caught up in his own thoughts, the events of the night playing on repeat in his mind.

He doesn’t even remember getting ready for bed that night. He was suddenly in his bed, which felt colder than it had ever felt before, too large for his body alone. And his mind would shut up, no matter how much he pleaded with it to be silent.

Was Wade right? Had you wanted more? Do you still want more? Or had his cowardice driven you to believe that he wasn’t interested? If he knocked on your door right now and explained himself, would you let him in, or slam the door back on his face? If he had made a move, would things have played out differently? Would he have not spent the night alone, then?

Not only were questions bouncing around freely, but he couldn’t stop thinking about you. How sweet you’d been, almost sickly, enough to make his teeth rot. Your gentle smile, the one that made fucking butterflies erupt in his stomach. Your laugh, fuck, your laugh was addicting. And it was even more so when he was the one who caused it. 

Wade was wrong. His mind didn’t wander to improper images conjured up by a lustful mind, even though he expected him to. No, the images that repeated in his mind were completely innocent, yet the tension building in his abdomen, the tightening of his pants told another story. You hadn’t even done anything to elicit this kind of reaction, yet here he was, like a horny fucking teenager. He felt pathetic, honestly. 

It would be so easy, to sneak a hand down, to pretend like his hand was yours, and relieve that ache. But as soon as he began to inch his fingers downward, guilt hit him like a goddamn train. He’d never be able to look you in the eye if he fucked his fist to the thought of you. It was wrong, to say the least. He barely knew you, and no matter how much his heart wanted to believe that you wanted him, he still didn’t know.

Clenching his hands so hard that his nails tore into the flesh of his palm, he flipped over in his bed with a pained noise, but not because of the self-inflicted injury. Longing cut deeper than any wound that had ever torn his body, and guilt was the salt to it. 

He didn’t sleep well that night.

sleepy makeout session with logan save me.... save me sleepy makeout session with logan... save me

THE GRAVE OF LUST

a/n: this is a very random idea i had of logan not necessarily being able to go at it as he used to. which like yes i love the thought of getting my back snapped by a more energetic logan. this version of him has my heart in ways i'll never be able to explain. it's short but enjoy! divider by the lovely @saradika-graphics.

summary: when his body doesn't work as it used to and the weary bones that poison his soul begin to ache, you take the lead in a dance you know well.

OR giving old man logan sloppy head that he'll think about in the grave and after.

word count: 2k

pairing: old man!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, weary old man logan, domestic vibes, oral (m receiving), spit kink, cumplay, dirty talk, he may be older but he's filthier, unedited + not betad but we live and die by the fucking pen.

He doesn't touch you quickly anymore. His hands don't shove clothes off your curves and grasp your flesh with a growl of impatience. No, he no longer holds the stamina of a younger him who could spend hours between your thighs. His bones are weary, old phantom wounds ache where they shouldn't, and he feels himself step closer to his grave with each day that passes.

His hands move at a steady pace, tugging the fabric of your nightgown up inch by inch. Sleep lingers at the edge of his mind. The knowledge that he'll have to get up early with the sun still hidden from the sky. Yet you'll be here asleep—dreaming of his calloused palms on your soft skin. How he burned himself into your ribs with a kiss.

"C'mere," he mumbled, eyes narrowed and lips parted with a deep withered breath. "Let me touch you."

Denial would be a false tale on your tongue. Depriving yourself of him wasn't an option anymore. When times like this were found few and far between and his touch became a lingering memory in the back of your mind.

You couldn't remember the last time you tasted him. The last time he sunk into your wet heat with a solid groan—the muscles of his back screaming as he held his body above yours.

Age was cruel to a man who used to be so virile. He could recall the hours he took to worship your body—mold you beneath the warmth of his palms. But doing that more often wasn't something he was capable of. He still longed for you. The sounds you made, the way your face twisted in pleasure as you came on his cock, fingers, face. He craved it some nights. He felt it eat him alive.

Tonight was no different.

"How?" you breathed, eyes wide and pleading.

You were so fucking sweet he didn't even have to convince you of this. So ready to let him bring you to that peak of bliss. He could smell the heady scent of your pussy—the way it called to him with shouts of need. And if he was a younger man...he'd have you pinned beneath him. He'd hammer his hips into yours until bruises formed beneath the skin—down into the very muscles of your legs.

His graying hair and weathered face did nothing to stop the lust that poured into your face. Your eyes still drooped, mouth open and chest heaving. And Logan was a fortunate fucking man that you were still here.

So unlike his younger self, he let you take the lead.

"Can I touch you?" you asked so nicely. He groaned at the sound of it, jutting his chin down in a nod as you grasped the button of his jeans.

Any other night you'd let him take you. Give into his languid touches until you came wherever he wanted you to come. This was a rarity the longer you spent bound together by the strings of fate.

Logan fucking loved it. He ached for it on days spent away from you—time he'd never get back. But when he'd find his way home and curl his body around yours, he found that sleep was a better option. You'd heartily agree. If it wasn't for the pounding ache between your thighs each time you caught his eye. Each chance you got to see the thick arms and sun kissed skin that lay beneath his white button downs.

"Been dreamin' about this." His voice echoed with a rasp you'd grown to love. One that screamed exhaustion, yet licked a line of heat up your spine. "Such pretty fuckin' lips."

His thumb dug into the curve of your bottom lip, pulling at it until your mouth popped open. Allowing his finger to press against your tongue—saliva building at the thought of getting him in your mouth. Of him using your throat to get himself off.

You didn't even care if you finished. You just wanted to feel him.

"You're my good girl right?" A moan spilled past your spread lips, eyes fluttering when his pants slipped down and cock came free. "Yeah you are."

"Logan," you sighed. He dragged your spit across your cheek; thumb and forefinger gripped your chin to tilt your head close enough to kiss him. Only to hold you there.

"Keep 'em open baby."

The feel of his length throbbing so close to your chest—precum dotting the tip—drove you mad. You wanted him closer. Wanted to feel the bruising ache at the back of your throat as he pushed too far. Your fingers wrapped around him gently, causing him to hiss at your cold touch. The reminder to take it slow, savor him, rang in your ears. Yet the way he looked at you with a feral hunger you felt in your heart shoved those thoughts to the side.

Within his life there's only been a handful of moments he wished he could go back to. Nearly all of them were with you on nights such as this. When the moon hung low in the sky and dawn felt eons away. If he was lucky he wouldn't have to wake up tomorrow, he'd get to wake up naked by your side and bury himself in your pretty cunt.

Logan was rarely lucky.

His spit landed on your tongue, splattering against the corner of your mouth. He led your mouth down with a firm grip until you hovered directly over his cock. The dark red at the tip made you clench around nothing—the ache spreading to the base of your stomach. Screaming for you to take it. Put your mouth on him and make him finish down your throat.

"There we go," he murmured, watching his spit and yours fall from your mouth—landing directly on his twitching cock. "Pretty ain't it."

"Yeah," you gasped, nails digging into the v of his hips. "Can I taste you? Please."

The deep echo of his laugh shot through your body like a bullet. You could feel it burrow deep within, spreading across each nerve ending and vein. Being so close to what you wanted felt like torture, but with Logan you knew it would be worth it in the end. He never left you wanting.

"'Course honey." His hand cupped the back of your neck, leading you with a soft touch. "It's yours."

Yours. Yours. Yours.

With a moan, you wrapped your lips around the head of him—tongue sliding through the slit. A ragged groan tore from his chest, his eyes boring a hole into the side of your face. The knowledge that he was so far gone for you left a pleasant thrill of warmth to grow in your stomach. This strong, capable man would bend at his knees simply to see you smile.

He was your devotee and you'd become his goddess.

"Fuckin' perfect." His words were a spit of need, fingers digging down into your skin with each flick of your tongue.

You merely held him there. In your mouth with spit coating the hand wrapped around the base of him. His taste flooded your mouth, each drop a nectar you would never have enough of. And he let you have your fill. He lay still on the bed, his breaths coupled with moans as you took your time.

Slipping him a bit deeper, you felt his thighs shift beneath you—a shuddered sigh echoing the small bedroom. You'd barely begun and yet he felt the high of dizziness begin to pull at his mind. Effectively killing whatever sleep called out to him.

"Take a little more for me." He sounded gone. Your lips spread into a smile, bobbing your head and swallowing a bit more with each small thrust. "Fuck yeah. Just like that."

He pushed at the back of your throat, your jaw strained under the width of him. Tears spilled from the corner of your eyes, slipping down your cheeks. And he caught them with his thumb, mixing the salt with what spit of his still remained along your skin. Tilting your head slightly, you felt him slip down your throat—your nose finding the graying curls at his base.

The loud growl that ripped through his body was all the reward you needed. He was on the fucking edge. Barely hanging on by the skin of his teeth. And he knew you could tell. His thighs jolted—stomach tensing—and when your hand slipped down to tug at his balls, thumb finding the spot between, he lost it.

Snarling your name, he thrust his hips up into your mouth and felt you choke on him. Your throat constricted perfectly with each cant of his hips down into you. He gave you the opportunity to push him off—get some air down your lungs. You let him keep going—eyes fixed on the way his face screwed up in pleasure. His teeth bared and throat extended.

Another push of your thumb sent him flying over the edge with a shout. The salty tang of him filled your mouth, spilling down your throat with rope after rope of cum. And you swallowed it all despite the searing burn that spread along your esophagus. You took every fucking drop of him and allowed some to remain on your tongue.

To prove that you could take whatever he wanted to give.

"I fuckin' love you," he breathed, cupping your jaw and grinning when you stuck out your tongue—a pool of his spend dripping down your chin.

His fingers scooped it out of your mouth before you could swallow. "Up." He slapped your ass, moving you up and into his lap. "Your turn."

"I’m okay."

The glare he gave you burned its way to your lungs. "Good girls get rewarded." His fingers dipped down beneath your nightgown—pleased to find you bare—and spread his cum along the lips of your pussy. "Don't you want your reward bub?"

"Yes," you whimpered, gripping at his hair. "I do."

"Then take it."

Refusing was no longer an option when the bliss you'd been searching for finally flared to life in your body. His fingers plunged into you, curling and seeking the spot he always found with ease. And with a sharp gasp—your hand yanking at his hair—he knew he'd found it. He smiled at the sight of you. Head back and eyes shut as you fucked yourself on his hand.

"Tell me," he said. Gripping your chin, his lips met yours in a messy kiss of teeth and tongues. He could taste himself in your mouth. His chest rumbled with a soft sigh.

"I love you." The base of his hand ground into your clit, fingers pounding up quicker—faster. And your words pitched high with each thrust.

"I know you do." He kissed your throat, the heat of your body rubbing against his made his cock twitch in interest again. "Love you too baby."

"Fuck!" The coil in your stomach began to unravel rapidly, your body shattering into pieces you'd never find again. And he clutched you tightly to his chest. He watched in rapture at the sight of you shaking, hips bucking against his hand in quick thrusts. "Logan."

Pride bloomed in his chest. "You're perfect."

You collapsed onto his bare chest, spent and exhausted. The final tendrils of pleasure began to ebb out of your body, suddenly replaced by the comfort of him there. You pressed your lips to the center of his chest, teeth dragging along the scarred skin. And he basked in your attention—his hand trailing down your spine to knead the flesh of your ass.

"We should do that more often," you teased, lips finding his in a soft kiss.

He huffed, his eyes falling shut. "I'm too old for that."

"Believe it or not, but you're sexier older."

"Yeah?" He stirred against your stomach. "You like me old and gray?"

"Absolutely."

He smirked, pushing you up his body with slow movements. "Prove it."